#do i need to disclose that none of this is my original content and all credit goes to Cheritz

[totallyrealmoon]

Good afternoon my pretties, I saw a request on the Archive of Terran info to see posts from Henri's private account!

This list covers about 2-3 playthroughs of his route, but alas does not have every post from every response covered. As I find time and ability to buy the subscription, I'll try to update this with more of his posts, possibly along with anything listed with [Image], so that those could be available too. :D

But for now, please enjoy the oh so secret thoughts of the coffee addicted, black bean burger making, silly boy Henri <3

[moonlightperseus]

I'm going to do my best to answer that SeaWorld question without infodumping lmao, but essentially I was talking to a friend and I said "I have always believed if I went to SeaWorld I'd get banned" and she said "now I need to know you have to go" but I was like have you considered I refuse to give them money? So she told me to break in and I said mmm but the last guy who broke in was found dead, naked and missing body parts? So really I had to do some research to find out if I would end up like Jessie in Free Willy or Craig (the name she bestowed to the dead naked guy- his real name was never disclosed). 

It's honestly pretty impressive that I was such a girly girl, given that I had three older brothers and a tomboy sister. My brother's loved superheroes, and the animated shows (at least the original Teen Titans) and I just refused.

I loved the Avengers (2012) i like made it my whole personality. I WAS younger but like embarrassingly so, and that lead me to seeing most of the Marvel movies in a certain time span. Like I haven't properly seen any of the pre-movies like iron man or the first captain america (but God did I try for Peggy) but I watched the second captain america, the thors, I think pretty Faithfully up to Endgame and now the only marvel movie I even a little bit want to see is The Marvel's. (I DID really enjoy Captain Marvel though I will say that) 

Marvel comics I read ? Black Widow, I HAVE read some captain Marvel, spider woman, and a big like Avengers AU that my teacher lent me. I don't remember what it was called but it was pretty good, part of the plot is that like, Thor claims he's a god but Loki claims he's clinically insane so they all trust Loki (and you trust Loki) until y'know he's actually the bad guy and Thor was Thor all along. It's some darker stuff but it was good.

I will just go into Dollarama and flick open justice league comics to see if they have my favorite blonde in them and if they do I'll buy it. That's like my only rule. My collection is a mess (two Batgirl beyond Burnside, and two injustice: gods among us year 4 volume 2, but one in hard cover and one in soft cover (this was accidental and NOT a sign of my absolute devotion)) I barely even have full runs for most of the comics I read, like Batwoman Rebirth (and absolute favorite of mine) I have volumes one and four. But admittedly I use Issue and Volume pretty interchangeably (though I know the difference) and have very few random issues, however, secret me lore is my older sister briefly owned a comic book store and I think I should've taken more advantage of the cheap random comic collection they had for sale. 

And that is annoying!! Especially with Bat-stories. I LOVE a good throwback (like in the gail Simone birds run when Dinah got kidnapped so it has a bunch of references to the longbow hunters comic and even Babs knowing she couldn't go through that again) but it's annoying with the bats because they're so prominent and big so it's just like "remember in issue 1045 of detective comics?" But not only is that over a thousand issues of something half of them are also impossible to find because it's so numerous that at least pirating sites really only include the most recent couple hundred and that doesn't help if you're reading older comics. 

plus there's SO much Kate Content I can't get because of the way detective comics are. 

​​​​​​I do absolutely love the BOP movie too!! It's honestly kind of annoying because I got it for Christmas- but on exclusively Blu-ray. I have a dvd player, a portable dvd player, AND a laptop with a disc drive and NONE OF THEM can play it. 

I don't have a lot of issues when people don't like something I like. I have very few opinions so I am pretty consistently just chilling to some extent. But I get what you mean, granted I think fitting or not a tractor would've been very funny and they should remake the movie just to do that. 

I don't have like real attachments, I watched one Superman movie when I was little and didn't even like superheroes yet, I've never liked the batman movies. It just really is the consistency? Like look, I don't like Marvel movies anymore, and they've got a lot of problems ethically, but one thing you can say is that they built a universe. DC just starts building one and then throws it to the ground like a toddler mid tantrum. It's SO frustrating even knowing that I probably wouldn't watch most movies anyway. 

I watched both wonderomans, I really liked the first one but haven't really been able to get through it a second time and I don't think I liked the second one that much. Everything else? Was kind of mid I think? That I watched. Like Shazam and Aquaman were all fine but nothing to write home about. Bop I also was a huge fan of. And while I wasn't excited for the Batgirl movie I probably would've watched it (which like genuinely does say something- I barely watch movies) 

I'm not the biggest fan of the Arrowverse shows, I know you are but. I LIKED Supergirl but I never finished it (I'm also had at watching TV) bit if there's one I'd try again it's that one. I also got through most of the Flash and it was enjoyable but I don't think I'd try again. I liked legends? But I didn't get very far because my streaming service short circuited and I don't think I could do it again. Then I watched the first season of Batwoman, I was PUMPED, but once ruby rose left, and Kate left, I was devastated. They were leading up to safiyah!! A KATE plot from the Comics!! I was so excited!! And then the character I was watching it for was gone so I just refused to ever watch it again.  And I have never been able to get through Arrow. I honestly can't get past Laurel or any of that. I hold the green arrow comics way too close to my heart for it to be wrong. But ofc that's just my opinion. 

I have one, and I live in like rural Canada so I feel like that's a good sign. (admittedly though it's an hour away from me and more like pokemon cards at this point. I am physically scared of the store and feel like a fraud when I'm there) it would he nice for you!! I hope you do. 

If I do I will keep that in mind thank you. It really is so exhausting and it's so funny because like? I like them?? Why is it hard?? But it is. Plus sometimes I feel bad because I'll talk to much. Like an example is the BoP run, the new one the ONE issue. I don't/ didn't really have any comic friends so I just like posted a screenshot of the cover on my close friends Instragram story and was like "I will NOT shut up about this" and then I read it and genuinely did not shut up and just kept posting stuff when originally I'd been joking and I just feel? So bad. Like logically I know none of them stopped to read it they were just flicking through but I'm still like guys im sorry you didn't want that I'm sorry I got excited 

I just bought like a very large Funko Bombshells Harley pin that sits by my comics!! Actually!! It was from the dollarstore or I wouldn't have, and honestly I'm not a big Funko fan so it was really just because I also love the bombshells design, but she's cute!! And I have a bombshells Ivy felt banner my sister bought me years ago. So I agree designs good.

And that's completely fair!! Sometimes I daydream about dressing up as like black canary for a con. But I don't think I have the confidence. I think cosplaying sounds really fun just in general. (and honestly good on you for the blonde wig I just used my 'natural' hair which was: blue)

Oh!! I LIKE year Zero, I do think it's good!! (The only injustice things I haven't read are ground zero and versus masters of the universe) HOWEVER I would say since you don't even know if you'll like it you should just start with Injustice: gods among us year one. It's up to you, that's kind of why I put out the disclaimer that I do also like year Zero. But I would personally recommend skipping it for now (or possibly even entirely, my brother never read it). (I read it last but that's because I read it as it came out). 

to restate, I think the best idea would be just start with the main plot because I think that's your best chance at liking just based on the way I know it got me into comics. I don't know about year Zero. 

No pressure to like Injustice obviously but I hope you do!! 

​​​​​​​Have a good day <3 

​​​​​​​​

bestie you are literally always welcome to infodump to me !!

also re:the break in at sea world with the mysterious death, I seem to remember buzzfeed unsolved mentioning that case? though i cannot place episode wise or if i’m remembering correctly. but anyways i think you would have a much better chance of survival so long as you don’t climb into any tanks with orcas or any other similarly large aquatic animals known for being unpredictable.

also yeah i def also got into the avengers movie at least a big, though i never watched the others i think prob just didnt have access to the others? bc i watched avengers on netflix? i absolutely devoured agents of shield and then the agent carter show when that came out. tv shows are easier for me to digest tho.

i had to google what a dollarama is and i gotta say i dont think dollar stores in the US typically have comics but it also has been quite a while since ive been in a dollar store tbh. but i did find a few places near me to potentially check out if i ever feel brave enough (and ever have actual time to go check out bc my life is very very busy rn lmao) i need to do more things branching myself out and trying new things its just very scary and i have a very small comfort zone

also, personally, i think when comics do decide to have a storyline thats gonna have multiple parts across several different comic series at the same time they should at least do something where they like, collect all those individual parts and put them all in like one like, book/volume? so you can easily read the story without having to jump to different series

(boy howdy. did i ramble again lol)

also lkajsdf i have a very complicated relationship with being a "fan" of arrowverse. (its a love hate relatioship i have lol) bc like yeah. a lot of it is. not good. and definitely not super comic accurate but its like. arrow is a dumpster fire and horrible green arrow representation however its what led me to my passion for black canary im not gonna lie and like i think honestly what led me to read actual comics (bc while i loved the animated shows i dont think i picked up comics until after i had started in the arrowverse) and like with arrowverse as a whole i think there was a lot of potential to the idea but a lot of poor execution and bad writing. the first two seasons of the flash are still very dear to me i will say but i also never finished it or... actually i dont think i fully finished any arrowverse shows, except for black lightning (did i finish black lightning???) (i dont think naomi counts as arrowverse) legends i stuck with the longest but i stopped when maisie richardson-sellers left the show (i am gay. i am gay.) i watched the last two seasons of arrow but skipped a huge chunk in the middle that i dont ever intend to go back and watch, i picked back up in s7 bc katie cassidy was a series regular again and while not my laurel i did grow very attached to the e2 version of her who i refer to as siren. (i am gay. im gay) i think i mightve picked up and dropped supergirl a few times?? i think i ended up watching up to the final season though. i never got into batwoman really bc i wasnt a fan of the casting for kate personally. (i got very attached to a fancast of monica raymund as kate kane and honestly im still attached to it) but yeah anyways sorry for rambling about arrowverse lmao i dont know how to be normal. all the parts of arrowverse that i love are my version of arrowverse that is good and exists only in my head and maybe in a few actual scenes on television. (i dont know if any of this made sense and i apologize again for rambling, i totally respect people not liking the arrowverse and completely get why... its not good. its not great. but it certainly was a huge part of my life)

literally no pressure to read the bombshells comics but can i just say you DO have a comic friend now its ME and i will happily welcome any comic book rambling in my inbox that you wish to do, encourage it even!

but i really do get that "i genuinely enjoy this thing why is it hard" like god human brains sure have a lot of design flaws i gotta say. like for me i definitely have that issue with reading in general its like i ENJOY reading I LIKE reading however the thought of starting reading? of keeping up with reading? i used to love going through books when i was a kid and now its like. have i finished 1 book over the span of a whole month? audiobooks helped me a little bit getting back into reading and comics at least, for a majority, feel a little shorter (however the longer series do feel a little more daunting)

(here have a hastily made meme i whipped up in like <5 minutes)

i do have a small funko pop collection i will admit but its mostly women from dc and i have a few different bombshells ones (theyre in a box rn but uhh i know i have bombshells! hawkgirl and batwoman and i think i have a mini bombshells wonder woman?

also finally able to look into my comic collection and it turns out i dont have the first volume of bombshells but i have 2-6 lmao.

anyways i will skip the prequel for now of injustice but keep it in mind to go back and read if i enjoy injustice. i meant to start the first issue of injustice but ive been busy back at my parents helping them pack to move and then i had to drive home and today i had to work and just didnt have the brain space but goddammitt i will find the time to start it and soon. i probably shouldnt start it after finishing responding to this bc it is 1:30am now and i do have to be awake in like. 7 & 1/2 hours BUT i did notice that the second issue of the new bop run is out so i may end up reading that in bed before going to sleep. ooh maybe i should. draft this. go read it and then come back with some thoughts before i finally publish this response

(also, sorry again for the delay in response , like i said life has been busy 😭)

okay. 2:30 am now. BUT i read the new issue and ooooh it was good! continues to intrigue me. also i had genuinely never heard of the megalodons that guard themyscira before. that’s wild (and just like that. the conversation circles back to large marine animals) i won’t say any more bc i don’t wanna spoil it if you haven’t read it yet but if you have or if/when you do please feel free to come ramble to me about your thoughts!!

& i hope you have a good day!! 💕💕

[fangsandfeels]

Disclaimer: I really don’t want to start a discourse. I’m getting too old for this :D  I made my post because I’ve seen takes describing the spawn choice as  “bad” or “harmful” and wrote my thoughts on it based on the in-game content and interactions. I consider both routes extremely well-written in terms of potential path development for the character, and I didn’t intend to shame or attack anyone for their choices. Moreover, I respect people who enjoy evil playthroughs and appreciate them for their dark and dramatic potential. So, when I write something in my brainrot nest, I mean no offense. We’re all free to disagree with each other, and you’re welcome to block me if my content rubs you the wrong way.

No one talks about Astarion’s past because Larian hasn’t established Astarion’s past. The Astarion's background in the artbook is how he started out during the development process, but it has been mentioned more than once that the stories and backgrounds of characters have been changed in the course of development, and many things are no longer relevant. In the EA, Gale got stuck with an orb because he wouldn’t accept that Mystra moved on, and tried to convince her that he was worth her love -- in the final version, he was still Mystra’s lover who wanted to prove his worth. In the EA, Wyll lost his eye to a goblin and blamed Mizora for tricking him. In the final version he started his career by taking on the Tiamat cultists and accepts full responsibility for his choices and actions. In the EA, we had a seductive Dream Visitor created by a tadpole. In the EA, it was hinted that Cazador sexually abused Astarion.

None of these are relevant in the original game. What’s established is that Astarion doesn’t remember his past, not even the color of his eyes before he got Turned. His past is lost to him - and it’s not likely Larian will ever disclose it because people are coming with their own interpretations and whatever works for them, and they would rather keep it that way. So, I see no point in appealing to the past that is lost to Astarion and to the EA. I have my reasons to doubt Astarion’s corrupt judge origins based on the facts from his past after he got Turned, but once again, everyone is going to have their own idea of his past and that’s fine. But Larian made it clear that it’s not his past but his experience with Cazador that defines his choices.

2) Tav doesn’t have to be “the hero” to dissuade Astarion from performing the ritual.

You don’t need to be the Superman or Sir Lancelot to be uncomfortable with seeing your extremely stressed friend about to kill thousands of people, including children - especially when you see them conflicted and trying to rationalize their decision to themselves, convincing them that this is what they want. They are clearly not okay.

In the context of the world, diabolical rituals are never a good thing, and even evil/neutral characters would have their doubts about it. The entire plot is perpetuated with stories that dealing with devils, hags, and other powerful beings taking more than they give - and that no one is ever the same, never the better version of themselves. Astarion is about to jump into the ritual he only knows about from Raphael’s words without thinking ahead or wondering what it will do to him or what it will take from him. Tav has all reasons to worry about Astarion specifically because they value him too much to see him gambling himself away.

3) To be honest, Origin Character playthroughs are a narrative mess because developers kinda wanted to make them about experiencing their companions’ journeys through their eyes, but they also didn’t want to take away the player’s freedom of choice. As a result, we can side with goblins and destroy the Grove as Wyll even though we lose Wyll as a companion if we make that choice when playing as an avatar character. We can be nice to Zorru as Lae’Zel even though, as a companion, Lae’Zel harasses the guy unless interrupted.

Playing as Ascended Astarion we can continue romancing our LIs without forcing them to get Turned - while we clearly remember that Ascended Astarion leaves no such option on his romance route. It’s either get turned and stay under his control or break up with him. It gets oxymoronic to the point where we can go to Avernus with Karlach as an Ascended Astarion (which is something he would never offer), but if we play as Karlach and romance Astarion after Ascension, we’re still told to kneel and he verbally abuses us after burning himself on our blood (as if it’s Karlach’s fault). So, of course, Ascended Astarion’s walkthrough looks better in the origin run. All nuance is removed for the player's convenience because players could barely handle the Dark Urge even though they had been explicitly warned in advance that this is a very unsettling route.

The same goes for the origin Spawn ending -- people had the sad sewer part and then they got a cutscene with Gale cheerfully talking about going together to Waterdeep and getting married.

I’m not even talking about the fact that the game ending is currently undercooked and abrupt. People have complaints about not knowing about the consequences of their choices, not being able to speak with any companions aside from their LIs, and the missing epilogues from Withers show that this is not how it’s supposed to be. So, I wouldn’t call it a reliable reference.

4) You can only leave Astarion “weak, vulnerable, and sad” if you believe he is weak, vulnerable, and sad as he is i.e. agree with his own opinion of himself. I don’t see why the character who respects Astarion and sees him as a person (like he wanted) would think of him that way. He is strong, smart, capable, and resilient. He doesn’t have to be nice or valorous, but he also no longer has to put up appearances and facades as a self-defense mechanism. As soon as he believes it, he starts doing things he never thought himself to be capable of. The spawn that had no respect for him and used to call him “weak” or “the runt of the litter” followed his instructions without much objection. When he talks to Gur, he is direct, firm, and confident in his every word, even though he is still dealing with the aftermath of the entire ordeal. He doesn’t need Tav to speak for him, he speaks for himself.

“Erasing his mistakes” means agreeing that he doesn’t have the strength to live with them, that he truly doesn’t amount to anything on his own. Not to mention that those “mistakes” are people who didn’t do anything wrong and who can still be helped, the people he feels sorry for. Moreover, these are people who remind them of himself (which is also stated even in his origin playthrough) and by killing them he is also burying the most human part of himself believing it to be unfit and redundant, a reason for his misery.

Does a person who got harmed and affected by their abuser deserve to be no longer treated like a human being worthy or respect and support, just because they’re different now, “not normal”? Does agreeing with your friend that they’re pathetic, weak, and not good enough to deal with the life’s challenges means wanting the best for them? Personally, I can’t get behind that.

From that point of view, there is no sense for the Dark Urge to resist their heritage. They are a serial killer with amnesia. They have been killing since childhood and while their victims aren’t alive to tell the tale, they have to live with the risk of victims’ relatives trying to lynch them to avenge their loved ones: after all, the relatives and SOs didn’t get the memo of the Durge’s redemption. Would the city even want them if the truth of them being the killer who has been torturing people, burying them alive, vivisecting them and defiling their corpses becomes public knowledge? What will they do without Bhaal’s grace?

In that regard, Durge too is punished for not taking the easy way out -- they would have been dead without Withers. And they basically do it for their LIs who stubbornly see them as a better person and believe in them. Are they happier if they succumb to their nature and accept Bhaal? It’s hard to tell because they become an extension of Bhaal’s ambition with the only goal to kill the world and then themselves.

5) As was beautifully said before me, persuasion isn’t about forcing your ideas on someone. It’s about finding the arguments the person is already aware of and invested in. We wouldn’t have been even able to convince Astarion not to do the ritual if he hadn’t been thinking about it or wishing it didn’t have to be that way. We don’t impose our image of him on him - no more than he does when he says “This isn’t you” to the Dark Urge after their revelation (both in romance and friendship, BTW).

We choose between helping him acknowledge his own strength, nurture and hone it, and an “easy way out". To me in the latter case his freedom is subjective because despite being able to walk in the sun and gaining all the boons, he still follows Verlioth’s lessons word for word and can’t feel safe unless he controls or kills everyone. I have nothing against players who appreciate this ending for what it is, mind it.

6) To address the breakup point, it’s kinda even weird you can break up so late in the game. As a rule, most romances are locked. But of course he’d say that: it’s a dick move and I too would want the partner feel bad about that even if I was in good mood before.

To sum it up: I don’t judge people who choose the Ascension route. The evil options are available for a reason. You won’t find any attacks on them in my brainrot posts. I like that Stephen Rooney doesn’t pull any punches and how he turns the tables on us. What doesn’t sit well with me are takes like “He has always been evil, he wanted this” or “Why care about these 7000 spawns, they’re not even people anymore” and I would talk about the reasons why I don't like them. Also, I just like dissecting the game moments and writing my thoughts on them.

I've seen the "Non-ascended Astarion ending is bad for him because you have to persuade him to reject the ritual" opinion...

..implying that he never really wanted not to ascend, it's you the player who selfishly forces him to give up on his goal. To prove their point, they state that you can get a good ending out of all other companion's quests without using Persuasion at all, except for Astarion.

And boy did I want to talk about this...

(In fact, everything I wanted to say has already been told in this amazing meta post, but I still gotta ramble)

First of all, Astarion was going through an intense PTSD. The game gave him a debuff to show how badly going back to the place of his torment was affecting him. Larian couldn't make it more obvious that he wasn't thinking clearly.

Second, there is one thing all abusers have in common: they destroy their victim's feelings of self-worth to the point, the victim no longer wants or knows how to ask for help or have relationships outside their abusive circle.

Who would want you like this? Look at yourself, you think you're better than me? You're nothing. Who would want to waste their time on you? You think somebody else would treat you better?

Since entering the Cazador's palace, Astarion is reliving his worst moments. Initially, he takes it in stride, hiding his discomfort underneath performative and emotional expressiveness. He talks about how he spent time in the bedrooms where he never did any sleeping, about the kennels where he was tortured, about the barracks where he was sent to when he "deserved neither carrot nor stick". Bad memories, but he shares them with Tav because he trusts them with his scars already. They might as well know the rest.

But after descending into the dungeon, Astarion starts spiraling into self-loathing at a break-neck speed. He used to think that all Cazador victims he ever brought to him were long gone, drained, and discarded. A horrible, undeserved death, yet the thought of them not having to suffer for too long was a small consolation, one of the threads holding his sanity together.

But then it turns out that they weren't dead. They were turned. Locked away deep underground, alone with their new selves, with the hunger and isolation. They did suffer. All these years, they suffered, buried in this tomb - because of him. Cazador may have turned them, but it was Astarion who brought them to him. And they remembered it. They recognized him. The monster who stole them from their home. The monster who ruined their life. Monster. Just like Cazador.

So, as if his PTSD wasn't enough, this revelation was another blow to his grip on himself, his perception of himself. His confident facade was shattering - and in his head, he was starting to think that Tav's idea of him, of who he is, was shattering as well. He tried to warn them before. He said he couldn't be what they saw in him. Whatever person they believed him to be had never existed - and Tav was finally coming to realize that as they walked through the gallery of his sins, looking his victims in the eyes and hearing out what they had to say. Of course, Tav hated him now. They had to. How could they not?

So, at the end, he is scared. Terrified. He bit off more than he could chew by walking into the manor and thinking he had only six fellow spawns to deal with. He saw their lives as a small price to pay because Cazador made sure to erase any solidarity between them. He made them torture each other and compete with each other. He twisted the very meaning of family bonds to his perverted liking, and he knew that by doing so, he would make sure every single one of them would get a whiplash from anyone trying to mention family in a positive connotation. Astarion takes no issue with getting rid of his "brothers" and "sisters" because he is fully aware that had the roles been reversed, they would have sacrificed him without a second thought. And he was certain that Tav would change their mind once they learned more about his brethren.

But the spawns in the dungeon...All the faces he remembered. All the lovers he lured. They did nothing wrong. They never hurt him. They never tortured him. Their only mistake was to trust him.

The revelation horrifies him. His first response is to be shocked, overwhelmed with emotion - and then he has to remind himself that sacrifices must be made. He feigns indifference. He tries to cover his internal conflict with gallows humor. But his flippant mask keeps slipping as he lapses from indifference to anger, to guilt, to begging Tav not to hate him as his greatest crimes glare back at him and claw at him, shouting out threats and seething with hatred.

He can't bear the thought of dealing with all the people whose lives he helped to destroy. He can't do anything for them. Just killing Cazador won't undo what he did to them. He will never be anything but a monster in their eyes. And this is what he deserves to be. He will always be reminded of what he is.

He has no choice but to do the Ritual.

He has no idea what will happen to him after he is done - he isn't a planner. He has never been. But at this point, he doesn't see his soul as something worthy of preserving - and by association, he extends that to other spawns. He knows it all too well because he remembers how it felt. He dissociates, projecting everything he hated about himself onto Cazador's victims, trying to rationalize why he should live and why they must die while he actively avoids the truth.

Completing the ritual is no longer about being free. Or protecting himself and his lover. It's about running away. Even when Astarion has Cazador at his mercy, he still thinks of running away. Getting lost forever. So nobody could ever hurt him.

A part of him even realizes that it means running away from Tav too. But Tav can leave, he naively thinks, not knowing the full consequences of the ritual. Tav will leave to find someone else, someone better, and he will start everything anew, a king of his castle.

So, of course, Tav has to reach out to him through that thick haze of fear, anger, and self-hatred. Persuasion isn't about strongarming someone into doing what you want. It's not subjugation or emotional blackmail. It's reasoning with someone. And that is exactly what Tav does - reasons with Astarion after watching him mentally struggle, after seeing his genuine shock and fear, after understanding that he isn't fully on board with the idea.

It's true, vampire spawns tend to gravitate toward power, especially if nothing is pulling them back. A vampire spawn is a feared and scorned creature - it no longer matters whether they were an unwilling victim, forcefully taken and turned. They are seen not as an individual but as the extension of their master - and the only natural transition for them is to get on the top of the food chain. The only way to make a name and become treated as something more.

Astarion saw power as the mean to safety and freedom, first and foremost. Ironically, he never planned beyond securing these two priorities. He never saw himself after accomplishing his goals, and it's kinda amazing how people can make conclusions about his hedonism because he misses petty vanities, wants to drink blood from a goblet, and sleep on silken sheets. The man who was held and tortured in the kennels, fed rats, and had to stitch and fix his only set of clothes over and over to keep it presentable, the man who has never felt happy for most of his conscious non-life is called hedonistic for wanting nice things. For still wanting to take care of himself for once.

He wasn't harboring any grand plans, conquests, or schemes. Even his idea of taking control of the Absolute was abstract and shapeless because he didn't care about getting control over the most influential people as much as he was afraid of breaking whatever protected him from Cazador's domination. He never really knew what to do with power aside from keeping Cazador and the likes of him at bay.

The way Astarion behaves in a relationship also speaks tons of how controlling he really is...or how he isn't controlling at all. When his romance with Tav transforms into something real, and he enters a new territory, Astarion is empowered to make decisions and think about what he wants instead of pleasuring others. It's clear that he and Tav don't have sex after they come clear about their feelings. Tav respects his comfort and boundaries, gives him all the time he needs, and lets him take the lead. Whether they will have sex again or not is entirely up to Astarion. Whatever he decides, it won't change Tav's feelings for him. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do.

Astarion enjoys this new autonomy. He is playful, affectionate, outspoken...and afraid of messing everything up. If Tav mentions breaking up, Astarion thinks he is the problem. If there is another potential love interest showing they have eyes for Tav, Astarion encourages Tav to be with them because he believes they can give Tav everything he can't. When Tav says "I choose you," Astarion is taken aback, needing a moment to hide his genuine confusion at Tav actually wanting to be with him rather than Gale, Karlach, or Halsin.

For all his talks of control and dominating others, once Astarion finds himself with a lover who values his autonomy more than getting power at the cost of his dignity, who makes it safe for him to be honest, and who listens to him, he almost stops mentioning control. He merely lives in the moment, happy not to know, not to pretend, not to manipulate. Just to be.

What Astarion truly craves - not wants on a superficial level, not conditioned to want - is not to be a vampire lord. He wants the freedom to be anything. Anything he wants. Little does he know that true vampires rarely get to be anything they want, even if they gain the ability to walk in the sun -- we see it in his Ascended path as, instead of acting up on his supposed freedom to be anything, Astarion repeats Cazador's rules step by step. Just like Cazador did. Just like Verlioth did. He isn't anything he wants. He is the replica of his former master.

Astarion never had the luxury to explore who he wanted to be outside what Cazador made him. He only makes his first steps once he is free. We see glimpses of that deep-seated aspiration to be seen as a person. Treated like a person. Loved like a person. To be reflected in someone's eyes. He wants to know if there is someone beneath his usual mask, something his, not tainted by Cazador. Someone real. And at the same time, he dreads to know the answer. Because that part of him knows regret. Knows shame. Knows guilt. Confronting it posed the risk of realizing he didn't deserve love, kindness, or a future. What if real him truly doesn't amount to anything? What else for him to do?

So, he tells himself that he has no choice, and he expects Tav to affirm it -- not because he wants them to, but because he believes that Tav has seen enough to make the same conclusion. However, Tav objects, trying to be louder than all the inner demons hissing into his ears. Tav speaks to the Astarion, who asked them what they saw when they looked at him. The Astarion, who thanked them for standing by his side when he said "No" to Araj. The Astarion one who stood frozen in their hug before returning it tentatively. The Astarion who diligently, dedicatedly, caringly kept pulling himself together instead of letting himself unravel completely.

Tav reminds him that this Astarion, right here, right now, is worth fighting for. That he didn't survive all these years of torture, pain, humiliation, and dehumanization to give himself up now. He already has the power to avenge himself, avenge all Cazador's victims. He can end everything right here, right now - and this is the only power to free him. He has the power (and responsibility) of having a choice.

Tav empathizes with other spawns as victims not because they're more "innocent" than Astarion, but because associating with them doesn't brand Astarion as weak or broken. These spawns aren't horrible wretches, and neither is he. They don't deserve this, and neither did he.

The only one who deserves to die today is Cazador - the vampire, the monster, the pathetic of shit.

Astarion Ancunin deserves to live.

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 11/?)

Chapter 11: Interface

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

It didn't go unnoticed by you in the following days how distant Connor was, always a hairline away, like he was suddenly no longer allowed to touch you.

On the night of the second day, when you caught him doing it again, you confronted him, trapping him against the counter in his kitchen. He had turned around and noticed you standing there, right behind him.

He could have easily pushed you out of the way; but, Connor was far too polite for that. If you were being honest, in that moment, you were taking advantage of his politeness.

"Please, tell me what's wrong?" you asked, trying not to be too demanding.

"You left dirty dishes in the sink," Connor deflected smoothly.

You crossed your arms and gave him a look, the kind that said you wouldn't fall for that. His hands were resting on the edge of the counter in an odd manner, further proving your concerns. Connor's eyes shifted nervously between your gaze and the sink before deciding to let go of that attempt.

"I had lied to you about what I was," he replied quietly.

"You never lied to me about anything," you quickly retorted, voice gentle. You grabbed at his inner elbows, trying to pull his arms away from the counter and towards you. At first, he didn't nudge at all against your insisting touch.

Eventually, he gave in and let you pull his arms towards yourself. He followed and curled his arms around your lower back, leaning into your body until you were embracing loosely.

As an android, could withstand much greater temperatures than most humans. There were very few natural occurring temperatures in the world that could set off his temperature warnings. However, when he pushed against the fabric of your clothes so he could reach bare skin, and felt how warm you were, Connor suddenly felt very cold.

You shuddered a little, likely because his fingers were a little cold compared to the skin at your lower back. Some selfish part of himself didn't mind, wanting to steal your warmth, even though he didn't need it.

"-because you were designed to hunt deviants?" you asked. "Is that what's wrong?"

Connor tore his eyes away from yours and stared blindly over your shoulder. "I should have told you. I was keeping something from you that I thought would-... would jeopardize our relationship. It was self-serving."

You smiled up at him, feeling oddly enamored at the thought of Connor being selfish, because he had proved to be anything but. Or, maybe, you were feeling pride in knowing that he felt that way about you - felt a little possessive over you.

"It's normal to want to keep some things about yourself a secret, Connor," you offered, nudging his nose with your own. "It's not just about relationships, but, just, wanting a little bit of privacy."

It took him a second, but he eventually reciprocated to your nudging, pressing his nose into your temple for a moment before lowering his head so that his forehead was nuzzled against the side of your skull.

"I'm not upset with you, or afraid of you, or anything like that," you offered. "You don't have to tell me everything."

The thought of him standing on stage with Markus, the leader of the deviants, felt different with your new found knowledge of Connor's original purpose. He had chosen to stand with the man he was supposed to take down. He had chosen to defy his creators, to become the very thing he was supposed to stop.

"You have the right to know things that could potentially make me an unsuitable partner," he said lowly, sounding a little frustrated.

"You don't owe me every little thing about yourself, Connor," you replied, breath warm on his cheeks. "All these things should come when you're ready. Besides, I found out unfairly. If anything, you should be mad at me."

Connor shook his head a little, immediately disregarding the suggestion that he should be upset with you. You had come into his life so unexpectedly and changed his perception of himself, changed what he thought he knew about himself, changed what he thought he was capable of.

There were things he had never disclosed with another soul that he wanted to pour all over you.

"Why would your designed purpose make you unsuitable?" you asked, a little insistent. If there was anything you didn't want Connor to feel, it was unsuitable - for you, for love, for anything good in this world.

"I-" he began, finding himself simultaneously restless and stiff.

You leaned back enough to look up into his brown eyes with patience and longing. Connor caught your gaze and stared back, getting lost in the look you were giving him.

"When I was a machine, there was software in my operating system that connected me to Cyberlife," he explained hoarsely and you listened carefully, hanging off his every word.

"The interface was named Amanda. She was my owner, in a way: gave me missions, praised me when I did well..." Connor's eyes flickered away for a moment. "-threatened me when I didn't."

His eyes returned to yours and he continued. It was clear to you that this was therapy for Connor, even if he didn't understand why he wanted to share all this.

"At the android march, Cyberlife tried to take control of my body. I almost - I was afraid I couldn't stop it. I nearly shot Markus before I took back control," he confessed, whispering harshly. "I wasn't aware they could do that until that moment. Escaping this-... prison inside me was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Connor paused when he felt your hands running up and down his biceps, trying to soothe the stammer in his voice. He could almost feel the chill again. It was the only time he had never known what it was like to be cold, to feel the wind biting at his skin, to feel so utterly exhausted in a place that existed inside himself.

"I am the most advanced android designed by Cyberlife." It wasn't spoken with confidence, but with regret. "Sometimes I still-... feel it: factory defaults." He uttered the last two words harshly, like he was growling out a curse.

"Remnants of the deviant hunter will always remain," you whispered, dominant hand rising to cup his cheek. Connor leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. You startled a little when the skin on his cheek faded away to interface with you. You smiled and nudged your thumb affectionally against his cheek bone.

"There's nothing wrong with that part of you," you continued. "You turned it into something beautiful, detective."

Detective - someone who tried to right the wrongs, who protected people, who saved people, who gave a voice to those who could not speak for themselves. Maybe, the correct answer would have been to become the exact opposite of what he was made to do. But, Connor truly liked this part of himself.

"When I told you I loved the android parts of you, I meant it," you insisted, hands shimmying down so you could wrap your arms around his lower back. Connor's eyes opened and he looked at you softly. "Deviant hunter, too, Connor. All your software, all your bio-components..."

"While I do not anticipate that I am a danger to you, or anyone else-" Connor explained stiffly. "-and my diagnostics no longer show remnants of Cyberlife's infiltration and remote programs, you have every right to be concerned. I check regularly, in case I am... incorrect..."

Connor trailed off when he saw the wicked smile on your face. "You are a danger to me," you teased softly. The android's LED briefly flickered to scarlet red before immediately shifting back to blue.

"I don't know what I would do without you," you explained.

Well, you knew what you would do. You would work lots of overtime to make up for the fact that all your friends were your coworkers and you went home to an empty, lonely shack in a less than favorable neighborhood.

Without Connor, you would be so utterly lonely.

He was an android. You couldn't possibly understand what he had to endure, what kind of internal struggles he continued with, the constant abuse from humans. From what you had seen, Connor powered through it with a brave face.

You had not shared much about your own life with him, unless it pertained to androids. Connor had lived a much shorter time than you; yet, his life was so much more accomplished, held so much more meaning and purpose.

You were just a simple girl from a big city and Connor was one of a kind both in his design and of his own making, by his own choices.

Despite all that, you had never felt this close to another person before.

"You would be with someone else," Connor stated, sounding almost offended. You gawked up at him, startled by the determined look he was giving you.

In his eyes, you were wonderful, beautiful, selfless, and brave. If he hadn't been so insistent, practically demanding of your attention, surely someone else would have. He couldn't imagine others not seeking your affections.

"I doubt that," you said bashfully. "I don't really put myself out there. I came onto you really strong... -like a dumb, horny teenager." You laughed a little, nervous beneath his scrutinizing eyes. You didn't regret it for a second: not Connor, nor what you had done. But, sometimes, you feared you had pushed him too strongly.

"I haven't been chaste, either," Connor offered softly. "We are not a... conventional couple." He didn't seem unsettled by that information, but more worried that you would think poorly of yourself for being forthcoming with your desires.

You giggled, brief and soft. "None of my relationships have been like this."

"They weren't androids," Connor stated.

"It's not that," you said sharply, almost scoldingly, shaking your head a little. "They weren't like this, like you, like-..."

You had loved before, in a way; but, you weren't ever in love, not like this. Nothing had ever come close to being this strong or feeling this real.

With Connor, you felt a sort of peace you never thought possible in your life. You felt like there was nothing you couldn't trust him with. He made you feel so small and so mighty at the same time.

You felt like he had given you a part of yourself that was missing; but, you felt conflicted in telling him that. You didn't want him to feel trapped or caged by you.

You had no doubt that Connor cared for you; but, there was no denying the reality that he would live much longer than you. You would grow old while he would remain young and strong and beautiful forever.

Eventually, it would come to an end-

"I've never been this close to someone before," you admitted quietly. "I - I just feel like-... You understand me better than anyone else and I feel so - I - maybe I'm projecting here-" you trailed off, feeling suddenly breathless.

Connor reached around to take hold of your dominant hand and remove it from his back. He lined up your hands, palm to palm, fingers and thumbs mirrored. For a moment, he forgot himself, forgot that you were human and couldn't interface with him. Still, he tried, the skin of his hand fading away and his joints and knuckles glowing blue.

You stared, awestruck, even though you had seen him do this dozens of times.

"You're not projecting," he whispered harshly. "We can't interface; but, I feel like we do, all the time."

You looked up at him. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed, and LED yellow, like he was trying to think, really, really hard. He wanted to interface with you, more than he could put to words, to show you how much you meant to him, to show you things that language was incapable of, to show you how he felt.

"I'm sorry," you choked out.

His eyes opened and he looked at you.

"Androids are so beautiful," you breathed. "-that you can connect like this and - all humans can do is-"

Connor leaned down and pressed his mouth against yours to silence what he knew was going to follow, the disdain you were going to put on yourself. He knew the limitations of humans very well. None of that mattered when it came to you.

"Connor-" you breathed against his lips.

He breathed your name back, like a hush.

"I'm - I'm supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around," you whispered defiantly.

"I do," he replied, nudging his forehead against your temple. "You always make me feel better."

He felt like he had the world cradled against him, and he didn't want to let go. You continued to embrace until Connor felt you starting to sag against him. Through your touch, he could sense your breathing pattern had started to change, and realized you were dozing off.

"Come on. It's late," he said quietly. However, instead of letting you respond, Connor took initiative and picked you up, scooping you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

"W-woah," you stammered. "Geez, Connor."

"Were you falling asleep?" he asked teasingly as he carried you to the bedroom.

"N-no," you retorted sharply. You felt his chuckle more so than heard it. He tucked you into bed, helped you change - or, undress, more actually - before stripping down to the same state and nuzzling in close behind you.

That night, while you slept, Connor laid next to you and rolled through his memories.

"What I want is not important," is what he had said to Kamski, his creator, when the man had asked him what he wanted. The mission was more important, what his creators expected of him was more important; or, at least, that was what he had told himself at the time.

Even back then, he wanted to enforce the law, to bring justice, to give a voice to those who didn't have one. He wanted to prevent a civil war that would bring about the death of thousands, potentially millions, of humans.

When he accepted his deviancy, those things didn't go away. His wants evolved. He wanted freedom for his people - for androids, so they could live with the kind of freedom he was fortunate enough to have in this moment.

Now... now, he wanted so much more.

Selfish things-

Human things-

He wanted to live a life that involved choices undictated by orders. He wanted to experience the world in all its vastness, waiting for him. He wanted to go to places he had only seen through the HUD in his processor, in videos and photos. He wanted to be there - to feel, to smell, to learn with his own hands.

-and he wanted you by his side every step of the way.

He wanted to create memories with you, to share the world with you.

Connor's arm was resting over your abdomen, his hand caressing yours. You had returned his gentle grip until you fell asleep and your touch slackened. His thumb brushed against your knuckles and lowered, sliding along your ring finger just past the knuckle, and he thought about what could fit there.

It was a strange feeling. He found himself constantly longing for these things that felt so humanlike, so beyond what he was designed to do, things he once thought were all that he was capable of.

"What do you really want?" he could still hear Kamski's voice in his head.

To be free. To be wild and untamed and live life without fear of what he was and how the world might perceive him. To see the world as more than analytical data. To not see every step as a branching path, where one wrong move could ruin everything. To live life as if there was a chance he could die tomorrow.

He wanted you-

-to be his forever.

[taxominn]

A Comprehensive Guide to Archive of Our Own Filters

It’s complicated, I know. I’ve been using the website for years and there’s still stuff I don’t understand! I thought it’d be a nice idea to add a little guide for the filters on here for all those who need it. Enjoy!

What is Archive of Our Own?

Archive of Our Own, called Ao3 for short, is an “archive for transformative fanworks, like fanfiction, fanart, fan videos, and podfic.” (Official Statement on the website.) It’s a place where fans can find and enjoy work from the others within their own fandom, as well as upload their own work!

What are Filters?

On Ao3, Filters allow users to narrow down their searches so that they can find the specific things they’re looking for. BUT, the Filtering system — as well as the tagging system — on Ao3 can get a little complicated.

That’s what this guide is for, so continue on!

Understanding Filters

After selecting a fandom to search in, you’ll see the following image, slightly varied depending on if you’re on desktop or mobile:

(I’m on mobile and I used the Naruto fandom as an example.)

Upon clicking the Filters button, you’ll see a number of choices and drop-down menus:

I’ll be going over these in order!

What is Sort By?

The first option you see is the Sort By menu. Upon clicking the drop-down menu, there are nine things to choose from. What Sort By allows you to do, is choose the order you want your search results to appear in. If, for example, you want the longest fanfics with a bunch of words to appear first, you would click the Word Count option.

If you want the most recently updated fanfics to appear first, you would click the Date Updated option. If you want the fanfics to appear in an alphabetical order (A-Z), you would either click Title or Author.

NOTE: 

Numerical Order — Word Count, Hits, Kudos, Comments, Bookmarks.

Alphabetical Order — Author, Title.

Chronological Order — Date Posted, Date Updated.

Include or Exclude?

After Sort By, there are two sections: Include and Exclude.

If there are tags you want to see, make sure to select them under the Include section.

BUT, if there are tags you do NOT want to see, select them under the Exclude section.

What are Ratings?

Content ratings are used for games, TV shows, and movies. They rate how suitable the work is for its audience, and Ao3 does the same.

Ratings are as follows from most widely suitable to least suitable:

General Audiences - E for everyone can read it!

Teen and Up Audiences - 15 and up, leave the children behind.

Mature - 18 and up, sorry teens, adults only!

Explicit - Even some of the adults left the room. 🤐

Not Rated - In limbo, the author decided not to use a rating.

What are Warnings?

Warnings are assigned to works that contain triggering content that can make readers upset or uncomfortable.

Ao3 Warnings are as follows:

Major Character Death - If a work includes an important character death that doesn’t happen in the source material.

Graphic Depictions of Violence - If a work includes gruesome scenes, blood, murder, death, torture, or fighting.

Underage - If a work includes minors participating in illegal acts, specifically regarding sex.

Rape/Non-Con - If a work includes scenes where non-consensual sex takes place.

No Archive Warnings Apply - None of the above warnings are included in the work.

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings - For one reason or another, the creator does not disclose the warnings in the tags, or the warnings just don’t apply.

What are the Categories?

Ao3 Categories allow you to pick the relationship dynamics you wish to search for, or exclude from your search. They are as follows:

M/M - Two male characters in a relationship.

F/F - Two female characters in a relationship.

F/M - One female character and one male character in a relationship.

Multi - More than one kind of relationship and/or a relationship with more than two people.

Other - A relationship that’s not covered by the above categories.

Gen - Fics that aren’t primarily about shipping or explore different types of character relationships.

What are the Fandoms?

Obviously, fandoms are the different fan communities for pieces of entertainment media (musicians, games, tv, anime, etc.) Since you usually select the Fandom you want before filtering, this might confuse you, but it does have a purpose.

The Fandoms section allows you to choose other fandoms within the one you’re searching for. This is for crossover fanfics, or fics that take inspiration and story elements from more than one source material.

When you click the Fandoms tab, it shows you the top ten most used fandom tags under the fandom you’ve already picked. My example fandom was Naruto, so Naruto is the first fandom that shows up.

What are Characters?

The Characters tab shows you the characters in the source material of the fandom you’re looking in. It shows the top ten most used character tags within your search and the amount of fics that they are tagged for in parenthesis.

Select their names to include/exclude different characters.

What are Relationships?

Under the Relationships tab, it shows you the top ten most used relationship tags for the characters within your fandom. The relationships might include characters from other fandoms as well as the commonly written Blank Character/Reader or Blank Character/Original Character fanfics, if that’s what you’re looking for.

Select any of them to include/exclude from your search.

What are Additional Tags?

When you click Additional Tags, it shows the top ten most used tags in general for your fandom that don’t apply to the prior sections. Here, you’ll probably find the Alternate Universe tags, the Angst tag, the Fluff tag, and other common subjects found in your fandom’s fanfiction community.

Other Tags To Include/Exclude?

If the tag you’re looking for couldn’t be found in the previous options, then type it into the Other Tags search bar and you’ll likely find it. If it's a common tag, then it’ll show in an autofill selection pop-up underneath the search bar. If it doesn’t show up there, then you can still type it in yourself and see if you can find any fanfics that fit your search.

...

Now, after all that, there’s still a few more things to tackle, and that would be the More Options section. Under More Options, there are miscellaneous things you can choose to further refine your search.

Crossovers?

We talked about crossovers earlier! Under this section, you can choose one of three options: Include Crossovers, Exclude Crossovers, and Show Only Crossovers.

Include Crossovers allows crossover fanfics into your search, Exclude Crossovers removes crossover fanfics from your search, and Show Only Crossovers is for if you’re only searching for crossover fanfics.

What is Completion Status?

Completion Status is how much of a work is finished. Here, you have three options: All Works, Complete Works Only, and Works in Progress only.

All Works includes both complete and incomplete works in your search. Complete Works Only filters out any works that are not finished. Works in Progress Only filters out any works that are finished.

What is Word Count?

Under Word Count, you can decide how long you want the fanfics in your search results to be. Depending on the amount of words you specify, it will filter out any fanfics that do not fit into your range.

There are two search bars. The first search bar is labelled From. The second is labelled To.

If you put a number in the From search bar, your search results will only show you fanfics with a word count that is equal to and more than the number you searched for.

If you put a number in the To search bar, your search results will only show you fanfics with a word count that is equal to and less than the number you searched for.

Putting numbers in both search bars will give you fanfics with a word count that falls between the two numbers.

What is Date Updated?

Under Date Updated, you can search for works that were updated within a specific time period.

Like the Word Count tab, there is a From search bar and a To search bar. Clicking on either of these search bars should cause a mini calendar to pop up, where you can select the date that you want to specify.

If, for some reason, that does not happen, then the date format should look like this: YYYY-MM-DD.

If you put a date in the From search bar, your search results will only show you fanfics that have been updated on that date and afterwards.

If you put a date in the To search bar, your search results will only show you fanfics that have been updated on that date and previous.

Putting dates in both search bars will give you fanfics that have been updated within the time span you have searched for.

What is Search Within Results?

The Search Within Results search bar allows you to further specify what you want. Here, after you select all your tags, any thing you put in this search bar will be found in the title or summary of your search results. You can search for specific authors or specific phrases, if you want. NOTE: all the stories you search for will have all the tags you selected.

There’s a small blue question mark next to where it says Search Within Results, and that gives you instructions on how to use special characters/symbols to include or exclude which words you’d like or would not like to find.

What is Language?

After choosing all the different tags and all of that, you have your last selection option. Here, you’ll see a drop-down menu where you can choose one language that you want all of your search results to be in.

Anddd… done!

When you’re ready, click the Sort and Filter button and your search results will pop up!

I hope A Comprehensive Guide to Ao3 Filters has been helpful for anyone confused about the filters and search options. If you’ve got anymore questions, don’t be afraid to ask.

ℋ𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃ℊ!

Taxomin, out! ⭐️

[lucidpantone]

Ok I totally get your point and your anger toward Wtfock "big" bosses and I also agree with you but one thing you might not be agree with me and I totally understand is that at some point we need to move on from s4, they didn't give a fuck to give us pocs the importance we need, but is not just their own fault, IF we really want a change then why we pocs still accepting working with this people? Why we pocs keep consuming their trash?; If we all keep on just complaining but we don't do something then there's no point, if we all are realistic with ourselves specially us pocs we should stop watching since Kato was announced as main, Noa probably read the script so he could have said no, Nora could also said something about it maybe ask for an apology from them to us before keep on going with next season, I totally understand is not that easy because they have a contract, they are working and those jobs gives them food, they are young and wathever else you want to add but on a matter like this one just extreme reactions like this one could make the change happen. Now a lot of people says they gonna watch for Nora to support her and I'm one of those but the truth is we shouldn't keep on consuming this content after the disrespect they portrait and they still probably gonna keep on portraying even with Nora there and the white allies I love them but once the season starts we all gonna be here watching and discussing the type of content still makes privilege grow and put our lives on risk and if you see things on their side they don't have any debt with an audience already forgive them or forget when the cute couples post and if they already talked it with the cast.

Since you have disclosed that you are a person of color am going to address you specifically and very differently. I don't know how old you are.... I hope you’re young so you have alot of runway to grow and really start analyzing and evaluating the world around you and the game thats at play that you never even signed up for but we’re born into. When you utter this phrase “I totally understand is that at some point we need to move on from s4″ it actually breaks my heart a little because you are so unaware of how society has conditioned you into identifying problematic behavior that hurts you but has groomed you into just shrugging your shoulders and saying well “its not gonna change anything. 

So I guess I’ll just take the abuse and keep it moving” and the grooming of problematic contentment begins at an early age and is slowly spoon fed into your cognitive behavior. So eventually you get to a place where you utter the exact phrase you just did “well I know I have been abused but [I] should move on and [I] (the victim) should let it go”. Ask yourself why are you so content to allow feelings of hurt to be pushed around? Why do you shrug your shoulders? Why do you present the idea (that you yourself know is controversial) like allowing your voice to whimper off when you are in the right? Also lets get a few things strait. Noa and also Romi because lets get all the facts out there did not read this script and okay it. The original season just presented an influencer (Kato) falling for her rival (Moyo). Thats it. They were no racial undertones to that relationship in the script. However the big bosses of wtfock thought they would try shelve out some performative wokeness and made their first time inexperienced white female writer try to write about really complex racial topics she had no experience with literally write them on the fly. They were modifying the script as the season filmed so no Noa never agreed to this script. Also another point, “Nora could also said something about it” she did say something tho. At the beginning of the season and then at the end. Also Noa specifically has commented like 4 times at minimum at how unhappy s4 made him and also when he won that award he didnt thank production or his crew Noa went out of the way to thank the fans. No other person on that s4 team would have thanked the fans but Noa because we spent all season dragging the crew for their shit and Noa thanked the fans in his speech. He did what Rutgers refuses to do which is acknowledge the fans. He said “the fans are most important”, let that sink in why he chose those words. Also you say “lets move on”, lets find a way to break bread but you know what not moving on did for Nora’s season? Don't you wonder why the last addition to the balloon squad is a black guy? Why the balloon squad is bigger than any other balloon squad that has ever been created? Why Yasmina’s noora character is also woc and muslim too. Why Noa was the person sent out to pick up that award even tho he wasnt the main of s4? Why moyo isn’t in the fight scene anymore? Why these white dudes have privately apologized to Noa for their bullshit and now you see Rutgers publicly saying on the gram that “Noa deserves the world”. All those actions are a results of the fandom not moving on and hounding these people to change and wearing them down and of course their changes are always surface but they are noticeable. So lets close this theology session out. There is a saying americans voice often which is “don't hate the player, hate the game”. Meaning just because the odds are stacked against you doesnt mean you shouldn’t support the players within the system trying to break through. There has only ever been two women in the entire history of cinema to win an academy award for best director and one foreign production team to win best picture. If people took the notion of well the academy awards are racist (which they are) why even try? None of these people would have even broke the ceiling. Support the players because at the end of the day they are just trying to identify a weakness in the system. Never stop fighting for them because if they win, we all win. I once heard a quote that has stayed with me for a long time. When all the heroes in a story don't look like you, you can never picture yourself as the hero. So dare to dream anon, and be the hero.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 42: Rᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Forty-Two

The afternoon passed quickly as I milled around camp in a vain effort to memorise it’s layout. After my encounter with Jasper I felt heavy and emotionally drained and had eventually left him to sleep. There was no sign of Bellamy anywhere on my exploration through camp and I struggled to keep myself distracted as my frustration with him mounted in my mind. I carried an overpowering feeling of anxiety as I considered how unprepared I was to rejoin camp and I felt alienated from the other residents. Abby’s conversation had given me a painful awareness of how little I knew of the current situation and I was afraid to ask any questions in case I accidentally upset someone who had been involved in some of the recent losses. The sensation of treading on eggshells haunted me as I wandered the courtyard and observed all of the new faces that made it difficult to feel that I belonged here. Despite all of the pain and loss of our original camp compared to the much improved time that I’d already spent here, I couldn’t deny that a small part of me longed for the familiarity of the territory that we had built for ourselves. Over our traumatic time on Earth, the first camp had become the home where we solidified our bonds and it seemed strange not to return there.

As the light faded to dusk I directed myself to Bellamy’s quarters with worry blossoming in my chest and was relieved to find that he had already returned for the day. He was in the process of changing clothes and as he clocked my entrance, he smiled with a playful look.

“I was wondering when you’d find your way back. I couldn’t find you in the dorms.” He revealed as he busied himself with seeking out a fresh shirt and it was clear that he was completely relaxed in my company. I stepped further into the room and leaned against a desk in an attempt to act casual.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be free. Kane seems to have kept you busy.” I commented idly and he hummed in response. He finished dressing and ran a hand through his scruffy hair before he strolled over to meet me with a fond smile.

“What did you get up to ?” He checked with an obvious interest and I caught him staring at my figure as if he was analysing me. I hoped that my building concern was not visible to him as I suppressed a nervous feeling in my stomach.

“I checked up on Jasper and Raven. It was nice to get back in touch.” I answered as I stalled to allow myself the time to decide how to address my queries and he smiled in a way that revealed he was unaware of any warnings in my demeanour. “Abby called me in for a checkup too.” I added and he flinched at the mention of the new Chancellor.

“How much trouble are we in?” He enquired with a playful tone to his voice and his eyes glistened with mischief as he explored my body.

“None. The wound is a little inflamed but healing well. Nothing more than a light scold from Abby either.” I confirmed and he sighed lightly in relief. He stepped closer into my space and I recognised from the way that his eyes ravished me exactly where his mind was going. I cleared my throat and scrutinised him for any signs of avoidance. I know that he was likely to brush me off and prepared myself to analyse him for tells that would indicate his true feelings. “She filled me in on some other things too.” I stated in an indirect method of steering the conversation and he hummed disinterestedly as he surveyed me, biting his lip suggestively. “She told me about Clarke.” I disclosed and I noticed that his posture stiffened as his eyes met mine. I raised a brow at him inquisitively and he stepped back from me as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“Of course she did.” He sighed and dropped his attention to his feet to avoid my gaze. “She was pretty messed up after Mount Weather. She couldn’t deal with coming back to camp. I tried to convince her but…” He trailed off as his focus remained on the floor and he fidgeted his feet. I sighed as I sensed that there was more to this than he was saying and steeled myself in preparation for a difficult conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I queried in a small voice and he reluctantly dragged his face up to meet my eyes.

“I didn’t want to dwell on it. Indie, I just got you back, I wanted to enjoy that for as long as possible.” He explained defensively and I smiled at him fondly as I enjoyed the acknowledgement that I knew him well enough to have anticipated his reasoning. “Look, things haven’t been great here. I know that we both have to face that eventually, but when it’s just you and I...it’s easy.” He added with a doting expression as he surveyed me and I felt a flutter in my chest at his words.

“Yeah, I get it.” I admitted quietly and I noticed that his shoulders relaxed slightly at my confirmation that I felt the same. “It sounds like it was a tough call for the two of you. Are you dealing with it okay?” I investigated worriedly and he forced a smile that I could tell was disingenuous as it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you, I take responsibility for my decisions now.” He expressed and although I was pleased to hear that my support in the past had played a part in his growth, I couldn’t deny the lingering feeling that his response was inauthentic. I shifted on the spot as I raised a brow at him and moved slightly closer to thoroughly examine him.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?” I muttered in a careful tone and I noticed a slight nervous expression cross his face in a split second.

“You know that I would.” He remarked with defensiveness evident in his voice and I could easily identify the annoyance in his expression at my continued doubt. When I still didn’t say anything to indicate that I believed him, he scoffed and fidgeted with frustration. “What do you want me to say? I made the decision to kill those people. It was a shitty choice but I did it. They had Octavia and I knew that they had you somewhere, it came down to killing them or standing by whilst they killed you both. I don’t regret my decision.” He insisted with an abundance of hand gestures as he spoke and I held my hands up in defeat.

“I understand Bellamy, I really do. I’d have done the same thing, I was considering far worse ideas. I’m not judging you for it at all, I swear. I just want to make sure that you aren’t going to walk out of camp one day like Clarke because you’re not really coping.” I explained and his expression finally softened as he met my concerned eyes. He bent into my space and cupped my jaw in his hand in a soothing manner.

“I’m not going anywhere Indie, especially not without you.” He breathed and stroked his thumb along my jaw in a way that made my heart race. “I’m good, I have everything that I need right here.” He confirmed as he inspected me with a contented expression. He gradually leaned closer to press his lips to mine in a kiss that absorbed me into him. As always, I was impressed at his ability to melt all of my fears away with his touch and I allowed myself to be swept away with him.

***

We laid wrapped up together in his bed and I felt as if I were in a state of bliss. I hadn’t expected to be in Bellamy’s quarters again tonight but I secretly harboured a deep relief that he didn’t seem to have immediately lost interest. We chatted comfortably for the evening about the people that we’d lost and Bellamy informed me that Fox had unfortunately been killed when they were all captured. We existed in a strange state of joint reflection as we discussed the events that had occurred back in our original camp and confessed that we’d have done things differently if we’d known that we would become separated. We shared laughter over the memories of better times and comforted each other for our regrets, before the conversation finally returned to current times.

Bellamy positioned himself leaning on the headboard of the bed in a relaxed state, the blankets draped carelessly over his lap with his chest bare and his black mop of hair ruffled. I sat opposite him with the blanket tucked under my arms to provide some coverage and leaned against him with my hip brushing his thigh.

“Kane’s got some radical ideas for camp. Sounds like he wants to reform the guard.” Bellamy stated absentmindedly and I raised my brows at him in surprise.

“I’d almost forgotten what life was like with the guards of the Ark.” I sighed, fidgeting on the spot as I considered the idea. I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of the norms from life on the Ark returning when everything in my life had developed to be vastly different and I wasn’t sure if I could fit back in the stifling society that had once been routine. 

“It’ll be different here. Abby’s a fair chancellor and she seems to respect our opinions.” He reassured me with genuine confidence in the woman who he’d clearly come to know well in our time apart and I met his eyes with concern. “From what I’ve seen Kane listens to her too. That’s more stable leadership than the Ark’s had in years.” He commented and I chuckled under my breath.

“I prefer the original camp leadership.” I smiled coyly at him and he chortled. He reached out to brush my hair behind my ear in a tender motion and I relished the way that he beheld me as if I were a sight that he couldn’t get enough of.

“Kane’s been assigning me jobs and asking for my opinion on things to do with our group.” He relayed in a manner that revealed this was bothering him and I tilted my head at him in interest. “With Clarke gone, he’s treating me like the official spokesperson of the 100.” He added with a hint of bitterness and I brushed a hand on his thigh fondly to draw his attention.

“They look up to you Bel. They always have, even before you saved them from the mountain.” I remarked and my words caused him to sigh deeply. “I know it’s not easy, but you don’t have to take it on. We have leaders from the Ark now, if you want to just be a regular camper from now on, that’s fine. I know I’d be happy to take a step back, yours are big shoes to fill.” I admitted as I recalled my strenuous time as a leader whilst in captivity and he made a sympathetic expression as he observed me.

“You sure about that?” He asked with a sly smile that caused me to watch him with suspicion. “It’s not in your nature to follow orders Love, and I can’t just sit back when things are happening.” He detailed teasingly and I felt a small flutter in my chest at the pet name, but tried not to overreact to it.

“I’d be fine, I don’t need to follow orders to not be in charge.” I pouted defensively and I noticed amusement glittering in his eyes. “Besides, I’m quite content to stay in this little bubble, just the two of us. You’d get bored in no time.” I drawled absentmindedly and hoped that he didn’t notice the pang of vulnerability in my words. He raised a brow at me and sat forward to take my face in his hands.

“You think I'll get bored of following my assigned role all day, staying out of the big decisions and arguments?” He suggested as he stared deeply into my eyes and I nodded lightly. “As long as I can come back to this at night, what am I missing?” He breathed as he pulled us together to meet my lips and sent my head spinning at the adoration that radiated through his kisses. It was almost impossible to be insecure when I was under his gaze and I couldn’t deny the impact of his touch, which seemed to be just as addictive to him as it were to me.

***

Throughout the night my mind was filled with images of Mount Weather and the people that resided there. I was reminded of those whose lives I had ended: the guards in the hall, the guard that I stabbed when chasing the alarms and most vividly, the guard in the hazmat suit. The process of his torture replayed in painful detail in my mind and it was agonising to watch even though they were my own actions. I woke repeatedly in a cold sweat and was relieved that Bellamy seemed to be sleeping too deeply to notice.

By the time that I woke in the morning I was exhausted and bleary eyed. I sat up with a start when I realised that Bellamy was gone and scanned the room in a panic stricken state. My gaze landed on a note on the bed and I snatched it with shaking hands.

KANE SENT FOR ME, DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE YOU. GET SOME REST X

My eyes scanned through the scuff handwriting quickly before I dropped it with a pang of disappointment. I stretched my limbs out with a yawn and could already feel the sharp edges restlessness in my mind urging me forward. Despite my best efforts to return to some sorely needed sleep, the moment that I closed my exhausted eyes my mind was filled with the terrified face of the guard with a screwdriver protruding from his thigh. I bolted out of the bed to find my clothes in a determined stomp to distract myself and rushed to dress, fix my hair and leave the room.

I wandered the camp in search of Octavia but I couldn’t seem to locate her in any of the rooms or dorms. I was directed to her quarters by camper but from what I could tell of the empty space it was practically unused. The courtyard was strangely empty as I stood considering where else I could search when I caught sight of her near the edge of camp. My approach to her was rushed as I found her layering up, seemingly preparing to leave and I caught her arm in a bid to halt her.

“Hey! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I chirped in an effort to hide the stress that I was feeling and she immediately turned to face me with an obvious scrutiny filling her pretty face.

“What are you doing up? Shouldn’t you still be resting?” She questioned as she scanned me from head to toe in an assessing manner and I felt a brief resemblance of Bellamy in her protective mannerisms.

“I’m fine, Abby cleared me for camp duty. I feel great, I’m ready to get back to normal.” I confirmed and she raised a brow at me in suspicion. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked as I glanced past her to examine the courtyard for any gatherings but I couldn’t see anyone else who seemed to be preparing to leave with her.

“I’m going to meet Lincoln.” She commented with a subtle smile that would have been easily missed by anyone else, but I caught it. It was still strange to see her dressed in full grounded attire and I recognised that her whole demeanour had changed to be more controlled.

“Lincoln’s still around? You must be pleased.” I crooned with a smug expression and she rolled her eyes at me. Although she tried to act cool, I could recognise the familiar playful glimmer in her eyes. “Everything is so different here, even you.” I sighed as I studied her and her firm expression finally softened.

“You missed a lot, I know it can’t be the easiest adjustment.” She stated with a sympathetic smile and I was glad to find that she understood my situation as usual. “But nothing has changed with us. No matter how different I am, you’re still my girl.” She breathed as she punched me gently on the arm and I chuckled under my breath. She seemed thoughtful for a minute as she examined me and I knew that she could probably see through any defences that I tried to raise. “Why don’t you come with me?” She suggested and I raised a brow at her in surprise.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a third wheel to your date.” I remarked with a mischievous smirk and she tried to slap my arm but I dodged, much to her annoyance. 

“It’s not a date, we’re gathering supplies. It’s a long ride, it’ll be a couple of days at least until we’re back. It could be a nice change for us to catch up if you’re up to it?” She enquired as she glanced down at my stomach and I fidgeted under her examination.

“Of course, when do we leave?” I responded keenly and she chuckled as she shook her head.

“I’ve got to finish collecting supplies and get the horses ready, then I’ll be leaving. It should be a simple run but it’s better to be prepared. Get whatever you need and meet me back here.” She commanded and I nodded gratefully in response.

Following her directions, I found my way to the armoury to check out a pistol and dagger. There was an immediate surge of relief as I stowed them in their familiar place on my belt and I felt an anxiety that I hadn’t even noticed settle at the security of the weapons. I collected some extra rations, water and some basic medical supplies just in case. The newfound maturity in Octavia was a welcome change and I was pleased that the grounder culture had clearly taught her not to treat someone as wounded. It was refreshing to have someone trust my judgement about what I was ready for, instead of coddling me as everyone else seemed to be determined to do. I entered Bellamy’s room with an unexpected buzz of excitement for the journey. I anticipated that it would be empty as I returned to collect a warmer undertop and planned to leave a note for Bellamy to avoid his disapproval for my decision to leave. 

Instead, I discovered that he was wandering the space as if he were preparing for something and I stopped in my tracks as he clocked me. I knew that it was impossible to avoid the argument now as he assessed me with a cocked brow and I shifted awkwardly.

“Hey, sorry I ran out earlier, Kane’s got me organising training for the new guard.” He reported as he strode over to place a light kiss on my cheek before returning to scouring the room. I behaved casually as I strolled over to take a long sleeved jersey top and placed it over my vest, wrapping the jacket over the top. “I think he wants to get some of our group trained better too, or at least able to defend themselves. After everything they’ve survived so far, it’s not such an awful idea.” He continued speaking in a relaxed tone and I was relieved that he didn’t seem to have noticed my movements. “Where did you sneak off to?” He purred suddenly and I jumped as he appeared behind me. I was surprised as he pulled me into him until my back met his chest and his arms threaded around my body. His head settled on my shoulder and I gulped nervously.

“I wanted to check on Tavi.” I answered lightly and felt his smile against my cheek. My heart started to beat faster as I considered how to approach the subject of leaving and I felt him stiffen as his hand brushed down to my waist.

“You’re all armed up again.” He commented in a forced tone of calm but I could detect the suspicion in his voice. “I’m glad you’re protected.” He added in a manner that I knew was allowing the opportunity for me to confess and I felt my stomach lurch with guilt. I sighed deeply and felt an immediate change in his demeanour at my avoidant gesture. “Going somewhere?” He interrogated and I flinched at the disappointment in his tone.

“Octavia asked if I wanted to join her for a supply run.” I admitted quietly and I heard him scoff in annoyance. I stepped out of his embrace with a strong feeling of dread and turned to face him.

“You can’t seriously be considering it?” He breathed in disbelief and I shrugged at him avoidantly. “Indie, you had surgery a few days ago, do you really think you should be leaving camp?” He exclaimed in an exasperated tone and I peeked up at him guiltily.

“Come on Bel, I’m fine! I can’t just stay cooped up in here forever whilst everyone else works. I need to pull my weight.” I argued and he rolled his eyes at me with a long enduring aggravation. “Besides, it gives me a chance to catch up with her. I thought I lost her too, we could do with some time to reconnect.” I appealed in a desperate bid to gain his understanding and his expression finally softened from anger to concern.

“You couldn’t do that inside camp?” He suggested with a sulky frown and I smiled warmly at him. “I just got you back.” He whispered as his brows furrowed together in worry and I reached up to cup his face.

“It’s only a couple of days, I’ll be right back with you.” I promised with a reassuring tone but it didn’t seem to provide any relief. He continued to stare back at me with something in his eyes that revealed he had resigned himself to my leaving but he was visibly upset by this.

“I know better than to tell you what to do, especially if it involves my little sister. If I say no you’ll just sneak out.” He stated and I giggled at the huffy tone in his voice. “Be careful and don’t stay away too long.” He pleaded in a terrified voice and I smiled thankfully at him.

***

It took some considerable time to extract myself from Bellamy’s room and I suspected that he was purposely tempting me to stay. By the time I stepped outside, Octavia was waiting for me near the gates with the horses. I noticed that the camp was mostly empty and I wondered if she had purposely chosen a time when everyone was busy so that we could sneak away. I moved to stride out of the cover of the small buildings into the courtyard when something caught my arm and I whirled around to find Bellamy observing me with a deviant smile.

“Here, I snuck this out for you, hopefully you won’t need it.” He encouraged me back into cover and out of sight as he handed me a folded up shock baton. I regarded him sceptically and instead of waiting for me to accept, he tucked it into my pocket for me. I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness but I couldn’t deny that a small part of me enjoyed it.

“Couldn’t you get in trouble for that? I can’t imagine they have many of those left.” I enquired with pursed lips and he shrugged carelessly at me. I chuckled lightly at his attitude, causing him to perceive me with an expression of enamoured wonder. The fear that he struggled to hide was obvious in his eyes and I attempted to lighten the mood between us. “You won’t even notice I’m gone, you have guards to train.” I remarked playfully but he maintained the seriousness of his look. Instead of playing along with my comments, he took my face in both hands and stared intensely into my eyes.

“I’ll notice.” He asserted before guiding me close to him and planting a lingering kiss on my lips. One of his hands threaded into my hair whilst the other rested comfortably on my hip. I couldn’t help drifting into him and I felt his indulgent smile through the kiss. It was impossible to retain any focus whilst my senses were lost in him and I noticed that all feelings of urgency faded away. It was cruelly tempting to remain with him and I knew that he was carefully measuring every addictive connection of ours lips to make me reconsider. I tried to force myself to step away but my body wasn’t responding as I remained magnetised to the spot. I felt the all too familiar flutter in my chest and started to get light headed from the thrill. Eventually, I managed to tear myself from him and he groaned in disappointment as we separated. 

“I have to go.” I stated breathily and he viewed me through aroused eyes. I bit my lip in an attempt to control the temptation and I knew that he had noticed it. There was a clear smugness in the way that he observed me and I knew that he was proud to have this uncontrollable effect on me.

“Do you have to?” He suggested in a low voice and I sighed as I glanced at him with an amused expression. It was a constant internal battle to remind myself that I could come back to his bed any time and he knew that my commitment to this mission was wavering.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” I muttered as I stepped away from him hesitantly and moved into the open part of camp before he could take any more extreme measures.

Although we’d been mostly hidden from view, it was evident from the moment that I set eyes on Octavia that she had been able to see us together from where she stood. She crossed her arms and examined me with a smug expression. I strained not to blush as I shuffled over to her awkwardly. I willed myself not to glance back over my shoulder as I noticed that her suggestive smile was now directed behind me and I knew in my gut that Bellamy was still observing me. I approached the horse nervously as I realised that I would have to be careful in mounting it; if I showed any hint of struggle I knew that Bellamy would rush over to insist that I wasn’t well enough.

“All set?” Octavia asked and I knew from the tone that she spoke in that she understood my dilemma. She glimpsed between me and the horse with a knowing look and I cleared my throat awkwardly.

“Yep.” I asserted with a forced tone of confidence and she wandered over in a relaxed movement to assist me. 

It was a challenge to behave as if this were normal when I honestly had no idea how to mount a horse, without adding the stress of the still healing bullet wound. Thankfully Octavia knew exactly what she was doing and between us I managed to get into position. She gave me a crash course on riding and I was appreciative of the information, even if I felt immensely under-prepared to actually use it. There was the twinkle of a proud smile on her lips before she moved to climb onto her own horse and I could feel Bellamy’s eyes burning into the back of my head.

Now that I was settled safely in place I risked glancing back, only to find him watching me with a painful concern. His posture was incredibly tense, as if it was taking every last drop of self control for him not to intervene. Octavia appeared beside me on her horse and her eyes followed my line of sight to Bellamy. She raised a brow at his worried demeanour before returning her smug face to me.

“You sure you’ve wrapped things up here?” She crooned as she indicated back to him and I kicked myself as I felt my cheeks burning at her insinuation.

“Let’s go.” I uttered coldly and she chuckled at me with a relaxed nature that I hadn’t seen in her since we reunited. “Take it slow for me.” I requested quietly and she nodded in acknowledgement.

Now that I was faced with it, the prospect of spending two days on a horse caused nerves to pool in my stomach as I worried that my body might not manage the exertion. It was more strenuous than I’d imagined to even just keep my balance and the last thing that I wanted to do was fall off before I’d even left Bellamy’s sight. We moved slowly out of camp and into the open fields. 

Once we were out of his anxious view I started to feel relaxed. I enjoyed the feeling of the wind in my hair, the vivid smells of the forest and it felt like a dream to be gently trotting side by side with my best friend. I peeked over at her sitting on the horse with a well practised posture, her beautiful brunette locks neatly plaited with only the middle of her mane loosely draped over her shoulders. It was obvious to me how much she’d grown in the brief time that we’d been apart and I reflected on the strangeness of the result that meeting Lincoln had actually improved her. As I considered the unexpected nature of their relationship, she sighed thoughtfully and I could tell from her face that she was also reflecting. She cleared her throat before bringing her eyes to mine with a tiny hint of playfulness glinting there.

“Back in the Skybox I never would have imagined I’d see the day where you were banging my brother.” She remarked smugly and I cringed at the frankness of her words. All of my previous thoughts on her maturity and carefully controlled facade dissolved at her familiarly prying eyes.

“Don’t make it weird.” I drawled as I scrunched my nose into a grimace and tried not to consider the poignancy of her statement.  She scoffed at me loudly and I could tell that she genuinely enjoyed having witnessed us kiss so that she could torture me.

“It’s already weird.” She commented and I shrugged in agreement. If I was honest, it’s not something I could ever have predicted back when it was just the two of us in our cells, but now that it had happened it seemed natural. “But honestly, it’s about time. You make each other smile, that’s good enough for me.” She confirmed with a heartfelt smile and I felt tears prickling my eyes. 

“Thanks babe.” I breathed as I quickly wiped them away and fixed her with a mischievous smile. “So, is Lincoln still making you smile?” I spoke suggestively and winked at her. I was delighted to earn a snort of laughter in response and it caused a warm wave of nostalgia to wash over me. 

“Fair enough.” She conceded as she met my eyes with amusement. “I guess I wouldn’t ever have seen myself with a grounder either.” She admitted with a far away gaze. “Shit’s been crazy since we got down here.” She added in a reflective tone and I hummed in agreement.

“You can say that again.” I muttered as I considered all that had happened in our time here. “We’ve lost a lot of people.” I declared as numerous faces flashed through my mind and I noticed her analysing me with concern.

“We’ve kept a lot alive too.” She acknowledged and I sighed in response. 

We trotted along in silence for a while, both lost to our thoughts and I was content to simply enjoy her presence. I reminded myself what I would have given for this kind of experience three weeks ago and tried to keep my attention in the moment so that I could treat it with the appreciation that it deserved. The sun dappled through the trees, casting Octavia in a beautiful, soft light and I felt my heart swell at her relaxed smile. It was a relief to discover that she was happy, despite everything we’d endured and I felt a strange sense of completion as I realised that I couldn’t think of anything else I could need in my life now. I followed her lead quietly and after some time I became aware of how strange it felt to simply follow her.

“You seem to know exactly where you’re going.” I stated an almost question and she surveyed me with a thoughtful look.

“I spent a lot of time out here with the grounders.” She revealed as she easily understood what I was getting at and I raised my brows at her. “Like I said, you missed a lot.” She added with a softer expression as she had to concentrate on relaxing her newly cold attitude and I sighed.

“Yeah, it seems like it. Everyone’s different, we’re in a camp that feels uncomfortably like the Ark and there are people gone who I have no idea how they died.” I detailed as I peeked over at her in frustration. “It feels like we don’t belong in this camp any more. So much has happened and none of you will discuss it.” I expressed with an honesty that I could only release around her and she sighed deeply.

“It’s hard for anyone to talk about, just like your experiences in Mount Weather. It was a bad time for everyone.” She explained and I nodded in acknowledgement. I could tell that she was contemplating what she could recount and I waited patiently for her to speak. “For me, you know I’ve been interested in the grounders' ways since I met Lincoln. It wasn’t intentional for me to join them, but the mountain took Lincoln and our camp was taking too long to act to save you all. So I tried to prove myself to his clan to get help.” She divulged as if it were the most obvious conclusion and I stared back at her in disbelief.

“Jesus Tavi, that was ballsy.” I gasped as I widened my eyes in horror at this idea. “How did that go?” I enquired with interest and was pleased that I hadn’t been around to witness this process.

“It was tough.” She admitted with a deep sigh and I found myself wondering exactly what she’d endured to succeed. “I had to take a lot of risks to prove that I was worth their time. Once I did though Indra took me on as her second and I joined Trikru.” She stated in an even tone and I struggled to process her words. The last time I’d seen a grounder they were breaking through our walls to murder us and the idea that Octavia was a part of any clan just didn’t fit with this memory. 

“You’re part of a grounder clan?” I grilled as I tried to wrap my head around the idea and struggled to remain neutral to her explanations. 

“I was.” She answered cryptically and I studied her with an ever growing confusion. “I learned so much from them. Indie, their ways are wiser and more balanced than anything we’ve ever had on the Ark. They have me a purpose, they let me prove myself based on my skill and they didn’t coddle me.” She explained with a heartfelt tone to her voice and I sighed in an effort to prevent myself from becoming defensive.

“I can see why you’d be attracted to that.” I admitted as I glanced around awkwardly and compared these statements to everything she had told me of her upbringing. If this was true, I could entirely understand why these kinds of methods would allow her to grow in the manner that she had, but I was still conflicted at the fact that this had happened under a grounder’s guidance. “How did you get a whole clan of the force that wants to wipe us out to take you in?” I probed as I analysed this information and found myself displaying an impressed smile.

“Earned their respect.” She confirmed in a vague statement and I examined her with a newfound pride as I appreciated the strength that she’d cultivated despite such difficult times. “Besides, it wasn’t a problem for too long. Clarke managed to form an alliance with the commander.” Octavia revealed and I felt my mouth drop open in shock at the absurdity of the statement.

“Anya? But I tried to kill her?” I questioned in a stutter and my panic caused a light chuckle from Octavia.

“Anya wasn’t the commander, she just led the unit whose territory we were in. And don’t worry about attacking her, the guards already shot her to death. Fucking idiots.” She grumbled under her breath and I was unsure how I felt about this discovery. “The grounder forces are larger than we ever imagined. The commander's name is Lexa, she’s extreme but not completely unreasonable. Clarke arranged a meeting and although there were sacrifices we had to make, she managed to secure an alliance to attack the mountain.” She relayed and I found my attention riveted to her as she recounted the events that I had missed. I could hardly comprehend the idea of an alliance and the fact that Clarke had apparently successfully secured one was blowing my mind. We rode in silence for a few moments as I processed the new information and I hesitantly questioned part of her statement.

“What kind of sacrifices?” I asked nervously and her gaze snapped to me with surprise. She sighed deeply at me as she considered her words and I awaited her answer with a building sense of dread.

“We had to hand over Finn.” She divulged as she kept her gaze from mine and I could tell that she was avoiding my prying eyes. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable with the fact that she had to explain this and I could hardly keep my disgust from my face.

“What?! Why? What could they possibly want from Finn? He was the biggest advocate for peace!” I exclaimed in a burst of rage and she flinched at the outrage in my tone. She bit her lip in consideration and stared out across the forest thoughtfully. My chest burned with anger as my mind frantically ran through any scenarios where this would be an acceptable outcome and instead found myself wondering how on earth Clarke could have agreed to such terms.

“He slaughtered an entire village of grounders Indie, innocent women and children included.” She revealed and my mouth dropped open in shock yet again. She fidgeted with the reins uncomfortably as I gaped at her and tried to fit her words into the image of the peace advocating, mediating person who I’d known. “He wasn’t the same person that you remember. Losing Clarke broke him, he did some terrible things to find her. Even Bellamy couldn’t stop him. We tried to find another way to compromise but Lexa considered it a war crime. They were about to declare war on us again and Finn snuck out to hand himself over. We couldn’t stop it.” She detailed with a far away look and I could hardly believe what I was hearing. 

It was difficult to comprehend the unexpected changes in the gentle Finn who I’d grown to respect and there was a wave of sadness that hit me as I considered that his decisions would forever change the perception we all had of him. I was struck by the realisation that this could just as easily have been Bellamy and I felt a surge of pride in the person that he’d become whilst searching for us. I reflected on the situation and compared the actions that I had taken inside Mount Weather to those that Finn had been held accountable for and wondered if I would be considered a war criminal too. 

“How did he die?” I questioned in a quiet voice as my stomach churned in dread and Octavia sighed reluctantly.

“The grounders wanted to punish him for every life he took, that’s their way. The army set up a public execution stage right in front of our camp. He would have suffered all night.” She began and I couldn’t contain my feelings longer.

“That’s barbaric!” I gasped as the mental image formed in my mind and I had to physically shake my head to remove it.

“I know it’s hard to accept because it’s Finn, but what he did was awful. The punishment was for an extreme crime Indie. You might not agree with it, but they did what they would to anyone who killed that many innocent people.” She explained and I had to swallow my disagreements. “Even so, none of us could stand to see him go through that. So Clarke stabbed him when she pretended to be saying goodbye.” She explained and I felt my hands shaking as I absorbed this. I felt an immense guilt for the way that I’d treated Clarke for all of this time as I imagined how agonising this situation must have been for her. I wasn’t sure that I could’ve done the same if it was Bellamy and I acknowledged the incredible strength that it must have taken to provide such a mercy.

“Shit.” I whispered with a heavy feeling in my chest and Octavia hummed in response. “No wonder Clarke needed time. I hope she’s okay.” I admitted with a deep feeling of remorse and she nodded in agreement.

[stormhawksplanb]

Storm Hawks Fanfiction: Plan “B”

https://myhushhushdarling.tumblr.com/PlanB

Chapter 7

For those who are on Mobile, Check out the #planb for all the chapters and related content!

The next few hours were quick. The terra was cleaned up, and the art exhibition was cancelled. No winners, no anything. The damage caused by the attack was surprisingly small. Houses were destroyed, and the ground we walked on had dips and small shallow craters. No one was badly hurt which was the good part.

It took a while, but when we accounted for everyone, including the COGA members, The Storm Hawks had taken off on their skimmers to search the terra for any other invaders. Leaving me, Stork, and Junko to deal with the wreckage. Usually that would be no problem, but I don't think any of them want to talk to me after my "This was my war long before any of yours" comment. But like with any negative situation, I try and correct it. After all, it'll make things easier if I at least try.

"Junko! There you are erm- doing... What are you doing?"

I caught him at the center of the town, pulling out the broken canvases and left over art utensils.

"Well the building structures are useless now. But a lot of the art work and other stuff is only partially damaged... So you know..."

My heart sank a little bit. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. Was what I said that bad?

"Hey uhm. I just wanted to try and apologize for my behavior earlier. I shouldn't have said what I said..."

Junko turned to me, his head tilted. Then all at once it was like a lightbulb went off in his head.

"Oh that! No, yeah, it's fine. We've all heard worse. No need to apologise."

I was almost dumb founded by his reaction. He seemed so mature about it. Then it dawned on me.

"So... How long have you been a storm hawk?"

"Oh uh, since I was 15... I'm 16, going on 17 now..."

"Oh... That makes sense."

Despite how well put together the team was, I seem to have forgotten that they were in the same predicament I used to be in. They were all dealing with the carnage of a war they never started. My only other reaction was to give a quick nod goodbye and head to my next target. Why I did that I don't know.

Upon seeing the condition of the Condor, I cringed. There were scratches on the outer material, burn marks on the paint job, and some cracks in the glass. Glued to the hip of the Condor was Stork, working away at some patch work. Taking a deep breath I stood beside him, and hesitated to tap his shoulder. I jumped a bit when he grunted and glared at me.

"Heeey, do you need any help with repairs? I uh, I know how to paint and I can even get out most of those burn marks!"

All he did was turn away from me, and scoff. I gave an audible groan, wanting to get this done and over as quick as possible.

"Ok! Fine! I'm sorry for being a brat earlier, and I'm sorry for getting in everyone's way! But you can't just keep on ignoring me like this-"

I was silenced by a paintbrush being swung out in front of my face.

I felt embarrassed as the heat stroked my cheeks. He still didn't look at me, as I took the paintbrush and started working beside him. Something tells me he didn't really care about what I said. Or what I did...

After a few hours of hard labor, and helping Junko find the owners to the left over artworks, consoling some children who were lost on their way to the bathroom, the rest of the Storm Hawks squadron came back to the terra. All of their faces covered in mud and dirt. I held back a Chuckle since none of them were very pleased with their new look.

Soon enough the whole Terra surrounded us, hoping to hear about what had happened to them. Aerrow had looked away from the bombardment of "Are we safe?" And "Who was that?!". He Seemed, uneasy.

"It was... Cyclonians..."

Aerrow seemed defeated for a split second, and he faced the crowd again when the murmuring and disbelief subsided.

"It's not Master Cyclonian herself. But one of her lackeys had taken her thrown… Recently."

I locked eyes with Piper and muttered Ravess’ name in hopes the current spectators didn’t notice. She nodded at me, acknowledging my hypothesis to be true, and Aerrow continued.

"I know today was supposed to be important to everyone here. It was supposed to be a step towards our recovery as Atmosians... But today..."

It was like he froze on everyone. We all just stared at each other. My brain kicked in and I stood beside him, a sorrowful look across my face replaced with a sincere smile, and he gave me a grateful one in return.

"Today is the day we prove to everyone who dares question us. And that we now keep what was once taken by the Cyclonians."

It was a short statement, but not false. The crowd cheered and I looked back at Aerrow. A small smirk and a nod my way as another thanks.

Eventually, this part of the Terra was cleared out. Thankfully some neighboring Sky Knights arranged for people to stay at their own Terras while the properly qualified went to work to restore buildings. I had other plans. One of which was to try my shot again at convincing Aerrow to let me bum a ride to my home terra.

Walking on the drop down ramp to the condor, I more or less physically bumped into Piper. Arising a small squeak from her.

"Oh! Sorry!"

I shook my head at her, and playfully rolled my eyes.

"It's fine. It's not like you snapped my arm in half. What's up?"

She rolled her eyes back at me.

"oh you know. Navigating maps, saving a whole Terra, just normal Sky Squad stuff. And what are you up too?"

I shrugged at her, not wanting to disclose to her that I was looking for Aerrow.

"Well if you're not doing anything, could you help me with something?"

"Yeah, what do you need?"

I followed her off and away from the ship as she explained her plans for the terra.

"Well, the unexpected Bombing left us vulnerable, and out in the open. So we’re setting up a temporary Shock Wave Crystal tower. I'm not sure of how aware you are about the war against Master Cyclonis, but-"

She gave a heavy grunt as she moved a box of unmarked Crystals from a table to the floor, then taking out an old map.

"Terra Atmosia had a Sky knight named Carver who betrayed them, and joined an alliance with Master Cyclonis herself."

I grunted and scrunched my face up at the name, Carver. It rang a bell, but I decided not to press on about him. And Judging by her attitude, I'm guessing no one's a real fan. Least, not anymore.

“That also means the Terra is still without a Sky Knight. What's left of his squad still helps out, but it's hard to have a Squad without a leader."

"Why is that?"

She gave me a slight judgmental face. Shaking it off and smiling at me, deciding to humor me anyway.

"Without a Sky Knight or some kind of leader, the Squadron loses their title and rights to their Squad name. The Sky Knight is responsible for not just leading the team. They keep it together, and take responsibility for the whole squad. Those rules can be bent and flexed but the concept stays the same."

I gave a quiet "Ah" in response. It made sense. Something still bugged me though.

"If that's true, Then why don't they just recruit a new Sky Knight?"

I got the idea of what she needed help with, which was moving crates and sorting maps. My mother showed me how to organize maps, so I could do that much.

"It's not a hard thing, but because of Carver's stunt, people are scared to be the new Sky knight. It's an old wound. Some Atmosians have gone as far as to threaten the Ex-Squad members. Some people think that the whole team was involved, and carver freezing his crew mates was just for show."

"Ew."

Piper let out a huffy laugh, shaking her head.

"Storks right. You really are different from other Sky Knights. Speaking of which. Can I ask you something?"

I nodded my head, finishing up on the last map. It looked like they were creating blueprints for new energy launchers, and a radio scrambler.

"What Terra are you the Sky Knight of? Stork said you mentioned something about being a sky knight yourself."

I gave a deep sigh, making sure to look her in the face. The obvious tone mocking Stork, all whilst hinting at her curiosity.

"It wasn't my choice..."

"Is it ever really a choice?"

I gave another sigh, (Just now realizing that I’ve developed a nasty habit of doing that).

"I was designated to become a Sky Knight when I was 10. I live on Terra Argonia. I was actually hoping that you guys could swing round that way and drop me off..."

"Terra Argonia! But that Terra was swept out clean by the Original Cyclonis! That was YEARS ago."

I chuckled at her.

"Terra Argonia is home to the Nova Crystal. Why do you think they call me Nova?"

Piper was looking at me in amazement, blinking rapidly. I could tell right off the bat she was going to mention Dusty.

"That means you're the daughter of the infamous Dusty of the Raving Vultures!"

Yup. There it is.

"Ta da? I think. I don't know why you're so impressed. He's infamous for a reason."

"I know, I know! But do you know why?"

I felt an old wound open up in my chest. My face must have given away my anger because Piper was quick to apologize.

"O-oh. Right. You'd know. Can I ask what happened?"

Before I could speak a hand was placed on my shoulder. Arrow had joined us in our little circle. His face was serious.

"You're gonna have to hold that thought. We're receiving a stress signal from Terra Rex. We might also have a lead on where Ravess is hiding currently".

[marvelann]

So something happened and I’m feeling too humiliated to talk about it with my loved ones yet, hence me posting it here. Sorry in advance (?).

Disney+ is starting in Europe at the end of March and so is the customer service for it. I went through an interview for it because it actually looked pretty ok for a call center job:

-20000€/year for customer service representatives, 23361€/year for coordinators, supervisors and quality assurance agents (I was told that the interview was for the latter position).

-39, 30 or 24 hours a week morning, afternoon and night shifts (I was particularly interested in the late night shift).

-It involved working weekends but I didn’t really mind. I’ve worked in a call center before and racking up free days and going in short vacations is pretty easy and makes it somewhat worth it.

-It wasn’t a permanent contract per se, but after a short trial period you were supposed to stay until the service was over. So it’d put me in that neurosis state, I guess, “fuck Disney but also I hope this shit succeeds”, idk.

So I passed the interviews and they told us that we’d have to go through a two weeks training period, from 9 to 15 (Monday to Friday), take an exam on the contents at the end, and whoever passed said exam would be employed. They made us sign a paper that said exactly that, it all looked pretty legit. The training would be paid with the first salary.

All good, training begins. On the fourth day we found out that even though most of the people in our group had interviewed for the coordinators, supervisors and quality assurance agents positions, none of us were aiming for them, we were all to be customer service representatives. I was actually really interested in the quality assurance thing, so that was kind of a kick in the gut. Things would only get worse from there.

Last day on the first week they tell us that the service is from 8 to 24, so that’s goodbye to the late night shift also. They didn’t disclose any of this information willingly either, we had to pretty much chase after HR, as they were always in reunions or too busy for whatever reason. Ok, whatever. It still isn’t so bad, I have already wasted a week here and I quite like the people I’m going to be working with. I’ll push on.

Next week on Tuesday, I think? they tell us that the salary will be 19000€/year IF we can demonstrate we have a C2 level in English (or were natives in the language). For people who have B2 and C1 levels, they pay goes all the way down to 16000€. This is almost everyone in the class, mind you. At the end of the process only 5 people had a C2 level in English. They reached that conclusion with a shitty 20 minutes English test that had a couple of errors, btw.

This didn’t really affect me (I do have a C2 after all) but I still wonder why most people didn’t just fuck off at this point. It’s 4000€ less than the initial pay we were promised!! Anyway, tensions are high, HR is still avoiding us whenever they can. We don’t know shit about our schedules, although they did deign to tell us that they also needed workers in the afternoon shift, and that the people who originally said they had complete availability would have to be consistent with their words. Which is rich, considering they weren’t consistent with pretty much anything they told us. Oh, also there’re not 30 hours shifts in the end and the 24 hours shifts are for weekends only.

We get to Thursday pretty fucking frustrated with the whole situation, let me tell you. We all pass the exam and are told we’ll be discussing our schedules on Friday and signing our contracts on Tuesday.On Friday HR person comes around asking for some Social Security numbers she didn’t have yet. I’m sure I haven’t provided mine, and I tell her so. She tells me they did have it and I ask it to write it down for her just in case. As I’m doing that I mention that I don’t really trust much of what goes on in the building.

She gets the blankest, dumbest expression on her face and asks me, what do you mean? I just tell her that we haven’t been given any reasons to trust them so far and sit down. She leaves, after asking me why I’m even here if I don’t like it and the rest of the people in the class tell me I said exactly what everyone was thinking.

The afternoon drags on, they call us outside to record a video for the Disney+ workers in USA, all very corporative happy yey Disney, get back inside and HR woman from before asks if she can speak with me for a second. Tells me to gather my things. You can probably tell where this is going.

She gives me an opportunity to “explain myself” (???). I apologize for being rude and passive aggressive, but I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t true, and she can probably tell. She apologizes in turn because after this behavior she’s afraid they can no longer consider me for the position. She asks me to please leave.

I don’t know what to do, or even if I want to do something about it. I told the rest of the people in the training what had happened and they all agreed it was some messed up shit they pulled. One told me that blasting them on Twitter might work, since Disney is so concerned with its image. Thing is, I don’t even have a Twitter account and I don’t think I want those lying sons of bitches to take me back. I feel humiliated and like I was made an example of. “We’ll mistreat you and lie to you but you better never complain about it out loud, remember what happened to Iziar”, that kinda thing. I haven’t told anyone yet and my family keeps asking me when I am starting. It just sucks all around. Idk what to do.

Also I really hate how sly they were about the whole thing, they were clearly using the sunk cost fallacy on their favour. It worked though. I hate it.

[humanise]

as curated by rosé, xxix, gmt+, feminine pronouns. this is a selective and private indie roleplaying account loosely based on mcu’s spiderman—a mixture of both tom holland and andrew garfield’s verses, although the details are based on headcanons. he is an adopted korean-american, and the rest of the details revolve around the possibilities of his having an entirely different background and therefore personality, so i gain my fun from interpreting this deviance. he comes from and lives in manhattan, new york. this blog claims no affiliation with hwang hyunjin from stray kids. [ ... under heavy construction ! ]

this blog is mutuals-only, interactions ranging from short threads with icons to possible novellas. i will not format heavily out of laziness, but you do you. might alter some formatting to fit my blog. also, might not follow first but will check blogs for following back to save me the anxiety.

triggering contents might appear from time to time, tagged accordingly. i will tag what’s reasonable, but if you need something specific tagged as “tw ...” please do let me know. mature contents might be sparse, he’s big into intimacy but kid is young, therefore there will be no smut here.

that being said, out of comfort, i will only follow those aged eighteen and above considering my own age. a hag, i know. as for muses, i don’t mind roleplaying with those younger than said age as long as they’re not that young.

will not be sending passwords due to anxiety, but i’ll read what i need to read prior to following you. also, due to mental health i can be sporadic in activity, thank you for understanding in advance.

lastly, this character is fairly original, and is made purposefully to not resemble canon all that much. all i’m seeking is the probability of what could happen to him as a person, with the deviance from the background, while still being bitten by that radioactive spider, transforming him eventually into spiderman.

he is still inserted into the latest mcu franchises as the protagonist, but he might exhibit different set of personality. might not be as cheerful and expressive, but he’s trying his best™.

basic roleplaying etiquettes apply. i don’t practice reblog karma much, but it’s best to reblog from the source since it might clog my activity, and i will try doing the same. gif icons come from diamondgifs’ bundle, colouring done by gallifreypsd and halseycoloring.

[ ... ] TEMPORARY DOSSIERS. TRIGGER WARNING: spiders, internalised racism, mention of abortion, shooting, parental death.

he was conceived out of marriage by a young woman, impressionable at best. she was eighteen, and so was on her way to abortion when her cousin stopped her. this cousin eventually adopted the baby, naming him using her husband’s last name, taking him as their only son as she was proven infertile. he was very close to his mother, and her death a year ago after being caught in the crossfire of a mafia war eventually became what propelled him into devoting his life becoming spiderman.

his adoptive father is a wealthy man, and therefore, has no qualms in pampering his wife and son. he’s been living lavishly, but that’s not always an ending solution to everything in his life. it was clear that peter was adopted considering his father is white, causing speculations to spread like wildfire amidst those attending the same private school when he was a child. he was not bullied outright because of it, but the rumours were enough to instil discomfort, and embedded some kind of trauma.

which sent him to eventually always dyeing his hair since he was around thirteen, camouflaging the fact that he is fully korean to desist the rumours about his being adopted. he knows early on that he is, however, despite the absence of outright confirmation about it. he’s smart, has always been. intelligence way beyond his years, sometimes doing some leaps in his elementary and junior years, so he’s now twenty and in his fourth year of university in nyu, studying engineering to continue his father’s legacy in the material development industry.

was bitten by the radioactive spider when he was doing a study tour to a laboratory, during his second year of university. you know the rest of the story—tl;dr, he explored his new abilities, learning to control them in his confusion, designing the suit after gaining unsolicited entry into his father’s building. he webbed all cameras, yes. master of sneaking in and out at this point. as for other abilities, parkour has been made easier thanks to the extra agility. more profile on his abilities to come later.

loves photography, still, as well as dancing. lives alone in a studio apartment nearby his campus. has an ‘aunt may’ who loves him a lot, who happens to be none other than his regretful birth mother, but the truth has yet to be disclosed. turned out a certain tony stark had been paying attention to him, threatening mildly to tell his father about the ‘dangerous stunts’ he’d been doing. agreed to help out with the civil war situation. no, tony stark did not die in the event of endgame either.

[loljulie]

flicker; {010} finally free

(what do you mean i can’t update a fanfic that’s over a year old?? yeah, so, i wasn’t rlly planning on this, but i had the idea when i first wrote the original fic and somehow got an inspiration for it. also, the first part of this chapter is from a year ago, so hopefully you can see improvement as it progresses. anyway, i decided to still keep the taglist because,, idk, why not? and in case it wasn’t obvious, this is the official finale, and everything written here is original content so i had to make up a lot of stuff for post-uprising political stuffs. i hope y’all like it!) 

genre: detroit: become human

deviant!connor x reader

word count: 6300 (literally wtf??)

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓　 d̯̱̝̠̘̙͙e̼̯̣̗͈͇̳v̥̗̭̹̫ia̘̝͔͙͙̜ͅn͈t͇͓̦̻s̙̗͉̜͕  　▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

@dragonempress123

@itstrashleydude

@chisooyaaa

@help-i-need-a-social-life 

@shadows-echoes​

@mavvsmm​

@sygin​

@wonders-of-the-multiverse​

You leaned back into your snug couch, your eyes closed as you let your muscles relax against the cushions. Spending the night in a hospital bed had made you miss the comfort of not just your soft couch, but everything else in your home, as well.

“Up,” Connor commanded, causing you to open your eyes. He was fluffing one of your throw pillows on the coffee table in front of your injured leg. Without question, you did as you were told and rested your leg on the pillow.

The two of you had just gotten dropped off by Hank, who made you and Connor promise to call if you needed anything. While Hank went back to the station to work, Connor had taken some time off to help you recover. 

“Whenever you’re resting, try to keep it elevated,” he said to you as he took a seat beside you. “Are you in any pain?”

You chuckled softly at his question. It was only the 5th time he had asked you since you woke up earlier that day. 

“No, Connor,” you reassured with a small smile. “The painkillers they gave me are really good.”

Suddenly, Connor blinked several times. “I placed an order for the prescription painkillers your doctor gave me. I’ll see if Hank can pick it up after work.”

“Would you like anything? Tea? Water?” Connor’s next question came so abruptly that you didn’t have time to comment on anything else. “Are you cold? Would you like a blanket?”

Instead of answering, you shifted your body toward him and placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. You could see the concern and worry in his brown eyes and furrowed eyebrows. You pulled his face to yours and engulfed him in a kiss.

It was the first kiss you had shared with him since he left your apartment. That night - only a few days prior - seemed like ages ago, and this kiss was long overdue. Though he was hesitant at first, due to your injured state, Connor eventually wrapped his arms around you and moved closer to you. 

There was something raw in this kiss that was difficult to describe. The last kiss you had was filled with so much uncertainty and worry, and now all of those anxieties could finally be released. It was a catharsis that neither of you had ever experienced before, and one you desperately needed. 

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, not wanting to break away from the intimate moment just yet. Connor closed his eyes at the gesture. You noticed his clenched jaw, and knew something was wrong with him.

“Connor,” you whispered, causing him to slowly open his eyes. “I know you want to help me, but I’m fine. I promise. All I want to do is rest. ”

He pulled his forehead away, but then gripped your hands in his lap tightly. 

“I understand. I’m sorry if I came on too strong,” he replied. You squeezed his hand, and felt him rub his thumb gently into the back of your hand.

“You can tell me if there’s anything wrong,” you said softly.

“It’s just - ,” Connor started, then stopped himself. He gripped your hand tighter, as if needing the comfort of your touch before being able to continue. “I was so worried when I heard what happened and I-I didn’t know what condition you were in and-”

“I...I kept thinking that the last time I saw you, I didn’t even tell you that I loved you.” You took a deep breath as you remembered the day you were shot. You just then realized that you had told him you loved him before he left for Jericho, but not the last time you saw him. “If something bad happened- if you had-”

Connor stopped, but in his silence you knew the word he couldn’t say. It was your turn to absentmindedly rub your thumb over the back of his hand, silently expressing comfort.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” Connor continued flatly. You raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to understand your confusion at what ‘it’ meant, and went on. “The uprising, the protesting. Nothing would’ve been worth it if you died. I’d deactivate myself.”

Your stomach tightened at his words, rousing you to speak up. “Connor, don’t-”

“It’s the truth,” he cut you off, his voice strained with sadness. He looked at you intently. “You’re the reason I deviated. I wouldn’t need - or want - anything to do with this life if you’re not in it.” 

Your eyes widened at his sentiment.

“So...  I’m sorry if I get lost in taking care of you during your recovery,” he went on, “I just… I can’t lose you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I don’t.”

You let his statement process in your mind for a few moments. While you knew you would need some help for the first couple of weeks during the recovery, you were worried that you would take him away from the civic duties he’d undoubtedly been piled with ever since the uprising ended. As you looked at his concerned expression, however, you knew that for that moment, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

So, as a gesture of approval, you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. His tense shoulders relaxed at your touch. 

“Okay, then the first thing you can do is help me to my bed so I can take a nap.”

-

Naps were what took up most of your time during the first two weeks of your recovery. If you weren’t at physical therapy, the painkillers you were prescribed in the early days were so strong that they kept you in a perpetual slumber.

Some days, Hank would stop by and eat dinner with you and Connor. You’d ask endlessly about what was going on in the station, and he’d in turn pester you about your health. Connor mediated occasionally, but for the most part he enjoyed seeing the two of you banter and converse. It felt normal again.

As time went on, your therapy appointments showed more progress and you began to regain more mobility of your leg. Soon enough, the pain became minimal and much of your energy had returned. Instead of following the at-home physical therapy routines, Connor would walk with you around the block. 

Occasionally, the two of you would go out for a couple of hours a day. Connor would insist they were for your leg, but you had a feeling he enjoyed having lunch out at a restaurant or walking around the park with you. Now that the two of you could be public with your relationship, you began to think of those day outs as dates. 

Eventually, months passed, and you were cleared to return back to work. As soon as you were essentially injury free, Connor practically immersed himself in legislative work at the capital. You saw less and less of each other - first, he’d spend weekends away at negotiations and meetings; then, he’d be gone for weeks at a time. 

You couldn’t fault him for it; he was working tirelessly to ensure civil liberties for all androids, and you knew he was passionate about fighting for them. It did, however, take a toll on you, and you noticed it the most when you’d sit in your empty apartment most nights. 

So, when you - and Hank, you later found out - received an ornate invitation to a gala in D.C., you jumped at the chance to accept, knowing that it meant finally being able to see Connor again after weeks of only video contact. He had been away for much longer this time, and while he couldn’t disclose all the details to you, he giddily hinted that it was one of the more major acts he was working on. 

The gala was to celebrate the anniversary of the uprising and the various legislations that have been passed since then. You knew of them all, of course; and you knew that this night was more of a pat-on-the-back the government was giving itself for their cooperation with androids.  

While the importance of the night wasn’t lost on you, the fact that the gala meant seeing Connor after weeks of separation weighed more heavily in your thoughts. 

“This damn tie is all messed up again,” Hank’s gruff voice interrupted your moment of reflection. You lifted your head from the window of the car and shifted to be closer to your backseat companion. 

“If you stopped fidgeting with it, it wouldn’t be messed up,” you quipped as your fingers adjusted the navy blue tie Hank wore. He grunted before responding.

“I’m not comfortable in these things,” he replied, gesturing to his black suit. “If it were up to me, I’d be here in jeans and a comfy shirt.” 

You chuckled at your partner. You’d endured his complaints and whines for the last week leading up to tonight. When you raided his home for suitable black-tie attire, and found none whatsoever, you had to all but drag him to the nearest clothing store to find an appropriate outfit for him. 

“It’s one night,” you reminded him, just as you had whenever his complaints met your ears. “And then you’ll be back to your gruffy jacket and decades-old jeans.”

“One night,” he repeated, glancing down at his now-fixed tie and nodding to you. 

Soon, the car pulled to a stop outside the civic center where the gala would take place. Night had already fallen on D.C., but it only served to make the exterior of the center seem all that much grander. The building itself was mostly grey concrete; but the large glass windows that made up most of its front was breathtaking to say the least. Lights adorned the walkway to the entrance, and from what you could see, they continued inside.

“Ready?” Hank asked you, holding his elbow out to you. With a nod, you slid your arm into his, and the two of you began walking toward the entrance. “The sooner we get to that open bar, the better.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but said nothing. The open bar was on the list of reasons you gave to Hank to persuade him to attend with you, along with disappointing Connor by not showing up. 

Under your grey, long coat, your navy blue gown flowed around you as you continued to walk to the entrance. Hank was adamant that the only splash of color he’d wear would be the same as his tie, and you wanted to coordinate your outfits as best as you could. The sleeves of your dress were off-the-shoulder, and as you walked, the high slit on one side of your dress allowed one of your legs to show. 

You may have been showing off a little bit, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had an excuse to dress up so nicely for something. You also wanted to look as good as possible for your long-awaited reunion with Connor, and it wouldn’t hurt if he couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the whole night.

The room you entered was little more than a wide hallway. A counter nearby was in the midst of collecting larger coats. As it was the midst of November, many guests were taking advantage of the complimentary coat-check, shedding their warm layers to reveal expensive jewelry and designer wardrobes. It was clear just how high caliber this event was; you doubted anybody here, aside from invited guests, was anybody but a politician or high-ranking government official.

Hank shifted and you felt his hands around your shoulders, gently guiding your outer coat off. He had already removed his own black coat, and he draped both of them over one of his arms.

“I’ll go check these in. Don’t stray too far.”

You nodded your thanks to him, but kept your eyes scanning through the crowd of people. A large part of you knew Connor - one of the more important people in the gala tonight - would already be further inside the ballroom, mingling with guests. Still, it didn’t stop you from searching with bated breath and a quickened heart rate. 

You barely registered Hank until he was back at your side. Noticing your distraction, he nudged your shoulder with his own.

“He won’t be out here, ya know.”

You nodded, and wrapped your arm around his again. Without his outer coat on, his full suit was visible; black jacket, black pants, and of course, his navy blue tie, still in the immaculate position you had left it in. Under the more visible lighting of the hallway, you could more easily see the fruits of your labor when it came to his hair, as well. He wouldn’t let you do anything too “ridiculous” to it, but he allowed you to style it mostly back and out of his face with the most minimal amount of mousse. 

Your heels clacked along the polished floors while you glanced at every passing face in vain. All you were met with were various looks thrown your way, ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled disgust. It didn’t take much to realize you weren’t the typical crowd these guests were used to, but the occasional stranger managed to give you a smile or a friendly nod.

Hank must’ve noticed as well, for right as you entered the threshold into the ballroom, he leaned closer to you. “I already need a drink.”

The room you entered was massive, to say the least, and the crowd of people it currently housed managed to fill up most of the available space. Tables were spread across the space, though barely any guests made use of the free seating. Many were scattered throughout the room, coupled off in pairs or in larger group circles. Even with the added height your heels gave you, it was impossible to look over the crowd or even into it to continue your search.

You let Hank guide you to the bar, where some guests gathered around the standing circular tables with drinks in hand. Clearly, Hank wasn’t the only one with the idea to start the night off with a bit of a boost. You noticed workers carrying around platters of bite-sized foods maneuvered between groups, and made a mental note of which items looked the most appetizing for later.

“You need one, too; it’ll help with your nerves,” Hank remarked as he gave you one fleeting glance when you reached the bar. 

You let out a slight scoff while Hank ordered for the both of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“No, no, of course not,” Hank replied, his tone higher and carrying a playful hint to it, “Why would you be?”

“Exactly,” you agreed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Except for, you know, the fact that you haven’t seen him in almost a month,” Hank paused to receive the two glasses from the bartender before continuing. “And, he clearly has some fancy friends now.”

Your arms dropped from your chest as you looked over to Hank. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, and the corner of your lips tugged downward. You had tried your best to keep those thoughts away, but you couldn’t deny that they twisted your insides when Hank spoke them aloud. 

“I can read you like a book,” Hank brought the extra drink forward to you. “And you have nothing to worry about. But, you still will, so here.”

You took the drink from his hand and took a deep sip. Once the dark liquid hit your tongue, you easily identified it as a mixture of alcohol and soda. It was a gentler taste than had it been a whiskey alone, which you spotted Hank drinking himself. 

After knowing Hank for so long, it didn’t surprise you that he could identify your thoughts before even you could. And, while the drink helped quell your nerves a bit, its effects were nothing compared to the reassurance from your long-time partner. 

“I should know better by now,” you quipped, holding your glass out to Hank. You both had already taken your own sips, but nevertheless, greeted your glasses together with a clink. “Cheers.”

You both took another sip each. Hank let out a sigh after giving his alcohol a chance to warm his throat. “Not bad; this whiskey is probably the only good thing I’ll enjoy here.” 

”Oh, really?,” you began sarcastically, and nodded your head to one of the waiters, “I was sure vegan finger foods were your absolute favorites.” 

When Hank chuckled at your obvious joke, you mirrored him briefly before taking another sip from your glass and letting your eyes wander the crowd for a split second. 

A split second was all you needed to spot him. 

It must’ve been the way the crowd had shifted at that moment; a waiter had just ducked between two larger groups, revealing just enough space for you to spot Connor in the middle of a big group himself. Well-dressed men and women alike were listening intently to something he was saying, nodding along with eagerness plastered on their faces. 

You thought you wouldn’t be able to get his attention before the crowd shifted again, but you were wrong. He broke eye contact with one of his group’s members and, in a passing glance, found your gaze. Your heart stopped for a brief moment when your eyes met - and it felt like you were seeing him for the first time all over again. 

There was something different about him. He wore a fitted black suit that clung to his body in a different way than his usual uniform did. Under his jacket was a plain white button up, and a silver tie. It wasn’t just his attire, though, it was something else, too. The way he held himself while he spoke to the others, the confidence he exuded, was palpable even from your distance.  

He continued to keep eye contact, and all you could think to do was quirk an eyebrow at him over your glass, still pressed to your lips. A shadow of a smile - no, a smirk? - crossed his lips, and you watched as his gaze flittered up and down your ensemble for just a moment. 

Oh, he had definitely noticed how well your gown looked. Especially when you were leaned against the bar, allowing the open slit in your dress to reveal your bare leg. 

He had been quiet for some time now, and you could tell someone near him started to speak in his lull. As he was brought back to his suddenly trifling conversation, you saw him wet his lips just slightly before meeting your eyes for one last moment. 

You’d only been gone from each other for a month, but it felt like more than that. Before this latest trip, your time together was sparse, too. What precious time you did have together was usually overshadowed by a phone call or text he had to respond to. Not to mention your own job at the station pulling you away from your home every chance you got. This last year was hard for both of you, and now that this gala was here to mark the various legislations passed, it meant Connor would finally have more free time on his hands. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t think about where that left the two of you; and if things would be the same. 

And now seeing the energy he radiates you realize that things have changed a bit - but for the better. There’s something different in how he holds himself, that’s for sure. It made you all the more intrigued and restless to talk to him; see how he is when there isn’t deadline after deadline on his plate and he’s able to relax as his new self. 

He clearly is, however, just as infatuated with you as before, if the look he gave you was any indication. It had been a while since any of that took place, and you silently thanked yourself for having the foresight to book you and Hank separate hotel rooms for the evening. 

Just as quickly as it happened before, a waiter passed by, some groups shifted, and Connor was lost in the sea of conversations. 

Luckily for you, one of the coordinators went on stage, and announced that the live band they had for the evening would begin their set. Guests were encouraged to dance, of course, which meant the floor where most were currently talking would become exclusive for those who would dance. 

As the crowd dispersed, the jazz band already set up on stage began to start their set. Slowly, pairs started to fill up the dance floor once again. 

You looked over to Hank. “Would you like to dance?”

“That’s funnier than the last one,” he replied, then took another sip of his drink. “Dancing was not why I agreed to come.” 

“One dance won’t kill you,” You had already set your drink back down on the bar, and leaned over to grab Hank’s drink from his hand. He gave you a disgruntled look, but did nothing to stop you as you placed his glass next to yours. 

You led him to the dance floor, and settled into a free space amongst the dancing pairs. The music was cheery and light, meaning you could adopt a more casual form with your partner. One of your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulder, while his came to rest on your back. Both of your free hands were clasped together as you swayed to the music. 

Hank was stiff and guarded in his moves at first; a byproduct of his forced attire and the company he was surrounded by for the night. Yet, as you led him through the motions, he seemed to ease up. 

It was an odd thing, really, to see Hank ever relax in your presence. Work at the station was always stressful, and even during the occasional meals you shared outside of work, there was a certain weight he carried on his shoulders that made you wonder if he ever relieved his tension aside from the obvious alcoholic solutions. Your concern for his health was always a constant stressor ever since you first got to know him, and his lack thereof frustrated you to no end.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you; one that could only be shared between long-term friends who didn’t need words to express themselves. You knew Hank wasn’t truly relaxed, but you could tell from your grip around his shoulders that he was allowing himself to try. Even if it was just to appease you for the night, his actions brought a genuine smile to his face.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” His voice stopped your movements; instead of leading the both of you around the dancefloor, you paused and looked into his eyes. 

“For what?” You managed, the smile still on your lips, as if waiting for a punchline or quip.

“Everything. From your police work to risking your life to help Connor and the rest of the droids, and everything in between. You’ve done a lot, kid. And I’m proud of you for it.”

You shook your head lightly, an attempt to brush off his praise. “You’re selling yourself short, Hank. You helped me with a lot of that.”

“Maybe so,” he nodded, smiling briefly. “But you still did it yourself. And you’ve stuck around to help an old man like me for longer than you needed to, and for that, I have to thank you.” 

Your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. Hank had expressed his thanks to you in his actions before; good performance reviews to your higher ups, free meals, and the occasional back-handed compliment, but he had never explicitly said such kind words to you. 

You would’ve made a clever comeback, but you found your throat was too tight to try to speak. So, instead, you dropped your hand from his and wrapped it around the other side of his shoulders, embracing Hank in a hug, the dance long forgotten. Tears still threatened to leave your eyes, so you held them back by closing them altogether and buried your face into Hank’s suit jacket.

You weren’t sure how long you had stood there, but when you heard the coordinated shuffling of couples going off the dance floor and new ones onto it, you realized the song had ended and Hank’s favor had been completed - even if it was a little less than one dance. 

Hank pulled away from you, but left a hand on your shoulder. You waited for him to say something, eyeing his face intently, but noticed his eyes focus on something behind you. Before you could get a chance to turn around, your partner finally spoke up. 

“Looks like we’ve got company,” He gave you a knowing smile, and nodded to the spot behind you. As you turned around, you heard a fleeting statement from your partner.  “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest when you saw him up close. He was just as breathtaking as he was when you spotted him across the room, but the fact that he was closer to you now made your knees weak and your stomach twist in excitement. Maybe a month apart wasn’t so long to some; it wasn’t really to you, either, but the distance between you two from his political work had lasted longer than a mere 4 weeks. This night marked a return to what you hoped was a normal life with Connor, but you wouldn’t let the time you were forced to spend apart go completely.

“Hello, stranger,” you spoke, accompanied with a light laugh that was music to Connor’s ears. 

“Hello,” he greeted, his mouth twisting into a smile at the sight of you. With your new proximity, he could fully appreciate the ensemble you had put together for this night, and he loved every inch of it. He decided to play along with your teasing sentiment; it may have been selfish, but there was something pleasing in the notion that, just for a moment, he could pretend to be a complete stranger to you, and still get picked in a room of a hundred others. “I’m Connor.” 

An eyebrow quirked on your amused face, already speaking the question before you did. “Just Connor?” 

You had heard his old introduction countless times and, naturally, it would make sense that he wouldn’t refer to himself like he used to anymore. He was different now; much different from the man who helped sparked the revolution all those months ago. Gradual changes you missed during the past year seemed to culminate into the man standing before you know; different in stature and poise but still the same person who deviated because of his love for you. 

A nod. “Just Connor. And you are?”

You gave him your first name, and he repeated it back to you slowly as if hearing it for the first time. The way his lips smiled around your name caused another flutter in your chest. 

“- would you like to dance?” His hand stretched out toward you. You gently placed your hand in his. 

“I’d love to.” 

Your position was similar to your dance with Hank, although Connor’s hand was placed lower on your back. Due to your brief conversation, the song had already started, though it was slower in nature than the previous one and therefore easier to settle into. 

“I didn’t know if I’d get a shot alone with you tonight,” you admitted while you swayed to the music. “You seemed quite popular earlier.” 

Connor chuckled. “I’d much rather be in your company than any of the other people in here.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him again. “Strong words for a woman you hardly know.”

“Maybe so,” Connor leaned in, his lips just inches from your ear. Your breath hitched. You couldn’t tell if your heart was beating faster or if it had stopped altogether. “But, after I saw you earlier, I couldn’t keep my mind off of you.”

He pulled away, and you could’ve sworn he was gauging your reaction as you did so. The shock must’ve been apparent on your face, because he continued without giving you a moment to form a response. 

“Although, I’m surprised someone as beautiful as yourself didn’t already have a date.” 

“I-I do,” you fumbled over your words and cursed yourself for it. How were you so nervous? “I mean, I came here with my work partner. As friends.” 

You knew Connor knew that already, so you weren’t sure why you suddenly had to express it. Something about Connor’s ability to pretend he had no clue who you were, but still charm you like he desperately wanted you, flustered you to no end. 

He was enjoying all of it; the chance to flirt with you, to win you all over again, as a new version of himself was an opportunity he’d regret not taking. Of course, seeing you so clearly affected by his advances was a bonus, and it was somehow all the more rewarding to know you were still his under it all. 

“A friend?” He hummed, taking an opportunity during your movements to pull you slightly closer to him. “Nothing I should be worried about?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, possibly too eagerly. “He’s like a father to me; he’s also grumpy, hates almost everything except alcohol, and my partner at work.” 

“Sounds like he’d be hard to get along with.” 

You chuckled at that, and saw Connor’s own smile peek through. Though he hadn’t seen your first interactions with Hank, he would be correct in guessing he wasn’t all too happy getting assigned to work with you in the early days, either. Babysitting was what he referred to it as, if you could recall correctly. It was similar to how Connor and almost every single person was treated by Hank. 

Sharing such a reference could break the illusion of unfamiliarity the two of you had just created, but somehow it added a new layer of enjoyment to the whole situation. Being able to find humor and recognition in a statement that, discussed between two strangers, could mean nothing but a passing comment was satisfying. It reiterated the simple fact that, despite whatever it was you were partaking in, you were still each other’s at the end of it all. 

You leaned in closer to Connor, nearly hugging him entirely. Your already leisurely-paced dance movements slowed even more with your new position. You rested the side of your face against his chest and closed your eyes as you breathed in his cologne. 

“I missed you,” a content sigh escaped your lips as you spoke. Connor’s grip around you tightened; a gesture to reassure you that he was here, now, and that he had missed you just as much as he had missed you. 

“You do look beautiful tonight,” he murmured in a voice only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You smiled then, a gesture he couldn’t see from how your head was rested on his chest. “I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you mine.”

You wondered for a brief moment if “luck” was what you’d really call it. Was it luck that assigned his specific model to be Hank’s partner? Was it luck that you had taken an interest in the deviancy to begin with, giving you the perfect excuse for the two of you to meet outside of work? Was it luck that you even began working at that police station in the first place, all those years ago? Something told you that luck had little to do with it; that, somehow, your love story was one that was fated from the very beginning - that you were meant to be the flicker that sparked the deviancy in Connor, and in turn, helped the android uprising. 

Maybe that was wishful thinking; maybe, in reality, your love story was one of chance - of every single possibility in the universe bending and twisting in an impossible way to create the circumstances of your relationship. There was no higher power guiding you two to each other; rather, you had found each other in the organized chaos that was life - accidentally, but with purpose.

Maybe your relationship was unlikely to happen in the first place and it miraculously did against all odds, or maybe your fate was written and sealed in the stars themselves. You weren’t sure which you preferred; you only knew that you were thankful for whatever it was that brought you here, in this moment, embraced by the man that you’ve loved for over a year. 

You pulled away a bit, rousing yourself from your thoughts to instead look up at the man who so consumed them. From your periphery, however, you noticed a shock of blue hair to your right. Without even realizing it, you turned your head to get a better view of the familiar sight.

They looked different than they did on that rainy night outside of Eden Club when you last saw them. You could still differentiate between the two Traci models by their hair; one electric blue and the other a soft brown. The former was dressed in an elegant, slim silver dress while the latter wore a vibrant blue, flowy gown. 

The brown-haired Traci had her head pressed against her partner’s chest, eyes closed as the two of them drifted together to the tune of the music with soft smiles on their faces.You noticed some other guests glance their way often; but if the two noticed it at all, they paid no attention to it. After being on display for most of their entire existence, the looks they got tonight were trivial when they knew they were finally living the life they so desperately craved a year ago.

“I invited them,” Connor’s voice caused you to tear your gaze from the couple. You must’ve been watching for longer than you realized, if he had the time to notice and give an explanation. “They’re going to finalize their re-birth registration soon, and be given new names they choose.” 

The re-birth registration was the biggest project Connor spoke about to you. It had taken months to formulate, and even at its debut, there was a limited amount of androids that would be allowed to register. It essentially gave all androids the chance to create their “birth” registrations to be officially recognized as citizens. While all androids still have the emergency rights given to them from the uprising, this act was the first step in making those temporary powers more permanent.

You nodded slowly, and took one last look at the Traci’s. You’d most likely never see them again, and you wanted to remember the two androids - who taught you more about love than you realized - in the way they wanted to be remembered: together, in love, and happy. 

“And what about you?” You asked, looking back at Connor.  “Any thoughts on a new name?”

He gave a light laugh before answering. “I think I’ll stay with ‘Connor’.” 

If he’s being honest, he fell in love with the way you spoke his name and it didn’t make sense to change it. Maybe he should’ve admitted that to you, and maybe one day in the future he will, but instead he was content with your bright smile that he felt no explanation was needed.

“I do get to pick my birth date, though.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, your eyebrow arching to reflect your peaked curiosity. “What date did you have in mind?” 

“11/05.” 

Though it had been a year, you’d never forget that date. It was the day you first met Connor, and the night Connor had come by to your apartment, asked for your notes on the investigation, and left you confused and guilt-ridden from the kiss you shared. Your first ever kiss, and as accidental as it may have been, you couldn’t deny that it’s when everything started. 

You must’ve worn a shocked expression, for Connor continued with an explanation.

“I think that’s when I felt like I really started living instead of existing. Even if I tried to deny it afterwards - I know that’s when it all started to change for me… It seems right to make it my birth date.” 

You kissed him then. It was the first kiss you’d had in a month, and to be honest, you were surprised you could hold the urge back as long as you did. The feeling of his lips were soft on yours, yet held an underlying force that let you know he craved more of you than would be appropriate at a public function. His hands slowly drifted to your waist as the kiss lingered, while yours snaked their way around his neck. Both of you did your best to keep your longing kiss proper; but when he coyly nibbled at your bottom lip and caused a light moan to sound from your throat, you knew that task would be impossible. 

You pulled apart, nearly breathless. He looked at you, eyes alert and filled with a desire that made your knees weak. 

“Looks like I already missed your first birthday.” Your attempt at grounding your thoughts and bringing back some form of cohesive conversation fell short when he leaned closer to your ear. You already felt your composure crumble before he even spoke.

“It’s alright; you’ll make it up to me later.”

You most certainly did.

[survivingart]

STORY IS EVERYTHING

Be it online or in person, there’s a lot of competition in the arts. And the fact that the art world is much smaller compared to the world of business, law or medicine, only makes it harder for any one artist to succeed. While everybody online is telling us to “niche down”, and explaining why it’s so important, usually no specific tactics are disclosed, and the how is left for us to figure out for ourselves.

 This blunder is intended for anyone who wishes to find their focus and stand out in today’s oversaturated creative market by understanding the immense power of storytelling — especially when positioning ones creative skill and aspirations in the market.

Regardless if you paint, sculpt, make experimental video installations or are a political performance artist, the main goal for all of us is to express ourselves. 

We do so not because it’s the quickest or easiest way of making a living, but because it’s who we 

are. Most of us love our craft in some form or another and follow some internal aspirations that guide our interest and consequently the kind of art we make. 

But while creativity is a general term, it could not be describing a more colourful and rich abundance of personal motifs and ambitions of why we do what we do. 

For example, I could be selling skilfully crafted portraits because of my passion for creating narratives about beauty, intimacy and connection. But it could also be that I just really enjoy painting figures and fabric and am good enough at it to charge for my work. 

Both are great reasons to make a portrait and market ones skill, but even if the end product looks similar in both cases, their target audience couldn’t be more different.

So, let’s put the “art” in artwork.

I’d like to open this conversation with one of the hardest, but probably the simplest of all questions to answer, because we need to get it out of our way to really get the point of why story matters so much. But to find the answer we will have to go all in and drop the proverbial A-bomb. 

We’ll have to ask the big question. The one you can read about in 50��+ books, written by prominent and knowledgeable art historians and theoreticians, whose answers are mostly written so thoroughly, so extensively, that one needs a dictionary to find their point.

Ready?

What is Art?

Boom.

Unlike most other questions like: “What is carpentry?”, “What is music?”, even “What is philosophy?”, we artists and other creative souls appear to have an enormous problem — none of us really seem to know what the heck we are doing in our lives. Not because we are confused, undisciplined or too spontaneous, but because no-one actually seems to know what art is.

If you ask most academic professors, they will usually give you an academic answer. If they’re more on the liberal side, it will surely have to do with the freedom of expression and the lyrical power of images in the fight against social injustice.

Ask a person in the street — anyone you want really — and they might tell you it’s something pretty, something that looks good. And probably also something that is quite expensive. For a wealthy collector it might be freedom; a way of expressing themselves without the need to actually learn how to paint or draw or sculpt. 

A tattoo artist will tell you it’s tattoos. A barber will tell you it’s an exquisite haircut. An IT technician might even tell you it’s a perfectly sorted and laid out collection of ethernet and electrical cables in the server room. 

Just don’t ask an aesthetician — the branch of philosophy that researches art — and they might tell you a lot. Truth be told, they might tell you too much while saying very little. A wonderful example is Tiziana Andina’s prominently titled book: “The Philosophy of Art: The Question of Definition: From Hegel to Post-Dantian Theories”. Read at your own peril.

Art seems to be everything. And we all know that something that is everything is consequently nothing at all.

We have to take a closer look into the production of art; the making of paintings, sculptures, videos and maybe even haircuts and tackle the question by investigating the process of making something an art piece. 

So, let’s see if we can’t fix this mess of tattoos, pretty pictures and ethernet cables into a more workable definition by asking a better question: What makes something art?

In the 1960s the art world had a small crisis, caused by none other than the famous pop artist Andy Warhol. The root of the crisis was his artwork, titled simply: Brillo Box.

It looked exactly the same as a normal Brillo soap pad box, albeit being made out of wood. The question: What made Andy’s Brillo boxes art, but at the same time dismissed the original boxes made by James Harvey (the creator of the design) as mere industrial design?

Surely it wasn’t looks, and it couldn’t have been materials — the prestige of using silkscreen on wood instead of printing on cardboard was not the deciding factor after all. The only real difference that one could discern was the name associated with either product. 

You had Andy Warhol superstar and the other guy.

Apart from being a marvellous posh object to own, Andy’s Brillo box shines light onto an immensely important topic in art, namely that when push comes to shove, the classification of an artistic piece does not have anything to do with its physical composition — be it medium, motif, size, you name it…

This is immensely important, because if we distill the factors that make up art, we can get a pretty rough, yet quite precise equation, that looks a bit like this:

ART = Viewer + Art Piece + Artist

But why does it now seem like the art piece, the central point of the equation isn’t really important? Well, there’s another surprise coming up.

The artist has been regarded as a genius ever since the invention of the cave painting about 40.000 years ago. The master painter, listening to the whispers of his or her muses and transcribing the messages of the gods into reality, for all of humanity to experience the righteous powers of the divine.

As humans, we couldn’t have been more proud of the lineage of artistic mastery that our planet had created over the years, and we had every reason for it. From the Ancient Greeks to Giotto and Titian, then Caravaggio, Monet, Van Gogh and Picasso … all geniuses in the craft, that shaped how we perceive reality itself. 

But then came the trickster. The black sheep, the snake, the devil himself. Then, came Duchamp.

In 1917 as part of The Society of Independent Artists’ exhibition at the The Grand Central Palace, he unveiled his biggest joke of all — a urinal. And even though the organisation of the exhibition had promised that each and every art piece that was entered in the application stage would be shown, they decided to remove The Fountain (as Duchamp named his vertical toilet) from the exhibition. 

It was serious.

But the problem that Duchamp’s art piece created was minuscule compared to the big issue that was yet to come. His simple question : “Is this art?” didn’t just create a revolt inside The Society of Independent Artists, it started a revolution.

Thus, conceptualism was born.

The point he was trying to make was simple: Art is an internal human experience, not an invisible aura imbued into an object by some artistic genius.

The art world though, instead of getting his point, concluded that Nietzsche was indeed correct; the gods of art, beauty and aesthetics truly did perish. The murderer’s weapon was finally found — fully drenched in nothing but bloody ideology, the Fountain stood as proof.

Now, more than 100 years later, this narrative is still the bedrock of many institutions, both commercial and educational. And I feel it is about time we change this. 

Not only could more people start to appreciate art — instead of thinking of it as a pretentious playground for the rich, filled with expensive junk and weird intellectuals — but by removing some of the misconceptions that either artist or artwork are the origin of the artistic experience, we could actually improve the status of us artists in society.

How?

By educating the viewer. By making our artistic process visible to all via social media and other means. By not trying to overcomplicate our work descriptions and artist statements and ending the need to feel like we have to defend our right to paint, sculpt, dance or make videos, with big words and complex explanations.

By connecting with our audience and being strong, sincere and genuine people. And with social media exploding in a constantly connected world, the timing just couldn’t be better.

Art is a multitude of stories, each different from another and all created by every one of our viewers. 

And like good spelling and a decent vocabulary are the bedrock for any novel, we visual artists have a bunch of tools that we can use to build our narratives too.CREATING YOUR STORY (CONTEXT AND CONTENT)

In 1976, artist and critic Brian O’Doherty published his essay Inside the White Cube, that not only created lots of buzz in the art world, but gave this popular mode of displaying art in museums and commercial galleries a catchy new name.

While his wonderful critique of the White Cube is better to read in the original form, I would like to focus on one psychological factor that made his essay become so well known.

People experience things instantly and as a whole, rather than a collection of individual parts. When looking at a red triangle, we can’t just decide to see it as a triangle or just as something red — we always see both of its features at the same time.

Similarly with music; we can’t decide to hear just the tone of a note, while zoning out the colour of the sound (for example hearing the same note being played on a drum compared to a double bass or saxophone).

We as beings need context for just about everything in our lives — even our ability for differentiating object sizes and various temperatures is done by creating context from the surrounding environment.

Ok, but what does this have to do with art? Truth be told — everything.

As art is subjective, we can never really take full control over how a viewer of our show or a customer who bought one of our pieces will understand the work’s narrative. 

A description of the work might help, but some actually prefer to make up their own mind about what a particular art piece means to them on a strictly personal level, rather than listening to the artist describe what it should mean. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that in my opinion. 

But, while we aren’t able to control everything our viewer will experience, there are many aspects of our work that we absolutely can and should be thinking about. Because understanding them makes our job of finding potential buyers or getting a place in an exhibition incredibly easier.  

WHAT YOU CAN DO:

Choose materials carefully, not just as a means to an end but as building blocks of your work’s narrative. 

A marble sculpture and a wood carving of the same motif tell different stories. Both may be a portrait of someone, but marble will always communicate prestige, longevity and may form subconscious connections to Ancient Greek and Roman statues of prominent individuals, making the portrayed look even more respectable and important. Wood on the other hand is softer and warmer in appearance and more suitable for creating intimate portraits emphasising emotion rather than status.

Evoke emotions, then seal the deal with a well prepared concept.

Nothing is worse than a conceptual piece that doesn’t also work on an emotional level. The appearance of your work will make or break its ability to convey your message, so regardless of how brilliant your idea may be, if your work doesn’t first captivate your viewer and make them curious enough to step closer, all is lost.

Presentation is really important when exhibiting your work. 

Adjust lighting, surrounding objects like tables, chairs, plants … to compliment your work, or at least not to distract your viewers attention.

Impressionists used a lot of green leafy plants to compliment the vibe of their paintings, modernists decided to completely remove everything (including the frame of a painting or plinth of a sculpture) to maximise emphasis on their work — hence the White Cube principle.

When showing work online, it is imperative to get it right.

Show your work not just as a clean, shadowless and speckless photograph with good colour correction (because the images should look identical to the real thing), but incorporate it into an environment — even a generic architectural shot of a living room will be better than nothing.

Give your online images enough context and help your visitors understand the colours, size, textures and other features of your work by providing enough visual information; a few detail shots, a side view and maybe even the back of the work (if it’s 2D). For spatial works, maybe make a 360° GIF by stitching together multiple angles — nobody wants to buy a sculpture only to find that they don’t like the rear end of it.

The venue is a big part of your exhibition. 

If you paint a picture of an apple being picked by a woman somewhere in a forest and hang it in an office of a juice company, people will probably see a nice lady picking apples. But hang it in a church community centre and people might see the highly complex concept of Ancestral Sin. 

Same painting, same communication, immensely different results — just by changing the context.

So whenever you have the chance — for example if you are invited to create a show in a certain gallery from scratch — work with the space in mind, or change it if you can to make it a better fit for your work.

Regardless of what kind of art you create, if you make a thorough examination of the materials you use, the message you are trying to tell and the environment you are telling it in, you can use all of this information to reverse-engineer your work to find your target audience. 

It should never be the other way around.

from Surviving Art https://ift.tt/2mSC2Mu via IFTTT

[okimargarvez]

SCREW TO THE LIMIT - 2

Original title: Vite sull’orlo del baratro.

Prompt: prostitution, sacrifice, danger.

Warnings: A.U., mention of sex content.

Genre: angst, drama, family, romantic, smut.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Luke’s son, BAU team, others OC, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎲🎈.

Song mentioned: none.

Screw to the Limit- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

PART 2

The next morning, when he arrives at his workplace, he doesn't know that a surprise awaits him. Bitter.

He doesn't have time to say good morning to his colleagues that a blonde, with a breathtaking body and a personality of no less, announces: -The little bird sang.-. and she smiles at seeing him confused, but she doesn't intend to make it easier for him. Finally, she sighs and gives up. -This night, your prostitute has disclosed to Prentiss.-. his gaze immediately passes to the other woman, short hair, brunette, charming and much more dangerous than the other. She shows displeasure, but she's not at all.

-How the hell did you do that?- he don't hold back from asking, trying to mask envy and fury.

-I didn't have to lift a finger. It was she who called me. She wanted to talk to someone, someone who could understand her.- she almost seems to read in his eyes what he was busy doing, while an important witness decided to collaborate. -A woman.- she adds, and in pronouncing the last word she crosses her legs in seductive fashion .

-Hey, where are you going, Alvez?- but he ignores the call of the boss and his stern look and he's heading like a thunderbolt in the area where the witnesses and people in custody are housed.

-Where's Penelope Garcia's room?- he asks, jerking a guard who dozing off. Once he received the number, enter without knocking. The woman isn't sleeping, indeed. She is lying on the bed in a provocative and mermaid position. Very few parts of her body are covered by sheets and very short nightgown. But above all, from the expression she has printed on her face, she almost seems to be waiting for him.

The confirmation to his dilemma arrives instantly. -Took you long enough, hombre caliente.- she smiles, she runs her tongue over her lips and then she bursts into a thunderous laugh, which however contains different evil nuances.

-You did it on purpose to tell everything to a colleague of mine and not to me. You waited for me to leave.- he approaches until he touches the mattress with his legs. She doesn't seem intimidated. -I'm sorry to inform you of a particular. The case is entrusted to me, so you will have to repeat the word for word to me.- now he also folds his lips in a grimace that looks like a smile.

-And if I didn't want to bend to your pretensions? What could you do to me?- she is aware that her sentence fully corresponds to a challenge. She likes a little too much playing... and this excites him enormously.

-Let's start with a transfer. You certainly can't stay in this cage. There are some rooms in a special building for those in your situation...- he tries to seem professional, but he grins while letting the gaze roam freely along her curves. -Put on something decent. I'll give you ten minutes.- and he turns around, giving her the back.

He hears the noise of the woman coming down from the bed and even seems to warn the centimeters that separate them becoming less and less. -Are you going to stay here while I dressed up?- she asks initially, shocked. -Also a whore has the right to her own dignity.- she remarks seriously and... grieved? So much so that she sighs, and she gives it to him.

-I'm out here. I'll enter within fifteen minutes, whether you're dressed or not...- he warns her and threatens her at the same time. She makes a mischievous smile him back. He sighs again and closes the door behind him. Left alone she goes to the shower and tries to wash away all the feelings that the agent has caused her since the first time she has laid her eyes on him. It's a losing proposition. It's all too complicated. In any case, must be nothing between them and she can't trust anyone... let alone a stranger mounted that exploits the law to fuck prostitutes... She's putting on her shoes when she hears a soft knock and then she sees him opens the door gently. He is less asshole than he wants her to believe. She wonders what the has led to be so, having to show harder than he really is. Then she shakes her head. -Are you ready?- he asks admiring her choice of clothes. The blonde takes the bag and puts it over her shoulder.

-Yes.- inside she has all her life. She doesn't need anything else. Almost.

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 He even opens the door to her, and this almost makes her scandalized. And he reads her eyes too easily. -What's up? I'm a romantic asshole.- he says, raising his shoulders and belittling his gesture. Then there is a grave silence, very embarrassing. They risk going on the classic futile questions about weather. After all this is not an appointment, but a job. A mission to complete. Fortunately, the building mentioned by him is not far from the headquarters of the Bureau and so after a few minutes they are already parking and the next moment climbing the stairs. He stops in front of a door with the number 17 written on it. -This is your apartment.- he announces in a flat tone. He pulls a key out from his pocket and her eyes can not help but concentrate on a point not far away. She looks away before can notice and follows his hand tinkering and insert it into the lock. She shudders and swallows, she has starting to have maniac thought without any other help: this man drives her mad even when she doesn’t want to. Fortunately, now he will leave her alone and will never see him again. So, she can come back to... The door slamming behind her takes her away from that thought.

-Nice.- she says, looking around. It is a fairly small space, reminiscent of those mobile homes that are rented when you go to the beach. But basically, she has just to live in, so she has to be content. There is a table, stove, fridge, sink in an area that must be the kitchen. There is probably a bathroom behind a blue door; she checks and receives confirmation: a shower, sink and cabinet. Another one is the bedroom. The bed isn’t single one, but matrimonial. As she watches the other furniture she finds him behind her. Very close, too close.

-Is it up to the motels you're used to?- he provokes her again. She looks up at the sky, but he can’t see her. She feels his chest behind her back. Get away, courage, get away. It is not so difficult. Courage! But she can’t listen to her rational voice. Because she seems to feel something else too... She turns towards him, flaunting indifference and seriousness.

-Agent Alvez, I think I can do this on my own now. Thank you for bringing me here...- but man doesn’t want to be liquidated at all. And he probably has another trick up his sleeve, because he smiles pleased.

-You didn’t understand, you can’t stay here alone. You are a witness in an important case.- a shadow passes before his eyes. -We don’t want to lose you because you change your mind or you change your version, is it clearer to you now?- he is not telling the whole truth, but it counts on the fact that she can’t know it. -Someone has to make sure that you arrive alive and sane in court. And for your misfortune, that person is me.- he shows a smile even more dazzling that makes him terribly attractive, but he can’t read her mind, for blessed grace.

The blonde decides to change tactics. -Do not you have a life? All work and no play?- it's her turn to make fun of him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and play with the other one with  his hair. The innocent look is therefore much more dangerous. She moves the hand on his back and then go down to his ass... but her intentions are different from those that the man can think. She grabs the object with a quick snap and move away, to better control the data that interest her. He remains speechless for a moment, looks at his wallet in her colored hands and can’t believe it.

-Are you also a thief?- he finally says. She ignores him and extracts his identity card. Thirty-two years. Born in San Juan. Not married. She puts this data together with the rest. She continues her exploration and he lets her do it, amused, upset but also pleasantly admired. She finds the license but doesn’t seem interesting. It is instead a photograph that attracts her attention. It's all curled up, very badly set up and portrays a very small child. Before she can better check he takes everything away from her. Even if he had noticed that they had come so close. -Satisfied?- he raises his eyes until they are chained to hers and for a thousandth of a second they stare strangely. Then he breaks the spell.

-You know everything about me, you have a whole file, I guess. I had to equalize the situation.- he smiles and nods at her explanation. The reasoning has sense.

-You have to tell me what happened to Bradenton.- hearing him say that name, she jolts. -I've taken a look at the testimony you've signed to my colleague, but I want to hear it with my ears- before she can accuse him again of just wanting to get excited with the story of how three men have abused her at the same time, including their alleged unsub, he beckons her to let him finish. -Obvious in written statements we use a certain language, we omit details that are not considered important, or that someone is comfortable to keep track of...- he lifts his shoulders and understands that the woman believed him.

But this changes little. -There's nothing more than what I wrote there. Really.- he reads the fear she has felt in her huge brown eyes, yet something urges him to insist. He approaches again, shortens the distances and she remain still, without moving back. -Please don’t force me to relive all that crap. You think I'm just a bitch and that probably I must have done something, to deserve it.- he shakes his head, but she ignores him. -All men think that and those who deny it are just hypocrites. The only thing that interests you is to fuck and even when you fall in love, however, ruin everything for a fucking. So please be honest and don’t play the part of the knight in shining armor who wants to free the world from scum. I am part of it. It's just a mission, a card in a huge file, a file lost in myriad folders. Say clearly what you want from me or go away.- she had no intention of talking so hard, but once she started she didn’t find the button to stop. This time she really shocked him. He thinks if it is necessary to contradict her, then understands that it is useless.

-Someone must have hurt you a lot, very hardly.- he says instead. She doesn’t answer anything, just staring at him. A light shine in her eyes. He sits on the bed.

-Just for this I will ignore the fact that you are a nice curry tidbit and I will prepare myself as best as possible for the trial.- yet voice and body speak two completely opposite speeches. Biting her lip, blinking her lashes, curling a blonde lock around her finger and changing her legs position, she continues to send his blood to other places, which are not the brain.

He reaches her by doing a few steps. He looks at her from top to bottom. -I think you keep playing with fire and it is clear that you will not be happy until you burn yourself...- he approaches the right ear and their lips are very close. He notices the goose bumps that invade her. -I repeat it. You must be careful. I'm not one of your customers. You can’t make me turned around with four bullshits.- he can feel the heartbeat of her, completely mad. Slowly he moves away, but then with a shot he turns again towards her and stares openly at her natural red lips, which contrast beautifully with the diaphanous skin. He takes her by the chin. -And if you rub my wallet again...- he leaves the ellipsis. The indefinite is infinitely more powerful, because everyone's imagination is free to think the worst. This time he leaves her free and goes to the door. -I'll be back tomorrow. Don’t feel too much my lack.- the door closes without too noise.

The woman stays there, motionless in the same position, for she doesn’t even know how much time. When she revives, she still has the marks he left on her.

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 -What’s happen to school?- every evening the same question. It's something so automatic that sometimes he can’t remember if he's already done it and what his son's answer was. Even the latter is quite trivial. Usually he shrugs his shoulders with a lazy air, sometimes he comes out with a "no news" and then there are the worst times, those that says nothing at all and then he knows that something happened.

Tonight, is one of those times. He didn’t eat anything, and, in his dish, he had no broccoli, but lasagna. His favorite food, like his mother. And yet if he only tried for a moment, he would immediately understand what the problem is. It would be enough for him to look up at the calendar on the wall next to him. Or pay attention to the news, which is showing trivial states posted by famous people in honor of their... But he is lost in too many thoughts and a problematic child doesn’t improve things. He repeats that he is a teenager, and it is normal behavior, but he is not really convinced.

Jack, the son of his boss, is a few years older than Adam. He saw him grow, practically. He too without a female figure. Hotch's wife had been killed by one of the worst serial killers they had hunted. He had recently joined the team when it happened. Yet Jack was all his father: serious, awake, loyal to duty.

And suddenly it is as if they had taken away the slices of ham (or salami, that stuff there in short) from the eyes and understands. Today is Mother's Day. In first grade it had been a tragedy. The first time he had come home crying and asking him why he didn’t have a mother like all his companions. He wondered what horrible sin he could have committed from his seven years, to suffer a similar injustice. Explaining to him that it wasn’t his fault, but of an evil man "like the bad wolf of fairy tales", hadn’t brought great results. From year to year the situation had only worsened. The more the children grew, the more the questions were unintentionally (at least hopefully) invasive and pungent. Last year he had passed unscathed. He thought he had found a way to accept it. Instead, in all likelihood, Adam had only closed in on himself because in his father couldn’t find the comfort he needed.

For this he had taken a dog. When there were external missions, he had to stay away from home for two weeks in a row. His sister, who lived a block away, had practically raised him as one of his sons. But this had had repercussions on the child's psyche, and he who was a profiler had to notice it. For him making friends was very difficult, and also play in the park with other unknown children. He felt he had no roots. Since Roxy was there it was a bit different. He loved that dog and Madeleine too.

Being a single father is not easy already in itself. With a job like his own, then, was practically impossible. In fact, Hotch had remarried with Beth, a woman he had met during his Saturday afternoon races. He hadn’t been able and certainly not because he loved Adam's mother to the point of wanting to respect her memory. He had simply never found one that was worth it. Or maybe he had never looked for it.

Watching his son examine a forkful full of a piece of lasagna very carefully, Penelope's face comes to his mind for less than a second, like an evanescent shadow. When he meets his green eyes, it has already vanished. But that feeling remains.

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 The cry is not in her head, it is all too real. She sighs, gestures to her husband that she has to go, gets out of bed, wears slippers and reaches the room adjacent to the master bedroom. The baby is awake, crying and holding a dinosaur's doll close to her.

-Mom...- she mumbles, squinting deeply red eyes.

-Mom loves you, you know that, do not you?- the little girl nods. It's not small enough for not understanding that something is happening and it's not good.

Thomas, who is two years younger, wakes up. He looks to the roommate and then to the mother. -Mom?- he also calls, questioningly.

-It's all right, love. Back to sleep.- she smiles to reinforce her sentence and to reassure both. The real problem is if she will succeed, now, to fall asleep again.

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[makerof150papermasks]

Hamlet Mariofied Act 3 Scene 1

Bolded names refer to the Mario characters playing the roles. The character role names remain the same in the context of the play and its dialogue.

Mario = Mario

Wendy = Ophelia

Bowser = Claudius

Peach = Gertrude

Kamek = Polonius

Wario = Rosencrantz

Waluigi = Guildenstern

Toadsworth, Army Hammer Bro, Mushroom Chancellor, Lubba, Donkey Kong Jr. = Lords

Act III Scene 1

Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Enter Bowser, Peach, Kamek, Wendy, Wario, Waluigi,

and Lords. Initiate the music from Jolly Roger Bay

Bowser. And can you by no drift of circumstance

Get from him why he puts on this confusion,

Grating so harshly all his days of quiet

 With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

Wario. He does confess he feels himself distracted,

But from what cause he will by no means speak.

Waluigi. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,

But with a crafty madness keeps aloof

 When we would bring him on to some confession

Of his true state.

Peach. Did he receive you well?

Wario. Most like a gentleman.

Waluigi. But with much forcing of his disposition.

 Wario. Niggard of question, but of our demands

Most free in his reply.

Peach. Did you assay him

To any pastime?

Wario. Madam, it so fell out that certain players

 We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him,

And there did seem in him a kind of joy

To hear of it. They are here about the court,

And, as I think, they have already order

This night to play before him.

 Kamek. 'Tis most true;

And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties

To hear and see the matter.

Bowser. With all my heart, and it doth much content me

To hear him so inclin'd.

 Good gentlemen, give him a further edge

And drive his purpose on to these delights.

Wario. We shall, my lord.

Exeunt Wario and Waluigi.

Bowser. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;

 For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,

That he, as 'twere by accident, may here

Affront Wendy.

Her father and myself (lawful espials)

Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen,

 We may of their encounter frankly judge

And gather by him, as he is behav'd,

If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,

That thus he suffers for.

Peach. I shall obey you;

 And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish

That your good beauties be the happy cause

Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues

Will bring him to his wonted way again,

To both your honours.

 Wendy. Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Peach.]

Kamek. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you,

We will bestow ourselves.- [To Wendy] Read on this book,

That show of such an exercise may colour

 Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage

And pious action we do sugar o'er

The Devil himself.

Bowser. [aside] O, 'tis too true!

 How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it

Than is my deed to my most painted word.

O heavy burthen!

 Kamek. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord.

Exeunt Bowser and Kamek.

Enter Mario. Tune to fortress/castle Level from Super Mario Bros 3

Mario. To be, or not to be- that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks

 That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.

To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

 Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,

 The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

 But that the dread of something after death-

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns- puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

 And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins rememb'red.

Wendy. Good my lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?

 Mario. I humbly thank you; well, well, well.

Wendy. My lord, I have remembrances of yours

That I have longed long to re-deliver.

I pray you, now receive them.

Mario. No, not I!

 I never gave you aught.

Wendy. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,

And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd

As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,

Take these again; for to the noble mind

 Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

There, my lord.

Mario. Ha, ha! Are you honest?

Wendy. My lord?

Mario. Are you fair?

Wendy. What means your lordship?

Mario. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no

discourse to your beauty.

Wendy. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

Mario. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform

 honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can

translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox,

but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Wendy. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Mario. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so

 inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you

not.

Wendy. I was the more deceived.

Mario. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of

sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse

 me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.

I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my

beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give

them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I

do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all;

 believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your

father?

Wendy. At home, my lord.

Mario. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool

nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.

 Wendy. O, help him, you sweet heavens!

Mario. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry:

be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape

calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt

needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what

 monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too.

Farewell.

Wendy. O heavenly powers, restore him!

Mario. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath

given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you

 amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your

wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made

me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are

married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as

they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. Cue melody to Wario’s Castle from Super Mario Land 2: Six Golden Coins.

 Wendy. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!

The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,

Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion and the mould of form,

Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down!

  And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,

That suck'd the honey of his music vows,

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;

That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth

 Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me

T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

Enter Bowser and Kamek.

Bowser. Love? his affections do not that way tend;

Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,

 Was not like madness. There's something in his soul

O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;

And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose

Will be some danger; which for to prevent,

I have in quick determination

 Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England

For the demand of our neglected tribute.

Haply the seas, and countries different,

With variable objects, shall expel

This something-settled matter in his heart,

 Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus

From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

Kamek. It shall do well. But yet do I believe

The origin and commencement of his grief

Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia?

 You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said.

We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please;

But if you hold it fit, after the play

Let his queen mother all alone entreat him

To show his grief. Let her be round with him;

 And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear

Of all their conference. If she find him not,

To England send him; or confine him where

Your wisdom best shall think.

Bowser. It shall be so.

 Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt.