#my art is also very important to me however I am so satisfied with running smallbeans art at the moment

[werewolfmack]

My word this year was "direction" and while I'm still kind of thinking about that, I do think it's time to start saying that I'd like to write. I'd like to be writing in some professional way.

[lilover131]

Chapter 55 Thoughts

It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to actually write down my reactions and thoughts about a chapter, but after a agonizing 3 month wait for a new chapter, I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things. The final day was certainly the most difficult, and I slept horribly trying to wait for this chapter to come out (it’d be nice if companies could regularly list like....a release time on a certain date so people aren’t literally refreshing the page every 5 minutes to see if it’s up. Or at least have some consistency!). My lack of sleep and constant thoughts about CCS though did manage to stir another CCS related dream, which I will talk about in a separate post. 

But hot damn was this chapter worth the wait! It certainly wasn’t what I expected, but it was really great in a lot of ways! 

ANYWAYS, I’ve rambled enough. My thoughts on this chapter are below the cut! 

So I will start off by praising the hell out of Sakura for her quick thinking in using SIEGE. That was definitely a wow moment for me and really shows her growth as a magic user and as a person honestly. This action not only spoke to her skill but also to how quick thinking she is in such an uncertain situation. Surely, having never had any reason to doubt Kaito or question his abilities before, It is almost unbelievable that she managed to think of that and do that in the mere seconds she had to respond after Syaoran made his accusation of Kaito. I’ve noticed as of late that her instincts in particular seem to be really really on point. She starting to trust herself and her feelings, and because of this, she is able to act without hesitation, and I have a feeling that is  going to be extremely vital later on. 

Sakura starts off by asking the real important questions and things I would ask myself in her shoes having just met another magic user, especially one with unclear intentions like Kaito. She seemed like she was studying him to gauge him and the reasons for his actions or what he might do. What intrigues me about this part is she first asks him if he knows about her being able to use cards. He answers with a simple “Yes”. But when she asks about if he knows about Syaoran, his answer is far less simple, and that might potentially be telling. Kaito stated that he knows Syaoran to be a “extremely gifted sorcerer” and “the next head of the Li clan”. Now, perhaps I’m overthinking this, but he could have just answered ‘yes’ like he did with Sakura, but instead he listed specific details about him that shows Sakura he has done his research and knows a lot about him. Now, we already knew that he had this information of course, but why does he want Sakura to know this in that moment? I’m fascinated by this and what he was trying to tell Sakura by telling her he had this sort of knowledge. Additionally, why is it that when it pertains to Syaoran, Kaito behaves so much differently than he does with anyone else? I’ll probably delve into that in another post, but I have some theories on that. 

After making this statement, Sakura and Kaito exchange some meaningful looks, though it’s unclear what the both of them are thinking in that moment. Sakura turns to look back at Akiho and Syaoran and appears nervous, like she’s concerned about something (I have a theory to that as well, but I’ll leave that for another time). Then, Sakura mentions Momo and asks where she went, indicating that she has not forgotten about the other person around earlier. Sakura seems to really be evaluating her situation with these questions she’s asking, but unbeknownst to her, Momo has been cut off from her tv drama and is pouting in the mansion. hahahaha! 

Momo, while upset that she can’t see what’s going on anymore, praises Sakura for her for her quick thinking and mentions that neither she or Akiho’s mother accurately predicted how powerful Sakura would become. The implications of this are unknown as it is unclear what they are trying to stop to begin with. 

The scene changes back to Kaito and Sakura’s ‘standoff’, and Kaito states that Sakura cannot stay hidden in SIEGE’s field forever. I believe he was trying to stir a reaction and speed things up as probably the longer he has his time spell up, the more it affects his body, so he cannot afford to waste any more time. In what appears to be his way of showing desperation (at least in my opinion), he points his staff in Syaoran’s direction and threatens Sakura by stating that “He will make the first move” if she won’t. My jaw dropped a this, and though I don’t believe he actually had any intentions of hurting Syaoran, just the implications and threat of it was enough to make my blood boil. Lmao. 

BUT ONCE AGAIN, SAKURA IS QUEEN and reacts ridiculously fast to protect her man and uses one of her newest cards, TRANSFER, to switch places with Kaito and....well...she put him in a box. Hahahaha!! Seeing Kaito all crammed in that small space inside of SIEGE was honestly so satisfying and it was nice to see him on the losing side for once. I can’t imagine he was happy about it either. He’s used to things going his way, and in this particular venture, it has been anything but. 

However, this unfortunately also becomes Sakura’s downfall. By switching places with him, she put herself out of the protection she had before and was now affected by Kaito’s time magic. She managed to take a few steps, running towards Syaoran, before she ultimately was stopped. Kaito makes mention of her progress. When you think about it, she’s gone from being able to move a pinky to moving as far as she did this time, so it’s a significant growth. 

He goes on to talk, though it’s unclear if Sakura could hear him at all, about a phrase Akiho had learned in her Japanese dictionary one time about “growing leaps and bounds”. He seemed lost in a memory where Akiho spoke of how she wished to improve her Japanese so she could become even better friends with Sakura and the others, and how happy she looked when she spoke of this. Honestly, this sentiment from Akiho is super relatable and resonated with me. I am fortunate to have so many friends in so many different parts of the world, and I absolutely love learning about their cultures and words of their native language so that I can become closer to them. But what also makes this moment so meaningful is that in this particular moment, Kaito is thinking about Akiho and her smile. One may wonder “Why is he saying this right now?”, but it really does display how much Akiho is on his mind and how much he cares about her and his reasons for doing all of this. 

Shortly after saying this, he seems to be in pain again, showing once again the deterioration of his body the more he uses time magic, and it seems clear that he really is getting closer to his own demise. He even says as much when he pleads to Sakura to please make the card he needs soon, before he runs out of time. I don’t think he’s necessarily displaying a will to live or anything yet, but more a “I have to get this done before I perish, or it will all be for nothing”. 

Disappointingly, time is rewound once again, and he takes it back to before he and Akiho decided on a location for their outing. @meimi-haneoka​ mentioned this, and I agree with her, but he could have rewound to any point in time and could have completely undone their entire day, but he chose to still have that outing with her anyways. It was a conscious choice he made, though he quite casually made sure they changed the choice of location (for obvious reasons). Lmao!!! 

Now we get to the really exciting part. So after Kaito rewound time, I gave a big sigh and thought “Well, here we go again”, but something was very different this time. Sakura’s serious expression standing in her hallway said it all, and she suddenly grabbed her phone from her purse and called Syaoran, saying “We need to talk. It’s important”. 

So Syaoran, being the most adorable worried boyfriend he is, runs into her house literally in the next panel and immediately asks if Sakura is okay. I can imagine that he probably ran the entire way to her house too, and it’s just so wholesome I can’t even. It’s crazy how well CLAMP shows the strength of their love just through small actions like these, and it really is a work of art with its subtleties. 

Kero and Suppi have not been told why Sakura’s behaving so seriously, as she was waiting for Syaoran to get there first, but soon enough she tells them all at once about how she remembers using SIEGE at the botanical garden. This understandably confuses Syaoran, since in his mind they haven’t even gone there yet. But, she goes on to explain that she remembers using SIEGE, but more importantly that she remembers seeing Kaito using magic. This is HUGE. Not only is this progress (have we finally gotten out of rewind hell?), but this means that Sakura likely will not be nearly as affected by any time magic in the future. And if Kaito cannot make her forget about him using magic, that makes every action he does in the future very precarious. It’s unclear what the implications are of this revelation, but it’s going to entirely change how she reacts around Kaito, perhaps how she reacts around Akiho, and the dialogue she has with Syaoran. Syaoran should theoretically be able to talk to her now about Kaito and what he’s done so far and what they know, and I’m so so curious to see what Sakura will do with this knowledge. Will she be upset? Will she be mad? Certainly she won’t be happy to know that Kaito’s been forcibly keeping Syaoran silent, but Sakura is a forgiving person in nature, so it’s hard to say what she’ll do. 

Anyways, this chapter was incredible and I cannot wait to see how this develops from now on. I have a feeling things are going to get real intense here soon now that Kaito can’t control things like he’s been doing a majority of the series. Things are definitely different now, and honestly it’s about fucking time. 

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Cooking class

Word count: 2109     

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Very minor injury (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: Hey! I saw your post for a request and this idea popped into my head. Y/n is a fantastic cook, they can do everything right and make great food all the time, while Natasha usually sets towels on fire when they try. Y/n suggests that Natasha enrolls in a cooking class, and does it with them so Natasha doesn't feel so bad. Y/n ends up rewarding Natasha with little kisses and 'good job!'s for the things they do well in class, and eating bits and pieces of the foods they mess up to prove that it's still edible and they're learning

Summary: Natasha is a horrible cook so reader takes Natasha to a cooking class.

A/n: So this was an anon request so I hope whoever requested this likes it! Also this is the second fic in two days which may not seem like a big deal but I actually feel productive for once. Anyways I hope everyone enjoys and I hope to finish some of my other requests soon in case anyone is wondering, and I’m always open for new requests. 

Natasha let out a frustrated sound so you looked over, trying not to laugh at your girlfriend but failing spectacularly. 

“It’s not funny.” She whines looking over at you with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry love,” you respond, “keep going I promise not to interrupt again.” She narrows her eyes at you but turns back to her task. She’s preparing some pizza dough that she is going to use later on in the class and honestly you never thought someone could mess up on pizza dough that much. There is dough literally everywhere, the sink, counters, floor and even her face. The most funny thing however is how she is completely covered in flour from when she opened the bag wrong and it flew into her face. Surprisingly she agreed easily when you had suggested the idea, because she wanted to help out in the kitchens sometimes but she was banned from everything but the toaster for a reason the avengers called the pie incident but refused to speak further on when asked. 

You glance back over at her to see how it’s going and although everything still is a mess it seems like she has managed to combine all the ingredients properly into a ball and is now kneading it. You step towards her and give her a hug from behind, not caring that flour was now getting all over you as well. 

“Good job Tasha,” you whisper in her ear. You pull back and when you look at her face you see a slight hint of a blush. She rarely blushes but you always find it so cute when she does so you decide to make it your personal mission to get her to blush as much as possible today. She is just setting aside the dough to rise when the instructor speaks again. 

“I see that most of you have already finished, or are just finishing up with your dough and setting it aside. From what I can tell it looks like everybody is doing well so far, however before we can continue everybody should make sure their workstation is clear.” As he says the last part he seems to look mostly at your workstation as well as the one diagonally in front of you, which are by far the two most messy. 

Natasha starts clearing up the station while you brush as much flour as you can off of your clothes and wash your hands. As she continues to clear you grab a wet cloth and gently wipe down her face and arms to get rid of all the dough and flour. It takes awhile for the both of you and your workstation to be clear and once it is you realize everybody else is finished and waiting for you. 

“Ok now that everybody is done,” this time he obviously glances your way, “we are going to prepare some of the toppings for later. This part shouldn’t be hard so just follow along with the recipe and ask for help if you need it.” Natasha picks up the recipe and you read over her shoulder. 

“How about I help you with the topping but you do most of it?” You ask her. “We’ll both help cut up the peaches and make the balsamic sauce. This class is meant to be teaching you and not me after all.”

“Sounds good,” she replies while taking a peach and placing it on the cutting board. She starts to chop but she keeps slicing way too thick at the top and way too thin at the bottom. You giggle slightly and she narrows her eyes at you scowling and puts down the knife.

“I’m not laughing at you Nat, I promise.” You explain. “Well I am but can you blame me? You are a crazy good assassin that probably can kill me easily with that knife in many different ways yet you can’t cut a peach properly.”

“I still don’t see how that is funny.” She huffs but with a hint of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, here let me help you.” You grab her hands and guide them into making steady cuts. When the first peach is fully cut up you step back again. 

“Why don’t you try to do the next one on your own?” You suggest. She nods and starts to cut seeming a little unsure of herself. While it’s not perfect it’s much better than the first time so when she finishes you let out a small cheer and kiss her on the cheek. She gives a hesitant smile which you’ve learned means she feels good about herself but doesn’t know how to express it properly. You cut the rest of the peaches in silence, her slices gradually getting better. 

“You’ve already improved so much!” You praise her, your heart melting when you see her smile and blush. “Why don’t you try the next part on your own?”

“Ok,” she answers, “I think I can do this part.” She starts mixing a few of the ingredients for the balsamic glaze and you, thinking she had it under control, start to glance around because you want to see how the others in the class are doing. 

“Eeekk!” You hear Natasha squeal so you quickly look back over at her. The glaze is splashed all over the front of her and splattered all over the counter. 

“What happened?” You ask, this time managing to only laugh inwardly as to not offend her.

“I thought if I mixed it as fast as I could the ingredients would combine faster,” she states, “but then this happened.” 

You fight hard to keep your straight face, “Tasha, love, that’s not how cooking works.” 

“Well I know that now.” She responds in an annoyed tone. 

“I know and it’s okay, you can just redo it while I clean this up, does that sound good?” She nods and starts finding the ingredients she needs again while you take some paper towel and clear up the counter. Unfortunately you can’t do anything about the mess on Natasha’s shirt but luckily she purposefully wore a shirt she didn’t mind getting messy. 

“Everybody should be just about done by now,” the instructor says, gathering the attention of the class, “Right now I want you to put flour on your counters and start to split your dough up to make the flat breads. Then you can put some topping on and pop them in the oven, make sure not to burn them.” The rest of the class immediately gets to work but before you or Natasha can start the instructor comes up to you.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve noticed that you’ve been having some trouble, so don’t be afraid to ask for any help,” he says, “it is my job.” Natasha is obviously not pleased by what he said and scowls at him, opening her mouth to speak.

“Thank you, we will.” You say quickly before Natasha says something rude. He nods and turns away to go back to the front. 

“I wasn’t doing that badly.” Natasha states. 

“Don’t worry about it, let’s move onto the next step, why don’t you preheat the oven?” You respond to her, avoiding her statement because she really was doing ‘that badly’. She grabs the flour and opens it, this time making sure that she doesn’t get it all over, and then starts to put it on the counter. Meanwhile you get the dough and split it up into two pieces, one pizza for each of you. 

“I’m going to be bad at this part.” She says with a small frown.

“No, no, no, don’t say that Tasha,” you rush to encourage her, “this part is the best part because it’s so fun, and it’s impossible to mess up!” 

“If you say she.” She says doubtfully and you laugh. Both of you get to work, at first just playing with the dough in your hands to get a feel for it and after that using a rolling pin to flatten the dough. When you’re finished you take a step back to admire your work.

“Huh, it doesn’t look that bad.” Natasha decides. 

“It looks amazing, I knew you could do it Tasha!” You exclaim while hugging her side and pressing a few quick, light kisses to the side of her neck. 

“I mean it’s not a huge deal.” She blushes. 

“Still, it’s pretty good,” you tell her, “but now we need to focus on putting our topping on.”

She giggles. “You say that like it’s something that requires a lot of thought.”

You gasp dramatically. “Ms. Romanoff, the presentation is the most important part of the dish, it requires a lot of attention to detail.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot!” She plays along. “Why would the actual cooking part matter when you can focus on making them look good?”

“Exactly.” You tell her before both of you get to work, putting all the topping on the flatbread.

As much as you joked about it you tried to make yours look as good as possible and when you were done although it didn’t look perfect you were satisfied with how it looked. At least until you glanced over to see how Natasha did. 

“How did you manage to make yours look like it should be in a cookbook?” You ask her, truly amazed by how pleasing it looks and not even knowing how she can make something as average as topping look like art. She just blushes and shrugs, pleased with herself but not wanting to admit it out loud. 

“Anyways we should probably get them in the oven now because it looks like others are starting to.” You tell her.

“Of course, I’ll put them in!” She replies quickly, transferring the flatbreads onto two trays and shoving them in the oven. You lean over after she shuts the door and set the timer but when you look back at her and smile, you see she is standing by the sink with the water running over her hand. 

“Tasha are you ok?” You ask, immediately rushing over to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a small burn.” You examine her hand and it doesn’t look as small as most burns people get from cooking but then again Natasha gets injured all the time so this probably isn’t a big deal to her. 

“Ok, but just make sure to take care of it.”

“I will don’t worry, I swear I’m the only one on the team who actually knows how to take care of themself sometimes. Remember the time Tony forgot to eat and collapsed?” You laugh at what she said. Although in the moment it was scary, in hindsight it was a funny story to tell. 

The two of you keep bringing up old avengers moments and exchanging mission stories until you hear the timer beep. Everybody seems to have put their flatbreads in at the same time because there must be at least ten timers going off and it’s so loud you can’t even think. Luckily Natasha doesn’t seem to have the same problem because she grabs oven mitts this time so she doesn’t burn herself again and pulls the flatbreads out of the oven.

Her face falls when she sees them. The one on the top shelf, although somewhat crispy looking, seems fine but the one on the bottom shelf is practically black on the bottom.

“How did this happen?” She asks. You take a moment to think because the only way it could have happened was if Natasha had preheated the oven to the wrong temperature but you don’t want to discourage her. 

“Well maybe you accidentally set the wrong temperature,” you tell her gently, deciding to be truthful, “it doesn’t matter though, because it still looks great!” She attempts a smile but looks thoroughly unconvinced. In order to try to make her feel better you grab the knife from earlier and cut a tiny piece off the edge. Your first instinct is to make a face when you put it in your mouth because it really does taste bad but you smile through that. 

“See Tasha? It’s fine.” 

“Y/n, it’s ok I know it’s bad and while I’m disappointed I’m not upset,” she says, “thank you for trying to cheer me up anyways.”

“Ok, fine I have to admit it was pretty burnt. But the other one looks good and besides I’m sure whatever we make next week will turn out better.” Her eyes widen and her mouth opens and you laugh at her. 

“Next week? Y/n, we’re doing this again next week???”

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Kip v Age of Calamity

For someone who writes tough shit on Age of Calamity, you sure don’t see me writing a better story. So maybe I should stop complaining and be satisfied with what was given to me. 

...or...

...maybe we can dedicated a few hours of my time to spite an ask. 

Even though the entire argument of “why are you mad if you can’t write a story yourself” is inherently flawed and pointless considering that’s the equivalent of telling me I should chug spoiled milk because I’ve never milked a cow, I’ll fucking step up to the plate here, I’ll put my money where my mouth is. 

So here is Part 1 of your residential Kip approved rewrite of Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity. Or as I like to call it: 

Ok so before I get into it, a couple things I wanna establish. First, I know I just said I’m doing this out of spite, but I’m actually also doing this for fun. I really enjoy and am passionate about the writing process, so if you were looking for an angry rant about how terrible everyone’s opinions are about everything, this isn’t that. I don’t think that I am a better writer than anyone, or than the professionals that made this game, or that I am somehow superior to Nintendo. I am someone with the benefit of hindsight, I don’t have the constraints of producers and mandated directives and executives rubbing their hands in the story to make it more marketable or dumbed down or any of the other chaos that goes into crafting a videogame. So while obviously I think the people involved in this could have done a much better job, this isn’t a bash to say, “look how easy it is to make a story” because there’s a ton of unseen drama that goes into development that I have the luxury of avoiding, and it’s a miracle that any games are coherent and enjoyable in the first place. I���m just a lil Kip doing a fun lil exercise. 

This little series is also not going to be a fanfic. I’m going to be telling the story chronologically as if you were playing for yourself, but it’s going to be from my omniscient perspective because 1) I need to relate the story to the gameplay 2) That would take way too much time to actually make this into a fanfiction as it already takes a hell of a lot of time to even plan out the beats of this rewrite and 3) This is less going to be a telling of a story, and more of a fun little exploration on the Three Act Structure and The Hero’s Journey. In fact, I am going to try and keep the given story of Age of Calamity as intact as possible. 

The general ending is going to be the same, the characters used are going to remain roughly unchanged, (there will be no new characters, or removal of characters) and characters that live or die and where they end up are going to be mostly the same with how the original game is written. I know, I know, we all would love to see the Champions die brutally or to get us that sweet sweet Link angst or to have a game with multiple endings. And even though I personally would change some of those premises in Age of Calamity, I’m going to strive to keep it all as intact as possible, just to prove wrong the misconception that the story was only bad because of the writer’s choices for the general arc. I am a firm believer that biggest weaknesses of this game are in its methods of conveying its story, a problem in the storytelling process, and not (necessarily/only) the story product itself. 

If you want to use any of the ideas that I present, go for it! I release them into the public domain, I have no plans whatsoever to write a fanfic for this myself, in fact I already have my own separate Pre-Botw fic story that I am pouring myself into, so I give the people full permission to take these ideas off of me. 

Alrighty! With all that out of the way, let’s get into:

HERE IS THE VERSION IN A GOOGLE DOC FORM BECAUSE TUMBLR HATES YOU MOBILE PEEPS

Spoilers! Obviously. I’m going to act on the assumption that you know the full story of Age of Calamity to save myself some time, capiche?

Ok so we start out the game roughly the same, with eggbot being chased and forced to time travel into a portal. But, there is going to be some important differences in details. 

We have the part of the scene where Zelda awakens her powers, and at the same time, something else in Hyrule Castle glows with the same aura. However, this glow is not coming from the Princess’ Tower, but instead, the camera pulls back from the fields of Fort Hateno, sweeps over Hyrule (where you can see the Guardians and the sense of destruction and all that) and the camera eventually flies over Castle Town, then within the Castle, weaving through the halls, until the camera stop and focuses on the entrance of a destroyed room, slowly creeping in. It’s a room that’s been demolished, stone rubble from Guardian blasts ruin the floor and cave in from the ceiling, there’s a small fire in the corners of the room, and from the props that you can make out, it seems to look like some study or office of some sort. The room is small, but domed and circular, signifying that it’s of a bit more importance than you might think . The desks and books and all buried beneath this collapsed stone brick. But as the camera focuses on that pile of rocks, from within that rubble, you see that same glowing aura that Zelda has, glowing brighter and brighter until finally out pops, eggbot.

Now, you can have that same sequence within the game where he runs around all cute, the outter wall of the room is broken so eggbot can look outside and see the Calamity’s destruction. Then that cut to Zelda saying “I want to save...everyone,” and this is important because I need the fade in between Zelda’s line and the fade back to eggbot to wordlessly imply that he is hearing these words, something that’s already done pretty well in the original cutscene. Anyhow, then the Guardian Stalker pops from behind, prepares to shoot, and eggbot can escape into its little time portal, and then the malice follows or whatever.  

However, I’m not gonna immediately cut to the title, but instead, we have the music build to eggbot’s little jump in a pretty climactic way. But then the music still lingers slightly, and rests in suspense, camera is still looking out the window where eggbot jumped. It pulls back, turning back into this room that eggbot emerged from. Music is still relatively silent. Then, from the corner, you see some of the fire suddenly catch onto something. Flattened between the rocky rubble, just a few feet where eggbot emerged, is a purple cloak, trimmed with gold, flapping just slightly in the wind. [Said flapping being what causes it to catch] The fire catches, burning through the cloak, and underneath it, is a fallen copy of the Sheikah tapestry of 10k years ago. Camera zooms into that art of the Calamity, music suspends, merge to title card, then the music hits that climax and BOOM, “Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity.” Main Theme plays. Let the opening title roll.

Now the reason I changed this slightly is because 1) I wanted to earlier set up some of the plot points that I have planned for this (some of which you might already guess or maybe not who knows *wink wink*) and 2) I think that the original opening could have been much stronger with its hook. Yes, the element of mystery is established with eggbot’s existence and that element of time travel, but then the opening immediately goes into saying “This is the tale of champions, a diminutive Guardian who traveled backwards through time, and the Great Calamity they faced.” So...you just dampened that hook you established two seconds ago because you explained it all. Sure, it doesn’t completely ruin it, but I think the impact would be much stronger if that text wasn’t there at all, and the music and hype of the tapestry moving and coming alive is all there was. I’d much rather that element of time travel just be explained through the cinematography itself, because you can already understand that perfectly with that scene where you see the portal lead into birds flying around a beautiful Hyrule Castle.

Also, the music in this game is fantastic! So letting moments that really let you soak it in, I think would be very beneficial. So now this scene serves as a much more effective hook before we get into the actual plot. The mystery of eggbot’s identity is heightened and left a bit more unexplained, you have this mysterious circular room that you’ve never seen before, and the set up of details that will eventually serve later revelations in the plot, cough cough. 

Then you hit Chapter 1, Link gameplay, eggbot and the tower, that’s all the same. I got no changes for the story there, it’s a great introduction. However! I know my strength here is writing and I am by no means a game developer or designer, but I need, I absolutely need to add one aspect to the gameplay.

Near the end of the first stage, where there are those three moblins at the end, I want to add something that I’m going to call, a gambit. The game already introduced you to the special meter and “press a to use special attack” thing, but I want Impa and Link to use a gambit to defeat this last horde of moblins. Essentially, you press A to use your special attack, BUT, if another character is in proximity, the attack is even more powerful. Every pair of characters has a special little attack, that does tons of damage, and during said sequence, there are voiced lines, or at the very very least text boxes that comment on it. And with this gambit, while a regular solo special attack still does a lot of damage, I’m gonna nerf it slightly to encourage players to use this gambit feature. 

Now, why did I add this? Because I need to better connect this gameplay to the story on more than an external “lets defeat this and go from point A to point B” type of way. I need something in the gameplay to better serve to the game’s main theme of “teamwork makes the dreamwork” and all that. The CURRENT gameplay, although absolutely fun and fantastic, just doesn’t do this. I need just one element to serve this theme while ALSO having the dual purpose of serving as character interaction. The current structure of Age of Calamity works where the sidequests and battle serve as your character interaction, development, and banter, while the cutscenes serve the main story beats, and important plot revelations. The cutscenes just aren’t crafted to support the weight of these dozens of characters while also giving them all interesting interactions, and that’s fine! So I’m just adding this feature to the gameplay, because being able to customize different lines for different characters for different stages that are voiced will go a long way into making the character development seem more fleshed out. And this gambit feature doesn’t necessarily change the way you play the game drastically, as you can still have four character slots and have them split up to take on the battlefield, but now you can split them off into groups of 2. And also, because I’m not completely blind to game design, the damage percentage boost of these gambit attacks will not increase as much, just slightly lower, than the damage boost of a solo attack when you level up. So what I mean is, when your character is weaker level, you are forced to rely on others in order to defeat your enemies, but, with the way the leveling up percents work, your characters can still reach a point where they can defeat big bosses all on their own without gambits. THAT way, when certain events happen in later chapters, when your character is all leveled up, (and maybe they awaken a sacred power or two) it feels all the more powerful when you can go off on your own. You can feel how your character has grown in strength because you can contrast it with your teamwork gameplay of earlier levels. AND it still highlights the importance of that theme of companionship, because you would never have gotten to this level of strength had you not relied on your friends. 

OK, so the stage 1 ends with a gambit attack, Impa compliments Link’s fighting style or something that shows her admiration or respect for him. And then stage 2 for the Road to the Royal Lab is the same, but gambit dialogue for that stage is Impa complimenting Link, Impa being protective of Zelda, and since this is Zelda’s first playable area, Zelda’s gambit lines can be about kinda brushing Link aside like “I want to capable to hold my own in battle but thank you” to Link (cause I never really got that same “I don’t really like you” vibe that is established in botw for this game) and then to Impa Zelda’s gambit lines can be like “is this thrill what you always feel when battling?” and Impa is like “yeah isn’t it great we should do it more often!” and then you can allude to that with a sidequest for Zelda’s training or something. I just want to better connect sidequest stories with this stuff. And also, gambits are obviously optional so that’s why this is all just banter and character development and not actually plot points, and I’m going to stick with just one-on-one dialogue, although it should be theoretically possible to have gambit boosts of three and four, but I feel that would be too much as I don’t want to ruin the gameplay balance and encourage you to keep all four character slots close together, because splitting them up is an important part of the game. Anyhow!

So Chapter 1 is done, my changes being almost purely in the gameplay because this is the start of the story and the character set up is important. Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 is basically the establishment of the ordinary world, and in the Three Act Structure it’s basically Act 1. Act 1 is all about set up. I need to really focus this chapter on both introducing the player to the mechanics of the game, having them connect to the characters and the characters connect to each other through the gameplay, and I need to establish this tone so that when I rip it away, and change the tone during the threshold, it feels more meaningful and suspenseful. 

As you can see from the diagrams, Act 1 has something called the Inciting Incident. The Inciting Incident is going to be the Yiga attack in Chapter 2, where our heroes first experience the true dangers of their journey, and there is no turning back. BUT I’m getting ahead of myself.

Chapter 2 is also exactly the same. I would literally change nothing about the Champion’s sections (other than my addition of gambit interaction of course) because they’re all pretty great. For the record, yes, evil egg is still a thing, and yes, Zelda and the gang can still discover those pictures of the Calamity in eggbot, yes you beat up Revali, and the Divine Beast sequences are the same. I just really need that gambit dialogue to help establish character relations. Revali quips at Link, Mipha protects him, Daruk is his buddy [I thought a cool gambit attack for Link and Daruk to better show that they are old friends could be them both chewing down on some rocks, before striking an enemy simultaneously. Because they never eat rocks together and I just want this ok] Kohga is the same, Sooga is the same, BUT, for that scene when you first meet Astor in the Yiga base, I need two things to happen. 1) The camera reveal for Astor starts at his cloak, which is intact and NOT tattered like how his design is in game. It’s a deep purple with gold trim, the camera pans up to the back of Astor’s head. Now 2) When the camera moves to look at Astors face, I need him to be standing in front of and staring solemnly at the evil eggbot. He’s frowning, and his eyes suggest something like he’s deep in thought of something in the distant past. That’s how the scene starts, and in the background is Kohga recounting the events of his failure to beat Urbosa and the gang. Then, Kohga can say something funny to annoy him, Astor’s face changes to your classic villain disgust. Then, he can get a bit pissed and go on his little rant about how pathetic the Yiga are and how the Calamity is trapped within the evil eggbot and how he will use his powers to end the Kingdom of Hyrule. Then he can take his little astrolabe and be all “My harbinger, show me the future!” and all that. IMPORTANT LINE CHANGE,  Astor’s motivation here is not “The future, as it will and must be. I will not allow anyone to alter its course.” Instead, I need to tweak it slightly to be, “The future, as it was fated to always be. The pathetic stories and legends of children and false kings cannot waver this course. I will not allow it, for my sake…” camera pans to the broken evil guardian, Astor’s voice lowers just slightly. “...and yours.” The slightest, almost silent bits of the harmonies (not the melody) of the Hwaoc Main Theme play before fully fading back to Astor’s theme. And the final shot of that scene is Astor, looking down at the heap of Sheikah tech, with a neutral expression, but then looking back up at the malice stars, and the future visions of the Calamity. He just ever so slightly smiles. 

[Also I JUST realized that the harbinger is actually slightly above Astor, because it’s supposed to show that the power dynamic is really Calamity Ganon is in control, so ignore the “looking down” parts I talked about, and just think in the broad direction of Astor looks at the guardian, and then looks further up at the ceiling with the Calamity and the future and then he smiles]

For that scene, I also need to remove any characterization where Astor is laughing and being joyous at the impending destruction, I only need that smile at the end. There is no villainous cartoon laughter, at least, not yet. Also the part where Sooga calls Astor a fool for thinking he can control the Calamity is GREAT I need that, that absolutely needs to stay in.

And then Chapter 2 closes off with that Yiga ambush. That’s the inciting incident, so I need the tone at the end to be slightly different. Instead of ending on that cute little thing where eggbot points angrily at Link, (like that part can still EXIST in there BUT) I need it to end on a more serious note. 

Referring back to the Hero’s Journey, the Call to Adventure is the parts of each of the Champion’s recruitment. They each have their initial reasons for joining the fight, whether to protect their people, to feel validated for their skill, to get closer to the ones they love etc etc that’s all established in their respective stages.

This Yiga stage, however, serves as the official barrier between Act 1 and Act 2, the threshold between the known world and the unknown world, where the heroes prepare to seek out the obstacle that stands in the way of their goal. It’s important that this threshold establishes a sense of urgency, because that better gets you invested in the stakes, and helps the story's momentum to move forward. IT shows that the journey and adventure that these characters want/need to take is outside the safety of their home/known world.

In the original game, the threshold ends with that cute scene of eggbot and Zelda and Link and the Zelink vibes. That’s not bad, but it’s also not good. The momentum towards the later confrontation in Korok forest needs to feel more important, because this is a major turning point in the story. SO, I am going to add one more scene at the end. It’s just after the ambush, after the fires have died down, and Zelda (and in the back the Champions) discussing the events with the King. I want King Rhoam to a few things. First, I need him to kinda berate the Champions for falling for the Yiga’s “splitting them up trick” and leaving his daughter vulnerable. This 1) establishes doubt within the party, which makes for better uncertainty for the future and later internal conflict. This was supposed to be the dream team but the King is already kinda telling them off. 2) This also still characterizes the King as someone who cares for his daughter’s safety. That care for his daughters safety is layered in the subtext of him saying something like “Your priority must be to protect the only person capable of sealing the Calamity. You were so concerned with victory and glory in battle that you forgot that the fate of this kingdom lies on my daughter’s survival.” and blah blah blah. The King can also congratulate Link for keeping Zelda safe, and this is GREAT because that can add further to Zelda’s slight resentment for him, as he’s getting the approval from the King that she has yet to receive. But like overall the King is like “don’t leave my daughter alone cause she almost got killed if it weren’t for Link wtf.” and then that can also be a further excuse to hurry to korok forest to find the wielder of the sword so that they can better protect “not just the Princess, but the entire world,” something something fancy kingly dialogue. 

Also when the Champions leave THIS can also be the time where Zelda gives that Sheikah device thingy to Rhoam and also where he sees eggbot. I know that happens a bit later, but for pacing purposes and for the sake of the story changes that I made, it better serves to place it here. That interaction itself can stay mostly the same as it is in the game.

So now, the threshold ends with a bit more tension. The Champion squad is powerful, but also has flaws in how they were split up by the Yiga, (cough cough I wonder if that serves the themes of the game in some way cough cough) and it’s not just “smooth sailing” into the search for the Master Sword, and the stakes are a bit rocky as we finally enter into the story’s Act 2.

= = = = = 

And that’s Part 1 of my rewrite. Not really a lot, cause again this is mainly character set up, and establishing stuff, but personally I think it’s already a bit stronger than how Age of Calamity did it. Stay tuned for Part 2 either tonight or tomorrow, mwahaha. 

Predict the future if you can...

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[shakingthestars]

The problematic conclusion of the Rise of Skywalker – a “whitewashing” of the Skywalker legacy ?

Art by  kasiopea-star-wars

Nearly two months after The Rise of Skywalker came to theaters, I have finally found a way to express my throughts about the conclusion of this galactic journey. As a new Skywalker trilogy was announced years ago, I remember not feeling thrilled by the idea of a sequel, asking myself what would be the added-value to the story for an arc that started and ended with Anakin Skywalker. Yet I remember feeling pleasantly surprised by how promising The Force Awakens (TFA) was in introducing the characters, playing on their dynamics and setting up the family dramas : a stormtrooper taken away from his family ; a scavenger waiting for the return of her parents ; an heir rejecting his birth name ; a family desintegrated by a repeating tragedy. The Last Jedi (TLJ) felt refreshing by bringing the family drama to a higher level, deepening the heroine/antagonist dynamic and paving the way for a refined sight of the Jedi philosophy. As much The Rise of Skywalker (TROS) has its entertaining moments as a standalone, I couldn’t help feeling growingly unconfortable about this movie as a conclusion of the Skywalker story.

Why Return of the Jedi (ROTJ) originally felt like a satisfying conclusion of the Skywalker story…

Among the several reasons why TROS fails to deliver a satisfying conclusion to this 42 years old arc, the very last act of the franchise stands out as strangely  dissonant with the rest of the entire story. Let’s have a look back at the original ending set up by  Return of the Jedi (ROTJ). Far from being my favorite Star Wars movie because of the Jabba the Hutt sequence, ROTJ never failed to get me emotional by the way it beautifully concluded the Skywalker arc. Beyond the joyful atmosphere around the galaxy and the celebration of the victory on Endor, the last sequence sets up a powerfully emotional ending because it’s all about healing the wounds through reconciliation :  reconciliation of a man with himself, reconciliation of a father with his son but also reconciliation of a fallen Jedi with the old friends he once betrayed. Thus, as sad as Anakin Skywalker’s death may be, the outcome of his tragic life is counterbalanced by what we get to experience on screen with the characters, from his funeral scene to the appearance of the Force Ghosts.  Everything is synchronized in a way that enables the viewer to feel that the hero of the OT, Luke Skywalker,  has now completed his journey to find himself, can let the past behind him and move on to build a brighter future surrounded by his « family ». At that point, this conclusion left  me as the viewer with the satisfying feeling that the Skywalker arc is complete, bringing me back to my initial question : what was their story worth to continue for ?

…that left the Skywalkers with an unresolved family business

Yet, when we meet the Skywalkers again 30 years later, it appears that the family has completely imploded : a fallen son enrolled in the ennemy camp, the parents separated, the uncle exiled on a planet far far away. TFA introduces the viewer to a family tragedy that repeated itself with a kid targeted by a master puppet for his “mighty blood” in order to follow his grandfather’s footsteps. We learn from the canon novel Bloodline as well as TFA make it clear that neither Leia nor Han ever forgave Vader and very much feared that their only son would take after him: “We’ve done everything we could have done. There’s too much Vader in him”. As impressive as his sacrifice might have been for a 1983 viewer, Vader’s redemption was the result of a sudden turn for the sake of one person, an action that neither Leia nor the Galaxy got  to witness, making Anakin only an unsung hero of the victory against the Empire. His sacrifice didn’t enable any reconciliation of his daughter with the dark side of his legacy, paving the way for the tragedy to repeat with his own grandson. As unsettling as Luke’s characterization may have been in TLJ, the attempt to kill his own nephew in his sleep suggest that he probably wasn’t as reconciled with his father’s legacy as he thought. In other words, the wound healing through reconciliation set up in ROTJ was uncomplete and left door open for the tragedy to repeat, which leads to consider the importance of Ben in the sequel trilogy of a family arc that has been told over 42 years in 9 episodes :

-        A son who witnessed his slave mother dying in his arms

-        A mother who died in childbirth from a broken heart

-        Husbands and wives who losed their respective partners

-        Parents who lose their daughter

-        Kids who got separated from their parents

-        A nephew who witnessed his adoptive parents getting killed

-        Fathers who died sacrifying for their sons

-        An uncle who died apologizing to his nephew

-        A son who lose his mother after she sacrificed for him

"As I once fell, so falls the last Skywalker”

Named after Ben – “You’re my only hope” – Kenobi, Ben Solo represented the hope that at least a Skywalker could finally make it through darkness. He was not just the only descendant of the Skywalker family. He was also the bearer of all the abuse, pain and tragedies that this family has been through since his grandfather himself was targeted by their sworn ennemy: Palpatine.  Thus, he is the recipient of all the wounds that didn’t heal properly within the family, making his manipulation by Palpatine, his feeling of rejection by his parents and the murder attempt by his uncle all the more tragic. The fact that Ben – and the Galaxy – was kept ignorant of the family connection with Vader certainly didn’t help, making him from early age an ideal target for the revenge of Palpatine: “I have been every voice you have ever heard inside your head”. People may argue that the outcome is okay since there will be no Skywalker descendant for the tragedy to repeat one day and that Rey  will ensure that  their legacy lives on by carry on the name. That Rey deserves to be part of the Skywalker legacy through her personal achievements is unquestionable. However, she is not the bearer of the tragedy that has plagued the Skywalker family for the viewers to witness over 9 episodes. Although her backstory is heartbreaking to say the least, TROS doesn’t let the viewers  time to feel the depth of her own tragedy adding to the fact that we didn’t get to relate to the tragedy of the Palpatine family over  long-run. Even if Rey shoudn’t be reduced to her bloodline (which was the risk of making her a Palpatine through), didn’t Palpatine achieve what he wanted in the end ? People may argue he lose since his own granddaughter will carry on the Skywalker name as a Jedi. However, if his personal revenge against the Skywalkers was to end their bloodline, then he definitely got what he wanted after being the cause of most of their tragedies:

-        He predicted Padme’s death, which he brought Anakin to provoke

-        He wanted Anakin’s death, which happened through his sacrifice  for Luke

-        He wanted Han’s death, which he brough Kylo to provoke

-        He wanted Luke’s death, which indirectly happened through his sacrifice 

-        He wanted Leia’s death, which happened through her sacrifice for Ben

-        He wanted Ben’s death, which happened through his sacrifice for Rey 

The problematic execution of Ben Solo’s redemption

From the moment TFA had Ben Solo aka Kylo Ren commit a parricide, the question of his redemption was at the heart of his character arc. Beyond the passionate discussion about whether or not he should have lived given his dark actions, it’s the way he was treated in the last act that doesn’t feel right put in the bigger context of the story. It is legitimate that Rey was the one person to ultimately take down Palpatine, all the more so that she is revealed to be a Palpatine descendant. Yet, the role in which Ben Solo was relegated during the final battle on Exegol doesn’t feel right within the framework of the entire arc. The Skywalker descendant – as bearer of the family tragedy – got to stand barely 5 seconds against the abuser of his family, only for his body to be used as a mean to resurrect Palpatines, grandfather and granddaughter. Worse : the entire set up for the Force dyad in the ST was made useful for that sole purpose : draining the Force energy of the Skywalker to death so that the Palpatines could live on. Even if the last Skywalker was meant to die anyway, why giving him the same redemption as his grandfather, knowing that this redemption path only reconciled one person – Luke – with the dark side of the Skywalker legacy? Why having him sacrifice for the sake of only one person instead of putting him in front of a dilemma that would have required to overcome the evil voices once and for all for the greater good of the Galaxy?  Why having no witness of his ultimate inner struggle instead of letting the Galaxy finally know what was behind the darkness of both Skywalkers grandfather and grandson ? I am aware that this is easy to critisize directing choices once the movie is out but based on all what was demonstrated above I believe that the Skywalker family would have deserved that their only descendant had a more active part in overcoming their abuser once and for all by overcoming the darkness he planted in them.  In my ideal scenario, Rey would have taken down Palpatine all alone in her badass way all alone but there would have been an ultimate twist. The remaining fleet would have been programmed by Palpatine to execute the last order,  from a signal sent from a dark artifact on Exegol for all the Galaxy to witness in horror. The only way for someone to desactivate it would have required to overcome his/her darkest struggles within, which would have been a meaningful way to confront Ben with his family tragedy, the dark legacy of his grandfather and his own dark actions. I would have loved the idea that the evil voices put him in front of a dilemma and that his grandfather finally helped him to take the right decision based on his own fateful experience:  choosing between saving  a loved one from her death state or saving planets from destruction for the greater good. There were several meaningful scenes that could have foreshadowed this kind of scenario. Instead, TROS gave us the same redemption as ROTJ :

-        A short-term redemption path 

-        A sacrifice for the sake of one person

-        No witness of the good action other than said person

Yet, disappearing to never be seen, mourned or mentioned ever again...

 A whitewashing of the Skywalker legacy

The ending scene of the Skywalker franchise takes place on Tatooine with Rey burrying the Skywalker lightsabers in the sand as a funeral, which is meant to enable her – and the viewer – to move on peacefully. According to Lucasfilm VFX supervisor Roger Guyett and screenwriter Chris Terrio, no Force ghost of Ben was created because “when you see Luke and Leia there, it’s about the Skywalker legacy”. For a movie that was supposed to tie all 9 movies together, the Prequel Trilogy (PT) doesn’t seem to exist as if the Skywalker story began with the Original Trilogy (OT). We get to see Cloud City and Endor after the final victory but no shot of Coruscant & Naboo. The family tragedy begun with the separation of the twin but the grooming of their father and the death of their mother doesn’t seem to be part of the traged. The Skywalker lightsaber is primarily presented as Luke’s lightsaber as if he was its original owner. What is canonly established through is that the Skywalker story began with a slave boy named Anakin Skywalker who was believed by the Jedi to be the Chosen One, which made him the target of a Sith named Palpatine, which led to a long-run family drama in the middle of a never-ending battle between the dark side and the light side. Given the importance of his fall to the story and how it fed the family drama beyond his death, his absence in the sequel trilogy is surprising, aside from a very discreet line to Rey : “Bring Balance as I did”. Shouldn’t Anakin have guided his fallen grandson too instead of helping only the granddaughter of his sworn ennemy ? More problematic is the way the family drama is resolved with the ending of TROS. While the family was split at the beginning of the ST, TROS doesn’t care to show the healing of the family wounds, except for the memory scene between Solo father and son. The reason why this scene is the most powerfully emotional moment of the movie in my mind is precisely for its ability to symbolize the reconciliation of a man with himself and a son with his father. Yet, the ending scene is only about reuniting the all in the white Holy Skywalkers who have never “sinned”, giving the unconfortable impression that the Skywalker descendant was disposable because he wasn’t worthy to have any place in the Skywalker legacy contrary to the heroine. After all, the original script of Duel of the Fates by Colin Trevorrow had Luke telling his nephew “You are no Skywalker”, as if the Skywalker legacy wasn’t made of both darkness and light and Luke himself didn’t contribute to this with his own mistakes. Although TROS is more subtle in its approach, the difference in the handling between  Anakin Skywalker and Ben Solo’s redemption after their death is telling:  kept a guarded secret by the person he saved; not even mourned by the only person he bonded with; not even shown alongside his family. Dead or alive, his treatment on screen left me as a viewer with the unconfortable feeling that the Skywalker family as a whole wasn’t reconciled with the dark side of their legacy. Which brings me once again to the same question: what was their story worth to continue for?

Excerpt of the canon novel Bloodline

The purification of the heroine

Let’s talk now about how Rey ends her heroine’s journey compared to where she began. That journey was announced by Maz Kanata already in TFA: “The belonging (family) you seek is not behind you (birth family), it is ahead (found future)”. She was introduced  as desperate to find a place to belong because of her feeling of loneliness, which never incapacitated her ability to be a strong independant woman who knows how to handle herself.  Yet, her heroine journey alone on Tatooine where she takes the Skywalker name looking at the Binary Sunset under the watchful eye of the Skywalker Twins as Force Ghosts. Some may argue that she will be okay since she found a family in them and her Resistance friends, which is true to some degree but  uncomplete through. However, the ending looks out of place with a key character missing in this scene, whether he was supposed to be dead or alive: Ben. Although it was important to show in TROS that Rey was well surrounded by a supportive entourage (as a constrast to Ben before his fall), the ST established that the deepest emotional connection she had was with Kylo Ren/Rey.  I wouldn’t allow myself to judge those who find Reylo abusive and/or questionable because of his actions but I personally don’t think that the outcome of TROS is a feminist as it was meant to appear by having the heroine as a strong independant woman free from any romantic involvement . The ST makes it clear all along that although Rey obviously suffers from abandonment issue, she is more than capable of handling herself, know by herself what is right or not and decide conciously what (who) she wants for herself.  Some people may disaprove the very idea of “Reylo” for valid reason but claiming that the kiss came out of nowhere doesn’t make sense when one look closely at their interactions all along the ST. TLJ shows that the hand touch she initiated is the decisive moment where she gets to see what the viewer finally get to see only at the end of TROS :  the true face of Ben Solo, without the mask named Kylo Ren behind which he hid himself. From this moment on, my understanding is that Rey perfectly knew how to dissociate the person from his persona, thus her disenchantment in the Throne Room while confronted to his unwillingness to let go of his dark persona. With Rey shutting the door of the Millenium Falcon to his face, TROS could have made their dynamic an unrequited villainous crush afterwards. Although this is what it looks on the surface, the visual subtext tells a different story, which is a huge reason that makes their interactions so compelling to analyze. On Pasaana, Rey is shown staring longingly at little kids, sadly confessing that she has no family (despite living with the Resistance and her friends for a while) and being in deep thought at that moment. Barely 2 seconds after enter her dyad to renew his hand proposal. Of course, different interpretations can be made about this scene. I would argue that the chain of events in a matter ofminutes is meant to convey a specific message if one accept the idea that the hand proposal is metaphorically a marriage proposal. The ST sets the record straight through that despite her attraction to him Rey always rejected Kylo Ren and his entitled behavior while making heart eyes to Ben Solo and the selfless person she knew he was deep inside through their bond. The core of their unresolved business in TROS is all about him being desperate to know why she wanted to take his hand while being frustrated by her refusal to acknowledge it and her being desperate to hide the reason why she didn’t take it while being frustrated by his refusal to acknowledge who he really is. Both lied to themselves and each other out of fear of being rejected and disentchanted again. Thus, the tension rising until a confession that changed everything : “I wanted to take your hand, Ben’s hand”. Rey chose consciously to kiss Ben only once she was sure that the mask had definitely dropped and he had renounced to be someone else than who he really is.  Although Kylo Ren was chasing Rey, she was always the one who set the rules and initiated willingly any further step in their relationship and only when she felt he was his true self with her. This teaches an important lesson  – especially to teenage boys  – that you don’t earn the feelings of someone (no matter what feelings he/she has for you)  by hiding yourself behind a virile persona  and/or showing off toxic behaviors in order to impress said person. In other words, the love triangle was always between Rey, Kylo Ren and Ben Solo from a  female gaze perspective: it’s Ben who was presented as “object” of desire all along.  Yet, the choice that Rey willingly makes – and the desire that goes along with it – is taken away from her as if it was decided at her place that Ben Solo was never the right partner for her anyway.  After three movie setting up that the heart of her emotional journey was with him, the fact that he is totally erased from screen after – and despite – their love scene looks like a puritan attempt to purify the heroine from the sin she has committed.  Worse, she ends her journey where she began:  on a desolated sand planet, sliding innocently the dunes, wearing the same all white costume and an adopted child under parental watch. In a nutshell: pretty much like Luke at the beginning of his hero’s journey.

Rian Johnson:  “ The hand touch is the closest thing we’ll get to a sex scene in Star Wars”

Luke Skywalker (deleted line): “You’ve opened yourself to the dark side for a pair of pretty eyes”

Tatooine: an iconic place...of desolation

Although Tatooine may appear as a logical choice for the ending scene, the intention to recreate the atmosphere of the iconic scene from ANH falls flat in the context of TROS but also in the context of the whole franchise. According to Chris Terrio, the point was to fix the original sin of the franchise, which was the separation of the Twins by tying the lightsabers together like newborns. Did it make sense through to burry them on Tatooine ? Based on the Prequels, the Skywalker/ Palpatine arc has its roots on Naboo, when a Queen was forced to flee in order to meet the Senate representative of her home planet on Coruscant but met a slave boy from Tatooine on her way. Naboo may have been a less iconic choice for fanservice but in regard to the heartbeat of the Skywalker story, this is where Anakin and Padme’s love story blossomed, where Padme planned to give birth to their babies, where she is now resting forever: “Ani I wanna have our baby back home on Naboo”. Wasn’t the original sin that these kids were separated from their parents and all of them never got reunited ? Yet, Padme’s babies - and her husband by extension - were metaphorically burried on the very planet where Luke was never supposed to end up had the family tragedy not happened, where his father grew up as a slave, where his grandmother had a painful death, where his adoptive parents were murdered, where his sister was enslaved, where his brother in law was imprisoned, where he himself never wanted to return. Yet this is also this place that was chosen to end Rey’s heroine journey.  She ends up being the spiritual heir of the Twins, especially the Jedi that Leia would have become by her brother’s side had she not chosen romantic attachment over that path. In general, the ending sends the message  that romantic love and children only cause destruction while preventing parents from achieving their ambitions.  Padme and Anakin’s love created destruction through the immiment birth of the Twins ; Han and Leia’s love created destruction through Ben’s upbringing, only to have their sacrifice rewarded with his death and his sidelining of the legacy. Terrible message for teenagers  that no matter the selfless acts you do, you still deserve to be forgotten or even replaced  with someone more worthy if you lose yourself following the wrong way because you were a problem from the start. On a sidenote,  DLF probably failed to get people invested in the new characters, precisely because most of the characters and their interactions turned out to  feel superficial, interchangeable and disposable on the long run. Jahnnah was introduced to Lando in the very end for no particular reason, except maybe baiting the fans with future added-materials about a potential father/daughter dynamic. Finn and Rose kissed in TLJ? Let’s have her sidelined, Finn friendly tapping her shoulder, telling her to stay away and choosing the company of someone else in the next film. Zorii asked Poe to come with her? Let’s have her refusing to be with him, barely hours after their conversation. Rey and Ben kissed before he died?  Let’s have her flying out of Exegol with fanfare, happily reuniting with her friends and paying tribute to the Twins without showing an once of interest in the fate of her dyad.  In general, the movie leaves the feeling that  there is no deep sense of belonging for anybody and that they all are pretty alone despite forming a big "family" of friends on the surface. The ending feels even more out of place knowing that Rey’s journey was never meant to parallel Luke’s, who only wanted to become a Jedi like his father and ultimately became one. It was never the motivator of Rey’s journey to fight for a higher cause by becoming a Rebel or a Jedi in to follow the footsteps of a loved one and/or a mentor. Yes, she accomplished great things and it is absolutely right to enable her to fulfill any ambition she wishes to accomplish in the future. However, it is not because she had simple human needs too  that they were unimportant and meant to diminish her character. Let’s go back again to this Pasaana scene where we are reminded of the core of her heroine’s journey: “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead”. Of course, that could be interpreted in retrospect as a foreshadowing that she will take a new generation of Jedi as Rey Skywalker continuing the legacy of Luke. But again, the directing choices suggest otherwise: why showing her staring at 1-2 years old babies instead of 9-10 years old kids? Why suggesting that she may not have a family at that point but that she will have this possibility at the end of her journey? More important: why suggesting through the hand proposal that Ben Solo is the one through with she is meant to have a family ? Although her thoughts ain’t explicit, the chain of events suggests an underlying desire: marriage proposal, forming a family, having babies. Yet, Ben and Rey finally coming together resulted in a kiss of death and her ending like a virginal nun metaphorically burrying the kids she’ll never have with him. Terrible message for girls from a female gaze perspective that no matter how heroic she was and all the harships she went through, she is not allowed to get the belonging she chose willingly (contrary to most male heroes). Terrible message in general that  the wants openly expressed by women never really come true in Star Wars: Padme never got her babies back home on Naboo; Leia never got her son back home alive; Rey never got the home she really wished for with Ben. Even if Ben was meant to die like Jack Dawson from Titanic (given the few parallels used by TROS), his total absence after his death feels incredibly wrong, especially given how the only person whom with he bonded emotionally appears indifferent on screen to his fate. This closure on Tatooine without him rubs the viewer from witnessing the definitive healing of the family wounds but also from the feeling that the heroine can move on peacefully with her life: fulfilling her goals, being surrounded with her friends and why not  raising a family until she’ll be ultimately reunited with Skywalkers in death. Thus, a tragic ending like Titanic where you are aware as a viewer that Jack and Rose technically can’t be reunited in the afterlife feels strangely  more uplifting than the ending of TROS where it’s technically possible that Ben and Rey get reunited someday. What is shown on screen is what remains enshrined in the mind of the viewer. An ending scene on Naboo with Ben (alive or dead)  would have given a different vibe, reuniting metaphorically all Skywalkers (except Shmi Skywalker-Lars) in the same tombstone and symbolizing the family reconciliation: a husband with his wife; parents with their twins; a nephew with his uncle; a son with his mother ; a father living in his son’s heart since his death. Beyond that, what more meaningful message for Rey Palpatine than choosing the Skywalkers on the very planet where her own grandfather came from like Padme and began tormenting the Galaxy and her family ? Alas, the conclusion of the franchise shows the heroine  ending her journey alone on a desert planet, her birth family dead, her found family decimated, without her lover and her friends to be seen, surrounded by robots and ghosts…but with a cool name as consolation prize! 

[willowstream-hp]

Space Outlaws Design: Doc’s Arm

And here we have it folks, I’m not dead. And I have not given up. Yet.

As always with any of these designs you are free to use them in your head canons, art, or fan-art, so long as you credit me. Also do please tag me so I can sob because my designs did something. Now onto the explanation phase .

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Wiring: The metal arm is comprised entirely of metal, so flesh is substituted by metal pieces, and hence nerves are substituted by wires. These wires pick up and interpret the brainwaves and commands sent by the brain and transfer them to energy, ensuring the energy travels up the correct wires to move the correct parts. There are three types of contact points for there wires: Movement, Control and Extras.

Movement: These are the points at which the wires connect to the actual mechanics of the arm. The wires power the mechanics and the arm moves so long as the electricity remains provided by the brain.

Control: These are the points where the wires connect to the brain. These are the connecting points where the wires interpret and distribute the signal towards the mechanics in the arm. There are a few major wires that run up the neck to connect at the temple and the forehead on the side that controls where the parts are. (Fun fact: The right side of your brain controls the left side of your body, and vice versa)

Extra: These connecting points are, well, extra ones! They are exposed wires that cross over the chest and hook up at the shoulder and pectoral muscles of the opposite arm. This is just to ensure that the arm moves proportionally to the other arm, and it makes moving both arms at once smoother and more synchronized

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Joints: The special joints on the arm include the shoulder connecting point, the elbow and the wrist. The fingers are operated by a simple hinge that can rotate slightly in mimicry to an actual hand. The joints in the shoulder and the elbow are depicted above with a lock in ball joint, while the wrist joint is a lot more fluid with it’s movements and can roll, not just rotate.

Shoulder and Elbow Joints: These are a simple click in place held together by powerful magnets. The round end of the joint is connected to one end, while the slot in place piece to the other. They are clicked together and held firmly. The round joint end can rotate almost a full 180 degrees in both directions, and has a hinge that allows it to bend. This means that the arm has slightly more free range than a flesh and muscle one, and could bend at weirder angles. It also is, however, a bit stiffer than a regular arm, and the movements are very precise.

Wrist Joint: This joint is a bit special. It’s held by two rods to it’s respective arm parts. The ball is attached to the hand while the cup-shaped piece is attached to the lower arm. There is a mild magnetic pull between the two pieces that keep them slotted together, but they are also operated by the wires and can be shifted in their position. They stay slotted together yet the ball piece can “roll” and rotate within the cup-shaped piece.

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Tension Rods: This is the last important thing I promise. The tension rods are robs held in place at the “pit” portion of joints, such as the arm pit and elbow pit, as well as between the thumb and forefinger. These robs are sturdy but are slotted within the arm to move when the arm does. They do not intrude on any sort of movements, except rotations that would not work on a human arm. Such as rotating the forearm but not the rest of the arm. The tension rods prevent this from happening at extreme degrees, but it can still happen a little. They also provide extra stability to prevent the arms from moving too quickly and damaging the internal wires from the jerky movement. They keep the motions smooth and as fluid as a robot can be.

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Extra Notes:

- Doc can unlock the shoulder joint (should he want to) by pressing two buttons, one on the collar bone and one level with in on his back, and holding these for at least 3 seconds. The magnet in the joint stops receiving electricity and quickly becomes too weak to hold the joint together.

- The tension rods slide within the interior of the arm. They are slotted so that when the arm is fully extended the ends of the rods are situated right at the edge of the arm’s plating, but when the arm is fully folded, that they are situated at the back of the arm’s plating. They have slots to slide around in, but can be locked into place on command, meaning that the joint they are connected to cannot move.

- There is wiring all along the arm and around the joints that is not shown here. This is another factor that prevents the arms from rotating or twisting extremely in a certain direction. These wires can be easily snapped if the arm is jerked too fast, hence the tension rods.

- The arm has extremely quick reaction times, but if one of the wires comes to harm, this could cause the arm to lag in a sense. This could also mess up the alignment of the tension rods, which could cause the arm to break due to jerky movements later on.

- The metal plating shown on the outside are situated in resemblance to the major muscle groups in the arm, as well as a plate resembling the shoulder. This is to protect the extra wiring underneath for the “muscles” and also to help identify which way the arm is facing.

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Anyways, that took a long time. I hope you are satisfied with this design @martuzzio​ and again, my designs are all free to use with credit

Last note: I am completely open to ask box requests for weapon, gadget, and technology based equipment for you characters or universes. I take full requests, questions, advice and am happy to discuss how something could potentially work with you. If you made it all the way to the end, you rock.

[kevkesblog]

Translation: Julian Brandt Interview for “11 Freunde” (June 18, 2020)

Attention: long post! Julian talks about overblown salaries in football, why he even stays at two-star hotels, why he thinks football should not be dramaticly reformed and why you won’t see him in Gucci clothing & more.

Julian Brandt, what do you miss the most at the moment?

Ju:     Just going outside and sitting in a café with some friends. Enjoying a bit more freedom. But I think many people have the same wishes right now.

Yet, the break because of the Corona pandemic seem to have lifted you. You were involved in all four goals during the 4-0 win against Schalke.

Ju:     I would still have preferred it, without the break. I mean it’s like this: sometimes you need just a few days to arrive at a place, sometimes it takes months. Feeling well in a city, a club and with my teammates is important. I’m a football player that needs a comfortable environment.

How was it for you at BVB in the beginning?

Ju:     There were definitely no fireworks at the beginning. But honestly, I kind of expected to need more time. I think thats normal after five and a half years at Bayer Leverkusen. It was a great time there, but in the end it was a comfort zone for me. I switched to BVB because I wanted to do something new.

And because Marco Reus asked you.

Ju:     Many people were in favour of me going to Dortmund. Even my mother wore yellow pullovers astonishingly often, during the time before my transfer happend. And Marco asked me at the national team, that’s true. I felt honored, but I saw a chance playing for a team which plays competitively for the title until the end of the season and is represented in the Champions League regularly, those were the main reasons for my transfer.

What else is different in Dortmund than in Leverkusen?

Ju:     Dortmund is bigger in almost every regard. Even the stadium is enormous and it becomes even more imposing with people in it. Building such a stadium somewhere is one thing. Brining it to live however like in Dortmund – that’s an art in and of itself. You don’t get that very often in Europe. Leverkusen – and I have to be honest here – has never been on my radar for me as a boy. But it’s the perfect club if you want to develop as a young player. I already suspected this after I talked to Rudi Völler for the first time.

I was told, you said „Rudi Völler has honest eyes“ to your father afterwards.

Ju:     He has a sincere attitude. I would have believed everything he said. And his promises became reality. We were playing attractive and successful football. And you don’t get so much pressure as a young player from the outside. The media landscape for example is much smaller in Leverkusen than elsewhere.

Do you miss the fans in the stadium in Dortmund?

Ju:     I was never that guy who was aware of stuff that happend on the stands. But after the game against Inter Mailand, where we were behind 0-2 before the break and won 3-2 in the end – I recognized how important football is for the people here and how much they were willing to support us. It was so honest, authentic and direct. One of the best games thus far.

Before that Michael Rummenigge critized you as „C-youth player“. That was after the Inter game where you scored as well. Was that a key moment?

Ju:     Everybody can voice their opinions that’s totally fine for me. I’m not a person who jumps on it.  And I wasn’t really satisfied with my game as well. Perhaps the 2-1 win against Gladbach a few days before was a turning point. Not only, because I scored twice, but rather because I was able to play on the ten for the first time. After that my game became better.

You said in the beginning of your time at BVB „Peter Bosz liked the risk. We don’t really have that here in Dortmund“. Did the way you play now changed?

Ju:     We play nice football under Lucien Favre. He likes an offensive tactic. Adding that, we score alot of goals. But Peter Bosz was a special coach in that regard because we played a modern version of football with a high amount of ball possesion – often over 80 percent. And we not only wanted to keep the ball all the time, while playing until our opponent gets tired like it’s the case with tiki-taka football. We were always on the attack. At BVB we put more emphasis on the defensive at the beginning. It was a change for me, since I wanted to have the ball and not running behind him all the time.

Is football an elegant game?

Ju:     My room as child was full of „Bravo“-magazine posters with offensive players. Nedved, Robinho, Del Piero and the best among the best: Ronaldinho. I liked it whenever players carry their street football skills to the pitch. Whenever somebody is looking for something spectacular. I want to gamble and not just act in a rigid system.

Doesn’t modern tactics prevent something like this?

Ju:     You are basically being funneled at youth football academies with: receive the ball, passing, receiving, passing. There a strict requirements you have to follow. But I think good teams need self-confident players, saying „No, I won’t fit in, but I rather go into a one-on-one situation“. We have such guys in our national team. Leroy Sané or Timo Werner. Kai Havertz is a player who has a street football mentality too. Often it looks very easy, but it’s not. It just passed over into blood.

You are wearing the jersey number 10 at the national team. Like you also wore at Leverkusen. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     I feel lighter in some sense. Perhaps because I know that you have to earn the number ten. Not like in the past, but I do think it has a certain meaning yes.

We heard you don’t like to talk about your strengths. Why?

Ju:     I think, it looks like I’m a show off. I have enough self-confidence already.

Yet you do know that you can shoot really good. Who taught you?

Ju:     Many things happened because I just tried. I even knew as a ten-year old boy: if I want to become a great football player I have to be able to shoot well with both feet. So, for weeks I shoot with my left foot on our lawn. Shot, flank, pass. It helped a lot. I met Federico Palacios during my youth time in Wolfsburg. He taught me insane techniques. I had a phase were I was obsessively training my first contact: not trying to stop the ball between the lines, but rather take the ball without defender nor midfielder getting the ball instead.

What are your weaknesses?

Ju:     My headers. But I’m currently working on it and I often score. At least without opponent (laughs). Some people say I can work more on my defensive work. And yes, there is some truth to it, even after I already worked on it for quite some time. The thing is: I’m not an aggressive person, its not who I am. But of course, I understand whenever coaches say I need to have a certain minimum amount of aggressive behavior on the pitch.

Do you have a career plan?

Ju:     No, everything I do, I do spontaneously.

But everything you do looks so reasonable: youth football for your home club. Training at a football academy in Wolfsburg. Professional debut at Bayer Leverkusen, your transfer to BVB a year ago…

Ju:     Honestly: I could not have imagined going to VfL Wolfsburg as well at the beginning. Why should a boy do this, when he basically grew up just a 20 minute bike ride away from the Weser stadium in Bremen and was standing in the fan curve in his youth?

Because Werder [Bremen] overlooked you?

Ju:     That’s not true. I even got invited to a try-out training. But then I looked at some other academies. I wasn’t only looking at VfL Wolfsburg. For example I looked at FC St. Pauli as well. Yet, I had the best feeling with Wolfsburg.

Why?

Especially during the ages 15 to 18 a lot is happening: you grow, your muscle mass is increasing, you slowly get to play with the professionals. On the other hand, many doors are opening. Your friends go partying for example. I liked being on a football academy for two and a half years. You couldn’t leave the campus after 11 o’clock in the evening. Apart from that we were very successful and won the German a-youth championship. But I can still remember how perplexed my parents were at the breakfast table, back when I told them about my decision to join Wolfsburg.

You are being called the “Anti-Star” of the business quite often. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     Many people seem to think it’s probably because I have no tattoos and my father is my agent. But to be honest: there are some football player clichées I fit in. I like fast cars. I like playing playstation and I have 40 pairs of shoes in my closet. I just try not to pretend to be someone else. I wouldn’t look good in a Gucci-pullover.

Others like to call you “premature”. You were allowed to train with the professionals at the age of 15 in Wolfsburg. How did you do that?

Ju:     That was insane and unreal. I was riding my bike to the training ground one day and the assistant coach Bernd Hollerbach took me to his side and said: “Introduce yourself to the coach”. So, I went into his office. “Hello Mr. Magath, I’m Julian from the under-17 team.” Of course, I was suspecting he already knew me otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten an invitation. But he was just staring at the television. After a while – it felt like an eternity – he looked at me, didn’t say a word, total silence and then he turned away. And then I was sneaking out of the room.

Magath wanted to test you?

Ju:     I was unsettled a bit, but I wasn’t thinking about it anymore on the pitch. It doesn’t matter who is on your side, or whether your opponent is twenty years older than you and who your father is.

Did you nutmeg someone?

Ju:     I would have been beaten for that. On the other hand: the pain fades away, the nutmeg stays (laughs). I remember I unintentionally shoot a ball into Marvin Hitz’s face.

How many agents were lining up at your doorstep at the time?

Ju:     I stopped counting it after a while. I don’t think all agents are bad but I don’t need one at the moment. I have my father. He may not be Mino Raiola with thousands of contacts all over the world. But he doesn’t need them.

Nevertheless: this son-father-constellation also has it’s potential conflicts…

Ju:     Our family sticks together – we are very harmonic and strong. I can’t remember a time where we were had an argument. I lived together with my brother in Cologne. I also have a connection with my father because of football. He used to play for the first team at SC Borgfeld – which was also my first club. I still remember: we went into the clubhouse whenever the Champions League was on. It was the best day of the week.

Now it’s about big business. Do you know your own worth?

Ju:     It was downgraded since the outbreak of the pandemic. I read that on so some sites.

But it’s still 40 million euros. What does such a number do with you?

Ju:     I can handle that because I can manage those numbers quite well. There is a lot money floating around in football. And I know its not easy to comprehend it with normal standards anymore. We live in our own bubble in that regard. The salaries in football are in no relation to what normal people earn – even with football being the greatest sport on earth. But why is that the case? Because sponsors are flushing so unbelievable high amounts of money into football. I think it’s important not to make the sport a luxury item. It has to stay affordable. In the stadium as well as in front of the TV.

Explain to us: why does a professional football player negotiate whether he should get 10 or 11 million euros per year?

Ju:     It shows how greedy people can be sometimes. But that’s not football specific. It’s as unfair as the richest one percent of the world’s population owning more than half of the world’s wealth, right?

Could this crisis perhaps be a chance in order for football to calm down?

Ju:     Perhaps in the short term. For the next one or two years. If any. I can’t imagine a player like Mbappé being sold next year for 80 million euros. Someone will always pay those insane sums of money.

How do you ground yourself?

Ju:     Through my family and friends. Many are studying or doing an apprenticeship. It’s never about money when we talk, I just like having a great time with them. We don’t need a luxury vacation. But one time: we went to Mallorca for four or five days just as we qualified for the Champions League with Bayer Leverkusen. We stayed at a normal two-star-hotel, one room with a bed and a bathroom – that was it. We went to the beach and relaxed.

Has there never been a situation where a friend or family member had to take you back to the ground?

Ju:     No. I can’t remember that I ever reacted arrogant or snooty. Or a situation where I thought: “Wow. That’s not who you are”. I’m fully aware of my very privileged life. In short: my greatest worry is whether we will win or loose on the weekends. It’s important to be thankful and to remind yourself what you got every once in a while.

Why do you have to remind yourself stuff like that all the time?

Ju:     In order for it never to become normal. I know cheese costs about 69 cents at the grocery store and a different one costs 1,29 euros. But if a tool or device breaks down I sometimes just buy myself a new one. Whereas in the past I would have repaired it by myself.

But is football still the same game you fell in love with as a kid?

Ju:     Absolutely. The game itself hasn’t really changed much. Okay, we have the goal line technology – which I support. And we got the video assistant referee, were people can argue. I abstain in that question. Once in a while, new ideas are being floated: like reducing the playtime to 60 minutes, new tournaments, elite leagues – I think it’s all bullshit. Keep football like it is. The way we learned it. With all its faults and tricky aspects. Even if something goes wrong.

Like during the World Cup 2018. Did you know that you could be the first DFB-team leaving the tournament after the group stage?

Ju:     At some point he heard of it. It doesn’t really look good on your vita but it happened. Perhaps we needed this in order for something new to emerge. You have to remember: other great football nations also failed in similar ways. Italy, Spain or France all crashed out of the group stage after they won the World Cup.

Did the photo with Mesut Özil and Erdogan brought some unrest into the team?

Ju:     The fact that almost all reporting was revolving around that topic was irritating sometimes. Don’t get me wrong: I think its important for the media to cover political topics extensively and with background stories. But I remember after the game against Sweden – after we barely won because of Toni Kroos free kick: shortly after the game you get asked whether the poor performance during the first 75 minutes were due to the photo – and you thinking: why don’t we talk about the game? Mesut became the poster boy for the disappointing World Cup. That’s nonsense. We all played shitty.

During the Confed-Cup the year before, many young players were in the team. At the World Cup the established players came back. Did Löw put his trust into the wrong players in Russia?

Ju:     You can come to that conclusion afterwards, but you don’t know it in advance. I could fully understand Low though. He was loyal and in some cases he felt some gratitude. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to replace a World Cup winner from 2014 with a young player. The way we were defeated at the World Cup was not foreseeable. Because we also played great football between 2014 and 2018.

The team made it to the semifinals at the EURO 2016 and you became second with the Olympic football team in Rio.

Ju:     A great experience with a team that was just thrown together. A contribution of Horst Hrubesch.

What makes him special?

Ju:     He is just great, the guy! He���s from a different generation which you can tell with a lot of things around him. Once he wanted to show me how to shot from the side. I almost tore my muscle fiber doing it. But he manages it very well forming a team with young players. He’s a very free coach and very direct. He always called me lazy (laughs). And he has a very nice and dry sense of humor.

An example?

Ju:     Me and the Bender-twins were sitting together shortly before the semifinal against Nigeria. He came up and said: “Guys, losing today doesn’t make any sense anymore.” A funny sentence, but also true if you think about it.

Julian Brandt, you made over 200 Bundesliga games, played Champions League and participated in one World Cup. You just turned 24. Do you even still have time to suck it all in and enjoy it?

Ju:     Football is quick. I can still remember coming to Leverkusen – as if it was yesterday: my first game for the under 23 team against Essen. My Bundesliga debut against Schalke a week later. That was a little more than six years ago already. Crazy. Veteran players always say: “Enjoy it, because quickly your career will be over.” But how should you enjoy it? A game every four or five days. New photos, new events. You don’t have an awful lot of time to let everything sink in for a moment. I usually do that on new years eve. On a friend’s balcony. I even get sentimental then.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 20 - The Queen’s Cruelty

Staring blankly at the art on the underside of your canopy, you try to unravel all that occurred tonight.

“Though I trust it will not come to that. You are a force of nature of itself, Honey.” Reaching for your hair, Varis takes a strand of it between two fingers, much like he had when you first met him. “One I hope to claim for myself.”

It is taking all your control in that moment to not recoil in disgust, letting him twirl your hair between his fingers. You’re already shaken by what he’s unveiled to you in this trip, your mind spinning in circles trying to figure out what he could possibly do with knowledge like this.

“But...I am happy working for Zenos.” You murmur, frowning deeply. You meet his gaze head on despite your voice wavering slightly. “Ignoring the sex, loathe as I am to admit it, I have enjoyed our banter, our duels. And I don’t think you can give that to me.”

Varis studies you silently, hand dropping from your hair and you swear you hear the guard behind you reaching for something. Instincts kicking in, you spin around and strike at his wrist, effectively knocking the gun he had just grabbed from his hand. Swiftly, you grab that same wrist and quickly spin behind him to twist his arm behind his back, grunting as he whines in pain as you kick the gun out of arm’s reach.

Varis is still quiet through the whole event, hands tucked behind his back as a covetous look fills his gaze. Looking down at the guard you had disarmed, he tuts. “While I appreciate your quick action for her speaking out of turn against me...you are far out of your league.” He hums, eyes sliding back up to you. “Nonetheless...this is an unfamiliar feeling to me.” Varis chuckles, eyes narrowing.

“For all my life, I have had everything I have ever desired handed to me without question. Women have been no different. Any woman would be grateful for the attention I have basked you with, Honey.” The way he says your name makes you sick to your stomach, a sort of wanting that sounds warped and twisted. “No one has resisted me as much as you have. It will make claiming you all the more rewarding.”

Whereas anytime you were forced to be in Varis’ company only filled you with indescribable hate, now you felt unnerved and wary of his presence. Something about his attitude changed where you were concerned and your instincts screamed at you everytime to give him a wide berth. You had hit the jackpot as it were in terms of information, the only issue is you didn’t know what to do with it, and you had no way of contacting your superiors.

You had to wonder if they were worried about you. Surely they kept track of you in the news, but you wondered if they tried keeping track of you with shadier means. Zenos destroying your phone effectively killed any contact you had with them. Zenos making you his personal bodyguard scattered months worth of carefully laid plans like leaves on the wind. And after seeing first hand what the personal technology the Galvus name was capable of, there was no way you were getting any inside info out of the compound.

It’s probably best it remains that way. May the Twelve save your soul when the police find out you’ve been fucking the heir’s son because you wanted to. Really, you had no idea how things could get any worse.

Well, Varis could continue holding you hostage like he had been. It had only been two days since Varis had shown you the Aetherochemical Research facility, your mind still unable to fathom it. You knew it might as well have been the closest thing to rocket science, so you didn’t feel too bad for not understanding it, but the persisting feeling of something much bigger at stake wouldn’t leave you alone.

It was rare your gut was ever wrong, especially when you felt it so strongly. You wish you could explain the feeling, because you were positive that normal people didn’t have a gut feeling so intense it sat at the back of their minds. Anytime you had tried explaining it to Y’shtola and Lyse they had brushed it off as you just being perhaps a little paranoid, but you were never wrong.

Whatever it was, you would just have to be on the lookout for it.

Dressed for the day, you dust yourself off as you waltz down to Varis’ office where you had begun to meet him to start the morning. He started his days a little later than his son, having no wish to work out at the crack of dawn. You leave out much later than Zenos does as a result, leaving you restless with nothing to do with the extra free time.

Reaching the door, you knock twice as you hear not just one, but two voices from inside. Raising an eyebrow, you hear a “come in” from the other side of the door, hand reaching for the knob and giving a solid turn as you step inside the office.

To your surprise, you meet not just golden eyes, but a pair of ruby ones as well.

“Good morning, Honey.”

Seated in one of the plush lounge chairs lies Elidibus, his ruby eyes twinkling with curiosity and concealed amusement. You feel almost as if he is studying you somehow, starting to feel unnerved by his presence, but for different reasons entirely.

As if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning.” You return with a bow, awaiting your orders. “Good morning to you as well, Emissary.”

Elidibus gives a polite nod of his head, a welcoming smile on his face. “It has been a few months since we’ve seen each other last. Have you been well?”

Nodding, you cast a wary glance at Varis who somehow seems less annoyed. “Yes, I have been well.” Focusing on Varis now, you take a deep breath. “What are my orders for today?”

Frowning, Varis closes a folder you didn’t notice was on his desk and fixes you with a disappointed look. “Due to the nature of business Elidibus and I must discuss, I am unable to keep you as my bodyguard for the upcoming months. You may return to your duties with Zenos.”

Shock stills your tongue for a moment, genuine surprise on your eyes as confusion stalls your thoughts. Brain finally catching up, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near your son.”

Instead of frowning, Varis smirks, reclining back in his chair. “This is true, but unfortunately it is more important that this information regarding my campaign trail remains classified. Your actions and failures with Garlond’s bodyguard have proven you untrustworthy.” His eyes narrow, but his smirk remains present. However, if you wish to make your position permanent...you may stay.” He pauses, smirk growing wider despite you not gracing him with an answer. “Loathe as I am to send you back to him, it will make winning you from him all the more satisfying.”

You can feel bile nearly come up your throat at those very words, quickly composing yourself as you give a deep bow. “I understand.” You reply, knowing you got off lucky this time and at least won’t have to serve under him for the foreseeable future. Giving one final bow, you turn to exit the room, nearly reaching the door before you sense something flying for your head.

With preternatural reflexes you turn just in time to catch it, finding you had caught what looks to be an inkwell that was once sitting upon Varis’ desk. Examining it, you look back at the two men in the room, finding Varis looking at Elidibus in question. Sliding your gaze to Elidibus, his own is even more scrutinous than before, though he seems to also look surprised. You didn’t even hear him move to stand. “Can I get an explanation as to why I had something thrown at the back of my head?” You ask, staring both men down.

“I have heard rumors of your skill, and merely wished to test it for myself.” Elidibus answers, a purr to his voice as he circles the desk to retake his seat.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just ask to see me fight?” You huff angrily, tossing the inkwell back at him.

Astonishingly, he catches it without missing a beat.

“That is true,” he sighs, rolling the inkwell around in his hand, ruby eyes looking at you in a new light. Now you especially get the feeling he knows something you don’t. “If you don’t mind, perhaps I will come watch a spar with yours. That is, if young Zenos does not mind.”

Huffing a laugh, you give him a sarcastic look. “Oh yes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.” You drawl, complete with an eye roll. How you felt so brazen in front of Elidibus was anyone’s guess, especially given you were in front of your boss as well. There was a strange sense of ease you felt around the Emissary. Or rather you didn’t feel you had to be so on guard around him. Given his relationship to Varis, you would think he would put you incredibly on edge.

Strange.

“Either way, I will take my leave.” You bow and turn back around to open the door and step out into the hallway.

That was weird, you think as you head to grab a few extra things from upstairs before heading back down to catch a car ride to the office. Zenos has been long gone of course, having done his training and headed off to work well over an hour ago, and your heart stutters in your chest to even think about seeing him once more. It had been well over a month since you had been able to speak with him; winter’s chill had finally set in and his gaze was as cold as the wind outside. Not that you would ever admit to anybody, most of all yourself, you were nervous.

Extra knick knacks in tow, you head on down to the front door and step outside to hop in the car where the chauffeur awaits. Yuyusho gives you a gentle greeting as you step inside, somewhat soothing your nerves. Engaging in some small talk helps keep your mind at ease as he drives along, Yuyusho driving neatly as he safely navigates the bustling streets of downtown Kugane. Once at the Galvus highrise, you swallow thickly, wishing silently Yuyusho would’ve run over a broken bottle or something and popped a tire. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back, so you exit the car and wave goodbye and head on in.

It’s strange to enter the building alone, not having to flank either Zenos or Varis as they go about their business. Building security welcomes you as you head toward the elevators, and you're thankful that Zenos takes after his father and keeps his office on the uppermost floors. This gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to say when you get up there and face him.

Would he be cold toward you still? Hell, did he even know you were on your way? He had to, right? Would he be happy to see you, but wouldn’t show it like a normal person? Would he be happy in his own “Zenos” way? Maybe he’d tell you to die in a fire.

The more questions popped up, the sicker you felt until you had to stop the elevator on the closest floor and briskly walk to the closest restroom. Splashing water on your face, you gaze at yourself in the mirror, a few stray hairs clinging to your skin.

What were you so nervous for?

This man had seen you naked. Twice.

And despite him not being your first, you know he’s seen the most vulnerable parts of you had never dared show anyone. Not even Lyse or Y’shtola. You hand this man’s ass to him on a daily basis for crying out loud. He should be afraid to see you.

Yet, here you are, anxiety twisting your gut like you’re somehow a teenager working up the courage to ask their crush out on a date.

There was so much unsaid about your relationship. Perhaps sex did not change things for him, but it certainly did for you. You had never been a blushing maiden saving herself for marriage, but to you, sex was not just about the sex itself. The intimacy of it all, the kissing, the touching, how they would linger on your skin for hours after...that is what led you to Estinien.

That is what made everything with Zenos so confusing.

In the back of your mind, you knew why you were afraid. To face the unsaid, to unpack the feelings beginning to grow out of control was to acknowledge you felt anymore more than annoyance for the Galvus heir.

And as a fucking undercover cop, that just would not do.

It would be so much easier if he just treated you like shit in bed! How could you have ever guessed he would be a considerate, passionate lover? Any other day, he spoke to you as if you were his servant, barked at you, insulted you to the point that anyone else would’ve cried or filed a lawsuit by now. But in his arms you felt safe.

You felt like you belonged there.

You felt like he cared.

Words are the only thing you understand.

You watch your eyes widen in the mirror, realization dawning on you.

Touch.

Zenos understood touch.

Twisted as it was, it made so much sense now why he was never bothered by you kicking his ass. Why he always saw your manhandling him as just friendly banter and flirting. Why he held you close in the fountain, why he never let anyone else near you, why he felt like he was making love to you--

A hysterical laugh bubbles up from your throat, escaping too fast to catch, and another one follows soon after. What did it say about you that a monster like him figured out how to communicate his feelings to you in a way you understood before you could do the same for him?

Not that you didn’t know this already, but by the Twelve, you were fucked.

Smoothing your hairs back in place, you dust yourself off and straighten up in the mirror. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, you stride out the restroom feeling a little better, but not any more confident. You won’t let that stop you however, head held high as you head back to the elevators and resume your trip up the building.

Reaching the upper floors, you take one final breath before stepping out. Looking left and right, you find the hall is surprisingly quiet, not dissimilar to how it had been your first few days here. However, as the months had gone on, employees would chat more and converse amongst themselves. It was mostly due to fear of upsetting Zenos somehow that had kept them quiet, and you guessed that in your absence, he had been taking out that excess energy on his subordinates.

Frowning, no matter how much you wanted to see him, treating people, even if they were his employees, like shit was unacceptable. Feeling a bit more sure, you stride down the hall and make a beeline for his office. Passing by cubicles and copiers, you can see various expressions on their faces, ranging from surprise to relief at seeing you pass by. You swear you hear someone whisper “thank the kami” as you head by. Fixing your jaw, you reach the opulent doors that lead to Zenos’ office and knock three times, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Sounding entirely too much like his father, you open the door, cool air brushing across your face as you step inside. The grand door shuts behind you and across the way you can see Zenos sitting at his desk, not an onze of surprise on his sharp features. In fact he’s scowling at you, so much so that if looks could kill you’re sure you would’ve taken psychic damage from how hard he is glaring at you. Naturally, instead of offering an olive branch, you go straight for the throat.

“Well don’t look too happy to see me.” You tease, throwing a smirk his way, though it fades as you realize he isn’t rising to your bait.

Maintaining his frown, his fist clenches tighter around the pen in his hand. “I’m not.” He responds, clipped and to the point, his eyes jolting where you missed Livia sitting on the couch in your spot. Glaring at her for no reason other than the fact that you can, you repress a satisfied grin as Zenos orders her to leave. “I see father has deigned to take you back. You are dismissed.”

Livia, seeming to know what is best for her, stands and bows to Zenos, remaining entirely silent as she strides out the office without as much as a word. The door shutting again sounds much more final as it leaves you alone with Zenos in his office. Clearing your throat, you eye your spot, shrugging slightly. At least she’s warmedit up for you.

Before you can move to sit down, Zenos cuts you off. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Shooting him a deadly look, you find yourself getting annoyed quickly. “The fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m sitting down, you idiot.” You snap back. Zenos places his pen down with the utmost care, seeming to do so for worry of crushing it in his fist.

“I would have thought you had learned some respect while attending my father.” He seethes, the words scathing and meant to bite, but as usual you rise to the challenge.

“I kick your ass on the daily and you expect me to fear your old man?” You laugh, throwing your head back to cackle at the thought of allowing Varis to make you do anything. “The bastard’s lucky I didn’t kill him in his sleep. Trust me, I thought about it. I had plenty of opportunities to snap his silly, little neck.” The words sound wrong from your lips, not for the words themselves but how much you mean them.

Zenos seems to realize this too, but his expression doesn’t lighten in the least. “I see.” Is all he says, picking up his pen again. “Well, since you are here, I have some work for you to do.”

Arching a brow, you stand up straight and cock your hip out to the side. “What happened to your secretary? What’s-her-face,”

“I fired her.” Zenos interjects, looking more annoyed by the second. “Are you really going to stand there and continue to question me?” He places his pen down once more, standing to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. His suit is tailored to his form as usual, accentuating his figure deliciously to the point you can already feel desire creeping into your gaze. “I spent a month without your presence, and I must say, it helped me realize what a terrible subordinate you truly are.”

Snapped out of your shameless ogling, you fix Zenos with a menacing look, remaining still as he makes his way toward you. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are a terrible bodyguard.” He huffs, having made his way toward you. Looking down his nose at you like he did the first time he met you. “You talk back to your superiors. You think yourself untouchable and above consequences. You question orders instead of following them. Livia was the perfect picture of an ideal bodyguard. A silent shadow.”

Scoffing, you give him a sly look, seeing the lies in his words. “Really, Zenos. You’d have me no other way.”

This seems to anger him as he raises his fist as if to punch you but your reflexes are faster, blocking it without a flinch. You hold his hand, gripping his fist tight within your palm. “Now I have a question for you: when are you gonna sit and talk like a fucking adult and say what you really want to say, instead of trying to go back to treating me like shit, huh?”

Jerking his fist back, he says nothing and retreats to his desk, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor amongst the furniture. “Stand there for all I care. I have work to do.”

Sighing, you go ahead and plop down onto the closest couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table and prepare for yourself for a long, slow day.

As the morning drags on, Zenos seems set on ignoring you, scribbling away at Hydaelyn knows what. Once or twice you comply with his wishes and do run a few errands for him since it seems he really did fire his secretary. She was a nice girl and you could not understand what could have possibly led him to sacking her; she did her job well and was pleasant to talk to. If this is what just a month without you around was like, you hate to think about how much the long term employees had to deal with. No doubt the majority of them felt the paycheck was too nice to give up and would rather deal with their boss’ abuse.

Once again he wasn’t responding to any of your teasing, closing himself off and speaking to you in one word sentences. As the day waned on, you found that sad feeling creeping up again, just like you had felt that night at the gala. A wish to understand why he was being so cold to you, and what could be done to get back to normal.

Words are the only things you understand.

With the sun having set, you stand just outside the office, a stack of copies in your hand. It was easy to cling onto your pride, to try and maintain your moral high ground, because at this point it was the only thing you had. Because you knew as soon as you let go, that was it.

Would it be so wrong to be mine and mine alone?

Zenos had been vulnerable. He may not have realized it, but remembering that pained look on his face, the desperation to understand, he had bared his heart to you with sparkling clarity, and perhaps it was you who was closed off. In your fight to not give in, you had alienated yourself.

You could have easily left messages or snuck to see him during your time with Varis, anything to let him know that you still cared.

With a melancholy sigh and your mind made up, you push open the door and stride into the office, eyes set on the blond haired man across the room. “Zenos.”

He doesn’t even look up, still scribbling away at whatever documents are beneath his hands. While angered by this, you keep a cool head on your shoulders and make your way over to his desk. Standing in front of it, you place the papers down gently. “The files you wanted.”

Not that you were expecting any actual thanks, you’re still pissed when you don’t receive any. Deciding that your anger seems to be the only thing that ever gets anything out of him, you let the feeling take hold of you. “Zenos yae Galvus.” You growl, slamming your hands on the desk.

That seems to get his attention, if only because you slammed hard enough to cause his hand to jerk and ugly mark now lies upon whatever document he was writing. With a cool and relaxed tone that sounds like the calm before the storm, those blue eyes you adore look at you with a look that is venomous. “Speak quickly before I kill you.”

“You wish you fucking could.” You snap, jabbing a finger in his face. “We aren’t doing this bullshit. Not again.” The surety of your words makes him frown but he says nothing more, so you continue. “Are you really going to act like a child, again, because your father dragged me around? You heard him yourself; he’s the top dog around here so if I want to keep my head on my shoulders I better fucking listen to him! Didn’t you say that?”

You watch as his bottom lip nearly pokes out to pout but he stops himself. Barely. You're right and he knows it. “And what problem is it of mine?”

“What your problem is, is that you’re taking out your daddy issues on me! The only person on this damn planet that gives a damn about you!” You nearly yell, teeth bared as you let your emotions flow free. “I figured you’d be happy to see me again! I hated every moment of every day of every bell with that excuse of a man!” Your chest is heaving and you start to feel a little warm.

“You assume much, thinking I spent any time thinking about you.” Zenos scoffs, crossing strong arms across his broad chest, eyes narrowed on your form. “I knew you were foolish,”

You cut him off with a frustrated yell, close to ripping your hair out. He didn’t get it. He really didn’t get it.

There was only one way to get him to understand.

Marching around his desk, you take satisfaction in seeing the small amount of alarm in his expression as you give a firm push on the back of his chair that pulls him from his desk. Spinning him toward you, you waste no time straddling his lap, grabbing him by the hair and pulling back, finding him already half hard beneath you. A filthy moan comes from that pretty throat of his and you swallow it whole, pressing your lips to his in a crushing kiss, passion sweeping you away as you feel what it is to finally be near him like this after so long.

Your tongue demands entrance before he gets the chance to do it first, your hand having a firm grip on his hair as you bite harshly on his lip, hips already rolling into his own. You feel his hands snake around your body to crush you to him, pressing you closer than close as you finally part for air. “You fucking idiot,” you rasp, tilting his head to go for his neck, peppering kisses and love bites on his perfect skin, claiming what is rightfully yours.

It surprises you as much as it doesn’t as he turns into putty beneath your hands, any tension that he had held at the mere sight of you all day going away with his hands on your body. His hands are greedy, groping your ass, your hips, your thighs. Feeling, touching, as if you had disappeared from the very star and he was sure you would never return.

His hunger is deeper than you could have anticipated, for he steels his grip at your hips to grind against your core, standing to his feet to sit you on his desk, the documents atop it instantly forgotten. The change in control is so jarring, his hand reaching to pluck yours from his hair, pinning it to the wood beneath you. “Honey,” he breathes, his other hand leaving your hip to undo the button on your slacks.

Unzipping your pants, he shoves his hand in them with a small amount of decorum, fingers wedging themselves between your thighs before you can spread them wider. “Give me a second,” You hiss, wishing he didn’t have you crushed halfway beneath him with hardly any room to move.

“I won’t even give you that long.” He groans against your neck, finding what he was looking for as his fingers brush across your lower lips, still covered by your panties. Your hips jerk, almost to the point of embarrassment, having never felt so sensitive to a lover before. Granted in that entire month you hadn’t even seen Estinien; going without sex ever since the day Varis split you and Zenos apart. Zenos seems to notice this, pleased as he searches for what he knows will make you scream for him.

With that thought in mind, panic shoots through you, trying to shove him off you for at least five seconds. “I didn’t lock the door--”

“And I couldn’t give a fuck.”

The use of such foul language is enough to still your movements from shock alone, body going rigid until he pulls your head back further by your hair, lips ravishing your neck. It was already enough that you werent supposed to be fucking the Galvus heir in the first place, and here he was refusing to lock the door just in case someone wants to pay him an unexpected visit and finds you kneeling under the desk with his cock halfway down your throat.

Twelve above, the idea excites you more than it should.

Because what is a bigger fuck you to Varis than immedaitely being released from his side to go do the very thing that got you there in the first place? What would grind his gears more than showing Zenos how much you care in the only way he’ll understand?

At the very least the hour is late; most of the nine-to-five workers have gone home and if anyone pops in on you, it’ll be a janitor looking to clean Zenos’ already immaculate office. However, with his aggression already this high, you don’t doubt they’ll actually have something to clean later. In the corners of your vision you already see one of his pencil cups tipped over from how roughly he put you on the desk and you know the papers are crumpled beneath your ass. Humming, you let him have his way with you, knowing now that he needs this outlet.

“If anyone has missed me, it is you.” He purrs, feeling how wet you are for him. Before you can even open your mouth to protest he nips at your bottom lip, gasping at your look of surprise. “Your body will always tell the truth, my beast. I like that about you. You may curse my very name until your dying breath, but your body will always let me know just what you feel.” He continues brushing the pad over a finger between your lower lips, his other hand moving to unbutton your shirt. “I’ve been thinking...would you be opposed to wearing skirts? It would make this much easier.”

Clamping onto his shoulders, you try to push him off you but instead your arms curl around his broad frame. “I thought you wanted me to be a good bodyguard.” Your voice is already breathy, face warm from embarrassment. What happened to the control, the confidence you had walking in the room? Just a few touches, and now he’s got you bucking into his hands.

“It took me time to realize...but I want you to be no one else but yourself.” He whispers, finally slipping a finger inside. He lets your body adjust as you throw your head back, toes curling in your shoes. With gentle lips he trails kisses along your pulse, inhaling deeply to breathe you in. “Livia bored me. She obeyed every order, and never spoke out of turn.” He frowns, pumping his finger out of your wet sheathe.

Whimpering, you move your hands to grab for your pants as best as you are able with him halfway on top of you. Shoving them down, you try to lift your hips but Zenos is stubborn and continues to pump that single finger within you. “Let me get my pants off--” You snarl, kicking him in the shin, smacking him on the shoulder as he barks out a rich laugh.

“Very well.” Pulling his hand from your pants, he backs off entirely, your body immediately missing the warmth. Not hiding your confusion, you watch as he sits back in his chair, almost slouching as he gets comfortable. “Go on. Take them off.”

Flushing deeply, somehow you find yourself stuck with stage fright. “A-Are you going to just watch me?” you ask incredulously, shoving your blazer off your shoulders.

“Well of course. Why not make it interesting?” He croons, eyes half lidded and molten with lust.

Despite your continuing nervousness, when you have one of the most powerful men in the world looking at you like that, it’s hard to not feel at least a little sexy. While you were by no means a lady of leisure, you did your best to finish his task of unbuttoning your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders in a way you hope is sexy. You can’t help but feel a little silly, but Zenos’ attention is focused on you entirely, and judging by the tent going on in his pants, he likes what he sees.

You only wish you had cuter underwear, your panties and bra built to be practical and not for looks. You decide to leave your bra on for now and begin to push your pants down your legs, hands gliding across your skin as the clothing falls to the floor. As you bend over to kick out of them and get them off your ankles, you can’t help but stare at the obvious bulge in his pants, mouth watering as your eyes hone in on it. Continuing your way down to the floor, you rest on your knees and place your hands on his thighs, using force to start spreading them before you as he quickly catches on and splays his legs wide.

Scooting closer between them, your hands reach for his pants, caressing his length through the material, able to feel how firm and hot it is through his slacks. His breath hitches immediately, and you hazard a glance, finding his eyes still half lidded, but no less focused on you. He doesn’t look smug or amused, he looks almost…

Reverent.

With that in mind, you slowly unzip his slacks, hands fumbling in their hurry to free him from his underwear, which are of course as fine as the suits he wears. Face to face with the thing that rendered you unable to walk straight more than once, you give yourself a moment to look at it.

Most genitalia looked a little weird, but you had to give it to Zenos; he had certainly lucked out that it had looked as perfect as the rest of him. His length was just enough that you would need both hands to grip him effectively, and you didn’t even want to start on his girth because that was the start of all your problems. The skin is like satin beneath your fingertips, his abdomen twitching as he remains silently still at your exploration. While giving head was not your most favorite activity in the world, you had to admit you wanted to do this more than anything to speak in a language he understood.

Leaning forward, you press the head of his cock to your lips, tongue darting out to swipe the precum beading at the tip, the salty taste coating your tongue. Pressing forward, you take the head into your mouth, a second hitch of his breath all the encouragement you need. Patiently, you slick his length with your spit until your hands can glide along with ease, lips still wrapped around the head of his cock.

You have no practice with deepthroating, but have heard plenty of tips from coworkers and friends alike, relaxing your throat as best as you can to take him as deep as possible. Given how big he is, you know you can only go so far, but it seems to not take much, for you feel a hand snake into your hair, pulling gently. Glancing upwards, his head is thrown back, his mouth agape as a moan comes forth, a sigh of Honey on his lips. Just hearing that has you moan around his cock, Zenos’ thighs tensing further at the vibrations you send through him.

Fully enamored with your task, you allow him to bob your head up and down at a reasonable pace you can handle, his eyes coming back to look at your lips wrapped around his cock. He still has that reverent expression, bordering on grateful, edging on...adoration.

On something more.

“You feel,” He groans, hips threatening to jerk and push too far but you use your strength to hold him down as he uses your face, hand gripping tighter and tighter in your hair. “I’m close,” he grunts, and you take a deep breath, preparing for his orgasm.

He moans your name in bliss as he comes, cum shooting into your mouth and down your throat, and you do your best to swallow it all down. Pulling off, a last few drops spurt onto your lips and chest, the viscous liquid warm and sticky as it clings to your breasts. Reaching up with your fingers you swipe it off your skin, sticking your fingers in your mouth to lick them clean in an unintentionally lewd display.

You watch as he catches his breath, looking as if had sucked the soul from his body. His skin is entirely flushed, cock beginning to soften before your very eyes as his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.

"Stand up. Now." Zenos orders, still sounding breathless in his post orgasm haze. Standing to your feet, he grabs you fiercely by the hips and pushes you back toward the desk, feet scrambling for balance as he practically forces you onto it. You land on your back with no amount of grace, propping yourself up on your elbows as more of the items atop the desk tip over.

"Use your words you brute," your tirade is sharply cut off with Zenos ripping off your underwear, seams digging into your skin before they give way to his superior strength. Habit compels you to complain, but somehow his impatience is so arousing you find yourself once again shocked into silence. This gives Zenos plenty of time to scoot forward in his office chair and take a thigh in each hand, kissing the skin as one might worship a god. It is like night and day the way he treats you in bed. You knew he held you in high esteem, but only by touch do you truly grasp just how much.

It is evident in how he does not explicitly ask to do things to you, choosing to forgo words as he gazes up at you from beneath his lashes, lips drawing nearer to your molten core, asking permission with only his eyes. There is a beauty in the respect that he gives you, knowing full well he could use his strength to overwhelm you and take you hard and fast, but instead he chooses to be near…

Subservient.

His lips brush just across your petals, breath hot despite the fire you already feel between your own legs. Curling his arms around your thighs, he flexes his fingers into your flesh, gripping just to the point of pain as he holds you still. When his lips first touch your center you whimper, hips instinctively jerking forward into his face of which he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grips you a little tighter, as if to encourage you.

His tongue slips between your lower lips, tasting you, his eyes fluttering closed as he throws himself into his task. It is your turn for your head to fall back in bliss, a long moan pulled from deep within, the looming threat of a passerby having fled your mind. The heels of your feet dig into his back, your fists clench without anything to hold onto. Zenos devotes himself to his task as well as he would training, using his strength to subdue you so you don’t crush his head between your thighs.

Unable to take it anymore as he pushes you closer to orgasm, you finally lie back and thread your fingers through his hair, canting your hips toward his face and his mouth that is oh so lovely in this very moment. Your moans increase in pitch and frequency as he pushes you closer, that feeling of too close, too fast making itself known once again. Somehow only he has made you feel that way, as if he is giving you no other choice but to come.

When he hums, the vibrations shoot up your spine and you finally orgasm, crying out his name in abandon as you arch off the desk, crumpling the papers beneath you even further. Back arching taut like a bow, you clutch hard at his hair, the resulting moan providing an endless feedback loop of pleasure as the vibrations once again shoot through you as you still come down from your high.

Unable to hold fast to him any longer, you finally release his hair, watching as he sits up, licking his lips much like a cat. Only he is no house cat; he is a predator beyond compare, a beast in his own right. Something that could never be tamed or domesticated. Certainly not trained. A beast that would yield only to another just like it.

“Did you really not miss me at all?” you ask, wanting to hear it despite experiencing very clearly just how much he did. You allow him to move you as he wishes, his hand grabbing your own and pulling you up to a standing position. You give a sharp squeal as he unexpectedly spins you in his hold, pressing your back to his front.

He leans to brush his lips against your ear, his breathing ragged and torn with pleasure. “Such notions are beneath me.” He asks, his length nearly to full hardness and ready to go again. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but still, it was a wonder how you could go back to regular men after this.

He presses you harshly against the edge of the desk, the glossy wood pressing uncomfortably into your flesh. His hand presses firmly on your back urging you to lay your front flat against it, your hands shoving documents and stray pens aside. The cool surface does little for how warm you feel with him against you, the shuffling of clothing reaching your ears as you mull over how to respond.

“Well, I did.” You breathe, voice quaking much more than you’d like. “I-I missed you.”

His touch halts on you for a second, and fear grips your heart too tightly to even think about taking a look at his expression. Your face is on fire, a cocktail of embarrassment and vulnerability coursing through your veins. It feels like forever until he reaches for your left leg and hikes it up on the table, holding it in place as his other hand takes his cock and rubs it along your folds, slicking himself with your juices. Satisfied, he begins to feed himself slowly inside, his name torn from your lips as he slowly works himself inside.

He leans down above you, snaking a hand beneath your abdomen to hold you close to him, burying his face affectionately into your neck. You are surrounded by him entirely, his very existence eclipsing your entire being. It is hard to tell where he ends and you begin, especially as he is pushing those last few ilms of his cock deep inside you. Your hands reach for the other end of the desk to grab onto anything, until the hand that is holding your leg leaves it to grab your arm and pull it back toward his hair. You hold tight, enjoying the shiver he gives at the contact. Once he hilts himself fully he burrow further into your neck, tongue reaching out to taste and mark and claim.

He takes you.

He takes you as if there is no Galvus enterprises, no Varis, no Estinien.

As if you are not a cop and he, the son of a mob boss.

As if you are just a man and a woman in too deep but unable to turn back.

Every plunge of his cock into your core leaves you wailing beneath him, the desk shaking with the force of his thrusts, what few items remaining on the top rattling until they fall off entirely. You’re distantly aware of his computer monitor crashing to the floor but you cannot bring yourself to care and neither can Zenos, if anything he pounds harder, determined to bring you to the peak once more.

It’s personal.

Despite how much you don’t want it to be, you’re tired of fighting it. Fighting yourself.

When Zenos tilts your head to kiss him, you don’t bite back.

When you caress his face like one would a lover, you don’t think too hard on it.

And when he brings your world crashing down on you with another orgasm that has you crying his name out against his lips, you revel in the feeling of him being there to hold you through it all.

There’s no getting around that your skills have suffered slightly in your time apart from Zenos, who happily takes it upon himself to come to your room for your own personal wake up call. Smug as ever, he stands in your doorway already dressed and ready for the day as you chuck the smallest pillow you have at his infuriating face. He doesn’t even bother moving, cracking a joke that he would be more than willing to help you dress, to which you throw your alarm clock at him.

Of course, he catches it.

“Can't believe I’ve gotten this out of shape…” You sigh, throwing your head back to squeeze water directly into your mouth from your bottle. Sweat runs down your skin in small rivers, the air conditioning doing its job of keeping you cool. Seated upon the floor with your legs strewn, you look every bit unladylike as you are. Twisting the cap back on, you heave out a sigh.

“All because what? I got a few hits on you?” Zenos scoffs, holding an offending out expectantly. Scowling, you toss the water bottle at him rather than toward his hand, and he catches it without flinching.

“Yes.” You answer, smirking at him. “I can’t afford to have you catching up to me. Someone has to keep you in your place.”

He returns a smirk of his own, only his is tainted with desire. “Really now? I look forward to it.”

Finishing off the last of the water, he tosses it with perfect aim into the trash can, walking over to where you were seated upon the floor. Reaching out, he offers his hand and you grab it without a second thought, allowing him to pull you up to your feet.

“Do we have anything planned today?” You ask, heading to grab your things from the counter on the far wall.

“Today all that is on the agenda is to prepare for a trip; there is another charity event we must attend, as much as I hate to do so.” He drones, making his way toward the door. Before he exits, he looks at you over his shoulder. “We only have a few things to take care of at the office today before we return here and prepare for our trip. Or rather, you prepare for the trip. Packing my own things is beneath me.”

Not knowing what else to say aside from sticking your tongue out at him, you wave him off as he exits the gym and heads out to most likely shower before heading downtown. Slinging your gym bag over your shoulder, you make your way toward the door as well, opening it slowly only to find it stopped by a pale hand. Instinct immediately takes over, hand moving to strike whatever attacker had somehow made their way into the estate, before your hand only stops ilms from punching Elidibus in the face.

Releasing the breath you were holding, you nearly collapse from the shock alone, not expecting your mission to nearly end prematurely via way of “local bodyguard decks Garlean Prime Minister in the face” making the eleven o’clock news. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Emissary.” You finally get out as your lungs catch up with your racing heart. Where had he even come from? Was he lurking around some corner? You didn’t sense him at all…

“I apologize, I did mean to startle you so.” He chuckles lightly, ruby eyes gleaming with mirth.

“I merely meant to catch up with you. I knew you would immediately return to training with young Zenos, and made sure I woke up on time to speak with you.”

Relaxing a little, you find his eagerness to speak with you a little off putting, but otherwise you see no harm in it. It still baffles you that a whole ass dignitary would be scrambling for the chance to speak with you, especially since you can’t figure out the reason for his fascination with you. “What did you want to speak about?” You ask, taking a few steps out the doorway and into the hall. You watch as he gently allows the door to shut, ruby eyes never leaving your form.

He is dressed in a stark white suit, accented with golden embroidery on the lapels and cuffs. His hair is neatly trimmed as usual, though it seems longer than usual, in a neat braid down the back of his neck. “I will say, your reflexes had certainly intrigued me. I had always...sensed you had something special about you, Honey, and had taken it upon myself to find out.”

Unsure what to make of that, you shrug lightly and begin making your way toward your room so you can take a shower yourself. Elidibus isn’t through with you yet you realize, for he remains in step beside you. “Well, I’ve always been that way, since I was a kid. I was always faster than others, able to fight in ways nobody else could.”

“Is that so…” He murmurs, something in his voice making you slow your walk to face him more. Once he catches you looking at him, he fixes his face with a suspiciously kind smile. “What a rare gift, you must have. I will admit, when I had thrown that inkwell at you, I had not believed my own eyes. So this morning, I sought to watch your sparring match with the young master.” He pauses, raising a hand to tuck under his chin as if in thought. “Indeed, I saw for myself your ability. Zenos has always towered above his peers in combat, but to see someone not just stand toe to toe with him, but to dominate him so completely…”

Frowning, you stop walking, facing him full on. “What are you getting at?”

He stops a few steps ahead of you, staring at you with a sudden wisdom that makes him look twenty thousand years older than you rather than twenty. “Nothing...I just had the thought that perhaps some legends may become reality.”

A sense of apprehension fills you, one that is equal to the amount you felt when at the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Standing before the face of something greater, something far beyond your comprehension. “What...do you mean?”

The Emissary gives you an inquisitive look, as if he holds a million secrets and is willing to share none of them. “It is most intriguing that you have no idea who or what you are…” He murmurs, and you swear his eyes glow.

Standing before the Emissary, you feel as if he knows you better than you do yourself, and not in a way that makes you feel comfortable at all. You feel as if you stand before some sort of judgemental god, and he is readying himself to pass judgement on your poor mortal soul. “Elidibus...do you...know something about my past?”

The Emissary stands there silently, watching, waiting. Seemingly thinking over what he is to say, or perhaps inwardly laughing at how he will tell you nothing at all. “Have you really thought nothing more of your abilities? Thought you were just extremely talented?” He asks, voice as neutral as possible.

Frustrated, you rack your brain for an answer. “I don’t know. Growing up I thought...I just always thought I was really good. A strong fighter. You know how there are those like olympians? People who can lift weights with their pinky finger and stuff like that.”

He huffs out a short laugh at that, shaking his head, looking bemused as he takes a step closer toward you. “Oh, Honey. Really, you think that being able to snatch things from the air when you don’t have eyes in the back of your head isn't a little abnormal? Having the reaction time of coeurl is just a little quirk?”

“Rookie, you put her down so fast it was almost unnatural.”

“No one moves like that! It’s unnatural! You’re a freak!”

...Was there really something different about you?

Looking strangely content, Elidibus gives you an reassuring pat on the shoulder, jarring you from your thoughts. “Well, sorry to question you this early in the morning, my dear. I’m sure I’ve held you up long enough and we both know young Zenos has a temper on him. I’m sure we’ll find another time to chat.”

Still a little shell-shocked you nod weakly, and give a limp wristed wave goodbye. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for the talk. See you later, Elidibus.” You continue down the hallway, thinking on his words. Were you really that different? Were you just not an outlier?

When you turn back to try and ask Elidibus a question, you find the hallway completely empty.

The trip Gyr Abania is relatively problem free, the flight smooth and relaxing as you are once again treated to first class seating. You decide to have a juicy steak on your flight over, despite the flight taking only a few bells, knowing this was one of the few times Zenos couldn’t monitor your nutritional intake like a damn hawk.

Once you set foot on Gyr Abanian soil, you find it strange that it is still so warm. Kugane will no doubt have snow in the next month if not next few weeks, meanwhile in the arid land of Gyr Abania, you could easily wear some short shorts if you wanted to. The landscape is so different from Kugane, where even the more rural parts of Hingashi are rolling plains and lush, green grass, Ala Mhigo is dust and dirt, but no less beautiful. There is a magic to the barren land, and you feel no less fascinated by it all despite Zenos’ unamused sigh.

You ignore him, because even if your cover is a street rat that got swept into gang life, even as a cop you could only dream about saving up enough money to leave the country. Hingashi had the misfortune of essentially being an island unto itself, surrounded by the Ruby Sea and the plains of Othard where natives of the Azim Steppe kept to the ways of their ancestors. Travel outside the country was a true luxury, and living in Kugane made rent sky high, and your savings very little.

“I honestly don’t see the appeal.” Zenos feels the need to comment, expression bored as ever. The taxi rolls through the grand city, many of the buildings hailing to Gyr Abanian architecture, and you snap as many pictures as you can.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” You snark, flashing him an angry look. “I’m not going to listen to a rich kid who’s probably seen it all already. So shut up.”

“Shut up? I think not. Unless, you have something between your thighs that will keep me quiet…” he trails off, staring out the window as you whip around to face him, your cheeks on fire.

“Zenos yae Galvus!” You hiss under your breath, sneaking a quick look at your driver who seems otherwise unaware of the words that just passed from his lips.

Zenos shrugs, smug look already in place as he fixes you with a molten look. “He doesn’t understand a word we are saying. However, if you require me to translate, my Gyr Abanian is rusty, but I’m sure I could--”

Your hand is over his mouth before he can finish the sentence. Naturally, like a kid, his tongue licks a clean line on the palm of your hand and it takes all your willpower to not pull back on reflex.

Since that night at the office, things had become incredibly pleasant between the two of you, as if something had been unlocked and you had had the key all along. The key being that Zenos responded to touch, and as a result, you used it more. When you were angry, you had no problems throwing him over your shoulder. Now it was more tender gestures such as a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention, or a playful shove when he said some ridiculous innuendo. It made being around him feel the same, yet brand new all at once, but you knew that largely due to the fact you had just stopped fighting it.

“It” being feelings you still were not ready to explore, but at the very least, you had dug this hole, so you might as well freshen it up a bit. Make a home out of it the best you can.

That didn’t mean you didn’t fight Zenos himself of course, but it made the days go by easier now that you weren’t stuck in that state of constant denial. The state of trying to hold yourself back from trying not to fraternize with the enemy and failing miserably.

Friends with Benefits Plus you had called it, because what else did you call sleeping with your boss who you would kill and be killed for? The boss who would kill for you without question?

Unfortunately, you get no time to explore the city of Ala Mhigo, at least not tonight. With a few carefully placed touches and some begging-not-begging, Zenos had acquiesced to staying an extra night to tour the city the next day after the gala, given the two of you didn’t stay up too late and party all night. Which, was unlikely to happen as Zenos hated these events anyway, and didn’t even want to go.

“Why send you then? I thought your father ate this shit up.” You ask as you ride in the limo with Zenos on the way to the event, senses on high alert due to this being a solo mission. Security is thankfully tight from what you saw, but you still remain focused on your job. Zenos had been taken away once, but you were determined to make sure that was the last time.

“I actually don’t know.” Zenos muses, as if he is just now realizing it. “Not that he filled me on every single detail of his schemes, that or I tuned them out because I didn’t care, but as of late he’s been…” his brows actually pinch together in thought. “He’s not told me anything as of late.”

“I take it that’s not a good thing…” You mumble as you hear the crowd of the red carpet getting closer even from the inside of the limo.

Zenos doesn’t answer, looking incredibly displeased and too deep in his thoughts. Deciding to leave him to it, you place a steady hand on his back as the two of you enter the limelight, pulling out your shades as the first camera flashes reach your eyes. Zenos becomes the picture of a celebrity in seconds, face schooled into an expression of cool indifference as paparazzi clamor him with questions. As his bodyguard you become his shadow, hanging just behind him as he answers questions, greets other celebrities, and makes his way down the red carpet to go inside.

Reaching the front doors the facade stays in place, the picture of the perfect son of Varis zos Galvus. As you tail behind Zenos, you spot Estinien and Cid across the way, the latter giving you a big wave to ensure you saw him. Naturally the paparazzi's attention turns to you immediately, and you duck behind Zenos' hulkish frame in a sudden bout of shyness. You don't have to look at Zenos to know he's rolling his eyes, continuing forward as more reporters attempt to swarm him.

Part of wishes you could leave Zenos long enough to go and speak with Estinien, to try and clear the air between you, but you can’t leave Zenos’ side, not when you are the only one here to protect him and confronting Estinien would mean confronting your own feelings about Zenos as well.

By the Twelve, when did you become such a coward?

“Something on your mind?” You hear Zenos ask, having zoned out on whatever conversation he was having with another businessman. That isn’t to say you’re unaware of your surroundings, but you have been taking the time to gaze at the various art pieces for sale, studying them with your peasant like tastes. “You have been concerningly quiet this evening.” He notes, flashing a winning smile at whatever celebrity waves at him as they pass by.

“No…” You murmur, suddenly quiet and shy, not wanting to tell him just what was on your mind. Things had gone back to normal, you would dare say even improved from the norm, but you still weren’t at a place where you would willingly vent to him about your problems. That was Ardbert’s job.

“Do not lie to me.” Looking up, while Zenos’ voice was surprisingly gentle, his expression spoke of retribution if you dared to disobey him. “I hate lies. Are you unwell? Do we need to retire early?” He questions, reaching a hand for your forehead, skin to skin. Your face heats immediately, stunned he would ask such questions.

“When did you start giving a damn about how I feel?” You ask, trying to push things back into more familiar territory.

Looking down at you, he arches a single brow. “Does that matter?” He tuts, smoothing a stray hair of yours out of place. That he feels so comfortable and at ease touching you so intimately in public like this while you’re overthinking every single interaction with him makes you wonder what goes on in his head. “You belong to me and I take care of things that are mine.”

Pushing his hand away (whereas months ago you would have slapped it), you try to not feel pleased by his words. “How many times do I have to tell you people are not possessions?” You grumble, knowing your face is still warm from embarrassment. “Don’t you care about paparazzi? What if the tabloids catch you doting on me?” Or worse your father…

“I care little for whatever tabloids have had to say and that is not about to change.” He lets his arm fall back to his side, giving you a sly smile. “And perhaps, I want to make sure a certain person sees just who you belong to…”

Looking up you follow his gaze to where you can spy a trace of silver hair retreating through the crowd.

“You asshole!” You snap, smacking Zenos hard in the chest, wishing you could deck him in the face but sadly you’re in the middle of a party. “How could you do something so cruel?!”

He scoffs, expression turning into one of irritation. “Cruel? You would most certainly know of cruelty, Honey.” He breathes, leaning into your space as if there is not an entire party around you. “You have been the sole object of my desire for months. Whereas you have gone between myself and another man, sleeping with him every weekend.” Your eyes brim with tears as he stands back to full height, giving you that condescending look that is oh so familiar. “Now, who is the cruel one?”

Your lip trembles as your heart breaks, hands reaching up to clutch each other as you find a deeply hidden pain you never would’ve thought possible in his eyes. Unable to look at him any longer you back away from him until you push through the crowd to get away. You ignore the looks you get as you put as much distance between you and Zenos as possible. Reaching the exit, you feel like you can finally breathe as you stumble into the hallway, nearly keeling over with how fast your heart pounds in your chest.

Standing straight, you swipe a flute of champagne off the tray of a busboy as he passes by, downing it in one gulp as you let your legs carry you down the hall. The security guards stationed outside the doors give you a questioning look -- it is no secret who you are and who you work for -- but otherwise mind their business as you amble down the hall.

What a mess you were.

You hunch over into a slouch as you find a door that leads to an enclosed garden, the fresh air doing wonders for your nerves. The air is balmy and cool, and you are actually thankful for the warmer climate of Gyr Abania. It’s not necessarily pleasant enough to stand out and hold conversation in, but feels nice enough that you can stand and think about what you’ve done.

Now, who is the cruel one?

You were going to hell.

You were supposed to be the righteous one. The one who actually knew anything about feelings, who had any emotional intelligence, the one who knew how to not treat someone like a fucking slave.

And here Zenos goes, acting like he had the ability to treat you like a decent human being all along.

You wish you could laugh but you’re still technically in public, and decide to just silently weep into the night instead.

He had really wanted you for that long, huh...looking back, you wonder just how many of those touches were invitations. If he would let you flip him over because he loved to have your hands on him. If his insistence at instructing you was to save face, or was it to share something he enjoyed with you?

“Gods...I’m the clueless one.” You murmur to yourself, furiously wiping at your cheeks like a madman. While you were running off into Estinien’s arms, Zenos was pining for you the whole damn time, though he’d probably die before he admitted it. And where he was at least forthcoming about his feelings, you instead made things worse by sleeping with Estinien to run away from truths you did not want to face. And you ran back to sleep with Zenos when Estinien wanted more out of you than just sex.

“You really are an awful person.” You whisper to no one in particular, no one aside from yourself.

“Are you sure I’m not a bad kid?”

Blue eyes look down at you in surprise, a sweet face framed by blonde hair coming to scoop you into her arms. “Why would you ever think you’re a bad person?” She asks, wiping some stray tears from your face. Your cheeks and eyes are puffy from your latest tantrum, lip poked out in an adorable pout.

“Y-You said I was bad.” You stammer, rubbing at your eyes with small hands.

“What you did was bad, my dear.” The girl nuzzles your face, peppering your cheeks with kisses. “But sometimes, the bad things we do do not make us awful people. We just have to promise to do better.”

Wiping the last few tears from your eyes, you gaze to the stars in the sky, finding comfort in their presence. It is not often you think about your childhood, what little of it you can remember, but sometimes you remember what wisdom Minfilia tried to impart to you as a child while essentially being a child herself. A calming breath fills your lungs with cool night air and you feel like you’re finally ready to face the music. Turning around, you exit the garden enclosure and head back to the party.

Oh Minfilia...what would you do? You wonder, still stuck in your thoughts until the sounds of an explosion reach your ears.

[greennightspider]

Hearts Entwined (Dwalin Oneshot)

Author’s Note: First time writing for the LOTR/HOBBIT fandom so be gentle! Just a bit of Dwalin fluff because he’s mah boy.

Summary: Joining a company of Dwarves you thought that your hair would be the least of your worries. But as it turns out, it matters more than you thought.

Dwalin x Reader

The sun had just crawled over the mountains when Thorin decided it was time to make camp. At his words you and some of the other company fell to your knees in exhaustion, you rolling on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“I feel like my legs are gonna fall off.” Ori whined, as he lay collapsed on the ground beside you, to which you chuckled.

“Don’t you live in mountains?” You turned your head.

“Emphasis on the ‘in’. Its not like we climb up and down these every day.” Bofur groaned.

You could tell who the more battle hardy members were, as more of the older men of the troop stood unfazed. One dwarf in particular looking like he had just gone for a morning jog.

“Aw come on you whippersnappers, you’re fifty years too old to let a leisurely walk like this defeat ya.” Dwalin grinned, poking at your leg with his boot.

“Lesiurely??!” Ori panted.

“Walk??!” You cried.

Your dramatics caused many in the troupe to laugh heartily, which was a much needed mood-lifter after such a long day. Even Thorin the Serious smiled as he passed you by.

“Come on, we’ll make for camp.”

You lay on the ground for a moment more, letting your eyes cover your gaze as you enjoyed the view of a certain dwarf, sweat glistening his muscles and brow in the waning sunlight.

Perhaps climbing mountains did have their perks.

Even though it had only been two weeks, it felt as though you had been a part of this rag-tag troupe for years. You were an unexpected surprise, not unlike Bilbo, however your meeting was far from peaceful. They had found you tied up as a troll trio’s appetizer, and after they had rescued you, Gandalf offered that you travel with them.

At first there were objections to having a stranger join, but with you promising to prove your worth to Thorin they obliged. In all honesty you had no idea what to expect in a quest of Blue Mountain dwarves. But you had felt the times changing, work as a bounty hunter becoming more dangerous for a lone wolf. So, it made sense to travel with a group of warriors, peculiar though their quest may be.

Over time you had become accustomed to the Dwarven band, and they you. You liked sparring with Dwalin, listening to Bilbo’s packing tips, and even getting into trouble with Fili and Kili, but unconsciously you found yourself always looking out for Ori. 

He reminded you of your younger siblings, and so you tried to make sure he was never left behind. Dori had also noticed your kindness, and had taken it upon himself to be your guide if ever you had questions about the trip, dwarves, and anything in between.

Sure Fili and Kili were friendly enough, but you could never be sure if their answers were serious or offered as a wick to a flame. Which wouldn’t help your case if they knew of your more romantic curiosities about a certain rugged dwarf.

As soon as camp was set up you dug into your bowl almost as heftily as Bombur did, your mighty excursions leaving your body depleted. Sighing as you patted your full belly, you enjoyed the warmth of the fire while propped up against a hefty log, one that Dwalin happened to be sitting on.

“Good to see you’ve revived lass.” 

You tried not to let the blush creep into your cheeks as he spoke your nickname with such a warmth that pulled at your heart strings. “Good to see you’re still kicking too.” You shot back, Dwalin smirking at your response.

You remembered the first time you saw him burst out of the trees with a mighty roar. Even hanging upside down, you saw the sheer strength and courage he launched himself at a foe five  times his size. Yet his gentleness surprised you as he cut you down and carried you in his arms like you weighed nothing.

I mean, how could you not fall for him?

As everyone cleared off their bowls for the night you tried to stretch your muscles as best you could. The strain on your shoulders was beginning to ache, however it was a familiar pain now, and one that you would try your best not to let show.

You rolled your pack out close to the face of the mountain, since once before Dwalin had to drag you back from almost toppling over the edge in your sleep.

“No more sleeping near the cliffsides you wriggly worm.” He had growled sternly, to which you could only nod, having woken up to being carried by your saviour once again wondering if it was another dream. You’d had to bury your cheeks under the blanket so he couldn’t see your satisfied smile.

“Glad to see you learned your lesson.” Dwalin teased as he watched you from the fire.

“Well I’m sure if I had gone over the edge you could’ve used your beard as rope.” You teased back.

Dwalin and the others roared around the fire, as he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“You tease this fine work of art missy, but from the looks of it your hair is gonna look worse than mine within a week.”

You brought your hand up to the back of your head and realised that it was, indeed, becoming a matted mess. You kept your thick hair in braids for the practicality, but on this journey you had not found the time to manage the upkeep. Which was important, as your curls answered to no one but a tooth comb and plenty of oil.

You huffed and started to unbind your hair, working your way behind before you felt yourself stuck. Seems one of your more intricate braids had become an intricate knot.

“You might as well just shave it off lassy, we can have matching hairstyles.” Dwalin roared with laughter. You tried your best to give him a grumpy look but you soon found yourself in fits of laughter too.

“You can help me braid my hair then you big ol’ grump.” You grinned, walking purposely around the fire and plonking yourself on the ground between his legs cross legged.

“How about that?” You puffed triumphantly.

But instead of more banter, you instantly you felt those around the fire freeze, Bofur dropping his spoon back into his bowl.

“You didn’t tell her?” Kili hissed at Dori.

“Well its not like I expected it to come up!” Dori argued defensively.

“Am I…. missing something?” You turned your head to look up at Dwalin wondering why he was silent too. However, you didn’t expect to find the most ferocious man you had ever met as red as a beet!

“Um,” Fili chuckled nervously. “Y/N, you-“

“Dwarves have very particular customs when it comes to our hair, or braiding other’s.” Thorin spoke decisively from his place as lookout, arms folded. “Customs that usually amount to offers of courtship.”

Your jaw dropped, realizing that you may or may not have in no small way proposed to Dwalin. “Oh.” You struggled to get words out. “Oh no, I didn’t know, I-I am sorry if I have caused offence!”

“It looks like you’ve caused a heart attack sweetie.” Bofur replied before being elbowed in the ribs by Kili.

You looked at everyone around the fire trying to look for some indication of how to proceed, finding that all of them were looking behind you. “Dwalin?”

“Its okay lass, you didn’t know.” Dwalin replied, the tepidness in his voice almost breaking you.

This really wasn’t how anything was supposed to go! Yes you liked Dwalin, you liked Dwalin a LOT. But you never thought the day would come when you would be ousted by your own foolish actions, and in front of half of your companions too.

“It was an honest mistake.” You heard Dwalin try to joke.

You scrunched the dirt underneath your hands into your fists. You were Y/N. You were bold. You were daring. And while your actions may have been a mistake your feelings certainly weren’t. Could you pretend it all away? Could you live with yourself now if you lied and hid your heart away? No. You had never run away from anything in your life. And you weren’t about to start now.

“If its all the same to you Dwalin, I still would like your help to braid my hair.”

You winced as you heard Ori gasp dramatically. When you peeked up you found Fili and Kili staring at you while simultaneously kicking each other, Bofur almost letting his bowl slip from his hands. Even Thorin raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

You felt the dwarf behind you exhale. “Are you sure lass?”

“Yes.” You tried not to twiddle your fingers, somehow transforming more and more into a shy milkmaid by the second. “Unless you would like me to ask someone else to braid it.” You insinuated daringly, even with fear he would say yes and offer your heart to someone else.

But no sooner were the words out of your mouth then you felt his hands brush against your back, taking the first of your plaits in his hands and unweaving it slowly.

“Well look at that I think its time for bed!” Bofur sprung up and yawned purposefully. At this the remaining troop instantly scattered, leaving you both alone with each other by the fire. Even Thorin had moved so that he was perched around the side of the mountain out of respect for his loyal warrior.

“I’m sorry if my hair is hard to handle.” You offered shyly. “It’s hard to do the plaits on my own.”

“No need for sorrys.” The rugged dwarf answered quietly, cursing his hands for not being nimble, or delicate. His hands were leathery, worn from his early years in the forges. But he had never thought his hands would be weaving in your hair as they did now. “Am I hurting ya?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed at his concern. “My mother would have me and my siblings crying after a braiding session when we were younger, this is….” You then paused. “This is much better.”

Dwalin’s own heart swelled at your contentment, fit to burst from his chest. Ever since the day he had cut you down and carried you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that you were the most beautiful cocoon he had ever seen.

He thought it was just the normal jitters when one saw a pretty face, but as you travelled as companions and then as friends, he fell in love with your character. The way you laughed, the way you fought, the way you would look out for Ori. You had proven your worth to the company as you had promised, but along the way you had won Dwalin’s heart.

Of course, he never thought in a thousand years though that a strong, strapping youngling would ever fall for him. You were human, and he considered the fact that maybe you wouldn’t feel attachment like dwarves did. He had thought for sure you would have become interested in one of the princes, anyone younger than himself.

Obviously, Dwalin was wrong.

The fierce warrior reluctantly finished the last plait, the process of taming your hair long but pleasant, as both of you swapped small stories of memories and times long past, even content to sit in silence.

You stretched and then turned to sit facing him. “Thank you.” The warmth in your smile more than Dwalin could take.

Before he could even think the dwarf had taken both of your hands in his, letting his thumbs slide gingerly across your small hands.

“Yes Dwalin?” You looked up at him with pools of dark hazel that glinted in the firelight, taking his breath away with the way you looked at him so keenly. He had never seen you like this before. Then again he mused, you had probably never seen him look like such a blushing fool before either.

“I’ll help you with your hair whenever you need Y/N, if that’s okay with you.”

You smiled at took the chance to hold his face in your hands, planting a small kiss on his forehead. “Its more than okay with me.”

Your own Dwarven Hero.

 ————————————————————————————————–

“Told you she’d be the one to do it.” Fili chuckled, kicking the bundle next to him that was his brother, gaining him a grunt. “You owe me a pint.”

[sineala]

The Old Guard

This post comes to you courtesy of the generous support of one of my Patreon patrons, who wanted to know what I thought of The Old Guard. This post contains some spoilers for both the movie and the comics.

So, a few days after it came out, my wife and I watched The Old Guard on Netflix. Tumblr had said a bunch of good things about it, and both of us basically cut our fannish teeth on Highlander fandom so we already had an automatic buy-in for a story about immortals. I knew it was based on a comic by Greg Rucka, but I had not, at the time, read the comic, although I am now reading it in order to write this post.

The premise of the film is as follows: a four-person team of immortals (Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker) makes a living hiring themselves out as mercenaries, fighting for causes that they believe are right. They are successful at this basically because their grasp of tactics appears to be (1) die, followed by (2) come back to life and (3) murder your attackers who are no longer paying attention to you because they think you're dead. Honestly, at this point, you wouldn't really need to be very good at the actual fighting part, I would think, but the film establishes that all of them are -- especially Charlize Theron as Andy -- because presumably it wants you to watch action sequences of everyone being badass, which they are. So, yeah. They take all the good-guy mercenary jobs that no one else can do because it would kill them, which is not a problem for them!

Anyway! The group's routine is interrupted by two major events: the discovery of Nile Freeman, a new immortal, who is a Marine serving in Afghanistan who survives getting murdered; and also the fact that one of their employers, Copley (played by Chiwetel Eijofor, whom you may remember as Mordo in Doctor Strange) has sold them out to the movie's Actual Villain, a Big Pharma CEO named Merrick (played by the guy who played Dudley in the Harry Potter series), who has (as far as I can tell) been given instructions to play this role just like he's Martin Shkreli, who is interested in finding the secret of their immortality, and whom you can tell is evil because he has his name in giant letters on the side of his building.

ME: Look, it's the villain! I've found the villain! MY WIFE: Other than Tony Stark, who actually puts their names on buildings like that except villains? It's just villains, right? ME: Uh. The president? The president definitely does that. (We make horrified faces at each other.)

Because we are Extremely Pedantic, we also spent a lot of time picking at how the characters' names and language abilities match up to their stated background. They all know a lot of languages, as you might expect, and the movie was determined to get through them without subtitles, which is an interesting choice but also kind of left some linguistic plot holes.

For example, Joe and Nicky claim to have met each other in the Crusades, with Nicky as (presumably) a Crusader and Joe as (presumably) a Muslim occupant of the area, although the movie doesn't specify this; Wikipedia gives Joe's name as Yusuf Al-Kaysani, which would at least fit that. Nicky is clearly Italian (as is Luca Marinelli, the actor who portrays him) and when he speaks Italian to the rest of the group we see that he definitely speaks modern Italian as spoken in Rome... which is absolutely, definitely not the language he grew up speaking, given that, among other things, Wiki lists the character's full name as Nicolò di Genova. I don't know if the writer of the screenplay (who I see now is also Greg Rucka) didn't know how much Italian dialects had changed in the last thousand years, if he thought that was good enough to be a nod to the character, or if there's some kind of backstory that didn't make it in where every so often Nicky decides to learn a modern dialect and keep his hand in, and also decides that that's the language he wants to use among his friends who would presumably understand several different dialects.

Also, the reveal that Andy's real name was in fact "Andromache of Scythia" was indeed badass but was slightly undercut by my wife yelling BUT THE SCYTHIANS DIDN'T SPEAK GREEK at the television.

Additionally, I feel like the movie could perhaps have been aware of the ways it chose to label on-screen locations, in which the countries were spelled out in large fonts with the cities above them. Places like LONDON, ENGLAND got their entire names spelled out, as did small French villages whose names I can no longer remember, but I guess AFGHANISTAN and MOROCCO and SOUTH SUDAN have zero cities, huh? However, the end of the movie did take place in PARIS which I guess unlike London is its own country now.

So the actual plot features the group of immortals trying to explain this whole immortality thing to Nile while being on the run from the people who are trying to turn them into Big Pharma, who wants to capture them and exploit the secret of their immortality. This is where it falls down a little for me, because the worldbuilding... gets a little shaky. They dream about each other when they're apart. Okay. Why? Sometimes they just stop being immortal and lose the capacity to heal and are dead in their next battle. Why? Why do they even exist? I just... wanted more answers than the movie gave me, and the pacing where I kept expecting there to be explanations wasn't there. There were a couple of scenes where Nile sat there in silence contemplating the fact that she would outlive her loved ones and my brain kept trying to insert Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Granted, the Highlander canon explanation for immortality is deeply, deeply weird, but at least it tried. No, I can't believe I'm defending Highlander II either.

The characters, too, could have been more fleshed out. The bulk of the character development is given to Andy and Nile, and I'm not complaining about that -- they were great -- but Joe and Nicky and Booker only got maybe a few lines each. They would have felt so much more real if they'd just had a little bit more to them. Also I didn't understand Copley's arc at all, but saying more about that would be spoilery. I do like that they have definitely set themselves up for a sequel.

But even with what we got, there's a lot to love about the characters. If you're here for canonically queer characters, you will enjoy Nicky and Joe, who have been in a relationship for probably about a thousand years. They are minor characters as far as the overall plot goes, but what they do have is lovely, and there is a romantic declaration between them at one point that is absolutely beautiful and possibly the most fervent love declaration I can remember seeing in a movie since maybe... ever. If you also like your queerness more subtextual, though Andy is never portrayed as explicitly queer, her past friendship with a fellow immortal Quynh was shown as very intense, as is the role she takes here mentoring Nile into the world of immortality. Also she has a double-bladed axe (yes, we kept yelling BRING ME MY MAN-KILLING AXE at the television) and as we all know, the double-bladed labrys has in modern times become a symbol for lesbians. So there's that.

In addition to the characters of color who play important roles here -- Nile was my personal favorite, but there's also Joe and Copley and (in flashback) Quynh -- there's a lot of diversity behind the cameras as well, or so the internet informs me. The director (Gina Prince-Bythewood) is the first Black woman to direct a superhero movie, and the same is true of her editor (Terilyn Shropshire). And, furthermore, apparently 85% of the post-production crew were women. They didn't have to do that, and yet they did. It was nice.

I don't watch a whole lot of action movies these days because I usually find R-rated violence too... violent, but I found myself really liking almost all of the action sequences here. None of them felt gratuitous, and a lot of them really focused on the physicality of the immortals fighting in a way I liked, because I feel like people are probably going to fight differently if they know they can survive every single hit, and I think the movie portrayed that in a way that a lot of superhero comics and movies don't. My favorite fight scene is definitely the one between Nile and Andy at the beginning, when Andy has trapped her on a plane and it's extremely close-quarters fighting and also extremely brutal. They don't stop basically until Nile breaks enough bones that she can't get up anymore, because until then she's going to keep trying, which is both kind of horrifying and a great character note. And they didn't film it like it was a Sexy Catfight! It was so good.

Also, the soundtrack is really good, and I've found myself streaming it on Spotify all week. I didn't know any of the songs in the movie, but there's a lot of hip-hop and -- okay, I don't even know if this is a genre? -- specifically a lot of hip-hop with an electronic/industrial sort of beat, which I thought was really great and livened up the fight scenes even more; "Going Down Fighting" did a really good job getting me in the mood for the final confrontation with the villain, and... yeah, it's all good. Someone made a playlist on Spotify that will come up if you search for it.

So, yeah. It's on Netflix. It's not without flaws (mostly, explaining how the hell immortality works, and a couple of pacing issues), but it's a really satisfying superhero movie.

That's the movie. Onto the comic, which I am just now starting to read as I write these words. Whee!

So The Old Guard: Opening Fire is a 2017 five-issue Image Comics series written by Greg Rucka, with art by Leandro Fernández, and there's also a 2019 sequel, The Old Guard: Force Multiplied, by the same creative team, also with five issues. I have not actually read any of Rucka's work before now because he is mostly famous for his DC work, but I have heard good things about it, especially his Wonder Woman run.

Anyway. The art is very stylized, with a minimal color palette, and it's very pretty but I honestly found it hard to parse sometimes. Many of the characters have very weird noses. Yes, noses. It's basically mostly in Andy's and Nile's POVs, like the movie, and as far I can tell Andy is explicitly queer, because unless I am entirely misreading this panel in issue #1, here she is in bed with a woman in one panel. Whee. Also there are some nice epigraphs at the beginning of each issue.

Okay, so, the plot here is basically the plot of the movie. There is still no explanation of why immortality exists. But even so, there are some fun character moments that didn't make it into the movie -- for example, Andy saying smartphones are too hard to use and she liked the old ones better, only for the rest of her team to say that she couldn't use those either. I think you get a better sense of Andy's world-weariness in the comic. There are also other, now-dead Immortals mentioned, like Noriko, who "went overboard off the Horn." Quynh is not one of them; Quynh basically is Noriko, which is because they cast a Vietnamese actress who asked if her character could be Vietnamese too, which seems perfectly reasonable to me. But anyway, in the comics, she's Noriko. Weirdly, Andy's full name, as she tells Nile when they meet, is Andronika ("man-victory") rather than Andromache ("man-battle," in case you were wondering); I think the movie made a better choice because Ἀνδρονίκα has exactly two attestations in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, whereas Ἀνδρομάχη has all that shiny name recognition of being shared by the wife of Hector and also the queen of the Amazons and will ping viewers as a Greek name, and therefore ancient, even if it can't be the name she was born with. (There are five for "Andronike" and four more for "Andromacha" so they actually have about the same number of total attestations, as far as I can tell, when you consider the alpha/eta alternation in how various Greek dialects mark feminine nouns.)

(Yes, you totally wanted a review by someone who looks up character names in the LGPN. Don't lie.)

Plotwise, Andy gets all of the initial exposition in for Nile before they get to the safehouse, which Copley has already gotten to before they get back, so Booker is bleeding on the floor and Nile doesn't get to meet Joe or Nicky at this time, and I am also glad they changed that for the movie. But, don't worry, Joe and Nicky's romantic declaration is still in here. We also get Andy pondering the last time she was in love, with a human who grew old.

Oh, and we get Andy's age: 6,732. And by issue #5 her name has changed to Andromache, because what even is continuity? I guess Andromache is her name now.

So Nile finally meets Joe and Nicky when she rescues them and also, uh, that plot point where Andy might die? Totally not a thing here. Nope. And no "surprise! even more immortals!" end-credits moments either.

Basically, I feel like every change they made to the script for the movie really strengthened the story, and even though I thought the movie could have used more character moments, it's way better than how the characters are separated for even longer in the comic. Nile rescuing the team means a lot more when she has met them before, you know?

So Force Multiplied starts us off with Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Nile, because Booker is still on time-out. They are in the middle of a car chase, and Booker's off getting himself kidnapped by someone who wants to know where the others are. The villain of the piece turns out to be Noriko, who is still alive, whom Booker had never had a chance to meet and apparently had never heard of. So, basically, a lot like the Quynh plot that the movie is teasing.

Overall it's a little less action-filled than the first one, which had multiple splash pages of nothing but violence; this one is a little more character-driven and explores the relationship, such as it is, between Andy and Noriko, as well as Nile coming to terms with her immortality, as well as with what everyone else has done over the years. It does have a bunch of violence at the end, though.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but I definitely wasn't expecting where that was heading. There's apparently going to be a third volume, and I am looking forward to it, whenever it exists.

(Although, now that I think about it, the ending is a lot like a fan-favorite moment of Highlander: The Series, but I think if I said which episode you would know exactly what the ending was.)

So, yeah! The Old Guard! I can't say as I feel particularly fannish about it -- there's nothing that makes me yearn to fill in the gaps in canon -- but the movie was really good and you should see it. And you should read the comics if you're into that.

[autistic-girl-academic]

Cookie Run OCs

gdi apparently one of the cookies in cr kingdom is named licorice cookie so screw it i’m biting the bullet and posting my half-baked (ha) oc ideas now even if some of them have already been taken anyway. sorry there’s no art bc i’m terrible with digital stuff and can’t access a scanner to upload my drawings. there are almost certainly going to be more to come later because this game refuses to leave my brain.

Black Licorice Cookie: The powerfully astringent flavor of black licorice certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste - and that’s just the way Black Licorice Cookie likes it! This daredevil of a Cookie loves nothing more than testing her limits, so she’s always on the lookout for something to get her adrenaline pumping. That doesn’t mean she isn’t without her sweet side, however, which comes out most strongly when protecting her precious little sister. Get between them at your own risk!

Red Licorice Cookie (Sibling): Don’t mess with my little sis if you know what’s good for you!

Mustard Cookie (Trust): Nobody else gets me like Mustard Cookie does!

Kiwi Cookie (Friendly): Hey, I’ve got an idea for some cool bike tricks!

Roll Cake Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride in that road roller and smashing things is such a rush! WHOO!

Initially I had the mental image of her as a Cookie with a web design and a spider pet, but then Truffle Cookie came out, so now I pretty much picture her skill being that she runs a Ninja-Warrior-style obstacle course or something. Maybe her pet could be a black cat instead?

Red Licorice Cookie: Between the fruity fragrance of her signature red hair and her sweet, outgoing personality, it’s no surprise that this Cookie is so popular! Red Licorice Cookie is a champion at gymnastics with plenty of fans, and performing with the ribbon is where she shines the most. She and her older twin sister might be as different as night and day, but their bond is as strong as a thousand strands of licorice twisted together!

Black Licorice Cookie (Sibling): I’ve got the coolest big sis in the world!

Cheerleader Cookie (Trust): Cheerleader Cooke is my BFF!

Yoga Cookie (Friendly): She’s helped me train to be much more flexible for my routines.

Skating Queen Cookie (Admiration): I can’t believe I actually got her autograph!

At first I imagined her as being a sort of epic version of Cheerleader Cookie, performing double dutch with a few friends much like the cheer team. Her pet would be a charm bracelet.

Oatmeal Cookie: Every day at the crack of dawn, this dutiful cowgirl is already hard at work, keeping a watchful eye over her herd with the help of her trusty steed, Raisin. If even a single cow goes missing, Oatmeal Cookie won’t rest until she’s got them home safe and sound. The tricks she can perform with a lasso will certainly knock your socks off! And when the sun starts to set, you can hear the sound of her yodeling from far across the plains.

Peanut Butter Cookie (Family): I’m the luckiest Cookie alive to have such a beautiful gal as you...

Knight Cookie (Friendly): You sure know how to burn the breeze!

Adventurer Cookie (Friendly): Nice hat ya got there, pardner!

Space Doughnut (Tension): Hey, stop spookin’ my herd!

Her skill would probably involve dodging obstacles on her horse while catching some runaway cows, and her pet would be a cowbell.

Peanut Butter Cookie: There’s nothing better for a boost of energy than some delicious, nutritious peanut butter! And forest ranger Peanut Butter Cookie definitely needs that energy, as she spends every day traversing the woods to keep them safe. Whether she’s helping Cookies who have gotten lost find their way home or rescuing woodland critters from danger, you can always depend on Peanut Butter Cookie. She’s especially fond of younger Cookies and enjoys teaching them wilderness survival skills.

Oatmeal Cookie (Family): She and I pack each others’ lunches every day.

Pancake Cookie (Friendly): Be careful climbing trees for those Acorn Jellies, dear!

Cream Puff Cookie (Friendly): I’m sure you’ll get that spell right next time, hun.

Fig Cookie (Trust): They’re always eager for me to tell them stories.

Fire Spirit Cookie (Tension): You keep those flames away from the forest, you hear?

You can probably tell by now that I’ve put like 0 thought into any of my Cookie OC’s skills. Anyway, her pet would be a bear that she helped when it was a cub, who shows up to help her by smashing obstacles.

Coconut Cookie: The Tropical Soda Archipelago has a long history of telling stories through traditional dance. Coconut Cookie comes from a long line of those dancers, and Cookies will flock from every island to watch her perform. Crowned with a garland of bright yellow coconut blossoms, she moves with the utmost rhythm and grace. It’s said that she practices every day so that she can bring peace and good fortune to the islands.

Mango Cookie (Trust): My best friend since we were little - I remember his very first boat!

Ananas Dragon Cookie (Admiration): The Dragon honored my ancestors by praising their dances.

Soda Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride on the waves is the best, isn’t it?

Squid Ink Cookie (Friendly): Poor little thing, there’s no need to be shy.

My first thought was for her to make a sort of bubble shield out of coconut oil, like Lemonade Cookie but without the magnetic effect (maybe slower energy drain instead?) - I’m still undecided about it though. Her pet would be a bunch of coconuts who make coconut milk potions. Also, I picture her being related to Artichoke Cookie, but he’s not in Ovenbreak...YET? (pls devsis)

Honeycomb Cookie: Out in a charming little cottage atop a hill lives Honeycomb Cookie - and her many hives of Jelly Bees. Years upon years of working with the bees has allowed her to understand them so well, it’s almost as if she talks to them! If you happen to arrive on her doorstep, you can be sure that she’ll treat you to some delicious tea sweetened with honey and send you on your way with a basket of homemade treats.

Herb Cookie (Family): My cute little grandson certainly inherited the family green thumb.

Spinach Cookie (Trust): Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a basket of vegetables, dearie!

Fairy Cookie (Friendly): Ah, you’re so small I mistook you for another bee.

Matcha Cookie (Friendly): A bit of a strange one, but it’s nice to have some laughter over tea.

Not sure what her skill would be, but I think her pet would be a queen Jelly Bee that grows from a baby to an adult as you collect more jellies.

Souffle Cookie: A chef famous for turning simple Jellies into extravagant and delicious meals. Though he can come off as strict and a bit intimidating, he truly does care about creating good food for every Cookie who comes to his restaurant. Souffle Cookie is quite the perfectionist, so if a recipe doesn’t come out as planned, he tends to sulk so badly that even his fluffy chef’s hat deflates! But it never lasts long before he throws himself back into his work with renewed passion.

Sparkling Cookie (Trust): My cooking and your juice is the ultimate combination!

Sandwich Cookie (Admiration): To create such simple but delicious meals...C’est magnifique!

Mala Sauce Cookie (Friendly): Just watch, I’ll create a meal more than spicy enough to satisfy you!

Dr. Wasabi Cookie (Tension): I am NEVER using your syrup as a ‘secret ingredient’ EVER again!

Again, not sure what his skill would be, but maybe his pet could be a spoon. Sous-chef Spoon?

Rainbow Sugar Cookie: Sugar Cookie was always painfully shy and never considered herself all that important. However, everything changed when she met Rainbow Puff, a creature who begged for her help in protecting the happiness of Cookies everywhere from the wicked Dark Puffs. Bestowed with a magical wand, she becomes Rainbow Sugar Cookie, chasing away darkness with prisms of joyous light! RAINBOW...BEAM!

Pink Choco Cookie (Trust): The two of us would make a perfect team!

Wind Archer Cookie (Admiration): Wow...what an amazing warrior...

Sandwich Cookie (Friendly): She makes the best toast as a snack on the way to school!

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Rival): I won’t let a villain like you make other Cookies suffer!

Pomegranate Cookie (Tension): Why are you helping the Darkness?

Originally her name was Glitter Cookie, but then Shining Glitter Cookie got announced. In any case, she’d pretty much be an epic version of Wind Archer Cookie, fighting a big ‘boss’ monster once enough little ones were defeated with her magic.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie: Trick or treat! Wait, is it Halloween already? The answer doesn’t really matter to this young Cookie, who loves trick-or-treating so much that they never take their costume off! If you don’t have Jellies to give, then get ready for a mischievous trick! But if there’s one thing they love more than getting treats, it’s sharing them with friends, so don’t be shy and join in the fun!

Candy Corn Cookie (Trust): My bestest trick-or-treating buddy!

Devil Cookie (Admiration): WOW! What a great costume!

Apple Cookie (Friendly): Here, candy apples!

Onion Cookie (Friendly): Trick o- um, please don’t cry...

Vampire Cookie (Tension): Hey, don’t fall asleep when I’m trying to trick you!

I thought I was in the clear with this OC when we got Truffle Cookie for Halloween...but then Pumpkin Cookie was an NPC later, lol. At least the name was an easy change. Their skill would basically be like a slower version of Chestnut’s, where you go up to houses and trick-or-treat.

Candy Corn Cookie: This Cookie used to be a scarecrow who stood in the middle of a big field of candy corn. However, they wanted to travel the world, so one night they wished upon a star...and miraculously, their wish was granted! Bursting with curiosity, Candy Corn Cookie is full of questions about everything they see. They still have a habit of chasing birds wherever they go, though.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie (Trust): This ‘trick-or-treat’ thing is really fun!

Alchemist Cookie (Admiration): Wow, this Cookie knows lots of things!

Blueberry Pie Cookie (Friendly): Ooh, what’s in all these ‘book’ things?

Mocha Ray Cookie (Friendly): Cookies can really live under the sea? WOW!

Carrot Cookie (Tension): Aw, I don’t wanna go back to the farm yet!

Candy corn apparently used to be called ‘chicken feed’, so their pet would probably be a chicken. Again, not sure about the skill.

[mrepstein]

‘THE STARMAKER WHO BURNED TOO HOT’ (The Sunday Mirror - June 14, 1970) The above piece is an extract from journalist Godfrey Winn’s 1970 autobiography ‘The Positive Hour’

Brian Epstein built an empire around the Beatles - but he carried the seeds of his own doom

By GODFREY WINN

BRIAN EPSTEIN was the business brain behind the pop revolution of the sixties. He discovered the Beatles and made them millionaires. As a star-maker, Epstein's career was spectacular but brief. He was thirty-two when he died in August, 1967 - poisoned by an overdose of a sleeping drug. With his love of show-business, GODFREY WINN - Britain's best-known journalist - was a long standing friend of Brian Epstein and watched the pop impresario build a world wide entertainment empire. And he was close enough to Epstein to see the tragic consequences that instant fame and untold fortune had on the young genius.

I found myself one Saturday evening in 1963 climbing the stairs of an anonymous building close to Cambridge Circus, in London’s theatre-land.

In a barren, unfurnished room the walls, with their peeling paint, were decorated with posters of such plays as A Taste of Honey and The Miracle Worker.

i looked at the posters, and decided that there was a certain symbolism, a link here with the intriguing encounter that lay ahead of me.

I thought, too, of all the players who had rehearsed in this room for a multitude of productions: so full of hope that success was this time almost in their grasp, and so often to be reminded that half the members of the actors’ union, Equity, are permanently out of work.

Acclaim

Would it be different for the latest Merseyside group who, already acclaimed in the provinces, were about to have their most important challenge to date, the star spot on the Sunday Night at the Palladium television show?

The Beatles, with the hair-style that they made their own, were still not much more than a name to me.

A few days before I had talked with their manager and discoverer Brian Epstein in the lounge of the Grosvenor Hotel next to Victoria Station.

He was dressed in the kind of silk suit that pop groups wore like a uniform. But there, all comparison ceased.

For at that time he had not yet discarded the solid air of the middle-class Jewish back-ground from which he was sprung.

Unreal

Epstein’s tragedy was that, in surrendering one background, he became so overwhelmed by the trappings of the world into which the fantastic success of his proteges catapulted him that he was never able to put down roots into reality again.

This son of a prosperous Liverpool store-owner was the classic example of the actor manque.

He was nearly thirty when we first met, but as soon as he started talking of the time when he had enlisted as a student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, his voice had the eager lilt of a stage-struck youth.

A moment later his expression had changed. He was earth-bound once more as he described his return to Liverpool and entry into his father’s business.

And how, one day, while he was serving behind the record counter of one of his father's stores, a customer asked about a record made in Germany by an unknown Merseyside group.

And how he tracked down the record, later saw the group performing “for peanuts” at the Cavern in Liverpool, and sensed "something dynamic”; then peddled their tapes around London recording companies.

“And do you know, that tape, that very first record, Love Me Do, sold a hundred thousand. We were IN."

Just as I was in, now - the only spectator at the Beatles' private rehearsal for the Palladium.

Screams

Or rather, myself plus the tailor who had brought with him the four new suits, black like a matador’s, that Epstein had ordered for them to wear, replicas of his own. They put them on and pranced round the rehearsal room, bowing to an imaginary audience of fourteen million viewers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen: We are very pleased to be here at the Palladium.

Suddenly, uncontrollable excitement possessed them. The Palladium. The Palladium, they shouted out, screaming like their own fans, as other pilgrims have cried across the centuries. Jerusalem on high.

It was the youngest who spoke the introduction. He wasn't satisfied till he had taken them through it a dozen times.

"It's the moment before the curtain opens," Paul commented with the air of a veteran. “You finger your guitar and hope they won't start throwing things."

The moment they started to tune their guitars they seemed to fill the shadows of the lonely rehearsal room, darkening into twilight, and at the same time to grow in stature themselves.

The Beatles will always be held in high regard for what they have achieved by the unique sound of their music.

Having been among the first to recognise their talent, I feel I am in a position to suggest now that what has gone wrong somewhere along the line has been their inability, especially in the case of George Harrison and John Lennon, to pour back sufficient of the bounty that has fallen into their lap.

Perhaps it has been part of their appeal for the adolescents, that they themselves have not grown up in the full meaning of the phrase, any more than Brian Epstein was able to do.

Right up till his unnecessary, wanton death Epstein went on referring to his discoveries as his “boys,” seeing himself as the fifth member of the hierarchy, the eldest Beatle.

Then, when the group ceased performing together except for recording sessions, he could not help feeling to some extent excluded, even though he was still their manager - “the boss,” as they called him.

Dire

So in order to try to prove that he was someone big, in the theatrical firmament, in his own right, he started producing and putting on plays, with dire results.

He had all the money in the world to squander, but too little productive talent of his own.

Disappointed, and depressed, though he would not admit it, he finally turned to pep pills by day, and sleeping pills by night, a diet that was ultimately to destroy him.

Once he proclaimed to me, standing outside the Palladium: “All that matters is to have your name in lights.”

I could not persuade him otherwise, though I had persuaded him to spend the Sunday before the Whitsun holiday, making the journey all the way to Bolton in Lancashire, to hear an unknown singer in a pub, who had been recommended to me with such persistence and such enthusiasm by one of my readers, that in the end I felt it churlish of me not to do something about it.

Kinder?

The singer’s name was Michael Haslam. He was married and worked by day in a local tannery, and he specialised in singing ballads.

As it happened, Epstein was looking at that moment for a ballad singer, as a contrast on his touring bills to such of his properties as Billy J. Kramer and Gerry and the Pacemakers.

Otherwise, I doubt whether he would have ever listened to my suggestion, and in a way now I wish I hadn’t been persuaded myself to make the effort.

To have done nothing might have been kinder in the long run to the dark, tall young man, with the sort of looks which Elvis Presley first made fashionable, and the physique of a miner, who packed them in at weekends at The White Hart.

Except that if the Beatles’ impresario had not turned up that Sunday evening in Bolton, yet another pub singer might still be imagining he was there only because the luck of being discovered had just never happened to come his way.

Certainly the audience reaction that evening in Bolton was tremendous and entirely spontaneous. I can hear it, smell it how. Even so, I was not entirely convinced myself.

Undoubtedly there was a voice of some lyrical power, but did he also possess sufficient personality?

And how would he stand up to another environment, bereft of his regular admirers, alone on a stage, or in front of a TV camera?

Epstein brushed aside my doubts. On the spot he decided to sigh Haslam up, with the arrogant impetuosity of a Tsar.

Anxious

Two or three evenings later, Epstein and I met again, this time in my London home. We had arranged that he should pick me up and have a drink, en route for the Palladium.

He was eager for me to see another of his proteges, This time the girl, also from Liverpool, who through his astute judgment had with surprising sped reached what used to be the Mecca of all music hall artists.

Cilla Black.

In the fervent hope that one day Mike Haslam, equally skilfully projected, would reach the same goal, I accepted, though Miss Black’s nasal voice with its Liverpudlian vowels screaming at me over the radio at breakfast time had not created in my mind the most enticing of images.

Doubts

However, none of that was my affair. I could switch off the knob.

Whereas the other artist, uprooted and disorientated, was to some extent my responsibility.

In the forty-eight hours which had intervened, my initial doubts had only grown.

“After all, Brian, if I hadn’t dragged you to Bolton, you would never have heard of him.” Even to myself, it sounded like a self-accusation, but my guest again brushed aside my fears.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, with a rajah-like wave of his hand.

“But I do worry,” I protested anxiously.

“You shouldn’t. Don’t you realise, it’s nothing to do with you anymore. Mike Haslam belongs to me now.

“From this moment he is my discovery, and I shall look after him completely, change him, mould him, fit him into my set-up.

“All the credit, all his future success will be entirely my doing. You merely introduced him to me. Anyone might have done that.”

I was flabbergasted rather than relieved by this lofty declaration.

Rebuff

In an instant he had assumed the air of the great, international impresario slapping down a small-time sleazy agent who had dared to suggest that he should have a slice in the property value of the unknown name about to be groomed for stardom.

Of course, I wanted no financial stake in the young man’s future. I was not in show business in any shape or form.

At the same time, I surely had an ethical stake. A moral stake, if you like. Anyway, something quite different and rather more binding.

But I was meeting the real Brian Epstein for the first time.

Gone was the mask of mock humility, worn by the apparently modest young man fresh from the provinces, who in his original talk with me had praised and congratulated everyone except himself.

For the first time I glimpsed the strong streak of paranoia, which was swiftly to grow into a kind of sickness.

Welcome

Not surprisingly, I was dismayed and we had an uncomfortable evening, saved, as far as I was concerned, by the affectionate welcome I received in the dressing room of Frankie Vaughan, who was the real star of the show.

He and the boys in the band were deep in a poker session, but the occupant of the coveted No. 1 room broke off without a trace of annoyance and jumped up from his seat to offer us drinks.

How different had been my reception in the No. 2 dressing room.

Miss Black was seated in an ungainly position, her legs sprawled out in front of a portable television set, and did not trouble to get out of her chair, or to make any attempt at conversation.

After a few embarrassed moments, I backed out into the passage again, and it was then, at my suggesting that surely his new girl needed a matronly, experienced woman in attendance to help and advise her back-stage, that Epstein made the comment that having your name in lights was the only thing which mattered.

I expect he thought my suggestion was an impertinent one, though it was only intended to be constructive.

Unfortunately, I had already promised to have supper with him afterwards, and then to see his new house, and Miss Black, dressed in a black leather coat, more suitable for the back of a motor-cycle, came along, too.

Surprise

Not wishing to lie openly about my reactions to her performance, and searching for some topic of conversation which would be of mutual interest, I asked my host if he was contemplating adding any other female singers to the troupe of artists under his banner.

I am still surprised when I recall the reply I received, uttered with absolute and final conviction.

“No, I do not need any other women artists. Cilla is the Edith Piaf of England.”

Whatever she was or has become - and Miss Black has undoubtedly achieved a large and loyal following among her contemporaries - she is not another Edith Piaf, that great Parisian singer. How could she be?

Despite all Epstein’s confident assertions, Mike Haslam failed to float for long in the larger pool.

Symbols

Even while he was still alive I never talked with Brian Epstein alone again, after that evening at the Palladium, when in the small hours I found myself standing in a room in his house dominated by a row of telephones of different colours on a long desk.

Nothing else about the house, the modernistic innovations of which suited his temperament, left any mark upon my memory.

Only the telephones, those inanimate props of a tycoon existence, stare at me like a blown-up photograph on my desk. The symbols and instruments of a certain kind of power.

“I lift one receiver,” he told me exultantly, “and say to the operator ‘Get me a Hollywood number.’ I book in that call, and five minutes later I am talking to New York.

“Hardly have I rung off, when it is Australia on the line. Everyone wants me, everyone wants the Beatles. Everyone wants all my boys.”

“What about the time factor?” I asked. “For instance, when it is mid-day here, and perhaps three o’clock in the morning there, or vice-versa?”

“I don’t mind about that. I am ready to take calls all round the clock. I like it best sitting here by myself through the night, doing business. Big business.”

His usually deceptive, quiet voice rose to a crescendo: he was playing the big scene in the third act from all the stage and screen dramas of which he had been cheated by his inability to make the grade as an actor in the legitimate theatre.

But I had no desire to play in turn the part of the stage stooge, and fled from that house in Kinnerton Street to walk home through Belgrave Square, where at the corner of Chapel Street and Groom Place the nocturnal life of the fifth Beatle was finally to snuff out in the last of his London homes, whose larger rooms he had furnished in even more grandiose style.

Some months before that happened, he had a breakdown, which was hushed up, and then they put him in a private nursing home at Roehampton, in Surrey, which caters particularly for patients whose minds have been temporarily disturbed.

Guarded

After that he was never without a friendly and considerate bodyguard, who became his shadow.

Except on that final weekend when, in a sudden change of mood, he decided to drive himself from his country home at Heathfield, Sussex, back to London, though it was a bank holiday.

The Chapel Street house was only a stone’s throw from where my elder brother lives, and sometimes, when I was dining with my family, my sister-in-law, more in bewilderment than disapproval, would comment:

“Such strange people hang about Mr. Epstein's house.

“I suppose they are waiting, hoping that one of the Beatles will come out.”

That Sunday afternoon, when the news of his death broke, and the police cars drove up, the flower boys and girls in their peacock clothes left the Kings Road parade and crowded into Chapel Street, as though they were queueing up for a pop concert.

As far as I was concerned the epitaph was spoken by David Jacobs - not the disc jockey but the lawyer, with the looks himself of a film star - who acted for so many other names in show business beside the Beatles.

Freedom

Now that it was all over, the final battle lost, Epstein's adviser from the start spoke to me with a freedom he could not have done before:

“The trouble with Brian was that he had everything, and yet nothing.

“He had a strong family feeling, right till the end, and his loyalty towards the Beatles and his other properties, like Cilla Black, was fantastic.

“I suppose you could describe it as a kind of love affair on his side, but nothing stands still in life, and he was conscious that they were inevitably growing away from him, as they matured both as artists and people.

“This made him more and more restless and unhappy, though he wouldn’t admit it except in one of his increasing moods of depression, when all I could do was to remind him how much he was worth, in money and properties.

“But even that knowledge began to lose its flavour. It was then that he started taking pills to try to recapture the sense of euphoria he had had at the beginning.

“It was imperative for him to feel that he was still in the swim himself, not just taking a percentage of their earnings.

“I hoped so much that the house at Heathfield would make a difference.

“He had gone down that weekend for the Bank Holiday. But after dinner on that Friday evening, he suddenly changed his mind and drove himself back to London, alone.

“What would I have done had I known? It’s always so easy to be wise after the event.

“Sometimes one has a kind of instinct, and can act swiftly, but even then it can be too late, or impossible to protect the person indefinitely against himself, if the seeds of self-destruction are strongly developed in him or her.

“In this case we shall never know for certain exactly what happened. Except that he went to sleep again that night, and never woke up.

Loner

“In a way, I was closer to him than anyone. He really unburdened himself to me.

“He was not so much a loner, as a oncer.

“What do I mean by that? I mean that he was incapable of any lasting physical relationship with anyone. He was incapable of love.”

All too soon David Jacobs himself was to discover his own torments.

[exiled-hacker]

A Purely Brutal Halloween

I know it’s not Halloween, but I found this in my WIP stuff, and I decided to share. If anything, I recall Joseph belonging to Bleachedpages and I don’t recall their other blog. They are Birdy on Discord, though! If anyone knows them and wants to show them!

I think this was one of the ones I was proud of but also nervous of. SO! Here goes. c:

Halloween was on its way, which meant the crisp fall colors, teeth-rotting candy, and the ever present pumpkin smashing that would ensue. For the BIO team, it meant heading home to loved ones, perhaps even taking any children trick-or-treating... if they had any, that is. For Artemis, it meant going home to feed his cats and pets, followed by visiting Joseph. Perhaps he'd bring him out pumpkin shopping... Maybe. Artemis stepped out of the base, feeling the cool morning air hit his face. The forest around them was full of bright leaves, all within the beautiful fire colors of fall. The crisp scent caused him to sigh in delight, deeming to pick up some apple cider for the Pure Spy. His boots moved toward his car, which he entered and drove into town. His eyes gazed upon the multitude of costumes, and he wondered just how much he could pursuade Joseph into wearing one. The man was so.. different from the Brutal, however. Yet, he wondered if Joseph would have some fun when he got there. His eyes planted on a store, well.. mega-mall. Deciding that was the best place to find some candy and costumes, he wandered inside. It'd been a while since he'd been here and sought out the bookstore first. There was plenty of new books, which he felt he had to add to his growing library. This was followed by hitting the arts store for book making materials, something he did in his spare time. But the biggest place he hit was a halloween store, seeking out something for both himself and Joseph. Something he felt both the spy would like and he would feel comfortable in. Eyeing the costumes, he came across several angel based ones; finally setting his eyes upon the mechanical wings, which spread at the push of a button. This would be perfect for the Pure spy! He pondered about for a moment, seeking out anything he'd enjoy. Seeing nothing, he decided that perhaps it'd be better if he hand made both costumes.

 With the idea of the wings in mind, he hit up the craft store again and bought some real feathers. Next was the stop to the supermarket, which he bought his favorite chocolate, chose out steaks and potatoes for he and Joseph, followed by candles that changed colors as they melted. Blacks and oranges for Halloween! The candles would be the center piece in each window, castng the eerie glow upon the rooms. This was followed by a few more decorations and some cider for the two. Who needed wine when warm apple cider was to be had? Artemis then began his way home, seeking out a simple way to get there and arrive on time to surprise Joseph. He trusted the man now to give him a key to his home and have him feed his pets when on the job, yet Artemis felt he owed it to Joseph to atleast get him something! The home was empty, something the man was used to. He headed to his library, placed the books on the shelf, then moved outside to a barn along the pathway into the woods. It was there he set to work on the wings. He molded metal, fused wires, and added the feathers; studying his white raven's wings in order to gain some form of understanding on how to place each individual feather. The outside he painted gold, which the inside was given a varinish to shine in the sunlight, followed by a white glow for the night hours. Testing the wings, he felt satisfied with his work and glanced at the clock. It was near three A.M. And Artemis realized he'd forgotten about dinner and Joseph! Hurrying with the wings back to his home, he made his way inside. There, he was greeted by Joseph, who took in the grime coated man and the wings which he struggled to hide behind his back. “Hey, Joseph..” Artemis spoke with a shakey breath, “I.. er.. sorry, I was working a tad... too late.” “I see,” Joseph spoke calmly, “May I ask what the wings are for?” “Er..” He paused, “Oh! Just a project I'm working on! Don't worry about it. Just something silly..” It was partially a lie. It was indeed a project, but not silly. It was important to Artemis. Very important. Joseph's grey eyes settled upon the man. He knew he was lying, and watched as Artemis squirmed under the piercing gaze. Quickly, Artemis removed his black jacket and placed it over the wings as he finally revealed several scars upon his arms and neck. Many that looked like battle wounds. Recent and red as they healed. “Artemis..” Joseph spoke, his tone a bit stricter than Artemis was accustomed to. “Alright, Alright,” Artemis raised his hands and pulled the jacket off of the wings; hanging it by a peg in the doorway, “They're for.. a friend. Someone special in my life. I want to repay them.. and well..” He glanced at the finished project, “Truth be told, Joseph.. they're for you. For Halloween..” “Artemis..” Joseph was going to scold him when he heard the second part, “You... you really didn't have to..” He moved over to inspect the wings. It had such intricute detail when it came to the feathers, each placed in their proper place so that they looked like real wings. He even jumped back when they spread, the varnish doing it's job as it shined within the light. “I don't.. really celebrate Halloween,” Joseph spoke, voice soft, “But thank you.. Perhaps I will this year.” “I know people always have their kids dressed up as monsters and demons.. but.. I thought.. maybe you'd enjoy being something that.. well suited you.” “I am but a humble servent of the Almighty,” Joseph responded, “You know this, Artemis.” “I know, but.. I thought.. maybe.. I dunno.” He gave a small smile, “As I tell you when you say that.. 'Even servents have their rewards.'”

 This was somehing that seemed to happen whenever they spoke with gifts. Joseph had gotten something for the Brutal as well. Holding out the package, he gave a small smile, “I thought you'd appreciate this.” The Brutal gingerly opened the paper, fearful he'd tear the beauty of such a simple brown paper. He then looked at the book in awe, fingers tracing over the cover. “I've wanted this since I was a boy..” He spoke softly, “T.S. Elliot... I could never find any of his works in the store.. never. I..” He gave a small smile, fingers running over the pristine edges as if they'd be destroyed within an instant. “Thanks, Mate,” He spoke, then moved to grab the candles. “Artemis,” Joseph began, “Are you going to court me again?” “Nah,” Artemis responded, “These are for the windows. For Halloween and all.” He then moved to make the very late dinner, handing a small bag of chocolate to Joseph. The chocolate was not the ones he had prior. In fact, they were shaped like bunnies, seashells, and other animals. Joseph eyed them, then took a bite. Such delicious belgian chocolate seeped through his tastebuds and he gave a small murmur of how good it was. Artemis chuckled, noting that the spy made dinner already. Eyebrow raised, he glanced at Joseph. He supposed he should thank him again, but instead gave a yawn. He didn't realize how tired he was. Any thoughts about decorating the house would have to wait. He needed to eat and sleep, so, with that thought in mind; he began to eat the prepared meal. Eventually, however, his eyes drooped and his head dropped into the mashed potatoes, coating them in their fluffy whiteness. Joseph watched for a moment, then gave a small chuckle. Quickly, he scolded himself and picked the man up. Far heavier and bigger than he, Joseph made it to Artemis' bedroom. He'd never seen the interior, but now he had.. Pictures of birds, people, and family covered the man's desk. On the walls hung his team, people he knew, and his boyhood. Joseph glanced at them, then decided to ask later. Grabbing a wet cloth, he cleaned Artemis' face and shook his head. Gingerly, he felt the gloved hand wrap around his suit, grey eyes filled with surprise as Artemis pulled him into bed, the sniper still snoring away as he did so. The Brutal pushed his face into Joseph and gave a small happy snort. “Brother,” He spoke in his sleep, “I love ya.. P-Papa..yer warm..” Joseph sighed, then pulled a blanket onto the sniper, followed by one around himself, letting his head hit the pillow. Friends often slept in the same bed, so Joseph felt there was no harm. And somewhere in him, he knew the Almighty had no problems with this sleep over at all. Slowly, the grey eyes shut and Joseph fell asleep; drifting off into the pleasant world of dreamland.

[darknessisafriend]

Request for Abbé x Reader: The reader got hired on as a chambermaid to help tend around the asylum. She and Abbé click upon first meeting, but as a clergyman he must deal with his emotions, especially as they grow closer everyday (and it does not go unnoticed). One day she gets attacked from one of the patients and he comes to her rescue. As he is tending to her in private and making sure she's alright, they finally confess feelings and cute fluff and kisses ensue 💞😊 Please and thank you!

ENJOY

Lord forgive me for I am about to sin

You had arrived a few months ago at the Charenton asylum, you had the opportunity for work which was paid better in the city but the terror and violence that reigned there made you want to go away. And you were a very altruistic person, you liked to help people and even if you weren’t an important person in this world, you wanted to make a difference and help to make this world a better place.  

So, naturally, when you heard about this job at the asylum it was perfect, care and talk with the patients and make their life a bit more bearable, and maybe even help in their recovery was a great opportunity. You weren’t one to judge people by their appearance, you always tried to see the best in other humans. And you had heard that the person in charge of the asylum, Abbé de Coulmier was an innovative man, preferring such things as arts to cure patients rather than barbaric treatments.  

However, you weren’t expecting to fall in love with this man. The second you met him something happened, as if you were suddenly attracted to him like a magnet, you seek his contact, his voice and even wished for his touch.

You had blushed, trying to suppress those feelings; you had just met him, what was happening to you? He extended his hand for you to shake, your heartbeat increasing, you shakily reached and the moment your skin met his, it felt as if it burned you but not in an unpleasant way. And it seemed Abbé felt something too, he briefly froze, his mouth agape and his eyes looking at your joined hands.

“Y/N I am happy you are joining us in Charenton, your help will be greatly appreciated.”  he smiled after a bit, pretending that nothing had happened.  

“And I’m glad to help!” you had replied, your voice had raised a bit higher at the end as you tried to hide your emotions too, you walked behind him, looking at the back of his head, he had great hair, you wondered how it would feel to bury your fingers in them.

Afterwards, he took you on a tour around the asylum, the kitchen, the personnel's rooms, the sick room, then he brought you to the patients' area and introduced you to the patients.

“Dauphin, this Y/N she will be working here now, she will take care of sheets and food along with the other people working here.” he explained to the man who nodded to you and welcomed you here, you softly smiled at him, he looked really nice.

“Dauphin arrived a few months ago, he has a tendency to set things on fire, it is an obsession but we have been making great progress with him.” explained the Abbé proudly with a big smile as he patted the back of his patient. As he presented you to the other patients your smile grew, most of them looked really nice and the Abbé was such a caring man, you could feel yourself fall even more for him.  

“Of course, there are patients here that you should be careful about, we don’t have much of them in Charenton, they are usually sent to other institutions but I would advise you not to walk in the corridors at night, and avoided patients like Bouchon for example, he has...a tendency to want to do things to women...without their consent, if you understand what I mean...” you nodded understandingly, shivers running across your body as the Abbé pointed his finger at the man called Bouchon, he was massive, you didn’t want to be stuck with him.  

Then he guided you to your quarters once again to make sure you would remember where it was, sometimes placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you.

“You must be exhausted; you don’t have to start working tonight but tomorrow would be great!” he beamed as he opened the door for you.

“Thank you, Father.” you answered avoiding his gaze, putting a strand of hair behind your hair shyly. He was such a nice and attentive man, it shouldn’t surprise you, after all, to be a clergyman taking care of mentally hill people, he had to be a loving being.  

As time passed, you grew closer to each other, even though you tried to suppress the feelings you had developed for him, he was a clergyman, devoted to God and God only, you felt guilty for how you felt and for how conflicted you made him feel. You weren’t blind, how many times you had seen him reaching out to touch you and then stopping himself a few inches from your skin, remembering he shouldn’t be feeling like this.  

“So, did he succumb to your charms?” had asked you the Marquis with an interested look one day, you turned your head as you blushed, and pretended to read the titles of the books he owned in his book shelf.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, he chuckled.

“Even the most unfortunate beings of this asylum have noticed it, your infatuation with him...but the most interesting is the Abbé, he’s trying so hard to restrain his desire for you, I almost pity him...to the point I tempted him several times so he would give in to satisfy his needs...” you quickly turned your head to him, so you didn’t imagine the affection he had for you, you giggled happily you wanted to thank the Marquis but his explicit way of speaking wasn’t the best technique for the clergyman, anyway you appreciated his help.

Later, the Abbé had offered to teach you how to read and write, you were curious and it was his way of thank you for your hard work, at least that’s what he told himself but deep down he knew it was because he wanted to spend time with you, alone...

“I’d love to! It’s something I’ve always wanted to learn, there are so many stories I’ve heard about that I wish I could read...” you answered excitedly.  

“Oh really? Which one?” he gently cut you off, genuinely curious, he sat down, smoothing the fabric of his soutane as he did so.

“Oh well, I guess I have always been interested in those philosophical books of Voltaire, it is fascinating to see how a text, words can inspire the upbringing of people.”  

“There is a certain beauty in them, although their position about the Church was quite negative.” he replied with a polite smile.

“Was it all against the Church? Did you read them?” you asked him curious, surely a man like him had read one or two of those.

“I did, I had to hide from the monks in my former Monastery. You probably know by now that I am deemed quite different, well, open-minded contrary to most clergymen.” he laughed stroking his chin. “The authors were against the power and the status of the Chruch in our country but they praised our moral and social values, which I believe should be what the people remember about our Church” he added thoughtfully.

“Of course, you know...I’ve always had a difficult relation with our religion, so many rules and prohibitions but when I needed it the most, it always brought me comfort...” you confessed, looking at your hands, you felt you could share everything with him, even if you were a bit embarrassed.  

“God will always welcome you; you are not the first who doubted him, he is forgiving and knows how pure and good you are here.” he replied with benevolence, he smiled affectionately at you, before opening the bible to teach you your first letters.

The both of you got used to your daily reading lessons and bonded fast, you knew each other pretty well by now and looked forward to those moments, the way he leaned over your shoulder, his chin brushing against you, his warm breath tickling your skin, and his hand resting on yours sending shivers down your spine, although it never went farther...

You also invited him to eat dinner with you sometimes. You enjoyed cooking in general but you always put extra care in preparing food for him. You loved the way it made him smile, the sound he made when he tasted your dishes. He always insisted on helping you with washing the dishes afterwards, out of politeness you didn’t want him to help you, but deep down you enjoyed it, every occasion to spend time with him was good, and you always ended up brushing hands, giggling for nothing and giving each other tender smiles, you whished he wasn’t a clergyman, things could have been so much easier, now the both of you dedicated a lot of your energy to resist the feelings you had for each other.

And destiny seemed to pushed you together, for example, sometimes you had night terrors,  you had no one to go to but him, still you always resisted to go to his room, remembering his warning, you would stay curved into a ball in your bed, crying.  You thought he wouldn’t see it the morning after, but he did. At first, he was worried, he thought someone had hurt you, he always offered to listen to you; then he would smile tenderly and offer you to sleep in his office, so no one would disturb you and you would be safe. And when he came back to check, gently he would unlock the door, realizing you were still sleeping, he would secretly watch you, until he couldn’t resist but brush his fingers against your cheek; you knew this because you had caught him once, his soft touch had woken you up. However, he felt ashamed to have succumbed to this impulsion.

“I’m sorry...I... I have patients to tend to.” he had excused himself, avoiding your gaze and leaving before you could say anything.

After this, your relationship with the Abbé had cooled down, he was avoiding any moment with you alone, he looked tired, if he was going through the same thing as you, then you understood, it hurt to be so distant with him, you spent your nights tormented, thinking about a way to make things better, until you couldn’t resist anymore...

Bouchon was the worst patient you could have encountered alone in dark corridor at night, damnit you couldn’t resist the need to see the Abbé, you couldn’t sleep that night, you had to tell him how you felt maybe he would reciprocate.  

“Bouchon, remember what Abbé told you, you have to behave well...” you shuddered trying to prevent yourself from shaking, showing that you were scared of him would only make things worse...

He continued to walk towards you, his eyes full of desire, mad and terrifying desire, you had to take few steps back, until he catches your arm yanking you back to him, you struggled, trying to break free, until he hit you hard with the back of his hand, your vision briefly went black at the shock, you felt blood pouring your mouth as you fell to the ground. Bouchon laughed, bending down and grabbing your hair, you couldn’t struggle against him, he was too strong, you gather all the strength you possessed and screamed at the top of your lungs for help, for him, the Abbé, you prayed he could hear you from afar. You squinted your eyes shut as Bouchon’s face came closer to yours.

“Bouchon! Guards!” you finally heard the Abbé ‘s voice scream louder than you could ever had,  he ran to you alarmed at the state of the patient and the harm he might have done to you, the guards rushed to the patient to, catching Bouchon by the arms and neck making him let go of you, you collapsed on the cold floor once again, breathing hard, shaking with terror.

Suddenly you felt arms wrap around your body, you startled and whimpered in fear.

“Shhhhh it’s me Y/N, it’s me...you will be alright, he can’t harm you anymore.” he murmured in your ear soothingly, his hands gently caressing your shoulders, you buried your head in the crook on his neck, wanting to be completely shielded, protected by him.

“We have to get you to the infirmary...” the Abbé said when your breathing started to calm down after a few minutes. However, you were still terrified, nobody could protect you like he does; so, you grabbed his shirt not wanting to let go of him.

“No! Please Abbé! Don't leave me! I don’t want...” you started to plead frantically, your voice trembling and tears threatening to come out.  

“Alright, we won’t go to the infirmary...” he replied softly, softly kissing your temple “at least allow me to check-up on you.” he proposed, he wanted to make sure you were alright, that Bouchon didn’t damage your beautiful face and body. You nodded against his neck; keeping his arms around your body he got up, bringing you to his room, on the way you rested your head on him and had passed an arm around his waist, making sure he wouldn’t go away.  

Once you arrived in his room, he sat you on his bed, then went to close and lock his door. He gathered a bowl of water; a clean piece of clothing to clean any wounds you could have. You watched him do so, feeling cold as his warm body had left yours. He took a chair and placed it in front of you; he sat spreading his legs apart so he could be closer to you, and check-up properly.  His hand came up to gently cup your face, you didn’t meet his eyes waiting for him to scold you. But he didn’t, instead you heard him sight at the view of your open lip, bleeding, he damped the clothe to clean the blood away.

“Y/N I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to stop him from hurting you.” he apologized, gently cleaning your lip while the other hand was buried in your hair to hold your head still.  

“Don’t blame yourself Abbé, it could have been much worse if you didn’t save me...” you insinuated, a small smile forming on your lips briefly, it was so much like him to put the fault on himself instead of the others.  

He didn’t reply, the both of you staying silent for a while as he checked for other wounds on your arms or neck, you didn’t seem to have other injuries apart from a big terror in your mind. He put aside the bowl of water and the clothe. He noticed you were shivering so he reached behind you to put his cover around you, he wrapped you in the woolen cover, his scent filling your lungs, you noticed just now he had been wearing his shirt open, he had hugged you against his bare skin, and you hadn't noticed before you had been granted such pleasure. The Abbé gently took your hands in his, stroking your skin with his thumb, you looked at your joined hands, you wished the circumstances would have been better, how sad it was to have him look after you, touch you after such extreme event, you wished he did so every day, for no apparent reason but affection for you...

“Why were you outside of your room at this late hour?” he finally asked looking at you in the eyes, it was hard for you to keep eye contact with him, he looked hurt as if he had been wounded in the process of finding you out of your room. You swallowed down; you were about to tell him everything you had wanted to say for the past months and you feared his reaction, you took a deep breath.  

“I wanted to see you...Abbé I... I’ve been having feelings for you and I tried to repress them but...I can’t, that’s why I had decided to confess it to you tonight...” You lowered your eyes, ashamed of your foolish actions that had costed you dearly. His thumb stopped stroking your hand.

“Oh Y/N... there are some feelings that one cannot express...” he whispered weakly, it hurt him to say this to you.

“But why? I don’t understand, what is so impure about Love?” you pleaded, swallowing down as tears started to run down your face.

“Y/N love is a beautiful feeling; it makes the world a better place but...I must dedicate my whole being to God...” he replied, his voice barely coming out at a murmur as he briefly bent down to kiss your hand tenderly.

“I wouldn’t drive you away from God, I’d never want that, I only ask you to let me make you happy, make you smile and laugh, if you would grant me in return a tiny bit of the love you have for God, then I would be the happiest woman on this Earth.” you proclaimed as you took back your hands to seize his head between your hands, you wanted to kiss him to show him how much he meant to you. His eyes were wet, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, it was clear he was having an internal conflict, he didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“You’re going to hate me now and fire me, right?” you then asked as he didn’t speak, tears rolling down on your cheeks, this seemed to put him out of his thoughts, he seized your shoulders.

“No, no I don’t hate you Y/N...” he blurted afraid he might have hurt your feelings “...I love you...” he breathed, looking at you in the eyes, your heart was beating fast, you couldn’t believe what he had just said, you searched his eyes for hesitation. His hands went to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Y/N I’ve loved you the moment I laid eyes you and since I have been blessed by your presence, your smile...” you cut him off by crashing your lips on his, he moaned at the contact, your heart fluttered as he accepted your gesture, grabbing your hair to keep you close to him, how good it felt to have his lips against yours, but it wasn’t enough, you felt the need to taste him; you remembered what the Marquis had taught you about kissing, so your tongue went to tease his lips, asking for his permission, he let out a high-pitched moan at the contact, and opened his mouth in response, when  your tongue met his, it was as if you had melted, it was soft and careful like he was afraid to hurt you.

You parted too soon for your taste, but the both of you needed to breath, he rested his forehead against yours, he nuzzled his nose against your nose, he had his eyes closed.  

“My angel...” he breathed, a lovely smile forming on his lips, you softly laughed happy you had finally confessed to each other and intended on loving each other as long as you lived. He reopened his eyes, to look at you with adoration.

“Lord, forgive for I am about to sin but it is one I am willing to commit...” he said out loud as he gently laid you on his bed, coming on top of you, ‘what a beautiful sin’ he thought, your hand buried in his hair, massaging his scalp tenderly; he leaned in and kissed your lips once again, he will adore and worship your whole being just like he does for God and it will be the purest love he ever felt.

Tag list: @lyoongx @skaravile @weirdflecksbutok @niniita-ah

[grimoireofwritings]

Hello and I hope you are doing well, is it okay (despite the fact you probably have a bit of matchup requests) if I could get a matchup for BNHA if that is okay?

Okay so the essentials, I am Male (trans) and Omniromantic Asexual (male/masculine leaning), 5'6ish, Capricon, INTJ, in between thin and chubby, brown eyes, red hair up to the cab muscles (henna dyed). My personality is hard to explain, every person has a different opinion of me but the main things I hear are intemidating, empathetic, kind, a serious & calm, and intelligent? (But nah the intelligence part is really only in spanish lol). I'm increadbly insecure in myself. Almost to the point where it becomes self deprecating and self humorous but I almost become hypocritical when it comes to other people feeling insecure/taking care of themselves, I'm also a self sacrificing freak in a way. However on the lighter topic, I believe I'm a good friend! I would offer my advice, comfort, food, help in the clothes of my own back, because of this I may be considered naive and people may see me as being flirtatious even if I believe I'm beings good friend. But all of that goes to dirt if I or anyone I was close to were to be insulted, I keep my friends incredibly dear to me. One more thing about myself, I am a emotional and a animal empath that can become very emotional when it comes to seeing riots/movements and just seeing a cute pupper. When it comes to this sensitivity I can also get overwhelmed by large crowds and by loud noises, usually what helps me is being in the dark and being held/constricted by something/someone. I just like the dark, it's comforting to me and I use it to my advantage. Now onto my likes, I have an interest in witchcraft/the supernatural and celestial, and as being someone that believes that everything exists in it's own way I have an open mind to these things as well as a few unnatural experiences. Naps...I don't get enough of em and that just makes my love stronger, I also really like cosplay and acting in general, and if drawing dark/vent art counts then count it right in! And if it helps my favorite animals in order are Wolves, Ravens, and Orcas. As to not end on a negative note I'll tell more things about myself. I'm very much into PDA if not in public then just in private at least, I want to be close to my significant other and I since I've been touched starved for a long time any touch of any kind I will accept. I am also sensitive to sound (if someone is raising their voice or yelling at me I will think they are yelling at me and try to run away) and light (I don't like very bright places it strains my eyes and hurts to be in for a while)

Hello! Thank you for requesting, you're actually the second request I've gotten for a matchup and the only one I had in my ask! I was super excited to write this for you!!

Your BNHA match is... Fumikage Tokoyami!

I passionately ship this already, I am positive it would be one of those relationships that helps both partners grow and they bring out the best in each other!!! I feel like he wouldn't be someone who feels intimidated by your outward personality - it sounds like you have a bit of a calm and collected exterior that people misunderstand or misinterpret, but you are deeply kind, gentle, and empathic underneath that. This is something he relates to a lot, and being misjudged or people making assumptions based on his dark appearance (his RBF) is normal, so I think if anything he'd be more attracted to you at first above all else and he actually finds your quiet nature very soothing.

He needs a deeply emotionally strong person and a supporter, he's very drawn to those who build others up and have kindness in their heart, so I feel that your relationship would always be full of lots of warmth, love, and a deep level of shared trust. He's very much a vocal person about his feelings in private and it's very important to him that both of you feel satisfied physically and emotionally with your shared affection; he's a cuddle bug but in a chill way, and this man can sweep you off your feet with the most beautiful poetic compliments and appraisal you've ever encountered in your life. Very chivalrous, and a believer in courting / staying persistent with his efforts even past the honeymoon phase. It definitely will help with your confidence in the relationship!

Speaking of which, physical appearance insecurities is something Tokoyami understands thoroughly. He has been aware since early childhood that he looks different than everyone around him for the most part, and despite a lot of diversity within quirks that's been integrated into society, he in particular got quite a physical variation and he always deep down fears he's not attractive enough or that he's too odd looking for a partner to stay interested in for very long. He thinks he's incapable of being handsome, and while he's pretty good at regulating these emotions and keeping them in-check, managing them gets difficult when he catches feelings for someone and he really gets into his head about rejection fears.

All in all, I feel like you both would relate and share some similar experiences in that area, and you could always build each other up and remind one another that you're beautiful inside and out.. and absolutely deserve the best treatment. He reminds you sometimes when needed to take care of yourself and set boundaries with others so that you keep your health as a priority.

Relationship Headcanons:

- 1000000% takes part in your witchcraft interests with you, he was utterly delighted when he found out about it and immediately offers to help you out in any way he can, even running errands to acquire supplies you may need. He wants to talk about it frequently and learn more ideas / in depth perspectives from you - you could teach him a thing or two, since he also practices!!

- After this is when he finally lets you see his room because he was kinda salty after class 1A saw it and made fun of him for it... Lol. But after that he knew you wouldn't judge him and now you both take frequent long naps in there on days off. He's very very cuddly and really enthused about being able to spoon you.

- He understands you have heightened senses and you may sometimes get overstimulated sensory-wise. He is constantly looking out for signs that you're overwhelmed, and always remains very aware and in-tune with how you're feeling. He's wonderful and super understanding - he took a lot of time learning exactly what to do and how to best assist you in these situations. If you get distressed by crowds, bright lights, or noises his first priority is to get you to a safe place and he will politely ask if he can comfort you in the ways you like; restriction probably with hugs and keeping you in a dark, quiet / calm environment so that your heightened state can relax and reset. He is patient and will never, ever punish you or get frustrated with you for needing a break.

- If you're also very tactile and find textures / certain sensations soothing, his bird like feathers / hair is very very soft... Feel free to touch and stroke whenever, he actually quite likes soft loving hands since I think he may also be a very affectionate person, and you're the only person he allows to do this.

- You'll always find gifts that he caters to your preferences in your room, with a poem or some heartfelt words on a note...He does it enough to remind you that you're worth the world and more, especially to him, but not excessively. He still wants it to be a special surprise every time!

- He never ridicules or judges your art, regardless of if it's dark vent art or not. If anything he always compliments your ability to put such emotion in your work and he likes them because it allows him to connect with you and understand you better.

- Overall he's a really aware, giving, supportive, attentive partner and he finds that your empathy and compassion has brought him healthy changes to his life, too. Y'all are goals!