#reworking the age difference again later with the new idea in mind

[verishere]

Remembering Mekrun

NOT part of any series I've made works standalone, but is in between part one and part two of my main Liam series.

If you don't know how ages work in my world, here's a reference. Axel is like 19 year.

Masterpost

Axel was studying their most recent painting. They'd started their tutoring with Ashnir only a few weeks ago, so it wasn't any kind of masterwork, but they were proud of it. It was only the fourth full size painting they'd done- full size meaning "big enough I have to spread my arms to hold it"- and it was clear seeing how far they'd come. Their first paining this size was on the wall right in front of them, and the difference was incredible- exactly as it had been the last two times, and exactly as Ashnir had said it would be.

The painting was of the southern beach, one of their favorite spots along the coast, which was perfect for practicing their art as they could add just as much or as little detail as they want and it still look mostly real. They'd gone for as much detail as possible, so you could see the waves breaking on the sand, but while they hadn't included everything- there were no sand dunes, for example- it was still recognizable as the beach. Unlike their second painting, which was of Calchoras' house, and was entirely unrecognizable as Calchoras' house. It was clearly someone's house, but whose was anyone's guess. The first painting Ashnir had chosen the subject for them- literally just his art studio- probably to avoid the mess he knew they were going to make when they were first given the choice, which was the second painting.

They'd learned the lesson; if you want to paint without enough skill for the subject to be detailed, don't get disappointed it won't work well. They had almost cried, actually, when they couldn't make the house recognizable, so Ashnir showed them the memory of his second painting- the memory and not the real thing, as it had been destroyed in the war- and they no longer had anything to be ashamed of.

It was still weird to be sharing memories with telepathy. Only three years ago and the best they could have done was concepts, a year ago the best they could have done was words. Sharing entire memories over thought was something they'd only learned to do a month ago, and despite how much they'd used it now, it still felt weird to be able to actually remember before the Fall. Not from their own perspective, but close enough.

They could see pictures of people who now they only knew as stars. They had seen great-grandfather Mekrun and finally understood that dad really did look like him, but as they had that thought they could see the star everyone claimed to be him in the sky through their room's window. It was the second brightest star in the sky, and the second permanent one.

...A strange feeling possessed them. They didn't know what was happening. It was a deep and intense feeling of being watched, to the point that no amount of evidence could have convinced them someone was not looking at them right then and there, but it wasn't negative. It was more like having Ashnir watch them paint over their shoulder, or mom watching them learn to write better, or literally everyone on dad's side of the family watching them learn basic metalwork. It was the feeling of someone you can trust watching you, and being proud.

Their family had talked about the dead waking sometimes. Grandmom talked about one of the first things happening after her fathers death was feeling him watch her, before she even got the news he was dead. No one had described the feeling to them, and they didn't know if this was it. They couldn't be sure.

They stood up and went to their window, staring out at the stars they were just contemplating, to find one of them different. Mekrun was usually the second brightest star in the sky, second only to Nerquam, but right now his was the brightest. No one had told them that the star grew brighter when they woke, either.

But now they were sure.

They didn't know what to say. They were certain this wasn't the first time he'd watched them, not from what their family had said, but it was the first time they'd noticed. Maybe it was because they only recently grew memory telepathy? They can only sense it now that their telepathy has been strengthened? The feeling didn't have the sense of telepathy to it, though. It really was just like being watched.

They were stalling, and they knew it. They didn't have the words to say to the only member of their family they'd never met. They were contemplating just not saying anything, when the door opened on it's own.

Only one person in the entire palace would open any bedroom door without knocking, and sure enough, "Akel!" Leigha still had trouble with some words, which unfortunately included her siblings name. She was nine years old, making her just barely still a toddler, which Axel considered a crime. She was supposed to stay small forever! Why was she big enough she was hard to pick up, now? That's a crime.

Leigha went over and reached to be picked up anyways. Axel complied, but mostly just because they could stand her on the windowsill instead of hold her the entire time. "What are you still doing awake, little sis?"

"Mommy said five more mibutes!" she raised her arms over her head in celebration.

"And when did she say this?" Axel asked suspiciously. This was at least a full hour after they were supposed to be asleep, and Leigha needed much more sleep than they did.

"When I got out-a da bed and ased her if I can get up."

Axel laughed enough she nearly choked. Leigha got out of bed, woke mom up to ask, and she said "five more minutes" probably without even hearing Leigha ask anything at all.

So they'd be putting their sister back to bed in a bit. First though... five more minutes.

"Wha' were you doin'?"

Right, standing at the windowsill probably looked boring to a toddler. Or at least confusing.

"You can feel when someone whose a star is watching, you know?"

Leigha brightened at her learning being tested. "Yeah! Mommy and daddy and gramma told me."

"Well, I'm feeling it for the first time. I was looking at the stars to see who it is. It's great grandpa."

"ohhhhhhh. Grea' granpa watch you, so you watch him?"

"Heh. Yeah, that's why. Do you remember which star is his?" she gestured back to the window.

Leigha looked right in the right spot, then looked progressively more confused over the next few seconds. "Bu' I though' he was almost the brighes sar."

Axel ruffled her hair from behind. "Usually he is, but he's watching us right now, so he's the brightest."

"oh."

A moment passed where they just started at the star, before Leigha waved, and said "Hi grea' granpa. I lo'fes you!"

Axel spluttered, for a second. Neither of them had met their great grandfather. They knew he must have been nice, and wished they could have, but they hadn't. How could Leigha...?

Leigha interupted them. "Tha's what you do when someone watchin for you, righ'? You love em?"

...

"...Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks, Leigha."

Leigha didn't know what she was being thanked for, but preened anyways.

They could feel the sensation of being watched begin to dissipate. The star was dimming. Still there, but he was going back to sleep.

"bye, great grandfather... I love you."

Next time, I'll say it immediately. And I'll show him my art.

...He'll be proud.

[cherrytree-irl]

ooc post: random useless facts 2

i'm low on ideas again so it's time for brain sludge.

i guess i'll start by talking about the christmas event i wrote half of and then scrapped.

the event was going to involve N and sylvan going to driftveil for a holiday party, with sylvan reluctantly bringing his father along (because, y'know, people like spending holidays with family or whatever.) and hoping he wouldn't cause problems.

then vernon would cause problems. (he was gonna find out about N's involvement with team plasma.)

i couldn't really think of a good way to resolve said problems, though. part of the reason i didn't finish writing this event. also because i waited too long to start writing it so i didn't have time to think it through or actually write half of it

also linnet was gonna come back. she wouldn't really have a major role, but she'd be there! and latios too, of course.

oh well. i can rework the important stuff into some other event later.

anyway, on to other stuff.

there are not very many sylvans in the multiverse. most universes just... never had one and never will. of the sylvans that have existed, even fewer of them are alive.

not from like, any one specific cause. just most of them Fucked Up somewhere along their journeys.

some real world pokemon games exist within sylvan's universe. mostly ones that don't have human characters, like mystery dungeon and rumble. (miis don't count as human characters they're just player avatars. sorry miis ily :p)

sylvan's brother, oliver, was originally planned to be a bartender. but then i decided to incorporate him into my other pkmn irl blog that i barely use, and there was no reason for the characters i play on that blog to crash land in the pokemon world and immediately go straight to the bar. so he runs a cafe now.

speaking of oliver. sylvan's name was originally oliver. then eventually i decided the name didn't suit him, so i picked out a new one and later gave his old name to his older brother.

sylvan is vegetarian in theory, but usually vegan in practice, since N is vegan and it would be needlessly pricey to buy both vegan and non vegan versions of applicable foods.

he usually does at least have a pack of mac and cheese cups in the apartment though. saves them for when he's sad or stressed or just really wants some damn mac and cheese.

at some point, i thought about secretly having this blog take place a few years in the future. it was kind of just a cheap way to make sylvan easier for me to write, since i would basically be making him the same age as me.

but then i thought. if i ever actually publicly established the fact that the blog took place in 2030, people might start asking questions about what the future is like and stuff and i realized doing this would be causing more difficulties than it would solve.

on new years, when i'd received the egg that would eventually become Idele, i asked my cousin what should be in it.

he said to put a shiny drizzile in it. i told him, "you can't put a drizzile in an egg, dumbass" so he reluctantly changed his answer to shiny sobble.

i then asked my sister for her opinion. she said a shiny cherubi. i guess she had caught one in legends arceus recently, so it was on her mind. but sylvan already has a cherrim, so i didn't really wanna do that.

so i eventually just. picked neither of those options and went for hisuian zorua because It's Cool.

months ago, when i was trying to decide what sort of character(s) to center my possible future pkmn irl blog around, i had three different ideas.

the first was, y'know... sylvan. since he was a pokemon character i had already made. but i worried that people wouldn't find him interesting or that they'd get mad about him dating N. so i tried to think of something else.

my second idea was for a latias disguising herself as a human because... reasons? i didn't have that part worked out yet. (so, like, a first draft version of linnet. and linnet was only like, a second draft version of linnet.) i kinda just didn't have enough enthusiasm about playing that character for an extended period of time, i guess.

my third idea was for a crossover blog. i thought it would be funny to bring a character from yo-kai watch into the pokemon world. for some reason the first that came to mind was komasan. he's not even like, my favorite yo-kai or anything...? (venoct, if you were wondering. which you probably were not.) anyway i wasn't confident enough in my ability to write as him, so the idea was dropped.

eventually i settled on sylvan despite my previous concerns. then i had to decide where in his story i wanted to place the blog.

the main three points in time i was considering were...

1. a few years ahead of his sort of... base form. like, when i think of sylvan, i think of him at 21, right after bw2. but i wanted to move him forward a little if i was going with a "current" form of him. i do not remember why i made that decision, but whatevs. this is the version i chose.

2. when he was a teenager and just starting out his journey. N would not have been involved with this theoretical version of the blog. (unless it went on for... quite a while.) i dropped this because at the time i was writing a fic that covered that same point in his life. also because i wanted N to be there.

3. when he was traveling with N but they weren't romantically involved yet. would have involved Pining™ and going to random places and doing random stuff and syl being really confused (and somewhat concerned) about What The Hell N's Deal Is. i don't remember why i decided against this, it probably would have been a more interesting blog. maybe i just figured it would be easier to write sylvan when all the interesting stuff already happened to him, ha.

that's everything i can think of right now. so. post over

[tlhrfanfic]

[Analogical ] Chemistry

Title: Chemistry Ship: Analogical Warnings:  Lots of cute and fluff. Words: 5,708 Request: So, this was the next request I chose: an analogical fic where Logan and Virgil are science partners would be vvv cute! if its ok! This was also sent in by an anon.

Summary: Logan is used to the routine of his typical life as a high school teen. When the new student becomes his brand new lab partner, however, changes seem to become the new norm. Logan, surprisingly, doesn't seem to mind.

Read on AO3

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The day was like any other.

 … until it wasn’t. 

 Logan hadn’t changed anything. He had woken up and gotten ready at the same time; he’d taken a shower just like he always did. He had then had breakfast before grabbing his backpack and heading out the door. It was the same ten-minute walk to the high school he’d been attending for the last two years. 

 Same morning chat with his friends, same walk down the Science hallway, and same Chemistry lab.

 Logan settled into his seat before pulling his textbook, notebook, and a pencil out of his backpack.

 “Logan.”

 He looked up, interest in his eyes. It was, after all, common enough for his teachers to ask him for help with little things from time to time.

 The moment his gaze shifted to the unfamiliar teen standing near Mr. Sanders was the moment that everything changed.

A young teen Logan’s age stood with his hands in the pockets of his purple and black plaid hoodie. He had his hood off but it was evident by the way it was scrunched around the back of his neck that it would definitely be on at that very moment if it weren’t for the dress code.

 Logan brought his attention back to the teacher as he started to explain that this teen was a new student. Logan glanced at the teen from time to time as he learned that his name was Virgil and that he would be Logan’s new lab partner. Mr. Sanders then asked if he would mind showing Virgil around. 

 “I would be happy to assist Virgil in any way I am capable, sir.”

 Mr. Sanders beamed at him and left Virgil behind as he left for the teacher’s lounge. 

 “Welcome to the school, Virgil. Are you from out of state?”

 Virgil shook his head. “No… he said softly. Perhaps a little shyly. Logan assumed he wasn’t going to say more but a few moments later Virgil spoke up again. “I was homeschooled up until now…”

 He shrugged, his hands still in the pockets of his hoodie.

 Logan found himself staring at the new guy, wondering why he found him so enchanting. He’d had a handful of crushes in the past but not one of them was as lovely as this one.

 “What?!”

 Logan blinked. He blushed a moment later, heat rising up the back of his neck, as he realized he had been staring at Virgil for a minute at the very least. 

 “I apologize. Now, as Mr. Sanders mentioned, my name is Logan. Logan Wright. We are going to be lab partners in this class, evidently.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Do you enjoy Chemistry?”

 Virgil shrugged. 

 “I’m not the best at science since my mom is the one who taught me but it’s got its cool factors, I guess.” He shifted a little nervously. 

 Logan smiled at him gently, nodding. 

 “That’s more than fine, Virgil. I am quite accomplished at Chemistry so we will not see you fail.”

 Virgil blinked before slowly smiling.

 “Well… thanks for that… I uh. I appreciate it.”

 Logan nodded. 

 “It’s my pleasure, Virgil. Feel free to take a seat.” He nodded at the empty stool at his lab table.

 Virgil hesitated before dropping his backpack onto the stool. He pulled out his Chemistry book, a notebook, and a pencil before setting his bag under the table and taking the seat.

 Logan, realizing how close Virgil was, cleared his throat nervously. 

 “After class, I’ll give you the tour. It’s a fairly big high school but you seem intelligent so I think you’ll learn your way around here in no time.”

 He glanced at Virgil who actually smiled. 

 It was small and Logan almost missed it but it had definitely been there. 

 “Thanks,” the emo teen said. 

 “As I said before, it’s my pleasure.”

 The smile grew just a few centimeters more and Logan knew that this specific crush would not go away any time soon. 

»»————　♞　————««

 Virgil walked into Chemistry class two days later and set one of two coffee cups in front of his lab partner. He grinned as the bespectacled teen looked first at the cup and then at Virgil, confusion evident on his face. 

 “Salutations, Virgil. What is this and what is it for?”

 “Mornin’ Logan. That is a caramel latte and it’s a thank you… for, you know, showing me around on Monday.”

 Logan smiled and nodded. 

 “As I said then, it was my absolute pleasure. Thank you for the coffee. Really very nice of you.”

 Virgil blushed, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. 

 “Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice a little quieter. He smiled softly once Logan looked away.

 Taking a seat, Virgil pulled out his things for the class. As he pulled his homework out of his notebook, the emo teen watched Logan from the corner of his eyes. He barely held back a sigh. 

 When his mom had told him that he would be going to public school, Virgil had had a lot of hangups. He had not expected crushing on the very first guy he met to be one of them.

 Then again, Logan wasn’t just some guy. Virgil had only known him for two full days but he already felt as if he knew him pretty well. He was different compared to most guys their age, just like Virgil. 

 “Did you have any trouble with the assignment last night?”

 Virgil jumped in his seat because suddenly Logan’s voice was that much closer. He glanced at the other teen, finding him leaning in some to get a look at Virgil’s assignment sheet. 

 “Oh… uh, yeah. A little but it wasn’t too horrible, I guess.”

 Logan nodded before pointing at one of Virgil’s answers.

 “Understandable why you got this but you forgot to consider the temperature of the heat source.”

 Virgil glanced at the problem and picked up his pencil, erasing before considering the answer once more, now equipped with Logan’s hint. When he had finished, he looked up at Logan with uncertainty.

 Logan’s proud smile at the now correct answer made having to redo the whole question completely worth it. He hesitated before pushing the paper toward his lab partner. 

 “Any others I need to rework?”

 By the time the bell rang, signaling the start of first period, Logan had helped him correct the remaining two problems with incorrect answers.

 “Virgil,” Logan said as Mr. Thomas started the class. Suddenly a cell phone that was definitely not his phone was being pushed into his hand. He didn’t need any explanation, however, because the phone—which he assumed was Logan’s—was open onto a new contact entry. 

 “I’ll text you so you have my number too. This way, should one of us require assistance we can help each other out.”

 Virgil nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he ignored the heat rushing up the back of his neck and into his cheeks. Instead, the emo teen entered his information, saved the contact, and passed the phone back to Logan. 

 True to his word, he texted Virgil, the emo teen’s phone vibrating in his back pocket. He would have saved Logan’s number at that moment but class had begun and the thought of sneaking it out had Virgil’s anxiety rising. 

 Turning to Logan, he mouthed a thank you before turning his attention back to the lesson. 

 »»————　☠　————««

 Logan had hoped but honestly, had not expected Virgil to actually utilize his phone number when he gave it to him. It was with delighted surprise that two nights later—coincidentally a Friday night—that Virgil texted him, asking him for help with the assignment from earlier that day. 

 Logan called promptly. Virgil picked up by the second ring and for some inexplicable reason, Logan smiled at that. 

 “Hey, Logan. Thanks for calling.”

 “It’s my pleasure.”

 Virgil chuckled and Logan got the image of Virgil sitting there in class, a little half smile on his face as he shook his head and laughed just like that. It wasn’t a mean laugh. Just amused. Almost… fond, even. 

 Logan blushed. 

 “So… how can I help?”

 Virgil proceeded to point out the problem he was having trouble with and Logan was able to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Unfortunately, it was far easier to explain Chemistry concepts in person. 

 Biting his lip, Logan glanced at his watch and considered the time. It was Friday night and was still fairly early. He and Logan could grab a table at the local cafe and work on the homework. Logan had, after all, promised to help him, and being in person would really make it easier on Virgil. 

 Not to mention, Logan really wanted to spend time with him. 

 “Would you want to meet up with me tonight?”

 Virgil made a noise that Logan surmised was some sort of sputter and hoped it was a sputter of surprise, rather than disgust. He quickly cleared his throat and pushed on.

 “I was just thinking we could grab dinner at the cafe in town and work on this. It really would be much easier to explain and assist you in person.”

 Virgil was silent for a moment. It was just long enough that the intelligent teen was worried Virgil had hung up. 

 “Uh… okay, yeah. Sure. Wanna meet over at mine and walk over?”

 “I don’t know where you live, Virgil…”

 “Oh, right! Well, I know the place you mean and it’s really close so I guess… I guess, I’ll see you there soon?”

 “Sounds good, Virgil. See you soon.”

 “See you soon, Lo.”

 Logan gave a start at that. No one had ever called him that before. If anyone else in his life had, he probably would have had some scathing words to throw their way. But for some reason… it just sounded so nice spoken by Virgil. 

 “Yeah,” he replied only to realize that Virgil had already hung up. Blushing, he grabbed his keys, pocketed them and his phone, and headed out the door.

 »»————　♞　————««

 Virgil chewed his lip as he waited. Glancing around at other people, recognizing a few from school as he buried deeper into his hoodie, Virgil wondered if this had really been a good idea. 

 Luckily, before his negative thoughts could even hope to rain on his Black Parade, Logan was suddenly standing before him. And like moths to a flame, his attention shifted to only him.

 “Hey,” he said, smiling a little shyly. He reached up to slide his hood back enough to see Logan fully and allow the other to see him a bit too. 

 “Hey,” Logan said, smiling back. The smile was soft. It did things to Virgil’s insides, but there were too many reasons why it was soft for Virgil to be able to bank on it being a specific one. If it was soft because Logan liked him and wanted to be with him, that would be very good. It could just as easily be Logan liking him as a really good friend or regarding him as family. 

 Since Virgil really, really, really liked Logan… those, while nice, would not be good. 

 They would not be good at all. 

 Silence settled over them. Virgil panicked, fearing that it felt a little awkward. However, he was suddenly unable to use his words because he had to go and think about his crush with said crush standing right there. So, the silence stretched, making him panic more.

 Luckily, Logan was pretty good at reading signs of a potential panic attack. 

 “Virgil.” 

 Suddenly, Virgil’s focus was on Logan. He was still feeling anxious but his focus had shifted enough. Logan was a little like an anchor in that way. 

 “What… uh, sorry.”

 “I was just thinking we should head in. Grab a table, get dinner ordered. We can work on some of the homework while we wait for our food.”

 Virgil beamed at Logan. 

 With such a plan in place, how could Virgil feel anxious? 

 Well, aside from the butterflies he constantly felt around Logan, but that was beside the point.

 “Yeah… that sounds like a plan.”

 Logan held the door open for him and Virgil, ignoring the heat rising up the back of his neck, headed inside.

 »»————　☠　————««

 Logan was beside himself getting to Chemistry class that next Monday. He knew he had no logical reason for feeling this way. Even the evidence of their rather enjoyable evening of dinner and homework on Friday, and the fact that they texted the entire weekend outside of school talk, was circumstantial at best. Yet, he still felt uncharacteristically giddy as he settled in his chair and got out his things. That done, his eyes panned to the door rather than to the clock, as they would have in the past. 

 The moment Virgil entered the classroom—exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds until the bell was due to ring—Logan’s heart beat rapidly against his chest.

 Whoever said falling in love was the best thing to ever happen to a person was sorely mistaken. This cannot be good for one’s health.

 Logan took a deep breath as Virgil made his way over, dropping his bag to the ground unceremoniously as he slumped into the chair. Logan took pity on his friend. 

 “I take it you couldn’t fall asleep after we said good night?”

 Virgil, who had his arms on the desk and face pressed into them, turned to look at his friend and shook his head with a frown. Logan resisted the sudden urge to pull the other into a warm embrace. Blushing at the thought, he looked away and flicked open his textbook to the lab they were meant to cover that day. He then got his homework out, watching from the corner of his eye as Virgil did the same. 

 “Sorry, Virge.” Logan resisted the urge to correct himself. Virgil had assured him it was fine if Logan wanted to call him Virgil still, but had been sure to advise Logan that his friends usually called him Virge if they didn’t want to use the whole thing. Logan wanted Virgil to be certain in their friendship and his desire to keep it.

 He also very much wanted Virgil to be certain that if he wanted more then Logan very much desired that as well…

... but how could he make Virgil certain of that without actually confessing his feelings?

 Pushing such thoughts and questions out of his mind, Logan returned to the conversation in time to catch Virgil saying “Insomnia is a bitch, dude.”

 Logan nodded. “Yes, it is a troublesome disorder indeed.” Logan glanced around before lowering his voice. “Medication not helping?”

 Virgil shrugged. “Kinda, I guess. But it doesn’t really help all the time. It’s inconsistent.”

 Logan frowned but nodded. He wished to say more, but it was at that moment Mr. Sanders came in to remind them they were doing a lab that day. 

 Thomas gave a brief demonstration of the lab and asked them to write down the exact measurements for it. Logan took his notes in his own efficient style, often finished before the others. Usually, he would just wait patiently for Mr. Sanders to carry on with the next part of the demonstration but now he found himself glancing at Virgil. 

 He watched, mesmerized, as Virgil made big bold circles around the measurements he’d jotted down. Where Logan’s were neat and tidy, Virgil’s were scattered all over the page but a quick look over told him it was still organized, in it’s own way.

 In a way he understands… fascinating.

 Mr. Sanders finished the demonstration, passed out all the necessary chemicals and safety gear for the lab. Under his supervision, the lab went underway. Virgil watched Logan as he worked for a good part of it. 

 Logan, so lost in his work, hadn’t noticed until Mr. Sanders came up to them. Leaning down, perhaps under the guise of answering a question, the Chemistry teacher lowered his voice.

 “Virgil… don’t you think it’s a little unfair to allow Logan to keep doing the lab himself? Yes, Logan, I am aware you enjoy it and don’t mind, but my point still remains. It’s also not fair to you, Virgil, as you aren’t taking part in the experience.”

 Virgil nodded, his face beet red. Logan frowned, resisting the urge to speak up and not quite sure how to feel about it. Mr. Sanders sighed and crouched down.

 “I apologize for embarrassing you. It wasn’t my intention.”

 “N-no. I know. I didn’t mean to make him do it all… I just kinda got…” He blushed again and looked away, mumbling something that neither Logan or Mr. Sanders could hear. Logan tried his best not to focus on Virgil but rather on Mr. Thomas. He felt a little bad finding blushy red to be quite a fetching color on Virgil, considering the circumstances.

 Thomas looked from Logan to Virgil and for a moment Logan was certain he saw a little smile slip onto his face but when he tried to look more closely, it was gone. Interesting.

 “Well, that’s fine, Virgil. I get it. You guys are talking and you didn’t notice how much he’d done. But now it’s your turn, okay?”

 Virgil nodded. He waited until Mr. Sanders had gone to help someone else before turning to Logan and mouthing ‘what do I do?’.

 Logan laughed to himself, knowing that laughing out loud with Virgil freaking out would not help matters, and reached out a hand to squeeze the other’s shoulder. 

 “It’s okay. You’ve got this. I won’t let you get it wrong,” Logan promised. Virgil smiled and blew his hair out of his eyes. Logan got lost in dark pools of near black for a few moments before his bangs settled once more. He could still see Virgil’s eyes but he suddenly longed to brush his hair back just to look into those eyes once more. 

 Virgil snorted. “My hero.”

 Logan laughed, but smiled. “If that is your wish.”

 Virgil laughed and shoved him playfully. He then took a deep breath and allowed Logan to walk him through the process. He was grabbing one of the chemicals that Logan was passing to him when their hands brushed. 

 It was definitely accidental but they both jumped. Logan laughed softly and Virgil laughed as well. The laughter was different than the normal one they shared, Logan noted. He leaned in a little and offered the chemical bottle once more.

 Virgil took it, their hands not brushing this time. Virgil was still not looking away. Logan would have felt a little insecure under his sharp gaze but he was already looking at Virgil for just as long. He swallowed, unsure of what to do or say.

 Logan knew something was definitely happening here, he just didn’t have a name or a verified set of instructions on how to handle it nor what to do next.

 Virgil leaned in a little closer, his gaze falling to what Logan could only assume was his mouth. Logan swallowed hard again and felt a slight moment of panic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Virgil. 

 He wanted that very, very much. He just didn’t want it to be in the middle of Chemistry class surrounded by of a bunch of classmates and Mr. Sanders.

 It had to be his lucky day. 

 A sudden outcry broke whatever spell Virgil was under. He blinked rapidly and blushed completely before laying his arms on his desk and burying his face in his arms. Logan glanced over to see the reason for the commotion. 

 Remus Prince and Janus Noirblanc had, from their story, done everything right and still caused the chemicals to overflow. Mr. Sanders explained once more the importance of writing down the notes rather than doodling during note time, to which Remus and Janus laughed but nodded. 

 The class settled down once more. Logan quickly finished the lab for them, keeping an eye out for Mr. Sanders, before turning to Virgil. 

 “Hey,” he said, tentatively. “Is… is everything okay?”

 Virgil let out a laugh but it definitely didn’t sound happy.

 “I nearly made a fool of myself.”

 “Because kissing me would make a fool of you?”

 Virgil sighed.

 “Well, yeah. You’re just… you and so amazing and great and… ugh, do we have to do this here?”

 Logan glanced at the clock. He raised a brow at the other.

 “Are you going to run from me when the bell rings?” 

 Virgil clears his throat and looks away. “No…”

 “Virgil.”

 “Fine… I won’t… run away…”

 Logan gave a nod of approval. 

 “Then, very well. It can wait.”

 Which made for a very awkward ten minutes but Logan supposed Virgil had a point. Confessing to Virgil in the middle of Chemistry class hadn’t exactly been his own plan either.

 »»————　♞　————««

 Virgil was always nervous but that was nothing like how he felt when he followed Logan out of class. He was quiet and making as little sound as possible, hoping Logan might forget he was supposed to be following somewhere. Still, as he had promised his friend, Virgil did not run.

 Logan led them to a little lounge area. Other people were around, unfortunately in a school as big as theirs it was inevitable, but no one was paying any attention to them.

 Virgil sighed as he took the chair next to the one Logan chose. He turned toward him but raised his hood out of habit. Logan looked at him and Virgil couldn’t resist the urge to look up at him. Their eyes met and Virgil blushed but found he could not look away. 

 “Hey,” Logan said softly, a warm sort of smile on his face. Virgil couldn’t help but smile back gently at such a display of beauty. 

 “Hey… so…”

 “It’s okay… take your time.”

 “Dude, it’s like five minutes between classes. We literally have no time.”

 Hands were suddenly offered to him and Virgil took them without thinking. Logan’s hands were slightly larger than his own and he blushed to see how well they held his. He sighed, shaking the nerves off as much as possible. 

 “We have time and I’ll talk to the Principal or whoever I have to if by some chance we are late.”

 “Yeah, okay… fine. So, yeah… I don’t know… back there, in that moment, I just really wanted to kiss you and…”

 “I wanted to kiss you too, Virgil… just not in the middle of Chemistry class…”

 “Heh, yeah.” Virgil blushed at the admission, feeling butterflies in the bottom of his belly. “It was excellent timing on Remus and Janus’s part.”

 “A little too excellent… but yes.”

 Logan and Virgil laughed, the tenseness from earlier slipping away. 

 “Look… you were correct… we are a little pressed for time…”

 “Duh.”

 Logan laughed and Virgil smiled, pleased with himself. 

 “Why don’t… why don’t we walk home together? I’ll walk you home.”

 “Logan… you live like two miles from me…”

 “Yeah. I’m aware.” 

 Virgil let out a whistle at that and sighed when the warning bell went off to advise students to start heading directly to their classes. 

 “Fine. You can walk me home.”

 “Wonderful.” Logan hesitated before leaning in to press a kiss to Virgil’s cheek. He blushed but smiled happily at Virgil, squeezing his hands. With that, he left Virgil in a bit of a daze. It wasn’t until some loud laughter broke through the fog that Virgil remembered he needed to get to class. 

 Taking off, Virgil smiled to himself. 

 »»————　☠　————««

 Logan had never looked forward to the end of a school day until that day. He wished all his classes would hurry up. He didn’t bother pacing out his work, instead getting the classwork done and waiting as patiently for possible for the class to end. 

 Lunch would have been a nice reprieve but due to being in a few Pre-Advanced Placement courses, the lunch he took was different from that of his friends and of Virgil. 

 He was grateful that his debate class took some of the edge off. He had been due to debate with Remy Lassus but, as Remy’s parents had called him out sick, Remy’s spot had been taken by none other than Janus. 

 The two weren’t exactly friends. Janus was dating Logan’s best friend Roman and they tolerated each other for the most part. In Debate class? Oh, that was another matter entirely. 

 Janus had been able to keep up with Logan for most of the class but Logan caught a weak point in his argument that unravelled the whole thing. In the end, they shook hands but both knew the rivalry was still going strong. 

 With Debate out of the way, Logan just had his teacher aide lesson and he was home free. 

 Free to see Virgil. 

 Free to kiss Virgil… 

 With such a happy thought in his mind, Logan took off for the last period of the day. 

 »»————　♞　————««

 Virgil couldn’t believe he was doing this. Just waiting out at the front of the school for his friend who he had almost kissed in Chemistry. If he were a smart man, he would have headed straight for home after school.

 Well, he’d never told anyone he was smart (but Logan seemed to think he was). For whatever reason, this seemed right, no matter how much his twisting insides seemed to tell him otherwise.

 “Virgil!”

 Virgil’s whole body spun in the direction of Logan’s voice, a smile slipping onto his face as he found the other in the distance, rushing his way.

 “Hey, dork,” Virgil said but his words were soft. His voice was even softer. 

 “Hey, you,” Logan said, wincing at what he had just said. He shook his head as if that would cause his perceived faux pas to disappear. Virgil, however, had found it cute. 

 “So, uh… walking and talking?”

 Logan smiled and nodded. 

 “Thanks for waiting.”

 “Always.”

 Virgil blushed. He’d honestly meant it. Well, as much as a 16 year old boy could mean such things, but the point was, it was true for him. He hadn’t meant to tell Logan as much. He was smiling, however, so maybe him knowing wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

 “Shall we go?”

 Virgil could only nod as he smiled. They started heading in the direction of Virgil’s house when he suddenly wondered if Logan would want to come in. Then became a little worried that his room was messy. Still, his happiness at walking with Logan—being with Logan—outweighed all the worries in the world.

 “Hey, so… thanks. You know, for earlier… talking after…”

 “It was my pleasure,” Logan said, smiling earnestly down at him. Virgil was surprised, suddenly realizing how close in height they were. Yeah, Logan was taller than him but it wasn’t by as much as Virgil had always thought.

 Would make it easier to kiss him~

 Oh, shut up, you-me-argh, just shut up!

 “About that, and what had almost happened before… let me be completely honest with you when I say that had we actually kissed in Chemistry class, I would not have been upset. Far from it…”

 Virgil looked at Logan just as the other was glancing at him. 

 “Really?”

 Logan nodded as they turned a corner into Virgil’s neighborhood.

 “Without question. I would have been bummed about the location and the lack of some level of privacy for such intimate displays, but I would have been very pleased with the kiss.”

 Virgil looked at Logan with wonder, his butterflies returning.

 “So… uh… you like me too then? I mean, you like me back…”

 Logan laughed at that but there was no malice, only fondness.

 “What is it you say… oh, right… duh,”

 Virgil blushed and shoved Logan playfully.

 “Shut up.”

 “You know… I didn’t say this earlier for obvious reasons but you look so cute when you blush.”

 Virgil’s face heated rapidly. “I do not!”

 “Oh, but you do.”

 “Jerk!”

 “I suppose that is warranted, considering my flirtation through teasing.”

 Virgil just laughed at that, shoving his face into his hands for a moment. Logan reached out to guide Virgil to a stop with him. 

 “Virgil… are you okay?”

 Virgil nodded, face still in his hands.

 “Yeah, just… give me a minute.”

 Logan didn’t say anything and Virgil couldn’t see his expression. Instead, Virgil felt Logan's hand rubbing his shoulders as well as he could around the backpack strap. Gradually, Virgil turned toward him. The other seemed to understand because a moment later, Logan was wrapping his arms around him as much as their backpacks would allow.

 Virgil closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being pressed against the other. He already knew now that Logan liked him. The butterflies in his tummy now had nothing to do with that.

 Virgil really, really wanted to kiss him. 

 Thank God his house was not far from where they were. 

 Virgil pulled away from the other, though he hadn’t really wanted to ever leave his arms. He smiled at Logan and nodded.

 “I’m good now, thanks.”

 Logan nodded, hesitated, and looked forward in the direction they were headed. After a few moments of what Virgil assumed was deliberation, Logan looked at him with a little pink coloring his cheeks.

 “If you would permit me to, I would very much like to hold hands with you.”

 Virgil could see what Logan meant. He looked quite nice with pink cheeks as well. Of course, such a request got Virgil blushing more. Yet it was with no hesitation that he stuck out his hand closest to Logan for the other to take.

 Logan smiled and laced their fingers before they began walking once more. It was a silent agreement that any further talk could wait until they reached Virgil’s house.

 »»————　☠　————««

 Logan marveled at how wonderful it felt, walking with Virgil, the other teen’s hand in his own. Before Virgil, Logan had always wondered at how couples did such things. Now, after Virgil, he wanted all of those things. But with Virgil alone. 

 Virgil was leading them along the route he took home everyday. It was so interesting to experience, especially with the knowledge that Virgil liked him as he liked Virgil. 

 Logan squeezed the other’s hand only for Virgil to squeeze back, looking at him and smiling brightly. A little pink brushed his cheeks and covered the bridge of his nose. 

 How could one person be so mesmerizing?

 “We’re almost there,” Virgil announced. Logan swallowed hard. 

 Almost there. 

 Logan nodded and smiled. The smile felt a little forced, but Virgil smiled back. Logan tried to ignore the sudden nerves he felt and enjoy the walk. 

 Luckily, as soon as they turned the corner, Virgil was pointing out a house two buildings down on the side they were currently on. 

 “There’s my house,” he mumbled and Logan could just smile. 

 “Well, let’s go then.”

 Virgil led him to the house and inside. As soon as he opened the door, a short woman wearing a dress and apron came from what Logan assumed was the kitchen. 

 “My baby’s home!” She looked at Logan. He could see where Virgil got his sharp gaze. He smiled. “And he brought a friend…”

 Virgil cleared his throat.

 “This is Logan… I’ve uh… told you about him… he’s in my Chemistry class… we’re just gonna go up to my room for a bit before Logan goes home… kay now, bye Mom. Love you.”

 “Oh! This is Logan!” Virgil’s mom said, the words finally clicking, but Virgil had already dragged Logan down the hallway and into his room. 

 Closing the door behind him, Virgil sighed. Flicking on the light, he nodded at the bed.

 “Sorry, not a lot of options for seating,” he said with a soft laugh. Logan laughed as well and took the end furthest from the pillows. Virgil soon joined him. 

 “So…”

 “So…” Logan agreed with a little smile. He was silent for a moment more, teasing Virgil just a little, before he continued. “So… let’s go down the list, shall we?”

 Virgil snorted but nodded. Logan offered his hands which Virgil took immediately.

 Smiling, Logan began.

 “We both like each other…”

 “Check.”

 “We both want to kiss each other?”

 “Duh.”

 Logan gave him a look and Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling. 

 “Check.”

 “And am I correct in assuming that we both want… uh… something more? You know…”

 “Are you correct in assuming that we want to be boyfriends?”

 Logan nodded. “That’s better. Yes.”

 “Very check.”

 Logan grinned and Virgil grinned back. 

 Just like it had happened in Chemistry class, Virgil started to shift a little closer. Logan was more than happy to lean in as well. 

 This time, no chemicals overflowed and no one was around. This time, there was no almost.

 Virgil’s lips pressed against Logan’s first but he had definitely not been too far away. Logan hummed happily into the kiss, his eyes closed as he laced his fingers with Virgil’s.

 Logan felt such deep warmth like he had never felt before. He found himself immediately shifting closer to Virgil, as if he were his magnetic opposite. 

 Virgil chuckled into the kiss, soon having to break it. Logan looked at him with confusion and Virgil shook his head. 

 “What’s so funny?” Logan asked, tilting his head. 

 “Sorry, Logan… it’s just. I’m starting to think my mom sent me to public school just to make sure I found happiness… but I don’t really think she expected this. Maybe a favorite class. Maybe a best friend. I doubt a boyfriend was ever on her radar.”

 Logan laughed softly too. 

 “I think she will be happy with whatever happiness you find. And you’ll find many more happinesses… hopefully with me.”

 Virgil smiled. “Well, you haven’t actually asked me out yet.”

 Logan sighed. “Virgil Armitage, will you go out with me?” Though he had sighed, he was smiling by the time he finished.

 Virgil smirked. “Duh.”

 Logan would have groaned but Virgil was kissing him moments after and Logan really didn’t feel the need to stop him as he kissed back.

 A lot had changed in Logan’s life since Virgil entered into it but, as Logan had come to find, sometimes in life there were just some changes that were worth making.

»»————　♞　————««

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Thomas Sanders or Joan, nor the rest of their group. I do not own or make money off of these characters. I only own the story as it is written.

Super uber thanks to my beta reader for this fic @sunshineandteddybears​ and the two that preread my stuff to make sure its up to par: @romantichopelessly & @sunshineandteddybears.

[herotome]

Devlog #37: Before&After GUI

Hi-ho, Wudgey here! Once again we're going to do something a little different today.

I was initially going to write a BIIIG overview of the progress we've made, but I noticed it was already getting long just from talking about the new GUI... (and apparently tumblr has a 10 image limit per post, boooo). So, I'll limit this post just to the new screens, and I'll queue up a post on our CG progress a little later. :)

A lot of this will be familiar if you've tuned in regularly to our updates; but this time I'll go into a little more detail on my process to buff out the post a bit.

First off, some before and after images as promised by the devlog title:

Name Entry Screen (Before 1/2)

I've always felt strongly about incorporating gameplay mechanics into the actual story. When I came up with the idea of having the MC write her name as part of the job search process, I was immediately invested in that direction! Originally, I was going to have the player type in their name into the Clammy Lady's tablet once they actually reached the job fair... but as you can see, it's not visually enticing.

Name Entry Screen (Before 2/2)

I reworked the idea into a resume (which makes an appearance in the March 2021 prologue demo). In my country you're expected to provide a professional headshot along with your information, which suits my nefarious purposes. The player now has an in-universe interface where they can update their picture AND type out in their name.

Name Entry Screen (After)

Finally, with help from some Ko-Fi donors, I was able to commission Re.Alice (who has a vastly more powerful background in graphic design than I do) to tighten the screen concepts and add some pizazz! Once she was done, I was able to code in some animation to give the resume screen more life.

Save Screen (Before)

Next up is the save screen. I didn't have a specific concept in mind for this one (hence the default renpy layout), but I do have strong preferences in save/load formatting from playing other games.

I referenced my favorites: Hollow Knight, Dragon Age, and Mystic Messenger. I quickly decided that I Do Not Like numbered pages, and I would replace it with a scrollbar. I did appreciate screencaptured preview pictures though, and I liked having specific names for each chapter as the player progresses.

Save Screen (After)

(I created a bigger screencapture here because the save slot text is on the small side ;;;)

Again, Alice was fantastic in helping me capture what I wanted! I also enlisted help from @synstoria for the more advanced programming areas. Once they were done, I adjusted the text format, asset positioning and added another touch of animation. I even added a bit of kerning here... who knew my college typography course would randomly pay dividends? lol.

You can see in the upper right, I've written some code to create "checkpoints" that can be loaded from this screen. The default Ren'py autosave system works by saving at EVERY choice; since Herotome is a choice-heavy game, it doesn't make a lot of sense to autosave so frequently! Instead, I'll be utilizing a checkpoint system to save before every major conversation - so if you make a mistake (or want to make chaotic gremlin choices and then claim takesies-backsies), you'll be able to use the checkpoint return to a secure area and try again.

The system will NOT save in the middle of bad endings, so you won't have to worry about getting stuck!

Choices/Textbox (Before 1/2)

What a blast from the past....! I hated the vbox choice screen so much I had to change it asap!! It's a bit nostalgic to see my original Katie sketch; I drew her on paper and added color with the multiply tool. :')

As for the textbox, I didn't really know what I wanted. I struggled with several concepts before settling for a basic gray halftone design for the time being.

Choices/Textbox (Before 2/2)

I designed placeholder assets and recruited @synstoria again to help me with the complicated coding parts. I just randomly go feral and want to break the default ren'py formatting!

I was less satisfied with the textbox, but after several concept sketches I was starting to get somewhere after I researching some superhero art deco images.

Choices/Textbox (After)

After Alice worked on the design, I adjusted the choicebox positions to be higher on the screen, so players clicking the textbox should be less likely to click on a low-hanging choice by accident. (Not that accidental clicks should remotely ruin the gaming experience, if the checkpoints work as intended...)

CONCLUSION

I'm excited about the strides we've made. Next up I'll be updating the Options screen, and I expect to update the Logbook and a couple of other screens further in the development timeline.

These visual updates will be rolled out along with the next installment, which I've decided to call Episode 1 (release date TBA). The common route will have 2-3 episodes in total before branching off into character routes. Normally I'm not keen on episodic releases, but I'm reaaally impatient for you guys to meet the love interests --and, of course, I'm impatient for you guys to talk to Warden a bit more. ^^

Please look forward to the next progress update! And if you'd like to help speed up our process (and get some spicy previews of our game's villain), please consider dropping by our Ko-Fi. We're at 72% of our goal to fund the sprite, which means we're almost there!!

I hope you’re all staying safe and keeping warm.

Much love,

Wudgey.

[agentnico]

Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) Review

It all started with Sonic’s teeth. Ever since fans successfully bullied a studio into reanimating their titular hedgehog character after the abomination shown in the first trailer, fans realised that rallying together (on Twitter) can make a difference. So you’d think it would mean we could all come together to restore world peace and get rid of racism, injustice, poverty, war and negativity of all kind? Nope, nope it does not. But at least we get a better version of a bad DC movie that came out in 2017. I mean, baby steps I guess.

Plot: Fuelled by his restored faith in humanity and inspired by Superman's selfless act, Bruce Wayne enlists newfound ally Diana Prince to face an even greater threat. Together, Batman and Wonder Woman work quickly to recruit a team to stand against this newly awakened enemy. Despite the formation of an unprecedented league of heroes -- Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg and the Flash -- it may be too late to save the planet from an assault of catastrophic proportions.

I recall my younger simpler self in 2017 at the early age of 20 soon to be 21, sitting down and watching the new Justice League film with zero to no expectations, as by that point the DC Extended Universe was a trainwreck and was a franchise that was literally falling apart before out unblinking red hay fever filled eyes. However, after watching Justice League I was baffled at the fact that I still managed to be disappointed after having zero expectations! With zero expectations this film took me into the minuses, and we all know I’m not great at mathematics so boy are we in the danger zone when we hit the minuses! Looking back at my review of the film back then, I used extreme yet fitting comments like “generic”, “predictable” “messy” and plain “dogsh*t”. Which is what it was. 2017′s Justice League is exactly how I’d imagine a dog’s poop would look if it was turned into an abstract film! It was truly abysmal. After that I thought I’d never have to talk about this film again. How wrong I was. But, in a rare turn of tables, I am glad that I was wrong...

A little history lesson first. Alright, settle down kids, settle down.... Rob, put the paper plane down, do not throw it, I said DON’T THROW IT! NO! Stop! Stupid child!! Headteacher’s office right now! Also, say hi to your mother for me, okay? I’m having brunch with her on Saturday and you better not be there as you should be doing your homework watching the 4 hour cut of Justice League and questioning your life choices!! Anyway, now let’s have ourselves a history lesson. The topic is - What In The Flying Fudge Happened Behind-The-Scenes Of Justice League For DUMMIES: Condensed Edition. A really condensed version as honestly none of us have the attention span to read loads and I’m probably losing the vast majority of you due to this overlong rambling session. So anyway, to the last couple of readers left, here we go! Following the success of Man of Steel, Warner Bros. gave Zack Snyder the reigns to oversee and create a DC cinematic universe to rival the success of Marvel. And so came Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, which turned out to be a bit of a hodgepodge, receiving mixed to negative reviews and though was a box office success, earned diminishing results to what Warner Bros. originally anticipated. However, by the time Batman V Superman released, Zack Snyder was already hard at work on the big superhero team up film Justice League (which was meant to set up many characters and future films for the DCEU) with a lot of filming already underway, so Warner Bros. couldn’t particularly pump the breaks on it by that point, even though they evidently lost trust in the Snyder formula. To be honest, at that point I too lost trust in Snyder’s vision and the DCEU as a whole, but my opinion doesn’t class for a single dime, whilst the opinions of Warner Bros. executives make millions, so there aren’t any hard feelings on my behalf for them not enquiring on my thoughts. Anyway, midway through production Zack Snyder was hit with a family tragedy with his daughter committing suicide, so Snyder naturally had to depart the project to be with his family during this grieving time. Warner Bros. had the option to pause production and await for Snyder’s return, or progress at their own accord. Naturally they decided to do their own thing cause they are a business and want that dollar dollar bill baby!! So they hired Joss Whedon who was riding fresh off the success of two Avengers movies and obviously had experience in cinematic universes and such, to rework the Justice League movie by condensing it into a 2 hour film (from the over 4 hour material that Snyder shot) and reshoot scenes to fit the smaller runtime. So you cannot particularly blame Whedon for taking out so many great scenes as he had a contract to fulfil with Warner Bros, but then you look at the many forced jokes and unnecessary reshot scenes and you realise how self-indulgent Joss Whedon was during filming, as he basically was spitting on everything Snyder did and was trying to do his own thing. Low and behold, the mess that is the 2017 movie is created, where its the visions and creative minds of two director with evidently different styles clashing and not really mixing well at all, and as such we have a messy movie that doesn’t really make sense and is a bit of a middle finger to DC fans and honestly everyone and all. Also, there was that little aspect of Henry Cavill’s deformed upper lip due to the fact that during reshoots he had a moustache that he’d grown and was contractually obligated to have for his Mission Impossible role, so the visual effects team had to digitally remove it in post production and the result is, well, see for yourself...

Yes, they made the dashing handsome my-sexuality-questioning Henry Cavill look stupid, and that is UNFORGIVABLE. Funny, yes, very funny but unforgivable!! So for this and many other reasons the 2017 film turned out horribly. Then after that many months later, Zack Snyder and cast and crew members began teasing of this mythical version of the movie that was befit of Snyder’s original vision. You see, apparently before he left the project, Snyder actually filmed everything he wanted and it was only awaiting to be reworked with visual effects and edited properly, but then Whedon came in with his scissors and cut everything mercilessly with a cheeky grin and his ginger beard. Speaking of his ginger beard, is Joss Whedon Irish? Or has Irish roots? Honestly, I would Google it, but wait, I don’t think I really care. So anyway, Snyder still had all of his filmed scenes saved on his ridiculously oversized hard drive just waiting to be looked at again. This is where the fandom did its magic by creating a Twitter hashtag #ReleaseTheSnyderCut and began spam posting for Warner Bros. to let Zack Snyder release what he originally intended to. Honestly, who would have thunk it, but this actually worked!! Warner Bros. allowed this, and not only that, but gave Snyder an additional $70 million to finish up the visual effects as well as to film a couple of additional sequences and gave it the prestigious honour to debut it on HBO Max, so as to boost the subscriber rating on Warner Bros. new streaming service. And here we are.

Honestly, I thought seeing this Director’s Cut of sorts wouldn’t bring much to the table as I didn’t believe that a film that was so broken had originally been in any way good. After finishing this 4 hour Snyder vision I must admit though that I was pleasantly surprised. Completely baffled by the studio and Joss Whedon, but really happy for Zack Snyder. The guy was fighting for it and finally was able to accomplish and bring out his true original vision, and though Zack Snyder’s Justice League has its flaws, its so much better than what we got in 2017, and in fact is a soaring science fiction sci-fi epic that literally feels epic!! It takes time establishing the characters and every single plot point as well as building out this rich mythology of this world of the DC Extended Universe, and so as you move into the second half of the film, there’s a feeling of pay off. You actually care about the characters and understand the plot points and it doesn’t feel rushed. Its truly astounding that there are producers out there who thought it was a good idea to get rid of all of that and instead bring out whatever the heck Joss Whedon did with the 2017 version. Look, I quite enjoy Joss Whedon’s work, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel to Cabin in the Woods and his work on Marvel, the guy obviously has a talent, but also he obviously does not belong to the dark and brooding style of DC. Zack Snyder on the other hand, though makes his mistakes, truly embraces the epic feel of the DC material. And it seems once you give Snyder enough time and space, he can actually bring out something like this:

The main characters are all given so much more to do, or at least those that got side-lined in the 2017 version are given more to do here. One of my complaints with the original was how pointless the League turns out to be. Basically in the theatrical version the main team all end up being useless and only once Superman shows up he saves everyone’s asses and literally does EVERYTHING. Might as well have called the film Man of Steel 2 (feat. Justice League). However in this new version, every main character serves a purpose. Well most of them do at least. Cyborg and Flash are much more compelling characters with more layers and backstory, and in fact are a prime reason to defeating the great evil in the end. You now understand why Cyborg actor Ray Fisher was pissed at Joss Whedon, as the guy literally got rid of his best stuff. Superman strikes a cool black suit and is still powerful, however as the finale shows, he isn’t all-powerful and does need the help of the rest of the team. Wonder Woman gets a lot more to do in this theatrical cut, and in fact this is probably Gal Gadot’s best performance as Wonder Woman and she really shows herself as a powerful female superhero! Aquaman’s role stays largely unchanged, however to be honest Jason Momoa’s character was one of the only ones who didn’t suffer in the theatrical cut. That’s unsurprising seeing as Jason Momoa is such a naturally cool dude! A big panda that is friendly in real life, but when necessary can turn into a roaring bear. To be honest, the only League member that ends up a bit pointless is actually Batman. He still serves a purpose in the film in that he’s the one who assembles the team, but otherwise the rest of the group is so overpowered compared to him that in the end you do kind of think that he doesn’t really belong there. Still, Ben Affleck is great in the role and it’s a shame we won’t see much of him past Flashpoint film that will be released in the next few years.

There are a lot of characters in this film and one can still say the movie is overstuffed, but also seeing as the movie was originally intended to spring board the DCEU properly, all these teases are actually welcome. There are an abundance of cameos, and to be honest so many characters are so well cast that you do end up wishing that Snyder was given the opportunity to make his entire Justice League planned trilogy, but nevertheless at least we have this. There are truly an abundance of cool appearances here, from the menacing villain Darkseid (played by Ray Porter) to Willem Dafoe doing what Dafoe does best, only in this case underwater and I’m certain that’s gonna span many comparison memes with The Lighthouse. Joe Morton as Cyborg’s dad is given a lot more to do here and in fact is pivotal towards building up Cyborg into the important character that he is. There’s also a cameo from Jared Leto’s Joker, who in some ways redeems himself after his appearance in Suicide Squad. Also, we need to talk about Steppenwolf, who’s the main baddie in this film. In the theatrical cut the guy was the most generic one-note villain who also looked like a PS2 character. It was honestly embarrassing the way he was animated. Luckily in this version he’s been put through enough Skyrim mods to looks much more intimidating and is also given a better motivation. As we find out, the reason he does what he does is because he wants to go home. He’s been banished and he simply wants to earn his place back home, so it’s actually kind of sweet. Steppenwolf is a sweetie. I mean, yeah, he wants to destroy half of the world to fulfil his dream, but hey, haven’t we all taken something extreme measures to get what we want?

The film is far from perfect though. At the end of the day, the movie is just about a guy hunting down a bunch of magical boxes. That was the premise of the theatrical cut and its the same here too. Yes, there is more substance and gravitas to the proceedings, but at the end of the day the story doesn’t really surprise much. And with the entire thing running at 4 hours, it is definitely too long and there is the element where there is simply too much in this thing. Also visually, though the movie has plenty of gorgeous shots and Zack Snyder’s signature slow motion sequences are on full display here, there are still many sequences where the CGI and green screen are super obvious and look really fake. That being said there’s still so much visual goodness in this, and also I have to mention Junkie XL’s new music score that does reiterate the epic feel of this movie, in comparison to Danny Elfman’s weak uninspiring notes in the theatrical cut.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is a massive surprise and completely changes the perception of what we saw in the original 2017 theatrical cut. It’s a sprawling massive adventure that’s a dream come true for any comic book fan. It shows how vital film editing is, and how important it is to have a cohesive plan when making a movie. Gone too are the silly forced jokes, and though there is still some humour here, it feels more grounded and fit of the setting and scenario. This is Snyder’s vision through and through, and though at times it is clunky, it overall is incredible to behold, as it’s this one guy’s mind and his love for the DC lore. It’s a credible achievement, and I’m actually sentimentally happy for Snyder that he finally managed to complete this. He even during the credits dedicates this to his daughter Autumn that passed away, and I found that to be truly bittersweet. Justice has indeed been served.

Overall score: 7/10

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 14, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

On this day in 1935, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed the Social Security Act into law. While FDR’s New Deal had put in place new measures to regulate business and banking and had provided temporary work relief to combat the Depression, this law permanently changed the nature of the American government.

The Social Security Act is known for its payments to older Americans, but it did far more than that. It established unemployment insurance; aid to homeless, dependent, and neglected children; funds to promote maternal and child welfare; and public health services. It was a sweeping reworking of the relationship of the government to its citizens, using the power of taxation to pool funds to provide a basic social safety net.

The driving force behind the law was FDR’s Secretary of Labor, Frances Perkins. She was the first woman to hold a position in the U.S. Cabinet and still holds the record for having the longest tenure in that job: she lasted from 1933 to 1945.

She brought to the position a vision of government very different from that of the Republicans who had run it in the 1920s. While men like President Herbert Hoover had harped on the idea of a “rugged individualism” in which men worked their way up, providing for their families on their own, Perkins recognized that people in communities had always supported each other. The vision of a hardworking man supporting his wife and children was more myth than reality: her own husband suffered from bipolar disorder, making her the family’s primary support.

As a child, Perkins spent summers with her grandmother, with whom she was very close, in the small town of Newcastle, Maine, where she witnessed a supportive community. In college, at Mount Holyoke, she majored in chemistry and physics, but after a professor required students to tour a factory to observe working conditions, Perkins became committed to improving the lives of those trapped in industrial jobs. After college, Perkins became a social worker and, in 1910, earned a masters degree in economics and sociology from Columbia University. She became the head of the New York office of the National Consumers League, urging consumers to use their buying power to demand better conditions and wages for the workers who made the products they were buying.

The next year, in 1911, she witnessed the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire in which 146 workers, mostly women and girls, died. They were trapped in the building when the fire broke out because the factory owner had ordered the doors to the stairwells and exits locked to make sure no one slipped outside for a break. Unable to escape the smoke and fire in the factory, the workers—some of them on fire—leaped from the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the building, dying on the pavement.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire turned Perkins away from voluntary organizations to improve workers’ lives and toward using the government to adjust the harsh conditions of industrialization. She began to work with the Democratic politicians at Tammany Hall, who presided over communities in the city that mirrored rural towns and who exercised a form of social welfare for their voters, making sure they had jobs, food, and shelter and that wives and children had a support network if a husband and father died. In that system, the voices of women like Perkins were valuable, for their work in the immigrant wards of the city meant that they were the ones who knew what working families needed to survive.

The overwhelming unemployment, hunger, and suffering caused by the Great Depression made Perkins realize that state governments alone could not adjust the conditions of the modern world to create a safe, supportive community for ordinary people. She came to believe, as she said: “The people are what matter to government, and a government should aim to give all the people under its jurisdiction the best possible life.”

Through her Tammany connections Perkins met FDR, and when he asked her to be his Secretary of Labor, she told him that she wanted the federal government to provide unemployment insurance, health insurance, and old-age insurance. She later recalled: “I remember he looked so startled, and he said, ‘Well, do you think it can be done?’”

Creating federal unemployment insurance became her primary concern. Congressmen had little interest in passing such legislation. They said they worried that unemployment insurance and federal aid to dependent families would undermine a man’s willingness to work. But Perkins recognized that those displaced by the Depression had added new pressure to the idea of old-age insurance.

In Long Beach, California, Dr. Francis Townsend had looked out of his window one day to see elderly women rooting through garbage cans for food. Appalled, he came up with a plan to help the elderly and stimulate the economy at the same time. Townsend proposed that the government provide every retired person over 60 years old with $200 a month, on the condition that they spend it within 30 days, a condition designed to stimulate the economy.

Townsend’s plan was wildly popular. More than that, though, it sparked people across the country to start coming up with their own plans for protecting the elderly and the nation’s social fabric, and together, they began to change the public conversation about social welfare policies.

They spurred Congress to action. Perkins recalled that Townsend “startled the Congress of the United States because the aged have votes. The wandering boys didn't have any votes; the evicted women and their children had very few votes. If the unemployed didn't stay long enough in any one place, they didn't have a vote. But the aged people lived in one place and they had votes, so every Congressman had heard from the Townsend Plan people.”

FDR put together a committee to come up with a plan to create a basic social safety net, but committee members could not make up their minds how to move forward. Perkins continued to hammer on the idea they must come up with a final plan, and finally locked the members of the committee in a room. As she recalled: “Well, we locked the door and we had a lot of talk. I laid out a couple of bottles of something or other to cheer their lagging spirits. Anyhow, we stayed in session until about 2 a.m. We then voted finally, having taken our solemn oath that this was the end; we were never going to review it again.”

By the time the bill came to a vote in Congress, it was hugely popular. The vote was 371 to 33 in the House and 77 to 6 in the Senate.

When asked to describe the origins of the Social Security Act, Perkins mused that its roots came from the very beginnings of the nation. When Alexis de Tocqueville wrote Democracy in America in 1835, she noted, he thought Americans were uniquely “so generous, so kind, so charitably disposed.” “Well, I don't know anything about the times in which De Tocqueville visited America,” she said, but “I do know that at the time I came into the field of social work, these feelings were real.”

With the Social Security Act, Perkins helped to write into our laws a longstanding political impulse in America that stood in dramatic contrast to the 1920s philosophy of rugged individualism. She recognized that the ideas of community values and pooling resources to keep the economic playing field level and take care of everyone are at least as deeply seated in our political philosophy as the idea of every man for himself.

When she recalled the origins of the Social Security Act, Perkins recalled: “Of course, the Act had to be amended, and has been amended, and amended, and amended, and amended, until it has now grown into a large and important project, for which, by the way, I think the people of the United States are deeply thankful. One thing I know: Social Security is so firmly embedded in the American psychology today that no politician, no political party, no political group could possibly destroy this Act and still maintain our democratic system. It is safe. It is safe forever, and for the everlasting benefit of the people of the United States.”

—-

Notes:

​​https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php

https://www.ssa.gov/history/perkins5.html

https://francesperkinscenter.org/life-new/

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[reading-writing-revolution]

Heather Cox Richardson

August 14, 2021 (Saturday)

On this day in 1935, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed the Social Security Act into law. While FDR’s New Deal had put in place new measures to regulate business and banking and had provided temporary work relief to combat the Depression, this law permanently changed the nature of the American government.

The Social Security Act is known for its payments to older Americans, but it did far more than that. It established unemployment insurance; aid to homeless, dependent, and neglected children; funds to promote maternal and child welfare; and public health services. It was a sweeping reworking of the relationship of the government to its citizens, using the power of taxation to pool funds to provide a basic social safety net.

The driving force behind the law was FDR’s Secretary of Labor, Frances Perkins. She was the first woman to hold a position in the U.S. Cabinet and still holds the record for having the longest tenure in that job: she lasted from 1933 to 1945.

She brought to the position a vision of government very different from that of the Republicans who had run it in the 1920s. While men like President Herbert Hoover had harped on the idea of a “rugged individualism” in which men worked their way up, providing for their families on their own, Perkins recognized that people in communities had always supported each other. The vision of a hardworking man supporting his wife and children was more myth than reality: her own husband suffered from bipolar disorder, making her the family’s primary support.

As a child, Perkins spent summers with her grandmother, with whom she was very close, in the small town of Newcastle, Maine, where she witnessed a supportive community. In college, at Mount Holyoke, she majored in chemistry and physics, but after a professor required students to tour a factory to observe working conditions, Perkins became committed to improving the lives of those trapped in industrial jobs. After college, Perkins became a social worker and, in 1910, earned a masters degree in economics and sociology from Columbia University. She became the head of the New York office of the National Consumers League, urging consumers to use their buying power to demand better conditions and wages for the workers who made the products they were buying.

The next year, in 1911, she witnessed the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire in which 146 workers, mostly women and girls, died. They were trapped in the building when the fire broke out because the factory owner had ordered the doors to the stairwells and exits locked to make sure no one slipped outside for a break. Unable to escape the smoke and fire in the factory, the workers—some of them on fire—leaped from the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the building, dying on the pavement.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire turned Perkins away from voluntary organizations to improve workers’ lives and toward using the government to adjust the harsh conditions of industrialization. She began to work with the Democratic politicians at Tammany Hall, who presided over communities in the city that mirrored rural towns and who exercised a form of social welfare for their voters, making sure they had jobs, food, and shelter and that wives and children had a support network if a husband and father died. In that system, the voices of women like Perkins were valuable, for their work in the immigrant wards of the city meant that they were the ones who knew what working families needed to survive.

The overwhelming unemployment, hunger, and suffering caused by the Great Depression made Perkins realize that state governments alone could not adjust the conditions of the modern world to create a safe, supportive community for ordinary people. She came to believe, as she said: “The people are what matter to government, and a government should aim to give all the people under its jurisdiction the best possible life.”

Through her Tammany connections Perkins met FDR, and when he asked her to be his Secretary of Labor, she told him that she wanted the federal government to provide unemployment insurance, health insurance, and old-age insurance. She later recalled: “I remember he looked so startled, and he said, ‘Well, do you think it can be done?’”

Creating federal unemployment insurance became her primary concern. Congressmen had little interest in passing such legislation. They said they worried that unemployment insurance and federal aid to dependent families would undermine a man’s willingness to work. But Perkins recognized that those displaced by the Depression had added new pressure to the idea of old-age insurance.

In Long Beach, California, Dr. Francis Townsend had looked out of his window one day to see elderly women rooting through garbage cans for food. Appalled, he came up with a plan to help the elderly and stimulate the economy at the same time. Townsend proposed that the government provide every retired person over 60 years old with $200 a month, on the condition that they spend it within 30 days, a condition designed to stimulate the economy.

Townsend’s plan was wildly popular. More than that, though, it sparked people across the country to start coming up with their own plans for protecting the elderly and the nation’s social fabric, and together, they began to change the public conversation about social welfare policies.

They spurred Congress to action. Perkins recalled that Townsend “startled the Congress of the United States because the aged have votes. The wandering boys didn't have any votes; the evicted women and their children had very few votes. If the unemployed didn't stay long enough in any one place, they didn't have a vote. But the aged people lived in one place and they had votes, so every Congressman had heard from the Townsend Plan people.”

FDR put together a committee to come up with a plan to create a basic social safety net, but committee members could not make up their minds how to move forward. Perkins continued to hammer on the idea they must come up with a final plan, and finally locked the members of the committee in a room. As she recalled: “Well, we locked the door and we had a lot of talk. I laid out a couple of bottles of something or other to cheer their lagging spirits. Anyhow, we stayed in session until about 2 a.m. We then voted finally, having taken our solemn oath that this was the end; we were never going to review it again.”

By the time the bill came to a vote in Congress, it was hugely popular. The vote was 371 to 33 in the House and 77 to 6 in the Senate.

When asked to describe the origins of the Social Security Act, Perkins mused that its roots came from the very beginnings of the nation. When Alexis de Tocqueville wrote Democracy in America in 1835, she noted, he thought Americans were uniquely “so generous, so kind, so charitably disposed.” “Well, I don't know anything about the times in which De Tocqueville visited America,” she said, but “I do know that at the time I came into the field of social work, these feelings were real.”

With the Social Security Act, Perkins helped to write into our laws a longstanding political impulse in America that stood in dramatic contrast to the 1920s philosophy of rugged individualism. She recognized that the ideas of community values and pooling resources to keep the economic playing field level and take care of everyone are at least as deeply seated in our political philosophy as the idea of every man for himself.

When she recalled the origins of the Social Security Act, Perkins recalled: “Of course, the Act had to be amended, and has been amended, and amended, and amended, and amended, until it has now grown into a large and important project, for which, by the way, I think the people of the United States are deeply thankful. One thing I know: Social Security is so firmly embedded in the American psychology today that no politician, no political party, no political group could possibly destroy this Act and still maintain our democratic system. It is safe. It is safe forever, and for the everlasting benefit of the people of the United States.”

[allegrafitzgerald]

BASICS

Name: Allegra Genevieve Fitzgerald

Gender & pronouns: nonbinary, they/them and she/her

Species: wereworlf

Age: 27, October 28th

PERSONALITY

Traits: resourceful, cautious, cynical, organized, wary

Moral alignment / MBTI / enneagram: lawful neutral /  istj /  8

Values: order, loyalty, compassion

Flaws: unforgiving, pride, envy

TLDR

Just to jumpstart plotting: Allegra is relatively (a few months) new to town. A wolf that was bitten at 18 and shunned by her family of hunters. She doesn’t trust anyone, doesn’t want to do anything other than survive, and Blackrock’s her best bet for that. Secretive and closed off, craving stability and secretly longing for a home! Very similar to my original take on Allegra from when I was here briefly at the start, but with minor adjustments

HISTORY

TW: Minor Violence, Suicide references

You are Allegra Fitzgerald, the first daughter of Richard and Emilia Fitzgerald, both prominent members of their social circles. They are sure, they are confident, they are icons. You are to be the same when you’re of age. And so, they teach you. They teach you to read and write, they teach you how to speak and how to listen. Tutors and teachers are brought in. You sing, you write, you dance. You also learn archery. A funny thing for someone so light and airy, but your parents insist on it and no questions their word.

Despite the oddity of the bow and arrow placed in your small hands, you think that this is your favorite of your lessons. You don’t know why but it feels right when you pull the string taut, arrow notched and carefully aimed. You feel like you were born for this. One day, you’re certain, your aim will be true every time.

Your parents take a lot of trips when you are young, leaving you alone with nannies or with friends. When you are older, around fifteen, you find out why. Your parents are not the benevolent socialites they always made themselves out to be. They are hunters. At first, you were confused, but they continued to explain. Werewolves, apparently, existed. Your parents were heroes to humankind still, defending others from monsters that could tear them limb from limb.

You are to be just like them, an heir to a monster-hunting throne.

You do not object. 

You learned young that you’re meant to be the person your parents are trying to shape you to be. There’s no room for disobedience, for questioning their edicts. The idea of rebelling has never occurred to you. 

But you’re still training, three years later, when, the unthinkable happens. You are in the woods, not too far astray from your parents and their fellow hunters. It is the first time your parents brought you on a hunt with them, the first time you’re expected to truly do your part. You might have been dawdling a little, nervous and wondering if this is right,  but a beast rushes out of the woods and the next thing you know you are on your back. There is a wound to your middle, rough and tearing. You cry for your parents, but when they come, you don’t recognize the looks on their face. It’s disgust. It’s hatred. It’s because of you.

They give you a gun and tell you to do what needs to be done.

Then they leave you.

Had one of them been in your shoes, things would have ended differently. But you? You hesitate instead. You can’t kill yourself for the betterment of humanity.

Instead, you run.

You run and you run and you run.

You find home in the mountains, cold enough year round that you can be a wolf full time. It’s easier that way. You don’t have to think about your family, you don’t have to think about their abandonment. All that matters is hunt, eat, and rest. That becomes your cycle. Hunt. Eat. Rest. There is nothing more to you.

You are, at  your core, a wolf.

You’ve lost count of the years in your wandering. You stay near those mountains, but sometimes you like to stretch your limbs, pace the woods and explore. You avoid humans. They make you think, which is something you refuse to do. 

But sometimes you wander too close to town, catch sight of families and even your wolf starts to long for that. You can only be a lone wolf for so long before something snaps, and one day, you shifted back.

This exploring comes back to bite you. One day, you are only minding yourself, when you feel the sharp sting of a bullet grazing your side. Hunters, like your family had been, like you were supposed to be. They found you. So you do what you do best. You run. 

It is safer to hide in plain sight, so against everything in you screaming to do the opposite, you follow your instincts and find a town. You’re human again for the first time in a decade.

You hate this.

You were not meant to be human, not since you were eighteen, not since your family turned you away.

Blackrock is name that tugs at your memories, ones you’ve carefully buried in the years you’ve been a wolf. It’s familiar because it’s where Spruce is, the only person from your old life that feels anything close to safe. It’s a risk, still, but you arrive in town half off instinct, desperate to survive in this world.

Desperate to live. 

Blackrock is what you expected. You  keep yourself as isolated as you can, distrusting any kindness that you encounter. People aren’t good. You learned that the hard way already.

You do not want to be a part of this pack. It feels wrong. It’s not right. You are jealous of them all, these people, these wolves, who have close ties with others. They have family. You don’t have that, not anymore. You were cursed with a bite, and with just one moment in the wrong place at the wrong time, everything was stolen from you. Of all the paths your life could have gone, of all the choices you could have made, this wouldn’t have been the one you picked for yourself. But there’s safety in numbers, so you ended up here. They don’t know much about you, they don’t know your past or your family. You are just a wolf who needs a safe place to rest.

DEVELOPMENT

So obviously this is a minor rework of Allegra from when I was previously in Shiver, and the long-term plan for Allegra is the same-that eventually she will come to terms with the fact that, just because her family rejected her and didn’t want her, not everyone will. She could come to admire, maybe even love, this new pack that has allowed her a safe haven. However, that won’t come soon, and I think the added dynamics with Spruce and Reed will build on that struggle to find peace, to make herself a home here. Even once she does find her place within the pack, she is always going to have a sense of paranoia to her, a sense that maybe being alone and by herself in the woods will be better than --- than this. She still has a sinking feeling that she needs to run.

She isn’t as grounded as she likes to present herself to be, too skittish the second anyone gets in her space. Not even close to her-just close enough for her to perceive them as a threat. As she slowly starts to let members of the pack in, her defenses are slowly going to calm down for those few people. She’ll likely never be one to go for physical contact, but eventually she won’t tense if someone is within an arm’s length of her.

CONNECTIONS

[ ZACH ] seems to want something from me, why else would they be this kind? I don’t trust it ( Allegra hasn’t known kindness in far too many years, and they can’t accept anyone doing anything out of the goodness of their heart )

My past is the past, it shouldn’t matter to anyone here. So why does [ OPEN ] ask so many questions ( They were supposed to be a hunter. Allegra might never have killed a wolf, but that was the path they were on and they’re scared of how that will impact things with the pack if it gets out. This person is pushing, asking too many questions, making them scared they’ll have to run again )

Something about [ SOLA ] makes me feel at ease. I don’t understand why, but I’m drawn to them. I’ll do my best to avoid them. ( Friend or family or loved one, it does’t matter. Allegra has only had themselves since the moment they were bitten, and they didn’t have much prior to that to begin with. Closed off she might be, Allegra wants to let this person in, they just don’t know where to start )

[ OPEN ] doesn’t know how to mind their business, and it’ll come back to bite them one day ( Allegra is going to fight someone, wound too tightly to relax and finally snapping )

I was young when I turned, and I never got to experience some aspects of my humanity while I was living as a wolf. [ OPEN ] is part of that ( Allegra spent almost a decade after turning 18 as a wolf, and it turns out that hooking up is fun and good and the only form of contact that doens’t immediately set them on edge )

[jq37]

The Gary Gygax Job (An Adventure in Two Parts)

I was asked to post my “Hardison forces the gang to play D&D fic” that I wrote for @alexromero​ so here it is. It’s actually just the set up and not the game itself because that would have been a whole undertaking but, anyway, I hope the anon who asked for it enjoys it.

Part One

BASE. Gyutou. Paris.

It's Parker's idea, surprisingly. Well, surprisingly to someone who knows Parker well but not very well. The team is breaking up, at least partially (though the kids have a secret pool running about how much wedded bliss Nate and Sophie can stand before they're ready to get back into the fight). She's not ready to lose two people from her very small inner circle.

"We should do, like, a girls' night," she suggests out of the blue, over the comms while crawling through air ducts (she has some of her best ideas in air ducts, which makes sense, statistically speaking).

"Girls' night?" says Hardison from the van. "You and what girls?"

"Me and Sophie. But also you and Nate and Eliot."

"Tha-that's just hanging out Parker. It's not a girl's night if there are guys."

She shrugs (tries to shrug. There's not enough space in the air duct). "Whatever. We should do it. I miss Sophie. And Nate," she adds, belatedly.

"Me too."

"Me three," Eliot finally cuts in. He's been providing an ambient background of grunts and things smashing into other things for the past minute or so, but that kind of thing is surprisingly easy to ignore after a while. "But can we do this AFTER THE CON???" They grudgingly decide to put a pin in it while Eliot runs his hand through his hair in annoyance. Honestly.

When they call the "Call us if you need us but please try very hard not to need us," number, they get Sophie, which is good. She'll be easier to convince and if they convince her, they've got Nate too. Parker explains her idea and Sophie is very into it: Group activity, once a month, full team.

Sophie's in so they're in business. Hardison puts all of their names into a randomizer and Parker ends up with first pick.

"Greece!" she says, immediately.

"Excellent choice, Parker!" says Sophie, picturing the food and beaches and museums. And then she remembers who she's speaking to.

"Parker, what are we doing in Greece?"

They find out two weeks later and Hardison thinks that it's a good thing he loves Parker to death, because he's pretty sure she's going to get him killed.

BASE Jumping on Zakynhos Island.

"Oh, come on!" Hardison whines as he's tossed a parachute. Sophie is also not thrilled, but she seems to think that encouraging Parker's social skills is worth 5-ish seconds of sheer terror.

The jump order is Eliot, Sophie, Nate (who is choosing to be amused by this whole thing), Hardison, then Parker. Hardison and Parker are the last two on the cliff.

"Come on you big baby," she says. "You've jumped off of buildings before."

"Not for fun."

She touches his chest very deliberately. "Then don't do it for fun. Do it for me."

He shakes his head and steels his nerves. "Sophie's rubbing off on you and I don't like it."

He is so happy to land in one piece that he immediately drops to his back and makes sand angels. From above, he can hear Parker's adrenaline-high scream. He opens his eyes, sees her parachute explode out, and then closes his eyes again. Maybe if he pretends to be asleep, she won't make him go again.

Somehow, Eliot's pick is worse.

He says they're going for a cooking lesson which sounds safe enough. The lesson is at a tiny sushi place in Brooklyn and the chef is some Japanese buddy of his. They're not allowed to know how they know each other specifically (Eliot says he's a "work friend") and they're not allowed to know his name, so they just call him Chef.

Everyone's having a good time and whatever work Chef did with Eliot before, cooking is obviously his calling.

And then…well, Hardison's not sure. It happens really quickly. The door bursts open and a man in dark clothes bursts in. There's a flash of silver from Chef's side of the room and the man drops. Hardison doesn't even have time to jump.

Chef isn't holding his knife anymore, Hardison notices. He looks across the room. It's implanted in the intruder's chest. A gun falls out of his hand and Nate kicks it away.

"What just happened?" says Hardison, trying to keep his voice level.

"It's a Gyutou," says Eliot. "Sharpest knife in the game."

"I'm not asking ab--why would you think I was asking about the knife?"

"Because the guy's Yakuza. Obviously."

"Wait, Yakuza? Like, Yakuza-Yakuza?"

"No, one of the many other Yakuzas out there. Yes, that Yakuza!" In the time it's taken them to have this conversation, Chef has dragged their attacker's limp body into a supply closet, found a clean knife, and gone back to chopping ginger.

Hardison has so many comments that he doesn't know where to start. He just throws up his hands and goes to stand in the corner for a minute. When he remembers that the corner he's in very recently had a dead body in it, he picks a new corner.

Sophie takes everyone for a weekend in Paris because of course she does.

Paris is great. No one tries to kill anyone in Paris. There's no jumping off of anything in Paris.

But…

But it's a little like being on a three-day date with your parents sometimes. And Hardison has been Team Nate and Sophie since day one basically. That doesn't mean he wants to know every museum in Paris they've done it in. Not that he's asking, for the record. But they'll walk in and give each other this kind of smug smirk and he can just tell. It's disgusting.

So, when Hardison's turn rolls around, he feels exactly zero guilt for choice.

"Dungeons and Dragons?" Eliot says with the kind of scorn he reserves for especially bad bad guys and Hardison.

"Oh, I don't wanna hear that tone from you, alright? I don't wanna hear it from any of y'all. Little miss adrenaline junkie over there," Parker blows him a kiss, "And your crazy Samurai friends," Eliot rolls his eyes, "And y'all two making googly eyes at each other for three solid days."

Nate takes a second from doing just that to say, "You're exaggerating."

"He's really not," says Parker.  

"BASE. Gyutou. Paris," Hardison rattles off again. "I did your thing now you're doing mine." He pulls a d20 out of his pocket and holds it between two fingers with a satisfied smirk. "Age of the geek, baby."

Part Two

Nate claims character creation is too complicated for him to understand which is a blatant lie because Hardison has seen him rig an election and manipulate the stock market on the fly and give a guy a nosebleed with his mind like he was freaking Professor X.

"This isn't my thing, Hardison," he says. "Just make a character for me. I don't care about the details. Do whatever you want."

Do whatever you want.

Famous last words.

Hardison makes him a dwarf barbarian character with an intelligence score so low he'll have trouble scratching himself.

Nate texts him a one-word response: No.

Well if you don't like my painstakingly created character you can make your own, Hardison texts back.

Just fix it.

Oh, he'll fix it alright. But first, he has to deal with Eliot.

He tries a different tactic with Eliot.

"Alright," he says when Eliot reluctantly drops in the chair across from him, looking like he's just been plunked into the heart of Gitmo. "You don't have to make a character. I premade one for you. Check it."

He fans out the materials he's printed out that show the character he created--premade for Eliot's approval. He's a human fighter, with a greatsword as his main weapon. He's proficient in several languages, weapons, tools--Hardison had to fudge the rules a little to give him so many skills at level one but it's nothing more ridiculous than what he can do in real life. He even had a sketch commissioned--he knows from experience that Eliot is a sucker for cool artwork of himself.

Eliot's eyes scan the sheets of paper and Hardison thinks he detects that trademark grudging approval he was going for.

"Did I do good or did I do good?"

Eliot looks up, scowls, and then something clearly goes off in his head because a slight smirk replaces the scowl. Hardison doesn't trust it but he doesn't react either.

"OK," says Eliot. "I'll play your character. One change though."

Just one? He can handle that. The way Eliot was looking at him he thought something much worse was coming.

"Sure, what?"

"I want to play as a pacifist."

Hardison's brain BSOD's and reboots in time to see Eliot's slight smirk go full Cheshire cat.

"What?"

"I'll play your guy in your little nerd game, but I want to play as a pacifist."

"You're telling me, you want to play this character, this fighter--a guy whose entire skillset is based on fighting--as a pacifist?"

"Yup."

Hardison scatters the papers in front of him as he thinks of all the high-level encounters he'd planned, counting on Eliot's super buffed fighter to keep the party alive, just like in real life.

"I don't get no respect around here."

While he's reworking the campaign, he gets a text from Nate re: the second premade character Hardison sent him--a sexy tiefling ranger. A sexy, female, tiefling ranger.

You're aware that I know where you live, right?, the text reads.

Not my fault you won't be specific. I'm working on pure guesswork here, Hardison texts back.

Fix it, Nates texts again. Then he adds, Don't forget I know how to hypnotize people.   

Hardison snorts: And I can hack your bank account and spend everything on My Little Ponies. Make your damn character Nate.

Sophie is confused.

"If there's no goal, how do you play?" she asks him over Skype.

He never got a chance to really explain how the game worked and clearly, she hasn't looked it up in the meantime.

"There's a goal. There's just not one singular goal. You usually get some kind of quest and then you choose whatever you want to do. It's an RPG, just without the computer." When she squints in confusion he explains. "Role playing game."

Recognition goes off in her eyes and he realizes how he needs to sell the game to Sophie. "You get to pick a character. Well not pick. Make a character. You come up with a backstory and their abilities--"

"It's like coming up with a cover."

"Yes, exactly. It's exactly like that but you can also do magic if you want."

After she makes the connection, she's sold. The next day, she comes over with her backstory prepared. Or, rather, her backstories.

"I made more than one character because I couldn't decide on playing as a bard or a rogue. They're both very me. Oh," she gasps in much more excitement than Hardison thought he would ever see Sophie Devereaux show about Dungeons and Dragons. "Is there any way I could play as a bard and a rogue?"

"I got you," he says pulling out an info sheet he'd printed in anticipation of her request. "Bam. Sophie special."

"Songfilch?" she reads from the top of the sheet.

"It's not an official class," Hardison explains. "It's kind of a homebrew hybrid I whipped up. Half thief, half performer."

Sophie lights up. "You made me a grifter!"

"I told you this was a fun game."

"One more question," she says. "Is it possible I could play as a vampire? They get the thrall ability which would be useful I think."

"Uh, well you could," said Hardison. "But vampires also can't enter homes without being invited. The whole point of being a rogue is sneaking into houses without being invited to steal stuff. You can't expect them to just open the door and let you…" His words trail off as he remembers who he's speaking to. She bats her eyelashes at him, teasingly. "Yeah. Vampire songfilch. Go for it."

Nate texts him again later in the afternoon. He thinks it's gonna be in response to the munchkin baker character he sent (not a real race or class but Nate's not gonna check) but, miracles of miracles, it's a real character. Not a full character, mind you. It's just sketchy notes for a character: A cleric turned paladin. Servant of the god Helm--god of protectors.

There's not a lot there but there's enough for Hardison to know he actually put effort into it. He thinks Sophie must have gotten to him. Either way, it's enough for him to fill in the blanks and make Nate a character he will actually enjoy playing once he gives it a chance.

An enjoyable character who kicks ass since Eliot is still refusing to.

Parker is actually pretty game about the whole thing.

Which she better be, Hardison thinks. You can't force a guy to jump off of a cliff and then get mad about a little geekery.

She picks her class easily (rogue, natch) but she has trouble picking a race.

"What are you playing as?" she asks.

"I'm not playing," he explains. "I'm running the game. I'm like the narrator."

"Oh." She frowns. "That's lame. It would be more fun if you played."

"Someone has to run the game, Parker."

"I guess," she says. "It's still lame though."

He helps her finish her rogue (halfling rogue they decide), but he's only half paying attention. By the time they're done, he realizes there's someone he needs to call.

Hardison arrives at the game sesh with a guest. "Hey guys," he announces. "This is Chris, my foster brother. He's exactly like me, minus the criminal activity and rugged good looks."

He's also white, but no one mentions that.

"What's he doing here?" Eliot asks.

"Hardison asked me to DM for y'all," Chris answers.

Parker realizes what this means first. "You're playing?"

He nods. "Elven Wizard. I'm gonna hack reality, baby."

Chris rolls his eyes. "You can't just use the word hack whenever you want to. It has a very specific meaning."

"I can if I hack the language," Hardison shoots back as he sits down.

Chris grits his teeth like he's had this argument many times before (which he clearly has). "Let's do this before I kill you. Not in the game, in real life. Are you guys ready?"

Hardison looks around the table: Fighter, Songfilch, Paladin, Rogue, Wizard.

It's a weird group.

He grins.

"Ready. Let's do this."

[sodalitefully]

Mick/Vince: “Handpicked” (part 1, basically pre-slash)

Mick/Vince in a movie/book fusion universe based on the idea that it was Mick’s idea to recruit Vince

   Mick had played with a half-dozen bands before Nikki and Tommy came along.  He had two ex's, three estranged children, and more child support due every month than he could handle, nevermind rent.  All because he’d decided at the tender age of three – twenty-six whole years ago – that guitar would be his end-all, be-all for the rest of his life, even if it meant years of hopping from band to band, city to city, just trying to get by with enough money for food, booze, and painkillers.  But the thing is, when you spend as much time as he did playing in shitty bands, you learn a thing or two, a thing or two about how to make a band, well, not-so shitty.  

   So when Nikki gave him that talk – you know, the one you give new band members about the way things are going to go, so that they might not start trying to rework things down the line – saying how he left his last band, London, because there were too many people trying to tug the group in too many different directions, and how he wanted to realize his own vision (something no one’s ever seen before, something that will shock the masses and give the youth exactly what they want) through this yet-unnamed-and-incomplete embryo of a band, well.  Mick could work with that.  This might be a chance to play with a band that had what it takes to go the distance, maybe even a chance for Mick to realize his own dreams, to trade in the park benches for tour buses.  And with stakes that high, Mick would do anything in his power to make sure the band couldn't fail. 

   So, Nikki was a visionary – a young one, but (with some guidance from a wiser, more experienced musician) he had potential.  And Tommy was just a kid, but he could play.  So that just left one question: Who was going to do the singing in this band? 

      The instruments of the group might have fallen together easily, but finding a lead singer that clicked was proving to be a trickier thing.  They’d brought in a couple guys that hadn’t worked out before Mick made up his mind: “I want the skinny blond fucker in that band Rock Candy.” 

   Mick had been at the Starwood when he saw the guy.  Shitty band, but the kid had moves, the kind of moves Nikki was looking for.  And it wasn’t just Nikki who wanted a singer with moves: every girl in the audience wanted a piece of him too. He was wearing a white satin getup like some kind of disco god, but with chains at his waist and enough hairspray to drown a cat in his bleached-blond hair.  He put all of his energy into the performance, strutting around the stage, shaking his mane of hair, and singing into his mic like he was making love to it.  Forget the girls, Mick knew exactly whose lips he’d be thinking about tonight. 

~~~~~   

    Life was good for Vince Neil. He was in his element, riling up the crowd at the Starwood. He had his girlfriend, Lovey, waiting for him at the bar, a pack of adoring fans (aka hot chicks) right in front of the stage, and... one creepy-looking older dude watching from the shadows by the wall. 

     Vince first noticed the guy sometime in the middle of his set. He was clearly a rocker, with dyed black hair and black clothes to match.  He was obviously older than the rest of the audience and his face was frozen in a severe expression.  Strange as he might be, there was no reason to pay this guy any mind, not when Vince was in the middle of a performance.  But somehow Vince’s gaze just kept drifting back to the man in the back of the room.  The guy never moved, or talked to anyone, or even looked at the girls that passed him by.  He kept his eyes on the stage the whole time, and the longer Vince watched the man from the corner of his eye, the more certain he became that he wasn’t just looking at the stage: his eyes were locked unwaveringly on Vince himself.   

   When the set ended, Vince made his was over to Lovey at the bar. But before he even said anything, the bartender pushed him a full glass.

“From some rocker dude,” was the only explanation offered. It wasn’t a very helpful explanation, since they were at a concert venue, but Vince immediately twisted around in his seat to look for the man in black. He was nowhere in sight.

“What’s he talking about?” Lovey asked him.

“No idea,” Vince lied. 

  ~~~~~

   Later, while Lovey was going down on him, the guy from the Starwood popped back into Vince’s mind. Vince did some of his best thinking during sex – other guys might just let their minds go blank but Vince came up with most of his better ideas while he was with a woman. Everything seemed clearer relative to the simple objective of getting off. 

     This guy though, wasn’t really what, or who, Vince expected to be thinking about while getting a blowjob. Didn’t expect to be thinking about how intensely he’d been staring at Vince, how he didn’t ever smile but looking back on it Vince was sure he was into the show. And how tight his leather pants were, how good they looked on him, how Vince should ask Lovey to buy him a pair like that —— 

   After he came, Vince’s only thought about his mysterious stranger was how it really didn’t matter, since he would probably never see him again anyway.

~~~~~

   Well, it turned out Tommy knew the guy that Mick had in mind. His name was Vince Neil (Mick hadn’t forgotten) and they went to high school together. Based on the way Tommy talked about him, Vince had been some kind of rock n roll heartthrob back in their school days (maybe two years ago, max, but Mick didn’t comment). That kind of talk got Nikki’s attention too, and soon enough the trio was crashing some rich teenager’s house party to poach Rock Candy’s lead singer. 

  ~~~~~

“I’m in a band now,” was the first thing Tommy said when he showed up out of the blue at one of Vince’s gigs, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of the crowd behind him.  It was obvious who he was talking about though: two guys with dark sunglasses and long black hair.  One was carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels and looking warily at the teenaged partygoers. Vince recognized him from the band London, the guy was a druggie, and probably a lunatic on top of that.  The other was hunched over, dressed in black leather from his jacket to his platform boots, even though it was nearly 80 degrees out.  Vince recognized him too, though they’d never met: he was unmistakably the guy from the Starwood, looking as serious as ever.  His glasses were tinted black, but Vince could feel the guy's eyes on him, looking him up and down like he was prize beef.  Vince turned back to Tommy, a little unsettled. 

“That old guy, is he your manager or something?” That might explain why he’d been checking Vince out at the bar, if he was scouting for a lead singer or whatever.  Tommy’s grin just grew brighter, if that was possible. 

“Nah, man, that’s Mick! He’s great, totally out there but he kills it on guitar.” 

Guitar, huh.  An image flashed into Vince’s mind: the man on stage with colored lights glaring down on him, shining off of black leather and silver chains as long, pale fingers choked the neck of an electric guitar.  It was a strange image - He seemed so serious and subdued, without the flair, the swagger of a lead guitarist.  But he sure had something, some kind of rock and roll aura that Vince couldn’t put his finger on.  He realized he was staring when Tommy clapped a hand on his shoulder and pressed a cassette tape into his palm. 

“Listen to this and then call me, dude.  You’ll love it, I promise." 

Vince pocketed the tape, but... come on.  He had a good thing going with Rock Candy, lots of gigs and lots of girls.  Why would he want to fuck that up by hanging out with some sketchy-looking rock band that didn’t even have a name?  Tommy was a good guy, but he and his new buddies were going nowhere. 

Still, Vince gave his old friend a smile like he was actually going to do it and watched Tommy, ever the optimist, bound excitedly back over to the rest of his “band.”  The guys didn’t even stick around for the rest of the party, as soon as business was done they headed back out the garden gate, the bassist leading the way as Tommy chattered in his ear. 

Vince started to follow Lovey inside to find an empty room with a door that locks, but when he turned around he found himself face to face with the Starwood guy.  The guitarist took off his glasses and for the first time, there were no tinted lenses, no stage lights between Vince and the man’s intense gaze.  He, Mick, leaned in to look Vince in the eye.  “You’re not convinced,” he said, not really asking. 

“I mean, I’ve got something going on right now…” Vince told him uncertainly, suddenly feeling guilty for nothing in particular.   

“Well, you should consider it while you can.  A cover band can only take you so far, and your guitarist isn’t going to last much longer, it’s obvious he doesn’t have what it takes.” 

“And what makes you think that your guys aren’t going to crash and burn?” 

“I’m not going to let that happen,” he informed Vince, dead serious.  “Listen to the tape.”  He started to walk away, following his bandmates.  Vince watched him go for a second before calling after him. 

“Hey, wait!  That drink, at the Starwood –“ either his voice was drowned out by the crowd or Mick just ignored him.  Shit. Vince didn’t even know what he was going to ask, but he was starting to know what he couldn’t quite put into words earlier.  Mick wasn’t an ego-driven guitarist, expecting things just to fall in place for him.  He was confident in his own abilities, and worked to get what he wanted.  But what did he want with Vince?

~~~~~

(mobile really fucked this up, might be better to read on desktop.  a couple lines were direct quotes from the book/movie, here’s some of them:

“I wanted to remind them that I had named the band, that I had molded Nikki into a real songwriter, that I had purged the band’s weak links, and that I had handpicked Vince” (Mick p361)

“I want that skinny blond fucker I saw at the Starwood the other night in that band Rock Candy” (Mick p71)

“… the other was older and very serious-looking.  Not the kind of person who comes to the Starwood to get laid.  From the corner, the older guy was looking me up and down like I was prize beef.” (Vince p75)

“Now [Nikki] was trying to put together his own project and realize his own vision.  I pretended like I agreed, but I knew that he was still young and musically naive, and I could influence him to evolve my way.” (Mick, p55-56)

next up is either the part where they get together, or the part where they have sex, depending on what I feel like posting)

[part 2]

[masterofthez]

Ben 10 Alien Headcannons

So I’ve been in a bit of a Ben 10 mood right now, and as such I’ve been going over his aliens again. And as with many of series from our childhoods, most of us eventually ask ourselves the question, “What would I do if I was in charge of this?” While I have a number of ideas, what I’m going to focus on today is simply Ben’s Aliens and their abilities, and how I would alter them to various degrees. I will also only really be looking at the Original continuity aliens, because I haven’t watched any of the new. No offense to Shock Rocks or Slapback, but I just don’t really care about them at the moment. So let’s go over his Aliens. 

Heatblast: Heatblast would largely remain the same with the only major thing I’d change about him being flight. Namely, he can’t do that. He rocket himself places, but not flying like the Human torch or the weird ground thing. 

Wildmutt: I really like Wildmutt. He’s good.

Diamondhead: I don’t really like his ability to summon crystals from the ground. Maybe if it was made clear that he had to be in the ground to do it I’d be more okay with it, but I’d also be fine with doing away with that. 

XLR8: I’m fine with XLR8, but just make sure that it’s clear that he can’t lift much more then like a human adult. 

Grey Matter:  He can still climb. He’s still smart. He’s still small. He’s just fine

Four Arms: I am fine with Four Arms. Big Muscle Guy. Four Arms will actually be important to this, and Ben’s go to muscle alien, as I will be comparing all his other strength Aliens to him. 

Stinkfly: He’s fine the way he is.

RipJaws: He’s fine

Upgrade: He’s fine. 

Ghostfreak: I won’t really change what Ghostfreak does. Just how he is used. Ben will never be fully in control of Ghostfreak. I’m fine with Teen Ben being able to fight off Ghostfreak pretty will, but it always has to be a battle to stay in control.

Cannonbolt: He’s fine.

Wildvine: None of the weird plant merging he does in “The Visitor”. No Regeneration. He can stretch his body. He can create thorns. And he has those Seed Bombs. That’s it. 

Blitzwolfer: I’d probably have kept his name Benwolf.

Snare-Oh: So Snare-Oh is the first of the aliens that have a power very similar to a previous alien (Wildvine in this case). So in order to differentiate them, Snare-Oh won’t really stretch. His power will be the fact that he is made up of bandages, and while they may naturally rest in the humenoid form, they are not not solid. That can then be used to still do his rapping stuff, but still make him different then Wildvine.

Frankenstrike: He’s overall fine, but his magnetic abilities would only be limited to himself. He’s not going to be static who can move metal with ease. He can stick himself to metal, but that’s it. He still has his lightning powers to the same extent shown in the original series. 

Upchuck: None of this shared dimension stuff from Omiverse. His deception in the original was fine. 

Ditto: They don’t share pain.

Eye Guy: All he has is eye lazers. No combination eyes. No flames or freeze powers. He can shoot lazers out of his whole body and a big one from his chest, but that’s it. 

Way Big: He fine as a giant laser blasting man. 

Swampfire: For this look he’s create explosions, not straight up fire. He could light himself on fire and then use his natural gases to create explosions. And with that would come regeneration abilities. No plant controlling powers however. That just seems like an desire to make his plantness more obvious. 

Echo Echo: This is going to be a big change so hear me out. First off he won’t have a scream like Benwolf. Instead Echo Echo will be able to create any sound. After hearing something he can match the sound perfectly. He can also just create super loud high pitch screams. No actual force behind it. Just very loud. The other major change is that their are 5 Echo Echos. No more. No less. In this world they will all be considered one creature with them being controlled in a hive mind. So no extra duplication. Echo Echo is also not in a suit. His body is actually an exo-skeleton. Very Natural. 

Humungousaur: No Size manipulation. Let’s keep him at 20 ft. He is stronger then Four Arms, but slower. He’s speed would be comparable to a human. To move to the re-boot for the moment, I actually like the idea of his tail being a weapon. Let’s bring that in as well. 

Jetray: This is going to sound odd, but Jetray will not be able to fly. He can swim very fast, and he can glide. But for this he will be like the Gargoyles in Gargoyles. His lasers will be paralyzing rays. No real physical damage.

Big Chill: I'm cool with Big Chill flying and turning intangible. My change would be how his cold powers work. He can only freeze things when he passes through objects. And whenever he passes through objects he freezes them no matter what.

Brainstorm: So, we are keeping the super intelligence thing and the whole breathing under water, but let’s re work the combat stuff. I’m thinking literal storms. Like, it produces a storm and the more it thinks the more intense the storm becomes. So no general electric production and no shield things. 

Spidermonkey: I’m fine with Spidermonkey with one odd exception. It’s been noted before that Ben seems to be more humorous as Spidermonkey. I would, like Rath, stress the idea that spidermonkey changes his personality. But this in the smaller way of Ben just finding the humor in situations more often. 

Goop: I think Goop is fine without the acid. Kind of like what they did with him in Ominverse. Just have is power be his unique body. 

Alien X: Like Ghostfreak before, he’s edit should be to how he is used. Ben should never just have full control over it. When Ben turns into Alien X the nature of the battle should shift. The fight is no longer about who is stronger Ben or the Enemy. The fight should now be about Ben’s logic, debating, and diplomatic skills. So Ben must always convince his two others to cooperate, not just to let Ben have full control.

Nanomech: The only power I’d give him would be to make him have a telepathic link with the alien chip swarm. While Nanomech is independent, he was made from an device that communicated as a hive mind. So the hive cannot control Nanomech and he cannot control the hive, but they always know what the other is thinking. 

Lodestar: I’m cool with his magnet powers although I’m not the biggest fan of his body being made up of little magnets. 

Rath: On the scaling of Fourarms, he is as strong as Fourarms, and faster, and more durable, but he is, of course, dumb as rocks and super aggressive. 

Water Hazard: So...I have ideas. So we've seen that he can absorb water from the air, so let's exspand on that. What if he got bigger as he did that and maxed out at like Fourarms size. Like, his plates move and shift to work for the newer body.

Terraspin: Like Spidermonkey, the only change I’d give is to make Terraspin more thoughtful. Not passive or smarter, but to just think and ponder thinks more. 

Armodrillo: I’m not the biggest fan of earth control that he seems to have. I’m cool with him being a good digger and for him to vibrate to create earthquakes, but to shot out rocks like he can seems wrong to me. 

NRG: Let's give him the ability sense Radiation as well as his normal Radiation blasts, absorbing energy, super heat, and flight. I’m giving him all this ro create a bigger difference from Atomix. Atomix is just the raw radiation power house. NRG is a larger spectrum of stuff he can do with it. 

AmpFibian: While it’s not the first Electric alien that can breath underwater, let’s run with that anyway for a second. So similar to an electric eel, what if the electricity it makes is designed to work underwater. Like, Ampfibian can use his powers outside of water, but they are much stronger in water. And I do like the idea that he can sense and detect electrical impulses (that could simply be how he communicates to others of his species under water), but for the whole mind reading thing let’s make that a challenge. Ben can “hear” the electrical impulses of the brain, but he might not know what they mean. He’ll need to practice with Ampfibian more often to fully understand the language of the brain sense they are not technically telepathic. Also cool swimmer and no flight or electric intangibility. 

Fasttrack: So, going off his cat idea, let’s make him more like a cheeta. He’s a sprinter who can reach speeds almost as fast as XLR8, and he even does so silently, but he can only do it for so long before he runs out of energy and needs to catch his breath. XLR8 doesn’t need to do that, and is still generally faster. And to make the difference greater, let’s say that Fasttrack’s species are big into hunting like most cats, so he can have very solid eye sight and hearing. 

Eatle: This is another one that is getting a bit of a rework due to having such a similar ability to the Upchucks. So let’s keep the eating thing but take it in a new way. You are what you eat. Let’s say his normal shell is highly unstable, but once he eats something with his strong jaw, his exo-skeleton becomes that. He can also shed it at any time.  

Clockwork: I’m going to cut down on exactly what Clockwork seems to be able to do. So Let’s say he can slow down time, but all he can do is perceive the world at this slowed pass. He can’t actually have his sudden super speed. I also like his aging abilities. And I actually really like having the ability to show what happened in the past that he does once. 

Jury Rigg: fine as is

ChamAlien: I’m actually going to keep him the same. 

Shocksquatch: Let’s keep him super strong (but not as strong has Four Arms), and let him be able to produce very high electrical charges, but he can’t use them as a projectile. So he can add a high power shock to his melee combat and have to electricity travel through conductors, but not really air. 

Bloxx: For this, I'll be stealing an idea from Inktank and the Web Comic 5 Years Later. In that Bloxx is not so much a lego gorilla as he is a creature that just produces blocks. I personally like this a lot more.

Feedback: So let's make it so that it can't generate its own electricity. Or if it can only a mild charge. So it can still do all the things you remember, massive energy absorption and redirection. 

Crashhopper: You're good jump man.

Gravattack: I’m actually pretty fine with Gravattack. 

Arctiguana: He’s fine as is. 

Ball Weevil: I think the Katamarri idea is a really cool Idea, but let’s edit it a little bit regardless. He can only absorb things smaller then the size of his Plasma Ball, but he can make his plasma balls fairly big, and once it is absorbed it creates a bigger explosion. 

Walkatrout: So, Walkatrout my actually be my favorite Alien Design in concept and design in Omiverse. This is because you can see how evolution made him the way he is and not just that he’s a design with a super power. Yes, he was a joke, but he was also a species in the universe that I can believe happened easily. Nothing about him changes. He is slippery. He can walk. And he can breath air. If any change had to be made, I’d say that it’s difficult for him to breath only in air to show that this was a skill designed for avoiding predators.  

Pesky Dust: Pesky Dust is cool. No changes to what the power does, but instead to have them function. Yes, they can delve into memories, but that’s it. Not current thoughts. 

Mole-Stache: So, I’m going to steal a power from JoJo’s Bazaar Adventure for a second. While Mole-Stache can already make his hair grow and control it from there like Yukako Yamagishi, I sat let him grown out his fiscal hair a little bit more then normal, but then let him cut off his hair. He can then control it remotely. That way he can still be a hair guy, but now he can be not just functionally a stretchy guy.

The Worst: No powers. Come on show. Be bold enough the actually make an alien have no powers. And just have him be The Worst. He’s slow, weak, and as dumb as Rath. 

Kickin Hawk: So, Let’s remove the humanoid elements from it. For this we’ll make this species just a large feathered raptors. Basically like a large monstrous emu or ostrich. So let’s keep it beast like, it can’t talk like Wildmutt. It also attacks with it’s feet which are itself powerful enough to crack Diamondhead’s crystal body. It’s long neck is also very weak. 

Toepick: So, I like the idea that Toepick's only power is being absolutely grotesque. But the problem is I just have no idea how that would work. How would a physical appearance produce such visceral reactions in everything? With presumably different beauty standards throughout the galaxy, it's just something I have trouble rapping my head around.

Astrodactyl: So what if it couldn't fly in the sky? So hear me out. What if Astrodactyl is designed to travel through empty space, but not air? Like it can still use it's jetpack to propel itself upwards, but actually flight in an atmosphere is impossible for it. Aside from that, let’s keep the electric whips and the energy pulse thing it can produce from the jetpack.  

Bullfrag: Just a tall human. Like, I think the idea that Bullfrag's power is just that they're an Incursion. Given the fact that the Incursions should be a constant threat to the universe, having a form that can walk through their ranks unencumbered should be a power in and of itself.

Buzzshock: Do you guys know Red Hot Chilipepper? Like the Jojo stand? Let's go with that. Electric Power. Able to travel through currents. But gets weaker the longer they go without being in a current.

Atomix: As I alluded to this with NRG. Atomix can only really produce Radiation blasts. They are extremely powerful, probably one of the strongest Ben bested only by Way Big or Chromastone/Feedback depending on what they absorbed, but that’s still basically it. 

Whampire: Like many others, let’s streamline his powers. Enhanced Strength, Flight, and mind control eyes. Let’s also go hard core. He just eats blood, and can smell the blood of most creatures that have an equivalent he can eat. 

[lavender-lotion]

Let Me Hold You, Forever | 6,625k

Find the rest here! Read on AO3 here!

It was too much. To loud and too quiet and too, too much. He had to get out, to get away and just be somewhere different. He couldn’t - he couldn’t keep watching her like that, watching her lay there as she did.

He needed a break.

And he found it, with Peter Hale. Peter who was scarred skin and blank eyes. Peter who he sat with for hours a day, reading and ranting and just being with. Peter, who over four years he fell in love with.

‘ November 24: Season One Rewrite - This could be anything from Stiles getting bitten instead of Scott to Stiles accepting the bite offer from Peter in that infamous parking garage scene. Take season one and rework it how you’d like to have seen it happen, with a Steter twist! ’

Warning: Brief mention of self-harm

It was too much. Too loud and too quiet and too, too much. He had to get out, to get away and just be somewhere different. He couldn’t keep watching her like that, watching her lay there as she faded away. She looked so -weak, and that wasn’t right, Stiles knew it wasn’t right. His momma was strong, the strongest person he knew, and his dad was a policeman! She was laughter, and singing in the kitchen, and bedtime stories. A warmth he could curl up to whenever he was cold, or scared, or just wanted to.

He hadn’t been able to cuddle with her in weeks. That may have been the hardest part.

At thirteen, Stiles understood the fundamentals of what was going on. His mother was sick in the brain, and it was going to kill her. Sure, no one had said that, but Stiles knew was smart enough to figure it out.

And he needed a break. He needed to be gone just for a second, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to look at his mom like that any more. She didn’t even smell like herself at this point, and while his dad let him take his mother's shirts and wear them around the house so he could smell her, he didn’t like it when Stiles wore them outside. It just made everything extra bad, because he couldn’t even trick himself into thinking things might be okay.

So he had left the hospital room, began wandering the halls. He entered a different part of the hospital, skimming his fingers along the wall as he went, dragging his fleet slowly over the floor. Most of the doors he passed by were closed. He wasn’t quite tall enough to see inside the windows, but that didn’t stop him from looking over the charts. It didn’t matter that he had no idea what anything meant, or what could possibly be wrong with these people - reading let him get out of his mind for a little while, even if the things he were reading were hospital charts.

He passed an open door, looking in to find a man sitting in a wheelchair and gazing out the window. There was no one else in the room, and it didn’t look like the man was doing anything, which must have been really boring. Stiles knocked on the door softly. The man might want some company after all, and if he was lonely and Stiles was lonely, well, then neither of them would be lonely any more.

It was obviously a great plan.

Stiles entered the room quietly, keeping his steps light when the man didn’t answer his knock. He tiptoed over, determined not to wake him if he was sleeping. He edged around the left side of the man’s chair, trying to see if his eyes were opened or closed. Stiles jumped back when he saw that not only were the man's eyes open, but half his face was covered in raised, bumpy scarred skin.

His face looked like a Halloween mask, and Stiles drew in a deep breath before all but running out of the room and grabbing the man's charts, quickly flipping through the different pages. He still didn’t understand what a lot of it meant, but he understood enough to know the man had been burned in a fire. A bad fire, probably.

Stiles took a deep breath and took a step forward - ashamed that the man may have thought he was running away in fear. His mother had always taught him nothing mattered other than the quality of a person's heart. Stiles wasn’t sure about Peter’s heart, but he was determined to have an excellent heart. He would never run away from someone for being different. So he pulled the standalone chair from the corner of the room and placed it next to Peter’s, crossing his legs under him as he settled himself onto it and turned to face the man.

Peter - that’s what the chart said his name was - had yet to move. Stiles wasn’t sure why that made him so sad - maybe it was because he moved all the time, had trouble not moving - but having to stay still didn’t seem like very much fun. Peter wouldn’t even be able to read anything! Stiles loved reading! So, with a decisive nod of his head, he took a deep breath.

“Peter, tomorrow I am going to come and read to you. Do nothing if that’s okay.”

He did, in fact, go back. It was easy to sneak into the man's room after visiting his mother quickly - his father only ever stopping by later in the evening to pick Stiles up after his shift. He had been working more recently to pay for everything, and Stiles missed the man, missed the time he once spent with his father.

It was a little better when he was reading to Peter. He would be able to lose himself in the book, bring Peter on these insane journeys with him. He had begun checking books out of his school library after only two weeks, wanting to make sure Peter never had to hear the same book twice. Stiles himself didn’t much like to reread books, and he imagined Peter especially wouldn't, not being able to do anything else.

So Stiles constantly brought new books, becoming a regular with the librarian over the next few weeks.

His routine was simple now: wake up, school, visit Mom, then read to Peter. Stiles liked the strict structure he had built for himself. It made things a little easier to handle, knowing he would at least do the same thing each and every day - that for at least right now, no one could take this one thing from him. It didn’t make it stop hurting, Stiles was sure it would always hurt, but knowing he was losing his mother was made easier when he had a set schedule for himself.

He couldn’t think about it if he didn’t set time in to do so. Besides, sitting with Peter always helped; the man's silence steady by his side as he read.

Peter doesn’t talk, which may be a good thing since Stiles decides to talk more than enough for the two of them. He tells the man about his day, about his mom and his dad, about the things he reads on Wikipedia at night, until his vision goes blurry and he has to stop. And he reads - obviously - whatever he can.

Spending time in Peter’s room is like safety. It’s a place he can go and let his guards down; to allow himself to be weak, something he doesn’t want his dad to see. Not only that but there are so many asshole guys in his class - especially fucking Jackson - that he doesn’t feel comfortable letting his guard down at school. He doesn’t need another reason for them to bully him.

He also doesn’t like to let his guard down at home, not quite sure what may happen if he lets himself fall to far into his feelings when he’s alone. He can be extreme, can act without thinking and those two are not good traits while mixed with such fragile emotions.

So instead of letting his guard down, he reads to Peter and let’s himself get caught up in the comfortable repetition. Reading was easy for him, always had been. He learned to read early and excelled in it, reading far beyond his age level for as long as he could remember. So he doesn't mind reading to Peter, likes that the man is a solid presence by his back that he could turn to if he ever needs he can turn too.

He also knows that Peter will never judge him, mostly because he’s still not totally clear whether or not Peter can hear him. It’s the one thing he doesn’t want to look up, the one thing he won't research, because he doesn’t want to know for sure. It feels so much like Peter can, that even though he isn't an active part of the conversations he’s still there for Stiles in some way.

None of the nurses tell him, either. They find him often enough, it’s inevitable with how much time he spends there. They all know who he is at this point, know his situation. His mother has been there for almost five months now and she isn't getting any better. Her health is too bad to put her in a care home - her blood pressure too low and her mind failing far too often. Her heart is no longer doing well either and everyone - including Stiles - knows it’s just a matter of time.

So seeing Peter helps, because he doesn’t have to think about any of it. Doesn't have to acknowledge he’s going to loose his mom forever, that she’ll never hug him again, never again tell him goodnight or that she loves him. That she’ll never yell at him for doing something stupid, or kiss something better when he hurts himself.

She’ll just be gone, and he has no idea how to handle that.

With Peter, he doesn't have to. All he has to do is read.

His mother is going to die within the month. He knows it because he’s still small enough that he’s not often noticed by doctors until after they clinically speak about his mother's life. He wanders into Peter’s room in a sort of daze, distractedly pulling out the paper back he’s going to read for the day when he feels it.

There, there is something between them. He knows it's there, that there is no way he is just imagining it. He walks into Peter’s room, already pulling the books for today out of his bag before he stumbles to a halt, his chest squeezing tightly. He knows the griefhurtpainnoletmedie isn’t coming from, couldn't be.

He hasn’t felt this, this broken since he first found out just how sick his mother was, and he has no idea what to do about the foreign feelings he knows he can’t be making up. He turns to ask Peter - often forgetting and generally just not minding that the man never answers. But Peter - Peter almost looks the same as he always does. It’s just, just that Stiles doesn’t remember Peter’s eyes ever being so blue before. Stiles doesn't think he’s ever seen eyes so blue.

He reads like normal that day, having to choke down the bile that’s rising in his throat at the pain the other man is in. It hurts him, a phantom pain settling over his body as he continues. But he doesn’t leave, can’t leave when the man must be feeling so much more than him. If he can help at all he will.

It happens again, which Stiles is thankful for because it just assures him that he isn't crazy. He’s reading to Peter, a light hearted comedy and he’s laughing along with the scene in the book when he feels a wave of humourjoyhappy that is so quickly replaced by despairhurtloathing that it shocks him into silence. He blinks rapidly at the pages in front of him before turning to the older man to see if he’s right.

Peter’s eyes are shinning blue again.

It happens the day his mother flat lines. It has happened several times before then, and by now it’s something Stiles almost expects - the overwhelming feel of loss and mourning and pain  trying to take him over. He’s now easily able to separate them from his own emotions though, and that makes things easier.

He's never felt anything remotely positive from the other man, but the day he shuffles into the Peter’s room and softly closes the door behind him, face already wet with tears, he’s hit with a shock of warmthcomforthomepackpleasebeokay that almost makes his eyes dry. He sits silently beside the man, letting the feelings the man is putting out wash over him as he tries to calm himself, to get his heartbeat under control and to stop sobbing fat, ugly tears.

When he leaves he presses a soft kiss to the man's cheek. It’s something he’s seen his mom do to his dad often enough - every time he would do something nice for her. He doesn't really know why he does it to Peter, but it makes him feel even better. He spends the rest of the night thinking about how weird the man's burns felt under his lips.

He decides to call it a bond. He really has no other name for it, and fundamentally it doesn’t make much sense. He feels Peter’s emotions sometimes, often in answer to something he’s said or read or even done. It seems to be Peter’s way to communicate and just having it makes these visits that much more important to Stiles, especially now.

It works for them though - has since the day his mother passed away. When Stiles is having a bad day, or feeling down, or just not okay, Peter will push at Stiles every good feeling Stiles has ever felt. Sometimes he even gets more than feelings. Impressions, vague images, sometimes even half formed sentences filter from his chest - where the warmth that he now knows is Peter - and into his mind, only making sense after he’s left the room.

It is amazing that they can finally talk, that after nearly nine months Peter can communicate back. It makes everything more real in a way - that his best friend is a coma patient suffering from severe burns over most of his body. It isn’t a comforting thought, but it’s one that doesn’t seem to matter when he pulls out his book to begin reading out loud, taking a long break to rant to the man about how much of a fucking asshole Jackson is oh my god Peter!

It doesn't matter, because coma or not, Peter is Stiles’ best friend, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

Stiles isn’t sure why the first place he thinks to go is the hospital. For so long it had been somewhere that hurt, somewhere that meant his mother was dying. Now, now it has Peter, and that has made the world of difference. So it’s where Stiles goes when he needs to get away, when he doesn’t know how to handle the emptiness of his house, when the silence eats away at him.

Usually, it isn’t so bad. He can ignore the absence of his father, fill it with video games and TV shows, words and words and words, jumbling his mind with useless information so he doesn’t have to think that his dad doesn’t love him anymore. And it works, really. Most days he’s able to look past the empty spots in his life that his parents used to occupy.

Today, it’s not as easy.

He’s not sure why he expected it to be any different, for his father to come home from the station for more than a few hours. Stiles is fairly sure he’s sleeping there, though the thought that he was suddenly living somewhere else crossed Stiles’ mind. Stiles bit down on that bit of childish abandonment hard, telling himself a firm no, that there was no way he would be able to do so with the bills Stiles kept seeing from the hospital.

Which was where he was now, because he couldn’t be at home. It wasn’t as though his father would notice him sneaking out - which was the problem, really. He just - he just thought his father would be there for him, at least for just today. He never thought he would have to go through his birthday completely alone, not even when he first learned his mother was going to be sick. He had thought it would become he and his dad against the world, that they would be okay because they had each other.

But Stiles didn’t have him, didn’t have anyone. So, he snuck out of his home and made the forty minute walk to the hospital, slipping in a side door he only knew about thanks to Melissa. It was the closet door to Peter’s room and made it easy to sneak himself in. He only had to pass another two closed doors and slowly inch Peter’s open - the light from the street lamps outside giving him just enough to see. No one came ‘round this late - the patients on their own until the morning rounds began.

Stiles would be safe for the whole night, would be able to be away, to let it all go and not have to worry about anything as long as he was in this room, with this man. He could forget about the devastation he was feeling, about all the mixed up hurtanger in his chest and just let himself relax. Normally it would be enough too, but Stiles - Stiles just needed a little bit more.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles choked out, already climbing onto the bed and lifting the light blanket draped over the man's waist, “I know, I k-know this isn't okay. I r-read about con-consent the other day. But-”

Here Stiles does start crying, finally allowing himself to let just a little of what he’s feeling out into the open. It just hurts, and curling up around Peter’s body, lifting the man's arm over his own shoulder so he can snuggle deeper is already making him feel better. His right side is full of scarred skin, but his left is smooth and he puts out an incredible amount of body heat that Sites sinks into.

He feels what he can only describe as acceptance flowing down their bond before he’s hit with so much comfortwamrthlove that he starts crying all over again, only now it’s because of Peter, because he knows he’ll always have Peter. It doesn’t matter if his father has forgotten him, or if Scott usually acts like he would rather not be with him. Peter cares about him, and it’s solid and real and Stiles’ can feel it echo within himself.

He cares about Peter too, maybe more than he should and more than he knows what to do with. He’s done more research about, well, everything than most anyone he knows, and he knows at fourteen that he’s bisexual and that he probably has a crush on Peter. He also knows no one else would understand it, especially without being able to tell them about the bond they share.

So instead Stiles snuggles closer, and Peter projects down the bond so strongly Stiles feels like he’s being wrapped up in the man's arms, and he falls asleep with a sigh, a smile on his face.

Stiles has no idea what woke him up and he refuses to think it may have been Peter.

He can’t fill himself with misguided hope. Not anymore. Not this time.

The first time Stiles searches the man’s name - he isn’t prepared for what he finds. The fire was news, national news with so many dead, though Stiles’ mother had just been taken to the hospital around the time, so he never heard of it. Nothing else had mattered back then.

But now, he has to look through photos of who the man used to be, see his family around him, how happy they all were. He finds out that only two others survived and for a moment Stiles is brimming with rage. How dare they leave Peter alone, without family, without anything. Stiles has no idea how someone could do that to Peter, especially his family. He would never leave, not at this point.

He considers that maybe Peter was once a horrible person, was an asshole or maybe even abusive - but he just, he just can’t imagine Peter like that. He cares so much for Stiles, always checking in and making sure Stiles is doing okay. In the time since their bond formed it’s grown stronger, building with the years they’ve spent together. Now, Stiles can feel Peter even when they aren’t together.

Some days, it’s the only reason Stiles keeps going. It’s no secret he doesn’t have many friends at school - barely has Scott since Allison transferred and began going out with him. It’s hard to be so alone - his father never quite stepping up as he should. Stiles figures he doesn’t even realize how distant they are this point, not when it is significantly better than it used to be. Though the fact remains his father doesn’t know Stiles spends most of his free time - and a fair few nights - alone with a coma patient, holding a conversation that’s one part emotions, vague ideas, and barely there sentences.

But it’s okay, because he does have Peter, and he can’t imagine the man being anything close to awful.

So he doesn't understand why Peter’s only family may have left - not that it really matters, not now when Peter is Stiles’. The man is his now, his family and his best friend and his everything. Peter is his, it’s that simple. Stiles is also Peter’s, in all the same ways. And, Stiles has always been rather protective of what’s considered his.

He looks up the fire, the thought of it being an accident never sitting right. Accidents, accidents can’t kill that many people, it just isn’t fair, isn’t how the universe works. There’s not enough bad in the universe for something like that to happen, and Stiles has to believe that. Peter has also always been so violent towards the topic, his feelings always so clear about how wrong the entire thing was - that Still isn’t sure how else to take it.

What he finds - he almost wishes he hadn’t.

It wasn’t an accident, and even at sixteen Stiles can tell. He reads over everything as finely as he can, making sure to leave nothing unchecked. He also spends hours and hours researching, piecing together as much as he can from so little. There is nearly nothing concrete, nothing that can say this really happened - but it’s enough for now.

Firstly, there is no way an electrical fire could have burned as quickly and violently as this one did. It just doesn’t make sense. There is also nearly no way an entire family - eight out of eleven people died that night - couldn't get out. The only people who lived were those out of the house to begin with. The chief inspector sighted that the fire began on the main floor, burning through the walls and causing the house to concave - but again, that would have been noticed. It wasn’t as though this fire happened in the middle of the night. No, first responders responded on scene at seven fifteen in the morning.

Stiles gets Danny to hack into the inspector's bank account. He doesn’t like blackmailing the other boy - mostly because he’s always been so nice to him. But desperate times.

He finds out what he wanted. Three months after the fire the man came into a large sum of money and quit his job on it. Most of it has been used now, but the records will forever be there on the internet, and he gets Danny to make him copies of absolutely everything.

It doesn’t feel like enough, so he has Danny help him again - you learn a lot about people when no one takes notice of your presence - and does the same for the Sheriff at the time. Six months after the investigator retired, the Sheriff followed, opening up a second bank account - one that readily received tens of thousands of dollars. Stiles doesn't think that was nearly enough money for all the lives lost.

Stiles is sure it was arson, especially when he looks deeper into the file to see investigation reports put out on more than one person. Clearly someone at the station didn’t think it was an accident either and had been looking into it, before being let go. Apparently the deputy in charge of the cases failed to pass a multitude of mental health checks and were forced to resign.

But still, the man had interviews with two men who were convicted for arson only years later, his fucking chemistry teacher and even more surprising, Allison’s aunt.

He’s not proud about using his friendship with Scott to break into the Argent’s house, but he does it anyway. He raids the room Kate is staying, wearing gloves and a hair net - just in case. His shoes don’t have a thread and none of his clothes have any runs. He makes sure to take pictures of everything and takes extra care to put everything back where it belongs.

What he finds has him running to the bathroom to throw up.

Kate has a binder of photo’s. Most were of Derek Hale - who couldn't have been more than sixteen at the time, much younger than Kate’s twenty five - and most are incredibly stalker-esk. They’re of him out with his family, his friends. At the grocery store or driving in his care. There are also some of him, well, some had caused Stiles to hurl. None of it, none of it made sense, though. Why Kate would go through all the trouble to murder an entire family.

It didn’t matter, though. Stiles took the binder and everything he had learned straight to his father, determined and steely gazed and refusing to bend on this. He would get right by Peter.

“Peter, I think someone killed your family,” Stiles says it quietly, curled into the man's side. It’s not that he comes here often at night - at least he doesn't think three nights is too often - but he likes it here. Peter always gives off so much warmth, is so incredibly comfortable to lie on. And Peter always sends the most wonderful feelings over their bonds when he does that Stiles can think nothing other than that the man likes it just as much as he does.

Which is what he had been doing, until Stiles started talking. Now the bond is raging at him, and Stiles feels lost in it for an entire minute before he’s able to pull himself back out - to distinguish his own feelings from Peter’s. He can still feel everything the man is and it’s ugly, and horrible, and it hurts Stiles, so he just curls closer, pulling Peter tighter against him, letting the man lean against his chest as Stiles wraps himself around him, holding him tight.

He nuzzles into Peter’s neck, not knowing why but being pushed to, guided. He knows the instincts are not his own but he does it anyway, rubbing his chin into the crook of the older man’s neck and sighing quietly when some of the hurtpaindontstoppleaseleavemealonehelpsavethemithurts starts to lessen and he can breath in full. He feels Peter’s arm twitch against his - or at least what he thinks is Peter’s arm twitch but ignores it until it happens again. Then he smiles, pushing his face further into the man's skin as he laughs, tears slipping free.

He’s not even sure what he’s feeling, but Peter moved and it’s the first time that it has happened in the three years he’s been coming here. It’s progress, however small it still counts because he does it again and Stiles just laughs louder, his joy being choked out as he sobs, happy.

“My d-dad,” Stiles says as he tries to calm himself, taking deep breathes that rattle in his chest, “Reddick and Unger - their both arsonists that can actually be linked to the house - have been arrested. Garrison - he was the insurance inspector - he’s dead now. And, and Kate,” He says the name in nothing but a whisper, moving his head back as he speaks, not wanting to say the woman's name against peter’s skin, “Is wanted by the FBI now. “

Stiles knows for sure that Peter moves then, because a scarred, rough hand falls onto his own and the fingers twitch lightly against his skin. Stiles replies immediately, quickly flipping his palm upside down and twining their fingers tightly together, laughing again against the mans neck.

They fall asleep like that, homesafelovehappythankyou coursing through him as he continues to hug Peter to himself.

Stiles realizes he's attracted to Peter easily. It’s something he has always known and just never questioned - his attraction to the man being another fact of his life. He goes with it, let’s it happen and doesn't think much about it. He masturabtes often, but he tries his best never to explicitly think about Peter. And if his fantasies often include scarred-rough skin, well.

It has never mattered to him until the day he walks into Peter’s room in new clothes. Somehow he had been forced by Lydia and Allison to go shopping - the two girls taking pity on Scott’s awkward and quite tag-along friend. It didn’t really matter, it wasn’t as though he minded the two dressing him up. He was pleasantly surprised with the results, knowing he looked good.

Apparently wearing the ‘proper fit’ could do a lot for a boys ass, and he’d bought more jeans than he probably needed - including a variety of shirts that weren’t two sizes too big. He also had something done to his hair - though he thought it kind of looked the same just shorter on the back and sides, and really didn’t understand why he paid fifty dollars for it.

But, the girls has said it looked good, and he had trusted their opinion.

Then he hadn't thought about it again. Clothes were not a big part of his life - was not something he thought about more than once during his day. So when he walked into the hospital room in new skinny jeans and a light blue shirt, he thought nothing of it. He walked around Peter like he always did - pressing a soft kiss to the man's cheek. It was something he had started doing after he had told the man about the fire and he had moved for the first time. That had been months ago now, and touching Peter seemed like second nature.

He knew the man loved it, too. He would always light up - or rather the bond would. He didn’t feel nearly as bad as that first night he had climbed into the man's bed, now knowing with certainty that Peter was okay with it. So Stiles kissed his cheek, moving to pull a chair up in front of Peter so they could sit facing in other when Stiles felt wantminelustletmehavedesirefuck course through the bond, so intensely Stiles actually stumbled a step.

He turned to the man with wide eyes, staring into too-bright blue. They were staring at him, tracking down his form. Eye movement was another newer development, one only in the last little while but now the man would watch, follow Stiles with his eyes as he talked and paced, moved around the room during the hours he spent there.

It was amazing, almost as good as the time Peter held his hand. Now, now it felt different, charged. Stiles knew his cheeks would be red and blotchy, his blush intense as the man continued to stare at him, walking over his form. Stiles could only stare back, his body reacting to the heated gaze and the feelings he was being sent.

And Stiles, Stiles just ran away. He muttered out a sorry, letting his hand run through the man's hair on the way out. He was hard in his pants, outrageously so and he felt guilty. Guilty for being so attracted to a man who could still hardly move, a man so much older than he. But he couldn't stop, and he had to pull into a parking garage, driving to an empty level.

His heart was beating fast when he fiddled with his belt buckle, hastily pulling it off and throwing it onto the seat beside him, unbuttoning his jeans before fishing his cock out of his boxers. He was hard, already leaking - the head was a dark red, blood pooling almost painfully as it pulsed in his hand. He was so worked up, his balls already drawing in tight as pleasure licked his spine.

He could still feel Peter and if he focused could see flashes of images, of himself and Peter together, things the man was thinking of the two of them fueling him on. It hardly took five tugs before he was shooting off, doubling over at the force as he panted. He slumped back and looked in the rearview mirror. He had a rope of cum hanging off his chin, another glob on his neck and a third in his hair. He focused on what he was seeing, trying to memorize the image he made and push it towards Peter.

When he got home he was beyond glad his father wasn’t there.

He had no idea how to explain the cum in his hair.

Stiles was sure that if someone asked, he wouldn't be able to tell them he was excited.

In fact, he was trying pretty hard not to burst into tears. He’d already done that enough, curling close to Peter every night for the last couple of months and crying. He was leaving, leaving and he couldn't feel anything but heartbreak at the choice. But, but Berkeley had a good program and offered him an even better scholarship, and he couldn’t say no.

But Peter, god, leaving Peter might just break him. He loved the man, was sure of that at this point, anyway. He’d first made the decision to read to him over four years ago, and he’s spent nearly all of his free time with him since. Sure, Stiles was probably horrible dependant on the other man - but he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Peter had gained more movement in the last year. It had all started with the soft, twitching of his fingers but now he could move his head and his forearms. Holding the man's hand was one of Stiles’ favorite things to do, and would be one of the things he missed the most. He still had trouble with speech, but would sometimes mutter would a few words. They didn’t always make up a sentence, but that was okay. The first time Peter said Stiles name the boy had bawled for an hour, pulling Peter close and not letting go.

So leaving was going to be hard - easily the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he couldn’t - god he couldn’t stay. Peter would never agree with that, and never forgive him if he did anyway. He knew that, knew that however much he loved the man Peter somehow loved him more. Leaving would be horrible, heartbreaking for both and if Stiles wasn’t sure how he was going to survive it, he could hardly imagine how Peter would.

But that - that wouldn't matter, not now. No, now his name was being called and he was walking towards the stage, gown floating around his ankles. He takes a deep breath, still trying hard not to cry. No one here would truly know why, and he doesn't want to let anyone think his tears are for anything other than Peter.

He takes his diploma, throat too tight and chest hurting too much to smile for his photo. He’s sure he looks miserable, and he feels worse than it shows. He just wants to go back to the hospital and lay with Peter, curled up into the man's warmth and trying to forget that he’s leaving and hoping that he'll never forget how good it feels to be so close.

He goes back to his seat, having to scrub at his eyes as he sits and sniffles heavily, not even caring about the looks he knows he’s getting. He doesn’t care about any of them. He cares about two people in this town and he's leaving both and that - well that is too much. It steals his breath from him and forces him to bite hard into his fist to keep down the sob that is trying to bubble over.

He manages to hold it together for the rest of the ceremony, finding his dad promptly and hiding his face in the man's shoulder. He had really stepped up the last year, apologizing for the years and years of neglect. Obviously it hadn't fixed everything, but it had been a start and Stiles had been more than appreciative of it.

He takes another breath of gun oil and old spice, letting his dad squeeze him extra tight before stepping back. He looks around him quickly, watching as others pose with groups of friends, hugging and crying and sad to be leaving. Stiles doesn't have anyone to turn to - the results of spending all of his time in a hospital - and instead tries to muster up a smile for his dad, even though he knows it’s weak.

He looks around once more, thinking that maybe, maybe he should feel more for these people when his vision catches on something too familiar. He swirls back, breath catching. It’s, it’s Peter, but his hair is trimmed neatly and he’s in a fitted suit. His scars shine in the sun, wrinkle harshly when he smiles - and Stiles decides it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Stiles sobs out then, falling to his knees as he hugs himself tight, shaking his head. He couldn't - god he couldn’t. It wasn’t true because fuck if Stiles knew would to do if it was. The last time he’d seen the man Peter could hardly speak, no way was he standing there with tulips. Fucking tulips which he told the man were his mother's favourites three years ago.

Peter just walks forward slowly, students and parents alike staring. His dad pulls him to his feet as Peter steps in front of him before fluidly kneeling to one knee - Stiles finally seeing what’s in his other hand. It’s a box, black velvet and when he opens it there’s a ring, thin and rose gold and everything Settles could have ever wanted for himself.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski, you saved me from myself. You - you took away the darkness, the stillness and the rage. You took away the pain, and you stood by me for four years. You made yourself a spot in my life, carved yourself into my heart and it is something I have come to cherish. You, are something I have come to cherish. You saved my life - gave me something to live for, something to get better for, to survive for after I lose everything. You are the reason I am here today, talking and walking and I can’t let you go,” Peter’s eyes were watering as much as Stiles’ were, and the boy had once again knelt down, knee brushing Peter’s as he stared at the man, taking his face between his hands even as he finished, “I will never let you go. Please, please let me hold you forever.”

Stiles just nodded, touching their foreheads together as he laughed. He knew everyone was watching - after all how many adult burn victims proposed to freshly graduated teenagers at their graduation - but Stiles couldn't care, especially as Peter slipped the ring onto his finger, the metal cool against his skin.

Stiles just laughed again, bright and loud as he leaned forward, pressing his smile to the older mans for the first time, sharing their first kiss.

And in his bond all he could feel was finallyminelovejoyforeverforever, and Stiles couldn't agree more.

Holding Peter forever sounded like an amazing plan.

“God, you being a werewolf explains so fucking much.”

[fmdjoosungarchive]

location: 2 many

date: jan 2016-sept 2020

word count: 2113

tldr; verification for sung’s song seoul. full credits for lyrics, composition, and production. sung takes almost five years to write this song, and with time, it changed as sung’s opinions on seoul and himself changed. also talks about how the general productional sound of the album started w seoul here

journalling had helped a lot, in the first couple months of every move. joosung had picked it up a while after the first move, and it stuck with every move up to seoul. at first, it was a way for sung to express how he was feeling without causing trouble to his parents. making friends was even harder than it was in gwangju. relearning the styles and expectations of a new set of school teachers was another task sung wasn’t sure he was up to taking on well. but, he had to. despite the resentment that built up in him, the feeling was wrong. he needed to be a good son, and not make the situation harder for his parents who were struggling too.

so, whenever sung started to sit in these horrible feelings, when all he could think of was the home left behind in gwangju, the people he’d left, the memories and experiences he would miss out on, he sat down, and wrote about it.

when the chois moved to seoul, for their final homestead, sung wrote then, too. he wrote more than he had for any other town. his bitterness came out in scribbles that left imprints on the next page about pollution and sketchy travellers.

seoul was so different to him. gwangju wasn’t small by any means, but it was no seoul. for a while, sung felt out of his element. that was, until he found element. or, until he found gold star who took him under their wing, and took a chance on him, to keep him until he was ready to be someone that kid who had first moved to seoul could never have imagined. that kid was someone who found solace in journalling, while a future version was one who could bring those feelings to others in music.

around late 2015 was when sung started training for songwriting. mostly, it was sitting in on songwriting to take notes, but there were more structural classes too, like tests to write songs. back then, the focus was on lyrics. he’d had different music theory classes over the years, which helped, but every test consisted of sung being given a beat to write a rap to for evaluation.

one of the last evaluations he’d had came from reading back over his diary, when he’d had no other ideas. he’d been too busy to sit down and think of it at the time, but reading over those old entries, sung could feel how deeply those feelings still sat within him. for as dynamic as the city was, for as much as he should have been starry eyed at the expanse of existence in seoul, his heart had a hole in it, wherever he looked.

he wrote about this contrasting nature, about the distinct smells of seoul city that feel familiar and yet cause a scrunch on his nose, and the gorgeous expanse of han rivers that open a gaping mouth to swallow him whole into its abyss, and the growth of those around him, the ever changing trainee lineup, and him, who still lays in wait.

his evaluator didn’t care for it as much as sung did. but, he’d kept it nonetheless, towards the end of that first ever journal he’d started in seoul.

in 2019, in early days preparation for what would come to be known as in sensitivity, those lyrics came back around. he’d been looking for anything he’d written previously that could be reworked, given the short time constraint he was under if he wanted to write his own songs. this little ditty... peaked his interest.

it’d been about three years since sung had written it, eleven since he’d moved to seoul, and his feelings had shifted, with time and age. in the diary, sung could read the deep set bitterness that had overwhelmed him. over and over again, he’d written how much he hated seoul. in the little daily annoyances of living in a big city, but also in its mere existence, for having been the place his parents said would keep sung from ever going back to living in gwangju as he’d dreamed so often. the lyrics that came from it were softer than the outpour of pain upon the original pages. and yet still, three years on, sung’s opinion on seoul was continuing to change.

he took that in stride, when he started trying to rework the song. the best way to describe where he’d ended up was a love and hate relationship. sung didn’t want to admit that he hated anything, even a city with no true feelings, nor did he want to admit that he’d grown strangely fond of the things he so desperately hated at the same time. the feelings had become interconnected in a way that made defining the relationship difficult.

at his piano, sung didn’t want to make others feel the difficulty of the relationship, but rather, to hear him, to listen, and to agree, if they’ve had similar feelings.

his thoughts came out as vocal stylings -which only registered as unhelpful a few minutes in. for those collection of seconds turned minutes, long, simplistic chords backed a dichotomy, stuck between states of feeling: hate, and love. momentary cynicism had sung wondering if people had been right all along, and the two feelings weren’t all that different after all. it could have been the case, there. trouble was, there was no way sung was going to sing. even if gold star for some reason let him, sung wasn’t sure if he felt ready to sing more, for fear of, at best, embarrassing himself, and at worst, bursting the eardrums of anyone who listened to the album. he tried reworking the line to something that could be more rap-centric, using the usual compositional formula he’d found himself comfort in. some brass instruments, a more bright and popping piano, even a violin, but it didn’t feel... right.

enough disappointment eating up his white blood cells, and sung decided to call it quits.

that was, until sung was given the go ahead to begin working on music for another album, in the next year. he hadn’t been expecting the company to want to give him more chances, after in sensitivity didn’t have the kind of commercial success that gold star expected of their artists and element never managed to reach on their own.

again, in following his comfort zones, sung turned to old pieces he never ended up sending off to anyone. in his tracks, one stood out, for strange reasons. “hate/love” had a composition that contrasted what lyrics there were in all the wrong ways. rather than emphasizing the in between the lyrics came from, which could have been a good use of opposite sound, it sounded more like a different song all together. that, and the vocals were... sung really needed to get some vocal lessons in his own time.

he moved the backtrack onto its own file, and focused on the melodic lines. first things first, if this was going to be something he wanted to sell gold star on, the vocal capabilities needed had to be paired down. sung couldn’t pretend he was an actual singer, not for his own album, just in the shower. he kept the vocal lines within a few note ranges, a decently comfortable place he didn’t think he sounded too bad in. sung could remember vaguely, when he’d started the piece, that he’d begun with an unsually piano line, and tried again there, after. this song could be simple, and let the lyrics take it along for the ride.

or, the production.

sung’s fingertips rubbed along the piano keys as he thought. there was more that could be done to enhance a sound than just the notes being played. he tried out a few different variations of those dragging piano notes, and then shifted fully to his computer to play around with effects, which, pulled sung even further from his comfort zone.

the thing about seoul, what was the heart of his dilemma, was that it felt like an old soul wrapped in a new packaging. there were positives and negatives to being a city so filled with history and constant emotion of the bustling landscape, and there was the same for a city priding itself on innovation and being in the know for the up and coming breakthroughs of the country.

it made sense, to use that as a basis for where to go from there. something using influence from the old, to create something new. sung wrote down his thoughts as they came about, but by the time he finished, had another schedule to attend to, leaving the ideas untapped, until a couple of weeks later. even further down the line, sung would have been grateful for life getting in the way, there. having the break meant he came back to the song with fresh eyes, and a mood more fitting for writing the song.

80s electronic, synth-like sound was one of the first places sung started, and what ended up sticking, in the end. it was old age, but something that could be reinvented to a modern sound. western pop girls did it all the time.

the song itself started coming together as something retro pop inspired, mid tempo, with a kind of brightness that felt teetering on fake. he liked it. though, not enough. despite the little birdy in the back of his mind telling him to make a vocally based song, he couldn’t, and the composition wasn’t fit for rap yet.

rather than dumping the idea for another day, like he had last time, sung took another break. although, the song didn’t leave his mind easily. -not just in the creative thoughts continuing to flow, but, gosh darn it if that probable chorus melody didn’t stick in his head for ages. his members and daisuke must have gotten quite tired of hearing that same short melody hummed across their homes.

and, weirdly enough, it was when the sound finally left sung’s brain that he came back around to the song. when his mind had emptied itself of the sound, it had the chance to come back, and with it, being renewed energy to finish what he started.

well, that, and having written enough potential songs for the album that he had an idea of what he wanted from it. and this song was exactly what he was looking for. similar to the thoughts he’d had over to course of trying to write the song, he wanted to talk about feelings, but not have a need to resolve them, just to share them. if all of the songs he wrote specifically for the album followed that theme, they should have similar feelings and soundscapes too.

working on lyrics again felt more like updating than writing, despite having maybe a quarter of the lyrics written coming into the session. really, it was an update, of how sung felt about seoul, and the concept of love and hate, through the changes he himself had made in his life the last few months. that was something he’d have to come to terms with, that it was possible his feelings could continue to evolve even before the song came out. it needed to be a capsule. and so, the lyrics widened, less than just about a city, but about the person that had started this song so many years back, and who he had come to be. people were ever changing. his soul had changed tremendously since coming to seoul.

souls, as a concept, spurred sung’s continuation of the rest of the song. like a lightbulb had been clicked on, sung knew that whatever songs he was writing, for them to sound similar, it would be less about his usual style of composing. he’d have to work much more closely on production with this album than he had before... if the company let him.

he’d been recording with other idols more lately, but mixing had to be the area he was least experienced in at this point. in the best of terms, it was a chance to grow, and continue to figure out how he feels about who he was.

-

that initial first draft was rejected, even with fine tuning of the english lines done by the company. it was too simple, they’d said, too personal to connect to an audience. but, like sung never gave up on figuring out the answers to his questions, he never gave up on this song, not until its five year journey could come to an end.

it sounded better as one body of work, anyway.

[swimintothesound]

Lil Pump Versus The Elderly: A Long and Storied History

Letter From the Editor: The writer of this piece would like to apologize in advance for the abject stupidity contained within the following wall of text. If you’re brave enough to subject yourself to the mania that’s about to unfold, then you have my admiration, gratitude, respect, and appreciation. Thank you for understanding, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Pumpology 101: The Mystifying Origins of Gazzy Garcia

Lil Pump is a dreadlocked 17-year old rapper from Florida who first began making waves in late 2016 when his song “D Rose” became an unexpected viral hit. Over the span of a few short months, the wrist-obsessed track had garnered millions of plays on Soundcloud and over one hundred million curious YouTube clicks. By the end of 2017, Lil Pump (whose real name is Gazzy Garcia) had established himself as a mainstream success when his song “Gucci Gang” peaked at #3 on the Billboard charts. Spawning from his self-titled debut, the alliterative hit quickly became the focal point of a heated debate on the declining state of rap music rap music, the ongoing idocratization of popular culture, and the bare minimum required to pass for lyricism in the year of our Lord 2017.

Expertly covered by both Rolling Stone and The New York Times, Mr. Pump has become a figure at the forefront of the budding “Soundcloud Rap” movement. This subgenre is a spin-off of Trap that’s focused on crafting a particular brand of blown-out, vapid, and repetitive hip-hop that, while lyrically substanceless, still manages to be catchy, memorable, and (most importantly) energetic. It’s hype-up music that’s been distilled so many times that words practically don’t matter.

I’ve already discussed my conflicted feelings on the genre back in August, and while some members of this scene are still objectively-horrific human beings, I’m willing to admit that I’ve come around to Lil Pump thanks to the catchiness of the aforementioned “Gucci Gang.” While the man himself should never be looked up to as an idol, Garcia is still making exciting creations within a field that I’m morbidly fascinated by.

The Lyrics (or Lack Thereof)

Like most rappers, Pump’s songs typically center around the same award-winning trifecta of drugs, money, and women. What makes “Gucci Gang” unique is the fact that it ticks all these boxes while also managing to be accessible to a mainstream audience. Soundcloud Rap’s previous biggest success came in the form of “Look At Me!,” a song whose lyrics are probably just a touch too edgy for mainstream audiences.

Meanwhile “Gucci Gang” has just the right mix of garish colors and catchy lyrics, both of which are accompanied by a distinct feeling of “newness” that helped it stand out from the crowd. Additionally, the song’s bouncy three-syllable chorus proved perfectly memeable, ripe for parody, and endlessly reworkable, all of which led to a song that hit, and lingered in the cultural consciousness for longer than anyone ever expected. Possibly even a reflection of our society at large, “Gucci Gang” is an undeniable success no matter how you cut it.

Outside of the song itself, Lilliam Pumpernickel has also gained fans through numerous extra-musical antics including second-floor balcony jumps, a love for iCarly’s Miranda Cosgrove, and a running joke that he’s a Harvard Graduate. Essentially, he’s not afraid to be a meme, and that lack of fear makes him even stronger. Complete with his own catchphrase, there are many reasons to be entertained by Lil Pump, and all of these elements combined help explain his meteoric rise to success.

The Emergence of an Astronomical Happening

Though my numerous listens to “Gucci Gang,” I began to approach the song the same way that many others did: first with curiosity, then ironic enjoyment, then genuine adoration. I can’t stress enough that the lyrics are nothing to write home about, however one stanza in particular stands out amongst the rest like a bright, shining star:

My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)

Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)

Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)

These bars initially seemed like a single metaphysical barb amongst a sea of relatively-straightforward brags and boasts, so I explained them away as a one-off lyric with no deeper significance. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this line was just the tip of the iceberg.

By the time December had rolled around, “Gucci Gang” had won the honor(?) of being recognized not once, but twice in Swim Into The Sound’s 2017 Un-Awards. While part of a largely-negative post, I shined a relatively-positive light on “Gucci Gang” as my second-biggest “WTF” moment of the year (second only to Bhad Bhabie) in which I found myself surprisingly endeared to both equally-trashy artists. Later on in the proceedings, I cited the lyrics above specifically as the single “Weirdest Flex” of 2017 (barely edging out a Drake lyric about napping).

In researching the Pump-penned lines for that write-up I found myself jumping between various Genius pages and in doing so, I quickly began to uncover a conspiracy deep as the Carly Rae Jepsen Cinematic Universe: Lil Pump has an unshakable fixation with the elderly.

The Quest For A Universal Truth

It’s no secret that artists tend to use the same concepts, thoughts, and ideas over and over again throughout their work. Usually in hip-hop, these recurring topics (like drugs, money, and women for instance) are framed by using twists on conventional language that are given new meanings within the scene’s culture. From “bricks” to “bands” to “bitches” every possible theme has dozens of different synonyms that can be switched out interchangeably to keep the rhyme fresh and the topic from going stale.

However, slang goes in and out of popular vernacular like the tides of the ocean, and Monsieur Pump is not above these familiar tropes. While drugs, money, and women remain the primary topics around which Pump waves his tales, he, on more than one occasion, has used his grandma, or the grandmother of the listener as a reference point for these interests.

Of course he likes lean, and naturally, he talks about it, but what makes Pump unique is his ability to relate that commonplace idea to the elderly in a hilarious and unexpected way. He’s using age as a barometer by which to measure his own life; the elderly representing an extreme through which he can cover these well-trodden topics.

It’s quite the signature flair for a 17-year-old to brandish, but perhaps through these lines he’s revealing his own obsession with death and mortality. Maybe these grandparent-based lyrics are allowing us a brief peek into the inner machinations of Lil Pump’s mind and we are learning what troubles him on a deep, cosmic, existential level. The philosophical reaper that keeps him up at night. These lines act as an illumination of the human experience as told through the grounded eyes of one man who yells “ESKETIT” like it’s his Pokemon name. What follows is a comprehensive list of every time Little Pump has rapped about senior citizens. You are welcome.

Exhibit #1 - “Gucci Gang”

My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)

Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)

Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)

For the sake of completeness, we’ll begin with lyrics that started it all. The quote above comprises exactly 25% of the sole verse found on Lil Pump’s breakout hit “Gucci Gang.” In it we find Pump surveying his surroundings, living situation, and pattern of systematic drug use over a bassy beat and twinkling piano line.

First, we get the worrying comparison between the upkeep of his own opiate addiction to monthly rent, then the (uncalled for) implication that the listener’s mother is homeless, and the final cherry on top: the fact that Pump spends quality time popping pills with his grandmother. While the specifics remain vague here, it’s implied that he’s taking drugs recreationally while she is taking them for health reasons.

This being one of Pump’s numerous references to the elderly, the topic’s pervasiveness now leads me to believe that this is both a genuine lyric, as well as a thinly-veiled cry for help. As distressing as the lyric may be, at least he’s spending some quality time with his elders before they pass. Even if it’s a drug-fueled haze, I hope that both parties treasure their remaining time together and cherish each other's company.

Exhibit #2 - “Fiji”

I got Fiji on my neck

I got Gucci on my chest

And my grandma sippin' Tech

Off a Xan like Ron Artes

In this one-off Lil Pump loosie, Young Gazzy uses the artesian water brand as a descriptor for both his jewelry and his sex life. Following a similar structure as “Gucci Gang,” this track features a brief intro, and one verse sandwiched between two short choruses. Clocking in at a mere 88-seconds, “Fiji” is a striking minimalist creation that embraces reductionism and revels in ambiguity.

Within the world of hip-hop, “Water” can actually mean many things. From sex to swagger, the use of ‘water’ in-song is generally something you have to pick up from context clues, and this track is no different. In “Fiji” Pump walks a beautifully-ambiguous line between these typical definitions of earthly possessions and literal water, turning the brand’s name into a primal chant of “I pour Fiji on her neck.”

After a brief water-laced refrain, Pump proceeds into the meat of the song: a 45-word verse that discusses his public persona and ticks all of the seemingly-mandatory drug-based name-drops. He has jewelry on his neck, a Gucci logo tattooed on his chest, and most importantly the incongruous mention of his grandmother casually enjoying some hitech (aka Lean).

Perhaps elaborating on the lines of “Gucci Gang,” this lyric implies that maybe he and his grandmother both enjoy drugs on the same recreational level. Later on in the song he continues:

Slice your auntie in the neck

Lil Pump disrespect

Run up on you with that 40

Grab your grandma by the neck

After the verses earlier drug revelry, Pump seems to “set his sights” on the listener, attacking us via multiple familial ties. In a single moment of clarity he utters “Lil Pump disrespect” as if he knows what he’s doing is morally reprehensible, but remains out of his control. A haunting sentiment to say the least.

His hunger is insatiable, and your grandmother is his target. Violence is the only thing he understands, and your grandmother is the only thing he can grasp onto, both physically and metaphorically. And then, just as suddenly as the attack unfolded, the song fades into nothing, leaving the listener in the bloody aftermath.

Exhibit #3 - “Smoke My Dope”

Whippin' up dope in the trap spot (what)

Sellin' cocaine to your grandma (yuh)

Whippin' up dope in the trap spot (yuh, yuh)

Sellin' cocaine to your grandma (yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh)

In this early-album cut Lil Pump and fellow Florida rapper SmokePurpp trade verses for a compact and chaotic 2-minutes. In Garcia’s second verse he exerts himself enough to present one specific instance of creating and selling drugs over a series of escalating “yuh’s.”

In this simplistic portrayal of Pump’s supply chain, he gives his process away to the listener:

Whip up an indeterminate amount of “dope” within the “trap”

Proceed to sell that cocaine to the listener’s grandmother

Perhaps connected to the seemingly-uncalled-for violence depicted on “Fiji,” these lines seem to explain how Pump has obtained his wealth. I imagine that the elderly are comparatively easy-going when it comes to the purchase and intake of drugs, so it’s presumably easy money for Pump and a decent enough business model. Backed up by voracious twitter claims that echo the song’s lyrics, Pump has given us no reason to doubt him or his business acumen when it comes to selling the white stuff to the Greatest Generation.

Exhibit #4 - “Had”

My loud pack smell like fish tank

My backwoods filled with dumb stank

I can't fuck with you, cause I know all you ni**as stains

My grandma selling loud pack and she selling cocaine

She run up on your block and she'll shoot you in the fuckin' brain

With “Had” it seems that there’s a new wrinkle to Pump’s drug operation as it’s revealed that he’s running a family business by employing his grandmother as a key player.

Depicting his bubbe as savage and violent as himself, this example could possibly explain Pump’s own outwardly-destructive actions as a learned behavior. In portraying a systematic issue within our society, this line directly tackles how family can fail us, or lead us to repeat the same mistakes as those that came before us. It’s a tortured and agonized call for help as Pump removes himself enough to realize the trauma that he has indirectly absorbed and the conditions that he has had no choice but to grow up in.

This all said, it’s still nice that people like Pump’s grandmother can find purpose in the fast-paced working world and be driven by the fulfillment of a hard days work. The fact that she’s willing to kill on top of the drug dealing means that she’s committed to the cause, and is likely quite experienced, even in her old age. At the very least, Pump must come from good genes!

Exhibit #5 - “At The Door”

I got junkies at the door

I could serve you 2 for 4

I could serve you couple Xans

I could feed your bitch some coke

Yeah my Uzi automatic

Make your grandma do a backflip

On this mid-album cut, we see yet another allusion to the violence that Pump has inflicted upon the listener’s grandmother specifically. Perhaps wielded by Pump himself, or maybe even his grandmother (as we saw in “Had), it appears as if the drug dealing illustrated on “Smoke my Dope” has gone sideways for one reason or another, and Pump has been forced to resort to violence.

This line is actually one of the multiple familial references within this verse, the others being father, daughter, and aunt, so while this reference fits squarely in the bounds of the topic at hand, there’s no getting around the persistently-elderly angle that Pump takes.

This is yet another line later echoed in a Tweet by Pump, either lending further credence to his unfeeling savagery, or (perhaps) his commitment to our society’s collective physical fitness by inspiring the elderly to do advanced-level gymnastics.

In Conclusion

None of this was good. While Pump’s initial references to the elderly seemed to be a twisted form of mutual enjoyment, things quickly devolved into selling drugs, and eventually inflicting violence directly on the listener's grandmother.

This analysis is absolute stupidity, but I find it too amusing that a 17-year-old who has so few songs officially released has referenced the elderly half a dozen times throughout the history of his recorded work. The way I see it, there are a few explanations for this lyrical ouroboros:

It’s a creative crutch.

Lil Pump has that little to say that he keeps defaulting to “grandma.”

Deep-seated familial trauma in his own past that Pump may or may not be cognizant of.

Pump thinks that the savagery of his grandma implies, dictates, and directly translates to his own.

By “attacking” the listener and showing disregard for their loved ones, his devil-may-care attitude is preemptively deflecting any criticism they may have of Pump or his music.

Lil Pump truly does fear the uncertainty of death and projects that concern through the multiple references to the elderly in his music. 

It very well could be all or any combination of all of these, but in any case, I feel it’s safe to say that this qualifies as an unhealthy fixation. Whether it’s a profound fear of death, a thinly-veiled attempt to address his own mortality, or irreconcilable childhood trauma, I genuinely hope that Gazzy Garcia can get the help he needs to get over this mental block.

He’s still got many years ahead of him, and a full life to live. If he wants to make it to the status of “Grandpa Pump” he’ll have to overcome this irrational fear and tackle his issues head-on, or else they will continue to emerge in unhealthy ways.

Here’s to you Mr. Pump, I hope you get the help you need and deserve.

I’m sorry for writing this.

[lwbluedice]

Masterpost for my Stories and Ocs!!!

A spoilerfree list of most of my Ocs and stories (reuploaded here on my main blog)

Includes:

- Name of the story and state it’s in

- short summary/facts

- Character names

If you want more information abt any of them(like a description or a pic) or abt the stories, just message me/ ask me!  Also feel free to ask me to draw them ( for example in the color scheme thing or sth)!

Note: The stories are all written in german so if you don’t speak that language i can’t send you the original documents but i can try summing them up for you!

I bet this is not everything and i will add stuff but yeah!!!!

Hotaru (first draft is finished)

- Abt two men that are linked through a surgery called “synchronisation”, which basically connects their minds and bodies, so they are forced to work as a team. Ea is an ex-soldier and Cain was a hacker, but due to the fact that they can’t stand each other, they also didn’t share their pasts with each other. To pay someone to unlink them, they become bounty hunters and kidnap the girl Ai and her robot Subaru, which is one of the old military robots, called Hotarus (high technologised, operating, transforming, artificial intelligence, ranger units). They are connected to a human ranger and can transform into what the ranger wants them to transform into.

The Hotaru headquarters exploded 10 years ago and since then the Hotarus are super rare on the black market.

The two men plan on selling both the girl and her robot and let’s just say it all doesn’t work out that well.

Ai Hoshino

Ea

Cain Bishop

Subaru

Dr. Chandra Natarajan

10 A

10 B

and other synced pairs

George Watton

Asha Watton

Elaine Bishop

Christopher Bishop

Haruto Hoshino

Shiori Hoshino

The Pleiades. A Hotaru Unit.

Atlas/ Emmett Hunter

Maia/ Ilya Neverwinter

Elektra/ Hailey Gray

Taygete/ Daiyu Ghou

Alcyone/ Charlotte Gryffith)

Caelano/ Sora Aurora River

Merope/ Imogen Harrington

Sterope/ Elizabeth Bresley

Additional Characters for the (maybe Sequel) in which the grown up Ai will try to find out who attacked the Hotaru Headquarters

- Skya

The day the world turned white ( first draft is finished, working on it)

To stop global warming some scientists basically caused a new ice age. On the long run this might be very effective but the former countries, now sectors, are hit by strong ice storms, called snow white. To stay safe huge bunkers, the Safe Cities, were built and the local fauna and flora were stored in Arks, to preserve them.

Usually an alarm sounds before all citizens are brought into the SCs, but this time Reese and her best friend Yuki dont manage to get to the vehicles on time and are left behind. They seek shelter in a private bunker outside of town that Yuki found out about recently. Suddenly a group of boys their age knocks on the door, because they were also left behind and followed the girls.

Al, the brothers Eli and Isaac, Gil and Henry become the new bunker-mates and the group has to survive one year in the bunker, until the storm is over.

( I have a blog for this story, just search for The day the world turned white! There are pics and some posts for example abt which patronus/spirit animal the charas have!)

Reese/ Therese Wells

Al/ Alexander Glover

Yuki Sarah Brooke

Eli Green

Isaac Green

Gil de Santos

Henry Summers

The Sun will always rise (The sequel, probably forever unfinished)

About a group of rebels, the Sun Children, that are sworn enemies to the government and its ways to cope with Snow White.

Takes place abt one/two years after Tdtwtw.

Lucy and Aidan are kicked out of an underground organisation that stays in the cities underground system during the storm phases and the two wander around in the snow until Michael and Rin pick them up and bring them to the Sun Children. From looking into the snow directly to maneuver, Lucy has turned snowblind.

Yeah the plot is… not 100% existent.

Characters:

Lucy

Aidan

Michael

Kate

Gil

Bo

Finya

Rin

The XII Games ( First book is finished, i started the second one, unfinished)

A story abt spaceships that let slaves fight in games, if they win a certain number they are “free”. Cassidy makes it and is sold to a women, Trisha, that takes her home onto her home planet, where Cassidy lives a nice life and learns abt her heritage. One year later she meets Tobias again and she and Trisha are brought to a planet that is basically the universes capital. Cassidy has to take a more important role in the uproar of a war, than she ever imagined.( The cast members are mostly human looking but are other, non human, races)

Cass (Cassidy ) E’ Alandril

Tobias

On the slave ship:

Neala

Sam ( Samuel)

On Anterra:

Trisha  Willowrish

Max ( Maxwell)  E’ Alyndral

Lukas

Tori

Khorr

Keri

Wil

Quinna

On the Space sparrow:

Zach ( Zacharyas) Gryaan

Benj ( Benjamin) Bottledom

Rashka Hyrelian

Oreadh Urunna'ur

Butcher

Kagrim

Kyluur

Irian Ashcott

On Capital Estellar:

Galea ( Galeandrih Fiyur’ Ihal)

Iyal

Wren Fawell

Luasia  

Luminor the Shining

Fallen Angels ( A trilogy, one and a half books were finished, reconcepted)

We don’t talk abt this but it was one of my first stories i truly wrote.

Abt fallen angels saving the world or sth. It’s super clichee and just ugh.

The newer version would cancel some charas and make it abt rebalancing Darkness and Light in the worlds. With a more diverse cast and also different magical races. And a way less creepy Adam.

Eve/Evelyn White

Adam

Peregrine/Perry

Ray/Raven

Sera

Colin

Robin

Raphael

Ky/ Kyron

Gabe/Gabriel Frost

Bree/ Gabriella Frost

Indigo ( haven’t written it yet and i don’t know if i ever will, but have drawn stuff. I lowkey wanna see this as a comic)

A story abt a clan of shapeshifters, called Indigos. They are basically human that can shift into dolphins and their clan lives on an island near Australia. Its a modern story and the gang consisting of our local gay dolphin girl Keerie, her cousins Akash and Arjuun (younger brother, older sis), and Ky ( adopted as a child, japanese heritage, a different breed of dolphin idk) lives their “normal lives” with lots of shenenigans and drama.

Some day Keerie falls in love with Navy, the daughter of the owner of the local Aquapark (that the clan suspect also does illegal stuff like snatching wild animals).

Keerie

Arjuun

Akash

Ky

Navy

“Neo Alcatraz” ( reworks of a very old story)

To put it simply, there is a pack of scientists that bionically enhance children and send them off to different countries to basically be local superheroes. Our gang was kinda left behind bc the countries rather took the newer, better versions and here they are now, a bunch of supernatural teens facing the (not so) everyday struggles of life.

Atalanta

Chi

Callie

Lee

Victor/Konrad

Gemsona (just art)

Larimar

- has water powers and her backstory bases on my private/old Squads life story and a lot of me thinking of drawing music videos for her but never doing it

Anthea (art and headcanons)

- my Dnd Oc

The Bender Girls ( art and headcanons)

- basically some Avatar the last Airbender Ocs i made once

Daiyu

Hotaru

Yura

Sündenfall / Sinfall (short story)

A short story i wrote for a competition which is basically every crime series but magic.

Harvey is immortal, he dies and is revived, and solves crimes through it. Paige is basically his assistant and the case they are on is abt a person that kills magical beings and “arranges” the victims fitting to the seven sins.

Ilya Winter

Harvey

Paige

Delphi

Sphinx

The concept charas, that had a different storyline ( they were basically a team of magical beings that would solve cases… rather unconventional.) I considered reworking them into the new Fallen Angels concept:

Ilya

Harvey

Timothy

Worth mentioning:

Project Alpha (script, some art):

The script for a shortfilm i once made with my friends. A school class has a plane crash and only a few students survive, they all embody a different character archetype (the sunshine, the soziopath, the smart one etc.) They try to survive and are put through weird psychological mind experiments like the trolley problem.

To be honest, the concept had and still has a lot of potential and we just hadn’t the opportunities to rly set it the way we anticipated. The shooting day was super fun, though! Still laughing about the outtakes

Astral Chronicles (some art and a few chapters, unfinished)

A story Idea i still like but probably wont write like this because of copyright problems. Its basically a giant Crossover.

Its abt people who have an Astral( mostly a literature figure) they embody when they are dreaming. Their body stays in bed and is vulnerable but the Astral can basivally run around and has special powers. If the Astral dies, the person wakes up but i think when the body dies the person dies too? idk.

The Protagonist embodies Alice and there are also the White Rabbit, Peter Pan, Tinkerbell usw.

There was also some kind of conflict? I dont remember.

If i would ever rewrite it the Astrals would be embodiments of the Zodiac signs.

(does this even fit?)

The Fanfiction thing i wrote abt Peter Pan/ Jack Frost

- like i have tons of short drabbles and the start of a fanfiction and honestly i liked the ideas i had a lot

The ones we better not talk abt:

Part Hunter

Basically there was a being named eternity/aeterna that was shattered into oarts (like in TRC)

and chosen ones have to reclaim them.

The ones that basically die are turned into guardians, like Time and Space ( they had animal companions they were fused with i guess)

Melody is the current part hunter and has a tragic love story, her animal is a tiny horse thing??????

Idk

basically a long story in which i used my dreams as base for the episodes

The nameless story

Actually super interesting but too many charas and a too tiny will to draw action scenes or write them.

Like its based around a super popular game in huge spheres/buildings and the teams wear some anti gravity outfits and shoes and can walk on the walls and shit and can basically attack using elements/illusion/ conjure monsters idk.

And the main team had an opponent team that basically specialized in the 25272 other elements and some day they just fused teams idk.

There also was some prophecy shit abt the anchors, ppl that can control all elements the same???? Idk

Element guardians

- basically four teens that control the elements and do shit together

- at some point i gave all of them dragons

- still thinking abt this sometimes

- The originals:

Luna: the shameless self insert , earth, pony girl, bland blonde i think

Katy: Air, best friend, bubbly

Dan: The jock. Fire

Nick: The emo. Water

At some point Katy became Skye and Dan and Nick got other names but yeah-

Talent Academy

The story thats basically a ripoff of Alice academy. Like a school with hierachie between the students and ranks and shit and different houses and the students have powers IDK

If you read through all of this, bless you for showing interest in my stories ;) And hey, if you want me to rant about any of them, just send me an ask or a message!!!

[gwynne-fics]

Silver Lining

chapter thirty-five

Young-Do looked at the list of employees in front of him and frowned. “Surely, we have more female employees with children up for promotion or highly recommended for recognition than this. This won’t fill the rest of the theater.”

Hyun-Shik looked uncomfortable. “If you opened it up to fathers, I could fill the theater.”

“That’s not the point of what I’m trying to do. Go back and tell the management I want more names. Attach the latest report from the government on labor statistics and the gender gap. Highlight the responsibilities of corporations. We’re probably going to have to have another seminar.”

“Yes, President Choi.”

“Send out the invitations for the first group. I’ll try not to be disappointed that I haven’t changed our company culture as much as I want to. We’re the hospitality industry. We employ a lot of women, plenty are single mothers and work to support their children. That number should be bigger.”

“Yes, President Choi. I will make that clear.” Hyun-Shik gathered his report, bowed, and went to follow through for him. Young-Do leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t think it would be this hard to include some employee appreciation in the babysitting outing. He’d asked his management teams to provide recommendations and they failed. It irked him.

He pulled up the illegal report Father got on Eun-Sang’s software and wished he could get his hands on it. Having unbiased data would allow him to prove to men that their female coworkers were doing good, hard work. Young-Do was sick of the bland sexism his father left behind.

He could have the data when doing internal interviews. Young-Do thought it would make him more compassionate but he absolutely understood her reticence. His father would use it to fire people without severance. He would be the kind of president Eun-Sang was afraid of letting use her software.

Young-Do wanted his hands on Eun-Sang’s program probably more than his father did but he would never take it from her outright. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes again before he pulled out his original proposal. He hadn’t brought it to marriage negotiations because he didn’t want to scare her away. She was exactly what he wanted—a beautiful, ambitious woman, with no scandals. His other options were few. Now he couldn’t use it.

It was a vanity exercise but he attempted to rework it since he knew Eun-Sang better. When it was time to go home for dinner, he stuck it in his briefcase along with a new round of reports Hyun-Shik had for him. His assistant bowed and helped him put on his jacket. “Were you able to get enough people?”

“Almost. Perhaps I should speak with President Cha’s assistant and ask her if there are employees in Park Industries that match your requirement? That way it can be a joint endeavor to put in the company newsletter?”

Young-Do sighed. “That’s a good idea. I just don’t want this to turn into a photo opportunity. These girls belong to her vice president and I don’t want pictures taken of minors for press, not even internal press. I’m just finding a way to fill seats and reward employees. I’m going to make myself available during this.”

Hyun-Shik smiled slightly and held up his briefcase. “I will communicate that when this gets out. I’ll only give a small copy for the newsletter. No pictures.”

“Thank you.” He went down to the garage and stared at his car for a few moments. He still was a little bit in awe that Eun-Sang stole it so easily. There was a part of him that mentally checked it for any damage after her speeding up a highway to the middle of nowhere but it drove smoothly all the way back into the city. It drove smoothly all the way home.

He liked judo but he didn’t like racing. The adrenaline was different. Maybe he was too aware of the dangers of speeding because of the car ride he went on with Mother and Father when he was twelve right before she left. Maybe if he hadn’t cried like a weakling Mother wouldn’t have left with nothing more than a letter explaining he was a bad son.

Young-Do shoved those old feelings aside. He couldn’t do anything about it. Mother was gone and she didn’t want him. That’s all that mattered. He could hear Ha-Jin cooking dinner when he arrived. Wook took his briefcase and jacket before offering him a drink to unwind. Young-Do sat down on the couch and tried to clear his mind as he heard Eun-Sang get home.

“Single female employees with children under the age of twelve?”

“That’s the age group for the movie and single moms deserve a little break on the weekend. Apparently my company sucks at supporting working women so I hope you have more.” He was a little surprised when she kicked off her shoes and sat down next to him. He didn’t look at her. “Do the bird girls do well with strangers in public spaces? I should’ve asked.”

“Bo-Na doesn’t want them to know she’s rich.”

“She has a pool and a three floor, split level estate in a neighborhood full of palaces. They know they’re rich.” Eun-Sang leaned against his side and took his hand. “I’m not overcompensating. Hyun-Shik doesn’t let me plan things very often and I enjoy putting together activities like this. I’m between projects right now.”

“I don’t need a justification. You don’t have to feel defensive. They will be fine with strangers. Jae-Hee will just want to sit on your shoulders during the movie.” She fell quiet for a few moments and he dared to open his eyes to look down at the top of her head. She still smelled like the sea mixed with her perfume. “That is nice of you to think of single mothers with young children.”

“I had to take a gender studies class in college. I had a good teacher who impressed upon me my responsibilities as an upcoming president to make equality inside my company a goal.”

Eun-Sang gave a dry little chuckle. “I’m going to shower. I’ve been going nonstop since Hyun-Shik brought us coffee. I’ll be fast. Ha-Jin is still finishing up.”

“Alright.” He watched her go upstairs. Young-Do didn’t realize he was so tired this early in the evening until he’d walked into his office and took out the work he meant to do. He left it behind for later.

They didn’t talk much over this dinner either.