#wade reveals something to prove otherwise

[mischievous-thunder]

Flashback to when Wade spent a night fighting sleep just to watch from a weird angle Logan sleeping peacefully right next to him:

[xaharadesert]

Oblivious MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 5) x MC

*Nadia in an upcoming post*

A/N: Yay, more headcanons! I know these are slow but the new school system is kicking my butt. This next one is for the amazing @genderless-plant-likes-thearcana! They come up with lots of cool ideas for prompts to send to various writers, so you should definitely check out their profile! They came up with a super cute prompt this time; an MC who is super oblivious to their LI’s romantic interest in them! I really appreciate the specifics added in the request, they really helped me out! Thank you! While you’re reading you may notice the headcanons get a bit goofier as they though ;) my bad, but this prompt was too fun. Another side note: I ran out of bullet points and couldn’t fit Nadia into this post, so she’ll be getting her own! As always, I recognize Asra’s non-binary gender orientation but will be using he/him pronouns :) Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes! Requests are open :)

❤️Julian❤️

He’s so in love with you

Like, more in love with you than he ever has been with anyone else

But he’s also insecure as heck

So when he starts dropping obvious hints about wanting to be in a relationship with you, and you just don’t get it...

He starts to think that maybe you only like him as a friend

I mean, he’s not being subtle at all

He flirts with you constantly, he sends you winks in the middle of a theatre rehearsal, he almost always has a hand on your should or back to guide you through the busier parts of Vesuvia...

Once he even stood up on a table in the middle of the Rowdy Raven and sang you a love song at the top of his lungs

You just thought he was being dramatic, as always

To you, Julian was an incredible friend

I mean, you maaay have had a teeeensy little crush on him, but he was such a sweetheart that you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you two had

You went on adventures together, you attended his theatre performances, and he did his best to support you in all your magical endeavours

Overall, the dynamic the two of you had was already incredible

And neither of you really wanted to ruin that

When Julian started thinking that maybe you only liked him as a friend he decided to be “selfless” and simply keep his feelings to himself

Of course, that would never work for long

Julian was a man of passion and, possible consequences be damned, he wanted you to know how he felt

So one day, when the two of you were at the Rowdy Raven together and he was tipsy enough to do something stupid, he stood up on the table and loudly announced his undying love for you

Believe me, even for Julian it was dramatic

It was a long speech about how amazing he thought you were, including vivid descriptions about each and every thing about your personality, appearance, and hobbies that he loved

So needless to say you needed cut him off a bit early so that the two of you wouldn’t be there all night

Unfortunately the first thought in your mind upon hearing this was “oh my stars he’s under some kind of spell”

You immediately dragged him out of the tavern and back to the magic shop to find some sort of cure, muttering theories under your breath the entire way

Julian, of course, was not under a spell and was feeling rather put out by your response to his confession

He wasn’t entirely sure where the two of you were going because you hadn’t bothered to share your suspicions with him (why would you? You thought he was being influenced by magic)

When the two of you reached your shop and you started skimming through books he finally asked what you were doing, seeming understandably surprised by the turn of events

You hesitated a bit, not knowing if it was worth explaining this to him, but settled on a brief explanation of “you’re under some kind of love potion and I need to break it” with a side of “please don’t do anything dumb while I try to help you”

Julian of course was, again, fairly shocked to hear this

A spell? What spell? He had been in love with you for months! There was no way it was a spell!

With his mind racing a mile a minute he finally realized what was going on

You were just really, really, REALLY oblivious to his feelings

This revelation caused him to laugh out loud, likely startling you out of your searching

When you looked at him in confusion and a bit of concern he only laughed louder, bending over and wheezing a bit

It took a while for him to calm down, even with your panicked response to his sudden change of emotion

When he was finally done laugiinh and had wiped the tears from his eyes he gave you the biggest grin he was possible of giving

He did his best to explain that no, he was not under a spell, no, he was not joking, and yes, he really did love you as more than a friend

He swears, the look on your face was worth the emotional rollercoaster he had been through that night

And you? Well, you probably needed a minute to process everything that he had just revealed

Of course, the feelings of love were mutual and you said as much when you could finally form words again

Julian was thrilled to hear that you loved him back

The two of you would be happy for many years to come, and even if Julian occasionally teased you about your obliviousness you could never truly be mad at him for it

🧡Portia🧡

She’s super open about just how much she loves you

Portia sees no reason to hide her true feelings, so she’s often very blunt about them

She’ll drop a “you’re gorgeous” or “I wanna kiss you” into a casual conversation like it’s nothing

But you somehow manage to not pick up on it

So of course, Portia doubles her efforts

She bakes you cookies in the shape of hearts, bring you nice flowers on her days off, and take you on what she considers dates, just waiting for you to pick up on her love for you

And yet none of this gets through to you

You think this is how Portia is with everyone

She was cheeky from the moment you met her, so when she tells you she wants to kiss you you just assume she’s joking

Everything else seems to just be an awesome friendship

Obviously Portia is super cute, and obviously dating her would be tons of fun, but there’s obviously NO WAY she could ever be interested in you like that... right?

Portia eventually starts to think you’re just messing with her

There’s no way you could be that oblivious

You definitely had to know she was into you, and you were just playing hard to get

She knows you have feelings for her too, the two of your wouldn’t be as close as you were otherwise

But, no offence, she’s getting a bit impatient

So she decides to just do what needs to be done

The two of you were walking through the market near your shop one day when she grabbed your arm to stop you in the middle of the crowd

She turned you so that you were facing her, looked you straight in the eye, and told you she loved you with the most serious expression you had ever seen on her face

As oblivious as you may be, there was no way for you to misinterpret this as anything other than the truth

Except there was

You assumed she was under a love spell

After the initial shock of finding out your friend was being influenced by magic was over, you immediately dragged her back to your shop without a word

Portia kinda thought you two were going home to make out and she was totally down with it

But when you entered the shop and started digging through your supplies, looking for something, she realized that maybe SHE had misinterpreted

She asked you what you were doing and nearly burst out laughing at the response

You thought she was under a spell? Seriously? You were actually that oblivious the whole time?

She thought it was the most hilarious thing she had heard in a long time

Eventually she managed to calm down enough to reassure you that, no, she was not under a spell

But of course you didn’t believe her, and thought that it was the spell talking

You went back to searching for an antidote while Portia continued trying to prove to you that she was genuinely in love with you

She listed the first time she realized she loved you, the first time she had said it to you to no response, the first time she had wanted to kiss you

She talked about how much she loved every part of you, from your personality, to your hobbies, to your insanely cool magic

Portia was nowhere near as dramatic as her brother could be, but she was very open about her love for you

Finally, you seemed to realize that she was telling the truth (no magic involved)

In turn, you confessed your feelings toward her as well

She gave you a bit of a sly grin and asked how she could be certain you weren’t under some magic spell

To this you responded by kissing her

So I guess she was right when she assumed you two were going back to your place to make out

The two of you were happy from then on, although Portia never let you forget just how dense you were

��Lucio💛

It’s hard to imagine anyone could be so oblivious about his feelings

Lucio is the most in-your-face about his love for you

He leaves absolutely no room for doubt, which means it’s even more incredible that you don’t seem to get it

He has asked you to marry him about half a dozen times and you keep??? Laughing?? About it????

Doesn’t understand what’s happening

Nobody has ever done this sort of thing to him before, so his mind just blanks if he thinks about it too much

I mean there’s no way you could dislike him, right? You definitely return his feelings... RIGHT?

He’s insecure, but he’ll never admit that

Instead, he chooses to continue his over-the-top dramatic proposals and confessions until you say yes

On the other hand, you don’t really know what’s happening either

You know that Lucio’s a bit... strange, but this is a lot even for him

You start to think that maybe it’s his way of dealing with his feelings now that Nadia’s left him

So you decide to keep being a great friend to help him get through it!

And if that means wading through a bunch of strange emotional obstacles, then so be it!

(Lucio’s in the background banging his head against a wall in frustration)

It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy just being friends with you; he loves having someone around who genuinely cares about him

It’s just that he wants more

He hires people to build giant statues of you (which may be in poor taste, but who cares), he buys or sponsors all of your favourite shops, he always makes sure you get the best of everything

To you, this just seems like Lucio overcompensating for his previous “oopsies”

But one day it occurs to him that maybe you don’t understand his feelings because he’s going about it the wrong way

You’re pretty much immune to his dramatic proposals, so maybe he should try the opposite

So he put together a little plan

It wasn’t a particularly special night; no big occasion to be celebrated

He took you out to the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking oddly serious for someone who had no concept of emotional maturity

He took his time to prepare himself before speaking rather slowly and quietly in comparison to his usual tone

Lucio told you that he loved you, and he left no room for arguement

He didn’t embellish his words in any way, knowing that something simple would be the most likely way to get your attention

And boy did it work

You immediately assumed he was under some sort of spell

I mean Lucio? Acting like a normal person?? No way

You panicked right away and made a run for it, leaving Lucio behind on the balcony in your hurry to leave

Lucio, of course, was shocked, and more than a little offended to have been left so abruptly

People didn’t just leave him places without a good explanation

So obviously he chased you, yelling after you as you did your best to navigate the palace on your way to the library

Unfortunately for you, Lucio is surprisingly athletic and managed to catch you before you reached the door

He untactfully grabbed your arm, which caused you to scream, which caused him to scream, which caused everything to become even more of a mess than before

The two of you were just standing in the middle of the hall, screaming at each other

You wanted to find a way to free Lucio from whatever spell he was under, and Lucio wanted to know why you were running away

When you both calmed down (you being the first, of course), you explained your theory, which wounded Lucio’s ego even more than before

Lucio in return, replied in a not-so-polite manner, asking if you really thought he was stupid enough to be put under some dumb spell

Yes

Yes you did

Lucio had to explain his entire thought process behind confessing in such a normal way, which was pretty embarrassing from his perspective

But to you, it likely came across as sweet as it finally dawned on you that yes, he really was in love with you

The two of you probably had to immediately follow up the confession with a talk about whether or not he was serious about getting married

He was, but he didn’t want to make you feel awkward so he denied it

You two agreed to take things a little slower than he originally planned

The relationship was slightly awkward for the first few days, because neither of you quite understood what had happened the night of the confession

But either way, the two of you were happy, and that was all that mattered

(Although, when Lucio eventually asked you to marry him again it was just as chaotic and messy as the first time)

💚Muriel💚

Oh no, this won’t end well

Muriel is almost the epitome of insecure, so flirting is pretty much impossible for him

He tried a couple of times to be more forward, but when you didn’t respond to his advances he quickly backed down

He didn’t want to overstep, and immediately assumed you just wanted to be friends

Although, admittedly, he has seen other people flirt with you, and you don’t respond to them either

So maybe you’re just not interested in relationships? Or maybe you’re just as bad at flirting as he is

Either way, as much as he loved you, he didn’t push

From your perspective it would seem like Muriel just wanted to be friends

And frankly, anyone else around you would think the same thing

There was nothing particularly romantic about how Muriel acted around you

Arguably the boldest thing he was doing was spending so much time with you

But to you, this was simply a friendship

And of course, you greatly valued Muriel’s friendship

Once you had gotten past the rough exterior, you found that he was a giant sweetheart

He carved small wooden figures for you, and didn’t seem to mind spending time with you

Inanna loved you too, so that was a bonus

Your friendship with Muriel probably lasted much longer than it would have if either of you had any sense of romance

Neither of you tried to take things further because both of you were terrible at flirting and being flirted with

Eventually someone (Asra) had to step in and give Muriel a little push

Asra had known you for a long time, so he alerted Muriel to how oblivious you were and how to best confess his feelings

Muriel didn’t really want to confess at that point, because he didn’t want to make things awkward between you two if something went wrong

But his love for you outweighed his anxiety and he decided to do it anyway

It was a rather cold night, and the two of you were in his hut

You were both curled up by the fire (plus Inanna, of course), and you were telling Muriel a story about a particularly annoying customer from the day before

When you finished the story, a comfortable silence fell between you (which was something Muriel had always appreciated; silence with you was never awkward)

That was when Muriel took his chance and quietly told you he loved you

Except he said it too quietly and you didn’t hear him over the sound of the fire

I mean, you saw his lips move, and therefore asked him to repeat himself, but it was still quiet

Muriel hadn’t anticipated this, and accidentally repeated it in a voice that was much too loud for such a peaceful night

He immediately winced in embarrassment, only to be startled from it when you screamed

He had been anticipating rejection, but he thought a scream may have been a bit dramatic

But of course, you didn’t see it as a rejection; you thought Muriel was under a love spell

Why else would your quiet, anti-social friend suddenly confess to something you had never even seen him hint at before?

And more importantly, who had out the spell on him? Most people didn’t know about him, so it was either someone close to him, or someone EXTREMELY powerful.

You didn’t know which one was worse

You leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and staring into his eyes, promising that you would help him

This only succeeded in confusing him, the poor man

He didn’t know what you were talking about, and you were starting to freak him out a little

When he asked if you were alright, you started to look confused too

You reminded him that he was the one under the spell, not you

Cue a chorus of confused “what?”s being exchanged by two confused people

In the end, Muriel realized that you had thought he was under a spell when he suddenly confessed

He blushed as red as a tomato and did his best to string together enough words to explain to you that he wasn’t

He genuinely loved you

He also quietly cursed Asra for making him confess, which suddenly helped a lot of pieces fit together for you

You nodded along and agreed that Asra’s meddling was problematic in this case

In the end the two of you spent a fair portion of the night just talking out your feelings and realizing that maybe you would like to be more than friends

Both of you were blushing a lot throughout the entire thing, and years later when the two of you were happy together, you mutually decided to never bring up how you had gotten together in the first place

Asra, however, had somehow found out, and was determined to never let either of you live it down

💙Asra💙

Subtlety? Never heard of it

Asra is the absolute best at letting you know just how much he loves you

Even despite your obliviousness, you are fully aware that he loves you

And of course, you love him back!

How could you not?

Except, the way you see it... it’s platonic love

And Asra is 100% okay with that!

You two share a heart, so he fully understands that you view the live that you two share as platonic

This doesn’t really bother him; as long as you’re alive and happy, that’s all that matters

He’s perfectly content to pursue a strong friendship with you

But of course, being the cheeky legend that he is, he has to slip in some flirting and teasing once in a while

He’ll wink at you in the middle of work, casually brush against you while passing you in the shop, and hold your hand as often as possible

But of course, you view this as friendship

Who doesn’t cuddle with their best friend literally every night? That’s totally normal

You couldn’t ask for a better friend than Asra; he’s always there when you need him and he somehow always seems to know how you feel

You’re incredibly grateful to know him, and you feel safe and comfortable living in the same space as him

Yep, definitely only friendship feelings

He shows his love in little ways to you every day

The two of you live together, so of course you will occasionally have a petty arguement and try to stay seperate for a while, but that doesn’t stop him

He’ll “forget” which chores are yours and do a couple for you, he’ll make your favourite drink “by accident” and then claim he isn’t thirsty, and he’ll casually send Faust into the same room as you if he thinks you’re crying

Overall, just a great partn- I mean friend

He doesn’t really feel the need to confess to you, but if he notices that you’re starting to feel a more romantic attraction toward him then he’ll definitely take advantage of that

If you only wanted to be friends, then, well, that was one thing

But if you wanted to be something more... then he was definitely more than okay with that as well

Asra didn’t exactly plan out how he would confess to you, and instead waited for what he felt was the right moment

He knew it would come eventually, and there was no real rush

So when the two of you were travelling together, and you were both stargazing late at night, the feeling struck him

You had just settled down from laughing at a joke when he gently tilted your chin so you were looking into his eyes

He told you he loved you, but there was certainly something more personal this time

But of course you were incredibly oblivious so you just grinned and said it back, not really thinking about it too much

Of course Asra knew you had missed the point, so when you went back to looking at the stars he propped himself up so he was leaning over you a bit and repeated it

This probably confused you a bit, but you said it back again, thinking that maybe this was some kind of game

He held back a laugh and tried again, this time putting more emphasis on the “love” part

You missed it, and repeated it back

At this point he was trying not to laugh, and knew that he had only one more try before he wouldn’t be able to hold it back

This time he tried explaining more thoroughly

He told you he loved you romantically; as in, a love that was more than platonic. Romantic, soulmate kind of love. Not friendship. Please get it this time.

Your mouth formed a perfect “o” as you finally got his point

For a brief moment, Asra felt relief, thinking that he had finally gotten his point across

Instead he received immediate and extreme panic as you quickly shoved him away. While screaming.

This certainly hadn’t gone as planned

He was desperately trying to calm you down while you rambled about every place you two had been on your trip, trying to locate a time where Asra could’ve been put under a love spell

Asra, of course, found this hilarious, and started laughing harder and harder while also trying to calm you down

This only caused you more distress, and soon there were tears streaming down your face while you tried to convince him that no, this wasn’t funny

He knew you were genuinely concerned about him, and he genuinely was trying to stop, but this had come out of nowhere and he didn’t really know how to respond either

Eventually, you both managed to calm down (but only the kind of calm where he would occasionally look at you and burst into giggles again)

He did his best- between giggle fits- to explain to you that he genuinely did love you and he definitely wasn’t under any spell

He told you that he had loved you for years, and that he always would

He also subtley pointed out that he had been flirting for years and you had just been completely oblivious

No confession would truly be complete without a bit of teasing

You probably felt a bit embarrassed, but he reassured you that it was just a part of your charm

Of course, you told him you felt the same, and the two of you went back to watching the stars, this time just a bit closer than before

From then on, not a whole lot changed in your relationship

The two of you were practically in a romantic relationship already, so really all that was different was a few more kisses and a slightly different intention behind the “I love you”s the two of you shared

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER PRE-GAME 9/30/2020: 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE/CONFESSIONAL (2019)

Spoiler alert. Or whatever. It’s not going to matter, you don’t care.

So, I've been away for a minute. Just about any reason to be away from Tumblr is probably a good reason, but I have an especially good one. I'm finally working on a "real" writing project, which demands, and deserves, all of my attention. My social media abstinence isn't just a matter of time management, though. Once I had a long term obligation on my plate, I became very aware of how the short term satisfaction I get from posting mindless rants was eating away at the fuel I have available for sustained efforts. When I wind myself up with a 500-1000 word blog post, it generates a lot of electricity, but I blow it all as soon as I experience the catharsis of posting it, and I'm further pacified by ego-stroking likes and reblogs. Not to sound like a sanctimonious luddite--I mean, I'm still here, after all!--but it turns out that the staying focused on the long haul has been surprisingly revivifying. In fact, I haven't been talking about my big fancy project for the same reason; I don't want to lose any of the juice I've been storing up by wasting it on the shallow pleasure of describing it. Also such things should probably be somewhat confidential until they're approaching the publishing stage, but I digress! There is an actual reason I'm saying all this, that has more to do with this blog.

(Don’t get all excited, I’m not doing EVIL ED right now, I just need a relatable image.)

As I got deeper into my experience of "real" film writing, I started to reflect on the meaning of my personal writing. Like, the point of it. I tend to write in a sweaty, compulsive, sadomasochistic haze, in which I'm sometimes hyperbolically generous, and sometimes--perhaps more often, unfortunately--as nasty as humanly possible. Sometimes the movies deserve it, when they're lazy, pretentious, or otherwise demonstrate an open contempt for the audience aka ME. Often, though, I'm just creating an opportunity to vent my generalized rage and frustration. That can be very entertaining for myself and (hopefully) my teensy-but-devoted readership, but lately I've asked myself whether there isn't some negative tradeoff for all this amusement. In this phase of my life, it's reasonable to assume I'll make more and more friends and acquaintances who create things I don't always care for, but I don't necessarily think they deserve to be abused for it. As much as I have a right to say whatever I want, technically, I'd be embarrassed if I were caught just jacking myself off by making fun of their work in public. And more to the point, I don't necessarily want to contribute to the growing atmosphere in which people feel more afraid to try and fail, because the public so commonly misidentifies sarcasm and mean-spiritedness as intelligence and superiority, and that form of petty darkness spreads across the internet a lot faster than a movie can reach a wider audience. After all, I'm in the process of potentially turning myself into one of those well-meaning failures right now. I could stand to be a little more deliberate about how I speak, and about what, in general.

My father is an art critic, and once in an extra petulant moment, teenage-me asked him in an accusative tone what he thought the point of his profession was. He replied calmly that he wouldn't publish any comment that he didn't think the artist could make use of somehow. I don't know if he always stuck to that policy, but the thought sure stuck with me.

So anyway, over the last few months I've been giving myself a bit of an attitude adjustment, through a combination of personal reflection, and hard work on something meaningful/not for the internet. I've been feeling all proud of myself and shit, but today reminded me that any path to enlightenment is always marked by setbacks, doubt, and temptation. For today, in complete innocence (or at least a melange of innocence and ignorance, as I very much invite this type of problem), I managed to watch TWO (2) movies about an academic film-cum-psychology project, focused on a gang of college buddies who inevitably reveal what bad people they are under the unique conditions of the project, and then the project turns out to be run NOT by its presumed-dead originator, but by the originator's even-crazier lover. It's amazing how particular something can be, and still be utterly obvious and cliche. In my defense, I really tried to turn the second movie off, because it was...just instantly terrible, but the seed of suspicion had taken root--is this randomly selected movie ACTUALLY EXACTLY THE SAME AS THE PREVIOUS MOVIE?--and I just had to find out if this could be true. I suffered, deliberately, for another hour and a half, to confirm my awful hunch. I don't know how I would have felt if I had turned out to be wrong (better? worse?), but I don't have to worry about that now. Now I just have to worry about my overpowering impulse to be as ugly as possible about what I have personally subjected myself to.

(The completely deceptive poster for our not at all witchy or eerie opening feature.) 

In need of a passable time-waster this afternoon, I put on 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE. Released in March of 2019, Caitlin Koller's claustrophobic black comedy feels oddly like a product of 2020. A group of estranged, middle-aged college pals of the BIG CHILL ilk--which one of the characters calls out, out loud, just so ya know--come together for a fallen comrade's funeral, only to find themselves trapped in his widow's increasingly creepy cabin in the woods. Said comrade was driven to suicide by the failure of a psychological experiment he conducted that plunged its subject into madness, and if you don't realize right away that the obnoxious and unstable cast are the new subjects of their not-quite-dead friend's renewed project, then you're firing a lot slower than 24 frames per second. The dialog is often decent, aiding a handful of funny, natural performances...but it's hard to forget that you're just waiting for the conspicuously crazy widow to reveal that the "unexplained events" in and around the cabin are part of a controlled attempt to get the guests to devolve into their worst selves, which isn't such a difficult task considering the undesirable state they all arrive in.

It just made me ask myself, what was the point of this? Why do people make movies that are entirely predicated on the shock of the twist, knowing that if the twist isn't so shocking--or is baldly obvious from the start--then the whole experience just falls apart? Why not hedge your bets with a little more depth, or purpose, or style, or really anything more reliable than a smug attempt to prove that your script is smarter than your audience? Even if you do manage to pull off this dubious accomplishment, it reduces your movie to something like the experience of having somebody jump out of a closet and scream in your ear to "get" you. I've always felt concerned that if somebody ever tries to "get" me like that, I might just automatically punch them in the face. But anyway, whatever shred of good will this movie could have accrued with its plucky performances is blown away by the final insult, when the cops arrive to clean up the inevitable bloody mess. The responding officers are hilariously unimpressed and unsurprised by the byzantine scheme that has resulted in a shocking act of violence, because the cabin's "guest book", which our heroes all filled out, was actually the signatory page of a complicated waiver form granting full permission to the hosts to, like, do whatever the hell they want to everybody. Presumably this shit just goes on all the time, leading the local law to shrug off anything that happens to or because of the dumbassed lab rats who frequent the cabin? I dunno. I mean, what can I say? ACAB, I guess!

At the time, I managed to resist the urge to take to the internet and decry the crimes of this lame-o party joke. I really don't like the sensation that a movie is just trying to trick me into thinking something that isn't true. But, this isn't, like, an affront to cinema. People make annoying, below average movies all the time, and maybe you kinda have to, if you eventually want to make better movies. I imagine myself in the shoes of the people who actually put some elbow grease into this production, having to wade through the rantings of internet ghouls like myself while they're trying to see how their efforts are paying off. Making a movie is probably a lot harder than I think it is.

But that's part of the point I'm heading toward. I'm always amazed by people's willingness to pour huge amounts of energy and capital into something to which there is ultimately very little point. I mean, I have bad, unoriginal, boring ideas every single day of my life. But I almost never DO any of them. I have a hard enough time convincing myself to just get out of bed in the morning, let alone devote blood, sweat, and money to deliver unto the world material evidence of my personal mediocrity. I can't imagine thinking it would be worth it, for myself or the unfortunate people who are subjected to my project, to actually execute on my bad ideas. I'm being judgmental, but honestly, I don't even know if my attitude makes me better or worse than someone who accomplishes the task of completing and selling a movie that's mainly a waste of time. Movies are so complicated, and realizing them requires the consensus of so many people, that it's sort of incredible that there are people capable of making one that doesn't have a powerfully compelling motivation behind it. People who are able to do such a thing obviously have something that I don't, and it isn't just "consideration for the audience."

So, I could probably stand to be more forgiving--or just, less eager to absolutely flay someone alive on my dumb little blog because they so opened themselves up to my arsenal of elaborate insults. But like...not all the time. Sometimes, a movie really fucking asks for it, and in revealing itself to me, it has effectively signed a waiver giving me patent freedom to do whatever I want to it. CONFESSIONAL is the latest movie to give me such a gift. After the final credit rolled in 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE, I looked for a little palate cleanser. As little as I like movies that put their single egg in the motheaten basket of a "shocking twist", I also have a problem with what I identify as canned theater. Not that I think all movies have to be lavish productions, but I think they should try to do something that is natively cinematic. It's very rare that I'm impressed by anything that is literally all talk. So, I went in search of some more familiar form of trash to help me recallibrate, and trash is definitely what I got.

(Me crying over my own bad decisions.)

To be fair, I kind of should have known that I was in for a challenging experience. The 2019 found footage thriller CONFESSIONAL is more or less based on the "confessional" part of sleazy reality TV shows, isolating each cast member in a soundproof stall so they can spill the rotten contents of their guts. Unfortunately, I spotted a review suggesting that the movie succeeded, against all odds, at remaining visually dynamic despite the unchanging scenery, and I was intrigued. The reviewer was correct, impressively; the monotony of the coffin-like environment with its dark foam walls was the least of my concerns. Other problems superseded that threat, immediately. The plot concerns a group of college pals who come together to remember a recently deceased friend--a filmmaker who expired mysteriously while completing a psychology-tinged project in which she recorded all of her friends' most shameful personal secrets. Now, somebody else has taken over the project...someone who "has never been identified", according to an early title card in this movie-within-a-movie (EVEN THOUGH THIS PERSON WILL BE EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED AT THE END OF THE MOVIE SO LIKE WHY), but who seems likely to be the decedent's ex-lover...who continues to expose their subjects' most shameful secrets on film. I mean, what the fuck? Did I somehow manage to pick a second movie with almost the exact same plot??? I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I could take it. My prospects only got worse when the cast showed up and started talking. I tried to turn the movie off. I backed out and walked away from it, twice. But I couldn't leave it alone. I had to know if it was really the same movie.

CONFESSIONAL concerns characters who are contemporaneously in college, which actually goes a long way to making everything worse. Each of these walking cliches is connected in some way to Amelia, a film student whose mysterious death has created a campus scandal, leaving shattered hearts and lives in its wake. The living have each received a blackmail-flavored invitation to speak about the deceased in a tiny "confessional booth" somewhere on campus, where, predictably, they find themselves locked in until they confess whatever they know about Amelia, and their classmates. I don't know why practically every single movie about young people has to be so miserable, but this is one of those. I assume that it has something to do with the fact that youth is simultaneously so desired and so ignored. People in their teens and early 20s are so sexually coveted, yet so easily dismissed as individuals, that we wind up with all this media that panders to them relentlessly (or at least, panders to the legions of ticket-buying perverts who enjoy watching them prance around), without almost any consideration of how they actually think and act, and look. Movies like FAT GIRL and  WELCOME TO THE DOLL HOUSE may be accused of their own form of pandering, a venal form of voyeuristic schadenfreude, but at least they reflect something of the awkwardness, isolation, and incompleteness of adolescence; something more than the dissociated, pornographic fantasies of adults who have long since forgotten what it was like to be powerless and ignored, or desired by people who don't even like you.

Not that CONFESSIONAL is supposed to be a work of grim realism, but it is most definitely rooted in a fantasy about college life that makes its contrived, message-y plot a lot harder to take. With almost the sole exception of "the nerdy one", every single character looks like a Bratz doll, oozing an exaggerated indecency that belies the movie's pretentious insistence on addressing the sex & gender Issues of the Day. What you get is a really good example of what happens when millennial characters are modeled, not on any actual millennials, but on other forms of marketing that are aimed at millennials, which are themselves just based on other preexisting youth-targeted commercials, et al ad nauseam. Even setting aside the deliriously slutty wardrobe choices, makeup appears to have been laid on with a trowel, coating each actor in a thick creamy layer of spackle that only makes any scars, pits, or other evidence of individuality look utterly bizarre. Accordingly, everybody preens, pouts, and generally behaves as if they're about to take off their clothes, which might be a huge relief given the profusion of chafing, cheapo mesh and straps they're laboring under.

So, ok, not every movie can have a great costume department, but the dialog here is a perfect match for the disastrous aesthetic decisions. Actually, this is the real reason I almost walked out on CONFESSIONAL. If I may ramble briefly, without substantiating any of my broad-ranging claims: Sometime in the late 90s/early 00s, horror cinema seemed to suffer a degenerative slide away from genuine thrills and chills, and into a version of the genre that is best characterized as the Slutty Halloween Costume approach. Any sense of existential dread, revulsion, or bodily vulnerability was widely replaced by a cutesy, Hot Topic-y preference for fast fashion and sex appeal, in which bloodshed more facilitated an informal wet teeshirt contest than any real fear induction. Horror's new mall goth look came with an equally shallow, boring verbal affectation: a sullen, sleazy, tooth-sucking sarcasm, that ushered in a new era in which, instead of making fun of the scummy coked-out dialog in porno movies, we now expect everybody to just talk like that, because it's hot. There's probably a line to be drawn between this unfortunate development, and the boneheaded real-world trend of identifying "sarcasm" as an important personal selling point on dating sites, but I won't try to prove that here. For now, I will just say that as soon as I heard the CONFESSIONAL characters start to speak, with their sneering, insinuating tones, with the vocal fry, with the head wagging, the jutting jaws, the smoldering gazes, the juvenile dragging-out of horny grownup words like de-bauch-er-y...I almost lost my nerve. Listening to these little creeps hissing and spitting for 84 minutes is a lot like being hit on by some barfly who continues to bludgeon you with his hot breath and corny lines without ever noticing that you've thrown up into your pint.

Uh, anyway. So what actually happens in the movie. Why would anyone ever allow someone to record video of them revealing the ugliest, most embarrassing parts of themselves? Especially a kid, for whom popularity and reputation are often a matter of life or death--literally and specifically, in the case of this story. The flimsy reason is that the late filmmaker, Amelia, was the most awesomest girl ever. Everybody loved her, because she was so sweet, and so smart, and so cool, and so nice, and so deep, and so original, and so talented, and so sexy, and just like, the bestest most perfectest girl in the whole wide world. N.B. "The greatest of all time" is, perhaps counter-intuitively, a really bad quality that makes for really shitty, boring characters. For better or worse, Amelia is rarely on screen (and when she is, she's no Laura Palmer, frankly), so it's up to the viewer to just sort of imagine a type of person who could make you act against your best interests on account of you just like them so much. After all, so many of the characters were obsessed with her in some way, that it's like they're here to help you clap your hands and believe in this seductive, compelling part of the movie, that just isn't actually there on the screen. The anonymous antihero behind the confessional booth scheme slowly extracts from each character the selfish, destructive behavior that in some way contributed to the tragic loss of the most amazing person of all time--and part of the result is, if not a very interesting excuse for Amelia's death, then a story so wacky that I really wish they had centered the movie on it, instead of on the tawdry soap opera we're locked into. Even if that imaginary movie had been really bad, and it probably would have been, at it would at least have been entertaining.

Part of what leads up to the death of Amelia is the existence of a secret school fight club, led by a stereotypically sleazy gender studies major, named Major, who is out to prove men's inherent superiority. The club is called CFB, or Cock Fights Back, which is somehow a garbled pun relating to cock fights, and Trump's famous line of "locker room talk": "grab'em by the pussy" > "pussy grabs back" > "cock fights back". CFB is different from your ordinary fight club in that the fights are always between girls and boys, and the boys are always blindfolded, in order to prove that a fully-abled female is no match for even a handicapped male. To complicate things, a new designer amphetamine is gaining popularity on campus, called "odds-on", meaning that it makes you the odds-on favorite in your CFB fight. As awkward as that is, it also seems that men are never the guaranteed winners of these fights, which makes you wonder why Major insists on continuing to host them. As much as I would have preferred to watch a stupid movie about this stupid idea, I'm stuck instead with a movie in which Major is such an aggressive MRA because he's secretly gay, and he thinks that hating women is a great way to hide that...as if that isn't what we all openly suspect about aggro MRAs. Secret gayness is a big part of this movie, involving multiple characters, although it amounts to very little other than the perpetuation of some stale, harmful cliches about how unfulfilled homosexual urges lead to suicide, sexual abuse, and murder. CONFESSIONAL is just as reliant on this grim vision of gay life, as it is on its weirdly obtuse discussion of drug addiction, for the suffocating sense of self-importance that it uses to try to elevate itself above its porn-y trappings. None of the movie's hot button issues are given any real thought, but are only dragged through the mud to create the illusion that there's a point to all this, thus relieving the film of any sense of innocence that could have made its condescending sleaziness forgivable.

Admittedly, I can't really remember all the details of the film's tortured intrigue anymore, even though I basically just saw it. A lot of its meandering revelations just left me thinking, "Why did I need to know that? Why should I care?" I do know that about half way through this ordeal, I became really anxious about whether it would turn out that CONFESSIONAL did NOT have exactly the same plot as 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE after all, and I put myself through all this for nothing. But no, I was right to begin with. The wonderful Amelia's ethically dubious film project has been picked up by the unhinged lesbian character who loved her so much she wanted to become her, and killing Amelia and usurping her confessional project was apparently the best way of doing that. I guess exposing all the dark, violent secrets of all these tangentially involved characters was just an added bonus, or whatever. Ultimately, this ugly, ignorant PSA about something-or-other only deals itself further damage by relying so heavily on the potential of its clumsy twist to blow your mind, which it does not at all.

So that was it, that's how I burned a whole afternoon allowing my mind to implode-not-explode under the ponderous force of TWO (2) movies about exactly the same exhausted cliche that is still being peddled by certain pretentious assholes as fresh and exciting, and beyond the capacity of the audience to anticipate. There's probably a whole slew of other movies that employ this overly familiar "surprise", but I don't have it in me to dig them out of my long-suffering brain. Feel free to contribute in the comments. For now, I must prepare myself for the ordeal of Blogtober, during which I will *hopefully* choose my screening selections and words more thoughtfully than I have in previous years, when this blog was motivated by just as much abject misanthropy as these movies, which do nothing but willfully insult the audience's intelligence. Maybe today's detour into degradation will help me go forth toward more additive experiences, having purged several lungfuls of meaningless venom from my system, and this season will bring with it more interesting, provocative posts than the last. Or maybe not! In any case, I promise to keep trying my hardest to make it funny.

PS I actually love both FAT GIRL and WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE. I’m “just saying”. 

[el-gilliath]

Cold War (aka the first time Michael gets hurt)

This series is also on Ao3 if anyone prefers to read it there.

Still dedicated to @lsobelevans, my partner in vigilante crime, who makes me gisets (!!!!!) who listens to me whine about Kyle who was NOT supposed to be part of this yet, and who encourages me every day to write more of this.

This part will have a direct follow up, so it ends... abruptly. Because KYLE.

Cowboy continues to baffle Alex as often as he can. He runs around grinning, never once taking the shit perps throw at him. He laughs, he hollers, he fricking whoops. Alex feels tired just looking at him.

Arturo has, of course, noticed the connection between Alex and Cowboy and sends Alex out whenever there’s rumours or talks of him abound. Usually followed by Rosa, Arturo’s daughter and photographer extraordinaire for the Times, who laughs at him whenever he grumbles about it. Probably because she knows how much Alex enjoys writing about Supers, and Cowboy in particular, even if he pretends not too. The fact that she also has a good eye to one icy blonde Super helps. And Influence, who gave herself the name because no other would do according to the note he found one morning on his desk, is just as smitten in return if the way she throws her hair around when Rosa and her camera is around is any indication.

The point is, that by now the vigilante’s of New York, be they Supers or not, know that when Alex Manes arrives you best be on your finest behavior. And if Rosa is with him, well then you better pray your uniform looks good or she will take a picture of it to fuck with you.

It’s also widely known if you’re a vigilante hanging out at the Wild Pony and you don’t want your identity to be known, you scamper when Maria rings the Alex bell. Lovingly referred to as such because Maria rings it when Alex calls her and tells her he’s on his way over. Having Maria as a best friend since childhood gives him an in he didn’t expect, and though he doesn’t quite know why Maria’s bar got to be the vigilante hang out, he certainly doesn’t mind. As long as he adheres to her rules that keep vigilante safe, he’s more than welcome.

The fact that people have started leaving him messages there and not break into his office is also a good thing. Though Cowboy still does whenever he’s bored. Which is pretty much always.

But that doesn’t mean he’s surprised when he walks into the Pony and Influence is right there at the bar. Only she’s not in costume, but he would recognize that hair everywhere.

“Holy shit, I should’ve known it was you.”

Influence smiles, a smile of all teeth he has only seen in the courtroom before. “Why yes, Mr. Manes, you should have.”

He doesn’t know why Isobel Evans has decided to reveal herself to him, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Rosa has a tiny bit to do with it. But no way is that all.

“So, Defence Attorney Isobel Evans is a Super. And not just a Super, but a vigilante that influences people into doing what she wants. Much like you do in everyday life during court.”

“Yes,” Isobel answers. “But in court I do it by being an extremely good lawyer. I don’t need my powers in there, Manes, I just need my god given intelligence and carefully curated female charm.”

Alex huffs. He’s seen Isobel in court, she’s earned her right to be cocky. “So why are you here now? Why prove without a shadow of a doubt that you are Influence? Especially to someone who reports daily on vigilantes.”

Isobel sighs. “Cowboy is in trouble”

Alex will deny to his dying day the timble his heart takes when he hears those words. “Cowboy is always in trouble, he’s too much of a little shit not to be.”

“While this is completely true, this is a bit different.”

“Different, how?”

“Your dad is involved,” Isobel says, looking him straight in the eye. He notices both Maria and Rosa looking at him, but he can’t think. He doesn’t want his dad anywhere near Cowboy. 

“What did he do?”

Isobel turns to Maria for a second, and Maria catches her eyes with a soft smile and a firm nod. Oh. Oh. That explains so much about how Maria always seems to just know things, even though he knew Maria had a long lost sister, a Super she couldn’t tell him about. He just never expected it to be Influence. He turns to Rosa to see what she thinks, but Rosa just looks at Maria, intrigued and very interested. Oh wow. Okay then. 

“Isobel. My dad. What’s going on?” He asks. Mostly to distract himself from the three women and what that might become, but also because. Cowboy. 

“Do you know just how much of a bad man your father is?”

He doesn’t answer, just raises a brow in a clear indication of ‘what do you think.’ Thankfully Isobel accepts it at face value. 

“Cowboy found some intel about a russian mob moving stolen diamonds and decided to go after them on his lonesome. That might have been fine, if your dad wasn’t already involved.” 

“My dad is involved with anything that can give him money, or power. You know that. Cowboy should know that.”

“We do.” Isobel sighs. “But Cowboy overestimated, and now he’s trapped.”

And Alex suddenly understands why he’s there. “You need me to use my father’s connections to get an in with the Russians.”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes. Remembers another time he used his father’s connections. Remembers what he lost that day. 

“What you’re asking…”

“I know.” He opens his eyes to find Isobel looking at him with sympathy, Maria too. Rosa clasps her hand on his shoulder. They all know, how could they not. “I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way.”

Alex knows she wouldn’t. The reason she’s here unmasked is abundantly clear to him now, she’s making herself vulnerable. To make up for asking him to be vulnerable. To make up for asking him to put himself in a situation he never wanted to be again. 

“I need an hour.”

The way Isobel’s mask slips for a minute tells him everything he needs to know; she loves Cowboy. There’s a relationship there, one he doesn’t know what is yet. But whatever it is, it’s important to them.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he cautions. “Thank me when I can actually get him out.”

“I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“No need. But if I call you and need a lawyer, you better do it pro bono. Cause I can’t afford you otherwise.”

Isobe grins, another one of her smiles that are all teeth. “It would be my honor, Mr. Manes.”

Alex takes a deep breath. And another one. And another one. Before he turns to Maria. 

“You still have my rig?”

“In the back, like always.”

He moves like a man on a mission, which he supposes he is, ignoring Isobel’s questions about what a rig is and Maria’s softly spoken answer. It’s only as he lets himself into the small back room hidden in Maria’s storage area that he completely exhales. And smiles.

The computer setup he has hidden at the Pony is still his pride and joy, still the one thing he misses most in his day to day life. His fingers itch with the need to hack, itches with a longing that he feels deep in his bones every day. He wants to flex his fingers, he wants to hack into the Pentagon just to prove that he can, he wants to show his father that he can topple him from the inside.

He looks down at his leg, remembers what he lost the last time he was itching to prove something to his father. He wanted to truly show his father that he was no longer his son, and that even though he would act like it in public, he was determined to take him down.

Instead he lost his leg, he lost his brothers, he lost his best friend. He survived losing his brothers, they were always standing in his father’s shadow anyway. He survived losing his leg too, the prosthetic he wears gives him almost as much range of motion now, two years later, and he doesn’t completely hate it.

But Kyle. He will never get over Kyle believing his father over him. He will never forgive him, even if losing him felt worse than realizing his father hated him for something he couldn’t control.

He shakes his head slightly, he’s not here for a pity party. He’s here to do something he swore he would never do again after last time. But he’ll do it for Cowboy. And he knows exactly what he needs. 

Project Shepherd is his dad’s most hidden project, his dad’s pride and joy. Created to target Super’s, with it he can topple every vigilante off of their ‘throne’, and make them pay for showing him up. To bad he’s using bad men to fund it. 

Alex knows he doesn’t have time to find everything but he doesn’t have too. He just needs the info on the Russian mob hidden in those files. And then he can go get Cowboy. And tear him a new one for being so stupid. He doesn’t know how Cowboy got whatever information he’s working with, but it’s not the best and now he’s in danger. The stupid idiot.

He gives the rig one last look over before he sits down, shaking off old memories as he does. Maria’s been taking good care of it, as she promised to do, and when he turns on the computer it responds like it always does; quickly and perfectly. The way he remembers.

He smiles as the computer boots, he smiles wider as he logs in and sets the security, he grins as he starts the hack. It’s easy, it’s familiar, it’s home in a way many things in his life isn’t these days. But he leaves that all behind, he doesn’t have time for the feelings of right that settles in his spine as he wades through the information on his father’s server. Though, really, he has a hacker son that got a lot of information the last time he got in. Why the hell the Chief hasn’t updated the security he will never understand. Even though he probably didn’t expect Alex to ever do this again. After last time.

But it does make it easier for him to get through, to subvert the passwords and flimsy security measures on the files to find exactly what he needs. He gets lost in it, the world of code, the strings of zeros and ones. Until he finds it.

When he pulls back from his fugue and shuts down the rig he looks at the clock. 58 minutes. Right on time.

He gives his setup one last fond look, before he shuts the door and walks back into the bar. Isobel is on a barstool fidgeting, with Maria glancing over at her as she deals with other customers. Rosa is next to Isobel, softly talking in what seems to be a distracting effort. It’s not working, as Isobel’s head pops up the minute he gets back, but the squeeze she gives Rosa’s hand still says something.

“Did you-?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I found what I need.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.” He can see Isobel’s nostrils flare in irritation and the beginning of anger. “Influence is.”

Isobel narrows her eyes slightly. “Why?”

“I need more than the name of Manes to get me in the door, I need a Super.”

The narrowing of her eyes turns into a slow grin. “Meet me out back.”

Alex inclines his head at her as she walks out of the bar. He looks over at Rosa, but she already know, and nods as she moves closer to where Maria is, who smiles reassuringly at Alex. He smiles back before he turns to walk out after Isobel.

“Alex?” He stops. “Influence will take care of you. Don’t be afraid.”

He nods in Maria’s direction as he walks out.

He’s not expecting Influence to already be standing in full attire besides his car. The white, skin tight costume is paired with white boots today, the black accents gleaming in the light.

“A cape?” He asks, referring to the long, white leather cape attached to Influence’s shoulders.

“What? You told me it would look good.”

“That I did.” He grins. “It looks amazing.””

Influence grins back at him as she gestures to the car. He unlocks it, and gets in on the drivers side. She’s impatient, but he understands. He still has much to learn about Cowboy, and Influence. He knows Isobel Evans from the court cases he’s reported on. He doesn’t know the Super.

He also knows that they don’t have time to learn things now but he knows he wants to eventually. Both as a Super and whoever she is to Cowboy. And Maria. And Rosa.

“What do you need from me?” He also likes how direct an on point she is.

“Influence them. Get me in the door, then you can find Cowboy and get him out. I’ll handle the rest.”

“You want me to leave you there?!?”

“You’re not leaving me. You’re doing what I need you to do. I’ll get myself out.”

“Alex-”

“Don’t worry.” He grips the wheel tighter. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

He can feel Isobel disapprove, but he doesn’t care. He came there for Cowboy, and Cowboy will be getting out. He has his own exit strategy.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. He knows exactly where the Russian compound is, which building Cowboy would’ve been stupid enough to break into. The diamond storage is a nickname in the underground, but it’s also exactly what it is. While there might not be all that many stones there, all the information is there. And he has exactly what he needs to get out, provided Influence can get him in.

“We’re here,” he says as they arrive at the storage building the Russians guard with their life if they have to. He parks outside and gets out, already aware of the twelve pairs of eyes following them.

“Showtime,” he murmurs to Influence as she joins him, and walks forward as if he owns the place. And in a way he does, he is a Manes after all.

But no one stops them, and as he looks over to Isobel he can understand why. Her eyes are closed, even as she’s walking forward as if her eyes were open. The guards fall into place, they move aside, they open the door for him as he walks up to it. The commotion inside quiets as he walks in, Influence on his heel. He’s seen her work before. But this, is impressive. It’s even more impressive as she opens her eyes and still people stay where they are.

“What. Is the meaning of this.”

The burliest Russian Alex has ever seen gets up from the table set in the outer part of the building. He gives a subtle nod to Influence who gives him one last long look before she moves off, almost as if no one can see her. As if they’ve forgotten she’s there.

“Mr. Serkoff, I presume. My name is Alex Manes.” He’s delighted to see that everyone freezes when they hear the last name. “I’m here to collect for my father.”

“The drop-off is tomorrow.”

“No. The collect is now. Nasty business with the senator last week, Mr Serkoff, the collect needs to happen now.” Finding the senator that had been accepting donations from the Russian mob was the golden goose. Having his father’s name is the egg. “I was sent her by my father to get the stones. Do you really want to make him wait?”

“I will need to call and check.”

“Okay.” He waits until the phone is up off of Mr. Serkoff’s pocket and he’s started to dial. “If you want to disturb him this late, that’s on you.”

He doesn’t have to wait long after that for the diamonds to be delivered to him. A pouch of eight, perfect diamonds with the serial number taken off. He dreads what his father needs this for.

“Thank you, Mr. Serkoff. I’ll tell my father you co-operated, gracefully,” he says, nodding as the Russian as he turns and begins to walk out.

“Wait.”

He stops. Remembers the last time. Shakes his head minutely and pushes it from his mind. “Yes?”

“What about the cash?”

Alex looks at the russian over his shoulder. “That will be dealt with, keep it here for now.” 

“You won’t take it with you?”

“No. Deliver that as planned tomorrow, I’ll take care off the diamonds.”

Mr. Serkoff narrows his eyes, but nods. And Alex is home free.

He keeps his breathing calm as he exits the building, keeps his breath calm as he gets into his car and starts it, keeps his breath calm as he exits the compound. It’s when he encounters Influence holding a bleeding Cowboy that he panics slightly.

“Is he okay?!?”

“He will be,” Influence says as she dumps a groaning Cowboy into the back of the car. “I need you to take us to the Pony, we have a doctor waiting there.”

“You have a doctor that takes care of Super’s?”

“Yes. We also have a healer but he’s out of town. So Dr. Valenti it is.”

He drives them back as quick as he can, calling Maria when he’s 10 minutes out as he always does so she can ring her Alex bell. It’s not until they’re inside the Pony, putting Cowboy on a table in the back room that he realizes what name Isobel said.

“Here, the idiot on the table asked me to give you this,” Influence says as she shoves a piece of paper in his hands. He sees the E on it before the door bursts open.

“What the hell did the idiot do now?”

And Alex watches as his old best friend, the man who sided with his dad and told him Super’s shouldn’t be allowed to roam the streets, walks into the room. He never expected this to be the way he would see Kyle again.

[torasteals]

Blueberries (part 2)

part 1 | part 2 (This is part 2 of the story, go back a page for part 1)

(1,737 words)

Warning: Contains talk of abuse

“They’re a Nightmare Court rescue, like us.”

They’d rescued them too late. The gaunt plant was unnaturally still and wide-eyed - one push away from turning to Nightmare, she knew the look. She wondered if anyone noticed. Did Meritt notice? Judging by the worried looks he cast at Sheridan, she gathered he did.

Definitely not the one leaving blueberries.

In fact, it didn’t take long for her to feel quite comfortable in cutting out many of the members as potential blueberry-leaving candidates. By her fourth week there, she realized there was a hierarchy among them, with the louder or more powerful members lording over those who were deemed weaker. They’d bully them, harass them, or make them do grunt work like cleaning their tools or clothes. The louder ones simply didn’t seem the type, and the quieter ones…

The most notable one was Pepper, a young sylvari whose right-side of his face looked utterly mangled with one eye completely missing. He was for the most part easy to read: another case of a broken home, likely neglected and made to feel small. The scar on his face though, the damage looked like the result of daggers and poison -the kind of poison the Court used on her… She pointed him out to Meritt once, then pointed to her right eye as a question. He caught on.

“We uh, don’t know what happened to him actually. He was gone a bit, then he came back like that. Baya said he took on a camp by himself. I’m guessing it was his rite of passage? I kinda thought he did that already though. He’s been here longer than me.”

Blueten waited for him to explain.

“Everyone has to go through a rite of passage to be here” Meritt informed her. “You have to prove you’re tough enough to handle being a Dagger. When I joined, Birr once um… he uh, stole my clothes and tied it up in a tree south of here. I had to uh, w-wade through the swamp full of wild skelk naked to get em back…”

Blueten only stared at him, horrified when he told her.

“H-Hey, it’s better than Nightmare Court though, right?”

She wasn’t so sure.

And this was something that started to bother her. More than the upstairs and basement being off limits, more than her silly search for someone leaving bowls of blueberries��� This guild had a lot of abuse in it. A mess of hurt sylvari taking out that hurt on others until they too started hurting people. A never ending cycle of abuse. She’d seen it before, from behind bars of thorny vines.

The guild members were all quick to try and sell her on their guild mission though. For whatever it was worth, they really did think they were doing good for the sylvari race. They were adamant about stealing only from Nightmare Court and… foreigners, especially asura. The former made sense to her but the latter?

“Baya likes to mention their wrongs toward sylvari a lot. I don’t know.” Meritt told her when she gave him a concerned look over it. “I think she um, you know when the asura kidnapped a bunch of us? No one knows for sure, but we think Baya may be second generation…so…”

That explained some things, but not all. Baya definitely seemed older, but was otherwise unreadable. She wore a casual grin that revealed nothing, rarely said anything that’d betray something too personal, and moved in a way that seemed lax but was clearly practiced. Baya gave nothing away about herself, and Meritt had little to offer on where she came from or who she was beyond meagre rumours.

She was intriguing, commanding a presence whenever she entered the room. More than their leader, she was the guild star, a powerful force of wit that charmed every member. Baya always appeared calm, and ready to give a quick joke or to entertain with her latest stories. Yet there was something off about her, false in a way. Her behaviour was too precise, too practiced… every word she gave felt empty. No one seemed to notice.

Baya was suspicious. Her whole guild was suspicious, but by the fifth week, Blueten didn’t have time to dwell on it. It seemed her own “rite of passage” had finally come, in the form of Birr, a rather portly and greasy sylvari with a bulbous nose and a constant smirk. Her initial profile of him was a plant with a major insecurity about his looks that resulted in a preoccupation with everyone else’s. He was quick to shout unwanted appraisals on appearances, make lewd inappropriate comments, or otherwise be rude. The only person he seemed to be truly kind to was Baya, whom he praised for her beauty.

It was perhaps no surprise then that he eventually targeted Blueten for hiding her looks behind a mask. He was relentless about seeing her without it, harassing her whenever he saw her -nagging, pleading, and even raging to see her without her wooden barrier. Eventually, to the cheers of others, he tried to remove it by force.

She left him dangling from the ceiling, with a small flock of minions she’d summoned tying his clothes around the rafters. That’s when they found out she was a necromancer. It was also when they discovered she could talk, using her minions to speak for her.

“Do not touch me.”

She found a jar of nectar by her door the next day.

It didn’t seem to matter who left it anymore. She was so tired.

Whoever left it must’ve been impressed, and they weren’t the only one. Meritt gave her looks of awe and was eager to have full conversations now that he knew she could talk. Most members gave her a lot of space, giving her uneasy looks as she passed them. And then there was Baya…

“You’ve a talent that’s wastin’, eh? Why aint’cha raidin’ with us?”

So she did, though in truth she wasn’t sure about it. Part of her wanted to give the guild a chance though, despite all their flaws. Maybe this was it. Maybe she just needed to really see them at work.

Her first raid was against a small camp of Nightmare Court, but she made a point to only observe. She didn’t steal a single thing, only acting to fight if they alerted a guard or a Nightmare hound. It wasn’t particularly difficult. It was even relieving in a way, and she secretly wished the guild did more than steal. How stress relieving it would be to wipe out every Courtier onsite.

Then they returned to headquarters, and gathered in the main room around the one dining table. Blueten found herself huddled among the weaker members who all looked very nervous. This was her first time taking part, but she’d seen this ritual before. Each member would go up to the table and drop what they stole on it. It was a moment of judgement, to see who’d stolen the most. She was hardly concerned, she already knew she stole nothing, but the members beside her looked ashamed. Even Meritt, who stood beside her, looked worried.

Just before they could start the ritual in earnest though, Blueten felt herself get shoved aside as a short plant, roughly the same height as her, tumbled his way through the gathering of weaker members. He tripped and fell to the ground, dropping a small bag. The louder members laughed and sneered as he hastily grabbed the bag and picked himself off the floor. She stared, wide-eyed. Who was this?

“Real smooth, Tora!”

“He does this every fuckin’ time…”

“D’ya even look where ya goin’?!”

Face flushed and head bowed, Tora silently made his way to Baya’s side. Blueten watched him  as Baya started the ritual. She couldn’t recall him at all, yet it felt like she must have seen him at least once but… there were 17 members, she’d counted. She looked around again, counted them off by name: Claws, Onora, Birr, Ebril, Meritt, Shade… 18. There were 18 members.

Her pockets felt heavier.

As member after member poured their spoils onto the table, she cautiously searched her pockets. Six gold. She hadn’t stolen six gold. She looked up as the members around her started taking their turns. Each one came back from the table looking relieved, including Meritt. He came up to Blueten, placed a hand on her shoulder, and laughed.

“I always think I’ve stolen less than I have. It’s your turn, Mute!”

Confused, she walked up to the table and slowly dropped the six gold coins onto its rough surface. Six coins she shouldn’t have had. Her mind was racing. The guild cheered, but she barely registered it.

“Pretty good fer a first go!”

“Six gold? Not bad at all!”

She walked back to Meritt’s side, mind spinning faster and faster. Why did she have six gold? She hadn’t stolen six gold! Where did the six gold come from?! A loud yell snapped her out of it.

“YOU DIDN’T STEAL ANYTHING?! AGAIN?!”

Blueten spun around to see Claws snarling at Tora. He’d shrunken behind Baya, but was smiling. It was a copy of Baya’s smile, she realized, except far weaker -it didn’t hide his feelings at all. He was panicking. Did anyone notice?

“Yer so fuckin’ useless! What kinda thief are ya?” Spat another.

“Bayaaa why do you keep him? Honestly…”

“It’s like this every time! One gold or nothing! EVERY TIME!”

Several of them started shouting, enraged, until Baya made a motion for them to stop.

“We’re done here. Meritt, I want this counted and split proper by morning.”

“O-Of course!” Meritt rushed off to the table.

The rest of the guild grumbled and whined but did as they were told, slowly dispersing. All but Blueten who stood still where she was, staring intently at Tora as he began to follow Baya away from the table.

Tora the 18th member.

Tora who hadn’t stolen anything.

Yet she had six gold, and knew she hadn’t stolen anything.

Meritt thought he’d stolen less than what he had.

The weaker members all had looked relieved.

She watched carefully as Tora, now calm, casually reached into his coat pocket and brought out the small bag he’d dropped earlier. He reached into it, plucked something out, and ate it. She squinted as he reached for another.

Blueberries.

 <prev part | part 2 (END) |

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NEW READERS || PATREON

[incorrectgundamwingquotes]

Child Soldiers in Gundam Wing

((I was just trying to edit this post and somehow deleted everything (insert internal screaming here) ANYWAY. Same thing, some minor changes, should look familiar if you got the zine... ;) ))

Child Soldiers and the AC Era

The young age of anime protagonists is something so common that fans no longer even pay it much notice, but in the context of Gundam Wing, the age of both the main and side characters can say a lot about the world itself.

It seems the age of some of the highest ranks (Treize, Une, Zechs, Noin) were incredibly young; Treize was only 24 and the others just 19. The young age of the soldiers seems to be consistent, because both Zechs and Noin were involved in combat operations from even before the start of the official series when they were only 13/14 years old. The Gundam Pilots were not considered traditional soldiers, so it is possible 15-year-olds were still considered too young for actual warfare - but then you have volunteer soldiers like Hilde, and she was only 15 too.  

I believe the prevalent use of child soldiers in the AC era shows just how awful things were in the series proper.

Definition of Child Soldier

I think it’s safe to assume that the AC timeline follows some of the norms set by real life, so I’m going to use the UN’s definition of ‘child soldier’: they are children (defined by the “Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC)”) as persons under the age of 18 who are associated with military organizations, such as state armed forces and non-state armed groups. These children “may be trained and used for combat, assigned to support roles such as porters or messengers, or used for tactical advantage as human shields or for political advantage in propaganda.” This can vary from nation to nation dependent on national laws regarding the age of majority, but those under 18 years of age is a safe default to assume regarding who is and is not considered a child soldier.

Why do people use child soldiers?

Child soldiers are used because they can be easily manipulated and will follow orders without question, either because they don’t know any better or because they’re being threatened/coerced into compliance. However, child soldiers are not the go-to resource for military power; they are a last resort used by desperate nations and/or factions. People aren’t using children in battle unless they’re out of other options, because not only is it morally bankrupt, it’s also bad for public image. Nationalism taken to its extreme proves to be a driving force for factions seeking political/militaristic power, but when all you have are mountains of dead children wearing your uniforms, you lose public support very quickly. It is also non-sustainable; leaders aren’t going to sacrifice their future workers by sending children out to die unless they absolutely must.

Now this isn’t necessarily true for recruitment; taking the United States as an example, the military recruits and recruits hard in high schools across the country, eager to pull in fresh graduates. However, the focus of this kind of recruitment is on graduates, who are typically 18 years old or will be 18 years old soon, and thus excluded from the protection of UNCRC.

There is also the possibility of military schools/academies, which is what Noin, Zechs, and Treize were enrolled in as children. However, graduation from such schools is not a direct route into military duty, it is a step: students still attend normal lessons (in addition to military lessons, such as history and fitness courses), but they certainly aren’t considered soldiers-in-training or the like. Just like their public school-counterparts, they’re expected to graduate from schooling at the age of 18 and then decide if they want to attend college/enter the armed forces/etc. But again, by graduation, they are 18 and considered legal adults. No military leader is going to traipse into a military academy and drag the top students of that school into an actual combat situation because they are actual children. This is true even for child prodigies; someone is still going to raise hell about a 13-year-old in a combat operation, even if that 13-year-old can pilot a mobile suit like a badass.

Alliance’s War Machine and the Use of Child Soldiers

The AC timeline is one that has seen decades of violent unrest and conflicts. Since the construction and mass emigration of people to the space colonies and the creation of the Alliance, conflicts have risen and been violently put down in a vicious cycle that eventually lead to the rise and fall of the politician Heero Yuy and the Sanc Kingdom, creation of mobile suits and OZ, and then Operation Meteor.

I’m going to focus on the Alliance, as they were an organized military force with a traditional set-up. I think through decades of on-and-off again warfare, population numbers may have seen a decline, leaving a growing vacuum of military manpower that the Alliance started getting desperate to fill. This would explain the simply absurd ages of their recruitment, exemplified by both Noin and Zechs as seen or otherwise referenced repeatedly in both Frozen Teardrop and Episode Zero.

Both Noin and Zechs are said to have graduated from the Lake Victoria Academy with the highest scores.  

At ten, they were handpicked by Treize to take part in a Specials military assignment to suppress a revolt in Mogadishu in AC 186.

At 13, Noin takes part in an operation to quell rebel forces, also led by Treize.

At 15, Zechs is running around with the Specials—already dubbed the so-called “LIGHTNING COUNT”—to repress a terrorist attack on the Alliance in AC 191.

Even as teenage prodigies in their field, that doesn’t excuse the fact that they are still children, and they—as children—are still being used in active combat. And no one even seems to bat an eye.

Then we have Treize, who is introduced in the series proper at age 24.  Wading through his history (again, through sources from both FT and EZ), we see he started as a piloting instructor for MS pilots in AC 188. Presumably he was 17 years old given that he was born in AC 171, but it could be close enough to 18 that it wouldn’t be an issue except he’s the INSTRUCTOR, which meant not only did he go through enough training and education to earn the credentials to be an instructor, but should have also gotten the field experience needed as well. Before the age of 17/18.

In AC 193, General Catalonia passes and Treize becomes the head of OZ and the Specials. 22-year-old Treize. He may be a charismatic genius, but were there really no alternatives that held more political power and military experience? Taking WW2 as an example, the leadership for both the Axis and Allied powers were between the ages of 50-70 years. The closest in age to Treize would be the leaders of the Hitler Youth, who were only pulled into active duty during the end of the war when Nazi Germany was running out of manpower. It was a move of desperation.

Through these three—and possibly Une but her history is not really explicated—we can see that the Alliance (and by extension, OZ) has a history of not just indoctrinating and training at disturbingly early ages, but also has no qualms about using child soldiers. Generally, people of high military ranks will have years upon years of service; recent graduates don’t just get to be base commanders or colonels. The fact that all of them rise in power at very young ages and seize high ranks shows a military that is either lacking in even the most basic of moral integrity (again, using child soldiers as active combatants is morally bankrupt) or revealing their desperation to fill the ranks.

This is not to say that they didn’t rightfully deserve their titles; these three are the elite of OZ, and they most certainly earned that recognition. But how would anyone know that they were such highly-skilled soldiers, unless they were actually put through combat? It’s not that their titles were earned at such an early age that’s baffling. The fact that they had the opportunity to earn them so young is the issue. Imagine learning that your neighbor’s 10-year-old is so good at piloting a fighter aircraft that they receive military honors; one of the first things I’d want to know was how did they learn to pilot an aircraft, swiftly followed by why were they even piloting an aircraft to begin with?  

Treize is even more egregious in this context. He is the best of the best, but the military hierarchy isn’t based solely on skill – it also includes experience. Experience only comes with time, and no matter how many battles Treize may have won, it doesn’t mean he would rank higher in the hierarchy than those with 20+ years of military experience.

The only logical reason I can think of that would allot Treize the power to become head of OZ and the Specials is that there wasn’t much in the way of competition: everyone else was dead. As noted with the Hitler Youth of Nazi Germany, leaders and soldiers as young as Treize, Zechs, and Noin could be explained by a lack of manpower. After years of mass emigrations to space and violent disputes, it’s reasonable to conclude that the Alliance was running out of soldiers and it’s likely entire generations were lost in conflicts prior to the start of the main series.

Gundam Pilots and OZ’s Reaction

The trend of young soldiers is continued into the main series, as shown with then 19-year-old Noin as base commander and instructor of the Lake Victoria Academy. She was responsible for training the Specials recruits, who were ready to graduate into active combat; all were considered young, though not as young as a Gundam Pilot – as shown when Noin is shocked and horrified to realize Wufei is just a “boy.”

While Noin is taken aback by Wufei’s age, she later joins Zechs in tracking down the Gundams and their pilots, and it certainly wasn’t to help them or free them from the influence/command of the resistance. Perhaps she is justified because she lost men to Wufei’s “underhanded” tactics, but she has no qualms helping Zechs find Heero later in order to engage in a duel. She aided a fellow adult (both she and Zechs are 19 at this time in the show) set up and carry out a duel to the death with a 15-year-old. The Gundam Pilots are considered enemy combatants, yes, but now there’s no hesitation when facing them on a battlefield, no second thoughts or remorse that they will have to kill literal children.

Because they aren’t children to Noin or Zechs, and are definitely not to OZ, at least not anymore. They’re enemy combatants. As seen with Soviet soldiers in WW2, anyone in a Nazi uniform is an enemy combatant afforded no mercy – even if the person in question is a 12-year-old with little to no training, pushed to the front lines by a desperate and dying command.

A good comparison for OZ would be to Imperial Japan in 1944: men under 20 were enlisted and at this time, kamikaze bombers were around 17 years old. In 1945, they used “volunteer soldiers” known as the Tekketsu Kinnotai in the Battle of Okinawa who were between 14-17 years of age; this parallels OZ’s reach into the space colonies exemplified with Hilde Schbeiker, a volunteer soldier who was only 15 years old. This would fit with the picture of OZ that the main series paints: extremely young leadership as exemplified by the main antagonists of the series, the young age of the Specials who are essentially the elite of OZ’s military power, and then the young age of the volunteer space army.

Then there is the extreme desensitization to the age of the Gundam Pilots. It’s initially met with surprise (ref: Noin vs. Wufei) or doubt (Duo’s publicized capture that is later handwaved as OZ propaganda by the general populace), and yet when met by soldiers face-to-face, there’s no pause to consider the moral consequences of imprisoning, fighting, or killing a teenager. Yes, the Gundam Pilots were trying to kill their enemies, but the age difference should give the OZ soldiers some pause to consider the implications…unless there was less of an age difference and/or a consistent desensitization and normalization of child soldiers.

This isn’t limited to just Alliance/OZ as well. Later in the series, we see members of White Fang trying to convince/coerce Duo into joining them. They know he’s young given that they know his identity and yet they still want him to join and become a figurehead for their organization, and to be active in their battle operations. When a group is using children to fight their battles and lead their forces, they’re not doing so because they’re well-supplied and powerful; they’re doing so because they need to and have no other options.

While it’s doubtful all factions were manned exclusively by child soldiers—we see quite a few military personnel who look older (but given that Treize looks like he’s in his 30s…)—there’s probably a fair amount of actual adult soldiers around. But not enough to keep a standing military force running, hence the use of the young.

Other Thoughts

Normalization of child soldiers would explain the makeup of Alliance/OZ, and it helps explain the extremely young ages of the highest-ranking members of OZ. It can also be naturally assumed that the colonial resistance was equal if not more desperate than the Earth factions (thus the whole ‘Gundams piloted by highly-trained and rather unstable teens’ thing). This desperation and unsustainable drive for soldiers helps to explain the whole OZ split with mobile dolls and then the ending with White Fang and Libra. OZ wanted to use mobile dolls to fight their battles because they were running out of kids to send into war. White Fang in contrast orchestrates and nearly succeeds in kick-starting Armageddon, barely stopped by the Gundam Pilots

But after everything is said and done, everyone across both the Earth Sphere and space colonies are just totally cool with peace now? After decades of violent hostilities, they’re going to listen to Relena’s pleas for peace? I would argue that of course they were: as a community, they had war fatigue and scores of dead.

Frozen Teardrop and the [Improbable Age] Retcon

Frozen Teardrop tries to explain the young age of the characters, which essentially boils down to this: world leaders live longer lives and so were reluctant to give any authority to their children so that they could keep their power. By the time they were ready to retire, the 1st generation believed the 2nd generation were “unused to having power” and so decided to pass on the torch to the “bright young minds of the 3rd generation.”

That is absolutely insane.

This would translate as: Baby Boomers are finally retiring, and decide to pass on the reign of power to Gen Z. While there’s nothing unusual about an older generation wanting to keep their power as long as possible, there is no way they’re going to hand that power over to “the bright young minds of the 3rd generation” because the 2nd generation was “unused to having power.” Because you know who else is unused to wielding power because of the 1st generation? The 3rd generation. The only time where ‘power’ (assumed to be political influence and/or military might) skipped a generation was when the middle generation was wiped out due to war (e.g. Russia post-WW2, who lost an entire generation to the devastation). Fascist Grandpa is not going to hand over power to the grandkids after years of hoarding it for himself. Instead, the younger generation either waits it out and lets the passage of time kill off the competition or takes the power forcibly (e.g. voting or violence).

In Conclusion

The general military workforce in the AC era is probably young as a whole, especially in comparison to real life standards. The fact that the Eve Wars were fought by a bunch of indoctrinated, hormonal youths would explain why character motivations are completely wild. These kids suddenly have a lot of power and a lot of sway, and they’re trying to figure out the meaning of the battles they’re fighting while they’re fighting them because the lies they’ve been fed since childhood aren’t holding up.

In short: the kids aren’t alright, and no one is helping them.

[greywindys]

It’s that time of year again! I, and possibly a good number of you reading this, just spent the whole of 2018 in the Gorillaz fandom. Congratulations! You made it! Because this year...kinda sucked. Not just for the Gorillaz fandom but, if this Washington Post article is any indication, for the rest of the world too. Maybe on an individual level there were moments of light. Maybe Gorillaz was your moment of light. If it was I’m genuinely happy because that means you probably found a way to avoid or ignore all the chaos that went down this year. But overall? Fandom was rife with disappointments, confusion and conflict with some good parts (for me, at least) sprinkled in here and there. Below is a personal reflection on the top 10 significant events in fandom of 2018.

1. Murdoc Goes to Prison

2018 started out peacefully for fandom. We were just finishing up sharing our scans of G-Magazine and theorizing over the next album when we’re treated with this - a nineteen second mocap of a frantic Murdoc accepting a Brit Award with an “oh by the way I’m going to prison.” We didn’t know why or for how long, and, though fans were confused and Murdoc going to prison is a tired, overplayed storyline at this point, it was cherished as any new Gorillaz content, especially animation, is cherished. Memes were made, most notably the #FreeMurdoc hashtag complete with a petition which was acknowledged by creators and caused the first big outburst in fandom for its messy tag. I did what I always do with Murdoc videos and went through the entire thing frame by frame to collect screenshots. Little did I know that this would be the only time I would get to indulge in this beloved past time. Little did I know that I would be wearing the same expression as Murdoc is in this screencap this entire phase.

2. Murdoc hate

Murdoc hate has always existed. It’s also generally accepted. However, when it was confirmed that Murdoc was going to be in prison for an undetermined amount of time and that he may not even speak this phase (thanks a lot, phase 5 plot!) it reached unprecedented levels of viciousness. Some fans took every opportunity to drag him in the main tag, start debates with anyone who might mention one positive thing about him and expressed how they genuinely wanted him to die and/or never come back. It kinda reminded me of this season of MTV’s The Challenge when everyone ganged up on Johnny Bananas. Like, yes he’s an asshole and yes this was probably long overdue but also omg when is there and end point? Is there an end point? It was like some people hated Murdoc more than they liked Gorillaz. For some additional context - this tense environment was born out of an astoundingly severe conflict that happened in spring where three separate fandom storms that had been brewing since late 2017 collided into one huge mess. Discords were raided, friendships were lost, the police were called (I’m not even exaggerating). I won’t go into it more but if you were there, you know what i’m talking about. Murdoc wasn’t the cause of this, but his character was at the center of one of those storms and the canon sending him to prison only reignited the ire towards him. For awhile Murdoc fans weren’t sure were exactly they stood with the greater fandom, and new fans were confused as to why this one green character was the source of so much grief for haters and fans alike. This continued for most of the year (and still continues today), hence why it’s getting a mention now.

3. Ace

Believe it or not Murdoc and Ace are confirmed #friends. You wouldn’t know that from all the Murdoc vs Ace content that sprung out of this year but Ace was the one who joined Murdoc for hot chocolate after he got out of prison, “they go way back” etc etc. Ace was a big deal because it was probably the only time the fandom guessed something correctly this entire year. Jamie began posting cryptic pictures of Noodle with this unidentified man, then another with only the Ace card visible. “It a Powerpuff Girls crossover!” Some people claimed. But that seemed so random? Really? A B-list cartoon villain from a cartoon targeting an entirely different demographic? More likely than you think! Ace never spoke a word and he wasn’t allowed to smoke or have sex. People obsessed over him anyways. To this day I still have no idea who he is or what kind of personality he has or really anything. But he wasn’t a bad guy (more on that later) and he was Murdoc’s friend so he’s alright with me.

4. Messaging Denholm

By now the fandom was fraught with distress on so many levels. We were lost. We needed someone to guide us, to show us the way, to show us the #truth. I don’t know exactly who started this trend but it soon spread around Reddit and other social media sites that Jamie’s son Denholm was replying to dm’s on Instagram and soon, he was graced with a deluge of of inquiries from casual fans and Murdoc stans alike. The thing is though - he actually *did* answer them. Many of us had spoilers re: Murdoc and Ace’s friendship, Murdoc getting out of prison, etc. MONTHS before they happened. I believe he even told us that 2D was fine back in like, June or something. Denholm knew! Eventually we pissed him off but it didn’t stop him from answering. He just answered angrier. It also caused fans to argue more because people started accusing others of photoshopping his responses and nothing can ever be done peacefully here. I haven’t followed up on this story singe the end of summer but I think fans have finally scaled back on the messaging. But I hear he’s working on a Gorillaz documentary for 2019 so...I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.

5. Noodle

I want to take a moment here to also acknowledge the struggle AMA Gorillaz hosted on, of all places, Youtube. Thankfully, diligent redditors compiled a google doc of all the answers otherwise they would lost thanks to Youtube’s confusing interface. ANYHOW. The answer that stirred up the biggest milieu of debate and confusion came from Noodle. This isn’t exactly my lane - I don’t wade into Noodle issues and I don’t id as part of the LGBT community - so I’m not going to say much here other than, at the very least, this was the second or third time she has officially denied any interest in dating her bandmates.

6. 2D’s journal/2Doc

Okay first of all: 2DOC...jk, jk...jk? But no, honestly, this actually did become a big story this year, much bigger than expected. The release of 2D’s journal was the catalyst here, revealing a number of drawings and images of Murdoc. “Souk Eye,” a song that came with visuals featuring close ups of Murdoc’s face and vaguely romantic lyrics was depicted in 2D’s journal next to yet another drawing of Murdoc. We were confused! 2D didn’t care that Murdoc was gone, right? 2Doc shippers were intrigued. I was hesitant. We were all called delusional. However, “Souk Eye” was later confirmed to be a love song by Damon Albarn, and Murdoc and 2D have both claimed their relationship is “better” since the end of phase 5 (hhMmMmM). Obvi, take this with a grain of salt because it’s Gorillaz but the journal was instrumental in confirming how closely The Now Now (and the entire plot of phase 5, really) was tied to Murdoc and 2D’s relationship, particularly what 2D thinks of Murdoc. Think of it as platonic if you want but they share a closeness on SOME level and the content of 2018, from interviews to the Murdoc chats to the album itself, supports this. I rest my case.

7. Lost theories

Pour one out for all the lost theories. If you were a new fan this year you probably came up with a theory, or you got really invested in a theory. Some examples: HIM from PPG orchestrating the destruction of Gorillaz by possessing 2D and getting Murdoc framed with Ace as a double agent, or Murdoc’s imprisonment being tied to his trouble with EMI from phase 4, or phase 5 being about time travel, or Murdoc crashing Demon Dayz fest and fighting El Mierda on stage, or 2D being the one to frame Murdoc or Murdoc’s inmate number (24602) being a Les Mis reference implying that he’d get a character arc similar to Jean Valjean...you get the idea. But there are dreams that cannot beeee, and there are storms we cannot weather. You can argue about the budget or G-Shock or whatever but the truth is Gorillaz is just disorganized. This is their Brand™.

8. The Murdoc Chatbot

Gorillaz did an interesting thing this year - it let us talk to Murdoc! Sometime around June, he writers decided that the plot of phase 5 would be best spent, not on exploring the band’s dynamic with Murdoc gone or developing Ace’s personality, but on Murdoc! Fandom spent most of the summer following Murdoc’s experience in prison and helping to “free” him via a chatbot you could access through Kik, Instagram or Facebook. Basically, Murdoc was Paddington from Paddington 2, and we the fans were supposed to be the Browns trying to break him out and prove his innocence. Other fans begrudgingly used the chatbot to make fun of him or tell him to die and follow along with the story (it was the only place you could get plot updates). It was a neat idea as well as a funny experience to pretend to be talking to him, and the plot was very engaging at times. It was the chatbot that revealed the very dissatisfying (albeit happy) conclusion that Murdoc is no Paddington and had lied about everything - being framed, El Mierda etc. - but felt really bad about it. His apology was basically this. I’m going to also tag the #FreeMurdoc merchandise debacle, how overpriced it was and how it ended up being pointless anyways because Murdoc wasn’t framed and didn’t need to be “freed” onto this, because it all falls under the same event. Oh, and you got to talk to Noodle sometimes, too. 

9. G-shock ends phase 5

I put “ends phase 5″ in strikethrough because G-Shock on its own is actually pretty cool, and made up for the lack of videos (2 in total) that were released this year. The now Murdoc inclusive band goes to space and starts an alien war! That’s fun! Completely removed from whatever phase 5 was, but fun! (And I say that genuinely) What was messy about G-shock was that it came out of nowhere. The final Murdoc chat, that was SUPPOSED to reveal the ending to the prison arc, hadn’t even happened but suddenly, Murdoc was back to sell watches to aliens with the rest of the band and Ace was gone. But the final chat was delayed by a month and G-Shock came out anyways. Out of this came memes about how phase 5 ended so Gorillaz could try to sell us watches.

10. Cass Browne Tells us the True Plastic Beach Ending

We ended 2018 with not one but two major interviews from the fancast, Hallelujah Monkeyz but I’m choosing to cover their latest interview with Cass Browne, writer of Rise of the Ogre. If you were new this year you probably heard older fans mention ad nauseam how much they missed this guy name Cass. Well, Cass came back and dropped actual bombs about the true ending of phase 3, Murdoc’s lost backstory and the Plastic Beach book he found AND that a sequel to ROTO was planned and dropped. Understandably, this sparked a lot of discussion and also revealed just how important Cass was to the continuity of the Gorillaz storyline. Back then, we had ROTO and Plastic Beach. Today, we have “Murdoc drowns in poop and reunites with the band offscreen”

And that’s the year! And look I’m not saying this because I’m a stan but this was a Murdoc year. He was at the center of like, at least 80% of the angst and joy of fandom and I could make separate “top 10 Murdoc moments” or  “top 10 2Doc moments.” I guess for me, on an individual level, it was an alright year. For one, I actually talked to more people this year and met some really great friends (something I don’t typically do in fandom). I also get to check “write a fanfic” off my bucket list (it’s still a WIP but it’s the first WIP I’ve ever had so I’m counting it). And personally, my life has changed and without getting into too many details I’ve overcome a lot, grown professionally and...I think I can be kinda proud of myself for that. I expect 2019 to be a slower year than this one, and, I think the fandom needs that. Hopefully I’ll still see some of you around because I’m going to be here for at least the next few months while I finish up you know what. 

Honorable mentions: 2D “Dies” of Ligma and other 2D memes, 2D writes The Now Now, Benjamin Clementine says he regrets working with Gorillaz, Noodles old VA confirms Jamie ghosted her and recast Noodle without telling her, Gorillaz delay the final Murdoc chat by a month, Demon Dayz doesn’t get streamed, Music video releases - “Humilty” and “Tranz”, Cyborg Noodle returns with boobs and causes debate, the “Let Ace Speak” petition,

[swaymarkhugs]

Bergy/marchy for the headcannon game please and thank you! 💕

Aaah thank you for this Alex!  Without further ado, please enjoy the following Bergy/Marchy headcanons.

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Nose kisses are definitely Marchy. Forehead kisses are Bergy’s thing, because Marchy is shorter, so it’s easy for Bergy to just lean down and kiss his forehead. Meanwhile, Marchy will stand on tiptoes if he needs to, to give Bergy a playful kiss on the nose.

Gets jealous the most

Oooh. These boys both get jealous when someone tries to flirt with one of them. Marchy is good at interrupting whatever situation he’s feeling jealous of in order to redirect and subtly cling to Bergy. Bergy, on the other hand, gets broody and jealous in a way that not many people (besides Marchy) can recognize. Bergy is also the one most likely to drag Marchy home as quickly as possible and remind him that no one gets to flirt with him besides [Bergy]. 

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

Marchy tends to go out more with the younger guys on the team, and tries to prove that he can outdrink them. As such, Bergy gets many a phone call along the lines of “Uhh, Marchy is totally hammered and we’re worried about him getting home”. Bergy could tell everyone to figure it out, and leave Marchy to stumble around drunkenly, but he loves his man too much for that. So, Bergy comes to the rescue. Of course, on the few occasions Bergy happens to get too drunk, Marchy is there to bring him home safely. 

Takes care of on sick days

If one gets sick, the other is there to fuss. Marchy tends to get sick more, typically from his on-ice antics, so Bergy does more of the care-giving in that regard. He fusses more over the small details, worrying about every little thing that goes right or wrong while Marchy recovers, but he’s a solid, reassuring presence. Bergy is not always sure what to do when it comes to having a cold, because having a cold seems too deceptively simple. But when it comes to major illnesses or injuries, no matter how much of an emotional toll they take, he knows what to do to make Marchy’s recovery easier, whether it’s administering medication, cooking meals in advance, driving him to appointments, or just snuggling with him under a blanket while Marchy naps. 

However, Bergy isn’t exempt from getting the common cold/flu, even though he appears to be superman on any given day. When he does get sick, Marchy fusses over him, cuddles him, and spends every waking moment nursing him back to health. Marchy has more experience with caring for common ailments, given that he’s grown up with siblings and was expected to help when a sibling got sick. So, he fusses less over small details and worries instead about major changes. Bergy doesn’t always know what to make of Marchy being so calm, but he’s glad to have Marchy close while he himself feels so miserable. 

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

Contrary to what some people might think, Bergy is the one who gets playful at the beach. (Marchy’s whole motive is to see Bergy soaking wet, so it doesn’t matter to him how that happens). Bergy loves waiting ‘til Marchy is dozing on the sand, attempting to tan. Then, he picks him up and wades into the ocean, tossing Brad into the water. Marchy wakes up instantly, spluttering and splashing while Bergy chuckles to himself. Brad promptly grabs Patrice’s ankles and pulls him down into the water…and Bergy is definitely kidding himself if he doesn’t expect this to happen. 

Gives unprompted massages

Marchy is a handsy boy as is. But he can put his usual friskiness to good use when Bergy is stressed, cranky, or otherwise holding tension in his body. He likes to wrap himself around Bergy’s back and rub his shoulders and back until the tension melts away and he’s pliable and sleepy in Marchy’s arms. Marchy hates seeing Bergy stressed, so he does what he can to make sure Bergy stays relaxed when they’re alone together..and if that leads to sex…well, neither one of them is going to complain about that.  

Drives/rides shotgun

It depends on where they need to go. If they’re on vacation, or going somewhere for leisurely purposes, Bergy drives, and Marchy is content to ride shotgun, as long as he can hold Bergy’s hand and be in control of the radio. (The man fidgets too much otherwise). When they have to be somewhere, though, like practice, games, or dinner, Marchy drives and Bergy rides shotgun. Sometimes, Marchy’s driving causes quarrels…he tends to drive quickly and aggressively, much like the way he plays hockey. But Bergy realizes Marchy is the best hope they have to get where they’re going early in spite of Boston traffic, because he can navigate traffic effectively.

Brings the other lunch at work

Considering they both play hockey in the same place, for the same team, they make lunch together for their practice days, or they go out to lunch after practice. They eat dinner together before or after games. But, when Bergy gets injured, he likes to surprise Marchy by cooking or picking up his favorite meal and bringing it to him at practice or after games. Marchy is always so pleased that Bergy goes out of his way when he’s sick or hurt to take care of him, but neither of them would have it any other way. And because he wants Bergy to feel the same way, he reciprocates by making or picking up Bergy’s favorite desserts to bring to him. Both these instances result in hugging and making out in front of the team (which prompts teasing and groaning alike), but that deters neither of them.

Has the better parental relationship

Both Bergy and Marchy have good relationships with their parents. When they got together, Brad’s parents were instantly supportive and thrilled to welcome Patrice to the family. They know the way Marchy has been pining after him for years, so they’re excited. Patrice’s parents are a bit more hesitant. They had a feeling Bergy was in love with his linemate, but they were concerned about their son’s career. When it’s made clear that Bergy and Marchy won’t let their relationship affect the team dynamic (or the way they each play), Bergy’s parents relax, and are more than happy to have Marchy as part of the family, as well. 

Tries to start role-playing in bed

Ah, yes. The role-playing incident. While they’re both slightly drunk one night, Brad attempts to start role-playing with Patrice, but he fails epically, and they both end up laughing hysterically, effectively killing the mood. After that, they both agree to no more role-playing…dirty talk is fine for both of them, but role-playing is off limits. They just can’t take each other seriously with that. 

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

If this doesn’t scream Bradley Kevin Marchand, I don’t know what does. Drunkenness equates to Marchy dancing, and Marchy dancing is absolutely ridiculous. He tries to keep up with the rookies, but is too drunk to grasp what exactly they’re trying to teach him. Bergy has to wrap an arm around him and hold him still, otherwise he’ll get up onto a table or chair and sway awkwardly, singing along too loudly to the music.

Still cries watching Titanic

Bergy. It’s his greatest secret. He worries that Marchy is going to laugh at him when he finds out by putting on the movie as background noise. Instead, Marchy just uses the knowledge as a means of making Bergy cry for the sake of being able to hold him. Sometimes, when Bergy is feeling overly vulnerable, he’ll put on the movie so he has a catalyst to cry and release the pent-up emotion, all the while feeling safe in Marchy’s arms. 

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Brad LOVES halloween. He spends a lot of time planning and scheming, coming up with elaborate costume ideas that involve matching with Bergy. The first halloween they spend together, Bergy rolls his eyes at Marchy’s insistence at wearing matching costumes. When he realizes Brad is serious, though, Patrice goes along with it because he doesn’t want to upset Brad or feel like he somehow let him down. So, while it isn’t Bergy’s all-time-favorite thing to do, every halloween after that is spent in couples’ costumes…(and maybe he has some fun with it, eventually).

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

They both do. Patrice tries to be sneaky, their first Christmas, in order to surprise Brad. He’s proud of his plan, and is excited at the opportunity to spoil his other half the way he deserves. While he ends up achieving this, he also ends up surprised on Christmas morning, when Brad reveals that he’s done the same thing. They both laugh, and kiss, and open the rest of their gifts. After that Christmas, they each limit each other to one expensive gift, since it’s obvious “no expensive gifts” is not going to be adhered to. 

Makes the other eat breakfast 

Marchy has so much energy a lot of the time, so he’s constantly moving and bouncing and talking. Sometimes, he gets caught up in the excitement of getting to live his dream playing hockey and being with Bergy, and he’ll leave the house without eating breakfast, which results in him crashing during practice, complete with muscle exhaustion and a splitting headache. So, Bergy is the one to remind him in the mornings to sit down and eat something, even if he feels like he’s not hungry. Sometimes Marchy pouts, or he whines about being treated like a kid, but he knows Bergy has his best interests at heart, and always listens to him. Besides, when he takes time in the morning to settle down and eat breakfast, Bergy rewards him with plenty of kisses, and that alone is enough to make Marchy adjust his morning meal habits. 

Remembers anniversaries

Both Bergy and Marchy remember their anniversaries, birthdays, and other important events. Neither one of them considered themselves the type of guy to get sappy and sentimental over upcoming anniversaries, but it turns out that both of them love to celebrate the important dates with one another. 

Brings up having kids

Given their career choice and given the fact that they both do the same thing at the same time, neither one considers the possibility of children while they play. They both enjoy playing with their teammates’ kids, and occasionally babysitting, but they don’t actively, constantly think about having children. Bergy brings up the possibility of adopting when they both retire, and Marchy is willing to consider it. But it isn’t something either one dwell on, and they agree to bring it up again if and when the time is right. 

[piratical-princess]

I Am Already Out There - Are You?

When you are trying, and mostly failing, to date, you’ll have a lot of well-meaning people trying to tell you what you should do. What I get, much of the time, is advice from people who are already in happy relationships, and have been for a long time, and have forgotten or maybe never knew what the dating scene in this 2k18 is really like. People who are happy in their love lives are continually telling me that online dating is garbage, and that I’m wasting my time, and I need to stop. Because I often love these people, I do not laugh at them.

What I want to say is, “Go and snuggle Betty/John/George/Faruza, go snuggle them tight and weep with joy that you are not Mad Maxing it with the rest of us pathetic slimes, weaving an oh so delicate tapestry of words and photos that draw scumbags to you but might potentially catch the interest of a real human being long enough for them to go halves with you on a taco, otherwise it’s deciphering minion gifs and genital photos with equal anthropological intensity, hoping his request for a photo of your butt to prove that it isn’t flat is actually just his outer bad boy persona that will eventually crack away to reveal a misunderstood bookish beekeeper type, WEEP WITH JOY THAT THIS IS NOT YOUR LIFE.”

And they tell me, “you need to get Out There.” As if Out There is a place you can get to if you click your heels together. I have had people recommend book clubs (as if I actually want to hear men’s opinions on Jane Austen or hear one more dick go on and on about Kerouac), or volunteering (because doing extra things for NO MONEY is something I have time for, not to mention the fact that I could meet someone super virtuous who would then mistake me for a super virtuous person, and I would have to come clean), or even church (because that’s the place to pick up hotties). 

I have news for those of us, whoever we are, that are trying to find love. We are already Out There. This is it -- the battleground. Every day I step onto it just by waking up and deciding that I have to be the person to love myself because - ha ha ha - I haven’t found some poor sap to do it with me. 

It is frustrating, stupid, gross, boring, bizarre, disappointing -- but then my alternative would be... what? Force myself to go out into public places I don’t feel comfortable in and - heh heh - flirt? Hope that someone looks at my ungodly shaped ass and thinks, oh sure, that looks like someone I need to approach and then speak to on interesting matters? Wade through the requisite half hour of “what job? How many sibling? Like movie?” before we decide either there’s no sparks or I simply can’t resist eating something in front of them and the moment is gone? Far better, for now, to sit in my pajamas and reject almost everyone from a safe distance.

In fact, while I’d like to perpetuate that idea -- me in my gross pajamas, shouting NO every time I left swipe as I shove chips in my mouth by the fistful -- that’s not online dating, and I do go places outside my comfort zone, meet and talk to strangers, sometimes I don’t even regret it. Sometimes the glowing rectangle has led to great human moments, and I might even write about a few of them.

I found my job online, as almost everyone does now. I found my house online, even if it is a tin can. I found most of my dearest friends online. I found my dog online, and our friendship will be a lifelong one. So the suggestion that there is no possibility that I could find my partner online, that it’s all nonsense and I ought to simply give it up, is an absurd one. 

Of course it would be infinitely more romantic if I met them while our hands bumped reaching for the same copy of The Screwtape Letters in a used bookstore and we happened to notice that an old photo fell out of it of a man with his back turned and an inscription on the back saying “I’ll get you, Hawkins” and we thought, what a delightful mystery, want to figure this out together? Oh but I have to be somewhere in an hour, well here’s my number, let’s go halves on the book but then someone ran past us and grabbed it from our hands before we could buy it but luckily I had the photo in my hand ---

But that seems unlikely. So online is just as good a place to start as any.

[askdawnandvern]

A Lamb Among Wolves :Ch 32

Not much to say about this chapter. Just a little intimate quite breakfast between Audrey, Dawn and Vernon. Fluffy, cutesy character moments to make you all warmed and toasty inside before i gut your collective hearts out like a mortal kombat finishing move. Lol, Sorry. I just mean were moving up to the big catalyst of the whole story soon, and so this fluffy stuff might hurt once we get there.

Still working on speeding up the chapter output, but I've been fighting off a nasty bug that I haven't been able to shake since seemingly December that's making my mind all murky. So I'm torn between trying to force it out because i really want to finish it, and having the quality suffer for it. Or go with the flow, and write when it works. Hopefully it will kind of go away, I am on meds now for the thing, because apparently the first run of meds on my sinus infection proved to weak. But hopefully this will finally do the trick.

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

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Perfect Gift

Vernon let out a pleasant sigh as he slipped another slice of his Mother's famous caramel prench toast into his maw. With the slightest press of his teeth against the syrup soaked morsel, hot caramel sauce oozed out from its center, spilling out into his throat and dancing pleasantly across his tongue. The overall delectable sweetness causing the wolf to cringe in delight as he continued to chew the scrumptious treat.

There was nothing quite like his Mother's cooking, especially when it came to anything she baked. And while Vernon knew his favorite recipes well, and could do a reasonable job recreating them on his own, they always seemed to lack that special something that only his Mother seemed capable of bringing out in the dish. A certain flavor, an indescribable quality that Vernon could never quite pin down with his own attempts. Audrey usually referred to it as being the 'love' baked into every batch, and despite how cliché and silly it sounded to Vernon, with no hard evidence for the wolf to prove otherwise, he found it hard to argue against it.

Audrey had taken the time to teach all of the Hunter pups how to cook. It was part of her efforts to make sure that he and his brothers were fit to survive on their own when the time came. And while Vernon had proven to be leagues better than someone like Xavier, who seemed to be able to create kitchen fires at a mere glance, Vernon could only describe himself as nothing more than an 'adequate' cook.

At a certain point Vernon had come to accept that his cooking skill would never quite match up to his Mother's abilities. It simply wasn't something he could hone as easily as someone like Malcolm seemed to be able to. Nor did Vernon have a bizarre natural skill for it like Ulric.

How the twitchy, nervous wolf seemed able to duplicate their Mother's recipes perfectly was beyond Vernon. Perhaps it lied in the wolf's extremely analytical nature, and his impeccable attention to detail that made it easy for the wolf to cook as well as their Mother did. It was something Vernon chalked up to being yet another trade off, the gods way of making up for Ulric's complete lack of social skills by compensating for it in his other traits. Still, it made for a great question to pose to his Mother sometime. After all, Ulric certainly didn't bake a damn thing with 'love', the wolf didn't believe in it. Ulric was the kind of mammal who believed love to be nothing more than a chemical process in the brain. It wasn't that surprising, considering the wolf's line of work and way of thinking. Yet despite that belief, he could bake just as well as their Mother right down to that supposed phantom ingredient. And so it made her intangible reasoning behind Vernon's own failings make even less sense.

Still, at least it gave the wolf something to look forward to when visiting the Hunter Ranch. Unlike his Father's mood swings, or whether or not Yuri was posed to show up for a surprise visit, his Mother's cooking was something that was always an absolute good. A hot, tasty and filling meal was a guarantee, and the wolf had come to rely on it whenever he made his way home. Regardless of how difficult the day around it seemed to be, or however badly a mood you were in, Audrey's meals seemed to have the miraculous ability of making everything seem better. And for that reason, Vernon could scarcely conceive a better way to start off the morning than with one of his Mother's scrumptious breakfast delights.

Well, the wolf could think of a few thing that involved his Honey lamb, but Vernon wasn't keen on breaking the house rule again so soon. As far as he knew, he was still being punished for the previous evenings debacle. And Vernon surmised it was better simply to not bring it up in case his Mother had some how forgotten her decree. The last thing Vernon wanted was to once again find himself elbow deep in dirty dishes.

The breakfast table was pleasantly quiet, leaving Vernon to simply enjoy the first truly comfortable moment he had since arriving at the Ranch. That is to say, the first comfortable moment that involved any members of his family. The peaceful solitude of sharing a delicious meal with his Mother and his mate without the bickering and teasing of the other members of the pack allowed Vernon to fully unwind. To allow whatever nervous troubles and worries eating at him to simply slip into the recesses of his mind as he savored the moment as well as the meal.

Vernon felt oddly optimistic despite the day that lie ahead. While his Mother's plan to drag them to the fair against the wishes of his Father should have been something to leave his stomach twisted up in knots, the wolf felt a strange sense of hopefulness. Perhaps it had been Dawn's pep-talk from the previous evening. Or perhaps it had been the fact that Yuri had been more or less prevented from spending the evening mocking him thanks to his other brothers shutting him down. Followed up quickly by Wade's accidental reveal in regards to his mysterious mate becoming the dominant topic until they had all more or less tired themselves out.

But if Vernon had to pick out what had played the biggest role in renewing his confidence and optimism, it had to have been recovering the friendship bracelet Dawn had given to him as a pup. Just the sight of it, even in its broken state, was enough to leave the wolf feeling as if perhaps things were starting to turn around for the pair. Finding the ruined bracelet had been a sign, a good omen in Vernon's eyes, of things to come. And the prospect of being able to show it to the ewe later today had the wolf practically humming with delight as he took another bite of his breakfast.

His dreams the night before had been laced with visions of how he imagined the big reveal would go. Each one a different approach, a different take on how to surprise the ewe with his discovery, and how it had been restored. But regardless of the scenario it all ended more or less the same. Dawn basking the wolf in her beautiful warm smile as tears swelled in her eyes. In some of the dreams she would hug him, in others she would kiss him, in a few she managed to jump into his arms and squeeze him with all the strength her tiny little arms could muster. Despite all the terrible things that both of them had endured throughout the trip, this was something the wolf could rely on to make his little ewe happy. To try to make up in some way for the terrible shaming his Father, Yuri, Ana, and the others had put her through. After over two decades, their bracelets would be reunited. That is, so long as his Mother finished the repairs in time.

Vernon shifted his glance toward his Mother. The wolfess was looking at her plate, carefully cutting her own stack of prench toast before bringing a piece up to her muzzle. She had brought it a mere few inches from her muzzle before she seemed to notice Vernon's wide-eyed stare.

Audrey lowered her fork, raising the wolf a curious eyebrow in response.

Vernon didn't want to draw Dawn's attention, and so the wolf attempted to limit himself to simple facial gestures. The wolf raised his eyebrows, bobbing them decisively in regular intervals, but the she-wolf seemed perplexed by his expression. Audrey tilted her head slightly as she watched his attempts to convey his message. Vernon held back the urge to groan, instead adding a slight nod to his head in an effort to further emphasize what he thought was a rather clear message.

Audrey only seemed more puzzled, the she-wolf now squinting at him quizzically.

"What?" The she-wolf mouthed inaudibly.

Vernon rolled his eyes at her response. Thinking on his feet, the wolf glanced down at his paw, flicking his eyes back and forth between it and his Mother's eye line. As Audrey brought her attention down, the wolf very quickly tapped his wrist with his other paw, flashing Audrey a weak grin after she caught the gesture.

Audrey let out a quiet chuckle, giving the wolf a slight affirmative nod as she returned to her meal, scooping her previously cut morsel of food back onto her fork and into her mouth.

Vernon tried to stifle his excitement as an ecstatic grin forced its way to his muzzle. The wolf had felt like leaping out of his chair with joy, but an act that dramatic would have given away to the ewe seated next to him that something was off. However, the dull thumping emanating from his chair as his tail slapped haphazardly against it was the one impulse he couldn't control. The overwhelming silence at the breakfast table only helped to make the 'twapping' noise it produced seem that much louder.

"I take it someone had a good night's sleep?" Audrey said with a chuckle, drawing the wolf's attention back her way.

'Saved by the she-wolf" Vernon thought to himself, thankful for his Mother's distracting question. However, the wolf's excitement was still far too palpable to keep from leaking out in his response.

"Y-yeah!" Vernon yelped. The energy in his voice was obvious, despite his attempts at stifling it. His words wavering as he tried to bring his cadence back to something more 'normal'. "I mean, yeah." Vernon continued, lowering his voice as he clasped the sides of his seat with his paws to steady himself. "I slept alright."

Audrey shook her head, letting out a giggle as she turned her attention to Dawn.

"And how bout you Darlin'?" Audrey asked.

Vernon turned to Dawn to see her reaction only to catch her looking down at her plate. The ewe seemed oddly quiet. Well, more so than usual. And Vernon could easily see the slight frown on her muzzle as she picked lamely at her food.

"How long has she been sitting like that?" Vernon thought to himself as he appraised the ewe's cowed sitting pose. The wolf had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had failed to notice the state his mate was in. Even though their relationship had been a relatively short one, Vernon liked to think he could read the ewe's expressions pretty well by now. And as he observed the seemingly troubled ewe, the wolf tallied all the red flags in his head that the sheep was now displaying. Her slight frown, hunched posture, lack of appetite despite the sheer deliciousness of his Mother's cooking, and seeming inattentiveness told Vernon that she was lost in her own thoughts. And the frown lead the wolf to believe that those thoughts weren't very good ones. Vernon's own smile began to slip. His previously subdued worries now creeping back up in his mind as he watched his mate carefully. The ewe remained silent, leaving his Mother's question to hang in the air for several moments as the ewe continued to play with her food.

"Darlin'?" Audrey uttered, slightly louder this time.

At that Dawn seemed to perk up, jumping slightly in her seat.

"O-Oh!" Dawn stammered, placing her utensils down. "I-I'm sorry Audrey, what did you say?"

Audrey grimaced slightly, her eyes now appraising the ewe as carefully as Vernon imagined his own were.

"I was askin' how ya'll slept Darlin'." Audrey repeated. "You get to sleep okay?"

"Oh..." Dawn muttered, her head drifting back down to her plate as she picked up her fork. The ewe stabbed a particularly soggy looking morsel onto the tines and began to swab it around on the plate idly. "I mean...I slept okay..." The ewe shrugged. " It could have been better I guess."

The wolf managed a slight smirk. "Right, she's just tired." Vernon reassured himself in an effort to push his nervous thoughts back. The wolf leaned over, wrapping an arm around the ewe before pulling her tightly against him for a hug. It was awkward bridging the distance between the two chairs, but thankfully Vernon was tall enough for both of them.

Dawn seemed surprised for a second, but quickly leaned into the hug, wrapping her hooves around the wolf as he buried his muzzle in her woolly poof.

"I'm sorry Darlin'." Vernon cooed. "I know you ain't a crack of Dawn type of mammal."

Dawn giggled softly into his chest.

"Neither are you!" Dawn retorted, giving the wolf a playful swat on the back as she continued to hug him.

"Yeah bu-" Vernon paused as his nose caught whiff of a peculiar scent mixed into the ewe's wool. The wolf took another soft sniff, burying his nose deeper in an attempt at better discerning the source of the odor. "Don't tell me her hormones are still actin' up?" The wolf thought to himself.

As the wolf took a sharper inhale, Dawn pulled herself away slightly, staring back at the wolf with a curious expression.

"What are you sniffing?" Dawn asked.

"Ya'll smell weird." Vernon said, flashing the ewe an inquisitive glance of his own.

"Vernon." His Mother said with a laugh, drawing his attention back toward the wolfess. Audrey sat with her paws crossed, a mirthful smirk on her muzzle as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Ya'll don't just tell a girl she smells bad so bluntly, 'specially yer mate!" Audrey rolled her eyes. "I raised ya'll to be a gentlemammal!"

Vernon chuckled, releasing his grip around the lamb as he slid back into his own seat.

"I didn't say 'bad'" Vernon clarified, raising a finger to accentuate his point. "I said 'weird'."

Dawn giggled, placing her hooves to her muzzle in an effort to stifle a giggle.

"I didn't think you'd be able to smell Qali on me." Dawn snickered.

Vernon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought that smelled familiar!" The wolf exclaimed.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Yes, well Qali slept with me last night and-"

"She slept with you!?" Vernon asked aloud in mock shock, doing his best to suppress a rising smile as he prepared to tease the ewe.

"Vernon." Dawn tried to stifle her giggling.

"And here I was worried about my brothers movin' in on my gal..." Vernon chuckled. "Didn't think I'd have to be worryin' about my sisters too!"

"Vernon!" Dawn whined, trying her best to swat the wolf from her seat. Unfortunately for the ewe, the gap was far to wide for her to reach as easily as Vernon had reached her. Dawn's face was flushed, a red tinge now spreading ear to ear as she desperately tried to hide it with her other hoof.

"I mean Malcolm sure..." Vernon continued. "He may be into fellas, but with a ewe as pretty as you I could easily see him switchin' sides."

"Puppy StaaaAAAaaahp!" Dawn whined playfully. The ewe's tiny frame shuddered with each giggle fit that Vernon's continued teasing brought on. "I-it was, I-I me-" The ewe tried to stutter through her laughter.

"Ah, so ya'll girls bunked up after Ada's bed broke?" Audrey interjected. " I guess that makes sense considerin' yer both the smallest."

"Is that what that noise was?' Vernon asked, turning away from the ewe now trying to catch her breath.

Audrey nodded. "I suppose I should have expected ya'll to have heard it."

"Among other things..." Vernon replied, shifting his gaze back toward the recovering ewe.

"W-what did you hear?" Dawn asked, her tone quavering as she tried to collect herself. The dying laughter now at conflict with her rising tone of concern.

Vernon let out a soft chuckle as he rolled his eyes.

"Relax Floofs..." Vernon reassured the ewe. "It was all too muffled to hear properly, aside from Vanna shoutin' somethin' I ain't gonna repeat in polite company." The wolf added, shifting his eyes toward his Mother briefly before bringing them back to Dawn.

"Oh..." Dawn murmured, her blush returning as she placed her hooves over her muzzle.

"Yeah, sounds like ya'll had a lot of fun up there." Vernon said with a soft smile. The wolf reached a paw out to the ewe, placing it gingerly on her shoulder. "I'm glad." Vernon offered the lamb a reassuring grin. The ewe flashed him a meek smile in return, her blush still clearly visible.

"Lil' too much fun." Audrey chuckled. "Consderin' ya'll broke the legs off a bed." Audrey pointed her fork in Dawn's direction, allowing a little bit of syrup to drip off her fork as she waived the cut of toast lazily in the air.

"So is that why ya'll slept so bad Mutton Chop?" Vernon asked. The wolf leaned toward the ewe, placing his arm on the table as he flashed the lamb a sly smile. "Ain't used to sharin' a bed with a mammal other than me?"

Dawn let out a laugh. "More like Qali couldn't keep her paws off of me!" The ewe flicked a hoof lazily in his direction. "I had no idea she was so pawsy in her sleep."

Vernon placed a paw over his muzzle in an effort to keep from laughing.

"She was cuddlin' you?" Vernon asked in a gleeful tone.

Dawn cringed, gritting her teeth mildly as she broke eye contact with the wolf.

"She was practically fused to my head." Dawn replied uneasily. "She was all coiled up in my wool, and no matter how many times I woke her up and got her to stop, she'd just end up back in my wool again." Dawn sighed, leaning her muzzle against her hoof. "After a while I just gave up trying to pry her off."

Despite his best efforts, a few stray laughs slipped out of the wolf's maw as he imagined the scene in his head. The petite vixen tangled up in Dawn's woolly curls, happily snoring away as Dawn lay awake pondering how to deal with the situation. A part of him was sympathetic to his Honey Lamb's plight, surely. But the wolf couldn't deny just how humorous the whole thing must have been.

"Oh mam'..." Vernon chuckled. "What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on the wall fer that!" The wolf laughed. "At least to snap a photo! Think of the Furbook comments that one would get!"

"Veeernon!" Dawn pretended to whine, but the smile on her face told the wolf all he needed to know. At the very least, the playful ribbing seemed to be picking up the ewe's spirits. "It's not funny!"

"Yer right, it ain't funny." Vernon said, putting on a mock serious expression for a moment. "It's hilarious." The wolf snickered.

"PuuuUUUPPPpppy!" Dawn whined louder, her blush intensifying as she seemed to slink lower into her chair.

"Alright ya'll, that's enough." Audrey chuckled, giving Vernon a playful slap. "Settle down a might." Audrey added, lowering her paws to the table to illustrate bringing the noise level down. "Don't wanna wake anyone else up now do we?"

Vernon nodded, clearing his throat slightly as he turned his attention back to the remaining toast on his plate. The last thing he wanted at this point was the other members of the family poking their heads down here now even if they weren't going to the fair with them. The wolf was having far too good a time to risk letting a mammal like Yuri spoil it.

Vernon cut another slim, soggy piece of toast from his stack. But as he raised the caramel oozing pastry to his muzzle, his eyes once again found themselves drifting over to his mate. Dawn had quickly slipped back into her despondent looking state, the ewe once again lamely poking at her food as she let out an uneasy sigh. Vernon grimaced as he lowered his fork back to his plate. Clearly there was more to Dawn's behavior than a simple lack of sleep. Something was on her mind, and Vernon wasn't going to feel any sort of relief unless he got to the bottom of it. The wolf opened his muzzle to speak, but he never got a chance to ask his question.

"Somethin' wrong Darlin'?" Audrey asked, stealing the query from Vernon's own muzzle as if she had read his mind.

The sudden question had caused the ewe to jerk up from her plate again, her attention now quickly drawn to the concerned looking she-wolf.

"O-oh." Dawn murmured in surprise. "I-It's nothing, really."

Vernon could see his mother's brow furrow at the reply, a clear indication the she-wolf was dubious of the ewe's statement at best.

"Alright lil' lamb, out with it." Audrey said, her tone motherly yet playful. "C'mon now, what's botherin' ya?"

The ewe shook her head briskly, stabbing another piece of food with her fork.

"I was just thinking..." Dawn muttered as she spun her fork in a syrupy pool. "I mean I was curious why everyone else isn't coming with us to the fair today."

Vernon raised an eyebrow as he pondered the ewe's question. It was a good one. One that Vernon had never thought to question when his Mother had told them as much in the first place. He was simply happy with the fact that he wouldn't have Yuri around to pester them all day, and thought nothing more than that. He knew in the case of the barbeque, Malcolm was going to have to stay home to prepare for it, but as for the others, it didn't really make sense. Vernon turned to his Mother with a curious expression of his own.

"Yeah..." Vernon said. "I mean you told us they weren't going, but I didn't ask why." The wolf paused, trying to formulate his next words carefully. "I mean, I know Pa...well..."

Vernon glanced at Dawn briefly. He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence in front of her. "It just don't make sense if we're going against what he said, but only sorta doin' that." The wolf shrugged. "Y'know?"

Audrey closed her eyes, tilting her head down slightly.

"Welp..." Audrey sighed, placing her paws against the sides of her muzzle. The wolfess was silent for a few moments as she rubbed the muscles in her snout.

"I could tell ya'll that I thought everyone else would be of better use settin' up fer the barbeque." Audrey said cooly. "But I ain't never been one to try to muddy my reasonin' about somethin', even if I ain't keen on worryin' the both of ya'll."

Audrey placed her paws on the table. Taking a deep breath, the she-wolf opened her eyes, staring back at the couple with a startlingly serious stare. It was the kind of gaze Vernon had learned to fear when he was a pup, the eyes of a mammal ready to fight.

"I know I said I wanted just the two of ya'll to come run the stand to have fun, and I meant that." Audrey said, her serious gaze remaining fixed and unwavering. "But if Dori decides to stick his big nose in where it doesn't belong, I don't want anyone getting between me and him, understand?"

Vernon blinked in surprise, the wolf still trying to parse exactly what the she-wolf was saying. He briefly turned to check on his mate, only to find that Dawn shared his shocked and puzzled expression.

"The less of the pack around to bicker if things go awry the better." Audrey continued, gesturing a paw toward the couple. "I don't need Zach, or Vanna tryin' to stand in fer me. Complicatin' things and making a bigger scene when it doesn't need to be."

Vernon furrowed his brow quizzically.

"I especially don't need any of them tryin' to say they made the call to have ya'll back at the fair." Audrey pressed her paws together, leaning her muzzle against them as she kept her gaze leveled at the pair. "If Dori wants to try to lay down the law, he's going to be squarin' it with me, ya'll get me?"

Vernon nodded meekly as just what his Mother was saying finally started to register.

" I made the call." Audrey said. "I want you both there, and I want ya'll to have fun." The she-wolf stabbed a finger down on the table.

"The fair is fer everyone." The she-wolf added, waving her finger. " Ain't no law that says otherwise. And that means ain't no lawmammal that has a ground to stand on!"

With that, Audrey's posture seemed to ease. The she-wolf leaned back in her chair, stretching and arm as her expression slipped into something more playful and calm.

"I don't want ya'll to worry about Dori, or the rest of them fairgoers." The wolfess let out another sigh. "I just want ya'll to relax and have a good time. Together." Audrey said with a smile. "'Side's, yer frail ol' mother can't run the stand on her own." The she-wolf chuckled.

Vernon couldn't help but smirk, flashing the she-wolf a dull and dubious glance. The last mammal he would ever describe as frail was his mother. If there was one mammal who could manage to put Dorian in his place, it was her. Sure, Dorian had made a number of decrees over the years when it came to his family. But most of the unjust calls didn't last very long under Audrey's tenacious and rebellious demeanor. It was moments like that which left Vernon to wonder exactly how someone seemingly as wild as his Mother even managed to settle down with such a button-downed, authoritarian wolf.

But the topic at hand had managed to stir some of the wolfs nagging doubts and worries. Drawing those uncertainties up to the surface, and pressing him to mention them.

"But what about the fairgoers?" Vernon mumbled, almost reluctantly. "I mean Ana and Ken-"

"Oh pshaw!" Audrey tutted, flicking a lazy paw in Vernon's direction. " I'm certain those two won't be showin' their face at that fair anytime soon after yesterday!"

Audrey flashed the wolf a smirk, leaning in close to Vernon as she placed a paw near her muzzle to try to hide her mouth from the ewe.

"Considerin' the way they left the fair I doubt everything is hunky-dory in the Loupon household." Audrey chuckled softly.

"But surely Mr. Ruddy, or even some of the other fairgoers could-"

"I'm tellin' ya'll they are far too meek to speak up without that agitatin' she-wolf around." Audrey cut Dawn off. "And with me watchin' over ya'll, no-one'll dare say a bad word to ya!" Audrey said defiantly, bringing her paw down sharply against the table.

Dawn still seemed uncertain of Audrey's declaration, but the she-wolf was quick to pick up on it.

"Aw c'mon Dawn, trust me!" Auddey grinned widely at the ewe. "I ain't gonna let anyone hurt one of my own as long as I'm watchin' them, ya'll have my word!"

Vernon watched as Dawn seemed to be fighting back a smirk. It was clear she was still holding on to some reservations about the whole affair just as he was. But his Mother's unflappable optimism was an infectious sort. It was impossible to fight it off when she hoisted it on you, and she knew just how to work a smile out of even the gloomiest mammal.

"B-But Dorian..." Dawn trailed off, still trying to fight the growing smile she was hiding behind her hooves.

"But Dorian nuthin'!" Audrey spat, bringing her paw down against the table again loudly. "If he even shows his big stupid muzzle around our stand I'll bop him into next week!" Audrey grinned, raising her arm in a mock punch.

That was enough to break the ewe. The sheep burst into giggling, her hooves still clasped tightly against her muzzle despite losing her composure. There was simply no winning against Audrey's enthusiasm.

"Alright, alright." Vernon said with a laugh. The wolf gestured his paws in a similar way to how his Mother had earlier in reference to the noise level.

"We're gettin' too loud again." Vernon chuckled. "And I'd rather not have Yuri spoil this breakfast."

Audrey was quick to stifle herself, bringing a paw sharply to her lips as she smirked back at Vernon.

"Here I am actin' like the pup now..." Audrey chuckled quietly.

Dawn took a few deep breaths seemingly in an effort to chase off her remaining laughter as she tried to compose herself. At the very least the ewe was smiling now, her posture improving as the wolf watched her calm down. Soon enough, the ewe actually began to eat the prench toast that had been dissolving in a sea of syrup on her plate.

"So what about the others?" Dawn asked idly as she slipped a piece of toast into her muzzle. "Surely they at least want some of this fantastic breakfast?"

Audrey let out a soft chuckle.

"Malcolm's got 'em covered." The she-wolf said with a grin. "Whenever they all wake up he can fix 'em some fancy prench toast just as good as mine."

"Maybe not quite as good as yers Ma." Vernon said with a chuckle as he scooped a large chunk of the cinnamon swirled bread onto his fork.

Audrey placed a paw to her muzzle, trying to hide the slight blush as she waived her other paw in Vernon's direction.

"Oh hush now!" Audrey cooed. "Malcolm does a fine job."

Vernon rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Just take a compliment Ma." The wolf chuckled.

Audrey cut herself another small slice of her toast, stabbing it with her fork before waiving it Vernon's way.

"It's true." Auddey retorted. "I mean, that boy's a real chef, not some home taught housewife like me."

"It is fantastic Mrs. Hu-" The ewe paused to correct herself. "I mean Audrey."

The wolf shifted her fork Dawn's way, dabbing it toward the ewe.

"That's right."  The she-wolf said with a grin. "No need for formalities with my daughter-in-law."

The ewe seemed to frown slightly at the she-wolf's words. Dawn glanced down at her plate briefly before seeming to shake off whatever was bothering her. Returning her attention to the she-wolf, the ewe's smile returned.

"Thank you Audrey." Dawn replied. "Really."

"Yer quite welcome Darlin'." Audrey said, finally bringing the food on her fork towards her muzzle.

"So, what exactly is the plan fer today Ma?" Vernon asked, quirking a brow.

As the she-wolf slid the bite of food into her mouth, she leaned in her seat, allowing her free arm to rest on the table. "Welp..." Audrey rolled her eyes slightly, lazily waving her paw. " I figure between the three of us we can pack the van up in a few minutes." Audrey shrugged. "I mean, we did leave it sorta half loaded last night, so there ain't much work to do."

"And then?" Dawn asked. the ewe leaning over her plate as she eyed the wolfess expectantly.

Audrey looked toward the ceiling. "Well, then it's just a matter of gettin' to the fair." The she-wolf scratched her chin softly as she seemed to be mulling over the process.

"We can all take the loader truck out since that's really all we'll need." Audrey bobbed her head slightly as if affirming something to herself. "Then it's just a matter of loadin' the stand and getting to work."

Vernon watched as Dawn began to wring her hooves nervously, a slightly worried expression overtaking her as her eyes returned to looking at her plate.

"I h-hope I can help." Dawn muttered.

Audrey let out a single, sharp laugh. "You'll be fine Darlin', trust me."

Dawn looked back up at Audrey with a slight wince.

"B-but I can't really cook much of anything..." Dawn murmured, tapping her hooves together. "I know a few prey meals but honestly-"

Audrey rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine Darlin'." The wolfess said reassuringly. "'Sides I'll be there every step of the way. I ain't gonna let ya fall."

Dawn offered the she-wolf a small smile.

"Plus I know a thing or two about makin' Ma's pies." Vernon interjected, trying to add to the ewe's rising confidence.

"Between the two of ya'll yer gonna do a fine job." Audrey added, reaching a paw out to Vernon's head and ruffling the fur on top. Vernon moved away, swatting back at his Mother's affectionate gesture.

"MA!" Vernon whined.

"Oh hush!" Audrey tutted as she returned to her plate. The she-wolf cut herself another slice of bread and idly swirled it around the syrup pooled on her plate.

"After we're done fer the day, it's just a matter of packin' up and ridin' back home." Audrey continued, raising the sopping chunk of toast to her lips. "By then the rest of the pack should have the Barbeque all set to go. So ya'll can just keep enjoyin' yerselves."

"Ah, the barbeque." Vernon said with a comfortable sigh. "Now there's somethin' to look forward too." The wolf pat his stomach affectionately. "Nobody Barbeques quite like Mal-"

Vernon paused, his attention switching back Dawn's way as the ewe continued to eat her breakfast. The wolf hadn't given thought to exactly what he could offer his mate in terms of the family barbeque. It was a largely pred affair, and as such they never really had anything made up for prey aside from simple side dishes.

"Ma?" Vernon glanced back at his Mother, concern lacing his features. " What about Dawn?"

"Mhhm?" Audrey grumbled curiously as she chewed another mouthful of food.

"I mean, does Malcolm have anythin' she can eat?" Vernon added. "I mean, her diet is-"

Audrey was quick to dismiss the wolf with the wave of a paw.

"Malcolm already has a few prey specialty dishes planned fer Dawn, don't ya'll worry!" With a grin, Audrey turned her attention back to the diminutive ewe. The she-wolf quirked an eyebrow.

"I hope ya'll like surprises." Audrey said with a chuckle.

Dawn giggled in response.

Vernon let out a relieved sigh. It seemed as though everything was more or less covered as far as plans for the afternoon went. The only thing he had to worry about now was simply the outside forces that could cause those seemingly mundane activities to prove rather difficult. Vernon didn't doubt his Mother's assertions about the fair-goers, or his Father. He was sure the she-wolf would live up to her declarations should they be faced with any hardship while running the stall. But even the risk of such an encounter, regardless of how his Mother handled it still put the wolf on edge. He just didn't want anything to further ruin the prospect of Dawn having a good time. But running the stall seemed like the more favorable choice over remaining at the house all day. At least at the stall Yuri was guaranteed to be miles away from him, and thus unable to torment the couple.

"Oh!" Dawn jerked to attention, as if she had come to a sudden realization. The ewe quickly placed her utensils down, dabbing her muzzle with a napkin.

"May I be excused?" The tiny ewe asked. "I didn't exactly get a chance to go to the bathroom earlier and I-"

Audrey held up a paw silencing the ewe. The she-wolf rolled her eyes, flashing the ewe a smirk.

"Darlin'," Audrey replied. "You don't even have to ask."

Dawn gave a brisk nod, and Vernon watched as she slipped off the stack of phone books in her chair before disappearing below the table's edge. The wolf leaned in his seat just enough to catch the top of her woolly poof as it bobbed along the table, and watched until it shifted toward the Kitchen doorway before finally disappearing completely. Vernon watched for a few more moments, remaining quiet as he listened for the telltale shuttering of the bathroom door as the ewe closed it.

With a soft and familiar 'clack', the wolf knew the coast was finally clear.

Vernon turned in the blink of an eye, the wolf spinning in his seat to face his mother. The wolf practically hung off of his chair as he eyed the she-wolf expectantly. Audrey hadn't moved much since Dawn's departure, the she-wolf calmly slipping another morsel of food into her muzzle.

"Where is it!?" Vernon whined excitedly.

"Is that how you ask yer Mother fer somethin'?" Audrey tutted, not even batting an eye at the wolf's distress.

Vernon let out a quiet grumble, placing his paw to his head in frustration at his Mother's perceived teasing. The wolf straightened up in his seat, taking a moment to clear his throat in order to perfectly recite exactly what he knew the she-wolf wanted to hear without error.

"Mom." Vernon said calmly. "Do you have my bracelet on you?"

Audrey smirked slightly, but otherwise the wolfess remained unfazed by Vernon's address. The she-wolf slipped another slice of food into her muzzle, chewing it agonizingly slowly as she paid Vernon little mind. Vernon was clenching his teeth as he waited for a response, the anticipation gnawing at him relentlessly.

Finally, the she-wolf offered the wolf a simple, soft affirmative nod.

Vernon jerked forward slightly in excitement, but was quick to calm himself. He had to keep his composure or he was certain his Mother would continue to drag this affair along. Vernon sat straight one more, doing his best to continue to appear calm.

"Okay." Vernon said with a sigh. "May I have it?"

Audrey quietly scooped up the last of her prench toast, stabbing it with her fork and swirling it within the remaining pool of syrup and caramel. The she-wolf raised it to her muzzle even slower than before, stopping just short of her lips as the wolf waited anxiously for her response. She held her fork there allowing a deafening silence to hang for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, the she-wolf spoke, and Vernon found the food-laden fork pointed his way rather than where he had expected it to go.

"May I have it...?" Audrey tailed off, bobbing the fork slightly with each word. "What?"

Vernon groaned. The she-wolf's sudden adherence to formality was clearly just to toy with him, and the game was starting to wear thin. Then again, the wolf only had himself to blame for keeping it going. He had forgotten the most crucial part of the song and dance when it came to respectfully asking his Mother for something.

Vernon let out an exhausted sigh.

"May I have it..." Vernon offered as wide a smile as he could to the nonplussed she-wolf. "Please?" The wolf asked.

Audrey's grin grew, and the she-wolf finally turned to acknowledge her son. Placing her fork down, the wolfess reached into her breast pocket. After a brief bit of fumbling she extracted Vernon's prize.

'thwap, thwap' Vernon's tail was already off like a shot at the mere glimpse of his treasure. And the wolf quickly reached out to snag it from his Mother's paw only for her to quickly jerk it away, her smile widening into something more mischievous.

"MA!" Vernon snapped, his patience worn through.

"Ah, ah, ah." Audrey tutted, waggling a finger at the wolf.

"First tell me that I'm the best Mother in all of Animalia." Audrey snickered. "And that without my help ya'll wouldn't know hock from yer hackles!"

"MAAA!" Vernon groaned in annoyance.

Audrey rolled her eyes, shaking her head dismissively.

"Alright, alright..." The she-wolf sighed. "You boys are no fun anymore, I swear..."

The she-wolf gestured her free paw toward Vernon.

"Hold out yer paw." Audrey said, extending her own paw outward expectantly.

Vernon extended his paw, moving it just underneath his mother's, ready to catch the precious trinket. Once the she-wolf was seemingly satisfied, she opened her paw, allowing the beaded bracelet to fall gingerly into Vernon's grip.

As soon as Vernon felt the plastic touch his pads he immediately snapped it up, pulling it tightly against his chest before Audrey had even moved her still open paw.

Audrey rolled her eyes again.

"My little Puppy." Audrey shook her head. "It ain't a newborn baby bird, ya'll don't need to treat it like it'll break if ya'll look at it wrong." The she-wolf snickered.

Vernon met her statement with an eye roll of his own. He couldn't expect his Mother to fully understand why the friendship bracelet was so important to him. It had become the crucial lynchpin in his plan to salvage the weekend for his mate. While it now looked increasingly likely that it was going to take more than one weekend to wear his Father down to get his approval for a tithe, at the very least he could make the ewe's first visit to the Ranch a positive memory with his trinket.

The wolf carefully opened his clasped paw, keeping it pooled against his chest as he glanced down at the plastic jewelry.

Not much had changed in regards to how it looked, it was a simple set of plastic children's beads after all. But the fresh dabs of paint and enamel were easily noticeable in the places where parts of the letters had worn away. There was no mistaking what the bracelet said now. The comfortable deep brown satin banding holding the letters together just as they had been all those years before.

"Floofy's Best Friend." Vernon muttered appreciatively to himself, a warm smile crawling across his muzzle.

"Ain't that adorable..." Vernon's attention was stolen back by his Mother. The she-wolf was now leaning both arms on the table, allowing her head to rest on her paws as she watched the wolf's expressions. "Ya'll still get that gleam in yer eye like when you were a little Pup, it's just so cute."

Vernon let out a slight scoff, more at the statement than his Mother's attitude. He certainly was grateful, and the last thing he wanted to seem was disrespectful after what his Mother had done.

"Thank you so much Ma, really." Vernon said with a soft smile.

"Seems like it was just yesterday you were still my little Puppy..." Audrey seemingly hadn't heard him, the she-wolf momentarily lost in her memories. Her voice had wavered slightly, a sadness evident in tone as she reminisced.

But the she-wolf didn't linger on it long, and with a brisk shake of her head Audrey sat straight up in her chair. The she-wolf cleared her throat, seemingly attempting to shake off her burst of motherly nostalgia.

"Anyhoo..." Audrey muttered, adding another few throat clearing coughs for good measure. "I think ya'll should just pocket that fer now." The wolfess advised, waving a finger. "Slip it on at the stall and don't even mention it."

Vernon quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

"What? Why?" The wolf was quick to respond.

Audrey rolled her eyes.

"'Cause imagine how much more of a surprise it'll be if she finds it out on her own." Audrey said with a smile. "She'll probably squeal with delight if she ain't prepared for it. Ya'll can't tell me you wouldn't love that."

In all of the dream scenarios Vernon had played out the previous evening, simply allowing the ewe to discover it on his arm without mentioning was an idea he hadn't even considered. But the way his Mother had pitched it to him easily made the idea trump every other paws down. The wolf knew that was the way he had to do it, the ultimate surprise.

Vernon nodded briskly in agreement, flashing the she-wolf a wide grin before returning to eyeing his treasure.

"Y'know..." Vernon murmured softly.

"Ya'll really are the best Mother in all Animalia." The wolf said with a chuckle.

Vernon looked up to catch his Mother staring back at him in surprise, her paw over her muzzle as her eyes glimmered with what he could only assume was rising tears. But she quickly turned her gaze away, trying to hide the fact that he had caught her emotionally off guard.

"Aw Puppy, d-don't tease yer old Momma now." Audrey tried to sound firm, but her tone quavered with emotion, and Vernon couldn't help but smile.

The familiar clack of the bathroom door pulled the wolf away from the warm moment he had shared with his mother. The wolf fumbled with the bracelet, rushing to stuff it in his pocket as the familiar woolly poof began to trace the edge of the table once more. He finally managed to completely bury it in his pocket just in time for the ewe to begin her struggle back into he seat.

"Need help Honey Lamb?" Vernon asked coolly, doing his best to play off the frantic scramble he had been in seconds before.

"N-no." Dawn groaned, as the ewe began to surface from below the table edge. "I-I've got I-It."

It took the ewe a few moments on her own, but soon enough the ewe was back in her seat. Dawn took a moment to adjust herself, straightening her skirt before finally turning her attention back to the rest of the table.

"That's better." Dawn said with a sigh.

Vernon chuckled. "Yeah sorry Darlin'." The wolf uttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I probably should have asked ya'll on our way downstairs if ya'll needed the rest room."

Dawn chuckled. "It's fine." The ewe replied, picking up her utensils again. "I just hope I didn't miss anything interesting." The ewe asked, raising the wolves a curious eyebrow.

Vernon and his Mother shared a brief glance.

"Nah, just more fair prep talk Floofs, nothin' serious." Vernon replied, flashing the ewe a grin.

"Yeah, I was just tellin' Vernon how he's still gonna be on dish duty at the stand." Audrey added.

Vernon turned to his Mother in surprise, only to find the she-wolf grinning at him with a wide a mischievous smile.

"What, ya'll thought I forgot about yer punishment?" Audrey chuckled. " 'Sides, someone's got to do 'em. The stall doesn't have a dishwasher after all."

Vernon let out a groan as Audrey and Dawn broke into a fit of giggling.

"Great, she did remember." The wolf lamented to himself, running a paw over his scalp as the girls laughed around him. The wolf's paws were still wrinkled from the previous evening. But Vernon supposed it was a small price to pay now that he had his friendship bracelet. The joy he knew it would bring Dawn to see it would be well worth perpetually soggy paws.

[bubbletimestories]

Under your beautiful skin

Original story where a Youtube video improves and changes the lives of two roommates, for the better only. When happiness goes through a change of skin, we sometimes have to accept the part of animal that hides in us.

Summary: Narrator tries a strange thing to help her roommate to be happier and it works ! Slowly, Kayla becomes a vixen and feelings (joy, peace, love) that were hidden finally come. 

Warnings: love ? Soft ?

Themes: love, transformation, fox, happiness, soft, friendship, hugs, admiration, protective narrator, shapeshifting

Translated with Google trad ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403251

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February 14th. ------------

Another Valentine's Day which ends with my mother’s disappointed and judgmental text message, who doesn’t understand that you can be happy and single at my age. No big deal, I got used to it. With Kayla, we watched series, devoured everything we could in tacos and M & M’s and it was great. Well, as usual, it was mostly I who ate since K. had a weak stomach and vomited after three bites. However, the day was super good and I even managed to prepare a fabulous hot chocolate. I would have to write down the recipe somewhere, but now I have an intense laziness. Tonight is special, I intend to conduct a small experiment on my dear and tender roommate. I've been trying to help her with her anxiety for a while, and I came across a rather interesting YouTube video that is supposed to help you sleep better and relax. Kayla doesn't believe in all this hypnosis and meditation stuff so I'm going to have to be tricky. I’ve planned a special compilation, added to the soft music she listens to fall asleep, we’ll see if it works. I giggle all alone like a moron, K. will wonder what I'm doing. Otherwise, I would have to think about sending other CVs for the next year because otherwise, I could end up with nothing. But before, I go back to watch The Witcher.

February 27th. ------------

I still managed to sprain myself, believing that a curse surrounded my right ankle. An accident so stupid… : I came back from the supermarket, I sneezed and smack! I tripped against the sidewalk. It only happens to me. Tomorrow, I’ll stay warm in my bed, that's at least the advantage. Speaking of bed, Kayla seems to sleep better for some time ^^ She is more relaxed and smiling, I think it comes from her migraines which are less frequent. Maybe the video really does her good! She didn't realize that I had changed her playlist. She is in better shape and that is nice, proof that my little idea was not bad. Ad. I have to tell what just happened, it's way too funny! I was looking for my cell phone and Kayla offered to ring it. She calls me, I hear absolutely nothing and I'm starting to wonder if I didn't leave it on the bus or something. Suddenly, K. stands up, she holds out a finger to tell me to shut up and she goes to my room, to my dresser. My cellphone was there, among the socks! Totally crazy, she managed to hear it vibrate. Suffice to say that she will boast all evening.

March 18th. ------------

Personally, I don't have much to say, it's pretty calm right now. So I think I'm going to use this journal as a scientific notebook, to record the evolution of my experience. Insert here a mad scientist laugh. Kayla is doing very well and even more than well, she is in great shape. She got back into sport and she eats more meat, I think she likes it more and more, we will have to plan for additional expenses. I don't mind it, I love it but I'm not a big fan of tartare. We have set up a little ritual: once a week, we go for a walk in the nearby forest. It forces me to go out, I'm a homebody type, but Kayla likes to wander between the trees. At the moment, she likes to walk a long way barefoot to "feel the ground better", she tends to straighten up and smell the air at full lungs when we are in the woods, I guess it is what we call a return to nature. Even more than at the apartment, she tends to be pensive, in her own bubble. During these times, she sometimes contracts her fingers and plays her nails on the bark of trees. The temperatures are still quite cool but soon the outings will become more pleasant. I would have to clean my sneakers, wading in the mud doesn't do them any good.

April 03rd. -----------

Marc is an asshole, he gave absolutely nothing for Christine's starting drink and he pulled out to buy the gift. I hate him, I will staple his face with exquisite pleasure. Mum says that he turns me around, that it's a parade of seduction but no thank you, it's not my type. At all. For obvious reasons. But let's go back to Kayla, it's more interesting. I forgot to write it down but I have had the impression that she has changed physically for several weeks. It’s super light but I think her nose is a little thinner, her ears slightly pointed. It makes her look extremely cute. Even her slightly sharp teeth (wow, vampire !) don't spoil anything. Lately, she has looked a bit on reserve. In terms of health, she is on fire, nothing to say about it, she has an ogre's appetite and she is in a good mood but I did feel that something was wrong. She ended up showing me last night : her hair is more numerous, lighter but more numerous. According to her, it started on her arms and legs and on closer inspection, we found that she also had it on her back, right in the back of her kidneys. She hesitates to shave it but I think it would not be a good idea, it is not even ugly.

April 18th. -----------

It spread all over her back and even on her stomach! From a distance, it's invisible, but in bright light, you can see the slight tawny reflection on her skin, it creates a super fine and soft down, I would be almost jealous. She gave up the idea of shaving, I think she loves to run her hand over her hairs, it will become her pride, I feel it. I tease her a little because it starts to go up in the neck, it will win the jaw but frankly, she is super good in her skin and when she smiles, she is radiant.

May 09th. -----------

Kayla knows about the video and I was afraid she might get upset but she jumped on my neck to thank me. She told me that I had a great idea and that she had never felt so alive. It's heart-warming, really, and I took advantage of the hug to tease the light tuft of hair on her ears, it's really one of the most adorable parts of her. That and the golden reflections of her eyes. Oh ! The down has become thicker but so soft ... As I predicted, her fur has become her pride and she takes great care of it, she brushes every night and she learns about the best products to use. She told me that when she goes to bed at night, she feels like she has a tail, but I don't believe her. However, we have been going out in the forest for some time, especially now that the weather is nice. To laugh, Kayla walks on all fours when we are sure that nobody will see her. She spins at an impressive speed and she goes away for a few minutes between the trees. Sometimes she comes back with a pine cone, a stone with a fun shape or color. This afternoon, she came back with a dead bird, it surprised her a lot but we laughed. When she is in her world, she sometimes forgets what she is doing, she says that it is the fox that takes over. I love the expression. I would have to thank the creator of the video because he changed my friend’s life.

May 26th. Video on the narrator's laptop ----------------------------------

Small apartment cluttered with books, clothes, magazines and half-empty food packages. Lying in an armchair, a young auburn-haired woman stares at the ceiling, absently playing with one of her ears. Her bare feet hang over the armrest and the sun casts reflections between fire and gold on her skin and the fine hairs that cover it. The image remains fixed for a few seconds because the narrator contemplates her roommate. Then she calls out to her.

- I want to immortalize our cohabitation. To prove to our children that we were young and pretty. Kayla?

The person concerned does not respond, lost in thought, and her friend must say her first name a second time so that she returns to reality. Her pupils dilate slightly and she turns her head towards the phone with a sheepish smile that lets glimpse of adorable slightly pointed white teeth. Unless it is an optical effect. The fact of being filmed amuses her and she pretends to readjust her worn t-shirt before watching the narrator.

- Sorry, you said? The neighbor makes chicken, I want it. Chicken ! Chicken !

She hops around taking a big voice of ogress, triggering a laugh on the other side of the phone, she will have to be fed, again.

- I promise, I'll go buy some after. For the moment, I just want to keep an image of you like that, with MY t-shirt. Thief. Hey, did you put on nail polish? I love the color.

The picture moves a bit when the narrator reaches out to take her friend’s hand, having fun examining her long, dark, shiny nails. As she eats hers, it will probably never be the same but it is not very serious, it does less maintenance. Kayla watches her with a half smile, her head tilted slightly, cascading her hair over her shoulder, it's about time she combed it. It’s the weekend so she’s in relax mode, loose pants and mint chewing gum to hide the fact that she’s been too lazy to brush her teeth. Her gaze is lost in the air for a few seconds then she grabs the phone to put it on the coffee table.

- Drop it off.

The screen is arranged so that it is now filming the two young women as Kayla slides onto the couch against the narrator, ignoring her petty protests. She has a specific idea in mind and coats herself on her roommate's lap with a pout of a child in need of hugs. It’s almost become a ritual, just like walking in the forest. The young woman lays her head on the knees of her friend and pulls on her t-shirt which is pulled up, revealing a plump hip covered with fur. The narrator's face, half cut by the screen, seems to be blushing and it is with timid gestures that she replaces a wick behind the adorably pointed ear of her roommate.

- You know you're going to end up putting hairs all over me with your nonsense. You behave like a big cat, Kayla, a fickle big cat that stings all the hot water. - Shh. Pet me.

In advance, Kayla closes her eyes and curls up on the sofa while a hand rests on her hair to gently stroke it. The back and forth movement is gradually made more assured, the fingertips coming to touch the neck or the temple while continuing the caresses. If it was a cat, it looks like it purrs but in this case, difficult to put a precise word on the noise of pleasure that vibrates in the throat of Kayla. The narrator soon begins to tickle her behind the ears, visibly feeling the same quiet joy as her friend. The latter smiles by contracting her fingers, wiggles slightly to guide the movements on her scalp. The minutes go by and the moment is ready for drowsiness, the caresses become more spaced out while Kayla seems to be asleep. The hand of the narrator goes down to her cheekbone, caressing the fluffy cheek. That's when the sleeper opens her eyes, her yellow pupils reflecting the light for a brief moment. She half-opens her mouth and gives a teasing lick on the fingers of her roommate who jumps, surprised, then bursts out laughing.

- You are stupid !

She wipes her hand and pushes her friend away to bend over and end the video before her cell phone runs out of battery.

June 19th. ----------- Just for fun, I want to tell you about what happened last night because it was super weird. Before I forget, I found a small job at an ice cream parlor over the weekend so it will allow me to make money. If, in addition, I can eat a few free sorbets , it will be beneficial. But let's go back to my story. It was at night and I was sleeping pretty well when I heard my room’s door creak (I really have to add oil, it sounds like a horror movie). I open my eyes and I realize that Kayla is coming in and I immediately think of a sleepwalking crisis, even if she never did. She approaches slowly, on all fours on the ground and her large eyes have an almost creepy glow in the dark. I do not move an inch and watch her slowly approach the bed, without even daring to withdraw my hand which hangs over the mattress. Kayla stops, sniffs my hand for a long time and I think I see her run her tongue over her lips. But finally, she just licks my nails and lies on the floor. A few seconds later, she is already sleeping, but I had a little more trouble. Anyway, this morning I told her (she was surprised to have slept on the floor) but she doesn't remember anything. I guess it counts as a sleepwalking attack.

August 10th. ----------- It's hot, so hot! I only want to stay cool in the apartment but Kayla does not agree. Right now, we spend more time between the trees than between walls, I think she has a hard time leaving the woods. She agrees to come back later and later and even if I like her a lot, there are times when I get a little annoyed. At least we're in the shade so I'm not going to complain. There, I'm writing leaning against a tree and my roommate has just returned after at least half an hour alone. She is grooming and I realize that her fur has become so thick that she does not bother to put on clothes, except on rare occasions. In fact, it doesn't look like she's naked, I don't feel embarrassed, and neither does she. Probably to be forgiven for dragging me outside, Kayla just lay down at my feet but as I write, I can't scratch her head. Casually, I glance at her and I can't resist the urge to follow the line of her nose to tease the tip, dark and slightly rough. The changes of the past few months are visible now, from the curvature of her back to the skeleton of her face, including her slender ears and slit pupils. But I’m getting lost and I have no more blood in my legs, it’s time to go back.

August, 10th, Late at night. ------------------------

I'm completely drunk! We played the game of shots while watching X-men First class: Prof X puts his fingers on his temple, a shot! I'm devastated, worst idea of my life but it was funny! We laughed throughout the film, the neighbors even shouted. Kayla fell asleep like a sledgehammer, but I'm not sleepy. I watch her snoring, it's funny. She is curled up into a ball and she is very small, she looks like a kitten that we want to pet. This is what is crazy with her, she is constantly changing! It’s not that she is getting smaller but in fact if, a little, it’s as if she could get smaller or bigger depending on her mood. When she wakes up, she stretches back to her normal size and she relaxes her paws with her fingers, it's super crazy. Sometimes she walks but she prefers to stay on all fours, halfway between two states. I realized that in fact, I saw her as a vixen-like woman but that I was all wrong! She has become a vixen who can turn into a woman and she is so much more fulfilled now. I’ve never seen her smile so much in my life and she’s become so beautiful, sometimes I am intimidated when I see her because she is more than beautiful, she is divine. I didn’t say it earlier, but when she’s in the forest and the sun breaks through the branches to light up her red limbs with thousands of flamboyant glares, I’m almost jealous. But I prefer to watch over her because I like being her protector, she trusts me. In fact, I'm a human taking care of a goddess, it's completely clear now! Kayla, the great deity vixen. Who snores. She just gave a super funny growl, I refrain from laughing because I mustn't wake her up. When she dreams, she wrinkles the tip of her nose, it's adorable. It's been a long time since we decided not to see anyone, I feel so privileged, as if I was the only one to have access to a treasure. I love to stroke her fur, run my hand from her head to her legs, following the hollows of her back then sliding on her white belly. She always has funny reactions. But my favorite thing above all is to admire her face, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life my life my life. Especially her eyes, they are yellow like.... something yellow and pretty, and so big! Sometimes when she looks me straight in the eye, I lose track and I can't remember what I was thinking. I think she saw that it troubled me, it amuses her. She has so much joy in living now. Kayla, I like to think it's a little bit thanks to me that you're doing better, but frankly, I wonder if I'm not the one who is the most gifted. In fact, I'm super tired, I'm going to sleep. Pff ... we had to swallow at least 20 shots, I’m so drunk ...

August 11st. ------------

I want to die ... what made me play this stupid game? And write ! It must be the less hard version of "I sent texts while being drunk" I should rip the last pages but I think it will make me laugh to read them again in a few years. For the moment, I mainly want an ice bath, I'm dying of heat. When I woke up, I realized that I had collapsed like a mass on the sofa and that Kayla had disappeared. She never ran away so I didn't worry too much, especially when I heard noise in the next room. I realize that I often forget the scientific aspect, that I tell the story of an experiment, which is why I have not observed if my roommate has had better alcohol consumption in recent months. In any case, she looked as fresh as usual, sitting on the ground with a piece of meat in her hands. She didn't notice me right away, busy licking the juice on her fingers with care but when she looked up, she didn't seem to recognize me. She frowned and rolled up her upper lip to show her white teeth. I think she groaned so I put my hands up in the air as a sign of appeasement, maybe she had a hangover. Anyway, she calmed down and came to rub my legs to apologize. Whether she wanted to eat me or not, I think there is only one conclusion: stop drinking. Never again.

October 13rd. -------------

Almost Halloween but I don't think Kayla will want to go on a candy tour this year. Too bad, she has a costume all found and absolutely sensational. To tell the truth, I think she remains quite shy about her changes, it's been so long since she has seen anyone… I realize that I have never talked about her tail yet but I will not , because she told me it was something very personal. So, I will respect her choice. It’s not the most important thing anyway. When I said she told me, it was a while ago because she no longer speaks. She no longer finds it useful, much like standing up. It's not disturbing, we learned to communicate without words, she knows very well how to make me understand what she wants. I still don’t know what does the fox say but she has her own language and it's crystal clear. It's all about the way she moves, the modulations of her growling voice, the movement of her red ears or the sparkle teasing in her golden eyes. It’s nice to say that we found our modus operandi, something that belongs only to us. It’s not much different from private jokes. It is getting colder and colder and yet Kayla finds it increasingly difficult to want to return to the apartment. She even stays in the woods for the night, even though I was not comfortable at first. I guess I have a hard time letting her be independent, I want to be able to protect her from everything, which is stupid. It is obvious that little by little, she will want to move away for good, she makes her life. But she knows that she will always have a place in my heart and I feel that it is mutual.

December 22nd. -------------

For the past two days, Kayla has been in the woods despite my insistent calls and even if I try to take it upon myself, I ended up worrying. I stood with my feet in the mud for a long time and night had already fallen long ago when she agreed to point the tip of her nose. To tell the truth, it scared me super. It was dark and she suddenly popped up to jump on me, her eyes shining like two bright moons under the light of my cell phone. I screamed as I fell to the ground and she collapsed with all her weight on me before standing up with an amused look. We laughed for sure, but I quickly went back warm with her to find the comfort of the apartment and give her meat. You never know, maybe she wanted to devour me, hahaha. In any case, she was in a good mood, maybe the wild life does her good. Once showered, I settled on my bed and she jumped on it to join me. We wanted to watch series but the episode was pretty lousy and Kayla was teasing. I read on the Internet that winter was a special time for foxes but I can't remember why. In any case, she was absolutely not interested in Netflix, she preferred to settle on me to purr like a big red cat. I had to resign myself to leaving the series in the background only because K. had slipped her muzzle on my neck and her warm breath tickled me. I caressed her back and closed my eyes to feel the softness under my fingers but also the pulsations of her heart which was beating hard. She started to lick and then chew my lobe and it made me laugh ... The next day she went back into the woods and I think I saw two other foxes watching her from a distance. Maybe she found a group to join, that would be good news. I scratched her between the ears before she spun between the trees and even though I know we're going to see each other again soon, I felt my heart tighten slightly. But it does not matter, I do not intend to operate the same metamorphosis but the link between us is too strong for it to end like that. We are roommates and friends. I’m so happy for the past few months and how she has flourished. Thank you, creator of the video. But I have to stop writing and focus on the file I have to return for early January. Procrastination will kill me.

[tamiddyinyourcity]

Let's call them Z.

I liked Z.

I didn't like them when I first met them.

Z wasn't like M.

M was the guy before him... M had blue bright eyes, long lashes, a very feminine look with a defined jaw and a very skinny frame.

M was sweet, charismatic, interesting... or maybe that's just what I had told myself before.

Looking back, most of our relationship was just sex and quiet moments. They were too PC, too docile. Never really stepping out their box or really revealing much about themselves past what everyone else already knew....

I guess that's something I liked about Z.

He (seemed like he) was never hiding things.

I didn't like him because he wasn't like M, and that kinda made me (very reluctantly) talk to him.

I feel bad, knowing the whole reason me and Z met in the first place, was since I was just tired of being alone. Not ready to date, nor willing to be thrown into yet another infatuation based sexcapade by someone who would dump me hard and quick like a bag full of burning rocks, but.... alas.

Ahem.

Z was not my usual type.

Or, the exact moment I met him was online. Back then I was maybe less than a month or a few weeks fresh out of my suicidal-thought-inducing-shitty-breakup from M throwing my heart into a running wood chipper, and I was just looking for whatever was out there.

Matty was like a blue crystal found in a dirty swamp of shit. Maybe if I was lucky, I'd find another crystal like him, or even bigger and better than him, if I wade through all the shit?

(Metaphor for online dating.... and no, I didn't find anyone truly worthwhile.)

I met Z. But I wasn't really interested. Back then, they had curly, cheeks length curly/wavy brown hair, a beanie on, and chin pustules that were big as fuck. (No offense, nothing is wrong with acne but ill just say the pic was took at an angle and lighting that made it stand out...)

And the pic had a glazed look to the eyes, so I thought they were brown eyes, and otherwise... nothing interesting. (Nothings wrong with brown eyes, I mean that the picture lacked any real charisma or something to show off that he was fine as fuck in real life.

It just showed....

"Really bland looking skater kid;who probably has a nicotine vape that tastes just like bubble gum."

And I would have agreed to meet up as a "sure, lets try things out", but then they mentioned living waaaay fucking far in the south of an already distant city....

An eight dollar round trip ticket just to take the virginity of an awkward skater boy around my age, but not actually clicking? Sounds.... boring.

I needed a person to click with. Hell; I already was fucked up from M saying nothing we had ever mattered to him, after he stressed the fuck out of having a relationship with me... springing into a rebound would have been a terrible idea. Fuuuuuck that. I wouldve needed some holy dick, some good ass sex to get me out of a heartbreak.

Not... just any old skater fella.

I didn't respond.

Then a month or two later, i go "fuck it, you already know you need more friends bitch and you dont need to spend your summer crying while your ex is out here living his best life, and you arent... enjoy being a high school grad and go have some fun!"

I do my online dating thing again.

Bunch of responses, none great...

Then I see Z again.

I can't tell if he changed his picture he sent me or if in that moment i went "fuck it", or... idk, I don't remember the exact situation, but he messaged me.

Some mildly fuckboy-esque line about inviting me over at his house to chill, watch some netflix, hang out, smoke, eat...

He had a nice energy to his message among the crowds of "hey bb am 31 pls fuck me xoxx imgur.com/sj492gd8a" headass shit, so we started talking on kik.

And then I recall we traded photos again; nothing sexual, just deadass face pics to prove we were not robots or catfishers or anything.

And when I saw his face, this time in a different pic, I thought...

"Jesus fucking christ, I knew this guy would be a fuckboy. Look at everything about this photo. Holy shit, this is bad. Oh my god. Is this the same dude thats battle rapping with eminem, but smaller? Holy shit."

Machine Gun Kelly headass.

He wasn't unattractive, he still resembled a decently good looking person. Not bad or awful, just like... a bit too teenager-y. Sure I was 17, but he looked like an e-boy at 19, and its just cringey seeing a dude look a certain way?

I don't know. Too much like a certain archetype? "Trying too hard?"

I dunno.

You know those "starter pack" memes? His would include faux gauges, cargo shorts, vans, a shaved sides haircut, and untreated hormonal acne.

It wass a cross between "yeah hes a little sexy" and "jesus christ; you look like any average yt dude with a cockatiel inspired haircut, bro".

(Its 3:16am and im roasting my ex's hair from when I was first meeting them... nice.)

I don't know how to say this, but they were attractive... just looked like they weren't putting any effort into their look, and otherwise careless about it.

Idk.

But he was different than M, so I gave it a chance. I kinda left them on read a bunch, or took forever to respond to messages.... I just don't feel super attached to people if i dont see them as long term.

So....

He was an unpleasant surprise....

I'll write some more later. Have a nice night gents

[vulcan-highblood]

A knock sounded on the door. Wade Wilson was on his feet and pirouetted his way to the door in a matter of seconds, flinging it wide open.

“Thank Thor (or Loki)! I was about to starve!”

The kid at the door looked on, vaguely unimpressed at Wade’s antics. “Are you the mister Pool comma Dead who ordered a large, uh… pineapple olive, large anchovy mushroom, and large special order of four cheese with… mozzarella sticks as the topping?” he recited the order in a bored drawl, but there was a hint of judgement in his tone. So Wade liked his pizzas with a bit of zest and creativity. Was it a crime? Part of Wade hoped it was, how thrilling would it be to live on the run from the cops for daring to order a pizza outside the conventional system? It would make a great movie! He should write it, he could make millions-

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Pizza kid said, clearing his throat loudly. “If you could maybe pay for these, I gotta get going.” He shifted the pizzas in his grip with a peeved look on his face.

Okay, rude. It’s not like Wade had made him stand there for… Wade checked his watch. Oh. Nearly five minutes. Okay, maybe he’d been dissociating a bit longer than he realized. “My bad,” Wade said, reaching for his wallet, “what do I owe ya for, pretty boy?”

Pizza kid raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his polo shirt before looking up at Wade as if to ask ‘what part of this do you find “pretty”, exactly?’ He was still holding the pizzas. His arms hadn’t even started quivering from the strain yet. Wade was impressed. “Forty-one seventy-nine for the pizzas,” said the kid - his nametag read as ‘Peter’. Peter’s face was telling Wade he would like to demand another forty to cover the inconvenience of waiting for Wade to get his shit together.

Wade peeled a few twenties out of his wallet, not bothering to count them. Hopefully there was at least sixty in the stack. It was probably closer to two hundred. He tossed them on top of the Pizza boxes.

Peter Pizza waited for Wade to grab the boxes, then scooped up the wad of bills with a stunned expression on his face. “Uh…”

“Keep the change,” Wade said brightly. “Next time, try not to judge a man by his toppings. Especially when they’re perfectly legitimate choices,” he added in an undertone.

Peter Pizza stuffed the money in his payment pouch. “Thanks,” he said, “Enjoy your pizza.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Wade answered.

Peter turned to walk back to the stairs (the elevator was broken), Wade standing in the doorway to watch him go, appreciating the view. Tousled, mousy brown hair in need of a trim, shoulders that were neither broad nor narrow, a trim waist, and… that ass. His pair of tight-fitting jeans made it easy to see how round and pert it was. Damn but you could bounce a quarter off that ass. He hadn’t seen an ass like that since Cap… or… Spidey…

Holy shit. Wade tossed the boxes aside, pizza totally forgotten in his excitement. “I’d know that ass anywhere!” he bellowed, charging down the hall after Peter Pizza. “Spidey! What are you doing delivering pizzas?”

The kid turned around slowly, a confused look creasing his features. “Spidey?” he repeated. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Of course you are!” Wade beamed, although of course Spidey would have probably insisted they were merely acquaintances.

“Is Spidey his nickname? God I pity the guy if it’s his given name,” said Pizza Parker, and Wade was momentarily derailed.

“Wait, no, Spidey. Spider-Man. As in, ‘your friendly neighborhood’.” Wade pointed at Peter. “I’d know your pert little tushy anywhere, you can’t fool me.”

Peter scowled. “Do I look like the kind of guy who has time to run around the city in a garish suit of spandex?” Wade was about to answer the kid when he continued. “No, I do not, because pizza delivery does not pay well enough for me to afford the spandex, much less the time I could be spending earning money.” Peter turned and started walking away again, snorting “Me, Spider-Man? Hah.”

Wade watched that ass sway down the hall, a dark look on his features. “Oh, we’ll see about that, baby boy. We will see.”

Wade wasn’t one to take no for an answer, and he was fairly convinced that this Peter kid was either Spidey’s butt-double or the real deal. In any case, he was determined to discern the true identity of the derrière in question. First, he made a few calls, learning that there was only one Peter working as a delivery boy in that pizza shop, he was a college sophomore and part-timer. Sounded like about the right age range for his Delivery boy and while he’d always pegged (heh) Spidey as being a bit older than that, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

The next step was twofold. First, it involved tailing both Peter and Spidey, and acquiring accurate analyses of their bootyliscious behinds. For science. Then he would compare the analysis and decide whether or not his suspicions were confirmed. He was fairly certain they would be confirmed.

Wade decided to seek out Spidey first since he was fairly certain he knew most of Spidey’s favorite haunts. Sure enough, he found the friendly neighborhood web-slinger doing his thing, webbing up bad guys, calling cops, all while rocking a smokin hot bod… classic.

Deadpool popped up behind Spidey while he was lecturing one of the hoodlums or bank robbers or vandals or whoever, grabbed that round little ass and gave it a niiice squeeze, trying to get a feel for it.

Spider-Man squealed in a most undignified way, cutting his lecture short to whirl on Deadpool. “How many times?” he demanded, shaking a finger in Wade’s face. “How? Many? Times?”

“How many times have I thought of you while jacking off?” Deadpool quipped. “I lost count around thirty.”

Spider-Man seemed momentarily lost for words. Then, “Boundaries, Deadpool. I have them. Please respect them.” He rubbed his behind gingerly. “Jeez. What was that for, anyway?”

“Pretty sure I saw that tushy in action earlier this evening,” Wade explained. “Now I’m trying to verify my suspicions.”

“You saw my butt today?” Spidey-Man sounded both confused and disturbed. “I hope it was attached to the rest of me. Otherwise we have a problem.”

“I think you delivered a pizza to my place,” Deadpool explained. “Or else some guy who happens to be your booty double.”

“Oh gee, well, if I ever need a stand-in for my ass, I guess I’ll give this pizza guy a call.” Spidey sighed. “Was that all, Wade?”

Deadpool considered the question seriously. “Could I get oooone more feel? For science,” he explained, making grabby hands.

“No. I’m not going to encourage your weird butt-doppelgänger theory.” Spidey-Man knelt down to pick up one of the thugs’ phones. “I’m calling the police now,” he said. “You might wanna make yourself scarce.”

That was fine, Wade decided. Tomorrow, he would implement step two…

The next day found Wade scoping out the campus of Midtown University. It was a decently sized school, which made spotting the Spidey-butt more challenging than he’d prefer. Still, it was something to do and Wade was 100% certain that Spidey had been the one to deliver pizza to his door. He just needed one more ass-grab to prove it.

There! Wade leapt from the top of the building, rolling as he hit the ground bs springing to his feet. He jogged across the wide green campus lawn towards a nerdy-looking kid hoisting a heavy backpack over one shoulder. He came up behind the kid and gave his perfect ass a squeeze.

The kid yelped. So did Wade.

“It is you!” Wade shouted.

“OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL?” the kid bellowed, drawing every eye in the vicinity for a split second before they returned to whatever had them occupied before. “You just groped me!”

Wade shook his head. “I was testing a hypothesis!”

“Was it about the likelihood of me punching you?” the kid snapped.

Wade just stared at Peter dispassionately.

Then the kid really looked at Wade, his eyes tracing the merc’s broad shoulders and taut muscles, noting that the man was a good head and shoulders taller than him as well. “…not that it would do any damage…” he awkwardly tacked the phrase onto the end of his previous statement.

Wade grinned. “Admit it, Spidey, I found you.”

Peter sighed. “Even if I was a costumed creep, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

Wade considered this. “So you’re saying I need another way to prove it.”

The kid looked exasperated. “No, I meant that-” Wade was already gone. Peter sighed. “That man is going to be the death of me.”

In the weeks that followed, Wade tried a number of things to try and get Peter to reveal his secret identity. He tried throwing things at him in order to prove that Peter had superhuman reflexes. (Which explained why Peter was sporting a fading black eye- he was apparently bad at dodging, or good at holding back his spider-instincts.) He tried staging a robbery at the convenience store across the street from Peter’s student housing. No Peter or Spidey showed up, but Wade walked away from the ordeal with a garbage sack full of candy bars and a giant slushee, so he counted it as a win anyway.

He tried casually (note: it was not actually casual) dragging Peter to the roof of the tallest building on campus and throwing him over the edge. It was a lucky thing there was a trampoline below to break his fall. Wade had been expecting web-slinging, but watching Pizza boy’s arms and legs flailing as he bounced was almost as satisfying.

Finally, after nearly a month of harassment, Peter finally broke down and confronted Deadpool. “Why are you doing this to me?” he demanded, rubbing his cheek where he’d been hit by a ball Wade had lobbed at him while shouting ‘think fast, Spidey!’

Wade considered Peter’s question. “I wanna know I’m right,” he said.

Peter sighed. “What would you even do if I did admit it?”

Wade considered this. He had never really thought of anything beyond the stage of “prove pizza parker is ‘pidey”. “I don’t know,” Wade answered. “Gloat, I guess.”

“You’ve been harassing me for a month, on the off chance that you might be able to gloat about it?” Peter sounded exasperated. “You’re an asshole!”

Wade shrugged. “Guilty,” he admitted easily.

Peter looked mad enough to spit. “Oh my god, I think I literally hate you,” he said finally. Then. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Wade.”

Wade leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“At this point, even if I were Spider-Man, I would never admit it, just because I know it would piss you off.” With that, Peter spun on his heel and walked away.

Wade watched him go for a moment, then sputtered. “Wait a minute,” he shouted, “how do you know my name?!”

Peter didn’t even look back, flipping him the bird with both hands as he kept walking.

Wade slowly touched a hand to his own cheek, feeling as though he’d been slapped despite the lack of physical contact. “Fuck,” he whispered reverently, “I think I’m in love.”

[juniperallura]

Rebellion: A Shallura Garrison AU

For @shallurasundays​ prompt

“So what’re your plans for Thursday, Shiro?”

Shiro raised a brow, looking up from the cafeteria’s excuse for mashed potatoes. “Thursday? Uh- going to class…?” His classmates exchanged pointed glances across the table. “What, Dev?” Shiro sighed, laying down his spoon. “What’re you guys doing on Thursday?”

“See, Matt, he doesn’t even know-” Dev shook his head.

“It’s skip day, Shiro!” Matt cried, gesturing with his fork. “Y’know, we all go out and have fun on Thursday, then get our asses handed to us Friday and have a big laugh about it. It’s tradition, man, you don’t know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Shiro shrugged, “I’ve heard about it, but… I don’t know, it doesn’t really sound-”

“-Nope, no way,” Dev cut him off, “You’re coming. I don’t care if we have to drag you kicking and screaming off campus. This only works if we all do it!”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Matt leaned in with an air of secrecy, “Besides, we’re mostly worried about her.” He pointed over his shoulder; with no sense of subtly, all three simultaneously turned to stare across the cafeteria.

Shiro’s brows knit together. “Allura? Why?”

Matt snorted, “Are you serious? She’s got a bigger stick up her ass than you.”

“I don’t have a-” Shiro cut himself off. “You think she won’t?”

“Well-” Matt smiled mischievously, “Not unless someone convinces her…” At Shiro’s hesitation, he continued, “Listen, you guys are two dorky peas in a pod! I know she’ll come out if you do.”

Shiro flushed at the implication of Matt’s tone. “I’ll talk to her, but I don’t know what it’ll do.” With that he left the table, unable to stop the heat in his face as he passed a silver-haired figure on his way out of the cafeteria.

| g | a | r | r | i | s | o | n |

He couldn’t sit still the whole class period, his foot tapping like an exosonic spectrometer gone haywire. Every chance he got to lean over and whisper across the row was interrupted by Mr. Iverson’s chilling glare. So instead, he studiously took notes for an hour, then waded into the sea of students that flooded the halls as everyone filtered back to their dormitories. Shiro quickly spotted the head he was looking for, a pencil sticking out of its white bun.

“Allura!” Shiro slipped through the crowd, catching her before the entrance to the girl’s dorm quadrant. Sparkling, almond-shaped eyes turned to greet him, prompting something to squirm in his stomach. 

    God, he hated when Matt was right.

“Oh-” Allura held her books to her chest, giving a slight smile. “Hi, Shiro.”

“So, um,” Shiro’s mind drew a blank as it tried to conjure an excuse to bring up skip day. Instead, all he said was, “Aerodynamics, huh? Iverson’s really got it out for us.”

Allura raised a brow, “You seemed to be on top of it; you certainly proved me wrong on that ground glider question.”

Shiro’s face flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“-Don’t be sorry,” Allura cut in, “You were right, after all. I didn’t factor in gas properties.” She bowed her head for a moment, looking almost embarrassed. “But, I’m sure you didn’t come over here to talk about gas…what’s up?”

“I, actually, was wondering-” Shiro ran a hand through his dark locks, glancing down at his books,��“-If you maybe wanted to start a study group? I could help you with Iverson’s class… you help me with Tech Programming?” He paused for a second. “Maybe we could meet up after we all go out on Thursday?” 

Smooth, Takashi.

Allura’s gaze flitted to the rapidly emptying hallway. “Are you really doing skip day?” She hugged her books tighter, a mixture of incredulousness and curiosity in her tone.

Shiro scratched at the back of his neck, looking into those beautiful, crystal blue eyes. “Well, I-”

      “You’re what?”

“Calm down,” Shiro sighed, tucking his hands behind his head as he stretched out on his bed.

“I can’t believe you, Shiro,” Matt threw up his hands, taking a break from pacing to jab a finger toward his friend, “You were supposed to convince her to go, not the other way around!” 

Shiro merely shrugged. 

“Lame!” Was the only response he got from Matt before the door slid shut behind him.

| g | a | r | r | i | s | o | n |

Her eyelashes were white, too. He had wondered. The command line interface follows these formatting methods. How did her hair get so luminous? One lock kept falling in her face; it was embarrassing how much he wanted to brush it away for her. Long range sensors can be activated from the sub-menu.

 Shiro wasn’t sure what was more distracting; the words coming out of her mouth or her.

    “-Cadets?” 

Finally, the dark and light heads popped up to find Sergeant Johnson smirking at them from behind crossed arms. “Hard at work, I see.”

Allura and Shiro exchanged glances, both suddenly becoming conscious of their knees touching under the table. Allura cleared her throat, drawing back from the table where she and Shiro were rubbing elbows over their notes. “Yes, Sergeant. Tech Programming.”

Johnson shook her head, smiling as she looked around the otherwise deserted library. “Y’know some of the teachers didn’t even go to class today?”

Shiro straightened up in his seat. “I- we just didn’t want to miss Mr. Iverson’s class. There’s a test next week.”

The sergeant studied them for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to a student, but you two work too hard; you’re young, enjoy it.” After another glance at their pile of books she turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Knowing how to de-stress is important for Cadets, too.” 

Shiro leaned back toward his tablet, but Allura seemed preoccupied, tapping her pen against her chin with a pensive look. “-Allura?”

After a moment she tossed the pen down, turning to him with a mischievous look he had never seen on her. “I think Sargent Johnson is right. We need to play hooky.” 

He raised his brows, letting out a disbelieving puff of air. “Really? After all that earlier about your perfect attendance record, scholarships, the aerodynamics test— do you remember that group project we worked on together last semester where you didn’t let Neil go to the bathroom?” He crossed his arms, challenging, “But now you’re a rebel?”

“-Skip day is organized rebellion, which isn’t rebellion,” she countered, leaning closer to him. “I’ve never missed a day of class, and I plan on walking straight out of graduation and directly to my Garrison assignment. When will I have an opportunity like this?” She glanced at her watch. “We’re at…eighteen hundred hours right now. If we study another three hours now, plus Saturday and Sunday, then we can make up for Friday.” 

Shiro couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread over his face. Damn those beautiful, blue eyes.

| g | a | r | r | i | s | o | n |

They met on the shuttle heading into town at noon. Shiro zipped up his dark jacket, pulling a baseball cap over his head. Allura’s hair was neatly plaited, and she pulled tight at the tidy laces of her sneakers, perfect for running from whatever authority figure she was sure would be chasing them down with a club. The pair exchanged sly smiles from their seats in the back, confident that they didn’t look the least bit suspicious. 

As they hopped off the shuttle Shiro couldn’t help the tightening in his chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety welling up inside of him. From the look on Allura’s face, he guessed she was feeling the same way. 

She glanced at him with a prompting smile. “So, where to first?”

A few minutes later found them looking up at neon that buzzed even in the middle of the day. “I didn’t even know there was an arcade here,” Allura mused.

A nostalgic smile spread over Shiro’s face. “I found it freshman year. There’s one just like it, actually, near my apartment in Tokyo.” A laugh escaped him, “When I was little I always wanted to run out of school and spend the day in the arcade.”

“I’m sure your parents would’ve loved that.”

“Well- my mom, I think she would’ve laughed about it.” He held the door open, following Allura into the room that twinkled with game lights. 

Allura smiled, her own memories coming back to her. “I think my father would’ve felt the same way- only because he would’ve been so shocked.” She paused, her eyes drifting across the room before coming to rest on Shiro. “But I guess we don’t have to worry about that so much anymore.”

Shiro’s jaw clenched, his mind at once turning to his mother, probably just waking up for work in Japan, and to the day last year when whispers ran through Garrison’s sophomore class as a blur of silver hair was abruptly rushed home. Swallowing hard, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Soft and warm. She smiled.

    “-Oo, target practice!”

 Allura left the joystick of some ancient plumbing game to pick up one of a pair of plastic guns. She pulled a coin from her back pocket, holding it out to Shiro with a raised brow.

He accepted, grabbing his own toy weapon with a grin. “What is it Sergeant Peng says?”

            “Plant your feet-”

“-Bend your knees-”

     “-Make a damn triangle!”

Shiro bit his lip, eyes trained on the screen as purple figures disintegrated with every pew pew from his fake gun. After a few minutes the screen went black, revealing a victorious 100% on his side. 

“Ha!” He called triumphantly, turning to see Allura covering a smile with her hand. The other half of the screen read 40%. “Forty percent, Cadet?” Shiro crossed his arms with a smirk, “Were you this terrible in Weapons Training?”

“No!” Allura folded her arms over her chest, refusing to meet his eyes. “I was worse,” she muttered. 

| g | a | r | r | i | s | o | n |

The sun had slipped behind the distant mountains when Allura and Shiro made their way back to the shuttle stop. The sleeve of his jacket brushed against her arm but he couldn’t muster the courage to take her hand again, even with the evening breeze egging him on. 

There was a pause in their chatter, and at the same time they started, “I just wanted to say-” Shiro laughed shortly, gesturing for her to continue.

“I wanted to say thanks- for coming out with me.” Allura offered a smile.

Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “I was going to thank you for making me come.”

Their gazes met, beating hearts betraying what went unsaid in the foot of space between them. Suddenly Allura leaned toward him, her cheek grazing his as her lips pressed against his skin, a sweet scent floating off her neck.

Red faced, they climbed onto the shuttle and took their spot in the back. Hands folded together, they enjoyed the waning moments of their little rebellion as the lights of Garrison’s campus blinked into view.

[selfpublishingnews]

Story by Zeta Elliott - this is from March 2015 but still apropos today. Originally published in School Library Journal.

I can’t breathe.

I am a Black feminist writer committed to social justice. I write stories about Black children and teens, but within the children’s literature community I have struggled to find a home or what poet June Jordan calls “living room.” In “Moving Towards Home,” Jordan describes a place “where the talk will take place in my language…where my children will grow without horror…where I can sit without grief.” If “home” represents sanctuary—a safe space where one can speak in one’s authentic voice, feel valued, and able to thrive—then the children’s literature community is not my home. I am—and likely will remain—an outsider.

By industry standards, I suppose I am a failed author. Since I started writing for young readers in 2000, only three of my thirty stories have been published traditionally. I turned to self-publishing as my only recourse, and now face the contempt of those who see self-publishing as a mere exercise in vanity.

SELF-PUBLISHING OR SELF-SEGREGATION?

Last year a white Facebook “friend” suggested that my decision to self-publish was analogous to Blacks in the civil rights era choosing to dine in their segregated neighborhood instead of integrating Jim Crow lunch counters in the South. In her mind, self-publishing is a cowardly form of surrender; to be truly noble (and, therefore, deserving of publication) I ought to patiently insist upon my right to sit alongside white authors regardless of the hostility, rejection, and disdain I regularly encounter.

Since 2009 I have used my scholarly training to examine white supremacy in the children’s literature community where African Americans remain marginalized, despite the 2014 increase in books about Africans/African Americans. This sudden spike (reflected in the latest statistics from the Cooperative Children’s Book Center at the University of Wisconsin-Madison) was not paired with a comparable increase in the number of books by Blacks, however, suggesting that power remains where it has always been: in the hands of whites.

Publishers Weekly’s 2014 salary survey revealed that only 1 percent of industry professionals self-identify as African American (89 percent self-identify as white). That the homogeneity of the publishing workforce matches the homogeneity of published authors and their books is no coincidence. The marginalization of writers of color is the result of very deliberate decisions made by gatekeepers within the children’s literature community—editors, agents, librarians, and reviewers. These decisions place insurmountable barriers in the path of far too many talented writers of color.

I know better than to turn to the publishing industry when I seek justice for “my children:” Trayvon, Renisha, Jordan, Islan, Ramarley, Aiyana, and Tamir. I know not to hope that industry gatekeepers will rush to publish books for the children of Eric Garner as they struggle to make sense of the murder of their father at the hands of the New York Police Department. But I also know that children’s literature can help to counter the racially biased thinking that insists Michael Brown was “no angel” but rather “a demon” to be feared and destroyed. I believe there’s a direct link between the misrepresentation of Black youth as inherently criminal and the justification given by those who so brazenly take their lives.

The publishing industry can’t solve this problem single-handedly, but the erasure of Black youth from children’s literature nonetheless functions as a kind of “symbolic annihilation.” Despite the fact that the majority of primary school children in the U.S. are now kids of color, the publishing industry continues to produce books that overwhelmingly feature white children only. The message is clear: the lives of kids of color don’t matter.

GAPING HOLES IN “MAINSTREAM APPEAL”

A friend who is a librarian in Oakland, CA, recently encountered a young patron requesting a book on Michael Brown, and she had to explain that the traditional publishing process will likely take years to produce such a book. Police brutality is an issue of great importance to the Black community—the poet Jordan has called it one of our “urgencies”—yet the publishing industry has failed to produce children’s books that reflect and/or explain this reality. According to Horn Book editor-in-chief Roger Sutton, self-published books “aren’t filling any kind of need that isn’t already being met by established publishers,” as he wrote in a blog post entitled “An open letter to the self-published author feeling dissed.”  Sutton finds it “difficult to otherwise think of subjects that scare the mainstream off.”

Really? How many children’s books do we have about police brutality—mass incarceration—lynching—HIV/AIDS? Homelessness and suicide among queer youth of color? How many books show Black children using magic and/or technology to shape an alternative universe?

These are the kinds of stories that I write and am forced to self-publish, because they are rejected over and over by (mostly white) editors whose “most important job,” according to Sutton, “is to understand what contribution your story makes—or doesn’t—to the big world of books and readers.” Longtime editor and children’s literature scholar Laura Atkins counters that mainstream publishers seem to worry about “publishing only those books which they think will be palatable to the ‘mainstream.’ This results in books that tend to target a white middle-class audience.” Many members of the children’s literature community clamor for greater diversity but remain silent when another Black teenager is shot down. They cling to the fantasy that white supremacy has shaped every U.S. institution except the publishing industry. Like racism in police forces across this nation, racism in publishing is cultural and systemic; the problem cannot be solved merely by hiring a few (more) people of color.

THE ASSIMILATION PROBLEM

In her essay, “How to Uphold White Supremacy by Focusing on Diversity and Inclusion,” published on the site Model View Culture, Kẏra condemns the liberal impulse to position “marginalized groups as naturally needing to assimilate into dominant ones, rather than to undermine said structures of domination.” It frustrates me that most people seem comfortable with the reform of the existing system rather than its transformation. The idea of trying something new seems positively terrifying, and those of us proposing viable alternatives are generally shut out of the diversity discussion. At the recent Day of Diversity held during the American Library Association’s Midwinter Convention in Chicago, I once again heard calls for best-selling books that will prove to the corporate publishing industry that there is demand for diversity. Yet Kẏra rightly observes, “When we work for justice and liberation, we can’t accept progress that is conditional on being economically beneficial.”

As a writer who prioritizes social justice over popularity and/or profit, I find “living room” in alternatives to the existing system. Since 2013 I have self-published 10 books for young readers. You likely won’t have heard of any of them, since indie books are excluded from review by the major outlets—which leaves just a few open–minded bloggers, and without reviews, most public libraries won’t add a book to their collection (many don’t consider self-published books at all).

I SELF-PUBLISH FOR TRANSPARENCY

One reason I self-publish is to provide a degree of transparency that is largely missing from the traditional publishing process, and to refute the claim that the low number of books by people of color is a question of “merit.” Atkins, who has written about white privilege in publishing, observes, “It isn’t clear how books are selected, or how they are developed or marketed. So we don’t really see why books are rejected.”

Newbery Medal winner Kwame Alexander self-published his first thirteen books and acknowledges that there’s a “long history” of self-publishing in the Black community. Following in the tradition of independent publishers such as Just Us Books, founded by Wade and Cheryl Willis Hudson in 1987, Alexander started his own press in 1995 and assumed responsibility for writing, promoting, and selling his own books. But I suspect most fledgling writers simply give up after hitting the publishing industry’s seemingly impenetrable wall.

As an indie author, I have the freedom to write about the things that matter most to the members of my community rather than waiting for approval from a gatekeeper who lacks the cultural competence needed to truly appreciate my work. Like the books generated by Reflection Press or Blood Orange Press, focusing on diverse authors and readers, my Rosetta Press imprint produces stories that are culturally specific and organic—not forced through a white filter in order to be labeled “universal.” Diverse books can foster cross-cultural understanding at an early age. At a moment when 75 percent of whites have no friends of color and public schools are rapidly “resegregating,” the need for diverse children’s literature is greater than ever.

I am partnering with other artist-activists to develop a model of community-based publishing that uses print-on-demand technology to transfer power from the industry’s (mostly white) gatekeepers to those excluded from the publishing process. Currently, as writer-in-residence at Brooklyn’s Weeksville Heritage Center, I am teaching free writing classes for children and adults and am developing a picture book about the free, 19th-century African American community, which the center will publish independently. I hold “office hours” and have set up a blog so that community members can “ask an author” any questions they may have about writing and publishing.

Instead of investing in a costly (and often antagonistic) MFA in writing, I encourage aspiring book creators to first take Maya Gonzalez‘s online course “The Heart of It,” which puts “the power of children’s books in the hands of the people and the community, in part by demystifying both traditional and self-publishing routes,” she says. An award-winning author of more than twenty books for children, Gonzalez is driven by a desire to restore voice to those who have been silenced: “Through the reclamation of storytelling we can hear and learn from each others’ experience. We can know each other again…perhaps for the first time. We can tell the stories we know we need to hear. And we can heal.”

LIBRARIES PRODUCING STORIES

I am hopeful that more public libraries will embrace a community-based publishing model and assist diverse patrons as they learn how to tell their stories, becoming producers and not just consumers of books. Public libraries have served as a sanctuary for me since I was a child, and I had a library card in this country long before I had a green card. The Brooklyn Public Library sends me into dozens of schools every year, enabling hundreds of kids of color to meet an author who lives in and writes about the magic to be found in their community. Most of my thirteen books for young readers aren’t part of the library’s collection, but perhaps that will change over time. I am hopeful that in the future the bias against self-published books will diminish as gatekeepers realize that it is unfair to punish writers of color for failing at a game that’s rigged. Until then, I will continue to self-publish, and I will offer my “organic” writing to the members of my community. I will find a home where my creativity can flourish. I will insist upon my right to breathe.

Zetta Elliott is an educator and author of thirteen books for young readers, including the award-winning picture book BIRD. She is currently writer-in-residence at Weeksville Heritage Center in Brooklyn, NY.

[dorothydelgadillo]

How to Find, Recognize, and Hire High-performing Marketers

So, you want that perfect hire?

You are looking for an employee who is dedicated, a self-starter comes up with great ideas, meets deadlines, and still jives with your company culture.

Everyone has told you that you’re looking for a unicorn, right?

Well, everyone is wrong. What you’re looking for is a high-performing marketer.

My fantastically talented colleague, Britt, has already done a great job of explaining what high-performing marketers are and why they are an asset to any company, so if you need to be convinced just check out her blog.

What I’m here to talk about today is why you should care about recognizing these diamonds in your hiring process and what key traits you should look for based on countless hours of nerdy research.

Why is Recognizing High-performing Marketers During the Hiring Process So Important?

So you want this incredible, magical employee.

While it is relatively easy to recognize what you want to get out of an employee, it is much harder to determine what traits and signs you can look for early in the hiring process to ensure you have the right person.

How many of you have found that your first impression of a person turned out to be completely wrong?

I’m willing to bet everyone has, and it can work in both ways.

You may find that you didn’t think highly of someone who turned out to be amazing or you may also find that someone you expected the world of just didn’t deliver.

In terms of hiring, this can turn into a very costly mistake.

In either case, you paid the price.

In the first case, you invested time and money training someone who failed to meet expectations and may have even lost business in the process.

In the second, you’ve paid a significant opportunity cost that is hard to quantify by not realizing the potential of a great employee.

During the interview process, everyone is putting their best foot forward and trying to show you the most polished, positive view of themselves.

It is very easy to believe that you’ll ultimately get what the candidate is promising you, but how can you dive a little deeper and see if that is truly the case?

But First, A Story.

Our journey to learn about recognizing high-performing traits during the hiring process actually followed a very strange path.

We didn’t seek to improve our hiring process and then find this information but instead stumbled across a few realizations very serendipitously.

This whole journey began with a simple exercise in continuous improvement.

At IMPACT, we have an incredible Messaging and Branding workshop we provide to clients.

It is a service that has long been in the making and is always being updated and improved.

When it came to this, we decided to eat our own dog food and gather our CEO, COO, Sales, and Client Services leaders in one room to put them on the client side of the table for our workshop.

As we waded through the first few exercises to really understand and distill our brand style and message, we ran into a bit of roadblock. 

In trying to define our key differentiators, we kept coming back to the conversation of “Our People.”

Now, it is very difficult to successfully use “your people” as a key differentiator.

First of all, it is incredibly overused.

Almost every company you talk to will tell you their people are amazing and unmatched in the marketplace. When everyone says it, it very quickly becomes something that doesn’t differentiate you at all.

Second, it is an incredibly difficult differentiator to actually prove. How are our people different than the people who work for our competitors? What makes them better?

If there isn’t a very clear and compelling answer to that question, it isn’t really a differentiator.

The problem here is that every single person in the room knew our people were truly unique and different than those you will find anywhere else.

They are the lifeblood of IMPACT, and there truly is a quality in them that you would be hard-pressed to find in another organization. The issue was that nobody in the room could truly articulate what that quality was.

Upon inspection of our people, one incredibly important personality trait came to light.

Our team had this uncanny ability to embody paradoxes.

We could think of examples over and over again where two traits were so opposite that they should never exist within the same individual. Yet, somehow our people were able to use those opposing traits together to create something far better than they otherwise would have been able to.

The simple paradox wasn’t explanation enough, though. There was something layered on top that made it truly magical.

We poured over dictionary and thesaurus entries for days to try and find a word that might possibly help us describe what this important ability was called--and we found nothing.

What’s a marketer to do when there isn’t a good enough word to describe something?

Why, create one, of course!

We are keeping our word under wraps until we can make the big reveal, stay tuned (and come to IMPACT Live) if you’re curious what we’ve chosen!

What followed this fantastic realization was months and months of research into personality, habits and human behavior. We were determined to unlock the code that would allow us to see into the future, to recognize traits in people earlier and predict success later.

Key Traits of High-Performing Marketers

What we found were three key categories of traits that were evident in all of our highest performing staff and could be sought out during our hiring process to predict the best long-term candidates.

Traits of the Highly Successful

The first category of personality traits and habits we look for are all of the hallmarks of people who’ve historically shown high levels of success.

Conscientiousness

The first, and most foundational, of these traits is conscientiousness, or the ability to act in an organized and thoughtful way.

Hailed as the personality trait that “guarantees” success, conscientiousness has quite the reputation.

Of the Big 5 Personality characteristics, conscientiousness has most strongly been linked to the ability to go far in life and achieve higher incomes, better job satisfaction, and greater rates of success.

Those with conscientiousness are able to stay on top of deadlines, keep track of what needs to be done, and follow the steps needed to reach a goal.

Having a person like this means deadlines are met, tasks are not forgotten, processes are followed and nothing is missed.

Future-focus

Another key habit these individuals display is a consistent focus on the future.

In his book, High-Performance Habits, Brendon Burchard shares research around this highly common characteristic of high-performers, saying “In almost every basic question of who they were or what they wanted, the highest performers had a great ability to focus on the future and divine how they would achieve excellence.”

These individuals not only have the ability to visualize a future version of themselves that is a better version of what they are today but just having that vision increases the chance that they will grow into that version of themselves.

Traits of the Highly Creative

The second category of traits, a category that is incredibly important in marketing specifically, are the hallmarks of the highly creative.

Many perceive creative individuals to have highly opposing traits at the same time, creating an internal paradox.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a Hungarian psychologist who has devoted most of his career to studying the highly creative, coined the term “paradoxical personality” to describe this internal battle.

However, that perception is incomplete.

What is really happening inside of these uniquely creative individuals is actually a fluidity along these spectrums of polar opposites; an understanding of both.

This unique ability makes these individuals great problem solvers, allows them to think outside-of-the-box, and ultimately create amazing things.

Additionally, highly creative individuals display very high levels of Openness to Experience (another of the Big 5 Personality Traits).

This personality factor has been tied very strongly in research to both highly creative and successful people.

It has also been strongly correlated with a desire and drive to grow, the ability to learn new things, and a propensity for innovative ideas.

Overall, it has a very strong predictor of success as a leader.

Emotional Intelligence

The final category of traits is what really allows an individual to harness and make the most out of the traits in the first two categories.

Emotional intelligence is characterized by an ability to both understand and manage your emotions, as well as recognize and appropriately respond to emotions in others.

It is often referred to as EQ, an emotional counterpart to our typical measure of intelligence, IQ. EQ is often considered just as important, if not more so, than IQ in predicting success. Having a high IQ may indicate a very smart individual, but without a high EQ, much of that can be wasted.

It is similar to having a big box of tools but not know what to do with any of them. Without the knowledge, the tools are useless. Such is the case with IQ and EQ.

Additionally, emotional intelligence, in connection to the Big 5, has been linked most strongly to extraversion, agreeableness, and openness to experience.

How Can You Update Your Hiring Process to Seek Out High-performing Marketers?

I was hoping you would ask! I am so excited to be speaking on this very subject this August in Hartford, CT at IMPACT Live.

During my talk, I’ll share more information about the three categories of traits to look for to recognize these amazing individuals and how to revamp your hiring process specifically to seek them out!

Send me an email if you’re coming (and if you aren’t yet, get your ticket now before the prices go up); I’d love to meet up in person and dive into deeper discussion!

from Web Developers World https://www.impactbnd.com/blog/how-to-find-recognize-and-hire-high-performing-marketers