#we're in the same kindred actually

[lokavisi]

My friend gave an absolutely beautiful sermon at our UU congregation yesterday about what healthy mysticism looks like. It's one of those things I can struggle to articulate when someone asks me how I could possibly believe in something so fantastical without scientific proof. Or when dealing with extremely spiritual people who think scientific fact has no place in their understanding of the world. This is one of those things that I wish everybody, on both ends of the spectrum, understood. So I'll let her explain it to you better than I ever could 😁

Side note: You can follow her blog on the Glasse Witch Cottage website or Facebook page. She has decades of experience in witchcraft and paganism and is a fountain of knowledge. And like myself, she is both UU and Heathen!

[sweetevoltrap]

Sylus just wants you to tell him he's yours so bad.

[teaboot]

What are your favorite ship typings?

Dual Opposites: Visibly Unsettling Person who is actually quite normal X Charismatic and Likeable Person who is Deeply Unhinged

Apes Together Strong: All the skills and abilities of a single super-functional person split up between two or more people. Separately dumpster fires, collectively a power team

Kindred Spirits: Person who seems silly, dumb, emotional, and shallow X Person who seems stoic, serious, and cold, but who share core perspectives, hobbies, values, goals, etc. Room for a third who is straight down the middle of the road and seen as the Real Adult despite also being just like the other two.

Same Hat: Two or more people who are absolutely the same in every stupid way and feed off each other's energy like a wind-powered electric fan

Simp Shit: Person A is Always Super Fucking Pumped about whatever Person B is on about, even if Person B is accomplishing nothing at all. Person A is over-the-top and wrapped around Person B's pinky finger. Person B thinks it's adorable and appreciates the devotion, and in turn is doting in their own way. And it's not unbalanced- they're both very much into it. Better not to ask questions.

Thank God We're Normal: Two or more people who are both freaks of nature bit look to the other for support, reinforcing their belief that they are completely normal and everyone else is a weirdo. Eat oreos and chili together out of the same bowl and look at you funny for gagging.

Platonic Soulmates: Two or more people who are so comfortable around each other that they may as well be married. Past-the-honeymoon married. The kind of married where sometimes someone pisses with the door open and someone wears the other person's underwear and everyone occasionally piles into a single bed to nap and bitch about shit.

Comfortable Enemies: Two or more rivals or enemies who, at the end of the day, respect and understand one another despite their differences and share a certain code of ethics that they will begrudgingly cooperate to uphold, then go right back to being catty bitches afterwards

Listed in number but not in any particular order

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hi~ hope you are doing great and having a good time; sorry to bother you, but can I ask some poly 141 x reader who is a veterinarian, or dog caretaker or trainer or K9 unit; and has taken care of many dogs, pets, service dog, militar dog, and so on; and the team saw her a little more introverted, seeing her eyes a little watery but not that red, still working but seeing the tell signs of touch starved and then they learn or know that a dog she helped bring into the world when born, now she had to put to sleep for injuries or sickness, what would they do? Since not many know how painful it is even if not your partner or dog have to do this?

Sorry for the long part, and feel free to ignore if too bothersome, actually I'm a vet and Im all teary, but can't really cry or bent since my family is cold or strick and the rest say like 'its just a dog's, and I'm also touch starved, sorry for this; just that I need a little comfort

Best regards :)

Oh @boogeysmoth I am so so sorry! I can't imagine how hard the bad days must be. I'd be heartbroken and crying all the time. (We're a family that believes in fur babies, so I get it. I hope this helps a little bit.)

cw: implied child neglect (memory), animal death (off-page), poorly executed accents

Everyone on base knew who you were. Soft, sweet thing who was definitely more comfortable with dogs you trained than the people. It was an open secret on base that, despite what you were training the dogs to do, you recognized their value as therapy animals. Soldiers often found their way to your portion of the yard after a mission gone wrong or when a unit lost someone or when the memories just became too much. You were patient with the soldiers who came to you, teaching them commands so the dogs could continue their learning and yet support the troops in a completely different way. You never shied away from the soldiers in those encounters, perhaps recognizing something in their hollow look, a kindred spirit in need of tender care.

The 141 in particular was well acquainted with your work. They never said it, but in their eyes, you were theirs.

Simon knew how it felt to feel like you didn't belong. Gaz understood what it was like to care for so many others with your whole heart. Price recognized the weight of responsibility you carried; your job was to train and watch out for your dogs the same way he did for his men. Soap saw how you retreated into yourself, like Ghost had when they met, and vowed to pull you into a world that might not deserve your sunshine.

It was Ghost who noticed first. Back from a solo mission, he'd swung by the K9 grounds on his way to the barracks. You were on the field like usual, but as his steps slowly brought him to the edge of your space, he saw you hesitate to reward your current charge after a followed command. There was stiffness where once had been ease, distance when you were typically close.

In Price's office for debrief, he said, "Somethin's wrong." Price merely raised a brow, so he continued. "She's actin' like the dogs are a chore. She loves them damn things." He paused, thinking of his childhood, the indifference from some who was supposed to love him. "'S not right. She loves them, Price. And if she's actin' all cold, somethin' happened."

So Price started watching too. Saw what Ghost meant, how you didn't seem to want to touch the dogs any more than you needed to. When two rookies came up, looking to sit with the dogs, you turned them away. There was no hard look, no sharp retire, but it was one of the meanest things he'd seen on base.

Several days later Gaz was sent to the K9 unit with a pile of slightly worn blankets. Requisition order gone wrong and they were far too small for the barracks' beds. He walked into your office, smile in place, and said, "Got some presents for your pups, doll."

You looked up blankly at him and the blankets. "Oh. Er, that's nice, but the dogs don't need them." You turned back to the papers on your desk, but Gaz stayed rooted where he was. You were always looking for comfort items for the dogs to make them feel cared for. You asked for stuffed toys and never turned down blankets and soft bedding.

Two weeks after Ghost first saw something off, Soap came around the edge of the K9 kennels to find you weeping in the back of an empty cage. Kneeling in the back, face buried in your hands, quietly sobbing. He didn't hesitate to open the unlocked gate and join you on the cement floor.

You felt a strong arm wrap around your shoulders before pulling you into a warm, solid chest. Quiet shushing and a whispered, "Ah've got ye," accompanied by gentle rocking. He stayed with you as the tears tapered off, and only when they were done did he ask, "Ye want tae talk about it?"

Your inhale was fast, shakey. The tears were barely at bay when you started talking. "I had to put him down," you said, voice laced with grief. Soap couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone's heart break, but he swore yours did as you spoke. He didn't say anything, but the arm around you squeezed a little tighter. "My little Rascal. I know he's in a better place, but I miss him." The tears started again, and you didn't even try to staunch them. "And I don't know if I can keep doing this," you said between sobs. "I know what happens to these dogs in the field. I'm giving them over to be slaughtered!"

He could hear the change in your breathing, the breaths coming faster and faster. "Ach, bon! De ye no see how much good ye do?" He positioned you so he could see your face. "Love, ye give hope! The dogs ye train help keep us safe, an' we do our best to keep 'em safe in return. We treat 'em like another member of a unit. We doan let 'em get slaughtered." Deep down you knew this, but hearing it now helped ease the gaping ache in your heart just a little.

Your breathing slowed slightly. But before you could reply, try to tell Soap he was wrong, he continued in a whisper. "An' here ye help us feel human again when ye let us be wi' the pups." Shame raced through you, remembering how you'd turned the privates away last week.

You hiccuped and said, "I don't think my heart can take it to keep caring." You were so quiet Soap could have pretended he didn't hear you, but you and the dogs deserved better.

"Oh, love. When it hurts too much tae care, you come find us, yeah? We can help set ye tae rights."

You nodded. "Okay," you mumbled. "I think I can do that."

He stood and pulled you up, walking backwards out of the empty kennel. "And Ah ken the best way tae start," he stated, maneuvering you further down the hall to the full kennels. He put a light hand on your waist, deftly pulling the keyring off your belt. He found the cage with the youngest dogs and tried each key until one worked. When the lock clicked, the three puppies on the other side of the gate came running. Soap pulled you in behind him and closed the gate. He took a seat on the floor and patted the space next to him.

By the time you dropped to the ground, two puppies were already climbing on Soap's lap. He coaxed the last into your arms. You stayed with him, arms full of warm puppy, until you felt the cold grip around your heart melt.

an: This was a little tribute to my in-laws doggie of the same name and my cat menace, Mushu. They're over the rainbow bridge now. ❤️

main masterlist

[thankskenpenders]

IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

[dainahlai]

Wait I've been thinking–someone once posted about Xavier wanting MC to like just Xavier right??

But anyways, it got me thinking more in detail about his identities. Throughout his times on Earth, Xavier has had to make so many personalities for himself and create so many versions of himself just to make himself seem like a normal person. Btw this is so hard for me to put into words so bear with me here 😭.

But it's a well known fact among most Xavier girlies that he himself has probably had a few identity crises, and I just want to build up on this idea. Xavier himself doesn't view his other versions as him. He sees them as completely different.

Xavier: Whilst Lumiere is kind and gentle, I'm apparently harsh and cruel?

He doesn't see his other version as him, they're other people who he associates with, but nothing further. They're different personalities of him.

Xavier: And when you see Lumiere, you appear to be a lot happier than when you see me.

This just proves that even if the fandom sees Lumiere and Xavier as the same person (thus the jealous Xavier joke) he doesn't think Lumiere is him. Lumiere is a completely different person than Xavier, and that is why Xavier finds it so easy to get jealous over Lumiere.

But my main point isn't that–It's the fact that the Xavier we see might not even be the real Xavier (or in other words, is a personality made to protect his real self/a mesh of his dozens of other selves). Going back to Xavier's comment about Lumiere, it proves that Xavier can have different personalities, supported by the fact MC mentioned him to be a good actor. (Can't remember the exact line). He's familiar with this, my earlier words about us not seeing his real self was a joke btw. We see his real personality because you can compare him with Lightseeker (Pre time travel) and see that they are the same. But it just got me thinking about what-ifs. Xavier can create himself many personalities, the reason he's good at acting is because he becomes his other selves. So in other words, he becomes them, but they aren't him. Xavier can become one of his other personalities, but he will never see himself as them. And if we weren't MC, then we probably would have had to face one of his various other selves rather than the actual self he hides behind dozens of other personalities. And it shows, after a whole year, Xavier is finally showing us his true personality, and we're getting to see more actual sides of him than any mysterious fakes. And Xavier likes that this is happening. Whilst MC also has her reincarnations and versions, Xavier has his own personalities and identities. Supported by Xavier's line in the 21 days memory.

Xavier: Every version of me belongs to you, and every version of you, belongs to me.

So yeah in a sense MC and Xavier are kindred spirits. And whilst Xavier may not reincarnate or resurrect, he does live through lives and personalities. It makes him both difficult and easy to characterise.

God I think this went off the rails, and if you've read through, thanks. This is my rant for Xavier whom I love with all my life and soul. And sorry if this ended up offending anyone, or confusing anyone, or if I actually was wrong all the way. I'm human, and can make mistakes, please rather than arguing, just tell me my mistake so I can correct myself!

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

All About Sylus

Age: 28

Evol: Energy Manipulation

Astrological Sign: Aries

Birthday: April 18th

Height: 6 ft 2

Occupation: Onychinus’ Leader

Workplace: Onychinus

Residence: Various

Secret Code: 109-72-95

Details:

Sylus is the most influential and dominant figure in the N109 Zone, said to have built his empire on illegal Evol weapons and Protocore deals. His primary objective is resonating with the protagonist. We know little about his past, but multiple references have been made to him having "disappeared" at some time in the past prior to his present return. His closest character connections include Mephisto (a mechanical crow) and Luke & Kieran (mischievous twins who do his bidding).

Appearance:

A distinctive feature is his red eyes, one of which contains an Aether Core that allows him to see people's desires. In his words, "It helps me see what people want the most. It exposes the desires that they refuse to admit".

While he can be injured and bleed, his wounds heal unnaturally fast. We first see this when the protaganist strikes him and gives him a small cut on his face. But after he swipes his hand over it, it vanishes.

Interesting Facts:

Can dance (left)

Can play the organ (right)

Frequently enjoys wine and other alcoholic beverages

His vehicle collection includes: an SUV, a motorcycle, a car, a private jet

Often calls the protaganist "kitten" or alludes to her being a cat

Has a love of firearms, a large collection of them displayed in one of the rooms of the base

He owns a horse that the protagonist describes as "tempermental"

Residences:

Onychinus Base

Notable Quotes:

"Is this how you greet a new friend? I guess you don't remember anything. Allow me to jog your memory. From your past to your future. To even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit."

"After all, you and I... we're the same. True kindred spirits."

"Family? The people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most."

"Are you worried about me? Save that for the day you actually succeed in killing me"

[acupofbritishearlgrey]

Record Mirror (19.01.1985): Curt recalls that the first time he met his partner he thought he was over on a French exchange trip "because he looked foreign". "And the fact I said 'bonjour'," adds Roland deadpanly. "We kind of got on right away though, because we're, like, the same height."

'Scenes from the Big Chair' (1985), dir. Nigel Dick:

Breakfast with the Arts (2004):

bonus.

interview 1985: <...> “but I had a friend who was a bass player in this kid’s group. One day he told me a friend of his had been fighting with an Indian guy. I got confused, I thought the friend was the Indian guy. I wanted to meet him. It turned out to be Curt, who thought I was French, for some reason. But I really liked him.” Rockonteurs podcast, se1ep22 (31.01.2021): <...> we walked up a couple of flights, we knocked on the door, and I saw Curt for the first time in my life. And he wasn't allowed out because he'd been in a fight and he'd knocked someone down the stairs. So it was like, that was my initial meeting. I thought, well, this is obviously a guy I need to steer clear of. I was like, you know, I was very conscientious, good at school, A-student. And here was, you know, a wuffian [ruffian]! So, you know, that's how we met. Rockonteurs podcast, se2ep1, (09.01.2022): — Guy, do you remember how Roland said when he first met Curt, he was scared of him? — Yes! CS: As you should be! — Yeah, because I'm wondering what your, how your sort of family background was like, because the house he grew up in sounded extraordinary. — Yeah, and he said that you came to the door, he was introduced to you by a friend, and you came to the door, you'd been grounded for beating someone up, and he was scared of you. CS: Yeah, for throwing someone down a flight of stairs, actually. — We laugh now. CS: I wasn't a very nice child. But having said that... — Did he have it coming? CS: He did. He definitely did. But I think it was... I mean, I grew up on a council estate, you know, albeit in Bath, so hardly, you know, the worst council estate in England. But you end up getting in fights to stop people picking on you. You know, that was a part of growing up on a council estate, I think. So yeah, my thoughts of Roland, I don't really know. I mean, he seemed, after we met that one time and then I found out about his family background and everything else, it seemed, you know, very kind of, yeah, the antithesis of my family, I guess. — So what was yours? CS: Well, mine was completely 100% working class. You know, my father was a waiter. My mother worked in boots. — That was a lyric right there. It sounded like a Chris Diffen. CS: And, and, you know, his mother was, um, you know, I mean, they lived on a council estate as well when he was growing up. — But they were theatricals. CS: She was theatrical. He, I mean, he was a weird French philosopher, you know, I mean, he was batshit crazy, but, uh, but in a, in a, to me in a fascinating way. You know, it was all very different to my upbringing. I mean, his parents were kind of nuts, as mine were, but in a very different way. You know, his mother was highly intelligent and his father was this kind of wacky French philosopher. — There was a kindred spirit there, was there? Somehow that you saw in each other? CS: Yeah. Song Exploader podcast, Ep. 292: Tears for Fears "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" (07.05.2025): CS: Well, we first met at the door of my apartment flat in Bath. RO: Snow Hill, yeah. CS: In Snow Hill, which is a council estate. So I guess in America, you call them the projects. And I was grounded for getting in a fight. Int.: How old were you? CS: 14, maybe? RO: 14. CS: 14, I think. Roland came with a mutual friend. He was at a different school than I was in Bath. RO: When I met Curt, I thought, well, as he said, he was grounded. And I thought, who the hell is this hooligan? You know, so I was a little bit wary of him, while at the same time kind of fascinated. Same as now, really.

[markrosewater]

The G/R color identity beast legendary (Baloth by the looks of it) in Foundations/Jumpstart, Slinza, screams "this could have been a legendary Kavu" in a way that whispers "WotC isn't ever giving us Kavu support, they're going to get the same treatment as Cephalids and Viashino as WotC culls most of their unique creature types in favor of generic types and any statements to the contrary are dishonest".

In years past, when you were asked on your blog about Kavu getting more print and being fleshed out as a kindred mechanical identity in addition to their clear lore/flavor identity, you pointed out correctly that they only exist on Dominaria and we'd have to return there to see more.

When we did go back Kavu were clearly shown as being present on the world still, even integrated into Yavimaya Elven society. But there were more cards showing/mentioning Kavu than there were actual Kavu cards; the Kavu that were printed in Dominaria were direct call backs to popular nostalgic Kavu from Invasion block like Titan or FTK, so it's clear WotC knows they have an unique identity and were popular/impactful when first introduced. And yet they still felt like afterthoughts, and their presence on Dominaria in the lore included just as a nod, or maybe a hedge so they were set up as being present if WotC wanted to tap them later.

The next time we went back to Dominaria, people asked about Kavu again and again there were ~3 printed, none with any intra-type synergies or support and no legendary. I think this stung a bit more because the plot of story at the time involved another outright Phyrexian invasion of Dominaria, which canonical was the reason the Kavu kicked into high gear and started flooding the surface of Dominaria. This is also true of following sets covering the Phyrexian multiverse invasion. So the fact they weren't a prominent creature type in multiple sequential sets that presented clear in world rationale for them being not just present, but everywhere, felt disappointing and felt like Kavu were just going to be ignored in favor of more generic fantasy creature types with wider appeal and better profit potential.

Given the near completely lack of Kavu printed when you had the opportunity to, and the lack of *any* kindred synergies on any Kavu that has been printed since returning to Dominaria, it feels like w/e you've said in your answers here before, the truth is WotC just isn't interested in fleshing out Kavu mechanical identities or designing legendaries for them. That WotC would prefer if players just forgot about them because you're just going to print beasts from now on. I have loved Kavu since seeing them in Invasion and I know I'm not the only player that feels that way. I personally think WotC is overlooking a free win with long time players in terms of nostalgia and food will, etc, by repeatedly making the conscious choice to not flesh out an existing Magic IP unique creature type.

And that's disappointing. But I'd rather have someone be *honest* with me about something and be disappointed with the answer than be strung along with dishonest or misleading "maybe :)"(s) and "we'll see te-he"(s) because you don't want to deliver a feel bad answers. Being told maybe when the answer is no, over and over, is far more feel bad, and only adds to the overall player perception of erosion of good faith and good will by WotC.

We're not anti-Kavu. We're just not looking to make every slot that could possibly be a Kavu, be a Kavu. We will make them now and then when appropriate, but it's something we do in moderation. There is no Kavu ill will.

[essie-essex]

Asha's Embrace, part 2

Continuing from last time, we now revisit the opening of VTMB as experienced by Asha.

I kept some lines the same and changed/skipped others. Sorry if there are any weird transitions or typos. I got tired of looking at this.

Asha had never flown in a private jet before. It must have been expensive for Strauss to charter, but he was adamant that they return to Los Angeles that very night. She could not quite believe everything that had happened. She was supposed to be home now, relaxing in the bath with a glass of wine and some music. She felt that her current situation was an improvement. A sort of light in the darkness. When before she could find excitement in nothing, she now had the mystery of this new existence, this whole new life, to keep her looking forward to the future. Vampires and magic. She was going to get to learn how to do magic! Not just the subtle, invisible witchcraft she had studied in the past, but actual sorcery, like in a fantasy novel. It was real. What else could be real? Werewolves? Fairies?? Unicorns???

She imagined what this revelation would be to a skeptic, someone who truly was not open to the possibility of the existence of the supernatural. Strauss had told her that it was important to keep an open mind and to be prepared for a complete transformation of her world view. Others in the past who could not do this had a hard time adapting. Asha realized that she was not very good at many things, but this one particular aspect, her interest in the supernatural, would be helpful. Actually helpful.

Strauss, seated across from her, cleared his throat, nodding toward the front of the cabin where Stefan rested.

“Right,” said Asha, rising and stepping out into the aisle. Strauss had gone over some of the basics with her about Clan Tremere, the Camarilla, and the Masquerade, but then sent her over to speak with Stefan as the Regent—another new term—retrieved a small journal from his pocket into which he was now scribbling nonstop.

“So... Stefan.” Asha plopped down on the seat across from Strauss's assistant, folding one of her legs underneath her while leaving the other hanging. Stefan, who had been silently gazing out the window, turned to her after a few seconds' hesitation.

“Yes?” he answered politely.

“How's it going?” Asha realized that she had no idea what she was supposed to talk about with him. She tried to think of questions to ask about vampires or Clan Tremere. However, as she made eye contact with Stefan, he blinked, his face betraying his annoyance before returning to its neutral expressionless state of formality.

“I am fine,” he said, a slight chill to his voice.

Asha smiled, attempting to warm the cooling atmosphere between the two of them. She had not really spoken to him since he had first driven her to the hotel, and even then, she was far too out of it to say much. Had he used some sort of power on her that she could learn, too? She wanted to ask, but Stefan did not seem that engaged with their conversation. Instead, she said the first thing that came to mind as she tried to fill the silence.

“So, we're vampires...” Asha remarked, trailing off before her mouth could blurt out any more inane comments.

Why don't you just tell him we're on a plane while you're at it?

“We prefer the term 'Kindred,'” Stefan told her, thankfully ignoring the absolute pointlessness of her statement.

“Right, Kindred,” Asha said, correcting herself. Strauss had also mentioned this, but, of course, she had forgotten already. “So, how long have you been a, um, Kindred?”

Stefan sighed, to Asha's surprise. He actually consciously inhaled and then exhaled. That had to mean something, didn't it? Maybe that expression she had seen on his face was more than just simple annoyance.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied.

“It doesn't?” Asha asked. “I mean, I assumed it would matter at least somewhat to you all, considering no one's dying of old age. There must be some pretty ancient Kindred, right? Is there more prestige as you get older?” She willed herself to stop talking. He clearly was not in the mood for a conversation.

“Yes.”

“So, it does matter.”

“Not for me,” Stefan snapped, now glaring at her. Hostility tinged his voice. “Please, I want to be left alone.”

“Okay,” Asha said, raising her hands in the air. She felt her face grow warm. She didn't even know it could do that anymore. Rising from her seat, she turned back to where Strauss was sitting. The Regent was now eyeing Stefan, giving him a stern look. However, the gesture was lost, as Stefan was not facing him. Had she said something wrong?

You said everything wrong. This is why you shouldn't talk so much.

Right. She had said everything wrong.

Spinning her lip ring with her tongue, Asha returned to her seat across from Strauss, who proceeded to thumb through the journal on his lap.

Stupid. Stupid, she told herself. She hadn't meant to annoy Stefan, but it was precisely what she had done. She should have thought of something to say before approaching him. Her own thoughts of her inadequacy led her back to a question that had run through her mind many times since her embrace.

Why choose her?

She couldn't build up the courage to ask Strauss. When would he realize that he had made a mistake? Did he know what she had planned to do that night?

As usual, her thoughts brought on nothing but misery, and Asha chose to occupy her time by staring out the window, doing her best to keep her doubts at bay. The rest of the ride commenced in silence between the three of them.

They now drove through the streets of Los Angeles, Asha's eyes fixed on the sights of the unfamiliar city as they passed by. The lights and novel scenery of the West Coast city stoked her sense of wonder while quashing her insecurities for the time being. Stefan drove while Asha and the Regent rode in the backseat. Although they were silent, as Asha pivoted her head to observe them, she could not help but feel as though Strauss and his assistant were having some sort of conversation. One without words spoken aloud. Her backseat companion's eyes stayed fixed on Stefan.

Asha watched them for a while before turning to gaze upon the nighttime city outside. She did not share her companions' gloom, but instead viewed the lights in the darkness with awe. She had never been to LA, as it sat on the opposite end of the country from where she lived.

She was not a spontaneous or adventurous person. She had always wanted to be one, but she wasn't. Whenever she went someplace new and far away, she had to do a reality check to make sure that she was not just dreaming. She tried to make the car fly and attempted to turn off the street lights with her mind, but the vehicle stayed on the highway, and the highway stayed lit. It was all real.

“Asha,” Strauss said, gaining her attention. “We will soon arrive at Venture Tower, where I will introduce you to the Prince, but I must warn you...” he paused. “Your embrace was unconventional, and there may be consequences for this. If I can help it, you will not be punished for this violation of the rules. However, it would be best if you allow me to speak for you, and should my words deviate from what you know to be the truth, I ask that you do not contradict them.”

For the first time since they had arrived in Los Angeles, fear crept back into Asha's heart.

“What do you mean 'punished?'” she asked. “Were you not supposed to... make me a vampire?”

“I had the permission of our clan leaders,” Strauss explained. “However, I did not seek the permission of the Prince.”

“You mean, you didn't tell him intentionally?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Time was very short,” he admitted. “And I could not risk him delaying his answer or rejecting my request.”

“So, you did this all short notice? I don't—”

“Yes,” Strauss said, cutting her off. Although she wasn't sure, Asha thought she could detect a hint of shame in his reply. She paused, building up the strength to ask her next question.

“Why go through all this just to embrace me?” Asha finally said, the words cascading nearly all at once from her mouth. “You went all the way across the country just for me. I don't understand.”

Strauss sat in silence for a while before answering.

“We will speak of that later, Childe.”

The lobby of Venture Tower had the open emptiness typical of a corporate building. As the trio approached the front desk, their footsteps echoed on the marble floor, bouncing off the reflective walls and the few pieces of hard, polished furniture, along with a dry frigidity emanating through the sterile environment that could only be achieved through the excessive use of air conditioning.

An old man, emaciated enough to look as though he was one strong breeze away from keeling over and shattering on the floor, sat behind the front desk, hunched over a worn, paperback novel. Upon noticing the new visitors, he slipped what looked to be a rumpled receipt into the book and closed it, setting it to the side. He then reached a shaky hand to his face, removing his thick reading glasses and reducing his facial proportions from those of a cartoon character to something resembling that of a real-life human being.

“Welcome to Venture Tower,” he said in a raspy voice, breathing with some difficulty. “How can I help you?”

“We are here to see Mr. LaCroix,” Strauss said, leaning in close to the man, who had already tilted an ear toward him.

“Do you have an appointment?” the old man wheezed.

“We do not,” Strauss admitted. “But I believe he will make time to see us. Please tell him that Strauss is here to speak with him.”

“Well, okay,” replied the old man. He picked up a phone receiver and pushed a button on the desk, clearing his throat loudly before speaking. “Mr. LaCroix?” He continued to speak after a short pause. “Yeah, there's a Mr. Strauss here to see you, along with another young man and woman.” Another pause. “Okay, I'll let him know.” The man hung up the receiver, waving his hand towards the elevators behind him. “Mr. LaCroix will see you.”

“Thank you,” Strauss said politely.

“Yeah, yeah...” the old man answered, already turning to retrieve his reading glasses from the desk.

Strauss, Stefan, and Asha made their way to the elevator, which arrived promptly, and stepped inside. Their journey to the top commenced in silence. There was nothing wrong at the moment, but Asha's anxiety seemed to increase with the number of stories they climbed. She hoped Strauss wouldn't get into any trouble, especially over her. She truly had no idea why Strauss chose her to be a part of the clan. She had studied some magic, ritual magic mostly, the kind used by Wiccans and mainstream witches, but she doubted that vampire blood sorcery, or Thaumaturgy, as Strauss called it—although she knew that word as something a bit different—was anything like the low magic used in witchcraft. She knew a little about ceremonial magic, but nothing that made her stand out. Plus, as it was with most of her hobbies, Asha had lost interest in it, so she never practiced enough to become good at it. She was prone to melancholy, so her interests came and went, and her motivation waxed and waned. She never stuck with anything long enough to truly master it.

So, why did Strauss go through all the trouble of embracing her? Was there some sort of spiritual reason? Was it a genetic thing? A blood thing? Asha doubted it.

She found herself worrying that she would have to justify her usefulness to this Prince. If she did, she wouldn't be able to. What would she be able to say? Really, she could not say anything positive about herself to save her life. Most of the time, she was useless. Everything she had tried to do she had failed, and it had left her an empty husk of a person. Sometimes, she felt that she was broken and needed to be thrown away with the garbage, that her own birth was some sort of mistake, and now Strauss had given her a new life, just when she was about to end her old one. Did she really believe that anything would change? What if she tried to learn magic and couldn't do it? Was it possible to be bad at being a vampire, too?

Fuck, I'm spiraling, she thought to herself, as she was now nearly on the verge of tears.

Attempting to relax her muscles, she let her negative thoughts flow out of her, leaving her mind blank. She would have tried to breathe, but she felt strange doing it in front of Strauss and Stefan and refocused her thoughts instead. She would be fine. Everything would be fine.

She gazed at the floor numbers as the elevator continued to rise toward the top story. She was on her way to meet a Prince. Strauss had explained that he was not a real Prince, but he was the boss of the Camarilla in LA. What would he look like? Would he be young? Old? She reminded herself that no matter how young or old he looked, it would not reflect his true age. She considered asking Strauss, but the elevator finally slowed as they reached the penthouse. The doors opened with a ding, and they stepped out into the grandest room Asha had ever seen.

She had expected the penthouse to look just as empty and corporate as the lobby, but she had been mistaken. The area leading to the Prince's office portrayed elegance and luxury. The circular room supported an elegant dome that reached into the sky, decorative ornamentation adorning its cupola, under which a sculpted frieze reached out to serve as its base. A double set of staircases curved up to a second floor balcony that encircled the entire area, supported by a series of columns, lined by a gold and white balustrade, and its edges decorated with a seashell pattern. Thin, tall windows occupied the second level, and the brown and beige checkered marble floor lay in contrast to the light cream damask wallpaper. Topping it all off was the giant crystal chandelier that lit the room in a warm amber light. Asha would have described it as breathtaking if she were able to breathe.

They climbed the stairs, approaching a double set of doors.

“Wait here,” Strauss told her, motioning to a nearby bench.

Asha sat down on the bench while Strauss entered the next room, followed by Stefan who closed the doors behind them.

As Asha waited for her companions to return—or to be called into the office herself—she occupied her time first by studying the large chandelier glimmering above. However, she soon grew bored of this and absentmindedly eyed the rest of the decor, fidgeting in her seat and tapping her foot. She wanted to look outside the window to see the view of the city from the top of the skyscraper, but, as she peeked through the narrow frame, she found that the entrance hall was much too bright for her to view the blackened world outside. She caught glimpses of lights and shapes, but the city skyline in full was hidden from her. She plopped back down on the bench, hoping Strauss wouldn't be too much longer.

Soon after, the silence was broken by the sound of raised voices. Asha leaned closer to the door, hoping to catch part of the conversation, but she could barely hear the voices, much less make out what they were saying. She stood, approaching one of the doors and pressing her ear to the smooth, cold surface. Someone was definitely yelling.

The muffled raised voice was complemented during its pauses by a lower, more calm voice. She imagined that the latter was Strauss, although she truly did not know how many people were in the room. She assumed just three: the Prince, Strauss, and Stefan. Asha couldn't imagine any reason for Stefan to yell, so the loudest voice probably belonged to the Prince. LaCroix was his name. It seemed appropriate for someone who would become a Camarilla Prince one day—or one night.

The Prince was clearly not happy. She imagined Strauss, in his crimson ensemble, attempting to assuage the Prince in his calm and collected manner, LaCroix yelling and gesturing wildly, his face red, as the Regent stood his ground. Was it really that bad to create a vampire without the Prince's approval?

Asha's thoughts were interrupted by a muffled scream, which was suddenly cut off, and then the sound of heavy footsteps heading toward the door. She quickly backed away, moving to sit back on the bench. Less than a second before she managed to do so, the door swung open. The only sounds she managed to register were the raised voices of both the Prince and Strauss before the sight of the largest man she had ever seen drowned out all of her other senses. Although she did not get a good look at him, she noted his skin, which was a desaturated dark brown that almost looked gray, and, most stunningly, his bright red eyes. She barely had time to react before he propelled an object toward her so quickly that she never even saw what it was until the stake had pierced her straight through the chest.

Asha fell to the ground, stunned, her head ringing as it smacked against the polished floor. She wanted to cry out in pain and shock but found that she could not. She could not say anything. She couldn't move at all. With her eyelids half closed, she could only see shadows as the giant man picked her up from the ground and hoisted her over his shoulder, and as he made his way down the stairs, Asha couldn't help but try to scream. She tried over and over again, but nothing came out.

Time passed by as confusing, dizzying shapes in her vision finally gave way to darkness. The large man had taken her somewhere—she guessed the basement or a storage room—and all but stuffed her into a box. A numbness had come over her after she had been paralyzed, so while her head no longer hurt, the fear that overtook her seemed to eat her from the inside out. She heard more footsteps and a thud close by and possibly the closing of another box. Had the giant brought someone else in here with her?

Her thoughts pivoted to Strauss. What would they do to him? If they had done this to her when she hadn't even done anything wrong, then what would happen with her sire?

She considered that maybe this was some sort of solitary confinement. Maybe she would have to stay here until she served her sentence, whatever that was. She hoped not. Not being able to move was agonizing. She tried to focus on other things that weren't her body or the uncomfortable position she had been thrown into. For the first time since she had met Strauss that night, she found herself wishing that she had made it home and had gone through with her special last night on Earth. She hadn't asked for any of this. She didn't want any of it.

She would have cried, but a sudden tiredness overcame her, silencing her thoughts as she fell into the dark void of sleep.

Asha awoke to darkness. It only took a few seconds for her to remember where she was and why, and she found herself wishing she could go back to sleep. However, another feeling also accompanied her. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar, as she had felt it the night before, but now, it was much stronger. She was hungry.

The hunger made her more fidgety than ever, but she still could not move. She tried to focus her thoughts on something else, but found that she was already tired of worrying, and the excitement she had felt before the Prince had ordered her shoved into this box was now replaced by even more worry. What if they did something to Strauss? He would never be able to answer her questions. She wanted to see him more than ever. She felt secure when he was near, even when nothing made any sense to her.

Suddenly, light flooded her vision, and she felt a pair of strong arms lift her from the container. She let her mind go blank. Wherever she was going, she would find out soon enough.

As Asha became aware of her surroundings, she could only stare like a frightened doe as she was placed in a kneeling position, the wooden stake yanked from her heart, leaving a gaping hole in its absence. The sudden emergence of an injury that should have killed her nearly distracted Asha from her surroundings. However, a series of bright lights suddenly blazed above her, calling her attention. She was on a stage, and before her sat an audience.

Standing at the front of the stage was a Kindred that Asha could only assume was the Prince. The man in the expensive-looking gray suit paced in front of her, gesturing out to the group of onlookers as he began his speech.

“Good evening, my fellow Kindred,” he started. “Apologies for disrupting any business or interfering with prior engagements you may have had this evening. It's unfortunate that the affair that gathers us together tonight is a troubling one. We are here because the laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence have been broken.”

Yeah, this guy was definitely the Prince. He had an air of authority about him, his blond hair neatly cut and styled, and his accent reminiscent of rich people in old black and white movies. He was both old-fashioned and modern at the same time. She imagined that he would be very skilled at capturing the audience's attention as he spoke.

As Asha looked out among the crowd, the lights onstage made the audience difficult to see, and it seemed almost impossible to pick out one person among the several who now watched intently as she knelt before them. However, as her eyes adjusted, she found that she could see a few in the front rows. Their facial expressions varied from serious to concerned to completely disinterested. She did not recognize any of them—not that she thought she would. She squinted, trying to scan the audience for Strauss, but his face did not appear among those in the group of strangers.

Where was he?

A man stood behind her, his hand firmly gripping her shoulder, while another stood to her right, obscuring something that she quickly realized was not an object but another person. It did not look to be Strauss, but she could not see them, as her view was obstructed by the nameless Kindred between them.

“As Prince,” LaCroix continued. “I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city the privilege of siring. Many of you have come to me seeking permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests. However, the accused that sits before you tonight was not refused permission. Indeed, my permission was never sought at all.” The Prince's tone, polite up until then, transformed from a practiced neutrality to clearly irate.

So, she was right. This was the Prince. Although he did not look like royalty, he did look like the kind of man who would own his own skyscraper.

The Giant from before, the large man with red eyes, stood to Asha's right. She could barely see him unless she turned her head, but his presence was not easy to miss. She was attempting to move her shoulders to study him more when the Kindred to the right that had been blocking her view of the other prisoner next to her finally changed places, stepping back toward the curtain.

Asha found herself staring dumbly at Stefan, who knelt at her side, his head bowed and his face grim. She sat stunned, barely moving as the Prince presented her to the audience.

“They were caught shortly after the embrace of this Childe,” LaCroix continued.

Asha felt her mouth drop open. Suddenly, Stefan's words as they traveled to the city made much more sense. But why would he take the blame for something he didn't do? Did Strauss force him to do it?

The horror she felt at the thought of her sire forcing his own assistant to be punished for a crime he didn't commit was unthinkable.

“It is for the clan.” Asha heard the words form in her head in Stefan's voice. She turned her head to see Stefan peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. “When the Regent trusted me enough to tell me of his plan, I suspected it would come to this. Strauss thought that he had enough influence to stay LaCroix's hand. That the Prince would allow him to discipline his own apprentice, but I think I'm a bit more of a realist than he is. If Strauss had admitted to siring you, LaCroix would destroy him, if not in body, then in reputation. He would lose a good amount of respect and authority. The best outcome would be that the Prince would blackmail him, but even that is not preferable.”

What will happen to you? Asha thought, hoping Stefan would hear her. He did not answer.

“It pains me to announce the sentence,” LaCroix's voice rang through the theater. “As up to tonight, I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization, but as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression is death.”

Asha let out a strangled moan, her voice catching in her throat. She wanted to protest. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. Stefan didn't do anything wrong. The hand on her shoulder tightened, holding her back.

“Quiet,” Stefan said, still inside her head. “This is the story the Prince was told. Do as you were asked. You must not contradict it.”

Asha thought back to Strauss's words in the car before they entered Venture Tower.

“Should my words deviate from what you know to be the truth, I ask that you do not contradict them.”

But this was going too far. He didn't expect her to just let them kill Stefan, did he?

“Silence,” Stefan repeated. “Look apologetic. You will come next after me.”

Asha felt a lump form in her throat, her head growing light. Would they kill her?

She watched as the Prince stepped closer to Stefan.

“Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder to our community that we must adhere to the code that binds our society, lest we endanger all of our blood.” LaCroix turned to face Stefan, bending down at his side. “Forgive me.” Stefan said nothing. “Let the penalty commence,” LaCroix finished, standing to address the audience once again.

It was difficult for Asha to believe that she was not in some absurd dream, and the large Kindred with bright red eyes did nothing to change this belief as he pulled out what she could, even in her uncompromising terror, only describe as a “ridiculously large-ass anime sword” from a sheath strapped to his back. She found herself wondering if she had actually gone through with her evening plans after work and was now in some sort of cartoonish purgatory. The giant raised the sword above Stefan's neck, and Asha half-expected the Tremere apprentice's head to drop, followed by his body moving to pick it back up, and the head, perched in his arms, then pivoting toward the Prince, making an angry face, and commenting on how rude it was to cut off people's heads.

Stefan's last words seemed to echo as though being broadcast as they formed in her mind.

“I do my duty for Clan Tremere. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to learn so much. One House, One Clan, One Blood. Let it be so.”

The sword dropped. Stefan's head did nothing comical. It hit the floor, rolling like a vase tipped on its side. Asha's eyes grew wide. She could not stop staring at the headless body lying on the polished wood floor. Even more astonishing, it start to break apart, collapsing in on itself.

Finally, she found her trance broken as the Giant drew nearer to her, stopping a ways behind her to her right. Facing forward, she noticed that LaCroix had also moved to a new spot and now turned to face Asha.

He broke the silence that had fallen during the execution.

“Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny. Without a sire, most Childer are doomed to walk the Earth never knowing their place, their responsibility, and most importantly, the laws they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that...”

This was it. She was going to die, and her sire, her real sire, wasn't going to do a damn thing to stop it.

“This is bullshit!” A voice erupted from the audience, cutting off the Prince before he announced his verdict. A spotlight panned over the audience, settling on a standing figure in one of the back few rows, two others, a woman and a man, attempting to pull him back into his seat. However, it was too late. His unrest seemed to spread to the remainder of the witnesses as they whispered among themselves, some even standing, and others fidgeting where they sat. The two Kindred accompanying the outspoken naysayer, succeeded in holding their friend back before he could leap over the chairs, vault onto the stage, and punch the Prince in the face, which, one could reasonably assume by his aggressive demeanor, seemed to be his intent.

LaCroix spoke, bringing order back to the audience.

“If... Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish—I have decided to let this Kindred live.”

Asha nearly fell over on the spot, the tension that had been building suddenly leaving her body. Mr. Town-Hall-Heckler-fucking-Rodriguez just saved her life. She suppressed the sudden urge to scream, conflicting emotions hitting her all at once. Relief, joy, gratitude, confusion, and anger all cascaded from her heart, filling her mind and body until she could hold no more.

Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you, Mr. Rodriguez, whoever you are, she thought, but still the fact that her own sire did not speak up for her cut into her like a dagger. He had a good reason for it, she assured herself. He must have. However, another cynical voice responded to her idealistic assurances. Did he have a good reason for Stefan's death, too?

She couldn't see Strauss in the audience, but she knew he was there somewhere.

“They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind and be granted the same rights,” LaCroix continued. “Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community.”

Asha nearly rolled her eyes. He was clearly going to have her killed before that Rodriguez guy spoke up. She looked for him out in the audience, spotting him as he sat between his two companions. She would have to thank him after this. Whoever he was, he didn't seem to like the Prince very much. Asha wasn't sure that she liked the Prince that much, either.

Are the rules here really that strict? She wondered. Strauss had told her about the Masquerade, but besides that, she did not know much about the laws she needed to follow. She hoped she would not accidentally break one without knowing. She made a mental note to ask Strauss about additional rules, as LaCroix finished his speech.

“I thank you all for attending these proceedings, and I hope their significance is not lost. Good evening.”

LaCroix dismissed the other Kindred as the man behind her cut her bonds loose. She stretched her arms and hands, feeling the joints crack and pop, and then stood. She faced Stefan's remains, which were now nothing but a pile of ash. It was too bad that no one spoke up for him. She turned, heading back through the curtain with the other Kindred on the stage.

Leaving the backstage area, she found herself in a long hallway she assumed lead to dressing rooms and prop storage. She turned in a circle, not quite sure where she should go, and finally eyed Strauss as he emerged through a door on the far side of the hall. They made eye contact as he headed toward her, but LaCroix stepped into his path, drawing him into a quiet conversation.

Seeing LaCroix in his gray suit next to Strauss only made the Prince look somewhat weak. She wondered who was more powerful. It would be the LaCroix, right? Or else why would he be Prince if he was not the most powerful vampire in the city? She answered her own question thinking that maybe the role of Prince was determined through something else other than pure power. Strauss had warned her to be careful with her words around the Prince and other Kindred, and Stefan had mentioned that Strauss did not want his reputation to suffer. So, maybe it was all one big popularity contest.

However, LaCroix did not seem all that popular.

The richest, maybe? LaCroix did have his own skyscraper.

Focusing back on the two Kindred in conversation, she could hear Strauss as he spoke softly to LaCroix, her sire's posture humble and uncharacteristically submissive.

“As Regent, I will take responsibility for the care and instruction of the neonate...” she heard him say, before the Red-Eyed Giant appeared, ushering her further down the hall. He stopped a fair distance away from the two, obstructing her view of Strauss and blocking her from returning the way they had come. The Giant did not speak a word to her, but she was fine with that. She had nothing to say to him.

Several minutes later, the Giant stepped aside, allowing the Prince to pass through. She leaned to her side, attempting to find Strauss only to spot him walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. A coldness settled in her belly. He was coming back, right?

Though, she wondered what exactly Strauss's intentions were. He had allowed Stefan to die for something he did. With this new perspective on her sire, she found herself thinking back to his actions since she had met him. He had killed her and then made her a vampire without even asking her opinion on the matter. If he could just casually murder her, then what else was he capable of?

Still, his absence left her feeling small, scared, and alone.

“So, now you have had your first taste of our rules and customs,” LaCroix started, lecturing her as if she were a child. “Do remember this lesson as you go on. Breaking our laws is strictly prohibited, and using technicalities to avoid punishment will not work. I am sorry about Mr. Kleinfelter, but it was his own actions that cost him his life. It seems your late sire thought he could fool me by embracing you in another city. One without a significant Camarilla presence.”

“I—” Asha started before being cut off.

“Why did he go through all that trouble? Who was he to you?” asked LaCroix.

“I'm not sure,” Asha mumbled. “I didn't know him before this or anything, so—”

“No matter. I have other business to which I must attend, so let me quickly walk you through what you need to do, and once again,” he added. “Your sire. Tragic. My apologies.”

“It's—”

“But, you see, there is a strict code of conduct that all of us must... must adhere to if we wish to survive,” the Prince explained.

“Are we some sort of endangered species or something?” Asha started. “What could possibly threaten—”

LaCroix ignored her, turning to walk down the hall. She hurried to catch up with him as he continued to speak.

“When someone, anyone, breaks these laws, they undermine the well-worn fabric of our centuries-old society. Understand my predicament. Allowing you to live makes me directly responsible for your subsequent behavior.”

“What about the Regen—”

“So, what I'm offering is not generosity but the opportunity to transcend the fate woven by your sire.”

They reached the end of the hallway, stopping in front of a door. LaCroix turned to face her.

“This is your trial. You will be brought to Santa Monica. There, you will meet an agent by the name of Mercurio. He will provide the details of your labor.” LaCroix opened the door, motioning for her to go through. Complying, she stepped outside, LaCroix stopping in the doorway behind her. She turned to face him once again.

“I've shown you great clemency,” LaCroix lectured. “Prove it was more than a wasted gesture, fledgling. Don't come back until you do. Good evening.”

“But, wai—” Asha started, but before she could say any more, LaCroix stepped backward, slamming the door shut. She jumped back, her jaw dropping. As she stared at the door before her, a bright red, but with layers of paint chipped away throughout its surface, she stood frozen, willing back the tears that wanted so badly to run from her eyes. What was she supposed to do now? LaCroix hadn't told her anything. How was she supposed to get to Santa Monica? Where was she supposed to meet this Mercurio person?

Unsteadily swallowing her fear, she turned to inspect her surroundings. She would figure something out.

The area next to the theater was mostly concrete, grass, and garbage. As she looked toward the street, she thought of perhaps finding a taxi. Her mind flashed back to a memory of herself tossing her purse out the window of a car. She had no money. These assholes just left her out here in a new city with no money! Pivoting to the door, she attempted to open it. However, it wouldn't budge. She knocked on it loudly and waited.

Strauss would find her, right? He would help her go where she needed to go. He wouldn't just leave her in some unknown city with no money and idea where she was. She had seen him exit the theater by the door on the other side of the hallway, so maybe he was waiting for her there. She made up her mind to walk around to the other side. However, a rustling in the darkness caught her attention.

Laughter rang out from a dark corner of the yard as an unknown person stepped out of the shadows. A man with a long shaggy beard dressed in jeans and an open vest approached her, an amused grin plastered on his face. “Ha, ha, ha! What a scene, man! Hooey!” he exclaimed, addressing her as if they were best friends. He laughed again. “Then they just plop you out here like a naked baby in the woods. How 'bout that?” He sighed, calming himself before continuing. “Look, kiddo this is probably a lot for you to take in, so, uh, why don't you let me show you the ropes? Wha'd'ya say?”

Asha stared at the man silently, searching for the right words in her scrambled brain. Just who the hell was this guy?

“...Who are you?” Asha asked cautiously.

“I'm Jack,” he answered in a tone that suggested she was brainless for even asking. “What's important is I'm offering help. You make it back from Santa Monica with your hide, and we'll trade life stories, 'kay? Till then, I got about this much time.” He made a short gesture. “You in or out?”

Asha nodded. What did he mean 'if she made it back'?

“I don't have much time...” Asha replied, remembering that she wanted to see if Strauss was waiting for her. “Just give me the basics.”

“We ain't got much time, but I figure someone should fill you in on the bare bones stuff, at least, you know. Could save your hide,” Jack explained.

“My si—I mean Strauss told me a lot of the basic stuff,” Asha told him. She stepped back, feeling lightheaded.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You look wobbly. You even had a drink yet?”

She had almost forgotten. Was that why she felt so weak? Was it time for her to drink something?

Her hands clenched into fists as she imagined drinking the blood of another person. She was a vampire, after all. She knew she would have to do this eventually. She had just imagined that Strauss would be there to guide her through it. Not some rando she met in a back alley.

She followed Jack to a nearby parking lot, and he pointed out a man walking to his car. She froze. Was she just supposed to attack him? Jack said that it would come naturally.

Biting her lower lip, she tentatively started forward, trying to stay in the shadows. As she watched the man, who wore a business suit, she realized that he did not seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. She imagined that maybe his mind was on whatever had left him working all night. Some project that needed finishing. Maybe he was relieved that he could finally go home and rest. She would be ruining his night.

She decided to approach him casually, as though she were just walking to her own car or taking a shortcut through the parking lot. The man was now placing a briefcase into his trunk. Now would be the best time to strike. Picking up her pace, she approached the still-oblivious businessman. She was now close enough to feel his warmth. She leaned closer, imagining that she could hear his heartbeat, see the blood rushing through his veins. There was a particularly prominent vein on his neck that called to her. It was perfect. Before she knew what she was doing, she rushed forward, grabbing the human from behind and wrapping her arms around him. He could barely let out a cry before she sank her fangs into his flesh, finding that vein and puncturing it mercilessly. The blood flowed freely, and she drank.

With each swallow, she felt a warmth building within her. A power that she had never felt before. She knew the man was not afraid. He had fallen into the pleasure of being fed upon. Any guilt that she had had left her. There was only the blood. It was everything she ever wanted or needed.

With blood on her mind and nothing else, she drank, living solely in the moment, but then Jack's words echoed back to her. She didn't want to kill the man.

Reluctantly, she pried herself away from the life-giving fluid, glistening ruby red, which continued to trickle from the man's neck. She gave it a final lick, watching the wounds heal before her eyes, and stepped back. She had gotten some blood on the businessman's collar. She would have to learn to be more careful as she fed. She hoped it wouldn't be too much of an issue.

Satisfied, she snuck away, leaving the man in a blissful trance.

She returned to Jack, finding him standing near a taxi as it waited by the curb.

“Alright, kiddo. Time to go,” he said, slapping her on the back.

Still recovering from the high, she could barely register Jack's words.

“That was... that was...” she started.

“Yeah, that's it, kid. That's what it's all about, right there. Wish I could have that first drink all over again.”

Asha nodded in agreement.

“Now, time to head to Santa Monica.” Jack opened the door of the cab, motioning for her to get in. “You got a cab to catch.”

“I don't know where—” said Asha.

“Don't worry. The cabby knows the address to your place. Key should be in the mailbox, and don't worry about the fare. I already paid in advance for ya. Just a little going-away present.”

Asha scooted into the backseat, turning to look at Jack.

“I—I don't know how to repay you. Thank you so much.”

“Ha, don't worry about it. Just come and see me at the Last Round once you get back here, eh? It's a little bar downtown. Let me show you how jacked this whole situation is.” With a last chuckle, Jack closed the car door, slapping the trunk once before the taxi took off. Turning around, she looked back for the last time, watching Jack as he disappeared, once again, into the shadows.

“Long night?”

Asha had been staring at her own reflection in the window, complemented by the backdrop of graffiti-scrawled noise barriers and tangled weeds, the image continually interrupted by the flash of streetlights as the taxi traveled down the freeway. The cab driver's words pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, bringing her back to the present world.

“Yeah,” she replied, somehow sighing.

“This is your first time in LA, yes?” The cab driver stared back at her through the rear view mirror as she met his gaze. Strangely, Asha noted, he wore sunglasses, despite the sun having set long ago. She examined his face and its pale complexion, which contrasted his dark curly hair. Was he...?

“You do not need to maintain the masquerade around me,” he answered, clearly reading her thoughts.

“What masquerade?” Asha nearly blurted before catching herself. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about all that had happened over the last two nights. “That's a relief,” she said. “It seems like everyone keeps ditching me. Just pawning me off on the next person who can look after me for a while.”

“It is a bit of a messy situation then?”

“Yeah, I'm definitely starting to think that it is a very messy situation. One that I've been dragged into against my will.” A twinge of bitterness manifested in Asha's words.

“Do you not believe this new life will suit you?”

“I don't know. It's all just confusing. I thought I would be able to settle into a place where I belong, but now I'm not even allowed to see my sire.” Asha realized her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. “I mean—”

“You are being tested now, but I think you will do well,” replied the cab driver, ignoring her slip up.

“You are lucky, you know. You do not have to maintain your old life while in your new state. You were given a clean cut from those you left.”

She thought about her parents, her siblings. They would be worried about her. They would be looking for her. She imagined search parties, missing persons posters, and candlelight vigils. Would she be on the news? How could any of this be considered a “clean cut?”

“You do not have to worry about being spotted by anyone you know,” the cab driver elaborated. “There are many who still live in the city of their embrace. It can be difficult to go missing when there is a chance that you will run into family, friends, coworkers, and the like. It is not something you have to worry about.”

Asha nodded.

“I see,” she said, allowing the conversation to die off. They were now on city streets, headed to some unknown location in a jungle of unrecognizable buildings. Asha attempted to fight off the sensation of hollowness that had blossomed inside her heart, a heaviness in the air clinging to her body. Finally, the car slowed, coming to a stop beside a pawnshop, its windows encased in anti-theft bars. The neon lettering of the shop's sign loomed over them, tinting the inside of the car an ominous red.

“The key to your haven will be in your mailbox, number 508,” the driver informed her. “And before you go, I have something important for you to consider, and I hope you will listen to what I am going tell you.”

Asha's hand fell short of the door handle, and she turned to the cab driver, focusing on the side of his face.

“You will have a choice to make.” The cab driver started.

“What do you mean?” she asked. The driver's tone, casual before, now took on an air of sobriety, the weight of his words bearing down on her psyche.

“You will have several choices to make, actually, but the first is the most important. You must choose who you will be.”

“I...” Asha wasn't quite sure what to say to his remark. She would be herself, of course. Who else?

“What you must understand,” the cab driver explained. “Is that you have the means to create an entirely new self. So, I wonder, Miss Mariam, will you choose to be the same Asha you have always been? The same shy, insecure girl who never truly loved herself or her life. Or will you choose to become someone new? Someone better? Someone you can live with. Will you create a new you for a new life?”

Asha paused, trying to consider her words before replying, but no answer she could form in her mind seemed adequate to say aloud. The driver's words seemed to work their way into her mind, burrowing deeply.

“Do not tell me,” the cab driver continued, breaking the silence. “This is something you must consider for yourself, and whatever you decide, no matter your intent, your actions will speak for you in the end.”

With that, Asha exited the cab, following a small, worn sign to the entrance of the apartments above the pawnshop. She located her keys in the mailbox, just as Jack and the cab driver had described. Letting herself in through the side door, she journeyed her way up the stairs to her new “Home, Sweet Home” in Santa Monica.

It was only later that she realized that she had not told the cab driver her name. Just another mystery in an entire ocean of them.

[lunar-inkclipse]

HI I’M BACK— Remember that comment I made, that Leo had Indigo vibes? Yeah, that plus the fact that Indigo refuses to stop rotating in my brain (curse you, Murdle Jr.) has led me to a whole-ass analysis that’s hopefully somewhat coherent.

So, like, in my HCs, while Midnight III and President White don’t really care about Logico, seeing him as an obstacle to their goals at worst—Midnight actually liked the guy, he saw him as a kindred spirit—Indigo DESPISES the deductive. For a variety of reasons that can mostly be boiled down to “he wounded my ego, so he must pay”. Everything he does in Volume 3 is basically about drawing out Logico’s suffering as long as possible; Indigo wants to make it known exactly who Logico messed with, and wants Logico’s spirit completely crushed before he finally gets rid of him. (Irratino, Indigo didn’t really care for. He was just sort of…there, in Indigo’s eyes.)

And this would be even spicier in the Swap AU, because as I mentioned, Leo is a lot like Indigo, at least on the surface. They’re both proud, they’re both smug, they’re both overconfident and are thus blindsided whenever things don’t go their way, and while they both have some people they care for—Leo’s employees and boyfriend, Indigo’s daughter—they’re both not the nicest to everyone else.

Which goes CRAZY to me, because Volume 3? Is basically pitting Leo against the manifestation of all his worst traits. Midnight represents what Leo could’ve become in one way (consumed by revenge and uncaring of anyone else); Indigo represents it in another way (overconfident smugness turned to casual cruelty). And if Leo hadn’t gotten a kick in the character development, it likely would’ve ended the same way for him: murdered by one of the people he carelessly screwed over, so overconfident he didn’t realize he was playing into a trap until it was too late.

Anyway, that’s my TEDTalk, I sincerely hope all that made sense outside my head—

Always great to have you in my inbox!!! You're cooking so hard with these parallels omg!!!

First off, your headcanons and interpretations with the canon are, as always, top notch. Indigo is the first person to truly have a vendetta against Logico, and is the first person to go to such lengths to piss him off personally. Sure, there was the kidnappings of Vol 2, but that's more of a consequence of war than Indigo being like "You know what? Fuck Logico and his fuckass boyfriend in particular *builds TekTopia over their house*"

And in the swap lore, we're gonna absolutely continue the trend of making the antagonists parallel what Leo could have become if he didn't let himself get kicked int he character development (which I'm absolutely stealing for daily use btw). Vol 1, Midnight is what could have happened if Leo let himself get consumed by his need for revenge. Vol 2 is probably gonna end up being what would have happened if Leo got consumed by paranoia (uhhh details coming to a tumblr post near you in 3-5 business weeks when i finally get ideas). Vol 3, with Indigo as his parallel, is what could have happened if Leo got consumed by pride.

You're absolutely right on their similarities: They're both proud, smug, confident, and can back up their attitudes because they're both have accolades and skills to back them up. The big difference is that if Leo starts getting too haughty, he's got Illogico to flick him in the forehead or his employees to tell him he's being a bit of an ass, because Leo does really respect them. Indigo's employees fear him, so when Indigo starts getting haughty, they become his yes men and keep appraising him, making Indigo even more smug. Which is why he just does whatever he wants: He's totally justified and able to introduce reconstructive holotech to the courtrooms, nevermind how easy it is to manipulate, and if you don't like that? Boo hoo, welcome to Indigo's TekTopia in place of your home.

The thing is, this reflection probably goes both ways. Leo meets with Indigo to discuss his initial holo-tech plans, and they both realize "He sucks so bad I better not be like that." However, Leo's employees are like "Hmm, pot calling the kettle black when it comes to arrogance, eh?" and he shuts up and reflects. Indigo, however, is told "No, you're so much better, you're not like him at all!" But still, Indigo can still see himself in Leo as much as Leo can see himself in Indigo. Which is part of where his personal, burning hatred comes from. (That, and the fact Leo has Olivia as part of the junior litigation club and Indigo is not too pleased with the fact Olivia seems more concerned with pointing out how sketchy his plans are rather than, you know, using her newfound legal knowledge for something good like finding loopholes for him to exploit. Does family loyalty mean nothing?)

Thanks so much for the ask!!! I love how they make the gears in my brain churn as I get new inspo for lore ^_^

[girl4music]

In celebration of XENA DAY I’m going to leave the link to this podcast episode that the She Nerds Out hosts did with Steven L. Sears right here and transcribe some of it for you that I find the most fascinating and validating in regards to how the TV show and TV ship inform and influence each other in that the story arc/plot/narrative always wraps around the characters of Xena and Gabrielle instead of the other way around.  

The way Steven (yes, a straight white middle aged man) talks about Xena and Gabrielle is remarkable to me. He has such respect and reverence and just absolute sincerity when he talks about them both as individual characters and as a relationship dynamic that is primarily and predominantly romantic in his eyes. He confirms exactly why I will always highly praise the creators/cast/crew for what they did with this TV show and this TV ship and the timelessly magical experience it has on me and I know always will have on me. I can't believe that I actually had a personal conversation with this man for over an hour because I feel like he is a kindred spirit of sorts to me. At least as far as my interest and passion for TV art/entertainment goes. The way I know and understand the characters on a much deeper level than the show itself could ever really represent them to and for me.

You’ve just got to love how Steven automatically and intentionally wrote Gabrielle as a comphet lesbian. And I resonate so strongly with his words about her story arc and her journey in terms of how it applies to Gabrielle’s love for and initial fear of loving Xena the way she thinks - at the time - she’s only supposed to love men. Of course she’s constantly “running home to mama” because that’s where she knows herself best even if she’s always felt too queer to be mama’s little girl. And there is that very quietly played theme with her where she’s constantly struggling with that internally which is so brilliantly communicated in both Steven’s writing and Renee’s nuanced portrayal of Gabrielle’s character. And that is exactly what a “comphet lesbian” is. It’s someone that habitually runs home even when they know they don’t belong there because it’s safer or more familiar for them than stepping into the dangerous unknown even when it feels so much more welcoming than home ever did.

‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ is a queer story from the get go. Episode 1 is very queer storytelling actually in the way that these 2 protagonist female characters meet each other and become family to one another. It’s “I feel like a stranger in my own home but I just met you and you seem to feel the same way as me - let’s just stop being strangers and be a home to each other.”

I would really recommend listening to the whole podcast episode because the whole thing is just amazingly in-depth and insightful but if you can’t do that please enjoy these transcriptions of what I think are the best parts of it that explain so much about where the creators/cast/crew’s minds were at VS where the network/studio/executive’s mind’s were at because it’s important to be aware that they were not queerbaiting or pandering or exploiting LGBTQ fans which many show’s creative teams and their network/streaming service platforms still do with their lead same-sex characters instead of take them seriously.

As I said - most of the creators/cast/crew agreed with the fans and even viewed the TV show as a love story between the 2 lead characters themselves. Especially the big names. Steven is a great example of that fact. And if they were just “fan-servicing”, then they were serving themselves just as much because they wanted canon Xena and Gabrielle just as much as the fans did. They may never have initially saw them that way but they clearly knew that it was the natural progression for them so they didn’t dispute it. They embraced it.

STEVEN: “One of the things we discussed at the beginning was a flaw that you find in a lot of TV shows that have 2 leads. Generally, 1 is the lead who has the name on the banner and the other one is the ‘sidekick’. And I remember saying - not as an ultimatum, I just casually mentioned it in the meeting - I said ‘I don’t believe in sidekicks. Sidekicks are the props that you kill off at the end of the first season so that people will tune in the next season. They’re kind of useless and they just exist.’ And everybody agreed with that and we did not want to get to the point where Gabrielle was just standing in the background going ‘Get him Xena! Get him Xena! Get him Xena!’ And I remember we angst during the baby tossing episode ‘cause that’s all she did. She participated by grabbing the baby but she literally was acting ‘Get him Xena! Get him Xena!’ And so we decided that Gabrielle had to have a solid progression that was not just a convenience for us. In other words we didn’t want to do this just because ‘well, we don’t want her to be a sidekick so we’re going to pretend like she’s important.’ We felt she had to be. And so obviously the relationship between the 2 characters folded in with that perfectly. So this was one of the episodes (‘The Greater Good’) where I said - I kind of posed the question in my mind - I thought ‘what if Gabrielle was the Xena of this episode?’ Which, obviously, is what came out of it.”

HOST: “Speaking of that episode though,… that’s one of the most iconic episodes of the show. Definitely of that first season if not of the show generally. So when you say that building up [Gabrielle’s] character and making her more important to the story and finding that through the relationship - was their relationship sort of just natural or was that something that you guys were like ‘yeah, no, this has to be a huge part of what the show is now.’”

STEVEN: “There’s no yes and no for any of that so… the thing is that every TV show - unless it’s adapted from a novel or unless you actually chart out 5 seasons right at the beginning - which a lot of TV series now are doing because of the way that we stream. They’re basically novels - at a certain point as you begin to develop it, it takes on its own life. With everybody’s contributions the characters become real and just as all of you are real, I could write stories that you could do, but you will live those stories differently. Even if you do them together, you’re going to live them individually. So when we started out the series we were looking for having a successful series. We wanted to have fun - everybody in this business wants to have fun - and we wanted to get another season. But, in the way that I write - and fortunately in this particular group we all had the same mindset - we don’t believe in doing action for the sake of action. We don’t believe in doing comedy for the sake of comedy. We don’t believe in doing anything that’s not rooted in character first. So when we started the series I had made a comment about their relationship. I actually said ‘we’re going to have a very large gay/lesbian following’ and some of the people in the office were like ‘why would you think that?’ and I said ‘well,… my first show was 3 guys on a boat.’ And back then you didn’t have the internet for fanfiction but there were news magazines that went out that fans would put together. Fanzines. And - of course - I subscribed to 1 4 Riptide and almost all the fanzines dealt with their relationships with how they regarded each other. On every level. Romantic levels and just on brotherly levels or anything like that… but their relationships were a lot closer. So what I realized with all the subsequent series that I was doing - every time there were 2 leads of the same gender, this type of fanfiction was out there. Now as a backstory, I come out of theatre. I’ve been doing theatre since I was 12 years old. So being around the LGBTQ community was just… Tuesday, you know? So, for me, as I kind of explained this, I said ‘any time a dispossessed group of our society finds validation in any of our media - they grab it. Because they’re not given it, they have to grab it.’ And I said ‘so, you know, it’s going to happen.’ And thank god nobody went ‘oh, we have to avoid that’ or ‘we have to stay away from that’. Okay? Nobody in the room … So what we just figured was like we’re just going to let these characters evolve the way they evolve. And anybody looking at these characters and the way they came together and the adventures they were going on - I mean in retrospect,… was it really a surprise that they would have this incredibly close bond as they went forward? I mean however you ship it, it doesn’t matter. That bond had to happen or Gabrielle would have been totally unnecessary. We would have gotten rid of her. She would have been an annoyance. As opposed to us embracing the annoying aspect at the beginning and then allowing the audience to watch this incredible growth that she never would have had without meeting Xena and the incredible growth that Xena had that she would never have had if she hadn’t met Gabrielle. I’ve always said ‘Sins Of The Past’ was a suicide episode. Xena was trying to kill herself. She had nothing left. When she buried her weapons she was saying ‘I’m leaving myself open to the next warlord to kill me’ and then she hears the noise in the distance and she goes over there and she sees this young girl standing up against warlords and there’s a part of her that says ‘I was like that. That was me. What happened?’”

STEVEN: “I will say though that as the show became more popular the studio backed off on a lot of things with us because we were doing well and they trusted us. I want to look at it that way anyway. The President of Universal Television during that time was a guy named Dan Philly and I knew Dan since I started. He was actually one of the studio executives from NBC for Riptide. So I knew him from back then. Really cool guy. Awesome guy. And he was like ‘look, you know if this is working, people are happy, you seem to be walking that line…’ - which I always snickered at - it’s ‘cause ‘yeah, cause we’re NOT walking that line’ - he said ‘just go for it.’ And he was also one of the old style studio executives where if they wanted something they would trust you. They would turn to you and they would say ‘can you have a little more titillation? ‘Cause we like that. That helps. Give us more titillation.’ But they wouldn’t tell us to do it. They wouldn’t say ‘this is how you do it.’ They wouldn’t say ‘redesign their costumes so that their boobs pop out.’ They would just leave it to us. And so we would say ‘oh, this scene where they’re in the tavern talking about these really intense things that are going on in their life - we’ll put it in a hot tub!’ And that actually is how the hot tub tradition began because we thought ‘well, that makes it titillating’ and yet… we used it for the story and… it actually is kind of a bonding thing… ‘so put it in there.’ They’re watching the dailies and you hear [Lucy] say ‘where’s the soap?’ and we go ‘do we leave that in?’ ‘Yeah, we’ll leave that one in.’”

HOST: “As far as from the fan side of it, I don’t remember when the term ‘subtext’ started to become a word that the fans threw around and it obviously has become it’s own thing: the subtext of the show. But it sounds to me like it was just very organic for you guys. But when did you start to hear of the fans - LGBTQ+ specifically - latching on to what we would call ‘the subtext of the show.’ Was there like any kind of feedback you were getting? Were you then more inclined to kind of give us a little more like ‘wink wink, nudge nudge’ moments like the hot tub? Were you receptive to what the fans were asking for?”

STEVEN: “Yes and no. With the internet obviously we had direct access to the fans and we always made it a rule that we were not going to follow where the fans wanted us to go. We hoped that they would follow with us. But at the same time we kind of adapted things. I remember - because of my geeky nature - I was the one who was online first. I was really into that. I was the one who found the first AOL chatroom that Laura, a little 14 year old girl had set up for Xena. So I was listening in. And for those of you who remember back then, I never hid who I was. I wasn’t a lurker. I would go in and I would say ‘this is who I am’ not because I wanted everybody to go ‘ooo’ but I would say ‘talk freely.’ I said ‘I will leave the room if 1 of 2 things happen: if 1. you start talking about episodes you want to see because I can’t ethically listen to that or 2. if I become the centre of conversation ‘cause that’s not the point.’ I said ‘if I do that, don’t take offence, that’s just my own little ethics.’ But I was able to listen in. And so I do remember that at the beginning of this I told Rob this was going on and he said something to the effect of ‘yeah, well, it’s good they’re talking about the show but, you know, we don’t really care what they’re saying there, we’ve got to keep focused.’ I’m like ‘okay.’ And like an episode would come back and he would come out and come into my office and he’d say ‘so umm,… what do the fans think?’ And again, I was kind of looking for this because of my background so I was a little more aware of what was happening. The early discussions among the fans of where this was going was extremely interesting to me and I tried my best not to get involved in it because I wanted everybody to interpret it the way that they wanted to. I’m always amazed by the Xena fandom. I’ve been on other shows that have fandom and certainly a lot of my friends have huge fanbases on their shows, and I’ve said this when I’ve been on podcasts for other shows: the Xena fandom is the most incredible fandom that I’ve ever been involved with for a number of reasons. And one of them is that at the beginning - keeping in mind this was obviously in the middle 90’s - there was still some contentiousness as if people were trying to protect the girls from being lesbian. It’s like ‘we have to protect them, don’t say that!’ ‘Oh, okay, good, you’re going to protect me from what? Being a straight white male. Oh, thank you very much.’ So it was a little bit of that going on and there was some fire that went back and forth. I remember a few of the transcripts that were just so amazing. I kind of kept track of them. And what I started to see though with the Xena fans - which I loved - is that the people who wanted to maintain their shipper stance became friends. They began talking about it with respect to each other as opposed to ‘no, you’re that camp, I’m this camp’ and then the major contention was ‘do we ship Xena with Ares?’ And I’m like ‘okay, so what you’ve done is you’ve defaulted to the idea that she’s already with Gabrielle and now you’re just talking about a jealousy thing.’ And I’m like ‘that’s totally cool. I love that!’”

So the characters evolved. Now had they evolved in a different direction, well, we’d be having a different conversation here. Going back to the studio, one of the things that did come up was the studio did say ‘can you somehow remind people that, you know, Xena still likes guys and Gabrielle still likes guys.’ But they never said that they can’t like each other. And I’m thinking to myself ‘okay, what you’ve described to me is either the ultimate bisexual or what you’ve described to me is’ - and I don’t have a word for this ‘cause, you know, straight white male, how would I know this? - ‘is many of my friends who are a lesbian but denied that identification and fought themselves, and then finally came out - liberated themselves.’ So I said ‘you’re kind of describing that.’ And I remember thinking to myself ‘and that’s going to be Gabrielle.’ That she’s going to fight a lot of this internally. And so, you know, when we got to the Perdicus episode - with the marriage … you know we all get together and we would talk about how we’re going to put it together and some of us would come up with little things that go into somebody else’s script and it’s always the original writer that really is the owner of the script, but we always contribute things. And I remember we got to that thing and I’m like ‘okay, I know where I’m leaning on this’ and I’m going to lean into the curve on this one because what’s happening with Gabrielle is that she’s gone this far with Xena and suddenly this reminder of what her hidden past was - what her past was when she - well… you could say ‘denied’ -  there’s a time where - this is difficult for me because I’m not a gay woman so I can’t speak with authority from this. I can only say I’ve had friends that have gone through this - where their coming out process is so scary that sometimes they - what I call - ‘run home to mama.’ And mama is where they were - at least they could deal with it - it was familiar enough. So when Perdicus comes in,… she’s questioning a lot of things and she thinks ‘okay, and now I’m questioning where I am and why I’m here,… so I’m running home to mama because Perdicus represents my childhood, my past, my village.’ And that scene where Gabrielle and Xena have that discussion before Gabrielle goes off to marry Perdicus - again, I always remind myself I’m NOT that orientation, I’m NOT that gender, I’m NOT that - but that scene still sticks in my mind because it broke my heart because she’s looking right at the woman who is her destiny and she’s saying ‘I’m so scared of you because of what you’re going to reveal about me and so I’m going to run away to something I should never have been apart of.’ And I’ve seen people go through that so that scene still sticks in my mind. It’s literally in my mind. I see the entire image of that scene.”

HOST: “When you say that - obviously you’re not a gay woman but you know humans and you know people and at the end of the day those characters were very human and - I hate to say it, love is love - it’s very cliché, but it is, right? Of course, why wouldn’t you understand what those 2 character’s are feeling … Because you’re a human being who understands the concept of love. But I love what you said. It’s like, yeah, of course, Gabrielle knew what being married to Perdicus living in her old village would be like. Like you said - she could endure that. She’d been there. She understood it. If she stayed with Xena, it’s scary, it’s the unknown and it’s that great inner conflict in her. I hadn’t really thought about it but that scene is very heartbreaking and it’s got to be one of my favourites.”

STEVEN: “When she left the village that little girl was looking at adventure because she was bored. She had no idea what she was getting into on every level. Not just the action level, the adventure level, the danger level - but the emotional level. She had no idea. So then she got to a point where that all scared her. She was more scared of that than she was about the adventure and the danger. Warlords did not scare her the way that this scared her. And, you know, it was a huge turning point. Now whether you ship one way or the other way on this, it still works because she had to find her destiny. And I also make a little distinction in my mind that Gabrielle’s destiny was not to be with Xena. Gabrielle’s destiny was to be with herself and to love who she chose to love. It was to find her happiness and BOOM… it walks into her life. And that is the scariest thing that can happen to a person and it’s hard to admit it. So I’ve often described the relationship at the beginning as: because Xena was much more experienced Xena was much more focused on what she had won and lost in her life and she had a lot of repair work to do in her life. Gabrielle had a lot of growing to do. So when Xena and Gabrielle came together, I made this distinction: I said that Gabrielle loved Xena ‘cause ‘AWESOME! XENA! The legends, the things I’ve heard about you!’

So Gabrielle loved Xena… but Xena was IN LOVE with Gabrielle… from the moment they met.”

[donatellarose]

— alike

Phillip Graves x f!reader

rated e -548 words

tags:  medieval au, both Graves and reader are assassins, more enemies to lovers than fluff, reader has temporary memory loss after a head injury,

prompt:  Love and Deepspace Sylus and his main story chapters give me brain rot. That's all. Specifically the moments in Alike and Cornered Beast when you first meet him.

dividers: saradika graphics

Fellow Shadow assassin Graves jogs your memory after a head injury.

The contract in which Sheppard, your mentor and the leader of the Shadows assassin’s guild, had assigned you to go after the Ghost had been a headache. Literally. You and Graves always seemed to step on toes in combat and while trying to track down your elusive target. What should have been a simple task was near impossible. Especially now that you'd taken such a hit in a skirmish that your memory was hazy. You almost couldn't even remember your own name.

"Look at me."

A casual drawling voice is followed by his gloved hand on your chin to move your gaze to his. Your reflexes kick in and you lash out as your nails scratch his cheek. An almost amused smile flits across his face as Graves moves to kneel by your spot under the tree.

"Is this how you greet a new friend? I guess you don't remember anything. Allow me to jog your memory. From your past to your future, to all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. You and I.. we're the same. True kindred spirits."

Your eyes moves to the daggers at his side, trying to recall who this man is and if you were truly alike. His head tilts in regards to your gaze as if your memory loss is a puzzle he can't solve. While you're trying to make out if he is friend or foe, he takes action. Sliding his hand down your forearm, his fingers force yours apart as he laces his fingers with yours.

You study your intertwined grip, the black leather gloves cool against your touch. Sometime about this almost feels right.

Suddenly, you recall who this man actually is. Your rival within the assassin's guild. A fellow Shadow. An annoyance like a pesky mosquito. Absolutely not a lover.

With a sharp move, you yank your hand away, a frown coloring your features. His laugh is low and deep as Graves rocks back on his heels.

"There she is. You're lucky I don't like picking on the weak, kitten."

" I'll kill you."

"You do owe me a curtain call grander than death itself."

Suddenly his hand is on yours with a dagger pressed into your palm. He moves your combined grip so the dagger rests against his collarbone. The annoying smirk is once against on his lips, deepening as he sees the faint tremor in your fingers.

"Why are you trembling? Has your resolve begun to falter? You weren't just bluffing? Want some help? Yes, no, maybe so?"

"You are insufferable and I hate you."

The words are sharp as a whip as they leave your scowling lips. Trying to pay no attention to how the scent of fresh coated evergreen washes over you from his hair, you push him back. Ignoring how his blue eyes seem to match the nearby river sparkling in the light, you kneel by the river bank and will the cool water you splash over your face to clear your senses.

In the reflection of the water, you see Graves come up behind you. His black armor is twin to your own, a faint line across his cheek from your attack moments prior. His lips graze the shell of your ear, his whisper sending a shiver through you.

"Remember who are you. We have a job to finish."

[resident-idiot-simp]

How do you think 09 v Reboot MW would fair in the SPN verse?

Would be creatures or hunters?

how’d they react to the characters from SPN and in a fair fight who would win?

YOU HAVE UNLOCKED SOMETHING IN ME!

Okay this whole thing is very complicated let's break it down.

First of all I think either could be both depending on the vibe you are going for but here is my first thoughts on it.

22-

Soap: hunter

Ghost: creature (werewolf or vampire maybe)

Gaz: hunter

Price: hunter

09-

Tav: toss up maybe originally Hunter turned creature I want to say vampire..... For Obvious reasons

Riley: creature (I would like to say Wendigo I really would but that might not fit quite in the universe... I'm going to say it anyway)

Roach: creature (Hell maybe he could be a Phoenix that would be very interesting considering they're all dead)

Price: Hunter but like Gordon vibes

React is a good question... There are so many characters I could go on about... Honestly it might be easier to ask about a specific character but I'm just going to do a vague overall. So TFW + Gabriel (because he is the best character)

Sam- He likes all the 22 boys honestly (probably a particular liking in Soap) he probably is just curious about their lives. 09 probably extremely hesitant but even more interested. He hates Price because Price is far too much like John.

Dean- He finds a keen spirit in Ghost and finds Soap fascinating. Hates 09 Price and probably wants to kill Riley. Tav is off-putting and he is confused by Roach and asks him a metric shit ton of questions.

Cas- He really don't care about any of them except for Riley and Roach probably he just wants to understand how they function and why (09) Price isn't dead

Gabriel - He loves the 22 boys and will treat Ghost like a pet. Soap is displeased but can't do shit about it. He finds Soap fun to poke and prod at and likes to call Price a child.

09- He wants to put Riley in a jar and study him. And he is so found of Roach (kindred spirits those two both can't FUCKING DIE) . Tav gets the trickster special because he isn't found of where he is headed and Price is free game to hunt.

(there is more Gabriel because I understand how far better then any other character.)

And in a fight?? That's not really a fair question... Because it's the Winchester's..... They can beat any character in fiction let's be honest here.

Castiel alone bodies. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ BUT I don't think that's the answer you want. So instead let's break it down.

They both have military tactics they are both honed in their craft. Tactics wise I don't know who actually wins It might be a toss-up. Would I like to give it to the Captain? Yes! Would he actually come out on top? I'm not sure.

Fighting wise again toss up they really are evenly matched in my mind.

The thing is the Winchester's have the advantage they know more than any hunter in the world because of the bunker.

If we're not counting just how overpowered the Winchester's are for the numerous reasons they are not only because God made them that powerful. They are honestly two sides of the same coin so I'm the end It might just be a draw ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[mamawasatesttube]

oh my god I need to tell you. so I. a while ago I did a whole bunch of research on touch starvation. and did you know babies literally die if they aren't touched and held. and did you know regular physical contact between a child and their caretakers is important for the child being able to self-regulate their emotions. and did you know that when someone hugs a child what happens is it syncs up their nervous systems. if the child is upset or scared their heart rate calms and they produce less stress hormones etc. and through that the child's body learns to do that on its own. so babies that die from lack of physical touch are literally dying of too much stress. and children who don't get enough touch can have problems like stunted growth, weak immune systems, low weight, and stunted mental and emotional development.

AND KON WAS GROWN IN A TUBE. HED NEVER EVER BEEN TOUCHED. AND THEN HE LIKE, ALMOST NEVER GOT TOUCHED IN A GOOD WAY

I mean granted, the scientists probably figured out a way to inject some kind of cocktail of hormones and chemicals to stimulate the physiological effects of touch so that kon developed properly but like. he never actually experienced it

Cadmus is like, we're gonna make a teenage clone in a test tube, this surely will not result in a kid so desperate for human connection that even terrible relationships will feel good to him

also I just think the first time kon got one of Martha or Jonathan's hugs he must have felt like he died and went to heaven. and at the same time felt really weird, like WHY DO I FEEL IT IN MY BONES WHY DO I WANT TO CRY

WAAAAHHHHH YEAH ABSOLUTELY YES YEAH DEFINITELY YES. touch-starved kon who doesn't even realize how desperate for human connection he is. this kills the man (me)

i just think if you put him in the middle of a group hug pile between ma, pa, and clark, he'd literally start bawling. he'd have no idea why and he'd be so embarrassed but he would just be so overwhelmed. because he has never had prolonged sustained physical affection in any healthy relationship before and he's only little and . AUGH!!!!!

incidentally the touch-starvation is part of why i think kon and bart are so so tactile especially with each other. "raised in a tube" and "raised in vr" both do not very much healthy human connection make. and bart's at least got his family around him but he still sees a kindred spirit in kon. so they will both simply snuggle even while bickering wildly about every topic under the sun just for bickering's sake. any and all friends are more than welcome to join the snugglepile; the toll is just that they have to put up with the konbart bickering game.

but god. god yeah. yeah it ruins me a little bit. he's just a little boy :( and he doesn't even know.

[cannibal-nightmares]

Trick of the Light - (Chapter 1)

Stein navigates coping with a personal loss. Post-anime canon.

Not sure how many chapters this will have yet. Maybe 4 or 5 or so; possibly just 3, potentially 6.

Soul Eater - Stein, Spirit, & Marie (ships are up to interpretation, SFW) // blind!Stein, ships up to interpretation, friendly banter, hurt+comfort, acceptance, coping, learning to live again, recovery Chapters 1/6 Current word count - 1,879 -- [AO3 link]

"So, we're not going to the cabaret club after all?"

"No, Stein." Spirit chuffed with a playful shove.

"But I could twist your leg."

"Very funny."

Stein brushed his hand to Spirit’s knuckles and readjusted to meet their palms in interlocked fingers. It was a comfortably tempered day as the setting sun blistered through the breeze, the two taking in faint music from the passing buildings and the smell of food and autumn on the wind. While the cobbled brick walkways were ever-familiar to the professor, that evening he allowed his weapon to surprise him on their catch-up reunion with their colleagues.

Alright, he would admit to himself, he wasn’t exactly interested in the decision-making of the like.

“It’s here,” Spirit slowed and gestured to move in front of his partner, reaching out and holding the door open for him.

A nod, and they were quick to notice the restaurant was characteristically empty for an awkwardly-timed Tuesday night, perfect for more open conversation and intimate focus undistracted by bustle; along the front wall, a few tables down from the entrance, three kindred souls were already chatting patiently.

“Did Naigus not make it?” Franken couldn’t help a grin, touching the edge of the table on his approach.

“Stein! Death Scythe!” Exclaimed Sid from the corner of the booth. “No, Naigus is attending an emergency operation tonight, something came up after a recent mission.”

“I hope everything’s alright,” Spirit worried aloud, gently patting Stein’s back before he scooted into the seat behind him; across from the knife meister and now next to Albarn sat a still-studious woman who rustled papers out of the way to make space at the table.

“We were actually just discussing it,” Azusa remarked. “The kids are sure to make a full recovery, but the fight they had to put up wasn’t anticipated to be at that caliber.”

“On a leisure trip away from home and yet you all still find work. It’s something to be remarked.” Stein made effort in slight jest to face the remaining guest, soft and anticipatory.

“Tell me about it…” Marie sighed, but her wavelength readjusted to ensure a sort of calm resolve.

“I can’t pretend I didn’t bring it up,” Sid chuffed. “You know the kind of man I am, I can’t help but keep my head in the game.”

“And I can’t help but entertain him.” Azusa straightened the files with two taps to the table.

Stein instinctively rolled his eyes with a balancing polite chuckle. “Of course.”

"It's been so long since we've seen you,” said Marie in ordered relay.

"I would say the same." Stein held back an amused sprawl making his place next to his weapon until Spirit pushed him in the shoulder.

"Shut up, Stein." He laughed.

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.” Franken snapped sarcastically.

“It’s a relief to have you in good spirits.” Sid chimed, sitting back, the leather squeaking out from behind him.

Stein gestured outward generally with a lighthearted shrug. “There’s too much work to be done to maintain anything different.”

“And that’s where he got his praise to give to us.” Yumi dared to joke, her words muffled in her cup.

Too caught up in the group’s banter, the waitress managed to startle the professor at his side.

“Welcome in, gentlemen. Could I get you something to drink?”

“Ah, just water,” Franken answered for them both. He slapped a firm hand onto Spirit’s shoulder and playfully wobbled him. “He’s my designated driver, you see.”

“Cut it out.” Spirit half-huffed.

“I gotcha…” She humored him. “Did anyone need any more time deciding?”

“Oh, Stein, are you familiar with the menu?” Marie asked, worry crossing her tone. “I just realized we forgot to ask.”

He smirked. “Spirit said he’d surprise me. That was apart of our deal tonight, that he’d take the lead.”

“And <i>fortunately for you,”</i> on cue, his weapon teased, “I also know what you like.”

“There’s that, too.”

One by one, the server took everyone’s dinner requests, navigating the occasional rhythmic raillery between the familiars. The dinner was a celebration of returns and recovery from their last group-assigned collaboration from almost a year ago to the date; Sid, of course, continued to be a local character who kept up his presence, but the likes of Azusa remained steadfast in her duties. Marie, despite her begged insistence against it, had been quickly swept back to Oceania after their last mission together.

She wrote to Stein, and she did receive letters back in his voice, but not in his handwriting.

Over their glasses, Barrett and Albarn got wrapped up in a usual back-and-forth about Shibusen on new students and policy and technique, Yumi occasionally dropping in to make note of history and comparison and statistics. Marie and Franken quietly listened to themselves, one of which was slightly uncharacteristic. In noticing her undoubtedly unintentional silence, Stein reached out an open palm with his elbow on the table, a gentle though disarming smile washed his countenance to assure the gesture. She shortly exhaled with the same reflection and accepted his fingertips, her thumb rubbing under his knuckles. There was a small lull in the partnering conversation upon noticing the exchange, but it naturally continued on after only a pause, laughter of the friends once again brightening the atmosphere.

In a moment, they were interrupted with their meals brought to them, dishes distributed noisily among the guests. Naturally, they all settled again, the warmth of their souls matching with each other in the warmth of the food.

Stein traced his plate and met a sushi roll with his chopsticks. “Which one is this one again?”

“Futomaki.” Spirit commented. “And then the one above it is the unagi.”

“Right.”

He bit a section of the roll with sincere thought.

“Hmm.” He pretended he didn’t want to smile. “Eel. You do know me.”

“Yeah, and you should know me, too—” Spirit moved to steal a bite from Franken’s plate, but was timely defended with a sturdy arm.

“Too well.” In the deflection, he reached over and jabbed his chopsticks into his partner's dish, popping a piece into his mouth without even acknowledging what it was.

“Oh,” Stein murmured with a revolted grin. “Cucumber, how typical of you.”

For once it was Spirit to wield a malicious giggle. “Checkmate!”

Something in Azusa’s wavelength shifted that brought Stein to refocus in front of him, Marie excusing herself abruptly from the table.

“I’ll be right back…” She tried for manners, but turned away too quickly before expressing her apologies.

“Marie…” Yumi moved to comfort her out of instinct, but could not make any sort of gesture fast enough out from behind both Death Scythe and the professor.

“I noticed she was quiet, but I must admit I figured you had it covered.” Sid remarked in reference to the doctor. “Do you know what’s going on, Stein?”

Azumi answered for him. “She’s still upset about the outcome of the battle with The Gale from last year.” She must have glanced to Stein after readjusting her glasses, but he was too focused on Marie’s departure. “She said she didn’t think she’d be ready to see you again, but I told her I thought she never would be.”

“Any time sooner is better than later. It doesn’t make it any more easy.” Spirit rubbed Stein’s back, to which he didn’t seem to react to in his thoughts.

“I wish I had known.” Barrett sighed. "I'll check on her." Stein had long-concluded the second Marie had gotten up to step away. "Oh-- Did you want me to go with you?" Albarn’s attention honed.

“No, I’ll find my way.”

“Ah, alright.”

Stein took balance from the booth and wandered away from the group, tracing the trail of the distressed soul to the rear of the restaurant; he tapped along the edge of the beverage bar for a sort of self-reassurance to meet a push door at the back wall.

“Marie?”

Quick to withhold a surprised gasp, the weapon paused to hold her breath. She let it go in mere seconds in its futility.

“I’m here, Stein.” She said forlorn.

He let the door close behind him, stepping to the bathroom counter next to her. Because he knew she wouldn’t do it, herself, he released a forced sigh.

“I don’t have to ask about the elephant in the room.”

Marie reflected his breath and brought a soft hand to his shoulder.

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize.” He warned. Stein intended genuine cordiality, but if there was one thing he wasn’t going to accept, it was an apology for the wrong reasons.

He corrected his tone in an earnest questioning. “Why are you actually upset?”

Mjolnir had to return her hand to wipe away silent tears. “It’s just… You’re still you. I’m happy for you.”

Stein bit his tongue and held the pause. So, then, why are you still emotional about it? He desperately wanted to snap. He wasn’t mad at her, but he wanted to be. He knew the answers to his own question, it was just frustrating to him that she hadn’t actualized or accepted them for herself yet.

In their momentary interlude, the bathroom door swung open and halted with a start, surely at the sight of Stein.

"Oh!” A woman nervously chirped from behind him. “Uh, sir? You're in the women's room..."

"You don’t think I know that?" He barked, whipping around with unintended aggravation, the loop of the tall white cane in his hand slipping over his wrist in the jerk and clattering to the floor. He didn’t care that the stranger yelped and scurried away.

Marie picked up the stick and returned it to his fingertips, more shaken than she was before.

Stein sighed, re-centering himself, recollecting, and only hoped the death weapon would do the same. “I took my time to grieve. Have you?” He waved his hand in correction. “Don’t answer that, just think about it.” He took his orientation away from the counter top as he rubbed calloused fingers between his brow; Franken knew he had to steady her wavelength if he wanted her to listen to anything he had to say, and it surely wasn’t his intention to scare her into focus. The professor finally held out his hand and she took it after a sniffle.

“I don’t like thinking that a lot better could have happened for us. It’s counterproductive when the opposite is true, too.” He squeezed her grip. “I resent losing my sight, I don’t resent you.”

Eventually, she nodded in pair with a small handshake and an audibly trembling breath to confirm her crying, returning the squeeze. Stein moved to hug her and she hid her face in the smell of his cologne.

With the timing, he considered to joke. "Spirit asked if he could come with me to comfort you, but I think too many women's rooms have seen enough of Spirit Albarn." Marie instantaneously broke her tears with a huffed laugh.

“Oh, Stein…” She pulled away with a relaxed smile, the shattered pieces reforming within their resonance, looking up to his misplaced gaze.

“Come over to our place tonight after dinner and we can make sure everything gets put back in the right order.”

She hugged him once more.

“I would love that.”