#you are all wonderful and valid and don’t let a single soul tell you otherwise <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[allisonsylvine]

not ninjago but i got excited with pride coming about. i’ve been out as aroace for like a year (kinda) but ive never really represented myself and now i think im ready to! im happy with who i am and everyone else should be to. happy pride :-)

[rawmeanderson]

pretty please ― friday.

ft. Kevin Hayes plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, body issues, all sorts of sexy things but no penetrative sex. word count: 9.2k, making this the longest thing i’ve ever posted, holy shit. special thanks: a big thank you goes to @danglesnipecelly​ for proof reading for me, and also to @capobiancos​ for being such a wonderful hype person that validates my long winded chapters 🤗 notes: so, I basically lay out all of season two of Fleabag in this chapter in a way that would definitely fall under the realm of spoiling it, so I apologize if that upsets anyone! with that warning, I definitely encourage everyone to take the time to watch the series at some point because it lives rent free in my mind and will continue to do so for the rest of time. part of this takes place on a boat, and i’ve got to say, I don’t know a fucking thing about boats so i’m sorry if I got anything wrong 😂

THURSDAY

A knock on the door woke you up with a start the next morning, your body jolting for a brief second before you yawned, stretching out along the mattress. A second knock followed shortly after, and only then did you remember that someone had knocked to begin with, and that you weren’t even at home.

“Yeah?” you grumbled a second later, rolling onto your opposite side to face the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” Sophie said, opening the door enough to slip inside. She was still in her pjs, a sleepy smile on her face as she crossed the room.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and seeing that it was just a little after 10. There was a text from Kevin from 17 minutes ago, reading “Fleabag today?” You’d reply to it soon.

“Morning,” you yawned, stretching out along the mattress as she joined you in bed. She did this often at home on weekend mornings, usually to discuss what to do for breakfast or how to spend the day. 

“Mm, good morning,” she responded, already wrapping her arms around you as she pressed her face into the back of your shoulder. Sophie had always been a physically affectionate person, and you knew that was one of the things you’d miss the most when she moved. “Are you having fun?”

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes. Of course she was checking up on you. “Yeah, Soph, I’m okay,” you assured her, putting your hand over hers were she was holding onto you. “It’s good to see everybody.”

“Yeah, it really is,” she said, exhaling a content sigh. “What did you and Kevin talk about last night?” The question was innocent enough, but you could tell that she’d been dying to ask since you and Kevin had rejoined the group last night.

“We just caught up, really,” you told her, turning your head to yawn into your pillow quietly. “He wants me to come visit him in Philly sometime.”

“Aww, he’s always been so sweet on you. He was super happy when I told him you were coming this weekend.” Her words surprised you, making your cheeks burn a little, but you didn’t respond otherwise. Sophie knew that you and Kevin had hooked up before, and had always encouraged you to pursue him more. “We’re going swimming off the boat later, you should come with us.”

You made a slightly noncommittal sound, shrugging. “Maybe. Kevin wants to watch season two of Fleabag today, so I guess it depends when you leave,” you said, which resulted in Sophie making kissy sounds in your ear. “Oh my god, stop!” You both laughed as you elbowed her in the ribs gently, which only made her hold you tighter.

A quiet sigh left you, and the two of you laid there for a few minutes longer, until Sophie started snoring softly. With a soft laugh, you nudged her awake gently, and she groaned, forcing herself to sit up. You promise to get out of bed and join her in the living room soon, sending Kevin a quick thumbs up emoji, tacking on “I’ll be functional in 10 minutes” as you finally got to your feet. 

You changed out of your pjs into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, tying your hair up in a bun as you crossed the hall to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Kevin had texted to say they’d be back in a few, but you hadn’t even realized that he had left.

Still feeling relatively sleepy, you settle into the corner of the couch in the living room next to Sophie, learning from someone that Kevin and Nolan had gone on a coffee run. Just as they get back, you were wishing you’d known that so you could’ve asked Kevin to bring you back something. It surprised you then, when there was suddenly a cup being offered to you.

“Caramel iced coffee, biggest one they had,” he said, tilting his head as he looked down at you. A smile spread across your face, feeling a tug of affection in your chest over the fact that he had remembered your coffee order. You thanked him, and he looked rather proud of himself for getting it right. 

“You ready for some Fleabag?” you asked, taking a sip as you looked at him with raised eyebrows. You wished you didn’t feel so giddy, that the idea of spending the next three hours with him didn’t have you damn near preening. 

“Hell yeah,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “My room’s got a TV in it, and I think I figured out how to stream to it.”

You hadn’t fully gotten around to thinking about where you’d be watching the show, so the mention of Kevin’s room, where you’d both surely be sitting on the bed, made you straighten up a little more. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you said, flashing a grin and taking another long sip of coffee.

As you get to your feet, Sophie caught your eye, wiggling her eyebrows at you. If you were closer, you’d swat at her playfully, but you settled for rolling your eyes at her instead. 

Kevin had already showered, you realized, as you followed him to his room. His hair was still damp, and you could smell his body wash and cologne when you stepped past him into the room. Silently, you wish you’d taken the time to shower, knowing the smell of last night’s fire still clung to your hair.

You were eying the armchair closer to the TV when Kevin dropped onto the bed, sprawling out, but you knew it’d be weird to sit that far away. God, Kevin took up so much of the bed that it was a little absurd, his legs stretching out along the mattress, hand behind his head where he was propped up by the pillows. His attention was on the remote, and you cast a final look at the armchair before he patted the spot next to him on the bed without looking at you.

Your shoulders were tense as you walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting down and leaning back against the headboard. Kevin looked up at you, and you cursed the fact that with you sitting up, he could see one of your worst possible angles. He smiled either way and you willed yourself to relax.

Even after just one night at the cabin, the bed smelled like him. It was both calming and borderline panic inducing, making it impossible to stop yourself from thinking back to his bed and the way the sheets slid along your skin as he...fuck. This wasn’t what you needed to be thinking about when you were poised to be spending the next three hours on the (much smaller) bed next to him. What didn’t help at all was the hand Kevin put on your knee, squeezing lightly, almost looking like a giddy little kid as he pressed play on the first episode of the season.

“You ready to cry, Hayes?” you asked quietly, looking down at him. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, stretched out beside you.

“Man, I guess. Is it really that sad?” he questioned, eyes moving from the screen to you for a short moment. His voice was as soft as yours was, deep and gravely enough that you felt it practically vibrate through your body.

“Kind of, yeah,” you said with a laugh, sipping at your iced coffee. “Honestly, I cried like a baby through a good chunk of it. It felt really personal, especially the first time I watched it.” He nodded, eyes lingering on you before they went back to the screen just in time for Fleabag to say ‘this is a love story.’

You’re both pretty quiet through the first episode, with Kevin muttering about how much of a slime ball Martin was. True to your own nervous habits, you sucked down your iced coffee pretty quickly, as it gave you something to think about other than the 6’5” wall of muscle stretched out next to you.

“Is she gonna fuck the priest?” Kevin asked, looking up at you as the credits for the first episode rolled. Laughing softly, you leaned to put your now empty cup on the end table next to the bed.

“You’ll see,” you responded, eyes meeting his when you settle into the bed a little more. Your gaze dropped to his mouth for a brief second before you forced yourself to look back to the TV.

“Whenever you say that, it always means ‘yes,’” he teased, still watching you as the next episode started. He kept sneaking glances at you as it played but you kept your eyes trained forward.

It would be impossible to count how many times you’d watched Fleabag. Since it was only 12 half hour episodes in total, it was easy to rewatch in a single afternoon, making it an easy comfort watch when you were feeling down. Watching it with Kevin though, hearing him make quiet predictions and chuckling here and there, warmed you down to your soul. He had always seemed to enjoy the movies and shows you recommended to him, which had always left you feeling...valued by him. You tried not to let your mind dwell on the fact that he’d been waiting for this, to watch Fleabag with you for over a year and a half because it reminded you of the distance that would be between the two of you again in just a matter of days.

By the start of the third episode, you were sitting up more, your legs crossed and your elbows on your knees, like putting more space between you and Kevin would stop your chest from feeling like it was caving in. The iced coffee had made you a little jittery and restless, and just when your throat was starting to feel tight from thinking too hard about everything, you felt his hand rub over your back.

You glanced back at him and he smiled softly, his fingers tracing up your spine. His touch was warm and soothing, and the loud laugh he let out over the award debacle in the episode sounded so happy and genuine that you decided you never wanted to leave this bed. The curtains were closed, keeping the room relatively dark despite the early afternoon sun outside. 

Hot Priest had shown up again, and just as sexual tension was building on the show, you swore you could feel it building between you and Kevin as well. You were still sitting up, his hand still on your back by the time you gave in, sliding down to lay beside him. He watched you as you moved, his arm slipping around your shoulders easily when you curled into his side. It had been more than a year and a half since you’d laid like this with him, your head on his shoulder, but the position was still so familiar that you sighed comfortably.

The two of you were quiet and still for a while as the fourth episode started, and Kevin was the first to move, turning his head enough to kiss the top of your head. His stubble brushed against your hair and his arm tightened around you. When he laughed, you could feel his body rumbling with it. 

“Oh, she’s totally gonna fuck the priest,” he murmured to you, his mouth against the top of your head, speaking as the confessional scene started. The words were so low that it sent a jolt of desire through you that only made you lean into Kevin more.

The make out scene that followed seemed to have both of you holding your breath until the painting fell on screen, jolting both of you and the characters. Kevin exhaled a breath and you found yourself laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him.

“You good?” you asked, grinning as you tried to stop yourself from thinking about just how close his face was to yours.

“Yeah,” he responded, holding your gaze as the credits rolled. Your hand on his chest curled into a fist as you remembered how good the prickle of his stubble always felt against your palm. His eyes dropped to your mouth as his fingers slid over the nape of your neck. You didn’t doubt that he felt you tense against him as a shiver ran through you from the contact. 

You wanted to kiss him, wanted to press your body against his and never pull away, but instead you tucked your head against his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, rubbing his hand over your back again comfortably. 

Kevin roared with laughter over Claire’s haircut, almost as much as you had when you first watched it. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, enjoying the way his body shook against yours. When he quieted down again, you could hear his heartbeat as you pressed your ear to his chest. If you closed your eyes, it would probably feel like everyone was back in New York, that you’d have all the time in the world to stay like this. 

At the end of the episode, when the sexual tension exploded on screen, Kevin nudged you. “Called it,” he said, murmuring the words against your temple as he nosed at your messy hair. His voice vibrated through you in a way that made you feel warm all over. As badly as you wanted to, you didn’t look up at him, knowing that you wouldn’t have the self control not to cross that invisible line.

As the final episode started, you realized just how warm it had gotten in the room, and being curled up against Kevin like you were hardly helped. This episode always tore you apart then put you back together again, and you lifted your head to glance at him once when Hot Priest was giving his speech about how love is awful, then nuzzled right back into his shoulder for the time being.

You weren’t sure if it was Sophie’s impending move or the fact that Kevin was with you, but as soon as This Feeling started at the end of the episode, there were tears in your eyes. The song itself just felt like it was hitting harder, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek as you sniffled. Kevin’s arm tightened around you as the credits rolled, kissing your hair again as he sighed a moment later. 

“When is season three coming out?” Kevin asked eventually, his cheek resting against the top of your head as his thumb rubbed firmly over your shoulder blade.

You lifted your head to look at him, knowing tears were still swimming in your eyes. “That’s it. There’s not gonna be a season three,” you told him with the same sad smile you always had when remembering what you’d just told him.

“What? Are you fucking kidding?” he questioned, sounding outrightly offended. You snorted softly, still looking at him as you laughed. Now that the show was over, you weren’t able to distract yourself from how badly you wanted to stay just like this for the rest of the weekend.

“Phoebe’s busy! She’s got Killing Eve to work on, plus she did the screenplay for the new James Bond movie,” you told him, shifting onto your stomach a little more so you didn’t have to crane your neck to look up at him. His arm resettled around your waist, keeping your body pressed close against his. “Besides, how could she ever create something else as perfect as that second season? It’s just impossible.”

Kevin hummed once, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured, eyes moving over your face. “I’m glad I waited to watch it with you.” His voice was softer, making your heart race as he brushed his knuckles over your cheekbone.

“So, it was worth the wait?” you responded quietly, tilting your face toward his a little more.  

“Oh yeah, you always have been,” he told you, making you crack a wide smile as you scoffed.

“Damn, that was smooth,” you teased, licking your lips as he grinned. He shrugged it off, and you wondered if he realized how obvious he was being, staring at your mouth like he was. 

“Always have been,” he repeated, making you snort. Before you could laugh, his hand slid along your jaw, drawing you close enough that he could kiss you.

It’s probably for the better that he kissed you, considering you wouldn’t have been nearly this slow about it. He was still cupping your jaw, keeping you close as you leaned into him more. You were trying to pace yourself as want coursed through you, and you realized that he’d never kissed you like this.

The pair of you had hooked up about half a dozen times, and each time was rough and hungry, but now, the leisurely pace of it had your toes curling. He was kissing you like he had all day to savor you, to wear you down and build you up again. Honestly, you didn’t know if you’d ever been kissed like this.

When he sucked at your bottom lip gently, you sighed against his mouth, unable to hide the way you arched into him. You felt him smile slightly, and it was like your world was on fire. If you had remembered how to move, you would’ve shifted to lean over him, to take it farther, but even kissing him this slowly was taking every ounce of your energy.

He pulled back just slightly, and you were grateful for the chance to breathe. Your body was still buzzing when you smiled, settling your head on his shoulder again. Kevin kissed your forehead then your hair again, exhaling a heavy sigh of his own.

“How long do you think we’d be able to stay here before Sophie comes banging on the door, looking for you?” he asked.

“Probably not long,” you responded, reaching for your phone that you’d left on the nightstand. Checking your notifications, you scoffed as you pressed your face into his shoulder. “I’ve got three texts from her. They’re going swimming off the boat, and were kind of waiting on me.”

Kevin nodded, reluctantly loosening his arm around you. You stayed where you were though, knowing Sophie would survive a few more minutes. Finally, you mustered the motivation to move more than an inch for the first time in over an hour, leaning over him to press a quick, firm kiss to his mouth.

His hand slid to the back of your neck easily, kissing you back harder than he had before, and to stop yourself from melting against him, you pulled back, already moving to the edge of the bed. Kevin made an irritable sound that did wonders for your confidence, and you looked over your shoulder at him with a grin.

“D’you think there’s room on the boat for me to join?” he asked as you got to your feet. 

You shrugged quickly, lingering at the edge of the bed. “I’d assume so,” you said, knowing you needed to get back across the hall to change, but it was just too hard to take your eyes off of him right now. “Tell me to go get changed, or else I’m never going to leave.”

Kevin smiled and it was the kind that made you feel warm everywhere, like honey was running through your veins. “Go change, Y/N,” he told you, nodding toward the door. You looked at him for a moment longer before doing as he said, slipping out of his room to return to your own.

You texted Sophie to let her know you’d be ready in a few minutes before stripping out of your clothes. Pulling on your swimsuit was the first time all day that the self-consciousness crept into your mind. You’d been in desperate need of a new suit earlier in the season and, feeling good, you’d ordered one that showed more skin that you were used to. The cutouts at your sides especially had you itching to pull something on over it. The suit fit, but snugly enough that you found yourself trying to tug at it here and there, wanting to make it longer or bigger.

Pulling your shorts on as you grabbed a towel was a band-aid to the feeling, but it did the trick as you ventured out of your room to find Sophie. You made sure to grab sunglasses and a bottle of sunscreen, knowing Sophie always forgot to bring some when needed. She had texted to say they were already down at the dock, and as you headed down to meet them, Kevin was a few steps ahead of you.

He was already shirtless, therefore already distracting. His shoulders were a little pink from being in the sun yesterday, and all that you could think about was running your fingers over the bumps of his spine and dragging your nails over his skin. 

Like he could tell you were checking him out, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you, stopping to let you catch up to him. “That color looks great on you,” he told you as you fought the urge to tug at your suit. His eyes were still on you, tracing the curves of your body, and the warm desire that rolled through you was louder than your insecurities.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you told him with a cheeky grin, tossing the bottle to him. He nearly fumbled it, looking like he was proud of himself that he hadn’t dropped it, and you were about to say something else when you heard Sophie yell up to you excitedly from the boat.

“Do you think she’s already drunk?” Kevin asked softly, eyebrow raised as you both stepped onto the dock.

“You know how much she loves day drinking,” you said, shrugging with a little a knowing grin. Sure enough, there was a lemonade Truly in her hand when she made grabby hands at you as you stepped onto the boat.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with us,” Sophie told you, hugging you tightly as if she hadn’t seen you less than four hours earlier. You laugh, hugging her tightly as her attention turns to Kevin. “Ooh, good thinking bringing sunscreen, Kev! Make sure to get Y/N’s shoulders, she always misses the same spot!” She flashed a grin at you, then in typical Sophie fashion, she went back to sit next to Jimmy.

You hated when she put you on the spot like this, but thankfully, Kevin was practically smirking as you stepped aside to give him room to step off the dock. “She never changes, does she?” he laughed, already dropping his towel into a seat. His voice was low and you shrugged because he was right.

“I’d be disappointed if she did,” you responded, tightening the bun in your hair idly. You glanced out at the water simply to keep yourself from looking at Kevin and the way his swimsuit was settled low on his hips.

“I honestly think she might kill me if she doesn’t see me put sunscreen on your shoulders,” he said, nodding toward Sophie who was pointedly watching the two of you while finishing off her drink. You snorted, nodding as he opened the bottle, squeezing some into his hands. 

He motioned for you to turn around and with your back to him, your back tensed slightly. The sunscreen was cold against your skin, but Kevin’s hands made up for it, warm and strong as you willed yourself to think about anything but how you’d much rather have his hands elsewhere. He had to know exactly what he was doing with the way his thumb pressed against a spot on your neck that made you exhale a sigh as his hand moved lower down your back.

Across the boat, Sophie was making herself look busy by grabbing another drink from the cooler, and she seemed very pleased with herself.

“There, that should be up to Sophie’s standards,” Kevin said a moment later, dropping onto the cushioned seat behind him as he handed you the sunscreen. “You gonna get my shoulders now, or what?” There was a challenge to his tone, and as you were just about to respond, the boat started to move and you took the opportunity to sit down for the time being. 

Kevin was clearly trying to be casual, taking up just as much space as always with his thigh against yours. He was leaning back, his arm stretched out along the back of the seat behind you. Technically, his arm was around you, but he was clearly trying play it cool.

Sophie was in the water the second the boat stopped a few minutes later, and Jimmy joined her after tossing some of the floats in that she’d piled on the deck earlier. You stayed in your seat to watch Sophie and Jimmy splash at each other a bit, laughing as he dunked her underwater. Brady followed them in a minute later, leaving you tucked under Kevin’s arm with the sunscreen still in your hand.

Kevin looked at you expectantly and you scoffed, getting to your feet as you squeezed sunscreen into your hand. He stayed seated with his head tilted up to watch you, a smile spreading across his face.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked as you leaned closer to start rubbing sunscreen onto his shoulders. 

“Your tits look awesome in this swimsuit,” he told you, voice low enough that Brady wouldn’t hear him. You hadn’t expected that to be his answer and you scoff, shaking your head as you felt yourself flush. You pinched his neck teasingly, his hand shooting up to catch your wrist, grinning all the while. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Your tone is even as you go back to sunscreen duty, his gaze clearly dropping to the neckline of your suit again. 

“Pretty often, yeah.” He shrugged nonchalantly and you rolled your eyes as your hand rubbed over the back of his neck. “Can I have a kiss?” Kevin had already tilted his head up to look at you, and fuck, how were you supposed to say no to that.

You leaned in to quickly press your mouth to his, keeping it chaste, but he looked pleased when you pulled back. You don’t stop him when he moved back toward you, stealing another before smacking your ass teasingly. It surprised you and your gasp faded into laughter as he got to his feet to start talking you into actually getting in the water.

The sun was hot, and the five of you stayed out on the water for a few hours, mostly floating around, talking about nothing, really. Kevin seemed to be keeping close to you, and you hardly minded. You made sure Sophie had sunscreen on and she took the chance to wiggle her eyebrows at you suggestively before jerking her head toward Kevin. 

Evening had just hit by the time you got back to the cabin and you had desperately needed a shower. You felt like a new person after you re-emerged from the bathroom and joined the group again, just as dinner was nearly ready. Kevin damn near pouted at you when you sat next to Sophie, out of his reach.

You did, however, sit with Kevin and Nolan during dinner, carrying out a casual conversation about Netflix originals versus Hulu originals. Kevin made heart eyes at you the whole time, and it was more than a little distracting. You nudged him under the table with your foot at one point and he took that as encouragement, doing the same back to you. 

Pairing up with Sophie, the two of you managed to beat Kevin and Jimmy at pong twice. Music was playing as the others hung around, chatting amongst themselves. Nolan and Brady had pulled up seats next to the pong table, seemingly cheering for you and Sophie. Someone got another fire going as dusk fell, which you all gravitated towards when Jimmy and Kevin decided they didn’t want to lose to you and Sophie a third time. 

Brady was drunk in no time, with Jimmy not far behind him. They each decided to try to roast marshmallows, which failed miserably. The night was a little chilly, so you were grateful to be around the fire. You turned your head to glance out at the lake, then looked up at the stars, relaxing back into your chair. When you look back to the fire again, Kevin was watching you, winking at you when you made eye contact. He made you feel like a goddamn teenager with the way the wink had made your stomach flip. 

It was nearly 10:30 when you finished the only drink you’d brought down to the fire, and you sighed as you got to your feet. Walking past Kevin, his hand slid around your wrist to stop you. “You going up to grab another drink?” he asked casually, as if his thumb brushing over your skin wasn’t making it difficult for you to think straight. 

“That was my plan, yeah,” you responded, looking at him expectantly. Behind you, Sophie was laughing at something, and you could hear the fire crackling.

“Cool, I’ll come with you,” he said, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. When he got to his feet though, his fingers laced with yours as the two of you started up toward the cabin. You almost scoffed teasingly, surprised by the sudden influx of PDA throughout the day as he walked you away from the rest of the group.

Halfway there, walking along the group of trees that separate the cabin from the property next door, you saw Kevin glance over his shoulder briefly. He squeezed your hand, nodding his head toward the trees with a grin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as you stepped into the thicket. You looked back quickly, and no one seemed to notice the two of you disappearing into the trees.

“Nothing,” Kevin responded in an innocent enough tone that you laughed in response.

“You know there’s a whole cabin up there that we can go to, rather than be in the trees with all of the bugs and sap or whatever, right?” you teased, realizing you were deep enough into the trees that you could barely hear the murmur of the group talking around the fire. 

“Too far away,” he said, letting go of your hand to put his arm around your waist. 

“So what, we’re gonna make out in the woods for a while?” You were laughing a little as you said it, head tilted up to look at him. The smile on his face made your knees wobble a little as you leaned back slightly into the tree behind you, enjoying the quiet sound of the crickets that surrounded you.

Kevin shrugged, his hand sliding over your waist and along your back. He’d always made you feel so small in comparison to him and now was no exception as he watched your face, like he was enjoying making you wait for more contact. Your hand moved along his chest idly, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your hand before it settled on the back of his neck to pull him down to you.

All the restraint of the kiss earlier had gone out the window, that much was obvious. It was slow, at least to start, your body buzzing as his teeth caught on your bottom lip already. Your arm tightened around his shoulders, keeping him close as he crowded you against the tree. The bark was digging into your back, scratching you a bit through the fabric of your shirt, but you hardly cared.

His tongue slid over yours and you moaned, not even trying to stop yourself. The sound obviously encouraged him, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass as he pressed against you more. Urgency seeped into each of you, making you kiss him harder as your hand slid along his jaw. The scratch of stubble against your palm was better than you even remembered, and the desire to feel the same scratch against the inside of your thighs jolted through you.

After palming at your ass again, his hands moved up to the curve of your waist slowly like he was savoring it. He was pressed flush against you by then, overwhelming your senses as you gripped the fabric of his shirt. You sneaked a breathe where you could, your hand sliding up the thick muscle of his arm and over his shoulder. 

Your clit was throbbing between your thighs as you arched toward him, enjoying the soft sound he made feeling your breasts press against his chest. An eager tension was curling up your spine, an impatient, needy sound leaving you as he tugged at your bottom lip teasingly. His mouth left yours to kiss your jaw, coaxing you to tilt your head to the side for him.

Of course, you gave in, your hand sliding into his hair as his kissed along the column of your throat. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he murmured, his mouth against your ear while gripping your hips tightly. “That swimsuit, these fucking shorts.” The sentence is punctuated by him grabbing your ass again, pulling your hips forward into his.

“Fuck, Kevin,” you exhaled, your hand finding his cheek to guide his mouth back to yours. Even with his body pressed against yours like it was, you still needed more. 

His hands were everywhere, sliding up to cup your breast over your shirt, the other on your hip. Squeezing your thighs together, you licked into his mouth as your body rocked against his hungrily. You wanted to hate just how easy it was for him to get you wound up like this, but you’d always absolutely melted under his touch. 

Impatience was threatening to boil over as your core absolutely ached for him, desperate to feel more of him. The kiss had become a little sloppy, and by the time your hand found his wrist to guide his fingers to the waist of your shorts, your lungs were burning. 

He pulled back, his forehead resting against your temple as you both took a few breaths. “You want me to touch you, baby?” he asked, voice low as he kissed your jaw. His fingers toyed with the button of your shorts, making your breathing hitch as you nodded eagerly.

The button came undone, then the zipper, and his hand slipped into your panties, clearly feeling just as impatient as you were. Your arm settled around his neck to keep him close, turning your head to brush your mouth over his again. He happily swallowed the moan you let out as his fingers slid through your folds with ease, exhaling a curse a second later.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured against your mouth, letting the tip of his finger just barely tease at your clit. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you pled, half whining for him already as your hips pressed toward his hand. You swore he was smirking even as he kissed you, his other hand coming up to hold your jaw, keeping your mouth against to his.

Kevin had started to rub firm circles against your clit, enough to make you squirm as you pant into his mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this turned on, and you were so hungry for him that you’d completely forgotten that you were pressed against a tree with your friends 30 feet away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, fingers rubbing firm strokes from your entrance to your clit and back. You could only nod, still trying to kiss him desperately despite the fact that you had barely caught your breath. He was still pressed close against you and you could feel the hard outline of his cock through his shorts which sent another wave of need through you. 

A slew of curses left you when he sank two fingers into you, letting the heel of his hand grind against your clit. Your hips pressed toward him urgently, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers, and part of you still could hardly believe this was even happening. His mouth left yours before you were ready, trailing down your neck again to suck at your pulse point. You squeezed his shoulder as your hand curled in the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to catch your breath. 

“More, Kev, fuck.” Your words were rushed as you whimpered loudly, feeling his fingers curl against your g-spot. If you had been able to keep them open, your eyes would’ve crossed, exhaling a pleased groan your head fell back against the trunk of the tree behind you.

Your toes curled as heat curled in your stomach, barely able to believe he had you this close to an orgasm already. His fingers were buried deep inside you, fucking into you in shallow motions and giving you the friction that you so desperately needed. 

“C’mon, beautiful, I know you can cum for me,” Kevin said, nipping at your jaw then kissing the hollow of your throat. You nodded quickly, opening your mouth to say who knows what, but a moan came out instead.

He cursed into your skin when your hips jerked, and you tumbled over the edge, somehow managing to groan his name as you came. You were practically clinging to him, whimpering and grateful that you were still upright even as your knees shook. Heat wove through you, leaving your mind blank and buzzing by the time you came down, your hips rocking against his hand until you slowed to a stop.

Your eyes were still closed, because you weren’t sure if you remembered how to open them, more concerned about getting air into your lungs. Kevin’s mouth pressed light and gentle kisses up the side of your neck to your cheek, doing nothing to help slow your heart rate down again. When he kissed you on the mouth, it was sweet, but with a hungry edge that made you clench around his fingers again.

“Damn, I forgot how fucking sexy you are when you cum,” he told you, letting his palm grind against your clit again. Your folds were sensitive and the feeling made you gasp, arching away from him with a whine.

When he pulled back, his fingers leaving you, he was smirking and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a pleased grin. Your cheeks were flushed and when you licked your lips, you could tell they were swollen. Everything was buzzing still, and like you finally remembered that the two of you were only slightly hidden by the trees, you glanced around quickly.

“Do you think you can keep your dick in check long enough for us to get to your room?” you asked, a teasing tone to your voice as you let your knuckles brush over the hard line of his cock. 

“Not if you keep doing that,” he responded, leaning to press a quick, open mouthed kiss to your lips before taking your hand and starting toward the cabin.

You nearly had to jog to keep up with Kevin, and you laughed as you told him to slow down. Glancing over your shoulder, it doesn’t seem that anyone around the fire seemed to notice the two of you slip inside the cabin, only pausing to kick off your shoes. 

As soon as the door to his room was closed behind you, his hands were on you again, pulling your body against his. Your head tilted back to meet his kiss, a satisfied hum leaving you at the contact. His hand found your waist, squeezing you there before starting to tug at the fabric of your shirt. He leaned back to pull it off over your head, and you swallowed, grateful that the room was still dark. 

You unfastened his shorts, and when your hand slipped inside to stroke him through his underwear, he groaned your name. His mouth crashed into yours again, bringing his hands up to hold your face gently despite the hunger you were both displaying. He kissed you for a moment longer, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, then to your shoulder as you nudged his shorts down. 

It was easy to figure out what he wanted when he pressed down on your shoulder lightly. You chuckled, kissing him again before sinking to your knees in front of him. His breathing hitched at the sight of you, and you smirked, already leaning in drag your tongue along the hard line of his cock through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. It would have been impossible for you to forget how much he had loved you going down on him, so why not take the time to tease him a little. 

When you looked up at him through your eyelashes, he cursed under his breath as you tugged his underwear down. His eyes were locked on you as his hand moved to push your hair out of your face, keeping his fingers threaded through the strands. With his cock free, you leaned closer to swirl your tongue around the head of it and you could tell that his hands were already shaking slightly. 

The grunt that left him when your hand stroked along his length a few times sent heat prickling down your spine as you started to take more of him between your lips. He started panting in response to you dragging your thumb along the underside of his dick, and his hips rocked toward you lazily. His responsiveness to every touch made you all the more eager, letting your hand fall away from him as you took him deeper in your mouth. 

You took a breath before letting him start to slide down your throat when his fist tightened in your hair. You arched your back to press your breasts against his legs, nearly gagging around his length as he swore under his breath. 

“Fuck, I missed your mouth,” he told you, breathing heavily as you started to bob your head. Alternating between sucking and sliding your tongue over him, you looked up at him again as your clit throbbed between your legs. His brow was creased, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, and he was tense with restraint, his hips twitching toward you. 

Your lungs were burning, but the heady taste of him and the sound of his voice when he praised you softly had need burning through your veins. Speeding up slightly, your hand squeezed his thigh, letting your nails dig into his skin and he swore loudly. You let yourself get a little sloppy and your jaw relaxed when he hit the back of your throat. It surprised you a little when he briefly held you in place, but him taking that little bit of control made you moan around him.

As soon as he released you, you pulled off to catch your breath, bringing your hand up to stroke him slowly. His eyes were still locked on you, and you grinned up at him, knowing your lips were slick and swollen. Taking another deep breath, you leaned in again, dragging your tongue along the length. It was getting difficult to ignore the way your folds were throbbing, and you were so wet that the inside of your thighs were slick. 

“Shit, Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Kevin warned, his voice tight as his hand in your hair tightened as he guided you back to where he wanted you. You rolled your eyes at him, smirking quickly before opening your mouth to soothe your tongue over the slit at the head of his cock.

Sliding your mouth along his length, sucking eagerly as your nails dragged down his thigh was all it took to make his hips snap forward when he came. He cursed, fucking into your mouth lazily as he spilled hot down your throat. You could feel his knees shaking slightly and you swallowed, starting to bob your head again as you exhaled a content sigh through your nose.

His hand relaxed in your hair and you pulled off, licking your lips as you looked up again. He had a blissed out look in his eye, breathing heavily as he grinned down at you. Sitting back on your heels, you licked your lips as he took another deep breath.

“I think you actually sucked my soul out,” he said a moment later, a chuckle to his voice as he dragged a hand down his face.

You snorted, grinning as you got to your feet. “Glad I could be of service,” you responded, earning a laugh out of him as his hands settled on your waist. He was smiling as he leaned to kiss you, and the second his mouth was on yours again, that intensity was back. 

His hands moved to unfasten your bra with ease, tugging the fabric away from your body as he started walking you backwards toward the bed. You followed his lead, gasping when his hand came up to cup your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a greedy hum. The back of your thighs hit the edge of mattress, but you stayed on your feet, unwilling to stop kissing him just yet. 

Kevin licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply as his hands slid down to squeeze your ass firmly with a groan. “Lay back for me,” he told you, mouth barely leaving yours. You nodded, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth when you finally pulled back, settling yourself on the mattress.

Before you could pull him down to you, he was reaching to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. Warm light flooded the room and a protest caught in your throat, self-consciousness sweeping through you. Looking up at him, you managed to fight the urge to cover yourself as a flush colored your cheeks. 

He was silent, looking over you with greedy eyes as he pulled his shirt off over his head. After tucking his dick back in his boxer-briefs, he kicked his shorts off as well before he stepped between your parted knees. Leaning over you with a hand at your side, he kissed between your breasts and down along your stomach to make your breathing hitch. You didn’t expect him to nuzzle against you like he did, exhaling a breath.

“I missed you so much,” he told you, the words quiet as he glanced up at you. There was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t expected, making your stomach jump as you squirmed on the bed impatiently.

He didn’t give you much of a chance to respond, his hands coming up to tug your shirt and panties down your hips. As soon as he managed to get them untangled from your legs, the fabric joined everything else on the floor, and he pulled you closer to the edge of the mattress as he sank to his knees in front of you.

Kevin didn’t waste anymore time, guiding your legs over his shoulders as his mouth trailed up the inside of your thigh. His breath was hot against your skin and you did your best to relax despite the fact that your hips was already tense with anticipation. You swore loudly when he parted your folds with two fingers, almost immediately leaning in to drag his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, punctuating the motion by sucking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth. 

“Oh my god, Kevin,” you breathed, already rolling your hips against his mouth greedily. He hummed in acknowledgement, and you swore you felt the vibration run through every inch of you. 

“I love how fucking wet you get from sucking me off,” he murmured, eyes sliding up your body as his tongue fucked into you. It was your turn to let your fist curl in his hair, pulling at the short strands as he lapped at your wetness. His nose nudged at your clit and his hand slid along the back of your thigh, pushing it up toward your chest. You loved how he was maneuvering you as he saw fit, positioning you exactly how he wanted you.

One of his hands was under your ass, keeping you propped up for him while the other hand slid up your body to your breast. His tongue continued to slide through your folds, sucking here and there as he toyed with your nipple. He was a little rougher than you had anticipated, and the motion makes you groan, arching off the mattress. You could already feel your orgasm building from being so wound up already, making your toes curl as tension bubbled in your stomach. 

“More, Kev, please,” you whined, biting you lip to try and hold back the desperate sounds that rose in the back of your throat. He gave you what he wanted, like he always did, and your clit absolutely throbbed as he sucked it into his mouth again.

With his mouth occupied, he brought two fingers up to tease at your entrance, and you swore loudly as your hips rocked slightly, seeking him out. “You gonna fuck yourself on my fingers, baby?” he asked, the words vibrating through you considering he could barely bring himself to pull away from you.

Immediately, you nodded, then you forgot how to breath all together as he sank two fingers into you, tugging at your nipple at the same time. His tongue was sliding over your clit insistently, drawing figure eights against it as his fingers curled against your g-spot. You saw stars and the sound that left you was nothing short of a sob as your hips rolled against his hand, trying to getting him deeper. Your heel pressed between his shoulder blades, grateful for the extra leverage to help you meet his hand.

Your toes were curled so tightly that your foot threatened to cramp, and when he started to pump his fingers into you to meet the motion of your body, he moaned. The rough stubble covering his jaw had left the inside of your thighs sensitive, bordering on raw, but the irritation only made you that much more desperate. You swore, feeling yourself bow off the bed as he practically devoured you, hitting all of the right spots to send you barreling over the edge and into an orgasm. 

He didn’t let up, fingers still fucking into you as his mouth toyed with your clit mercilessly. It was impossible to catch your breath, pleading for him as you tugged at his hair roughly in an effort to keep him close. By the time you stopped squeezing around his fingers, you had relaxed into the mattress and your body felt heavy as your leg stayed draped over his shoulder.

Looking down at him, you realized that his eyes were already on you, his fingers still buried inside you but not moving as he lapped at your folds firmly. He always felt so good, bringing you down easy like this, until all of a sudden it was too much. A gasp ripped through you as you pushed at his head, the reaction met with a laugh as he pulled away from you.

“Sensitive?” he murmured, eyebrow raised as he smirked slightly. You nodded, a lazy smile on your face as you untangled yourself from him. He pressed a kiss to your hip as he withdrew his fingers from you, looking awfully pleased with himself. 

Your heart rate had finally started to slow by the time he dropped onto the mattress next to you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek. There was a hazy look in your eye when you looked at him, still unable to figure out how to piece together a sentence. 

The two of you laid there for a while, close together and just breathing as your fingers traced shapes along his shoulder. Really, you should’ve moved because your bottom half was still hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“You think anyone realized we never came back with drinks?” he asked eventually, his voice a sleepy grumble. You laughed softly, shrugging before you sighed, turning your head to look at him. Leaning forward, you kissed him softly before sitting up. He watched you for a moment longer before he reached for his phone. “Damn, it’s after 11 already.”

“No point in going back out now, if you ask me,” you responded, moving over the mattress to lay your head against a pillow.

You smiled when he moved to follow, already curling up against you. He kissed along your shoulder, nuzzling into the back of your neck after pulled the sheets up to cover you. The cautious voice in the back of your head was telling you that you needed to get up, that you needed to get dressed and go back to your own room, but the bed smelled like him and he was so warm when his leg tangled with yours.

He only pulled back quickly to turn off the lamp before settling against you again even closer, his face pressed into your hair. You were content, even a little sleepy, and getting up wasn’t much of a priority right then. His fingers slid along you waist as the two of you stayed curled up in the dark, slipping into easy conversation.

Kevin had always been pretty quick to fall asleep after a good orgasm, and now seemed to be no exception. The talking tapered off after a while, and his face was pressed into your neck when you heard him start to snore softly. You stayed in place a while longer, nearly squirming with the effort to stay place as the voice in your head got louder and louder. 

Your hand slid along his forearm before you untangled yourself from him, finding that your knees are still wobbly when you got to your feet. It was easy enough to find your shorts and your shirt in the dark and you got dressed before going across the hall. The rest of the cabin was quiet and you went straight to your room, stripping out of the clothes again as you pulled your pjs on with shaking hands. 

In bed, you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Your feelings for him certainly hadn’t changed, so why would the fact that you never slept in bed with him. Every time you’d hooked up in New York, you pulled yourself out of his bed to go to the guest room. You didn’t know why, but Kevin had never mentioned it. Now though, you felt dirty about it, anxiety prickling at your scalp as you laid there. You could probably slip back in without him realizing it, but you were cemented into the mattress, your mind running a million miles an hours until you finally fell asleep. 

SATURDAY

[hellothere-generalangsty]

hey hey hey 📝

Hey you 🥰 Let me tell you straight away there's more than one because I'm a sucker for your fics and I will absolutely read all the one I haven't read yet because I just know they're good. I just know it. Same, my absolute favorite is in blue! 💙

@murdertoothpick

________

young volcanoes

Of course I love this one, Fives' fic AND Fall Out Boy?? I knew you would come up with something awesome but this... This is absolutely wonderful.

I just love the delight, the comfort in knowing that the war is over, and there will be no more fight to the death for the clones. For these men who will finally do something else than die; they will finally live.

It's not until Echo nudged him that Fives sees you approach the ramp with quick feet, colliding into him with a force so strong that he stumbles back a little, and yet, it's the most grounded he's felt in a long time.

Again, I screamed a very real scream when I read that. It's sad; but also beautiful, to be the one person that grounds him and offers him enough comfort and care and that feeling of safety-

'Don't ever let me go,' you press into him, and the way he squeezes you just a little tighter makes you melt.

It does make me melt. I am a puddle. This quote alone cured my anxiety. No but; for real; I just love these silent moments. I am very vocal about my emotions and feelings for the people I care about; but sometimes words aren't enough, or argent quite right so we turn to these silent exchanges - a look, a pression, a touch - something to let you know it's okay. I love that.

Fives meets Jesse with a proud grin, his hold on you relenting except for the one arm he keeps around your waist. 'Not tonight vod,' he breathes, meeting your eyes as you turn to face his brother, 'I'm going home.'

And Fives' words repeat softly in your head. He's going home. […]

That home is wherever the other is. It is the one thing that perseveres beyond the war. It is the one constant Fives' has ever had the choice to have, the one thing you'd never give up for anything.

This. This is it.

Being someone's home is so personal and meaningful. The trust, the care, the feeling of safety- everything that comes with the fact that you are someone's home.

And for it to be a constant in a life and a galaxy where everything keeps changing?? It's the same energy as Ari's fic It's been a long, long time.

It's comforting, and it gives me hope. This is the essence of Star Wars - hope - and you depicted it so perfectly.

I am honestly amazed and in love with this fic. (And Fives.)

.

at least, percentage wise

This one was a bit painful but also tender; let me explain.

'Hunter sold me as a droid today.'

He continues, 'I know he doesn't think of me like that but...it was hard enough being treated as a clone and now...I don't know what I even am.'

This. Is very painful.

I absutely love Echo, right. I adore him, he's awesome and handsome and kind and funny and he's Echo.

Yet he doesn't know that. He doesn't know who he is anymore- "what" he is.

What. That's so painfully sad. Like I said clones are already caught in this sort of identity crisis because what are they? Clones? Soldiers? Men? Brothers? Humans?

And now. Now Echo isn't even sure he fits the last category anymore. And it honestly pains me when people call him "android" or "droid man" because he already feels so self-conscious about this. And yes- he has prosthetics and robotics implants- but never should he be considered less of a human because of them. He's still Echo. He's still human.

He changed, but he's still Echo.

His next words are whispered, afraid of receiving an answer. 'Tell me you'd love me more if I weren't...' the words catch in his throat, 'this.'

And this is the moment where I tear up because.

This.

I can hear it. I can hear the pain and the fear in his voice and it honestly breaks. My heart.

How deeply rooted is his self-consciousness? How deep does the self-hatred run for him to think so little of himself??

I hate it here it just makes me so angry and sad for him.

My handsome boy deserves BETTER.

'You handsome man,' you jest, blessing him with a short kiss on the lips. 'You ready to sleep now?.'

I love this because I always call Echo "my handsome boy" or "handsome boy" and that's 1. Because he IS handsome like have you seen the man?? And 2. Because I believe if he hears it all the time he will slowly but surely believe it. He will accept that he's handsome and maybe feel less self- conscious about his body and himself...

I just need him to feel loved and beautiful because he is.

And I mean... Soft. Domestic. "You ready to sleep now?" is something you tell to someone in such a casual yet caring way and I am absolutely here for it.

This fic is just- I would react the same way reader did. It's so obvious to me he's absolutely trustworthy and nice and smart and handsome- he's filled with qualities and so many reasons to love him and care for him.

I mean- Echo. He alone is a valid argument.

Anyway, this fic just has me feeling much love for Echo and you made me fall for him again;;

.

push and pull

'Tsk, why won't you do what I say?'

I read that in his voice every. Single. Time. That's just- so him. 100% pure Crosshair content here.

And "the little umbrella" thing? Tech's remark on the food?

These little funny moments are so soft and a nice contrast to the sometimes sad undertone of the fic! I love that!

'I...like being close to you.'

'It's hard enough letting you in. I don't want my brothers thinking I've gone...soft.'

This. This is also very Crosshair. He's not very vocal, and to see him struggle a bit to confess what's really going on and feel awkward and embarrassed about it is just-

Great. In a sweet way. And the way you write him so well, so accurately-

Yes. 100% yes.

.

somewhere only we know

Alright. This fic right here is, I believe, the first one I read from you. At least it marked me enough for me to remember it as the first one.

Anna. This fic right here is. You made me cry. You had me crying while reading it because it's just.

The song alone is already- you know, very bittersweet and nostalgic in a way; and you managed to write something so perfect it's- it's not the fic matching the song. It's the song matching the fic.

I read it again to write this review - with the song on loop obviously - and I got tears again. It's just that powerful.

But your anxiety melts away as he gives you a slight smile, offering his hand to you, 'You'll have to lead the way.' […] He would always trust you, he has never felt otherwise.

I can't even explain how meaningful that it. It means so much to him, and he knows; and you do too. There's a level of trust and intimacy here.

'Just...hold me.'

Don't ask me why, but reader saying this is low-key making me emotional.

'Do you want this?', he murmurs, […].

You take an agonisingly long time to reply, your eyes flit between his, searching for any sign of hesitation, or regret. But you don't find any, as much as Crosshair is good at hiding his emotions behind an impassive and collected facade, you see the silent plea in his eyes, a longing for more.

Tears. Very real tears. The care and respect and trust and love this question alone holds. It's just. So delicate and soft, I just-

And then-

'Are you sure?' he whispers, so close to you, basking in this intimacy.

Girl if you wanted to make me cry you just had to say it, right? Like, don't mind me I'm a sucker for this; being so intimate and respectful of your partner that's like- everything.

Honestly that's what everyone deserves.

He lets out a light laugh, it's beautiful, reverberating deep in your heart, a sound so rare that you try hard to commit it—and the way he looks—to memory.

I promise you...

The candlelight surrounds your face in a halo-like glow like you were sent from heaven. It's a blessing.

...you hold my heart. This is poetry. This is art. This is comforting and lovely. And I am tearing up once again.

Your next words are meek, whispered, hidden away from the outside world, but you bare your soul to him anyways.

You almost don't hear it, but the way the words vibrate against your skin as he spills himself inside you makes it impossible for them not to be heard.

You wrote the words; but honestly I didn't even needed to read them to cry. It's just so vulnerable. They are both in a situation were they are literally and metaphorically naked, and there's nothing else but them - everything else fades away without them noticing and it's just.

Them.

And they allow themselves to be so vulnerable, finally, after all the build-up and the obstacles of the war and the downfall of the galaxy and the chip. After loosing each other and finding their way back to each other.

And finally allowing themselves to be so vulerable, so exposed to each other-

Brb gotta cry some more.

He takes one of your hands in his, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. 'Just getting you a cloth Cya'rika.'

Your mouth opens in an Oh, and you gingerly nod at him. 'Okay, sorry,' you give him the most beautiful smiles he's ever seen, and there's a part of him that has changed its mind about leaving you even for a second.

I can't even. Explain. How sweet this is. No words can express what I'm feeling as I read this. The comfort. The reassuring tone. The f**king Mando'a nickname.

Your arms open pathetically when he lets go of you, an invite for him to join you under the covers. But he looks at you in pure adoration, a sight that's so peaceful, so domestic, that he finds himself letting his mind wander, imagining that this temporary room was a home, a place where he could spend the rest of his days with you, away from war and the empire.

My heart is aching. A lot. It's so peaceful yet so tragic in a way, but they don't see that. Again, it's just them; this moment of intimacy, of domestic life where nothing else matter but what they are sharing right now.

Somewhere only we know.

.

alone together

This fic is awesome. I love the dynamic between reader and Crosshair, there's this very obvious alchemy between them and you manage to write about it with limited dialogue and amazing descriptions. I am absolutely in awe.

Also- Confident Reader? Love that! Especially in a Crosshair fic! And it's great because we also see a glimpse of Crosshair having self-esteem issues, so there's a sort of shift where for once Crosshair doesn't have the "upper hand" and reader isn't all shy and flustered you know (though I absolutely love these kind of fics too!)

But yeah- their dynamic was really interesting!

.

heartbeat

Another Crosshair fic because I love him and you really write him so well and in-character.

'I like...hearing your heartbeat.'

This little hesitation is everything. And it's so... So personal and delicate.

Someone's heartbeat. That's life pulsing through their body. That's very symbolic too; we usually link strong feelings like love and care to the heart, and to lay there with someone and enjoy listening to that life pulsing-

Yeah I'm getting soft again

'I'm not moving,' he grumbles, pressing himself further into you and sighing in relief.

This is so lovely; him holding on tighter because he doesn't want to move, because he feels good here and that's the best way he found to let you know...

I just love your takes on Soft!Crosshair, you really know what you're writing about.

.

hands meet

I tried to draw Hunter. With the sunglasses and the shirt and him trying to be cool.

I shall do that drawing again because it's absolutely HILARIOUS and I just adore this fic because it's so light-hearted and sweet and funny!

It's a feel-good fic, the one you read when you need to clear your head a bit; and I promise you the laugh I had reading it!

And I just love the dynamic between Hunter and reader; it's awkward yet there's a lot of alchemy and you just know they do like each other a lot and are just struggling to express it directly.

That's very sweet and I love that.

Love it.

________

So yeah! Again, it was longer than expected but I am not sorry because you deserve to know how much I love these fics and how you also hold my heart in your hands with these.

You're an amazing - incredible - writer and I love how you bring these very human and realistic elements to your stories. It just makes them even more relatable and enjoyable, even if sometimes it's painful, and that's what I love so much about your writing.

Also I absolutely love how you incorporate lyrics between in your writings

Anyway- love u Anna, love your writing, you're amazing!!

[jamr0ck83]

Little black girl, they’re coming for your spirit. Don’t let them take it.

Advice for Younger Me and Black Girls Everywhere:

Your name is quite literally “beautiful”. Make them say it right, every single time. Do not allow them to butcher it and walk away, nor laugh at it for sounding “too weird”.

Your hue is the product of all of your ancestors, of which you should be proud. They were not slaves; they were *enslaved*. Educate others, if need be, on the difference. 

Your history is rich and not merely made up of cotton plantations and a master’s last name. You come from a beautiful and naturally-rich continent that, no matter what anyone says, contains your roots. Embrace them.

Your aptitude is not lesser than anyone else’s. You have an inner brilliance, and it’s up to you to recognize it. Do not look to others to validate your potential or acumen. Do not feel obligated to appear twice as smart and work twice as hard unless that’s what you want for yourself.

Your hair does not need to be straightened or otherwise “tamed” unless that’s what you want. It is good hair because it is your hair, long or short, thick or thin. How you wear it is your business and only your business. And if one day, there is no more of it, you are no less than who you were when you had it.

Your heart is pure and full of kindness. Share that kindness with others, but don’t let others mistake it for weakness. Compassion and empathy are good; don’t let anyone convince you that having them makes you a fool. And you get to choose who you share them with. Those who mistreat you need not apply.

As you grow, you will see so much. Some of it will make you happy; a lot of it might make you sad. And that’s okay. You get to feel your feelings. Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t have a right to be upset or angry. Do not unleash your ire without precision, but do not hold it in. Because depression is anger turned inward, and there’s not a soul on this earth who deserves such pain, especially not you.

You will be tested time and time again. But with every test will come new knowledge, about the world, about yourself. And that kind of knowledge is not bound to one specific place or genre. Keep your horizons broad and don’t feel like you owe it to anybody to shrink yourself down.

Life will be hard a lot of the time, and sometimes you will wonder what the point of all of it is. You will tire and maybe feel like you’ve had enough. You are not alone. And maybe knowing that doesn’t take away the strife, but it does help to keep it manageable. And you will always manage, even when you are absolutely sure you cannot. Even the worst of experiences don’t last forever. And when they’re over, you will be proud you made it through.

Your job is to take care of yourself before you take care of anyone else. Know that this has nothing to do with being selfish and everything to do with protecting and nourishing your soul. You can’t give anybody else anything that you’ve not allowed for yourself.

Learn. Stand. Fight. Feel. Lose. Mourn. Cry. Rest. Prevail.

[rainbowgoddd99]

♡︎Even at any moment You are always the sh*t ♥︎

Read it over and over every minute as much as you need just keep going you can it’s okay if you think you can’t you can you can you can you CAN!!!! Take it easy one by one you definitely can. If you can’t focus on your own life then try to make another’s bright even if it’s just one word you can you can be that light until you find your own. You are strong you matter.

1. We would miss you.

2. It’s not worth the regret. Either by yourself if you failed or just simply left scars, or the regret everyone else feels by not doing enough to help you.

3. It does get better. Believe it or not it will eventually get better. Sometimes you have to go through the storm to get to the rainbow.

4. There’s so much you would miss out on doing.

5. There is always a reason to live. It might not be clear right now, but it is always there.

6. So many people care, and it would hurt them if you hurt yourself.

7. You ARE worth it. Don’t let anyone, especially yourself, tell you otherwise.

8. You are amazing.

9. A time will come, once you’ve battled the toughest times of your life and are in ease once again, where you will be so glad that you decided to keep on living. You will emerge stronger from this all, and won’t regret your choice to carry on with life. Because things always get better.

10. What about all the things you’ve always wanted to do? What about the things you’ve planned, but never got around to doing? You can’t do them when you’re dead.

11. I love you. Even if only one person loves you, that’s still a reason to stay alive.

12. You won’t be able to listen to music if you die.

13. Killing yourself is never worth it. You’ll hurt both yourself and all the people you care about.

14. There are so many people that would miss you, including me.

15. You’re preventing a future generation, YOUR KIDS, from even being born.

16. How do you think your family would feel? Would it improve their lives if you died?

17. You’re gorgeous, amazing, and to someone you are perfect.

18. Think about your favourite music artist, you’ll never hear their voice again...

19. You’ll never have the feeling of walking into a warm building on a cold day

20. Listening to incredibly loud music

21. Being alive is just really good.

22. Not being alive is really bad.

23. Finding your soulmate.

24. Red pandas

25. Going to diners at three in the morning.

26. Really soft pillows.

27. Eating pizza in New York City.

28. Proving people wrong with your success.

29. Watching the jerks that doubted you fail at life.

30. Seeing someone trip over a garbage can.

31. Being able to help other people.

32. Bonfires.

33. Sitting on rooftops.

34. Seeing every single country in the world.

35. Going on roadtrips.

36. You might win the lottery someday.

37. Listening to music on a record player.

38. Going to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

39. Taking really cool pictures.

40. Literally meeting thousands of new people.

41. Hearing crazy stories.

42. Telling crazy stories.

43. Eating ice cream on a hot day.

44. More Harry Potter books could come out, you never know.

45. Travelling to another planet someday.

46. Having an underwater house.

47. Randomly running into your hero on the street.

48. Having your own room at a fancy hotel.

49. Trampolines.

50. Think about your favourite movie, you’ll never watch it again.

51. Think about the feeling of laughing out loud in a public place because your best friend has just sent you an inside joke,

52. Your survival will make the world better, even if it’s for just one person or 20 or 100 or more.

53. People do care.

54. Treehouses

55. Hanging out with your soul mate in a treehouse

55. Snorting when you laugh and not caring who sees

56. I don’t even know you and I love you.

57. I don’t even know you and I care about you.

58. Because nobody is going to be like you ever, so embrace your uniqueness!

59. You won’t be here to experience the first cat world emperor.

60. WHAT ABOUT FOOD?! YOU’LL MISS CHOCOLATE AND ALL THE OTHER NOM THINGS!

61. Starbucks.

62. Hugs.

63. Stargazing.

64. You have a purpose, and it’s up to you to find out what it is.

65. You’ve changed somebody’s life.

66. Now you could change the world.

67. You will meet the person that’s perfect for you.

68. No matter how much or how little, you have your life ahead of you.

69. You have the chance to save somebody’s life.

70. If you end your life, you’re stopping yourself from achieving great things.

71. Making snow angels.

72. Making snowmen.

73. Snowball fights.

74. Life is what you make of it.

75. Everybody has a talent.

76. Laughing until you cry.

77. Having the ability to be sad means you have the ability to be happy.

78. The world would not be the same if you didn’t exist.

79. Its possible to turn frowns, upside down .

80. Be yourself, don’t take anyone’s shit, and never let them take you alive.

81. Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary. Be your own hero.

82. Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. It means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.

83. One day your smile will be real.

84. Having a really hot, relaxing bath after a stressful day.

85. Lying on grass and laughing at the clouds.

86. Getting completely smashed with your best friends.

87. Eating crazy food.

88. Staying up all night watching your favourite films with a loved one.

89. Sleeping in all day.

90. Creating something you’re proud of.

91. You can look back on yourself 70 years later and being proud you didn’t commit.

92. Being able to meet your Internet friends.

93. Tea / Coffee / Hot Chocolate.

94. The new season of Sherlock.

95. Cuddling under the stars.

96. Being stupid in public because you just can.

97. If you are reading this then you are alive! Is there any more reason to smile?

98. Being able to hug that one person you havent seen in years.

99. People care enough about you and your future to come up with 100 reasons for you not to do this.

100. But, the final and most important one is, just, being able to experience life. Because even if your life doesn’t seem so great right now, literally anything could happen at any moment, make the most out of your life, life seems so long but short, enjoy it, do whatever you want, break a bunch of laws, travel the world, change your style, help others, do things that make you happy. Who gives. FUCK what people say or judge you about just bark at them. Have a good mindset and you’ll be ok. I love you <333333

You got this yeah that seems shallow to say but hell YOU GOT THIS you do look at you I mean you’re amazing it’s okay to not feel it from time to time but you’re important yes the hell you are fuck those voices you are important you are you matter you mean something on this world you exist the world know it you have helped so many so let them help you back now yes pain hurtsss so much it really hurts and it feels like it’s never ending it makes you not have a thing to look forward to but you know what it’s not forever it’s not I know that’s not the best to hear when you are in such pain but you can do this you can do it even if you can’t see light pretend there is one if you can’t then just laugh an laugh an laugh because one day that laugh will be real and you’ll look back an just amazing wonder just how you did it and that’s because you’re strong you are also remember these thing you are valid you are you matter and you are godam awesome you learn with everything it makes you stronger it molds you so when you find your destiny you’ll be really it just sucks with uncertainty there’s so many versions of you and each is amazing each can do this each an every one you will definitely see light again it’s coming just taking time on your path because it’s so amazed by the greatness it’s seeing and soon you’ll see just want it did you got a life you really do you got one dangg you do! It’s amazing it really is it can be tiring definitely it wears you down just know you won’t be tired forever

You will look up one day and breath and that air will be so clear

You will see just what life really is and that’s

Wonderful

Full of different experience

There’s pain

There’s regret

But there’s discovering new things

Obsessing over dumb things

Life is not horrible it’s not amazing either at then end of the day life is life it’s random an definitely unexplainable but it’s for you an only you emotions will get to you but some things need you to some things you’re there destiny and you yourself have a great destiny you got this I mean it I know you do now cry scream get mad regret do it all!!!!!!!! But know you really do got this you are strong and you YOU CAN LIVEEEE!!!!!!

Not today not tomorrow either not ever okay

You got this you have so many rolls left

You can smile

Fuck it lol if any one ever is over it just say fuck it

I made this for people that in every bodies eyes is amazing and make them feel better and people suffering with mental issues I made this for people who don’t go out enough that they are losing vitamins in there body and are causing physical damage to there body because you can’t get up in time to do normal things like pee I want you to know I know it’s not a joke I know it hurts and I know half of you suffer alone or try to do masking techniques you have been taught. Others are out there and sure there are some that try to understand and relate and that’s very nice that they try but I get that in them doing that it makes you feel more and more bad they mean no harm tho remember that they aren’t you so they have no clue what they do. There is some there just like you it’s true. You just have to find them.

It's your life fuck anyone who tries to have a say in it you all are your own main mother freaking character you all are.

[bishielurvmaxxie]

10 Things I’ve Let Go and How This Has Set Me Free

By Sara Fabian

“I do not fix problems. I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.” ~ Louise Hay

Looking back on my life, I came to understand that perfection was my worst enemy. I was raised in an environment of high expectation, and every day in school felt like I was competing with others and fighting to be the best in class.

At the age of ten I believed I was stupid just because my brain couldn’t work out physics and math. I was good with literature, arts, and foreign languages, but that wasn’t a sign of brilliance in the Eastern-European culture that shaped me.

Much later, as a grown-up woman, I didn’t see myself as good enough, beautiful enough, smart enough, or successful enough. I felt unworthy of being loved by a wonderful man, unworthy of getting a good paycheck to reflect my skills and talents, too unworthy to apply for a tempting position at work.

My life looks completely different today, and I embrace the new me with much gratitude and joy. I love myself as I am. I am happily married and doing what I was born to do in the world.

So how did this shift happen?

I can recall myself feeling overwhelmed after a long meeting at work, and looking for some inspiration to help me release the stress and feel better. As I was searching for The Secret movie on the YouTube, I “accidentally” opened another video that went straight into my heart: You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay.

Today, I know that was no accident. The teacher shows up when the student is ready—so true! I was so touched and absorbed by that movie, I couldn’t stop watching. Listening to Louise was pure magic; every single word went straight into my heart. I finally felt home, in a space where it was perfectly okay to be me: “I love and approve myself as I am. I am whole and complete and life loves me.”

Over the next year, I discovered the work of other enlightened souls—Wayne Dyer, Byron Katie, and Don Miguel Ruiz—inviting me to precious moments of self-reflection and deep learning. Their teaching helped me to let go of old thinking patterns and cultural limiting beliefs that didn’t serve me well.

After much trial and error applying their wisdom to my life, I have found a new sense of freedom. Here’s how:

1. I’ve let go of the need to be perfect.

I am perfectly beautiful and beautifully imperfect, and this is what allows me to be me.

Perfection is an illusion—it doesn’t exist. I stopped stressing myself out trying to be perfect and now I am always aiming for “good enough.” I have learned to embrace my mistakes as much needed opportunities for growth, blessings in disguise that make me wiser. If I fail at anything, it doesn’t mean I’m a failure, because I am not what I do. Sometimes we win, sometimes we learn. We never lose.

“Your best is going to change from moment to moment: it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz 

2. I’ve let go of the need to be busy all the time. 

Being in a rush isn’t a sign of virtue. I have learned to listen to my body, and I no longer feel guilty for doing nothing. I know I sometimes need to recharge the batteries of my body and soul, and I don’t feel like I owe anyone any explanation for doing that.

If I don’t have time for myself, I make it. Watching a good movie, listening to relaxing music, reading a good book, singing, taking a walk to connect with nature—I do whatever makes my heart sing.

“I am a human being, not a human doing. Don’t equate your self-worth with how well you do things in life. You aren’t what you do. If you are what you do, then when you don’t…you aren’t.” ~Dr. Wayne Dyer 

3. I’ve let go of self-criticism.

I pay attention to my inner talk; I don’t call myself names, and I treat myself with dignity and respect. I stopped telling myself things I would never tell a good friend. I am enough, whole, and complete.

I have come to understand that in life, we don’t get what we want. We get what we think we deserve. That’s why it’s necessary to believe in ourselves and see ourselves as enough and worthy of the best things life has to offer.

“You’ve been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” ~Louise Hay

4. I’ve let go of blaming.

I now know that each time I blame someone else, I am making myself a victim. Blaming others for taking my time, my money, or my love is unfair, because I always choose how much I give and to whom. No one can hurt me or upset me without my conscious (and often unconscious) consent.

Instead, I now take responsibility for the way I feel, act, and think. I am in charge of my actions, and I know my future is the result of my current choices. I am what I believe and whatever I choose to be.

“All blame is a waste of time. No matter how much fault you find with another, it will not change you. You may succeed in making another feel guilty about something by blaming, but you won’t succeed in changing whatever it is about you that is making you unhappy.” ~Wayne Dyer

5. I’ve let go of judging.

I know that everyone is on their own journey, and my job is to focus on my own. I also know that each time I am judgmental with people, I’m reacting to something that bothers me about myself. If I believe you are mean, it means I can also be mean; how could I see that in you, otherwise?

“Placing the blame or judgment on someone else leaves you powerless to change your experience; taking responsibility for your beliefs and judgment gives you the power to change them.” ~Byron Katie

6. I’ve let go of making assumptions about what other people feel, want, or think.

I am not them, so there’s no way to know what they’re feeling and thinking.

I stopped making up imaginary scenarios and letting my mind play with me. Each time I find myself disturbed by what people do or say, I know it’s time for a reality check.

From “The Work” of Byron Katie, I’ve learned to examine the thoughts that trouble me and ask myself: “Is that true?” Many of my assumptions likely aren’t. For example, I might assume someone doesn’t like me, when really she’s just having a bad day. Or maybe she’s just shy. Not everyone is the same.

The moment I realize I can’t know what this person thinks, simply because I am not her, my mind gets clear and I am able to meet her with an open heart.

“I found that my unquestioned assumptions were the cause of all war and all peace in my world.” ~Byron Katie 

7. I’ve let go of competing with others.

I now know that my need to fight is nothing but my ego’s scream for self-validation. I don’t need anyone to lose any game so that I can feel good about myself. I love harmony, collaboration, and win-wins.

I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. I choose to connect with people from a place of love instead of fear, and I believe in abundance. I choose to believe that we live in a supportive Universe, where there is enough of everything and for everyone, including myself.

“Love is cooperation rather than competition.” ~Dr. Wayne Dyer

8. I’ve let go of chasing happiness.

I no longer project my happiness into an imaginary future, hoping that someday, when I have that job, that house, that car, that success, I will be happy. I have learned to find happiness in the small pleasures of life, and I embrace the only reality that is, the present moment, with gratitude and much joy.

I stopped waiting for the weekends to feel like living because each day is a gift and every single moment is precious and equally important.

The day I shifted my focus from stressed to blessed, everything changed. I am thankful for everything I am and for everything I have: a healthy body and mind; a loving family; a few genuine, last longing friendships I’ve made over time; and a job I love and believe in.

“I have noticed that the Universe loves gratitude. The more grateful you are, the more goodies you get.” ~Louise Hay

9. I’ve let go of worrying about the future.

I accept that there are things in life that I cannot control, no matter how hard I might try. Each time I find myself worrying, I keep telling myself “Time will tell.”

I might not always get what I want, but I know I always get what I need. I trust the flow of life, and choose to believe we live in an intelligent Universe, where everything unfolds perfectly. Sometimes in life, even the time needs time.

“Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Everything happens at exactly the right moment, neither too soon nor too late. You don’t have to like it…it’s just easier if you do.” ~Byron Katie

10. I’ve let go of pleasing others.

I no longer seek external validation so that I can feel liked or accepted. Worrying about what others think is a waste of time. Other people’s opinion of me is all about them and what they see in me, filtered through their lenses; it has zero to do with me.

I’ve stopped expecting others to give me what I wasn’t giving myself: love, care, and attention. Loving myself as a whole—body, mind, and soul—is not selfish. I keep my cup full of self-love, and I take good care of my needs and my heart’s desires.

I have learned how to make powerful choices for my highest good without worrying about disappointing people. People disappoint themselves by setting expectations for who they want me to be or what they want me to do.

Saying no to things we don’t want to do is a learned practice and a sign of self-care. If it sounds like a “should,” I don’t do it. I go for the things that feel like a want. My wants come from myself, instead of being imposed on me by others. I always choose how I am spending my precious time and with whom. I know my time is my life, and it’s never coming back.

My life is about me and I have the right to make my own choices. Life is to be lived, not existed, and I choose to live it authentically, with no apologies and no regrets.

“Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz

—

My self-transformation into the mindful person I am today didn’t happen overnight. It’s been an ongoing process that required continuous inner work.

Today, I am still a student at School of Life, and every day is a great opportunity for new learning. I know that I have the power to create my own reality, by the way I think. So I make sure I nourish my mind with healthy thoughts, knowing my mind has power.

And now, I would like to hear from you. Are you holding on to any of these things? What’s preventing you from letting them go?

Not mine. This was taken from tinybuddha.com and written by Sara Fabian.

[padfootagain]

Will You Still Be Here In The Morning? (I)

 Part 1 : Before The Arrangement

 Okay, I've finally finished that one-shot that rebelled against me and decided to ruin my life this week by getting so damn long (over 24k)!!! As I've said, this was meant as a one-shot but it became way too long for me to post it as one, so I'm going to split it into five parts and post them in a row to make it easier for you to read. However, it is meant as a one-shot, keep that in mind about the format of this story. I wish I could say it's a brilliant idea of an AU that got out of hand, but really, it's just a collection of moments, and there aren't really any plot beyond that, sorry… just Ineffable Husbands pining for 6 thousand years…

I'm also going to post it on AO3, but this time in just one long post, so if you prefer to read it all in one piece, you'll find the link to AO3 on the masterpost for this story. Go to my masterlist, choose Good Omens, Ineffable Husbands and choose this story in the series section.

I do hope you all like this, it has been hell, but I've overcome it. I am warning you though, it's not all unicorns and rainbows, there is both some angst and the fluffier fluff in this! ;)

Please, tell me what you think about it.

Gif not mine

Word count : 4520

Crawly was shaking, and not because of the cold. Not really. It was because of the shock of it all, the last molecules of adrenaline leaving his veins and abandoning him to the realization striking.

He had tried. He had tried so hard to save as many as he could. He had built his own boat, he had gathered as many children as he could, he had planned everything. As soon as Aziraphale and he had discussed God's plans, he had tried to stop it. Or, well, not to stop it, but to prevent a part of the utter destruction it would cause. He couldn't save all of them, he couldn't save it all, but he could save some of them. For his side, he would pretend it was an attempt to go against God's plan, and it truly was, actually. He wasn't scared for the side effects it would have on him and his relation with his superiors.

But it hadn't worked. It hadn't worked at all. Maybe God herself had found out about his plan, or maybe humans were just that bad sometimes, but a group of angry men had come to destroy his ship. They had been angry at Noah and his ark too, but they hadn't destroyed the it. Maybe Aziraphale had something to do with that. Crawly wasn't sure. What he was certain of was that as he stared at his boat go up in flames, he couldn't find a way to hold back his tears.

They were salty, and bitter, and they tasted like the first rain on Eden. They tasted a little bit like his Fall too. They tasted a lot like the first time he had asked an unwanted question, and was reprimanded for it. They tasted like doubt.

He had fallen for questioning God, for his longing for knowledge, for his want to hear a reason behind his orders and actions of others. But the question why? was the most dangerous of all. He had learnt that a long time ago.

He had watched the wood of his large boat turn into ashes, black smoke emerging out of colourful flames and floating upwards towards a sky that grew darker and darker, greyish puffs of smoke drifting towards blacker clouds and illuminated by the red and orange fire it appeared from. It was just before the rain would start, right before the seas would rise. It was right before God would kill them all…

Why kill even the children?

The same question was in his head again then, staring at the dancing blazes. The most dangerous of all, but God couldn't make him fall twice anyway, so there was no need to keep the question in.

He shouted it out to the sky, his yellow eyes drowned in tears and fixed onto the firmament, his jaw clenched and anger and betrayal painted all over his features.

Why the children too?

He couldn't fathom a single valid reason for it. Why save one man and his family over all these innocent souls? How could God think that a grown-up man was purer than a new-born baby? How could she punish even the ones who hadn't done anything wrong to the world yet? It felt so wrong…

Aziraphale had found him, drunk to no end, a week after the water had gone back its rightful place again. The flood was over, the seas and oceans had found back their rhythms, lakes and rivers were back to their normal quiet. But there was no one left, almost, to enjoy the peace.

The angel had been looking for his hereditary enemy for days and days, but when he found him, it was in a dark little corner of a house lost in Northern Europe, surrounded by nothing but alcohol.

There was something then that moved in Aziraphale's chest, that he knew he shouldn't have felt. Not for a demon, and anyway, not a movement like this at all. It didn't matter. He pushed the thought away. He had been worried when he hadn't found any trace of him after the flood – his reasonable inner voice argued it was because he ought to keep an eye on the adversary, his feelings told him otherwise, but he couldn't resolve himself into listening to them for now.

He thought again of the day of the first rain, he thought of how natural it had felt to stretch a wing for Crawly to hide under, how easy it was to talk with him. He would have lied if he had pretended like he hadn't been happy to see him again after their parting on the walls of Eden. Even their encounter before the ark, although the circumstances were terrible, had brought a warm feeling to spread through his entire being.

It was pain that conquered his frame now, as he looked at Crawly sitting on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees, like a child thrown into the night who was afraid of the dark.

He knelt by the demon's side, would try to shame him out of his drunken trance, to bring his mind back into focus on the world around him. It took him a single word to do so.

"Crawly?"

His head snapped up, and his golden eyes almost like amber then, in the dim light of the fire from the hearth nearby. Now that Aziraphale thought of it, the house smelled of burnt wood, ashes and spilled wine, and something absolutely indescribable that smelled just like Crawly.

"Aziraphale?" he asked in a blur, his eyes unfocused although he was doing his best to rest his gaze upon the angel before him.

Knots formed in Aziraphale's stomach at how hoarse Crawly's voice sounded as it passed his tightened throat.

"I wondered where you had run off," he explained with a nervous little laugh. "Couldn't find you anywhere down there, in the south, so I thought… well, I wanted to know what you were up to. Demonic force unleashed upon the world and all that, of course…"

Crawly shrugged.

"Drinking, 's all."

"I can see that."

"You?"

"Looking for you. That's all. I… I heard about your boat. Why did you build it?"

A few tears escaped Crawly's eyes again.

"The children," he merely answered, but he knew he didn't need to explain more of it for Aziraphale to understand what he meant. "But they destroyed it, and I… I couldn't save…"

He loudly sniffed, drying his cheeks on his sleeve, but as soon as he put his arm around his knees again, some new tears rolled down to wet his skin once more.

"They were crying. When the water was so high, and there was no place left to hide. They were crying… they were crying and there was nothing I could do…"

"I know. I heard them too," Aziraphale whispered, hurrying to dry his eyes before Crawly could see how affected he was too.

But the demon noticed it anyway.

"Why would She let the children die?" he asked in a whisper, as if afraid to be heard by someone else than the angel before him.

But Aziraphale shook his head.

"I don't know. I really don't know. But, as I understand it, it's not our job to know this kind of things. We must accept it. God knows what purpose Her actions serve, and it is what matters."

"But why can't I know too? Why is it so bad that I want to know why She did it?"

Aziraphale had no answer, and he didn't pretend like he did have one.

"I don't know."

They stared at each other for a while, both of them trying to withhold their tears, and both of them miserably failing.

"You should sober up," Aziraphale eventually broke the silence that had settled in the room, only disturbed by the cold wind howling outside and the fire cracking next to them.

The night was violent, like many had been since the flood. The wind seemed unable to rest, the temperature had dropped unusually low for this time of the year, the animals roamed longer in the shadows under the moonlight. There was an unrest shaking the world, as if the flood had scared the Earth itself, and it was afraid God would do it again.

She had promised she would not, though. Instead, She would invent rainbows.

As they stared at each other, both Crawly and Aziraphale were shaken with the same urge, that they both refrained. They wanted to hold each other, even if for just a minute, feel the physical reassurance brought by someone who knew how they felt, knew what had happened since the beginning and knew how unfair it was, although none of them dared to speak the words they thought about. Instead, they just stared at each other for a while. There wasn't any word really invented yet to describe how they felt for each other. It was okay. They guessed it might be, one day, like all things had been invented before and would be invented later, the same way God was about to invent rainbows.

Aziraphale moved to sit next to Crawly, against the wall of both mud and clay. He rested his back against the hard surface before taking Crawly's jar, and drinking some wine. It didn't taste very good, but it didn't matter. The alcohol was all he was looking for.

Crawly meant to say it. That he was happy Aziraphale had come. That he felt better now that the angel was by his side. That he didn't want him to leave. That he hadn't stopped thinking about his kind smile, and his long white wing stretching in the first raindrops, and his ridiculously blond hair, and his clever blue eyes. That he had hoped their paths would cross more often than he could dare to admit. But he couldn't speak the words out loud, they were too dangerous, and he couldn't imagine a way for the angel to feel the same as he did. So instead, he mustered his last strengths to ask one more question, his voice low, weak, shaking in a breath.

"Will you still be here in the morning?"

Aziraphale found himself wanting to cry again, but he didn't. Crawly's question sounded a lot like please, don't go. Please, stay.

"We'll see," the angel answered in a hesitant voice.

Although his words sounded a lot like I will.

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

 It was the middle of the night. There had been no signs of evil lurking around the town, no words from Hell to notify Crawly about moving pieces around. He wasn't even sure if it was a mere accident or if Hell was involved. All he knew was what he could witness now: the consequences of an event he couldn’t stop anymore.

The great library of Alexandria was burning, and within its walls, the greatest treasures of mankind turned into ashes: knowledge and beauty.

History, philosophy, poetry, tales… all were turning from scrolls to blazes right under his eyes, and there wasn’t much he could do. If he were to be honest, he didn’t much care about the texts. He cared about the angel he was certain to find there.

Without fail, Aziraphale was here. He seemed desperate, yet focused his efforts in an attempt to contain the fire and stop it from spreading across town. Crawly could see a few people lying on the ground, safely, a few meters away from the burning building. Somehow, he knew the angel had used his powers to get them out of the fire and save their lives.

Crawly would be in trouble if he was caught helping Aziraphale with the burning inferno, and he reckoned he could hardly take such a tremendous risk. There were hundreds of people around, too many eyes that could have been watching for his reaction, for his actions. He couldn’t take the risk to have Hell learn about the way he felt for Aziraphale. He didn’t dare to imagine what either of their sides would do to them if they learnt…

He couldn’t work in plain sight, but he could do some discreet work. He could move to adjacent streets and bless them against the coming fire, he could disguise himself to evacuate the people in neighbouring streets. He could heal the wounded who had been taken away from the flames. Finally, he could miracle himself inside the library, just for a few seconds, just long enough to grab an armful of scrolls, and miracle himself out again.

And it's exactly what he did that night.

At dawn, he found Aziraphale in his house, not far from the burning library. The flames had spread to more buidings, but the angel lived far enough in the city to be safe. The blazes were weakening, slowly yet surely. There was little more to do except wait for it all to be over.

Crawly brought with him a large bag, containing the scrolls he had saved and a large jar filled with wine.

He knocked four times in a particular pattern, the code he and Aziraphale had designed to let the other know who was visiting. It was safer this way. If another Angel was with Aziraphale now, he would make some noise, either by breaking some pottery, raising his voice or coughing… no matter what, something loud and clear that would tell Crawly to run as fast as possible.

Instead, he recognized the faint sound of slow, reluctant steps coming closer to the door, and Aziraphale soon appeared before him.

The angel seemed exhausted, desperation extinguishing the usual glint that shone in his blue eyes. He had scratches on his cheeks and arms, even a rather deep burn on his left upper-arm. He didn’t seem to care much about them though.

Crawly clenched both his fists and jaw. He wished he’d known for certain who was truly responsible for this. He would make sure to send them straight to Hell. But for now, the culprit was a mere rumour, and it wasn't enough…

"What do you want? Has something happened?" he asked the demon, still blocking the way, preventing Crawly from stepping inside.

"Has something happened? Are you serious? You think I haven’t noticed the library burning?"

"Did you have something to do with that?"

Crawly’s gaze softened, and he spoke in a soothing tone this time.

"No, Aziraphale. It wasn’t me. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know you loved the place."

It was Aziraphale’s time to soften, and he moved aside, letting the demon in. He locked the door behind them.

"Do you think it comes from your side?" Aziraphale asked in a hesitant voice.

"I don’t know. They didn’t tell me anything."

"You really didn’t know?"

Crawly turned to face Aziraphale, eyes of sulphur and amber meeting irises as blue as the sea. And when the demon answered, the angel had to doubt that he was telling him the truth. Crawly had always been a terrible liar… at least with Aziraphale.

"I would have tried to stop it if I knew."

"Really?"

Crawly shrugged, trying to look casual, but his voice sounded a little too fragile.

"Hey, you know… knowledge can lead to questioning, and I’m the living proof that your side doesn’t like questions. So obviously, it would have been a very demonic thing to do."

But his tone and the softness of his voice, and the look in his eyes that seemed almost tender were rather saying he would have done it for Aziraphale.

"Heard it was because of good old Julius again," Crawly went on. "Burnt ships near the harbour, the fire spread through the parts of town closer to the sea. I can't be sure it's the real reason behind it all, though, maybe it is another demon. Anyway, I'm sorry."

Aziraphale let himself fall on a chair around his wooden table, heaving an exhausted sigh. When he spoke again, Crawly could hear the tears in his voice.

"I couldn’t save anything. Just the people inside, but not a single scroll, nothing more. I should have prevented it altogether. What kind of angel am I? Not even able to protect a library…"

Crawly sat down as well, pulling the chair across the floor to sit right in front of the angel. He took out of his bag the jar and the scrolls. Aziraphale’s eyes grew round at the sight of the parchments.

"I arrived too late, I’m sorry," Crawly mumbled, looking uncomfortably away from the angel as he handed him the texts, while Aziraphale was now staring at him again, his mouth a little agape with a mixture of shock and hope. "I couldn’t save much. Had time for only one trip inside."

"You went inside? After the fire started?"

"Well… you were busy helping around the library, so… yeah. Anyway, you know, demon, fire… suits me better than it suits you."

He handed the scrolls still, but Azirapahale wasn’t making any movement to take them.

"You went inside to save those?" Aziraphale went on, his voice shaking.

"No need to make a big deal of it," Crawly replied.

"You could have been hurt!"

"I wasn’t."

He shook the parchments a little, a silent plea for the angel to finally reach out and take them. It felt like Crawly was handing over more than a few scrolls though, something of him that he didn’t dare to name but that had been Aziraphale’s for a while.

The angel eventually took the scrolls in his hands, shaking a little as the dry parchment fell under his fingers, as he grasped the only things of the library that remained. He had spent so many hours there, had found so many stories and essays to add to the collection. It was all gone now. All, except for the seven scrolls he was now holding in his trembling hands.

And it was thanks to Crawly.

"Thank you," he whispered, his cheeks wet with tears, but Crawly shushed him in a hurry.

"Don’t say something like that! Imagine if someone was listening! Besides… there’s no need for a thank you, really. It’s alright."

Aziraphale hesitated when he spoke again. He could have told a lie, or speak his mind. It was a battle he often fought around Crawly. He found himself longing to speak out words that an angel should never say, and even less so to a demon.

He was too tired, too distraught, too desperate to think about Heaven’s rules at this moment though.

"Crawly, if I… if I can ask for one more favour I… I think I would… like some companionship right now?"

But his voice sounded like he truly meant please, stay. Crawly, for the love of God, stay.

The demon struggled to hide the smile that tried to form on his lips.

"Yes, angel. I can do that. In fact, I came prepared."

He took the jar he had brought, and poured a drink for both of them. And Aziraphale, despite his tears, smiled.

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

 "So… you made this one?"

Crowley nodded his head, blushing a little and mumbling an incomprehensible answer.

"I didn't know you used to make stars," Aziraphale breathed, clearly impressed. "It's lovely. I've always liked stars."

"Wasn't any big deal, really."

"No big deal?! Crowley! Of course, it is! They are beautiful!"

Crowley shyly smiled.

"Thanks."

"I think this one is my favourite," Aziraphale smiled, wiggling a little, the scroll he had brought to share with Crowley completely forgotten by his side now. "Yes, most definitely. It's gorgeous."

"Actually, there are two stars," Crowley explained. "But they're very close, the closest there are in the sky. And they are so close, you can't make the difference between them, and only see one. I thought… I thought it was… meaningful, at the time. To have two things so close they seem to be just one."

"Soulmates," Aziraphale smiled and nodded.

"Yes, like soulmates."

"What's their name? You haven't told me."

"Alpha and Beta Centauri."

"Oh, so lovely…"

They had eaten dinner together, it was the beginning of the oyster season. They had walked a little through Rome as twilight painted the sky with gold. They had settled down in the forum, sitting on the edge of a wall, at the top of a flight of stairs. Despite the scroll that Aziraphale had brought for Crowley, the conversation had settled on the firmament as the angel enjoyed the view of the burning stars through the branches of cypresses. And that's when Crowley had revealed that a long time ago, before his fall, he had helped creating them. And the angel couldn't refrain the wave of affection aimed at Crowley that washed over him at the thought of the demon creating some of the most beautiful things in all of Creation.

"You've never told me," Aziraphale said softly, carefully, as if he spoke to a child he feared to scare away, "how it happened."

"Making stars? Nothing that complicated, you just need gas and a little bit of heat and then… then the trick is to make them hold together in equilibrium. Also, the balance of colours is tricky, and that takes a while. Other than that, it's not that hard."

Aziraphale chuckled.

"I didn't mean the stars, but I'm glad to know that now."

Crowley nodded knowingly.

"I know you didn't mean the stars."

He remained silent, and the angel decided to back away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Hurt me?"

"Well, it… must be quite a painful memory. I shouldn't have asked that."

"Yeah, yeah… it was quite painful, indeed."

Crowley's voice was weak now, a little too deep as well. It sounded far off, remoted, as if he spoke from another world. He seemed lost in memories he wished he could forget.

"You… we should talk about something else, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Crowley shook himself and turned to Aziraphale again, a casual smile on his face.

"'S alright, angel. Nothing to worry about. I'm fine. I just… haven't really talked about it since it happened."

"Really? But it was a long time ago."

"Demons aren't really the 'open up and share your trauma' types."

"Neither are angels," Aziraphale muttered with a wince.

"I know. I remember that."

"Look I… if you want to talk about it, because it would help you… now or whenever you'd feel like it, then I will be here to listen to you, Crowley. And on the contrary, if it makes you feel uncomfortable to mention it, then it's okay too."

The demon slowly nodded, feeling his throat tightening and tears blurring the world around him.

How could Aziraphale be so kind? Even with him? A demon? No one had ever been so kind to him…

Silence settled around them for a while. It was already late at night, and yet a few people kept on walking through the city, either to fetch more wine to drink or on their way home. The torches set around the forum attracted insects and a few fireflies were buzzing around the place, tiny dots of light moving through the stony lane and buildings.

When he spoke again, Crowley's voice was soft, distant again, a mere whisper almost destroyed by the blowing breeze, and yet Aziraphale did hear him. And maybe it was a little bit of a miracle.

"I didn't mean to fall, you know? I mean I… I didn't stop believing in Her. I didn't choose to follow Satan. I simply… I wanted to know. I wanted to know why things were the way they were. And I asked too many questions. And as no one would tell me, I asked around, and I kept on asking, and I hung around the wrong people in the end and… And when they fell, they pulled me down with them, but I didn't… I didn't choose a side. I was molested into one. Because I asked why and She didn't like that. I… sauntered vaguely downwards. That's all I did. I never understood why, here again. Why is it a bad thing to want to know why…"

His voice broke, he sniffed, and Aziraphale had to dry his own cheeks too.

"I'm sorry, Crowley," he whispered, his tone matching the demon's.

"It hurt so much… it burnt… it burnt so much and my wings…"

His voice broke again, and this time, he couldn't muster the strength to speak again. Aziraphale rested a reassuring hand on his back, stroking gently, soothingly. Crowley didn't dare to move, too scared the angel would stop. He struggled to control his breathing, but miserably failed.

"It's over now," Aziraphale whispered in a warm voice. "Besides, your wings are still beautiful."

Crowley dried his cheeks as he let out a little laugh.

"Yeah, well… they used to be so white."

"I think they suit you better in black."

They looked at each other and exchanged a smile. Aziraphale had moved his hand to rest where one of Crowley's wing should appear, and he traced circular patterns there. It was intimate, trusting… and Crowley couldn't breathe at all by now.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you scared of me?"

Aziraphale frowned.

"Why would I be?"

"I just… I don't want you to be scared of me. I know I'm a demon but I… I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right? We're… I wouldn't do that."

He almost said that they were friends, but he couldn't. He didn't want to go too far, and that was not the point. If Crowley knew the way he felt for the angel, if he had put words onto the feelings making his heart swell right now, he couldn't imagine for a second that Aziraphale could feel the same.

He was a demon, and Aziraphale… oh Aziraphale was the brightest, the kindest angel there was. He was a burning, but just like a star, Crowley was doomed to admire him from afar. Just like a star, he was unreachable…

For these past few years though, as they both lived in Rome, they had become closer than ever before. They spent time eating together, and talking, and taking walks, and laughing… If there was always a shadow following them that they tried to run away from, they still took the risk to see each other. If they were still careful and looked over their shoulders, they met anyway. Crowley reckoned it was enough, it was already more than he had thought possible not so long before.

The angel nodded.

"I know, Crowley. I know. And I won't ever do anything to harm you either."

"Oh… I know, angel. You're too soft for that."

Aziraphale laughed, but could hardly deny Crowley's words.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Will you still be here in the morning?"

The angel had heard the question several times before, and he knew that the hidden meaning behind the soft words was please, stay.

Aziraphale gave him a bright, tender smile.

"We'll see."

But it sounded a lot like I will.

*********************************************************************

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[small-leviathan]

The themes of the Splatoon series

(Heads up, this essay analysing Splatoon is literally 2300 words long. You’re gonna be for a while if you decide to stick around.)

In case you've missed it until now, Splatoon has taken the world by storm. Nintendo's cephalopod-based multiplayer shooter series has sold almost 12 million copies across two games in just about three years, and as a result of this still young franchise has cemented itself as one of the legendary Japanese game developer's new hallmark series. Nintendo seems inclined to agree, as Splatoon's central Inkling characters have been featured prominently in the marketing for their latest game in the prestigious crossover series, Super Smash Brothers Ultimate, with the Inkling girl even earning a prominent spot on the game's cover art alongside titans like Mario, Donkey Kong and Link.

So perhaps some of you would scoff at the idea that Splatoon has a deeper message behind it than it first appears. Nintendo isn't really known for baking thought-provoking stuff into their games, and this seems like it'd be doubly true for a game that is first-and-foremost a competitive multiplayer shooter. I don't know if I'll be able to convince you otherwise, honestly, but I do sincerely believe that Splatoon has something to say and in this essay, I will explain why I believe that to be the case, and just what that thing is.

Let's start by describing the most important elements of Splatoon's narrative, and just as a heads up, I think it goes without saying that I will be spoiling pretty much every major reveal across all of Splatoon 1, Splatoon 2, and its DLC, Octo Expansion. Splatoon is set twelve thousand years after global warming and environmental pollution has wiped out mankind as well as most mammals. Having taken our place is a large assortment of evolved sea critters, including crabs, jellyfish and most prominently, cephalopods. Squids and octopi alike have evolved the ability to shift into humanoid forms, becoming known as inklings and octarians, respectively. Unfortunately, our squishy successors didn't get along very well, as rising sea levels forced them into a violent conflict known as the Great Turf Wars. This conflict was eventually won by the Inklings, letting them claim the surface while the octarians were forced into hiding in great underground cities.

Splatoon proper takes place a hundred years later, and the Octarians have been reduced to just a distant memory in the mind of Inkling society. Trouble is brewing under the surface, however, as the leader of the Octarians, DJ Octavio, is planning an attack on the hub city of Inklingkind, Inkopolis. The player takes control of a customizable inkling who is recruited by the military veteran Cap'n Cuttlefish to help take down the Octarian menace before they can start their campaign. Along the way the player, now dubbed as "Agent 3", is helped not only by Cap'n Cuttlefish, but by his granddaughters Agent 1 and Agent 2, who are eventually revealed to be the two members of the pop idol duo The Squid Sisters, Callie and Marie (to no one's surprise, the game does not try very hard to conceal their identities). Long story short, Agent 3 defeats the Octarians, ending in a grand battle against DJ Octavio. The Octarian threat is defeated and DJ Octavio is captured, with inkling society none the wiser.

Splatoon 2 unfolds two years after the events of the first game, and a lot has changed. Callie and Marie have drifted apart, following a popularity contest ending in Marie's favour, and taking their place as the number one musical act is a new duo known as Off the Hook, consisting of the rapper Pearl and the DJ Marina (who looks suspiciously like an Octarian, but more on that later). Marie discovers that DJ Octavio has escaped his containment, and now alone due to Cap'n Cuttlefish and Agent 3 having gone on a new mission and Callie suddenly disappearing in the midst of a trip, she is forced to follow her grandfather's footsteps and recruit a new Agent, this one being our new playable character, Agent 4. Not much is different from that point onward, except for the eventual reveal that DJ Octavio is responsible for Callie's disappearance, having kidnapped her after he escaped and is now brainwashing her with a pair of hypnotic sunglasses. Nonetheless, Callie is saved and DJ Octavio is defeated once again.

You might be wondering why I bothered to explain all of the plot of Splatoon's singleplayer content, and the reason for that is that I believe that understanding all of this is necessary to explain the first and most important of Splatoon's themes: The positive power of pop culture and self-expression.

Splatoon heavily encourages that the player uses its system to express themselves. Aside from having character creation, there is an emphasis on fashion, both in the culture of the inklings themselves and in the gameplay proper, with the player having access to a wide variety of clothes, headwear and shoes with which to accessorize their characters. It might be easy, perhaps even tempting, to read this in a cynical manner and characterize inklings as a bunch of shallow trend-chasers, slaves to consumerist fads built to wring as much cash out of them as possible. And this interpretation is, in all honesty, valid, but it's certainly not a philosophical standpoint that Splatoon itself agrees with. The game encourages mixing and experimenting with its fashions, but all of that fashion is bought with a currency that you earn by playing the multiplayer game, which in-universe is explained to be a kind of competitive shooting sport, not unlike paintball, that seems to be the hyperfixation of every single inkling teen like the player character. It's a bit hard to read the game's take on fashion as cynical when you literally earn money by doing something you were not only going to do anyway but were also actively seeking out and enjoying. The multiplayer mode itself is also encouraging self-expression, in a way, due to there being a wide variety of weapons available, all of which feel distinct and unique, allowing the player find the ones they like the most and use only those. This isn't "do tireless work to keep spending money", it's "do the things you like to get the things you like." And I feel like that is a very clear subversion of consumerist culture, unless you feel like pointing out that Splatoon itself is something you have to spend money on to play and therefore it is inherently a part of consumerist culture, in which case, alright then, Holden Caulfield, don't you have anything better to do?

Moving on, there is also a massive focus on music in the setting, with a lot of different fictional bands, all of which sound completely unlike each other. Crucially, the "pop music" in Splatoon is not as heavily standardized as our own pop music is, in Inkopolis everything from the Bottom Feeders' Celtic rock to Chirpy Chips' chiptune to Diss-Pair's... whatever they are, can find mainstream success and popularity. Perhaps the most telling sign that Splatoon thinks music is important is that all of the most important characters are artists, from Callie and Marie to Pearl and Marina and even the antagonist himself, DJ Octavio.

That said, there is a very important distinction to be made here. In an interview with Famitsu from 2015, series art director Seita Inoue stated that the music that plays during the singleplayer levels is composed by DJ Octavio and his subordinates, and that "it’s like the Octo side broadcasts their music in order to control the many Octarians.” When this is combined with the fact that DJ Octavio uses a pair of sunglasses to brainwash Callie, I think it's clear that the true face of his villainy is shown. DJ Octavio isn't just the antagonist because he's the final boss, but because he takes music and fashion, which the game has established as ways in which to express personal freedom, and repurposes them as tools of control and oppression. DJ Octavio is literally the antithesis of Inkling society and Inkling values.

There is one final point I want to make, but it requires delving into Octo Expansion a bit to explore, so we'll start that now. Octo Expansion is the paid singleplayer DLC for Splatoon 2, adding a pretty sizable new story campaign. In this new story, the player takes the role of an Octoling (the Octarian equivalent of an Inkling, though I will be using two terms rather interchangeably in the rest of the essay) who wakes up in an underground subway with no memories. Here, they meet Cap'n Cuttlefish, who explains that they had been in a fight with him and Agent 3 before all three of them got swept away to the locale they are now in. As Agent 3 has gone missing, Cap'n Cuttlefish teams up with our amnesiac player character to find a way out of the subway, giving them the nickname Agent 8 in the process. Along the way, the two of them end up coming into contact with Pearl and Marina, the previously mentioned music duo, who resolve to help Agent 8 and Cap'n Cuttlefish escape. A lot of things happen between the start and beginning of the story, but I want to focus on the most important revelation: Marina is revealed to have been a high-ranking member of the Octarian military who deserted after the final battle between Agent 3 and DJ Octavio in Splatoon 1, and was inspired to become an artist after hearing the Squid Sisters perform their iconic hit song Calamari Inkantation, the very same song that was stated to have inspired Agent 8's desertion as well. Calamari Inkantation was always played up as being a very special song, as said by Marina herself: "Once our souls have been freed, there's no way we can continue to live under the oppression of Octarian society."

So at this point, it's not even subtextual but literally textual, Splatoon sincerely believes that music has liberating properties, able to make people realize that they're being held back by societal structures and also gain the willpower to break free of those shackles. The lines are very clearly drawn here: In Inkopolis music and fashion are ways in which people express themselves and therefore it is an idyllic and diverse place, but Octarian society is an oppressive dystopia where these things are used to control the populace. To really hammer the point home, in the final battle of Octo Expansion, in which the very fate of the world hangs in the balance, the day is saved by Pearl and Marina (and Agent 8) working together and combining their talents and technology to destroy the giant superweapon threatening their home. The world is literally saved by a pair of musicians. It doesn't get more explicit than that.

There are two more themes I think Splatoon play with, but to a much lesser extent than the one previously mentioned. The first of these is the importance of moving on and not being stuck in the past. This is an explicit character trait in both of the central antagonists. DJ Octavio, who was the leader of the Octarians in the Great Turf Wars a hundred years ago, has been holding a grudge against the inklings for all this time when he could have been focusing on trying to improve his people’s living conditions, or even broker peace with the Inklings, who clearly don't have an issue with a bunch of Octolings running around following the events of Octo Expansion. The second case study is the antagonist from Octo Expansion, Commander Tartar. An ancient AI built by a human scientist before their extinction to pass on their knowledge to whatever species inherited the world to come, Commander Tartar fails this mission because it holds humans on such a high pedestal that it sees the flaws of the Inklings and Octarians as proof they aren't worthy to pass the torch to, and resolves to wipe them both out and create its own "perfect species" instead. Additionally, I think it's worth mentioning that the weapon it plans do this is with is a repurposed statue resembling a Greek marble bust, a relic of the past that becomes a literal metaphor for how Commander Tartar's mindset is destructive.

The second of these themes is the recurring motif that despite all of their differences and their conflicts Inklings and Octarians become complete when working together. The first sign of this is their opposite traits as species, Inklings are energetic, flighty and have a short attention span while Octarians are more serious, work-focused and obedient. It's pretty clear that both could stand to learn from each other's positive traits, and a bit of dialogue from Marina in Octo Expansion implies that she hopes as much. Off the Hook themselves are also an example of this theme in action, Pearl had trouble finding herself as an artist and was not doing very well before meeting Marina, and it's through Pearl that Marina gains the chance to follow her dream, and their cooperation makes them so successful that they become Inkopolis' number one artists. This theme is also a part of the final battle of Octo Expansion, as mentioned earlier, as it is the cooperation of Inklings and Octarians that saves the day.

If there's anything to take away from this overly wordy essay, it's this: Splatoon wants you to know that there is no shame in enjoying "shallow" pop culture, that there is meaning even in things not deemed "high culture". Splatoon wants you to know that the value of something lies not in the value of its production, but in what it expresses and the joy it brings to the people observing it, and the people making it.

Because to Splatoon, these simple things have the power to unite, to free us, and ultimately to save the world.

And personally? I think that's a pretty worthwhile message.

[longsightmyth]

Myth Reads the Naming, Chapter 21

PELLINOR

The chapter is called Council of Friends and I for one could use some more friendship is magic stuff in my life, bring it on.

Maerad has a nightmare and a voice speaks in something that is almost the Speech but fucked up. It says, “I am again, but none shall find my dwelling, for I live in every human heart.”

I just wanted friendship, book. You promised me friendship.

She wakes up and reassures herself, and then Hem knocks on her door having also had nightmares. They huddle together and fall back to sleep.

Maerad wakes up to a beautiful morning and Hem, eating bread in a corner. He’s been waiting for her to wake up. She asks how Cadvan is and Hem doesn’t seem to care much (which, fair) but says he’s probably still sleeping and Maerad should hurry up because there is food (I appreciate a lot about this interaction. If I forget to mention it in the comparison please bug me so I can talk about it in a reblog or something). Maerad kicks him out to get dressed and then they walk down to get lunch together.

When they get to the sitting room, Cadvan is awake and chatting with Saliman. Cadvan is the worse for wear still but he’s talking and awake and teasing Maerad a little bit, and Maerad almost cries with how happy she is that he’s alive, black eye and stitched up face cuts and all. He assures her when she asks that he feels great and sends her off to the food.

Appetite sated (Hem comes with her for seconds) the siblings return to Cadvan and Saliman, who are discussing Saliman’s journey. Turns out Saliman was attacked by three hulls and killed them, but not before they killed his horse. He’s pretty sad about it and so am I:  horse death is sad. The horses are just doing their best okay.

Anyway, Nelac comes in while Maerad is looking out at the gardens and says that most of his flowers survived the storm. Maerad immediately likes him, not least because he fixed up Cadvan and reminds her of Cadvan.

Hem continues to eat as the adult bards convene and catch each other up on everything, and when they get to the part about the Kulag Cadvan admits he was in a hurry and not as careful as he should have been with magic or travel. He credits Maerad with getting them all out alive.

“I wondered…,” said Maerad, and then stopped.

“What, O my Deliverer?” said Cadvan.

Maerad blushed again at his teasing. “I wondered if the Landrost had hurt you, and that was why…” she faltered and stopped again.

“The Landrost did indeed hurt me,” said Cadvan. “And I was less in my power than I could be. But that is no excuse for rushed decisions and the mistakes that come with them. I judge myself at fault, and so I am; and it is a severe judgment, Maerad, because things very nearly were otherwise, and the result would have been terrible for many more than us.”

Maerad saw for an instant an implacable harshness in Cadvan’s face, and she shivered; she thought she would not like to be judged by Cadvan, had she done any real wrong.

They continue to catch up, and Nelac remembers hearing about the Treesong somewhere but he’ll have to look for it again, but Saliman Knows What’s Up and sings a verse from the poem at the beginning of chapter 17, which I will transcribe here so nobody has to search the hellscape that is my tumblr tags:

Grows a Lily on the Briar

Grows a Briar on the Wave

Triple-tongued its voice of Fire

Edil-Amarandh with save

True and false the cunning Flame

Burning in the darkest Night

False and true the secret Name

Quickened in the womb of Light

Where the Briar on the Foam?

Doth the Lily stemless stand?

Who will bring the Singing home?

Where the Harp? And whose the Hand?

Nelac is like ‘lol it almost sounds like you’re saying Maerad, who can speak common, Elidhu, and the Speech, is the Foretold’

Cadvan’s ACTUAL (specified as distracted and absent) RESPONSE: “Yes, yes, of course I am.”

Maybe warn a guy before you drop prophetic bombs in his lap, Cadvan.

Nelac thinks about it a minute and sorta soul searches Maerad with eye contact is like ‘okay fine you may have a point’. Also the Treesong is a super ancient song, he remembers.

Nelac ALSO wants to scry Hem. Hem is not having it rn and runs into the garde. Maerad chastises Nelac with all the vehemence of a sibling vs outsiders and heads after her brother. After assuring Hem that SHE believes him, obviously, and that Cadvan does, he agrees to come back inside, where Nelac straight up bribes him with food to be scried later. Hem is like ‘well if there’s FOOD’ and agrees, which, fair.

Further, Nelac says they have to figure out where Hem can go to bard school because Norloch is being Particularly Racist at the moment and Hem, unlike Maerad, looks very Pilanel. Cadvan says irritably that Hem would like other schools better anyway, fuck Norloch (okay not in quite those words but it’s close).

Saliman: hey no worries I’ll take the kid home with me where racist dickheads aren’t in charge. Sound good, Hem?

Hem: Boy does it!

Section paraphrased for clarity.

Also, Nelac adds, y’all haven’t been here in a while so let me tell you what else Enkir has fucked up: no more lady bards can train at Norloch.

The fuck, everyone in the room basically mouths in unison.

Nelac: so the flaw in our system is, if all of our elected officials are old white rich white dudes with The Right Families then it turns out they elect an old rich white dude with The Right Family as leader, which means even the relatively benevolent old rich white dudes get outvoted when it comes to civil rights and not destroying the world because these guys have no concept of doing anything for other people even in the name of self interest.

Not that we know anything about that in the States or anything.

Everybody agrees that a council must be called regarding world saving because they still labor under the delusion that old rich white dudes with The Right Families in power give a shit what happens to the world if it doesn’t affect them in the next five minutes. The poor saps.

Cadvan shows Maerad around Norloch and assures her once again that even if she isn’t the foretold it’s no biggie, he’ll take her to a good bard school.

“Would you stay there?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

He glanced at her quickly, his face unreadable. “For a time, until you were settled in,” he said.

When they get back, Hem wants Maerad there while he’s scried. Nelac says it’s unusual, but so is scrying a child so why not. There isn’t much to see since we aren’t in Hem’s PoV, but Nelac confirms that Hem is Maerad’s brother and everybody rejoices. Maerad offers to get them something to drink, does so, and leaves, feeling like she intruded.

At dinner, which Hem actually skips, they make a game plan for presenting Maerad-as-The-Foretold to the council. Nelac is going to do it alone for political reasons. That’s the end of the chapter.

THRONE OF GLASS

Three chapters of ToG is a fitting punishment for taking so long I guess. 46,47,48.

Dorian is hunting through the woods to ‘let the freezing air rush through him’  and burn off steam regarding Celaena, who apparently watches him like a cat watching a mouse, which is different from every single other woman ever, who otherwise look at him adoringly.

Dorian, I would think Kaltain fits that description. I’m just saying.

Apparently Celaena makes him want to be a better king or whatever by watching him and he’ll never be happy with any other woman now that he’s kissed her and he’s worried about her in the duel. Sure.

CELAENA’S POV.

She’s thinking about the duel, worries that Cain might be better because he has stamina (I mean this is a valid concern: Celaena can’t seem to do any sort of strenuous physical activity without throwing up, her stamina IS crap) and then that she might have to obey the King of Adarlan if she’s his Champion.

I’m not sure what you thought you were signing up for, Celaena?

Then she decides she wants to stay in the castle because Hot Dudes, I guess.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Kaltain drugs Celaena’s goblet(?) in the outside duel.

Swap to Celaena’s PoV, where she complains about the cold and thinks that she doesn’t know why they have to have the duels outside. Me neither, Celaena. Me neither.

She recognizes a couple of council members who hired her in the past, and then Nehemia shows up. For reasons?

Anyway, the king makes a speech, the duels start, Cain wins his. Celaena thinks that the other guys hadn’t even lasted three minutes, which, I mean. People generally greatly overestimate how long fights take, especially fights that aren’t specifically hemmed in for competition. Three minutes is a long time to fight one on one for your life?

Oh wait they aren’t fighting to the death. That would be too men for the demon infested king? I don’t know.

Chaol offers Celaena his sword to fight with, and Nehemia offers her Nehemia’s staff instead.

“If I may,” Nehemia said in Eyllwe, “I’d like to offer this to you instead.” The princess held out her beautifully carved iron-tipped staff. Celaena glanced between Chaol’s sword and her friend’s weapon. The sword, obviously, was the wiser choice—and for Chaol to offer his own weapon made her feel strangely lightheaded—but the staff…

Nehemia leaned in to whisper in Celaena’s ear. “Let it be with an Eyllwe weapon that you take them down.” Her voice hitched. “Let wood from the forests of Eyllwe defeat steel from Adarlan. Let the King’s Champion be someone who understands how the innocents suffer.”

So Celaena chooses the staff, which is actually a GREAT weapon vs a sword assuming you know how to use it for a myriad of reasons? Why would a sword be a wiser choice? Why is that obvious? Especially if it’s ‘iron-tipped’ by which I think she means capped, but whatever. We already knew very little research went into this, I’m lucky Celaena isn’t using that soap and hairpin thing.

She’s going to fight Grave. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get an explanation about him in the second book when he suddenly becomes relevant again.

Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said. Grave entered the ring and drew his sword.

Pulling her hand from Chaol’s, Celaena straightened her spine as she stepped into the ring. She quickly bowed to the king, then to her opponent.

She met Grave’s stare and smiled as she bent her knees, holding the staff in two hands.

You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, little man.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Grave’s first move is to try to break her staff. I. I’m just. Whatever at this point.

His sword gets stuck in her staff when he hits, and she punches him in the nose. He gets angry and charges, “aiming a direct blow to her heart.” She knocks his legs out from underneath him and puts the staff to his throat, which ends the fight I guess, though he doesn’t yield and isn’t injured aside from a broken nose.

She brought her mouth close to his ear. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered. “But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.” She smiled at him as she stood. He just stared up at her, his bloody nose leaking down the side of his cheek. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and dropped it on his chest. “You can keep that,” she said before she walked off the veranda.

She intercepted Chaol as soon as she crossed the line of chalk. “How long did that take?” she asked. She found Nehemia beaming at her, and Celaena lifted her staff a little in salute.

“Two minutes.”

She grinned at the captain. She was hardly winded. “Better than Cain’s time.”

How slowly are these people moving? Why are we counting time? What is HAPPENING.

Anyway they have a toast.

“Out of good faith, and honor to the Great Goddess,” Kaltain said in a dramatic voice. Celaena wanted to punch her. “May it be your offering to the Mother who bore us all. Drink, and let Her bless you, and replenish your strength.”

I want that all noted for the record on the religion front.

Celaena is thrown directly into fighting Cain without any more of a rest and does not realize she’s been drugged.

The conqueror of Erilea raised his hands.

“Begin!” he roared, and Celaena shook her head, trying to clear her blurry vision. She steadied herself, wielding the staff like a sword as Cain began circling. Nausea flashed through her as his muscles flexed. For some reason, the world was still hazy. She clenched her teeth, blinking. She’d use his strength against him.

Cain charged faster than she anticipated. She caught his sword on the broad side with the staff, avoiding the sharp edges, and leapt back as she heard the wood groan.

He struck so quickly that she had to concede to the edge of his blade. It sank deep into the staff. Her arms ached from the impact. Before she could recover, Cain yanked his sword from her weapon and surged toward her. She could only bound back, deflecting the blow with the iron tip of the staff.

Given that Celaena is a, an assassin, b, just had a refresher course on poisons, and c, has been poisoned like this at least once before in the prequel novellas, I don’t know what to tell anybody here. Finally she gets it when she hears Kaltain laugh.

She had difficulty holding the staff. Cain came at her, and she had no choice but to meet his blows, barely having the strength to raise the weapon each time. How much bloodbane had they given her? The staff cracked, splintered, and groaned.

Did Nehemia give her a wimpy-ass staff or does Celaena just not know how to use it to deflect rather than just take the full force of a blade? His sword sinks into it, it splinters and cracks? Y’all. No.

She had to end this now, before the hallucinations started. She knew they’d be powerful: seers had once used bloodbane as a drug to view spirits from other worlds. Celaena shot forward with a sweep of the staff. Wood slammed into steel.

The staff snapped in two.

The iron-tipped head soared to the other side of the veranda, leaving Celaena with a piece of useless wood.

Y’all. Y’ALL. You don’t even know how much I’m despairing right now.

Anyway, we go through Dorian and Chaol’s PoVs in quick succession to show that they’re worried about her and are probably in love, because sure, that’s what’s important right now, why not.

Celaena starts seeing creatures from another world as Cain keeps beating her up and Chaol keeps telling her to get up. Apparently the eye of Elena actually was protecting her, because…

Cain reached for her throat, and she flung herself backward. All that he managed to grab was her amulet. With a resounding snap, the Eye of Elena ripped from her neck.

The sunlight disappeared, the bloodbane seizing control of her mind again, and Celaena found herself before an army of the dead. The shadowy figure that was Cain raised his arm, dropping the amulet upon the ground.

They came for her.

That’s the end of the chapter. Thank goodness.

COMPARISON

Say it with me: I despair.

These chapters are pretty different from each other, but I said I wanted to talk about Hem and food and I do.

Both Hem and Maerad have been deprived all their lives, and while Maerad is slightly less preoccupied with filling her stomach than Hem, she also does not in my memory refuse food when it is offered, and only ever delights in the fact that she has it. Hem, obviously, is a little more fixated, but Maerad usually got ENOUGH to eat by virtue of her musical talent and value and the whole superstition thing. Hem rarely did.

Celaena turns her nose up at salmon and complains when chicken is a little bit dry. It’s just not behavior I would expect from someone starved in a salt mine for a year.

Pellinor’s mythology and religion and society remains consistent. ToG’s still rolling with the one goddess lots of little gods thing for now.

I’m just glad that Celaena used an actual weapon (poorly) and didn’t try to get creative. God knows what she would have done with a blade of grass or something. Why are we timing our fights. How was Chaol watching the clock closely enough to know that AND watching the fight. This could all have been solved with some research.

STATS

Pages: 23

Fragments: 36

Em-Dashes: 50

Ellipses: 14

Pages: 22

Fragments: 6

Em-Dashes: 2

Ellipses: 13

[theculturedmarxist]

Measure of a Man: A Lesson in Logic with Star Trek

I love Star Trek. For all its goofy latex-head aliens and silly episodes, sometimes it really manages to knock it out of the park. One of my absolute favorite episodes is “The Measure of a Man” from the second season. From the synopsis at Memory Alpha:

Picard must prove Data is legally a sentient being with rights and freedoms under Federation law when transfer orders demand Data's reassignment for study and disassembly.

Data is an android, a machine made in the shape of a human male, essentially a synthetic person. While he appears humanoid, he has no organic parts or processes, nor emotions of any kind. It is based on this artificial nature that Bruce Maddox, Starfleet Cyberneticist, asserts that Data is Starfleet’s property, a piece of equipment like a phaser or teleporter, and is therefore subject to a Starfleet order to be disassembled and studied, despite the very real danger that such a procedure could result in his irreparable harm, killing him. At first, Data resolves to simply resign his commission as second in command of the USS Enterprise, but Maddox asserts that he hasn’t even got the right to do that. As a robot, a machine, he has no right to decide his fate. A hearing is called through which Data’s rights as an individual or servitude as a machine will be determined. What follows is a truly elegant application of logic used to devastating rhetorical effect, culminating in this scene:

Picard: Commander, it is your contention that Lt Cmdr Data is not a sentient being, and therefore not entitled to all the rights reserved for all life forms within this Federation?

Maddox: Data is not sentient, no.

P: Commander, enlighten us, what is required for sentience?

M: Intelligence. Self-awareness. Consciousness.

Much of the process of logic has to do with definition, with discerning the specific from the general, and determining in concrete terms what differentiates one thing from another. What Picard is doing is establishing the parameters of Maddox’s conclusion (that Data is not sentient) in order to deconstruct it. The conclusion is the result of a logical argument, which is itself a series of premises meant to lead to or support the conclusion, in this case that Data is not sentient by virtue of not possessing the qualities of sentience: intelligence, self-awareness, and consciousness. These premises are mutually agreed upon, otherwise both sides are arguing about different things.

P: Prove to the court that I am sentient.

M: *scoffs* This is absurd. We all know you’re sentient.

P: So I am sentient, but Commander Data is not? (M: That’s right.) Uh-hn. Why? Why am I sentient?

Maddox’s assertion is that Picard, being an organic being, possesses sentience, while Data, an inorganic being, does not, or that Picard=A and Data=B. Picard is asking, why is A=A and B=B? What quality makes it so that A!=B? It can’t be sex, since sentience isn’t based on being male or female (or whatever, given the makeup of the Federation). Nor is it gender, since Picard and Data ostensibly share the same. Nor is it necessarily their “natural” or biological qualities, or lack thereof. Picard has an artificial heart, and Geordi has artificial eyes in the form of his visor. If this itself were the case, then a fully biological individual would be “more sentient” than someone with artificial components, to a greater or lesser degree. Since none of these are the case, it must be something other than the physical which imparts sentience.

M: Well, you are self-aware.

P: Ah, that’s the second of your criteria. Let’s deal with the first, intelligence. Is Cmdr Data intelligent?

M: Yes. It has the ability to understand and learn and... cope, with new situations.

P: Like this hearing?

M: Yes.

P: What about ‘self-awareness?’ What does that mean? Why, why am I ‘self-aware?’

M: Because you’re conscious of your existence and actions. You are aware of yourself and your own ego.

P: Commander Data, what are you doing now?

Data: I am taking part in a legal hearing to determine my rights and status. Am I a person, or property?

P: And what’s at stake?

D: My right to choose. Perhaps my very life.

P: “My rights.” “My status.” “My right to choose.” “My life.” Well, seems reasonably self-aware to me. Commander...

M: ...

P: I’m waiting.

What is critical here is that Picard is deconstructing Maddox’s own argument against him. Data, by Maddox’s own criteria, possesses intelligence, self-awareness, and all that’s left now is consciousness. If the premises are all true, that intelligence, self-awareness, and consciousness are the qualities required for sentience, and if Data does indeed possess them, then Data is sentient.

M: This is... exceedingly difficult.

P: Do you like Cmdr Data?

M: I... I don’t know it... well enough to like or... dislike it.

P: But you admire him.

M: Oh yes. It’s an extraordinary piece of–

P: –Of engineering and programming, yes, you have said that. Commander, you have devoted your life to the study of cybernetics in general.

M: Yes.

P: And Commander Data in particular.

M: Yes.

P: And now you propose to dismantle him.

M: So that I can learn from it and construct more.

P: How many more?

M: As many as are needed. Hundreds, thousands if necessary... There is no limit.

Why this sudden change of stance when Picard appears ready to deliver the killing stroke? In part because of what it means for an argument to be logically valid: an argument is logically valid if and only if the conclusion must be true if the premises are all also assumed to be true. If Data indeed does possess the qualities required for sentience, then the hearing is over. Data wins. Go team Data.

The rub is that Picard can’t prove that Data is sentient, not any more than Maddox can prove that Picard is. Even if Picard could, he realizes that the effects of this legal hearing will resound throughout the Federation until long after all those present, even Data, have ceased to exist. The court’s conclusion can’t just be applicable to Data in his peculiar, specific circumstances, but that this entire legal question revolves on the question of whether or not sentience or the lack thereof entitles someone to full personhood within the Federation, with all the rights and legal protections thereof.

P: *sigh* A single Data is, forgive me Commander, a curiosity, a wonder even, but thousands of Datas? Isn’t that becoming a race? And won’t we be judged by how we treat that race? Now tell me, Commander, what is Data?

M: I don’t understand.

P: What is he?

M: A machine!

P: Is he–are you sure? (Yes!) You see, he’s already met two of your three criteria for sentience, but what if he meets the third, consciousness, in even the smallest degree? What is he then? I don’t know, do you?

By the end, Picard has neatly reframed the argument: the hearing isn’t about determining whether or not Data is sentient per se, because such a thing is impossible to determine in itself. What is happening is determining whether or not the Federation has a right to decide for others whether or not their existence, such as it is, is to be used to qualify if they entitled to slavery or liberty, property or personhood. Picard demonstrates here that it doesn’t matter: Data is alive, and being alive is entitled to all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities as any other being or race within the Federation. In the end, the court agrees.

Phillipa: We’ve all been dancing around the basic issue: does Data have a soul? I don’t know that he has. I don’t know that I have. But I’ve got to give him the freedom to explore that question himself. It is the ruling of this court that Lieutenant Commander Data has the freedom to choose.

[stonyslovestory]

top 5 stony moments in movies

Oh dear, that’s tough. But I’ll try.

Nr. 5:

This scene from Civil War. Why? Because they actually talk to each other. Revolutionary concept, huh? Obviously they don’t agree but there’s some kind of intimiacy in this scene. At this point right there they disagree but they don’t hate each other. They genuinely try to talk it out. They fail but hey, at least they tried.

Nr. 4

I don’t even know which scene this is from exactly (somewhere in AoU) but I always liked how Tony looks at Steve and Steve looks back. It looks as if they were reassuring each other, validating if what they are doing is the right thing by checking with each other. I really like that idea.

Nr. 3

This gotta be in here, right? This is where it all started. Right in this scene these two fight out who’s gonna be the leader of this relationship team. I’m not 100 % what the conclusion was though. Also the weird fact that Tony kinda looks taller than Steve here and of course the way they fight and seconds later still make sure the other gets out safe - classic Stony if you ask me.

Nr. 2

I love love love love LOVE this scene. Why? Because they are joking and they’re doing so together. That’s kinda unheard of. But I love it. What’s better than your OTP sassing actual gods? 10/10 would recommend.

Nr. 1

Don’t call me crazy and please don’t hate me for this but this right here is my favorite Stony scene. “But they’re killing each other!” I hear you scream at me - well yes, they are. But they aren’t. And they didn’t. And they won’t ever. Let me tell you, both of them had several opportunities during the final fight scene in CACW to actually kill the other. To end this for good. But in every single one of those cases they didn’t, no, they stood there and waited till the other was standing again.

ANYONE NOT UP FOR MY RAMBLING ABOUT THIS SCENE, PLEASE LEAVE NOW, IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD

First of all, I know ya’ll kinda hate this movie and what it did to this fandom but it did one thing absolutely right - making this scene personal. All these months before CW came out I wondered how on earth they were gonna justify this fight. Of course everyone knew about the accords but I simply couldn’t see how some stupid paperwork would make these two actually go head to head. Like for real. And then this happened. And it was a genius move, hate on it as much as you want. 

But back to Stony. Again, they could have killed each other in this scene. But they didn’t. And you can see in every single move they make that they don’t want to. This strange ambiguity is what I love about this scene - they deal out some heavy punches, both of them, but they don’t actually wanna hurt each other, not really. They are fighting, for real and it’s 100 % personal at this point and they know they’re hurting each other but they also know what the other can take and they won’t cross that line. They wouldn’t ever. It’s hard to describe… but all of those things I’m trying to explain right here are the reason why I didn’t have any doubt whatsoever that Steve wasn’t going to kill Tony in this scene. Not for the fraction of a second. I’ve seen a lot of posts here on Tumblr saying “I actually thought he would kill him!” and I just don’t see it. I’ve never seen it. Go into this movie without any prior knowledge about either of those characters and maybe you find yourself fearing for Tony’s life BUT I AM HERE TO TELL YOU THAT IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT STEVE FUCKING ROGERS AND TONY FUCKING STARK THEN YOU CAN WATCH THIS SCENE WITHOUT EVEN BLINKING BECAUSE YOU KNOW IT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN YOU JUST KNOW IT WITH EVERY FIBER IN YOUR SOUL and they knew too, don’t tell me otherwise, they knew they wouldn’t kill each other, they knew, if you believe me or not.

Anyway. These are my top 5 Stony moments in movies. Thank you for the question and sorry for the little emotional meltdown towards the end, I hope I didn’t scare anyone off, I can be nice, I swear. Also as this is no way to end a post, have a random Stony gif I found while googling. I have no idea where it’s from but I love it:

-  Your daily dose of extraordinarily normal superhero life

[toughguywithbossygirlfriend]

Batman #40 - Writing mistake  ?.. or not ?..

I have to say that I was half angry, half pleased with Tom King’s Batman Issue #40 ... because of some bad story telling... maybe(?) bad story telling ? 

There is a lot of good stuff in this one, for the BatCat of course but for WonderBat as well and more than you could have expected... all in all a good Issue except for the “Mistake”.. (if it is one)

Pretty much like with Batman #39 Tom King treated neither of the three character with disrespect, Bruce and Diana could show their exceptional chemistry and Selina could be pictured as an intelligent and compassionate hero.

This is quite long, as often with me and focuses mainly WonderBat but on Selina as well... it may be more wonderbat but it definitively isn’t anti-batcat. There is an interesting point I didn’t really explore but who will surely have some incidences in later Issues : the exchange between Selina and the GM about “Hope, Love and Marriage” ... it could contains some clues about the wedding, but I didn’t check it out.

Anyway, If you read this, read it till the end, don’t go ballistic if you are only half way through, … and If you did go through to the end but you still feel the need, then  … as Liam Sharp said “so be it”… It is not my purpose to hurt any character fan or ship with this and I don’t think I’ll do it … anyway remember I did not write the Story, Tom King did ! so if you feel the need to blame someone about anything you know who to blame.

Everything starts with the one big important question that I mentioned in my previous post “Batman #39: ...WonderBatCat ...” :

(DC Rebirth’s Batman #40) Selina and the “Gentle Man”

here we go ..

“WonderBatCat” when I wrote that one ... I wasn’t really thinking Tom King would even play with that idea ... but we’ll see at the end of this post the little wink ;) he made about it.

And, as expected, the answer to the question was : “No” ... otherwise both Diana and Bruce would have refrained their temptation for as long as needed - so far, it’s OK, no mistake and in line with the outcome of Batman #39. 

In the very similar “Action comic” story with Supes and Wondy fighting in the realm of Walhalla, both Clark and Diana knew about the differences between the speeds of the timeflows, and they expected either to Die in the realm or to return to the normal world (and to Lois for Clark ... I think Diana was single) once the battle ended. It may have lasted nearly 1000 years but it was not supposed to be endless, unlike the battle against the hordes of Gehenna.  Knowing that, Wonder Woman and Superman had all the reasons to refrain any temptation and they succeeded.

But Tom King didn’t choose that path, ... on purpose ... he wanted them to hook up ... or at least to look like they did ... it was all part of the teasing plan : Trapped in a realm with no escape, no way to get help or even ask for it, fighting an endless and hopeless war that could only have one end: their own deaths. And on top of that, the desperation of having been abandoned and forgotten from all the people they cared about ... quite a Nightmare !

Selina’s POV

Selina understood the consequences, the moment she learned about the Time flow speed differences ... even if some BatCat and WonderBat fans have a hard time to accept it ... Selina knew in that moment that Bruce and Diana where trapped in that realm for over a decade or two, maybe three, and that both had necessarily come to the conclusion that they have been abandoned by herself and the GM forever ... she knew, even if he was still alive, that he had to hate her for that, ... she already had lost him and if they were both still alive they would have had to comfort each other, ... by now they would be together ... of course she gets angry at the GM, the guy just destroyed her relationship with Bruce for selfish reasons ...

But then (again like I already suggested in my post about Batman #39) Selina shows she is a real hero, with a compassion that can compete with Diana’s, ... Selina allows him to see his wife ... even after he just destroyed her future with Bruce, she lets him meet his loved one, ... I have to say Selina is admirable of selflessness ... Her own life is yet broken again but what would be the point of punishing him because he did that for love, his love ... and the guy sacrifices himself endlessly for all other people, all other lovers ...

Selina gives him some more time knowing that in the realm, at least one of them is still alive and fights with no hope only to prevent the hordes from coming ... it may be Bruce alone, it may be Diana alone or both and if they are together , then they only had each other’s arms to comfort them... only a few hours passed but she knows that she’d lost him ... and that is the reason why Selina cries the moment they return even if they didn’t exchange a single word...She doesn’t smile ... this isn’t are not tears of happiness..  She must think that is the moment where her nightmare is gonna come true and Bruce is going to say her that it is over.

But against all odds ... Bruce still wants to marry her !!  ... ??

That would be related to the “Writing mistake” that we will look at later ...

This Selina has not much to do with the one I used to read about when I was a young boy ... this one is really adorable ... I can just feel the claws of BatCat trying to catch me and drag me into their world of bliss ... but, enough with the love for Selina and lets check out ...

Diana and Bruce’s POV

(Edit of DC Rebirth’s Batman #40)

The main difference between BatCat and WonderBat is that Catwoman will drag him into Darkness, to the Night, to the Batman, while Wonder Woman will push him into the Light, the Day, to Bruce Wayne. 

Someone said Tom King used a puzzle metaphor to explain the BatCat relationship ... After reading Batman #39 and Batman #40 it is pretty obvious that even for Tom King (a puzzle piece has more than one side), if Selina is the perfect fit to Bruce “Batman” Wayne’s puzzle pieces “dark side”,  than Diana is the perfect fit to his “bright side” ... not even the BatCat master denies that ...

That is visible even in the way they call each other in their intimate and tender moments... for BatCat it will be “Bat” and “Cat” while for WonderBat it is “Bruce” and “Diana”.

When BatCat are together the passion and sex takes over, on roof tops, in the bedroom, in the love boat, when WonderBat plays out, the hearts and souls take over, sitting at the fire place, her hand on his knee, comfortable and safe with each other, they are like a settled married couple who made love countless of times and where Tenderness, Love and Care replaced the Passion and Excitement of the discovery.

No matter how much the BatCat are cheering and sending trash posts because of the wedding ... WonderBat still got the most beautiful artwork  ... and the deepest feelings ... so it is hard to be really angry with Tom King ... he could have played out Diana with a totally platonic friendship ... but he didn’t ... and I think DC doesn’t want it either. A relationship with Bruce and Diana has too much to offer on so many levels, and I think they know it very well. But so far Batman and Wonder Woman don’t need each other to sell comics ... other characters on the other hand need some strong boost ... and what better publicity than to share a comic with one of these two ? ...

(Edit of DC Rebirth’s Batman #40)

So far Tom King’s story was solid and coherent ... having been trapped in the Realm for over 10 years they were convinced that this was all they had left for the rest of Eternity (as clearly explained in Batman #39) ... for them there was no more BatCat and no more WonderTrev to consider and because of that, they could do nothing wrong, giving into their feelings for each other... 

So why stop this intimate foreplay ? ... it didn’t make any sense... 

An Anon asked @fyeahwonderbat​ why Diana mentioned “ever” ? 

“No, we can’t.” you could imagine this is about Selina and Trevor but “ever” ? ... what if Selina and Trevor, both Die ? “ever” ?

the reason suggested by the Anon is a valid one imo : there could be some kind  of reason, a powerful spell, idk forbidding them to get together. doomed to stay apart no matter how much they love each other. That could explain why they stopped even if there were no more over valid reasons ... In the JL#90:Revelation Diana had to ask her Gods the permission to carry Bruce’s children and it was refused ... The “Batman who laughts” said that in the worlds where Bruce and Diana where together they had Kids that where so Fierce creatures that he did write down all their names to remember them like some kind of trophy list - could the Gods be afraid of WonderBat ?... 

It wouldn’t be the first time DC hints to the fact that there may be some deeper relationship between these two even if they have other loved ones with them ... during the New52 era, Trevor was supposed, because of his bond with Diana, to be able to use the Lasso of truth to save them all, but he wasn’t there and J’onn told Batman that he could use the Lasso as well and that “he knew why” ... the reason remained a mystery but Bruce actually used the Lasso without any problem... Catwoman was quite jealous that Batman had obviously the same “bond” with Diana than Trevor ... (so you had a bit BatCat, a bit WonderTrev, but a mysterious underlying WonderBat ) ...

The other reason that comes up to mind is much like in JL#90 that : “they just don’t want to risk their incredible friendship”... but that was already the wrong reason in JL#90..

(DC Rebirth’s Batman #40)

He leans into her more than the reverse and rubs his face and nose with hers, But she doesn’t back off, and on the contrary, makes sure for good skin contact, grazing her lips over his nose, half kissing it ...

This doesn’t feel like a “Oh My God !! what are we doing ?? this cannot be !! Back off !!” but rather like a “Dammit! ,why can’t we be happy .. I need you so much ...”.

Be sure Tom King was fully aware of the content of the Issue ... He is responsible of the Batman serie and wrote this after all ... 

And That is were Tom Kings writing gets out of track and becomes incoherent ... the Writing mistake !! : why would they suddenly talk about Selina and Trevor ? why should they suddenly think that they would go back when they were so convinced earlier that they would not ?? ... that doesn’t make sense ...

Tom King literally created the perfect conditions to push them together, and then he forgets some of these same conditions just to pull them apart again !!

Or ... and that would mean it wasn’t a Writing mistake after all ...

They both secretly knew from the beginning about the time flow differences ... even if the “Gentle Man” didn’t tell them ... (like Clark and Diana in the “Action Comic” story)

Why and How could that have been possible ? ... easy

for Diana: How ? She is a supernatural creature and has connections to creatures that could have surely given her all the “need to know” informations about the Realm, the GM, the Hordes ... Why ? She’s intelligent : wouldn’t you want to know everything you can if you are supposed to take such risks ??

for Bruce: Hell, the guy is a Paranoid Detective , so the question not Why but only How ... Zatanna, Constantine, Dr Fate, Etrigan, Deadman, ... he has countless very competent allies who could have made some research for him ..

And they surely talked about it together ...

So maybe it isn’t a Writing mistake after all !! ... but then why wouldn’t Tom King explain that reason until the end of the Issue ? After their return ? ... unless they are rooting for each other, hard, but something keeps them from acting on it, and that information is a DC internal “need to know” information until it gets exposed. And we return to the little word “ever” from earlier. Dammit, could there be something real about that idea?

Some of you may think “No, you’re wrong there is no writing mistake, they wouldn’t have hooked up anyway because after 10 years there was still hope ...”, well OK !!, why not ... but then let me ask another question : What about 35 years ?... 

If they didn’t knew about the time-flow speed differences, but still wanted to stay true ... that means that they were consciously hoping to return to their loved ones and resume their previous relationship. right ? ... Bruce Wayne would actually hope to marry a Selina Kyle who is 37 years older then she was when he left her ? ... and Trevor would surely be around 70 years old ... ? ... is that the theory ? ... I am not that cheesy ...

I think Tom King knew what he did with this two Issues ... I am pretty sure the durations (10 years, 37 years) were thought through as well as the rest.

(Edit of DC Rebirth’s Batman #40 and from a JLA comic of 1960, I think )

It is somehow disturbing to read that speech about how Selina and Trevor are “good” and thus they “deserve to have good people” as well ... so now it isn’t anymore “about what you believe” but “about what you deserve” ... Dammit, I am so confused... Joking ! XD 

You just get the feeling she meant : “Bruce, Love, ... we are not allowed to be happy together, ... so lets at least do our best to make other good people happy ...”

Did you notice : Diana uses Selina’s first name (as with Bruce, or Clark/Kal, or the other leaguers ... ) but still uses Trevor’s full name, the same way she did a long time ago when she wasn’t really in a hurry to marry him. want to keep some distance here ?

Of course there is always the less “pure and innocent” solution ... maybe Tom King choose the 10 th year just to show us that they did resist ... they tried... as long as they could ... but ... 2 weeks later ... they had to get it out of their system ... it happened ...and again, and again ... until year 37... They just never talked about it again ... 

Not good enough ... Yeah you could say that ...

So where is the truth ?

Did Tom King make a ridiculous mistake in his story ?? is there a well hidden secret that keeps two lovers apart ? or wasn’t it that “pure and innocent” ?

Your choice ...

after their return from the realm, Batman’s sentences may give you a hint thou... much like the wrong comparison between Lois as a reporter and Cat as a thief in Batman #35 ... another mistake... TK seems to be better in psychology then in logic ...

At least it seems that with all the BatCat promotion there is an obvious will from DC to keep WonderBat strong and alive with all that teasing, in Batman #39 and #40 but in Dark nights metal as well ... maybe to capitalize on it with the next reboot ?

And for the fun ... Last but not least ... I made a “Gasp !” when I read that one after posting “WonderBatCat” in the title of my Batman #39 post :

Diana thinks about Selina and herself, when she means “Us” and its possible consequences, because Selina suggested they go all three the next time ... Now, let me just resume : two very attractive and supposedly Bi-Sexual women, both very compassionate and obviously very very close to the same Guy, trapped for much longer (more like 300 years, to give the GM at least a few days with his Love) with only each other to comfort .... and much more time to spare because the Hordes may not be so everlasting...

Hmm ... temperature is gonna rise in the realm ...

[dunkalfredo]

1575 words of gay and also hair? ft. amy

yo yo yo what up im back and im here to bring u that sweet sweet infidget

disclaimer: in case the title implies otherwise lemme just say that amy is gay too shes just not the main focus of this story. trust me, shes v gay and i love her. shes a good gorl. bless her soul

other disclaimer: infinite’s not-infinite name is finn bc infinite is Not his real name i stg

other other disclaimer: this is old friends au/fixed canon. follows the canon @theashemarie and i are establishing over here in our lil gay corner

u kno the drill yall click Keep reading to read the things

It’s a simple difference, so small that Gadget doesn’t notice it at first.

Finn’s there, at the breakfast nook, reading the newspaper, and when Gadget walks in (always the last to wake up, today’s no exception) he makes it all the way to the fridge before his eye spots the change in shape, the abnormal smallness of the silhouette in his peripheral.

He turns, slowly, as though he’ll disturb the air if he moves too fast, and says, perplexed, “Did you cut your hair?”

(Gadget really looks at Finn for the first time, and his brain confirms what his eyes whispered to him mere moments ago; short, white locks tickle Finn’s neck, replacing the usual mane of white down his back.)

Finn looks up from his periodical, makes eye contact, and shrugs. “Needed a change. Do you like it?”

Gadget’s still several paces behind where he needs to be, not yet at ‘Do you like it?’ and still at it wasn’t short last night.

Finn’s not exactly a master hairdresser. Gadget eyes the thin locks, the jagged ends, the slight shake in Finn’s hands as he watches Gadget watch him; it all screams impulse, midnight and afraid, chop it off, feel better now but horrified in the morning, all too aware that it’s too late to take it back. Gadget sees it in his eyes, the need for reassurance, validation.

Gadget sighs, a small depression of his chest, and smiles. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

It’s not so much that Finn smiles, or speaks, but his carriage lifts ever so slightly, and the newspaper stops shaking.

-

(Gadget also sees, for the first time, the dark circles under Finn’s eyes, and his mind wanders.

Finn, three a.m., sheets tossed by nightmares and bed absent one, stumbling to the bathroom and staring himself in the mirror with wild, cold eyes. He doesn’t recognize the face in the mirror. He can’t feel his own hands. The world is little too dark, too foggy, obscured by nightfall and burnt lightbulbs, and the space feels liminal, unreal.

Finn runs the tap, listens to the whine of the faucet, lets it ring in his ears as he splashes his face with cold water, and the hair on his head hangs limp over his neck, pouring over his shoulders, a cascade of white. He forgot to put it up last night.

It’s this simple fact that occupies his mind, drags his hands into the drawers for a hair tie, but instead his fingers brush against something hard, sharp. Scissors.

Gadget’s mind stops there, not willing to breathe life into the image of Finn, breath heavy, eyes watering, hands trembling, sweeping hair into the garbage and carefully climbing back into bed limb by limb like he’ll break if he bends too far.)

-

It’s later, when the day is over, and they’re home, sprawled out over the couch and recharging after errands and separate schedules and distance that Finn finally says it aloud, despite its sitting heavy in the air since that morning and never leaving:

“I need help.”

Gadget, head in his lap and eyes on the television, doesn’t look up, doesn’t even bother raising his head to speak and instead mumbles his words into Finn’s knee. “Astute observation, Einstein. How did you ever come to that conclusion?”

Finn huffs. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Now Gadget rolls over to look up, frowning when he sees the disconcerted expression drawing Finn’s brows together. “You haven’t cut your hair since third grade.”

Gadget sees the cogs turn in his head, and then finally Finn says, barely a whisper, “Third grade?”

“Yeah.”

Finn deflates, sinks back into the couch, and then sinks further with a sigh that flattens his lungs. “I really need help.”

-

At first, they dismiss therapy outright, because they don’t think a psychologist will hear “I killed thousands of people because I got kidnapped by a mad scientist and forcibly possessed by a rock” and not immediately send Finn to the psyche ward (or, alternatively, a prison cell, since Finn’s still technically a wanted criminal. Only technically). It’s only after another night of deliberation and (for Finn) staring, sleepless, at a wall that they decide that they need someone to talk to.

(When Gadget mentions this to Sonic while they’re out doing “cleanup” (getting rid of debris in X city or Y town because Knuckles is occupied), almost shouting to project his voice over the creak of the pipe they’re lifting from the sidewalk, he’s not expecting the immediate response Sonic shoots back.

“Talk to Amy,” says Sonic, casually, dusting off his hands and reaching for a chunk of… building? Sidewalk? Gadget can’t tell. Concrete something. They’re both going to have to lift that one. “She’s great with emotions and stuff.”

“But Amy hates Finn!” Gadget cries. “Why would she be his therapist?”

“Well, she likes you,” Sonic says. “Maybe that’ll help?”)

When Gadget relays this suggestion to Finn, he’s just as appalled. “Talk to who?”

“Amy,” Gadget says, hands worrying over each other and eyes somewhere to the right of Finn’s face.

Finn deadpans, “She hates me,” and Gadget thinks it’s like poetry, how his conversations seem to rhyme.

He sighs. “I’m aware.”

-

The moment they show up on Amy’s doorstep, and she opens the door, eyeing Finn like he’s a block of rotten cheese she just found in her fridge, Gadget’s one-hundred percent convinced that this isn’t going to work.

This feeling continues as she ushers them (Gadget) inside and offers them (Gadget) some tea, to which Gadget politely refuses and Finn stays silent. She brings out three cups of chamomile anyways (Finn’s was likely an afterthought, but Gadget considers it progress), and they’re seated in her living room, Finn’s hand in Gadget’s, Amy in the seat opposite, when she starts speaking in earnest. It’s not what Gadget expects at all.

A simple question, four words, and the most perplexed voice Gadget’s ever heard from Amy; “You cut your hair?”

It’s an unexpected question followed by an equally unexpected answer: “Midnight crisis,” Finn says, and it’s with a voice that’s not nearly as small as it was hours ago, when they were both leaving the apartment and Gadget asked if he had his wallet. That was the quiet “Yes” of a man half his size and age; this is his normal, low timbre, conversational, like Amy wasn’t glaring daggers at him mere seconds ago.

Amy’s posture shifts, and while the air’s still unnaturally cold, her face opens up just a little more. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, frank.

She hums, and Gadget’s nerves spike.

-

It’s an hour later, and Gadget’s walking back to the metro station with Finn to head home when he hears him say, “That wasn’t too bad.”

Gadget reminds Finn, pointedly, “Half of our visit was awkward silence.”

“She only glared for a quarter of it.”

-

Later, Gadget thinks, watching Finn fiddle and hum and haw under Amy’s stripping, burning, disarming, demanding gaze for the third time in a month, that there’s something missing. He sees Finn’s thumbs, his fingers, restless, twitching and turning in his lap, and Gadget’s struck, hard, with this feeling, a wave washing over him that this isn’t right. Gadget knows what’s missing, he’s sure of it, but it’s just out of reach, a breath too far from his grabbing, clutching hands.

Then, as they walk home from Amy’s that day, he sees it, in the corner of his eye; Finn, right hand in the motion of grabbing for his shoulder, where for years a white lock would spill over and he could grab, run it between his fingers, fiddle and twist.

A memory surfaces: The two of them, younger, late high school, Gadget slipping out of the house at one in the morning because if he stays inside, where the death and cold and emptiness his father left behind aches the hardest, he might punch the walls in two, every single one, and then break and bend and snap over the rubble right after, a broken body to match the broken home it came from. He leaves, he sneaks over, desert night lukewarm and clammy against the back of his neck, and he arrives at the gaping maw of his best friend’s front door, where the hinges creak and the door opens as soon as Gadget’s foot meets the doormat.

It’s a comforting memory; Finn, shoulders tired and slumped but eyes and arms warm, curling around Gadget, letting him step into his space and his embrace, there, in the doorway, and both taking a moment to pause and breathe. It’s this lull, this potential energy building between them before moving again, that does Gadget in. His chest breaks open and a single, harrowed sob, more a hiccup and an exhale than a cry, spills out, but its muffled by Finn’s chest, contained, away from the prying eyes of others and kept just for them. In this stillness, Gadgets cards his fingers through the hair on Finn’s back, focusing on the softness of the locks instead of ache of a late father, and the digits begin looping the tufts into loose braids.

Gadget thinks of this moment, sees this in his mind’s eye as he watches Finn try and register why there’s nothing there, why his fingers feel nothing, and Gadget wonders how much they really lost that night, weeks ago, besides sleep and besides hair.

[tirtalks]

A Glance of: Ego is The Enemy

The book Ego is The Enemy by Ryan Holiday is filled with cautionary tales of those who experienced ego at each of their stages in life: Aspiration, Success, and Failure.

This is not about ego in the Freudian sense, but the ego we most commonly see that goes by a more casual definition: an unhealthy belief in our own importance. Arrogance. Self-centered ambition. It’s the sense of superiority and certainty that exceeds the bounds of confidence and talent. The need to be better than, more than, recognized for –that’s ego.

Ego is the enemy that separates us from every direct and honest connection to the world around us. That’s why this book comes to help us to be humble in our aspirations, gracious in our success, and resilient in our failures.

To whatever you aspire, ego is your enemy

Don’t Talk, Talk, Talk –Act!

The more difficult the task, the more uncertain the outcome, the more costly talk will be and the farther we run from actual accountability.

So what is scarce and rare? Silence. The ability to deliberately keep ourselves out of the conversation and exist without any need to be validated. The only relationship between work and chatter is the latter kills the other –particularly early on in any journey.

To Be or To Do?

If your purpose is something larger than you –to accomplish something, to prove something to yourself- then suddenly everything becomes both easier and more difficult.

Easier in the sense that you know now what it is you need to do and what is important to you. The other choices washed away, as they aren’t really choices at all. It’s about the doing, not the recognition. It gets harder because each opportunity –no matter how gratifying or rewarding– must be evaluated along strict guidelines. Does this help me to do what I have set out to do? Does this allow me to do what I need to do? Am I being selfish or selfless?

To be or to do –life is a constant roll call.

Become A Student

The art of taking feedback is such a crucial skill in life, particularly on harsh and critical feedback. The ego avoids such feedback at all costs, whatever, ego is the voice that tells us we’re better than we really are. Ego dislikes reality and prefers its own assessment.

To become what we ultimately hope to become often takes long period of obscurity. Humility is what keeps us there, concerned that we don’t know enough and that we must continue to study. Become a student to place the ego and ambition in someone else’s hands.

Don’t Be Passionate

It’s all about passion. Find your passion. Live passionately. Inspire the world with your passion. Because we only seem to hear about the passion of successful people, we forget that failures shared the same trait.

Passion typically covered a weakness. Its breathlessness, impetuousness and franticness are poor substitutes for discipline, for mastery, for purpose and strength and perseverance. You need to be able to spot this in others and in yourself. While the origins of passion may be earnest and good, the effects are comical and then monstrous.

The critical work that you want to do will require consideration to pursue the purpose. Not passion. Not naivety.

Follow the Canvas Strategy

The Canvas Strategy is about helping yourself by helping others. Making a concerted effort to trade your short-term gratification for a longer term pay-off. Whereas everyone else wants to get credit and be “respected”, you can forget credit. You can forget it so hard that you’re glad when others get it instead of you –that was your aim, after all. Let the others take their credit on credit, while you defer and earn interest on the principal.

Once we fight this emotional and egoistical impulse, the canvas strategy is easy and the iterations are endless.

Restrain Yourself

Our own path, whatever we aspire to, will in some ways be defined by the amount of nonsense we are willing to deal with.

Up ahead there will be: Slights. Dismissals. One-sided compromises. You’ll get yelled. You’ll have to work behind the scenes to salvage what should have been easy. All this will make you angry and want to fight back. But don’t! Take it. Endure it. Quietly brush it off and work harder. Restraint is a difficult skill but a critical one.You will often be tempted. No one is perfect with it, but we must try.

Honestly, many paths would tolerate only restraint and had no forgiveness for ego.

Get Out of Your Own Head

Our imagination is dangerous when it runs wild. We have to rein our perceptions in. Otherwise, lost in the excitement, how can we accurately predict the future or interpret events? How can we stay hungry and aware? How can we appreciate the present moment?

Living clearly and immediately taking courage. Don’t live in the haze of abstract, live with the tangible and real circumstances, even if it’s uncomfortable. Be part of what’s going on around you. Feast on it, adjust for it.

There’s no one to perform for. There is just work to be done and lessons to be learned, in all that is around us.

The Danger of Early Pride

Actually, pride –even in real accomplishments– is a distractions and a deluder. Pride blunts the very instrument we need to own in order to succeed: our mind. Our ability to learn, to adapt, to be flexible, to build relationships, all of this is dulled by pride. Most dangerously, this tends to happen either early in life or in the process –when we’re flushed with beginner’s conceit. Pride takes a minor accomplishment and makes it feel like a major one.

Receive feedback, maintain hunger, and chart a proper course in life. We are still striving, and it is the strivers that should be our peers –not the proud and the accomplished ones.

At the end, this isn’t about deferring pride because you don’t deserve it yet. It isn’t “Don’t boast about what hasn’t happened yet.” It is more directly “Don’t boast.” There’s nothing in it for you. 

Work, Work, Work

Fac, si facis. Do it if you’re going to do it.

Work is finding yourself alone at the track when the weather kept everyone else indoors. Work is pushing through the pain and crappy first draft and prototypes. It is ignoring whatever praise others are getting, and more importantly, ignoring whatever praise you may be getting. Because there is work to be done.

 To whatever success you have achieved, ego is your enemy

Always Stay a Student

As we first succeed, we will find ourselves in new situations, facing new problems. But, with accomplishment comes a growing pressure to pretend that we know more than we do. To pretend we already know everything.

No matter what you’ve done up to this point, you better still be a student. To be the humble version of you who don’t assume, “I know the way”. If you’re not still learning, you’re already dying.

Don’t Tell Yourself a Story

Whatever we do, instead of pretending that we are living some great story, we must remain focused on the execution –and on executing with excellence. We must shun the false crown and continue working on what got us here.

Because that’s the only thing that will keep us here.

What’s Important to You?

This is how ego works: we’re never happy with what we have, we want what other people have too. We want to have more than anyone else. Ego sways and can ruins us. We started out knowing what’s important to us, but once we’ve achieved it, we lose sight of our priorities.

On an individual level, however, it’s absolutely critical that you know who you’re competing with and why, that you have a clear sense of the space you’re in. The more you have and do, the harder the maintaining fidelity to your purpose will be, but the more critically you will need to.

Find out why you’re after what you’re after. Ignore those who mess with your pace. Let them covet what you have, not the other way around. Because that’s independence.

Entitlement, Control, and Paranoia

The problem lies in the path that got us to success in the first place. What we’ve accomplished often required feats of raw power and force of will. Achieving success involved ignoring the doubts and reservations of the people around us. There are legitimate stresses and anguish that come with the responsibilities of our new life. But, ego will always be the worst enemy. Ego sways and can ruins every single pieces of our life.

We don’t have any entitlement to overstate our abilities. In other way, we need to control ourselves to don’t ever force anything to be done our way –even little things, even inconsequential things. Learn to trust people so paranoia won’t get us down.

Once our path lead us to success, we have to regularly remind ourselves of the limits of our power and reach: entitlement, control, and paranoia.

Managing Yourself

As you become successful in your own field, your responsibilities may begin to change. Days become less and less about doing and more and more about making decisions. Responsibilities requires a readjustment and then increased clarity and purpose.

It is not enough to have great qualities and abilities to do everything in our own field, we should also have the management of them.

Beware The Disease of Me

The Disease of Me begins once we think that we’re better, that we’re special, that our problems and experiences are so incredibly different from everyone else’s that no one could possibly understand. It’s an attitude that has sunk far better people, teams, and causes than ours.

Let’s make one thing clear: we never earn the right to be greedy or to pursue our interests at the expense of everyone else. To think otherwise is not only egoistical, it’s counterproductive.

Meditate on The Immensity

At least once in a lifetime, we would experience what the Stoics would call sympatheia –a connectedness with the cosmos. A sense of belonging to something larger, of realizing that “human things are an infinitesimal point in the immensity.”

When we lack a connection to anything larger or bigger than us, it’s like a piece of our soul is gone. No wonder we find success empty when we’re exhausted. In that moment, ego stands in the way. By removing the ego –even temporarily– we can access what’s left standing in relief. By widening our perspective, more comes into view.

Feel unprotected against the elements or forces or surroundings. Remind yourself how pointless it is to rage and fight and try to one-up those around you. Go and put yourself in touch with the infinite, and end your conscious separation from the world. Reconcile yourself a bit better with the realities of life. Realize how much events came before you, and how only wisps of it remain.

Let the feeling carry you as long as you can. Then when you start to feel better or bigger than usual, go and do it again.

Maintain Your Sobriety

In most cases, we think that people become successful through sheer energy and enthusiasm. We almost excuse ego because we think it’s a part and parcel of the personality required to “make it big.” Maybe a bit of that overpower is what got you where you are. But, we have to stay sober and control our ego.

Sobriety is the counterweight that must balance out the success. Especially if things keep getting better and better.

 To whatever failure and challenges you will face, ego is your enemy

Alive Time or Dead Time

According to Greene, there are two types of time in our lives: dead time, when people are passive and waiting, and alive time, when people are learning and acting and utilizing every second. Every moment of failure, every moment or situation that we did not deliberately choose or control, presents this choice: Alive time. Dead time. Which will it be?

Dead time is revived when we use it as an opportunity to do what we have always needed to do. Think of what you have been putting off. Issues you declined to deal with, systemic problems that felt too overwhelming to address.

In life, we all get stuck with dead time. Its occurrence isn’t in our control. Its use, on the other hand, is.

The Effort is Enough

In life, there will be times when we do everything right, perhaps even perfectly. Yet the results will somehow be negative: failure, disrespect, jealousy, or even a resounding yawn from the world.

Depending on what motivates us, the response can be crushing. If ego predominates, we’ll accept nothing less than a full appreciation. With the right motives we can still pursue our success. With ego, we’re not.

Do your work. Do it well. Then “let go and let God.” That’s all there needs to be. Recognition and rewards –those are just extra. Rejection, that’s on them, not on us. Doing the work is enough.

Fight Club Moments

We surround ourselves with distractions, with lies about what makes us happy and what’s important. We become people we shouldn’t become and engaged in destructive, awful behaviors. This unhealthy and ego-derived state hardens and becomes almost permanent. The bigger the ego, the harder the fall.

In fact, many significant life changes come from moments in which we are thoroughly demolished, in which everything we thought we knew about the world is rendered false. But change begins by hearing the criticism and the words of the people around you. Even if those words are mean spirited, angry, or hurtful. It means weighing them, discarding the ones that don’t matter, and reflecting on the ones that do.

Draw The Line

People make mistakes all the time. We take risks. We messed up. We fight desperately and only making it worse. Ego kills what we love. Sometime, it comes close to killing us too

Let’s say you’ve failed and let’s even say it was your fault. Things happened and trouble is in anywhere. But most of them is temporary, unless you make them not so. Recovery is not grand, it’s one step ahead of the other. The only real failure is abandoning your principles.

Maintain Your Own Scorecard

This is the characteristic of how great people think. They don’t really care much about what other people thin, they only care whether they meet their own standards. And these standards are much, much higher than everyone else’s. A person who judges himself based on his own standard doesn’t crave the spotlight the same way as someone who lets applause dictate success.

Reflecting on what went well or how amazing we are doesn’t get us anywhere, except maybe to where we are right now. But we want to go further, we want more, and we want to continue to improve.

Always Love

We all have stuff that pissed us off. The more successful or powerful we are, the more protection we will need in terms of our legacy, image, and influence. There is only one best response to an attack or a slight of something you don’t like: love. Because hate will get you every time.

In failure or adversity, it’s so easy to hate. Hate defers blame. It makes someone else responsible. It’s a distraction too. Does this get us any closer to where we want to be? No. It just keeps us where we are –or worse.

Meanwhile, love is right there. Egoless, open, positive, vulnerable, peaceful, and productive.

Epilogue

Every day for the rest of your life you will find yourself at one of those three phases: aspiration, success, failure. You will battle the ego in each of them. You will make mistakes in each of them. You must sweep the floor every minute of every day. And then sweep again.

[starberrycupcake]

The Sing-Off || Berrington

Date: October 25th. Around 4:00pm. Location: McKinley High School Auditorium. Who: Rachel Berry and Hunter Clarington ( @cockyclarington ) Notes: Following their conversation of who is the better singer, the two challenge each other to a sing-off which ends on a very strange note.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter didn’t have any desire to drive all the way from Westerville to Lima but he wasn’t about to let one Rachel Berry show him up or call him a coward for not showing up. The two had already agreed to a sing-off that would be self-judged amongst themselves. Hunter knew he would obviously win; he was the captain of the Warblers and he had won dozens of all different kinds of competitions related to what he did and some little girl and so-called “leader” or a public school glee club wasn’t about to prove him otherwise.

He dismounted his motorcycle and parked it somewhere close to school, noting that the parking lot and campus were both mostly empty since school had already let out a couple hours prior. Hunter made his way into the campus and eventually found his way to the auditorium where Rachel told him to meet up. When he entered, he saw a single person standing in the middle the lit stage. “Thought you might chicken out,” Hunter laughed as he called out to Rachel, making his way down the stairs to approach the stage.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel had already had more than enough of arguing back and forth with Hunter Clarington over who might be the better singer. Clearly she had him beat and was far more superior despite his talents-- which she could admit that the Warbler was definitely talented. But she was Rachel Berry, she had been training vocally since she was almost two years old. No one in the entire state of Ohio could beat her at a single sing-off, she was one hundred percent confident in her abilities. That’s why she had no problem whatsoever agreeing to Hunter’s little challenge. She would prove herself to him and maybe he would finally give her at least some of the respect she deserved.

After the final bell for the day rang, the brunette hung around in the auditorium to wait for her challenger. Pacing back and forth across the stage, the sound of her heels clicking against the surface harmonizing with her vocal warming runs that echoed through the auditorium. She stopped in the middle of the stage to take a deep breath when she heard the doors open and and unfamiliar voice spoke up. Raising her eyebrows she came closer to the edge of the stage, rolling her eyes as the taller man came in. “Oh, please, chickening out isn’t in my vocabulary. Rachel Berry never backs down from a challenge.” She retorted. “I honestly am surprised that you drove all the way out here just to preserve your ego-- once again I’m impressed.”

Rachel cracked a small smile as Hunter got closer to her, smoothing out her sweater before turning on her heel to head towards the man sitting ready at the piano with her sheet music in front of him. She wasn’t messing around and she was always ready for a performance. “I will go first, obviously, and you can sit here-” She said as she picked up a stool that was sitting next to the piano, placing it at the head of the stage. “- and marvel at my greatness.”  She patted the seat with a small smile.

Hunter Clarington:

“Yeah, I guess I’m not surprised you don’t know when to forfeit a losing match when you’re met with one,” Hunter shot back to the girl with a laugh. Once Hunter got closer to the stage and saw the girl up close, his confident smile dropped when he observed her outfit. Now Hunter was no fashion guru but even he could tell the girl’s fashion sense was probably as bizarre as her personality. It almost looked like Rachel got dressed in the dark. “What are you wear--” Being cut off so suddenly as she moved across the stage to present the barstool for him to sit upon. Wordlessly, Hunter made his way onto the stage and took a seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Rachel expectantly.

Up close to the girl he could definitely see the appeal. When she wasn’t speaking she was actually a little bearable and maybe if she was dressed like a normal human being she wouldn’t be too hard on the eyes. “So what are you singing today? Something dated and boring?” He rolled his eyes and stared at the girl with his steely grey eyes. “I’ll try my best not to fall asleep.”

Rachel Berry:

Rachel’s eyebrow quirked as she watched the taller man take a seat as she instructed, pleased that he had followed her request. She halfway expected him to be defiant and stand or sit in the audience. “I will be singing something old, but not boring for your enjoyment today. I know how to win a battle like this and I’ve pulled out my go-to song.” She spoke with determination as she made her way back to the middle of the stage to take her place in the spotlight.

Clearing her throat, she turned to Brad and gave him the nod to begin. As the beginning notes to Don’t Rain on My Parade played to an almost empty room, Rachel closed her eyes and took a breath to steady herself. She wasn’t so sure why she cared so much what man thought, but she felt an unexplainable need to prove herself to him. To prove she was good- more than just good.

Rachel was outstanding and she really needed all of the validation she could get. When she opened her eyes and began to sing the first line of her song, she took over the stage. It was hers and she would show him it was hers-- when Rachel sang, the entire room was hers.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter recognized the song as soon as the music started. He had at least enough respect within him to actually pay attention to Rachel as she sang through the song with ease. It was obvious the girl was well-practiced and he might’ve been impressed if this hadn’t been her go-to song. Still, Hunter had to admit the girl had pipes. As the song continued, Hunter could feel himself becoming more invested in the performance and he began to understand that very much like him, Rachel had that star quality that made her stand out.

He did his best not to make his true feelings known through his body language, keeping a mostly stoic face as the only move he made was to cock his head to the side halfway through the song. The song itself was over with relatively quickly and when both the piano player and Rachel were finished, Hunter clapped, somewhat slowly. “Bravo,” he said, pouring on as much sarcasm on as possible. “And exactly how many times did you have to practice that song before perfecting it?”

Rachel Berry:

Rachel might as well have been performing in front a full house in the Richard Rodgers theatre in New York City-- the way she owned the song and the stage was that of a seasoned veteran and she knew when she hit that last note that she had nailed the song and the win. When she belted the last note, she held it out for a bit longer than probably necessary to be somewhat of a show-off. She finished off her performance with a nice little curtsy before turning her attention back to the man in front of her, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

As Hunter slow clapped for her, the sarcasm in his voice caused her to roll her eyes. “I’ve had this song perfected since I was a child, it’s hard-wired in my system.” She explained before ushering him to stand up. “C’mon, Hunt , it’s your turn. Hope you’re not too intimidated by the high bar I just set for you.”

She took his place on the stool once he was up and taking the spotlight, crossing her stocking-covered legs. “Brad can pick up anything you start singing, so go on.” She waved her hands before placing them folded on her lap. She was actually looking forward to hearing the warbler sing-- she hadn’t had the pleasure of doing so live.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter huffed when Rachel called him by that nickname; it was irritating because even the people he called his friends seldom called him by any nickname that wasn’t “Captain”. He looked over to the piano player and going over his song selection. While he knew Rachel was all about show-stopping numbers and songs that complimented her vocal range, Hunter wanted to go for something that would pierce the audience.

“My selection for today will be Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. I’m sure you’ve heard of it since you’re all over the Broadway scene like a cat in heat.” Hunter readied himself in the middle of the stage and waited for Brad to begin playing the music. It was a song Hunter felt very akin to; not in the literal sense because none of his friends were dead but because in the past moving all of the time had left Hunter with next to no friends from his previous homes or schools. It was song he felt he could pour his heart and soul into as a soloist and he didn’t need to crank his energy up to 11 like when he was on stage with his fellow Warblers singing a Top 40 hit. His voice came out smooth, his whole body like a well-oiled machine that did exactly as he wanted it to do. He knew this song would blow Rachel out of the water.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel sat up straight on the stool, keeping her composure as she nodded her head. She was also pleased by the song choice Hunter had revealed, she wondered just how big his musical repertoire might be. “Very good,” She commented before the music began and Hunter opened his mouth. As Rachel listened to the other’s smooth voice filling the empty auditorium, she was actually taken aback of how in control of his voice Hunter was-- he had to have had some sort of training in his lifetime. It was very rare to find someone so technically good without training. Hunter’s voice went all through her as his voice became larger with the swell of the music, the shorter could feel chills rising on her her skin- causing her to rub her hands on her arms as if to coax the little bumps back into her skin.

He couldn’t know how impressed she was.  

Rachel began to focus on Hunter more, giving him a once over as she all but drowned in his voice; she noticed for the first time that the man was not bad-looking. He was actually really good-looking, he was surely almost a whole foot taller than her and the way his school uniform hugged his body was a good show of the muscles he had hiding under there. She wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, but he was more than just good-looking. More than just being aesthetically pleasing, his voice was melting her right here. Sure, a nice-looking man was enough to make her heart beat a little faster- but a nice-looking man who could sing? That was enough to make her knees weak.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter was so absorbed in his song and performance, he barely paid any attention to Rachel and her reaction. He sang through the song without any flaws, feeling proud of himself for nailing the higher notes of the crescendo before coming back down for the final verse. When the song finished, Hunter took a deep breath and looked to the girl for her opinion.

“So? Still think I’m just all talk? Just remember that I’m only one guy-- the Warblers are like me, plus twenty-something mini-me’s that can sing just as well.” He smirked and put his hand on his hip, his whole persona exuding confidence. He knew he just rocked that song and no one was going to convince him otherwise. “I think we can both agree here that I’m the winner of this little challenge and you can go ahead and admit such to me whenever you want.”

Rachel Berry:

When Hunter was finished singing his song, Rachel shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. She clapped her hands gently and slowly as she stood up from the stool, a smile tugging at her lips. “While I do admit that you are extremely talented, I do not admit defeat in this challenge.” Rachel wasn’t one to give in so easily-- not to mention, regardless of how good Hunter was, she was clearly the winner.

She shook her head gently, crossing her arms as she took a step closer to the taller, her brown eyes traveling up to look at his. “I clearly won this challenge, and I promise -- to preserve your huge, fragile ego -- I won’t tell anyone you lost.” Rachel shrugged one shoulder as she wrinkled her nose. She liked teasing the other face-to-face much better than what they had started out doing. Hunter seemed more bearable when he was in front of her.

Probably had nothing to do with how handsome he was-- especially now that she’d seen his talents.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter’s ego was stroked when Rachel Berry admitted that he was talented but he didn’t need anyone to tell him what he already knew. What upset him was even though he had literally just brought his A-game and with his whole being knew he was the better of the two, the girl refused to admit defeat. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black-- Your ego is too big that you can’t even admit I was better than you?” It was so incredulous that Hunter almost found it funny.

Turning to the only other person in the room, Hunter called out at the piano player for an answer. “You-- Who of the two of us was the better singer?!”

The piano player wordlessly threw his hands up in defense, making a quick exit as if he didn’t want anything to do with either one of the teenagers. Hunter huffed when he wasn’t given the answer he wanted, turning back to Rachel on an empty stage. “So what are we going to do now if both of us can’t agree on who was better?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He waited for an answer and looked the woman up and down, this time ignoring the weird sweater and taking note the curves of her body. Mentally undressing her, Hunter liked what he saw and given the appropriate scenario, could even see himself doing very inappropriate things to her if she kept her mouth shut-- or occupied-- long enough.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel raised her eyebrows as Hunter continued to insist that he was better than her, he was relentless and it amused her. Had she not been so confident in herself she might’ve doubted that she was better than him in this specific challenge-- but she knew she killed it. Glancing towards Brad when the taller tried to drag him into it, Rachel held back a laugh as the piano player took his exit. “Oh, please, Brad has been listening to me sing since I was fifteen-- asking him will do you no favors.”

The shorter mimicked Hunter’s stance, crossing her arms over her chest with a shrug. “I guess we’re just going to have to have a rematch with actual judges.” She began as she took as step closer. “Since you can’t seem to come down off of your giant high horse to admit that someone might, in fact, be better than you.” The irony of her statement was lost on Rachel. “I am willing to bet you that if we did this again in front of actual people who were voting on who is better-- I would win by a landslide.” She rambled on and on, right up on top of her own high horse, determined to make Hunter see that she was clearly the winner-- also mostly attempting to keep herself nice and worked up so she couldn’t admire how nice he looked in his uniform any more.

Hunter Clarington:

As the annoying little girl in front of Hunter continued to go on and on about how much better she was and the fact that they would need to a hold a rematch just to determine what Hunter already knew had the man feeling exhausted. Attempting to hold a sane conversation with Rachel was already difficult and now it was damn near impossible because the lady would not budge on her opinion. Hunter was beginning to second-guess his decision to come all the way down here and as Rachel continued to drone on about either her talent or his apparent new contest they were going to hold with each other, the more he noticed things about the girl he didn’t notice before. He noticed the way her brow furrowed when she spoke and he took note the shape of her lips. That gave him an idea.

“Hey, Rach?” He interrupted, knowing that calling the girl by a nickname would be sure to get her attention. Without waiting for her to stop talking, Hunter leaned in and eliminated the space between them, planting a firm kiss against her soft lips. He quickly placed his hand against the back of her neck, pulling her in until she was pressed up against him.

Rachel Berry:

As Rachel continued to speak and come up with a solution to crown her as the winner of the sing off, she paused only briefly when Hunter said her name, her eyebrows raising. “Wha-oh!” She mumbled as Hunter leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Rachel was caught completely by surprised and he stomach jumped into her throat-- she had no idea why Hunter was kissing her or why she was letting him kiss her.

Rachel’s eyes fell closed as her head tilted upwards to have a more comfortable angle, leaning into Hunter as she kissed him back. The things that she felt in that moment were conflicting and highly confusing. Half of her brain wanted to push the other away and slap him for thinking he could just kiss her like that, but the other half enjoyed the feeling of the man’s lips against hers way too much. The feeling that sparked on her lips when they kissed was something she hadn’t felt in a while, it spread through her quickly to warm her entire body.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter was well-practiced when it came to kissing and it didn’t fail him here in this moment. Kissing the girl back with fervor and deepening the kiss just a little bit more before suddenly pulling away was sure to leave her wanting more. As he pulled back, he licked his lips and grinned at Rachel who so obviously hadn’t expected to be kissed. It was extremely gratifying to have stunned her into a glorious silence. Hooking his finger under her chin, Hunter helped to close her stunned, open mouth. “Hah. Finally got you to shut up-- I win.” Hunter stated, puffing his chest out subconsciously. He offered Rachel a charming wink then, truly feeling like he’d won.

Without being told to leave or explain himself, the Warbler let himself out of the auditorium the same way that he’d entered, now feeling like this had made the drive down here worthwhile. His lips still tingled even after he left, having been surprised that Rachel would not only kiss him back but that she would be good at it. He decided it was best not to give it a second thought, focusing more on the drive back home than how good the kiss felt.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel was a bit disappointed when their kiss came to such an abrupt end, she would’ve probably went in for another if she hadn’t been so stunned that it happened in the first place. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Hunter he was standing in front of her with a cocky grin on his face. She let the taller close her mouth, the skin under her chin where he touched her felt as if it had caught on fire.

The brunette just stood there speechless as Hunter winked at her, causing a flutter in her stomach that she would later regret. She stood frozen in the middle of the stage as she watched the Warbler leave the room, the door slamming shut behind him startled her into reality. Shaking her head, Rachel brought her hand up to brush her fingers over her lips- still feeling as if she was on fire. What had just happened? She didn’t know if she liked the way it made her feel or hated it- but it was certainly something and it was certainly going to get her in trouble.

[televinita]

Zoo 3.11, “Cradles and Graves”

Maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me

I don't know if I'm more upset that this show had the gall to unironically use (a cover of)“Wonderwall” for dramatic effect, or that after 3 days of my inability to stop watching this episode, it's actually working for me.

I distinctly remember bursting out laughing when the first lyrics hit my ears, and now I'm like, teary eyed and nodding sagely through that whole montage. "Wow. So deep. So profound and meaningful."

------

A list of things I did not care for this week: the IADG bullpen unless Tessa was talking. Now that we've got that out of the way... Some things I like about the first 5 minutes -Imagining the Darkest Timeline version where they are all already dead by the time Clem finds them. -The (unintentional?) hilarity of the fact that Jackson's blood waits for the exactly perfect moment to ooze under the door for maximum dramatic effect -The fact that Mitch is found on the stairs instead of where he was shot, which suggests to me that he got to feel the full horror of seeing both Max and Jamie on the ground before he succumbed to his own wound (which is probably just an irresponsible directing choice because if he had, I'd think he'd be a little more grateful about the whole them-not-being-dead part, but it's fun to think about! Otherwise I just get bogged down again in wondering about the logistics of GSW injuries.) Ctrl + Z I loved it, but my parents and I could not stop laughing during the entire resurrection scene. "So I guess everybody's actively dying and no one can help us, but it's cool. Just gimme some of that tank serum (totally valid medical term) and mix it with water (just your basic home remedy recipe), and then we'll suffocate them back to life and five minutes later their mortal wounds will be fine and we can get on with the real problems." A.K.A. So there's example 57 or so of an entire episode's worth of possible plot being pushed aside because this show refuses to take a breath. We could have wrung so much more emotion out of Clementine, whilst ignoring her own signs of labor, trying to triage her father, grandfather, adoptive mother, surrogate uncle I'm pretending she is already attached to more than I'm sure she is, and other surrogate uncle who is also her best chance of saving her baby, the most important of all, if something goes wrong in delivery. ...and GDI now I gotta go find a special episode of Grey's Anatomy to get my mass tragedy fix. But I'm grateful that even at Zoo speed, they still gave me a little taste (in two flavors!) of people suffering the after-effects of injuries the serum couldn't fully fix. You're Responsible, You're the One to Blame, It's Your Fault :( to everyone being too busy hating her to notice Jamie cradling a clearly injured arm. But I love absolutely every sentence in this 7-way argument, including but not limited to Mitch's strangled "are you full term? how long was I out?!", the group-wide reveal of when exactly Mr. Duncan disappeared, Jackson's deadly-quiet anger, Jamie's valid defense of her actions, Mitch trying to take his daughter and blow this popsicle stand at a doubled-over limp, Clem taking her sweet time mentioning the quarantine, Max and Jamie's "oh" realizations about the plane, and Mitch's fabulously cranky echo and "what now" attitude. Last but far from least, the disgusted "I can't even look at you" was kind of my favorite part? I dig it when one member of an OTP is that intensely furious at the other out of hurt. (see also: Castle at the end of season 4)

A+ Comic Relief Laughing for 1 million years at Clem hopping off the exam table pantsless while all the men in the vicinity double take and look away* (except for Sam, whom Mitch hilariously whacks on the arm for his impudence, in my favorite sight gag since "Special Consultant") *the fact that Abe also does this, while understandably instinctive and appropriately respectful, is also kind of hilarious given where he just was 

Oh My Darling(s, Sam &) Clementine (who can't make a good shipmanteau to save their life) I don't have enough interest to do it myself, but it sure sounds like the story of how they met would make a pretty great YA novel plot. Anyone who doesn't actually want to spend the month trying to be a paid author need a NaNoWriMo prompt? Particularly someone who likes world-building, because this show leaves things wide open to fill in the details of U.S. society outside New York and the plane. Speaking of which! Did Clem happen to share with him the part of her backstory about being raised as an orphan basically the same way for the same reason? Because that seems like it would decently bond them. I like this parallel. Also update, I am getting a lot fonder of his face, mostly because he shut up and stayed out of the way except when I needed him to chime in to be sweet and supportive of Clementine (or side with her dad about ranking her over the baby on the priority list). He seems like he's really tried/is trying to be a good partner, and I'm impressed that he holds his ground despite a faceful of largely unwarranted hostility from her. I might actually be okay with him being the head of his family, even though up until now my head has danced with visions of Clem raising her baby under Mitch (and Jamie)'s purview and/or roof, Last Man Standing style. (although I guess there's always Reba-style, where both young parents are under that roof) (I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions about everyone's ability to stay alive and/or live a semi-normal life)

Beta Ship 2.0 / My Wonderwall** There's something immensely funny to me about the juxtaposition of Jackson being in his Brooding Cave Of Isolated Despair while Tessa is in a brightly ilt location, in the middle of the hustle and bustle and basically being like, "Buck up and stop being so melodramatic." (Jackson: The prophecies have spoken. Food turns to dust in my mouth. A great wave shall fall upon us all. // Tessa: is your plane out of groceries again?) But on a serious note, I love so much that he's thisclose to broken until she pulls him out of it that I'm not even gonna whine about him asking Tessa to do the same thing he's punishing Jamie for. Though in his defense, he did say "stop" her and not "kill her,” which is an important distinction for him. **My friend once wrote a Jim/Pam (The Office) parody of Jim/Pam stories using this title, and that is at least 50% of why I can't take this song seriously even though I actually have always loved it. 

I Don't Know What To Do My Whole Brain is Celebrating "How do you know the name of Jamie's scorpion?" "Because my son and Jamie have, uh, very lively pillow talk."** !!!!!!!!!! NO BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE.

The fact that Abe pipes up despite a sucking chest wound just so he can help take the mick out of Mitch is glorious. The cranky and ineffectual "shut up" in response is THE BEST. I love that Mitch has just always blatantly refused to publicly acknowledge how he feels about Jamie, despite the fact that everyone and their mother is like,  "Oh yeah, I know Mitch. Snarky scientist, walks around with hearts in his eyes to match the one on his sleeve?" (Mitch, in the distance: I do not LOVE her, okay, I just...miss her when she's not around, think about her all the time, and I imagine us one day running towards each other in slow motion and I'm wearing a brown suede vest.) I doubly appreciate this exchange because I was wondering when the hell these people actually sleep and I was getting worried there was no recognizable place in canon that they might have both had a chance to go to bed at the same time. **This writer could not have more clearly been flagging us with a fic prompt. Max Morgan, Love Doctor My very favorite of the small moments in this ep is Max insisting that Mitch let him patch him up. I was all on board for some serious injury, but I loved the subversion of his attention being caught by the scars I thought the show had forgotten about instead. "Oh, Mitch."

That just kills me. I want to unpack their relationship right here so much more, but also, it's 7pm on the night of new Zoo. Suffice to say Mitch isn't the only parent who suffers over the thought of his kid being in pain tonight, and that's beautiful. And gosh do I love him quietly, individually, nudging Mitch and Jamie back towards each other. The promise that Mitch will understand eventually was an immediate balm upon my soul. If Max says a thing about my ship, it must be true! Mitch + Being A Mess of Emotions About His Daughter (if anyone wanted to make a gifset off of this theme I would not be opposed) Words cannot express how thrilled I am that Mitch gives zero bothers about Sam's baby daddy rights and takes up prime positioning to stroke Clementine's hair nonstop throughout the whole labor,* even stealing the requisite final "you can do this" encouragement. He also gets to be the first one to hold the baby and it's amazing.

* and makes some pretty wonderful faces over how hard it is to see her in pain and not be able to do anything about it -- and remind me I've got either some meta or a story scrap about how this is what Audra was on the front lines for all those years he selfishly hid away, telling himself it was for the best P.S. As much as I love that Mitch just falls apart in full Worried Dad mode and can't seem to process a single medical term or physical symptom as it pertains to pregnancy, you know that if Abe weren't a sex doctor and the writers weren't butts, Mitch would absolutely be whipping out the stethoscopes and telling us all about the time he delivered a baby gorilla so this is basically the same thing -- I imagine Clem would take loud offense here -- while roping in Jamie as a delivery nurse to follow his instructions to the letter (because there are some things fathers just should not do no matter how brilliant they are). Things I would like to know Why Mitch -- who apparently had a through and through -- is the only one whose gunshot wound is still bothering him Why Clementine didn't once ask where Jamie was. (at which point I'd really like to see Mitch try and explain that one.)

It is straight up ridiculous to me that 19-year-old girl in labor, surrounded by men, would not want a woman with her, particularly one she loves. This is the most "what...man...[wrote] this" moment I have ever had about TV.

Did I just miss it, or is it kinda weird that Sam doesn't bat an eye upon finding out Charles Duncan is actually a different person and his girlfriend's father? 

Leftover Thoughts

This show is so nuts, I am just now realizing I didn't even stop to wonder how the hell Abigail reanimated herself last week before now.

Mitch being a testy bitch @ Abe is a thing that just does not get old. ("You put hybrid goo in my daughter? Was that not worth a little chat?")

Aww @ Mitch's mini pep-talk about being a good parent, followed by the "OK time to go" and the sweet "I'm having this baby?" / "You are having this baby."

I also really enjoy Mitch deciding to be cranky about Sam just because he's there and he can. It's kinda like sniping at Logan, but more fun and with way better reasons. (Which I hope is exactly what Mitch says when Clementine inevitably tells him to knock it off)

"Goodbye frequent flyer miles" lmao

I love that instead of shutting down the beacon by cutting the wire, they multiplied its effect by a thousand and destroyed a city, to which the response is basically, "Whoops."

"You've been good for my son. Take care of him for me." So I LOVE THIS, but also: dammit Max that is not what "die for our ship" means.

But I love the moment where Jamie and Max, individually, hear the baby crying. The joy dawning on their faces is so pure it actually makes it worthwhile that they're not present at the birth itself.

(I know we're especially mad about Jamie. But honestly, if it means All Mitch All The Time, that's an OK trade to me.)

tl;dr if something is not mentioned please assume I loved it

COMING SOON:

(will be links shortly) Mini essays analyzing Jamie V. Jackson, Mitch/Jamie and Max's death.

In conclusion: I spent my entire night writing this, but it was worth it. Future Me is gonna love looking back.