Reading over an old scene while editing, my co-writer and I find that we can't recall who wrote it.

After several minutes of combing through lines, they point to the screen. "Ah, you definitely wrote this one. You didn't capitalise god. You heathen."

This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!

— — —

(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)

So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:

Author (Who wrote it?)

Audience (Who was it written for?)

Context (What is written around it?)

So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).

The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.

The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.

I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)

Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.

I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3

❛ AIM HIGH ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Hi sweetie, I hope you have a good day/night. I love your writing (finally someone who loves Antonio and Hank as I do) and I wondered if you could write number 5 from fluff prompts with Hank. Maybe he is in love with the reader and he isn't sure if his feelings are requited but he takes a chance and asks her for a date? (Btw sorry for my terrible English, not my first language)

❚❙ PROMPT: “Give us a chance. One chance”.

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 550.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send me a message! ⚡

“I have a frie—”.

“For God's sake! Not again!”

Interrupting Maggie, you only cause her and April to break into laughter. Frowning at them as you catch the medical records on the counter, you turn around to come inside the small office next to the entry. Hank has an eyebrow curved with curiosity and his eyes fixed on the annoying grimace you can't hide. Without saying a word, he raises his chin in a soft move wanting to know what is happening over there.

“It's just… Argh…” Giving him the folders, you rub your face with both hands. “They're all the time trying to set me up a blind date. Apparently, I need to find a boyfriend soon because they don't want me to be left on the shelf”.

“Huh…”

“What? Don't you look at me like that! And don't you dare to side, Hank Voight”. You can't help but point at him with your index finger, as he giggles scratching his jaw with the back of his thumb.

“Didn't know you were into the dating game”.

“And I'm not. Even less if I haven't ever met the guy”.

“So, hypothetically… If I ask you for a date, you'd say no?”

You can't believe what he has just said, keeping silent trying to figure out if it's a joke or if he's being serious. You haven't thought before about having a date with him for many reasons, but now you are seriously considering it. He's a man, not a kid. He won't make jokes about your job, nor comments out of place. He won't call you or text you to control every single second of your life like it happened to you in the past. And he doesn't look like the kind of guy who gets drunk, cheats on you, and blames the alcohol.

“Give us a chance. One chance. And if you don't lik—”.

“Okay”. Your mouth replies before your brain can assimilate the words.

You're still trying to understand what a man like Hank has seen on you. But you aren't going to contrary him.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, uh… I finish at five, so we can meet at seven if it's good for you”.

“I'll pick you up”. The smile curving his mouth races your heart for a moment, causing you to pucker your lips a little ashamed.

“Okay, lemme write you my address”.

“I know where you live”.

Squinting at him, you babble some nonsense words until remembering where he works and what he does. It's easy for him. Although Hank has sounded like a stalker.

“You'll not regret it”. He scoffs funnily before leaving the office.

Turning around and staring at him in silence, you wait a couple of seconds to step out and walk towards the counter where Maggie and April are very expectant for knowing why it has taken you too long.

“So…?”

“So… I have… a date?” You can't believe it yet. Neither can they.

“With Voight? You aim high, girl…” April says palming your chest.

“He has waited too much to ask you out. It's funny how you haven't noticed yet the way he looks at you and how his face is brighter when you talk”.

“Oh, shut up… That isn't true”.

“Yes, it is, my little apprentice. Hank is like a teen in love whenever he sees you walking around”.

How (not) to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan (and other things I cannot believe I spent so much time tracking down for a throwaway joke in a Witcher slash-fic)

Buried in chapter 4 of my fic Something Nice is a joke which, as much as it amused me, no-one else is going to get unless I explain it. So here we go.

For the last few people in this fandom who haven't heard yet: The Witcher 3's vampire-language is Etruscan. To my knowledge, there's never been an official statement from CDPR to confirm this, but the evidence (ie. that basically all the vampire vocab can be found in online Etruscan sources) seems pretty solid. To explain why this made me go oooooh that's so NEAT, we need a little context.

Context!

The Etruscans (in my admittedly far-from-expert understanding) were a people who lived in Italy back before the Romans got around to conquering-slash-assimilating the rest of the peninsula, and the language they spoke is one of the most frustratingly mysterious of the ancient world. Most dead languages are at least related to something modern linguists have a decent handle on, but Etruscan seems to have been related to almost nothing else spoken – it may even have pre-Indo-European roots (a whoooole other tangent I am in no way qualified to cover).

Surprisingly, we do owe our modern Latin alphabet in part to the Etruscans, since the earliest Roman alphabets were adapted from the Etruscan (who got it from the Greeks, who got it from from the Phoneticians, and so on). The Etruscans may even be the reason we're stuck with so many weirdly redundant K-sounds (not only K and C, but X and Q, which are really just 'ks' and 'kw' with an overblown sense of superiority).

But being able to sound out every surplus K-word from an Etruscan inscription isn't much help nowadays when there are no surviving Etruscan dictionaries to tell us what it actually means – not even a decent Etruscan Rosetta stone to give us a push-start. So while modern linguists may rattle off Ancient Greek fluently or puzzle out Egyptian hieroglyphs from thousands of years before the Etruscans even had an alphabet, the Etruscan vocabulary available to us nowadays remains embarrassingly limited. Bits have been figured out from context or thanks to loanword exchanges with their neighbours (plenty of ancient Greeks and Romans certainly spoke Etruscan, even if they failed to write it down), but a lot is still as mysterious to the experts as it would be to you and me.

So why to I love the idea of using Etruscan as the Witcher’s vampire-language so much? Basically, if you want a language that will sound both old and reliably alien to anyone listening to it – be they the mainstream English-speaking market or the original Polish-language audience – Etruscan is a damn good call. You're not going to have much vocabulary to draw from, but it's not like there's a lot of vampire-chatter in the game anyway. It's a cool little easter egg for fans nerdy enough to try and figure out what they're saying.

Translations and Sources

You aren’t going to find a lot of great Etruscan language sources on the web – few of the easily-discovered online sources on Etruscan vocab appear to have been updated within the last ten years, and lord knows how consistent some of these are with current scholarship (let alone how sure linguists can be about anything with a task like this). All the same, have some links you may find useful:

Etruscology – Brief, but more readable than most

Lexicons.ru Etruscan Glossary – Probably one of the best collections of many terms in one place

Maravot.com Etruscan Language pages – Hard to navigate, but gosh there are a lot of vocab here I have not seen elsewhere

Old, Tripod-hosted Etruscan Glossary – I think these are mostly just the same terms from the Lexicons page, but in harder-to-use format

Etruscan word search – Decent, but not the most extensive vocab

Introduction to the Etruscan Language – Looks to be from Maravot.com, but in pdf format

Paleoglot.com’s Etruscan tag – Blog by an actual linguist who regularly discusses Etruscan material, and who even created their own translation applet! – which was, unfortunately, in flash, and is thus no longer usable. (There is a certain irony that even the tools available online to help you understand Etruscan are written in a language that is now no longer supported or understood by any modern browser.)

Not that translating what’s in the game is going to be easy, oh no. Take, for example, the oh-god-please-don't-kill-me ceremonial greeting Geralt has to offer to the Unseen Elder to survive that meeting – "Eclthi, lautni ama".

'Eclthi' is apparently a "demonstrative (locative)" (’here’, ‘there’, etc). "Lautni" is trickier – it means a freed slave, but may also imply a familial relationship or a client of sorts, while the root “lautn” apparently designates simply “possession.” House slaves in the ancient world were often considered part of the family, and freed slaves were an important class in many ancient cultures, who often maintained relationships with their former masters, so you can see the internal logic, but what sense was the Witcher using it in? It’s hard to know.

"Ama" is possibly worse – most translations seem to have taken it as "to be", but sometimes also “to love”, or even "now" or  "meanwhile." Then you hit the question of Etruscan grammar, and I have no idea where I’d even start. So, with a little creativity, you could probably translate that phrase as anything from "take this and consider me a friend" to "meanwhile, this is family" to "a demonstration of love from your slave." I mean, you've got the same general theme going there regardless, but there's a lot of ambiguity in the inflection.

For what it's worth, I feel garasham's translation efforts are easily the most convincing I've seen – they have the above line as “Here I am a slave / a friend / kindred” FWIW. (Mind you, given the wiki doesn't even try to do more than offer you one possible meaning for each word, there's not exactly much competition out there).

So, bringing this all back to that fic and how to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan...

I've already gone to the web's Etruscan dictionaries once while I was writing Forget-Me-Not, seeking inspiration for a 'real' name for "the Queen of the Night" from the first Witcher game. Neither 'queen' or 'night' got me far, but the Etruscans did apparently have a goddess of the moon called 'Aritimi, Artume or Artames', which worked pretty well. If anything it's almost too close to the better-known Greek goddess Artimis, who was obviously a relative (ancient cultures bleed into each other even when they're not bleeding all over each other, nothing new there), but I'm not going to be picky.

However, being a) a giant nerd, who b) writes a lot of smut, and c) is no more mature deep down inside than the rest of us, I couldn't resist seeing if I could find some slightly more obscene vocabulary. Did the Etruscans have a word for, say, 'fuck'?

Alas, if they did (and I mean, they totally did, c'mon), the web wouldn't tell me about it. Nor could I find much else relating to sex or genitalia (male or female), or even a decent word for 'thrust'.

On the flipside, there were a couple of different terms meaning 'plough'. And anyone who's played – well, any of the games, but especially Witcher 2 – would probably realise exactly why that filled me with so much glee.

Speaking of which, here, have a picture which is in no way related:

The fact that the various Etruscan terms meaning ‘plough’ could also apparently be translated as things like “to worship“ or “to act through movement, including ritual acts,” or that an important mythological figure was “a prophetic child who sprang from a freshly plowed furrow” was in no way discouraging.

The word I ultimately picked was 'esari'. Admittedly, variations on the prefix ‘ar-’/‘ara-’/’aras’ were much more consistently attested to throughout the various online Etruscan dictionaries as ‘terms meaning plow’, but figuring out how to convert an Etruscan prefix into a satisfying word is officially where even my enthusiasm for all this nonsense gives out. Esari was, by comparison, already a much more solid-sounding term, so let’s go with that.

Why go to all this trouble anyway? Well, the honest answer is “entirely for my own amusement”, but the nominal excuse comes right back to “so I could give Regis and Geralt this little exchange during a sex scene.”

"Unless you have any particular objection," said Regis, moving to straddle Geralt's body, "I thought we might engage in some esari... hm, what was the equivalent term in your language again?" The vampire leaned in close to Geralt's ear as he made a show of remembering his answer, "Ah, yes—I thought I'd fuck you."

Never let anyone tell you you never learnt anything from porn!

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Two

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC  (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really... I think.

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one 

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————————–

One of their favorite things of all New York experience it's having lunch with Zoey. The girl was funny and interesting and she always had the right conversation to spend time with. Also, she had an incredible taste in music, they both even shared some classes together, working in pair so often that the rest of their classmates just knew they weren't available to them.

So when Beck found out Zoey co-produced the last summer hit, they weren't surprised, what was making some teeny tiny noise in their head was…

“Did you really co-produced Lightning and you didn't tell me?!”

… That.

Beck was impressed, of course. They where proud! That song was one of their personal favorites, so the fact of knowing they were collaborating all this time with such a spectacular talent was an honor.

“To be fair, you never asked” She chuckled.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, Zoey: Hey, my name's Beck, had you ever co-produced a summer hit? Because I haven’t”. Beck ironized. The news were all over The T, and it definitely had to do with a little lunch Zoey managed to have with the same Professor Roberta, making her finally be friends with Beck. “By the way, thank you very much. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Babe, you just bought us a $200 lunch. I think you deserved not to have some teachers bad blood”

“Maybe I did it to be on your good side” Beck winked towards her, making Zoey laugh.

“Such a charmer, aren’t you?” Zoey opened their room door, finally reaching their home. “Careful, Beck. You’re going to make me believe I'm your favorite girl.”

“How says you aren’t?”

“Hum… I don’t know” She tapped her chin with a perfect polished fingernail, pretending to be thinking about it. “Maybe some little bird called Ina Kingsley.

Ow! Low blow

“Ah, gotcha!” Zoey laughed.

“Ok, that’s completely unfair! You know it was one-time thing and we ended whatever that was as soon as we found out we were teacher-student” Which was practically the very next day, by the way… kinda.

“Still… I think you should make it up to me for it.” Oh, that little flirty game between them. Beck was curious about it most of the time. Was it just a joke? Something more? Back at Farmville they never had a friendship relationship like that one, but Zoey was never really clear about the matter neither.

Instead, she always came up with some Ina related topic and it was confusing as fuck. I mean, yeah, they kissed Zoey in front of everyone in that football kiss cam. Beck thought that time that it was very clear they wanted to be more than friends with her. But apparently, she didn't feel the same, so… they won’t be pushing her. Beck would never oblige someone to be into… well… them.

“What can I do? Please tell” They said, playing along with her.

“You're a smart one. I'm sure you’ll find a way to do so.” Damn it, Zoey…

“I already have a few ideas… Scandalous lingerie.” Beck joked some more, a mischievous smile on their lips. “I’m thinking satin sheets, handcuffs, maybe a blindfold…”

“I like this image. You, sprawled out on the mattress, completely at my mercy…” Zoey moved closer to them, trailing her finger up their arm, making them shiver.

“Come on, Zo. Back down already! At least show me something, do something.”

“I might just take you up on that someday.” She said before walking away, teasing them.

“Gwaah!”

Beck hated that. Really, that kind of frustration was no good at all.

“Crap, I'm gonna be late for music theory! This is not good. The prof is a total hardass.”

“Told ya! You should’ve choose professor Liam as I did. You brought this on yourself.”

“And now you’re just an asshole” She said smiling, hitting Beck right on their arm.

“Ouch! Rude…”

“I’ll catch up with you tonight, yeah?”

“It’ a date”

~~X~~

���Are you sure you’re ok, Poppy?” Veronica asked. She looked preoccupied, and she was… But Poppy wasn’t the one in her mind. The blogger was worried for Chloe.

She was number one now, dethroning Poppy so suddenly that it was suspicious, especially knowing the blonde dumb head girl. She adores Poppy since they were kids, Chloe would never betray her, never. But of course, Poppy wouldn’t see that; no, the strawberry blonde was furious, feeling backstabbed, feeling like revenge…

Of course, you couldn´t blame her. She lived all her life between smoke and mirrors.

“Of course I am!” She replied, knotting her white transparent beach dress, covering up a sexy pink bikini. Poppy took a deep breath and accommodated her cleavage so it shows part of her chest, just a little, seductively inviting, but demure enough no to seem made on purpose. She was an expert on it, and she was about to prove her theory right about now. “I´ll take care of that traitor later…” She checked the hour on her phone. She had invited Farmsville to come there around this time. Test number one: They needed to be punctual, no lover –real or fake- of hers is an irresponsible with her time. She had better things to do than waiting around for an asshole. “Now come, Hughes must be here by now”

 “No, I think I’m going to stay right here. Light’s perfect” Poppy rolled her eyes at the way Veronica was trying to find the right angle to make her face look impossible good. She always manages to do so, though.

The strawberry blonde crossed the room, walking through the cabin towards the swimming pool room, she could see Beck there, on time, talking with Michael. Poppy smiled to herself.

“Test passed, Farmsville…”

“… It was built by the Alphas and Zetas as a place to study, party, hook up… Now the only people who come here are - -“

“The people I decide should be here.” She made her entrance.

Test number two: Is Beck into girls? Kissing Zoey didn´t count, Poppy herself had kissed a lot of friends without liking them, she had to prove it herself first hand. So she walked to them with confidence, head up high while moving her hips seductively, attentive to Beck´s every reaction, reading their face, their expressions, the little gulp in their throat, the way their eyes opened wild, checking her out, looking at her boobs…

“Disgusting pervert”

… to her eyes, were Beck fixed their own to stay, always to the face. Beck was trying to be polite, respectful, but the red on their cheeks was exactly the same they had back in the class. They liked what they saw, Poppy knew it. Just to verify, she took a look at the rest of Alphas, who looked away the moment they were discovered. Ugh, gross.

“… but… you have manners. I like it… Second test approved. Well done.”

“Welcome, Farmsville. Let’s discuss our little project, shall we?” An inviting smirk was drawn on Poppy’s lips, willing to test the limits of her new discovery, how much more could she play with Beck today?

“Oh, sure. See ya guys at gym” Beck said, bumping fists and shoulders with the Alphas as if they were good friends. One more of them. For an instant, Poppy found herself wishing they won’t turn Beck into a brainless gorilla. Beck was fine just like already was.

A blonde head caught her eye from behind Beck, saving her of questioning what was that though about because the anger crawled its way up her stomach, keeping her from minding of anything else. “Hold on. What is she doing here?”

The fucking nerve!

The audacity!

Every person in the room was watching Chloe, but nobody had the rage Poppy had. Of course she made them block the entry, how dare she?! After a little scene, that bitch finally went away. To think she considered Chloe her very own best friend! Deep inside, she was hurt, she felt used… The society was right: never to trust anyone, because their always pretending, always faking no matter what they said. Waiting the right moment to strike. That was a mistake she was never going to repeat. Never. She was about to leave, ready to start the project, but of course, Beck was about to ruin her mood one more time.

“That was… pretty rough…” What did they just say? The strawberry girl observed Beck. There was no rest of respect in them, conversely, Beck looked at Poppy as if she was Narnia´s White Witch, what happened to the little lamb look? “I get it if ya’ll are in a fight, but isn’t she supposed to be, like, your best friend?”

God, they were an idiot.

“You´re not here to be my moral compass, Farmsville. Shut the fuck up and walk with me. The rest of you, get out. Now”

Once alone, they both walked slowly around the pool, silence… She didn’t enjoy that. At all. But it was necessary and she couldn´t show any weakness sign to anyone there. Especially not Beck. But… She was now sure of one thing: Beck didn’t care about looks, but actions, or… feelings?

“Have you checked the student ranking today?” She asked, her voice softened. Beck shook their head. They looked at her phone, and after a while…

“Oh boy. Chloe is…”

“Don´t say it…” She was angry, venom caught in her throat, but instead, she let that out like a whisper. A hurt one. She wasn’t faking it, but controlling her emotions on her benefit. Wanting more test, Poppy slipped off her heels and went to sit at the edge of the pool. A moment after, she felt Beck doing the same.

“Bingo”

“It’s just as my parents told me… You don´t have any real friends, Poppy. Just allies. Hmp! Looks like they were right all this time.”

“Poppy, I…” They said, unsure.

“Such a shame.” She stopped him, going back to the anger. “I don’t know who she thinks she is, or who she had to sleep with to knock me out of my spot, but if she thinks this is over she is so wrong. It’s utter betrayal is what it is. That girl is dead to me.” Silence. Was that too soon? Did she got it wrong, again?

“Poppy, you´re too hot to worry about this”

Yes… now they can play.

------

Next

This a Peter si fic I started (its purely 'feel good' no eye roll moments) but never found out what I wanted to do with it. This hasn't been grammar checked ethier.

The yearly trip to science industries (after the fiasco concerning OC labs) was heavily guarded by the gpa efficiency minimum and it was usually 123 Seniors at Midtown high each year. That only left less than 30 who had the gpa needed in order to attend the field trip. But with detentions and tardies that often brought it down to 25 added in with the people who actually turned in their permission slips drop that number down to a solid 13. That usually  meant the whole decathlon team, one jock, the Sat acres and people with tiger parents. 

So when the paper was only passed to Peter and Flash in their homeroom he wasn’t surprised who qualified for the field trip. 

Last year's field trip the students all got to go to Tesla and returned the day after. Liz said it was a fun experience and even one of the kids was later offered an internship available to him after their graduation. Liz herself wasn’t all that interested in the company herself but she said the experience was an enjoyable one. So Peter would have been lying if he said he wasn’t practically buzzed for when his senior year trip came. 

He wondered if they would be able to tour the new labs Wakanda had set up. He wanted to go for a while but their outside personnel was strictly limited to certified personnel and those with names that ended with Stark or Banner or Avengers. But the name staring back at him was just laughing at him, “congratulations, you have qualified for this year's exclusive Senior trip to SI inc.” an all paid expense to visit his work. Now instead of taking the City bus he could just catch a ride on a big ugly yellow one. 

Not that this was a let down it was still an amazing opportunity many would kill for. He thought gazing behind him to stare at Flash who fist bumped the air. The attention caught his attention and he made brief eye contact with Peter with a smug little smile on his face. Peter only flashed back his before the flash rolled his eyes and no longer paid him attention. 

Flash still didn’t partially believe Peter's internship-neither did anyone else really- but flash was the most put out about it. He would be lying if he says he wasn’t rooting for Peter the night of his junior year party. He even helped Diana, the maid clean and dust just in case Spiderman really did show up. And when he didn’t show up he told Peter exactly how he felt about it with a new string of nicknames. Added on to the occasional passive agressive shoulder shove but nothing more or less beyond that. Sure he was a dick but he wasn’t a good fighter, just richer than Parker he was beating him in the fight of life. 

Peter only rolled his eyes back, shoving the paper into the back of his class notebook. 

The minutes ticked by steadily as Peter waited to meet Ned at his locker. He’s almost deadly positive Ned received one too and is waiting to shake the life out of his shoulders. Peter may work at Si but Ned’s never been and the experience in itself is quite entertaining. Things are always different when best friends are involved. 

“Anyone who received a field trip paper will have to have it signed and returned to me, the office, or Mrs. Meyers up to five days before the date of the field trip. Other than that we will continue on with the stock market Tomorrow!” The teacher screamed over the rustling papers and scraping chairs as he let them out a minute early, if you ask anyone on campus that made him the cool teacher.

Petter grabbed his folders, having lost another backpack he was sure laid webbed to the building and exited the room. He easily made it to his locker before Ned did and even got to close it before he was approached

. 

“Dude you can show me your lab.” he whispered to peter. 

“Actually I can’t, my lab is Tony’s and that's only because Bucky has been keeping him away from the lab.” Peter announced before he got his hopes up. “We’re probably gonna tour below mid level, I don't think they allow anyone without a permanent badge into any of the labs.” 

“Do we get to meet any of the avengers?” 

“Probably Bruce, he’s usually chilling with all the other scientists. It’ll be cool though you know i haven’t actually met him? The dude has to be dumb smart, you know Tony scraps ideas if he can’t get Bruce to sign off on them.” Peter gushes, before an arm is roughly swung around his shoulder. “Ow-no.”

Flashes pffts, “give me a break i hate this as much as you but apparently since I’m friends with idiots i have to slum it with you and- I’m sorry what's your-”

“Ned”

“Yeah Ned, that sounds familiar for the trip. I asked more about it and this might be a good time to turn in our submissions for the upcoming Intern conference. We get in ahead and we can probably impress him enough for our stuff to actually be looked at. Peter, I know your tech smart, I do numbers and possibilities and Ned we’ve been in coding since middle school together so we can definitely do that.” Flash rambles.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been coding together for 6 years and you just barely remembered my name?”

“What I’m talking about-Peter is welcome to the winning team. Listen your smart parker you may or may not have an internship although its kinda sketchy that out of nowhere you a loser 17 year old defies all social laws and pops on the popularity chart” Understandable he still cursed Ned for saying anything right before he asked Mary jane to prom god that was embarrassing. 

You know that fancy stuff doesn’t bother me Peter. If I wanted to solely date you for your internship I’d hope someone would’ve knocked sense into you to get over me. 

“But I honestly feel as if we wow at least one impressionable person. They'll seek us an audience with Stark before the rest of the crowd.”  Flash continues. 

“You know that honestly doesn’t sound bad?” Ned finishes unsure over the look of alarm on Peter's face. Because yeah it’s not a bad idea and that expo meant the world to the real science losers around the GLOBE. And Ned really did want to be involved beyond the guy in the chair way before Peter turned into Spiderman. Peter would probably still be hands deep in his theories if he hadn’t gotten bit by some escaped lab spider. This expo at one point in his life -sophomore year- was the only thing that was gonna get Aunt May out of the nearly slumps. 

And flash…. Well he’s just a fucking nerd to put it lightly he was just rich, and since he was rich and gushes this much about being a intern of all things meant he might’ve been worse then both Peter and Ned when they first envisioned running coffee for Tony stark. 

Plus it would be kinda unfair to see if he could pull strings for Ned instead of proving that he was capable of it far more on his own. “Fiiiinn-”

“Whoop! You might actually not be so bad penis.” and with a clap on his shoulder disappearing with the ringing of the bell. 

Peter clenched his jaw shooting a ‘why’ look at Ned, “Oh don’t give me that look, you think I want to work with him. He has money and resources and he is good at real numbers not technical of coding, look you're an spaceship mechanic, he does the landing the thrust or whatever they do and I’m the guy who counts down which is honestly better then both of those jobs-” 

“Please Ned you're embarrassing me '' Peter laughed as he and Ned made their way through the day. 2 months until the field trip that was more than enough time for three geniuses to at least come up with a concept and a prototype for something cool. 

Scrap that they’re screwed. 

“I almost died.” Ned said, sitting in a shock of foam. “You guys just sat there, you were gonna watch me die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ned reared back at Flash's comment, “Dramatic! I just went up in flames!” 

“Hey, it was your boy Peter who made it. Plus maybe if he didn’t bail early last  Monday we could’ve caught that our numbers weren’t matching up with his” Maybe if some assholes weren't trying to rob F.E.A.S.T after their charity event he wouldn’t have had too. 

“I told you things happen Flash, I do in fact have a life.”

“MJ tell you that”

“-oo burn”

“Ned!- ok listen in order for this hoverboard to work we have to make sure everything is matched up. It shouldn’t have done that so something else must’ve gone wrong too.” Peter explained grabbing the notebooks and tossing them on the Flashes workbench. Hoverboard and back to future stickers on the covers.

“Might be the fact that it isn’t Hovering. But that's just me.”

Russian Dolt

Another Hank collab. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was just about ready to give up and head back to the hotel. I’ve spent 16 years being a sales representative across Southeast Asia, and I know all the regional variations on the prostitutes fairly well. Here in Manila, a Russian girl would go for at least twice the price of a local. A Malay girl would go for a discount. But too much of the same old thing grows boring, and that’s why I was out in the bars tonight instead of just calling an escort to the hotel for a “massage”.

I wasn’t sure what I was after, to be honest, which was part of the problem. Maybe a threesome? A gymnastics girl doing tricks for me – and on me? I’ve heard that in some countries the Olympic teams even earn some side money in brothels. I’ve never found it myself, but that would be something different at least. So far nothing I had found had really turned my crank. I was polishing off a mediocre whiskey when I was approached at the bar by the man.

The guy was younger than me, maybe 25, and looked very Russian. Buzzed hair, tank top, tight jeans, flip flops, cheap tats and the don’t give a fuck attitude that their entire nation has adopted since they lost the Cold War. He smelled of smoke and cheap cologne. He looked to be in great shape. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I overheard you speaking of freak sex, yes?”

The accent was heavily Russian as well. This could be exactly what I was after, but it could also end up with me robbed and dead in a ditch.

“What’s it to you?”

“We have proposal. Have you had sex as not you?”

Despite the hot and wet climate, I could feel a wall of heat radiating on my other side as one real furnace of a man stepped closer to me. I turned my head and looked right into a black tank top. It was filled with a huge pile of meat. I looked up at his face and he made a silent nod. Perhaps not as stereotypically Russian, but still very much old Soviet stock, and presumably lots of old Soviet hormones, not all his. His muscles seemed to have muscles.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sex as not me?”

“We have a thing that lets you do sex as if someone else. Understand? You could be me?”

“I could be you? Who would you be?”

“I would be you, for short time. Very short. Then you as me do any things, dangerous things. Nasty things. But safe for you. When finished, you are you and I am I.”

I was thinking really hard on how this scam worked. Was this just going to trick me out of 5000 pesos, or was the end goal to take me for all I was worth? The setup was intriguing. Performing sex as someone else… I’d certainly never tried that before. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back, in part because I knew, loathe as I’d be to admit it, that it often did.

“What kind of nasty things?” I finally answered.

“Many different things. You chose. How about fucked by wrestler?”

He gestured towards the pillar of meat on my other side. That surprised me. Back home where I grew up there was a lot of "God hates fags" and crude gay jokes, but I always thought it was a bit obsessive. It's a free country so they can do whatever they want, as long as they keep me out of it. I’d never had sex with a man before, obviously. Never even considered it. I was about to protest how I wasn’t a fag, when a small little voice at the back of my head pointedly said “Damn straight, but apparently he is one.” Well, if I was going to be someone else, then why not go for something truly wild and different? Something I would never put my own body through.

“How does it work? How do we do it?”

“We put your body somewhere safe. To keep your mind off it. Then we swap. When you are done, we swap again. 3000 pesos per hour.”

Twenty minutes later, if even that, the three of us were standing in my hotel room. The lobby was deserted, save for the night manager who gave us a disapproving look on our way to the elevator. On the way up, I made a quick estimate of what everything I brought was worth. I only had my carry on, some clothes, my laptop, cell phone and travel wallet. If I was completely cleared out by these guys, I could stay an extra day, have the cards blocked and reissued, use insurance to buy replacements, and be on my way. Not much to lose, really.

The big hunk of meat was Boris, because of course he’d be a Boris. He didn’t speak any English. The sleazy guy in the wifebeater was Mikhail, and he was now explaining the details of how he proposed we do this. He had a handcuff with a really long chain, so I could be cuffed to the bathroom water pipe and still make it to the bed. This would allow Mikhail, in my body, to stay securely in the room, watch TV, use the bathroom and such and such while I was out in his body. I was full of doubt. Step one really can’t be that I chain myself with handcuffs to the bathroom pipes? Mikhail saw my hesitation without me saying anything.

“You want to see first, yes?”

“Please.”

From his pocket he pulled out two thumb rings. They were plain iron rings with no inlays, but with engraved symbols running around them, which gave them a brutish look. He gave me one.

“Sit down. Put it on, right hand.”

I did as I was told, and nothing happened. He sat down next to me on the bed and unceremoniously slipped on his ring. Instantly, everything shifted a few feet to the side, and I suddenly looked out of his eyes instead of mine. It worked. It felt amazing.

His body was in such great shape. I ran my hand over the buzz cut stubble on my head, feeling the prickliness of it against my palm. Then, swiftly, just as quickly as I had jumped into his body, I was back in mine, looking at my hand. Mikhail had just removed the ring.

“You can see it works. You want to continue, yes?”

I sure did. I could scarcely believe this technology was legit. Perhaps it was magic. I know, magic isn't real, but then neither are body swaps. I put the ring back on, and wow, the rush. I was back in Mikhail’s body.

Mikhail patted me and got up. It was so trippy to see my body moving next to me. He quickly locked the handcuff to to his left wrist and then stepped into the bathroom to attach the other end of the cuff. He then stepped out again and gave me the key.

“Here, keep this safe. My suggestion would be to put it in the room safe, so you don’t lose it in the excitement.”

To my shock, he was talking fluent English now, without any accent.

“I will do,” I answered, immediately laughing a dumb Russian laugh. Wow, how stupid my own voice sounded. I sounded just like Mikhail in voice, accent and whacked English.

I immediately realized that whatever these rings did wasn't simply placing my brain inside Mikhail's body. That would just change the voice. But to also changed my accent and even words and grammar, which hinted at something more complex. It somehow both frightened and excited me, and I felt a stir in my pants. I wondered what else would be different, what else this body I now inhabited might be made of.

I put the key and my wallet in the safe, and locked it with 7478. Same code as my old phone, based on the Boeing 747-8 plane. As an international businessman I've had many trips on those. Boris started moving and ushered me out of the room, almost impatiently. As the room door clicked shut, I realized that I’m standing outside of my room with no key, no ID, a different body, and next to this oversized hunk of meat. I reminded myself that I can, at any moment, just remove the ring and appear back in the room. I could then open the safe, grab the key, unlock the shackles on my own body, and pretend like nothing had happened. As long as I have my hand free to remove the ring, there is no need for a safe word tonight. I chuckled with Mikhail’s voice at my own internal pun.

The feeling was amazing, getting accustomed to the body. I could tell my first thought was spot on: this bod was in great shape. It was lithe, almost sprightly compared to where I was at normally. Toned and packed with just enough firm muscle to have a bit of a swagger, it seemed. As we strode out of the hotel and into one of the waiting taxis, I ran a hand through my buzzed hair once more, feeling the spike of the flat cut against my palm. I tugged a little and played with the studs in my ear lobes.

Is this how fags felt, I wondered? Are these sort of bodies part of where their pride and sex drive comes from? I hadn’t given any thought before to the idea that men who are attracted to men might find their own bodies hot, too. I looked down at my forearms, noticing the fit power in them, the veins lightly popping. It did look good to me. I could feel queer thoughts, but I wasn’t ashamed or repulsed by them. This wasn’t me, but I could tell it could be very hot to play the gay. And looking at my arms, I felt an erotic buzz. I was starting plump up a little. I was legitimately turned on.

“In Soviet Russia, you not find faggot. Faggot find you!” I said out loud, laughing, thinking that I sounded even dumber than Mikhail did in this voice. One of my favorite jokes finally had a body worthy of it. Both Boris and the driver ignored me.

I suppose Russians didn’t usually make such a classic Russian joke, did they? Or did they? This really was the most out-of-body experience I’ve ever had, quite literally. Talk about risk versus reward payoff. I had to do it again.

“In Soviet Russia, big dick find you!” I found myself slurring, stupidly, and just hearing the ridiculous accent come out of Mikhail’s mouth, a mouth that was mine for the time being, made me snort with laughter again. I didn’t expect that the first few things I’d be doing in this body would be laughing my ass off. It was truly surreal. But it was hilarious, I mean, wow. Maybe it was my way of trying to find my sea legs after such radical change.

We arrived at a different hotel only 15 minutes away from mine, but looking at it they couldn't be further apart. If Mikhail and Boris looked seedy in the lobby of my hotel, they would appear posh in this neighborhood. I was still not used to this body, and wobbled a bit getting out of the taxi. Boris stopped and waited by the hotel entrance while I made a few jumps to test that everything is fine.

“Boris,” I say, my voice reminding me of some squirrel and moose thing – Natasha – Rocky and Bullwinkle – I can’t get over this accent –

“Boris, where is room?”

I find that I almost have a feel for the way the Russkies talk, I think, and that if I just roll with it, I’ll be able to work with it almost effortlessly. Boris started leading me into the hotel and down a hall. He stopped by a door and opened it, with a real key. Not one of those card reader doors. He entered the room and I followed.

First thing I did was to swagger on over to the mirror. I didn't get a good look while in my room before Boris ushered me out. Yeah, I pretty much looked amazing. This body, or whatever sense of sexual desire was in this bod, recognizes male beauty in a way that wasn’t apparent to me at all as a straight guy. This body is fit, it is toned, it is more tanned than I would have expected from a Russian guy. He must have been in The Philippines for a while now, I figured. The tats, which I thought looked like cheap pieces of shit from a budget tattoo parlor before, looked masculine, tough, and sleazy.

I looked like the mirror image of a guy who lived to fuck, drink, smoke and party, I thought- And I could feel that I was craving a smoke, too. But man, that mirror… I was boned, totally erect over a man for the first time in my life, even if it just was myself, in a way.

Mikhail had been wearing that rich brand of underwear to try to act like he was worth something, I suppose. What’s the name of it? I can’t even remember, not being an underwear type myself. To me, despite whatever he must have spent, the briefs and tats all just made him look cheap and trashy. But I liked it. It’d be perfect for tonight. I fully intended to take advantage of it all, go out for a while, have fun and bring someone back tonight. If things stayed chill, I was ready to fuck. Boris looked bored, and wasn’t even really watching me, so I was guessing things were cool.

I recalled Mikhail had blurted something out earlier about “Fuck Wrestler,” which I presumed meant Boris. And I had been thinking maybe I’d do that, initially, not really being sure what I’d do. But now that I was attracted to men, apparently, I really just didn’t think Boris was my type. Or this body’s type. Or whatever. He didn’t seem to be into me, either. I like the look of Mikhail’s body for sure, and it’s almost mesmerizing to me. Breaking away from the mirror is a bit of a challenge, I notice, as I put my tank top back on. Maybe the old line about Narcissus isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“Boris, I want to go to bar,” I said. “Gay bar. You know where?” “да,” the oaf answered.

I understood it as "Yes", of course, but I understood it in a fluid way. Could I speak it, too?

“Вы можете общаться со мной на русском языке?” I blurted to see if he could understand me. My own words sound like something an insect would come up with. They buzzed. They sounded slushy, and they sounded like shit. I really don’t know how folks can speak such an ugly language, how anything could evolve in such a strange way.

“да.” he said again, without any emotion.

There’s some male jewelry on the counter, I noticed as I started to turn out the lights. Dog tags, a pendant. I picked them up and put em on. Looks good- Wonder if Mikhail walked around with that, normally. The whole walk to the bar, I couldn’t help but to act cocky, shifting my posture, feeling playful with this body. Boris, as I found out by trying to chat him up, despite him being a man of few words, did have a pack of cigarettes to help me out with. Soon I’m bumming a couple off of him, and as soon as I could get away with it outside of the lobby, I light up.

The guys walking around Manila that we passed – some are kind of, I don’t know how to put it…not ugly, but not really attractive. I wasn’t really drawn to the girls, I noticed, but not the guys either, all that much. Some of them caught my eye a little more than others. I hoped when we got to the bar that I would find one of the Russians I was expecting to be there. Was that what my genes were hunting for, or was that what I just was expecting to find? A Russian? Would I be attracted to a German, a Frenchman or an American if I ran into any? Good luck picking one up with this voice, I thought to myself. But this is a sexy body. I bet I could pick up a lot of different kinds of guys. Gays aren’t really known for being particular, I thought. At least they’re known to do a lot of depraved shit with anyone. They aren’t like women. They have it easy, so I should too.

The thought of trying to hit on a guy, though I had no clue how to do it, seemed amusing. I felt a tinge of nervousness, but then I remembered this isn’t my real body. I could say anything. There’s a wallet in these jeans and I flipped through it. Was that arranged? There’s enough cash in there, 400 pesos, to drink for a while depending on the prices. I wonder if Boris would loan me more, but how smashed would I really gonna get? It should be more than enough.

Soon we were in the bar. I eyed the field. I spotted my prey almost instantly. Dark beard, full, thick. Bomber sunglasses tank top, twists of tribal tattoo down one arm. I wondered what sort of guy wears glasses in a bar, and I was thinking, fag guys do. And that’s you too, fag boy, so hop to it. And it was alluring, even as I knew it was done for affect. I didn’t care. He was hot.

I didn’t sit down by him right away, though. Boris and I took a spot at the corner, by the entrance. Soon enough, though, I wink at him on his way to take a piss. Why not? Nothing to lose, man.

Once he was out of sight Boris stood up, and surprised I asked him if he was going to leave. I kind of expected he would stick around to make sure I didn't do anything too stupid with Mikhail's body. He smiled for the first time, patted me too hard in the back, responded "Ты справишься" and left. And with that I was on my own.

Well, that’s all fine with me, because I was worried these guys might think I already scored Boris or something. Didn’t want that crimping my game. I was totally comfortable on my own, too. Fuck, it’s not my body. Still can’t get over how liberating it was to just know it.

The night got rolling, more folks were trickling into the club, and Bomber Glasses and I were talking, finally. He is German, but does speak some English. This body did the work for me, I thought. He was into me. I couldn’t help but be fixated at his beard, man, and the chest hair that foofed out of the top of his tank. He has a dog tag of his own around his neck. It’s all so sleazy and fucked up. It’s weird, knowing that what once would have repulsed now allured.

Soon he was buying me a drink. I wondered if I was attracted to powerful guys, as this was the first one who caught my eye out of the bunch, not that there were many to choose from. He was at least a good three inches taller than me. Darker complexion. Thicker hair, and of course that beard. That chest. Mine’s got just a little fuzz. I started to wonder if Russians were a hairy people compared to Germans. I didn’t think they really were, but some definitely are. The train of thoughts caught me by surprise. I’ve never before considered how hairy guys are. Must be the fag in me for sure. Wondered what mixing with this body for the night is gonna do to my mind, long-term. You know, like what if it’s like the long-term effects of a powerful dose of shrooms? That might not be good, depending. It felt OK in the trial swap we did earlier, so clearly it reverts without any seeming issues, but then that was just after a few seconds.

No time to be nervous, though. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

Now the guy’s looking at me, intensely, right in the eyes over drinks, and I was feeling like maybe the gays have a point about wanting their public display of affection. I was feeling like if this guy wanted to fuck out in the streets of Manila with me, I’d do it, despite the filth and chaos. By the time he was kissing me, right in the bar, and I was feeling his thick beard press into my jaw, and we’re speaking our stupid, malformed English to each other, all I could think about was the hard cock that might end up in my ass tonight if this kept going well. I wantws this guy to come back to the hotel with me.

“You and I,” I said, between kisses. “Go wild, with sex, you make sex with me. Hot as sex,” I went, fascinated by the chest hair he was got spilling out of the neckline, rubbing it with my fingers, playing with it, all as best as I could. He was trying to slobber on my earlobe stud and probe my tongue with his ear. We’re making a scene in the bar. I couldn’t care less. He stripped my shirt off right then and there in the bar so he could see my chest. He was playing with my pecs, rubbing the muscle, slapping my firm belly, my firm biceps. “Flex for me,” he commands. I've never done that in my life before, and don't really know how, but somehow I manage to make some tight abs for him. He is lost in admiration, I could see.

We walked out the backdoor of the club, his fingers in the back pocket of one of my jeans, not just kinda steering me, as I’m rather sloshed, but claiming me. Showing who is the top. He squeezed an ass cheek through the denim, and I loved it. He leaned in for another kiss. It’s a steamy night. I needed a smoke, so I lit one up, buzzed up, feeling dreamy as hell, wondering what "nasty things” would actually going to be like. A cock up my ass? I could take one, fuck if I care. Sounded glorious right then. I wondered if I could feel that desire in my ass that they supposedly get? Not yet, I thought, searching my thoughts to see if I felt anything, and decided that maybe it’s because I haven’t tried it, yet. I wanted to try it. This German guy, a man, had me feeling like a creature of beauty. I felt beautiful in a way no woman had ever made me feel before.

I can scarcely remember the walk back to the hotel, for all the alcohol, hormones and groping. I remember wanting to be rather cautious the whole while. Manila is just loaded with chaos, deep pits and potholes you can step into, nothing in the way of sidewalks, not to mention motobikes and jeepneys. The hotel was much too close to bother with a cab.

I remember thinking that the longer I stayed in this body, the more risk I was taking, but I’d come this far tonight and intended to finish it. We didn’t set a time limit. “When you are done” was the deal. That made sense, as they got paid by the hour. They’d want to give me time to fuck until I’m sick of it, presumably by dawn at the latest, and I would obviously want my body back. This set of jeans didn’t even come with ID, and most of my few bucks had already been spent at the bar.

As for the sex, this guy was experienced. I figured as much, but found it out fast once we were in the bedroom together. I mean, I had barely latched the door behind me when he really flaunted his power, flipping me right around, pressing my back up against the door, passionately taking my jaw in his big hands and kissing me, licking me, tenderly and firmly, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe. He was even licking up my neck in broad strokes like I’m a fruit that’s ripe on the vine. It was hot. I suppose I must be a fruit, at least for tonight, haha. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, on my breath. I wanted to hear my dumb, hot, sexy Russian voice again. I was fumbling to get him out of his tank, which should have been an easy move, but I was too drunk.

“Chest, man,” I said. “You hairy, man. You are hairy. It’s hot.” I sounded like an idiot, I know, but it’s hot to hear my voice, too, my slurring, Russian voice.

”Yeah, boy,” he went, feeling up my pecs. I liked being called boy by this guy. Made me feel young, sexy, which I am. And I knew it.

He was practically ripping me out of my briefs and threw me on the bed. He got me naked, and he has got coke. It’s not my body, I think. I knew what to do, believe it or not. I've been to the bars around Wall street and seen what happens in the men's room. So I snorted up a line off the glass counter, walked over, naked, lit up a cigarette right in the room. Didn’t see any non-smoking signs, at least. This isn't the kind of hotel that bothers with smoke detectors. He slapped me on the ass and I couldn’t believe this was me, just hanging out casually, naked with a guy who’s occasionally slobbering all over my lower jaw.

I snorted another line. I felt amped, like coffee, only crazier. I took more at once. With a cross-fade like this, I know it’s more dangerous. Not my body, not my problem.

He was wrestling me down. I loved the feel of my muscles pushing back against his, and I loved trying to toss him, to pin him down, but he was stronger. We wrestled a lot that night, playful. I was so drunk it didn’t really hurt even when he threw me to the floor and body slammed me. It’s just fucking fun, don’t know how to put it, that state when you’ve got adrenaline and passion and lust and a few drugs pumping through your veins.

Man, his cock was a thick one. At one point I remember him shoving his hand in my ass, licking and slobbering all up in my crack, and I’m just on hands and knees, drooling, playing with my own dick as it flopped around and dangled down, making slimy fish line circles of pre-cum in the carpet. Although most dicks in the world are uncut, it somehow felt wrong  that my dick now was one of them. Like peeing with boxers on. I was on my haunches, and he was fucking the living shit out of me. It hurt and I yelped out, but guy knew what he was doing, I told myself.

At one point, I half cum, forcing myself to hold it back, not wanting the experience to end so soon. “Try,” I said to him, stopping, getting up off my knees. “Try not to cum,” I said. I had pulled back, hard, using my groin muscles to stop it so I could save my load. A minute later I was good to go again. He put a cock ring on me, telling me that will shut the dick up. I don't know if he brought it or if he found it in the room. Everything was a blur. “You are my pet now”, he told me. He was pushing me down, going for my armpits, slobbering and licking all over them. I had no idea men did that. I was shocked, but it felt great.

There were other surprises. I didn’t expect to be gagging on his thick cock, or expect that he’d seemed to want to pleasure in making me choke on it. But I sure as hell did choke on it. “Spit on it,” he ordered, so I did. “Lick,” he said, so I did, licking my own spit on his cock. I was slobbering up his cock as much as I could with my tongue, thinking that must be what he wanted. It felt good to do. I mean, what an iron rod, what a maypole. This was better than eating pussy, I thought, for sure. I wondered if I’d feel that way tomorrow, realizing I wouldn’t, so I’d better make the most of it now. This would have just seemed sick to me yesterday.

“Fuck me, fuck hard, fuck my ass,” I said to him. My ass had almost started to throb after getting fucked for a while, and it was starting to feel almost empty when it wasn’t getting fucked. Crazy but true, like I wanted him in there. I wondered if this was the prostrate being activated. I could feel it, almost like a heartbeat or something, inside my ass. “Put it in,” I said, wanting him to fuck me more, wanting to understand these sensations better. My ass was sore and yet it just felt so good. Fuck the pain away, and why not?

We took a breather and it was hard to even keep my hands off him for a little while. I wanted to at least massage his shoulders, wrap my arms around him, stroke his legs. If I didn’t have a life of my own, a successful, straight life, I could almost love this guy. The feelings were just so intense, drunk as I was. Probably the alcohol was causing the feelings, but did it matter? He was so beautiful to me. He made me feel sexy. We knew what to do with each other, even as new and awkward as I surely was. The dumb Russian voice Mikhail had was awkward, so fuck if it would matter if my technique was, too. This was all for my excitement, not for the sake of the performance, I remembered.

How long did we fuck? It must have been hours. Time passes at such strange rates when you’ve been partying. I remember my cock being sore, the skin rubbed raw, the thing just aching from the weight of the cock ring, swollen up, but not wanting to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could even get the ring off at this point, drunk as I was. Fuck the pain. “Harder,” I grunted at one part. “Fuck me harder. Deutschland!” I shouted, playful, in lust, this German sex king… my own command sounded like a woof. I really was his pet. But he was also mine.

I didn’t just pass out, I blacked out. I blacked out hard.

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn't remember cumming. I didn't even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. I needed to recoup.

I knew Boris and Mikhail were basically showboating a lot of this from the get-go, but after all that, I was really tired of this immersive experience shit. I didn’t know where the German went. I didn’t know if he even kissed me goodbye, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. This was the wildest trip I’ve ever been on, and definitely worth it. But I didn’t want to deal with this body. I didn’t want to be a fag any longer. I reached to remove the thumb ring when a sudden fear came over me, like I needed to think this through. I paused.

When I remove the ring, where would I end up? Strapped to a cross in a BDSM dungeon? In a Filipino jail? Who knew what sort of Willy Wonka arrangement these guys had in store for me? Hopefully this is just part of the game, or it’s something else that I’m not thinking of. I was trying not to panic. I was not feeling amused anymore. I just wanted out.

I was hungry, thirsty, sore, emotionally drained, horny, and I had a godawful craving for a smoke. Whatever they’ve done to my real body, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

I removed the ring.

Nothing happened.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I screamed ‘fuuuuuuck!’ until I was sobbing on the filthy bed. I was reduced to a crying mess, not surprisingly.

This is my body now. A trashy fag’s body, with an unrelenting sex drive, a smoking habit, a drinking habit, and I no doubt more addictions waiting to be discovered. No surprise he was eager to ditch it. I'm sure my hotel room was cleared out by now, the credit cards emptied to the limit. What would I do with the stuff there anyway? Clothes that doesn't fit and a passport I can't use. This is who I am now, and there is no way to even begin to explain it to anyone, without seeming like a madman.

I really needed a smoke.

Just a heads up: The book becomes really bad and it’s very clear now that it’s problematic

We to get know that the King’s full name is Jameson Barclay only in the 19th chapter. Just wonderful.

_____________________

... Yes, there was something very charming about Silas Eastoffe.

But seeing as he was not Jameson Barclay, it really didn’t matter. Charm wouldn’t give me a crown or bring hope to a kingdom.

I’m really confused. Hollis hasn’t for a single moment expressed any ambition to be Queen, and in fact she’s made statements akin to “Heavy is the head that wears the crown” in the book previously.

_____________________

Silas’s sister Scarlett has tiny fingers and Kiera’s mentioned that too many times to reiterate how important they are for her to be able to “finish off a piece of jewelry or ... polish a sword” when Silas and his brother are done forging. She’s clearly not done her research. -_-

_____________________

Just the next line and Hollis is saying forging is a remarkable skill and that her skill for sewing is useless. -_-

Also, Kiera hasn’t used the words “smith”, “blacksmith” or “forging” a single time so far. Not once. She’s either referred to it as metalwork or just makes references to fire, metal, swords and jewellery.

Also, how is it possible for a metalworker to be able to forge both weapons and jewellery?

_____________________

Now that Valentina and Hollis are friends, Valentina’s been reduced to a dumbass who smiles all the time and laughs at Hollis’s dumb jokes.

_____________________

I shrugged. “I wish everyone felt the same way, but I’m glad Jameson appreciates me. What is it that drew King Quinten to you? You didn’t really say much about it earlier.”

Her eyes were instantly distant. “I don’t talk about it much,” she admitted.

Grammar??? Hello??? “Her eyes became distant instantly” sounds much better!

_____________________

Hollis and Valentina went from talking about King Quentin’s sick son to discussing the weather in a matter of sentences without skipping a beat. Just... wow.

_____________________

Oh my god this conversation is written so badly.

_____________________

They were having a decent enough conversation and then Valentina started to feel sick. For no reason at all she told Hollis she’d “end her life” (Hollis’s life) if she told anyone about her bout of sickness.

*consistent characterisation has left the chat*

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Some dramatic references to a dangerous they are made by Valentina. Then Hollis thinks this:

Wait . . . what was she trying to say? And who were they? Before I could figure out how to form my next question, she was standing, straightening her robe, and walking from the room.

I’m not even kidding when I say that I last wrote passages like this in seventh grade.

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Speculations of a dangerous group of people possibly being “gypsies”. Guys... This. Is. NOT. Okay. 

“Who are the Darkest Knights?”

“We don’t know. Some say they are nobles, others say they are gypsies. Some are convinced they’re members of the royal guard, but no one can be sure. Their identities have been carefully protected, which is a necessity, because when they come, their destruction is absolute. It’s inspired rage of the most acute nature in my homeland. I knew a man who lost everything in a fire supposedly started by them, and he went out to take revenge against someone he believed was a Darkest Knight. Killed an entire family.”

_____________________

Valentina asked Hollis to never share their conversation with anyone and Hollis of course went straight to Silas and spouted everything as if she can trust him just because he’s sweet to her. What a fucking dumbass. She trusts the Eastoffe family because they all smile at her every single time they cross paths.

_____________________

Silas and Hollis are making declarations of love and I -

Fucking where’s the buildup? Granted, it had more buildup than her relationship with Jameson but??? All he’s done to garner her “love” so far is win a jousting competition and craft crowns. That’s it. (I also feel the need to mention that she was smitten with him before the tournament and I have no idea why that happened apart from the fact that he has “crushing blue eyes” and his family smiles a lot.)

_____________________

This book is SO poorly written.

Hollis receives a letter from the kind “demanding” her presence and Kiera instills a sense of fear in the readers. Then she does this:

I briefly took in their smug expressions before Jameson leaped to his feet to greet me.

“My own heart!” he sang, holding out his arms. “Are you well today?”

This book is so fucking ridiculous. 

_____________________

Referring to women as possessions:

“At least yours arrives on time,” he [King Quinten] muttered.

... Quinten nodded at this. “And you’re sure she [Hollis] is from good stock?” (With respect to being fertile)

and now Jameson counters this by saying this:

Jameson straightened in his chair. “Are your eyes failing? All you need do is look at her.”

So beauty = fertility? Wtf is wrong with this book?

_____________________

“Your Majesty, while you have made your intentions clear as regards Lady Hollis, by law you cannot put her name on the document before you are married.”

Jameson huffed. “This is a ridiculous triviality. She’s as good as my wife.”

Hollis is not queen yet. Hollis is not queen yet. Jameson is a fucking dumbass.

_____________________

The kings signed an agreement (it’s not specified about what) which included a promise to marry off Hollis and Jameson’s child with Quentin’s grandchild (if he got a grandchild). They’re not even married. 

_____________________

“It would have been no contest there,” I remarked, and Jameson laughed again. I’d once considered a laugh from Jameson something like a prize; now it was so frequent it felt like noise.

W-what? Kiera just wrote that? So I wasn’t imagining it.

_____________________

So it’s at the end of chapter 21 that we learn Hollis has “olive skin”. Then why’s there a white woman on the front cover?

_____________________

Hollis is “crying violently” now.

_____________________

Hollis and Delia Grace’s relationship is really toxic. Delia Grace has tried to control who Hollis’s ladies could be and Hollis was eager to become queen so that she could use her position to make people like Delia better (she’s a daughter of a divorcee and that’s apparently really bad).

I think it’s best if you read this scene for yourselves. It begins with Hollis wondering whether the crown is worth it because she fears Jameson will become possessive:

“Don’t do this,” she said. “If you fail, you drag me down, too. I can’t stand for it, Hollis, I won’t.”

“Would you ask me to be miserable so you could marry some reputable lord you don’t even care about so people will finally shut up about you?”

“Yes! It’s exhausting!” she lamented, bordering on tears that she refused to let fall. “I’ve lived an entire life with people whispering behind my back. And that was if they weren’t brazen enough to insult me to my face. Now I’m the principal lady for the queen, and that gives me a chance at being respected. Wouldn’t you take it if it was all you could get?”

“What if we could get something better?” I proposed.

“Better than a king? Hollis, you can’t do any better than that! And I certainly can’t do anything if you don’t follow through.” She was quiet for a moment. “What in the world has happened to you? What would make you think . . . Is there someone else?”

“No,” I replied quickly. “It’s the thought of losing . . . myself. The benefits of being queen are not lost on me. But neither are the ones of being a private person. First it was the lords and their many complaints. And then it was dealing with visiting royals. And now . . . Jameson’s promised our first daughter away.” I swallowed, hardly able to speak of it. “He could give all my children away. To anyone. To people who don’t even care about them.”

She shook her head and started muttering. “It should have been me.”

“What?”

She stood there, glaring at me with dark eyes that managed to look icy. “I said, it should have been me!”

... “If you had been paying attention to anyone but yourself, you’d have seen that I was watching Jameson very carefully. I could see he was getting bored with Hannah. I knew he’d be ready for someone new soon. All these little rudimentary lessons you were taking to prepare for Quinten’s visit? I’ve already learned it all. There are plenty of books in that castle to teach you about Coroan history or relations with Isolte and Mooreland and Catal. You were just too lazy to ever go look.” She shook her head, gazing at the sky before coming back to me. “Did you know I can speak four languages?”

“Four? No. When did you—”

“Over the last several years while you were off making dances and whining about your parents. All you ever had to do was try, and you didn’t. But I did! I was perfecting myself. You don’t even look like a proper Coroan,” she shot out.

_____________________

“I [Delia] was trying to make you fall on your backside so I could rush over to your aid. I saw the king coming behind you and was intending to arrange a memorable meeting, one where he might be able to tell me apart from the scores of girls fawning over him. I thought if I could make an impression, he’d at least see me. But I let go at the wrong time, fell myself, and he caught you.” She said this with a bitterness that stung like arrows. “I made a mistake and erased myself from his thoughts completely.”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I guess this person made an account just to send me this, and then deactivated. Which I mean, what a coward. I don’t understand how someone would want to so fervently defend their religion but not listen to any kind of response.

1. For arguments sake, sure, Zozo is real. Zozo is a real, actual prank that spirits like to play in order to scare people for their amusement. Zozo is not a demon. Spirits cannot hurt you. It’s a harmless prank, and congratulations, you’ve fallen for it. It’s exactly like believing in the Charlie Charlie Challenge or that Momo thing that went around. 

2. I do have my facts straight. You need to learn the difference between “to”, “two”, and “too”, as well as “there”, “their”, and “they’re”. I’ll just assume that English isn’t your first language, which is a little shocking because when people message me who aren’t native English speakers, their grammar and spelling are typically flawless. Maybe get a new English tutor.

3. I do believe in demons, but no, I don’t believe in Satan. Satan has nothing to do with Ouija boards, and neither do demons. I get that Christians will use Satan as a metaphor for anything that to them seems evil or tempting, which is how we get the logic that Harry Potter is Satanic or marijuana is Satanic when it clearly isn’t. You know what is Satanic? Satanism. You know what isn’t Satanic? Anything that isn’t Satanic. Satanists are also some of the loveliest and most understanding people I’ve met while running this blog for five years. It’s always the hardcore Christians that come at me with hate and negativity. And I’m not an expert on Christianity, but I’m pretty sure Jesus preached about love and peace and acceptance, not to anonymously attack someone because you don’t like their blog posts about a board game.

I’m not sure what your definition of phantom is, but you cannot contact demons with a Ouija board. What you can contact is a spirit pretending to be a demon. Apparently you’re just a person who believes everything that anyone tells you, I guess. If someone tells you they are Zozo the demon, then gosh golly they must be telling the truth. Spirits lie all the time, for the same reasons why living people lie, because it’s easy and funny. If you are afraid that if you play a Ouija board you’re going to contact a demon, then yeah, a spirit will find it hilarious to pretend to be a demon to scare you.

“But like most people say others have there[sic] beliefs and I understand that...” end your sentence there. People are allowed to believe whatever they want to believe. But I get that if it’s blatantly false, like about the Earth being flat or vaccines causing autism or whatever, that you should correct them. That’s nice that you’re passionate about board games, but to really understand you have to put your biases aside and look at where the other side is coming from. To really analyze something, you have to look at it critically and impartially. And what if Ouija boards were actually harmless? What if Ouija boards weren’t actually demon portals, but were actually one of the top selling board games in America for the past 120 years that has no factual record of demonic contact? Imagine that.

And finally, I do believe in God. 1) There are many religions that believe in God and not Satan. Christianity is the only one that does. 2) For arguments sake, let’s say I don’t believe in God. So what? What does that change? Why does that matter? It’s okay for someone to not believe in a religion. I could come on here and say that you’re wrong because you don’t follow and worship the Tuatha de Danaan. Not believing in something does not make you right or wrong.

I hope you have a good day as well. You clearly seem to be struggling with your beliefs as you won’t allow any kind of feedback or criticism of it. I would recommend not only some prayer, but maybe read up on what Jesus actually wanted his followers to do and how they should walk in their faith, as well as study some critical thinking. I hope the future is bright for you.

Only Half a Blue Sky (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

A/N: If you're still here, thank you for staying. And I'm sorry for adding another chapter, because I wanted to write a long one to tie everything up, only for my real life drama to hinder my writing. So, I'm sorry for cutting y'all short with this chapter. But at least we still have another one next week. Yayyy???This one is unbeta-ed because I wrote it sooo late, I couldn't find the heart to burden someone with my unchecked grammar. So, if there are any spelling mistakes or grammar error, please look at it with kindness and tell me in a soft voice, yeah? Thanks.Chapter title is from Maroon 5's Daylight, because that song is about leaving. Or well, that's how I perceive it.Also just T/W: there is detailed (but not really because I can't write) torture in this chapter, and assumption that Tony is dead. If that's not for you, I'll see you next week where it'll be more fluff. This whole chapter is just angst. Okay, now on you go. Enjoy.

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if the hurt comes so will happiness. -be patient || rupi kaur 

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Cold is the first thing that registers into his mind as he slowly gains consciousness. The pain follows like an inevitable addition to the discomfort. Why is JARVIS not doing anything about the temperature? He should be at least warm even when he’s in pain.

He’s about to ask his AI to turn the heat up; only that, he opens his eyes to an unfamiliar surrounding. The words die in his tongue.

Where is he? What is this cold, semi-dark place that smells of rust and decay? He tries to rummage his hazy brain for clues. And the only thing that answers him back is more pain. God, his head feels like he’s been hammered by Thor himself. It takes him back to those mornings with a hangover. Only worse.

Shit! His head is pounding so bad it makes him nauseous just opening his eyes and looking around for clues as to where the fuck he is.

Oh, and he’s tied up to a metal chair. Great! Why didn’t he notice that before? Right, because his brain was having a hard time processing everything with how painful it is to even blink.

And gosh, lucky him, he’s got burns littered all over his arms and legs. A few lacerations too on places he can’t specify, because every inch of him hurts that it’s hard to figure out which part of him is not aching. Just fucking fantastic!

At least his not bleeding out… yet. No, he’s only being held hostage on an ugly looking chair. Fucking fantastic indeed. And of course, very classic: kidnappers and chairs. When will villains get creative? Tony can think of other ways to hold people hostage. Not that he’s ever going to share them with the bad guys.

So, how did he end up here?

He scans his memory for clues again because his heart rate is starting to quicken, and the arc reactor in his chest suddenly feels too heavy, that it’s making it difficult for his lungs to distribute the correct amount of oxygen in his body. And he’s not looking forward to the worst case scenario when he’s still in a middle of another worst case scenario.

He needs to keep calm and think of solutions, because if he looks closely into his current predicament it’ll only spiral him into thoughts that’ll push him into a panic attack. He can’t have that right now.

He can’t.

He can’t. Not even when everything about this reminds him of Afghanistan. The cold, the rusty smell of decaying metal, the foul scent of an unkempt room. Somewhere he can hear a faint water droplet that makes his stomach churn at the thought of dirty water and lack of oxygen.

Tony shakes his head to control his rogue thoughts. He’s not going down that rabbit hole. It’s not going to help him get out.

‘I see that you’re awake, Mr. Stark.’ A man appears from the only opening in the room. His English is accented with Russian that completely matches his hard military feature. He fits the perfect role of a HYDRA agent.

‘We’ll it’s hard to stay asleep when your place lacks warmth and cosiness,’ he replies and tries to ignore the uncomfortable dryness in his throat. ‘Also,’ he gestures to his handcuffs, ‘we need to work on consents and safewords for this kind of thing, don’t you think?’

The evil man smiles, showing off chunky yellowish teeth. ‘It’s amazing how you still have humour after all that injury.’ He moves closer, right in front of Tony’s chair. ‘Guess that’s a good thing.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, Mr. Stark.’ He takes a stool from the side and occupies it. ‘You see, we need you alive at least.’ He studies Tony’s face, and his eyes gleam of something sadistic. He smiles again and it makes the genius shiver because he doesn’t like this man’s wicked eyes that promises pain. ‘Things apparently didn’t go as planned.’

‘It doesn’t always,’ Tony agrees just to humour this villain. ‘Word of advice? Accept it and move on.’

Another wicked smile as he scratches one of his eyebrow with his pinky. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ He pulls out a short knife from his back. His adept fingers plays with it, tosses the blade from one hand to the other. ‘We’ve figured something out.’

‘Who is this we?’ He’s trying not to look intimidated by the sight of the knife. ‘HYDRA?’

‘Can’t tell you… because then, I have to kill you.’

Tony’s not sure if the stranger is humouring him as well, or he’s being honest. But he did say that they — whoever they is — needs him alive. So, they’re not going to kill him. That doesn’t mean that this bad guy won’t make him suffer though. Sadistic bastard!

‘The thing is…’ The man throws the knife in the air and snatches it swiftly, just to plunge it on Tony’s thigh.

The groan escapes his lips as the pain spreads into his body. And here he’s thinking that he’s numb to feel any pain with how much every nerve ending is burning from his injury from the explosion.

Yes, there was an explosion when they were trying to infiltrate a lab that the officials said to be of HYDRA. The officials wanted it to seem like they’re doing government check-ups on private organisation. But it seems like there was a mole on Bruce’s alliance team.

‘We really need a safeword,’ he jokes through gritted teeth.

‘It won’t be necessary as long as you tell your friends to give us back the sceptre,’ the man whispers into Tony’s ear, hand gripping on the knife handle and twisting it slightly, earning him another muffled groan from the engineer. ‘And they could send back the soldier as well,’ he adds. ‘Tell them to obey… or else they’ll have your body, back in a bag.’

‘Is that why you need me?’ The blade sinks further. ‘As leverage?’ He chuckles darkly and the man leans back away, looking at Tony like the genius has lost his mind. ‘That’s a very stupid plan.’

‘Oh please… They’ll bargain for you,’ the man spits, putting on his sadistic mask again. ‘You’re their precious teammate. An important person in society.’ He produces another knife. ‘Surely, they’ll come for you and exchange you for the Winter Soldier.’

‘Not really.’ Tony shakes his head and has the greatest urge to tell this idiot of the truth. How, firstly, there is no way in seven hells Captain America will ever let James near these assholes. Neither will Tony, over his dead body. And secondly, there’s no room for argument that his life can be use as a bargaining chip in exchange for the life of those who will be affected if HYDRA gets their hands on the sceptre. Because duh… he’s not worth it.

Back on his first reason. Has these idiots forgotten that Steve is bonded to James, and would probably sacrifice anyone — much less Tony Stark — to keep his soulmate safe? Seriously, bad guys should study the laws of soul bonding too because they are just clueless as to how far people would go for those they love.

‘I’m being honest with you, buddy,’ he says. ‘They won’t exchange Winter and the sceptre for the likes of me.’ He shrugs. ‘So, unless you have another plan, it’s better if you change route right now.’

The man doesn’t believe him. ‘I’ll come back for you when you’re ready to talk, Mr. Stark.’ The second knife vanishes, but thank goodness not under Tony’s flesh. But the bloke did twist the knife that’s still attached to Tony’s thigh before he leaves the room. Probably going to report to his masters.

Tony’s not sure why he’s trying to convince his tormentor that he’s team cares so little for him. He blames it on the lack of common sense and sanity when all he can register is the pain. The last time it hurt like this it’s because he was betrayed. And he was betrayed because he deserved it — he deserves to be alone since he’s never going to be good enough.

His burns, the old wounds, and the new one eats away his logic. Maybe it’s true that the team won’t come for him, especially not Steve who won’t even risk James’ safety. And he agrees with that.

Maybe Rhodey will come for him. But his platypus is busy fighting more important battles that’ll save myriad of people who deserves to live. Not like Tony.

And Pepper — his dear lovely Pepper — who manages his company better than he did, making sure that every single employee is taken care of. Pepper will also not come for him, it’s protocol that SI will never pay ransom money for him.

No one will come for him. No one. So, he should probably stop staring at the door like someone’s going to come busting in and rescue him.

He doesn’t know how long he stares at the door. But he sees the man returning with renewed hope and sadism in his posture.

‘Have you still not changed your mind, Mr. Stark?’ The evil minion occupies his stool once again.

‘Now that I think about it… I never got your name,’ he says. ‘So, what is your name? Or does HYDRA do the whole Hunchman One, Hunchman Two, etcetera thing?’

‘Well,’ the man sits comfortably like he’s simply lounging around with Tony, ‘if it’s all the same to you,’ the punch completely catches Tony off guard, so did the pain, ‘I’d rather not get us both acquainted.’

There’s a new addition to his collection of pain with that blow. There’s a fresh batch of headache that follows the other one that had just ebbed from the explosion. Ah, just his luck.

Tony spits blood on the floor and glares at his oppressor.

‘Beg your Avengers, Mr. Stark,’ he orders. ‘Beg for them.’ Another blow to the other side of his face. ‘Or else, I’ll have too much fun breaking you.’

**

**

It’s cold. It’s always cold, Tony notices. And he’s not sure where he is. He’s sure the bastards that have kidnapped him had stripped him of all his tracking device. Maybe it’s time to install one deep within his flesh like JARVIS had suggested.

And his suit, no one has mentioned about his suit. They must have abandoned it somewhere. Smart of them, because the suit has a tracking device, a good one too.

He needs to escape. He’s not going to be leverage for these assholes. They’re not going to be able to use him, no matter the amount of colourful addition on his face, not to mention the twin knives that’s sunk on both his thighs.

Everything hurts. Everything.

There’s that annoying sound of a slow water drip from inside the room as well. It’s damn irritating, especially that it seems to echo the blood that drips from both of his twinning thigh wounds. Fuck, everything hurts, but at the same time he’s slowly losing feeling on his legs.

Few more hours and he’s going to to bleed out. And this could be it for him.

He lost count of the time Mike — that’s what he calls his instigator, the man didn’t appreciate it (rude much) and lands a rather heavy blow on Tony’s left lung — had come into the room to wreck him into submission. Tony is very close to his breaking point. He can feel his sanity slipping away with each punch that lands his face and body, with each twist of the knife, and the amount of pooling blood beneath him.

His tormentor has promised a much better means next time he sees him; something wet he said, that had Tony’s breath hitching with fear at the vague indication. He’s still have nightmares about dirty water and gasping for air. And that might just be the last straw that breaks the camels back.

But he can’t give up now. He can’t break now. Stark men are made of iron, his own subconscious repeats over and over again. He hates it because his own subconscious sounds like his father’s voice.

And just like he had done before, Tony draws strength to the one thing that grounds him and gives him peace of mind when everything falls apart.

‘Steve,’ he whispers in reverence as if on prayer. ‘Steve.’ He smiles a little, the name tastes safe in his mouth, easing some of his discomfort. His soulmate to Steve Rogers — Captain America, the guy who lost everything and still managed to survive, the guy who Tony wants to become, the man he wants to be with. Brave and wonderful Steve Rogers: Tony’s soulmate. ‘I think… I might miss you, Steve.’

The tears that pool his eyes finally run down his cheeks as he closes his eyes in the hope to never wake up to more suffering. Death doesn’t seem so bad, right? Everyone he loves is safe. His team have recovered Loki’s sceptre — based on Mike’s tantrum — and they’ll be able to end HYDRA once and for all.

And that’s his last thought before darkness finally takes him.

**

**

Everything is in chaos: Tony Stark is missing. And Bucky’s not ready to face the worst case scenario that it completely breaks him; that’s how Steve finds him when the rest of the Avengers returned back home after being unsuccessful in locating Tony in Europe. They have all decided to recoup and plan.

Steve had to fix him back together after his melt down, and he feels bad for stealing Steve’s own rights to mourn for his missing teammate — and probably, the man Steve loves that he doesn’t know yet. It’s embarrassing to need Steve like that because it had always been the other way around, with him taking care of Stevie. But times can change.

It wasn’t his best moment as well, he gets clingy and panicky when he’s not in the same room as Steve, or when he doesn’t see the man. And the weight of Tony’s loss still brands his chest like an empty crater. It’s the sort of ache that won’t go away. It’s the sort of ache that squeezes your heart time and time again just to remind you that it’s there.

Twenty-four hours later, they received a message from the low class HYDRA franchise in Sokovia that had held Tony hostage. They are trying to hold the genius ransom for Loki’s magical sceptre (which Thor and Loki had successfully retrieved). And for him, the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wanted to say yes… to both. He doesn’t give a fuck what happens to him or to that blasted sceptre. All he wants is for Tony to be safe, to come home. But of course, that decision isn’t up to him, and he knows that if they all follow his thinking it’d be a disaster, because honestly, he’s not even logical.

Well, they can’t blame him, he’s not very sane to begin with. Your soulmate being threatened and in the face of danger doesn’t make the most rational human being either. So, he waits, instead of voicing out his idiotic ideas.

But it’s hard to ignore his questionable ideas when a cryptic video arrives eight hours after the offer has been announced. And that video alone makes what’s left of his sane brain cells perish, because the video is awful. Painful to watch.

There’s this bald Russian guy that tortures Tony to beg the Avengers to rescue him in exchange for the sceptre and Bucky. The methods are simple: a few punches and a few stabbing. Nothing worse than Bucky had gone under HYDRA’s hands. But then, Bucky’s a super soldier, who heals easily; Tony on the other hand is a non-powered human, looking all bruised and battered with his injuries from the explosion and now the current tormenting.

It’s wreaking to watch. They were all angry, he can tell. Even Bruce who is usually relax looks a little green. Natasha is physically an embodiment of chaos and destruction at the sight of the second knife digging into Tony’s thigh.

‘JARVIS, I hope you’re tracking the source of this video.’ There’s a hardness in Steve’s voice that he’s never heard before. Steve is usually gentle when speaking to people, especially towards JARVIS or the bots.

‘On it, Captain,’ JARVIS replies severely.

The video only last five minutes, but it feels longer. It plays on a loop, with them cursing every second of it. But they have to study it, in case it clues them to where Tony’s being hold up.

Every quiet groan and tormented scream rams into Bucky’s soul like ton of brick. Mutely, he promises terrible pain to those who’ve caused Tony’s painful screeches. Morality be damned. There is blood and suffering to be paid in full.

**

**

It takes two more days for the next video to arrive. It contains the same stomach churning gore of Tony’s torture. They can all see how the genius slowly withering, despite how he still has his sass intact.

‘Can’t that alien god help locate him?’ Bucky demands, watching the newest set of video for too many times that he knows isn’t healthy. His therapist would disapprove. ‘What use is his magic?’

Steve looks just as weary as Bucky is. They all do, but he thinks him and Steve has it worse. His other soulmate is being maimed, and somehow he thinks Steve can feel the negative and dark energy within him. It might has something to do with how they are soul bond.

So, Captain America has to shoulder Bucky’s hidden anxiety, and he has to worry for his friend. Hence, Steve looking worse for wear.

‘It’s not that easy, Buck.’ Steve runs a hand over his tired face. ‘We’ll find him.’ The blond reaches out a hand to comfort, but Bucky moves away from it. Hurt and confusion mixes in Steve’s face.

‘But when, Stevie?’ he shouts. ‘When he’s dea—’

‘Don’t say that,’ Steve cuts him off sharply. ‘Tony’s one of the strongest people I know.’ He squares his jaw as if daring Bucky to challenge the unquestionable faith in his voice. ‘And we’re doing our best to find him… And we will.’

Being pessimistic probably doesn’t help anyone. And really, he’s only hurting himself by thinking of the worst. Yes, the worst could happen. But not now, not when he’s got Steve to tell him that it won’t. He’ll believe Steve, he always will. Steve could believe for the both of them.

Because god, if the worst do happen, Bucky’s not sure how he will survive. He probably won’t, right? He doesn’t think he’s that strong to survive this heartbreak. He can deal with HYDRA and all their torture, but not the loss of a soulmate. That feels too impossible. Even now, just looking at Tony suffering is killing Bucky, too.

‘We’ll find him, Buck.’ Steve pulls him in a hug, which he accepts because he knows the blond needs it, too. ‘We’ll find him.’

It’s almost a miracle Steve doesn’t ask him about his rather passionate feelings towards Tony Stark. But maybe Steve doesn’t notice it as well, too lost in his own worry for the genius.

**

**

The next video comes sixteen hours after the last one, Steve and Bucky were the one standing vigil for any news. The team had developed a schedule to have someone — usually a pair — wait up for important updates. Not that any of them get any sleep longer than two hours when they are not on duty. Ever since Tony was gone, sleep has been a scarce commodity in the tower.

The video holds the usual disgusting torture of the engineer. But this time Tony looks like he’s at his breaking point. The pool of blood on the floor is also concerning. There’s a haunting paleness in Tony’s face that makes Bucky’s chest twist painfully.

Tony looks weak and fragile and broken. And it’s heart-wrenching to see that he deflates the ball he’s been playing with the bots. There’s far no greater pain than watching his soulmate slowly ebb to death.

‘Steve,’ comes Tony’s weak voice from the video.

Bucky has long accepted that Tony had feelings for Steve, just as Steve has feelings for Tony. But witnessing it so bluntly is something else. He waits for the pain or jealousy to come. Surely, it’s inevitable for him to feel any of the two or both, given that his soulmate uttered someone else’s name when all hope is lost in Tony’s eyes and Steve’s name sounded like a saving grace.

The pain or jealousy didn’t arrive. Yes, there is pain, but it’s the same one he’s been nursing since Tony had gone missing and was tortured.

Bucky aches for his imprisoned soulmate. And he’s about to tell Steve that they really need to fasten shit up and rescue the genius, because he can’t stand these awful videos anymore.

‘Wha—’ Steve’s motionless as he stares into the monitor, horror and confusion sits on his face.

‘Stevie?’ He reaches for his soulmate in concern. A hand on the blond’s shoulder for support. Did the videos finally break Steve as well?

Steve’s tortured expression turns to Bucky, his lips are agape, but no words passes them. ‘Buck,’ he says like he’s remembering Bucky’s there. He holds on to Bucky’s outstretch arm like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him upright. ‘Tony… h-he’s… he’s…’

It’s a good thing that Bucky’s a super soldier because Steve is heavy with how he’s relying all of his weight on Bucky’s arm. He’s never seen his soulmate so startled and terrified.

‘Oh god,’ Steve mumbles quietly with disbelief and fright as he looks everywhere but Bucky’s own worried face.

Steve’s action is scaring Bucky, and he’s about to ask the blond man what’s wrong when —

‘Steve,’ Tony mutters again.

Steve whips his head back to the screen in a flash that Bucky’s amaze he didn’t break his neck in the process. Steve’s sudden alertness to Tony’s call is an embodiment of a siren calling to a sailor; like a sunflower following the sun in the sky.

But god is it clear to Bucky what’s happening. It’s written all over Steve’s face with how his eyes looks like he’s seeing Tony for the first time.

One single word.

One single name.

Bucky knows by experience what it feels like to have Tony say your name for the first time and be envelop by a phantom sense of safety and happiness. It’s like finding meaning to life all over again, and being lulled in euphoria. But he can’t imagine what it’s like for Steve when there’s also that dreadful emotion of fear for the life of a soulmate which had sat painfully on Bucky’s chest for days now. A few days that felt like years.

‘I think… I might miss you, Steve,’ Tony says as he closes his eyes.

They both stare at the screen in silence. Waiting for the genius to say something more.

But nothing.

Tony remains still. So still that Steve’s hand grips on Bucky’s so tightly it hurts.

Damn it, Tony! Open your eyes! Bucky yells mentally in anger and desperation. Please… Please. He watches and waits for any sign of motion.

The seconds tick by, but Tony continues to be static.

Open your eyes, doll! His own hand digs into Steve’s shoulder as they both try to support each other. Open your eyes.

‘No,’ Steve says in defeat and heartbreak. ‘Tony.’ His voice is wet and bleak and aching.

And Bucky mutely asks for some miracle, staring at Tony’s motionless body on the screen. It doesn’t fit Tony to be this still when he’s always full of energy and life.

God no, Bucky thinks as the tears cascade his cheek.

**

Please: Part 3.

You and your friends and (pleasant) loud ‘café booth’ neighbors.

So apparently this is turning into a series. This part is soooooo long! I’m so sorry!! I got carried away but I’m SO excited, so part 4? Part 4! I really hope you enjoy it and I apologize for any grammar mistake. Anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask. Also, I’m pretty terrible coming up with names. Hope you like it! Xx

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5

“Thank you.” You smiled and turned your back to the balcony, trying to walk back to the table, doing a massive effort not to drop those 3 coffee mugs.

After your presentation, you had agreed on meeting your friends at a small café just down the block you lived in. You felt like you needed to brighten your mind a little bit after that exhausting day and you couldn’t be more grateful to have three of your best friends living around L.A as well. Two of them attended to the same college as you did so you all decided to try and get internships that were around the same location to keep hanging out, like you always did. Lucky for you, they were now sitting on the same booth you were heading to, laughing.

You put down the mugs on the table as quick as you cloud, afraid you would drop it at the very last second. With the luck you were getting that day, you couldn’t risk it.

Your day hadn’t started very well. You fell asleep and were, consequently, late for your presentation. You still blamed the alarm for not going off, although it did. The night before, at Shawn’s apartment, lingered a little more than you were expecting. You didn’t blame him though. You blamed yourself for not worrying a bit about time, knowing you had a tough schedule in the next morning. Still, you survived. On the other hand your presentation was great, and your speech came out even better than you though it would. You were proud of yourself and it felt good to do something other than serving coffees around the office and stage paperwork, which was all you actually ended up doing, once you left the meeting room.

Your friends smiled at you as you slid into your sit.

“Thank you very much.” Megan smiled, taking her mug.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You asked Claire and she nodded.

“She chooses to be annoying, instead.” Megan said, with the coffee mug in her lips.

“What’s wrong?” You asked confused. Claire gave you her best angelic look.

“She wants us to tell her about our first time again.” Tamara said, nodding in disapproval. You rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming.

“Again?!” You asked her and she nodded quickly. “You’re sick.” You let out a chuckle.

“Alright, I’ll start!” Megan said, getting her hand up. She sat up straight and smiled mischievously at the three of you.

Megan was the kind of girl that always knew how to have a good time. There were no such thing as bad days with her, and surely not bad nights either.

“Of course.” You heard Tamara whisper next to you and let out a giggle.

“My first time was four years ago.” She gestured and you all breathed out and rolled your eyes, sick of hearing about her first time… or any other time.

“Yes, you were fifteen!” You all repeated in unison.

“It was on a red convertible car with leather sits, after that boat party me Y/N went, remember?” She smiled at you.

“Oh yeah, it is the memory I cherish the most… that one party I went home right after I stood on the line to get in.” You ironically stated. Megan gave you fake laugh as Tamara giggled.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a bed, covered with rose petals, in a room full of candles?” Claire cut her off, gesturing while she daydreamed the perfect scenario.

“Yes, yes!” Megan got close to her, nodding. “Funeral style seems amazing.” You let out a chuckle and Claire rolled her eyes at Megan, turning to Tamara and you.

“Stop it Meg.” Tamara started. “Claire, when it comes to sex it doesn’t matter where. It matters how it happens.” She smiled

“Oh my God.” You let out a chuckle.

“What?” Tamara seemed offended.

“I can’t believe we are having this conversation here.” You laughed quietly, looking around only to spot a sixty year old staring at your booth in disapproval. You couldn’t care less, to be honest, but it still felt uncomfortable since you knew some of the workers here.

“Your turn then.” Megan smiled pointing at Tamara and then taking a sip on her coffee.

“Me?” Tamara raised her eyebrows. “Well my first time was a lot classier.”

“Yeah we know, but tell us.” Megan shrugged and Claire insisted with a quiet ‘please’.

“Well, Rick made a hotel reservation for the both of us. We were both very nervous.” She giggled as she remembered and looked down a little. “He treated me so well and nicely. He was so sweet” She rose her shoulders a little as if she felt his touch again and we all smiled.

Megan rolled her eyes and faked a yawn. We all laughed and Tamara’s cheeks started to get rosy as she looked down.

“So boring… Well look where you stand now.” Megan stated.

“It’s not that..” Tamara started but you cut her off.

“She’s right, he doesn’t appreciate you.” You nodded. She breathed out. “It’s like.. you give him what he wants and he loves you less every time.”

She nodded looking down. “You don’t understand. It’s just a phase, I’m sure it will pass…” She said quietly.

“You sound like a forty year old.” You teased, letting out a chuckle and earning a laugh from Megan.

“So boring.” Megan dramatically rolled her eyes as you laughed.

“We might not understand, but we are like.. on the other side of the picture.” Claire tried to explain. “And we don’t approve it.” She nodded.

You leant against Tamara and rested your head on her shoulder as she breathed out. Megan kept repeating how he would realise it someday, even if it was too late, but that you would all be there if she stumbled, somehow.

Neither of the three of you liked Richard. He was never around when Tamara needed him the most and he looked like he was always avoiding her. You had tried to make her see things, millions of times, but as soon as you noticed it was useless, you decided to just support her and made sure you showed her that, in case anything was to happen sooner or later.

You noticed the café getting crowded and crowded as the sun started to set. You had no idea what were your plans for dinner but you would probably end up having dinner with your girls. This or staying in there trying every cookie flavor Mrs. Harrison baked today until it was closing time.

You turned around moving away from Tamara’s shoulder, chin up, looking for Mrs. Harrison to ask for more coffee. Your eyes gazed around the small café when you encounter a familiar group of boys storming inside, laughing. What are the fucking odds?

“Impossible.” You muttered under your breath.

You quickly turned around to face the girls. Your eyes were bigger and your cheeks warmer and you could tell they were pretty rosy by the worried look your friends gave you.

“What’s wrong?” Claire frowned and Tamara started to look around, trying to find the cause of your sudden embarrassment.

“Where’s Mrs. Harrison?” Tamara asked, turning around and looking for her.

You hadn’t told your friends about Shawn. Not that there was much to tell, besides he was your long lost neighbor, who you and your friends always thought it would was an old man who died recently and haunted the corridor, whenever you questioned the light constantly going on and off. Apart from that, there wasn’t much to tell, really. Except that he and his friends bought sushi for you, which you shared all cozen up in his living room, at 3am. You couldn’t believe this was happening and you didn’t want to be too obvious and look again. You had to be dreaming.

“Mrs. Harrison!” Tamara called. No, shut up Tamara, please.

You looked to the side to find Mrs. Harrison with the largest smile, coming towards you to refill your mugs. You smiled back, trying to ignore the whole situation.

Mrs. Harrison stopped mid-way to let the group of boys pass. His group of boys. He looked directly at your table.

You placed your elbow on the table, to rest your chin on the palm of your hand, covering your mouth with it as you looked up hiding a smile, feeling your cheeks burn. He smiled back at you and took a look around the table, taking your friends appearance. They didn’t make much of it, still innocently looking at Mrs. Harrison who now approached you at the booth.

You didn’t pay much attention to her, as she served you. Your eyes were locked in Shawn’s while he and his friends settled down in a booth on the perpendicular wall to the wall you were sat next to. He took his sit right where he could see you, giving you his best sly smile. You smiled shyly and looked down, nodding.

“Thank you.” You muttered to Mrs. Harrison as she walked away, eyes still facing the table.

You felt nervous knowing he was in the same place you were. And out of all the seconds in that day, he had to show up in this precise second, when you were having a ‘sex talk’ with your friends.

“Alright Claire, how about your first time?” Megan turned to Claire, who innocently took a sip on her coffee. Absolutely not. Please, not now.

You knew Tamara had noticed something. She got closer to you, looking down at you, clearly not letting your rosy cheeks go unnoticed.

“I thought we were over this.” You commented, looking up at them.

Your eyes quickly gazed over Shawn’s table. He still had his eyes on you even though one of the waitresses was taking their order.

You didn’t know if he could hear anything but the way Megan was getting carried away with the topic, you were pretty sure at some time he would notice. You were just praying it wouldn’t be whenever you had to speak.

“Hush.” Megan held a finger up to shut you up and turned to her side to look at Claire. “Come on, we’re dying to know… The great miracle!” Megan spoke louder. You wanted to drown your face in the coffee mug and let your skin burn down.

“Oh my God!” Tamara breathed as she smiled and looked down. Claire was already blushing.

Megan dramatically rested her hands on her chest and looked up. “The rise of the virgin!”

“Hey..” You started. “Don’t be disrespectful!” You warned and Megan rolled her eyes at you.

“Really funny Meg..” Claire said, already annoyed.

You smiled and Megan looked at you, taking her mug to her mouth. “Don’t think we forgot you.” She warned and then drinking some of her coffee.

You felt your cheeks getting warm again and looked down nodding. You started playing nervously with your earring, moving your head around attempting to eye the other table but making it look casual. Shawn was looking at you and once your eyes laid on him, he looked back at his friends, shifting in his sit, smiling.

You noticed Ziggy commenting something and he just let out a chuckle and took another look at you. He looked down and kept his head bent while he moved his gaze back at you , smiling shyly. His forearms rested on the table while he played nervously with his fingernails. His dimples were visible now and you felt a wave heat going down your spine and your hands getting warmer and slightly humid. You’ve never felt more nervous than in that precise moment. You had been around him all night but something was different about the environment you were both in. It’s like you were exposed and you had no idea of what you should or shouldn’t do. You looked down smiling.

“Jesus Christ.” You muttered under your breath, passing your hand down your hair and looking down, crossing your arms over the table as you lent in.

You just couldn’t resist it. It’s like you were addicted to the warmth of his stare on you. It made you feel all hot and bothered. You chuckle at your own thoughts and looked back at his table.

He was still starting at you. His chin went up and he put on his best rebellious smile, letting his tongue slide over his teeth, eyes locked on you. What a tease. You let out a giggle and nodded at him, quickly looking back at your friends who were now frowning at you.

Your face dropped. Your giggle had come out a little louder than you expected. You looked down and took your mug in your hands, staring down at the coffee.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Tamara asked, looking around the café, trying to find an explanation for the sudden change your body language manifested so clearly.

“Care to explain?” Claire smiled at you, her eyebrows raised. You looked at her, giving her a confused look but she winked. She had caught you. You cleared your throat, aware that you had been caught in the act.

Megan turned around quickly. She looked around but she unveiled it all easily. Shawn was still looking in your direction and he noticed Megan looking back at him, only to make him quickly look away and turn back to his friends. Luckily for him, or not, Mrs. Harrison approached their table to serve them. Still, it was all pretty obvious to Meg.

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed a bit louder than she should have.

You leaned in an extended your arms over the table to remove her hands from her mouth as you hushed her.

“Please.” You were whispering now.

Her mouth was still open and her eyes were wide. You could feel Tamara shift next to you, trying to take a look. Claire giggled, looking back at their table. They were chatting with Mrs. Harrison who blocked them from having a view at your loud booth.

“Do you happen to know his friend as well?” Tamara pointed out, almost sitting on you as she tried to take a look.

“Tamara!”  Claire scoffed at her as she sat back down on her sit.

“You?! And the kid who asks for mercy on the radio?” Megan was still out of mind.

“What?” You asked confused. Claire laughed and leaned in on the table trying to follow the conversation.

“I sure as hell would give him a hand.” Tamara commented biting her nail as she kept her eyes on their table. You looked back at her, shooting the deadliest glare, although you knew she meant nothing with that comment.

“Tamara!” Claire jeered at her again.

Megan started to laugh. You sat back and Tamara turned her body to you. Megan was now the one resting her arms across the table to try and reach you. She took your hands in hers and smiled excitedly. You were definitely not ready for what was coming.

Mrs. Harrison left their table and you saw at least three of them peeking at your booth. You ignored it and looked back at your friends who were looking at you all flared-up.

“How?” Megan asked.

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell us?” Tamara asked, a little calmer now.

“If I had ever told you he is my neighbor, you would have, literally, camped in my bedroom in a blink of an eye.” You stated. You didn’t think. You wanted them to shut up because they were dragging attention from everyone on the café to your booth and you were starting to feel uncomfortable, but you just didn’t think. And when it hit you, you regretted every single word you just said.

You were uncomfortable though. Nervously uncomfortable. You were trying to look casual around him although it sent you chills every time there was eye-contact between you two. You had no idea where that came from. You had known Shawn for one day but you felt like it ‘clicked’. You were not sure what, but it just clicked. Shawn was very polite and very nice with you. From what you knew about him you felt like he was someone you wanted to be around more often. You felt like you could be yourself around him and he had shown you how excited he was whenever you were just you. No funny games, only healthy teasing games. It got you going. And, most likely, it got him going too and you had no idea of how to explain that to your girls, although you were dying to.

“He’s your neighbor?!” Claire exclaimed, her mouth open in surprise.

“You can hear him from your bedroom?” Megan followed.

“That’s so hot.” Tamara muttered.

You rolled your eyes and looked down.

“Alright, I need some sugar.” You said, getting ready to stand up.

“Oh now you need some sugar…?” Tamara smiled and Megan giggled.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had a good dose already.” Megan smiled nodding.

You shrugged and felt your cheeks burning, looking away and trying to avoid any type of contact with those maniacs. You turned and got your legs out of the booth, sliding to the edge of your sit ready to stand up when a body hovered you.

You looked up to see Mrs. Harrison smiling with the board on her hands. You smiled back and she started to serve you blueberry flavored cookies and a tiny bowl with cheesecake cream that went with the cookies. Your favorites. You frowned and looked back up at Mrs. Harrison as your friend’s eyes widened at the huge plate of cookies.

“We didn’t order this…” You innocently tried to explain.

“I know darling.” She nodded and smiled at you. “Enjoy!” She winked at you and walked away.

You had been going to that café for study sessions with your friends or anything else, really, ever since you moved in. You all loved Mrs. Harrison and, although it was a small ‘old school’ café, it was cozy and she treated you all very well. You felt comfortable in there, so you started to visit it more often until it extended to several hours or even after closing time. Although they were all very nice, you didn’t just believe that Mrs. Harrison randomly offered you a plate of her baked cookies… your favorites, to be more specific.

You sat back and, by pure instinct, your eyes landed on Shawn’s table. Geoff and him were looking at you smiling. He nodded and gave you an awkward wink like he was struggling to do it. You chuckled and shrugged, mouthing him a ‘thank you’ followed by a sweet smile, which you noticed it, somehow,  got him when his cheeks turned into light shade of pink. Geoff smiled and teased him by patting him on the shoulder, commenting something you couldn’t decipher.

“I cannot believe this!” Tamara commented, capturing every moment between you two.

“No one has ever done this to me before!” Megan whined, helping herself up by taking a cookie and slightly dipping it on the cheesecake cream.

“I don’t know what he’s trying to do.” You commented, confused, eyes clenched, still gazing at the table.

“He’s being adorable, Y/N.” Claire smiled at you.

“What should I do? Should I send something back?” You asked confused, turning to your friends.

You had no idea of what to do in these situations but you felt bad if you didn’t pay for anything back. You knew you didn’t have to but you wanted to be polite so you felt like you were in debt. Although you wanted to send something back, you wanted to be smart. You kind of wanted to show off someway but you had no idea of what he liked. You looked back at the balcony where Mrs. Harrison was organizing the pastry on the show case.

“I’ll be right back.” You warned, taking your bag with you, as you stood up in seconds.

You smiled and tried to rush to meet Mrs. Harrison at the balcony but Shawn and his friends noticed. The only thing you had in mind was to pay for everything they ordered until now. You had no idea what they had ordered by now but you couldn’t care less.

“No, Y/N!” Shawn called you out. Your stomach twisted at the sound of his voice.

“Go, go, go!” You head his friends comment quietly.

“Don’t let her.” One of them said as he rushed to the balcony

Mrs. Harrison was already laughing when she watched you place your bag on the balcony, letting your keys and phone charger fall on it as you looked for your credit card.

“Mrs. Harrison, please.” You were already pleading at this time. You had to be quick

You couldn’t care less about the other people on the café. Some of them were already laughing at the scenario and you couldn’t hold it back either. You let out a giggle, noticing Shawn giving a quick run to the balcony.

“No, listen.” Shawn stood next to you reaching out for his wallet, holding his hand up for Mrs. Harrison to listen to him.

“No, no, no!” You cut him off, trying not to laugh. “You know me, Mrs. Harrison, I pay my bills.”

He got closer to you, letting out a giggle. His scent was fresh.  His button-up shirt smelled like lavender and his curls were messy. He had one strand of hair falling over his forehead due to his small run to the balcony. His smile was even more beautiful up close. Nothing you hadn’t realised before.

“Please Shawn.” You asked sweetly, turning to him.

“Y/N this is ridiculous, come on.” He started, nodding. “I wanted to offer you those cookies. You don’t owe me anything. I wanted to do it.” He explained. You smiled shyly and looked back at Mrs. Harrison that was waiting to know if you needed her.

“I do owe you!” You tried to come up with an excuse to pay for his coffee.

“No you don’t!” He started, frowning, not letting his smile fade as he looked at you.

“I do. You paid for dinner yesterday, now this…” You pointed out at the table, watching your friends giggle and giving you thumbs up. Half of the cookies (obviously) already eaten. “Let me pay for your coffee.”

“No.” He denied, nodding. What did he mean ‘no’?!

“It’s in a spontaneous way, I promise.” You said and he smiled, looking around.

“You get with this every day?” He asked Mrs. Harrison, pointing at you as you opened your mouth in surprise while she nodded, chuckling and turning around to keep working.

“I’m paying.” You said, taking your credit card out.

“If you pay, I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.” He stated instantly.

“What?” You asked, frowning. “I… I can’t tonight.” Really Y/N, look at his eyes one more time and repeat what you just said.

“Why not?” He asked, giving you a confused look. You were getting on his nerves, you could tell by the way his eyebrow trembled a little.

You looked back at your friends and smiled.

“I’m actually having dinner with the girls, I’m sorry.. hum…we decided to meet up here.” You nodded, trying to find an excuse to pay for his coffee and not feel like you were, somehow, in debt with him. You had no idea what you were doing.

“She’s not doing anything after this!” You heard Megan from the other end of the café.

“Oh my God.” You muttered and looked down. Fucking God. You wanted to dig a huge whole on the floor and bury yourself as far from the surface as you could in that moment.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go out with Shawn. It was definitely not that, but you didn’t want to come off easy. You were afraid it would ‘bore him away’ if you gave in too easily to everything he said or suggested. You wanted to have a hand on this and attract him to you by just doing your thing.

“Okay, we haven’t decided anything yet…” You started to explain, looking back at him and gesturing, trying to look less awkward than you felt.

He nodded and looked at you. He looked disappointed.

“Shawn come on, it’s not fair. I want to offer you something too, no second thoughts or anything. I want to do it too.” You admitted, finding it hard to explain when he stared at you with those warm brown eyes, patting his lashes slowly. You smiled at him and he instantly smiled back, like it just clicked.

“She love’s crepes!” Megan insisted. You smiled and bit your lip, not moving your gaze away from Shawn’s. He held back his laughter.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Alright, no dinner then. But how about a dessert date?” He smiled sweetly, his shoulders up. “If you’d care to join me.” Keep going. How could you resist him? You were heart warmed by the way his soft his voice sounded when asking you out and how relaxed his features got when you smiled back.

“You won’t give in, will you?” You asked him nodding, clenching your eyes as if you were challenging him. He chuckled, nodding his head slowly, looking at you in adoration.

“I won’t until you will.”

sorry it is so long

Prompt: Jeremy kissed/made out with Brooke and Chloe when he was squiped and now Michael is embarrassed because he hasn't kissed anyone yet. And so he looks "how to kiss" in wikihow, doesn't delete the history and Jeremy finds out. (The part of searching it in wikihow it's meh, I just want Jeremy to find out and be like "dude, you don't have to worry. I'm sure you kiss alright) and then they kiss. Ahhhh, I'd love you even more if you do it.

Sorry it took so long (._.) Here you go;; Thank you for the prompt!

“Hey dude can you grab me a soda while you’re up and moving?” Yelled Jeremy from across the room, too lazy to move from his fixed position on the beanbag. 

“Since when was I your maid?” Michael joked, tossing his best friend an ice cold soda nonetheless. “I’ll be right back, don’t play without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeremy muttered in response whilst taking a small sip of his drink. The two boys had just spent the last few hours clearing floors off of a DLC of Apocalypse of the Dammed Michael had managed to find in the old retro game shop down the street. Within half a day the boys had almost gotten through the whole game but given their poor diet of mountain dew and chips the two often had to pause for bathroom breaks and refills, slowing their overall progress down.

Jeremy set down his drink and looked up at the ceiling in contemplation. It had been a month or so since the Squip incident and everything had virtually settled down. Jeremy had gained a bunch of new friends from the experience, despite how traumatic it had been. This included Christine, a girl on whom Jeremy had lusted for years. The two had tried to date, they really did, but it was soon apparent that despite how well they got along together, they only saw each other as close friends. When Jeremy had told Michael that night, his friend assumed the worst, instantly offering to come over with a horde of junk food and movies to distract him. Surprisingly for both boys, Jeremy felt great. He assured Michael that nothing was wrong and that he was the happiest he had been in a while, and strangely, he didn’t miss the slight change in Michael’s tone of voice, almost as if he was smiling sweetly over the phone. 

Jeremy didn’t miss the soft blush on his best friend’s cheeks whenever he complimented him.

And Jeremy certainly didn’t miss his sinking face whenever he talked about his time with Brooke or Chloe, despite how much he hated to think about it. 

As the weeks went on, Jeremy payed close attention to his friend. He had never really asked about Michael’s love life before, mainly because of his assumption that Michael didn’t have one. It slowly occurred to him how he had never even asked if Michael was straight. After Rich had so openly revealed his new-found sexuality, Jeremy began to ponder his own. He was attracted to females, there was no doubt about that, but what if he-

“Dude do you need a refill?” Michael’s voice interrupted, cutting Jeremy off from his train of thought. He looked over at the bowl in front of him which was indeed empty. 

“That would be appreciated,” he bounced back. Turning his attention to the TV screen he remembered that they had been stuck on a particular level for quite some time. It was definitely a tricky one, it required a lot of thinking - something that neither boys possessed at 1am. Remembering that Michael was upstairs getting food, Jeremy looked over at the computer that had been moved from upstairs into the basement for convenience purposes. He knew Michael hated looking up how to win a level but it was late and the boys really wanted to finish this game tonight while they were still into it. 

‘A quite peek won’t hurt’ Jeremy convinced himself as he slowly got up and shifted his way to the computer. Heaving himself onto the chair, he swivelled the mouse to awake the screen, he knew Michael normally just left it on. The browser pooped up suddenly, making Jeremy squint at the sudden change in light. As his eyes began to readjust, he processed the website in front of him. Before he could open a tab to search for what he wanted, the title of the page sank in:

‘How to kiss: Wikihow’  

Jeremy stared at it for a couple more seconds before convincing himself that this was something Michael must have accidentally clicked on while scrolling through facebook or something like that. He clicked the back arrow key to try to return to the social media but instead a google search was opened:

‘how do u kiss?’

He blinked in disbelief, clicking again. Another search came up:

‘can u learn how to kiss?’

He clicked again:

‘teenage kissing help’

And again:

‘how do u kiss a boy?’

‘how do u kiss straight boys?’

‘i think i want to kiss a boy’

‘how to know u have a crush’

‘do i have a crush?’

‘i think im crushing on my straight best friend’

The last one made Jeremy stop frantically clicking and instead choosing to read the search over and over again. There was no denying this was Michael, his best friend never used proper grammar when typing - it used to drive Jeremy insane. He stared at the last search for god knows how long with a million questions flying through his brain. Jeremy didn’t know why, but he started to giggle. The more he read the sentence, the funnier it got. 

“What’s so funny?” 

The voice snapped Jeremy right out of his hysterical laughter. He turned to see his best friend smiling, holding a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. 

“Care to share?” He asked again, a small chuckle escaping his lips. 

Jeremy didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the urge to stand up. Leaving the opened tabs behind, he walked across the room before stopping right in front of Michael. His hands seemed to move on their own as he brought them up to meet his best friend’s cheeks and before either boy could process what was happening Jeremy was kissing Michael. 

It was different to when he kissed Chloe or Brooke. Back then it was forced and Jeremy only did it because he ‘needed’ to. It was rough and not enjoyable. But here, with Michael, it was sweet and quick. Jeremy could have stayed there for hours if Michael hadn’t dropped the bowl of popcorn in surprise, causing the sticky food to spill all over the floor. Jeremy broke the kiss after the bowl hit his foot, making him jump around in pain as Michael stood there still trying to process what was happening. He eventually realised that his best friend was in pain and rushed to get an ice pack.

“I’m not straight Michael.” Said Jeremy, breaking the awkward silence between the two. They had returned to the beanbags to let Jeremy sit down and heal his throbbing toe which was going numb from the coolness of the ice pack. 

Michael looked from his fixed gaze on the open computer browser which he had noticed just after the two boys settled. 

“But you-” He began before Jeremy cut him off.

“I’ve never really thought about it much, especially with my crush on Christine the thought was rarely brought to my attention,” Jeremy paused to sneak a peek at Michael, who was staring at him with his big chocolate eyes. Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What?”

“I can’t believe you actually looked up how to kiss someone”,” Jeremy sniggered, provoking a huff from Michael. 

“How else was I meant to learn, I couldn’t exactly ask you,” he complained. “Sorry, I should have talk to you about it sooner. I just- back when you were still with the Squip and dating Brooke. I felt… embarrassed ok? I thought that maybe now that you’ve had experience with others you would think that I’m a complete dork who isn’t worth hanging around with.”

Michael paused for a moment, locking eyes with Jeremy. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off with another kiss. This time, both parties were ready and it lasted a little bit longer than their first. When the two broke apart, the two paused and just stared at each other, contempt with their presence. 

“So,” Michael said. “Are you going to clean up that crushed popcorn over there or are you going to teach how to kiss properly like a real boyfriend should do?”

“Boyfriend…” Jeremy muttered, inching closer to Michael in the process. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Gem Ascension Tropes (General: C - E)

Refer to the initial post for details on this. Here’s the full version on Google Docs.  

Call-Back: There are loads of these in GA. So much that, much like Shout-Outs and Mythology Gags, really warrants its own page.

Campfire Character Exploration: Happens towards the end of Act I’s first chapter with Peridot and Greg. A similar scene plays out late in Chapter 6 of Act II; this time with Greg, Lapis, and Bismuth.

Capital Letters are Magic: Word of God imposed an unorthodox rule in the story: in the context of a gem’s gemstone, the name of the gemstone (which matches the gem’s by default) will not be capitalized. So, Peridot’s gemstone will be referred to as a peridot. However, in reference to the hard light forms of Peridot’s fellow kind that aren’t her specifically, whether individually or in a group, they are referred to as Peridots (or a singular Peridot). The rationale is that while the gem species will always be lower-case as it would be for any kind of species, the specific type of gem is more analogous to a nationality/ethnicity, which is always capitalized for humans on Earth. So, gems in their hard light forms such as Peridots and Pearls are (as far as grammar is concerned) analogous to Americans and Germans. 

The only exception to the rule is quartz, which is always left in lowercase unless the type of quartz is specified, as there haven’t been any gems in canon that were ever just called “Quartz”. That might make quartzes more like another subclass, such as a “superhuman”. 

Clip Show Episode: Chapter 7 of Act II can be seen as a slight parody of this, as the climax is comprised of a collection of excerpts from Peridot’s Video Wills from each chapter of Act II up to this point, including a repeated part of the message introduced earlier this chapter. Justified, since this is presented as a group-effort project (led by Amethyst) in order to awaken Steven from the Angst Coma he put himself into at the end of Chapter 1, and snap him out of his Heroic BSoD regarding his refusal to watch Peridot’s message to him.

Coitus Ensues: After Romance Ensues for Sphalerite and 5XF in This is Who I Am, it transitions to this pretty quickly. Chapter 6 ends just as they start getting into it. The following chapter timeskips this, but makes it very clear the last 41 hours was full of nothing but this for the couple.

Colorful Theme Naming: For certain characters that are exclusive to GA’s continuity, they follow a similar naming pattern to their canon counterparts, but deviate a little. Peridot’s Super-Powered Alter Ego is named Chartreuse Diamond, while the fusion comprised of Chartreuse and White Diamond is called Celadon Diamond. Steven’s awakened form is named after his mother as Pink Diamond 2.0.

Commonality Connection: 5XF and Sphalerite quickly bonded over their shared issue of trying to find out who they really are; Sphalerite hasn’t existed long enough to learn who she is independent of Steven and Peridot, while 5XF has to completely start from scratch as a Homeworld refugee learning how to live for herself for the first time in her life.

Convenient Cranny: In Chapter 7 of Act I, while Peridot and Sapphire are stuck together in a crowded terminal, Sapphire informs Peridot of a small hiding space like this that they’re closing in on and can use for cover. Sure enough, it’s found moments later; Peridot and Sapphire duck into the alcove just in time to evade Yellow Diamond and the pallified Blue Diamond.

Costume Evolution: Peridot and Lapis reform at the very start of GA with a cheap upgrade (basically stars added where diamonds once were on their original outfits). By the end of Chapter 6 in Act I, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl receive their canon CYM outfits upon reforming. Lapis is poofed midway into the final chapter of Act I and reforms in the final scene of said act with her CYM ensemble. Peridot poofs offscreen after Act I and doesn’t reform until the second scene of Act III’s opening chapter, where she finally gets her CYM upgrade.

Crapsack World: Homeworld, per canon. Probably even more exaggerated in GA, though. On top of the fact that Individuality is Illegal, it’s both told and shown through Peridot just how cutthroat the environment is for the working class. She pretty much had to be a Manipulative Bastard just to get the opportunity to learn life could be better than that.

Crisis Makes Perfect: Throughout Act III, Steven and Peridot attempt to fuse on two separate occasions – both times result in failure that neither can make sense of, but it strongly implies Peridot’s Era 2 limitations simply make her incapable of it, much to her despair. It’s later proved that Peridot can be fused with in Chapter 7, but that was through a forced fusion with White Diamond where Peridot had little to no control or involvement as Celadon Diamond. Once Peridot is so heavily triggered by Pumpkin’s death that her rage and agony actively tears apart the already-dying Homeworld throughout Chapter 8, she brings about the Darkest Hour for everyone as it becomes apparent that everyone’s going to die along with Homeworld. Steven takes it upon himself to calm Peridot down; not only to stop her destructive behavior, but to fuse their Alter Egos to make the Diamond of Miracles, which is their only hope coming out of this situation with their lives. It’s unknown at the time whether or not Pink 2.0 and Chartreuse’s fusion is the miracle diamond; it could just as easily be a fusion of Pink 2.0 and White Diamond, and presumed to be more likely given Steven and Peridot’s fusion track record. However, with some intensive Epiphany Therapy, Peridot (as Chartreuse) can finally fuse with Steven (as Pink 2.0) – they become Iridescent Diamond, the miracle-granting Diamond they need to survive Homeworld’s apocalypse – and manage to escape Homeworld just before it explodes.

Cult of Personality: Per canon, the Diamond Authority as a whole has been this for untold amounts of millennia. It’s especially prevalent with the propaganda-fed Era 2 gems like Peridot, who weren’t around during the infamous war with Rose Quartz rebelling against the order. In GA, this mostly applies to White Diamond exclusively, as Yellow and Blue aren’t around long enough to properly represent any kind of threat or notoriety to the Crystal Gems. Although Peridot has long since overcome this sensationalism in canon, she and Steven legitimately worry that this Diamond Propaganda will shift over to their Diamond Alter Egos after the main GA series, now that the OG Diamond Authority and Homeworld are gone and they’re left to guide millions of confused Homeworld gems who were abruptly immigrated to Earth.

Curb-Stomp Battle: The Crystal Gems are on the losing end of one in Chapter 6 of Act III after it’s revealed the White Diamond they’ve spent so much time fighting is a fake.

Darker and Edgier: Compared to Change Your Mind, yes, GA very much is. Word of God phrases Gem Ascension’s premise basically as “What would happen if everything just went to pot after the first few minutes of CYM?”. It’s not all-serious, all the time, but unlike CYM, there are quite a few major character deaths, not every villain is redeemed, and the story ends giving Status Quo is God the middle finger.

Darkest Hour: Chapter 8 of Act III is where this happens. The situation is bleak enough at this point, as the Crystal Gems’ spaceship has been obliterated. While Peridot finally managed to break out of the Celadon Diamond fusion, Greg is severely injured, and Pumpkin succumbs to her wounds not long after reuniting with Peridot. Prior to this, Peridot (who never suffered loss like this before) was in hysterics and highly unstable. Steven forced himself to implement tough love to drag Peridot back down to reality after the latter snapped and brutally hit Lapis, but by the time Peridot got her act together, Pumpkin died. Heroic BSoD ensues, combined with an Angst Nuke, and suddenly Peridot is unwittingly tearing up an already-dying Homeworld with her agony alone. Once she Involuntarily Shapeshifts into Chartreuse Diamond, every structure still standing on Homeworld is shattered into pieces and all forms of transport crumble, which eliminates any hope of the Crystal Gems finding another way off the planet. Peridot is so consumed with grief that she can’t hear anyone else, and the storm she conjured is so potent that it’s dangerous to even get near her. It’s looking like foregone conclusion that the Crystal Gems will be going down with Homeworld after all. Once the group spots White Diamond approaching them again, Steven realizes he has to act before White tries to force him into fusion. The only hope he and his friends have now of leaving Homeworld alive is to make the Diamond of Miracles a reality – and most don’t even believe such a being truly exists. Even more unlikely is Steven and Peridot’s Alter Egos being the miracle they’re looking for, as the pair has not been able to fuse at all. At this stage, however, Steven either has to make it work, or be obliterated with his friends.

Dawn of an Era: Garnet believes in Plans Change that Era 3 starts now, rather than a week or so prior during the Era 3 ball on Homeworld. Thematically, it is more appropriate to consider a time post-GA to be the real starting point of Era 3, given how much of a drastic shake-up there is in the status quo, as well as an entirely different setting for most of gemkind where they’ll lead vastly different lives than they had in the past two eras.

Death of Personality: Another way to interpret a pallified gem.

Delaying the Rescue: Steven attempts to defy this at the end of Act II, but the Crystal Gems begrudgingly acknowledge that they should return to Homeworld only when they’re better-prepared to take on whatever traps White Diamond has laid out for them, as well as how to fare in White Diamond’s Homeworld. They all hate having to leave Peridot to be tortured for so long, but know there’s no point in going back if they don’t know what they’re doing. Especially since Peridot made it clear in her messages that she’d never forgive them if anyone was to lose their life attempting to rescue her.

Despair Event Horizon: Once Steven and Peridot’s Alter Egos form the Diamond of Miracles, White Diamond – while she doesn’t outright say as much – is done. She was so certain she would be this mythical being and make her planet perfect again, but instead White is now reliant on the two people she tormented the most and was driven to make minions of. Her omniscient powers mean nothing now since there are no bodies left to snatch (and on top of that, she no longer has subjects to lord over), and the Crystal Gems don’t hesitate to rub it in White’s face that she has nothing left. Though it’s mostly at Steven’s behest, the Crystal Gems won’t even kill her and are quick to dismiss White once they’re finally granted a way off Homeworld. Above everything else White lost, her relevance and her legacy are what she can’t bear to lose most of all. She attacks the Crystal Gems one final time with the Energy Donation Steven granted her on request, but that was not only thwarted, but Peridot nearly destroyed her with her own attack… until she saw White Diamond’s fear, which was much more satisfying to the low-caste gem than a shattering. Added with suffering a final parting shot from Connie, which gave her form blemishes, White could no longer live with herself. The mightiest of all Diamonds being terrified of a Peridot and cracked by a human was too much to bear… and a short while later, White self-destructed.

Don’t Look Back: At the climax of Act I when the Crystal Gems escape through the terminal tunnel to their spaceship, this order from Peridot is the last time most of the Crystal Gems hear from her until they reunite with her in Act III.

Doomed Hometown: Homeworld. Once White Diamond starts a hostile takeover of her own planet at the end of Act I, infecting every bit of it with her pallification, the planet itself is drained of what little structural integrity it still had and is set to crumble. The planet itself is completely gone near the end of Act III.

Downer Ending: Compared to Change Your Mind, it certainly is. On its own, it isn’t so bad as there’s an optimistic view that everything is starting on a clean slate and will be done better this time around. But compare that to White, Yellow, and Blue Diamond all still being alive (and White Pearl) in CYM, now friendly with Steven and the Crystal Gems, and casually visiting to enjoy time with everyone on Earth… meanwhile tying up every possible loose end, including curing all of the corrupted gems. Gem Ascension concludes with many loose ends, on top of another set of gems in need of a cure outside of the corrupted.

Dream People: Peridot and Steven have grown very close together even before they became an Official Couple, so it’s no surprise that Peridot’s idealized perception of Steven who takes place of the real deal in her imagination and dreams looks and acts almost exactly like Steven himself. When Peridot is imprisoned in her own subconscious with him in Chapter 2 of Act III, she talks to him just like she would with the real Steven. And while under the impression that she’ll never see the real Steven again at the time, Peridot is more than happy to cherish her imaginary Steven as the next-best thing she’ll ever be able to have.

Dual Age Modes: Chartreuse Diamond and Pink Diamond 2.0 are not only a great deal taller, but have much more developed bodies than Peridot and Steven.

Earned Stripes: How one can interpret Lapis and Peridot gaining stars on their outfits after reforming. Even more prevalent in GA since they first reform with their original outfits only with stars added, then Lapis reforms a second time at the end of Act I with the new outfit she gained in CYM. Peridot follows suit at the start of Act III.

Earth-Shattering Kaboom: Homeworld’s fate when Gem Ascension concludes.

End of an Age: As Gem Ascension ends, it’s evident that life for the Crystal Gems will never be the same again, but for entirely different reasons from Change Your Mind. 

Not only is the Diamond Authority completely eradicated, but Homeworld itself no longer exists. 

Homeworld’s colonies are still intact, but have no idea what happened to their home base. It’s a safe bet many will devolve into anarchy with civil wars abound once they learn the truth. 

Most gems who lived on Homeworld were rescued, but the majority are pallid and thus stuck in stasis like their corrupted counterparts. And unlike CYM, no cure has been made for either affliction, which means that is an ongoing endeavor made doubly harder. 

The Homeworld gems who aren’t affected have abruptly immigrated to Earth and are just as Locked Out of the Loop as their brethren in the colonies. It’s up to the Crystal Gems to educate thousands of confused and terrified citizens what happened and what their lives will be like from here on out.

Getting Homeworld gems adapted to Earth will be hard enough, but it will be even harder for them to comprehend how to live free from Diamond rule. It won’t help when they eventually learn Steven and Peridot’s Alter Egos are the only Diamonds left in existence, as the couple have no desire to continue the regime of their predecessors.

Unfortunately, they will have to use their Diamond identities to make any headway with the colonies, meaning Steven and Peridot are doomed to be put on a pedestal and garner a lot of unwanted public attention.

Garnet invokes this in Plans Change, when she voices her belief that Era 3 didn’t start with the ball that took place shortly after Steven went to Homeworld. Instead, she believes Era 3 starts at this point, on a clean slate, where life will be completely different for everyone.

Enemy Civil War: The fate of the Homeworld colonies after the events of GA, or at least the presumed fate. The Crystal Gems intend to set things straight after they figure out how to run their own operation on Earth.

Ensemble Cast: During Act II.

Epistolary Novel: Act II

Evil Power Vacuum: Acknowledged In-Universe in Act III after the deaths of Yellow and Blue Diamond. It’s a bit hard to ignore the fact that White Diamond obliterated two thirds of her own order, so it’s painfully obvious why she seeks to have Pink Diamond 2.0 and Chartreuse Diamond under her thumb.

Exposition Beam: Used twice only in Act III. In Chapter 4, Steven uses his empath abilities while touching Peridot’s gemstone to link their minds; not only to catch up on what he missed with her over the past six days, but to figure out what exactly White Diamond did to her mind so he’ll know how to fix her current problem. This ends up backfiring in the form of a traumatic side effect, unfortunately. In Chapter 5, Peridot does this for the rest of her friends, only this time using her gemstone as a Mental Picture Projector rather than directly linking minds with them.

Exposition Cut: As lengthy as GA is, there are a few times where this is put in place. Namely a speech from Peridot that starts at the end of Chapter 6 transitions to Peridot ending her speech at the opening of Chapter 7. Another exposition speech told by Peridot is cut like this in Chapter 5 of Act III.

💋 for everybody

💋 What was their first kiss like? How did they feel about it?

[Squeaks] *scrunches up his face* I ain’t nevah kissed no one!

[Skunk] *sticks out his tongue* Yuck!

[Gills] My first kiss was wit’ this girl I spent da whole summer on the beach wit’. Her an’ her family was jus’ visitin’. It was a goodbye kiss, since they was leavin’. So, it was kinda bittersweet. 

[Sniffer] Mine was when I was ten. This lil girl kissed me right outside da church.  I was more confused ‘bout it than anythin’. *shrugs*

[Duke] Do I really hafta talk ‘bout this mushy crap? *huffs a sigh* Fine. I ain’t nevah kissed no one. Ya happy now? 

[Stars] That’s okay, Duke. I ain’t never kissed no one neither.

[Pockets] Well, my first kiss was, uh, interestin’. *laughs nervously* Ya see, Keebler’s ex-girlfriend was harrassin’ us, so long story short, I kissed him to get her to leave us alone. I ain’t evah kissed nobody ‘fore an’ I ‘specially ain’t kissed no boys ‘fore! I kinda… freaked out. It made me feel really confused an’ nervous. Made me realize dat I liked him liked him an’ dat scared me. An’ then I was real worried ‘bout how he felt an’ if I ruined our friendship. *sighs but then smiles a little* But it all worked out in the end, though! 

[Mouth] I don’t really ‘member it too much. I think it was one of my sistah Annabelle’s friends. I think it mighta been a dare. I dunno, I think there mighta been some laughin’ aftahwards. I ain’t got no hard feelin’s ‘bout it or nothin’ if it was, though. *shrugs*   

[James] My first kiss was with the girl I was potentially going to be betrothed to. Her name was Edith and our parents thought we may have been a good match. We figured we might as well get it over with and it was just awkward and uncomfortable, seeing as neither of us had feelings for the other. Then after my parents died and my fortune was gone, her family wanted nothing to do with me. They wanted her to marry up in society, not down. Which, of course, is perfectly understandable. 

[Poe] So, when I was much younger, there was a lil girl around my age with her mother that came into my mother’s dress shop lookin’ for a flower girl dress for her. Durin’ her fittin’, all the grown ups in the shop thought it would be fun ta have a lil mock weddin’ and ‘cause I was the only boy there, I got to be the groom. So, my first kiss was when I got to kiss my “bride.” *laughs* It was fun. An’ at least my ma got ta see me get married…

[Monty] Well, I don’t think anybody knows this, but my first kiss was actually wit’ my girlfriend, Badger. We was jus’ havin’ a good ole time talkin’ an’ knittin’ then our friend Grammar tried to get me to kiss her, but I was too nervous! So, she convinced Badger to do it. She kissed me an’ *sighs happily* I was surprised an’ giggly an’ giddy! *chuckles* It was magical!

[Fox] When I was ‘bout thirteen, I had a bit of a crush on a friend of mine. I highly suspected that she liked me too, so I asked her 'bout it ta which she shyly answered “yes.” So, I kissed her. It was a lil awkward but it was still real nice. We tried datin’ fer a lil while but it didn’t last too long. We decided we was better as friends.

[Chickadee] When I was twelve, I had this real annoyin’ friend *smirks at Fox* an’ for some odd reason, I decided that I liked him. Apparently, he liked me too an’ he confronted me about it. Now, this was when I was still shy around boys, hard ta believe, I know–

[Fox] *jokingly* Yeah, 'specially now that you’s a tart.

[Chickadee] *lets out a small gasp* Fox! Take that back!

[Fox] *chuckles* Oh, y'know I’s only teasin’, Vixen! I’s sorry. I take it back. *jokingly* 'Sides, you’s more of a mini tart, anyways. A tartlet, if ya will.

[Chickadee] *smacks him in the arm* Fin!

[Fox] Ok, ok. I’s sorry! I’s done makin’ jokes! *laughs softly*

[Duke] *rolls his eyes* Thank God ya don’t live in the house no more!

[Chickadee] Oh, shut it! You know you’ve missed me!

[Duke] *grumbles because he knows she’s right*

[Chickadee] Anyways, like I was sayin’, my first kiss was with my annoyin’ but still kinda sweet friend. It wasn’t my best kiss, but it definitely wasn’t my worst either! Now that’s a story for another time! *laughs a little*

[Tommy] *dreamily* I was sixteen an’ her name was Marcie Wheeler. She sure was somethin’! *remembers himself* Right, so. I had taken her on a first date an’ kissed her on her front porch at the end of the night. It was great.

[Ticker] My first kiss was on the playground at school. I believe I was about ten years old. If I remember correctly, her name was Minnie. Somehow she had convinced me to play house with her and her friend Henrietta, so I was her “husband” and Henrie was our “baby.” She kissed me because “that’s what husbands and wives are supposed to do.” Lookin’ back on it, it was actually really cute. At the time, I wanted to “win” the game, so I thought I was doin’ great. *laughs softly*

1. Describe the character’s height and build. Is he heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

I’m a fucking stick.

2. How old is he?

Old enough.

3. Describe his posture. Does he carry himself well or does he/she slouch?

Those etiquette classes were a waste of money.

4. How is his health? Is he fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

Dead inside.

5. How does he move? Is he clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

I don’t fucking know, let alone care.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does he perceive himself in the mirror?

Vampires can’t see their own reflection, who knows.

7. Describe his complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

Vampire white.

8. Describe his hair: color, texture, style.

A fucking mess.

9. What color are his eyes?

Soulless.

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

The signature pout.  I should trademark it.

11. What are his chief tension centers?

The world.

12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does he have six of the same suit?

Dark as my soul.

13. Do his clothes fit well? Does he seem comfortable in them?

Jesus, I don’t give a shit about clothes.

14. Does he dress the same on the job as he does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?

I’m a professional pain in the ass, I wear whatever the fuck I want to.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

Briefs over boxers.

Speech 1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

Ghost like.

2. How does he normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does he talk easily, or does he hesitate?

Hauntingly.

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

Christ.

4. What language/s does he speak, and with how much fluency?

English, Latin, sarcasm.

5. Does he switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

Latin works best for exorcisms or when speaking to demons.

6. Is he a good impromptu speaker, or does he have to think about his words?

I don’t have a fucking filter, deal with it.

7. Is he eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

You can’t show demons fear, it’s best to speak in full sentences.

Mental and Emotional 1. How intelligent is this character? Is he book-smart or street-smart?

Knowing how to not get yourself killed is the most important, but so is proper grammar.

2. Does he think on his feet, or does he need time to deliberate?

Not thinking things through gives you the best stories.

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is he more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

Practical and logical.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

Too much.

5. What are his areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he interested in learning more about?

Writing, being a pain in the ass, and scaring Carter, falling in love with the one person who can’t love me back.

6. Is he an introvert or an extrovert?

People can stay the hell away from me.

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is he even-tempered or does he have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

Christ, what do you think?

8. How does he respond to new people or situations? Is he/she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

I want everyone to get the fuck away from me.

9. Is he more likely to act, or to react?

Do I look like fucking Leonardo Dicaprio to you?  Well... actually I do.

10. Which is his default: fight or flight?

Having a plane comes in handy.

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does he appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

I hate comedy.  Life is a joke.

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does he deal with them?

Hahahahahahaha.

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined him as a person?

Meeting Daisy.  Being bullied all through school.

14. What does he fear?

Happiness.  Love.

15. What are his hopes or aspirations?  

I want to work for Buzzfeed so I can get paid to write “250 Pictures of Oliver Spade That Make Me Question My Sexuality” and tag Austin in it.  I also hope to actually get possessed by a demon because, damn, that would be a story.  Maybe I’d believe it then.  Who knows.

16. What is something he doesn’t want anyone to find out about him?

I have no secrets.  I’m fairly certain everyone knows I’m in love with Daisy by now, except maybe her.  But oh well!!!!

Relationships 1. Describe this character’s relationship with his parents.

My dad’s cool, but don’t tell him that, he’ll get all lame and gushy.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

Only child, but I guess Brayden’s officially my brother now since his dad died.

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom he is close? Are there ones he can’t stand?

Nope.

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom he considers part of his family? What are his relationships with them?

Brayden- he’s my dad’s friend’s son.  We grew up together since one of our dads was almost always away.  I’ve brought him over to the dark side a little bit, but he’s still too normal most of the time.

Austin- my shy baby brother who no one is allowed to touch.  I see a lot of myself in Austin, the normal parts, and I’m so damn protective of that kid, I just know it’s gonna be the reason I die.

Daisy- she has somehow found a way to crack my darkness and I will never forgive her for that.

Carter- I scare the shit out of him.  It’s fun.

5. Who is/was the character’s best friend? How did they meet?

Daisy.  Met in middle school, and apparently that’s when I should’ve kissed her since that “ship’s sailed.”  I’m not bitter or anything.  I still love her.  But how?  Now that’s up to interpretation. 

6. Does he have other close friends?

Victoria, and it kills me to say it, but maybe Jordan.  Mainly because she hangs out with my friends and is a parasite I can’t get rid of.

7. Does he make friends easily, or does he have trouble getting along with people?

Hahahahahahaha.

8. Which does he consider more important: family or friends?

My friends are my family.

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has he been married more than once?

Single as fuck club president.

10. Is he currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

I am unworthy of love and unable to hypnotize one person into loving me, let alone more than that.

11. Who was his first crush? Who is his latest?

Daisy.  Daisy.

12. What does he look for in a romantic partner?

Daisy.

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does he relate to them? If no, does he want any?

Fuck, I hope not.  God help those kids.

14. Does he have any rivals or enemies?

Everyone.

15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does he fall on the Kinsey scale?

Straight.

16. How does he feel about sex? How important is it to him?

No one dies a virgin, life fucks everyone.

17. What are his turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

God is watching.  Ghosts are also watching.  

Beliefs 1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does he fit type?

This is more Brayden’s thing than mine.  

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in his life?

Gotta see it to believe it.  I use the Lord’s name in vain too much for a believer.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

I have none.

4. How does he regard beliefs that differ from his? Is he tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?  

I don’t give a shit, everyone ends up in a box.

5. What prejudices does he hold? Are they irrational or does he have a good reason for them?

Look at me, I’m not one in the position to judge.

Daily Life 1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is he rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

Money doesn’t buy happiness, otherwise maybe I’d be happy.

2. What is his social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected him?

Money isn’t real, it’s a piece of paper that we let define us all.

3. Where does he live? House, apartment, trailer? Is his home his castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does he share it with others?

Shitty dorm, or sometimes a haunted house with Carter.

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does he spend his money on?

I steal shit.

5. What does he do for a living? Is he good at it? Does he enjoy it, or would he rather be doing something else?

Currently looking for a job at Buzzfeed to bring Buzzfeed Unsolved back from the dead.

6. What are his interests or hobbies? How does he spend his free time?

Lets just say, if anyone at Walt dies, I’m gonna be the first suspect.

7. What are his eating habits? Does he skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

Forever drinking the pain away.

Associations Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his favorite:

1. Color?  

Matte Black.

2. Smell?

Decomposition.

3. Time of day?

Midnight.

4. Season?

Dead of winter.

5. Book?

Anything by Stephen King.

6. Music?

I prefer silence.

7. Place?

Hell.

8. Substance?

Weed.

9. Plant?

Venus fly trap.

10. Animal?

Sloth.

The Firebird - Chapter 23

Step 23 : Dance (Santiago’s Dream)

My deepest thanks to @xerxia31, @titaniasfics and dandelion-sunset for their expertise in grammar, spelling, commas and everything that needed to be corrected … and there was a lot. Ask xerxia about my meltdowns …

To @akai-echo  – thank you my friend for everything you’ve done for this fic – the banners and aesthetics are beyond gorgeous.

Only one chapter left, folk – and a epilogue – should  I post them separately ?

Here on AO3 - FFN

It was easier now to start her day. The burden of the show was gone, the pressure off her shoulders. The company got excellent reviews, praising Cinna’s creativity in terms of costumes, as well as the ensemble performance of the dancers. Katniss herself even got some very good ones pointing out how her performance made the Firebird believable.

But all those good words were nothing compared to how proud Peeta was of her, staying by her side the whole evening long, ending up at Chez Valerie with all of the other dancers, like in the good old days, but always keeping his focus on her, never on his aborted ballet career.

There was a hilarious moment when Finnick called, after his own day of rehearsals, to congratulate her on her hard work. Apparently, Peeta had sent him pictures. For the first time in a long time, Katniss felt free, happy and light. She knew the big show of the season was coming up, and she hoped she would have a role to play in it - one of the fairies, maybe, whichever would be a fit for her. But the nominations wouldn’t come for quite some time, and she didn’t want to think about it yet.

For now, her only concern was finding tiny Rue in the crowd of people surrounding the Arena, rushing to get inside the theater. Tonight, along with a bunch of other dancers from the National, they were going to see Peeta’s show. And she didn’t mind seeing him dance on a stage. She enjoyed the way his body moved with an almost feline grace. She’d seen it in hours of rehearsal together, and in their newfound intimacy - hands wandering under the clothes, tentatively mapping each other, even if they still had yet to take that big step together.

“Katniss!” Rue’s high-pitched voice tore her out of her memories of Peeta’s hands under her camisole two nights ago, his fingers brushing the sides of her bra, the shivers it elicited on her heated skin. Katniss could see Thresh following his girlfriend, a polite smile on his face - he apparently wasn’t as excited as Rue to come.

“I’m so glad we can go together! And Thresh told me Peeta would be on stage tonight?” Rue said, fumbling in her purse to find the tickets.

“Yes he will be, I hope you don’t mind, Theodore?” Katniss chimed in, taking her ticket out of her jeans pocket. Being the girlfriend of one of the dancers had its perks, as she had realized when he had handed her her free entrance pass. Thresh grumbled an answer, clearly not as happy to be the only man in the group.

They were all ushered inside, their seats near the very front of the Arena, and waited until the now familiar music started. Familiar for Katniss, at least. She wasn’t surprised anymore by the music of Ricky Martin blasting out of the speakers, and focused her attention on Peeta’s appearance on the stage, to Alfredo’s music.

Katniss remembered that night he danced with Delly in the opening number, making her spin and turn, dance in the light. Katniss didn’t feel any jealousy towards the woman in his arms - their relationship was one of brother and sister, and Delly was clearly head over heels about her fiancé and couldn’t wait to marry him.

But her practiced eyes saw something more to her dance - something a bit off. Like Delly wasn’t as sure as she had been the previous time.

Of course, she smiled to the crowd, but Katniss’s trained eyes noticed a little limp, a little something that was amiss, like how Delly leaned onto Peeta a bit more. She turned her head, meeting Thresh’s eyes and nodded, answering his silent question.

She made a mental note to text Peeta at intermission, to ask if everything was right with Delly.

The first part of the show passed in a whirlwind of colors and applause, of latin music and dance. Even Thresh was sucked into the spectacle, Katniss could see his fingers tapping the tempo on his thigh.

As soon as the intermission started, her phone buzzed with a text from Peeta, asking her to come backstage as soon as the lights were on. Katniss quickly excused herself from her friends, dialing Peeta’s number as she tried to find a secluded place to talk to him.

“Kat, can you come backstage? We need you!”

“What do you mean you need me? Oh, Peeta, did you hurt yourself?”

She could hear him chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“No, nothing like that. But I, well, we have something to ask you. Can you come backstage? Gloss will let you through.”

“Okay - let me tell Rue and Thresh and I’ll be right there. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Don’t call me Sweetheart!” she answered, her usual comeback when he used the pet name she disliked, even though she knew it was futile. Peeta was almost as stubborn as she was. His laugh was the last thing she heard as he hung up the phone.

Katniss quickly moved back to where Rue and Thresh were sitting, telling them she was heading backstage for a few minutes, before actually going to the stage, nodding at Gloss, the muscle-man standing guard - who was actually a sweetheart - and slipping behind the curtain.

She searched for any sign of Peeta, making her way into the locker room, greeting some of the dancers she recognized.

“They are in the room in the back,” Johanna said, passing Katniss. She was clad only in a tiny red thong, a bottle of water in her hand. “This is going to be fun!”

Wondering what the hell she meant, Katniss entered the room Johanna indicated to discover Peeta bent over Delly, who was lying on one of the benches lining the walls, a pack of ice on her left knee.

“Oh my god, Delly, what happened?”

In a blink, Katniss crossed the room, taking in the puffy red eyes, the traces left by the tears Delly had shed.

“She sprained her knee, I think,” Peeta said, rising from Delly’s side and coming to Katniss immediately, folding her in a hug. “Thanks for coming, Kat.”

She returned the hug, happy to see nothing bad had happened. Of course, Delly’s knee would need to be tended to, but it was nothing a few good weeks of rest couldn’t heal. Katniss pulled away from Peeta’s arms, and said, “You want me to drive her to the hospital?”

“Not exactly…” she heard Delly answering her question. “Thom is coming to pick me up… but we need someone to dance with Peeta in the finale.”

“Oh, who will do it? Johanna?” Katniss asked as she watched Peeta rake his hand nervously through his hair, his cheeks turning redder by the minute.

“You’re really brainless, Brainless.” Johanna made her entry, now wearing a gorgeous black lace dress opened high on her thigh. “You dance with him.”

“I can’t dance in this! That’s a crazy idea!” Katniss answered. “And why don’t you dance with him?”

“Because all of the other dancers are on stage in the number just before the finale, and only Dells was available,” Peeta finally spoke. “I know you can do it, Kat - it doesn’t have to be perfect, and we can rehearse a bit before the end…”

“I’ve never danced like that and you know it, Peeta!” She could feel the familiar grip of fear spreading through her body, leaving a cold feeling in her veins. She knew she should go back to her seat in the audience, should go back to Rue and Thresh as soon as possible. But there was something in Peeta’s eyes as he looked at her, something she had never seen before, something she couldn’t decipher. He was raking his hand through his locks over and over again, when a high pitched ring startled him.

“We have to go back,” Johanna said, breaking the silence.

Peeta nodded at the brunette who hurriedly left the room. Then he came to Katniss, taking her hand in his and guiding her to a quiet corner at the other end of the room.

“I have to go back, I’m opening with Jo instead of Dells,” he said, looking at her sadly. “I’m sorry Kat, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. We’ll stop the show one number before, it won’t be too bad, the girls can fill in for Delly and it’s just one number.”

Katniss felt relief in the pit of her stomach as she realized she wouldn’t have to go on stage, perform the last dance of a show, a dance she didn’t know and didn’t have time to learn.

“Don’t worry, I understand. Go, you’re needed on stage.” Katniss leaned in, pecking his lips, eager for more, so eager, but it was neither the place nor the time for that. “I’ll stay with Delly until Thom arrives, okay? Go, be great!”

She leaned in again, wanting to feel the warmth of him again, even if it was for a split second. She allowed her lips to trace his jaw - she liked his jaw - until she reached his ear, whispering, “I love to watch you dance,” before pulling away and walking to Delly, leaving Peeta speechless, with sparkles in his eyes.

Or maybe it wasn’t sparkles.

Maybe it was desire.

But his look did something to her too, elicited feelings from deep down and a warmth that she wasn’t sure she could staunch much longer.  She turned back to see the look in his eyes, then turned again and felt his gaze burning between her shoulder blades, as she walked towards Delly, until she heard the door closing.

“He’s a good guy,” Delly said as Katniss sat next to her head. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I know.” It wasn’t news to Katniss that her boyfriend was a nice man. Maybe the nicest she’d ever met.

“He’s been happier the past few weeks, I guess I understand why…” Delly added, with a small smile on her face. “I guess he’ll change his mind about the +1 at our wedding…”

“What do you mean?” Katniss was startled, not really understanding what the other woman was saying.

“He said I didn’t need to send him an invitation for a plus one for the wedding, but that was months ago. So I’m going to send him one, because I bet he will want you by his side.”

Delly’s wedding. Katniss hadn’t honestly paid a second of attention to the upcoming June nuptials, even though she knew Peeta would attend. Would he want her to come with him?

“You sure you don’t want to go on stage with him?” Delly asked again, breaking Katniss out of her reverie. “To dance the last dance?”

“Delly….” Katniss sighed. “I’m not a Latin dancer, you know that. I would only ruin the show. And even if I could dance these steps, I don’t know the choreography….”

Delly rose to a sitting position, keeping one hand on the ice pack covering her knee, scowling at Katniss.

“That’s bullshit, Katniss, and you know it.”

“Delly…”

“Don’t Delly me, girly. You’re a dancer in the most difficult area of dancing, hell, you’re a ballet dancer! I can’t even begin to understand how you do it, okay? So many hours of work, so many steps, it’s so bloody difficult! And you say you can’t do a bit of Latine dancing?  I say it’s bullshit. You’ve spent enough mornings rehearsing here with our two best dancers, moving your little ass to our music to get it. You can dance anything, Katniss. Anything. And as for the choreography, do you really think Peeta would let you down? Really?”

Katniss knew he wouldn’t. Just like he had guided her in the salsa club, or in the jazz one, just like he had always been there to help her.

And the only time he asked for her help, she had said no. Out of fear, out of shyness, but she never actually considered helping him, hadn’t even given a thought to it.

“Having an epiphany, have we?” Katniss turned to Delly, who was now smirking. “Well, you know what to do, then.”

“But, how? I mean--”

“I’m planning a wedding. This is nothing compared to that. Let me make a few calls.” Winking, Delly took her phone from her purse, starting the first of a long list of calls.

--

Katniss’s heart was beating a little too fast, a little too hard, as she watched the number unfold from her position near the curtains, hidden in the dark of the backstage. In the background,  women were spinning and bending to the music, the tempo getting quicker with every pass or move, finishing in a flurry of red and black dresses and shirts. The music died, and the audience applauded. Katniss knew that was the point when Peeta would remain alone on the stage, dancing on his own until Delly joined him for a passionate tango.

Only tonight, it wouldn’t be Delly.

She smoothed the dress she had borrowed - a simple orange halter dress - flexed her ankles in the shoes Delly lent her (they wore the same size) and took a deep breath.

She looked at him, waiting for the music to begin, alone on the stage, the light on him making his curls shine. He started moving along to the music, with only a spot bathing him in white light as he danced alone, mimicking holding a woman that wasn’t there.

Rotations in the tiny spotlight, eyes closed and a look of sadness and longing on his face, he danced only in the little part of the stage lit by the white spot, never stepping a foot outside the circle, yet never lingering too long in one place.

Katniss had no clue when she was supposed to go onto the stage, just memories of the first show she had seen when Delly had stepped into the light like an apparition, finding her place in Peeta’s arms naturally. She was questioning her ability to do it when she heard a slight deceleration in the music, like it was slowing down on purpose. She took a deep breath, and walked onto the stage on shaky heels, expecting two strong arms to catch and lead her into a routine she had only seen once.

She saw Peeta’s astonishment as she walked in the spotlight, into the arms that had opened to welcome her, heard his voice whisper in her ear as he pulled her closer to him, so close she wasn’t sure a hair would fit between them.

“Thank you, thank you….”

Katniss pulled her head away and looked into his eyes, watching them smile and sparkle, as he lead her in the dance.

Sure, it was nothing compared to the one she had seen him perform with Delly some months ago.

Sure, it was nothing like it could have been, had he danced with another seasoned pro.

But it was their dance, and it was perfect.

They turned and swirled to the lament of the music, his careful guidance hinting at the steps she was supposed to take, her body adapting to his rhythm and requests, their eyes never leaving one another’s. She could feel his hands burning on her skin, his fingers drawing patterns of their own, a sensual painting as they lingered a little lower with each move they made. She could feel the caress of the fabric of his trousers, between her legs as he bent her backwards, her hair brushing the hardwood. But as she   straightened, Katniss felt his hand tracing a line under her chin, from her sternum to her navel, leaving goosebumps on her skin.

She was sure the heat in his eyes when she was finally upright in front of him again could have burned her alive.

She could still feel the place his hand had travelled, burned through the thin cotton of her dress, and she realized she wanted more, much more than just a touch. Peeta made her spin, catching her as she arrived back in his arms, and lifting her above his head, then letting her slide down his chest. She was sure he was able to feel how erect her nipples were when they rasped along his thin white undershirt, if the gasp that escaped his lips was any indication.

If the way his tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips was any indication, eliciting the same reaction in her.

She almost forgot there was an audience behind them, almost forgot they weren’t alone on the stage.

Peeta’s hands drew her even closer to him, so close they shared the same breath.

She felt his pelvis brushing against hers, and had to use all her restraint not to moan when she felt him so close to where she wanted him.

Katniss let her hand leave the comfort of his shoulder, sliding down his chest, until it reached his ribcage, started her own fantasy drawing on his white undershirt, making him lose his breath. He had his sweet revenge too, as he nuzzled her neck with his mouth, hiding in her loose hair, before whispering, “In eight, you go backstage… but I’m not done with you. Keep the dress.”

And sure enough on the eighth beat he spun her out of the light, until she reached the backstage.

Breathless.

She had danced the most difficult ballets, been on stage for more hours than she could count, but today’s performance - doing something that she couldn’t even call difficult - had left her breathless.

And she knew it had nothing to do with the dance itself and everything with the man who had made her spin, who was now finishing his routine alone, the same way he had started, until he too vanished into the dark, letting the music die with the light. Until the stage was quiet and dark.

Applause exploded from the audience after a few seconds, breaking the silence. As if it had taken the people watching some time to recover from the power of the final scene. The house lights illuminated the crowd of people applauding as the dancers came out one after the other onto the stage - even Delly - to accept their accolades. The clamor only grew louder when Peeta appeared at the end of the row, close to the curtain, and Katniss added her applause from the other side of the stage.

As usual, Peeta took the mic he was handed, thanking the spectators for coming, introducing the band, the dancers one after the other, until he handed it to Delly who always was the one to introduce him. She took the microphone, clearing her throat before turning to the audience.

“And finally, the last dance introduced someone new to the company, someone who has never danced on our stage before. Please welcome our guest star, Miss Katniss Everdeen, Principal Dancer at the Panem National Ballet!”

Katniss’s jaw almost fell onto the hardwood of the stage as she heard Delly��s words. Was she dreaming or did Delly just asked her to come on stage? She looked around and saw an arm outstretched for her, Kevin’s or Dylan’s, she could never remember who was who, beaconing her to come and join them. But she wouldn’t move, not when she could stay in the comfort of the shadows.

“Oh, come on, Katniss, please! Peeta, you should go and get her!”

Katniss could see the surprise on Peeta’s face at his friend’s words, then he looked at her, as if he was waiting for her approval to come and get her, even if the crowd and his fellow dancers were all applauding. She nodded a single time, and he made his way across the stage.

“You don’t have to come out, if you don’t want to,” he whispered as soon as he was next to her.

“I know.” She took a deep breath and reached for his hand, to give herself some courage, before stepping onto the stage, to the rhythm of the applause.