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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

Text

Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

“Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

“No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

“You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

“Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

“My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

“The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

“I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

“So am I.”

They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

“Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

“Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

“There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

“The point, Dean?”

“Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

“About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

“You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

“Cas, I won’t be long –“

“I don’t know if I can wait!”

“You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel wedding

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Could you combine 15 transformation and 18 amulet for Sternclay nsfw, please? Joseph can’t get close enough to any mers to study them because of how deep they live beneath the surface. Thanks to a treasure he found on the beach that’s about to change and a world he couldn’t have imagined is about to open wide.

Here you go! Barclay is an Pacific Octopus in this and Joseph is based on an Orca.

It’s such a small thing. A piece of eight, pierced and strung on a corroded silver chain; the treasure he’s searched for the last two years.

Joseph’s never been so close to tears in his entire career.

He promised his superiors he wouldn’t experiment with occult objects while working alone. But he knows for damn sure that all of them think his beliefs in the occult, or the city beneath the sea, is foolishness, the price they have to pay for an otherwise talented agent.

It’s only due diligence to see if the amulet is dangerous while he’s alone on his boat, rather than near fellow agents or innocent bystanders.

Joseph strips down to his swim trunks, climbs down into the water, amulet wrapped around his fingers so he won’t drop it. Treading water, he slips the chain over his head. His legs twists, heat engulfing his body, and he sinks beneath the waves.

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

“Dani, how’s table five doing?”

“Good!” Dani picks up the two plates of seaweed salad, “think it’s slowing down finally.”

“Thank fuck.” Barclay murmurs, turning back to the cutting board. He falls into his rhythm as guests gradually filter and flit away from their tables back onto the street and towards Atlantis proper. His focus is broken by a body colliding with a chair.

“Ouch.”

“Are you okay sir?” Dani, on top of things as always.

“Oh, yes, better than if I’m being honest. I’m just, um, having some trouble with my tail.”

“Right. Uh, here, we only have room at the counter right now, but if you want a table-”

“This is perfect, thank you so much.”

A clamor, and out of the corner of his eye Barclay sees an eight top swim in the door.

“I got him, Dani.” He turns and all eight tentacles freeze mid-task. Sitting on the stool is the most incredible merman he’s ever seen. His short, black hair dusts his forehead, leading his gaze to eyes as blue as the open sea. His torso is lean, a small tattoo on either arm, two scars on his chest, and a stomach that suggests his job requires a great deal of athleticism.

And his tail?

His tail is black and white, smooth rather than scaled, and Barclay wants to wrap all eight tentacles around it while he sinks his teeth into the mers neck.

The other mer notices him, smiles politely, and goes back to studying the menu.

“Do you need a few minutes to decide?”

That perfect brow creases, as if the other mer can’t make sense of what he’s looking at, “Um, what do you recommend?”

“I mean, I like to think everything on the menu is good, but the crab rolls are really good this time of year.”

“I’ll have those then, please and thank you.”

Barclay nods, returns to his station, churning out orders as Dani and Jake bring them, and calling directions to Thacker when the older mer returns from his ten minute break. The entire time, he aches to turn around and watch the newcomer. But even though he can move through his kitchen blindfolded, he’d rather not take off his own tentacle. Sure, it’ll grow back, but last time one got bit off, it threw his whole cooking routine out of whack.

The new mers face lights up when Barclay sets the plate in front of him, and he eats with an enthusiasm that is the sexiest thing Barclay’s seen at work in years. Now and then, the mer starts to float away from his stool, or accidentally takes out the nearby furniture with his tail.

When he’s finished, he compliments Barclay profusely, smiling right up until Barclay tells him how much it will be.

“Oh no. I, I don’t, I can’t pay that.”

“If you’re a few coins short I could discount it-”

“No, no that’s not it. I, I didn’t bring any money with me. It didn’t even occur to me.” He says this last part to himself, carding his hand through his hair, “I��m so sorry, this is entirely my oversight. Is there anything else I can do to cover the meal?”

Barclay bites back his first thought, schooling the tentacle creeping towards the mers hand back into line, “Uh, you know how to wash dishes?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m pretty good at it.”

This does not turn out to be a joke. His new dishwasher is somehow meticulous and efficient, leaving not only the plates but the entire kitchen spotless by the time Barclay tells him he can go. He’s still bumping into things, his tail obviously not doing what he wants it to.

“If you don’t mind waiting a bit, I can swim you home. This neighborhood isn’t as bad as most mers think, but it’s still not a great place to be drunk and alone.

The mer blinks, taken aback, “I’m not drunk.”

Barclay raises his eyebrow.

“Really, I’m not.”

“No offense, but your tail only works like sixty percent of the time and, going from those bruises on your side, looks like you’ve been having that problem most of today.”

“I mean, I have but, um, not for that reason. I’m just very clumsy.”

“O-kay” Barclay’s about to reiterate his offer, but the other mer is already swimming out the door.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry, thank you again for being so understanding about the meal!”

Barclay’s not about to chase down a customer, but his tentacles go a little pale the rest of the night whenever he remembers he never even got his name.

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

“My, my good sir, this is quite a treasure trove you’ve brought me!” The merman with a gold and orange tail who introduced himself as Ned Chicane, preeminent archiver of human items. Were they on land, Joseph would be positive that Ned has several warrants out for his arrest. For all he knows, that’s the case down here too, but he hasn’t gotten to learning about the Atlantian legal system yet.

“What can I say, I’m an expert on humans.” Joseph smiles.

“I can make a whole new wing of the museum for these. Now, about your payment, I can give you, hmmmmm, two hundred coins?”

“Five hundred.”

“Two fifty.”

“No.”

“Three hundred.”

“I can just take it all back.”

“Fine, fine, four fifty but now higher.”

Joseph flicks his tail, pleased, “Deal.”

Ten minutes later, he’s cresting the subterranean hills, Atlantis glittering in the distance. The ruins of the sunken city form the skeleton of it’s current incarnation. The whole city is now a reef, a rainbow of coral growing from once proud columns or taking the place of formidable walls. The buildings are made of stone or glass which, upon further research, he learned was made by enchanting sand, in much the same way the coins are. But even there, the stones are speckled with sea plants or coral.

It’s beautiful, and if he has his way he’ll explore every street. He’s already swum the length and breadth of it, half to build up his skill with his tail and half to create a map of it in his mind. The center of the city shines like sunken treasure, unmistakably built and maintained by forces other than nature. The outer neighborhoods are rougher around the edges, more of the houses built into the environment rather than from it. That doesn’t make it any less beautiful.

Besides, it has the best food in the city.

He’s used the same trick of asking what his cook or server recommends to hide the fact he can’t read the language on the menus, and after selling a few things second hand, he stumbled on Ned’s museum and knew he could make enough in one go that he won’t have to surface for several days. None of the places he’s gone can even compare to the first establishment, but he’s been unwilling to go back to it until he’s damn sure he can pay the handsome cook what he’s due.

“Hello again.” He waves politely from his spot at the counter.

The cook turns, tentacles still sitting and chopping and flipping away, “Hey! Good to see you again.”

“I even have money this time.”

“Dunno, might just make you do dishes again. Cutlery’s never looked so good.” He winks. One tentacle sets down a spoon, creeping towards Joseph. Barclay notices, pulls it back, and asks, “what’ll you have?”

“What’s good today?”

The answer is shrimp wraps, seasoned so perfectly Joseph wishes it was customary for merpeople to lick their plates.

“So good” He sighs, more to himself than anyone else, as he watches Barclay work. Do all tentacled mers take up this kind of profession? It seems like mechanics or other hands-on jobs might also benefit. Do they use them to show affection? Is that allowed?

“All done?”

“Yes. It was incredible, just like last time.”

“Glad to hear it. So” his tentacles clear the counter as Barclay continues talking with him, “you enjoying Atlantis? Seems like you’re pretty new here.”

“Very. I’m from a ways away. I...I’ve never seen anything like this place. It’s breathtaking. I’m even getting better at not just bumbling my way down random streets, hoping to find something interesting.”

“Uh, if, if you want, I’m happy to show you around, Can’t get you into hip parties or anything, but I know where all the good food is, and some of my friends work at some really cool places.”

Joseph tries not to squeal with glee, “That would be fantastic!”

Barclay grins, blush creeping up his cheeks, which Joseph sincerely hopes has the same meaning it does for humans, “I get off at sunset.”

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“You know, when I asked you to take me to your favorite place, I suspected it was food based, but I never envisioned this.” Joseph stares at the massive marketplace, the woven seaweed ceiling studded with glowing shells and the floor is filled with miles of stalls, piled high with all kinds of ingredients and delicacies.

As they swim deeper into the market, Barclay stops to examine different foods, chatting with vendors and buying Joseph so many snacks he jokes the mer will have to carry him home.

“Happy to” Barclay rubs his cheek against Joseph’s own. This startled him the first time it happened, but he hid it well enough to not reveal his secret. It seems to be a general expression of fondness between mers, but he gets pleasant chills whenever Barclay’s beard tickles his skin.

The first time it happened, Barclay had taken him to see the massive aquatic gardens that form one of the central rings of town. Barclay’s friend, Duck, is head gardener and was more than happy to answer Joseph’s many, many questions. At some point, Joseph apologized for asking so much. Barclay swam closer, rubbed their cheeks together, and told him not to be sorry for being excited about something.

“I don’t know, I’m not a small mer.” He teases; his height stayed with him when he put on the amulet

Barclay twines three tentacles around his waist and yanks him closer, “Trust me, I could carry you and the groceries home without getting the least bit tired.”

“I see that.” He whispers.

The mer leans in a millimeter then stops, letting Joseph go, “C’mon, gotta show you the place with the best sea blossom wine you’ve ever had.”

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“This was incredible, thank you so much for bringing me.” Joseph bumps their shoulders together as they swim out of the Atlantis History Museum. The other mer’s face lit up when Barclay showed him where they were, making him so handsome that Barclay nearly missed his tentacles trying to pet his tail. Joseph will swim arm in arm with him, rub their cheeks together, even dance with him the one time they went to a party that didn’t involve Duck eagerly teaching Joseph new board games and Aubrey beating him at them. But getting felt up is a conversation they haven’t had yet.

At least he finally got an explanation for why Joseph seems so lost at times; apparently, the town he’s from is so remote, the dialect of Atlantian he knows is different enough from the standard that he can’t read the signs in the city. Which meant Barclay read the informational plaques in the museum to him. His throat is a little sore from all the talking, but Joseph’s delight is more than worth it.

They say goodnight, Joseph keeping them cheek to cheek in order to hug him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s nearly out of sight when Barclay realizes he still has the robe Joseph bought as a souvenir in his bag, so he swims after him, using his tentacles to track his trail when he loses sight of him. Soon he’s outside the bounds of the city and wondering where in the hell Joseph even lives, because the homes out here are sparse.

When Joseph turns surfacewards, Barclay wills his tentacles to propel him faster; doesn’t the other mer see the hull of the boat above them? Someone could see him, hurt him, or he could get sliced by a motor.

Barclay’s about to call his name when Joseph breaks the surface. The words die in his mouth, their corpses floating out and away in the tides as his friend’s tail turns to legs. He swims upwards, and when he peeks into the air a human with an unmistakable face is drying himself off on the deck of the small boat.

“What the fuck, Joseph?”

“SHIT!” Joseph jumps backwards, startled, then seems to register who Barclay is, “shit, Barclay, I can explain everything.”

“You don’t need to, it’s pretty fucking obvious you’re human and you’ve been pretending to be a mer for, for what? So you can tell the other humans where we are? How to catch us?”

“No” Joseph drops to his knees, shuffling to the edge of the ladder, “no, never. I’d never let anyone hurt you, or any other mer. I’m an FBI agent, with an assignment to learn whether or not merfolk exist and, if they do, what that means for humans. I...I’ve searched for some kind, any kind of proof that mers exist, and that led me to this” he holds up the necklace he always wears, “which transforms me into a mer.”

“So I was what, a research subject?” Barclay crosses his arms to cover the crack he’s certain his forming in his chest.

“A guide. A friend. Barclay, I thought Atlantis was more incredible and wondrous than anything else in the world. Then I met you, and saw it could be even more wonderful when seen through the eyes of someone I care about.”

“If you care about me, why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t want to blow my cover. Even if I told you, if the word got out that I was really human, everyone else may have barred me from the city. Kept me from all the things there are to learn. Kept me from you.”

Barclay wants to say it’s fine, that he understands and isn’t angry, that he’ll see him tomorrow. But his heart feels like it’s been dragged across miles of jagged rock.

“Well, good news, Joseph. The rest of the city won’t keep you from me, because I don’t wanna see you for a long, long time.”

He sinks before Joseph can reply and trawls the sand all the way home, too tired to swim.

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

Joseph stays out of the water for two weeks. He sails into port, stocking up on supplies and using the wi-fi in the little library to send in his reports. He’s never lied in a report before. First time for everything.

When he finally slips the amulet on again, the plan is to swim the opposite direction of Atlantis, looking for new pockets of mers to learn from (and how aren’t angry with him). The trouble is, he’s only submerged for a few minutes when his whole body shudders and his head aches. He feels feverish, frantic, like he’s on the edge of the panic attack. Then he’s in the center of a panic attack because he realizes his foggy and pounding head has led him the wrong direction and he’s now floating aimlessly through a familiar neighborhood. Then his abdomen cramps and he doubles forward with a groan.

“Joseph?”

He manages to turn, finds Barclay peering out his door, worried.

“H-hi. I, I didn’t come here on purpose, I swear. I, I don’t know what’s happening. I feel sick.” He closes his eyes as another shudder rattles his spine.

A tentacle gently wraps around his wrist, guiding him into the house, “Joseph, I-”

“Wait, please, let me say something first. I, I’m so, so sorry Barclay. I should have told you sooner, should have trusted you, you deserved to know I was human. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I hope you know I regret it with every fiber of my being.”

Strong arms loop around his shoulder and a coppery beard tickles his cheek, “Apology accepted. Yeah, it fucking sucked to find out you’d been lying but, uh, I realized I didn’t want to lose you. I just couldn’t figure out how to reach out again and I didn’t wanna fuck things up.”

Joseph clings to him, “Thank the lord. I have no idea how severe this illness is, and if it turns out to be fatal I didn’t want to die without you knowing how much you meant to me.”

Barclay laughs, the most confusing reaction possible.

“You’re not dying, Joseph. You’re in heat.”

“.....I didn’t know that was a thing that could happen. How could you even tell?” He pulls back, finds Barclay’s pupils so wide his eyes look black.

“I can smell it. Most mers can, but these suckers are especially sensitive to it” he wiggles his tentacles.

“So I need to get off and I’ll stop feeling like this, right?”

“Basically, yeah. You’ll probably be really horny for a few days, but the aching and stuff will stop. Oh, that probably feels like you’re dying; if you didn’t know this was a thing you could experience, your body probably thought all the adrenaline you’re supposed to use to help you have a bunch of sex in a short amount of time was a sign something was seriously wrong.”

“That makes sense.” He tentatively rubs his stomach, trying to make the muscles ache less, “uh, how should-”

“Oh fuck, right, uh, I’ve got a little guest room. You can hole up there if you want.”

He’s so sweet. He’d be such a good mate.

“I’ve got a few toys too. I could, uh, clean ‘em so you can use them.”

He’s thoughtful too.

Joseph shakes his head to clear his increasingly Barclay-focused thoughts, “Thank you. I’ll use the room but not the toys. The problem is I, um, literally don’t know what to do.”

“.......”

“......I figured out how to go to the bathroom but that was the extent of my exploration of that area.”

“.......you didn’t get the least bit curious?”

“I had lots of other things to focus on. I didn’t have time to masturbate when there was an entire civilization to learn about!”

Barclay full on guffaws, draping his arms around Joseph’s shoulders, “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, several tentacles gently stroking the tip of his tail.

“Barclay? Will you, um, will you help me?”

A darker chuckle, “That’s cute too. My favorite interloper needs me to help him find his dick.”

“Ohmylord” He shivers as the hold on his tail tightens.

“Got yourself the best fucking body I’ve ever seen on a mer but not idea how to make it feel good.”

“Barclay please” He whines, only for a tentacle tip to press against his lips, shushing him while Barclay firmly but tenderly rubs his back.

“I’ll help you babe, don’t worry. First you gotta tell me how you like it.”

“I, um, I like being tied down. And given orders. But, but we don’t have to do any of that if you don’t want to. All I want is to be with you.”

“I wanna be with you too, babe. And I’ve got an idea.” The mer guides them into his bedroom; it’s so charmingly Barclay-like, pictures of food and friends on the walls, deep green and blue in the windows and the glass containing the lights.

“Lay down for me.”

Joseph wriggles down onto the bed. Barclay opens a carved coral dresser, pulling out two lengths of seagrass rope. He settles at the foot of the bed, begins tying one rope around the base of Joseph’s tail as his tentacles caress the black and white skin, “I’ve wanted to touch your tail since we met.”

“I c-could tell.”

“That why you were always waving it in my face?” Barclay ties the rope to one of the bedposts.

“I did no such thing.”

A tentacle tightens around his waist, “Don’t lie, babe.”

“Okay, I did it once or twice.”

“That’s better. Wrists in front of you.”

He obeys instantly. Soft green rope twines around his wrists, Barclay checking to be sure it’s not too tight before lifting his hands to his mouth to kiss each in turn.

“Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. Since you’ve got no idea how to get off, I’m gonna tell you exactly what to do. Then you’re gonna reward me like the well-behaved mate I know you can be.”

“Holyshityes.” He strains up to kiss him. Barclay obliges, kisses slow and deep until heat rippled up and down his tail.

“Let’s see” Barclay continues kissing him, cupping his face in his hands, as two tentacles tease the upper part of his tail, “guessing you don’t know what kind of set-up you have.”

“Not at all. You’ll have to explain it to me. Which is in stark contrast to how I usually have to explain my dick to partnersOH, ohshit” He bucks his hips as one tentacle presses a sensitive patch of his tail.

“There it is. Start touching there, you should be able to reach it.”

Joseph slides his hands down to where the tentacle is still tormenting him with pleasure. Barclay pulls back, watches hungrily as Joseph rubs himself. Whenever the sensation intensifies the tip of his tail curls, so he chases those sensations.

“Go faster.”

He moves his fingers in swift circles, gasps as a slit begins opening beneath them.

“That’s it babe, open up for me.”

“I, it’s, ohwhatthefuck?” small tendrils emerge from the slit, three of them curling around his fingers. He tugs experimentally and moans when it sends a wave of delight from head to tail.

“Oh this is gonna be fun” Barclay watches his hand toy with the tendrils, the thicker ones hardening when he rubs them, “you’re doing so good, Joseph, you’re getting the hang of it real fast.”

“ThaAAAAnk you.”

“Get some of those fingers inside, babe, fuck yourself for me.”

He pushes two fingers in, his body slick and oddly ridged the further he gets. Joseph has to curl forward to go deeper, whimpering as the tendrils catch and tug on his hand.

A tentacle wraps around his tail and twists, making him cry out in surprise and delighted pain.

“What part of fuck yourself was unclear?”

He moves his fingers faster, adds a third one and hears Barclay growl in reply.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good, so good, fuck, Barclay, I think I can cum from this.”

“You better. Keep playing with those upper tendrils, they’ve got more nerves in them.”

“Nnngh” following Barclay’ instructions sends a spike of pleasure into his stomach, “shit, I never cum this fast.”

“Could be the heat” Barclay swims closer, “or being a mer instead of human. Or maybe” a slit opens in the fold between his front tentacles, “maybe you just needed someone to tie you up and boss you around the right way, because you’re a horny little thing who needs to be put in his place.”

“Ohfuck.” He cums, tightening around his fingers, tingling from the slick they’re now coated in. It’s much slower than a human orgasm, and as he shakes and whimpers Barclay uses all the appendages he can to soothe his burning muscles and caress his too-sensitive skin.

“That was so good babe. You pick stuff up so quick, you’re so smart, love that about you.”

“Lord almighty” he gulps down oxygen, “if it’s that good on my own, I can’t wait to see how it is with you.”

“You still wanna do that now? We don’t have to, you can rest, I can bring you lunch-”

“Barclay, if you do not claim your reward right now I’ll, I’ll” he searches for a threat, but all he comes up with is, “I’ll find someone who will.”

A tentacle yanks his wrists up and back, pinning them above his head.

“Not a fucking chance, babe. Why do you think I tied you down? You’re all mine” another tentacle drapes across his neck, “and you’re gonna do what I want, for as long as I want you to.”

“Yes” Joseph arches off the bed, allowing Barclay to loop an arm beneath his shoulder blades. His free hand rests on Joseph’s hip, keeping him in place as a long, ridged cock presses into him, “shit, Barclay, that’s incredible, fuck that feels good.”

“Glad to hear it, handsome, because that’s where my cock is gonna stay for at least the next hour.” He rocks his hips, and Joseph’s tendrils cling to the base of his cock, making Joseph moan with every motion.

Barclay pauses, looking down with a thoughtful expression, “You know one of the best things about this kind of set-up?”

Panting, he shakes his head.

“You can take a whole hell of a lot at once.” With that, two tentacles shove in alongside his cock.

“SHIT!” He thrashes as Barclay snaps his hips, his cock driving deep with every thrust and the tentacles writhe and press and stroke, and at this rate he’s certain he’ll lose his voice

Barclay brings them face to face, “H-here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna kiss you, and you’re gonna kiss back like a good mate, and you’re not gonna stop kissing until I cum. If you’re gonna scream and beg like a needy little mer, it’s gonna be only me that hears it, not the, fuck, the whole fucking neighborhood.”

Joseph nods and Barclay smashes their mouths together. To his joy, he discovers that gills mean you can kiss for as long as you want without stopping to breathe.

When Barclay comes it’s with the most delicious sound he’s ever heard. The two tentacles alongside his cock press Joseph further open, which turns out to be very necessary because Barclay immediately begins fucking his cum back into him. At that sensation, Joseph cums a second time, wrists twisting in the rope.

Barclay grins at him, “You see how things work now?”

“Definitely. But, um, I think I could use as many demonstrations as you’re up for.”

“In that case, babe, it’s time for your next lesson. Open your mouth.”

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

“Hey Barclay, Dani asked me to drop--woah, what the fuck happened to you?” Aubrey takes in his disheveled state and the bite marks covering his chest.

“Joseph and I made up.”

“Clearly. Didn’t know humans bit during sex.”

“I think that might just be a him thing. Uh, what did Dani want?”

“We made some cookies! They were supposed to be a feel-better present, but I guess now it’s a” she bounces her eyebrows “congratulatory one.”

“Get outta here you” Barclay smiles, “and tell Dani thanks.” He waves goodbye, shuts the door, and carries the treats into the bedroom where Joseph is fucked out and fast asleep. He knows Joseph has to go to the surface today for work, but they can eat these when he gets back. After all, they’ve decided they’re mates now, and Barclay couldn’t be happier.

He should probably get him a guide to learning Atlantian, though. He;s gonna flip his shit when he finds out about the Atlantis Library.

#sternclay #agent stern/ Barclay #mermay #mermay fills

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Bonnets and Adoption Forms

Rating:T

Summary: While looking for a charging cord, Tweek comes across adoption forms in Criag's desk--adoption forms with only Craig's information filled out on them.

Ships: Creek

Other: For @creekcrew‘s creek week.

When I read, I skip over words and I totally just read the prompt as "parents" and not "single parents" but I doubt y'all care about the mistake that much.

—-

Tweek finished the final stitch on the pale blue bonnet. Grinning, he turned in his seat to set the bonnet carefully on Stripe's head. With nimble fingers, he tied the little silver ribbon under Stripe's furry chin. He carefully adjusted the Pioneer dress he'd bought offline early that week.

"Stripe, you look perfect," Tweek told the guinea pig.

Stripe replied by attempting to chew on the ribbon. Tweek tucked the ribbon farther under his chin.

He pursed his lips. Craig would be home in twenty minutes or so from work, but Tweek wasn't sure Stripe could wait that long before taking the bonnet Tweek worked so hard on off his little head.

"Maybe I should take a picture," Tweek muttered under his breath. He reached back for his long-forgotten phone. His whole day off from work he'd spent adjusting the dress since it came a bit too big.

Tweek loved to dress Stripe up in all sorts of costumes: A dinosaur, a cowboy, a princess, an astronaut — seeing his little man dressed-up made Tweek smile every time.

It made Craig smile, too. Which was why he had to see Stripe dressed up as a guinea pig about to embark on a journey along the Oregon Trail to a new land of gold and carrot-treats.

Tweek even dug out his old cowboy hat to wear when he showed Craig. Unfortunately, the hat didn't fit anymore, but he could easily carry Stripe in it. It would be adorable!

Tweek pressed the power button on his phone. It didn't light up. With a frown, he held the button down. The screen flashed once then went dark. Out of power.

Swearing, Tweek stood from the table. Stripe scratched at the bonnet. Picking up the cowboy hat, Tweek deposited Stripe into it. He carried him across the kitchen to the living room. Careful of the precious pet, Tweek groped the ground near the side of the couch for a phone charging cord. With an 'Ah!', he pulled the cord up, only to find it had been chewed in half.

"Stripe, what did we talk about?" Tweek scolded, showing Stripe the frayed wires. "You could have been electrocuted!"

Stripe sniffed the cord then went back to nibbling on the bonnet ribbon. Tweek untied the bonnet and set it down in the hat. He would put it on when he went to take the picture.

"Maybe Craig has one in his office I can use."

Tweek gathered Stripe up. He headed down the hall, past the photos of their life — high school and college graduation, holding each other outside the restaurant the night Tweek proposed, looking dashing and so in love on their wedding, moving boxes into their own house.

Snapshots of the American Dream, as Craig's dad would say before Tweek's own started waxing philosophically about it.

Tweek pushed open the door to Craig's office.

Their house was a bit bigger than just the two of them would ever need, but the deal on it was too good to pass up at the time, thus each of them had their own private rooms to do whatever with. Tweek's held his architecture and modeling tools, along with his sewing supplies; in his, Craig kept a computer and star charts and Red Racer memorabilia.

Tweek paused to admire an animation cell from the second Red Racer movie proudly displayed on the wall. Craig had hugged him so tightly, Tweek was sure his spine would snap when he gave it to him for his birthday two years ago.

Still in the hat, Tweek set Stripe down on the floor before bending to his knees to search through the computer desk drawers. He pulled open the top and found an organized drawer full of office supplies, some of which Tweek was positive Craig didn't use for work. No phone charging cord though.

The next drawer held files in hanging folders. Knowing that the cord couldn't possibly in that drawer, Tweek started to shut it when he noticed some papers peeking through a gap in the files.

Craig liked things organized, Tweek knew, so he pushed the folders aside and reached down. All of the files were labeled, so it would be easy to find where these papers lived in Craig's organizational system.

week held the paper to his face to read it. His heart skipped a beat.

Adoption forms. They were adoption forms. Why would Craig have those?

Tweek fell back to his bottom, flipping through the papers. Half of the blank lines had been filled. All of Craig's information printed with his neat, clear handwriting in black ink doned the paper, but one of Tweek's information. Not even his name.

A cold sweat broke across his skin. The question wasn't only 'why did Craig have these' but also 'why didn't he full out Tweek's information as well?'

They'd talked once or twice about children: if they wanted them, and if they did want them, how would they have them, surrogate or adoption, but those conversations never went much further than 'maybe' and 'a surrogate would be awkward, don't you think?' then Tweek would quickly change the topic.

He knew Craig wanted kids someday, but Tweek wasn't sure himself. The idea of being a father was appealing enough — dropping the youngster off on the first day of kindergarten, soccer games, scouts, making fun of other PTA parents with Craig and showing them all up with his baking skills. As a thought experiment, he liked the idea of parenting but put into practice, there was too much that could go wrong.

What if their child was embarrassed having two dads? What if they threw temper tantrums that Tweek couldn't deal with without breaking down himself? What if he spoiled the child? And when the kid got older and more defiant? How would he handle that? He would ruin a kid for life!

That thought made Tweek's stomach twist.

"Tweek?"

Tweek jumped, swinging his head around. In the doorway, Craig frowned at him.

"I got off early," He explained, stepping and flicking on the light. Tweek blinked the stars from his vision as his husband crouched next to him. "Honey? What's wrong. You look sick."

Wordless, Tweek held up the forms and pointed. Craig winced.

"Oh. Um, those." Craig whistled nervously. "Those..."

"Craig," Tweek finally found his voice again, "why do you have these? Do you...you're not leaving me are you?"

Craig stared at him, eyes wide, as he processed the question. "Leaving you? Why would I leave you?"

"You only filled out your information! You're going to leave me and find a man who wants to adopt with you, right? Or are you going to raise a kid by yourself?" Tweek shook despite himself. Visions of waking up alone, cooking dinner for one, and being left in this big house with no one else clouded his mind's eye.

Craig pulled him into a hug. "I'm not leaving you." He tapped Tweek's wedding ring. "We had a whole big ceremony about that promise. Remember? Jimmy got drunk and tried to do his off-color stand-up to my grandma, and she smacked him with her purse?"

Tweek forced a smile. "She threw her punch on him as a warning first."

Craig nodded. "And he still kept talking."

The two shared a laugh. As they puttered out into silence. Tweek gripped the papers.

"Um," he started, "so..."

Craig looked away. He breathed a swear and said, "I wasn't going to show you those, but, uh, yeah. I filled those out a month or two ago. It was on a whim." He shrugged in a way Tweek knew he was lying. "I thought it would be good practice in case we ever did — "

"Craig do you really want to have a baby — err, a child — right now in our lives?" Tweek cut in.

Craig took a breath and met his eyes. "Yeah. I would." He put his hands on Tweek's shoulders and squeezed with a smile. "We would make the best dads in the world. We'd raise a smart and practical kid, babe."

"Or an impulsive and aloof one," Tweek muttered. Louder, he continued, "I don't think I would make a good dad. You would, but would they even let someone like me have a child?" He tapped his temple.

"Having an anxiety disorder doesn't make you a bad parent." Craig rolled his eyes. "If anything, it would make you a better one. Our child would never get hurt since you would have them in a life vest and pool floaties all the time."

Tweek snorted. "And you'd have to go to school every other day since they flipped off their teacher."

"I flipped off the teacher all the time, and I turned out just fine."

"Yeah, right!"

The two laughed again. Tweek pressed against his side, holding the papers up.

"Do you really think I'd be a good dad? If I knew that I would be, I don't think I'd mind having a kid with you."

Craig wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

Before he could speak, Tweek heard a chewing sound. With a gasp, he twisted around to find Stripe had crawled out of the cowboy hat and found a computer wire to nibble on.

He snatched Stripe up, scolding him, before setting him in Craig's lap. Craig 'aaah'-ed at Stripe's dress.

"He has a bonnet too," Tweek told him, but made no move to retrieve the bonnet from the hat.

Craig chuckled, shaking his head.

"And you really think you wouldn't be a good dad?" He held up Stripe to tap his nose against Tweek's. "You're amazing with our fur son."

Tweek shrugged. "He's a pet. It's different with a human kid. I could really mess up. They could end up hating me."

"No one could hate you," Craig muttered into his hair. Tweek hummed, unsure.

As they sat there, he thought again about the idea of being a parent. He thought about helping with homework and braiding hair before school. He imagined camping trips in the back yard and hot cocoa with star-shaped marshmallows after making mid-winter snow angles. Even the temper tantrums and fights over the car he envisioned suddenly didn't seem so bad.

It wasn't like he would be alone. He wasn't going to be a single parent. He'd have Craig and Craig would have him. They'd fill out what the other lacked like they always did.

Tweek looped his arm around Craig's waist and kissed under his ear.

With a smile, Tweek offered, "If you give me a pen, I'll help you fill out my half of the form."

---

#south park #creek week #sp creek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #one-shot #fanfiction

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oldtumblhurgoyf · 5 years

Text

Lauren Orsini wants to kiss a cat man and that’s wrong*

Here’s a ranking of All 36 'Magic: The Gathering' War of the Spark Planeswalkers Ranked By Dateability in Forbes no less. But it’s so terribly wrong. Here’s my Empirically Correct List of Planeswalkers Ranked By Dateability.

*this is all very silly and Orsini’s list is fine, I’m sure... for her.

36-28 Undateable

36 and 35. Tie between Gideon Jura and Domri Rade (with an honorable mention to Dack Fayden).

Dudes are all literally dead. Sorry, but I’m not dating a corpse. Also, before Gideon’s death, he was running himself ragged hopping from plane to plane to save the world. He didn’t have the time for a relationship. Domri is an obnoxious child (emphasis on child too). Of the three, Dack had the most potential but even alive he’d be lucky to break the top 20 of my list. Good for a few fun weekends and that’s probably it. Tempting to hope your love could reform him but that’s just a good way to have your heart stolen.

34. Nicol Bolas

He’s downright evil and self-centered to an unfathomable degree. Hard pass, no thank you. Literally no redeeming qualities.

33. Ob Nixilis

The obvious date for him is someone into BDSM, right? Wrong. He’s not going to respect your boundaries or practice good after care. He’ll use and abuse you for what he wants and then probably murder you. That’s not a date.

32. Dovin Baan

This dude’s whole deal is that he sees the flaws in everything. He’d probably outright refuse to date and if not, he’d constantly be nitpicking your relationship and you. There’s probably a decent amount of built up angst and stuff and if he ever cut loose there could be some fun, but it would be very fleeting and comes at too great a cost (months later thinking “what did he mean by ‘your forehead is adequate, but your nose is not the ideal shape’?”).

31. Tibalt

See Ob Nixilis. Kind of crazy how similar these two are.

30. Ashiok

We don’t know a whole lot about them, but I’m envisioning they’re like Ob Nixilis/Tibalt except it’s all mental/psychological harm. It’s Dovin Baan but instead of an ostensible pursuit of perfection, the mental anguish is its own reward.

29. Ugin

Like dating a dad, but a really boring dad. And like any other dragon, he’s still very full of himself, he’s just a little more subtle about it. Besides, apparently you’d do all your dating in the Prison Realm and Bolas would be there trying to ruin your (already pretty miserable) date as some small payback for being trapped.

28. Sorin Markov

Things will be okay, but he gives me weird unwanted daddy vibes and he’s just going to ghost you anyway.

27-19 Redeeming Qualities, Not Long-Term Material

27. The Wanderer

Not much to go on here but we do know she’s gonna ghost you though probably not voluntarily.

26. Teyo Verada

He seems nice enough but he’s pretty young and super naive. He’s got some things to figure out and some growing to do before you’d want to date him.

25. Jiang Yanggu

What I said for Teyo goes for Yanggu as well. Plus side, every date with him there is a really cute pupper coming along.

24. Kaya

She’s giving me Gideon vibes. I think she’d be more fun than Gids, but she’s too devoted to her career to have time for a relationship.

23. Teferi

It’s a common refrain I’m running into here, but Teferi is also too dedicated to his job to make for a good relationship. Additionally he’s got lifetimes of experiences that make him “The Most Interesting Man in the Multiverse” and you’re always going to feel like a second fiddle to him, not an equal. This is a case where he’s almost too perfect.

22. Jaya

Jaya’s got distinct mother vibes for me. There’s just no way I could see a date with her that isn’t weird. It wouldn’t even be a bad date per se, but it’s not gonna happen.

21. Samut

I’m intimidated by Samut. I mean, who wouldn’t be? She’s been through Amonkhet’s trials and stood ready in front of Hazoret’s spear. That’s such a singular dedication that few others can match. I think I’d shrivel in front of her love.

20. Kiora

She’s a playful trickster and kind of flighty. You’ve got one good date with her and then maybe a follow up fling at some point, but there’s no building a relationship here. I mean, unless you’re really lucky, but I wouldn’t count on it.

19. Karn

Karn’s got plenty going for him. He’s done some really interesting stuff, he’s motivated, and deeply invested even if he doesn’t always show it. He can certainly show you a lot of cool things. But long term the lack of humanity creates distance and problems.

18-10 A Good Time, Let’s See How it Works Out

19. Liliana Vess

She’s a toss up to me at this point. She’s been through a whole helluva lot and this is the point where she could go completely good, or take her get out of demon-contract-death jail free card and double down on all her worst attributes. She’ll be a fun date, you just can’t be sure it should be more than that.

17. Angrath

Dude’s super dedicated to his family but he gets incredibly frustrated and pretty damn easily. His name’s literally angry wrath so you kind of have to expect that. If you think going to a dive bar and getting into a fight with a biker is a good date then Angrath is going to be a fun time.

16. Vivien Reid

Maybe I just haven’t been paying a whole lot of attention, but I know less about Vivien Reid than any other planeswalker on this list I think (which is wild when you consider exactly how little we know about the Wanderer or Kasmina). But as the Steve Irwin of the multiverse, there’s no way this date isn’t fun. You’ve just perhaps bitten off more than you can chew.

15. Ajani Goldmane

Ajani is a total sweetheart who will care for you like no other. The flip side of that is he is always pushing you to be your better self and, hon, that’s just a little much for me. Like can’t we just stay in and cuddle for once? I do NOT want to go to the gym again this week.

14. Arlinn Kord

Unlike Jaya, I don’t have mom vibes here. She’s a good looking lady who definitely seems to be here for a good time.

13. Huatli

This one is totally an “it’s not you, it’s me situation.” She’s so big on community and sharing stories--I’m more of a homebody. There’s nothing wrong exactly, we just won’t be compatible, I don’t think. But somebody out there is, and the two of you will get along famously. Another list would totally rank her as marriage material.

12. Narset

This is another case of such dedication and perfectionism that I just don’t think I could measure up in a relationship with her. She’ll come home from exploring the multiverse and meditation and combat training and reading ancient scrolls to find all I’ve done is take out the trash and do some dishes before playing some games and... not be disappointed exactly, but it won’t inspire respect and desire in her. Another one where there’s incredible potential there... for the right person.

11. Kasmina

Mysterious as she is, I’m getting young Jaya vibes from Kasmina. Not as in, when Jaya was actually young and all fiery temper and stuff. But rather, current Jaya without the creepy (to me) mom vibes. There’s potential here but so much mystery it’s impossible to say for sure without taking a chance.

10. Nahiri

I can’t imagine anyone I’d have a better single date with. Like a real good time. She’s planned it out perfectly and she’s ready to go. It might not last, but you’ll enjoy it while it does. Keep the lines of communication clear, respect boundaries, and be aware she can hold a grudge, and I think this actually has a chance.

9-1 Marriage Material

9. Jace Beleren

He’s sort of what I see Yanggu or Teyo needing. He’s done that growing and learning and he’s a pretty solid guy. He’s learned a lot of lessons the hard way but he’s definitely better for it.

8. Tamiyo

She’s literally married and raising kids in a happy home. The potential is there (if we ignore her canon marriage and assume she is available to date), not to mention her chosen career of essentially multiverse astronomer is pretty damn cool and relatively safe compared to what these other planeswalkers have devoted themselves to. (Sure, there’s Innistrad and Emrakul, but I imagine most planes’ moons are much safer to observe than that.)

7. Sarkhan Vol

Like Jace, he’s worked through a lot and is a pretty awesome person because of it. Unlike Jace, he’s been attractive the whole time. He’s tender and vibrant and aware and just cool as all hell. Bringing him home would be like dating Brendan Frasier in his prime.

6. Vraska

Downside to Vraska is that she’s pretty clique-ish and suspect of anyone from outside her group. Her views have expanded recently, but I think she’s still going to put up a rock hard exterior. If you can chisel your way through that then you’ve got a heart of gold.

5. Davriel Cane

Forget the demon contracts and all that nonsense. What this guy wants deep down is to just be left alone. Let’s retire to a nice estate on the countryside and enjoy our time together.

4. Saheeli Rai

Creative and inspiring, Saheeli is an absolute sweetheart. And she’s dedicated to a craft that she can do at home. She doesn’t have go trooping about the multiverse on dangerous missions without you. She can work on amazing marvels in her workshop then come next door to take you out for ice cream.

3. Nissa Revane

Nissa is a bit aloof and distant, but don’t let that fool you. She’s nurturing in every way you could want and then some. She’s great if you can get past that stoic exterior.

2. Ral Zarek

Ral’s more romantic than I ever woulda thought. He’s dedicated and thoughtful, but not so stuffy that things get boring. Actually the biggest detractor here is that things will never be boring with Ral, but he’ll make it worth your while to stick beside him through it all.

1. Chandra Nalaar

Full of warmth and passion, Chandra’s got what it takes to make the strongest connection. And she’s another character who has made some incredible personal growth recently. She’s ready to take the next step with someone special and if that were you, the two of you are in for a long-burning love.

#mtg #planeswalkers #forbes #lauren orsini #dateability #this is a really silly list #but it was fun

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years

Text

The Courage and the Strength I Need

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 23 - Phone Call [1,957 words]

Valencia flipped listlessly through the channels while she rested on her stomach. Nothing sparked intrigue. She stretched along the couch, but the far end was cold and empty. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She flung out an arm to angle the message into her line of sight.

HARVARD

Are you sure you don’t want to come over? We can finally start The Wire like we’ve been talking about forever but never do.

Valencia smiled and opened the conversation.

I appreciate it, hon. I really do. I just don’t think I’ve got the energy for the kinds of discussions you’ll want to have after every episode. I won’t make great company tonight. Also, you have a habit of staring at the side of my head in the dark. I keep feeling that instead of paying attention to the show.

HARVARD

Well, I wouldn’t do it for the WHOLE series but... I won’t lie. That would be my main activity for like 90% of the run time. I want to relive every scene through you because IT’S THAT GOOD. Plus your face is, like, extra pretty in the TV glow. Can I help it if my friend is a goddess and I, a humble human woman, sometimes find myself reminded of that ethereal beauty?

Valencia laughed. She set the remote control aside so she could type with both hands.

Should I screenshot this and tell Heather you’re swooping in to steal her girl the minute she’s out of town? :P

She left the sofa in favor of the bedroom. Valencia flicked on the closet light and stepped through the doorway.

HARVARD

I doubt she’d be fazed. I once said she has abs like the Venus de Milo.

Oh, so *I’m* the one coming to kick your ass.

HARVARD

I don’t doubt that you could. But was I wrong? ;D

Valencia heaved a forlorn sigh. She grabbed one of Heather’s camo jackets, hugged it to her chest, and inhaled deeply.

No. Damn it, Rebecca! Now I’m missing them, too.

HARVARD

Feel free to take care of business. I’m in the middle of a Potions class in Hogwarts Mystery. I can brew while I wait for you to text back.

Valencia pinched the bridge of her nose, amused in spite of herself.

I am not going to bookend a masturbation session with texts to you.

HARVARD

What if I promise not to track how many minutes elapse?

You and I both know you would.

HARVARD

Rub out the loneliness. Grind away the gloom.

Valencia ducked into the hanging garments to conceal her reaction, even though Rebecca could not see the flush of color spreading over her skin.

I think I’ll pass.

Rebecca sent a gif of Frodo Baggins smirking and saying, “All right then. Keep your secrets.”

HARVARD

All I’m saying is it might cheer you up, at least for a little while. Ever since Heather left for the trip, you’ve been all

She followed with a gif of the transformed Kuzco crying in the rain from The Emperor’s New Groove.

Are you saying I have a llama face?

HARVARD

So testy. See? Someone’s horny and angry. Time for the two finger tango.

Valencia rolled her eyes. She began to type but then noticed the clock and backspaced to write a different reply.

It’s almost 9, so she’s about to call. Thanks for helping me stay distracted until now. <3 Talk to you tomorrow?

HARVARD

Anytime. <3 Get to bed. ;)

Her parting gif was of a television character Valencia didn’t recognize calling, “Have good sex!”

As if on cue, an incoming FaceTime alert appeared. Valencia left the closet, shutting off the light and closing the door behind her as she did so, and then threw herself across the mattress. She hastily brushed back her disheveled hair and answered the call.

“Hey, baby.” Valencia realized she was leaning an abnormally small distance from the screen, just to feel nearer. She adjusted the space by degrees until it was more comfortable. “How are things in Wine Country?”

“I haven’t gotten enough of either. When I did get to be outside drinking, there was always some dusty old white guy droning into my ear and harshing my buzz. This valley make me need a Napa. Ugh, even my humor’s going stale. You and the girls have gotta organize a heist to take me away from here. I’m not gonna make it.” She fluffed her hotel pillow and pouted.

Valencia mirrored the expression. “Don’t tempt me. I might do it. I’m not holding up so well, either. All the furniture feels wrong when I’m the only one on it. The first day has already been so long. Another three will be an eternity.”

She readjusted so her body was angled the usual direction for sleep and then flopped against the covers. Even miles apart, they defaulted to their respective sides and held their phones at the height where their lover’s face would ordinarily be.

“You know, if corporate keeps making me haul my ass all over the state, maybe we should think about a pet,” Heather suggested. “It might be good for you to have a little buddy around.”

Valencia hesitated. It was something she’d imagined since they got together, but dreaming about co-owning an animal and actually co-habitating with one were two very different things. “What kind of pet?”

Heather shrugged. “Nothing too exotic or anything. Dogs are cute but a lot of breeds pack high energy that doesn’t really gel with our vibe. So... a cat?”

Valencia attempted to picture it but her mind kept fixating on their brand new house and its furnishings. She could envision the claw marks and clumps of fur covering everything. “I don’t know...”

“How about this: sometime after I come home, can you and I go to a shelter and take a look around, just to see how it feels? No pressure, no rushed decisions. All super chill. We can talk it over and make the call from there.” Heather offered a hopeful smile. “What do you think?”

“Okay. I’ll try,” Valencia agreed. “Even hours around the smell of cat pee don’t sound so bad if that means you’re back here with me instead of up there.”

“Damn, I should be using this to my advantage. If I’ve got any sporty activities I wanna coax you into, now’s the time to pitch them. Ha! Pitch. I'm exhausted. But while we’re on the subject of athletics, what are your opinions on rock walls?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Heather laughed and trailed her fingertips over the image of Valencia on her screen. “I hate that I’m not there with you.”

“Join the club. You can be vice president.” Valencia pulled the sheet over her shoulders, but it was a poor stand-in for the comforting embrace she craved.

“Remind me again why I let these identical suited golfers badger me into this?”

“Because you come up with solid ideas and you’ve got a chance to make them heard,” Valencia answered without pause. “Because they need fresh perspective and you have that in spades. Because they’ve realized that you’re a problem-solver and they care what you think. You made an impression. They’re impressed by you. They should be.”

Heather crooked an arm under her head. “I mean, I’m proud of that stuff, I really am, but I don’t want this to be the rest of my life. It’s not a bad gig; it’s just not the job I'd choose for my career.” She began to pick at a loose thread on the sheet but stopped herself. “I don’t know. It’s not like I have an answer for what I should switch to instead. I’m kinda idling in one place.”

“Out of everything you’ve tried so far, what do you most genuinely enjoy doing? And don’t say me.”

“Crossing off the special skills section of my resume in one swipe. Harsh.”

“Seriously, though. What would you say?”

Heather rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Is it weird if the truth is sorta everything and nothing? All of it interested me for a while, or else I wouldn’t have done it in the first place. But a lot of jobs don’t change very much, y’know? I get tired of the monotony.”

“‘A copy of a copy of a copy,’” Valencia supplied.

Heather bit her lip. “Don’t reference Fight Club when I can’t reward you for remembering that.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Valencia winked.

Heather scrubbed a hand down her face and sighed. “The main thing I’m into is learning. Adapting. Having a reason to stay curious.”

“You miss college.”

“All the time. But I wasn’t making money doing that.”

“What about when you’re sharing what you’ve studied?” Valencia asked. “You’re good at it. That goes without saying. I pick up a lot from living under the same roof. Is that fun for you?”

“Kinda,” Heather admitted. “I like making it useful. Also, I know from experience that it’s nice to have concepts explained by somebody who’s not gonna be a condescending shit-heel about it. Everybody’s gotta learn something for the first time at some point. Academia isn’t innate. It doesn’t prove you’re superior if you got the hang of it first, and it definitely shows you’re worse if you rub someone else’s nose in it. I care that people know they can come to me for help without judgment.”

“Cariño?” Valencia murmured.

“Hmm?”

“I think you might have your answer.”

“Teaching?” Heather’s words were tentative, nearly inaudible. “Like a professor?”

Valencia nodded.

“That requires at least getting my master’s degree to work at a community college. Probably a doctorate if I plan to go somewhere else.” Heather rubbed the back of her neck. “It’ll take years.”

“Honey, the fact you already know that means you must have researched it at some point.” Valencia looked directly into the phone’s camera. “Is this what you want?”

Heather’s eyes were shining in the darkness. “Yeah.” Her finger swept beneath her eyelid. “Yeah, I think it is.”

Valencia beamed and a tear slid along her jawline. “So it’s settled.”

Heather disappeared behind the heel of her hand for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice wavered. “Are you sure? This affects you, too. It’s a long-term commitment.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m long-term committed.” Valencia brought the phone close again, back to where she started. “I love you.”

Heather kissed the camera and rubbed the resultant smudge away with her sleeve. “I love you, too.”

“You want to know something?”

“Always.”

Valencia’s lips subtly turned upward at the corners. “I usually save this for major breakthroughs because it already sounds mushy and fake, and I don’t want it to lose all meaning, but today’s a milestone for you so it totally counts. I’m really proud of you, Heather.”

Heather hid her blush in the pillow. “You memorized what I sent you.”

“I read it like twenty times, so, yes.” Valencia’s grin broadened. “I mean it. You’re going after what matters to you and, in the meantime, you’re making a difference in this in-between space. Home Base isn’t your final stop, but it will be an improved establishment when you leave because you were with it for a while. You changed things for the better which, as far as I’m concerned, isn’t surprising in the least. You’ve been doing that for me since the day we met.”

Heather’s mouth twisted. Her gaze was warm with devotion. “What would I do without you?”

Valencia blew a kiss. Heather pantomimed a catch and pressed the air-touch to her cheekbone.

“You’d still take the world by storm,” Valencia declared, “but I’m thankful I get to be part of it.”

#H+V FF #CEG Writing by Me #Helencia #Heather x Valencia

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buzzdixonwriter · 5 years

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Influencers

I seriously started writing when I was 13, “serious” in this case meaning I submitted carefully typed reviews and articles to fanzines and short stories to magazines.

My father toyed with the idea of being a writer at some point in his life, and we had a stack of old Writer’s Digests and Jack Woodford’s How To Write For Money in the house.*

I can’t recall how many stories I wrote and mailed out, but none of them sold (my first short story sale was “Smuggler” in the November 1983 issues of Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, but of course by that time I was already well established as an animation writer; I had placed a few articles and reviews in fanzines by that time).

Recently I had reason to re-read some of my own stories, and I got to wondering who my key literary influencers were.

Here, in rough chronological order, they are:

Ray Bradbury was the sci-fi writer that school boards felt comfortable with, and as a result stories like “The Pedestrian” turned up in lots of grammar school and junior high English textbooks. Well, that was like Hartz Mountain heroin to 10 year old Buzzy Boy. I voraciously read everything by Bradbury in every library I had access to. Somewhere I read his short story “Pillar Of Fire” which includes a virtual laundry list of writers of the phantasmagorical, and of course that sent me off in search of each and every one of ‘em, and that led me straight to…

H.P. Lovecraft took one look at my Southern Baptist Sunday school theology, said “How cute” and proceeded to sweep everything off the table. I have come to realize Lovecraft was a racist and a terribly, terribly flawed human being, but his cosmic horror stories (retconned by August Derleth as “The Cthulhu Mythos”) made me realize “Holy #&%@ -- I’m not even asking the right questions!”, and while Alfred Bester and Philip K. Dick and A.E. van Vogt would later expand my imagination even more, he’s the guy who shot the lock off the door.

When I started writing seriously (i.e., for actual submission of material, not just to fulfill a school assignment), I found myself typically bouncing between Bradbury and Lovecraft’s styles (the occasional Robert E. Howard and Ian Fleming pastiches excluded). Luckily for all concerned, I landed closer to the Bradbury camp than the insanely verbose and grandiloquent Lovecraft…

Ernest Hemingway cropped up on my radar through osmosis: I heard adults talking about him, read his name on gag book titles in Warner Brothers cartoons, saw the TV news report his suicide. I saw The Old Man And The Sea and For Whom The Bell Tolls on TV when I was ten or eleven, and since both were touted as based on his works, I looked them up. For Whom The Bell Tolls was the first one I read, and for a pre-adolescent boy that’s probably the perfect introduction to Hemingway. By the time I started reading voraciously, Hemingway’s modern style of writing pretty much became the norm for everyone, but he mastered that spare lean style better than anyone else.

Mark Twain first hopped into view with Boy’s Life reprinting “The Celebrated Jumping Frog Of Calaveras County” even though I’d seen movies based on Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn before that. That short story led me to his novels, and oddly his novels led me back to his short stories and essays. Twain’s somewhat old fashioned yet naturalistic style flows so effortlessly and easily and handles asides and digressions so seamlessly that I found myself re-reading his works again and again to see how he did it.

H. Allen Smith is an unjustly forgotten American humorist from the 1930s-40s-50s. I picked up a coverless copy of his anthology Poor H. Allen Smith’s Almanac in a remainder bin in a Dollar General Store in Athens, Tennessee more out of curiosity than anything else and was delighted to find a soul mate. Smith, like Twain, was the literary equivalent of MAD Magazine, puncturing pretentious stuffed shirt shirts with pleasure. Like Twain, Smith employs a seemingly effortless style to conceal a sharp cynical sting.

Harlan Ellison came to my attention as I started reading more and more science fiction digest and fanzines in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Always controversial, deliberately provocative, and relentlessly entertaining on the page or in person, Harlan demonstrated more than any other writer I encountered the fire in the belly that represents The Work. (The Work is one of those things that can’t be described, can’t be defined; as Louis Armstrong once said of jazz “If you’ve got to ask, you’ll never know.” Writers know what I’m talking about, authors think they know, but most people just go “…wha…?” when the topic comes up, which is why writers rarely talk about it in front of civilians.) Harlan’s style and élan could never be duplicated, much less equaled, but damn, he left a lot of good inspirations and insights behind, and I find myself applying them -- filtered through my own style and experience, of course. His best insight was that no matter how fantastic the story, it had to be about human emotions, or else it was just shit.

Thomas Heggen is another unjustly forgotten American writer, remembered (if at all) as the original author of the novel that became the movie Mister Roberts. The novel began life as a series of vignettes and short stories Heggen wrote and sold to New Yorker magazine during World War II and based on is actual experiences as an officer aboard U.S. Navy cargo ships. After the war he assembled, re-edited, re-wrote, and added new connecting material to turn these stories into a novel, and from there worked on the Broadway play adaptation. He died a tragic early death (accident or suicidal despair over crippling writer’s block, take your pick). Again, I was introduced to his writing through the movie based on his work, finding a reprint of the book sometime after I discovered H. Allen Smith. In contrast to Twain and Smith, Heggen’s laconic style underplayed his humor, actually heightening the absurdity of his situations by treating them so matter of factly.

Richard E. Geis is better known as the editor of Science Fiction Review in all its various permutations (originally Psychotic then Science Fiction Review then The Alien Critic then back to Science Fiction Review then Richard E. Geis then Science Fiction Review again then Taboo) and as such one of the key influencers in the legendary New Wave vs Old Stuff feud that consumed sci-fi fandom back in the 1960s and early 1970s (which is to say just at the time when I was becoming active in fandom). Geis wrote fiction -- a handful of self-published sci-fi novels and stories in an era long before self-publishing was a viable norm, and over 100 porn novels at about $500 a pop – and I must be brutally honest, none of them were good. But his genius and ability lay in his editorial and critical skills, and in his editorial writing for Science Fiction Review he demonstrated a lively and entertaining style that managed to meld coolly analytical criticism with engaging and often sly personal observations (Geis frequently employed Alter, his name for his darker, more sardonic alter ego, in a back and forth dialog to use dialectics to exposes the strengths and weaknesses of any work or proposition).

William Goldman’s screenplay of Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid was published as a paperback by Bantam Books. When I saw it on the spinner rack in a small drug store in Madisonville, Tennessee, I thought it would be a novelization of an upcoming movie, but when I flipped it open I realized I was looking at an actual bona fide screenplay, and of course, I had to have it. (The kneeslapper is that Goldman never wrote in conventional screenplay format, and while his works are excellent examples of how to tell a story cinematically, they sure aren’t industry standard.) I followed his work after that, both on screen and off, and when he wrote Adventures In The Screen Trade I devoured its lessons hungrily. While I see a certain stylistic influence in my writing from Goldman, what I really learned from his was structure and form and style.

Walter Hill and David Giler took Dan O’Bannon’s already legendary unproduced script for Alien and -- no slam against O’Bannon -- transformed it from a really, really good B-monster movie story into a work of poetry. Compare and contrast the two screenplays; everything’s there in O’Bannon’s work, but Hill and Giler blew it through the roof. Their writing style -- seemingly minimalistic but in reality forcing the reader to see the movie exactly as they envisioned it -- was a revelation, and while I don’t try to ape it directly, I have used it to free me from conventional descriptions of characters, scenes, and actions to good effect.

Charles Bukowski was introduced to me by the late Gordon Kent, a friend and co-writer at Ruby-Spears Studios. I quickly became enamored of his unadorned, almost journalistic style of fiction, but his poetry is what resonated the deepest. After reading Hill and Giler’s Alien script, I looked at Bukowski’s poems with new eyes, seeing how he used a similar technique in many of his poems that they used in their screenplay. This in turn led to a greater interest and appreciation in poetry as a whole on my part, and to start applying more poetic styles in describing characters and situations, again paring verbiage to a minimum while conjuring up more vivid mental images.

Like every writer, I’ve been influenced to some degree or another by every story I’ve read, every movie I’ve seen, every song I’ve heard.

Some may complain there are too many old white guys in this grouping, and that’s a fair cop – if I was drawing up a list of writers to recommend.

But I’m not doing that. I’m telling you what influenced me, how and why.

Take it or leave it.

* If you can find any Woodford book on writing GET IT!!! He’s not the best of the best when it comes to analyzing the writer’s craft but sunuvagun he’s damn good and he lays it out flat in a take-no-prisoners style. You may not like what he has to say but man, does he ever cut through the BS.

#writing #influences #influencers #Ray Bradbury #H P Lovecraft #Ernest Hemingway #H Allen Smith #Harlan Ellison #Thomas Heggen #Richard E. Geis #William Goldman #Walter Hill #David Giler #Charles Bukowski

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nikova-eve · 6 years

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Changes: Prologue

In honor of hitting 100 followers, I decided to stop procrastinating on posting this so here it is. My first fanfiction!

Summary: Logan Summers: One friend, a 4.0, and a huge secret. He wouldn't have it any other way. Virgil Mathews: barely surviving high school, let alone possibly being moved away from his one and only friend just so he gets to experience what its like to “Have a family”. Patton Pennington: can’t remember having a friend in real life, hopes that his parents taking in a foster kid can change things for him. Roman Royal: Arguably the most popular boy in school, but when he hears that the high schools are merging next year, will he be able to mend his checkered past?

Pairings: slow-burn analogical, slow-burn royality (because I don't know how to write anything else)

Warnings: Angst, bullying (verbal and physical), mentions of pain, injuries, foster care, crappy writing, please tell me if I’m missing something!

Word count: 2,670

Tags: none yet, but please put in an ask if you want to be on it!

***

Running through the playground towards the woods is not how Patton envisioned the end of his day at his summer program. But now that he thought about it, he really shouldn't have expected anything else. He knew that Roman was going to be there. He also knew that Roman Royal had an agenda against him since the 4th grade, and he also knew that Roman would never let him get away.

“Just stop trying to run, you can’t get away from me!” Romans' voice was louder than before. Patton pushed himself to run faster as he passed between the swingset and into the trees. Sticks and wrappers lied all over the ground along with leaves that hadn't quite faded away from last fall. Patton ducked left and right swerving around the biggest trees to see if he could throw Roman off, occasionally lifting a hand to get his curly red hair out of his eyes. He didn't dare look behind him, nor did he have time to before he got a close up look at the flowers spread on the ground. The body sitting on his back stood up and flipped him over as tears ran down the cheeks that were already stinging from scrapes. The look of anger on the tanned boys face made Patton start to squirm. Roman looked angrier than he ever had before.

“What did I tell you?! You’re so stupid, no wonder your parents hate you. That's why your mom got another boyfriend isn't it?”

“Please stop!” Patton cried, but his bully continued, setting his knees onto Patton's wrists.

“Cause you weren't enough for her, you and her husband were so stupid she needed someone smart huh?” Roman hissed, his raven black hair falling over his eyes in small waves. He leaned in close to Patton's face, his breath hot and humid.

“Th-that's not why! People can like more than one person, and like any gender--” Patton protest was cut off by a fist colliding with his jaw.

“Shut up! No one wants to hear you talk anyway.” Roman growled, the heat and anger in Patton grew.

“Why are you so mean to me? I’ve never done anything wrong to you!” Patton screeched, praying that his papa might get out of work early. And that maybe the sound of him pulling into the parking lot would make Roman leave him alone. Roman’s nose scrunched, causing his freckles to fold together in the wrinkles. Finally, all of Patton's fidgeting paid off and he was able to wrestle his wrists free from Roman. Before the taller boy could pin him again, Patton placed his hands next to his sides and used all of his might to push his body up and throw Roman off of him.

Before the other had time to react he was running again. His eyes scanned the area if he could just make it to the parking lot… Someone had to be there, and Roman would have to leave him alone. Then he can just tell his parents that he fell while playing tag. That should work, it's worked before.

He had almost made it to the edge of the woods when there was a sudden weight on him again, dragging him down face to face with a candy wrapper. At first, his only thought was, ‘huh, a Hershey's bar’, before his mind actually caught up to what that meant.

Of course Roman would've caught up to him. Roman was bigger and stronger than him even though Patton was older.

“Stop running away you coward!” Roman growled flipping Patton over again. Patton barely had time to lift his bruised arms over his face before he was suddenly being pummeled. He could hear Roman yelling something at him, but what he said seemed to be blurred out behind Patton's own thoughts. He never really imagined this ever happening to him. Sometimes it made him wonder if his dad had just read him too many fairy tales growing up.

He kept his eyes shut, too afraid to move. Too afraid to make Roman angrier. Too afraid to make his mom worry. He choked back tears and kept biting his lip. He wondered if the iron he was tasting meant that he broke through the skin on his lip or that there an abrasion from somewhere else on his face. How would he explain this to his parents? He didn't want it to get worse, and telling parents always makes it worse. After a second he realized he no longer felt the pain of Roman’s beating. He wondered if mental pain worked like that too. That maybe after a while of feeling it, you just become numb. A loud honk threw his mind to a halt, along with the boy sitting on his torso. The weight on his stomach was lifted as Roman got up, it was probably his dad's car.

“I hate you.” Patton could hear roman grumble. “Pennington is a stupid last name I hope you know. It's stupid like you.” He spat. Patton left his arms over his face as he heard the sticks crunch under Romans feet. He continued to lay there for a while, even after he heard the tires pull out of the parking lot. He didn't even put his arms down until his heart stopped beating all over his body. It took awhile for him to sit up and look around. The area had settled into a quiet swish of tree branches, with the occasional car horn from the road that wasn’t too far away. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before taking a deep breath. He had to get cleaned up and think of an excused before Papa came for him. He also had to find out where Roman hid his backpack anyways.

Patton pulled himself up and made his way to the playground on jello-feeling legs. Walking across the wood chips to the concrete stairs that lead up to the side doors of the school he let his hand glide across the rusted railing. The doors were luckily still unlocked, meaning there must've been other summer programs in session. He could hear his sneakers squeak as he traveled down the hall, turning right, dragging his hands against the could green lockers. Sometimes he wondered why they even had lockers since they didn't let anyone use them. Well, there was this one that was always unlocked on the second floor. But that was Patton's secret hiding place. He took a left into a small hallway where the boy's bathroom was. Before he could open the wooden door, he noticed a backpack sitting in the trash. Of course, that's where Roman left it... Patton sighed and took it out before flinging it over his shoulder, letting out a small gasp as it rubbed against his arm. He blinked away the tears that stung at his eyes and pushed the door open, hoping he’d never have to see the face of Roman Royal ever again.

***

To say that Logan didn't enjoy the presence of other people would be an understatement.

Even at age 11 he found others to be irritating and assumed he would prefer to be the only human left in existence if it weren't for the fact that others were a necessity for the creation of books. If he was going to be honest, books were the only reason he tolerated people other than his father. His dad was the one to introduce him to books, knowledge, and facts after all. Being the famous lawyer, Robert Summers, one of the first things he taught Logan was that the truth is more important than anything else. While his father did teach him his favorite life lessons, he was often gone on business for weeks at a time working different cases. And while he was proud of his dad, his absence left Logan alone with his mother. She was the reason Logan ever had to go against his core beliefs about the truth because she always helped him to realize he didn't deserve the truth no matter how hard he tried. When Robert did come back home he would always bring Logan a new book to read. This book Logan would carry around, even after he finished it, until his father returned with a new one.

Logan retracted his hand from the brick wall of the foster center to flip to the next page of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It didn't really matter that he had read this chapter 4 times already, just that he had something to read while he walked to the library. He didn't look up from printed words as he placed his hand back on the wall, feeling the ridges numb his fingers as he dragged them across. He’d memorized his way to the library when he was 7 and walked the path at least 4 times a week. Logan looked up and swerved away from the wall to avoid the white stairs that protruded from the building. After he quickly looked back down and ignored the fact that in doing so he joined a group of children exiting the foster facility. Kids shoved him from all sides causing him to huff and push his glasses up in frustration. Clamping his book shut with one hand Logan looked up to see if he could navigate out of the crowd. He slowly pushed in with the other kids to make it to the outside of the group, and he almost did. Except that he noticed something that caused him to hesitate. A smaller boy who was completely covered in dark clothing, including a black hoodie with the hood drawn up. Logan immediately decided it was more important to let the younger child know of the safety hazards of wearing so many clothes in the hot summer afternoon. Walking a couple blocks in a large group would make it even worse, it was possible the kid could suffer from a heat stroke at this rate. After a second of contemplation, he pushed his way through to the other kid, now noticing the boy wasn't much smaller than himself up close.

“Um, excuse me. You are aware that it is 82 degrees Fahrenheit, are you not?” Logan asks looking down at the top of the boys hood. He looks up and sees a giant marbled white building up ahead, that he instantly recognized as the library. He looked to his right to see the bricked barber shop between the bodies. Then to his left, over the heads of the shorter kids to see the apartment building Logan's favorite librarian lived at. Often he would accompany her on her walk home from the library after staying later than he intended, though he seemed to intend to do it more often now as he enjoyed the conversations they could have about the language use of the author he was currently studying. It took him a couple moments to reel back and realize he still hadn't gotten a response.

“Hello, my name is Logan. Perhaps you didn't hear me, its 82 degrees out right now. With the way you're dressed it is quite likely you will suffer from heat stroke if not properly ventilated.” Logan tried again. This time, he made sure to observe the hooded child. Logan noticed the way he shook inside of the jacket, His breathing also appeared to be shallow. Logan brushed off the fact that he was ignored, again, and chose to lean forward to see the boys face. It was pale, blue eyes wide while his dark russet hair fell over them. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place in Logan's brain. The dark clad child was experiencing a panic attack.

Before he could formulate a plan of action to best help the boy he was suddenly pushed by the taller girl to his left. He looked over and noticed the group was moving around to climb up the tall steps to the library. His eyes returned to the shrinking boy he had previously been pushed into, the boy seemed to be trying to force himself further into his hoodie. Logan huffed at this and went back to planning how he could best help the boy. Bringing him to a quiet and unpopulated part of the library was probably his best bet. Along with running through the breathing exercises, Logan had memorized a month ago.

Logan noticed the boys sneakers as they walked up the stairs. They were black, not an uncommon color when someone wanted shoes to last and appear clean with minimal upkeep. But they had few scrapes and did not appear to have any dirt stuck to the sides. At first, Logan assumed they were relatively new. Until he noticed that the leather was dulled. Meaning that this boy didn’t participate in outdoor activities such as sports or other outdoor games Logan never understood the appeal of, causing his sneakers to remain looking new.

Logan was again snapped out of his thoughts by a hand grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back. He looked up immediately to see the white marble of one of the pillars guarding the doors. he turned to his right to thank whoever had stopped him from walking face first into the column to see the hooded boy still holding onto his sleeve. His hood was down now, most likely from leaning forward quickly to stop Logan. Logan opened his mouth to utter an apology but was stopped by the way the other boys blue eyes seemed to reflect the light from the sun.

“Are you ok? You didn’t actually walk into it, did you? I thought I had grabbed you in time but I guess not, sorry.” The boy muttered, again shrinking into his hoodie.

“Nonsense, you stopped me right on time. Thank you for that, and I apologize for making you have to grab me, and for getting distracted by your eyes.” he stated, not seeming to notice the boy begin to blush. “I don’t know if you were able to hear me properly earlier, but my name is Logan. Logan Summers.”

“O-oh, I’m Virgil.” The boy stuttered in reply, it seemed that his adrenalin from having to save Logan was wearing off and turning back into extensive worry. It especially didn't help when he noticed he was still holding Logan's sleeve. Logan didn’t say anything as Virgil let go of his sleeve and dug it back into his own pocket. The taller boy now looked up to observe the area. It appeared that the rest of the group had gone inside, leaving the street quiet and empty. The only other person on the sidewalk was the old Mr. Crocker who owned the grocery across the street, sweeping the sidewalk like store owners often do in movies set in the early 1900’s. He turned back and looked at Virgil, who now had his hood pulled back over his head.

“We should probably head inside. I know a quiet spot in the back of the library I think you will enjoy. Is that alright?” Logan asked, Virgil just looked up and nodded slightly.

“How old are you anyway? You talk like a doctor in the movies.” Virgil giggled, his mouth opened into a small smile and Logan was able to see a chipped front tooth.

“I am 11 years, 4 months, 7 days-” He gets cut off by a laugh.

“Alright, alright. I get it calculator watch.” Virgil laughed, shaking his head. Logan opened his mouth to lecture him on why it was rude to interrupt someone, but noticed that the boy seemed calm now. He definitely didn't feel like scaring this boy back into a panic, especially since something about him made Logan enjoy talking to him. “So, is this area of the library really a quiet place?”

***

A/N: Sorry this is crappy, hopefully, the next chapters will be better. They will be less angsty, I can say that!

#analogical #royality #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw:bullying #tw; injury #tw:pain #tw:fostercare #tw:angst #nesa writes

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pirate-autobot · 7 years

Text

The Experiment: Ch 7

Parent/principal conference! Followed by Principal/council conference. Followed by... well, see for yourself.

Captain Underpants gem au by @angerydj

When detention was over, Red Agate escorted the gems home. He made hem walk in front of him. Because he couldn’t stand their talking to each other. He also made sure they didn’t stop to look at anything. If they did, he would wait for a couple seconds, then click his heels together. They’d jump at the sound and continue walking.

Yes, you infants. Fear the click.

Their homes were near the outskirts of the colony. Small residents that resemble different human homes filled what resembled a human neighborhood. It was strange. As soon as the colony finally adapted to their new lives, they picked up human tendencies and ideals.

They sleep, they keep track of days and nights and what calender date on Earth it is, and some even eat. In fact, an emerald who traveled to the human town returned with seeds. And she is starting a garden. The council debated it, but ultimately decided it was allowed. Some of the food grown can go to Blue Agate to be made for the young gems.

Just so long as no Earth pests make their way into the colony.

Red Agate nearly stepped on the boys when they stopped at two identical houses. But they talked and went to only one. And he was pretty certain no gem received two infants. Following them, he noticed something in the backyard of the house next door. It was still under construction, but he couldn’t tell what is was.

“What is that?” He asked

“That’s my tree!” Red Zircon answered proudly. “My dad is making me one based on the ones up top!”

“Making a tree? What a waste of time.” Red Agate scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “And why are you both going in one house?”

“My parents are still at work.” Red Zircon answered, crossing his arms.

Yellow Sapphire opened the door. The two boys ran in happily.

“Hello boys! What took you so long?” Came a female voice. Red Agate followed them down the entry hall. Perhaps the gem mother needed to hear about the trouble her infant got into at school.

“We got detention. And it was not fun.” Yellow Sapphire answered

Red Agate found both boys in an open space with a couch, a table, and two chairs. Red Zircon was typing on a datapad, while Yellow Sapphire was drawing on more paper.

“Well, gee sweetie. Sorry to hear that.” The voice came closer. Red Agate froze at the sight of a beryl who poked her head into the space. She was surprised to see him. But she also looked... relieved.

“Sorry to, uh, intrude. I’m their principal, Red Agate.” Red Agate introduced himself

“He gave us detention!” Red Zircon commented. Red Agate sent a glare his way, but felt small hands pulling him away from the scene.

“I was wondering when I might see you in person. ” She said, leading him into what looked like a bedroom.

“Uh, wha, what? You were expecting me?” Red Agate asked

“You are the agate in charge of the school, right? There aren’t any other red agates in the colony?” Beryl asked, leaning forward.

“Uh, not that I know of.” Red Agate looked away, “But on the subject of school, your sapphire and his zircon friend were disrupting their class because they were drawing and writing, not doing their work. I think you need to have a talk with them both about that subject.” Red Agate said, his hands behind his back. He was pleased he was able to take charge of the conversation. But Beryl was confused.

“They weren’t hurting anyone with it.” She said

“They could have hurt someone with their paint filled balloons they were throwing around the halls!” Red Agate exclaimed

“Oh that’s what they were using the paint for. Sorry. If it’s so bad, I’ll have a talk.” Beryl explained. Red Agate was unsure what to say. He didn’t expect the argument to go that way.

“Well, thank you, Beryl.” Red Agate said, nodding his head.

“But that isn't why I’m glad you’re here.” Beryl admitted. From a nearby shelf, she picked up a datapad. Or at least, it was as thick as one. It had drawings along the back of it, and looked to be filled with more paper. “You are part of the council, correct?”

“Uh. They let me watch and have input, but technically, no.” Red Agate responded

And that was simply how it was. The other gems would ask for his opinion on certain subjects, or he would make his opinion known without being asked. But he didn’t have a seat at the table. Despite being in charge of the infant gem education. At least he knew the tanzanite who took Citrines place.

At least it wasn’t P.

“Are you aware of any other sapphires in the colony?” Beryl asked

“A green one, but she can only see the past.” Red Agate said, “Where are you going with this?”

"I'm worried about my sapphire. I was wondering if the council or another gem could help. He dreams when he sleeps. And sometimes, he wakes up and has to tell me everything he saw. It was too hard to keep track of. That’s why we made a dream journal.” Beryl explained. “He's been drawing a lot, lately. But then a few weeks ago, he dreamt of you coming over to our house."

She opened the journal to a certain page. It was a drawing of Beryl pulling Red Agate away.

“That’s...” Red Agate started

Amazing? Incredible? Crazy? A good sign, a bad sign? He couldn’t think of the right word to say. Not until he blurted one word out.

“Clarity.” He said

“It’s not exact, and it doesn’t come often. But yes. He has clarity.” Beryl explained. "Here are a few others you might want to see."

She flipped through the journals pages. There was a picture of Orange Peridot proudly walking with one limb enhancement over his right arm. Another showed the same gem crying over a bubbled gem, his limb enhancer missing. Another picture showed Yellow Sapphire with a shield and Red Zircon with a whip. A machine was behind them, piloted by a gem he couldn’t identify.

Another was only a gem. It was bright green, but it had garish splatters of red throughout it. The word “no” was scribbled all around it. He had never seen a gem like that anywhere else.

"Well, at least his... visions are only of colony gems." Red Agate said

"They aren't." Beryl responded, finding a drawing of three gems and a human on a warp pad.

Red Agate took the journal to try to get a closer look at the gems. The drawing was sketchy and rough, but perhaps he could tell what kind of gems they were. A tall gem, pointy nose, looked kind of regal. Had to be a pearl. That short one was purple. Was it an amethyst? If it was, he’d never seen one that short before. The tall one with square hair. That was usually the style of rubies. If a short amethyst was possible, then so was a tall ruby he supposed.

But what was so special about the human to be with gems? Dark curly hair, a wide frame, a shirt with a star in the center. Actually, they all had stars on their forms in some way.

That ruby though...

“Who are they?” He asked

“I don’t know. And he doesn’t know. He drew this and said they were important.” Beryl explained

“How could a human, a pearl, a short amethyst, and a tall ruby be important?” Red Agate asked

“I know Sapphire drawing is not what he should be doing. But this is the only way for him to connect with his power until he fully grows into it. Can you please make an exception in his case?” Beryl asked

Red Agate looked at her. Too many questions and scenarios were running through his head. He imagined gems going to the sapphire with questions of the future. He wouldn’t be able to answer them. He imagined himself being one of those gems. But Zircon would protect him. But the drawings from class were nothing like these.

When is the Cluster going to emerge? Who are these gems?

“No.” Red Agate shook his head, “If I let him be an exception, then other gems would beg for their children to be their own exceptions for menial reasons that do not constitute any form of ‘an exception’. Sapphire was not drawing anything envisioned. That’s why he got in trouble. And if he keeps it up, he’ll keep getting in trouble. The both of them will.”

“I understand.” Beryl sighed. She took back the journal.

“W-wait. Can I get a picture of that drawing?” Red Agate asked. Beryl nodded her head and held out the journal. Red Agate pulled out his datapad. With a snap, the image was saved onto his pad.

“Enjoy the rest of your day.” She said softly

Without another word, Red Agate left the house. The council should be meeting about now.

“Red Agate, just in time.” Tanzanite commented as he entered the room.

“Quartz,” he started

“Agate.” Came the bored response. The gem was leaning back in her seat, her feet propped up on the table.

“First, feet off the table.” He said. She mumbled something, then crossed her arms, eventually obeying. “Second, have you seen any of these gems before?”

He pulled out his datapad and projected the image above all gems, enlarging the drawing.

“Why? Was one of them your old girlfriend?” Yellow Quartz mocked. Red Agate felt his spots heat up.

“If not all of them, then what about this ruby. I thought you brought an image of her here before. She was some sort of intruder?” Red Agate tried to recall the meeting.

A strange gem had been spotted. Some blurry security images caught her, but nothing solid had been found.

“Her? Oh. Oh oh!” Yellow Quartz. “She was spotted again last week!”

She brought up a security image that was the best picture of the mystery gem.

Square hair, a strange visor, a star somewhere on her outfit. But no sign of her gem.

“That’s not a ruby.” Ruby commented. All eyes looked to her for an explanation. “Rubies are never made that tall. She kind of looks like one, but she’s too different. She must be a fusion!”

“How would you know what a fused ruby looks like?” Red Agate asked, narrowing his gaze at the gem.

“Wh-what? Uh, I mean, I... uh...” Ruby stammered. Topaz and Pearl moved in front of her, leveling their glares at the agate.

“Oh ho ho ho!” Laughed Yellow Quartz

“Knock it off Yellow!” The three gems yelled

Red Agate pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt his spots and his hands heating up. No, none of that. Calm down, or no reef time.

“In any case,” Tanzanite said, “Can you keep your quartzs and amethysts on guard, in case she shows up again? Who knows what she’s doing here.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, but how is she getting in here?” Red Agate asked

“Isn’t it obvious?” A new voice intruded. The room was filled with groans as the watermelon tourmaline known as P made his way in.

“What are you doing here?” Red Agate asked him, “What is he doing here?” He asked tanzanite.

“He keeps coming asking for more supplies and test subjects for his experiments. He trying to figure out how to alter gems,” Tanzanite started

And just like that, Red Agate summoned his whip and cracked it forward. It wrapped around P and pulled him back. He winced at the heat, but tried to keep his smirk in place.

“Nice moves, but really, how do you think that quote unquote fusion got in here?” He asked.

He had nothing. Red Agate wanted to say that she walked in, but the fusion wouldn’t do that. Even the gems who explore different the human town haven’t seen her up top.

P untangled himself from the whip. It was a shocking sight. He adjusted his tie and looked at the gems sitting around the table.

“I think we are missing the obvious option. One night in my lab, I detected an energy reading, here in the colony.” P climbed up onto the table. “Eventually, I came to a conclusion.”

“What?” Red Agate asked

“You were wrong!” P said loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at Red Agate. Gasps filled the room. Whispers soon filled the silence that followed.

“What do you mean P?” Tanzanite asked

“The warp pad works!” He announced

From his coat, he produced a remote. With a push of a button, a video was projected above everyone. P waved at the camera than climbed onto the warp pad. It glowed and shined, and he was gone. The tourmaline looked back at Red Agate with a smirk.

In fact, all eyes turned to him.

“But... I tested it. It tested it myself!” He yelled

“Yeah, but you’ve got a little,” P walked up to him, smirk still in place, “imperfection,” he tapped on Red Agates gem, “that might hinder the pad. But hey! A gem is still useful, even if it’s corrupted!” He chuckled to himself.

Red Agate stared in shock. He did not say a word. It was disconcerting. His spots glowed brighter. Heat radiated off of him.

“Agate?” Tanzanite asked

Red Agate climbed onto the table, the same shocked look still on his face. P backed away from the gem that was stomping towards him, leaving charred footprints behind. He felt his teeth sharpening in his mouth.

“Agate! What are you doing?” Yellow Quartz asked

The other voices of the other gems were drowned out. Red Agate was humiliated and wanted P to pay. Imperfection? Corrupted!? He’ll give that tourmaline an imperfection. P fell off the table, but Red Agate couldn’t find himself following.

He looked down at the cowering gem.

The other red agate was thrown to the ground. He was trying to be nice, and that was the thanks he got? The Quartz thought he was better than him?! Red Agate summoned his whip

Aggy!

Every gem on the council had grabbed on to his arms trying to stop him.

As his fists cooled, he could hear the yelling once again.

He blocked it out and left the chamber, trying not to heat up again. No reef time. Just go home, and cool down. how long had his fce been wet? Was he crying?

Why was he crying?

He looked around his empty home.

Something was missing.

The boys were playing in they backyard of Yellow Sapphires house. They were drawing and coming up with a monster story. The monster was going to be the hero.

“And make him have really big teeth!” Red Zircon said, standing up and holding his arms over his head.

He roared and stomped like a monster. Yellow Sapphire laughed and stood to join in the fun. He tripped, but Zircon caught him. They smiled and laughed at each other. It took them a second to notice the gem watching them beyond their fence. They all stared.

“Hi.” Yellow Sapphire said, waving at her.

“Dude! Don’t talk to strange gems!” Red Zircon whispered

“I have a good feeling about her.” Yellow Sapphire whispered back before running to the fence. “I’m Yellow Sapphire, and that’s my friend Red Zircon.” Red Zircon sighed and ran overnight to join his friend.

“Nice to meet you both,” she said in a smooth voice. “But didn’t you come up with your own human names?”

That was a secret only they shared. Red Zircon noticed his friend was frozen from the shock. Luckily, he wasn’t the kind of sapphire that took the phrase literally. He took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“M-my name is Harold.” He said

“And I’m George.” Red Zircon added, suddenly looking away.

“Nice to meet you both, again. My name is Garnet.” She said

“I like your hair.” George admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“I like your friendship.” Garnet said. “Hold on to it. Don’t let go. And dance like nobody is watching.”

The strange gem lowered her glasses, showing her three eyes to the boys. Only one winked at them before she pushed them back on, and walked away.

“That was the coolest gem we have ever met.” George said

#Captain Underpants #gem au #red Agate!Krupp #Krupp #Red Zircon!George #George #Yellow Sapphire!Harold #Harold #Watermelon tourmaline!Poopypants #Poopypants #Steven Universe #Garnet

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olda4d5-blog · 5 years

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9 Things Your Parents Taught You About Old School New Body

Have you ever strike a weight reduction plateau? It's time to learn why, and what you are able to do about it.

Fat was practically slipping off Your system only a few weeks in the past, and now you might be wondering When your scale is damaged for the reason that it doesn't matter what you are doing, your body weight will not budge.

What gives?

Why did your regimen abruptly stop working, and what could you do to drive via this fat loss plateau?

Being familiar with Weight Loss Vs. Excess fat Reduction

"Fat reduction" is a difficult little Satan because it would not differentiate involving adjustments in Body fat, muscle mass, and drinking water.

The purpose, not surprisingly, is to shed utmost Excess fat and least muscle mass, and to keep h2o retention at a wholesome minimum. Any time you action on the dimensions and register a pound lighter in comparison to the day or week just before, you probably assume that you've got misplaced a pound of fat; in case you weigh the same or even more, you almost certainly think that you have missing no Extra fat, or attained. Regrettably, it is not that simple.

Practically nothing swings pounds up or down as quickly as water retention, one example is. In case you consume a great deal of sodium and carbs, and drink small water, you'll keep quite a bit of water, giving you that puffy, smooth search. This can easily include three-five lbs . in every day, which can be really disturbing if you take place to hit the scale With this state. Within the flip side, you eat tiny sodium and carbs and drink lots of water, Your system will flush water out, supplying you with a more durable, much more defined appear, which could guide you to definitely imagine that it had been a fantastic day of Body fat reduction.

The unpredictability of water retention is one purpose why I only weigh myself at the time each week, on precisely the same working day, in the morning, naked. Weighing by yourself many periods a week, or even worse, daily, will promptly get rid of your confidence and mess with the head.

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I also endorse that you decide on a "weigh working day" that does not have a cheat meal, as This will frequently insert a pound or two of h2o that may arrive out by the end of the following working day (my experience, at the very least).

What is a True Weight Loss Plateau?

A true weight reduction plateau is often a condition in which you're not dropping Excess fat.

I look at that I've strike a plateau if my fat hasn't altered in two weeks. As I am only heading for a single pound of genuine Extra fat decline each week, no modify on the scale right after one 7 days of dieting isn't really essentially a reason behind concern-I could've missing that pound of Unwanted fat but happen being retaining a little water, Or perhaps my bowel movements weren't as standard in the prior day or two. No adjust in weight after two months of dieting tells me which i'm definitely trapped.

Some Unwanted fat-Loss Details to bear in mind

Prior to I deal with how to interrupt these plateaus, I would like you to understand a number of factors about losing Excess fat.

one. Weightloss Plateaus Are to Be Envisioned

Nearly Every person encounters fat reduction plateaus. Should you don't know what I am talking about and can easily arrive at one-digit body Excess fat percentages with complete relieve, rely yourself Fortunate. It's very common for people to strike quite a few plateaus on their own journeys into a 6 pack since, properly, the human human body is simply stubborn In relation to shedding Extra fat.

I have found that I am unable to get under nine-10% physique Extra fat on eating plan on your own (it is possible to only cut down your calories a great deal, or you start to consume up muscle mass)-I should include in cardio if I would like to carry on shedding. After i bulk, I typically stop off all over 14-fifteen% system Fats, and I'm able to food plan off the very first 5% or so, but then I hit a plateau that only 3-4 days a week of cardio can get rid of (20-25 minutes for every session). Then, the subsequent plateau for me comes around eight%. If I wish to go decreased, I have to up my cardio to four times each week, for 30-40 minutes per session.

Everyone I've properly trained and if not helped has seasoned a similar phenomenon, although the thresholds range. I have regarded a handful of rare folks which can eating plan lessen than ten% without having adding cardio, but plenty of people cannot break double-digit entire body fat percentages without having a pretty rigorous diet program and common cardio program.

2. The More You Reduce, the Tougher It Gets

The leaner you turn out to be, the for a longer period it will require to get rid of Unwanted fat healthily (The real key, as you ought to protect as much muscle mass and strength as you possibly can whilst getting rid of Fats). For anyone who is at twenty five% overall body Body fat, it's totally probable to get rid of two-3 kilos of fat each week for the first several months. When you are at 10% physique Unwanted fat and so are making a operate for one digits, on the other hand, 2-3 lbs . of fat each week could well be difficult with no hazardous medicine.

For me, at the time I get beneath 12% or so, I am really satisfied to discover just one pound of Unwanted fat loss weekly, and I've to operate for it.

3. Your system Contains a "Comfort and ease Zone"

Although it may possibly sound a tiny bit broscientific, It is really the simplest way I can describe a phenomenon seasoned by me and millions of other athletes around the globe. Your body appears to possess a fat (and, appropriately, a physique Body fat proportion) that it's most relaxed at. Your pure appetite tends to take care of this weight and if you take in lower than this, you're feeling hungry. Should you consume a lot more than this, you're feeling quite whole.

For many, this "comfort zone" is pretty Fats, while others settle into a excess weight that is sort of lean. For me, for instance, I discover that my entire body is most comfy about eleven% overall body Unwanted fat (which would currently put me at about 200 lbs). I don't have to look at my calories much too intently and I can cheat various situations per week, And that i'll just continue to be around 11%.

Now, maintaining a body weight underneath this ease and comfort zone needs continuous function in the form of proscribing energy and undertaking cardio. Receiving fatter than this necessitates standard overeating, and when this proceeds for far too lengthy, the convenience zone creeps higher and better.

5 Approaches to interrupt Your Weightloss Plateaus

Alright, now that you know the distinction between fat loss plateaus and Extra fat reduction plateaus, Listed below are 3 surefire ways to stoke your body's furnace again to keep the Body fat coming off.

one. Re-Estimate Your Daily Caloric Concentrate on

Your metabolism slows down as you drop pounds since Your whole body won't have to exert as much Power to keep up its now-slimmer physique.

If you don't regulate your calories to account for this, you could possibly hit a plateau. The easy way to prevent This really is to re-determine your each day caloric concentrate on following each 15 pounds of fat reduction. As you'll see, the goal creeps decrease and decrease.

There are various formulation out there for determining just how much you should take in to get rid of excess weight, but Here is a simple 1 determined by the Katch McArdle:

1.2 grams of protein for each pound of overall body fat

1 gram of carbohydrate per pound of system fat

one gram of Body fat for every 5 pounds of overall body excess weight

That simple macronutrient formulation will set you in the average caloric deficit and permit for constant, nutritious weight loss. To turn it into calories, merely multiply the protein and carbs by four, as well as fats by nine.

2. Regulate the "Concealed Calories"

Most weightloss plateaus are a result of very little in excess of "calorie creep"-which is, taking in far more energy than you think. This, coupled with an ever-slowing metabolism, is really a confirmed formula for stagnation.

Calories can creep in from numerous places. Purposeless snacking, ingesting out at dining places (they load energy into meals with butter, oil, sauces, and many others.), overdoing it with condiments, and consuming Alcoholic beverages are all common tips on how to increase enough energy to stall your fat reduction devoid of making you're feeling like you're wholly "off your diet program."

The sad fact can be a mere two hundred-300 energy too many per day can absolutely halt Body fat loss. To put this into viewpoint, which is only a pair handfuls of nuts, a few tablespoons of fatty salad dressing, or a small bag of chips. Yup, Fats reduction is that finicky. It's not extremely intricate, nevertheless it involves complete precision.

So, to overcome the "calorie creep," you just really have to know just what's likely into Your entire body each day. You could keep a foodstuff journal, or you are able to do what I do: estimate what you require on a daily basis, split it down into day-to-day foods, and take in a similar matter on a daily basis, each individual food. I haven't got some time or persistence to operate lots of assortment into my food plan, so I embrace the simplicity of selecting nutritious foods that I like, and eating them time and again.

three. Raise your Cardio

If you know that your everyday caloric goal is sweet and you've got Definitely no calorie creep, then you need to improve your cardio.

It is possible to add another working day if possible (I don't propose over 4 times each week should you be also excess weight education), or incorporate time to daily (I wish to add ten minutes to every session and see how my physique responds).

The reasoning is to simply suggestion the scales a bit far more inside the way of Body fat reduction and notice the outcome. If the very first round of additional cardio doesn't get it done, incorporate more (A different 10 minutes to every session, For example), and you'll get there.

Oh and do HIIT cardio, be sure to.

four. Embrace the Cheat Food

Yup, Contrary to popular belief, the cheat meal actually aids you get rid of Unwanted fat.

How?

Well, to start with there's the psychological Raise, which retains you delighted and motivated, which finally tends to make sticking on your diet easier.

But you will find also a physiological Increase.

Research on overfeeding (the scientific expression for binging on meals) present that doing this can Improve your metabolic rate by anywhere from three-ten%. Although this Appears fantastic, it essentially doesn't mean Significantly when you consider that you choose to would wish to take in a anywhere from a couple of hundred to some thousand added calories in daily to obtain this influence.

Extra vital are the effects cheating has on a hormone named leptin, which regulates starvation, your metabolic amount, appetite, enthusiasm, and libido, together with serving other functions in Your system.

When you are within a caloric deficit and shed overall body Body fat, your leptin levels fall. This, subsequently, results in your metabolic fee to slow down, your appetite to enhance, your motivation to wane, plus your mood to bitter.

Alternatively, after you give Your entire body much more Strength (energy) than it demands, leptin concentrations are boosted, which could then have good effects on Unwanted fat oxidation, thyroid activity, temper, and even testosterone concentrations.

So if It truly is a rise in leptin levels you actually need, How will you very best reach it?

Eating carbohydrates is the best way. Second to that may be eating protein (large-protein foods also increase your metabolic price). Dietary fats aren't pretty efficient at growing leptin levels, and Alcoholic beverages essentially inhibits it.

So, In the event your fat is trapped and you also're irritable and demotivated, a nice kick of leptin may very well be all you need to get the scales moving yet again.

Have a very nice cheat food full of protein and carbs, and benefit from the boost within your leptin amounts. It will help your weight loss!

5. Carry Large Weights

For anyone who is knowledgeable about any of my do the job, you are aware of I'm a big supporter of lifting heavy weights. Effectively, among the several great things about lifting hefty is The point that it can help hasten Excess fat reduction.

A study posted by Greek sports activities experts located that Adult men that educated with significant weights (eighty-eighty five% in their one particular-rep max, or "1RM") greater their metabolic charges over the following three times, burning hundreds a lot more energy in comparison to the Adult males that educated with lighter weights (forty five-65% in their 1RM).

So strike the weights and hit them difficult if you wish to jack up your metabolic fee and consequently, speed up your Extra fat reduction.

And if you want to rating more details, focus on compound lifts like squats and deadlifts, mainly because these are generally the types that burn the most article-work out energy.

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djgblogger-blog · 6 years

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Cheetah III robot preps for a role as a first responder

http://bit.ly/2J8dC84

Associate professor of mechanical engineering Sangbae Kim and his team at the Biomimetic Robotics Lab developed the quadruped robot, the MIT Cheetah. Photo: David Sella

By Eric Brown

If you were to ask someone to name a new technology that emerged from MIT in the 21st century, there’s a good chance they would name the robotic cheetah. Developed by the MIT Department of Mechanical Engineering’s Biomimetic Robotics Lab under the direction of Associate Professor Sangbae Kim, the quadruped MIT Cheetah has made headlines for its dynamic legged gait, speed, jumping ability, and biomimetic design.

The dog-sized Cheetah II can run on four articulated legs at up to 6.4 meters per second, make mild running turns, and leap to a height of 60 centimeters. The robot can also autonomously determine how to avoid or jump over obstacles.

Kim is now developing a third-generation robot, the Cheetah III. Instead of improving the Cheetah’s speed and jumping capabilities, Kim is converting the Cheetah into a commercially viable robot with enhancements such as a greater payload capability, wider range of motion, and a dexterous gripping function. The Cheetah III will initially act as a spectral inspection robot in hazardous environments such as a compromised nuclear plant or chemical factory. It will then evolve to serve other emergency response needs.

“The Cheetah II was focused on high speed locomotion and agile jumping, but was not designed to perform other tasks,” says Kim. “With the Cheetah III, we put a lot of practical requirements on the design so it can be an all-around player. It can do high-speed motion and powerful actions, but it can also be very precise.”

The Biomimetic Robotics Lab is also finishing up a smaller, stripped down version of the Cheetah, called the Mini Cheetah, designed for robotics research and education. Other projects include a teleoperated humanoid robot called the Hermes that provides haptic feedback to human operators. There’s also an early stage investigation into applying Cheetah-like actuator technology to address mobility challenges among the disabled and elderly.

Conquering mobility on the land

“With the Cheetah project, I was initially motivated by copying land animals, but I also realized there was a gap in ground mobility,” says Kim. “We have conquered air and water transportation, but we haven’t conquered ground mobility because our technologies still rely on artificially paved roads or rails. None of our transportation technologies can reliably travel over natural ground or even man-made environments with stairs and curbs. Dynamic legged robots can help us conquer mobility on the ground.”

One challenge with legged systems is that they “need high torque actuators,” says Kim. “A human hip joint can generate more torque than a sports car, but achieving such condensed high torque actuation in robots is a big challenge.”

Robots tend to achieve high torque at the expense of speed and flexibility, says Kim. Factory robots use high torque actuators but they are rigid and cannot absorb energy upon the impact that results from climbing steps. Hydraulically powered, dynamic legged robots, such as the larger, higher-payload, quadruped Big Dog from Boston Dynamics, can achieve very high force and power, but at the expense of efficiency. “Efficiency is a serious issue with hydraulics, especially when you move fast,” he adds.

A chief goal of the Cheetah project has been to create actuators that can generate high torque in designs that imitate animal muscles while also achieving efficiency. To accomplish this, Kim opted for electric rather than hydraulic actuators. “Our high torque electric motors have exceeded the efficiency of animals with biological muscles, and are much more efficient, cheaper, and faster than hydraulic robots,” he says.

Cheetah III: More than a speedster

Unlike the earlier versions, the Cheetah III design was motivated more by potential applications than pure research. Kim and his team studied the requirements for an emergency response robot and worked backward.

“We believe the Cheetah III will be able to navigate in a power plant with radiation in two or three years,” says Kim. “In five to 10 years it should be able to do more physical work like disassembling a power plant by cutting pieces and bringing them out. In 15 to 20 years, it should be able to enter a building fire and possibly save a life.”

In situations such as the Fukushima nuclear disaster, robots or drones are the only safe choice for reconnaissance. Drones have some advantages over robots, but they cannot apply large forces necessary for tasks such as opening doors, and there are many disaster situations in which fallen debris prohibits drone flight.

By comparison, the Cheetah III can apply human-level forces to the environment for hours at a time. It can often climb or jump over debris, or even move it out of the way. Compared to a drone, it’s also easier for a robot to closely inspect instrumentation, flip switches, and push buttons, says Kim. “The Cheetah III can measure temperatures or chemical compounds, or close and open valves.”

Advantages over tracked robots include the ability to maneuver over debris and climb stairs. “Stairs are some of the biggest obstacles for robots,” says Kim. “We think legged robots are better in man-made environments, especially in disaster situations where there are even more obstacles.”

The Cheetah III was slowed down a bit compared to the Cheetah II, but also given greater strength and flexibility. “We increased the torque so it can open the heavy doors found in power plants,” says Kim. “We increased the range of motion to 12 degrees of freedom by using 12 electric motors that can articulate the body and the limbs.”

This is still far short of the flexibility of animals, which have over 600 muscles. Yet, the Cheetah III can compensate somewhat with other techniques. “We maximize each joint’s work space to achieve a reasonable amount of reachability,” says Kim.

The design can even use the legs for manipulation. “By utilizing the flexibility of the limbs, the Cheetah III can open the door with one leg,” says Kim. “It can stand on three legs and equip the fourth limb with a customized swappable hand to open the door or close a valve.”

The Cheetah III has an improved payload capability to carry heavier sensors and cameras, and possibly even to drop off supplies to disabled victims. However, it’s a long way from being able to rescue them. The Cheetah III is still limited to a 20-kilogram payload, and can travel untethered for four to five hours with a minimal payload.

“Eventually, we hope to develop a machine that can rescue a person,” says Kim. “We’re not sure if the robot would carry the victim or bring a carrying device,” he says. “Our current design can at least see if there are any victims or if there are any more potential dangerous events.”

Experimenting with human-robot interaction

The semiautonomous Cheetah III can make ambulatory and navigation decisions on its own. However, for disaster work, it will primarily operate by remote control.

“Fully autonomous inspection, especially in disaster response, would be very hard,” says Kim. Among other issues, autonomous decision making often takes time, and can involve trial and error, which could delay the response.

“People will control the Cheetah III at a high level, offering assistance, but not handling every detail,” says Kim. “People could tell it to go to a specific location at the map, find this place, and open that door. When it comes to hand action or manipulation, the human will take over more control and tell the robot what tool to use.”

Humans may also be able to assist with more instinctive controls. For example, if the Cheetah uses one of its legs as an arm and then applies force, it’s hard to maintain balance. Kim is now investigating whether human operators can use “balanced feedback” to keep the Cheetah from falling over while applying full force.

“Even standing on two or three legs, it would still be able to perform high force actions that require complex balancing,” says Kim. “The human operator can feel the balance, and help the robot shift its momentum to generate more force to open or hammer a door.”

The Biomimetic Robotics Lab is exploring balanced feedback with another robot project called Hermes (Highly Efficient Robotic Mechanisms and Electromechanical System). Like the Cheetah III, it’s a fully articulated, dynamic legged robot designed for disaster response. Yet, the Hermes is bipedal, and completely teleoperated by a human who wears a telepresence helmet and a full body suit. Like the Hermes, the suit is rigged with sensors and haptic feedback devices.

“The operator can sense the balance situation and react by using body weight or directly implementing more forces,” says Kim.

The latency required for such intimate real-time feedback is difficult to achieve with Wi-Fi, even when it’s not blocked by walls, distance, or wireless interference. “In most disaster situations, you would need some sort of wired communication,” says Kim. “Eventually, I believe we’ll use reinforced optical fibers.”

Improving mobility for the elderly

Looking beyond disaster response, Kim envisions an important role for agile, dynamic legged robots in health care: improving mobility for the fast-growing elderly population. Numerous robotics projects are targeting the elderly market with chatty social robots. Kim is imagining something more fundamental.

“We still don’t have a technology that can help impaired or elderly people seamlessly move from the bed to the wheelchair to the car and back again,” says Kim. “A lot of elderly people have problems getting out of bed and climbing stairs. Some elderly with knee joint problems, for example, are still pretty mobile on flat ground, but can’t climb down the stairs unassisted. That’s a very small fraction of the day when they need help. So we’re looking for something that’s lightweight and easy to use for short-time help.”

Kim is currently working on “creating a technology that could make the actuator safe,” he says. “The electric actuators we use in the Cheetah are already safer than other machines because they can easily absorb energy. Most robots are stiff, which would cause a lot of impact forces. Our machines give a little.”

By combining such safe actuator technology with some of the Hermes technology, Kim hopes to develop a robot that can help elderly people in the future. “Robots can not only address the expected labor shortages for elder care, but also the need to maintain privacy and dignity,” he says.

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thoughtfulzombiebarbarian-blog · 7 years

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aiwis-review

Aiwis Review

Behavioral promoting is a fresh out of the plastic new and exceptionally imaginative method for drawing in with your site watchers in light of different components which can influence the message they get.

AIWIS is a fresh out of the plastic new saas application, which gives you the chance to connect with guests in light of their practices, either on the site, (for example, pages went to, number of return visits, or notwithstanding proceeding with discussions from different AIWIS areas).

This implies they can get an AR message with an offer, tap on the connection, and AIWIS will welcome them by name and keep on talking about the offer to them.

AIWIS will:

Demonstrate an intuitive face (like Dominos pizza)

Welcome the guest

Draw in the guest by asking their name

Request their email

Gather name and email and add to an autorespoder

Allows the guest to stop or replay the voice and leave the face to go to the offer

Can draw in with guest utilizing I.P data, and reveal to them which page they last went by, when they last went to and how to alter this.

The impact this has on your guest is completely enchantment.

Envision how they react when they are welcomed by their name and area?

Enjoyably shocked? Administered to? Indeed, even adored…

There is nothing else out there that analyzes to this and the outcomes that the beta analyzers have utilized have demonstrated this.

You even have the decision of male or female countenances and a large group of controls you can use to change the request and stream of the messages and even the dialect. On the off chance that you are as yet roused by my words, please read my Aiwis survey for more discourse.

Aiwis Review – Overview

Maker: Craig Crawford

Item: Aiwis

Discharge Date: 2017-Jun-14

Discharge Time: 9:00 EDT

Front-End Price: $47

Deals Page: Click here

Reward: Yes, Huge Bonus at here

Specialty: Video

Discount: 30 Day Money Back Guarantee

AIWIS Review

Quality - 9.6

Cost - 9.2

Highlights - 9.7

Simple to utilize - 9.3

Support - 9.4

What is Artificial Intelligence?

The first in my Aiwis survey, I need reply to you may not know inquiries concerning the Artificial Intelligence:

Computerized reasoning (AI): is a PC program disconnected or on the web, normally consolidating a simulated neural system, that can figure out how to perform complex scholarly errands. It comes in two structures:

Solid AI (or General AI): A theoretical framework equipped for playing out any scholarly assignment, like a human. This is the true objective of numerous AI scientists… It's something MANY individuals have been endeavoring to improve the situation numerous years.

Limit AI (or Applied AI): An Artificial Intelligence made to tackle one particular issue. Once made, it can't be connected to another assignment.

AIWIS ("Artificial Intelligence Website Interactive System") is truly unique since its designer, Craig Crawford, has officially licensed this item.

AIWIS's Key Features

Assemble More Engagement

With AIWIS you can customize your promoting, and assemble a fun relationship specifically with your site guests, keeping them drew in, and traveling through your site, your substance, and your business pipe

Profound Funnel and Content Exploration

AIWIS recollects! He recalls the last time your client went by, or in the event that they've never gone to by any means. What's more, he can guide them to the best substance, and offers accessible for them, including one-time offers, and uncommon offers that are time-restricted relying upon their own area and time zone!

Different Marketing Messages

AIWIS is super-insightful, he knows your guests would prefer all not to see a similar substance. He's not a fly up that will disturb the hellfire out of individuals by doing likewise every time they visit. Rather, contingent upon their identity and what they NEED to know, you can roll out AIWIS improvement up his promoting message to inspire, engage, and drive activity

Upgrade Your Brand With AIWIS's Visitor Support

It's simple for AIWIS to guide guests to your help channels if that is the thing that you need him to do… and it's all the little customized touches like this that will make a gigantic WOW FACTOR and construct your image and notoriety overnight.

How Can It Work?

AIWIS connects with your gathering of people by conversing with them, making inquiries, drawing in their consideration by doing things like welcome them by their genuine name and area regardless of the possibility that that data had not been given to them.

It is additionally mindful of sites your guests have been to which you can use to your advantage by enabling AIWIS to give your guests recommendations in view of their interests, for instance.

For more points of interest you can watch video demo beneath:

Cost and How To Buy It?

I need to underline in my AIWIS audit that for the individuals who need to secure a space in this course right now, please make a point to recall the dispatch date which is on Jun 14, 2017 at 11:00 EDT. In addition, the front-end cost is $47, in addition to you can buy this item through Visa card, Master card or Paypal.

To be more particular, there is a wide assortment of value bundles accessible to be thought about before you settle on your official choice to pick one of them.

AIWIS has 3 alternatives for you pick:

(Aiwis – $37) (Seemore)

(Awis Unlimited – $47) (Seemore)

(Boundless and Developer Rights – $67 ) (Seemore)

(Aiwis Advanced Webinar Training (a month, week by week preparing) – $97) (Seemore)

Would it be advisable for you to Buy It?

AIWIS Gets You More Engagement

With AIWIS on your group, you can transform guests into fans, fans into adherents, and devotees into your very own faction. With AIWIS dependably supportively calling attention to your best substance and controlling new guests around your site, you're in full control of the client encounter.

AIWIS Gets You More Leads

You don't need to depend on your guests seeing your pick in shape any more. AIWIS can request that they join by and by. What's more, when your site is as of now alluding to them by name… well, what do they need to lose?

AIWIS Gets You More Sales

Envision having the capacity to convey an alternate attempt to close the deal to your clients in view of where they originated from. AIWIS can do that. Envision having the capacity to draw a client's consideration quickly to a unique offer that is showed up since the last time they perused your site. AIWIS can do that as well.

My Experience

I think that its extremely hard to pass on something that offers a consistent approach to expand activity, change rates and benefits.

At whatever point I survey an item, I place myself in the position of the end-client or client.

So as I was taking a gander at demo locales with AIWIS introduced on them, I gave careful consideration to the amount AIWIS influenced my own engagement with the site.

I found that being welcomed (in sound) by my own name and monitoring sites I had gone by online were to a great degree consideration snatching in light of the fact that these are things I was not used to seeing when I went to a site.

Subsequently, these sites had my complete consideration very quickly upon my passageway and that is correctly what AIWIS means to finish in light of the fact that once you have your guests consideration the errand of "offering them" turns out to be significantly more feasible.

Masters:

Demonstrate an intelligent face

Continuously welcome the guests

Draw in guests by asking their name and their email

Gather name and email and add to an automated assistant

Allow the guest to stop or replay the voice and leave the face to go to the offer

Draw in with guest utilizing I.P data, and tell the which page they last went to

The impact that it has on your guest is out and out enchantment.

CONS:

The managing video is very troublesome for me to take after. Nonetheless, in the event that you get any inconvenience when utilizing this program, you can contact with the help work area for prompt offer assistance

Conclusion

In rundown, I trust that the majority of the data in my AIWIS survey can enable you to acquire understanding about this item and after that have the capacity to settle on an astute decision.

In case you're prepared to begin making a genuine online wage in the most detached way that could be available at that point tap the catch underneath before the value rises. I am anticipate seeing your prosperity.

Be that as it may, as I said this prompt riser uncommon is extremely time restricted. The cost will go up. What's more, you will unquestionably not see multi and site flipping permit included at this low a cost, until kingdom come! So make a move today now… !!! Snatch is quick!!

At last, I want to give you valuable data to change your business in this AIWIS audit. See you later!

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the-nostalgic-sentimentalist · 7 years

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Anthology of The Unsaid

“I’m Sorry.”

It’s 5.17 am on Tuesday May 23, 2017 and I have not heard from you in 151 days. All my attempts to reconnect with you have been met with silence. Punishing, uncompromising silence. There was nothing to hold onto. I tried, and gripped into the void.

I stumble upon your message because I tend to scroll mindlessly through tumblr while waiting for the train and when I notice that the messages icon is lit, the possibility that it could be from you does not even cross my mind. I had given up. My message from last Friday, in all its grammatically incorrect glory, was a drunken outburst, a testament to the sheer grief knowing you has caused me. After everything I have done and tried to re-establish our connection, I did not think that there was anything left I could say to elicit a response. But oh god - what a response that was. I have issued enough apologies in my life, both those sincere and those less so, to know the difference. I can tell that yours was not meant to mend this friendship, it’s aimed at absolution. It’s meant to rid yourself of the charge of having committed the one act you promised you’d spare me - ghost me - and return to the status quo unburdened by the guilt you perhaps feel. It's not the start of a conversation, it's the end of one. But you and I – we haven't really talked in six months. And after this much silence, “I’m sorry” doesn't really cut it. You know that. I know that. And you know that I know that. You're not apologising for what you have done, but for what you're unwilling to do. There will be neither reconciliation nor resolution. Just regret.

After months of yearning for a sign that your affection had not just been a figment of my imagination, I am presented with proof that it had been. And now my heart slides along my ribcage until it thumps painfully in my gut and my mouth has gone dry and bitter, as if I was chewing acidic ashes. I stare at the phone in my hands and the numbness spreads so quickly that I nearly drop it onto the uneven concrete beneath my feet.

Your silence, while painful, held hope. No matter how small, elusive or delusional - the uncertainty came with the possibility that you'd come around. That one day in a future I caught myself fantasising about too often, you'd come back to this friendship. And we could find a way to start again.

That hope died today.

There are endless permutations of accidents, life choices and lucky coincidences that lead to a version of this life in which we don’t meet, where we spend our time on this planet utterly oblivious to each other’s existence. And right now, as for the past five months, I would prefer every single one of them, would choose them over the cruel awareness that you know who I am and couldn't care less. That we had what we had, and lost it all the same.

You met me when my life was in a state of emergency. I was in freefall and quite desperate for anything steady. That's where I was at and I never lied about it. I did not conceal that I was in crisis. Not that I could have. From the very beginning of this initially serendipitous friendship you had the ability to know things I tried to hide. You read between the lines, no matter how small that space was.

“Let me show you what happens when we let in so much light.”

I did. I spoke all my fears into existence and you vowed to keep them safe. You reaffirmed over and over again that I could hand over my anxiety and pain and insecurity and you’d hold a space for it all. Being vulnerable was our thing and we bore our secrets and shortcomings for each other to behold and I softened into your promises to never betray that. I let in all the light you had to offer and it left me blinded. What you did in October crushed me in ways I didn’t know I could still be crushed. I thought I had felt every variety of hurt and humiliation, but you resoundingly proved me wrong. I felt the shame brewing in my gut for weeks of poorly disguised dysfunction. And when I finally put into words what it had done to me, I was met with a non-response. To this day, I don’t know what you felt when you heard my voice telling you how much you had hurt me. But there are many things I do not know to this day, and yesterday’s message confirmed my worst fear:

I will never know, either.

I will never know if the jars of pesto for Christmas arrived. I will never know if you still use the mug, or if you smile when you grab the little spoon I stole for you. I will never know what happened to your puppy, or what your favourite part of your honeymoon was. I will never know how you are adjusting to the Trump presidency, or whether the end of the drought is palpable in everyday life. I will never know if it was easy to let me go or whether you still think about me sometimes.

Mama and Papa eventually stopped asking about you, you know. When I stopped having anything new to tell them, you faded from our conversations and we went back to conducting our lives as we had done pre-June 2016. Until two weeks ago, when I went home for a surprise visit because it was their 30th wedding anniversary and Dad asked in misplaced jest when you’d be coming to visit this summer. I felt as though someone was pushing my head underwater and if I didn’t steer the conversation into a distinctly different direction, I would undoubtedly drown. They are confused, but not even remotely as hurt as I am. They loved you in the humble, unassuming way in which they have loved many people who have come and gone. When you came to visit our corner of this universe, they grew fond of you and will look back on that week with happy memories.

I look back and want to weep.

For the record I know no one is keeping - my life would have ended if we had crossed that line. I feel like that has always been an assumption, a tacit accusation of sorts, but I never wanted nor envisioned anything beyond being friends. Not in this life nor any other. I loved you like a friend. You're attractive, no doubt. But I like to be in love with the people I fuck. And I was not in love.

I will never forget that moment on the field near my house, the sun setting gently in the background, beer coursing through our bloodstream. If I concentrate I can hear your voice mutter those words that flipped my world on its head, and that probably ruined everything. I think I knew back then. That's why I didn't sleep much that night. And that's why, at the airport, I told you that I had a feeling that I'd never see you again. You protested, reminded me of February, hugged me and then walked away. Sometimes I hate being right.

While I adored you unequivocally, my heart rested firmly in someone else’s hands. And I know, now more than ever, that I was nothing more than an exotic diversion, a brief, entertaining distraction and I will remain, at best, a footnote in your sun-kissed life. I don’t envy you, I don’t pity you, I simply wish I had never met you.

In the end, there was nothing good left in loving you and I kept loving you all the same.

“You are my type of human.”

Today is the first day since September 10, 2016 that I am purposely not wearing the watch you gifted to me. I have felt intensely ambivalent about it for months, but today its sight would be unbearable. I have watched the hours and days go by, measured by a watch you have never seen me cherish. A watch that has never run in your time zone. It is a constant reminder of everything that was and will not be again.

It broke my heart that you ignored my birthday. If anything you missed the chance to take revenge for all my ageist jokes. It hurt that the disappointment over my dissertation went largely unacknowledged even though you knew it would devastate me. In the end, you faded from my life like rain that evaporates under sunlight, until no one can tell it was there, except those who remember the storm. I have admonished myself often and enduringly for my inability to let you go and move on. But no matter how often I remind myself of the blatant discrepancy between how much I care and how much you clearly no longer do, I can't help it. It’s like you opened the floodgates and allowed me to love the way I love without judgment. Now I feel everything twice as intensely because you are no longer here to tell me it’s okay to be and love like this.

“I dreamed you into existence.”

You used to say that to illustrate how much you appreciated that we had met. You called me your best friend. You told me to rest easy as you will never cut ties like I had seen in a nightmare. And I allowed myself to believe all of it, sank into the promises that were far too good to be true… and far too good to last.

It took me months to come out of the traumatised haze the experience with you left me in. The occasional slip up of attempting to get in touch pulling me back to square one nearly every single time. It took me months to be somewhat okay. To trust people's friendship again and I still barely do. On the list of disappointments in my life, you rank supreme.

I always knew things could and most likely would change. That a friendship across ocean and continent isn't set up to succeed. But I was still all in. I was completely committed to giving it my best shot. You had my loyalty, my thoughtfulness, my love, my confidence, my trust and affection. We could have talked about what you needed me to do to make this work. But like her, you disengaged. But unlike her you pretended you had never promised me any different, that you had never promised me any better.

It added insult to injury. That on top of the obvious pain I was always going to feel at losing you, I endured months of humiliating silence. Only to be served with an “I’m sorry.” What went through your head when you sent that? Are we playing a game? I don't play games anymore. And especially not with you.

We played Boule. Mama, Papa and I. My bones ached with your absence. Not just because the 2 v. 1 combination was awkward but because I saw you in every corner as we made our rounds. Remembered with an involuntary smirk how annoyingly talented you were and how Papa beamed with delight as we played. My heart was brimming with nostalgia and I had no words to find release.

You could have just told me. Without hints or vagueness. Ideally wrapped in some kindness, as if I had mattered at some point. You knew my history with people doing this, and you still decided that you could live with treating me like that. I despise unworthy endings and you condemned me to a reality in which there is nothing I can do to change this one.

We used to joke that we were essentially the same person and I feel violent protest bubbling up inside me at the thought of it. I refuse to believe I could do what you have done. I know that I would rather die than inflict this kind of confusion and self-doubt on another person.

“You have no idea what you deserve. I guess I’m here with the mirror.”

If you served as the mirror to show me my worth, I am pretty cheap. Over the past six months I have oscillated between fury and self-pity and now I just grieve for you. Now I just long for the first day I think of you not once.

You once warned me, that should you ever face a certain choice, you'd stay true to your commitment. There have been hints, but they lie so far back that the timeline is off. I thought we had litigated this point on that dreadful Wednesday night when we were drunk and miserable. But evidently not.

“If your world falls apart, I’d start a riot.”

Did you know it's impossible to hold a song in your hands? I have tried and failed. I never asked you to save me. I just wish you didn't pretend that you never promised you'd be there as I saved myself. Your near complete abstention forced me to instigate my own riot. In the end, I survived without you, like I had predicted when I still thought that I would never have to prove it. I clawed my way back to a sense of worthiness and I know it would have been easier if you had been what you promised you’d be. And so you weren't around anymore when I emerged from the truly awful place that had held me captive for months. You weren't around when I got over her. Or when I quit smoking. Or when I got promoted and started smoking again. We didn’t talk about how the increasing frequency of terror attacks in Europe began to freak me out and feel unsafe in London, or when I discovered new music I know for a fact you would have loved. You missed so much and through it all I lived with the knowledge that it didn't matter to you, anymore. That somewhere along the way, I had squandered the affection of yet another person whom I had loved...and lost.

“You and I love in the same way.”

It seems like I love a little differently. If the roles had been reversed and it had been my affection that was fading, my patience that was dissipating, and my interest that was waning - I would have been gentle with you. I would have looked out for you in the process, making sure you understood what was happening. But you did none of that. Rather, you made me feel foolish for trusting you to protect me. In the end, there was no riot, no owning up to mistakes, no open discourse, no safety. Just one-sided vulnerability, gradual disengagement and a lot of broken trust. Frustration vibrates through me when I ponder how this was my single greatest fear when we started talking and it manifested in all the worst ways.

There was no lesson in meeting you that I was in any need of learning. It was merely a repetition of something miserable I had hoped to never feel again. Friendships form, friendships dissolve. That it happened was never my point of contention, the how certainly was.

We deserved better, and I sure as hell did, too.

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