#at this point if they force her to pick and expect us to root for just one pair like the show is so over. itd be straight up bad writing

[autisticjoshrusso]

sick and miserable about avery's conversation with the captain and the way they seem to be establishing her as polyamorous as an immutable orientation rather than a behavior or choice </3 and her men are fucking stupid </3 SO sorry they're doing that to you sweetie oh my god.

[laylaylanii]

Picking Apart Kou’s Character (Analysis)

Through Nene’s pov he’s introduced as a very sweet guy and stuff but the problem here is that Nene’s is an unreliable narrator since she romantices life + Kou speficially treats her a lot nicer.

He is also heavily morally righteous and tries to hear Hanako out even after knowing he murdered someone, saving him from Teru.

Kou also ends up trying to shoulder other people’s problems, and many of his actions are seen as “heroic” or “selfless” BUT sometimes this due to a more ugly part of his character the fandom seems to discard often.

^ To elaborate, I want to bring up this scene since it’s iconic asf

On the surface it’s like: omg wow so brave of him to kill himself for his bf !! However, in the red house arc (which for context shows him his biggest desires) we can see that he just wants mitsuba to rely on him to the point of extreme measures.

This is rooted from his inferiority complex due to being outshined by his older + younger siblings; AND to add on, Hanako straight up tells Kou twice hes unable to do anything. Then to push it further, Teru’s like ur weak lil bro go back to the kitchen during the no.6 fight. Mitsuba dying infront of him 6 times doesn’t help either..

When Mitsuba asks if Kou is okay and needs to talk about his problems, (I forgot which specific chapter..), Kou automatically assumes that Mitsubas just worried about Kou’s reliability because he has such a low self esteem and is used to given up on.

His inability to actually make stuff happen and ppl telling him he can’t do shit make him very eager to try and shoulder other ppls problem in an attempt to have someone depend on him.

So when Mitsuba comes in with nobody (besides tsukasa but he does more harm than help so wtv) who can help him, Kou.. heh.. ig u could say.. JUMPS at this opportunity.

Anyway, in the Nightlife arc Mitsuba is like “hey can u kill me I’ve given up on being human��, and Kou finally lashes out. Mitsuba is indirectly telling Kou that he gave up on him trying to make his wish come true; AND THEN to make it worse, Mitsuba brings Tsukasa right after up..

Kou gets desperate and forces Mitsuba to stay alive even if he doesn’t want to because both

1) if mitsuba leaves nobody will depend on him and

2) he’s gay for him + misses him after watching him die + can’t bring himself to kill Mitsuba

Yes, he cares a lot for Mitsuba as a person and making his wish come true, but he also just wants to be depended on after being told he’s a let down over and over again.

As I mentioned before, Kou has a trend with diverting his problems from other people and keeping his real feelings in. Nobody expect for nene knows about Mitsubas and Kous relationship, and it literally took Kou like 70 chapters or smthn to give her the basics.

He’s speechless when Akane asks if Mitsuba and him are close because Kou never mentions Mitsuba at all. Teru doesn’t know what’s up with him, and just assumes he “has a goal in mind”. Even when having his big speech defeating Habuko Kou just refers to Mitsuba as “him”.

Okay anyways the point Im trying to get is Kous character is a lot more complex than the fandom passes off !! Yes he can be very sweet and all but there’s other parts to his personality that aren’t so black and white.

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

[celestialmatcha7]

broken promises pt. 2 | nam-gyu (player 124) [VERY ANGSTY VERSION]

pairing: baby daddy! nam-gyu x fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

genre: angst

summary: y/n is struggling to make ends meet as she juggles her demanding job and raising their daughter, mei, on her own. when an unexpected encounter pulls her into a dangerous game, she finds herself facing a choice that could change everything. but when an old face reappears, emotions clash, and y/n is forced to confront the past she’s been running from.

author's note: hope you enjoy it!! pt 3 is coming out soon. <333

Your exhaustion weighs on your bones, each step home feeling like wading through thick mud. Mei had cried all night, and after a long diner shift, you're barely holding it together. Sleep has become a luxury you can’t afford.

Your bank account is nearly empty, bills piled up on the counter, and Nam-gyu is nowhere to be found. He chose his life over your daughter, leaving you to navigate the storm alone.

As you trudge down the dimly lit street, a man in a sharp suit steps into your path.

"Excuse me, miss," he says smoothly. "You look like someone who could use an opportunity."

Your instincts scream to walk away, but the desperation in your chest keeps you rooted. "I’m not interested," you say, voice steady.

He chuckles, pulling out a red and blue ddakji tile. "One round. Win, and you get 100,000 won. Lose, and I get to slap you."

Your stomach churns, but the thought of Mei needing formula keeps you still. "…Fine."

The first slap lands quickly, stinging your skin. Then another. By the third, your cheek burns, but finally—you win.

The man smirks, handing you the money and a sleek black card. "Call this number if you want to make more."

You stare at the card in your hand, heart pounding. You know it’s not just a game. But standing there, drowning in debt, you realize something terrifying—you might not have a choice.

That night, you sit on the edge of your bed, Mei asleep in her crib, her tiny fingers curled into a fist. You know you should throw the card away—pretend you never met that man. But the pain in your cheek and the weight of your empty bank account hold you in place.

Your thumb hovers over the keypad. Then, before you can stop yourself, you dial.

The line rings once. Twice.

“I was expecting your call,” a smooth voice answers.

You swallow hard. “I… I want to make more money.”

“Good. Meet me tomorrow night. I’ll send the location. Come alone.”

The call ends before you can ask anything else.

Alone.

That means Mei has to stay somewhere.

The next evening, you carefully place Mei in your mother’s arms, forcing a smile as you kiss your baby’s forehead. Mei coos softly, curling her tiny fingers around your shirt, sensing your hesitation.

“I’ll be back soon,” you whisper, gently prying Mei’s hand away.

Your mother sighs. “You’ve been working too hard, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re okay?”

No. Not even close.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you lie. “Just picking up an extra shift.”

Your mother still looks worried but nods. “Alright. Be careful.”

You mutter a quiet “thank you” before turning away, walking out before your resolve can crumble.

The meeting point is an abandoned street behind an old warehouse. A small group of strangers stands nearby, shifting uncomfortably. No one speaks.

Then, a black van pulls up. The doors slide open.

No explanations. No instructions. Just silent expectation.

One by one, people step inside. You hesitate for only a second before following. The doors slam shut.

Then—hiss.

A sickly sweet scent fills the air.

Your vision blurs. Your limbs feel heavy.

The last thing you see is Mei’s face in your mind—before everything fades to black.

You wake up to murmurs and shuffling footsteps, your head pounding as you force your eyes open. The air feels cold, sterile, and the harsh glow of fluorescent lights stings your eyes.

Blinking away the haze, you push yourself up, freezing as you take in your surroundings.

Rows upon rows of steel bunk beds stretch across the massive room, stacked high like something out of a prison. Dozens—no, hundreds—of people move around in confusion, all dressed the same.

You glance down.

A green tracksuit.

The number 369 stitched onto the fabric.

Your pulse quickens. This isn’t a job. This isn’t some harmless opportunity.

Something is very, very wrong.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you scan the room for answers���for a way out. But as the reality sinks in, one terrifying thought grips you.

You don’t know where you are.

And worse—you don’t know what’s coming next.

Just as you’re about to turn away, something catches your eye. Nam-gyu. He shifts slightly, his attention momentarily pulled away from the guy in purple hair.

And then, he sees you.

His gaze locks onto yours. In that split second, the smile on his face drops completely, replaced by shock—then something you can’t quite read. Guilt, maybe? Regret?

But it vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared.

His shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he’s unsure whether to approach or walk away. The weight of the years apart hangs heavy between you, but the anger builds in your chest, strong and undeniable.

You stand still, waiting for him to make a move. His expression shifts, now mixed with something you can’t quite place—dread?

But you won’t flinch. Not this time. You hold his gaze, heart pounding, waiting.

Nam-gyu takes a deep breath, his posture stiff. He steps toward you slowly, the tension in the air thick.

"Look, I know you’re pissed, but—" he starts, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You don’t wait for him to finish. "You think I’m just pissed?" you snap, stepping closer. "You left us, Nam-gyu. You disappeared without a word. You didn’t care."

His eyes flicker with something like guilt, but there’s no apology. Not yet. He rubs his hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably under your stare. You can see the struggle, but it’s too late.

"It wasn’t like that," he mutters, barely above a whisper. "Things got… complicated."

You laugh, bitter and sharp. "Complicated? You chose your lifestyle over our daughter. You chose that over me—over our family. How is that complicated? You made your choice, and it wasn’t us."

Nam-gyu winces, the weight of your words sinking in. He stumbles for an excuse, but none comes. "I didn’t want this for us. I didn’t want to be that person. Things got out of control, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off without me."

Your eyes narrow, shaking your head. "Better off without you?" you repeat. "You really think we’d be better off if you left us to fend for ourselves? Left me alone with no help, no support? I’m drowning, Nam-gyu. Mei’s drowning, and you think that’s what’s best? You thought that was okay?"

He looks away, his face twisted in guilt, but it’s too little, too late. "I didn’t want you to do it alone," he whispers. "I should’ve been there."

You’re shaking with anger, barely able to stand it. "Yeah, you messed up. You abandoned us, and now you think you can just come back and make it better? You left us in this mess, Nam-gyu. I had to pick up every piece of the life you shattered."

He opens his mouth, trying to say something, but nothing comes out. You don’t give him a chance to.

With one last, sharp roll of your eyes, you turn away.

You don’t look back.

[butterfly-ribbon]

something i like about mizuki and rui's interactions is that the first time he addresses her with the suffix "-kun" when he's asking about her name? but in every instance after this, he drops it even though he uses it to address /literally everyone/ (including the cis girls, he calls nene "nene-kun" for instance). makes me wonder if mizuki herself voiced her discomfort with it after explaining that she's trans to him or if he picked up on this on his own? either way, i like that he's considerate towards her even if he doesn't fully Get her...

i also love that mizuki here immediately assumes (perhaps a little unfairly towards rui even if it's understandable) that there's some narrativization on rui's end towards her which is rooted in a voyeuristic fascination in her as a person with a unique gendered experience that ties into how she's often treated as an object or an exhibit by everyone? it also makes sense in the context of her genre awareness and performativity bc mizuki is /very/ hypercognizant of tropes and the archetypes she's often forced to occupy?

it's this the expectation of herself as a source of entertainment to others. trans girls often exist in media to be ogled at and othered. she doesn't see reflections of herself in the world. she sees caricatures. so of course she'd assume tht this is what rui wants of her. of course that isn't the case, but trust is so difficult. commodification of transfemininity and transfemininity as performance being widely seen as a source of entertainment and comedy are things that are very normalized in pop culture and media… even when trans girls aren't treated as jokes, they merely exist to reinforce the femininity of cis girls as innately more authentic. this is something mizuki absolutely knows considering her genre awareness and how much she loves to engage with fiction, but i think it's also interesting that in the context of her relationship with the other girls in niigo there's this conflict taking place in terms of being the manic pixie dream girl who purposefully elevates the cis girls by setting the stage for them and helping them address their problems (she does this in carnation recollection, mirage of light, our escape for survival and many other instances) versus using them to affirm her own femininity … we see this the most with ena, but i think this is present with mafuyu too especially in the way she represents mizuki's hope.

mizuki's introduction to the other girls in person also establishes that she's very openly genre savvy and goes out of her way to point out narrative conventions of 'isekai stories' and other media tropes relating to her social situations in a way that feels very deliberate as a parallel to being cognizant of societal prejudices and gender constructs and the way they're sustained through pop culture so she has to co-opt them for her own benefit bc so much of mizu1 is about mizuki using fiction and horror stories as a medium through which she can engage with herself and the other girl but i think this is meaningful insofar as it tells us that mizuki always understood how abuse and misogyny work bc it's been her experience for her entire life… it's interesting that she's one of the few characters in the cast that's an active Anime Fan (ie, going out to try and get merch, tickets, the soundtracks, etc), but the expression around it is /very much/ like trans culture, like how a girl is engaged with things. it isn't about figures or being the ultimate oshi, she enjoys the characters, she enjoys what goes into the creation, she's engaged with how she relates to characters over them being "attractive." there's so much… about her and her genre awareness and also her social awareness… it feels very special bc very few stories go out of their way to acknowledge the fact that trans girls are usually the demographic with so much perspective on women's issues, both bc of their own lived experience and bc they feel like they /have/ to be knowledgeable to prove their own abuse and make up for the taking up so much space in women's spaces? it's motivated by internalized guilt but it's also out of a genuine desire to connect with women and womanhood … so many anime fandoms are often sustained by trans girls and that's something i always notice whenever i'm on twitter or tumblr? magical girl and idol series fan spaces are always occupied by trans girls and the same can be said for things like gundam? mizuki is the type of trans girl who's more into the former than latter but it's still important to note, and it makes me wonder how much of an overlap there is between how that works in english speaking fandoms and japanese ones? i imagine there's a big overlap, but it's still something i'm interested in seeing something more concrete about.

but yeah, the way mizuki is so invested in the process of creation and connecting with the characters very much parallels how she's the MV animator/editor for niigo and how her entire work process is predicated around having an intimate connection with ena's art, kanade's music and mafuyu's lyrics to display them in the best way possible? we know that she was creating edits for her favorite magical girls anime before she joined niigo (and she probably still does in her own time). trans girls often connecting and finding worth in things that cgirls have cast off as childish as well - "i don't need this" versus "this makes me feel like i can have the girlhood i was denied." the lesbian contingent in these spaces is also very strong. i feel that a lot of cgirls get disillusioned and have to come back and address the internalized misogyny around it. magical girls being co-opted by misogynistic otaku also makes it difficult, but it feels broadly meaningful to actually engage with magical girls and how they are genuinely made for young women and even more than that. also the editing … the AMVs and stuff and how it's about fixating on a piece and going through all the clips, closely editing … she's probably rewatched her favorite shows and episodes so often that it's easy for her to think about what she wants to go where. i imagine she would feel self conscious actually sharing her thoughts but also … we know how mizuki is so active in the nightcord chat and how much she fills the space with ena so i wouldn't be surprised. there's a side story where mizuki invites the others out to see a movie bc she doesn't want to watch it alone, she wants someone to exchange thoughts with … it feels so personally driven, this rare chance of hers to … try to show herself to others? she never wants to tell others directly, but through fiction and other things…

mizuki is also a fan of minori but not once does she identify as Anything More than that and of course idols are relevant to mizuki, bc her being Genre Aware extends to anime/manga (specifically magical girls and idols) and films (mainly horror). in the broad context of 'oshi' as a term this is important bc mizuki likes her and thinks she's cool and admires her, but she sees idols as ppl ... she sees girls as ppl.

i also think about mizuki and "loneliness" here in the context of transmisogyny as a system to isolate transfems, to deny them safety and community and solidarity in order to enable everyone else treating them like disposable sex dolls. many ppl will pretend that the idea of transfems being uniquely threatening or predatory is something that came from genuine concerns about sexual safety (especially terfs with their "concerns" about "males in women's spaces") when the truth is that it's a deliberate campaign to convince ppl that transfems don't deserve to be treated as human beings, never mind women, they're degendered objects (aka second class women). ppl aren't /born/ believing that transfems are more dangerous than cis men; nobody independently arrives at this train of thought as much as they're conditioned into it by the patriarchy in order to do their part in maintaining the exploitation of transfems as scapegoats for the sins of cis men even if they're not conscious of it. this just makes them gullible agents of the system.

a huge difference between how 'average' misogyny & transmisogyny operate is isolation. if you're a cis woman who's the subject of constant misogyny, it's still possible to find community within cis women. transmisogynistic oppression goes unnamed, isn't shared by any peers bc transfems rarely know other transfems growing up, and is never called out by anyone even adults. it's true that all systemic violence masquarades as personal violence, but i think this goes doubly so for transmisogyny especially bc the 'mainstream' understanding of transmisogyny even in queer spaces is that it doesn't exist as long as you use a trans woman's correct pronouns or recognize them as women (and even then ppl will always make excuses when they're called out for using they/them and it's not even called transmisogyny; it's just transphobia).

when trans women exist around others they're either reduced to sex objects/freaks or mothers/manic pixie dream girls who take on the brunt of emotional labor in social dynamics, and i think all of this informs mizuki's idea of loneliness here? rui may be well intentioned, but there's an inherent power imbalance between them as a cis guy and a trans girl (even though she's pretransition, it doesn't change this) that contextualizes their isolation and this is something mizuki is obviously bitter about… it's true that her family is supportive and gives her refuge in the form of her own room to retreat back to when the world is too cruel to her, but this is simply not enough when the goal of transmisogyny as an oppressive systemic force is to erase transfems like her from public spaces, which in some part also explains why mizuki feels so insecure about her coping mechanism being avoidance and running away bc it probably feels like she's letting transmisogyny 'win', so to speak? despite how much we see her being treated like an object and an exhibit in incredibly dehumanizing ways as well as all the microaggressions from so many ppl (even the ones who care about her like an and rui) we never see any teachers standing up for her? all they care about is getting her to attend enough so she doesn't have to repeat a year and such, which reads more like they're doing bc it's inconvenient for /themselves/ otherwise to have to deal with her more if she's held back a year. the fact that she tells rui that she hopes he can find friends that he has more in common with than just solitude in response to him trying to tell her that being lonely isn't all that bad is so loaded bc rui is a cis boy, so there's no way he understands the kind of isolation she's had to endure and the fact that he's able to speak positively about isolation understandably makes her bitter for these reasons.

mizuki joking about 'losing' to rui at making friends even though she has "better communication skills" when by that she means that due to her lived experience as a transfem she's had to become very hypercognizant of social norms and conventions in order to mold herself into a very palatable expression of femininity to be accepted by others but her hypersensitivity towards these things still isn't enough and rui can surpass her simply due to the fact that he's a cis guy...

[sscardinal7]

Purple's monophobia has nice roots to some parental issues, and I can't emphasize enough on the honers AvM29 executed through their unique style of auditories and visuals in a headspace minimalist. Not only introducing the main climatic conflict and turning point of a character, but simultaneously expanding on those same elements through metaphorical lenses in a way where it doesn't feel.. cramped, forced, nor fast paced. Because while it is something that is handed to you, it's something you're deliberately left to dive into because of just how subtle it is. It can honestly be quite easy to miss if you're not someone who likes to unravel detailing meticulously.

Note Block Universe is a musical based short. They're acknowledging and signing instruments to these respective characters. Purple having a signature violin, and Green having a clarinete. In research, people who play the clarinet have unique and similar personalities. They're very bright, outgoing, sociable, aware, empathetic, and passionate. People who play the violin are shown to be more closed off. They are dedicated, emotional, passionate, and intelligent. While both instruments hold their own musical difficulty, they work well together in duets as well.

Getting into Purple's elaboration, their father was such a big part of their life. His role served as a tutor, a guide. (Someone who wasn't completely in his biases, but a tutor nonetheless.)

Purple was not provided an ounce of comfort following the split. To say they didn't have the best household would be an understatement. They are glued to their mother's side and catering to her health. After her death, after seemingly implying that they had buried her, they don't move from their position, and the violin starts increasing in its shaky E strings. They're locked in place. Their head stays low, and their limbs sag. They're paralyzed, a bit similar to how Orchid stood following Navy’s abandonment. Wind blows beneath the petals, and the graphs sway to reveal Purple's dad. Only then, does the motif pick up.

But It's with amusement that you note the usage of shots.

Longshots are used to highlight a character's body language and to establish their relationship with the environment. The cinematographer wants you to be indulged in the scene entirely, so there isn't a specific focus for this very purpose. Close-ups are used to communicate an intensive focus on a character's body language, expression, or a symbolic piece entirely seperate from the character. The transitions between shots delivers an emotional emphasis in compliment to context, pace, and narrative.

This clip is a follow up to the autoscripted note visuals, focusing on the transition to a headspace environment. This communicates to us that this is their nadir. A longshot; Purple's sombre, her grave, and those petals. A close-up with Purple's casted shadow and blank stare, then a close-up to their focus in question, which is their mother's grave and those petals. The wind picks up, and the graphs follow the petals, revealing their dad. A longshot, and every trace of Orchid completely vanishes. Purple lifts their head, and their concentration is completely locked. A medium-shot, Purple reaches out, and thus, their venture begins.

This transition is an immediate culmination to what we were presented with. It becomes extremely futile, restrictive, and useless if you were to not treat the autoscripted notes bit with the same field of analysis as the headspace bit. It doesn't just haunt the narrative, it's the literal motive.

Purple's father's methods in tutors weren't appropriate nor comprehensible to someone so young. (Or rather, someone who wasn't particularly made to be a candidate for sparring..) Their mother rather distanced herself from either discomfort, fear, or perhaps even both from the observings of sessions, as there isn't nearly enough to imply that Navy was physical with her before.

When Navy stomps her away, you would usually expect a parent to protest to defend their child, protest to be involved. But here is where she proves you wrong. She doesn't make it known that no, I'm not going to let you treat our child this way. While she doesn't comment on his style in parenting in the clip, the pure disgust and judgement is apparent enough.

Regardless, she still bystands until she doesn't, but it already affected Purple.

Only stepping in once she's certain they're in danger, once she believes it's a necessity. And this isn't to demonize Purple's mother, she's just a character with flaws. But being a bystander to “training” to the extent of feeling obliged to defend yourself when up against those foundations is morally unjustifiable and screams volumes on the situation. Having such an inconsistency ultimately results in Purple confiding in themselves, becoming stubborn to those outside their defensive field, because they don't think they're ready to let anyone in. Something that wasn't made by their own hands, but is left with their responsibility to break.

Navy was a tutor, as much or as less as he was a parent. Purple was distressed, begging, while Orchid did not look back once. Purple was dazed, and only then does Orchid's legs giving out from underneath her snap them out of their musings.

Because if they had done anything different, would the outcome remain the same? Would it be any different from what it is now? Is it their fault?

While they can't change the past, there's a possibility to retrieve it, isn't there?

Because Purple was a child of two people, even if they didn't particularly have a childhood. With one parent deceased, another absent, they're alone. They stood paralyzed until something itched, because they don't need to be alone. They didn't want validation, they wanted their remaining parent back into their life. Of course, keeping Navy’s style in mind, this includes validation as a narrative product, but not in the way I often see portrayed in the fandom.

Because not only is Navy huge, centered in their mind, it's his animation upon the abandonment. That head turn, the way his shoulders slightly sagged upon returning back to his motion. It's the most traumatic memory that Purple has of him. It's what they obsessively analyzed, what plays over and over again. It's the reason they're going through these drastic heights to begin with. The current situation they believe they can protest and what they believe they can accomplish by redirecting that choice.

And as Purple has to manually and metaphorically climb their depths to get to their father, they're deliberately burying and repressing their grief for their mother. Deeper and deeper as they go higher and higher.

If it be a dragon egg as the supporting figurative amongst the climb or an abrasive king who takes that spot. And the king who takes that spot is a bit more.. well, major. He's really major. Because this is an authority figure. In Purple's mind, this figure was the first to offer them a sense of belonging since their bout of being alone. The bout being (presumably) 8 years.

And latching onto the first authority figure that offers you inclusion as an immediate response because you were alone for so long, Isn't.. you know, good. That isn't healthy.

Because when they're close, their father turns his head the other way, and they fall. It's a brutal reminder. It's a shove to reality. But they're not back at the beginning. They're on a platform due to other's presence. They have a group, and they can be a part of this group. Because it's not the end just yet. Because there's someone that notices them. And he's whispering something, something they're not ready to understand, and they completely discard them.

But before the quintet even made their introduction, before they even made their appearance, before Purple can even process the potential friend group, it was their own refusal to accept Navy's choice that the platform stood to begin with.

Despite having their elytra throughout the entire span of the series, this is the only time it's actually included in their headspace. It's to emphasize a callback. Their likening to their elytra grew double in size because that was the material that gave King that greenlight approval nod. If it be their response on retrieving the elytra back onto their body after the strike from King, or if it be being held back by Green. Fishing rod in hand, and by that elytra nonetheless.

When King’s betrayal forced them back into those depths they repressed, they reflect. They're right back at the beginning, the very beginning, and those shaky E strings pick up once again. They didn't accomplish anything, and everything went to waste. But at the same time, was there really anything to waste to begin with?

Purple is back in those pools of petals, there isn't a grave to compliment, just her petals. Their head low, their limbs sagging, and Orchid’s petal falls. It's just one petal, and they extend their hand.

But it flakes right past.

Because she isn't here anymore, they don't need a grave for clarification. We don't need a grave for clarification. Only then, does Purple stiffen.

They look to their father, and his back is already turned. But that's because it always has been.

But this time they don't reach out. Because it was his choice. Because they have to accept that.

And that means they're all alone.

Or are they?

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 18)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, threat of violence, weapons. ANGST Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 18 -

I slept deeply for so many hours that it was pitch black by the time I came around. I found I was alone and disoriented as I struggled to work out where I was for a moment, peering into the darkness as I sat on the edge of the bed. Whilst I shook off the confused images of my fading dream, I thought I could hear voices. Men's voices, and more than one.

Quietly, I picked my way acros the floor and slipped out of the door into the hall. I tried to be silent with each step as I approached the kitchen, stopping just short of the doorway to listen in. There were more of them than I had expected, and even without seeing them, I felt a little afraid. When the only familiar voice met my ears, it was somewhat comforting to hear J.

"There are three locations for this, all of them are important," he said.

There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

"What about Maroni?" one of the men interjected.

"What about him? We'll deal with him later. Now listen closely," J replied, the hint of irritation in his voice was like a snake winding up for a strike.

The men fell silent again.

"I need you to put the drums, here, here and here. Then we'll rig up the charges. The detonator needs to be long-range."

"Alright, but what about that building there. There could be a lot of people in that one?" Asked another of the men.

"Your point being what exactly?" J countered.

"Well, what if one of them spots us?"

"They won't. We'll be covert."

"And, if the blast damages that block too?"

"Collateral. If you want to make an omelette, you gotta break a few eggs."

J's casual tone pierced me like a knife.

I knew what he was, but I had been distracted by whatever feelings had begun to take root in me; I had lost sight of this side of him. The revelation of the Joker as he was, as I had first met him, burned. He was dangerous, callous and cruel. I felt sick. I wanted so badly to pretend I hadn't heard any of this.

As I moved to head back to the relative safety of the bedroom, my shoulder caught the faded plastic receiver of the wall-mounted phone - a relic of the appartment's past. I managed to catch it before it hit the floor but the clatter of plastic as it came off the hook had already betrayed me.

I hurriedly replaced it into the cradle and darted as quietly as I could back down the hall. I closed the door as softly as I could and practically threw myself back into the bed, tossing the covers over me and turning to face away from the door. I felt my whole body tense in agonising anticipation as foosteps entered the hall.

I cursed my clumsiness and willed myself to stay as still as I could in the total darkness, barely able to draw a breath. A hand was on the door, unlatching it and a bar of light from the hall illuminated the space. Someone stepped through, and pushed it closed softly, leaving only the tiniest sliver of illumination. With each step towards the bed I felt as though my heart was being squeezed. They stopped at my back and I could hear my pulse, blood rushing, in my ears. There was only this and the silence in the room with us.

I could smell the faintest hint of familiar smoky cologne and realised it must be him. At first I felt a tiny bit relieved, but my heart soon dropped as I heard something which sent my hair prickling up my spine:

The clack of a knife springing open.

Silence again poured over me, drowning me as I was forced to remain frozen in place. He seemed to stand there for so long with the open knife in his hand that I began to wonder if he was trying to decide what to do. The entire time my brain was eating itself, desperately trying to think of some way out of this. Should I move as though I was stirring? Or was it better to stay stock still? Was he debating whether to kill me? Did that mean there was a chance I could persuade him not to?

Still silence. Each second was agonizing. My throat burned as I tried to hold my breathing steady.

It took everything in me not to flinch as he finally broke out of the stalemate and reached out a hand to touch me. He bent over me and stroked the hair which had fallen by my cheek with a delicate tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. I still didn't dare to move. Then he gave a kind of frustrated sigh and I heard him put away the knife before his footsteps retreated again. The door opened and closed softly and I gasped in relief as soon as I heard him go down the hall.

As I lay there in the darkness, I began to wonder what they were plotting. People were going to die, that much was certain. My mind was plagued by the harsh reality which had so suddenly been forced into it. How could I have let myself get so tangled up with him? Killing off mobsters was one thing, but this was different...

The words of the crooked cops wound their way into my troubled mind. They had accused me of whoring myself out to him, of pursuing him like the women who seek out relationships with serial killers behind bars. It wasn't true then; the idea had disgusted me. But what about now? I wasn't able to shake the images of what I'd let him to do me, or the feeling of shame at how much i'd enjoyed it.

I curled up into a ball and stayed that way until long after I heard the men leave. I felt so stupid for not taking my chance to escape several times over. Why had I agreed to stay? I had no cellphone, and no one to call if I did anyhow, and until he left I would not get another chance to walk out of the front door without him knowing. I chewed my nails anxiously, trying to workout what I could do.

The sound of him moving around the apartment only heightened my anxiety. Would he consider killing me again? Did he do this every night while I was sleeping? I thought about the weapons stockpile in the other room. What if I took something? Could I use it in defence, or even, could I kill him first? I desperately scrabbled around in my head trying to formulate some kind of plan.

The sound of the door latch made my breath stick in my throat as he entered the room. He flicked on the table lamp and sank down onto his side of the bed. Then he kicked off his shoes and laid down beside me with a rumbling sigh.

I felt his cold hands snake around my mid-section and pull me closer to him. What would have been so comforting just a few hours earlier now felt like a trap. I continued to pretend I was sleeping while he held me, occasionally stroking his thumb against my bare skin. His breath was tickling my shoulder blade as I kept my eyes tightly shut.

It took a long time but eventually the relaxation of his grip and his slower breathing confirmed he had fallen asleep. I was terrified of waking him but I had to get out. I figured until I was fully clothed and about to step out of the door, if he did wake i'd just have to act like I'd got up to shower or eat - just behave as normally as possible. I very, very tentatively slipped out of his arms.

He stirred and I froze, but saw that he quickly resettled without me being in his grasp. I rose up from the bed, slipping along the length of the wall. I wasn't even sure of the time, but it didn't matter. I had to go. It had to be now. I gathered my duffle bag and made it out of the bedroom door. I was too afraid to turn on the hallway light in case it woke him, but knew I had to be careful not to knock the phone down again. As soon as I made it into the blue room, I hurriedly threw on a pair of sweats and a jumper. My fingers were shaking as I laced up my boots and bundled the t-shirt and shorts I had been wearing back into the bag, on top of the clothes and makeup I had put in there back in one of the warehouses.

Here I paused, just for a moment. I felt too afraid to consider where I would go, but I knew if I wanted to have a chance of laying low, I'd need cash. I hurriedly searched the room and it wasn't long before I came across a couple of stacks of dog-eared bills. I stuffed them into my bag and then set to looking at the contents of the crates. Most of the weapons were far too big and specialist for me to consider using. I needed smaller things.

In the end, I pocketed a taser and a handgun. Sliding the magazine out of it, I was able to compare it to the ones it had been laid on top of in the crate. They looked identical, so I took them with me as well. Suddenly, I wondered if the taser also required cartridges and went back to where I'd picked it up. Sure enough, there they were. I stuffed three into my bag. For good measure I grabbed a baton and a set of brass knuckles.

Not wanting to risk being discovered raiding his supplies I hurriedly zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder. As I was about to pass back into the hall, something made me pause. On the chair to my right, within reach, was the porcelain face of my carnival mask. I wanted so badly to pick it up, but with the realisation that the bells might give me away, I stopped short. I hurriedly crossed over to another crate and took out a knife. It was stupid but I didn't want to leave it behind so I hurriedly yet meticulously cut each golden bell from the tips of the triangles framing the face, gripping each one to dull the sound. I placed them one by one in a line on the carpet and pocketed the blade.

With the taser in one hand, and the mask in the other, I tip toed my way to the front door. I felt so sure he would know, and be waiting there to laugh at my foolishness for thinking I could outsmart him, but he wasn't. I slowly turned the key in the lock and it clicked open. I could still hear his distant snoring over the buzzing of the refrigerator and figured I was in the clear. I stepped out into the crisp night air and gently closed the door after me.

As soon as I made it down the steps, I bolted like a hare knowing the hunter is at his heels. I ran, and ran, my breath coming out in big swirling clouds of vapour. I darted across the desolate industrial landscape of the docklands, until I finally crossed into the fringes of city blocks, the old tenaments towering over me. I couldn't run any further and had to drop into a fast walk instead, only stopping briefly to stuff the mask into the duffle.

I turned this way and that through the streets until I hit the nearest station. Panting for breath, I staggered up the steps and onto the idling train car just before the doors hissed closed behind me. There were only a handful of other passengers and I collapsed into one of the seats.

I didn't know where to go or what to do, so I decided to ride the trains until I could figure it out. It would help to randomly switch directions occasionally; I didn't want to be tracked down. The fear of discovery was still looming over me - I had just stolen from the Joker and run away into the night. He was not likely to take it well, even if he had promised I could walk away. What had I done? I was in an ungodly mess of a situation... I held my head in my hands defeatedly as the city lights flickered by and the train rattled over the elevated tracks.

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[yannaryartside]

I am tired of Sydney being a “knight in shining armor” for these immature men

The trailer of s3 made me reflect on a big problem with the show for me so far. The use of Sydney on the plot overall and in the character arcs of men. This is a rant, if you happen to be on the side of the fandom that think these men are perfect and Syd is valued as their support, feel free to scroll.

Part 1: the woman

Sydney Adamu is insecure on her leader/social skills and her creative habilities. That, and her kindness, is what makes the audience root for her. She is releatable but most important she is real, she has taken it impulse by impulse, creating on the fly ways to succeed in a industry not very welcoming to people with her personality (or that look like her). All of that makes sense in a story of an underdog.

But yet, the show has normalized at this point how much shit she takes from a group of really emotionally immature people. And how much they expect her to figure it out answers to the problems that they themselves cause.

Thinking about it like an animal getting into a new pack without the capacity to defend herself from any attack. The shitshow she tolerated in s1 has never been properly addressed and it seems like the worst storm is yet to come in s3. She fixed the logistics of the beef and implemented a hierarchy. Things that Carmy was incapable of doing due to his story with the staff and his own mental turmoil. In s2, she was the only professional chef actively making decisions and efforts in the future of the restaurant. Carmy even reprimanded her for not making the decisions he was supposed to do. And she reminded him “you wanted the final say, this is on you)

Syd is not helpless in any way, but she has applied kindness and fairness most of the time to this point, and I wonder if this time that is gonna cut it. I am mostly tired to get her back to that scenario again. If anything, the part that got me the most excited of Richie’s redemption is how she could actually rely on him. And then it came the trailer.

Part 2: the men

The part that got my blood boiling in the trailer is the response “Show me a functional one” from Richie and Carmy.

We are in season 3, and with all the growth and all those balls, these men seem to expect her to fix an issue, wich core is actually their own emotional immaturity. I am sick of it. “Mother, maid, therapist”🎶

She must deal with Carmy’s recklessness and the fight between him and Richie. A very green new staff and a unqualified old staff mostly. All of that creates the dysfunctionality in question, and I wonder where her character will go to resolve it. The restaurant had a shaky base (particularly on front house staff and line cooks) and now Carmy is getting on everyone’s nerves. Putting fire to an already unstable chemical.

Part 3: Heroine’s Journey

It would take a pro to resolve all of this shit, and the people involved (and responsible for the problem) turn to this young, inexperienced woman for guidance and answers because the only person in the kitchen with actual industry experience is trapped in his own destroying tendencies.

That is not only the underdog story that is human vs forces of nature, another common plot structure. Forces of nature incarnated in unstable men and our hero is a woman. That is so fucked up and yet so real. That is the value I give to this scenario.

I really don't think that, besides Tina and Nat, there is a single member if that kitchen aware of how much Syd was alone last season picking Carmy’s slack. And even they were barely able to help her. Everybody else was to happy for Carmy loosing his virginity apparently. All this scenario could very well repeat itself this season on how much they are insisting on Claire and Carmy getting back together.

I know the show is about leaving toxic cycles and the people who can help you get better. Sydney is supposed to be made from a different matter than the Bearzattos because otherwise, the toxicity will continue. I just wish she could coldly let them know how much of a pest they can be sometimes. And not be treated as unfair because she left her “role” in creating a new system. Anger is boundarie setting emotion and it can be very constructive, and expressed without the chaos of the Bearzattos. She did this in s1 and if done again I think this time the general audience (except the racist/misogynistic obviously) will understand that this tough love is necessary as well.

Let's not normalize (in this show) women taking shit to be good women and a reward for seeing the potential of men. It is not like society is not doing that for us already.

Sydney is not a punching bag, and she knows it, she definitely will stand her ground this season, wich can be very encouraging to young woman entering a workforce that is not designed to support them. I think she will go to Ember to work closely with Chef Terry (Olivia Coleman) to get knowledge of how women can shape this toxic places. It will be her version of forks. The toxicity may escalate to a turning point for her. She tolerated (and transformed) s1 and s2, we know what is in her heart. The point will definitely come, because this is the time for evolving or dying, for everyone.

But again, I need these men (besides you, Marcus, you are going to be her rock) to start taking responsibility for the shit they are fucking up. That would be nice. I am sure there will be moments of it since this growth is literally the show's theme. I am just kind of tired of the “Mother, maid, therapist🎶” undertone of it all. It could be applied to Nat and Tina as well.

[broodwoof]

timeline: post Regrets questline

Mythal & Solas: No Gods, No Monsters; No Good, No Evil

Just started Act 3. As of this point, I certainly do not see Solas as evil, but I also don't see Mythal as evil. But before I dig into my reasoning for that, I need to touch on my theories around spirits(/demons).

In-game, the delineation between spirits and demons is strict, and begun by a member of the Chantry. In truth, I think the line is much fuzzier, and that the implied safe vs. dangerous discrepency is false. Or rather, I think it's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, but not one that reflects on the inherent, intrinsic, and unalienable nature of spirits(/demons).

Wisdom is a spirit. Perceived as a positive force. Yet, the pursuit of wisdom can make one callous, disrespectful, demanding, obsessive... at the same time, it can make one balanced, responsible, considerate. Thus, Wisdom is not a positive or a negative force. But the nature of spirits is such that they pick up on how people interpret them, and are more often perceived as gentle beings.

In a similar vein, Rage, perceived as a negative/threatening demon, is simply an emotion. Rage can be fury at injustice, a driving force, an energy; it can also be widely destructive, careless, impulsive.

All this to say: Wisdom is not Purely Good, and Pride is not Purely Evil; Benevolence is not Purely Good, and Retribution (iirc) is not Purely Evil.

With that in mind...

We see that Mythal (Benevolence) asks that Solas (Wisdom) leave the Fade and join her. He protests, but ultimately concedes. To me, this is a choice. There's no coercion or force, simply that he is willing to follow Mythal, even to do things he does not agree with. She was the one asking, but he was the one who said yes.

Mythal wants help to control Elgar'nan (I have theories about what his Aspects are, but that's another post). This is why she turns to Solas, someone she trusts, and someone who specifically embodies wisdom. On top of the trust, it is logical to recruit Wisdom, because she needs his, well, wisdom. But the problem with wisdom - especially with Solas' wisdom - is that it has always been at a remove. It is an academic wisdom, that of a distant observer. Even when he is inexorably involved, he does not understand how to sway the Evanuris, he cannot fulfill what Mythal would have him do.

The longer all the Evanuris are existing in physical bodies outside of the Fade, the more they change. Elgar'nan, whatever he might have been originally, becomes tyrannical, obsessed not just with receiving worship, but with receiving love. Being a respected general was not enough for him. Being a god-king was not enough. He always needed more.

Mythal, as Benevolence, sought to protect her people. That was the role she had taken on, the reason she had taken flesh in the first place, a means of cooling Elgar'nan's temper. But the longer she is in court, the more politicized she becomes, the more cunning, and with what is required and expected of her constantly shifting, the more she begins to feel that the worship might be right. Elgar'nan desires control and love; Mythal, in contrast, believes that the Elvhen need guidance. Where Elgar'nan's rule is rooted in tyranny and self-fulfillment, Mythal's is rooted in a firm maternalism.

Solas protests as Wisdom would. Is their power and respect not enough? How dare they work for the Elvhen only to turn around and rule them? But by this point, both Elgar'nan and Mythal were committed to their course... just as Solas was to his.

So, Solas becomes Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf.

Cunning, manipulative, a warrior and a general.

Mythal's corruption was absolute power corrupting absolutely, coupled with her need to continue being an Evanuris, since she was the only truly stabilizing force (presumably).

Solas' corruption was the ends justifying the means, because they had to, because he had no option but to use every possible method at his disposal. You do not win against would-be gods by playing by the rules.

To me, they mirror each other. Were their positions reversed - were it Wisdom who stood beside Elgar'nan, were it Benevolence who begged them to lay down their godhood - I think it might have gone similarly. At the core, they are very similar spirits, very similar people. But the specifics of their circumstances shaped them, changed them... and given their nature, that change spiraled into centuries, reaffirming itself and branching off.

So this whole essay is just to say... I don't think Mythal is the evil villain any more than Solas is. I think they are both deeply flawed people, whose circumstances have led to a narrowing of their perspective and an insistence that their respective courses were the right ones.

And of course, "beginning with good intentions" does not mean someone cannot become a villain... I just think that's not really what either of them are. Because, for all her flaws, Mythal tried until the very end. And then past that end. She kept trying. Yes, her focus was limited; yes, she did horrible things to the Titans (things I still don't have full context for, and maybe nobody does, but things that are very, very hard to consider ever being justified. But it is possible to consider that it might feel necessary.)

But it's also worth noting that, whatever she did in the past, Mythal - specifically Flemythal - tried to convince Solas to accept modern elves in the present. Which was not something I expected. But her time in the world has changed her; I imagine her joining with a mortal woman has also changed her. So Mythal, for all her past mistakes, was really on team Inquisition and Veilguard in the end. Trying to preserve the current world, rather than permit Solas to change - to restore - the world to what it had once been, what he destroyed in his genuine attempt to seal away the Evanuris before they destroyed everything.

But for Wisdom, for Pride, to tolerate having caused exactly what he was working to prevent... it's no wonder that Solas is so incredibly dedicated to repairing this, to alleviating this particular regret, out of all his many, many regrets. The world changed because of what he did. So many died. It was not the destruction the Evanuris sought to wreak, but could it truly appear any better when you wake up countless years later to a world that feels like a pale imitation of what it once was, and know that you're the cause?

Wisdom is an academic. Lonely, isolated, insular. Theoretical and abstract. Pride is a force, a momentum, an energy and drive and conviction. Together, in one person, driven by the deepest sorrows and regrets, his history lined with horrible actions to prevent worse actions, only to get still worse actions as a response...

Solas wanted to alleviate suffering. Mythal did, too. But the situation was such that neither of them could do so without getting dirty.

[blorbologist]

How about Cassandra & Kynan for 29? 💛

29. Drumbeat of the Dunmer (Morrowind Soundtrack)

[TW for canon-typical gore and zombie shenanigans. Kept under the cut.]

They should have used the damn teleportation circle. 

But nooooo - the carriage rocks as someone crashes into it, then bucks again as the team of horses jostles in terror. Cries and gunshots sound far more distant outside until a bullet rips through the window like cloth.

‘Cass, you need to travel more!’ - Cassandra is rifling through her affects for her rapier. The hilt is perfect in her hands; the blade tears through the dress she’d worn because Vex’ahlia insisted this would be more comfortable for the long journey -

‘There’s so much outside of Whitestone for you to see!’ - what she sees as she opens the door, guard up, is the torso of an undead giant crawling towards a lone rifleman drawing it away. She mistakes the legs for trees, over there, haloed by fresh blood. 

‘It’s quite enjoyable!’ he said - she swallows the nausea (to imagine she was once used to the smell) and steps over a body (don’t look, don’t look) to peer past the throng of guards.

“Lady de Rolo!” Trisha snaps, harsher than Cassandra has ever heard her. “Please return to your carriage -”

“What are our losses?”

Her guard hesitates. “Only one.” Better numbers than Cassandra expected - her brother’s rifles are really paying for themselves. “But we have a couple of recruits who won’t be fit to ride, my Lady -”

Cassandra has stopped listening. The crawling giant, entrails trailing after it like festive ribbons, looks about the same size. But the figure it’s chasing is getting smaller and smaller. “Kynan? Trisha, is that Kynan?” 

(Captain Leore. Captain Leore, not Kynan, but she’s too scared to maintain professionalism.)

Trisha does not answer; she immediately (and correctly) guesses what Cassandra is about to do and puts that time to better use lunging for her charge. The Guardian of the Woven Stone, however, grew up with six older siblings and easily ducks out of the way. And she runs.

Now that she has a closer look, it’s embarrassing that she did not recognize Kynan sooner: his stupid feathered hat stands out against the Parchwood’s gnarled trees and all the blood. He’s backing up as he reloads, just enough to keep out of the giant’s long reach - but occupied with his task he only occasionally checks the terrain behind him. 

Her heart stumbles at the thought of him tripping. The tear in her dress serves her well, splitting wider and wider with each stride as she picks up the pace. 

Kynan does not trip; he backs up into a tree, glancing behind himself in shock. And then he trips over its roots as he scrambles to get behind the trunk as the giant lunges at him with a gurgling roar. 

Cassandra would like to say she does not think before leaping in to save him.

Except she does think: that the edge of the canopy will potentially impede the arms if it tries to reach up, that the head is so much bigger close to the ground, that even if she’s wrong she can’t not do anything, that it’s Kynan, that Delilah always complained about her creations’ weak point.

One step - her foot sinks into the rotting flesh of its shoulder, stabilizing on the shoulderblade. Another - back of the neck, the vertebrae keep her foot steady. One more - she launches herself onto the head. The cloudy, grey-green pupils begin to look up. They don’t have time to focus on her as Cassandra drives her rapier into the giant’s eye.

Human eyeballs are roughly the size of a golf ball. This is far, far larger. Cassandra is up to her elbow - elbows, two hands on the hilt for more force - in viscous material and fluid, and then up to her shoulder as something gives and the blade hits home. 

She’s jostled as the giant’s arm falls with a crash, catching on an unfortunate tree. Breathing heavily, she tugs her rapier. And tugs again. And again. 

“Oh, wow.” Kynan says from where he fell. Cassandra does not dare look up. If she keeps staring at what’s left of the massive pupil, at her arm in the pupil, perhaps she’ll be able to - “I - wow. Hang on, I’ve got you.”

Kynan takes her by the shoulders and give a firm tug. It does free her, yes, but it also sends Cassandra skidding down from her precarious perch - Kynan catches her here, too, and steadies her.

The flush of exertion quickly turns into one of embarrassment. Her dress is absolutely ruined. There will be no salvaging this. 

Cassandra clears her throat. The effect is ruined by her gasping for breath. “I - well done, Captain Leore. Excellent work. Are you hurt?”

“Yes, my Lady - I mean no!” he stammers. “I’m fine. Thanks to you - so. Thank you, really. And - oh, no. You’ve got something - well.”

Kynan fishes for what turns out to be a pathetically small kerchief. When he steps forward to offer it to Cassandra, he visibly winces. That won’t do. She wedges herself under his arm. His wobbly protests are mostly excuses about bothering her, and not related to how the eyeball goo is now all over him, too.

“Whitestone is only five hours behind us,” Cassandra says, raising her voice (the remainder of the guard detail jumps to attention). “We will turn around and head home to bathe and rest - I’ll organize teleportation to Westrunn tomorrow.”

More quietly, she says, “And you will ride in the carriage with me, understood?”

“Yes, Lady Cassandra,” Kynan says meekly.

(Once they are in the carriage, she uses his kerchief to dab at the mess of blood at his temple, livid and relieved in equal measure. 'Quite enjoyable', he said! Oh, she’ll give Percival one hell of a verbal thrashing when they get back!)

For my Spotify Wrapped Prompt Game!

[doctorstrangereview]

0123: Defenders #15

Cover Date: September 1974 On-Sale Date: June 18, 1974

Woo Hoo! Nighthawk gets a nifty new outfit this issue, after his last one got blown off his body by an exploding melty laser. Fortunately, the beak is a huge improvement and the colors are much easier on the eyes. Our rag-tag non-team gets to fight Magneto and his merry band of evil mutants. Doc and Magneto are even duking it out on the cover!

Doc is giving new member Nighthawk a tour of the Sanctum Sanctorum. After dropping a few jokes that Doc doesn't get and hints about his snazzy new duds, Valkyrie picks up the cue and compliments him.

Val's identity crisis resumes and she is determined to leave the Defenders and find out who Barbara Norris, the body she's wearing, was. This is actually remarkable for this era. Barbara would most likely have been ignored. She was insane and just an extra body lying around for Valkyrie to posses. Life goes on.

Nighthawk wants to help. He can't figure out who Val is, but he can help her with the rather conspicuous winged horse. He calls a lackey and orders them to buy a riding academy with lots of privacy.

Val thanks him and they turn around to see Doc speaking to the empty air. Doc realizes he's the only who can see their mysterious guest so he uses his All-Purpose Amulet to shine some light on the situation. Oh look! It's Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men!

Charley's usual lackeys are tied up so he needs the Defenders to sub in for him. Doc, of course, accepts on behalf of everyone present and then needs to recruit some muscle. In the form of the Hulk, naturally. The Hulk is confused by Doc's floating astral head, but obliges Doc by following him to the others. Fortunately all the present members can fly and manage to fly to New Mexico and not a very long time.

The gang meets with up with Charley just as the Hulk arrives. At this point, the readers don't know what this mission is and we're not sure if Charley has informed Doc off panel. As they prepare to enter the cavern in front of them, an giant orange cyclops (no the X-Man variety) emerges. Hulk requests he go away in typical Hulk manner.

The Defenders attack the beast. The beast wipes the floor with them, until Charley asks them to stop and reveals the monster is an illusion. Fancy that!

Charley is really looking like his physical inspiration, Yul Brynner, in that middle panel! The next attack is real and flattens the group as Magneto and his evil bunch come out of the shadows.

Magneto imprisons our heroes in a magnetic field. It's a little on the nose, but what else can you expect from the master of magnetism. Doc asks what's going on and why he's doing this. Magneto blathers something about a sleeper inside a giant bell jar behind him and then leads into a multi-page recap of an Avengers tale not long before the Avengers/Defenders war.

To make a long story somewhat shorter, in his encounter with the Avengers, Magneto was clobbered by the Vision and then Thor trapped him in a force bubble which was sent to the center of the Earth. Comet Kohoutek's passing made some tiny change to the force bubble allowing Magneto to break free and find his way back to the a cavern. Naturally, this cavern contains the remnants of some loss civilization, because we don't have a story if it didn't. It even has a library with books that are bound just like modern publishers do. He's even managed to decipher the ancient language with absolutely no frame of reference. Well, Mags is a genius after all!

He reunites his brotherhood of naughty mutants and then reveals what he's up to: making a home grown mutant.

Charley communicates with his substitute heroes telepathically and next we get a full page panel of them escaping. Yay!

Magneto calls his band of naughties together to protect him and we get a large panel of the stand-off.

The Defenders don't fare wall initially, but the tide starts to turn when Hulk realizes that Blob is rooted to the ground, so he removes the ground. Doc then counters Masterminds illusions with his own illusions and we get an old classic, lots of Docs!

Charley manages to set off Nighthawk's jet pack who then crashes into Lorelei taking her out. Unus grabs Val who realizes that he has lowered his forcefield and Unus becomes touchable. She tosses him to the Hulk who is happy to have something else to punch. It may all be in vain as Mags has turned on his homegrown mutant.

The premise was more promising that what was delivered. Perhaps part two will be better. The promise of the cover didn't deliver. It showcases Doc and Mags facing off, but we don't get that. I am intrigued by these two battling. They are incredibly powerful, but can magnetism and magic counter each other? How would one defeat the other. At least Len realizes the Hulk is smarter than most people give him credit. He may not perform brain surgery or solve the unified field theory, but he is capable of deducting and reasoning.

The story is a level above ho-hum. It's entertaining, but not great. I'm hoping for more from the conclusion.

[coughdropeater2]

Warning: LONG POST, ranting, personal opinions

And when I say long post, I mean long. Be aware if you click beyond the cut

First being, sexualization.

Ok I get it, you're all adults here (exception being me.. I've yet to see another Chris Evans fan my age, if you're around my age I'd love to talk!) Like, okay, he's an adult, YOU'RE an adult, but it gets to a point. At what point does it border from "oh wow he's hot!" To sexual harassment?

I could turn a blind eye if it was a fictional character, but some of the things y'all have to say is NASSSTTTYYY, like call me a puriteen all you want because I am sorry to be That Guy™ but if y'all were saying this about a FEMALE celebrity we would have fights on the daily about how disgusting it is.

And this section may be heavily biased because I don't see Chris Evans as attractive, I view him more as a father figure -- and YES!! I HAVE CELEBRITY CRUSHES TOO, but it's possible to swoon and giggle over them without posting disgusting things online that ANYONE they know could potentially see! Maybe even them! I just think we need better boundaries about this stuff, I think the fandom tends to forget this is a real guy who always has the chance of seeing what we say, so I think we should be more careful

(tthis opinion I hold applies to other celebrities, I have my nit-picks with other fandoms, do not worry!)

And yes, I do try to block this stuff out but it slips through the cracks a lot because y'all like to post the sexual comments and gifs to his regular tag, which I don't wanna block!! I want to see gifs and updates and new movies too!

Secondly, how some of you treat Alba is disgusting.

This is an issue I've noticed is more Instagram than Tumblr, the people here who hate Alba are usually clocked as being weirdos, which yes they are! Very much so!

And I want to address those people in this section, this is less "fandom" and more.. "hatedom"? What do we call em here? I dunno

I see posts almost once or twice a week speculating on their marriage, and how it's just for PR, how they're gonna break up, yada yada

And like, I think a lot of this is just rooted in plain misogyny, I'm sorry. If you really did care about Alba being "too young" and being, and I quote directly, a "child bride" (??? What) why would you launch attacks against her...? I get you may not like her but if you were worried about her well being why would you aim to make it worse?

And if she is using her husband's status to get better roles... Who the fuck cares? Like genuinely who cares?? It's not that big of a deal. Of course she's going to get better opportunities for roles because of her husband IT'S CHRIS EVANS!! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT??

And the edited images oh my oh my you are all so obsessed! Like what do you mean you posted an image with blatantly and poorly edited swastikas in the background and genuinely expected people to believe it?? My mother, who has the worst vision of all the people I know, was able to clock that shit was fake without her glasses, like oh my goodness!

And on the topic of people in the hate/fandom saying she's "too young", why do y'all love to go "I need an older man!!" In your early to mid 20s but then freak out when it actually happens .. Chris has had a history of dating girls around his age, her being young was clearly not the driving force for his interest, they clearly love each other.

I don't have anything else to say on this specific topic, I think you get my point and most of you would be able to agree with me on that.

Last, but not least, I don't like how some of you guys continue to feel the people mentioned in my previous point. Yes, I know I just typed a whole essay acknowledging them, and I know I like posts that are rebutting them, but it's starting to get to a point

I mean this in the most gentle way possible - these people are clearly unwell, and giving them attention will only further give them a reason to post about them. The best I can say is to just go and block people who make those posts, it's what I do, and it really does help detox from them, and when they slip through the cracks of Tumblr not understanding you don't wanna see that specific content, just keep blocking!

If they are coming in your inbox anonymously, there is an option to block it I believe? Unless I'm confusing it with strawpage, I'm a baby Tumblr user be nice, but unless they're making hardcore accusations beyond "erm.. PR marriage much?" I think it's better to just delete and ignore the ask. And if they're attacking you personally, honestly,feel free to go at em. I ain't gonna judge that, I mostly mean the small things

Anyways, that's all I have to say. It's 7 in the morning and I am listening to MCR, uhhh feel free to disagree, I dunno, I just wanted to air out my issues.

[theealluringstoryteller]

Against the world around us

chapter 3

The rewrite

Water trickled down the smooth soft curves as Omorose stood up from the lukewarm water. She had hoped that the hot bath would ease her mind before she had to make her way to the ceremony where she would meet her potential husband. A total stranger she had to decide if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Left to her own devices the relaxing water didn’t stand a chance against the moment that awaited her. A moment she had to bare alone. Aurelia had left to the Empire due to some important issues but apologized before she had left and Omorose’s loved ones wouldn’t be in attendance. She couldn’t gather enough courage to send word that she had agreed to an arranged marriage to a stranger. The tongue lashing she would’ve received from Nina alone made her fear the idea.

A soft knock brought the Baroness out of her thoughts. Quickly she stepped out of the tub, water pooling at her feet as she reaches for her plush bath robe.

“Baroness!” A voice called from behind her door.

“Just a moment!” She huffed out tying the soft material to her body.

Soon the door opened revealing a middle aged woman that held an arm full of fabrics.

“King Rhett sent me! He wanted you to be dressed in traditional Intacian clothes for the ceremony.”

Allowing the woman into her room the Baroness pointed a manicured finger to the gown that laid out on her bed.

“I already have my gown picked out.” Omorose states closing her bedroom door.

The older woman studied the gown picked out by the Baroness. It was floor length, made of expensive silk in the color of white, the dress featuring a silver beaded sleeveless corset top with the beading trailing down to the rest of the gown and gleamed under the soft light.

“It’s a beautiful gown your Grace, but, king Rhett-”

“I’ve already decided! He’s picked out everything else. Let me have this.”

Twisting her lips shut the handmaiden set the contents in her arms onto the foot of the bed.

“Fair enough but, the veil is required.”

She informs the Baroness picking the thick material from the pile of other fabrics. Seeing the veil Omorose mentally groan but,kept quiet out of respect.

“You’re expected down there in an hour or so and you can’t be late.” The handmaiden stated leading Omorose to her vanity “And you’re nowhere near ready!” She added forcing the young woman down into the seat.

“This hair will take up majority of our time!” The handmaiden fussed gathering all of Omorose’s luscious curls into a make shift ponytail.

“Ever thought about straightening it. would save you tons of time!” She went on to say starring at the heap of hair in annoyance.

The Baroness loathed the idea of ruining her curls for a straighter look. The smell alone made her sick to her stomach! The thought brought back the memories of her being forced into the chair of the long time employed hair dresser who took their time parting sections into her hair and going over each with a hot metal comb. Her mother smiling in the corner making backhanded compliments.

“I prefer my hair in its natural state.”

“Really? It’s quite unruly.”

“Despite what you think I believe it adds to my beauty.”

Frowning the handmaiden watched the Baroness easily tame her hair. Her comb gliding through thanks to the method of wetting and moisturizing her strands and combing from the ends to the roots. It took less than what the handmaiden believed it was going to take.

“Perfect!” Omorose smiled applying a cream that rejuvenated her curls.

“Well at least allow me to do your face! King Rhett didn’t send me here to be a wallflower.” The handmaiden insisted.

“King Rhett! Presenting first army commander Castin Hammer!” Was announced silencing the whole room.

Shamelessly Omorose, stared at the tall dark haired man, who wore a cocky smile on his handsome face. His bright blue eyes were filled with a light mischievous gleam. Castin stood tall a few inches off from king Rhett it was more built from the constant work of being a commander.

Heart racing as he peered down at her with such a characteristic look. She nearly developed a childish crush on him right then and there. She could tell he was a charmer but his down fall was quickly revealed to be his cockiness.

That was the only thing that could explain why Castin felt bold enough to gift the Baroness such a skimpy gift during their first real meeting and in front of so many witnesses.

After the removal of her veil, the gasped of shock confirming that Rhett made the right decision when it came to the bride, Rhett thought the Ceremony would go smoothly. Castin would make his proposal, offer his gift and the Baroness would accept leading to everyone celebrating the official engagement between two people and two nations. It quickly soured with Castin’s boyish behavior and Omorose’s reaction to it all.

Omorose’s heart went from racing to a complete stop hearing the humiliating sound of laughter. She couldn’t hear anything other than the laughter. It made her eyes sting and a limp form in her throat she couldn’t swallow. The movement of Castin’s lips explaining his crude gift was clear as day and slowly turnt her humiliation into rage. Her hand flew up making contact with his face. The harsh slap jerked Castin’s head to the side leaving him shocked.

Cursing under his breath Rhett took a hold of the situation hushing Castin while trying to calm the Baroness down. The night ending with Rhett watching Omorose angrily leaning after their short discussion where he got her to see a bit of reason as to not back out of the arranged marriage idea.

“I need this delivered before the early morning.” Omorose demanded pushing the envelope into the royal carrier’s hands. Her voice horsed and her eyes red and puffy. The carrier looked concerned. It was four hours after the sunset there was no way it would be delivered on time.

“I’m sorry your Grace-”

“You don’t understand! Either this letter gets to the Fentress estate by morning or I’m leaving here tonight and arriving there by morning. Take it up with you king.” She tells the carrier not sparing them a chance to get another word in as she turned away determined to get back to the confinement of her room.

By midnight a knock sounded on her door this time King Rhett’s voice was heard.

“The letter was sent by air. It should get to your estate before the sun rises.”

Omorose relaxed a bit hearing that and began resting her tired eyes still wet with tears but Rhett continued.

“Baroness, I would like to invite you to breakfast so we can further discuss the arranged marriage.”

“I’ve already made up my mind! Pick another suitor or find another Imperial who is actually willing to put up with that sleazy dog you call a friend!” Omorose spat then whispered “which would be impossible. We were all raised with self respect” under her breath.

“Please, I know Castin made a horrible first impression but he is still the best choice-”

“That’s insulting to the rest of the Intacian men, no?”

“He’s a good man!”

“Foolishness! Who am I? Savannah?”

Confused as to who Savannah was Rhett chose to ignore that and continue with his pleading.

“I understand your frustration but, please Omorose hear me out over breakfast tomorrow.”

Closing her eyes Omorose sucked in a breath before releasing it in an attempt to calm herself

“I refuse to be made a fool of twice-”

“It won’t happen again! I swear on my life.”

Giving in Omorose reached for her pillow covering her face to middle her scream as she cursed herself for doing so.

“Fine… but, if I regret this there will be things far worse than hell you’ll have to deal with.”

Since the moment Amara gave the last push, heard the first cry of her baby and turned from it Nina stepped up. Still covered in blood and other fluids Amara took the tiny bundle away to care for her. Taking the role of mother without the title. Constantly having to hold her tongue when Kendrick and Amara made decisions she didn’t agree with for the young girl cause they were her actual parents and Nina was just a servant who took care of the actual tasks of a parent.

Nursing, nurturing, cleaning, comforting, dressing,protecting, speaking life into their Omorose. She was far more a mother than the woman that bore the child. Far more of a father that impregnated the woman that bore the child. Despite the social norms and what society thinks Omorose was Nina’s daughter in Nina’s eyes. She knew that girl like the back of her hand. There was no secrets of Omorose’s that Nina wouldn’t keep, no fears she wouldn’t ease out of the Young Baroness’s mind. They were tied in a bond meant for mothers and their daughters. A sacred connection that didn’t have to develop over nine months with an umbilical cord attaching them together.

So when Nina got the letter in the late night she was on an Air ship moments later heading to Intacia.

Her mind racing with different thoughts.

‘Now she wants me there, foolish girl.’

‘why did she even agree?! Foolishness! She was taught better! And this pig headed idiot! Lingerie? Was he raised in a brothel! Who convinced this man that lingerie was a good gift for a first meeting! A whore would’ve been over the moon perhaps but someone like Omorose!’ Nina sucked her teeth glaring a hole into the wall in front of her. She couldn’t wait to set that boy right. Clearly he needed to be set right and so did Omorose.

“The Baroness is expecting you later in the day-”

“Take me to her now!”

“I can’t do that! She’s in a meeting with Commander Castin at the request of King Rhett.”

Nina’s eyes felt like it lit a hungry flame on the Palace servant’s skin. “Oh another meeting with the philandering Commander so he can offer her something more crude? When will the line be drawn?” Nina questions “After he gifts her with a replica of his cock? A useless little paper weight that would be.”

“The king gave strict instructions-”

“Your king clearly lacks intelligence!”

“There’s no need for disrespect-”

“Oh what gotten enough of it last night at the expense of the Baroness?” Nina hissed rolling her eyes. “Take me to her now or I swear by the Goddess-”

“Nina I assume?” Rhett cuts in finding his way into the grand foray when another servant went to get him.

“Omorose? Where is she?”

Rhett nodded sensing the no nonsense attitude the woman held.

“The Baroness agreed to try and get to know Castin alone-”

“You left my Rosie, in a room with a rabid horndog?”

“He won’t do anything unless she asks for it? Castin may be many things but he is not the type to hurt women in that nature.” Rhett assured.

Nina let out a humorless laugh as she walked towards Rhett.

“Take me to her now! Or I will turn this palace upside down!” She threatens throwing in a few Intacian curses for added measure.

Taken aback Rhett raised an eyebrow “you’re Intacian?”

“And proud!”

“And you’re still serving the Baroness?”

“Serving?” Nina spat feeling insulted.

“I never served Omorose! I raised her.”

Rhett couldn’t believe his ears “Did you say raise?” He asked not believing it. An Imperial raised by an Intacian.

“Since her mother gave birth I’ve raised her! Since she was mere seconds old!”

“This might change everything-”

“King Rhett…it sounds like Commander Castin has upset the Baroness once again.” A servant announces waiting for the King to following him up to the room where he left the two.

“Damn it Castin!” Rhett huffed turning his full attention on getting to that room before anything worse could happen. Nina followed closed behind eager to see Omorose and talk some sense into her.

Opening the door Rhett took note of the Baroness pissed expression as she stood from her chair while Castin still sat in his nonchalantly.

Rhett tried to get a sense of what made the Baroness so angry while apologizing profusely to the young woman.

“I’ll accept the proposal!” Omorose announced refusing to look in Castin’s direction. Her announcement shocking everyone.

“Finally.” Castin sighed rolling his eyes causing Rhett to glare at him fiercely. “You’ll marry him?”

“Only for the sake of the kingdoms. This marriage will hold no other purpose besides that.”

Dumbfounded Rhett spilled words trying to get the Baroness to list to him but his voice fell on deaf ears.

Nina quickly followed Omorose her fingers reaching out to harshly pinch her side like a mother would do to her misbehaving child.

“Ow! Nina! Stop!” Cried Omorose as they turned a corner.

“Marriage! Rosie? You agreed to marry that… that” she trailed off trying to think of an insult.

“For the kingdoms Nina! To unify the kingdoms.” Omorose pouted rubbing a smoothing circle where she was pinched.

“I didn’t ask you here to scowl me for agreeing to marry that bastard! I asked you to be here because going through it alone was too much to bare last night and I can’t bare to continue without you.”

The scowl expression melted from Nina’s face as she pulled Omorose into a hug. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to right your parents wrong Rosie! I know that’s the only reason why you agreed.”

“If not me then who?” Asked Omorose peering at Nina’s now soft expression.

“Anyone but you! You deserve more than a man that gifts you lingerie during your first meeting! You deserve a man that will respect you from the beginning.”

“That may be true but setting things right is more important than a fairytale man.”

“I regret teaching you to be selfless. I should’ve let you be influenced by your parents selfishness instead.”

Laughing Omorose rolled her eyes before looping her arm around Nina’s.

“We have much to catch on.” She tells her mother figure as she lead her through the halls to her room.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Fucking friday- fic preview 2

@sweeteatercat asked for what I had so here's yet another DBH one-shot I'm working on

complicated hankconvin, angst and draaaaaamaaa

A lot can change in a near decade. 

Androids, for instance. They went from cell phones to sentient beings with rights in half that time. Case and point, the heavy influx of android officers post revolution and the reinstatement of one specific RK800 to the police force. 

Hank Anderson is another example. He has gone from, top of the academy, number one father and husband, to disgraced, angry, grieving father with a disciplinary record as thick as his dick. 

Then there's Gavin. Gavin who’s never been the same since Toni.

The world changed, but he just didn't. Couldn't. He felt halted in place by that one specific, traumatizing moment in time. His skin sure didn't forget the event, how could he expect his mind to?

Now, It's 2040. The Robot Revolution that started in Detroit and shook the world has started to balance back out. Things are different, some good, some bad. And that includes life at the DPD. 

In terms of androids and Hank, they are great. Too phcking great for Gavin’s preference. The star pupil and mentor duo are all just about married at this phcking point. The plastic replacement is even living with Hank and Sumo. Where Gavin wants to be. And it hurts so bad that Gavin has missed every one of his chances with Hank. 

Connor makes Hank laugh at something, so loud Gavin can hear it all the way across the bullpen. It fills Gavin’s throat with bile spurred on by his irrevocable jealousy. Connor wasn't even human, and yet Hank has gone from Connor’s biggest threat to his biggest obsessor.

So much for still blaming them for killing Cole… 

Gavin’s gotta get out of here. He can't watch them anymore. He needs air. 

“Going to smoke,” he says to Tina who barely even acknowledges him, nose deep in her phone swiping through Tinder. Gavin wishes he could trust casual sex enough to use the app. But not after Toni, Jason, and Eric. 

Never again. 

-

His hands are shaking so hard he drops his lighter three times onto the half frozen surface of the smokers patio. He phcking hates today. Hates Anderson. Hates his plastic replacement. Hates that he will never be good enough for anybody again… Hates that he’s so ruined.

He’s three pulls into his third cigarette when his fist comes in contact with the bricked pillar. Pain shoots through his split knuckles and radiates up his dominant arm into his shoulder. It still doesn't hurt as much as being alone does. Having nothing and no one. He’s old (37), he's damaged, (seuxally truamatized beyond repair), no one wants him (why would they?) Not in the way he wants them. Ever.

All that’s left for him is a lifetime on this endless, repetitive cycle. Forever. 

Something drops and splashes behind him. It takes him a moment to check back in and realize who and what it was. 

The what, was coffee. Rapidly cooling and soaking into the bottom of his pant leg. 

The who was Connor, Anderson’s new phcking soulmate, who stands there with his dumb mouth open wide enough to catch flies. His eyes are on Gavin’s hand, which now that Gavin looks at it he can see it’s bleeding. Alot. 

The overwhelming feeling of being caught sends Gavin’s defenses reeling.

“PHCKING WHAT?”

Gavin watches as Connor shows fear for the first time ever. Good. leave me the phck alone. 

“I-I…” Connor said, looking at the empty styrofoam cup and reaching to pick it up. He doesn't look at Gavin’s hand again, but he finds Gavin’s eyes and that's worse. “Detective…”

“The phck are you doing out here Connor?”

His LED flashes yellow.

“I...I was bringing you a coffee.”

Gavin scoffs. Yeah fucking right. 

“Why?”

“A peace offering.”

A peace offering?!

“For what? Am I not leaving you alone enough?"

“Yes. Well, I suppose that's the root of the problem. I don't, want you to ignore me.”

Was Connor joking? Did Gavin fall and hit his head? 

“You want me to go back to picking on you?”

“No. I just- a fresh start? For the both of us. Maybe? We are coworkers now and I think it-”

Gavin’s disbelieving scoff is mean. 

“No thanks. I’m not really looking for any friends.”

Connor looks genuinely upset by the rejection and Gavin doesn't know what the phck he exspects. What the hell would they even have in common? Except for a hard on for Hank. 

“Very well. Can I get you something for your hand Detective? It's still bleeding.”

“Get the phck out of here Connor.”

-

When Gavin comes back from the bathroom he can feel Connor’s eyes on him. He ignores him. He doesn't understand why the android suddenly cares. No one has cared about or even paid attention to Gavin Reed in a very long time. 

-

“Hank I have to tell you something.”

Connors' tone has Hank's eyes widening in fear.

“Oh, okay shit, is everything alright?”

Connor's LED flicks between red and yellow.

“I- don't know. I think I witnessed something I feel compelled to report. But I’m worried about betraying this person's confidence.”

“Uh, okay, well, um, is someone else’s life in danger because of this… event?”

“No.”

“Is this person a danger to themselves?”

“The potential for that… is high.”

“Shit… It's someone here?”

“...Yes.”

“Do I know them?”

Connor laughs ironically.  

“Yes.”

Hank’s quiet for a moment and then, 

“...Shit.” 

Connor’s LED is a steady pulsing red.

when Hank’s trained detective eyes land on Gavin who had just sat back down from the bathroom, Hank stands and sighs.

“I’ll handle it.” Hank promises.

[magicalmystery-muses]

Wicked OC: Odessa Twillshade

I previously posted her in a tumblr community post but didn't realize I couldn't reblog it into other sideblogs so I'm posting her here!

Eventually, I'll start working on an actual fic of her (and probably a separate blog because of that), because I have a lot of ideas for her, but here she is!

Odessa Twillshade comes from a long line of influential Ozians: lawyers, lawmakers, politicians…you’d be hard pressed to not find the last name “Twillshade” in the history books in one way or another. Since she was old enough to remember, Odessa has been primed to follow suit. She’s studying law in Ozma Towers, determined to carry on that legacy: that is, until she realizes just how rotten her roots are.

You'll most often find her with her nose in books or notes, pouring over legal documents, swearing up and down that she's absolutely fine and she'll stop and rest soon, honest!

She would not, in fact, stop and rest soon.

She's a perfectionist to a fault, thanks to her own self criticisms combined with high expectations and a less-than-healthy upbringing. Her whole life is set out in front of her, as it always has been, but she begins to question things during her time at Shiz.

But what changed?

You see, the Twillshade family has had a long standing feud with the Tigelaars, going back so long that no one can remember where it started. She was taught this from a young age. So why could she not bring herself to hate Fiyero when he arrives? She tried, damn her, but she just…couldn't.

Yes I will be shipping them because I am cringe but I am free

That's when things began to click: if her father was wrong about that, what else was he wrong about? She picks up on things, like how letters from home only ever ask about her studies and activities and connections she's making, never about her or her well being.

The ultimate tipping point comes when she learns that her family was behind the animal cages seen in the musical when Dr. Dillamond is forced to resign and his replacement demonstrates a cage with a lion cub. She begins to rebel after that, little by little, though she finds herself torn between what she knows is right and the life she's always known.

If she isn't the perfect daughter, the perfect Twillshade…what was she?

I'm putting the lore about her family under the cut because this post is already getting long

Marilott is the patriarch of the Twillshade family. To him, legacy is everything. His view of the world is twisted, convincing himself that everything he does is for the "greater good." When he says his daughters are his "pride and joy," he means that they've been molded from day one to further the family name. Cold, calculating, and most of all, controlling.

Clementine is Odessa's older sister by about 4 years. She was Odessa's protector, shielding and distracting her while their parents fought, helping her calm down before their father had a fiance to see. She currently works in the Emerald City and, unfortunately, still hasn't broken free from Marilott's manipulation yet.

Selindra Twillshade (née Greenglass) was the mother of Odessa and Clementine. She and Marilott's marriage was far from loving or healthy. It was an open secret in Oz's high society that the two's marriage was purely a matter of politics and status, though they'd try and keep up appearances in public. One day, when Odessa was 8 and Clementine was 12, Mrs. Twillshade left to visit her parents and never came back. She was declared to be "missing" and it was said to be an "unexpected tragedy," but years later, Odessa puts the pieces together, and I'm sure you have, too, at this point: Marilott had her killed because she knew too much.

Not related by blood, but we also have Elvric Langwidere!! A childhood friend of Selindra and by extension an uncle figure to Odessa and Clementine. He used to be a medic for the Wizard’s Guard but after retiring opened an inn because he'd "seen a lot of lost souls" and "wanted to give them somewhere to pass through." He never liked Marilott and honestly had his own suspicions he had something to do with Selindra's "disappearance" but never called him out because he wanted to be there for Odessa and Clementine.

[calliettes-posts]

I feel like the writes surposely don't want us to pick a side. they want to highlight how anaïs wants to do good for everyone, but is losing herself while doing so. the no make up at home, the drinking with her friends but then no weed, the coming out that quickly for Bobbie... Everyone in the plot is expecting too much from anaïs. My thought is that they writers just want us to root for anaïs and anaïs alone. Because her finding her voice will be the things that changes all her dynamics for the good.

You know what, I like this, Anais needs to step up and start speaking up for herself, and in the end, rather than choosing between Bobbie and her friends, she'll choose herself, and that'll change the dynamic for good, and everyone will learn from it, Bobbie and the friends will learn to stop assuming that Anais is fine with everything just because she never says anything, and Anais will learn not to stay quiet for the sake of peace and stop being a people pleaser

Also, about the dynamic change, since Anais is the unofficial peace keeper of the group, her choosing herself will force the friends to think and be confronted about the times they took her for granted, and for Bobbie, she'll get her wish of Anais standing up for herself and being fierce more, but also be confronted with the fact the she more or less also took her for granted, and admit that she's no better than her friends just she pointed out their hypocrisy, but ignored her own

I just wish the writers would've set it up in a less dramatic way lol