#everything i make is hopelessly derivative

[parttimecosmichorror]

I do not understand the people who say that modern or abstract art takes no skill, who just look at the final result and say “even I could do that”. Sure, yeah, you could replicate all these same brushstrokes. You could splash some red paint on a canvas and smear it around. You can do that. But that’s not really the core of the piece though, is it? I deeply admire the skill of having an idea, and then simplifying it and reducing it to its barest parts, and then abstracting those into something visual and expressive. You can smudge some colors around and retroactively assign a meaning to it. But can you take a concept and condense it into shapes and colors? I wish I could. I really wish I could. I wish I had the skill and mental capacity to be truly creative in my art, to make something resonant and unique and abstract. Not enough people realize how difficult it is to have and deal with ideas

[cosmicisms]

neuvilette drabble

gn!reader

no warnings but there’s one suggestive joke

a/n: spent all my neuvilette funds on lyney’s stupid bow AND DIDN’T EVEN GET IT. anyways. wrote this in like fifteen minutes in between homework so. it’s not my best work.

“you’re still awake?”

the pleasant sound of neuvilette’s voice causes your stiff shoulders to slacken and for you to put your quill down with a heavy sigh. “…yeah.”

“what did we talk about, my dear?” neuvilette wasn’t berating you by any means, though it might have seemed that way given his rigid and oftentimes stern demeanour, but your boyfriend was truly concerned for your wellbeing.

you rubbed your heavy eyelids, sparing a glance at the fancy grandfather clock that furnished your office. it sure was quite late… or early, at this point.

neuvilette raised his eyebrow at your lethargic state, swiftly crossing the room to get to your side. his gloved hands held yours, and when you looked up, his spellbinding eyes took you away.

“you’ve worked hard enough for today.” he said, gently pulling you up out of your chair, not missing how you winced as you tried to loosen your stiff and sore joints.

without hesitating, neuvilette scoops you into his arms, secretly deriving enjoyment from hearing you yelp.

“wa-wait! i can walk on my own!” you protested, suddenly snapped awake by his sudden movement.

“i am well aware.” he answered, making you huff slightly. still, you made no efforts to wriggle free of his grasp, letting him carry you bridal style down the halls of your cozy home and into your shared bedroom.

neuvilette treated you like you were the most valuable treasure, (in his eyes, you are) gently setting you down on the bed as if you were made of porcelain.

your cheeks couldn’t help but to flush red as he offered to pamper you further and change you into your night clothes for you. his fingers left lingering touches on your skin as he worked you of your clothes, eyes so full of love and appreciation.

(if it had been a time where you weren’t so fatigued, he would have acted on his desires to worship your body).

after having finished with your nightly routine, neuvilette tucked you into bed, drawing the blanket up to your chin and gazing down at you with love. gods, what have you done to this dragon? to make him so hopelessly enamoured with you.

“i love you…” you whispered, fading fast as the comfiness of your bed overpowered your will to stay awake.

you are everything to him. words which he professes to you whilst sliding up next to you in bed, wrapping his strong arms around you to cradle you close to his chest. you can hear his heart beat away in his chest. all for you…

“rest well, my love.” he murmurs, a small smile gracing his elegant features as he watches you fade into a peaceful slumber.

neuvilette will always be there for you, not sparing a single second in opening his arms for your weary soul.

[my-own-walker]

hi hi can u plz do an imagine of what aftercare is like with pre-death kyle spencer?? THANK U SM

+ "could u do some pre death kyle smut fem. like obv hes a sub before he died so some cute like first time in the relationship smut. YERP TY FOR READING 😎" - anon

Superposition

note: well of course, lovelies! i could do that for ya. giving you all a twofer with this!

warnings: (unprotected) sm*t, disgusting amounts of fluff, kyle's weird music taste (toto, really?) fem!reader

+++

I met Kyle in calc. I don't know what I was thinking when I signed up for a class of that caliber.

To be fair, calculus is easy for some. For me, an English major, not so much. I struggled horrendously in class. My mind was not oriented in the realm of math. With dozens of papers and other writing assignments due in my other classes, it was no wonder I couldn't wrap my head around derivatives and complex analysis.

You know how college is. No assigned seats. Just vibes. On the first day of class everyone sorta just...decides where they're gonna sit for the rest of the semester.

I chose my typical seat in the back of the room. I always sat in the back row nearest to the door in every class. It was a surefire way to make sure I could escape at the end of the lesson without having to interact with anyone.

Kyle Spencer, notorious campus fratboy, was in my class. The only reason I even knew of him was because of a stunt his fraternity pulled during a party I was at. I went for the alcohol and stayed for the insane blonde boy doing pushups in the corner the whole night as part of some dumbass hazing.

He was one who was willing to do anything to impress his frat brothers. He had apparently been a human coat rack at one party, and at another, he got so belligerently drunk that he ended up asleep in the fountain outside the library -- 2 miles from the party.

I wasn't one to engage in the school's Greek activities. I went to parties to get drunk and would be home by midnight. I wasn't particularly interested in paying to have friends, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Kyle picked the seat next to me on the first day of the semester. Well actually, he didn't pick it. It was forced upon him by his tendency to be extremely late to class. The seat next to mine was literally the only one open when he arrived.

As it turns out, Kyle was impressively good at calculus. Like inhuman. Thank god he sat next to me because during tests I could just cheat off of him.

Well, that was until he caught me one day.

+

We'd had a quiz that I was hopelessly clueless on. I did my usual cheating routine, the stretch and look. But this time, Kyle's head snapped in my direction. He let out a laugh and covered his quiz with his hand.

Oh, so we're the perfect little suck-up now, are we, Spencer? I thought.

I struggled through the rest of the quiz, leaving about half of it blank before time was called. I shot a glare in Kyle's direction as I walked to the front to hand the damn thing in.

I slumped back in my seat with a huff and began to pack up my things. The class started to file out so I rushed to get out ahead of the crowd.

'Wait, wait,' Kyle called to me. I whipped around and stared him dead in the eyes, trying to set him on fire with my mind. Not only for making me fail the quiz but also now for making me late. 'If you need help on the quizzes I'll help you.'

'Yeah?' I said, attitude obvious in my tone.

'Yes. But you can't cheat,' he smirked. 'Let me tutor you.'

'What, as community service hours for your fraternity obligations?' I challenged.

'Well, yes. But also because I want to! I love math,' he grinned.

'Okay, what's my name, then? If you know it, you can tutor me,' I said, proud of myself for my attempt to stump him. There was no way he knew a nobody like me.

'Y/N,' he replied, still grinning. 'I know you.'

+

Begrudgingly I decided to meet him at the library that night to go over what I was confused about on the quiz. We went over everything and he actually broke it all down in such a helpful way. I don't think I had ever understood math clearly until Kyle explained it.

When he finished going over everything I started to pack up my things to leave.

'Whoa Y/N hold on, do you wanna go get coffee or something?' Kyle asserted, flashing his five-star smile.

'At...9 pm?' replied.

'Just, I mean like-' he stammered.

'No sure, I mean that's fine. I'll take a coffee,' I smiled.

He walked close to me through campus to the only little coffee shop that would be open at that hour. It was aptly called 'Sleepwalker Coffee Co.' They knew their audience well. College students need caffeine at all hours of the day, as we all know.

He bought. I swooned. A man who buys me coffee? A dream.

We nestled into a small booth in the corner of the place. It was unsurprisingly packed in there. Tons of students getting work done while fraying their nerves with cups of liquid energy. It was dark and plush in there. Velvet seating, dark looming bookshelves, royal purple drapes on the windows. It was my kind of place.

We talked for a while about people in our class. Just the oddballs who stood out to us. Like Turtleneck Guy, who without fail, even on the hottest days, wore a turtleneck sweater. Or Test Girl, the girl that was always first to finish any test and made a large point of running up to the front to hand it in.

'So Kyle,' I started, resolving to change the subject a bit. He looked up from his drink inquisitively. 'I have a question.'

'Go on,' he said, laughing nervously.

'You said you knew me. How?' It was the question that had been nagging at my mind all day. Ever since he made a point of saying that. I thought I was a mysterious unknown, just trying to get through college unscathed.

'Oh, damn, I don't know what I expected you to ask but it was not that. You scared me,' he laughed. 'I've known you since Freshman year. The dorms?'

'The dorms?' I asked, needing further clarification.

'Yeah, Clarence Hall? You lived on a different floor than me but I remember you. I'd always see you on Tuesdays. You'd walk in as I walked out at like...3 pm? I'd always wave,' he explained.

'I have to be so honest with you Kyle, I do not remember that,' I replied, laughing as I spoke. 'You have a really solid memory.'

'Nah, I just thought you were prett- uh- cool. Pretty cool, ya know? Made me take note of you in my mind,' he quipped, pointing to his temple.

'Oh, really?' I blushed. I was at a loss for something to say. As he looked at me with those dark brown puppy dog eyes I couldn't help but feel something I'd never felt toward him before.

+

It wasn't long before our study dates became a regular thing. Kyle helped me get a B on the next quiz, all on my own. No cheating involved. He was so proud of me, he wrapped me in a bear hug, picked me up, and spun me around.

Then, our study dates became actual dates not long after. Our first real date was at his fraternity's date party. I felt so stupid showing up in my dark makeup and knee-high Doc Martens to an event where all the girls had fake tans and tight body-con dresses. Nonetheless, he showed me off like a proud fisherman shows off his biggest catch. We danced all night long and afterward, he asked me to be his girlfriend. It was also the night of our first kiss.

Kyle kept things slow with me. I wasn't used to that in a partner. He never pressured me into anything. In fact, I was the one initiating intimate contact half the time. I didn't mind. We were happy.

+

We had just taken the final for our calc class. For once, I felt confident about the work I handed in. Kyle gave me a kiss on the cheek as I got back from handing it in. It was a good feeling. I was finally free of math. I only needed one math class for my degree and bam, I finished it. And I got a boyfriend out of it. Not too shabby, Y/N.

'We need to celebrate!' Kyle declared as we walked out of the classroom into the sunlight. 'You, my dear, are a calc class success story! My crowning achievement.' He pulled me into his side and kissed me on the head as we walked.

'Thank you, Spencer. I owe ya a million,' I replied.

'Thanks for sayin' yes to my tutoring offer,' he quipped back. 'Best idea I ever had.'

We walked back to my apartment, sharing headphones and listening to Stevie Wonder songs. One of his favorite artists. My apartment was the only place he and I could get any privacy. I had a flatmate, but our rooms were on opposite ends of the place.

Kyle, upon entering my room, immediately plugged his phone into the speaker I had on my dresser. He paused for a second to select his playlist and turned around to me dramatically as the beginning of ‘Hold The Line’ by Toto played.

'You are such a dork,' I giggled, sitting on my bed.

'Baby, it's a good song and you know it,' he said, dancing toward me. He was very corny, but I needed that in a partner.

He flopped down onto the bed next to me, crossing his legs at his ankles and resting his hands on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling as he hummed along to the song.

I locked my phone and threw it onto the windowsill next to me and looked down at my boyfriend. His beautiful eyes stared blankly into space. I couldn’t help but attack him with kisses.

He leaned into them, humming in content as we made out. I swung my leg over his torso, straddling his hips as the kissing got hotter. My hands moved up to the top of his plaid button-up shirt. I hovered over the buttons and separated myself from his mouth to ask ‘okay?’

He nodded and pulled me by the back of my neck back into kissing him. I unbuttoned his top, leaving his chest exposed. I kissed him down his neck and chest, leaving hickeys as I went. Marking my property, if you will.

He moaned with each new spot that I kissed. It was delicious. A moment I never wanted to end.

The song ended. ‘Hello It’s Me’ by Todd Rundgren began to play. Our song. It was as if the universe understood what was about to happen.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, looking at him. He opened his eyes and nodded.

‘Yeah, Y/N, I’m great,’ he sighed blissfully.

‘Is this about to happen?’ I replied. I really wanted to make sure before I started to tear more of his clothes off.

‘Yeah, I think I’m ready,’ he breathed, a look I couldn’t quite read on his face.

I started at his jeans, struggling to pull them off. We both laughed awkwardly. Once they were off, I really drank in his appearance. His nearly naked form.

I started to take off my own clothes, once again straddling Kyles hips. Except this time with a prominent bulge underneath me. Something stirred inside of me.

Before I tugged off his underwear I stopped again.

‘Okay?’ I asked, fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

‘Mhm,’ he grunted. 

He was completely naked. And so was I. A form we had never seen each other in before. He was…bigger…than I expected. Excitedly, I guided his cock into me.

‘Fuck,’ he moaned and gripped the sheets.

Gently, very gently, I began to ride him. His length seemed to go so far into me that it reached my limit. I moaned gutterally at the feeling of him. My hips moved instinctively. His hips bucked at the motion. He bit his bottom lip and grabbed my bare thighs tightly.

‘Can I?’ he breathed, beginning to sit up to switch positions.

‘Of course,’ I replied.

Still inside of me, Kyle took my place on top. He thrust even deeper into me. I almost couldn’t take it. I screwed my eyes shut and stifled a yelp. He pulled out at the sight of my discomfort, placing a hand on my cheek.

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I panted.

‘I don’t wanna hurt you,’ he replied.

‘You won’t, I promise,’ I assured him.

He thrust into me again, with such force that I couldn’t help but yell out a bit. He kissed me as he fucked me senseless. I grabbed his shoulders to anchor myself, but accidentally raked down his back, leaving scratches with my nails.

He pulled out, panting loudly.

‘I think I’m gonna come,’ he said.

‘It’s okay, you can do it in me,’ I whispered, nodding assuringly.

He took a deep breath and entered me again. I was soaking wet. With a few more strokes he came, spilling his hot load into my cunt. He moaned loudly, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

Kyle fell back onto the bed next to me, breathing heavily. I moved my hair from my face, sweat making it stick to my forehead.

‘That- that was my first time,’ Kyle huffed. I shot up to a sitting position.

‘Wait, that was?!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yeah, oh my god,’ he sighed. ‘And it was so good.’

‘Kyle I’m sorry, I had no idea!’ I cried out, smacking his chest softly. ‘You should have told me!’

‘No I didn’t want to tell you,’ he laughed, ‘you worry too much. It wouldn’t be natural.’

‘My god Kyle, you were so good,’ I groaned, falling back onto my pillow.

‘You don’t have to say that to be nice, Y/N,’ he breathed.

‘No, I’m so serious Kyle.’

He sat up and drank me in, looking me up and down.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he said. He wrapped me up in a hug and pulled me into his chest. We intertwined our legs and he started stroking my hair. ‘Dear Prudence’ by The Beatles was playing. He starting singing along softly.

‘The sun is up, the sky is blue, it’s beautiful, and so are you,’ he sang, rocking me gently in his arms. ‘That’s really how I feel about you. You’re as beautiful as the bluest sky.’

My heart swelled. He was so forthright with his feelings. It was refreshing.

‘Do you wanna shower with me?’ he asked, breaking the silence. ‘I think we both need it now.’

‘Uh yeah, sure baby,’ I replied, giggling a bit. He got up and stood at the edge of the bed, holding out a hand to help me up. He followed me to the bathroom connected to my room, peppering kisses all over my shoulders as we walked. I started the water and we got in, embracing in the warmth of the water.

‘Lemme wash you,’ he mumbled, still kissing my neck and shoulders.

He massaged body wash into my skin as he continued to hum tunes to me. I looked up at him in awe. I had never been with someone so loving and caring.

We got out and changed into pajamas, nestling into my bed for the night.

‘I love you, Kyle,’ I murmured.

‘I love you more,’ he replied.

+++

I hope this was okay! I feel like I’m getting the hang of writing like this but I still need practice. Thank you both for your requests!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Okay, I've decided that I need to share it with more people so I'm reposting the quick analysis that I did of Tails' Character theme under this post.

The following under the cut is the original analysis

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I have actually been waiting for an excuse to break down the lyrics of Tails' theme (Sonic Adventure version here but I'd actually suggest listening to the SA2 ver here) from the Adventure titles, and so I suppose the time is now!

So what I don't think I can overstate is that Tails' desires for the future, his wishes to become stronger, his wishes to be cooler, all of these are sort of hopelessly entertwined with Sonic. He wants to be cool like Sonic. In the JP manual, his personality as it is explicitly comes about because of his desire to be like him. So even if he ultimately cannot be Sonic or even if he becomes his own type of hero, a lot of who he is as a hero/person and his goals are connected to Sonic.

I should make clear right now that I'm not saying everything about Tails revolves around Sonic. (Just like Riku kh in relation to Sora kh) I think it's very clear that Tails has interests and possibly even friends outside of him. Not every bit of him revolves around Sonic, but that doesn't mean he isn't connected to him.

Tails' love of machinery/technology or fascination in different fields of study—none of these were derived from Sonic. His interest in mechanics/machines/technology specifically came about before he initially became interested in Sonic. However, it's hard to ignore that he derived his personality from trying to be like Sonic, he wants to be cool like Sonic, he admires Sonic, he follows Sonic around, he wants to be a hero like him, etc etc

Okay, with that out of the way, the lyrics. These lyrics, in a way, exemplify how connected Sonic is to the way of life and the goals Tails has chosen.

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"When all alone in my chair/I just go about wishing/Wanna be strong/Really wanna be trusted aah"

When the song begins, it seems as if he's lamenting his position. He mentions that he wants to be strong and trusted (For what?), and this beginning part with the "Aah" gets across...how emotional he is about this (frustrated perhaps). Is it that because he's always with Sonic, or is it because since he's not as prominent a figure as him, people don't trust him as they do Sonic? Is it that he feels that he cannot prove himself as things are? And the comment about being strong... Is it that he generally wants to be stronger, or is it that he's afraid he's not strong enough to continue to be with Sonic?

ㅤ

"When all alone in my bed/I just go about yearning/Wanna be cool/I also wanna be like him"

Now, this part fits pretty much with what we know about Tails. We know he wants to be cool, that he admires Sonic, that he wants to be like him. But there are two things I want to point out.

First, the word choice of "yearning" here is very interesting. As I said earlier, Tails' goals and ambitions, they seem to be hopelessly connected to Sonic. This leads into my second point—the clear separation between "I want to be cool" and "I also wanna be like him". It would be easy enough to say that Tails wants to be cool like Sonic or that he wants to be cool and wants to be like cool like him, but the "I also" separates these two points. Though we know from evidence (namely the jp manuals) that Tails wants to be cool and specifically looks to Sonic for the inspiration on how to become this way (trying to be like him), it's interesting how these lyrics specifically state that he wants to be like him the way they do. Like, yes Tails wants to be cool, but it almost suggests that he'd want to "be cool" no matter where he looked to inspiration on finally "being cool", and so "I also want to be like [Sonic]" seems to suggest that he wants to be cool in general, but he also wants to be like Sonic.

Essentially what I'm getting at is that his wanting to be cool is not necessarily because of Sonic, but he does want to be like Sonic (which may imply he wants to be cool specifically in the way Sonic is). And when you pair up Tails "yearning" about the kind of fox he wants to be, and that "yearning" centering thoughts of Sonic, well

You understand op's comment about how the song is about how Tails sits in his chair thinking about Sonic, right? Even if you disagree with "madly in love with", it's very clear just how highly Tails thinks of Sonic, how when he's all alone yearning, he thinks of Sonic while he thinks of his ideal self. Sonic is connected with his ideal self and future (in terms of how and who he wants to be), and yet he also yearns thinking of him.

And perhaps kinda gay to yearn while thinking about your best friend

ㅤ

"But that's not something/I can do so easily/This is not simply my way/My own style/Gotta get ahold of my life"

Now, this portion actually presents a great deal of awareness from Tails. Sure, he wants to be cool. He yearns when he's in bed, thinking about Sonic, how he wants to be like him.

But he recognizes the futility of it. It's not so easy to simply be like Sonic, especially because Tails is neither him nor exactly like him. No matter how much he thinks or yearns, being exactly like Sonic does not fit him. Sonic's style is not his style, and (based on the "Gotta get ahold of my life") I interpret this portion as Tails coming to the unfortunate realization that just letting things be as they are now, trying to be exactly as Sonic is in all its futility, is keeping him stagnant. Ironically, he cannot grow or be a hero like Sonic as long as he simply tags along and only plays backup or simple support. He cannot grow by trying to be like Sonic in ways he can never be. He has to get ahold of his life and figure out how to move forward instead of letting things stay just as they are (and clearly, given the earlier lines, the way things are now frustrates him).

ㅤ

"I wanna fly high/So I can reach the/Highest of all the heavens/Somebody will be/Waiting for me so/I've got to fly higher"

Now, this section is also highly interesting to me. Tails wants to fly high, he wants to (figuratively) reach the highest of all the heavens, he wants to be strong, he wants to be trusted. And while I think he does want this for himself partially for the sake of having these things and growing, the second half of this part might imply another reason that he wants to fly so high.

"Somebody will be waiting for me"

"Somebody"? Who is this somebody? He has to fly higher, reach the highest of the heavens, better himself, become stronger, because there's somebody already there waiting for him?

Well, given that earlier in the song the lyrics never confirm outright who "he" is, but we can safely infer that "he" is Sonic based on context clues and prior knowledge of Tails, I believe that this "somebody" is also Sonic.

While you could read it as him just saying that there are people out there waiting for him to save him, this place where somebody (singular) will be waiting for him is where the "highest of all the heavens" is. He has to fly higher to reach the highest of the heavens, and he has to fly higher because someone is waiting for him there. And so, to me, if someone is waiting for him, in the highest of all the heavens that he wishes to fly high enough to reach (a place that seems to be a metaphor for the place he wants to be, the point he wants to grow to, where he will reach a version of his best self), then that person must be Sonic. Sonic is someone he greatly admires, someone who's trusted and revered as a hero, someone who is cool. Sonic is someone he wishes to be like, easily someone who (to Tails) has already reached the highest of the heavens of his own merit.

And so, I move, that not only does Tails want to be strong and cool and become his ideal self for the sake of it, but he wants to "reach the highest of the heavens" so he can continue to be with Sonic—so he can be with Sonic as an equal, someone who ultimately is on his level as a partner, as two people who are better together, rather than someone who simply tags along or plays backup or simple support.

Ultimately, I think he wants to become his own person and ideal self for his own sake, and so he can rightfully be by Sonic's side.

ㅤ

"When all alone in my sleep/I just go about dreaming/I see myself there/Having the same adventure/If I just follow you/I will never see the light/Now is the time to find my way/Through this life/Trying so hard to be strong/I've gotta keep going/Everything is a brand new challenge for me and/I will believe/believe in myself/This is the only way for me"

So when he's alone and he's dreaming, he's dreaming about the same adventure. Is it a dream of an adventure he wishes for, or is it a sign of stagnation—that the adventure as it is is always the same?

I think "If I just follow you/I will never see the light" is a bit more clear/pointed, though. As I went over before, things will never get better or change if they stay the way they are. If he simply continues to follow Sonic, he will never "see the light" (or, perhaps, reach "all the heavens"). So he has to keep pushing, keep trying, keep bettering himself and following his own path, because he cannot grow if he is confining himself only to following Sonic and dreaming of being like him. Ironically, I think he's come to this conclusion partially because he cannot be who he wants to be or be a real asset to Sonic (or on the same level as him) simply by following him. However, by forging his own path and being his own hero, he can "see the light", reach the "highest of all the heavens", be like Sonic without being exactly like him.

I apologize for repeating myself, I just feel as if these lyrics are clear to me about what Tails wants for his life and what he wants his relationship with Sonic to look like. He recognizes what he needs to do to feel good about himself, to become his best self/achieve his goals, and how he can truly stand by Sonic's side rather than simply follow him around.

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"Many friends help me out/In return I help them/Certain things I can do/And there are things that only I can do/No one's alone/I wanna fly high/So I can reach the/Highest of all the heavens/Somebody will be/Waiting for me so/I've got to fly higher"

There are things only he can do

So I listened to this song and looked at the lyrics again just so I could type up this sort of breakdown. The very first time I listened to the song in the past, this line did not stand out to me the same way it does now.

And if you don't know why (understandable for the record), it's because the JP localization of Tails' part of the story in Frontiers specifically centers on this idea of him "doing the things only I can do". As he despairs about whether or not Sonic needs him, about how he just follows Sonic around and about how Sonic has to be there to save him, about how he can't just be like Sonic, Sonic confesses that he admires Tails for being able to do what he can't. And so, then Tails realizes that there are things only he can do. Not being able to be exactly like Sonic and do the things he can do is not a detriment, because he can pick up Sonic's slack. He can save the people only he can save. Quite literally, with their different styles and abilities, the two of them fill each other's gaps, they make up where the other falters. Working together, they can help a lot of people!

And so "there are things only I can do" is inspiring, because he doesn't need to be like Sonic to be a hero. He doesn't need to be exactly like Sonic to be his ideal self. And by working to strengthen his own skills and abilities and focusing on doing the things only he can do, he can be an asset to Sonic.

Not just an asset, but an equal in his own right!

(By the way, here is a fan translation of JP Frontiers I would highly suggest watching—if not just to see how they localized all the scenes and story between Sonic and Tails. Where Eng has Tails center on the idea that he must separate from Sonic and go on a journey to become his own hero, JP has Sonic and Tails recognize the feats he's already accomplished, and they balance Tails' wish to continue to be at Sonic's side and be needed with the concept that all he really needs to do to ease his frustration and grow is to shift his focus. He doesn't need to leave Sonic or do more journeying outside of him. He's already done that. In JP Frontiers, he simply just needs to realize how he can be an asset and be an equal without having to be exactly like Sonic, and I personally feel that this fits Tails' arc better. But anyways, I digress)

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So, as the song comes to a close, and we leave off on Tails' wish to fly high to reach the highest of the heavens, where someone is waiting for him, what is this song about?

"Believe in Myself"

The title itself is definitely part of it. To progress to where he wants to be, to improve, he has to believe in himself. He has to believe that he can do it, even if it's hard. He has to believe that he's capable of reaching his goals.

I think this theme song is about how Tails is frustrated with the way things are now, about him recognizing that he must forge his own path if he wishes to move forward from here and become his ideal self, about how he must persevere and believe in his ability to reach his goals and live up to his ambitions, and about how he must focus on being himself and doing the things only he can do so he can stand by Sonic's side as an equal, not a follower.

So, in conclusion, I think there's a fair bit of ammo in here if you want to read this theme as gay. And while I'd personally elaborate more on op's statement, I also believe that Tails' character theme makes clear just how important Sonic is to Tails (and how much he lives in his head rent free just to yearn while thinking about him or by wanting to stand upon his pedestal with him).

[danosrosegarden]

about time - calvin weir-fields x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day sixteen. prompt: hatefucking. 🎃}

{contains: a toxic relationship, penetrative sex (genitals/gender of reader not specified), hair pulling, and something of an orgasm denial.}

☽ What were you trying to prove, burrowing yourself into a situationship with a guy like Calvin? Were you trying to prove to yourself that you could change him, whip the acidic toxicity right out of him, make him husband material? Not likely, you've learned, unless you had possessed magical powers.

☽ There were times Calvin tap-danced on your nerves and genuinely hurt your feelings. There were times it seemed he thought so little of you, you wondered what it said about you that you were still sticking around. You derived no pleasure out of the moments where he'd coldly shoo you away while he was working. It wasn't fun to feel his disapproving eyes glaring, burning through your skin when you were spotted talking to another man. Could he really blame you, though? Those writer's parties were so damn boring. And you just wanted to talk to him and share his company sometimes. It's not like it's your fault he's constantly working.

☽ Whatever. Who cares. Everything felt equal when you had him by the roots of his hair, anyway. He was laughably pathetic like this, squirming around hopelessly while you'd ride him, your hips swirling and snapping onto him at a brutal, unforgiving pace. As much as the warm, sweet, forgiving core burning inside of you wished to give in to his whimpering pleads for more, you don't really think he deserves it.

☽ You give him another rough tug by his hair and giggle at the sight of his thick glasses slipping down his nose. It was a blast to make him writhe and tremble and watch a thin sheet of sweat cover each inch of his hot skin.

☽ Stupid whore. Dumb slut. You're gonna feel everything you've made me felt. You're going to feel the burning shame of hearing your own pitiful mewls broiling on your cheeks. It's about time you learn your place: beneath me. Worshiping me. Adoring me wholly. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to beg for it.

☽ He's just about broken by the time he's ready to cum, scratched record spitting please, I want it, please, I need it. But does he deserve it? you think with a devilish smirk. Does he deserve it at all?

☽ You know, with a deep and dark cloud of dread fogging up your gut, that you've sealed your fate by moving your hips up so that he slips out of you, left to finish himself off. You can't even imagine the sheet-gripping, tear-stained kind of overwhelm he's going to put you through when it's his turn to be in charge. But seeing his pathetic, pleading, pouting lips quiver...watching his slick, glossy eyes glaze over with pained lust...seeing those quavering hips buck up into nothing, desperate for anything...it's enough to make you quit caring entirely.

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleon's letter to Soult about the "roi Nicolas" affair

Another contemporary document related to Soult's behaviour in Portugal in spring 1809 and his alleged attempt to make himself king. Please see here for the rest of them.

This is Napoleon's first official reaction to everything that had happened in Oporto, several months earlier, and boy is he not happy. He had in the meantime received an abundance of reports, complaints, rumours, some generals had reported to Clarke, Ney had sent Jomini, and Soult had sent Brun de Villeret who, however, was only allowed into Napoleon's presence when the atmosphere was hopelessly poisoned already. (I plan to translate his interview with Napoleon at some point but it's awfully long.)

Translated from the "Correspondance Générale", Volume 9, No. 22204

To Marshal Soult, commander of the army of Portugal Schönbrunn, 26 September 1809 My cousin, I was dissatisfied with your conduct.

In French: I was "mécontent". That’s Napoleon’s phrase of ultimate disapproval. Just ask Eugène, he’s quite familar with that one.

My dissatisfaction is based on this sentence in your chief of staff's circular: "The Duke of Dalmatia would be asked to take over the reins of government, to represent the sovereign and to assume all the powers of supreme authority, with the people promising and swearing to be loyal to him, to support him and to defend him at the expense of their lives and fortunes against all opponents and even against the insurgents of the other provinces until the kingdom is completely subjugated."

That’s a point about which I would love to be able to check Junot’s proclamations and correspondence from the year before in Lisbon, just to compare and see the difference in how he worded them. Junot’s position during the first expedition into Portugal seems rather similar to Soult’s.

It would have been a crime which would have obliged me, no matter how attached I am to you, to consider you guilty of lèse-majesté and guilty of undermining my authority, if you had assumed supreme power on your own initiative.

You better be grateful to that Wellesley guy for kicking you out in time, man!

How could you have forgotten that the power you exercised over the Portuguese derived from the command I entrusted to you and not from the whims of passions and intrigue? How, with the talents you have, could you have thought that I would ever agree to let you exercise any authority without you receiving it from me?

Yes, yes. May I however briefly direct the illustrious attention of Your Imperial Irritatedness to the passage that clearly states Soult in his office would "represent the sovereign"? The sovereign kinda being you, you know?

There is in this a forgetfulness of principles, a misunderstanding of my character and of the feelings and pride of the nation, which I cannot reconcile with the opinion I have of you. It is with these false steps that discontent has grown, and that people have thought that you were working for yourself and not for me and for France. You have undermined the foundation of your authority, because it would be difficult to say whether, after the circular issued by you, a Frenchman who had ceased to obey you would have been guilty.

And like this, Napoleon passes on the buck to Soult. It was Soult’s conduct that had caused the discontent and (almost) revolt in the army, period. - This is, unfortunately, not the whole truth, and Napoleon must have known this. Argenton had not betrayed the army because of Soult but because of Napoleon. And if it is true that there was similar unrest in his own army in Austria at the time (an echo of which may be found in Austrian anecdotes), he may have had good reasons to insist on such a simplified explanation.

During your expedition, I was annoyed to see you go off without having destroyed La Romana, to see you stay so long in Oporto without covering your communications with Zamora, marching on Lisbon or taking any other action. I was sorry to see you allowed yourself to be surprised at Oporto, and that my army, without a fight, fled with almost no artillery and no baggage.

Here, once again, he puts all the blame on Soult, echoing Ney’s accusations that had been brought to Napoleon by Jomini. In this he contradicts completely his own earlier letters – at the time when Soult actually was in Portugal - to Jourdan and Joseph, whom he reproached in no uncertain terms for letting the communication with the army of Portugal be interrupted.

However, after having hesitated for a long time about the course I should take, the attachment I have for you and the memory of the services you rendered me at Austerlitz and in other circumstances have decided me; I forget the past, I hope that it will serve you as a guideline; and I entrust you with the post of major general of my army in Germany [sic].

Yes, His Imperial Majesty is so excited at this point He gets His illustrious geography a little mixed up.

As the King has no experience of war, [...]

Really? Joseph? What makes you think that?

[…] my intention is that, until I arrive, you should report to me on events. I myself want to enter Lisbon as soon as possible.

As much as he may have wanted that (if he did), he of course never would. As a matter of fact, he would never return to the peninsula at all, leaving all the responsibility and the endless discussions with brother dearest to one Jean-de-dieu Soult.

So, that’s the imperial dressing-down that Soult received for the second expedition into Portugal. And in case somebody thinks that some of this sounds rather close to how Saint-Chamans wrote about events, in particular in blaming Soult for the loss of communications – that’s not a coincidence. Saint-Chamans actually knew about this letter. As he writes in his memoirs:

Some time later, Marshal Mortier's corps having left Oropesa, Marshal Soult established himself there; it was there that the aide-de-camp Brun de Villeret, whom on his return from Portugal he had dispatched to the Emperor, joined him with letters from the latter, by which Marshal Soult was appointed major-general of the army of Spain, replacing Marshal Jourdan who had been recalled to France. The Marshal's place was now near Joseph Bonaparte in Madrid; we went there immediately. I did not doubt, given this new mark of confidence by the Emperor, that he had approved of the Marshal's conduct in Portugal; I did, however, find the Marshal's countenance worried, and the deep sighs he sometimes heaved in his moments of reverie gave me much food for thought on this subject. The Marshal had a private secretary, named Voidel, with whom I was closely connected; we had no secrets from each other: I told him of my doubts, and he confided in me that he had read the Emperor's letter to the Marshal, brought back by the aide-de-camp M. Brun; it was devastating, and I even think that Napoleon did not hide cleverly enough that he only forgave the Marshal because he needed him. In this letter, the Emperor harshly reproached Marshal Soult for having sought to be named King of Portugal, and for having thus betrayed the interests of France; for having, by his conduct at Oporto, demoralised his troops, and for thus being the cause of our shameful exit from this town and of the loss of all the army's equipment; he said that his first move had been to bring him before a high imperial court to make him suffer the punishment he had so well deserved; "however, I wanted," he added, "to show clemency towards you, in memory of the good services you rendered me, particularly at the battle of Austerlitz, and to put you in a position, by rendering me new services, to erase your fault, I appointed you major general of my armies in Spain. " He then ordered him to go to Madrid, to King Joseph, to direct the latter in the command of the army, which had devolved upon him; and he ended his letter by saying that as soon as he had finished the war in Germany, he himself would go and plant his eagles on the towers of Lisbon. I then understood where all the Marshal's sighs were coming from; but I had no doubt that he would soon have made his peace with the Emperor, for he was necessary, and was becoming more so every day.

Whereas I mostly enjoy this prime examply of army gossip: Napoleon writes to Soult, Soult’s secretary reads the letter, talks about it, already with some exaggerations and embellishments, to Soult’s aide, who in his memoirs quotes several lines of this letter that are utterly invented, and does anybody really think Saint-Chamans did not immediately gossip about it further? 😁 By the end of the week the army’s stable grooms and washerwomen were probably also informed.

However, this does answer the question if Soult at the time already understood what he later claimed was the reason for Napoleon’s action: He did not. To the contrary: He was very worried, very isolated, and felt that everybody around him mistrusted him.

[superfallingstars]

i never understand if you like jily or not

it’s complicated, anon… in the end i’m just kind of lukewarm on jily. i don’t really like james’s and lily’s canon interactions (well, the one) since i think james seems like an irredeemable asshole, but i also think that the entire story works better if james and lily had a good and loving relationship (aka james has to be redeemable), so i’m trying to find a way to see jily in a positive light while also preserving the unflattering canon moments… in other words i’m trying to gaslight myself into liking this relationship lol.

ok yeah calling it gaslighting is me exaggerating for the sake of making a mediocre joke on the internet but like still. the reason i’m invested in jily in the first place is that i am hopelessly fascinated by the marauders era and i enjoy trying to figure out how all of it might have gone down. a few times on this blog i have mentioned the marauders era tv show that only exists in my head, which is something i’m always daydreaming about, and maybe if i figure out enough of it i’ll write a fic or something (idk it’s kind of a pipe dream at the moment). i think the fact that i’m invested in retelling (part of) hp makes me more critical of it as a whole because i really want to understand the effects of jkr’s writing decisions on how the reader interprets each character and their relationships. as far as jily goes, james’s and lily’s relationship is a hugely important part of the marauders era, so it’s important to me to figure out how to make them work in a way that not only adheres to canon, but also that i like.

also... i am just kind of a person who hates everything that i like lmao. in general i tend to derive great joy from figuring out how all the things i think are good are also somehow Bad and i dearly love the process of criticizing every part of them in great detail. in fact i do this so often and consistently that my irl friends make fun of me for it. to that point: i am aware that this is not how everyone engages with the media they enjoy lol. so… i guess it’s true that you have to love something a lot in order to hate it this much. <3

[regarding-stories]

Shy, literal, beautiful: "Kimi ni todoke - From me to you"

Netflix has been recommending this to me for a while, and I'm so glad I've caved: Kimi ni todoke - From Me to You is a thing of beauty. For lovers of anime, watch the two season love story unfold. (There's also a live-action adaptation but I don't watch those. Why do such things exist?) And if you fall in love with the characters, know that the story will continue. The original manga is 30 volumes long and the anime series stops in volume 11. And it's gorgeous as well!

Meet Sadako/Sawako

Sawako Kuronoma is a shy, lonely girl. (You might have noticed I like the type.) People around her decided she's scary. She does look like Sadako from The Ring and the label stuck as a nickname. She also does have the unlucky habit of making some weird faces and has poor communication skills. Hopelessly naive, she never thinks of the people around her as bad. She is probably anime's most pure-hearted character altogether, and yet she is convincing.

One of her traits that keeps the story going, dramatic, and twisting is Sawako's straightforward mind. She also makes a lot of assumptions. Ask her if she is your friend and you might get a very confusing or misleading answer, but ask her if she likes you and she will immediately admit that she loves you over the moon. Because she doesn't know "what everybody knows." She navigates common definitions by herself in her head. Her feelings run deep and what others around her see is just the tip of the iceberg as far as she knows.

Thankfully, Sawako's isolation soon ends. She's befriended by two other outsiders. Chizuru Yoshida is a boyish girl that others are afraid of because she's so competitive. She used to challenge boys all the time. What makes her immediately endearing is that if somebody or something touches her heart, she's immediately in tears and her tough exterior softens. Watching her for any length of time I just love Chizu, no matter how clueless she is. (She's also one of the two worst performers in her grade.) The third girl is Ayane Yano, a girl that looks very styled, mature, and is a bit of a snob. She got labeled by other girls as a slut, essentially. Be prepared for her to mystify you for the run of the anime series. Her story takes the longest to unfold, and by volume 22 of the manga still is. Let it suffice to say: Ayane is a nice girl putting up a tough front. And she doesn't believe she's nice.

But of course there's more. There's a boy, duh, one Shouta Kazehaya. He's the popular guy everyone likes. Not because he used to play baseball. Not just because of his good looks. Kazehaya is nice to everyone. He does not care about reputations, he doesn't try to be popular or cool. Whoever engages him gets the real deal. We actually learn that he was so popular in middle school, girls formed a pact that he's "everyone's" and nobody would ask him out anymore since too many hearts got broken.

Take it for granted that this is the story of Sawako and Kazehaya. Because they met on the first day of high school and she smiled a rare smile because she could help him, and they both never forgot.

After being a loner for a while the mandatory seating change for the upcoming term mixes things up. Kazehaya, Yoshida, and Yano insist on sitting with her, and are joined by Ryu Sanada, a quiet boy and baseball player, and as we soon learn, Chizu's childhood friend. And suddenly Sawako is in the middle of things.

Just watch it, dammit!

I don't want to spoil this show for you. It has a unique art style. It has lots of heart. It's beautiful. It has twists that hurt. And it's irresistible.

The manga's just as good. Everything derives from the characters - keep track of the traits established about them and you will notice how consistent and driving they are. The feelings of these high schoolers may seem simple, but their assumptions and limitations make the situations complicated. And sometimes it makes you laugh out loud.

What is love? Love changes, love grows. Love is bigger than words to put it in. But sometimes feelings reach - from me to you.

(Oh, and a word of warning. Season 2 is much shorter. But it was sooo hard to watch. It pays off. But I suffered and ended up screaming at the characters when it got too much.)

[EDIT] PS - I have read 20 volumes to finish the manga as well (the first 10 became the anime). I loved it. A lot. Chizu forever! Go, Sadako!

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

A Bit More About Happy Endings

Just read an article that had this David Foster Wallace quote in it and felt compelled to share it here. I'm not selling my work anymore and only a handful of gracious people still read anything I write, but this is essentially why I write the things I write. It's what I believe about fiction and maybe life in general, myself, very clearly stated. So here it is:

"Look, if the contemporary condition is hopelessly shitty, insipid, materialistic, emotionally retarded, sadomasochistic, and stupid, then I (or any writer) can get away with slapping together stories with characters who are stupid, vapid, emotionally retarded, which is easy, because these sorts of characters require no development. With descriptions that are simply lists of brand-name consumer products. Where stupid people say insipid stuff to each other. If what’s always distinguished bad writing—flat characters, a narrative world that’s cliched and not recognizably human, etc.–is also a description of today’s world, then bad writing becomes an ingenious mimesis of a bad world. If readers simply believe the world is stupid and shallow and mean, then <author who is regularly praised for a certain work> can write a mean shallow stupid novel that becomes a mordant deadpan commentary on the badness of everything. Look man, we’d probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is? In dark times, the definition of good art would seem to be art that locates and applies CPR to those elements of what’s human and magical that still live and glow despite the times’ darkness. Really good fiction could have as dark a worldview as it wished, but it’d find a way both to depict this world and to illuminate the possibilities for being alive and human in it."

It's why I don't like most apocalyptic fiction and most 'dark' shit. It's not because I want to live in a fantasy world where nothing is hard or bad or shitty; it's that I DON'T want to live in a fantasy world, even for the length of one novel or one movie or a few episodes of TV, where EVERYTHING is hard or bad or shitty. If Disney endings are unrealistic, then Doomer endings are too, and honestly, if I'm going to be stuck in pure fantasy, I'd rather have irrational happiness than irrational misery. And I'm not sure that should make me a bad writer, or a stupid/deluded person, or otherwise judged by cynics as puerile or derivative or lame. It was nice to see that at least one real writer agrees with me.

[angeldcgs]

though she was glad to have him be the one to teach her about her body and the pleasure that could derive from it, faye couldn't help but wish she knew more about what sex entailed, if for nothing else than to know what to expect. she'd shown up to his home knowing that physical intimacy was likely, if not inevitable, but she hadn't known what exactly she was committing herself to, and she still didn't. her trust was the only thing that kept her from shying away before they could truly consummate their relationship, believing that he had her best interests at heart, and he wouldn't lead her astray. her appetite had grown voracious once she opened herself up to exploration, wanting to try everything, to know just what their bodies were made for, and what they could do when they came together. to know that he was pleased with her level of enjoyment only intensified her pleasure that much more, lips curling into a smile as she couldn't help but dart forward to plant another kiss on his. she held him close with a hand raised to the back of his head, cautiously mimicking what he'd done to part her lips and briefly allowing her tongue to dart into his mouth before she lost her nerve and pulled away with the tips of her ears turning bright pink. "i believe i... i will find myself craving your touch when we are unable to be alone together," she confessed, breathless and flushed. "i wish we were never to part— an eternity in your company would not be long enough." such platitudes would have been seen as hyperbolic when coming from someone else, but faye meant every word. she'd become hopelessly enamored with him before they'd even begun crossing physical boundaries, and the addition of intimacy had only made that infatuation grow exponentially. she released another moan into his mouth, until he paused to check for confirmation of her wishes, and all she could do was nod, unable to find the words to say yes. following his guidance, her hand was met with the tender flesh of his abdomen, course hairs tickling her fingertips the closer she neared to his concealed erection. her breath caught in her throat once she was met with his cock, fingers twitching as if to pull away, but she fought against the knee jerk response and allowed herself to touch him properly, his vocal emission causing a fluttering in her gut. she hadn't known what to expect, but it felt softer than she'd thought it would. at first she thought maybe she was meant to rub at him the way he'd been doing to her, but the action didn't seem to make sense given the shape of his appendage, finding it both odd and intriguing as she traced her fingertips down the thick expanse of it. what was she meant to do with such a thing? "will... will you show me how to... how would you like me to touch it?"

the more her body responded to his touch, the more consuming maxwell's desire of her became. she had blossomed beneath his steady hand, face flushed and full lips swollen from their sloppy kisses. her chest heaved with each breath, pert breasts rising and falling in a way that kept him mesmerized. her nails dragging along his back drew another moan from his lips, his own hips rolling just slightly to drag his cock along her thigh. it was at this point in his usual conquests that he would've had her laid out over the arm of the settee, legs spread and ready for his entrance but, not only did he doubt faye would be able to stand the intrusion, maxwell found that he didn't want to cross that threshold. not yet. not when each discovery brought out a new side of her that further enraptured him. his gaze remained intent on her face, even with their faces just inches from one another, admiring the way her brows drew in together with each spike of pleasure. his nose brushed against hers as she let out a whine, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hand rutting against her cunt and maxwell couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh. "you have no idea how happy i am to hear it.... i fear i may feel myself growing addicted to the sight of you this pleased due to the effect of my touch. it will be a miracle if i manage to keep my hands off of you when we are back in polite society." a jest, of course. he'd never be naive enough to jeopardize his access to her by pushing the bounds too far in public without some sort of promise of engagement. which was out of the question, of course. his lips captured hers again as his fingers circled her clit again, alternating his attention between the sensitive bundle of nerves and the swollen folds of her cunt until her question caught him off guard and stalled his hand altogether. "you.... do you really?" he was shocked to find that now it was his cheeks that flushed a faint hue of pink, but he was quick to remove his hand from between her legs temporarily to unbutton his trousers. "i... i would love nothing more. here: allow me." his fingers closed around her wrist gently sliding her hand down the bare expanse of his stomach and over his pelvis until her soft fingertips came into contact with his throbbing cock. the light touch was enough to have him swallowing a groan, his own brows furrowed in concentration. "christ—"

[sunsetfell]

Merlin Universe

“You see, what we call the Riemann Hypothesis, they call an axiom because they think it’s obvious.”

“What?”

“Well you know,” Erika explained as she set the last glass beaker on the rack to dry, “humans have been broadcasting prime numbers into space for decades, assuming a stream of primes would be the most distinctly anthropic signal to an alien ear.”

“But what does that have to do with the Riemann Hypothesis?” Charlie asked.

“Well, people thought prime numbers would be a good signal because they are easy to derive but just complicated enough that, cicadas aside, they don’t appear often in nature.

“But,” Erika continued, “what’s ‘easy to derive’ depends on your choice of axioms. Most of what we call axioms, like a + b = b + a, are not actually testable in nature, because there are infinitely many possibilities. It seems true, so we call it an axiom.

“Alas, the first listener ‘out there’ to hear our transmission didn’t start with a + b = b + a. They started somewhere far away in the space of propositions. And that’s where the Riemann Hypothesis comes in: to them, it was obviously true, so they took it as an axiom. The primes, by comparison, were hopelessly obscure; they didn’t understand our transmission.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Charlie said. “How could the Riemann Hypothesis be obviously true?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Erika replied.

“You’re just making stuff up,” Charlie said. “There hasn’t been any extraterrestrial contact. It’d be in the news, or at least all over tumblr.”

“Oh no, it hasn’t happened yet,” Erika clarified.

“Well you’re talking about it as if it did.”

“Yes, and that will become clear when you see what I mean by a matter of perspective. Here—” She drew a pie-wedge shape in her lab notebook:

“This is spacetime. This point is the Big Bang. We perceive time as flowing from the past to the future, but nothing in physics says it has to be like that. It’s all thermodynamics—or what I like to call perspective. The Big Bang is constrained to be a low-entropy point. Everything else falls out into chaos from there.

“And of course I needn’t tell you that entropy itself is just a matter of perspective. It’s the number of microstates fitting into to what we arbitrarily call a macrostate. No physicist can tell you what is or isn’t a macrostate: it’s based on what feels right to our little human brains. Thus, the arrow of time really is just a human-crafted illusion.

“Now—” Erika drew a second wedge next to the first:

“This is part of the same spacetime, but it has difference entropy constraints. Its low entropy point is in our future. Its chaos extends into our past. But it’s still the same spacetime in that you can go there. You can send a message, and they can send one back.”

“And you’re saying the first ‘people’ to hear our prime numbers were in the other wedge?”

“Exactly,” Erika said. “But we can’t talk to them. First, they’re too far away. And second, the interaction would be incomprehensible. It would be like Merlin and King Arthur.”

“And,” Charlie said, “you're obviously making this up because there’s no way you could know how they reacted to our prime numbers. It will be billions of years before they send a message back.”

“Not true,” Erika countered. “You see, because their flow of entropy is backward, when we look at them through a telescope and see light that was emitted by their civilization billions of years in our past, it contains records of events that will occur billions of years in our future. Including the record of when they received our prime numbers and failed to understand them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Charlie said. “If you could see into the future, you could change it. Then you’d have a paradox.”

“Not quite,” Erika responded. “You see, that argument is based on entropy—you can tell because it only works for the future but not the past. Being able to change the future requires being able to comprehend it so you know what steps to take in the present. But because their entropy flow is reversed, we can see our future in their records but we can't make sense of it. From our perspective, it is as prohibitively convoluted as the Riemann Hypothesis.”

Charlie stared at the paper for a long time.

“Anyway,” Erika said, “we both have work to finish before the heat death of the universe.”

She closed her notebook and left.

[gothamsfinestdummy]

Batman: the Audio Adventures: Batjokes moments

SLAMS THIS ON THE TABLE

Here are the transcripts of all Batjokes moments in BTAA. Context will be provided.

To begin: There are numerous side plots in BTAA, one of them being that Joker wants Batman to love him so he plans this whole romantic comedy for Valentine’s Day. That’s pretty gay.

ALSO, @jokerblogs this is dedicated you you, pal.

Now onto the transcripts.

S1E02

(In the Batcave) Alfred to Robin, speaking of Joker: …he thinks he’s cured! He believes he used to be hopelessly lost; then, he met Master Bruce. Now he believes everything makes sense.

//

(On the rooftop of the GCPD, Joker “lovingly” (as the narrator puts it) wrapped the bat signal up in purple wrapping paper, a green ribbon, and strewn it with flower petals.)

Gordon: We came up tonight to turn it on like we planned and, well, there it is; gift wrapped and strewn with flower petals. It’s almost…romantic?

Batman: I don’t have time for his perverted theater tonight. He thinks the world is his private “Punch and Judy” show.

(Batman tears the wrapping from the batsignal revealing a music box.)

Batman, gritting his teeth: I thought so. It was just a matter of time.

Robin: Okay, that’s bad.

Gordon: That’s bad? What’s bad? What is it?

Robin: It’s the waltz! It’s—

Batman: It’s Strauss, the waltz from his opera, Die Fledermaus.

Gordon: Die Fleder— what now?

Robin: It’s German, means “The Bat”

Gordon: There’s a bat waltz?

Batman: It means the Joker is ready to resume the dance.

Gordon: Okay, so should I know about the dance?

Robin: Oh, you’re gonna hear about the dance.

Batman, now narrating: It was the second time I’d faced him. You remember, he’d gone away to Arkham once, but they had no idea what they were dealing with.

The Joker broke out of maximum security in nine hours. Evidence indicates he only stayed on the premises that long to pick off extra staff as they showed up for the late shift. He hunted down and strangled everyone on the faculty softball team. For some reason, he found that devastatingly funny.

Two days later, I cornered him at the Archer Park sky tram terminal. He was filling the cable cars with department store mannequins arranged in obscene poses. 

Joker was convulsing with laughter.

I admit it, I was careless, emotional. I didn’t care what his sick setup meant. I wasn’t gonna give him time to ramble to the punchline.

I took him down without a struggle. So it was only a moment later that I realized he’d stuck me with something. I don’t know how a needle got through my suit, but it did.

I suddenly felt an electrical fire in my central nervous system. I knew instantly it was a curare derivative edged with some psilocybinoid compound. But this was just useless knowledge swirling with the rest of my mind down the drainpipe.

I was paralyzed. He could have finished me, but it was clear that was the last thing on his mind.

He crawled over to me. He whispered in my ear. He said he had a dream.

Joker, in Batman’s narration: I had a dream the night we met.

Batman: He said he...

Both: ...dreamed we were dancing the waltz at a feast at a funeral, and all of Gotham City was there. Mayhem and violence locked in embrace. And we’ll keep dancing until Gotham is in ruins, and we are redeemed by the madness we share.

Batman: I came to. He was gone. But as I shook off his drugs, I felt like I’d just woken from his dream, too.

(A minute or so after the conclusion to Batman’s narration and a few lines unrealated to Batjokes)

Batman: Report any new Joker activity to me immediately. Time is of the essense.

Gordon: I just wish we knew how much time we’ve got.

Batman: We do, until Valentine’s Day. The Joker is going to attack the city on Valentine’s Day.

Gordon: What? How do you know?

Batman, winding up the music box and letting it play: The waltz, Robin, you notice something off about it?

Robin: You’re right, Batman. It’s in the wrong key.

Batman: Yes. It’s in B minor.

Robin: B minor? Holy stalker alert. I get it now. This whole stunt, the flowers, and the gift wrapping, this is a Valentine to you, Batman.

Batman: A Valentine and a threat.

Gordon: What threat?

Batman: B minor, commissioner. The Joker is saying, “Be mine or...”

Gordon: Or what?

Batman: We have 11 days to figure that out.

Closing out with the narrator’s lovely addition: Rages are red. Violence are, too. On the feast day of St. Valentine, the Joker comes a-courting. Will he have Batman’s heart? The answer in a future tale of Life and Death in Gotham City.

Okay, now this is where it gets OVERWHELMINGLY GAY. Be prepared.

S1E10

Batman and Joker face each other again at ACE Chemicals on Valentine’s Day.

Batman, stepping forward: Let the hostages go, Joker, and i’ll send you back to Arkham with the use of your legs.

Joker: Oh, you, just never mind my legs, you masher. Fresh.

Batman: What’s in the vats?

Joker: Just a little something to help get us all in the mood. You in the mood for love, caped crusader? Of course you are. Everybody is. It’s Valentine’s Day! Dance with me, Batman.

Joker, cont., stepping forward hastily: Do you remember our dance, our dream? Dance with me and maybe I don’t flood the city water supply with psychotropic aphrodisiacs.

Batman: We are not negotiating.

Joker: Ugh, haven’t you got a romantic bone in your body? Look at what I did. I recreated our first date! Don’t you remember? I wore a red hood, and you... were overdressed, but you made it work. And that’s not all you made that night, is it? 

You made me. I was just a mixed-up crook ‘till you came along, gorgeous. I remember the fall, sinking into a vat just like those down there, the chemicals seeping into my mind and unwinding it like a ball of dark purple yarn. And then, in a whiplash of agony, the whole mess hardened like glue. A million bugs in my brain got trapped in amber forever. Can you know what that feels like, Batman?

Batman: No, but neither can you.

Joker: Excuse me? Rude. I think I know my own story.

Batman: We’ll see if you do. It’s time for the truth, Joker. See, i’ve often marveled at your madness. It’s majestic in its obscenity.

Joker, flattered (and I like to imagine his shoulders heightening and his eyelashes batting): Batman, you do notice.

Batman: What created such a diseased thing? I had to know, so after painstaking trial and error, I finally recreated the exact mixture of chemicals you fell into.

Joker: Wait, you what?

Batman: I replicated the conditions that supposedly created you, Joker, and I got into the vat myself.

Joker: You did what?

Batman: I took the plunge, too, Joker, into the unique chemical mixture you fell into that night to see what you see, and the effect on my sanity, Joker...”

Joker: No.

Batman: Was nil.

Joker: No!

Batman: Zero, Joker. The chemicals were caustic, but there was absolutely no  psychotropic effect. It did not touch my mind.

Joker: That’s a lie.

Batman: It did not affect your mind, either, Joker. Whatever fiend came out of the vat that night five years ago was exactly the one that went in. The Joker was just a change of clothes.

Joker: That’s not--no. We’re not doing this. This is my picture. What’s your angle?

Batman: I didn’t create you. I was just an excuse for a hack with stage fright finally to try an open mic night.

Joker: Why are you saying this? You’re such a liar.

Batman: You’re a gimmick. You had all the cruelty. You had all the malignant intentions, all the sickness in your head before the chemicals. The only thing that fall into the vat gave you was an idea for a novelty act.

Joker: No, no, no, no, no, no--

Batman: That’s not the origin of a criminal mastermind. That’s the origin story of a costume.

Joker, laughing: I get it. We got a heckler. Well, here’s the squelch, chief, I don’t care what you say. That screwy dip pickled my coconut, Batman, and it was your fault! I’m your creation! Everyone knows it.

Batman: This is just not true, Joker. This is the story you insist on living. It is not reality.

Joker: Oh, now you want me to bring reality into it, Bat-Man?

Batman: I still don’t know who you were before that night. I may never know. But I know this whole act is flim-flam.

Joker: Oh wait. Wait, wait. Is that--could that...

Batman: You really believed it, didn’t you? That it was the chemicals that ruined your mind. You have no way to discern your fictions from reality, do you?

Joker: Stick to the script, Batman. No not torture me with your talent show improv.

Batman: That’s how i’m going to beat you. You have a diabolical mind, Joker, but you’re not exactly running the show, are you? You just work there.

Joker: That’s it, Batman. I’m feeling absolutely no chemistry between us tonight, so let’s see what we can do about that, huh?

(Charges detonate beneath the catwalk they stand upon and Batman hangs over the vats of acid)

Joker, leering at him: You know, I didn’t want it to be this way, Batman. But if I have to make you love me, I’m prepared to do that.

(Joker begins to whack Bruce’s fingers with a crowbar)

Joker: Fall, fall, fall, Batman! Fall in love again for the very first time!

(Sirens screech and the GCPD enters the scene)

GCPD Officer: Joker, this is GCPD! The factory is surrounded!

Joker: You are completely killing the mood, fellas!

Batman: You’re done, Joker.

Joker: I don’t think so, Batman. You may have stomped all over my heart tonight, but let me tell ya, there are plenty of fish in the sea, and i’m gonna gut every last one of them! (cackles)

Okay, so those were the all of the Batjokes moments! I know the ending was abrupt but it makes more sense when listening to it.

I hope that this was fun to read. Seriously, if you can, you should absolutely give BTAA a shot! And, if not, you can at least say you know of the batjokes content

[silkylious]

Limbo (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: bakugo katsuki x female reader warnings: heavy angst, eventual tiny bit of fluff at the end

omf this request is so nice i feel so bad that my writing is literally garbage in this, but thank you sm for requesting this!! <3 and im so sorry if i didn’t do your request justice (i legit hate my writing here :’))

To say the state of your relationship was unbearable would be the euphemism of the century.

Your thoughts often ran amuck, always hopelessly crawling back to that one despaired curiosity; wondering if he shared the same sentiment about your wishy-washy “friends” status as you did. He probably didn’t. That’s the seemingly unshakable brick wall that would inevitably dead-end your lovesick daydreams, each and every time. Though when his roughed-up hands linger on your skin a millisecond too long, when his steeled stare melts, hard rubies morphing into blazing lava pits, threatening to mar your very heart and soul with their scorching intensity –you’re not exactly certain you’d mind that– that’s when a flicker of something ignites within you. Hope, longing, doubt. Whatever it is, it terrifies you. Because you’re agonizingly aware of what that entails. He’s got you hook, line and sinker, but torturously he refuses to do anything with that. Almost like pulling someone in for a hug then abruptly and without explanation stopping midway, he keeps you at arm’s length. Not too far, not too close. And how that cycle destroyed you.

Katsuki was the type to jump into action and ask questions later. Except a lot of the times when these questions pertain to his own emotions, he didn’t even try to answer them, opting to shove them to the corners of his psyche, collecting dust, steadily accumulating until they become too much to ignore and he (sometimes quite literally) explodes. It’s a vicious loop that he could never break away from, he’d even come to find a sordid comfort in it. His coping mechanism was by no means healthy, far from it, but he’d grown familiar to the toxicity.

Katsuki couldn’t make heads nor tails of his feelings for you. Whenever he impulsively threw himself into the lion’s den that was your affection, caught in the moment, in the glimmer of genuine adoration in your eyes, he never came back the same. A piece of his heart would irreversibly split off and reside in the palm of your hand, he was scared that nothing would be left of it, that he wouldn’t be able to regain his bearings until it was too late. You so effortlessly juggled with his feelings, all with a single smile, it scared him that you had so much power over the fluttery sensation in his chest and yet, in the moment, it felt good. It felt so good to indulge in whatever fucky feeling was messing with his head, to let you hold him in the depths of obscurity with all prying eyes shut and what little words exchanged hushed. It felt so alleviating to feel skin on his own (for once not in battle), gentle, comforting but not coddling. It was unspoken between you that you were both more than friends. You knew it, he knew it. Neither of you ever mentioned it. What neither of you knew, however, was how far the other’s feelings ran.

But as high as your silent love made him feel, he crashed back down into the concrete when he was left to his own devices. Without your intoxicating scent, distracting touches fogging his rationality, Katsuki had all the time in the world to overthink. And overthink he did. His pride picked apart the delicate flowering in his heart, ripping it petal by petal until nothing was left but a garden of beautifully withered leaves, a condemnation to what he considered a weakness.

Katsuki was a taker by every sense of the word. Basking in your wispy adoration, only to brush you aside in favor of focusing on academics once he’d had his fill of your love. It was sickening.

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t outright confessed to him, maybe that’s what soothed the overbearing guilt that crawled up his throat whenever he saw that dejected face of yours, the one you made because of him. If your feelings for him ran deep, surely you would have said something by now, at least that’s what he thought. Or more precisely, that’s the excuse his mind conjured up in hopes of easing his conscious, trying to convince himself that self that yes, he was hurting you, but at least he wasn’t hurting you that bad. He was infinitely aware that this doesn’t put him in any sort of moral high ground, nor does it justify his actions, but, again, it was a last-ditch effort to relieve his anguish if just by a little bit, even if he knew that excuse was bullshit.    

Surely he knew, there’s no way in hell someone as hawk-eyed as him didn’t notice the tyranny he held over the porcelain pitter-pattering of your heart, didn’t notice the fleeting, love-filled glances you sent his way. This was getting ridiculous, you were starting to believe he was taking some twisted sense of pleasure from your heartache, but he wouldn’t do that, right? He didn’t derive some sick kick out of having you indefinitely under his thumb, at his beck and call… right? A few months ago, you would have answered those uncertainties with a resounding “No!” defending his cruel behavior till the bitter end. But now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

And yet you still found yourself in his dorm, on his bed. It was supposed to be another study gathering, but one thing was glaringly missing. Y’know… the gathering. Kirishima was out training and he hadn’t bothered to invite the rest of his brain-dead, self-proclaimed squad. And that’s how you found yourself alone. With your best friend and secret crush. Just dandy.

Your hands were restless. Pulling at the seams of his blanket, cracking your own fingers, picking up your pencil for a brief moment of concentration, answering one or two questions only to drop it back on the mattress again and fidget some more. Katsuki wasn’t fucking blind, and your unease was ticking him off. Though he surprisingly hadn’t said a thing about it just yet, he was clearly nearing his wit’s end. His silence didn’t prevail for much longer, the meek sigh and not so subtle glance you chanced his way being his tipping point.

“What.” It came out as a statement, a demand rather than a question. What was he demanding? He hadn’t thought of that yet, his temperamental limbs already taking the wheel and pressing on the gas without a destination in mind, just being short fused for the sake of it. Was it even his place to be making demands in this situation? Katsuki knew the answer to this one like the back of his hand, a solid no.

“What…?” You really had no idea what Bakugo was expecting with a question like that. He still had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“The hell’s got you so jumpy?”

“It’s nothing…” It was a lot more than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Don’t lie to me, (name). What the fuck is up with you?” Ah, there it is again. That look. His words were as cut-throat as ever, and his mouth was still pulled into that seemingly permanent scowl. But his eyes conveyed something that was whole worlds asunder from his harsh tone. Golden brows furrowed as they usually were, though unusually upturned just the slightest bit. You despised that look. It ensured that you’ll forever be caught in his grasp, forever there for him when he never spared you the time of day.

Your lungs constricted by a force of gorgeously wretched agony. Katsuki wasn’t fair when he bared his soul to you like this, it filled you with such fervent euphoria that torrefied its way through your being, singeing your veins with luminous infatuation. And it hurt. Because you knew he’d cage himself right up as soon as the moment of vulnerability perished.

A crystalline sheen permeated your vision. This wasn’t going to end well.  

“I said it’s nothing,” Your voice raised. You hadn’t meant for the words to be as frosty as they came out, but it seemed like your subconscious was utterly done with the tedium of heartbreak he keeps putting you through.

“What is fucking wrong with you? I was literally just asking why you were being so goddamn obnoxious today and then you go and make a big fuckin’ deal out of nothing!”

“Well, maybe I’m just fucking tired of giving you everything I have and getting nothing in return, Katsuki!”

Your chest rose and fell with each scalding breath that entered your lungs. The blood through your veins was pumping. Never had you been confrontational, and your sudden outburst wasn’t exactly welcome to your system. You wanted to vomit. This was not how you wanted things to turn out, you absolutely needed to leave, distance yourself from the emotional strain he was inflicting on you.  

Without taking notice of the panicked glint in the cherry red of his irises, you bolted out of the suddenly claustrophobic room, leaving Katsuki to stare at his agape door before flickering his unfocused attention to your supplies still laying on his bed.

Katsuki erupted time and time again, with you being as patient as a receiving end could ever be. It’s specifically because of your godly patience that he never considered what he would do once you erupted.

With your back sliding down your dorm room door, and little friction stopping your descent, you wondered and maybe even wished he’d call after you, come banging on your door with bristling apologies on the tip of his tongue. However, the jarring reality was very clear to you. You’d decided on that day, with your head buried in your tear-stained pillow, that these were the last tears you’d ever shed on him, that you were going to put him through the same wringing hell he’d put you through.

You were going to ignore Bakugo Katsuki’s existence just like he’d periodically ignored yours.

The following week had been bleak at best and excruciatingly bitter at its worst for the both of you. It was so strange having to adjust to the absence of the other, even if your company more often than not had been a quiet one, it was company nevertheless. The most grueling part though, was your shared friend group. They’d noticed that something was obviously awry, but since neither of you said a thing about it, they decided it would be best if they didn’t either. The awkward dead silences during lunch were still purgatory to behold. But after a few more slow paced days, the sun seemed to shine bright again. For you, that is.

You didn’t realize how much of your schedule revolved around Bakugo until he was completely out of it. How much time you spent with him, dreading him, thinking about him… him, him, him. He’d consumed your thoughts from the first sparks of dawn till the hallows of dusk. You had so much free time now that he was out of the picture, it was crazy. The more time you spent on yourself, on your hobbies, getting to know other classmates outside of your immediate friend circle, the duller the ache in your chest. Until it was but a static buzz. Yet you couldn’t deny that, with time, your fury had mellowed out, leaving behind a cold loneliness you couldn’t elude whenever your aimless stare landed on him, almost like it was drawn to him by muscle memory.

He was the exact opposite.

You’d think the throbbing within him whenever you finally gazed his way then instantaneously looked in the opposite direction would knock come modicum of sense into his stubborn head. But nope. And seeing you thrive without him only cemented what he already knew. He really was no good for you. So much so that it barely took anytime for you to readjust to the lack of him in your life, and not only did you adjust, you were the best he’s ever seen you both mentally and academically. In the first week of you ditching him completely, his bruised ego kept him for reaching out to you, but now, seeing that elated grin on your face –the one that had been gradually dwindling over the past few months– he didn’t want to take your newfound happiness away, he’d figured he’d done you more than enough harm already.

Heart heavy with reluctance, Katsuki made the decision to give up on your relationship. Deciding to wordlessly cheer you on from the sidelines and watch you bloom, flourishing into the person he robbed you of being for a chunk of your life, though whenever your spring hit, it would be without him. Until some day in the future where his pride wasn’t as suffocating, where he could genuinely, wholeheartedly repent his grievances and only hope for your forgiveness.

Kirishima never took Bakugo for a quitter, hell would freeze over before he even thought such a thing. So this was certainly a shock. What was even more shocking ­– and overwhelmingly concerning– was the fact that Katsuki had willingly, on his own accord confided in him, and he’d, in his own roundabout way, taken accountability for being a gigantic douche to you. As much as the redhead respected his friend’s decision to stay clear of you, he couldn’t help but wish you’d just talk to one another for once. Kirishima really was a saint, having to listen to two idiots ramble about how much they miss the other.

“Listen, man. I know you feel bad and all that, but maybe you should just talk to her? I’m sure she’d like some closure on this just as you do, even if that doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were.” Eijirou tried to reason, praying to whatever higher being out there that Katsuki would just get the fuck over himself and communicate with you.

“Fuck no. That’s not fucking happening, shitty hair,” Kirishima rolled his eyes at the oh so affectionate nickname, thoroughly done with his best friend’s melodrama. Welp, I guess there’s only one thing left to try. He heaved internally, mentally and physically preparing himself for Bakugo’s tantrum.

“Well, you know that if you won’t talk to her, others will, right? I heard some guys saying they’re gonna ask her ou–”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a rat’s ass who asks her out!” He definitely did. Eijirou hid his smile. Checkmate.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

Later that day, three distinctly powerful knocks woke you up. Needless to say, you didn’t think that night would end up with you and Katsuki staring each other down, seated on your bed at one in the morning. Words got stuck in his throat, so he just… noiselessly watched your face, as if trying to telepathically ram his constipated emotions into you, in hopes that you’d make sense of them. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Did you come banging on my door at one in the morning just to stare at me, Bakugo? I mean I know I’m pretty but still–”

“Shuddup.” Not really the best thing to say to you after weeks of radio silence. You were about to make another salty remark, but he opened his mouth first.

“I fucked up,” The fact that he was acknowledging he was at fault was… something. But that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off the debt off turmoil he’d caused you.

“No shit.” You replied without missing a beat. The ice that tinged your words caught him off guard, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He sighed, knowing he’d have to strip himself of everything, including his pride (especially his pride) down to his very core, to have a go at a second chance.

And so, he did.

He poured his everything out for you to observe, without an ego film distorting his words. Syllables reeked of muted agony, he really had rid himself of anything and everything that wasn’t his deepest soul. He finally offered you himself just as you had done countless times before. Katsuki swore that his heart would –and always has been– explicitly yours, he’d roar that fact at the constellations above if you so wished him to. And while it would take a while to heal from coruscating blisters he’d inflicted, you were more than content mending and welting your heart with his.  

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

[megan0013]

Chuckin’ a ⭐️ your way.

Sorry this took so long to answer! I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share or not, but then I realized VARIABLES is never going to get to this point anyway (though I’m halfway done with chapter six) so I might as well write out my thoughts and send them off into the universe.

That being said - this is more of a 1,350 word abridged and super self-indulgent ending than a “Director’s Cut”.

Jim goes into the Darklands months after he does in canon; thus, Gunmar doesn’t take over Trollmarket until Barbara is near the end of her pregnancy. And, unfortunately, she happens to be in the middle of an appointment with Vendel (who does not die) when the coup takes place. She’s recognized immediately as the Trollhunter’s mother and is taken captive after Otto tells Gunmar that Morgana would be most interested in a human/changeling hybrid. Gunmar considers it for a moment, and then appoints the poor polymorph as Barbara’s keeper. Which is how she’s able to stay healthy(-ish) throughout her imprisonment.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and Morgana is finally freed. One of her first orders of business is to go goad the Trollhunter’s incarcerated mother. She walks into the medical dwelling (where Barbara has been kept), monologuing, and then freezes.

“Gwen?”

“Uhhh… No. My name is Barbara Lake.”

But Morgana is convinced Barbara is the reincarnation of her long-lost love (I think they used the same character model, so that’s what this is based on) and decides that, as the mother of all changelings and Gwen’s lover, she’s entitled to keep/raise this baby.

Meanwhile…

Team Trollhunter is freaking the fuck out.

Especially when they’re in the middle of planning a rescue and Strickler’s face suddenly scrunches, and - oh, holy shit - the baby’s coming. There’s a fun scene in which Strickler is in absolute agony and, somehow, Toby winds up holding his hand.

“Omigosh! Breathe, Strickler! Breathe! You’re having a baby!”

“Do I look like I have the equipment to give birth, Domzalski? Fuck off!”

“I’m hurt, Strickler. Wounded.”

Abruptly, all the pain stops.

But then a feeling of fear, and exhaustion, and unparalleled love overwhelms him as the bond moves from a physical connection to an emotional one.

“It’s too late,” he says. “We’re too late.”

They’re not too late, and within twenty-four hours they (Strickler, Claire, and Aaarrrgghh) manage to infiltrate Trollmarket. Strickler finds Barbara. They have a very panicked reunion - “Oh my. That’s  my daughter, and I’m so happy but we must get you out of here right fucking now.” - before Claire portals them to the hospital, where Nik and a very specifically picked team are not-so-patiently waiting.

Morgana is pissed.

Anyway. There are a few complications but, ultimately, both mom and baby are okay. Barbara is sedated to help her heal (which is probably not something that happens irl, but let’s pretend - ok?), so Strickler is able to get some good bonding time in with his daughter while trying to keep up with Jim’s persistent, panicked texts.

At one point, Nik tells Strickler to go home for a few hours. He does, but only stays long enough to shower and pack a bag before heading back to the hospital - with Jim in tow. There’s a lovely brother/sister moment, and then Barbara wakes up and there’s an even lovelier brother/sister/mom/dad moment.

Jim goes home and instantly agrees to Merlin’s terms, while Strickler tries to talk Barbara into leaving town with the baby. She’s not having it. At all.

“Have you forgotten I’m the one person Morgana wants alive?”

Toby texts later that evening to see if they’ve heard from Jim. Barbara freaks and Strickler goes to join in the search for him. It’s a very tense day, followed by a very tense evening and a super awkward conversation in Barbara’s hospital room at 3 am wherein Jim starts gnawing absently on a stethoscope.

All this happens while Morgana is plotting out how best to bring forth the Eternal Night, betray Gunmar, and get her little ‘family’ back. She summons Otto (the changelings aren’t slaughtered, btw, and some of them are pretty sympathetic toward Strickler after seeing him around town actually living what they thought was only a fantasy life) and instructs him to kidnap the baby.

“You want me to… to steal Stricklander’s daughter?”

“Were you not listening? No, I want you to bring me the child that is rightfully mine. Her mother will surely follow.”

He’s hesitant but goes to do as he’s told.

Only, he doesn’t get a very good look at Nik when they pass in the hallway and winds up getting a few of his features wrong. Which probably wouldn’t matter if he were trying to trick anyone else, but Barbara and Nik have known each other since 8th grade and she calls him out almost immediately.

“You’re the polymorph. Otto, right? Walt’s told me so much about you.”

“He has?”

“Of course. He said you two used to be close - like brothers. In my book, that makes you family. Would you like to meet your niece?”

And, just like that, the Lake’s adopt another changeling.

Something Strickler is most skeptical of when he returns to the hospital a few hours later to find them chatting about some dumb stunt he’d pulled back in the early 1600’s. Nomura meets up with them, too, and the four manage to hash out a stupid, harebrained scheme to keep Morgana distracted up to, and during, the final showdown with Jim.

(I haven’t quite thought out all the specifics yet, but the plan includes Nomura in a glamour mask and Otto squeezing into a teeny, tiny little shape - so, you can guess where that’s going)

Anyway.

Barbara and baby are released from the hospital after three nights (might be two, idk, we’re playing fast and loose with the timeline here). They get home, entertain a few unexpected guests, host some impromptu strategy sessions, and then settle in for a small family meal that Strickler prepares in the hopes of bridging the gap from Jim’s old human palette to his new troll one. It goes over way better than canon, that’s for sure.

Later, after Jim has left to prepare for battle and the baby is finally down, a teary-eyed Barbara asks Strickler if he’s willing to stay with her that night. He jumps at the chance, because…

They still aren’t together.

They’ve ‘shared a bed’ once or twice since he moved in, but those were moments of passion and need that had only ever manifested into miscommunication and more. mcfreaking. yearning.

(They were roommates, anyone?)

And now? Well, this is definitely one of those moments. But with sex off the table, and a newborn two feet away, and the end of the world looming - maybe he should just tell Barbara how he feels about her?

“If something happens and I don’t come home tomorrow, I need you to know… My feelings for you haven’t changed. I’m still hopelessly in love with you.”

Of course, she feels the same.

Vows are made, kisses are exchanged, and they manage to get a few hours of rest before their daughter starts grumbling in her sleep.

The next day dawns bright and beautiful, and before Strickler leaves for battle Barbara wishes him good luck. He kisses her, then the baby, and says:

“This is all the luck I need.”

Or something like that.

(Because I think this kid’s name is Felicity [meaning ‘happiness’, and derived from felicitas meaning ‘luck, good fortune’]? Though, I might have just left it as Rory for consistency’s sake. Fun Fact: Rory is short for Aurora [Goddess of the Dawn], which I thought was a fitting name for a changeling to give their daughter.)

Ok, back to the story.

Everything, surprisingly, goes according to plan. Morgana is sufficiently distracted by Merlin and Aaarrrgghh, then by Otto and Nomura long enough for Jim to vanquish the Skullcrusher once and for all. But then she catches a whiff of the changeling magic surrounding Otto and Nomura. Everything sorta goes to hell after that.

True to canon, however, Team Trollhunter wins in the end by trapping Morgana in the Shadow Realm.

But only after Strickler sacrifices himself to save Jim’s life.

…

Joking.

They all live happily ever after.

(Until, ignoring Wizards altogether, Morgana breaks free a few years later and kidnaps the one changeling who isn’t a product of her magic, and is thus impervious to her mind control. Hijinks ensue. Morgana is rather pleased when the kid’s parents show up to rescue her.)

[hillbillied]

Loosier for the domestic ask meme?

DOMESTIC SHIP MEME - Loosier

who reaches out to new neighbours

neither. Leckie would rather die than turn up on someone’s doorstep with cookies only to find out he hates them. he’s a casing-the-joint kind of guy. he squints through his blinds and says shit like “You think Mrs. Henderson knows her ‘I <3 Jesus’ sign in the window is backwards?”. Hoosier prefers the traditional method; nodding at neighbours for ages then moving to casual conversation when the occasion arises.

who remembers to buy healthy food

Hoosier. Leckie is used to having someone else buy groceries or buying for a large family; big bags of snacks, everything must be in large quantities. (if you don’t buy 50 bags of chips, you get no chips.) Hoosier introduced him to the joy of buying the occasional solo vegetable.

who remembers to buy junk food

both. they pick their own ice cream specifically because then they get the exact flavour they like and don’t have to share.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Hoosier. (Leckie didn’t notice it was broken.)

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Leckie waters the plants, it was one of his chores from childhood. he takes really good care of his exotic lilies. Hoosier feeds the dog; Leckie feeds the cat. which they have to do together because otherwise one will get sad. (the dog and the cat – Pavuvu and Banika respectively – are inseparable.)

who wakes up earlier

Leckie. Hoosier likes his lie-ins, even if he’s never enjoyed many of them. Leckie’s got that 8 AM clock from large family life. someone would be up at that time, to got to work or school or whatever. so he makes up early and groans about it for an hour.

who makes the bed

Hoosier. Leckie calls it “an outdated custom derived from the domestication of man” and that translates to “I am very bad at corners”.

who makes the coffee

Leckie. he knows how to brew it properly and makes sure the pot’s always topped up. partially because he drinks more of it and partially because Bill would just dump raw beans in there if he thought they’d dissolve.

who burns breakfast

neither. Hoosier had to cook for his younger siblings and Leckie had to help his mum cook for the family. they’re both fairly competent in the kitchen.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Leckie will grab his keys and briefcase and such, then come find wherever Hoosier’s at. he’ll sigh heavily like leaving is a burden, rest his head on the man’s shoulder for a moment, and say “I’ll see you later”. often followed by a poetic addition like “every moment apart will be sweet sorrow” and that fox-like grin. then he’ll wink and head on out.

Hoosier’s more traditional, he’ll pop his head through the doorway of wherever Leckie is – normally his study – and let him know he’s leaving. he always asks if Leckie wants anything, and without fail; he’ll bring it home. Leckie has gradually started asking for more ridiculous things beyond milk or eggs. he asked for “something detrimental to society as a whole” and came downstairs to find Hoosier dragging a roadworks sign through the door because “How all them cars gonna know t’ swerve now, Bob?”

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

Hoosier shouts “Welcome home, darlin’!” from wherever he is in the house. Leckie will then come and rest his head on him. either against Hoosier’s back if he’s standing or Leckie will lie down on his lap if he’s sitting. even if it was a good outing, Robert has to decompress. Bill won’t look up from whatever he’s doing but he will stroke Leckie’s hair and wait for him to speak.

Leckie will shout “Just a minute!” if he can’t get up immediately. (if he’s writing, for instance.) Hoosier always takes his time pulling off his shoes and coat so Leckie has time to come and greet him. Robert likes to run his fingers over whatever clothes Bill’s wearing, like he hadn’t seen Hoosier leave in them, and touch his cheek lovingly. Leckie will always follow that by kissing him and grinning, like he’s amazed his boyfriend came back at all.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

Hoosier is little gifts. everything is a gift when it doesn’t matter if Leckie hates it. the man’s a spite-consumer, he’ll read books and he’ll eat chocolate and he’ll watch movies that all seem terrible to him because informed criticism is fun. so Hoosier can bring home anything he wants and fear nothing. (he does choose his flowers particularly and semi-regularly. those are always received with a quip from Leckie, who will never truly get over that little bullshit part of him that says he, A Man, should not be receiving flowers. he makes up for it when he puts them on the bedside table and quietly takes Hoosier’s hand, kissing his knuckles and whispering his thank you.

Leckie, on the other hand? grand gestures. “Put on a suit, we’ve got tickets to that musical you’ve always wanted to see!” and “Get out here, Bill, I’m freezing my cock off and I’ve got a car-shaped present that needs unwrapping!”. hopelessly romantic in a hallmark card kind of way. Leckie’s good at saving money, skating around what he needs himself so he can pull this kind of bullshit off.

who picks the movie for movie night

they take turns because they hate each other’s movie choices. Hoosier likes romcoms and action movies. Leckie likes classics and edgy thriller bullshit. they suffer through for love (and the sex afterwards).

their favorite kind of movie to watch

they both enjoy musicals, that’s the only true overlap. and it took a while to get to because Leckie kept pretending he didn’t ‘get’ the singing.

who first suggests a pillow fort

Leckie. he presents the idea like they’re in court and Hoosier needs convincing. (he does not.)

who builds the pillow fort

they build it together. Leckie’s the architect and Hoosier’s the constructor. for all the laughs they have with that psudo-formal dynamic, the result is actually incredibly well-built and cosy.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

Leckie. his commentary is constant. the game they play is ‘How Long Can Robert Keep His Trap Shut?’. Hoosier checks his watch when he presses play and times it. current record is 24 minutes and 15 seconds.

who falls asleep first

Hoosier. Leckie keeps himself up with overthinking. it’s nice to lie awake, though, safe and warm beside Bill.

who is big spoon/little spoon

Leckie’s the little spoon. if he wants to hold Hoosier, he’ll do it facing him or with Bill’s head on his chest. when they spoon, Hoosier’s the one wrapping around him, tangling their legs together. he’ll kiss Leckie’s curls and mutter some joke in his ear, squeezing him close and making sure Bob feels like he can’t escape. because that’s the point, to take away a little control. to make Leckie relax, breathe deep, and just let himself be held for a change.