#how come not many people draw him in his evil clash colors

[kirbyliker12]

big day for the "doomed taranza" fandom

[ordinaryschmuck]

Why Samurai Jack is a Fan-Frickin’-Tastic Character

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

And today, I’d like to introduce you to somebody:

This is Samurai Jack, from the popular Cartoon Network series Samurai Jack. Jack is a rare case. Where most shows would have a cast of main, secondary, and recurring characters of varying sizes, Samurai Jack is a series that mostly follows its titular character on his own. Sure, occasionally, you'll see the Scottsman or Aku making an appearance once in a while. But for ninety-five percent of the series, it's entirely focused on Jack and whatever oddball bounty hunter he's forced to deal with for the next twenty-two minutes. This type of decision can be risky because without quality writing, strictly following the same character week after week could get boring real quick. Thankfully, Samurai Jack is a series that's packed to the brim with incredible writing and direction, making Jack himself a fan-frickin'-tastic character.

How is that possible? Well, let me count the ways.

1. He’s the right type of overpowered

Jack knows almost every fighting style in the world and uses that knowledge to survive every bounty hunter, demon, and/or robot he faces every episode. On paper, this type of character could seem unbelievable given that he's just a mortal man, and even monotonous to know he always wins. But that's the thing: Even though Jack manages to almost always win every fight he's in, it's quickly explained why in the very first episode. Through a montage, we see Jack learning every fighting style from several teachers, each of them helping him prepare for the ultimate battle against Aku, an unspeakable evil. Through the simple act of showing us a few scenes of Jack learning a new skill, it's easy to understand why he's a difficult opponent to beat and easy to believe when he introduces another fighting style we haven't seen him use yet. Plus, while Jack's fighting is formidable, that doesn't make him--

WRONG SHOW! But it's true.

Despite winning every episode, it is never an easy feat. Nearly every battle results in Jack getting beat up and torn apart (Or, his clothes do, anyway). When this happens, it makes the victory feel earned rather than easily given. Take his fight against the beetles in episode three, for example. All of his traps go off without a hitch, and he makes it out while standing upon a pile of his vanquished foes. However, during the fight, his armor got stripped away entirely, and he's now scratched up and covered in robot oil:

That image alone proves that even though he’s winning, it doesn’t come easy for him. That remains a staple throughout most of the series, throwing in a few instances when he temporarily loses only to make his eventual victory all the sweeter. He may be overpowered, but at least it's still entertaining to watch regardless.

2. He adapts quickly

A bit of background information to those who haven't the show (probably should have done this in the beginning, but live and learn, I guess): Jack is an ancient samurai that gets magically teleported to a future where his mortal nemesis rules the world. Now, Jack is forced into an environment vastly different from his own, and in turn, he's forced to deal with a lot of stuff he doesn't know. Most writers would take advantage of this type of predicament to make a ton of fish-out-of-water jokes as a way to poke fun at the idea of a samurai being in a futuristic "utopia" (Or, at least, in Aku's eyes, it's a utopia). Thankfully, the writers avoid that cliche. In fact, if my memory serves me right, there's only one fish-out-of-water joke in the entire series. Which I'm more than grateful for because having a character getting thrown off and confused by the world around him would have gotten old fast. But it's not just being in a future world that Jack quickly gets used to. It's also being in situations he's unfamiliar with. Whether it's learning to fit in with dance-crazed zombies or being turned into a chicken (yes, that happens), it doesn't take too long for Jack to figure out a way to get through his current crisis. It proves that even though Jack is a strong warrior in battle, he's also a strategic one who can't be so easily outsmarted.

3. He plays off of everyone he encounters

Jack, in almost every sense of the word, is a straight man. Most of his humor comes from interacting with the bombastic temperaments of others due to his own behavior being so stoic and calm. The series accomplishes this feat by having the future world filled with colorful personalities, making almost every character the best comedic partner for Jack. Primarily through Aku and the Scottsman, who, as I mentioned before, are the only characters that make regular appearances. These are characters with personalities that clash with Jack's, what with Aku being bombastic and chaotic and the Scottsman being loud and crash. Every time Jack interacts with either of them, comedy almost always follows. A good thing too because while Jack can have his own humorous moments, it's better to pair a straight man with someone insane if you want the laughs to come frequently.

4. He’s still a ton of fun himself!

That being said, Jack is still a riot when he gets to be. By and large, I'd say he has a dry sense of humor, often shining through when he interacts with someone carrying the chaos for the both of them. But, occasionally, there are moments when Jack lets his goofy side out, and it's always funny. They're rare, but that in itself is why they work. Because since Jack always acts so serious in this series, seeing him suddenly break that character results in a laugh because it's something we wouldn't expect from him. If he always acted like this, it wouldn't hit as hard as it would only just be his usual sense of humor. So seeing him smile like an idiot as he's waiting "for the magic to begin" causes me to bust a gut laughing each time.

5. He lives despite tragedy

But not everything is all fun and games for our protagonist.

Jack has one goal in this series: Get back to the past and stop the future of Aku from happening. Several episodes make it clear how strenuous a task this could be, showing Jack briefly losing hope that he'll even complete it. Hell, a good chunk of the final season is him practically given up. He still fights to stop Aku's minions from wreaking havoc, but you can see that the light has left his eyes, and he is more than willing for it to end. But, despite how hard things get and how tragic his life can be, there is always a spark of hope that reminds him what he's fighting for and gives him a second wind to finish it. Even when he's at his lowest point, when everything is seemingly hopeless, Jack will always get back up to defeat Aku, no matter what timeline they're in. It is truly noble and shows just how much of a hero Jack is. In fact--

6. He’s the definition of what a hero should be

At least, to me, he is.

What do I mean? Well, I always believe that a hero is a person who would do everything they can to do the right thing, refusing to let innocent people suffer no matter what the cost. Jack proves it in every episode, frequently the ones where he's inevitably screwed over by his own selflessness. He could easily finish his quest and finally get back to the past, but because it could mean that someone innocent would be badly affected by it, Jack always doubles back to save them. The best example is in the second episode of season two. Jack gets ahold of a fairy that he heard can grant him any wish that he wants, but it's trapped in this ball of energy and will never get out. Jack can just wish to go back to the past and stop Aku once and for all. He only needs to make one simple wish. And what does he wish for? The fairy's freedom.

Because that's who Jack is. He's not the guy who would bargain for the life of another, even if his quest is more important. You can argue all you want that if saving something as inconsequential as the fairy's life is pointless due to tragedies like it being preventable if Jack successfully goes back in time. But that doesn't matter to him. A life is a life, and Jack is not the person to trade it. He's a hero and a damn good one at that.

There are many reasons why Samurai Jack is a fantastic character, but the one above, and the others I've just listed, prove how he is a fan-frickin'-tastic character.

(Sidenote: Does it bother anyone else that, despite five full seasons, we've never known what his real name is? No? Just me? Ok.)

[yehet-me-up]

Into The Ancient Woods - Four

Pairing: fae!Jongin x lady knight!reader

Genre: Fantasy AU

Rating: PG13 - mentions of blood, gore, etc.

Word Count: 2,149

Moodboard (that I’m OBSESSED with) @gingersaysjump​ 

Summary: When your sister is stolen by the Fae King you set out on a quest to save her. But when you arrive in the Kingdom of the Fae, all is not as you thought, and in no time killing the king becomes the furthest thing from your mind.

A/N: I wanted soooooo badly to combine these drabbles into a oneshot but after a few weeks I realized that it’s either going to be a few fun drabbles or... basically a full book’s worth of a plot and there’s no happy middle. ����So I picked out my favorite bits from the rest of what I wrote and here they are! 😄

One | Two | Three | Four

Too much has been sacrificed to turn back now.

A king needs his queen. The kingdom needs love and blood to begin again. New life to wipe the stains of death away from its’ surface like steam from a mirror. And to do that he needs you. No one else. He’s tried. 

Other fae women. Their drops of blood did nothing. 

Other mortal women. Their spilled blood had only appeased the curse for a short while. 

No, he thinks as he gently sets you on the plush bed, watching the light cascade over your face. No, it must be you. You’re his final hope. The one with the hair the color of fire and the spirit to match.

~~~~~~~

The cell is an opulent one, but it is a cage nonetheless. Now that he has you, he isn't willing to take any chances. The bed may be lavish and covered in blankets - red and gold brocade, warm against the chill that lingers everywhere in his kingdom. 

He wonders if you’ll scream at him again when you wake and he smiles at the thought. It’s been far too long since life flowed in this village and he craves the intensity.

His healer already attended to you, removing any damage his sharp and efficient magic did. Exhaustion is the only thing keeping you from consciousness now. He stifles his impatience and paces in front of your cell.

He has questions - hundreds of them, as he observes the gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

Who put the flowers in your hair - were they done with your own hand or by someone else’s? A lover, perhaps? 

How did you come upon the sword you carry? The mortal kings have long been dismissive of the women in their kingdom. Did you steal it?

Jongin longs to pry open your mind and heart and have a look to see just what kind of woman fate brought him. Decades and centuries of waiting for the prophesied one. Endless years of suffering, now brought to an end. If she accepts me. And this.

~~~~~~

It's midday when someone comes for you again. Unfortunately, it's the King himself. Handsome and devastating and evil.

Though you now know it would solve none of your problems, you still long for your sword to be able to drive it through his heart. If just for the satisfaction of having bested him.

'Would you like to go for a walk, kultaseni?'

You make a noise somewhere between a scream and a whine of confusion. 'Surely you are joking.'

He leans an arrogant shoulder against the frame of the door and smiles at you. 'I am not. You have seen your sister, alive and unharmed. I would like to speak with you and would prefer to do so without bars between us.'

'You're the one who put me here,' you counter. You grip the metal so tightly it bites into your palms.

His expression turns mournful, brows drawn together and his plump, red lips pouting. Irrationally you want to sink into the bottom one with your teeth and pull. Just to taste him. Just to hear him moan and know it was you who caused it. But then the light shifts and his expression is reserved and taunting once more and you swallow the thought.

'Fine. But if you try and harm me, I'll gouge your eyes out with my thumbs.'

He raises a brow and smiles at you, pleased by your comment. 'I'd expect nothing less.'

The castle and the village, in daytime, are disconcertingly similar to your own.

Children play in the town square, their laughter echoing off the cobblestones. Women and men walk to and fro down a path off the center square, carrying baskets of fruit and grain from the harvest. Soldiers stand guard at the palace gates. No wonder they were so cavalier, you think, their threat comes from within. Not from the world outside.

Jongin leads you towards the mountains that rise towards the south. The villagers nod as you pass, watching you with awe. You wonder if everyone has heard the tale. You can almost hear their silent pleas, asking you to be your savior. Would you not do the same, in their place?

Thankfully the path disappears into the trees and you and Jongin are alone once more. Here, he's quiet and contemplative, hands drawn behind his back. You've never seen a man more beautiful. Or more dangerous. His moods change faster than lightning and you do your best to keep up.

He runs a ringed finger along the branch of a thick tree. Its bark is twisted and old, fighting death as the tree reaches towards the sun. 'The forest was so beautiful, in my youth.'

Curiosity gets the better of you. 'How did it come to be cursed?'

~~~~~~~~~

The light through the branches falls on his face and suddenly you can imagine the boy he was in his youth. His amber eyes are shrewd and playful. You wonder what it was like when his smile was easy and unburdened, when he gave of himself willingly and joyfully. 

When his choices didn't carry the fate of an entire Kingdom behind them.

You feel your heart soften a fraction and pull back, afraid of being drawn in by him. Even if you understand the source of his actions, even if the women aren’t hurt - there’s still blood on his hands that will never come clean.

‘If you wanted me… if I’m the prophesied queen, why did you take my sister? Why not come for me directly?’

He pauses, a slight blush coming to his cheeks in the golden light. ‘Is it so wrong that I would want my future queen to be able to say goodbye to her family in some way? To the human world?’

‘So you’ll really let her go back? You meant it?’

He folds his hands behind his back, contemplating. 'I'm entirely honest. If you hold up your end of the bargain, I'll hold up mine.'

You watch him, through the trees he looks almost human. His skin is ice white, with none of the bright warmth you'd associate with living. But his features relax in nature, away from the harsh lines of the castle. He’s been just as much a prisoner of the curse as the village, as the woods. 

For long moments you both get lost in your thoughts. He pulls a flower from one of the trees and holds it between his fingers. You can only imagine what must occupy the mind of a king of an immortal land. If you make this choice, you will become like him. Trapped forever in this land, trapped forever in this body. Until you choose to die.

'Will it hurt?' you ask quietly.

He looks at you suddenly. 'Are you agreeing?'

His eyes are wide with hope and you imagine him much younger. Being forced to make a deadly choice to save his people. Wouldn't you do the same, in his place?

'Yes.' Your promise is a whisper. 'Yes,' you repeat, stronger, finding your conviction and surrender like air beneath your wings. 'I'll do it.'

Jongin catches you off guard by wrapping you in his arms. In two steps his scent and his body envelops you. His delight is a palpable thing between you, seeping into the marrow of your bones. He pulls back and watches you fiercely.

'I will owe you for this,' he says gently, breath cascading across your lips. 'Forever.'

Even if you didn't know that magic lived in him, you'd be transfixed. His eyes are dark brown, cut through with amber in the bright sunlight. You remind yourself of the terrible things he's done and on instinct you step back.

'You didn't answer my question.'

His hands hang in midair for a moment, as though he were imagining you still in his arms. 'Yes, it will.' His hands fall to his sides and he looks sad. 'I'm sorry for that. Being remade is not an easy feat, from my understanding.'

You steel yourself. 'I've said many times in my life I'd be willing to fight, and die, for those I love. And if this will forever keep them safe, I'll do it.'

Jongin nods. 'You cannot know what it will mean for my people. Centuries of pain ceasing, like blood clotting in a wound.'

No words come, the thought of a lifetime away from your family sits heavily in your mind. But wounds still leave marks, even after they heal. Never seeing your mother and father again. Never being human again. 

Some wounds never heal. But for this, you'll sacrifice everything. And perhaps, in time, come to find other reasons to live. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stone dais in the square is empty. Distant noises of battle - swords clashing, men and women fighting for their lives - pound in your ears as you race to complete the ritual before it’s too late. Before all is truly lost forever

Jongin hesitates for a moment before stepping up behind you. He could have remained opposite you, closeness wasn't a necessity to slice your arm. But despite it all, you're glad he's there. The fact that he lives and breathes and feels comforts you. You hope you're still yourself after this night is done.

'Ready?' he asks, softer than you'd imagine.

With his chest to your back like a shield you slide up the sleeve of your overdress, exposing your skin. Fear clogs your throat and you struggle for breath. Fear of pain. Fear of loss. Fear of failure.

You grit your teeth and will yourself to be strong. 'Ready.'

His broad hand wraps around your wrist, holding it out over the circular opening of stone. The bottom is stained with age, with the imprint of hundreds of years of dead leaves. The sun has bleached the rim. With morbid fascination you hold still as he draws the blade against your skin.

The cut is deep, well-placed. You wince at the searing pain and bite down hard on your cheek, but still you don't look away. His face presses against yours and you realize abruptly how close he is. Jongin sets the knife down on the rim and wraps his free hand around your waist, keeping you steady. Held close against him, as if you were lovers.

The blood pools in the base, in drops, thick and red. You should have asked him what the transformation entails. Too late you realize you were so caught up in the loss of your human life, you'd asked nothing about your journey into the immortality.

Moonlight shines, clear and bright, as the clouds above you clear. Like a beacon it settles on the steady drops of blood that fall from the open wound. It's slowing, turning from a steady flow to a trickle. Just when you think he'll take up the knife and reopen the wound, the stone beneath you trembles. A great rumbling starts beneath your feet and you cling to his arm with your right hand. Ready for whatever hell is unleashing upon you tonight.

'Hold steady,' he says.

You nod and press your lips together to avoid screaming. In the silver light the blood in the base shines. It morphs from red to orange to a near white color in seconds. The structure around you drops a fraction before stilling. Your breath comes out in pants and you keep firm as the shimmering moves up the drops of blood, flowing upwards and back into your body.

When it reaches your skin, you feel like you've been stabbed all over. It's like the time you got too close to the fire as a child, when the flames licked along your skin and burned. You can't help the sound of surprise and agony that leaves you as the ancient magic undoes your humanity.

Jongin catches you as you fall, turning you in his arms and easing you down onto the stone. His hand beneath your head cushions you as your body writhes and jerks as though it were trying to evaporate like smoke. He seems to glow himself as he watches you with a look both fearful and intense with hope.

He squeezes your hand and you look down, realizing he's clasped his hand around yours. The world fades at the corners of your vision. The branches of the trees appear menacing in the darkness. The great turrets of the castle disappear as the clouds move over the moon once more. A great bolt of lightning cleaves the sky, striking the dais.

Your head lolls to the side and you watch the stone crack in half. Thunder echos around you so loudly you gasp. As you lose consciousness you hold Jongin's focus, praying that it worked. That his kingdom will be restored. That your people will be free. That he will once again be whole and uncursed.

[justsassysworld]

Five Demons and a Baby Part 3

Five Demons Part 3

Word Count: 1683

The Conglomerate x Fem!reader

Shuddering in nothing like fear, you allow them to show you back to your seat. Instead of letting you sit on your own, Gio waits for Scarabee to settle back in before handing you off. This time he pulls you onto his lap instead of right next to him.

Zhuk sits next to the two of you as the rest choose their spots. Once everyone's settled, Bee turns you to face the group, your back to his chest, your ass cradling his dick.

With all their attention turned to you, you figure they are waiting for you to say something but that is so not happening.

"Shy, chaton," Scarabee whispers against your ear, obviously enjoying your squirming. "But you were so vocal a minute ago."

You turn your head to glare at him, and he just laughs, with some of the others joining in. Pouting, you spin back and let out a sign. "I'm sorry for the snark, but you guys need to understand, I'm a bit of a sardonic asshole. It's not in my nature to play doormat, and it's not a role I'll ever willingly take."

Taking your hand, Zhuk draws your attention. "That is not our intention, zaika. No self respecting man wants a doormat, but we are all dominant men in our own rights, and we will not allow one of our own to come to harm."

"But-"

Gio interrupts you, "Make no mistake, topolina, you are ours, if not as a partner, as a member of the family."

A special warmth spreads through your chest. These men are trusting you, a person they don't know, a person who could be lying about the paternity, but they never doubted you. You were truly starting to believe the rumors of their evilness was drastically exaggerated.

"Thank you for saying that," you say after taking a moment to compose yourself. "What exactly do you mean by wooing? Will they just be dates? Sex? I need to know what to expect."

Chuckles surround you, Scarabee's rumbling against your backs; it would seem they weren't expecting such a blunt question.

"Oh gatita," Bajo sighs, "I for one must say how much I love your forthright nature."

Scarabee lets out a growl and you're confused until he bites out, "She is not your gatita, she is my chaton, pick something else."

"Seriously, amigo?" the Spaniard complains. "What can I call her then?"

"Not mouse.

"Not bunny." Zhuk and Gio say at the same time, making you roll your eyes.

"Fine, is paloma acceptable?" he asks, mainly to Cia.

"Don't fret, a chroi," Cia replies, sending him a wink. "I haven't yet thought of my name for our bonnie less."

Part of you wonders why they can't just call you by your name, while another loves how you feel when they use those pet names. Still, you need answers.

"Now that we have that sorted, could you please answer my question?" you cajole.

"Which one? About the dates or about sex?" Cia smirks. "If ya need a lesson in sex, I'll gladly volunteer, but considering your condition, I'm not sure how much I can teach ya." Yours are not the only eyes rolling.

Before any more jokes can be bandied around, Zhuk draws your attention, "Zaika, we are trying to woo you, you will decide what will happen, sex or no sex."

"I know what I'm voting for," Bajo murmurs, sending you a heated look.

"Now, if that's settled," Gio draws your attention by standing. "I need to get her vitamins ready, she needs to eat, and someone needs to help get her settled."

Seeming to agree, the others stand, even Scarabee, with you in his arms. You squirm to be let down, but he pays you no mind.

Gio quickly exits, but none of the others make a move, not even the man who still isn't letting you down. They start walking and speaking in some language you don't understand. Giving up on escape, you content yourself with mapping out this place, if the need for escape should arise. Of course all the damn doors are closed so you can't actually take stock of the rooms around you.

Huffing out a disappointed sigh, you pout from the cradle of the Cajuns arms, wanting to get where ever you're going so you can get some control back, or at least the option of moving on your own.

Finally you enter a new space, but it's not what you were expecting. It's far from the simple sleeping space you'd envisioned. The scene from the second Princess Diaries movie pops into your mind. Quite honestly, this suite is bigger than your apartment. Your mind is having issues comprehending how the luxury of the space is mixing with your stuff. Simple earth tones counter rich woods, while your more bright colors manage to blend without clashing too much.

Bajo and Cia make their way to the kitchenette, while Zhuk peruses your humble library, and Scarabee settles onto an over stuffed sofa, you in his lap. You watch how the others move about the space, trying to learn what you can about the mixed group without asking any questions.

The pair in the kitchen seem to dance as they work, letting you see their love; they flirt with their smiles, call each other ridiculously cute nick names, and even kiss once or twice. You catch the burly Russian casting longing glances their way, though you can't tell if it's because he wants to join them, or he just wants what they have. When he's not peering at them, he's checking out your small movie collection, obviously caught of guard by some of your selections.

"Well, cher," Scarabee suddenly whispers against your ear. "Ya learnin' anythin'?"

Biting your lip at getting caught, you turn your head slightly to see him. "Maybe, a little."

"Ah, don't leave me in suspense, tell me, mon petite chaton," he demands against your flesh.

"Well," you hedge, wanting time to fight your body's reaction, not that it'll do you any good with their sense of smell. "While you all seem very close, may haps even sexually, Cia and Bajo seem extra close. I'd even say they look like they're in love. I would say Zhuk is the quietest of you, and while some might think it would suggest a more submissive nature, I get the feeling he has more dominance in his little finger then a lot of doms have in their whole body, there's also a loneliness in his eyes. You and Gio seem to be cut from the same cloth, but he's got something hiding beneath the surface. I can't tell what's different between the two of you, but I think you are a bit extroverted to his introvert."

Looking into his eyes, you add, "Your power seems to surround you, where his comes from inside."

His gaze bores into you for a good while and you realize you don't hear anything coming from the rest of the room. Checking the others, you see they are also staring at you.

"What?" you ask, turning back to Scarabee. His palm cups your cheek as he stares at you in wonder.

"Cher, you surprise me," he whispers, drawing you in for a quick kiss.

"How?" Zhuk asks from behind you. You look behind you and see all of them, even Gio, who is standing in the doorway, watching you in shocked amazement.

Fear has you frozen. There is absolutely no way you're going to tell them the truth, that you've read so much fan fiction you've gotten really good at reading people. Nope, that's not something you'll ever admit to. "Uhh," you stall. "I read."

Before they can question you further, you ask, "What's for lunch?"

You get some glares, but Cia is smiling while he brings you a bowl of simple chicken noodle soup. Scarabee carries you to the table, setting you in one of the chairs. Gio hands you a couple of pills as Bajo sets down a glass of water. They each take a seat as the rest of the food is served.

Looking at the pills, you ask," Gio, are these prescription prenatals?"

"Yes, topolina," he replies, taking a bite of his soup.

"How?" confusion stains your voice. "There's no way you could get a prescription this fast."

He flashes you a cocky grin. "Is that so?"

You're about to snap back when strong hands trail down your arms, moving you hands to the table. "Please, a chuid, eat."

Biting your lip, you look up to see Cia staring down at you, concern and kindness swimming in the depths of his eyes. Not wanting to disappoint him, you quickly take a bite of the surprisingly delicious soup before swallowing your pills. Smiling, he moves to his own seat and starts eating.

The sounds of people eating fills the space until Zhuk says, "So, zaika, tell us all about you."

You do just that with a smile, answering every question they send your way. Favorite color, book, movie, and television show, your childhood, family and friends, and all of your dreams, you answer it all, but get very little info in return.

Finally tiring of the sound of your own voice, you ask, "Haven't you heard enough? When do I get to learn more abut you?"

Chuckles are your answer. "My dear, Zaika, we will each tell you all you wish to know, and more, in turn. I will be taking my day with you tomorrow, Gio will follow me, Bajo and Cia will share their days, and Bee will finish us up. Will this work for you?"

Mulling it over, you smile and nod. "Yes, I think I can live with that."

Various pleased looks answer, before the questions begin again. You're tempted to roll your eyes, but there is something so damn sweet about the curiosity of these mysterious men. As much as you don't understand how they can still have things to ask, you guess you'll have just as many when your turn rolls around.

@doyahearthatsound-after-dark,  @1-rosewiththorns

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

Multiples of 6 for the OC asks!

AYYYYYYYYYY THANK YOU

i think for this one i’ll answer each question with three ocs for comparison >:V

(under the cut because, predictably, It Got Long)

-

6. Do they smoke or do they hate smoking. 

(origfic, unnamed superhero verse)

-

Neil: won’t touch cigarettes, but has been known to smoke a bowl every now and then when his anxiety gets the best of him. he doesn’t like doing it--he’s internalized some pretty negative shit about how it means he’s a trashy, weak-willed loser who can’t handle reality--but since meeting nads and then beth, he’s eased up a lot on the guilt and is able to relax more.

Nads: smokes cigarettes, but only if they’re stolen. she’s got an active lifestyle to say the least and she doesn’t want to risk fucking up her lungs, so that’s her compromise. my god does she love her weed though

Beth: smokes cigarettes to take the edge off her anxiety when she has to go outside during the day. she knows they’re worse for her than weed, but she’s wary enough of her liminal space powers without imagining what they might do if she got stoned.

-

12. What’s an outfit they’d despise wearing Vs one they’d love wearing? Draw it! 

(Tales of Arcadia; i’m godawful at drawing clothes so i’ll just describe them as best i can ashdflkshdfkl)

-

Liyen: loves comfortable, understated, professional-looking masc clothes, usually in muted shades of gray, blue, or black. give them a fuzzy turtleneck sweater and black pants and they’re happy. meanwhile they’d be SUPER uncomfortable in loud, clashing colors or anything too femme. 

Schommag: Does Not Like Clothes That Will Get in Her Way, also not a big fan of dressing femme with very few exceptions (the right Little Black Dress, for example). give her what she needs to get around the woods and stay out of her way. that said she does love showing off her muscles, so she wears a lot of tank tops and sports bras (and sometimes no top at all, if she can get away with it). 

Oryalv: VERY femme, particularly business casual. this man loves his pantsuits. meanwhile his nightmare is middle-aged high school coach aesthetic. put him in a t-shirt and khakis and he’ll start pouring smoke like a teakettle

-

18. Have they ever committed a crime? How? Why? If not, then what’s their opinion on crime?

(origfic, unnamed VALENTINE DON’T DO THAT verse)

-

Valentine: has been made complicit in a lot of their family’s cutthroat-noble shadiness growing up, is otherwise a law-abiding sort up until they jump off the slippery slope and get the war crime ball rolling in earnest. Whoops

Edmund: has gotten into plenty of cutthroat-noble shadiness of his own volition, thank you very much. unlike valentine he’s a whole lot more inclined to go UHHH and pull up when it comes to war crimes

Marcel: LOVES war crimes. LOVES them. would marry them if he could. lucky for him he’s captain of the guard and has plenty of opportunities. will otherwise use the law as a bludgeon but i don’t think he’s too bothered about it for its own sake

-

24. Mcdonalds, subway, or KFC?

(Final Fantasy Tactics A2)

-

Nebilim: subway, grease is sensory hell and makes him sick and it’s the easiest place to avoid it. the number of variables per sandwich make him anxious, but if he has to pick one then fuck it, it’s worth not putting grease in his body.  

Moovry: loves grease with all his somehow-still-functioning heart, would bring his own beer keg to KFC and refuse to leave til he’s finished his fourth bucket of chicken

York: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS. gets the happy meal and then uses the toy to test their black magic minispells. we hardly knew ye, beyblade 

-

30. Have they ever dreamed about another oc?

(Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, taxidermy/doll horror cw)

-

Faerna: has dreams about missing his mother sometimes. he hasn’t seen her in a long time, and for all he knows she thinks he’s dead, but he can’t bring himself to go back and look for her when he doesn’t know if she’ll approve of the life he’s chosen for himself. for all he talks himself up, not everyone’s happy to have a thief and a conman for a son.

SkekNev: has recurring dreams about the victims of their taxidermy coming back to life. less of a HOLY SHIT THE DOLLS ARE ALIVE nightmare for them, more of an anger/anxiety nightmare because stop that, stop having autonomy, i made you like this for a reason.

Aivne: dreams a lot about her little siblings. outright nightmares, semi-lucid rehearsals of danger scenarios, memories from before they lost their parents.

-

36. If they’re nonhuman, what’s their opinion on humans?

(origfic, faeverse)

-

Aislinng: vampire/incubus, more specifically A Dracula Lookin Motherfucker. depending on how much of a bastard he is in a given au, humans are usually somewhere between ‘fun to dazzle with my Supernatural Charms’ and ‘boring. where are the interesting people to torment’

Meadowsweet: rabbit faun. depending on which of the two wildly different versions of him we’re talking about, he either treats humans with the same goodwill as anyone else who might need his healing, or looks down on them and considers them fair game for whatever evil bastard he’s pining after this week.

Agaric: aislinng’s son with a forest spirit, so fuck if i know what to call him at this point. humans tend to find his brand of quiet, aloof awkwardness either offputting or endearing; either one is mortifying, and he’d mostly rather just keep to himself. 

-

42. What’s their standpoint when it comes to washing hands?

(origfic, bumfuck nowhere cult)

-

Cristina: obsessed with cleanliness, washes her hands constantly, crissy please you live in the desert

Skinner: if my hands are clean i can’t wipe them on cristina’s robes now can i

Rosemary: who needs to wash hands when you’ve got tentacles ;)

-

48. If they were defeated fairly in battle, would they accept and move on or throw a fit?

(origfic, slasher movie slaughterhouse dimension)

-

Maggie: will stay down and let you think she’s beaten, until you take your eyes off her for a second too long. then she’ll go for your hamstring

Dee: will accept it and move on, but will also try to make you feel like winning wasn’t really important anyway. maggie loves her dearly but she is kind of infuriating to everyone else

Esau: is delighted when somebody beats him, because if they’ve gotten that far they’ve committed at least one horrific atrocity and will have to live with that forever (if not embrace it). the real treasure was the corruption and PTSD we found along the way. no wonder maggie kind of hate-connects with him, he reminds her of dee lmao

-

54. Have they ever lost anyone?

(misc origfic)

-

Gray: lost the person who summoned them, gave them form, and taught them how to speak. once she died, all they knew was that she’d stopped coming, and that their only friend--their only contact with the world outside the cave--was gone. they’re there alone for a long time before a hitchhiker stumbles across them, and now they’re clingy as fuck and terrified of being abandoned again.

Ashdown: lost her wife the spring before her story begins, which left her so depressed she didn’t bother flying south for the winter with everyone else. she does eventually find love again, after coming to terms with the fact that what she’s lost isn’t the only thing she can ever have.

Jake: lost his older brother as a kid, which might or might not be why some fuck haunting their own fursuit recruits him to help with their unfinished business.

-

[DYING WHEEZE]

thank you again for the questions!!! i have. so many ocs. SO many ocs, and it’s always fun to get a chance to trot a bunch of them out, especially with a good range of questions like these :D

[writeanapocalae]

Surprise it’s a tutorial!

Because @tenacious-scripturient​ and @agnodice-writes​ asked for help making characters earlier and it just so happened that I need to design a character RIGHT NOW I thought I’d do a bit of a tutorial while I do it? I’ve never done something like this so I hope it works. 

1) Inspiration - Last night I watched the original Charlie’s Angels and I remembered my absolute love for the Creepy Thin Man. Since I am always making more evil men and my story needs an evil man I’m taking some of the aspects of that character for my own. I’m going to take the sharp look and the nonverbal characteristics while dumping the hair pulling, screaming, and smoking. 

You can take your inspiration from just a look, from an art piece, from someone you know, or from other characters you have. If you have a film character that can be helpful to draw you back to the basics if you ever get away from them. You can also combine multiple inspirations and make them one.

2) Image- This part is so much fun for me and I’m hoping that it is for others too! I personally draw my characters but creating some imagery for your character can be done through picrew, pinterest (hiss), faceclaims, or video game character creations! While I draw my character I try to imagine things about them. Here’s a 3 minute sketch of my character

His face is a lot softer than the inspiration, he’s got a kinder personality and is far more patient. He has terrible posture, which lets me know how he sits and stands and gives me a hint as to how to write his idle motions. He has this loose sort of Bluth hair and he’s not wearing a full suit like the other characters in the story are, so he’s a lot more casual than they are. He’s wearing a turtleneck so there may be something that he’s hiding about his throat or he just knows he looks good in them. If your character has scars or tattoos or anything like that, this could be a good step to figure out where they came from. I definitely find this step the most useful for coming up with backstories and the like. 

(A secret step to this that I find helpful is having a friend who you know will find the character super hot. Instant validation)

Things to keep in mind

the world - there are blogs and pinterest folders and all sorts of things based off of aesthetics! If you’re writing a western, you should keep an eye on western blogs! If you’re writing fantasy, keep an eye on @armthearmour​ and blogs of that ilk! Having a character that greatly clashes with the setting can work but it has to be shown as an oddity or you’re writing about space travel or something. 

the story - If you’re writing an action/adventure story, having your character in a dress and heels doesn’t really make sense. Writing a story about the rise and fall of corporate life could be awkward if your lead always wears baggy lounge wear. Keep in mind what they’re going to be doing and the pros and cons of their outfitting for the setting. 

the character’s aesthetics - What is your character like and what sort of things do they carry with them? Do they wear clothes that they should probably get in trouble for? Are they trying to distract or bring attention to something? Do they always wear the same color? Is there something sentimental that they always have with them? 

the character’s job - My personal aesthetic does not pair well with my work uniform but I understand the importance of my work clothes (sometimes). The fact that I wear a button up, a name tag, and nice jeans makes it easier for customers to recognize me as an employee. Can I sneak some jewelry and as many skulls as possible into there? Not always. A character may not like what they have to wear, but that can tell us a lot about them and can come into play if they are working in the story. 

3) Names - There are a lot of different ways to go about naming your characters.There are a million baby names sites and there’s also generators. Usually, by this point of the character creation I have an idea as to what I want their name to be, just from learning about them, but I often make my names up instead of going with realistic ones. If you’re making up names though, you have to make up everyone’s names, or most of them, otherwise it will be jarring every time your character’s name is said and can create a “spot the protagonist” situation. Since my character is a hitman, he needs both a name and a code name. Luckily the code name was super easy since all of the other guards that he’s blending with have animal code names so he became Jackal. 

Remember that friend that thinks our character is hot? They can be super useful here. Come up with a couple names, for this guy I’m thinking.... Jack (duh), Jacopo, Raffaele, or Giorgio. And just like that he became Italian! That’s a new development! For the main character of the story Jackal is from I ran a poll on twitter and 15 out of 16 people voted for Anson, so that’s why I went with that for the main characters name!

4) Worksheets - I haven’t seen people use worksheets for their characters but when I was new to writing I filled out worksheets for my characters obsessively. I still do now, I guess, but without the actual form. They make you think of all these little details for your character, including their backstory! A worksheet can also be useful as a quick reference guide for your characters in the middle of the story if you forget the name of a spouse or of some location they’ve been. Here are a few worksheets to fill out if you find that useful! epiguide | novel software | freelance writing

5) Backstory - For this I would recommend working backwards. For Jackal here, I know that he’s a hitman, he’s nonverbal, he is terribly soft but that’s all hidden away, and he’s gay (of course). So I have to explain how he came to be these things or how he came to realize them. Most hitmen take on the job for economic reasons, so I have to figure out what the factors were for that. I’m going to go with a family member being terribly sick with no hope of recovery with the families current finances, which also explains his secret softness. He will kill, it’s business, he doesn’t see his targets as people as such since that will make it hard to complete a contract, but all of his money is going to the hospital and, if he has to deal with someone in a similar situation it may affect him differently. He’s nonverbal because (just researched this and I’m sorry if I’m wrong) he suffered some brain damage before he was born which affects his breathing. This leads to my decision that this damage occurred when his mother came down with the disease aforementioned and now I know that there are breathing problems involved with this form of nonverbalism which may come into play in the story. His being gay? Well, I don’t need to figure out how that came to be since that’s not how being gay works, but he probably realized that he was gay while on a job, falling, not for a target, but for an employer. And just like that I have a slightly cliche but still decent start to a backstory!

6) Asks - ask games, talking about your characters, and just open conversation can help you come up with minor details about your character. Yesterday I was asked what kind of candy my characters like and how they feel about Christmas in November. Will my characters celebrate Christmas in story or eat candy? Probably not but having to come up on the spot with an answer for these questions still taught me things about the characters. I learned that Anson loves nostalgia and has no interest in decorating for himself. And I learned that Jackal has very good control over his sugar intake, is more fond of bitter flavors, and is annoyed by the inequality of America’s Christian obsession. These are aspects of personality and those will effect the story more than what the actual answer to the question was will.

That’s a lot longer than intended! Hopefully me walking through my process for creating this character will be helpful for you! I know I know a lot more about this guy than I did before I started!

[mobius-prime]

199. Sonic the Hedgehog #131

Deep breaths, guys. I know what the cover page says. I know. We'll get to that. Just hang in there. I think you might like what I have in store.

Home (Part 2 of 4): The Gathering

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

So not much actually happens in this installment of Home other than the various characters talking to each other about and preparing for the upcoming battle. Since Sonic has been gone, a new Freedom Fighter Special has been constructed that can cut travel time dramatically around the globe. A journey that in the Tornado or on foot (in Sonic's case) would have taken up to two hours can be completed in a mere half hour now, thanks to Rotor's engineering prowess. And thus, Sonic and Tails head out to Old Megaopolis to stop Eggman's twin nukes from launching, along with an… interesting backup team, to say the least.

Man, remember Fiona? It's been ages since we've seen her! It appears that while Sonic was in space, she joined up with the crew in Knothole and has been helping them fight Eggman. That's definitely a better life for her than to be running with the likes of Nic the Weasel, eh? Meanwhile, Knuckles, Julie-Su, Amy Rose, and the other two (active) members of the Chaotix head to Fort Acorn, where General D'Coolette is giving a speech to the soldiers under his command. We've never even heard of this fort before, but according to the general it's been here for ten years, keeping a forward watch on Robotropolis, and this watch has been maintained even after Robotropolis' destruction in case of just such a situation as the current one. With their reinforcements from Knothole, the crew at the fort prepare to defend the city against a massive swatbot assault to lower the forcefield keeping the radiation in check. Back in Knothole, extra measures are being taken to make absolutely sure that even if the worst happens, the citizenry will be safe.

Station Square, for their part, has sent a squad of GUN commandos to help in the battle at Old Megaopolis. The commander of the military is baffled by this decision, wanting to send in their full fighting force, but the president instead opts to trust his allies from Knothole - though just for insurance, he's sent one of his own operatives along for the ride…

Now that's what I like to see! It's about time Rouge got herself some proper screentime. As all this is going on, Eggman waits aboard a docked battleship in the harbor of Old Megaopolis with his assistant M, and orders A.D.A.M. to begin the missile countdown. However, almost immediately, the sound of a biplane puts them on high alert, and Eggman is shocked to see Sonic and Tails bearing down on his location, not having expected them to be able to get here nearly so fast. See, Eggman, this is why you resist the siren call of your ego and keep your damn plans to yourself. All you did was give your enemies ample warning to prepare to foil your evil plot, you idiot!

Mobius 25 Years Later: Prologue

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jensen

Okay, guys. This is it. We've reached the most Penders thing of all time. This is something that has been hinted at here and there from all the way back in the Sonic In Your Face special to now, and we're finally seeing the culmination of all of that buildup. All the intricate worldbuilding, all the complex character arcs, all the intrigue and political spider webs and back to back wars and everything that the world of Mobius has been through up until now - there's so much to explore, so many directions it could have gone. We're about to see what this world might look like twenty-five years into the future, and with so much rich history to draw from, what might you imagine this story might look like? What genre might it fall into? Well wonder no longer!

It's a drama. It's a teen drama.

There's a reason that Mobius 25 Years Later is widely considered to be one of the worst parts of the comic. The tone of it is just so far off anything else we've experienced so far that it clashes horribly with what we've come to expect. It's not some masterful subversion of expectations or something - in a lot of ways I consider it to be a genuine insult to the rest of the preboot's material up to this point. It's painfully and immediately clear that this is a story Penders has wanted to tell for a while, but, not being able to fit his "middle-aged adults adulting everywhere and being so adult-like while ignoring the feelings and difficulties that ordinary teenagers face" plot anywhere into the rest of the comic, he's opted to just fire the world a couple decades into the future, pair all the major characters off into weird and oftentimes arbitrary heterosexual marriages, give everyone 2.5 children and a titanium picket fence, and then throw in some allusions to the old "war against Doc 'Botnik" here and there lest we forget, entirely understandably at this point, that we're reading a Sonic the Hedgehog comic here. This thing goes on for nineteen whole issues, taking up each subsequent issue's backup story, and ultimately has no real impact on the actual story involving the characters we already know and love. However, this is technically canon, or at least a version of canon (as when you play with alternate realities and multiple timelines, futures are bound to get mixed up here and there), so we're gonna be covering it - all of it. I wouldn't be tempted to skip it anyway, as by delving into each chapter in this trainwreck, we can actually explore why this whole thing fails so hard, and why it's therefore so loathed in the fandom. Plus, I do recognize that some people actually do enjoy this arc for various reasons (one of my close friends does, and has a whole AU of her own relating to it in fact), so I do plan to at least try to be fair in my review - but I really can't hide that I find this whole affair boring as hell, often downright offensive, and ultimately completely out of place. With all that in mind, let's dive in!

We begin with a full page of exposition delivered to us via high school lecture, because everyone knows the best way to establish your worldbuilding is by infodumping it directly into your audience's eyeballs. Apparently, over the last twenty years, Angel Island has been heavily developed into its own independent republic, with a new city, Portal, acting as the center of trade between the island and the mainland below. We're once again introduced to Lara-Su, who, instead of being the badass time-traveling young adult whom we followed before, is now an ordinary teenager taking ordinary high school classes among a bunch of ordinary high school echidnas.

One of the biggest failings of this story is that Penders writes every teenage character how he thinks teenagers act, from his point of view as a middle-aged adult. This becomes abundantly clear the longer you read, as every teenager is a hormone-fueled, authority-defying, entitled, whiny, fickle child who just doesn't understand how the real world works, while every adult is a wise, experienced, and highly logical individual who always knows more than their younger fellows and refuses to pay attention to the whims of mere children. Like, I'm not even exaggerating here - I'm going to be pointing out every instance of this kind of behavior over the entire rest of this arc, and you can't stop me, so nyah nyah. Penders shows so little respect for the mere concept of teenagers, which is a terrible attitude to have not just in general, but especially if you're one of the head writers for an entire series about teenagers saving the goddamn world! Anyway, case in point: the teacher, instead of admonishing Rutan for being a bully, merely snaps at Lara-Su for not acting enough like a "young lady" and tells her to stay after class. Ugh.

Later that day, Rotor arrives on Angel Island as a liaison for the royal ruling couple, Queen Sally and King Sonic, because yes, Sonic literally becomes king in this timeline. He catches a ride from Harry - hey, good to see our favorite dingo still doing well for himself at least - and meets with Espio, who is now apparently Knuckles' secretary or something. At least, that's all I can assume from this weird-ass conversation.

As a matter of fact, yes, Sonic and Sally are bringing their two children, Sonia and Manik, to the family dinner! How very mid-70s domestic family unit of them! Espio informs Knuckles of this over a television screen as the latter broods around in some kind of high-tech facility. Unlike what we've seen of Espio, the years have dramatically changed Knuckles' appearance - his right eye is missing, replaced with a mechanical one, and he sports the cowboy hat that Hawking gave him in the past (you know, the one we never saw again after he received it). While I actually quite like the idea of a main character in the comic losing something as important as an eye, I feel like there's a huge missed opportunity here - instead of just thrusting us into an alternate future where everything is fine but one character is inexplicably missing an eye, how about actually showing us the story of how that eye was lost? Show us a Knuckles who's learning to cope with the loss of an important body part, and having to adjust to his mechanical prosthetic! Go into his feelings about the subject, as someone who has so long been opposed to a faction that thrives on mechanical prosthetics, instead of just skipping over what has the potential to be the most interesting part of this story! Ugh, sorry, there's just nothing that gets to me more than a missed opportunity like this. Knuckles and Espio exchange some tortured small-talk about their kids for a little while, with the only interesting part of the conversation being their discussion of Rotor's arrival and how he's likely here to see someone named Cobar, with whom he apparently has a history. More on that later. Knuckles excuses himself from the conversation, as he has to be home in time for his daughter's "Unveiling" tonight, and as the call ends we zoom out to see that apparently nowadays, the Master Emerald is hooked up to all sorts of technology in this facility, presumably maintaining everything automatically. However, this story isn't done throwing weird curveballs at us yet - it's time to see what our former villains are up to in this future!

There is so much to unpack here. Dimitri, feared overlord of the Dark Legion, is now an amiable cyborg-head-in-a-bubble. Lien-Da, the treacherous second-in-command who regularly spoke of betraying Dimitri and taking the Legion in her own darker direction, is now apparently a single mom who's embraced the domestic life, taking care of her rowdy teenage son while, predictably, complaining about the behavior of kids these days. And weirdest of all, apparently everyone is just fine with these literal former terrorists living in their midst and doing ordinary mom and grandpa things, with Lien-Da even apparently amenable to the idea of trying to make up with Julie-Su because "they're family," despite her history of, you know, erasing Julie-Su's memory multiple times and killing her biological parents as revenge for her birth. I mean, is this what Penders thinks adulthood is? Is he even entirely sane? Does he know the definition of terrorism?

Any-goddamn-way, Knuckles arrives home to his eerily sterile-looking steel-plated mansion that looks more like the lobby of a pharmaceutical laboratory than a place where people live, and greets his loving housewife Julie-Su, who's gained a cute giant ponytail but lost absolutely everything else that made her unique, including her own cybernetic parts and just her personality in general. She informs Knuckles that Lara-Su has locked herself in the bathroom and is having herself a mighty tantrum, refusing to come out to get ready for her Unveiling ceremony, which is apparently the equivalent of a Quinceañera for echidna girls. Knuckles, instead of doing something reasonable like asking her why she's upset, starts aggressively demanding that she come out of her room this instant, while Lara-Su repeatedly yells about how she doesn't wanna. Ugh, teenagers, amiright?

Seriously, I just can't get over how little respect Penders has for teenagers in his writing. Like, yes, I acknowledge that teenagers aren't always the most logical of beings, but they're also not goddamn three-year-olds either. They're old enough to articulate their desires and express their unique opinions, and often do so in very mature ways, especially if they're raised well and treated with the same respect you'd afford any adult. I should know, I was one myself. I would have assumed Penders was one as well at some point, but perhaps he just popped into the world one day as a fully-formed 43-year-old, full of disdain for those younger than himself. It would certainly explain everything we're seeing here.

Anyway, it turns out that the reason Lara-Su is upset is because Knuckles refuses to train her to be a Guardian, and so she whines and yells about it from behind the door like a petulant child as Knuckles continually refuses to actually give her a solid reason why he won't let her be one. When Julie-Su basically forces him to calm the hell down and explain himself, he reluctantly explains that since all the duties of a Guardian have by now been taken over by other functions of their society, he feels there's no longer any need for one, himself included. This is apparently enough to make Lara-Su immediately happy enough to burst out of the bathroom and grab her father's arm, suddenly totally excited to go to her Unveiling as long as Knuckles promises her the first dance. Ah, the fickle mind of a silly, silly teenager!

Kill me.

[talesofsonicasura]

Guardian of the Forest

This has been stewing in my Google drive for quite a bit. It's when you play tons of Digimon, binge watch Attack On Titan and have a love for Demon Digimon that resulted in this little story here.

She was punished from the unrighteous sin of another. His entire species caged in stone walls like sheep to the slaughter. Both refuse to accept their fate and it was time to strike back and rebel.

Monster. A word that has many meanings to describe something. A term often used for otherworldly creatures or those with peculiarities. Something that fit the Evil Digimon species. They were called Evil for they represented the demons, horrors and undead of legends. Demons, ghosts, ghouls and vampires are such a small sample amongst the variety. Yet, not all of them are actually evil.

They are called that mainly for their power to manipulate the element of darkness. Darkness to many was considered malevolent, vile and unneeded. On the opposite, Holy Digimon were considered pure and absolute good. They held angelic appearances and wielded the element known as light. Light to many was blessed, sacred and untainted. Yet, not all Holy Digimon were good.

Yet not many could look past the black and whites of the world. This led the innocent to be punished and the wicked to be rewarded. It was how many innocent Digimon were sent to the Dark Area or worse, deleted. Amongst them was a Granddracmon who was only trying to protect his young. A Holy Digimon with a heart darker than any abyss had struck the family with unequal hatred.

Clash between Mega Digimon was intense and devastating especially one as powerful as GranDracmon who are said to surpass many Demon Lord Digimon vastly in power. In the end, Granddracmon had been subdued and punished. Punishment? The youngest Digimon had the power of Digivolution taken from them and cast out of the Digital World trapped in the In-Training stage with no hope of surviving or returning home.

Yet, hope was something no one could manipulate or control. For it granted the impossible in unpredictable ways.

Shiganshina, the outer town of Wall Maria. Long ago, giant creatures resembling emerged all over the world. These beasts held unbelievably sturdy hides, near godlike regeneration and incredible size from a simple three meters to a towering fifteen meters. To animals, they leave them undisturbed and vice versa. However when it involved humans was where the horror laid.

These creatures hunt down humans and devour them with no emotion. The terrifying part? These beasts only did it for the kill not for substance or vendetta. It was for the kill and no more. It didn't take long for humanity to be pushed to the edge of extinction overnight. Survivors crafted three walls ranging from 50 meters and over to keep the creatures out and these creatures earned their name. Titans, for they only brought death and destruction.

Shiganshina was located in the first wall that was made, Wall Maria. It was where farmers, common folk and those who were considered low status dwelled amongst vast abundance of nature. One forest in particular was special amongst the others. The Legend of the Red Eye. The Red Eye was a mysterious creature that dwelled within the woods. It was called Red Eye for the large glowing red orb that emerged before it strikes.

Deer, wolves and even bears fell victim to its claws with all of their blood drained. Yet to a single boy amongst thousands of people wasn't afraid. Hair short and the color of dark chocolate with eyes as bright as emeralds but a soul that burned like fire. This child was Eren Yeager, son of Doctor Grisha Yeager. An act of bravery was what set the greatest ripple of all history.

The sound of footsteps and crunching of leaves could be heard as a young child barely 3 ft in height ran through the Red Eyed Woods. This child, Eren, was carrying an empty firewood container on his back and in his hand was a few rabbits freshly killed. "Hmm… She should be somewhere around here. Garnet! Garnet! Where are you?" Eren called as his youthful slight raspy voice carried out through the vast woods.

A large bright red glared at the boy from deep within the brush of brambles and leaves. Claws clicked in the sticks they grasped. When the child draws near, it leapt out at him. Eren only turned before being knocked to the ground by a bluish violet blur. The boy laid on his back as green orbs stared into a single large red orb. Pinning the child to the ground was a large violet blue hand like creature.

It was half the boy's size with two wispy antennas, small white claws on each leg and a single giant red eye on the front of its odd octopus/hand body. Though what was peculiar was that Eren had a small pin on his shirt shaped just like the red eyes beast. "Get off me Garnet! If I come home with scratch marks in my clothes again, mom will get very suspicious about what I been doing!" Eren yelled in annoyance.

"Sorry Erenmon. Garnet is just hungry." A childish little girl's voice came from the creature as it walked off the boy. "What do you expect from your large appetite? All that pigging out on bears lately got you triple the size of a normal Tsumemon!" Eren exclaimed as Garnet looked at him. "I can't help it. Not being able to digivolve screws up any Digimon's natural biology. Size is the only thing that has been keeping me alive and not some wolf's dinner." Garnet replied walking over to Eren.

It was actually comical on how the duo met. Eren was being chased by a wolf when he had accidentally walked into its territory. This wolf was the one that actually was being hunted by Garnet. It was an alpha predator hunting a predator who was stalking a potential prey. It ended with Eren throwing a stick at the furball causing it to trip and Garnet the chance to grapple the creature to feed on it. From then it was the beginning of their odd friendship and years of trading.

Eren would visit Garnet with animals he hunted. Then he would exchange it for something the Tsumemon found in the forest or help in tasks like wood gathering. It benefitted both parties for Eren would get stuff he could use or sell and Garnet got more food to eat or store. "Do you need anything while your here Erenmon?" Garnet questioned the child. Apparently adding -mon to someone's name was a sign of respect and endearment for the In-Training's point of view.

"Nah. I just thought of giving you some rabbits to eat today. You have been a big help lately considering dad's work has been going slow." Eren states giving said forest creatures to the Digimon. "Hey, you are my friend and friends help each other. Ain't the Scouts coming back today from their latest expedition? You don't want to miss it." Garnet said as Eren flinched. "Oh crap! You're right! Thanks for the heads up Garnet. I have to go before Mikasa finds out I disappeared." Eren exclaimed as the little Digimon chuckled.

"Go Erenmon! I 'see' you tomorrow!" Garnet giggled with an eye pun as Eren took off. "I wonder when he will ever introduce me to his friends. Though considering everyone's views on the Survey Corps and this Titan nonsense of late, he does have good reasons." Garnet said as she took her claws and dug them into the three bunny corpses. "Why do I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen?" The Tsumemon asked herself before feeding her on food's blood.

Survey Corps or Scout Regiment, it was a military faction dedicated to exploring the outside world beyond the walls. It also had the highest death count of over 40 percent each expedition. This regiment was the only one who also did research on the mysterious titans and it was thanks to them for what precious knowledge they had about the giants.

Many thought they were fools for there was barely anything to cover the massive loss of life per trip but this isn't what Eren saw. To him, the Scouts were the only ones looking for answers to forever ending the titan's reign but also the world they were forced to abandoned for these insufferable walls. Some of the many who didn't support the Scouts was Eren's own mother Carla Yaeger.

She absolutely despises the Survey Corps and couldn't help but belittle them with each chance she gets. Eren could remember the many times she has done so in double digits. It was that attitude that made their relationship rough but meeting Garnet had made it worse. Garnet doesn't insult or belittle his mother whenever they meet up.

She could understand her wanting Eren to be alive but attacking the only thing willing to fight for the better of their face miffed her like a bad itch. "Nothing is forever. There will come a time where these walls will fall. The Survey Corps are the only ones trying to find a solution. They chose to risk their lives for change. To make fun of them is disrespecting their sacrifice. No one should insult their cause or souls" Were her words exactly.

Garnet had not just supported the boy but also teach him skills that could help if he ever enlists in the military. She taught him how to mask his presence, observe his surroundings and develop a sixth sense for danger. Eren had kept his goal to join the Survey Corps secret from his mother. The only ones who knew other than him and Garnet were his foster sister Mikasa and his best friend Armin.

Though he didn't feel it was smart to tell Mikasa. Mikasa was adopted into their family when her parents were brutally murdered by slave traffickers. Her onyx hair and near solemn black eyes with the crimson scarf was the only thing to identify her amongst any crowd. Mikasa was overly protective which was something Garnet believed she needed to hold back on.

Eren easily agreed with the Digimon during his current situation. The Survey Corps had returned to the walls but this expedition was a bust so to speak. A lot of casualties and broken spirits amongst the group of soldiers. The worst was when a mother looking for her son amongst then was brought back his arm and told they didn't learn anything new. That it was a waste. He recognized the look in Mikasa's eyes from the scene and knew what happened next was something he didn't like.

'Traitor!' Eren screamed in his head as he ran from his home in a rage. Mikasa had told his secret to his mother and the reaction was one he expected for her. 'Get that idiotic thought out of your head! I won't let my son go out to get himself killed for something pointless!' His mother's voice bellowed at him. 'She doesn't understand! I don't want to live a life as a bird stuck in a cage! I want to go see what's out there and the answers it holds! We can't sit around or this nightmare will never end!' Eren thought trying to hold back tears.

He needed to do something. Anything to resist the urge to scream in rage and go berserk. He looked up to see a boy around his age being picked by bullies. Eren recognized this particular child as Armin from his sun yellow hair, blue eyes and skinny frame. Despite being frail, Armin was the smartest of the three. Eren was the trio's courage and Mikasa served as the powerhouse. "Leave my friend alone you bastards!" Eren howled before jumping into the fray. It wasn't anyone's day at all.

"Nail Scratch!" A tree limb was suddenly sliced into pieces as Garnet leapt past it. The Tsumemon had decided to up her training by working on her techniques. It was something she did so on the day Eren made it to the Scouts then she could support him in battle. Titans only had one weak spot which was located on the nape of their neck. Her Bubble attack would be useless in a fight but her Nail Scratch had the best chance of actually breaking through their tough hide.

"Alright! I sliced clean through that limb and it was twice as thick as the last one too!" Garnet cheered happily. The sun was beginning to set as Garnet faced the wall far from her home. She felt confused as something was tapping into her senses. Then her pupil shrunk and her antennae shot up in alert. "That aura…! Danger! Really really deadly! It's… a catastrophe in the making! Eren in danger!" Garnet hissed wildly as a giant bolt of lightning crashed down from the distance.

"Find Eren! I gotta find Eren!" She cried out before darting off in a frenzy of worry and desperation. It can take one thing to remind the last remnants of humanity of what kept them caged. Giant skinless fingers hung over the 50 meter as what belonged to it rose into view. The face of a skinless behemoth of a titan with a corpse like mouth and verdant eyes that only promised devastation looked down on the people of Shiganshina.

In an instant the outer gate between the outside and Shiganshina had exploded inward taking into the air. Debris rained from above crushing both people and buildings underfoot the pure terror was the soulless face of a 15 meter titan peeking its head through the breach. A mass of panic had broken out as Mikasa and Eren were trapped in the chaos. "Come on Mikasa! We have to find mom! Part of that gate went flying where our house is at!" Eren screamed as he ran with all his might.

Garnet amongst the panic was also searching for Eren. The Tsumemon wove through the crowd looking desperately for her friend while dispatching any Titans in her path. "Nail Scratch!" She cried out as her claws ripped through the nape of a 12 meter Titan who was about to grab a child. "*huff* That's 7 of them but no sign of Eren. Where is he?!" Garnet shouted. She looked to her right and saw what remained of Eren's house.

How did she know? The corpse of Eren's own mother peeked from underneath the tile roof specifically her hand. "She wasn't eaten since that roof obviously crushed her. Irony on how ones fear of being devoured is to be replaced with death by their own home. Yet, where's Eren?" Garnet questioned before her single eye laid on something that chilled her core.

In the hands of an ugly blonde 15 meter Titan was Eren! "No!" She screamed as she flew desperately towards her friend. Eren was fighting to break the monster's grasp on him but it merely ignored his attempts to the likeness of a fly. 'I'm not going to make it but I can't leave him!' The Tsumemon thought. 'If only I could Digivolve but that bastard took it away from me!' The thought made her want to scream.

A memory flashed through her mind. 'Hey. Do you have a name other than Tsumemon?' A young Eren asked the little Tsumemon. 'No. Tsumemon is the only thing I got. No one really gave me one.' Garnet replied. 'Do you want one? I think you deserve an actual name than something you share with your species.' The boy said as Garnet looked confused. 'Um, okay? What do you think my name should be?' The Tsumemon questioned.

'Um… I got it! I'll call you Garnet! It's this stone Armin showed me in his special book! It said that a Garnet represents a strong spirit and will of defiance! You fight against all the odds and still come out on top yet keep a level head! ' Eren explained as Garnet couldn't help but feel happy. 'Then call me Garnet.' The Tsumemon soon had a determined look on her face.

'I won't give up! Eren put his faith in me! I am a Garnet and Garnets always overcome every challenge! I don't need Digivolution because I have something better! A friend!' Garnet thought picking up more speed. "We are going to see what lies beyond these walls together. Eren… I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE!!!" Garnet cried out with all her might as Eren felt her resolve. "Garnet!!!" Eren cried as he turned and reached out for his friend.

And at that moment, hope had brought forth a new power.

"Spirit Rebellion! Tsumemon EXEvolve to…!" The Tsumemon cried as a bright red light engulfed her in a brilliant flash. The sound of torn flesh pierced through the destructive chaos as boiling red splattered everywhere. The head of the 15 meter sailed through the air along with other pieces of its body before crashing into different parts of Shiganshina and even one piece splatting onto the wall.

Eren had opened his eyes that he didn't know he closed to find himself still alive. "What happened?" He asked before noticing the surface underneath him was red, furry and eerily shaped like a hand. "Erenmon, you're safe now." A soft, kind and exotic woman's voice spoke as Eren looked up in shock. Only one person called him Erenmon. Holding him gently in their hand was a centaur like creature.

It was around 20 meters and looked capable of carrying a 15 meter Titan on her back. The top half was human with gray skin and the face of a woman that was obscured by a dark blue eyeless mask, red straps, black belts, a blue bat shaped cowl that a beautiful carved garnet gemstone and dark red fur covered the top half of her body and chest, long curly blond mane of hair on her head and a spiralling tail of yellow hair, half black and half white bat like wings on her back, twin curled horns, razor sharp claws, a beautiful woman's face that held sharp fangs behind soft ruby lips.

Her bottom half could be described as something from hell. The bottom half was more wolf and bear like than horse from the bulk and talon wielding paws, two giant eyeless shark like heads snapped from the side of her front thighs practically big enough to swallow a 12 meter Titan's head in their jaws, back curled spikes behind each of her legs guaranteeing pain for those careless to strike and on her lower was some sort of horse armor with a sheath that made home to a sword with a black bat like hilt.

"Garnet...You digivolved…" Eren spoke breathless at his friend's incredible transformation. "I don't think this is Digivolution but it's something more powerful. EXEvolution..." Garnet answered. "EXEvolution… Garnet, is my mom?" Eren asked as Garnet couldn't help but shook her head. Tears welled up in the child's eyes as he looked ready to cry. "The house killed her from collapsing. She was dead on arrival. Though there are more pressing matters." Garnet explained as Eren looked at the madness around them.

"Garnet. We have to get everyone out of here. As much as I want to kill these titans, there are still people alive who need to be saved." Eren said wiping the tears from his face. "I'm with you partner. Do you wish to give this form a name before we begin?" Garnet asked facing her friend. "Yeah I do. No longer are we going to sit back and let these bastards trample our dreams! It's time to fight back! Let's show them your new power Garnet! The power of GranDracmon: Rebellion Mode!" Eren shouted with all his might.

"GranDracmon: Rebellion Mode… Yes! That'll do my friend! Time to break our chains and rebel!" Garnet declared as her twin shark heads roared in challenge. Hope can come in many forms and often comes in moments of rebellion. To rebel against fate is to prove yourself worthy to face the impossible. That is the power of EXEvolution. Something this beauty and cruel world will easily understand because of two spirits who fought against fate!

That's it! GranDracmon line is one of my favorite Digivolution lines other than Cherubimon Evil or Venommyotismon from the Demon Digimon family. EXEvolution is like an alternate version of Digivolution which I created to avoid being a complete hypocrite since quote on quote Garnet can't Digivolve.

Eren's pure hatred stemmed from watching his mother get eaten but since she died an alternate way, he's resolve is more towards saving others than 'I'm gonna kill all the Titans'. Plus GranDracmon Rebellion Mode is came from a dream along with the thought of it being badass with a Rogue Titan Eren riding into battle on Garnet like a badass.

That's it for now! Until next time, stay fresh!

[lillianofliterature]

A Thousand Years - To Be Brave Songfic 

A/N: This is for @fantasyworlds1234‘s birthday. This is the first out of two songfics I have written for her about Edmund and Hannah from her Narnia fanfic To Be Brave, which can be found here on Quotev and her Hannah account @hannahgrunberg. 

Disclaimer: Gifs not mine, I found them on google. If they are yours, let me know! I will give credit. I just put them together. 

Happy Birthday month, Fantz! I hope it’s a good one. Thank you for your friendship, it is precious to me. I’m so glad to have met you. <3 I hope you like the gifset, too. :) Also, this is so long. And it didn’t come out quite as I intended, but I hope you enjoy it still. <3

Song: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

                                       -  Hannah’s Ballad to Edmund  -

The day we met,   Frozen I held my breath

When Hannah had first seen Edmund, it was evident that there love had not simply began there from tender greetings and kind conversation. She had seen the stubborn and immature boy who could find nothing better to do than to terrorize his siblings and complain about the world around him. 

But in the beginning, it was unknown to Hannah that Edmund would one day change and that she would witness great things and a wondrous land alongside him. In the cursed winter of Narnia, she would watch another land almost fall at the hand of another tyrant, in the deadly chill of an unnatural winter.

In the beginning, Hannah’s breath was stolen from her not because she was immediately infatuated with the boy, but because she found herself flustered and annoyed in his presence and at the brunt of many of his insipid remarks. Every spiteful word that flowed from his lips made her cheeks burn red and her mind tick with any sort of retort. 

His heart seemed calloused, his mind sharp and cold. Surely, this was the last boy on earth she would ever find herself fancying. 

But isn’t that how real, honest, true love is supposed to be?

Right from the start   I knew that I’d found a home for my heart

But Hannah had been on her own for some time, apart from the Professor and the Macready. She had spent rainy afternoons sitting alone in the library, skimming through books, practicing her english, and avoiding the demands of the housekeeper. And on sunny days, when she managed to finish her chores, she had walked the gardens of the country mansion and drank in all the familiar scents that had been stripped from her homeland. 

Hannah had once had her parents at her side, but here in the manor, away from the war, away from her homeland, Hannah was alone once more.

Of course, the Professor entertained many of her conversations and had become a good friend, and she had even managed to get the Macready to become a little softer - but it wasn’t the same. There was no one Hannah’s age, no one like Hannah, no one who understood her point of view on the war.

That is, until the Pevensies arrived.

As soon as Hannah had seen them, she knew she’d found friends - she wouldn’t be on her own, day in and day out. And most importantly to Hannah, the english children understood how she felt about the war. They, too, had been forced to flee their homes and leave their parents behind.

Hannah wasn’t alone - in every sense of the statement.

Somehow, even though they’d never met, Hannah felt at ease around them. Especialy with little Lucy, who was open to Hannah from the moment they greeted each other. 

Hannah could now remember her home, remember the scent of her father’s modest cologne and the fun she used to have with the other children before Hitler had promised peace - and brought was in its stead.

These children, these four companions, were already like home to her. 

But Hannah Grunberg had no idea how much Edmund would truly mean to her one day; that in another life, in another world, Edmund would become the true home of her heart. Every breath he would take would flow from Hannah as well, every promise of the future, every bright star that would one day shine in the darkened skies of Narnia . . . they would cherish and hold onto together. 

Heart beats fast   Colors and promises

With them the children brought the promises of a new life at the Manor. 

However, much to the children’s surprise, something grand would result of their great misfortunes. Something miraculous - something impossible.

The vast kingdom of Narnia would become theirs to rule, as well as it was theirs to save and keep safe from the evil that threatened to ensnare the land as it had during the eternal winter of the White Witch. After Edmund had left his sour disposition behind and had begun to mend from his treacherous ways, Hannah could no longer deny the connection she had to the dark-haired king.

Edmund and Narnia - they were the promises of a new life for Hannah, a new beginning. One where evil could be smothered, one where tyrants and warlocks stood no chance against the forces of Good, against the ordained monarchs of Narnia. Edmund and his siblings had not only fueled hope and joy back into Hannah’s life since the devastating separation of her family, but they had become her family, even before she realized how much Edmund meant to her.

The kingdom, this wondrous land that had enraptured Hannah’s entire being, was the force that drove Hannah’s blood through her veins.

And Edmund was the force that drove her heart to keep beating; to keep hoping.

How to be brave?   How can I love when I’m afraid to fall

When war threatened Narnia, Hannah would draw her sword and don her Narnian armor  and muster every ounce of courage Aslan had given her. To Hannah, Narnia and its people was all she had left that had not been scorched by the flames of hatred and genocide. Hannah could be brave when it came to fighting for the safety of her new homeland, but when it came to loving Edmund?

Hannah was terrified. She wasn’t sure how to love without losing, how to hope without being crushed. Her own family that had been her entire world had been ripped from her - and still were. 

All those moments and memories they’d shared never left Hannah’s heart; the times Edmund would tease her harmlessly, resulting in a battle of jeering and wits. Or the times she offered her own sarcasm to combat his own in everyday conversation, or the times she pushed herself to train harder to ensure she would always be able to fight alongside him. And the hours of early mornings and late evenings that Ed often called her to his study to help make diplomatic decisions that he couldn’t quite pin an opinion to. . . 

All of these things they had shared since coming to Narnia had begun to nestle itself tenderly inside of Hannah’s heart. To her, Edmund was the source of her hope, the source of her light. He could be difficult and stubborn, even impossible at times, but he was good. He was kind, he was loyal, and he was just. 

But Hannah, for the longest time, forced herself to ignore her love for him.

If she allowed herself to love him, to expose her earnest feelings, wouldn’t she lose him as she had lost her parents? As she had lost her childhood friends? 

As she had lost Germany?

Hannah was undeniably brave in battle, when spears and swords clashed in deafening echoes. But when it came to the battle of her own heart, Hannah could feel the tension swell and the fear grip her soul. 

She needed someone to help her be brave when it came to loving freely.

She needed Edmund. She needed the Pevensies. 

But watching you stand alone?   All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

When Edmund would sit up in his study through all hours of the night, afraid of the terrors of his own dreams and from the regrets of his youth, Hannah was there to steady him. As his brother and sisters slept, Hannah could feel her other half trembling with guilt, even after years of forgiveness and growth.

In the darkest hours of Edmund’s torments, when he could feel the touch of the White Witch’s hand upon his face, when her voice taunted his memories and the chilled breeze of winter seemed to nip at his skin, even in summer, Hannah stood by his side. She, too, could remember the frozen palace and it’s menacing evils. She remembered the sound of Jadis’ voice and the shrill hatred that dripped from her wicked tone. But Hannah didn’t have Edmund’s regrets of aiding the Witch, nor did she completely understand why he wasn’t able to let them go. 

But she knew one thing; she would never leave him to suffer through it alone. 

She could be brave for Edmund. 

In the times when Edmund was his weakest, the fear that sometimes gripped her heart faded instantaneously. Hannah, with raw courage, could step forward and become Edmund’s rock. 

When he often forgot the sound of Aslan’s roar, when the words of reassurance the Great Lion had spoken to him faded in his memory, Hannah could repeat those assurances. She would comfort Edmund and console him in his hours of his deepest horrors - when he feared he could never truly be saved.

Hannah reminded Edmund of how the Great Lion had sacrificed himself so Edmund could one day become King of Narnia, so he could be crowned with a promise - that he was Just.

But it was hard for Hannah to be brave for herself. 

One step closer   I have died everyday waiting for you

When the Golden Age was nearing it’s unexpected end, Hannah now had the bravery of heart that she’d once been unable to tame. And years after they had returned to save Narnia from the tyranny of the Telmarines, when the train crash had stolen her new family from her, Hannah and Susan were left to each other; to try and mend their shattered hearts. 

While Susan, in the wake of her immeasurable and unspeakable loss, began to forsake the happy memories she once held, Hannah set her pen to paper.

She refused to forget all she had seen, all she had overcome to get to where she was today. Surrounded by the reality of her own loss, Hannah wrote her story. In every word, she imagined she was speaking to Edmund in the late nights in his study, bidding their worries and hurts to each other in confidence. 

As Hannah continued to grow stonger, to grow braver, she could only ever picture Edmund’s approving smile. She wouldn’t forget Narnia, she wouldn’t allow her grief to suffocate the progress she had made. She couldn’t bear to forget all they had shared in the magical land in the upstairs wardrobe. 

Each day, as she awoke in the chilled sheets of her bed and remembered the horrific reality of the accident, Hannah’s heart broke anew. But she never lost the fight in her she acquired as a noble Knight of Narnia. She vowed on her love for Edmund, on her love for the Pevensies, for Narnia, that she wouldn’t forget to be brave any longer.

Hannah vowed to love freely, to not waste any time being afraid.

Darling don’t be afraid I have loved you   For a thousand years

In all the time they had spent in Narnia, Edmund had loved Hannah as well. Each day, even from the day they quarrelled over that blasted game of Cricket, Edmund had been drawn to the German girl, even though he had ridiculed her. 

As Edmund now stood in Aslan’s Country, awaiting Hannah’s arrival, he could catch glimpses of her in his mind. Glimpses of her pouring words onto paper with a candle to light her way. Of her meek laughter when she remembered tender moments they had all shared in the Golden Age. Of Hannah being brave, despite her fears of loss having come into fruition.

Hannah, in the cold and rainy reality of England, never went a day without thinking of him. Of their kingdom. Of his siblings. Of everything they’d shared.

But somewhere in her pain, in her grief that tasted just as it did when she was a child - when her country burned and her family was stolen . . . Hannah knew that Edmund loved her still, as did she. 

I’ll love you for a thousand more

Hannah would grow old and see much of our world, but Hannah would never forget. Hannah never stopped loving. No matter if she had to wait another century in Narnian time, or a decade in ours, she would thrive on the hope of returning to that blessed country. 

Each day that passed, she could feel Narnia drawing nearer.

Time stands still

As the Pevensies awaited Hannah’s return, they celebrated in the renewed kingdom that Aslan had forged in His promises. As they danced and sang, ate delicacies and were merry, Hannah’s image never faded from Edmund’s mind. For him, his life would remain frozen until she returned to them. 

For Hannah, life in this world was bleak - but she never lost hope. She chose joy in remembrance, happiness in little things, the hope of truth. 

The truth that Narnia was real and her reuniting would one day come.

Beauty in all she is

Edmund, from his haven in Aslan’s country, prayed to the Great Lion that Hannah knew just how captivating she was. Not only her features, but her heart; her strength. Had it been Edmund who had been left behind, he knew he would have forsaken himself to his old ways long ago. 

Perhaps that is why it was Hannah who as chosen to remain there, in that broken world.

Hannah had the strength of a thousand armed Narnians to face those trials that had come to her since his death; she was brave.

I will be brave

Hannah realized she had been left in this world with purpose; for the Great Lion never acted without reason. Hannah made a promise, not only to herself and to Susan’s chances of redemption, but also to Edmund and to Aslan Himself.

She would be brave. 

Every day she drew breath into her lungs and found herself waking up to a day full of obstacles and hard chances, she would utilize her life to the best of her abilities. She hoped the Pevensies would be proud that she chose to use her life for good, for others, and not for grieving. 

And they were.

I will not let anything take away   What’s standing in front of me

In the years ahead, Hannah knew her return was swiftly coming. She would never waste a day in mourning, in wishing things had been different.

For they were not, and she wouldn’t let the sorrow overrule what good Aslan had allowed her to become and create. The hope and the tales she was able to give to others was far greater a reward than the result of the tears she could have spent her life with. 

Nothing could take away her future and her purpose.

Nothing could undo what the Great Lion had set in motion.

Nothing could strip her of her reuniting with her family in Aslan’s Country.

Every breath   Every hour has come to this

All the years she had spent in Narnia, all the days in the Professor’s manor, and all the years before that had lead to the life she was given now and the promise she clutched to her heart of returning to Narnia.

Every day she had once spent in Germany, the days she fled to England on the train, the days she spent lecturing tourists about the grand country mansion, the years she had spent with the Pevensies in Narnia. . .

One step closer

Had lead to this life; sharing her story to enable the hopes of others to ignite. 

To encourage others to be brave in their own stories.

To fight for love and conquer fear.

To give Narnia to the souls in this world who would truly never know it as she had. 

I have died everyday waiting for you   Darling don’t be afraid I have loved you For a thousand years                                                                                            I’ll love you for a thousand more

When the day came that Hannah, in her greying years, did not awake to the morning sun, she felt the sweet breath of the Lion upon her face. He was calling to her, to finally return home; to her true home, where He and the Pevensies dwelt in unbridled joy. And all the words, the colors, the memories, the smells, the music - every bit of Narnia she’d ever witnessed in those golden years came rushing back into her veins.

And suddenly she heard the Lion’s voice, rich and tender, roaring and gentle.

“Welcome home, dear Hannah, Knight of Narnia, Braveheart of the Western Wood.”

And the renewed Narnia burst into colors she’d never seen and sweet birdsong filled the valley of the kingdom. Before her stood Aslan, King of Narnia, Son of the Emperor Beyond the Sea, Lover of all things Good. From him branched all source of song and melody, and beneath him no shadow could be found.

His bright and lovely eyes poured into her own and his thick mane rustled with excitement. One of his Daughters had finally returned. 

Then, in graceful elegance, the Lion stepped to the side, revealing the silhouettes of three figures behind him she had not seen in many years. 

And all along I believed I would find you   Time has brought your heart to me

As the light diminished from their frames, Hannah’s heart soared with joy.

Before her stood three of the Kings and Queens of old; the Magnificent, the Just, and the Valient. And it was only a matter of time before the Gentle would be there with them, too. 

In seconds, if time had even passed at all in that sacred world, their voices sprang into praises and their arms engulfed her body. There, in their embrace, Hannah revelled in the voices she feared she’d never hear again and in the laughter that echoed from their lungs.

Aslan’s own laughter met with theirs, of which the sound was like every pleasurable tune you’d ever heard that mingled with his powerful roar, and the golden light from all around them faded into the trees and into the blossoms of the young earth. 

I have loved you for a thousand years   I’ll love you for a thousand more

I’ll love you for a thousand more

  One step closer

As they stood back from Hannah, one pair of arms remained about her frame as she stood trembling with uncontainable joy. 

There, before her, stood Edmund the Just, the stubborn and impossible king who had long been the home of her brave little heart. In his eyes she found a feeling she had never felt so vividly before - and when she felt it, she believed it to be the love she had once traded for fear. 

Edmund’s tears fell slowly and were the product of pure ecstacy, melding with the words that poured from his mouth; words of adoraton and gratefulness.

I have died everyday waiting for you Darling don’t be afraid

When Edmund pulled away and held her at arm’s length, he gazed into her dazzling eyes as if he had never seen them before. In that moment, as every moment they had every spent together flooded his mind, his relieved laughter broke free and encouraged her own to harmonize with his. 

At last, she had returned to him; the Brave woman of his affections of all those years. . . the war-torn years, the days of betrayal, the golden years. 

All was restored to Edmund’s heart as he looked at her again.

I have loved you For a thousand years

All of their waiting, all of their promising, had led to this.

I’ll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you

There, in the light and in the beginning of a new life, they stood on the brink of eternal bliss. Eternal and unwavering love, built on the foundations of leading Just and Brave lives. 

As Hannah turned to face the Kingdom upon the horizon, she felt more content tham she ever imagined possible. This contentedness was the sort none of us still living have yet to feel; but a way to describe it is to say that she felt she might burst from every good and honorable thing flowing through her, but one could not help but be happy to feel this way. And no one who ever entered that kingdom ever felt any different from that day forward. 

As the Pevensies made their way further up and further in to the world ahead, the Great Lion turned to Edmund and nodded his graceful head solemnly, with a smile only he could bear. Edmund’s hand tugged gently at Hannah’s arm, leading her to look beyond the hills and mountains far off into another land. Over a shimmering blue lake and beyond the paths of little rivers, Hannah’s eyes took in an unbelievable sight.

There, miles away, but close enough to see with new eyes, Hannah saw Germany.

The old Germany.

With it’s beautiful brick homes and rich lustrious gardens, with cottages and shops smelling of bread and recipes she had long-forgotten the taste of, flourished Germany in all the wonderful beauty she had not seen in a lifetime. But what made Hannah’s smile spread wider was not the miracle of seeing her homeland more beautiful than ever before, but the faces of two people she had not seen since she was a child running from the war.

Her parents, looking healthier and much happier, stood in each other’s arms, waving to Hannah over the long distance.

Time has brought your heart to me

Renewal. 

That is what this tale has told.

And here, in the undying hopes of a new and joyously perfected life, Hannah found herself renewed of all the grief and the horror that had tainted her mind since a child. In the reaches of this perfected world, she would reap the pleasures of the life she spent growing and learning to love - of a life spent trying to be brave.

                        I have loved you for a thousand years                                       I’ll love you for a thousand more

[oceanwriter]

WIP Prep (tag)

I was tagged by @paladin-andric -- thank you!!! I loved filling this out, and sorry for the delay!

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag as many people as there are questions (or as many as you can).

The Colors of War

FIRST LOOK

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

Sent from London, England to Maine, USA by her guardian to escape The Blitz of World War II, Marjorie Borchert is left to navigate her young adult years in a tight-knit and foreign town. As the years progress, she learns war stretches far beyond the front lines.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

A single book with possibly a collection of shorts from the other character’s lives.

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Chilly mountains and moose.

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

Little bits from Number The Stars by Lois Lowry and the character of Emily Bennet from the Molly American Girl series.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

Marjorie Borchert. She is in her mid-teens at the beginning of the story. Moody to say the least, but she has a big heart.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Daniel Reynard. Nikita Savas is a close second but Marjorie’s had a special bond with Daniel from the beginning.

8. Who is their enemy?

Kate, Beatrice, and Gina. Kate is the worst despite the fact Marjorie shares a room with Beatrice.

9. What do they want more than anything?

For things to be as they were before the war.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Her parents were both killed.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

She believes nobody wants her -- which is understandable after being passed off to strangers by her guardian and, in a way, her brother.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

I’m not much of an artist and she’d look like a cartoon, do description it is.

Tall, though not towering over everyone. She keeps her brown hair short or shoulder length until she’s older. She’s thin, possibly malnourished, when she first comes to America. She fills out a bit the longer she’s at the farm and eating three full meals a day. She’s pale, partly due to locations she’s lived. She had prominent German features, most notable, her accent which is mixed with a British tongue.

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

There’s different stages I’ll say. In the beginning, it’s about Marjorie trying to find her place in this small and established community. Her biggest conflict being a target for the prejudiced Kate. Then it moves on to the progression of the war and her fears around America’s involvement. But she comes to see that war doesn’t just affect those fighting or being captured and bombed. She also sees how different people handle things differently. Priorities fall into place through this.

14. What is the external conflict?

Trying to get by and adapting to the changes the war is bringing to the community. Acceptance, too. Internal and external kind of work together.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?  

Losing her brother for good and/or not being able to return to England.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

My only secret might not end up working. There would have to be a second book. Either way, I’m not going to reveal it. It might end up being one of things only me and a couple of my writing friends will ever know....

17. Do you know how it ends?

Yes, unless Marjorie decides to change her course of action.

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?  

Acceptance and making the best of a bad situation.

19. What is a recurring symbol?  

Change.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

Jackman, Maine, USA. A small town with a population under 1,000 a few miles from the border of Canada. It’s a heavily wooded area with beautiful mountain and lake views. Lots of wildlife, too. The town is small, running along a single street branching out into houses.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

So. Many.

22. What excited you about this story?  

The time period. I’m a history buff and the 1940s has always been my favorite era.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!  

Procrastination. That’s really it. I do my best writing at five in the morning and knowing I have to pick my little cousin up from the bus in a few hours. I tag (if you’d like): @throughwordsiescape @silverscreenwriter and @rachelradner

[runningonmarvel]

and she didn’t see him

Post IW. Wanda’s perspective. 4k. Scarlet Witch x Vision.

“You could never.”

When Wanda pulls apart, each leathery piece and burnt red hair follicle splitting into a tangled web of ash, she feels it.

She feels what it’s like to be broken down to her most elemental parts, to be spun like silk into her basest form. She feels every single bit of dust peel off her skin and catch the wind. She feels herself getting torn apart. And she tries to scream, but she can’t. Her cry, like the curve of her neck and her pale green eyes, rips apart and dissolves.

She remembers two things as her body betrays itself:

1. We’ve lost.

2. I’m not the only one.

And then her eyelids and her nerves and hemispheres and ventricles all splay apart and she can’t think anymore.

I’m not the only one.

I’m not the only one.

I’m not—

It’s black for so long. Or maybe white, and endless. Her body is gone; her mind is gone too. She is phasing and slipping and becoming herself and becoming nothing. And she shouldn’t be alone but she is.

She used to pretend she knew what death was, with Pietro. They would tell each other: death is the Sokovian prison camps. Death is a metal bullet lodged in your spine, and Tony Stark is the angel that leads you there. Death, he would whisper to her, when Strucker’s eyes were elsewhere, is HYDRA’s blue serum in the bloodstream of an evil man. Death is reliving the same moment, over and over again, until it consumes every last atom in your body.

The same moment.

The same— what moment?

She sees so many faces: first Clint, in Sokovia, with his uniform tight against his skin and his bow strung high. He tells her, like he tells her in every dream, to step out the door. To become an Avenger. And she tries to, but her body is gone, and Clint stares, apologetic, until he himself begins to unravel. Next is Tony Stark, and his eyes are soft with pain. Sorry, he whispers. I’m so sorry, Wanda, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. And she sees herself in Sokovia again, knees collapsing together, weight buckling and energy exploding.

Natasha blinks in on the right side of her gaze, sorrowful. Her hair is red again, and her lips are pursed together as she reaches out one hand to try and take Wanda’s in her own. But she reaches for only air and warmth, no solidity. (Not alone), she mouths. Or maybe her face doesn’t move at all. Maybe she just watches, like she always does. But Wanda hears her.

And then Steve stands in front of her, with his hands gripping his shield. And he tells her, once, twice, twenty times, that this isn’t her fault. His face keeps shifting, from the deep beard across his chin to the clean-shaven Steve she first met. From a pale skinny 1940s boy to a strong, broken man.

The moment—

She sees her parents, then. She sees them getting torn to pieces as she was, shrapnel digging under their skin and escaping by exploding out. Her mother’s blue eyes snap back as her spine jerks apart. And her father’s glasses fall down off his nose and break into ash. A thin blue line traces the inside of their skin, up and down wrists and the inside of their thighs and twirling around their ribs. On that line, they break. They split. It’s like watching fine China crack beneath strong fingertips. They are porcelain. They are broken.

She’s waiting, because she knows who’s next. 

He whispers, across the void, across the world. And her nonexistence tightens around her, like a magnet, because she would know that voice in any galaxy, in any state of death or undying, in any world and any time. 

Some things you never can forget.

“Sister,” he says. And she wants so badly in that moment to be real. To be pushed back together, just so she can touch his arm and make sure he’s there. Her essence is shaking, and she doesn’t have a voice. Pietro, she wants to say. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. And he says back, “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t fast enough.”

I should’ve saved you I should’ve saved you I should’ve—

And now she’s seventeen again and grief is the only emotion that touches her torn edges. She is ripped and bloody like a limb separated from a body. She bleeds, and she bleeds, and she bleeds. Exposed, like Bruce Banner, like a cut nerve.

He’s not fast anymore, just drifting. And his eyes are glazed, slightly.

He doesn’t know, she realizes. And now she starts to scream, knocking on the inside of herself, demanding that her thoughts become tangible. But he just floats in front of her. Her words try to spill out: they’re all gone and I couldn’t save him and I killed him but it wasn’t enough and it’s my fault my fault my fault.

But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move at all, and Wanda sees it now. His neck snaps back and his blue eyes go blank and his skin starts to rust and then red blossoms at his collarbone, on his chest and stomach and around his ribs. Rusted red, so much of it that the tiny spots grow into and over each other until he’s all red, until his uniform is gone, until he’s a child huddled underneath a table in Sokovia, until he’s so covered in the color that there’s nothing left of him at all.

And all of that moment three years ago falls onto her shoulders. All of her empty and used up grief wells within her. She misses him. She misses him until the hole in her heart becomes physical: an aching cave, just like Tony Stark’s arc reactor, just like the Tin Man, just like Ultron’s tangle of wires and metal. 

God, she misses his smile and his confidence and the way he used to pick food out of his teeth after meals. She misses arguing with him; she misses saying his name without pain laced inside of it. She misses his body moving like a bullet and his childlike amazement and his protectiveness and his carefree steps. She misses whispering at night and she misses missing her parents with someone else other than just the torrent of mourning inside of her.

And then more faces come, in unidentifiable masses. But she knows who they are. She sees herself in a sweeping green coat, with red power between her fingertips. She sees Lagos. And then she sees those faces detonate, one by one, in front of her. It’s not enough to say she’s sorry. It’s not enough to know, deep within her enhanced bone marrow and blood, that she is guilty. Because the people die anyway: the Wakandans and the Nigerians and all of them. This is the scene she relives every night, in every way. Every single thing she could’ve done differently; every life she could’ve saved.

Wanda never sees Proxima Midnight, or Ultron. 

And she doesn’t see him.

So many souls. But not his.

And she still doesn’t know what moment she is stuck inside; so far, she has seen all of them, each and every shaping person and voice.

Except—

And then the darkness is collapsing around her, shoving her back together, for just a second.

And she’s in Wakanda again. But this time, she’s alone; or, rather, she is apart. She spins around twice, but her bones are thick and heavy like lead. She’s the opposite of what she was moments ago. Instead of nothing, she is everything crushing together all at once. She is all the matter in the universe. She sees everything.

But she doesn’t see him.

Wanda spends eternities like this, shifting but never staying. She sees Tony Stark hundreds of times. She sees Steve Rogers and Captain America and Steve Rogers again. She feels Natasha’s scalp under her hands in the Sokovian base and then she feels herself become the Black Widow, young and afraid and deadly. She watches every single vision in the Avengers’ minds: Tony’s massacre, Steve’s bloody dance, Thor’s screaming nightmare.

And again and again and again, she sees her own worst fear, because it is the only one that has become true. 

The third time she is jerked into Tony’s mind, it occurs to her that his is true now, too.

She’s not living but she’s not dead, because she’s living every moment. And every inch of her wants to wake up, so badly, she wants to vomit and cry and let her power explode out of her. But she felt herself dissolve. She felt her power leave her, just as her body did. She is everything, and she is nothing. Without her powers, without her brother, she feels nothing.

A boy steps into her peripherals, then, and smiles gently down at her. He’s dressed in red, and he looks younger than her. She’s never seen him— no, she has. It almost feels like her irises are shaping and reshaping, in and out of focus. But he looks real: so, so real. Like she could reach out her nonexistent hand and lay it on his arm. And then he speaks.

“If you’re nothing without it, you shouldn’t have it.”

“What?” she says. And it comes out. A word. She gasps— was that air? And then her senses begin to feel it: the raveling back together. The reverse. The beginning, instead of the end. Her bones snap and knead to each other. Her eyes roll around in their sockets. Her senses tune together like an instrument. Her skin is back, soft and muscled and pale. 

The boy steps away, grinning. And she tries to reach for him, but she feels like a supernova. Like she has placed one hand against her chest and pulsed all of her red energy inside of her body. “What?” she says again, her mouth full of cotton.

And when she falls, her body hits solid ground.

“Up, warrior.” It’s a familiar voice, foreign but warm at the same time. Wanda’s eyelids flicker but she can’t draw herself away from the vision. It’s safety, in a way: a world without consequences. A world where, even if it’s only for a tiny moment, she can see Pietro again.

“Wanda,” says another voice, quietly. She knows that voice too, from her time on the run with Cap.

Wanda opens her eyes.

And around her, she sees only orange.

It’s just like the dream-state, in endless color, but this time in a persistent, eye-aching orange. At the top of her sight, the color is pale and faded, but across the horizon it’s a deep scarlet orange.

She wonders, vaguely, how her powers would look against this landscape: bright red clashing with its neighboring hue. 

Above her stand two figures, both dressed in white: T’Challa and Bucky.

“Awake?” Bucky asks. T’Challa just watches.

She’s on her back, and she shifts so she’s sitting up. Like the two of them, she is wearing pure white. Her outfit is reminiscent of the fitted red coat Pietro first gave her, but the lining is stitched to shirt beneath it. The white hem flares out over 

pale white pants; it’s like someone touched her old clothing and drew out all of the color until only blankness remained.

“Guys!” calls a sudden voice. “Scarlet Witch is awake!” 

Scarlet Witch. The media calls her that, when they’re not blaming her for all of her terrible mistakes. When they’re doing that, she’s the “Sokovian immigrant Wanda Maximoff.” The voice now sounds familiar, but she can’t place it.

“Hey, Peter, knock it off!” So many voices. Her legs seem to be in one place now, instead of bouncing around in a million pieces. So she stumbles to her feet and nearly falls before T’Challa gives her an arm of support.

And then she sees everyone.

Everyone.

Circled around her are T’Challa, Bucky, Sam, an assortment of strange looking people all dressed in white costumes like hers, and—

—the boy from her dream.

He’s skinny and baby-faced, wearing a pale white skin-tight suit. And he doesn’t have a mask on, but Wanda remembers him now. From Germany. He’s Stark’s child, the spiderling. And his curious eyes are blinking directly at her.

“What the fuck?” she says. It’s the first thing that makes sense to say.

“Hey, language, Maximoff,” Sam says, moving to cover the boy’s ears. “I know Cap isn’t here, but this kid’s only fifteen.”

“Sixteen,” he corrects. “And about to be seventeen.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that,” someone else says. He’s a brunette with a thin mustache and sideburns. 

“Okay, Mr. Lord—“

“Not my name—“

“People!” T’Challa’s voice rises above their squabble as he gazes around the circle. “We’re all awake.”

“How do you know no one else is coming?” This question comes from another person Wanda doesn’t know— though ‘person’ may be stretching it. She’s tall, with a flared white uniform not unlike Wanda’s own. But her eyes are huge and round in her face, and tapering above her head are two thin limbs she could only describe as antennae. 

“Well, we’re not going to wait for half the universe,” Bucky supplies. “And who are you guys, again?”

“Mantis,” the woman says immediately.

“I am Groot,” comes another voice, this one from— a tree? No, wait. She’s seen him before, in Wakanda. 

“Drax,” says the man next to Mantis. His skin is blue with strange red cracks inked across it.

“Peter Quill,” the mustached man says. 

“Wait, your name’s Peter too?” This comes from the boy, who is staring over at the man in astonishment. “My name’s Peter!”

“You would all do well to stop talking.”

Wanda jerks her head to the right, where a tall figure stands. His pale white cloak hangs behind him, lifeless. Drax jumps to the side, staring at the man in wonder. 

“Okay, so now we have a wizard,” Sam intones. The man doesn’t flinch.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says. “And our task is not complete.

“You,” he says, and spins to Wanda. “You are mystic?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Do you speak of my powers? They are gone.”

“So are mine!” the younger Peter cries. “Not that I have my webslingers, either, but I think my strength is gone too, and—“ “Kid,” Stephen says, spinning around. “Pretend Tony is here, and pretend he told you the adults are talking.”

Peter’s face goes red. Meanwhile, the older Peter surveys the situation with a frown on his face.

“Alright, Strange. I don’t know if she’s mystic, or whatever jargon you’re spewing, but can you tell us exactly what the hell is going on?”

“We’re in the soul stone,” he says, as if that’s an explanation.

“Those dreams!” Mantis says suddenly. Her hands hang awkwardly in front of her. “They were from the stone?”

“Think of it as an “unravelling” of sorts.” Wanda watches Stephen intently. “As Thanos destroyed our physical bodies, the soul stone unwound our souls until we were within it.”

“Wait, hold on. Where’s the rest of half the universe?” Bucky asks. He’s made it here with his Wakandan arm still attached, but even the vibranium is shaded white: proof, Wanda thinks, of the power inside this realm. That it could break down the strongest metal in the universe.

Stephen shakes his head, then points off in the distance to the right. “Miles and miles away, that way.”

“And why are we here, exactly?” the older Peter asks. “Why not with them?”

“Your friend,” Stephen says quietly. 

“What?”

“She has brought us together, here. There are trillions of people over there. We would never have found each other without her.”

“Gamora?” Peter whispers. 

“She who was sacrificed for it holds special power within the stone,” Stephen says.

“So we’re inside of a tiny rock that can fit on Vision’s forehead?” Sam asks, incredulous. But as soon as he says it, Wanda stumbles backward. 

She hadn’t seen him.

“Where is he?” she cries. Her accent is encroaching on her words, but she keeps speaking, panicked. “Vision is not here.” 

There is silence, and then she knows.

She knows like she knew how her life would fall apart when she saw her parents break under that bomb. She knows the same way she knew the world was changing after the first successful injection, when streams of red energy began to crackle around her hands. She knows like Clint knew her, inside and out, in Sokovia, that she would step out that door. She knows like her powers and her soul knew her twin was gone.

“No,” she says, quietly. “The bastard killed him.”

And she is stepping backwards, on the orange ground surrounded by endless orange light and there’s nothing, nowhere that can hide her from this insurmountable truth. Sam and Bucky, T’Challa and Peter, they all watch her with sad eyes, but she can’t see them at all anymore. 

She hadn’t seen hIm. In all her dreams, in all her visions, she had never seen him.

Clint had loved her as she was a daughter. Pietro had loved as she was a sister. And Vision?

I just feel you.

Vision had seen her. Her youth and her powers and her strength and her weakness all at once. Vision had taken her hand in his own, though it was pulsing with energy. Vision held her and spoke to her and protected her and she protected him. They were equals. Not one and the same, as Pietro and Wanda had been. Level and balanced, reciprocated and free. She had chosen Vision. And Vision had chosen her.

In another world, Wanda stumbles into Stephen Strange’s arms and sobs. In another world, she survived the snap and can mourn his body, concrete and real. She still has her power blinking inside of her. She has the ability to feel rage at the world, at Thanos. 

But this is neither of those worlds.

Her hands are in fists against the white cloak, squeezing tighter and tighter, as if the pressure could draw out her power. But the roaring in her veins remains quiet, and locked down.

She had killed him. She had destroyed him with her gift. Her curse. And in the end? In the end it was for nothing. All of her suffering, all of his pain: it earned them nothing but death. In that last moment, the minuscule second before the gem split to pieces and Vision collapsed, Wanda had felt, after all of this, relief. Because she had saved the universe. Because Vision guided her hand to the stone that was his essence and helped her do it. Because Pietro would have been so proud.

And after that, all she felt was bone-crushing, infinite guilt. 

To love someone that can die is to open oneself to pain. And there is no greater pain than this: to be the cause of your own sorrow, to be the catalyst to your love’s suffering. To be judge, jury, and executioner. In Sokovia, the streets were brutal. You didn’t leave the house after 7 if you wanted to come back alive. It was easy to hold a life in your hands; it was easy to be the life being so carelessly handled. After her parents, after Pietro, she should be used to this.

To the air, she whispers, “Everything I love dies.” It has no answer, and she knows this is confirmation.

After the crime, after the killing, Wanda had collapsed to the ground. It seems as all she does is collapse: emotionally, physically, mentally. Even her powers had fallen apart around her. But in Wakanda, she had fallen to her knees. To her forearms. And Thanos still came.

There is a long string of accusations playing through her mind.

Guilty guilty guilty guilt guilty.

In the end, she couldn’t stop him. But she should have. Like with her parents, like with her brother. She wasn’t fast enough. She wasn’t strong enough. If she had given in to Vision only hours earlier, it would have been enough. If she had held off Thanos a moment longer, for Thor to arrive first. If she had been stronger. But she wasn’t.

She never saw him, and there is only a small piece of her that is willing to acknowledge what this means, what it must mean. Not that he’s dead, or dissolved. But that he wasn’t human enough to earn a place among the dead. Among her loved ones. It’s horrific, and raw. But she can’t stop herself from thinking it. So she rolls up the thought like a cigarette stub and throws it away into the void of the soul stone. 

A hand touches her arm, then. Wanda tenses, but the hand is soft against her skin. She turns her head to see Mantis kneeling beside her, with her eyes closed.

“Mantis,” Peter says, “your powers won’t work here.” Still Mantis holds her arm, silent.

“I feel— I feel sadness. Torment. Guilt.” Mantis opens her eyes, and when she does, they are filled with sympathy.

“How?” the spiderling asks. “How are her powers working?”

Mantis’s hand presses deeper into her arm, and Wanda can sense the woman’s swirling power. It’s rich, and warm. Pulsing, almost like Wanda’s own energy signature. Like it’s reaching inside of her, for that dead piece of her that used to be there. Like Mantis could pull the angry red from inside of her. Wanda reaches, and reaches, and gasps from the effort. Her veins, her heart, her compromised and enhanced bloodstream: they all reach back. And she’s so close to contact, so close to the spark, so close to exploding with power. She can see it now— the red would burst, and all of her emotions with it. All of the pain that Mantis feels would splatter against the landscape. She’s so close—

“Stop, sorcerer!”

A rough hand knocks Mantis’ touch from her shoulder. Wanda screams, and the tendrils of power retreat, and she is alone again. Completely and utterly alone.

“Wanda,” says a soft voice. She lifts her head to see Stephen staring down at her. And for once, he doesn’t look assured or certain or confident. He looks— scared.

“I was so close,” she whispers.

“To destroying us all,” he finishes. “Your energy, it’s broken an infinity stone before. And it could do it again. Especially using Mantis, as sort of a shock, like a jump. Your power would split the soul stone from the inside out, killing us all.”

“I was so close,” she sobs. “I just want to see him again.” And Stephen is silent.

Except this is why it hurts: because even if she had done it, even if she had connected, if she had blown herself apart just like her parents, she wouldn’t have seen him. She would have wandered the afterlife endlessly, empty and alone, knowing she killed half the universe. Twice. Pietro would abandon her. Her parents would too, in disappointment. And Vision wouldn’t be there.

Because in her dream she hadn’t seen him. Because his soul never found the soul stone, and it would never find death. Just limbo. 

And she had killed him. 

It’s an endless mantra, proclaiming her guilt. 

She’s so tired of being strong. She should have known it was only a matter of time before her weakness crawled its way to her skin.  

Wanda knows, now, what moment she will be forced to relive. Again and again, until the end of time.

Like Pietro said: it really is death. Because he dies. And she dies. Every time, in every world, she kills him. And she kills him. And she kills him.

And she hadn’t seen him. And she never does.

[aceattorneygroupchat]

THE HALLOWEEN PARTY, part 1

It was Halloween, and Maya Fey had a mission.

Well, two, technically. First, to throw an amazing party. But second and no less important was to get her incredibly dense honorary-older-brother and his obvious longtime crush to finally admit their damn feelings for each other.

And, okay, before any of that there turned out to be one more mission, since the aforementioned longtime crush had gone back to waffling on the costume that he'd already agreed to.

“...What do you mean ‘we’ll see?!’”

“We'll see,” insisted Miles Edgeworth, who was setting out stacks of black and orange plastic cups that thoroughly clashed with the usual posh motif of his home. Of course, so did all the decor that he, Maya, and Phoenix Wright were in the process of setting up, although the contrast was lessened a little by the similarly-colored covers he’d put over most of the furniture.

“The party is in two hours; it’s too late for ‘we’ll see!’” Maya said. She was standing on one of the dining room chairs, raising herself higher onto her toes in a vain attempt to re-affix a pumpkin swirl hanger that had fallen from the ceiling.

“When we finish setting up, I will decide,” he replied firmly, as if Maya were the unreasonable one for expecting him to follow through on a decision he’d already made… made several times, in fact.

Maya groaned loudly, partly at the decoration she was still attempting to put up, but mostly at Miles.

“Come on, I texted you this morning and you said you would do it. You already have the costume, Nick has his Evil Magistrate one; it’s too late to just bail on us now!”

“Speaking of late,” Miles said, neatly sidestepping Maya’s point, “isn’t Larry supposed to have arrived to help us with all this by now?”

“He is… but this is Larry we’re talking about,” said Phoenix, who was in the process of stretching fake spiderwebs across a couch. He suddenly gave a slightly uneasy glance toward Miles. “Edgeworth, how sturdy are your chairs…?”

“Fairly sturdy, why do you…?” he began before noticing the answer to his question and rushing over. “--Not that sturdy! Maya, what are you doing?!”

What Maya was doing was starting to climb to the top of a very precarious-looking two-chair stack that she’d apparently made in the few moments when no one was looking at her.

“I’m just trying to put this back up!” she said indignantly.

“You are going to fall. I’d rather not spend tonight taking you to the hospital.”

She sighed and got down. “Okay, okay.”

“There’s a stepladder right over there, you know,” Phoenix added, nodding towards the corner.

“Again with stepladder,” Maya muttered, but went to get the ladder nevertheless, dragging it back to her spot and safely rehanging the decoration while Miles set the chairs back to their usual position.

Phoenix pulled a strand of webbing over the final windowsill in the room and stepped back to look around and assess his handiwork.

“Is this enough spiderwebs?” There was still one unopened, ‘GLOW-IN-THE-DARK’-labeled bag of the stretchy decor left- Maya may have gone a bit overboard estimating how much they’d use- but Phoenix had already covered just about every surface he could find, unless he wanted to move on to decorating the bathroom.

“Don’t overdo it. I don’t want people to come in and just think I never dust the place,” Miles answered, without looking up from the table where he was meticulously aligning the snack bowls. He offhandedly wondered whether a Steel Samurai costume or an unkempt home would be more damaging to the image he tried to project.

“They’re neon green. I think your clean-house reputation is safe.”

“Wouldn’t less of them give that impression more, though? No one has this many giant cobwebs,” Maya pointed out.

“True, point taken.” He took a moment to actually look this time before responding. “I think they’re fine.”

Phoenix untangled a strand of spiderweb that had attached itself to his hair before going to the kitchen to throw away the bags.

“I think that’s just about everything!” Maya declared, once he’d returned.

Indeed, Miles Edgeworth’s home- or at least the part of it that they’d agreed for the party to be mostly contained to- was looking suitably spooky. The furniture was draped with black and orange, tables were set with ghost-print plates and plenty of large bowls for snacks, shiny pumpkins hung every few feet, and green webs adorned every surface. Maya had also set up an area for photos on one side of the room, and a small purple tent in the corner, adorned with a hand-painted banner that read ‘MYSTIC MAYA’S FORTUNES.’ Aside from the actual snacks- Maya was crossing her fingers that when Larry finally showed up he wouldn’t have forgotten them- it was ready to become a world of tricks and treats.

“Well, I'm going to go change into my costume. You guys should too,” she said.

“One of us needs to stay by the door, to let Larry in when he finally arrives,” Miles pointed out. And unfortunately, while he may have been using this as another excuse to put off his costume decision, he was also right.

“Nick can do it,” Maya tried, one last attempt to get him to commit before the very last minute.

“No, that's quite all right. This is my house, after all.”

Maya grumbled a little, but since her own costume would take a bit of time to get into, she didn’t have much time to waste pushing it. “Okay, fine. C’mon, Nick.” She picked up the bag she’d put her costume pieces into, Phoenix doing the same and following her upstairs before they split off to change.

--

Phoenix’s costume took a lot less time to prepare than Maya’s did. She, of course, was a lot more dedicated to accuracy, and between the multi-piece armor, her wig, and the full-face bright pink makeup, it was around half an hour before she left the second upstairs bathroom to meet back up with him.

But, while she may have known his costume wouldn’t be the elaborate passion project hers was- probably just a standard store-bought Evil Magistrate- she was in no way prepared for the sight she saw.

“Nick, what the heck is that?!”

“What do you mean, ‘what is that?’” he replied indignantly. “It’s the costume you wanted me to wear.”

“No it’s not! It’s all wrong!” Maya got closer, inspecting every detail and becoming more appalled with each one. “Why is the cape blue? Why are the shoulder pieces red?! What even is that goofy-looking smiley face of a belt buckle??!” She gestured wildly.

“Isn’t this what the character looks like?” Phoenix said without a hint of irony. Maya sighed.

“Yeah, maybe if he were a colorblind crayon drawing! Nick, where’d you even get this? Lemme see the package.”

She immediately took Phoenix’s bag from where he had placed it against the wall and rifled around in it for a moment before she found the plastic pouch the costume had come in.

“‘Morally Unsound Judge?!’” she exclaimed, looking from the bag to Phoenix in disbelief. “Did you even look at this before you bought it?” She shook her head at him before leaning over the railing at the top of the stairs and calling, “MILES! C’mere, you HAVE to see this!”

“Oh, don’t call him up here just for this…”

Phoenix had barely finished speaking, however, before Miles was at the top of the stairs, immediately being handed the costume bag by Maya.

“‘Morally Unsound…’” He squinted at it. “What sort of cheap knockoff is this? Why is it here?”

Maya gestured at Phoenix.

“...No.” His grey eyes immediately took on the same disbelief that was written all over Maya’s face. “Wright, this has to be a joke. Please tell me you brought this as a joke.”

“Look, you two are the ones who actually watch the show! I just saw the costume Maya wanted me to get and I got it. I don’t know what more you want from me here.”

Miles exchanged a glance with Maya and they both shook their heads. After another moment of looking Phoenix over, Miles suddenly looked quite resolute and spoke again.

“That’s it. I’ve made up my mind.”

“About your costume?” Maya asked eagerly.

“Yes. Here I’ve been, embarrassed to be seen in a finely detailed, high-quality reproduction of a well-loved character’s iconic apparel… but it’s perfectly clear to me now. I have nothing to be ashamed of.” He looked Phoenix- or more accurately, the dollar-store mask- in the eye. “You do.”

And with that, he left to change, his decision finally made.

“Aw, Nick, I get it now!” Maya said once he was gone. “You knew that’d boost his confidence, didn’t you?”

Phoenix blinked. “Uh… oh, yeah, of course.”

[luwha]

My headless oc and universe

a lot of people have been asking and i’ve been too busy with commissions to ahve proper time to explain and repeat to different people the same thing, since yeah i’ll repeat the same thing, so i cut some conversation stuff that i had with @doodlejinx and @og-magnus and some others, and some severe influences by the amazing @starshardfragments and wonderful comic by @videntefernandez!

Remember, it’s a casual conversation i had, it’s literally messy and broke and most are just babbling chat by me, so uh, yeah

also. it’s super long.

with @doodlejinx

i had bad idea for ocworld: magic and stuff is fairly common, yet not THAT common but in 20 classmates at least 3 are witches and one is probably a werewolfthe oc: a regular human with bad touch for magic yet atracts a lot of spirits, not harmful oneshe lost his head. he has no head. but he carries it on a supermarket bag or soemthinghis best friend is a ghoulthey speak ASLhe sleep curling onto his own head

just it, he used to be an pharmacy student but had to quit was hard to work without moving the head that's not on his head anymore

now he's doing arts because he loved it and since he has no main dream he's following it, he's a bit bad but he's doing good with learninghe likes sleepovers with his few friends because he can do his own hair

in the end he got used to it, at first he carried his head with all care but at this point, after a few years, he just puts in supermarket bag

he was extremly vanilla to ever think about that, his mind was full of depression and confusion

then after some years he just gave up and he's like, nice, he can see how he's dressing up and do the dishes and tv at the same timeand since magic is fairly common, no one really stares a lot

there are ghouls around, some visible spirits, full dressed witches going to work, sometimes a 100% transformed werewoman playing clash royaleone day he sleeps and forget his head on the subway

the cats may not present as animals, but mostly do when trying to get dealsand it's a common rule

and almsot a law, no deals must be made other way, if the cat's on streetmaybe Daniel followed the crow? doesn't really matter how he lost his headthere are many cat-like entities, yet there are a lot of cats who are just catscat's are absurdly common, the cities are crowded with them and no one can tell if they're cats or entitiesso they are all respected like entities dog/wolf-like entities, different than expected, ahve their own rules about how they share the spot they protect or make dealsdon't talk a lot, but arent enemiesookamis really hate ghouls

ghouls aren't evil, they are just like people with motor disorder, they can do everything, just not look graceful, they can drive, write, everythingbut their joints is just most stiff and look zobie like but they are finebut can't speak wellyou learn asl on class like you learn english and fae

since there are many entities who cannot speakand yet many can't sign as well, so there's faebut it's only used in rare momentswith fae, you never knwo who listens tonever request or beg in faealways speak clear and never suggest a requestyou don't know who listen

it's common for universitary hourses, to be just the smallest hall ever, with 20~30 doors. and just it. the door only, and the owner is usually a fae creature, who charges nothing for the the stay butthe room is an extra dimension, it'll feed on your magic energy, that everybody have in some extentyou can pay with money if you're bad with energydaniel ahs to use money

it's also not recommended for creating a child-like or dependable one, you're responsable for them until they can care for themselves, if they cannot you must love them until you pass, or thembut you need to present a request and sign so many papers

some universitary teachers make those bodies for the ghost studentsthey're not the good bodies, they're simple and have to be given back, but when the student needs somehting he can use the bodyit's nto common, making those bodies is incredible hardand most of them results in... ghoulsghouls are an umbrella term of those who died and cannot pass yet, those who died while possessing a body, those who were murdered by specific magic, ressurections who were made without permission, homunculi that were created without loveeven deals that involved lifetime, it's a matter of respect never asking a ghoul what the fuckin the 90's the witches where phoibited to fly higher than the cars, for police rules and fairness unless they have special permitbut they still angry that doesn't apply for the angelic ones, who can fly as high as they want

details, plants are REALLY common, they are visible anywhere on the streets, even on the most city-like ones, on the windows, anywherethe sky at night is purple. a very deep purpleand last rule, if a crow rests on yout shoulder, you're not allowed to shoo it awayit gets to stay as much as it wantseven go to your house 

unless you offer them the herbs they require, usually hard to have and most advanced witches have, but most of times they just wanna hangwhen they sits on your shoulder you don't shoo, but once they do you can offer them head, the hand, play with it if it wants, it doesn't have to STAY therethey'll be with you as much as they wantif they have the third eye opened, there's someone trying to sell you a cursed itemand since they gave you this information, you tell them a secretthey're good keepers 

it's a world that our world and the fae somehow got mixedand it's fineand take care with merfolk, they eat humans

they're cool, but like human foodlike having a pig as a pet? you love it and still eat their kind?they'll be friends liek anyone else

but they'll still eat humans somehwre, human meat isn't that hard to findand it's legally obtaineddan ate but he didn't like that much, he said it was too firm and hard to swallow, the ghoul signed that he doesn't have palate anywaythose are stuff you learn in middle schoolnever give a crow a namenever invite a cat to your house, you don't know if it's an catthose stuff

and hospitals are really scary placeslike that comic on tumble, that has some gorelemme try to findhospitals merge with other realms other than fae, the nurses are actually a wAY more respected than the doctorsso does the pharmaceuticsthe reasons to go to one goes from cuts, surgery, hunting spells, curses, mispellings on deals, whatnot

tw gore and body horrortho the hospitals aren't sentient on my worldbut are "haunted" placesthe ones hu haunt there aren't dangerous and most of them are surprisingly helpful

he went to an hospital to check his head issue, the nurse said it was there and he'd be fine, but she couldn't identify if it was a curse, joke or bad deal, he's have to remeber more, and with fairy sparkle he saw that under the head, there was the white invisble image of his body, and his head over the body too, but wasn't able to touch or seeit was weird but harmlessand defnitly not the first case 

------

with @og-magnus

he's average by description

body, average, not fat neither defined

cute, but average, not enough to be handsome neither ugly, just ok

dick, also average, not too thicc neither thin, neither long or short

tho he's uncut

 i always end up drawing my average chars too pretty

he's the most bi af

tho mixed with fae world gender is merely a concept

not even humans show only 2 genders, who can say about the other fae creatures

humans with afinnity to magic? the withches? the halflings, crossed with the faes?

people couldn't care less

 sOUNDS NICE, i LIKE IT

 ssholes about the purity oh the human magic, that they insisted that were different from the faes, like the KKK disgraceful ones

but even those care very little about gender

he likes to present very masculine and is cis, but when it comes to dressing and stuff, neither he or anyone mind at all, he just likes large stuff, he says it comfy ad i agree

 tHAT'S SUPER CUTE

 if u look again, all his clothes are meme and large, most of them are old so the tshirt look tigh because it was M but he got fat a bit

so they seems tight

but pajamas

he loves it

give him pajamas and socks and he might cry

 he could but no he's just thicc, not strong

actually he's quite sedentary

make him run 5 minutes and he'll almost have a heart attack, like me

 He sounds like the sweetest boy

 mace an oc for this universe

that is the same of ours with our shitty disgraceful leaders and rising of facism but has fae magic and world mixed

 and at the night the sky is a deep purple instead of a dark blue

yes!

 tho the merfolk don't really like the humans at all but some of them go to study on university on the ground

 IT'S PERFECT

 he can either use an spell/deal/ritual to have legs or look human or wellchairs that are a way better than the ones we have

or even "float" around like the air was water but that would require a very deep connection with magi

magic*

but he can rent this spell lol

yes you can rent spells

 Neat

 like Daniel's house

he lives with a ghoul and is an art student at university

the place is a rented place for universitaries, the room's size is based on the magic you have on you

daniel is a disgrace with magic

he can't do the basic light flicker

he seems to have nothing of magic on him

and the ghoul, Marta, doesn't too because she's a ghoul

so they pay the rent with money so someone makes it, what's normal since not all faes have magic

 Oh ok, you've put a lot of thought into this haven't you?

 you ahve no idea

marta has background

daniel too, the laws, the cats

every cat's color has a bg too

 That's great!

 even the place he sleeps and the interaction with other fae creatures even the fact that spoken languages aren't so commo0n so as much as you learn english you also learn ASL

marta is a ghoul, very 80's zombie, she can't speak since she has little coordination of her tongue

but she can sign

and dan can read just fine

also even in elementary schools there are small classes of understanding, accepting and using small amounts of magic

daniel coulldn't use any at all

he's not the choosen one, it's a known issue, rare, but known

he's not the only one to really have 0 ability with magic

it's like having extremly rare disease

tho having magic power in harry potter like level is really rare

in a crowd of 100 ppl maybe 3 can

it's common, yes

but not natural

those are the withces

withches*

Aaaa

 Ok I see, so most people can do basic stuff but either end of the spectrum is quite rare

 yep

it's more rare having no magic contact, it's a magic world after all

there's no dishes washing itself, it's less magical than it suggest

but even a regular human can feel when a cat is a cat or an entity

or feel intentions, if they're trained to understand what the aura gives

but dan cannot really feel those

even marta who's dead can

she's not a zombie she's a homunculi, and there's a lot about homuncili that i wont start it's so long

 just know that they're either

- dead, who were wrongfully ressurected - failed or illegal summonings - uncertified and illegal creation of life, which the crator is now bound to make happy and live at it's fullest - dead who'se sold their soul or for any reason didn't pass to other realms - deals. bad deals. oh boy.

caniballism, ressurection and artificial human life are a thing that isn't ilegal but almsot no one can legally perform

 you need so many papers signed and permissions and witnesses

also it's extremly illegal and is punishable by the locking of the soul the creation of artificial life for slavery and servitude

so is the creation of a homunculi that wont be loved, tho they are see as our legacy and your child, they cannot eb created without love

or... they'll b a ghoul.

soul lock impedes you of trancending the realms until the soul you imprisioned or created are finally ready to pass as well

 and trust, the homunculi aint powerful, they're humans like us that were not created by sex or those, or even deceased child who couldn't born die miscarry, whose parents contacted the soul and brough the child back

in those cases, you cannot force a soul

that's why it takes months to be performed and is watched closely

 so is canibalism, which daniel is somehow very into

the fairies and merfolk specially are really needy of human meat, like it was an craving dish

the deceased and suicidal ones leave their body to eb consumed, the burial isn't really a thing

the being part of something bigger is

a meat adquired by murder or cowercion tastes bad and rots too easily, it also goes for animal meat

oh man i build a lot

i'm ranting

 I'm gonna try to fit my Triton into this I'd be interested in knowing more about them.

 What would you like to know?

Where do they come from/live?

 Mostly seas, very hardly rivers

And depend on where they live

 So there are town all over the world then?

 The entities are like, onis from Japan, headless horses and snakes from Brazil

There are faes that are exclusive from some places

Ye

All over

They despise humanity for their pollution on their realms, you know how Japan was closed and not discovered? So we're merfolk, but they were discovered much later, in the 1700s

They are wary of humans and distrust other faes

Speaking generically of course

 They live in another ruling setting and are still very closed

But as hard it is to spot albinos it's hard to find them

But some visit and even live on the surface

they use elemental magic mostly, there are many types, but spiritual and elemental are the most commons

followed bu demoniac and holy, as cliche as it is

the hells aren't open enither the ehavens, tho the concept here is absolutly different than chatolic

it's almost impossivle to spot demons or angels

it's almost like they cannot survive on earth

 more about gender: 90% of the merfolk known are absolutly intersex, they may or may not prefer one of their genitalia or even present none

and the "known" is because the deep abyss is still a mistery, even tho some merfolk helped, still unexplored and no one knows it's cryptids

and now that i'm back on pc

the inspiration for the cats and fae interactions, and why danel wanted to be a nurse, based on another thing

this would be up to you

maybe yes, maybe not

 lemme get the links

http://starshardfragments.tumblr.com/post/159915922140/how-to-deal-with-street-cats

this for the cats

many entities do not react or present their will as humans could read, some are triksters

you never know if a cat is an entity or just a cat, they're numerous and are common in cities as pigons

i'ts so common that dealing with them is something your parents teach, it's just like they etaching like to draw a smiley face

most people have a tingle on the spine, even the low magic ones when it comes to those, they cannot be sure if it's a cat or not, but they will get wary

daniel can't even be sure it's a cat at all

now the hospital: (tw gore, blood, mutilations, murtansts whatsoever gore)

http://videntefernandez.tumblr.com/post/159578140848/im-really-thankful-to-my-patrons-for-making-this

the hospitals are more modern on my setting and less 'sentient' but they are still a place that is absolutly mystical

the nurses are hierarquically more important than the doctors, hence they are the ones who deal and welcome all sorts of stuff

from car crashes to bad deals and bizarre magic, it's a place for curses and modern medicine

daniel wanted to be a nurse, but he was forced out of the gradutaion since even he was really interested, a nurse must ahve some contact with magic

and he was shit

so he folowed his second passion, that is arts

but he's broke since he just started artign at 23 years old, and his dreams were into the blender

he works on a bodega

 Aww, and the hospitals are neat

 they are!!

they're super neat and they're like

what's the name of those schools where you live at?

they become your house and your coworkers your family

you don't just work there, but you also live there (in the residence inside the area) and be a part of it

specially the cleaners and service people

they're often the oldest and wiser, since the cleaning of what happens on those places is pure madness

and they're either too young or too old, since a young is getting into and the older endured the madness

spirits and ghosts are a thing, they cannot be easly spotted since they're a flicker between realms, but they go to university and even live in manequins once in a while

the manequins are built for them to be present in the material world

most of the witches can see them

they just can't be part of the object or place for too long, or it becomes cursed

but they're just like us, sharing memes on internet

 just depend on why they still on this realm

the fact they didn't pass is always their secret and only

isn't it absurdly rude to ask a transgender person if they changed their genitalia? it's as rude to ask a ghost why it still here and to ask a ghoul how it turned into a ghoul

it's their and their business only

oh man the universe is so huge i could spend the whole day rambling

 It's sweet that you're so invested tho

 just last detail, all law problems ARE solved with truth spells

it's an artifice of the law to use it since an innocent has nothign to hide

the judges and witnesses are also under it

so even murdering has little incidence, since there's almost no get away, but instead, it's a nasty thing the "accidents" and bad deals

people lost when following cats, people locked and dying inside cursed houses

doors that lead to nowhere, people find their way to crime

and the "truth serum", that can be bough, isn't really a truth spell, but an sort of energetic that makes a person less inclined to lie, till, they can lie

and it's considered a crime using one without conscent

 this world has a lot of fae rules, and most of them consist on deals

a deal makes you agree or not on using your energy, aura, soul or what you feel like calling it

if you're unwilling, there's very little things that will work

since the energy is pure and reflect the feelings

using forced one is almost like trying to eat a man who didn't want to die

the meat will be hard, frim and will spoil easly

you can buy human meat at the supermarket, tho it's really impossoble to find, it's not like milk, you don't find caviar at all supermarkets

it has to be specialized ones

oh, it's more a comment about how this world is cetic and somwewhat too serious

and about daniel, losing head like this is VERY rare, but yet was seen before, tho the reason depends, could be curse, could be heritage of some fae and entities? could be a lot

sometimes it limbs, most common it's organs, like heart specially

some take their own heart by spell to hide somwhere

daniel dunno how it happened to him

he doesn't mind

 happened when he was seventeen

yet he has the feeling it'll never be back to his neck

 Guessing it's hard to reattach stuff?

 yeah, there's somehting they don't know that impedes it, and he could use an improvised stuff to hold it there, but the edges repel, like two magnetes on the same polar

it's meant to not be there anymore

 like, he can rest with the neck parts touching, but if the intent is to keep them connected, somethign wont allow it

he went to hospitals and no one could tell, since daniel himseld had no clue

if he followed a cat, could a an deal he made without really realizing

enemy? an curse?

he doesn't know, just woke up like this

and he's not really seeking to solve, deep inside he knows there's no solving and no explanation will really make him happy

he's ok, it's like a limp. a nuisiance, but you live on

he doesn't mind anymore

 Well then, seems like he's doing alright ^^

 oh, he is! he totally is

it's far past the point where he cared

it just bothered on the first months, explainign it to people who knew he had a head there

but since i'ts a mixed with fae world, it's not liek people stared at him

no one ask at all

it's rare and most of them never saw it

but so is a lot of stuff that happen

the crying image of him is mostly... he is always lost, he doesn't understand a lot, his dream was crushed by his lack of magic, that no one can tell why it happens, neither seem to solve

he's afraid, he doesn't understand a lot of things

he always feel liek he's being left behind, that he doesn't understand a lot of stuff, that he's not as smart as everyone else

he does have depression, a bit anxious

sometimes he just feel too scared

he really wanted to be a nurse

and very little creatures are watched on this world

vampires are one of them

they're SUPER rare, and they drink the blood? yes, but isn't the blood that feeds them

it's the life itself

all vampires have an bracelet that identifies them

since they're one of the unique creatures that manipulate minds without an satruggle, even by accident

their will is powerful

they may manipulate by accident

most of nurses and judges and enforces of law are watches as closely as the vampires

and artists too

all cameras are heavly certified, to be sure they wont hold your soul on the pictures

so many details

they are extremly influential on the life of the individuals they interact

but it's a world of deals and trickster

they have to be watched

therefore, there's a job for ghosts who want to

it's common sense: someone is always watching

and furthermore: never ask anything to the wind

someone also listen

they live pretty much like us, except that nature is everywhere

not like, futuristic

but everyone have plants, the streets are full

you can easly find a witch

their houses often look like jungles

since not only herbs and mixes they cultivate, but the trees and plants are more than just plants

marta, the ghoul, cultivates rare sorts of plants on the very small room they share

she makes her living selling them

extremly rare, some joke she's a ghoul because she sould her soul to lay hands on those

 Oh that I really like

 it's higly requires, since witches use a LOT and those who have their magic touch also use once in a while

anyone can put seeds on pots, but they're not magic because of this, they're weeds

it's how you plant them

and marta has her own secrets, she knows how to plant them and nourish them, she has more than a green finger

she's really good at

 I think my character has got to have something to do with keys

 and fun... she cannot speak, and yet she speaks with the plants, daniel doesn't understand she damn she explaines more than 10 times, detailed

ohh

keys!

on the subject, key is anything that locks a thing

they can or cannot be material, often are

but yet

it's another job that is respected, they key makers, for any doors

there are whole university graduations on keys

a soul lock requires a key

justice files require keys

 That's what he's in the human world to study then

 he can meet daniel!!!!

same class on design of artefacts: reading, understanding, feeling and categorizing

canibalism is not that common, it's a thing you do like... twice a year if you REALLY into it, and daniel is atrcted to it even eh doesn't know why... it's a nagging feeling he can't shake, a driven will that seems not his

but damn he'd do the joke

everone do the joke

and he's the type of nerd who types LMHO insteaf of LMAO

 laughing my HEAD off

 he's an absolute dofus

he puts his head with the milkshake on the same bag

so he can walk and drink

cute dork

so many head ouns

puns*

shirts with head related lines

people who know him, every single time sigh because they KNOW the pun is coming

 dan is extremey curious, he's almost obonoxious of how curious he is

he's extra intrusive and have very little limits

 since he really do not understand a lot

whenever a fae entitiy is around, he finds his way to ask form what is like being an entitie of X stuff and what's your favorite reptile

 they would have an awkward start because oh boi he would be intrusive

easly dismissable, but persistent

 oH

OMGJFGHGJKEFDHGJKW

DANIEL LOVES COOKING HE'd be so happy to show it

and since he's a good artist even he's a new one, he'd help him with the proportion of paitings and how the oils and saturation worked on dry ambientes, if sygg needs

 he would ask to touch his skin, how is to live underwater, how it feels to be under a spell to live on eart and so many and so many endless questions

 well, dan respect the share of knowledge he's so often deprived due his lack of magic

how sygg stays on eath? how do you imagine it tho?

he floats around? like air is waterw

 there are rulings but they mostly resume on the speed and high you can swim but those won't bother him then!

dan would be mesmerized

 and even he was, dan wouldn't understand anyway, but having the knowledge seems to be enough for him

sad, but enough

he's fine with it

 how attached to hugs and touch dan is, dan really feels alone most of times, like he was detached from people as his head form him

 he hold hands with strangers if they allow

he let them carry his head if they ask

 the fact you can lower his head and only at sygg at his wishes? you corrupted me i blame

[nettlestonenell]

Why You Hate TURN’s Abraham Woodhull

Maybe you’re a purist, maybe you would only have been satisfied to have an historically accurate Abe Woodhull, key spy in the Revolutionary War’s unbroken Culper Ring.

But more likely, chances are your problem rests with the very reasons, Gentle Reader, that this blog owner cherishes Abe Woodhull and every bad decision he ever made, every morally problematic (or, if you prefer, wrong) step he ever took. Your issues are deeply rooted in the very way Abe’s character was conceived and portrayed, and as such, by the end of the series, you might find yourself a little off-balance at why you (may) have come to feel much more warmly toward him.

 Abraham Woodhull, cabbage farmer, married man and father.

To initial viewers, Abe smells strongly of impotent coward. When we meet him he’s a man with his head down, trying to get by, live through the war, farm his crop. In the first episode we’re presented with a farmer (whose crops are failing) whom, if he does not own, he leases, slaves, categorically and frequently lies to his wife, clashes with his father, owes money to a tavern keeper (Selah Strong) that he cannot repay, whose wife he is outed as a former (and we soon learn still current) flame of, has a largely unpleasant interaction with Benjamin Tallmadge (a character who already has our sympathy from that first shot of his eye opening), and whose SOLE PLEASANT INTERACTION—the ONLY true smiles he gives for the first season—is with Caleb Brewster, a character deliberately designed to become beloved and cinnamon-rolled.

I. - Costuming – Abe’s costumes are generally the least visually interesting of the show. (No! You will shout—Townsend! But you are wrong. Friend Townsend may wear “plain” clothes, but they’re tailored excellently, just ask H. Mulligan) Abe wears dark colors and country textiles. Can you think of a single outfit of Abe’s? No. No, you can’t. He re-wears a lot of his clothes, and they generally look a lot like the others. His best suit of clothes is black. His everydays are brown. He is the definition of non-descript.

Abe’s hair is a wig, and if you don’t think a ‘bad’ (or intentionally ‘bad’) wig can heavily influence viewers’ opinions about a character, you’ve never watched TURN, nor cried over Ben Tallmadge. Just look at the show working to humanize its S1 & S2 sociopath Simcoe. Off comes the wig and out comes the fluffy curls. Abe’s wig was not only never Jamie Bell’s real hair—it is with perhaps a single exception—never out of its queue. And that Sugarhouse beard? NOT designed to look good to you. In short, (or rather, not in short) Abe’s appearance is designed to do anything but draw your eye. He’s a SPY, who can pass unnoticed. There will never be gifsets devoted to Abe’s wardrobe or aesthetics.

II. Convictions – This is the story of the birth of a nation conceived in liberty. This is The Big Dance, where even if we can enjoy characters from the Empire and sympathize with them, we expect the good guys to be deeply devoted (unto giving their lives) for the cause and spread of Freedom.

When we meet Abe, this is not him. Abraham Woodhull becomes a spy under (1.) deep duress when trying to feed his family (and spitefully avoid taking money from his father) and (2.) trying to protect his former fiancée, the (of necessity) abandoned wife of a man he owes money, by arranging to have a British officer killed. These are NOT admirable motivations, nothing noble in their plotting. But they ARE far more realistic than believing in a country full of men with lofty ideals, and the ways and means to express and fight for them while fighting to feed, clothe, and shelter their families in the harsh environment of the colonies. (Of course, later we learn that Abe is also idealistic—but a lot of our views of him are well-set by the time of that reveal.)

Who wouldn’t much rather flock toward the idealism of single, pretty blue-coated Ben Tallmadge, or wild card wildman mess-you-up-with-my-ax-you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do Caleb Brewster than plain dressed, dour Abe Woodhull, dragged under pressure into Things Bigger Than Himself for solely personal reasons. Who can blame us?

III. - Relationships – Please note that in Setauket, Abe HAS NO FRIENDS. He has not a single companion or even a congenial peer ever shown or referenced. Even Mary has the poisonous sewing circle. But Abe? Abe’s ALONE.

Platonic – All of Abe’s friends are from the past. Ben and Caleb, we are occasionally told of their past bond with Abe, but it is very rare to see it play out in the present. When Abe does see Caleb, the moments are usually fraught with danger, not rife with admiration and enjoyment. Abe’s ‘friendship’ with Anna Strong (if it ever was only that) has given way to something quite else, whether the both of them agree it has or not. Ben and Abe only rarely share the same space to interact (and always under a ticking clock) timeframe.

And yet we are never shown flashbacks. We never see the friends in happier times. We never get to be witness to another Abe. We are only given Abe as he is now. And it takes multiple seasons before who Abe is now/who he’s become is fully explained to us. (Why he is what he is, why he does what he does)

Familial – Abe’s core relationships are with his family, and, generally speaking, they are not at all healthy. At best one might term them both fraught and problematic. At worst, his father is emotionally abusive and manipulative toward him, and he, in turn, is simultaneously emotionally abusive toward his wife, with whom he continues to have sex.

His relationship with his son, Sprout (Thomas), is literally the SOLE spot of light in the life of Abraham Woodhull, and also the biggest motivator, in multiple circumstances. Argument could probably be made that Mary is of interest to Abe (for a long time) solely as the mother of his child.

We assume (though, without flashbacks we have no way to know for certain) that Abe was close to his mother and his brother, the original Thomas. Or at least that they had healthier, more loving bonds than those Abe has at present with family. But we don’t know. We only get Present Day Abe, no explanations, no nostalgic moments of halcyon days past.

Romantic – Abe is given to us as a man who re-embarks on a relationship with Anna Strong while being married to the mother of his son. So, an adulterer. And theirs is not a big-R Romantically rendered coupling. Please recall that their most explicit sex scene was cross-cut with footage of a horse dying and agonizing and violent death.

Following the death of Ensign Baker, we see the impressive mind of Mary Woodhull (who before registered largely as a figure we pitied for her ill treatment), and yet Abe, while being surprised to learn who he really married, remains largely (with the occasional exception) unsparked by her.

IV. - Lack of Safe Space

Abe’s life, difficult enough before he begins spying, becomes positively untenable with regard to stress and strain. He’s eternally tightly-strung. There are no spaces in his life where he can depressurize, no one in his circle of acquaintance with whom he can talk or share. His illicit relationship with Anna comes with its own pressures, negating time with her as a healthy way to walk away from stress.

And yet we see other Culpers like Ben and Caleb with such safe spaces, with a support network; for while they may see battle, and their lives are not without dire circumstances, there are times allowed them when they are within Washington’s camp and moments and relationships exist that enable them to decompress, to tell a joke, to put a hand out to (or upon) their comrade and close friend.

V. - Execution of his plans/missions

Yet here is Abe, the drab avian mate to the showier bluebird or cardinal, sweating it without respite, often without reliable direction in how to spy, in whether his messages get received or acted upon. There is no glory in his part of the spy chain, no pats on the back, no clear-cut satisfaction.

VI. - Sense of Self

As viewers, we like people who know who they are, be it evil mastermind or Ghandi-like crusader. Something about a character that understands themselves speaks to us, makes us feel good. Yet, in Season One we learn The Truth of Thomas’ Death. The reason Abe Woodhull is living the life he’s living, married to the woman he’s married, raising up a son in his brother’s name. And it has nothing to do with knowing himself. Rather, the exact opposite.

And in the final moments of Season Three we hear Abe finally voice it: he doesn’t know who he is. He’s trying to live another man’s life, he’s become so good at deception, so good at Not Being Seen, he’s lost track of himself.

Is it any wonder that many viewers have trouble seeing Abe?

Abe (during the series’ period of the war/spying years) may not be an easy man to like, and I daresay Ben and Caleb, and even Anna would back that up, but if you watch him expecting less of a run-of-the-mill hero [insert shiny reflection of toothy smile here] and more as a down-on-his luck highly strung man who’s torn by the grief of his brother’s loss to the point that he’s lost himself—and who finds in spying for his country a job that can actually make use of that dissociation—you’re going to find a memorable character you can root for and, yes, I’ll say it: love.

And the TURN finale will resonate even more deeply. 

[ilsa-makes-things]

"What Are You Supposed to Be?” Character Design in Dagorhir

A kender knight errant giggles in the woods battle.

We often neglect character design in Dagorhir (or Belegarth, Amtgard, Darkon, and other LARP-y games where the focus is on fighting and we play one character for years on end). Rather than consciously asking “how can I convey who my character is through my physical appearance?” players often slide into wearing the same old tunics, pants, and accessories as everyone else. Much to my shame, I’ve been the fantasy character who dresses like a generi-Viking and then gets miffed when people ask “what are you supposed to be?” That changed when I took a theatre costume design class. The revelation that I could start with the ideas I wanted to convey (ie, “this character is colorful and eccentric-- how do we translate that into their clothes?”) vs individual items (”well, I already have this tunic-- I guess I’ll have to make it work for my kit, somehow”) changed how I think about character design. 

Thinking about character design let me deliberately and effectively overhall my entire aesthetic. I like my kit a lot more, now, and I think more Dagorhir players would feel the same way if they front-loaded their design process. 

If you’re having trouble figuring out your garb, then, consider designing your kit like you’re costuming a character for a stage or film production. 

Front-Load Your Character Design

I built my “Dragonlance kender” kit piece by random piece for years, and it never added up to a cohesive whole. Every fantasy character hates hearing “what are you?” or “what are you supposed to be?”, and I used to get that a lot.

 Now that I’m front-loading the design process people successfully “read” my kit a lot better. Strangers at the ren faire call me “Tasslehoff,” and new Dagorhir acquaintances burst out laughing and call “watch your pouches!” when they see me pass holding my hoopak, one of the clearest identifying “props” my character carries. Front-loading character design means thinking before you build or acquire pieces of kit, rather than trying to add items that don’t work with the “look” you’re trying to build.

Let’s think about this like we’re designing a stage production. One of the first things we should do is ask what you want to convey to the audience about the character. If this were a play, our audience would be the people putting their butts into our auditorium. Since Dag is live-action and immersive, your audience is your peers. Either way, the first time someone sees your kit, they should be able to make some inferences about you. How wealthy is this character? How much of a conformist are they? What time period or profession do you want to portray? If your design conveys nothing much (or worse, you have to break character to explain your kit or justify the absence of something that’s not there— ie,"I am an elf-- I was just cursed to lose my ears!”), then your design probably needs more thought. *

Case Study: Spud the Ranger

Dude looks like a ranger-- but WHY? HOW??

All of that is a little overwhelming, so let’s boil it down to one important question. Say an average player sees your kit for the first time. Without ever speaking to you (and, because they don’t care, without minutely examining every detail of your kit— the family crest etched onto your belt buckle is for your own satisfaction), a stranger should still be able to say, “aha, that guy is ______,” and be decently close. What do you want that blank to be? What do you need to include in your kit to make them say that?

Your "blank” could be something super obvious like “that character is a dwarf!” or “that character is an Uruk-Hai!” Successfully portrayed, not half-assed dwarves and successfully portrayed, not half-assed Uruk-Hai have really clear physical markers— they’re easy to “read,” provided you know that the beard/axe or fangs/White Hand are the identifying traits. My kender-kit falls into this category: as long as you’ve read Weiss and Hickman’s books, the topknot, hoopak, pouches, and furry vest say “kender” to you.

If your character is something that doesn’t come with easy “markers,” you might have to back off a little and go for something more general. You could pick a fantasy archetype and pick “that character is a bard,” or “that character is a raggedy peasant” or “that character is a knight,” or you could pick something even less concrete, like “that character is evil,” or “that character is more interested in having fun than conforming.” Any choice is valid-- the key is to define it to yourself and build your kit around it, rather than have your hodgepodge kit accidentally define it for you.

Let’s say we’re designing a character for Joe Newplayer. We’ll call Joe’s character Spud.

Joe Newplayer knows that it is gauche to corner his fellow players and tell them, in the third person, that Spud is a ranger who has some werewolf traits and has lived by hunting ever since he was exiled from his hometown, so Spud is going to try to convey this, instead, through costume (and later, through in-character roleplay). Good egg, Joe!

The very least Joe wants our audience to be able to say, of Spud, probably, is “aha, this dude spends a lot of time in the woods.” Going for “this dude is a hunter with a dark past” or “this dude has some weird canine traits” is a little harder, so that could be something to build up to (or, again, express through in-character roleplay).

What would help convey “dude who spends a lot of time in the woods”? Joe, having considered this a bit, might be tempted to start listing individual clothing items he wants to buy-- cloak! Hood! Some dope-ass boots!-- but I would encourage him to hold back. Rather than listing individual clothing items, start with some elements of design, like line, mass, color, texture and movement. Start by thinking about your design as a whole, not by over-focusing on individual pieces, and your costume will be more coherent, unique, and effective.

The Elements of Design

Do we want Spud to appear bulky or slender? A confident character might take up a lot of space, while one who hopes to fade into the background might be drawn more tightly in. Should Spud’s silhouette be shaggy, many-corner’d, or streamlined? What sort of textures are right for a dude who spends a lot of time in the woods? What sorts of colors? Should the materials Spud wears be light and floaty, heavy and stiff, or something in-between? WHY?

Hold off on the internal character reasons for any of the “whys” (ie, “I have this cloak because my mother made it, and she died, so I wear it to remember her”) and keep your focus tight to the audience. Joe might choose a silhouette that’s top-heavy with fur or leather shoulder armor and tapers down to through the lower legs, which very quietly suggests the lean lone wolf. Joe might chose muted, natural colors (which might say that the character wants to fade into the woods), or weirdly clashing or worn-out ones, which might say (though this is getting rather too subtle, but that’s his choice) that he doesn’t care about clothes or society’s expectations (or perhaps that he’s colorblind— canine attributes! ;) ) Joe might distress his fabrics suggest a character who’s down on his luck, or add lots of layers to imply that he carries everything he owns on his back because he doesn’t have a fixed address.

Remember that each choice you make will inform the physical experience of wearing the costume, too. A costume that the actor can’t move in is bad design! What does this character need to do in their clothes, and how do the elements of design you established above intersect with that? Do they need to physically carry all their worldly goods? Will they sleep or fight in this outfit? Will they need help donning their fancy clothes? No matter how independent and stand-offish your traveling female thief is, she’ll probably need help lacing up a back-fastening corset, so ponder the physical realities of the garments you might include, and ask if they fit with your big picture.

If this is overwhelming, pick one adjective and build your design around that, instead. Do you want people to see your character as, primarily, tough? Independent? Scatterbrained? Confident? Timid? Otherworldly? Brainstorm how your adjective could bleed out onto their clothing— not just by giving them individual props (this character is tough because he wears lots of knives!), but by thinking in terms, again, of audience impression (this character is tough because he wears hard textures and has no extra frills!). Grab a print-out croquis (try here) and do some drawings, like you’re making paper dolls. (It’s okay if they’re shitty. Mine are hilariously bad.) How can you make a character look confident, tough, timid, or otherworldly using shapes, colors, and textures, rather than building up from individual items?

For more insight on how to do this, consider reading more about costume design for film and stage. This is a good, quick crash-course in how to start thinking about character design. Give it a shot!

In Conclusion

Start from the ground up and ask what you want to convey to your “audience”— ie, your fellow fighters. The result will be more coherent than if you build stuff up, piece by piece.

Next time, I put my own neck on the chopping block as we look at how I built up my Ilsa character using some of these elements of design. ‘til then, tell me what YOU do to design your character! :)

—

*There’s an argument in favor of subtlety— you probably don’t want to look like a cookie-cutter ranger— but the failure state of “subtle” often “incoherent” or “muddled.” Pick your poison. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dgcatanisiri]

A couple things about The Last Jedi and my reactions to it that I want to clarify (but I can’t promise this is my last word on the subject).

If you disagree with my stance on it, that’s fine. This is a movie, people are allowed to have differing opinions and it not being a big deal. My take is that it’s very flawed, and ultimately underwhelming at its best. If your take is that it’s the best movie ever, I’m willing to agree to disagree.

My problems with the movie are not Rose Tico, or Holdo as characters. My problem is HOW they are used, in that Rose feels superfluous in how the narrative treated her, that she was not given an opportunity to use any skill to justify her inclusion - I LIKE her, yes, but there isn’t really something about Rose that comes across as “she is here for this reason,” unless we want to open the can of worms of her being there to derail Finn/Rey, which, honestly, is sketchy as a concept (though entirely believable) considering that the movie takes place in a VERY short period of time. Meanwhile Holdo... I’ve gone over my issues with her use in my ‘the last jedi critical’ tag plenty of times already, in particular in this post, so I won’t rehash my argument here.

I like these characters as concepts, but I don’t think the writing delivered well enough for them.

Likewise, my problem IS with Finn, who was the leading male character in The Force Awakens, is reduced to a comedic C-plot in TLJ, one that is, in effect, a plot cul-de-sac, a storyline that does nothing for the overall narrative - Finn and Rose run off to Canto Bight in search of the codebreaker, instead find A codebreaker and decide he’ll do, arrive too late on the First Order ship, their codebreaker betrays them, they escape... Nothing HAPPENED, on a plot level there, nothing that couldn’t have been achieved with Finn staying with the Resistance, or jumping straight to the infiltration - hell, that would have been MORE satisfying on a character level, considering his character arc in this trilogy started with him defecting.

And I also want to stop and bring up... TFA has him end critically injured, in a coma. TLJ does away with that in seconds - seconds that ALSO say that a coma patient got shoved into a storage closet, basically playing his injuries for laughs, even BEFORE we get to the matter of Rose tazing him. 

That tonal clash is a repeated problem - things that were treated reverently and seriously in prior movies get tossed aside, literally in the case of Rey holding out the lightsaber to Luke. 

Then there’s the matter of Kylo Ren. This movie cares most about his viewpoint. The problem being not just that this is our villain - there are plenty of films about villain protagonists. The problem is that he is elevated AT THE EXPENSE OF the other characters, the actual hero protagonists. See again, Finn dropped from leading man to comedic C-plot. See Rey, whose last encounter with Kylo Ren saw her dueling him to what would easily have been the death, because he critically injured Finn, the first person who came back for her, after spending TFA bringing up her parents who left her behind... In TLJ, she is trying to draw Kylo Ren back to the light, when she actually wouldn’t even be certain of his survival, considering she last saw him on Starkiller right before it blew up. Why does she CARE? Because the only half-decent answer is the Force bond forged by Snoke, which... You’re saying she cares because a bad guy is manipulating her.

The timeline of this movie is a confused and muddled mess - Rey’s story picks up right after TFA and explicitly lasts days, weeks probably, while the Resistance plot is a short time after TFA and with a running clock of sixteen hours before their fuel runs dry - sixteen hours for Finn and Rose to run off to Canto Bight and back. And then Rey SHOWS UP in the midst of that. 

I also have a problem with Yoda being the one to show up to Luke and talk about letting go of the Jedi Order, when his whole deal throughout the prequels was his failure to let go, and was still holding to those beliefs come ESB - if anything, this moment should have been between Luke and ANAKIN.

Ultimately, I would argue that, while TFA was flawed, TLJ only made those flaws worse while adding to them. TFA’s problems were writing without a plan, starting a handful of secondary plotlines that JJ Abrams didn’t go in with an answer - and KNEW he wouldn’t have to, since the original plan was rotating writers/directors for each movie in this trilogy. A mess of an idea if I ever heard one to begin with, but it was made worse by the decision of Rian Johnson to tell a story that outright dismissed matters that “didn’t fit” his story. He dropped plot elements he didn’t care about - the Knights of Ren - and cut down the ones he absolutely had to deal with but seemed to not be interested in - Snoke. The problem with that is that it makes the overall narrative of this trilogy completely out of whack and off center. 

On a writing level, the sequel trilogy has been a mess, one caused by a lack of a clear, consistent vision for where this trilogy (even the franchise) is going - say what you will about the prequels, at least it was all written by George Lucas, so things set up in one paid off in a later film. 

I won’t argue about the concept that “Star Wars needs to evolve to continue.” Hell, talk to me circa about 2005-2010, asking about the Legends novels, I’d have told that something needed to be done to bring the franchise out of the shadow of the original trilogy characters, that Luke, Han, and Leia weren’t being allowed to step back and let the next generation fully take the center stage (which, ironically, ended up being what the novel Crucible, which was pretty much the final Legends novel, had set the stage for...) 

But when I look at The Last Jedi, I see it evolving in a way that I found flew in the face of the franchise as a whole - this is a movie where the heroes take chances and lose. This is a story about the flaws of heroism. While I will grant that “subverting expectations” is something that viewers and reviewers grabbed on to more than anything said by the producers, this DOES subvert the expectations for what a Star Wars movie IS. Which... Honestly, feels like losing the plot to me.

At its heart, Star Wars is a space fantasy fairy tale. That’s why we have the Jedi versus Sith, good versus evil dynamic. Who are the Jedi, the Rebels, the Resistance? They are the good guys. Who are the Sith, the Empire, the First Order? They are the bad guys. There is no room in The Last Jedi for perfect heroes - all the heroes let us down in this movie.

Except... That’s not what I go into Star Wars FOR. That gritty realism isn’t Star Wars to me, and, bringing Legends back up again, that’s also where and when we see the most resistance to those stories, when the writers turned in that gritty “morally grey” direction where maybe the heroes aren’t so heroic and the villains have legitimate grievances that maybe they actually have a right to do what they’re doing. Even when I liked those stories, I could see how they would be polarizing. (One would think the people in charge at Lucasfilm would have, too, considering that many of them were surely involved in some degree at the time...)

To say nothing of the fact that, when this is the first time that the face of Star Wars consists of a woman in the center and people of color as the face of heroism the whole way through this major arc, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to say that these heroes fail, and particularly, fail at the level that they did - if TFA empowered a group of viewers, seeing Rey and Finn and Poe and Rose in the lead, acting as the heroes, how crushing do you think it is to then see them all fail SO. BADLY. in TLJ? 

I repeat myself, yes, absolutely this started with JJ Abrams, just going in without really knowing where he was going with it. But Rian Johnson managed to exacerbate it. This is a case of Franchise Original Sin, where the later stories can’t get away with what the previous ones did, this isn’t that TLJ did things inherently wrong. Just that for some people, the amount of those things happening in TLJ hit their tipping point and became problems they focused on, rather than problems they could ignore or excuse.

All of this is my very long winded way of saying that I hope that The Rise of Skywalker, having JJ Abrams back, at least allows some sense of narrative cohesion into the sequel trilogy, and that Episode IX ends up bringing together the fractured fandom. 

Look, let me hope about that, okay?