#i never been apart of a dead fanbase

[saiyuki-chainsmokers]

💚Hakkai x Gojyo fanfictions recommendations!❤️

Just Say Yes by EzraTheBlue

Gojyo has a question. Or two.

First and Third by EzraTheBlue

Hakkai is celebrating, but Gojyo's not sure why.

Belling the Kappa by EzraTheBlue

Hakkai wants things sometimes. At present, to put limiters on Gojyo and not to tell him that he needs them.

Simple Joys by opalmatrix

Gojyo's learning that the right company makes even the mundane joyful.

Careful by Kispexi2

Sanzo gives Gojyo some unexpected advice leading to some interesting consequences.

Bodies in Motion by AbsoluteNegation

Sometimes you have to stop seeing to start perceiving.

Unconditional by summerbutterfly

Hakkai is self-conscious about his looks, but to Gojyo, he'll always be hot

Once in a Blue by EzraTheBlue

Post-Burial Arc. Gojyo claims he gets a weird fever after hanging around youkai sometimes. Hakkai tries to tend to him, only to find out that he might be feeling the heat, too.

Nine-Tenths by theskywasblue

Hakkai is possessive

Hold On by andmydog

Hakkai uses sex to remind Gojyo he's not to run off again - set after the defeat of Kami-sama.

How Fortunate the Man with None by Rroselavy

Coming to terms with abandonment is not Gojyo's strong suit.

Vulnerability by stirlingrequiem

Hakkai wishes he could have absolute faith in Gojyo this time, just like he always has before. Gojyo has always been his rock, someone he can depend on without fail, but when the time comes for him to repay everything Gojyo’s done for him, will he have the strength for it?

Ante Up by Tru

It’s become another bet between them, and Hakkai has raised the stakes thinking Gojyo won’t call.

Tease by Marks

The new youkai mark licks across the back of Gojyo’s throat the same way Hakkai wants to. Is he jealous of the thing that might make Gojyo lose his mind? Well, maybe.

The Doctor by EzraTheBlue

Prompt fill: Gojyo - "I know you love me and all but stop threatening the doctor"

Flowers and Poetry by EzraTheBlue

Hakkai complains that Gojyo isn't putting enough effort into being romantic. Gojyo takes it to heart.

Impulse by devera

An enemy spell goes right, eventually.

Terminal Diagnosis (NOT a death fic) by Despina

Booze, poker, and women just can't hold Gojyo's interest like they used to and his old way of life seems to be dying. He knows why, but before he can accept it, he needs to work through a few issues.

Written on the Skin by emungere, louise_lux

Gojyo gets Hakkai's vines tattooed on him. Hakkai notices.

Killing Ourselves to Live by Rose Argent (roseargent)

Gojyo and Hakkai are drawn into trouble far bigger than they expected. When everything goes wrong, at least one thing goes surprisingly right.

Appreciation by Anna_Fiona

Hakkai and Gojyo spend an evening together and Hakkai realizes his lover has earned some well deserved appreciation.

Dwelling in This Place by kansouame

Gojyo and Hakkai do a little breaking and entering.

Twisting Desire by Despina

Youkai!Hakkai/Gojyo: semi-noncon, vine!sex, heat of the moment, adrenaline, post-fight - Gojyo had harbored fantasies, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for this.

Hearts Afire by Despina

Hakkai struggles emotionally with what Gojyo means to him in light of their previous tryst. Gojyo has had enough of Hakkai’s angst. Follow up to Twisting Desire.

Penultimate by RoAnshi

A serious injury received while fighting youkai reminds Gojyo of another painful incident from his past. Warnings for depictions of child abuse and canon based incest implications. Nongraphic 58.

Over The Moon by EzraTheBlue

Gojyo had a lot of dreams. Most of them died when his daughter was born.

He thought.

Type H by Kirathaune

Gojyo suddenly develops a "type" - could it be for ...brunettes with green eyes?

Demons Dreaming by Briarwolf (Tru)

Gojyo has never really been the type to have pleasant dreams, but he comes to find that maybe it's just that the good ones don't come while he's asleep.

Down from the Red Hills by opalmatrix

When a limiter-less Hakkai chases some fleeing youkai into the hills and doesn't return, Gojyo goes after him. The journey back is much longer than he ever expected.

Pose by Ukoku2012

Walking back in, Gojyo was greeted with a sight that would have made a classical painter weep and scramble for their supplies: Hakkai half stretched out on his front, arms draped across the pillow with his head nestled between them. The lines of his back practically begged the eye to follow them down to where his ass was slipping out from the covers that were tangled around his legs. "Oh, we are not getting out of bed today," Gojyo growled, almost sprinting across the room.

Then Hakkai opened his one visible eye and Gojyo staggered from the disorienting wave of deja vu.

Flash in the Pan by theskywasblue

Gojyo hates washing dishes

Accidental Innocence by Crescentium

Hakkai and Gojyo have lived together for quite some time without actually living together, as it were. It does not mean they have not thought about it. There are accidents, and then there are accidents, and Gojyo might say "Bullshit."

Akin to Admiration or, Hakkai is a Jealous Bastard by tropicsbear

Shān had never been turned down by a man before. Ever. She wasn’t about to let this one get away.

Fire at Midnight by opalmatrix

Their adventuring days were over and that was just fine with Gojyo. Or so he thought.

Fanning the Spark by opalmatrix

A day of play in the fresh snow turns into something serious — and eventually, something else entirely.

Until Something by jedishampoo

After their bout with the Seiten Taisei, Hakkai and Gojyo move into a new kind of relationship.

Keeping Up Appearances by AbsoluteNegation

Two years after the end of the Journey, Gojyo and Hakkai might just be the two people they know least actively involved in getting the two of them together.

Care and Keeping of Your Kappa by EzraTheBlue

What if Gojyo is reverted to a more feral nature under the influence of the Minus Wave? Hakkai must draw on whatever resources he has to maintain his favorite kappa's health and well-being in order to keep him sane until a solution is found. Minor spoilers for recent chapters.

found a place to rest my head by Nakimochiku

"Do you ever feel like something's missing?"

"Something? Like what?"

(Or, the Happy Ending AU where Gojyo and Hakkai get jobs, get married, and adopt children)

There Needs No Ghost by Daegaer

Sanzo has a job for Gojyo and Hakkai. Unfortunately Hakkai has left Gojyo to his own devices, and has gone ghost hunting for some peace and quiet.

A Question of Trust by Sharpeslass

It's Gojyo's birthday, but he's not the only one in for some surprises.

Lauds by Nakimochiku

Hakkai's god is of the body, so he worships him with his body.

Wherever I Find Myself by louise_lux

"This place is a dump," Gojyo said, looking around.

He wasn't wrong. The unmistakable smell of mould curled through the rooms. The floorboards creaked and groaned under every step. The kitchen had been ransacked. Every pot and pan and plate—some of them still containing dried crusts of what had once presumably been food—had been pulled from the tables and cupboards and onto the floor. Clothes were flung about the bedroom; they lay collapsed on the rotting rugs like dead bodies, all covered in dust.

The owner, Mr Chan, stood next to Hakkai. He had a sooty black mole on his bald head. It wasn't a youkai mark. "The last people left in a hurry. I couldn't find any one to rent during the—bad time." He darted his gaze away from Hakkai and fixed it on the mess on the floor.

"It'll take a lot of cleaning," Hakkai said. "I like it."

Proving It by aeternum_vale

As the journey draws near the end, Hakkai and Gojyo finally feel they are different people willing to say what they need to.

The Sinews of the Heart by theskywasblue

Hakkai always assumed he would be the one to go mad.

The World Through a Monocle by Nadare

When one discussion between a pair of friends crosses a line, would you embrace that new change or disregard it? Vague spoilers for Saiyuki Gaiden.

1001 by macavitykitsune

A death sends Hakkai down the path of déja vu and a thousand deaths, but the ending might not be the same.

Negative Movement by Sylvia

Gojyo's been feeling kinda off for a couple days or so. Turns out it's not the flu.

A Momentary Lapse of Reason by Rroselavy

Hakkai does a bad, bad thing. Can Gojyo forgive him?

The Best Medicine by theskywasblue

Hakkai helps Gojyo trade pain for pleasure.

Jealous of Your Cigarette by TJ_Dragonblade

Gojyo's smoking inspires Hakkai

Simple Pleasures by theskywasblue

Sha Gojyo is a simple man.

The Bottom Line by opalmatrix

Gojyo needs some new jeans. Hakkai's going to make sure they get their money's worth.

Proof by emungere

Gojyo/Hakkai, knifeplay or whipping – Hakkai begging reluctant Gojyo to tie him down and hurt him.

One of Those Things by scribblemoose

Playing Doctor by TJ_Dragonblade

Healer Hakkai and Gojyo with a minor wound...

You Can Bend, or You Can Break by Viridian5

Waking up after his youkai fight with Seiten Taisei after Goku’s nearly fatal shooting, Hakkai asks Gojyo for some information and makes some conclusions.

Bound by ehvul_butterfly (summerbutterfly)

Gojyo/Hakkai: bondage - Perhaps it was a bit extreme, but he was tired of Gojyo whoring around without even noticing him.

Need by Sylvia

Sha Gojyo isn't what anyone needs, really. Or is he?

Distant Relations by Sylvia

"Well, well," the water-imp said, a distinct hint of condescension in his tone. "What a surprise."

Rest in Pieces, or What a rescue Ent(r)ails by AbsoluteNegation

One take on what might have happened in the immediate aftermath of Hakkai's daring rescue of Gojyo in the Burial arc. A bit of romance, a touch of humour, and a lot of blood.

Tenacious by Lady_Ganesh

Things don't always go easily on the journey back home.

Other Nights Than This by theskywasblue

Gojyo wonders about the past.

Reflections by Kirathaune

A much-needed haircut gives Gojyo an opportunity to discover something about himself... and Hakkai, too. Minor spoilers for Blast Volume 3.

Déjà Vu by AluraGayle

Even with his limiters in place, Hakkai still battles for control. Sometimes, he can slip.

Home from the Sea, Home from the Hill by emungere

Hakkai is weird.

This, Gojyo feels, is something that people tend to forget. Even Sanzo seems to take Hakkai at face value more often than not, and Hakkai's face always shows the same value. Gojyo knows better.

The Lesson by Lady_Ganesh

Gojyo and Hakkai spend some time in the classroom.

Take the Chill Out by theskywasblue

Gojyo still remembers long winters when he shivered relentlessly, wore every piece of clothing he owned, and smoked to stay warm - felt like that was the only thing there was to do - but these days his joints ache in the deep winter; he’d rather be warm than look like a tough guy.

💚Hakkai x Gojyo❤️x🖤Tenpou x Kenren💜

As it is in heaven by chibi_zoe

The actions of Earth are merely a reflection of the actions in Heaven.

Red Wine Celebration by GloriousGoblinQueen

Kenren gets Tenpou something special for his birthday. A little over 500 years later, something similar occurs.

🖤Tenpou x Kenren💜

Beauty by Lady_Ganesh

The Field Marshal watches his General.

Echoes of a Red Chamber Dream by summerbutterfly

Away from the pressures of Heaven, Tenpou dreams.

The Courtship of Tenpou Gensui by MistressRenet

Kenren knows exactly what he wants. Tenpou resists, for a while.

on your knees, general by antikytheras

Kenren accidentally proposes.

No Me Without You by opalmatrix

When Kenren is seriously injured, Tenpou comes face to face with his feelings about "that person."

The Nature of the Rose by opalmatrix

Sometimes, explanations are helpful. This is not one of those times.

Just like this, forever by ItsAiryBro

Kenren has needs, and Tenpou loves to satisfy them

The Pencil Is Mightier by HelenaHandbasket

"Oftentimes, one can gain the upper hand by simply encouraging the opponent's body to continue in the direction it is naturally inclined to go."

I'm 10 years late, guys, but I'm ready to be a part of this fandom!

[sare11aa11eras]

I know I post intermittently abt the basketball AU of ASOIAF that lives in my head rent free but anyways the women’s college basketball season in the US just ended and I really do have some thoughts:

Sansa Stark 6’3” and kind of stacked she SHOULD be a post player but has never once driven to the basket in her LIFE. Somehow manages to make up for this in sheer volume of 3 pointers. Keeps getting compared to her mom who was the most terrifying power forward you ever saw in the Riverlands 20-something years ago despite the fact that there is almost nothing in common with their game styles.

Arya Stark, guard, has a really sweet mid-range game that everyone always forgets about but she’s got like 18 points in 28 min, makes about 5 steals a game. Unfortunately, gets in foul trouble. Keeps getting compared to Jon which drives her nuts.

Robb, went to the Westerosi National Basketball League at like 18, but before the championship game, the coach of an opposing team got a second coach to get players to deliberately injure him during a game. Somehow he got called for a technical foul on this. Ended his career in professional sports.

Dany, 5’6”, floor general and sharpshooter. Regularly beats defenders with more than half a foot on her to rebounds. Plays internationally full-time but her highlight reels still end up on Westerosi ESPN bc her family was at one point a dynasty in the basketball world. 90% of her instagram page is her with her three lizards.

Brienne is the Post Player’s Post Player— always boxes out, gets the rebound, blocks shots, drives etc, impeccable footwork. And then she also hits from distance and can guard. Cersei, the aging vet on the Lannisport Lions, wants her dead for once committing SEVEN blocks on her in a game when she was a rookie. Currently coached by Cat for the Riverlands Fighting Trout. There is a not insignificant fanbase of lesbians who want her to crush their heads with her thighs online but she is tragically into disgraced ex-Lions player Jaime Lannister who keeps bumming around the Riverlands for unclear reasons.

<insert that one post about Aeron Greyjoy as a basketball player here>

Jon Snow has been fouled out of games with technicals. He has never made a basket apart from a fast break layup or a free throw— except for like, two separate years??? where he got his team to the semifinals through a buzzer beater logo 3????? Somehow the undisputed defensive player of the year, the most universally loathed player in his conference, beloved by his own team, and a guy who once went viral for a video of him crying on his girlfriend after HER team lost while she just sort of patted his head.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

here have a medley of miscellaneous timeskip pro team headcanons bc WOW i haven't posted in a while and this is my only stress outlet other than binging new series <3333

starting off strong with ejp raijin LET'S GOOOOOO

washio 🫱��‍🫲🏼suna 🫱🏼‍🫲🏼komori: being EXHAUSTED from carrying the pro team world on their backs

no no i'm kidding. mostly

they keep a tally of other pro team matches in which their former teammates go up against each other and are REALLY smug if their respective teammate wins. which means you get shit like this

komori, cheerfully: "so how about that hornets v falcons game last night, huh?" suna: "oh shut UP tell iizuna tsukasa that aran-san could kick his ass any day of the week you little SHIT - "

they ARE united on the jackals front tho. all three of them want the adlers to go down HARD.

is suna nursing a grudge against ushijima from high school? yeah. is he ever going to get over it? probably not.

only komori feels bad bc he is fond of kageyama, but, hey, family's family

they ask washio why he hates the adlers and he looks them dead in the eyes and goes "hoshiumi kourai . . . he is a man that requires constant vigilance"

actually wait i know we all saw everyone watching and talking about the game (which makes me wanna cry SO bad) but god. how fucking funny would it be if players from monster gen convinced everyone else on their very professional and very mature teams to take sides

ejp raijin captain, who's been friends with hirugami fukurou for like ten years: "okay so explain to me again why we need to blow our entire team budget on jackals merch when we're not even going to the goddamn game?" komori: "well, it started on a cloudy but beautifully crisp spring day in 2012 - "

SPEAKING OF TACHIBANA RED FALCONS

hakuba joins the team, sees aran, and IMMEDIATELY starts texting the old kamomedai group chat

altho tbh i don't think there's no way that the "who-from-where-made-WHAT-pro-team" news never breaches the high school circuit. like come ON you know everyone's keeping up with the third year stars when they graduate

by the time the first years are third years they've got everyone pinned down on a fucking MAP. they have a shared file where they update each other on EVERYTHING. it's way less creepy than it sounds they're just a really passionate bunch okay!!!!

well that AND they can't help but brag about their amazing upperclassmen

okay sorry back to it. so it really goes more like

hakuba: "HOLY SHIT OJIRO ARAN FROM INARIZAKI IS HERE" suwa: "hakuba, we already knew that. i linked the article when it first dropped, remember?" hakuba: "yeah but it's still so WEIRD like it's OJIRO ARAN from INARIZAKI" hoshiumi: "lol atsumu told me he talks in his sleep, go find out if it's true"

aran actually does recognize hakuba mostly because gin paid him a compliment ONE (1) time and then aran had to listen to atsumu complain incessantly about the "stupid wall of muscle with stupid hair and his stupid height and stupid arms" ever since

ALSO. i think people get hakuba and hyakuzawa mixed up a lot. they've both got a similar height and build and hairstyle and play the same position

(not to mention the similar backstories)

it becomes a running joke throughout the pro leagues and makes for a fun time with falcons v warriors matches

in the event of a hyakuhina hookup (which i feel like actually could happen) they somehow get onto the topic of "haha it'd be even harder to tell them apart with your eyes closed!" and hinata, without thinking, goes "well, i probably could" and everyone is like "WHAT"

he digs himself an even deeper hole by saying "no, i just meant - i know hyakuzawa's body really well!!!" and everyone immediately starts screaming

poor hyakuzawa is dying on the inside

i think shibayama (MY BELOVED) kind of occasionally forgets that he also has his own fanbase and is sort of semi-famous as the libero of tokai heavy industries esperanza bc. he knows kenma and yaku and lev and komi and yamamoto and fukunaga and, in general, a bunch of people that he believes are much more well-known than he is

he's always so flattered whenever someone stops him in the street to ask for a pic or when he sees posts online gushing about him

this is extra funny bc he never talks about his friends like they're famous so all of his teammates don't really know that shibayama is friends with all these other famous people

and then one of them, an avid kodzuken fan, spams their group chat when kodzuken's newest video is released and shibayama shows up in it

they're like "SHIBAYAMA!! HOW COME YOU NEVER TOLD US THAT YOU'RE FRIENDS WITH KODZUKEN??" and shibayama is like "i have?? i talk about kenma-san all the time??" and they're like "YOU'RE TELLING ME KODZUKEN IS THE SAME KENMA-SAN WHO RIPPED HIS HIGH SCHOOL JERSEY TRYING TO JUMP OVER A FENCE???"

(shibayama's second year. they'd been dealing with things. it worked out, in the end. even if they had to lie to nekomata and naoki about why all their jerseys ended up with holes in them.)

i love the pro teams you guys they're so fucking funny

[everywishway]

So I want to talk about the Legend of Vox Machina, Season Three Finale, but more specifically what it means for the coming spinoff(ish) season based on the second campaign, The Mighty Nein. If you haven't watched the newest episodes of season three or don't want MAJOR spoilers for TM9, don't continue on to under the cut.

Spoilers for the ending of TLVM S3 and the entirety of TM9:

Okay, I want to specifically talk about what this means for the VERY fucking controversial finale of M9. Those who were there remember it well, especially me, because the INSANE fighting that came out of nowhere ruined CR for me.

For those who don't know, instead of bringing back Mollymauk Tealeaf, Taliesin made a new character out of Molly's dead corpse and it really rubbed a lot of fans the wrong way. Some were all for it (but from my experience, that was a rare minority), a lot were against it and an even larger group didn't like it but said "this is Taliesin's character, he gets to do what he wants". The fanbase kind of tore itself apart from the inside, esp on Twitter, Youtube, and a little on here but not as bad. Honestly, the whole thing killed a large part of the fandom and that's part of the reason why a lot of people fell off with Campaign 3/Bells Hells.

While I have my own opinions on the finale, I'm not going to share them here but this choice will probably be rectified in the M9 animated series.

TLVM seems to be trying to fix story issues, esp big ones that upset fans or didn't flow narratively which was almost certainly what Molly's/Kingsley's revival was for the greater Critter fanbase back in 2021. People (including me) had been watching for literal months back then, waiting to see if Molly was revived or not, then a sudden third thing happened that upset the majority of the fanbase.

I think a large part of that choice was Taliesin kinda hating Molly? More specifically he hated the popularity Molly got. Molly was a fan favorite, even after his death and people just wanted more of him even tho he was long replaced by Caduceus after Molly's death. I think Taliesin was just, done with Molly at that point.

Plus, it looked like at that time he wasn't enjoying Critical Role as much, Taliesin seems to wish CR never got as big as it did. He wanted it to stay small, something between him and his friends.

In a recent interview, Sam said he didn't have the fight that drove Scanlan away from Vox Machina because it didn't fit narratively in the show or really even in the podcast. I can see Taliesin having that moment of clarity within the past three years. He can see as a writer, as a director, as a storyteller, that choice upset the fans (and probably his fucking castmates, ngl). This is the chance to undo the damage a lot of people had but that's the cast's choice.

Do I think this is set in stone? No, I can totally see it going the same way it does in the campaign, and dear god, I don't want to deal with that toxic hellhole the fandom became back then. But this is what I think will happen. If you have any ideas or comments, feel free to reblog.

[serpyserper56]

TPOT 12 Spoilers:

In Defense of My Two Favorites

Hello to everyone reading this post. I'm pretty small in the community, like speck sized, and the reach of this will probably be pretty low. The chances you readers agree will be even lower, which I'm not blaming you for at all. I just want to make a case for the two characters I've been obsessed with since the beginning.

Since I started watching, Tennis Ball and Pillow have been my two favorite characters, and it's not even close. I wouldn't say I relate to them, but I kind of connect to them, if that makes any sense. I've loved them, their ship dynamics (pillowbook is dead in the water and tengolf is looking rough too,) and I needed to say this to show you how important this is to me.

The last thing I want to say is that this isn't a knock against other characters, this is purely a defense of my characters. I may bring up other characters, but my central goal is to make my favorites safe. With all of this said, here I go.

I'll start with Tennis Ball because I'm less worried about him. Not that I don't care, but he's built up more of a fanbase and has had plenty of screen time. But everyone on that team has gotten a new arc or into some sort of situation.

Pen and Needle have their thing together, Bottle has her thing with Eraser, Basketball is going to find out what One is up to, and TV was used this episode as... Kind of a prop, if that makes any sense. However, I think that TB's dynamic without Golf Ball could be incredibly interesting, as well as seeing new character from him we've never seen before. In addition, seeing him lead a team on his own is entirely new and I believe it's going to be awesome.

Now, it's time to talk about Pillow. Pillow has received maybe the most hate of any character recently. I see people coming together and voting the other contestants not to save them, but to eliminate her, which feels kind of against the point. People write entire lists and paragraphs on how character is bad and it seems like a lot. But why?

She's been put up for elimination 3 times in a row now, which is just absurd. Her character in TPOT 9 was, admittedly, not great. However, I will say she believed that was the challenge, so why would she do anything else?

However, TPOT 10 redeemed her character. She was set on doing good things and helping people, but there was still also the hint of her old character (such as when she thinks good deeds are "lame" and then comes around at the end) and they put her UFE anyway.

So what did they give her this episode? Nothing. She got 37 words and 4 actual lines. I realize they have to fit every single character in, but they didn't even give her anything to say about her almost getting eliminated (again!) or being taken apart from Book and Taggy. Her one (1) scene where she actually got to do something felt rushed and it led to her team losing the challenge (again.)

There hasn't even been an opportunity for her to grow her character like we saw in BFB, and this leads to so many more people not liking her. It feels kind of unfair and it hurts to see. She deserved more time to develop and grow from TPOT 10, and she was given absolutely none of it. Instead, they took her away from the dynamics she already had, and she didn't have any time to develop with them this episode either, so now she's stuck in a dead zone. It feels unfair and wrong.

Who's gonna listen to this? IDK. No one, probably. But if you read this far, I appreciate it, and thank you.

[gralunaisland]

Gruvians saying juvia has had a "tremendous amount of growth since joining Fairy Tail" never fail to make me laugh. Happy had more character development than her. Also, they really should look up the definition of 'obsessive', because she literally embodies that word. Honestly there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray. I guess the main reason she's popular is because she's 'attractive'? I really don't see any other reason this kind of character would have such a massive fanbase.

Examples of juvia Lacking Character Growth, and Why People Might Like her

This is the oldest ask I have at the moment, so thank you very much for your patience, Anon, and I apologize that I haven't been able to answer this in a while!

I agree with you on all points! You made some great ones. I'll respond to each!

It's pretty hilarious that some Pro gr///vians truly believe that juvia is a much, if at all, better person now than who she was before. she seriously hasn't gotten any less obsessive over the years. If anything, I believe the more we see of her, the more she gets worse. Anyway, I could probably pick apart any instance of "character development" that a Pro might try to use as proof. Here's a couple:

juvia killing herself for Gray? Look no further than this post of mine where I explain this in more detail. she lacks utter agency and will to live outside of Gray, so her life is quite literally worthless to her if she doesn't have Gray, and therefore it's not her being selfless in taking her self-made-meaningless life when she didn't have a self in the first place.

juvia apologizing to Gray for killing the necromancer who controlled Gray's already dead dad? I've already picked apart how that was utter manipulation and disingenuousness on her part in many of my posts, so I'll summarize here:

First, juvia never actually apologizes (literally, go back and read the panels, she never ONCE said even something as simple as SORRY).

Second, juvia makes everything about herself by saying essentially "I don't deserve to love you anymore", as if this had ANYTHING to do with her "love" of Gray when in reality all it had to do with was her doing her FRICKING DUTY by KILLING THE ENEMY. What's more, she's sobbing in that scene not because of any sympathy for Gray losing his father again. she's literally only doing that because she feels she's somehow lost Gray's good graces, that by doing this she doesn't get to give her abusive love to Gray anymore, that she's somehow lost her nonexistent chance to be with him. This scene should not have been about her at all, and yet of course, she's only focusing on the one thing that is in her life, her obsession with Gray against his wishes.

Third, she also stalked him to Silver's grave. Gray didn't tell anyone about it, and yet of course she follows him without his permission or knowledge as per usual. To her, Gray has no right to privacy.

Fourth, her pseudo-apology (which again wasn't one) went right out the window (she literally starts blushing and stops crying and hugs him and says he's warm. Uh. Crocodile tears anyone? Clearly all she cares about is skin-ship with her Gray-sama. she didn't look the least bit concerned that he was crying) once Gray clasped her, breaking down into tears and apologizing to her. What did he do??? she's really broken him so badly that she manages to make her "uwu I'm so sad I don't get to uwu love you anymore" into the most heartbreaking heartfelt apology Gray's ever heard. That amount of emotional and psychological manipulation, even if not on purpose, is absolutely despicable. she's making him feel EVEN WORSE. Remember, Gray is at his father's grave, and she doesn't care. she invades his private time for grieving and centers everything on her abusive passion for him. And Gray is too screwed up to realize how awful of a human being she is for doing so. she's literally making her self-imposed guilt more important than his trauma and making it his problem. I cannot overstate how horrible that is. she doesn't feel bad for Gray grieving his dad or even crying right now in front of her whatsoever, because now that Gray's made it clear that he doesn't hold her accountable for killing the evil necromancer, she has no reason to feel sad anymore. she never once felt real guilt, she just mourned what she was losing. This is the same thing as a kid only apologizing to their mom for breaking a vase just so they can go to that birthday party they wanted to attend. her "apology" was a means to an end, and she absolutely obtained that end.

Fifth, and one of the most damning things against her in this scene, and that's saying a lot, juvia doesn't change her behavior at all after this pathetic excuse of an apology. Throughout the rest of the story, she continues her unwanted, extreme, intrusive behavior towards Gray. she doesn't change one darn thing about how she treats him. (And it continues all the way even through 100YQ [which of course I don't include in the FT canon, but Pros do, so I shall include it here], only from what I've seen, which thankfully isn't much, it may somehow be even worse). If she were really sorry, she would've decided to stop loving Gray regardless of if he forgave her. she didn't take any convincing that what she did was guiltless. I can't believe (but I can because it's juvia we're talking about here) that she wouldn't take any of the meager amount of time that she felt bad to self-reflect on how her actions have negatively affected Gray. Whom am I kidding, that would require character growth, and we all who aren't blind can tell that she's had absolutely none beyond leaving Phantom Lord, and even that was just because she had a crush on Gray, not because she wanted to apologize to FT or Lucy for all the egregious things she did to them.

If anyone has other instances they want me to break down, feel free to comment them or send me an ask! I don't want to make this impossibly long haha.

Anyway, onto your next point, Anon, as I sort of mentioned when linking my other post, I totally agree with you that "there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray". I would even go as far as to argue that there isn't anything to her character beyond her perverted tendencies towards him. Literally, if you strip Gray away from her theoretically, what is she? she has no hobbies, she basically has no friends whom she's gone out of her way to make and hang out with (because yes, Mashima made the stupid move of making all the girls in FT like her for literally zero reason because she's been hostile to most of them on the basis of Gray), she has no motivations or hopes and dreams. she is nothing without Gray. she is the definition of a "satellite character", a character written to only revolve around another one with no agency of their own. Don’t forget, she even began to adopt Gray’s habit (and perhaps trauma coping mechanism) of stripping. she lacks THAT much self that she begins to turn into the guy she likes. Wow. Disgusting.

Onto your last point, I think I'd agree with you, that a big reason why juvia is popular is just because people like how she looks. But she's the very typical slim-curvy woman with a huge chest and butt and giant eyes that Mashima loves to draw. There's nothing wrong with that body type, but it's not like she looks that different from anyone else in the show because of that, especially since she kept changing her looks to try to get Gray to like her and literally grew her hair out and stopped curling it to look more like Lucy, someone who is Gray's type canonically. she even starts to show more skin like the others, a far cry from the completely covered up Rain Woman. Perhaps they like her color scheme or her dead-fish eyes as well. I couldn't understand it myself, but to each their own really.

I personally thought that the biggest reason why people liked her was because they projected themselves onto her. juvia does what juvia wants, completely self-centered in every way, ignoring Gray's consent, and yet she still comes out on top, having secured poor Gray's affections by the time of 100YQ thanks to Mashima's poor writing. juvia acts however she wants towards other people, snarling and glaring and insulting other women in Gray's life to their faces just because of her inane jealousy, and yet she somehow ends up every single girl’s friend. juvia acts insane and delusional and has only eyes for one man, and yet she gets other people to hit on her all the time, most notably Lyon.

Who wouldn't want to act completely selfishly like juvia does and still gain everything you desire? Who wouldn't want to ignore everyone else's needs and wants and only care about yourself and still get all the attention and all the power and all the love and all the friends and all your dreams come true?

Sounds like such an easy, fun life, huh? But it's a totally self-absorbed and awful way to live, and it's exactly how juvia lives.

My guess is that people use her as a self-insert character and root for her in their own stead, but I think that's very subconscious, and most wouldn't admit to that. Otherwise, I would really love to see how people justify her behavior as laudable, but then again, I have seen those attempts, and none of them have made any real logical sense to me.

All in all, thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask! I hope I answered it properly, and I appreciate you waiting so long!

[scripted-downfall]

*RISES FROM THE DEAD* OMG HI ITS RAMBLING ANON I'M BACK!

OK so I have to ask... Why is Jensen and Jared MaxiPadalecki's PR teams so adamant about trying to convince everyone that they still are like brothers when they're clearly not? And trust me, it SHOWS. They can honestly just say "Yeah we don't hang anymore." And I'm sure there will be some fans (like us) who will not be surprised. Friends drift apart, it happens. It's not the end of the world. Tho we all know why J2 isn't not a thing anymore and it's bc of Jared's abysmal behavior. Matter of fact, notice how anybody who gets close to Jared drifts off and away from him after a period of time except for a handful of people...

Hello!  Welcome back :)  I’ve been off Tumblr — or at least spotty — for a bit now myself, so good timing on your return!

Yeah, I don’t really know.  I mean, I confess that I don’t spend much time on the real-life bits of Supernatural (or any show) and that most of what I hear stems from those around me — especially my closest fandom friend… whose name I’m not dropping as a line of defense against stan harassment (those who spend much time on my profile can probably guess who I mean though) — but J2 really doesn’t come across as genuine friendship, much less brotherhood.  I’ve never had much taste for bts stuff, and I’ve lost most of the little I did have.  

I have, however, seen some of their con photos, conversations, etc, and those don’t seem very natural; similarly, much of what I hear about their interactions in general is very… performative?  I guess?  I’d expect much more closeness if they were actually friends.  The most recent example is from that string of show renewals and cancellations: if I were close friends with someone who just got big news like that — whether positive or negative — I’d respond to that with either congratulations or commiserations well-nigh immediately.  (I’d certainly not wait almost a week — that is, from 11 May to 16 May — before posting a save-the-show hashtag.  Maybe that’s just me.)  And nor is this the only example of the performative closeness, natural distance to which I refer, so the argument that “eh, they’re busy, it doesn’t mean anything” doesn’t hold much water long-term, even if it’s accurate in this particular case.

Pragmatically, I’d wager that the brother dynamic is an attempt to play to the show’s perceived fanbase, and that’s why the bts brotherhood is being played up.  It doesn’t make much sense to me — from what I’ve seen, it feels like most of the fandom is fractured between them anyway; I recognize that this is only my experience and not true in its entirety, but I only ever run into people who love Jared and those who hate him, and there’s rarely a middle ground — but that’s the impression I’ve gotten from the PR.

I honestly think it’s backfiring though.  I mean, it just comes across as fake and duplicitous, and I feel like they should both just cut their losses and, as you described it, drift apart.  It happens, and I tend to feel that trying to avoid that just makes things worse for all involved.  (And yeah, I certainly cannot defend JarPad’s actions and I don’t even know him/have any stake in it, to the point that I can just ignore him for the most part; I can’t imagine having to deal with him in close-quarters like a “brotherhood”, friendship, or even just as colleagues.)

Anyway… I feel like I’m rambling at this point, so I’ll wrap it up… It was good to hear from you again, and thanks for the ask!  I hope this answer was decent enough, and all the best until next time!

However, before I completely wrap up, a message to any stan who might be reading this… I recognize that much of the above is freely admitted to be speculation.  All of those statements are marked as such.  Don’t come at me about stuff I outright admitted myself.  I also recognize that I’m posting this and not being the kindest person ever to JarPad.  This is because I dislike him.  You are not going to change my mind with threats or slurs.  You are definitely not going to change my mind by cowering behind the anonymous ask feature.  I will report anon asks of this nature if I have to.  Cheers :)

[thelegend2t]

"The Day The Fandom Died", a a parody of American Pie by Don McLean, for what's left of the Centricide Fandom

Here's the song itself if you want to read along with it

A long, long time ago I can still remember how that madman Used to make us smile

And I knew if I had a choice To go back to join the fandoms voice And maybe make them happy for a while

But the state of decay makes me shiver This realization it delivers Bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take this fandoms death I can't remember if I cried When I realized the death of Centricide But something touched me deep inside The day this fandom died

So, bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Making comics of the balls, it was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

Did you watch the extreme man? And do you recall being a fan? of that anti-centrist guy?

Now, were you subscribed to PCM? And were watching with the rest of them? And, can he teach us, politics, through show

Well, I know that we were watching him The anti-centrist's rose on PCM Political Compass Memes Man I digged that subreddits dreams

I then was lonely, teenaged, watching' Jreg Fan of PCM and it's creative heads That subreddit's now lying dead Pushing to the far right

I started singin', bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Making comics of the balls, it was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

And for years now, we've been on our own The fandom dead, with the fans alone But that's not how it used to be

When the woman Grej started Realicide When the AU's went and grew in size In a voice that came from them and me

Oh, and whileit was being produced His editor then sought to abuse The fanartist of Grej Realicide was then dead

And the fanbase saw that this was stark Fan-projects then all fell apart Left forgotten in the dark That's how the fandom died

We were singin', bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Making AU's of the story was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

Jritter, Jrumblr, all took a tumble The fandom left, Geuvara had fumbled The fandom left and it left fast Even felt foul in our hands Even I tried to go move past With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

Now, the stagnant air, it smelled of rot As the AU's of yore I watched They all tried once to dance Oh, but they never got the chance

'Cuz their makers went and left the field The projects tales were made to yield We all recalled what was revealed The day, the fandom died

We started singin', bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Making AU's of the story was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

Oh, and there I was all in one place A comic artist sans that space With no way to start it again

So, come on, I'll draw quickly, I'll draw balls I drew, for himself and you all 'Cause drawing was TheLegend's only friend

Oh, and as I watched this fandoms stage My hands were clenched in fists of rage

No fandom sent into Hell Could break that Satan spell And as the flames climbed high into the night To light the sacrificial rite I sat there saddened at stories plight Of how our fandom died

I started singin', bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Making AU's of the story was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

I knew the girl who had started Grej And I talked to her soon after the end But she just said it's better this way

I went where the projects were stored Where I'd loved their stories long before But then fate said that those stories couldn't stay

And in my mind I went and screamed The lover cried, the poet dreamed But not a word was spoken The links they all were broken

And the woman I admire most Took down reuploads of her posts Now I'm still here amongst the ghosts Of the, fandom, that died

I whispered singing, bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Seeing AU's of the story was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die We will make all the centrists die"

I'm here singin', bye-bye, Fandom of Centricide Seeing AU's of the story was the wildest ride Those good ol' jokes about the man who would rise Singin', "We will make all the centrists die

[nonesensegibberish]

Nine months

I guess my last post was nine months ago, or thereabouts. To make it easier for future-me: 9/21/24 is the current date. Do you remember? The 21st night of September? Im still alive. I wanted to say 'despite my best efforts', but that wouldn't be true. I've managed to keep from having any new attempts. Not even any cutting. Its good. I should be happy about that. I dunno. I feel like I should be happier. Thats what I was coming here to mumble and whine about. I'm better than I once was, truely. I'm doing more and more often... Maybe not in comparison to january. Maybe I was better in january... But I think I'm better than I was january of LAST year, at the very least. I have more friends than I once did, and closer ones at that. Ones that I dont feel like a burden around. I have FANS. Can you believe that? Honest-to-god *fans*. It feels like I should be closer to what I've always dreamed- than I ever have been before. So why do I still feel empty? I'm running out of HRT. My insurance is gone. I'm having to use crypto to buy DIY estrogen over a shady website. But some people, kind as can be, have chipped in to help me pay for it. God- the entire MONTH of august- I was given so much by people who are so kind. I gave incentive, sure. I made it feel like a transaction for my own sanity. But still. People liked me THAT much. So why do I feel unloved and useless? I'm 'working'. I'm doing decent things. I'm helping where I can. So why am I still a failure? I dont know. It feels like I'll never be meaningfully happy. It feels like nothing will ever truely go alright, or if it does I wont ever be able to appreciate it. It hasn't been all roses. This entire year has felt like non-stop strain and suffering. My dog is dead. My grandpa is dead. We have a new dog who I cant find it in me to love. My family is falling apart. I continue to be a drain, who cant work to save her life. I don't know. It feels like the slightest things set me off, now. A slamming door, a raised voice. I nearly exploded and broke down just from dropping some food. I'm getting constant headaches and tiredness. I don't know. I just want it to stop. I want things to go alright for a little while. I'll live. I will. I just hate myself sometimes, and this life I live. I want everything to be better. The happy days feel so temporary and slight. It is what it is. I dont know what I even am saying anymore. I dont know what the point of all this was- if it had one. I just want to scream into the void, but I don't want to bother anyone. Having a fanbase is kind of hard. I want to say things. I want to scream from the rooftops. I want to be allowed to be vulerable and drop my guard. I want to be able to vent my frustrations publicly. Thats why this is here, I guess. I don't know why you're reading this. In all likelyhood- no one else ever will. But YOU still are, me. You'll read this later down the line- some other day. Why. What do you get out of it? Will you be looking on with pity? Will you be a better person than I am right now? Will you be sad for the life you used to live? Or will you be looking with anger and frustration? Annoyed as I suck on my silver spoon, and cry at the taste of it? Is it worse? Are you worse off? Is life even harder? I hope it isn't. Im so sorry if it is. You deserve love. We both do. I hope Lexi is still tolerating us. I hope mom is always going to be healthy. I hope dad is better. I hope our friends still are our friends. I hope that you aren't the me that looks on with envy at who I am right now. I'm sorry that I'm not better. I'm sorry. I want to be, but I'm weak. Too weak. I want to be appreciative of what I have, but its never enough.

Do you still like Porter Robinson and tabletop games? Do you still have Jack, and Liz, and Sarah, and all the others? Do you love yourself? I hope you do. I hope you are everything I wish to be. ... If you're reading this, and you aren't me...? Well... Then I'm sorry. That must have been meaningless to you. But it cant be any less meaningful than any of the rest of this, can it...? I don't know. Maybe you get something out of it. Maybe it somehow helps. I hope it does. I hope you're doing okay, whoever you are. I hope the world is kind to you. I hope the world is kind to all of us.

Goodbye for now. Maybe I'll see you in 9 to 10 more months.

-A thing which is... 20% or 50% dying.

[jaythelay]

Dump lost by like 7 mil last time and 2.5mil before that.

Even after this I guarantee he's gonna lose by 9 million.

I get the concern I truly do, but the real fear is how much this embolden's the violence of the right, not voter turnout. Nobody is gonna vote for the rapist felon because he got shot at. Not a soul. Either they were fence sitting Dump and Dump only, or they weren't gonna vote regardless.

It doesn't help anyone. It's a bad thing all around that the shooter damaged his ear. We can all agree political violence escalating is bad in every possible measure.

But this is the dude who I guarantee has a quote against everything a republican can say to defend him. He's actively told you "never worry about me, never pity me" and thus I won't, I'll simply mock the fact we were close to a better existence by mere inches.

He already told gun victims to "just get over it" and made fun of a reporter for their disability, he's a rapist pedophile, like ya'll. He's got nothing but enemies and if you've been apart of just about any fanbase that gets a figure head creator of some sort, you know eventually when the fans turn against them, it turns to a shitshow.

This is just the political version of that. Dump riled up people into assassinating him. Otherwise, why...now, not 4 years ago, not 8 years ago, now? Randomly. Just about every Lefty knows what a martyr this would make him, anyone of color or differing sexuality won't want to be made the face of evil for their group.

It's an R. It always is. Their dialogue is always murderous rhetoric bar none every time, every, single, fucking time. Imagine if Dear Leader turned out to be everything he told you to hate? Like be in the Epstein logs for example.

I just... Lemme put it to you this way, what's more likely, the known violent extremist cult group with several leaders all calling for bloodshed and violence telling you everyone different to you is an enemy, they have conspiracy theories instead of science, they refuse all facts and reasoning, empathy is dead, the only thing they listen to is the community's larp and Dump and they treat the mass shooter list like a leaderboard. But once it became impossible to ignore that Dump was a grifter and liar, that he is in fact involved severely with Epstein, a little Jan 6er Dump abandoned being the culprit is absolutely astronomically more likely than it being anyone leftist.

There's nothing to gain in doing this as a leftist, there's revenge as an R. That's all I can really say. Apparently the shooter is dead? The fact they haven't had their faces plastered is proof enough they're a white male to me, honest to god, if it was a black guy with rainbow badges and an antifa mask, the cameraman would've sprinted towards the fuckin' body.

Idunno. None of this matters really. I'm just rambling. Going off educated guesses.

[naruhearts]

I’m done keeping my composure.

Sorry, this will be a LOADED post! (And I’ll be repeating the points others have made)

for real, to everyone being nasty and telling heartbroken fans that “Dean was always supposed to die get a grip you’re just butthurt etcetera etcetera—” F you royally.

How dare you police the brutal feelings that’s been embroiling us since the Finale That Must Not Be Named aired. 

The show you think you all watched, the show you all believe was the same SPN from Season 1-4, changed at some point. Kripke wrote his original vision, put it to screen, saw it through in S5 as he intended, and closed the door on that era.

In 2008, Supernatural was adopted and inherited. As you know, there was a supreme paradigm shift post-Kripke era. The show FLOURISHED (we won’t talk about Gamble thanks). It evolved, transformed, grew beyond trauma-induced self-worthlessness and toxic masculinity and endless death and hegemonic social ideals and conservatism and repressive anti-revolutionary ideas. Castiel, the iconic favourite and beloved staple of the series portrayed by Misha Collins, was introduced in Season 4 as the core lead character, and he ushered in a brand new era of Christian mythos that SPN took advantage of. Longevity SKYROCKETED. Audiences were INTERESTED. SPN amassed an incredibly groundbreaking fanbase infused by non-nuclear principles. A massive subversive wave began, fighting the Status Quo of the times since 2008. It’s precisely why such an abysmal ending to a show of extensive Freud-Jungian metanarratively meta META complex stature and social POWER will render us totally and unbearably broken for years to come.

Point is, DEAN WINCHESTER NO LONGER WANTED TO DIE. HE WANTED TO LIVE. HE WANTED TO SIT ON THE BEACH, PLUNGE HIS TOES IN THE SAND, AND SIP UMBRELLA DRINKS WITH HIS BROTHER AND HIS BEST FRIEND. He said this in Season 13. And then, a season later, he told the ghost of his long-deceased father — the source of his deep-running trauma and the figure of self-reductive authoritarianism permeating his arc since Season 1 — after being questioned why he didn’t pursue the Nuclear Fam, that he already has his own: his brother Sam, his adopted child Jack, and Cas.

Dean’s best friend Cas. Oh god, Cas, who made his inevitably permanent mark on Dean’s soul beyond allyship. Castiel, renamed to Cas, God’s -iel removed by Dean. Dean, the human spark that lit the fire of pre-existing autonomy in the inherently rebellious angel who was, this entire time, the catalyst for free will in God The Writer’s puppet show. Their friendship set on goddamn fire. I can also write paragraph upon paragraph about my love for Cas while devastated tears stream down my face, but I digress—

Cas’ romantic love for Dean pushed our main Heart of SPN to love himself. Love is free will. Free will is also love. Of note, Cas’ love confession in 15x18 was supposed to offset something so vastly important and fundamental...to maybe (read: most likely) pull the trigger on SELF-TRUTHS in conjunction with free will. And The Great Anticipated Follow-Up to the episode penned by the passionate Berens should have included (read: seemed like it was going to be) Dean, closeted trauma survivor in love with his best friend, being given the opportunity to do it right: to SPEAK HIS TRUTH, and then that very singular opportunity was STOLEN so grossly. After poring over it for days, I refuse to believe we made their years-long story up out of thin air, spun it out of fantastical-delusional dream cotton candy, because we DIDN’T. IT WAS REAL.

As I said in another post: “I’ve just been feeling physically ill for the past >40 something hours with the terrible knowledge that 19/20 undid years of vital progression towards healthy interdependence, autonomy, and a positive endgame, where Sam, Dean and Cas close the ring of found family in final empowering self-fulfillment...where Dean, no longer repressed and set free, is able to use his words and speak his truth as a queercoded trauma survivor, henceforth confirming and self-affirming his own bisexuality since S1 by reciprocating — by telling Cas that he always loved him, too, loved him endlessly, which would have altogether divested Supernatural of its cult status and catapulted it into global worldwide significance as the longest running sci-fi genre show in American broadcasting history that actually dared to defy and, by proxy, empower LGBTQ2IA+ everywhere who found profound personal meaning in Destiel through VALIDATION,” — found themselves mirrored in Dean and Cas’ respective character journeys individually and as each other’s queer love interests.

THIS IS WHY DEAN WASN’T MEANT TO DIE.

THEY WERE SO ESSENTIAL, NOT JUST TO THE OVERARCHING STORY AND HEALTHY INTERPERSONAL THEMATICS OF MODERN SPN, BUT ALSO TO THE SOULS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD WHO FOLLOWED THEIR JOURNEYS, HOPED FOR THEM, ASPIRED TO BE LIKE THEM, TREASURED THEM, WEEPED FOR THEM, AND FOUGHT FOR THEM, LIKE YOU AND ME.

Heck, how could anyone think Sam Winchester had a well-deserved characteristic ending? He didn’t. Dean’s brother was shafted so badly. He stopped hunting when seasons ago, he had canonically accepted that he no longer wanted an apple pie life. He simply...turned the lights off in a resoundingly empty bunker and left — abandoning his dead brother’s room — never to return (he did return later to get the Impala, family photos etc, I mean this symbolically)...as if — dare I say it — Supernatural itself eerily told us, in the negative-spaced pitch blackness, that the organic show and the wonderfully complex, matured characters we’ve grown to love weren’t going to survive or be revisited...that it was all going to perish, and that they no longer gave a single shit about their own show, which, to me, is the worst cardinal sin, because how dare they throw Team Free Will, an immovable and indomitable and passionate found family they built from the ground up, a found family CHOCK FULL TO THE BRIM OF LOVE AND LIFE RAGING AGAINST THE AUTHORITARIAN MACHINE IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE FREE WILL, under the bus no matter who is to blame. Growth was stomped on.

Then Sam married a faceless wife who wasn’t his textually established (and deaf) love interest Eileen, named his son Dean Jr., and grew old miserably, still mourning the passing of his older brother, shaken and sombre. Back to square one. IT WAS ALL ANTITHETICAL, even OUTSIDE a shipping context, and I ripped my hair out at this point in sheer disbelief.

This 15x20 ending would have fit somewhere between S4-7. Now? IT DOESN’T FIT. IT’S A JAGGED PUZZLE PIECE THAT DOESN’T BELONG ANYWHERE. IT’S THE FOREBODING UNKNOWN STRANGER IN ITS OWN LAND, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. This kind of ending was basically an illogical, unsound cluster of metastasized cells that, to me, ruined the viability of previous seasons to sustain bold praise and respect and dignity and rewatches and classic nostalgia in such insidious ways.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Cas, after everything they’ve been through, were silenced and lost in death, ripped apart from each other, unable to love each other the way they deserved, because of disappointing, vile incompetency and homophobia. The greatest love story ever told, again obliterated in less than 60 hollow minutes.

You know what this tells your audience, CW SPN? Death without self-growth is the way to go, and no one is allowed to forge their own path to freedom.

HOW INSULTINGLY HARMFUL IS THAT?

I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving.

We all deserve answers.

[thescientistowl]

Dawn Eases Night

Right, so after a little reworking, I finally finshed writing the first chapter of my first Horizon/Niloy fic! I haven't written ANYTHING in a few years, so I am incredibly rusty at this (and for that, I am sorry).

It is flasback heavy, but they will be clearly laid out with underlined and italised timestamps, so you'll know when we're back in the present... hopefully, anyway. I also haven't had it beta read, and it isn't edited to the best of my already terrible ability. Again, I am so sorry.

I'm posting it here, on our beloved hellsite, because the Horizon and Niloy fanbases here are based. I also don't have an Ao3 account, and I'm sure my old FF.net account has probaly died by now anyway.

The story takes place post HFW, so expect spoilers, and at the minute I have warnings for canon typical violence and occasional strong language. This WILL change down the line as the story is going to visit some dark topics, but I'll update those warnings as I go.

So, the story is under the cut! Please enjoy the first chapter of Dawn Eases Night! If you want to send me any constructive criticism, then please feel free to do so :) .

Chapter 1: The Trail We Leave Behind

     Red. Purple. Screaming. Aloy was surrounded by it all.

     A thick miasma of acrid smoke filled her lungs, stealing her air, choking her from the inside. GAIA was dead. And the world… the world was burning.

     Around her, machines of black and gold and furious purple tore down those that she loved. Beta’s cries were snuffed out as furious Spectres surrounded her. Zo, Kotallo and Alva lay crushed in a Slaughterspine’s wake. Erend, as brave as he was, had tried to handle several machines at once. They shot him dead. Talanah and Petra shot together in unison, but they were set upon by Stalkers, filled with darts and left to bleed. And behind them, a group of Chargers, bearing riders, fought back as best as they could before they too were ripped apart… but the last man standing among them put up the most furious of fights. Even then, Nil fell too.

     Aloy tried to scream, but sound would not come. Movement would not carry her to their sides.

      More familiar faces of her friends - of Carja, Tenakth, Oseram, Nora, Utaru, Quen and Banuk – fell to the machines or the toxic air that stole their breath, and there, in the distance, were Varl and Rost, their skin grey and their eyes cold, beckoning her towards her own demise, promising her that death was the release that she deserved.

     It was never supposed to be like this. She was supposed to fix it! How could she not fix it!?

     There was so much pain. She burned, she sputtered, and above her the red light of a now not so distant enemy loomed over her, mocking her. The screams of the people of the world, innocent people who couldn’t understand what was happening to them, filled her head.

     She had failed. She had failed all of them. It was all her fault…

     Aloy woke with a sharp breath, her lungs aching for the air that had been denied to her in her dreams. With frantic eyes she searched her surroundings; a storage chest sat nearby, shadowed by a set of well used training mannequins and old bookshelves filled with small tokens from her travels. She took stock of her position, her body laid out flat on a comfortable surface and covered with several blankets. Her bed. She was in her bedroom.

     Forcing steady breaths, Aloy slowly counted backwards from ten, feeling her chest rise and fall to the rhythm she had implemented on herself, and deliberately drowned out the sound of her panicked heartbeat. She needed to move. Movement would clear her head.

     Rising slowly and methodically from her mattress of Utaru make, Aloy moved around the desk that hid her bed from the full view of the door, her fingers running along the cool metal to help ground herself. The recycled air around her was cool without the warmth of her blankets but she found that she did not mind it at all – it reminded her of early mornings spent in the wilds, when the world was not yet quite awake, and the sun’s first rays had yet to warm the landscape.

     With no real sense of direction, Aloy followed her feet as her body ran on instinct, leading her towards the common room beyond the door that opened with no command. 

     The Base was awfully quite now that most of her friends had returned to their homes, as free as they possibly could be before their looming fight against an apparently insurmountable threat. The Zeniths may have been defeated by their hands, but they had left them with one last parting shot, albeit an unintended one.

     Nemesis. An angry red lingered in the forefront of her vision, the last vestige of her almost fevered dream, and Aloy fought to shake it away, taking a few unsteady steps into the open space as she did.

     The common room itself was quiet and empty, save for the gentle hum of the holographs and electronics surrounding her, and in the dim light Aloy could see the trinkets and decorations left behind by her friends; Erend had left his Machine Strike board and several kegs of Scrappersap, Zo her many, many plants, and Kotallo’s piece of the Bulwark remained standing proud nearby. Alva had even graced the floors with a few Quen rugs before she had returned to Legacy’s Landfall.  GAIA had taken to humming quietly in the small hours of the morning, her digitised voice a soothing and gradual wake up call to all in the Base, but one that was broken by a soft snore that came from Beta’s new bedroom – the one that had once been shared by Varl and Zo – and Aloy smiled. All of these things served to remind her that her night terrors were wrong: she wasn’t alone.

     So then, why did she feel like the loneliest soul on the face of this planet? 

     With little else more to do than sit, Aloy made her way to the breakfast bar in the centre of the room, her naked feet padding gently across the soft Quen mats (and Aloy really would have to thank Alva for these the next time they spoke – they felt so good under her toes!). She found her perch atop one of the barstools and, with a great sigh of relief, rested her head against the metal of the counter, the contact alone cooling her sweat-soaked forehead. When had she even begun to sweat?

     As her arms came to lay flat next to her head, Aloy felt a small and wooden thing brush against her knuckles. A tingle burned alight in the base of her head, as she looked up and came face to face with the most delicate figurine of a Charger. Her fingers reached out to stroke it, a smile casting across her lips the whole time, and her eyes flicked to another figure next to it, also made of wood, but one that was cast in the shape of a Tallneck. Both figures had been dyed, the blue of calmed lights contrasting with the light grey of the machine’s metal plating. Both were crafted by a pair of hands that could create such miniature wonders, but they could also destroy, killing in the most visceral of ways.

     Memories of campfires and long conversations flooded her vision. Sometimes there were bandit camps on the horizon, and sometimes there were only the wilds, the dunes of the Sundom or the rolling hills of the Nora Sacred Lands. But always there was her, and him; the man that she had first encountered surrounded by corpses as she approached on the back of her newly acquired Strider, who had spoken so softly to her as though he had not just run through several bandits with his blade and bow.

     Her smile grew as she remembered his introduction. ‘Call me Nil’, he had insisted, and though Aloy’s instinct knew this to be a false identity she had, at the time, no desire to push for the truth from this stranger who had offered to help her with the nearby bandit camp – one that threatened the Nora that she was now sworn to protect. He had only been of aid to her then, a temporary companion to help her on what was only one small part of her larger journey… or so that was what she had originally thought.

----------

Several months ago, outside the Gatelands camp…

     “I thought we were partners.”

     “I have my own roads to follow, Nil.”

     Aloy’s stride was unwavering as she walked away from what had been the Gatelands bandit camp. Her once empty packs now sat heavy at her waist, full of the slagshine glass that she had taken from each marauder that she had killed. Hopefully the pieces would fetch a decent price - she was running low on supplies.

     Two heavy footsteps echoed in the open canyon around them, and Nil appeared in the corner of her sight. He easily outpaced her with his long legs, and soon he was leading the way down the path that Aloy had intended to travel alone.

     “And they seem to lead back to bandits.” He countered, looking over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “That works for me, I’m not suggesting a Carja wedding. I’m never lonely when there’s killing to be done.”

     Aloy rolled her eyes. She was beginning to regret engaging with him in the Sacred Lands, because now their meetings were becoming infuriatingly frequent and Aloy was sure that he was following her. Rost had often warned her of the dangers that men like Nil could pose - those who appeared friendly, but who would later appear from nowhere by pure ‘chance’… She would have to put an arrow between his eyes if this continued.

     If only she knew of another route to Meridian. If only she still had her Strider, but the damn thing had sacrificed itself in a fight with a roaming Sawtooth. But Aloy was not worried – she could override several machines now, but any override made on a machine that she could ride seemed to be its own, very unique, override - one that seemed to remember its past lives in the several machines it had inhabited. Perhaps Aloy would have to name this particular piece of override code…  

     As they drew level with the opening landscape, Aloy spotted something huge and bulky in the distance; a large and terrifying bipedal machine that roamed the heights above them. Aloy had never seen a machine so big, save for the Tallneck at Devil’s Thirst, and so she ignored Nil and instead raised her hand to her focus. With a melodic blip a burst of purple light encased her in a large orb, one seemingly made of an ever shifting net, and the machine - and it’s weak points - were highlighted clearly for her to see. As the machine turned towards the path on which they walked, the old-world glyphs formed a name in front of her eyes: Thunderjaw.

     Her pulse quickened in anticipation of a fight, but then the machine turned and moved away, seemingly unaware of their presence.

     A short breath of relief, and Aloy dismissed the web of light around her.

     Nil, meanwhile, had continued talking. He didn’t even seem to notice that Aloy had not been paying attention to him. But as her ears reattuned to his voice she heard only words of violence, of murder, of bloodshed. Of war. She heard how he revelled in it, and something in her core quaked, as it had done, during their assaults on Gatelands and Devil’s Thirst. How could someone enjoy such chaos? There was still so much about the world beyond the Sacred Lands that she did not know, but she was quickly learning more and more about the ‘Red Raids’, and from the sound of his words Aloy wondered if Nil had seen or had been a part of this war.

     Her curiosity was piqued.

     “So, you used to be a soldier?” She interrupted his monologising, not caring for the furrow of Nil’s brows as he frowned. “You fought for the Carja?”

     “For them, against them,” his expression slowly softened as he responded, “an empire always finds its wars. You can’t be picky.”

     The path below them followed the slight slope of a gentle hillside, and Aloy soon found herself keeping an even pace with the strange Carja beside her as he took shorter steps. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, but where Aloy was clearly beginning to suffer and sweat from the heat Nil instead seemed to revel in it, stretching out his arms to the warming rays.

     He looked at her pointedly before he continued.

     “The new king, Avad, saw things differently. Called an investigation into war crimes. Aren’t all wars a crime to someone?”

     Silently, Aloy agreed.

     “Still,” he continued, his voice so casually matter-of-fact, “I raised my hand and volunteered.”

     Aloy stopped, her feet digging into the loose stones and dirt beneath her. “You volunteered? To investigate?”

     Nil also stopped, turning around to face her head on. From his lower position on the path, he was finally on an equal eye level with her.

     “No, I volunteered my confession. No sense wasting time with an investigation.” A small smile played with his lips, and his eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “I was sent to Sunstone Rock for two years. The trade was fair.”

     He turned on his heel then, continuing his descent, and Aloy, now infuriated with his indirect answers, stomped after him.

     “They sent you to a rock for two years?” She demanded, confused. “Is this some kind of Carja ritual?”

     Nil laughed then, his voice echoing from the few surrounding rock faces, and Aloy silently fumed. She didn’t know! How dare he laugh at her.

     “No, no, Sunstone Rock is a prison,” he continued through his dying laughter. “South of Meridian. South of the Raingathers. Our new Sun-King is a believer in rehabilitation - as am I.” He looked once more over his shoulder as Aloy caught up to him. “In the heat of a stone cell, in the dark, I learned to focus on what was truly important to me.”

     Aloy wondered what it was that Nil considered to be ‘truly important’ and then balked at the thought. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

     “What were these things you did, Nil?”

     “Acceptable things, under the circumstances.”

     She frowned. “Acceptable to who?” Perhaps she didn’t want to know the answer to this either.

     He smiled, and Aloy supposed it was a genuine attempt to put her at ease, but the glint of… something… in those cold silver eyes did absolutely nothing to calm the sense of dread that was slowly beginning to claw its way up from her stomach.

     “I don’t make decisions.” He stated with a finality to his tone that was so blunt it sent her mind reeling. “Let’s just say the rules of engagement suited me. But rules are important. A structure.” He paused. “A cage.”

     Aloy was wary as he rounded on her, her fingers instinctively flexing for a weapon.

     Nil’s voice was low as he took one small step towards her, keeping a respectable distance between them as he did. “Otherwise… you know of those places? Lonely places where people once were, now just a hole cut into the world? Chances are, I was there before.”

     He gazed down at her, unblinking, his eyes thinning, and Aloy knew that he was scrutinising her. She wouldn’t back down. Instead, Aloy straightened her back and glared up at him, her entire frame exuding defiance at whatever it was that Nil was examining her for. If he was trying to decide if she was easy prey, then he should already have his answer from their shared time at the bandit camps.

     Seconds passed until Nil’s piercing gaze relaxed. Clearly, he had found what it was that he had been looking for.

     “A brief encounter for us, but the end for them,” he smiled pleasantly, looking back down the hill to where the path forked. One branch was the more direct road to Meridian. The other led away from civilisation and further into the rocky landscape of the Sundom. And now Nil was making his way towards that very path.

     Briefly he paused, turning to her with a smile that was all teeth and violence. “They were squalid lives anyway.”

     Aloy could only stand, stunned, as he slowly vanished. Yes, the bandit’s lives were forfeit for their crimes, she agreed with him on that, but his love for bloodshed, his obvious pride in the unnamed crimes he had committed during the war… he was no better than the bandits he deemed below him.

Hopefully, said bandits would simply wise up and leave. Hopefully she would never have to see or hear from Nil again.

----------

A month later, in the jungles of The Jewel…

     To say Aloy was frustrated would be an understatement. Between the bloody gash on her thigh and the clumsy loss of her tripcaster and medical supplies, Aloy wasn’t sure if today was just a bad day, or if her lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. But there was so much that she had to do, and now that her new ‘friend’ Sylens was there to constantly remind her of the perpetual march of time, Aloy had very little in the way of calm moments where she could simply rest. Sleep… She had forgotten what that felt like. She had learned, however, that power naps were not an acceptable substitute.

     Blackwing Snag lay behind her, now bereft of any trace of bandit life. Each of her shots had been quick and clean, until the leader of the crew, a woman from another tribe, the Tenakth, had found her. It had quickly become messy, and at some point the woman, Ullia, had angled her blade so precisely that it had cleanly cut through the leg of Aloy’s leather leggings and into the flesh of her thigh. It wasn’t a life-threatening injury, but it was a painfully persistent one.

     At least Janeva would be pleased; Ullia had been Aloy’s final contract from the warden at Sunstone Rock.

     “I was sent to Sunstone Rock for two years…”

     Aloy had asked about Nil during her initial meeting with Janeva, curious to see if she could learn more about the hunter who had, somehow, crossed paths with her twice since their combined assault at the Gatelands camp.

     “He was born under a long and dark shadow, but he wasn’t a knife without a thought behind it,” they had said. “He had honour. Old-fashioned. His time here… boiled it to the surface.”

     Aloy had wanted to ask just what Janeva had meant, but the warden had ushered her away with three contracts in hand. Three contracts. Three dangerous criminals. She had never wanted to be a killer of men, but Aloy supposed that had all changed with the attack on the Proving. With Rost’s death. The Eclipse. Helis.

     Her breath left her in a shudder at the memories; of Helis’s hand around her throat, his knife against the skin of her neck. Rost… oh, Rost…

     Clamping her eyes shut, Aloy moved away from the camp, limping as she did so. She needed to concentrate on returning to Sunstone Rock. She needed to let Janeva know that the job was done, and hopefully she could find something to bandage her leg with whilst she was there.

     Her trek across the humid jungle was slow, thanks to the biting pain in her leg and, Aloy thought with bitter resentment, a lack of energy. Her severe lack of rest was really beginning to rear its ugly head. Perhaps, if she had not been as exhausted as she was, Ullia would never have landed a hit on her in the first place.

     At least now, this close to a clearing, she could just about see the prison through the heat haze.

     An almost silent rustle broke her train of thought. As she had done so many times before, Aloy whipped around to face the sound, bow pulled from her shoulders and knocked with an arrow at lightning speed. Beyond the tip of her arrow there was nothing but deep jungle.

     Perhaps she was hearing things. Exhaustion did do strange things to people…

     A crack of twigs underneath feet. The sound was closer this time.

     “Where..?”

     Something shimmered in the air, lunging at her, something long and lithe, before Aloy could even think to react to it. It leapt into the air, where suddenly all pretence of stealth was gone, and a vicious looking machine of black armour and yellow armaments blinked into existence.

     Aloy dove aside, missing its attack by mere inches. Not that it made much difference. With a dangerous growl the machine moved fast, turning on her and ramming Aloy into the ground. Sharp metal claws tore at her armour, and Aloy had to kick the thing in its centre to escape from it.

     With no other thought than to escape, to hide, and hunt the damn thing from the shadows, Aloy turned and ran as best as her bloody leg would allow her, heading across the nearby stream and into the thicker body of the jungle, wild turkeys fleeing from her as she did.

     A dart flew passed her, burying itself so deep in a nearby tree that the tip could be clearly seen on the other side of the trunk. It could shoot too? Why? Wasn’t it bad enough that it could turn invisible?

     With her heart pounding in her head Aloy continued to run, weaving through trees and thick grasses in an attempt to lose it. She could no longer see it, but… was she safe? Was the damn thing hiding?

     Something hard collided with her side, then her stomach, and all air escaped her. There was the briefest sensation of uncontrolled flight before Aloy landed painfully with the ground, her head slamming into rough dirt, sending sparks exploding behind her eyes. She rolled, faster and faster until she suddenly stopped, her body crashing against a thick tree, hidden in some deep and tangled red grass, blanketed in shadow and darkness.

     The world spun, with the constant pounding of metal and high-pitched beeping echoing in her skull. A small, pathetic whimper escaped her lips as she dared to open her eyes. The sun, which had been high in the sky mere moments ago, was gone. The jungle floor was dark and calm with the sounds of night, save for the constant metal pounding and that wretched beeping. In the near distance she could see a red thrumming light. Aloy made another whimper as the light burned at her eyes.

     Then bright blue, clear behind her eyelids, before quickly turning yellow and then vanishing, leaving her in the dark once more. The pounding of metal grew unbearably close.

     Aloy just wanted silence. Peace.

     Something grazed her shoulder in the dark, but Aloy had no energy to move away from it. The touch moved from her shoulder and to her neck, and visions of knives against throats flooded her mind’s eye. Some kind of small noise escaped her and the touch, though it lingered, vanished.  

     Then, running footsteps, moving quickly away from her. Not a machine. A shrill shriek as red erupted behind her eyelids, and the howling of that invisible monstrosity. No, more than one. The metal pounding moved away at speed, leaving her to the dark and silence, and Aloy welcomed both like the old friends that they were.

     She woke to the warmth of the sun bearing down on her and birds chirping out their morning tunes. She could hear water nearby, some calm, and some crashing against rocks somewhere not too distantly. She had moved herself then, or someone else had.

     Aloy opened her eyes against the light to find herself laying out in the open, on a rock outcropping next to a river, and the Jewel spread out like a blanket on the opposite bank.

     She lay on an unfamiliar bedroll that someone had laid out for her, and just a few of her travelling packs rested by her head. As she moved to take in more of her surroundings, leaning up on her elbow for purchase and grunting with the pain and effort it took, she realised that her leg had been expertly bandaged around the large gash in her leggings, and most of her armour was missing.

     No. No, no, no, she could not be this exposed in the wilds!

     “Just relax girl,” a voice, laced with amusement, sounded somewhere behind her. “You’re safe here.”

     She knew that voice. Nil.

     Aloy fell back to the bedroll with a groan. Of all the people who could have found her, it had to be him?

     “I have to say, the colour of blood suits you.” There was a clear smile to Nil’s voice as he spoke - she could see it all too clearly in her head. “But I do believe that the idea is to wear the blood of others, and not your own.”

     “Could you please stop talking?” Aloy snapped, curling in on herself as she suddenly became all too aware of her light state of dress in his presence; her tunic and leggings were not enough protection if he decided he wanted to slide his blade between her ribs.

     She heard a slap of hands on thighs behind her, and instead of speaking Nil simply hummed to himself. It was a quiet and unfamiliar tune, but it was a pleasing little thing all the same. In fact, Aloy was quite surprised that it was at all pleasant to listen to, coming from Nil.

     But she needed to move. With a push that took more effort than it should have, Aloy forced herself to sit up straight.

     The view that met her was astonishing. A tall cliff side skirted alongside them, leading to a large waterfall - one larger than she had ever seen - and to an outcropping where a Carja tower sat proudly against the deep blue of the sky. Birds gently flew above the tower, and the few clouds that dappled sky were calm.

     “There’s another waterfall on the other side of the tower,” Nil began, obviously following the movement of her eyes. “It is quite impressive, isn’t it?”

     Aloy frowned, slowing turning toward his voice. “I thought I’d asked you to keep quiet?”

    And the world suddenly stopped.

     Nil was sat by one of the few trees that surrounded them, hidden partially in some ferns, but his armoured jacket, pauldrons, vambraces and scarf were gone, as was his ridiculous feathered headdress, the clothing all set aside with his own things. The only cover he had on his top half were wrappings that were tightly wound around both of his forearms.

     His hair was as jet black as his beard and shaved at the sides, with longer hair at his crown. Currently, said hair was sticking out in all sorts of uncontrolled directions, but even from here it looked so invitingly soft.

     Nil’s chest was another magnificent sight. Yes, the parts that Aloy had already been able to see were quite beautiful to look at (she had to give him that much credit, at least) and once or twice she had needed to stop herself from staring. But now the full musculature of his torso was laid bare to her, as was the sheer strength of his arms.

     It was with some shame that Aloy only found his severe lack of chest hair to be Nil’s singular physical let down, but she had noticed on her travels that a lack of body hair seemed to be the style among the Carja.

     Even as an outcast, when Aloy had come of the age where hormones and physical attractiveness played a big part of her life, Aloy had discovered that she did like a healthy smattering of hair on a man’s chest. A rare sight in the Sacred Lands, yes, but when the summer sun had belted down upon them, some of the Nora men had chosen to shed enough of their armour and clothing to stave off the heat, and Aloy, watching from the side-lines and away from tribal life, had found those few moments to be very informative and refreshing… until Rost had caught her ogling a young brave one day, when instead she should have been training. He had admonished her severely for that, and she had never gone searching for such sights again.

     But now here she was, gawking again like some lovestruck child, until she heard Nil chuckle darkly to himself and her eyes snapped back to his face. His silver eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now filled with an unfamiliar warmth, not unlike the one that was threatening to burn her cheeks.

     “Like what you see, girl?”

     Aloy looked away quickly. What could she possibly say to that? Better to say nothing, then to open her mouth and sound like a fool.

     Uncomfortable minutes passed, and Aloy itched to leave. She had never felt so awkward in her life. And so she took a mental stock of her things, to prepare and distract herself. She was missing a few packs, her bedroll, and from the pile of folded armour she could see that most of her leathers and hides were torn. Teb had worked so hard to make that armour for her, and one lousy machine had ruined it all.

     Her hands reached for her hide top, thumbs caressing over the damage.

     “You’ve never come across a Stalker before, have you?”

     Aloy turned to look up at Nil, deliberately ignoring his state of undress. She raised an eyebrow.

     “Those… things…” she began, thumbs still running along the damage. “Stalkers?”

     Nil nodded.

     Aloy huffed. “Appropriately named, I guess. I can’t believe one of them took me down.” The shame she felt was like a gut punch. What would Rost have said?

     “Three.”

     “What?”

     Nil stood and straightened, stretching his back and his arms. In his hands was a small knife and a chunk of wood, and Aloy was curious as to what they were for; the wood was much too short and thick to be turned into arrows.

     He made his way to her side, the silk of his purple pants sashaying as he moved, and knelt not too far away from her, once again keeping a respectful distance. Always a respectful distance.

     “There were three Stalkers, Nora. Only one of them showed itself to you.” Nil looked at the fabric in her hands, his lips curling downwards.

     “How do you know that?” Aloy’s eyes thinned. “You are following me, aren’t you?”

     Nil chuckled. “No, I am not following you. By chance or fate, girl, our paths inevitably lead us together.” He looked into her eyes then, the warmth still there. “If I were a man of stronger faith then it would be of my belief that the Sun himself was leading me back to you. You are, after all, the best possible partner this soldier could ask for.”

     Aloy rolled her eyes at his words, uttering a small and sardonic ‘thanks’ in return, but she felt the small and fleeting smile on her lips none the less. And judging from the look on Nil’s face, he had seen it too.

     “So how did you know about them?” She asked, quickly changing the subject. “And how did you find me?”

     Nil shifted, making himself comfortable, and placed the knife and the wood by his feet. There was something etched into the wood, the shape of something, but what it was Aloy could not quite tell.

     “I was hunting the Stalkers, actually. I know, I know, I do not care for hunting them, but I do care for their echo shells.”

     “And what do you need echo shells for? They’re only really used by machine hunters.”

     Nil’s lips pursed, and it looked for a moment as though he was going to say no more on the subject. But then he exhaled slowly through his nose and continued. “There’s a trader that specialises in rare herbs. I have use for some of those herbs, and he only deals in echo shells.”

     Aloy cocked an eyebrow at him. What kind of trader only accepted echo shells? And what herbs did Nil have an interest in? A feeling in her stomach stayed the questions on her tongue; he probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway.

     “As for how I found you, I saw you in the distance, running through the trees. I could see one of the Stalkers on your tail, and another, well, it whipped you with its own tail. I watched as you flew and vanished down a steep embankment. It was actually quite impressive.”

     “Nil.”

     He smirked at her before continuing. “I saw the three of them then. They had to follow the long path down to find you, but you were apparently too well hidden in your landing place for them to find. It did take me a while to find you, after all.”  

     “And then you drew them away.” Aloy interjected, her mind replaying small snippets of what it had caught that night: the touches to her shoulder and neck, the rushing footsteps, the enraged machines…

     Nil nodded.

     “Why did you come looking for me? You could have just left me.”

     “I didn’t want to lose my hunting partner, girl.” He replied with a non-comital shrug.   

     She scoffed. “You would have found some other idiot to help you.”

     She watched as one of the corners of his lips quirked, before his face became infuriatingly neutral. “You may find it hard to believe, but there are many who find my charming disposition too much to handle.”

     “No…” Aloy smirked, rolling her eyes. “You are a cuddly ray of sunshine. How could anyone find that too much?”

     His lips quirked again, splitting enough for Aloy to see a quick flash of teeth, though whether it was in a smile or a snarl she could not know.

     Nil reached for the knife and wood at his feet and examined the chunk of what had once been a proud tree. With a small hum he put the knife to it, gently whittling away at small chunks and slithers of bark. Aloy sat mesmerised as she watched the wood give way to his hands and the blade edge, with form slowly being gifted upon that which was once formless. Aloy still was not sure what it was going to be, but she was certain that she would see soon enough.

     “Rest, girl,” Nil said, not looking up form his work. “I’ll make us a meal soon.”

     But Aloy couldn’t rest. Her thoughts were too preoccupied with watching his work. It was… fascinating.

     Nil stayed his hands, his eyes catching hers, and he smiled a genuine smile. It was not one of his snide or smug grins, nor the smile that was all teeth and death. Aloy’s heart skipped and shuddered beneath it – the gentle curve of his lips broke into small dimples in his cheeks and… wait, how had she never noticed that adorable little gap between his front teeth? Or the few, scattered freckles on his cheeks and nose? Or how the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, silver irises sparkling. And the tattoos under them, what did they mean?

     ‘Stop. He’s a killer. Stop it!’

     Aloy turned quickly, looking out across the river to where a group of Chargers grazed. Useful; the unique override code favoured those machines, she had noticed. She still needed a name for it though.

     The soft swick of wood giving way to metal continued, and Aloy inclined her head so that she could see. Was it going to be a machine, or a person?

     “You really should rest,” Nil’s voice was soft, “the Stalkers did throw you down a steep climb, after all.”

     Aloy shuddered, looking back towards the Chargers. Were those machines still out there?

     “Speaking of which,” she began, trying to block out the images of shimmering air that transformed into fangs and teeth. “Did you kill them?”

     “Sadly, I did not. I drew them away long enough for me to get you to safety.”

     “But your echo shells!”

     “I’ll find some,” his eyes briefly flicked to her before returning themselves to his work. “Don’t concern yourself with that.”

     They fell silent once again, Aloy sharing her time between watching Nil work and observing the behaviour of the Chargers. Her body didn’t ache as much now, and Nil’s bandages had stopped the bleeding from her leg.

     Just how far were they from Sunstone Rock now?

     And on that subject…

     “I saw Sunstone Rock for myself.”

     Nil seemed taken off guard by that admission, as his shoulders hunched and his hands stilled. Slowly, he relaxed and returned to his carving.

     “Only visiting, I hope?” He asked, turning the wood with deft fingers. “Carja justice has become so complicated.”

     Aloy nodded, and Nil caught it from the corner of his eye.

     “Is Janeva still shackled there?”

     “Janeva is the warden, if that’s what you mean.”

     Nil chuckled, stopping his work to instead turn towards her.

     “Such a waste of an intoxicating ferocity. We fought together, and each other!” His face softened as he clearly reminisced on old memories. “Ah, but don’t let me get sentimental.”  

     “Uh huh.”

     “But why were you there? I thought the woman who saved the Sun-King could do no wrong?” The tease to his voice was as clear as the day above them.

     Ah. He had heard about her defeat of Dervahl, and the subsequent rescue of Avad, Marad and Erend. Of course he had. Half of the Sundom seemed to know by now.

     “I was exploring the area, and found the place being attacked by machines. One of the former inmates had a bone to pick with Janeva and the guards, it seemed. So, Janeva asked me to hunt him down, along with two other escaped prisoners.”

     “Former inmate? Am I right in assuming that they are no longer with us?” His eyes twinkled.

     “I didn’t kill him, Nil. Rasgrund was pretty good at doing that job for himself.”

     “Ah, yes, the Oseram. I remember him. He enjoyed trying to make his deadly little traps out of any scraps that he could find.”

     “Yeah, well, in the end he decided that he wanted to die to one of his ‘little traps’.”

     “His is no great loss.”

     The day passed by slowly, but Aloy found that the break from her usual hectic pace was a welcome one. Sylens was not particularly happy about her lack of progress, and he made no secret of it as he uttered very one-sided rebuttals through her Focus. Tired of his whining and enjoying the rest that her body and mind had clearly needed, she simply removed her Focus and stashed it safely in the nearest pack that she had.  Aloy was more than happy to enjoy just one day off, and it came as a shock to her, as quickly as a bolt of lightning struck the tallest of peaks, that she was enjoying Nil’s company. He was… charming. Murderous, yes, but pleasant. Fascinating.

     As promised, he later cooked the two of them a meal of small boar and mixed greens that he foraged from the jungle floor. He was a surprisingly good cook, she discovered, as she bit down into the seasoned meat and vegetables and her mouth was flooded with delicious flavours. What other skills was this man hiding beneath his vicious outer shell?

     As the day passed to evening, and the evening to night, Nil finished carving the piece and held it gently in his hands. It was a small Watcher, its head held aloft as it kept vigil over the machines it helped to protect. It was, in a word, beautiful, and sculpted with a surprising amount of detail.

     Putting the knife carefully back into his boot, Nil instead turned to one of his small packs and from inside he produced a small bottle of what looked to be grey ink or paint. A small brush followed, and Aloy moved closer to watch as he began to coat the bristles in the pigment.

     She was rewarded with that same warm smile for her curiosity.

     Nil had finished coating the wood before the last of the sun’s light vanished, and he placed it on a nearby rock, claiming that it had to dry before he could give it another layer of colour.

     The fire he had started to cook their meal was still going strong, and as darkness descended upon them Aloy found herself closing the gap between them as they sat together, Nil pointing out the constellations that the Carja had for the stars that they all shared. Unsurprisinlgly, there were a lot of avian based constellations (the Carja did love their bird imagery), but there were also machines and figures from the tribe’s past. Aloy explained that the Nora believed the stars to be flecks of flame from a fire that All Mother had lit to guide them through the night. Nil remarked that it was quite a beautiful tale.  

     Aloy wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, only that she woke curled up in the place where she had been sat the night before. Nil gently snored beside her. He too had fallen asleep where she had last seen him.

     She could leave. She should leave. But one look at his face, soft with sleep, and her resolve to do so vanished. Besides, it would be rude to do so after he had helped her. He could have potentially saved her life, for if he hadn’t found her before the Stalkers did… Aloy shook her head. No, no she wouldn’t think about the ‘what if’.   

     Nil woke a little while later, with obvious surprise on his face when his eyes found hers. Had he expected her to leave? Aloy simply greeted him in return and went about emptying the only pouch of food that she now owned, sharing what was left of her jerky and dried fruits with him.

     “It’s not quite as good as what you cooked last night,” Aloy sheepishly admitted, “but it’ll get the day started before we have to part ways.”

     Nil’s only reply was a slow but altogether large smile, one that made his eyes light up and her heart miss a beat.

     Aloy could easily become accustomed to that smile.

----------

      Aloy took the small figures into her hands, holding them both so fondly. Each nick in the wood, each stroke of paint, was all Nil.

     The pair of machines had originally sat in her own room, guarding both Elisabet’s pendant and the necklace that Rost had gifted to her so long ago now, but with each subsequent visit to her room, her friends remarked on just how much they liked them too. And so Aloy had made the difficult decision to move them to the common area, where they could be enjoyed by all.

     She just hoped that Nil wouldn’t mind. He had made them specifically for her, after all, but she supposed that perhaps he would feel a surge of pride that others enjoyed his handiwork just as much as she did.

     It had been a few weeks since she had last seen him, and even then it had been fleeting as she had needed to stop at Hidden Ember to collect some special supplies that Abadund had promised to find for her.

     Nil had worn his mask, his moniker of Red Teeth, the whole time, with the forced change in his voice that came with it, one that made him seem more Tenakth than the Carja that he was. Their conversation had been cut short as both Beta and Sylens had contacted her, asking her to joint them as they believed they had found a breakthrough in recapturing Hephaestus. And so Aloy had stupidly left, with one last apology to Nil as she did so. When she had returned to the base, it was revealed that it was a mere blip in the data that they had been reviewing. No breakthrough. There had been no need to leave Nil so quickly.

     Damn it all, she missed him!

     Well, she had recently promised both Zo and GAIA that she would take regular breaks. Perhaps a race with a certain Tenakth-spirited Carja soldier was exactly what she needed.

[creativeashproductions]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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[arabian-bloodstream]

TWD, S11-1A Arc Thoughts So far

There be spoilers here kinda sorta, but not really, it’s really just a general thinky-thoughts post on the first arc of season 11 of The Walking Dead as its “finale” aired on AMC+ the other night.

I generally read takes on The Walking Dead after it airs and since I'm a Caryl fan, I read the takes of their fans. However, I've found myself more and more not agreeing lately with the thoughts of even those I generally do.

The overall consensus appears to be that "nothing has happened" in this first arc. That it's pointless. Carol and Daryl have been separated. Carol/Melissa McBride has barely been on screen and the Reapers are boring and awful, and this whole thing is a complete waste of time. I'm gonna have to have a big ole disagree here. Let me elucidate as to the why.

The Reapers arc is NOT about the Reapers. Carol/MMB not having much screentime sucks now, but I believe there is a reason for that.

Let's take Carol/MMB first. Carol took a lot of unwarranted hate last season. Like A LOT. A lot lot lot..... Like a crazy, ridiculous amount of hate. Melissa McBride was ALL OVER the show last season. She was front and center all over the place. And she was magnificent... for Carol fans. Outside of Carol fans? She was hated. People were done with her. They were over. They wanted her gone. They didn't have sympathy for her. They didn't care that every child she loved, raised as her own, cared for was killed. They did not care. They didn't care that she was/is suffering other loads of trauma. They don't care how brilliant Melissa McBride is. They were just done with Carol's shit. Period. Done, finished, over.

Angela Kang REALIZED that. She also knows that Daryl and Carol are the HEART and SOUL and FUTURE of this franchise. Literally. There is a spin-off with those two. And if one-half of that future has a vocal majority of the online fanbase (and I've gone to other sites--just random, discussing TWD sites) that are tired of Carol's "shit," something has to be done to shift that attitude. So, guess what? Something is being done. Carol, in this first arc, is being shown sparingly, not shoved down anyone's throat. She is still getting shit done. She is fighting to save Alexandra. She was the one fighting to save Connie, BUT, she didn't get the glory shot. That was Kelly --as it should have been. And then Connie (and Kelly) in this latest episode both made the very clear choice that they wanted to help/work with Carol.

Kang is not sidelining Carol because she doesn't like her or because she's giving into the Carol-haters. She is doing this to ease the hate that had been thrown at Carol last season, rehabilitate her image while Carol rectifies her mistakes, when she pushed every one away, her vengeance helping to cause some of the issues that are facing Alexandria now. Carol is now helping to stop Aaron from going down the same path, leading the charge to save Connie, etc. So when the next arc begins and we see Carol more again--as I’m sure we will, it will be with a fresh perspective and a renewed appreciation for her character.

(Note: I know that Carol is extremely popular still. I’m just saying that they still want to ease the online hate for her.)

As for the Reapers. This arc is about three characters: Daryl, and Maggie and Negan. Let's start with Maggie, and Maggie and Negan.

We haven't seen Maggie for years. She was a major player on the show, so naturally she is going to get a major arc upon her return. This is her major arc. I think we had two options. We could see her dealing with her (understandable) Negan issues in Alexandria which would have taken away from Carol's arc, involving Carol and all she did, letting Negan out, bringing Alpha into it, stirring up resentment between her and Maggie--which would undermine what Kang is trying to do for Carol! 

OR, she could take Maggie and Negan OUT of Alexandria and have Maggie deal with her (understandable) Negan issues away from Carol, not bringing her into it.  Let Maggie and Negan hash it out together. That's what Kang did, that's what she is doing. This is Maggie's arc, it's getting her to a place where she can live in some kind of harmony with Negan. This HAD to be done to give Maggie any kind of "happy" ending. It had to happen, and it had to happen away from Alexandria/Carol to give Carol her fresh start with viewers to stop the haterade parade.

Now, Daryl... Kang's first season as showrunner, well, the first half was basically spent getting things back on track after the mess that Gimple had made of the last 3-4 seasons. The next half of that season was deeply exploring Carol's character, going in-depth on that bad boy. The next season--which was last--continued that exploration, but also added a season-long deep dive into the bond between Carol and Daryl. So, what are we getting now? Why naturally, a deep exploration into who? Daryl Dixon!

I adored the episode "Find Me," and I'm so thrilled that we got it. The original plan was to include the romantic relationship with Leah in a few flashbacks when Leah was introduced with the Reapers. I'm so happy it didn't happen that way because (a) it would have lessened the depth of exploration of Daryl's character, and (b) it would have jettisoned the gorgeous Carol parallels. Having this whole arc about the Reapers isn't pointless, doesn't not matter because Daryl isn't pointless, Daryl doesn't not matter.

Because we had that parallel between Leah and Carol, we can see so clearly that Daryl has a type. (Take that, Carol ain't his type, hah!) We can also see that Daryl will always try and save people. Yes, yes, we already knew that, but because of this arc, we see that Daryl has learned, finally!, that once the jig is up, the jig is damn well up and when you can't save someone, you can't save them. We're also seeing different sides of Daryl, that he can blend in, that he has learned from Carol.  

As for Caryl, Daryl and Carol can't be Caryl until both sides are healed enough to stop talking in circles and truly talk. We saw that in "Find Me." Carol is healing. If she doesn't let herself heal, she'll constantly be torn apart by guilt. Daryl is finding that he can't save everyone, he has to save those who matter most TO HIM. Otherwise, he's constantly going to try and save everyone and be torn apart by guilt. They have to do these things separately.

They already know they have each other's backs. They already know the other will NEVER turn on the other, leave the other. That's not in question. Carol has been broken inside. Daryl can't fix that. Daryl has a martyr complex trying to save everyone. Carol can't stop him. That is something they have to figure out themselves or it won't work. So... again, Carol is healing. Daryl is figuring it out.

And then they will come together. For now, in this arc, they are getting their ducks in a row, it’s just a separate thing. So, the first arc of this season? Not pointless at all, in my opinion.

[lilikags]

ೃ‧₊› a b o u t  t h i s  p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader ➮ Oneshot ➮ Tags: fluff ➮ Word Count: 2182

A/N: This is for @serowotonin​! [for Luna’s Valentines Day collab] Ik I said I was doing Atsumu bc “I was bored” but I always say “imagine being bored” and truly, I haven’t been bored for so long. I forgot that this was for the collab for a fat moment then when you saw the preview I was like, “Wait- no- it’s a surprise.” 

Premise: You and Atsumu are cleaning out the apartment, when you find a few letters you thought you would never see again… 

“Oi, (y/n), look at what I found,” you heard Atsumu say, leaning over the contents of a drawer he had been sifting through. 

“What?” you walked over to see what he had found. The two of you were cleaning out the apartment, as you were going to be moving out soon. Atsumu had a habit of keeping things that connected him to an important memory of his, unless he wanted to forget it- and this was one of them. You didn’t know he kept them- actually, it did make sense of him to, but you had simply forgotten about it and you somehow expected the same for him. You looked down to see what he had in his hands, and your face literally went emotionless as you saw the letter in his hands. 

You really didn’t mind the letters, for the most part. Actually, they held dear to you. However, that first one… you were grateful for it, but you also remembered just how bad you wanted to buy a grave space and bury it for eternity back then... 

Miya Atsumu.

This was a dare. This is a love letter. For Valentines. Happy valentines day. If you have extra chocolate, send me some. 

Sincerest thanks, (y/n). 

Atsumu usually threw away the letters he received every Valentines. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude; it was just that there were too many letters for him to read (and reply to), so he usually just threw them out. Osamu often teased him for this; he boasted that he at least read his letters.

“Oi, ‘Samu, look at this one,” Atsumu called out to his brother. 

“What?” Osamu looked at him, with a face of disbelief. “Yer actually lookin’ at them?”

“Nah, not really, but this one’s hilarious,” Atsumu laughed. 

“Okay, not funny, keep yer lame humor to yourself.” 

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

“(y/n), truth or dare,” (b/f/n) asked. 

You smiled, “Dare.” 

“Hmmm… alright, send a love letter to Miya Atsumu- it has to be at least one line long.”

“I’m- okay then.” 

You brought out a piece of paper, wrote the first things that came to mind, and once you reached one line, you stopped. You folded the paper and grabbed whatever envelope you could find and sealed it with tape. The dare required actually giving the letter, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you could back down from a dare. After all, it was (b/f/n), and the nonstop teasing would definitely occur if you failed to complete the dare. 

Dearest (y/n), 

I did in fact receive your rather interesting letter, and I have decided to bring you some chocolate as you wished. I wish you, as well, a very happy valentine’s day this year.

Most sincerely, Atsumu. 

Atsumu was intrigued enough to write a reply; in fact, he decided to write in the most formal way possible. He knew from the letter that you were either a tsundere or someone who was actually dared to do so, and decided that it would be fun entertainment for the both of you. 

When you received the letter, you were surprised to see a reply. It was known he didn’t send out replies, yet you had received one. As you read it, you felt a need to reply; you’d simply feel bad if you didn’t. However, what was there to talk about? How the chocolates were good? He had stuck it on your first period desk, out in the open. And you also sincerely wondered what was with the overly formal tone. You do remember writing the most shitty letter you’ve ever written to him, and that volleyball-obsessed dude just writes something formal to you? Baffles the mind.

Well, then, if he was going to reply, you would too. 

Miya Atsumu,

Thanks for the chocolate- your fans make pretty good chocolate, I have to say. Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, ‘cause all ya focus on is just volleyball. Anyways, what was with the overly formal tone- ya like me or somethin’? Would be funny if ya did and I turned ya down. XD  

(y/n) 

You never really thought of Miya Atsumu, but this really sparked your interest. It was amusing, his reactions. It was definitely something you didn’t expect- you actually didn’t expect a reply at all. The reply you received was definitely out of the ordinary as well, one you never thought a hotshot volleyball player would write. It seemed he was interested in you in some ways- and you as well. 

(y/n),

Pfffft, you think I might like ya? I just thought yer letter was interestin’, that’s all. Ya really think I can’t make chocolate? Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, I’ll show you. I make you chocolate myself and we’ll see how it tastes. Just you watch, I’ll make ya say I make the best chocolate ever! 

Atsumu. 

You saw that in your shoe locker the next morning- and everyone saw it. You were beginning to regret actually replying to him, but there was no backing out now. (b/f/n) really hit the goal here, for her. People were probably talking about it. It’s always some event that involves romance that catches everyone’s eye. And since it was just after valentine’s, everyone would automatically assume it was a love letter. In reality, it was simply a little bit of playful banter. 

You wondered if people actually knew who it was. You hoped not; it would gather way too much attention for your liking. You’d have an entire fanclub after you, and it was definitely (b/f/n)’s fault that you got into this entire mess. You had absolutely no idea if anyone saw him slip that into your shoe locker, since it had probably been there for a good hour or so before you and most of the other students got there. In any case, there was nothing you could do about people knowing things they already know, so you headed onto class. It was exam week, and you sighed; it would be a long day. 

When you arrived at homeroom, you were not-so-pleasantly surprised with what you found at your desk. You just wanted a quiet day; go to school, take the tests, and get out so you could relax at home. But no, you just had to see this and you knew there was a thing called rumors you had to deal with. Well, you could just be like “whatever” and not care, but you definitely knew who’d be after you, for real. Atsumu’s fanbase was quite scary, and definitely large- a group of people one would regret messing with. 

“Ugh- what am I going to do with this chocolate now, he gave me a lot yesterday…” 

“(y/n)! Oiiii, you got chocolate?! From who from who-”

“(b/f/n), if you say a word, you are going to be dead to me.”

“...” she looked away, but then turned to you again and whispered in your ear. “So, Miya Atsumu, who has a fanbase, likes you.” 

“I’m- no-”

“But what I’m seeing says otherwise?”

“Ugh, you’re coming to my house and you are going to pay for that dare.” 

“Oh ho ho, seems like I started something…” “Bet you did.”

Pisshead Atsumu

LMAO bet ya didn’t make the chocolate, yer terrible at lying <///3 seen this chocolate before. And like wtf you put a box of chocolate on my desk with YOUR NAME on it. Ya know that people will do a thing called assuming things, right? Smh, think before you act. Anyways, I’m counting on ya to fix up this mess.

(y/n)

When you finished class, the first thing you did was write the note. You were absolutely paranoid with this mess, and you were going to have Atsumu fix it. Yes, you did technically initiate contact first, but that was (b/f/n)’s fault and this could’ve avoided this if he hadn’t pulled off a whole stunt. 

It was already around 6 when he saw the note. A small smirk filled his expression, he was so sure that he would be able to get a good reaction out of (y/n). It was written on scrap paper, the back of a phys. ed worksheet. You wrote it in a rush, very obviously. That wasn’t really what caught his attention though; he was puzzled as to how he would fix this. Tell his fans to fuck off? Osamu would tease him for eternity.

“Oi, what’cha starin’ at?” he heard Osamu nag. “Mom’s waitin’ for us for dinner.”

“Hey, ‘Samu…  ya know how to fix this?” 

“... ARE YOU AN IDIOT- YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

“I AM NOT! YOU ARE THE IDIOT HERE!” 

“SAYS THE ONE WHO GOT INTO A MESS LIKE THIS!” 

“Oi, ya shouldn’t be fightin’ at this hour,” the two heard Kita say, as he gave them a certain look. “... ‘m sorry…” the twins apologized.

Even after a fulfilling dinner made by their mother and a nice, hot shower, Atsumu still couldn’t think of a solution. Osamu almost snitched on him, but he decided that there was enough on their mom’s plate of problems at the moment. 

“What if ya said you were dating?” Osamu offered. 

“HAH?! ARE YA INSANE?!” Atsumu yelled at him.

“That would explain what happened at valentine’s.” 

“But there’s nothin’ between us-”

“Yer fanclub wouldn’t really believe anythin’ else.”

“Yeah…” 

(y/n),

Can we meet when practice ends at 6 on Thursday?

M. Atsumu.

“... I’m- Is he just going to apologize then run away? Tch.” you sighed. You had the idea that Miya Atsumu was overconfident and carefree, but not to this extent. The least he could do was fix this- he had power over his fandom and what people said about him, unlike you. You had to go, it wasn’t like you really had much of a choice if you wanted to talk it out and fix it. 

“Hey, (y/n) are you and Atsumu dating?” one of your classmates asked, and a bunch of others hovered around the table, waiting to hear a response. (b/f/n) had told you rumors had spread around the entire school; you figured that would’ve happened. Any topic related to the twins spread like wildfire, especially the blonde-haired one. 

“... Can you not try to pry into my private life?” you replied, which you instantly realized was exactly a wrong answer to give. This implied that you were in fact dating Atsumu secretly, and you just made your life 10x worse. You figured you should just tell everyone what had happened, then the blame would be on (b/f/n)- it should preferably be placed on Atsumu, since he started it, really. 

When you met him at 6pm, you expected no contribution from him. Instead, you were met with a solid plan for something you weren’t really happy about, but it seemed the easiest to convince the public of a story they put out. 

“(y/n)... let’s tell them that we’re dating.”

“Hmm… well, they already think that…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” “It’s fine. All we can do is move forward, I guess.”

“Yeah… ‘Samu gave me this solution; it’s all I have, I’m sorry if it’s-”

“It’s fine. Let’s go through with it. Just protect me from the crazy fangirls; that’s all I want.”

“Ya.” 

“And we’ll need to put together a coherent story; what’s yer number?” 

“Ahaha, seriously, maybe (b/f/n)’s a prophet. She told me that she was aiming for somethin’ to happen between us,” you commented, remembering what happened years and years ago. 

“Ya were just so unnecessarily worried about the fangirls,” Atsumu mentioned. 

“Oi! Yer fangirls were hella scary back then…” 

That night, you stayed up coming up with a story, which ended with the two of you breaking up so that you could go on your separate ways again. However, the story didn’t last too long, as (b/f/n)’s parent’s investigations went a little too far and spread the truth a little too much. (b/f/n) is one thing, but you had almost forgotten her parents were another, seriously. They’d been a little busy over the last few years, thus the lack of investigations of local drama, but they had been doing so for decades, what could you expect from them? 

Nothing was Atsumu’s fault to the fanclub, unless he seriously convinced them that it was. You were guilty until proven innocent. Unbeknownst to you until after, he gave them a whole (to be honest, not-so-great) speech on how he kind of went too far with the joke, but also placed the blame on everyone else for assuming things. People were absolutely ridiculous; their ideas and their insane imagination should learn that the left side of the brain exists too. 

“Funny how we met again after college, after all that time.”

“Ya… a real wonder” 

Another A/N: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ‘TSUMU FORGIVE ME IF I WROTE HIM LIKE, WRONG IN THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you would like to read some of my other works, find them here! * ˚ ✦ ⇢ Taglist: @serowotonin​ @luna-la-ley​ // send me an ask if you would like to be added!

[louehvolution]

I believe the lack of media about the festival is a result of the negligence of his team. His profile is low at the moment and as an independent artist the media interest in his career will decrease further. Many fans here (I'm not talking about you) believe that 1D's fame will last forever but it's not true, new talent is emerging in the industry and having a good team as well as label support and high profile are important. Louis has been invisible to the gp for almost 2 years.

And just to complement my ask about his team's negligence. I think the festival is a super cool idea but it won't attract exposure from outside the fandom. He needs exposure to a new demographic and I think the festival will just keep him inside the bubble. It would be great if the "fixer of problems" could get him a big festival to perform this year. Sorry for the long ask.

Anon, not at all! Sorry for the long answer!

A result of deliberate negligence—which is sabotage—and blacklisting, in my opinion. That blogger pal of Simon Jones would have fans believe they got the exclusive about the livestream numbers because no one else wanted it. Biggest livestream concert for a male solo artist and third overall in 2020 only behind Dua Lipa and BTS… Who can seriously believe that? Yet it received no attention except by the Independent.

The thing is, Billboard knew Louis again for an article about the album anniversary a month later. And many more knew him for the round of press about the hypothetical management company. So, seems like selective interest.

Louis has created opportunities for himself—the livestream, this festival—that should, under normal circumstances, work to precisely raise his profile and create media interest in his career. But no matter what he does, it makes no difference if his team doesn't push it, or the media is better served not reporting it.

And it seems calculated, because what never gets widespread attention is what concerns Louis as a solo artist, as a singer, especially if it’s anything that will positively set him apart.

What was it got him the most press in the last year and a half? The idea of a management company, which conveniently distracted right when the fanbase was united and focused on his music with Project Defenceless. And before that Father’s Day, wasn’t it?

And one can argue about a certain inertia from the media, used to reporting in that line. But then the point is that this will not change on its own, work is needed to change it. Instead, it continues to be reinforced. Like when you have an exclusive—on the Telegraph—to announce a livestream concert after months of silence, and it introduces him as a 'fringe member of 1D who spent more time analysing contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking and swearing,' and dedicates a paragraph to his living arrangements with his girlfriend, model Eleanor Calder, and explaining that his son lives in LA with the mother, stylist Briana Jungwirth... it matters. What could be harmless for some other artist is only contributing to maintaining the status quo and impeding growth for someone with his history and in his position.

Regarding the reach of the festival, it is, realistically, limited. It’s a small opening to another audience, though, with the involvement of two bands and the DJ. Nonetheless, it is worth noting what anyone will encounter right now if they check him out on social media. On Twitter he is 1/4th of a dead band—agreed that interest in 1D dwindles, as it is history and that bio is nothing at this point but an erasure of him as an individual artist with a solo career. You go to his You Tube and the last update was over a year ago. Why not upload a couple of performances from the livestream? The main issue with his IG is the long periods of nothing; after the livestream—which, despite the lack of press, one might have supposed a key moment that could attract people to his page—it went four months inactive. No one is asking for daily content, but how can such long stretches of total silence while his music is not played anywhere and he is pretty much invisible, be good? And it extends to within the fandom too. To see him only on his girlfriend’s IG for weeks on end?

In my ignorance, I would think this festival would serve as a good springboard for a single/EP release, with promo in the fall, building up to some performances in the November/December festivals? But even supposing he doesn’t have new music ready, the point stands that an artist’s career doesn’t exist only during single releases or big moments, and even favoring that pattern, what about building up to these and capitalizing on them?