#i was compelled by a force outside my control

[facelessoldgargoyle]

*rolls out of bed in a panic*

SAD BINDLE ANT WITH 80’s TANK TOP TITTIES

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[foldingfittedsheets]

My friend @supernovasolace has been sharing some stories from their partner G’s eating habits and each one is funnier than the last so I finally begged permission to write about it and they both agreed. His actual permission was: “I want you to make whatever art your heart desires. Get as weird with it as you want, give me a fever dream.” This man is so much funnier than I could ever be.

The first story shared with me was fairly innocuous. The couple likes to split up who gets the last crumblies in bags of treats. If they polish off a thing of chocolates one of them gets to tip the bag back and inhale the ghostly whispers of flavor left in the container.

But the item in question was one of those tubs of chocolate salted caramels from Costco.

“Can I finish this?” He asked.

“Go nuts,” they said.

It’s worth noting that N knew this was a terrible idea but it didn’t occur to them to warn him. They simply accepted that their partner wanted to take a face full of sea salt.

He threw back the container and was immediately assaulted get it with the massive granules of salt instead of the chocolate dust he’d been hoping for.

He coughed and choked while N started laughing hysterically and realized a moment too late that he didn’t think about the contents before tossing it back.

But today they shared another story. They were settled up in bed. He was making eye contact with N when he popped a catnip Greenie treat into his mouth. The horror, they informed me, was instantaneous.

“Worse than the caramel salt?” I asked.

“So much worse. Because he did this in a bizarre power play and committed way too hard to the bit.”

When I asked his motivation the sum of it was that he’d been compelled by forces outside his control. He simply obeyed the exhortations of his soul. As a result he stared into his partners soul as tears and regret filled his eyes with each crunch.

The best thing though was that apparently one day N came home to find G in the workshop. He was crouched over an array of M&M’s like a mad scientist, X-acto knife in hand. But he only had green and yellow on his operating table. He was carefully cutting each color in half and sticking yellow to green in a freakish Frankenstein of green and yellow candy coating.

According to N it was a not insignificant number of candies that had been surgically spliced together, an assembly line of confectionary madness.

When they asked what he was doing he informed them he was, “Making Sprite flavor.”

[yourownutopia]

Shadowborn ( a jin woo x reader story)

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember? [Jin Woo x fem! shadow! reader]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter Index :

[Prologue], [1]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Song: Shadowborn - Hiroyuki Sawano

Calm before the storm - It's me they all are coming for Be my shadowborn

We're back to take the pain - My soul is indestructible

I steal you from the grave - So cursed to be a slave

»»———-»--•--«———-««

Make sure to read the [Prologue] before diving into the Story! :)

Notes: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect words.

Chapter 1: Distortion

Aside from the echo of [Y/N]'s footsteps reverberating against the stone walls of the narrow corridor, there was an oppressive silence. Jin-Woo’s own steps were so light they were drowned out by hers.

The quiet was unsettling, pressing down on her like an invisible shroud of unease. Whenever the pitch darkness eased slightly, her gaze would wander, trying to take in her surroundings. Most of the time, though, her eyes fixated on the back of the Shadow Monarch’s head. He clearly noticed the piercing stare of his newest shadow—yet chose to ignore it in silence.

Jin-Woo appeared calm on the outside, but inside, a storm of questions and frustration raged.

Who was she? Why was she so different from every other shadow he'd summoned? Why could she speak?

How had she died? What had killed her? Why did she refuse to obey him? And why, of all things, did he even care?

Alongside his irritation, another emotion simmered just beneath the surface: anger. But it wasn’t directed at her—not in the slightest. This realization only fueled his frustration further. Was he angry because he hadn’t followed through on his own resolve? Because he hesitated? Or was it something else?

Perhaps his rage stemmed from having to confront his own helplessness. Or worse—from the faint glimmer of pity he felt for her. Did he pity her? Wasn’t he stronger than this, past such weaknesses?

Hadn’t he grown beyond such emotions?

Yet, here she was, standing as a constant reminder of his internal contradictions. Why had he brought her along despite her defiance? Was it really just because he sought a strong shadow? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps it was the lost, fractured look in her eyes—peculiar for someone who was supposed to be dead.

Even in her silence, he could hear it—the quiet lament of her restless soul, the faint whispers of unspoken pain. He hadn’t understood the words, but the meaning was crystal clear.

To be fair, Jin-Woo couldn’t imagine what being a shadow truly felt like. After all, every shadow he’d ever summoned had willingly joined his ranks—or so he thought.

Byung-Gu was the only one he knew of who hadn’t wanted to keep fighting but had done so purely to save Cha’s life. Jin-Woo had assumed he could only recruit shadows who were, in some way, willing to serve him. Yet she had made it unmistakably clear that she had no such intention.

They entered a wider chamber, and Jin-Woo abruptly came to a stop. [Y/N] halted as well, more out of instinct than choice.

Had he truly forced her to his side? Or did she have her own reason for being here?

The thought compelled him to glance back at her for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

[Y/N] flinched, almost imperceptibly, as Jin-Woo suddenly turned his head to meet her gaze. His piercing gray eyes cut through her, sending a chill down her spine. For a brief moment, she feared she’d angered him simply by existing.

Where had her courage gone?

She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat was so dry that the words refused to come. Jin-Woo’s lips twitched slightly—an almost-smile—before he opened his inventory.

“We’ll rest here,” he announced, scrolling through his items.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Rest? Why? Does he need it? He didn’t look remotely tired, but she wasn’t about to complain.

She took a moment to scan the room. It was small, dimly lit by a few flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. They hadn’t encountered any monsters yet—a bit unusual for a dungeon of this size. Still, Jin-Woo clearly wanted to get through this place quickly.

He’d already spent several days here, and his shadows had cleared out countless monsters. But at some point, even he wanted to go home.

Jin-Woo sat down on the floor, pulling out some of the food Jinha had prepared for him. The growling of his stomach was a reminder of how long he’d been in this dungeon. Time tended to blur here, but it had to have been over two days.

The rustling of plastic caught [Y/N]’s attention. She opened her eyes to see Jin-Woo unwrapping a neatly packed sandwich.

He looks almost innocent like that, she thought, watching him take a bite while scrolling through his translucent interface.

Her unrelenting gaze didn’t go unnoticed, even though Jin-Woo gave no outward reaction.

“Want some?” he asked suddenly, glancing up.

[Y/N] blinked, tilting her head as though she hadn’t understood the question.

“Huh?”

With an irritated grunt, Jin-Woo held up another sandwich, his expression impatient. It was clear he wasn’t used to his shadows needing food, but she wasn’t exactly like the others.

[Y/N] hesitated. She was dead, wasn’t she? There was no reason for her to eat. She didn’t even feel hungry. Yet, the gesture surprised her—it was unexpectedly kind. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Shaking her head, she waved the offer away. “I don’t think I need it,” she replied calmly.

Jin-Woo shrugged, returning to his interface. Meanwhile, [Y/N] stared at the faintly glowing panel before him. She couldn’t read it—everything was backward from her perspective—but something about it felt familiar. Slowly, fragments of memory surfaced.

A dark void. A golden window. Words forming before her eyes, their meaning sinking deep into her consciousness.

[The System congratulates the user on receiving a new title: “Shadow Warden.” User Sung Jin-Woo has recruited you as his shadow servant.]

Her lips moved before she realized it. “Jin-Woo.”

Hearing his name spoken by her, Jin-Woo froze. There was something about the way she said it, almost like she was testing the sound, trying it on her tongue.

Unlike his other shadows, she didn’t address him with reverence or titles. Just his name.

“What?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

“Your name,” she murmured, as though it held some hidden meaning she was determined to uncover.

Something about her strange demeanor got under his skin. “My shadows usually address me by my title,” he said, his tone cool.

Her sharp eyes locked onto his, unflinching. “Don’t they feel ridiculous doing that?” she asked bluntly.

“…”

Jin Woo didn’t answer her question. No, damn it—why should they? They were his shadows, he was their ruler, and they were grateful to serve someone like him. So why her? What was her problem?

"Then why did you come along? Why didn’t you want me to me send you back?" Jin Woo finally asked, genuinely curious about the answer.

[Y/N] stayed silent for a moment before responding.

"I didn’t want to," she muttered.

"That’s nonsense," the black-haired man said, standing up again. His movement made the [H/C]-haired woman look up at him once more.

His voice was firm, almost cutting. He had seen the relief flicker across her face when he had let her go earlier.

"Maybe you’re different from the other shadows, but don’t think for a second that you can fool me," he added, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I cannot force shadows ranked higher than me. So, I’ll ask you again: why are you here?"

His question seemed to strike a chord within her. For once, there was no sharp or sarcastic comeback. Instead, she turned her head away, her silence prompting the Shadow Monarch to raise a brow. For the first time, her expression revealed something other than smugness.

Discomfort.

She didn’t want to answer. The question clearly made her uneasy, which only confirmed his suspicions. Her earlier words were a lie—she definitely had a reason.

"I..." she started after a few moments of silence, taking a deep breath.

"Honestly, I didn’t have much time to think about it," she finally said, looking up at the young Shadow Monarch.

His expression was incredulous, as if to say, “Are you serious right now?”

"H-Hey, I know how that sounds! You’d think I had all the time in the world—there’s not exactly much to do when you’re dead," she added defensively, her tone almost pleading as if trying to justify herself. This earned a faint smirk from the black-haired man.

"But that’s not how it is..." she murmured, her voice quieter now.

The contrast between her sarcasm and her current embarrassment was, frankly, quite entertaining to him. None of his shadows would ever behave this way.

This was something Jin Woo had noticed more and more during his time as the Shadow Monarch—the lack of true human interaction in his life. His shadows were loyal, but their emotional intelligence was limited.

Beru was the only one who could speak, yet even he stayed silent unless directly addressed. Their relationship was one-sided: Jin Woo commanded, and they obeyed. Whenever he sought advice, he never received an honest, thoughtful response—only the answers they believed he wanted to hear. Like the others, Beru’s sole concern was to keep him satisfied. Unpleasant truths? They were never spoken.

Shadows, after all, weren’t human. They lacked complex thoughts and true free will. It was only now, in moments like this, that Jin Woo fully realized just how far removed he’d become from social interaction.

Before his solo leveling journey, he had never been particularly outgoing. But back then, he’d at least been forced to engage with people. Now, it was just him and his shadows.

His gaze lingered on her, studying her features intently.

Her mere presence created a strange tension. He wasn’t used to not being alone—not like this. His shadows were always there, of course, but they didn’t cast judgmental glances. His actions didn’t need to make sense to them; they never questioned him. His rule was absolute, and that meant he never had to worry about missteps or what anyone thought of him.

But with her...

His eyes drifted over her slight, almost delicate form once more. With her, it was different. Her eyes were sharp, observant, filled with thoughts she had no problem voicing—unlike Beru.

But why on earth was she so reluctant now?

The resurrection had been both a rescue from eternal darkness and a curse of the shadows.

[Y/N] could not truly remember the time she had been dead—only the weight in her chest and the endless void surrounding her. That was until the moment a deep voice threatened to wake her from her slumber.

The first time it spoke, it was gentle, but [Y/N] hadn’t even been able to open her eyes. The second time, her eyes had fluttered open briefly as warmth slowly spread through her body, but it still hadn’t been enough to rouse her. It was... peaceful. Why should she leave this calm? There was no reason...

Then, silence—before the commanding voice asked if she truly wished for her end to come here.

The voice of the man seemed to shake something deep within her. A longing? No... it felt more like a desire buried within her soul, clawing its way to the surface.

Her spirit yearned for life, fighting against the crushing weight that tried to hold her down.

She struggled against the heaviness of her eyelids, her vision blurred as the silhouette of a young man materialized before her.

"Arise."

Her eyes snapped open—this time, the voice was not gentle but threatening. It did not sound like the previous two times. Instead, it was layered with a second voice, one that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her vision was still restricted, her body frozen in place, kneeling before Jin Woo. His form might have appeared human, but [Y/N] could clearly see the second heart beating in his chest, as well as the outline of the colossal ruler of the shadows looming behind him. That presence demanded reverence. His violet eyes burned like flames behind the black-haired man.

She wanted to rise, to flee—to get away from the dangerous, dark figure towering over her.

"Kneel," the loud voice of the Shadow Monarch—no, not the man in front of her—echoed in her ears. It was as though an invisible force pressed her down.

Her body trembled with fear, aching to obey, but her soul refused to yield. Words formed in her mouth, though it felt as if her throat were constricting.

"..."

"N-"

"No," she said.

The shadowed creature's eyes widened, and for the first time in an eternity, the Shadow Monarch was taken aback. No one had ever dared—or even managed—to defy his orders.

"You..." he hissed, his presence growing even more oppressive. Yet, because the human body was not entirely his to command, he could not touch her.

"How dare you," he growled.

This confrontation played out on a level Jin Woo could not yet perceive. A plane between space and time, one he could not enter.

One last time, with all his strength, he tried to bend her to his will, but [Y/N] resisted with equal intensity. Her eyes flickered briefly, and the Monarch's expression shifted slightly in shock.

"This can't be—" he began, but the voice of the shadow interrupted him.

"No!"

The resoluteness in her voice caused his absolute authority to falter. Her form began to manifest fully, and the invisible, crushing grip of the Shadow Monarch ceased immediately. His looming presence disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the oppressive force evaporated.

But it was clear she wasn’t entirely free. Instead, she was now bound to the black-haired man whose piercing gray eyes still bore into her.

Her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Her silence seemed to satisfy some base desire Jin Woo must have held—after all she had done so far.

But his moment of triumph was short-lived. She bit her lip, and he could sense her frustration building.

"Why do you even ask me that? You only care about yourself anyway," she snarled.

Slowly but surely, his patience was wearing thin. He had genuinely hoped they could go at least half an hour without wanting to throttle each other—but she made it impossible.

What the hell did she know about him? What did she know about the world he lived in, the sacrifices he had made just to save his family? She knew nothing at all.

"What do you know?" he retorted mockingly. To him, she was just another monster created by the System to torment humans. Why should he listen to anything she had to say?

"I know you think you have the right to use us," she said, her [E/C] eyes locking onto his with defiance as she threw the words at him. Us? She clearly meant the shadows.

"You think you can walk through the world, using us for your purposes. Have you ever thought that maybe we feel things too?" she asked, her voice growing louder.

What was she talking about? Feelings in monsters?

"Of course you didn’t," she continued with dripping sarcasm. "You’re special, so you get to do whatever you want, without thinking about the consequences right? Take whatever you want, however you want. Sure, I get it."

Her shadowed voice was sharp with cynicism.

This time, Jin Woo’s anger wasn’t rooted in his pride as the Shadow Monarch—her words struck him as a person.

She had no idea what he had endured, what he had suffered to get to this point. The times he had barely escaped death, and the sacrifices he had made—all for others, never for himself. And now, here she was, mocking him and calling him a selfish tyrant. Her audacity made his blood boil.

"You don’t know anything. I do this to protect the people I love. I’d go even further if I had to," he growled, his attempt to restrain his anger only partially successful.

"Ah, I see. And that’s why you force your will on others. Makes total sense. My bad," she shot back, her voice dripping with mock understanding.

"YOU want to lecture me about fairness? You’re a monster. You have no right to say anything, especially when your existence is only meant for destruction and chaos. Don’t talk to me about feelings," he snapped, his voice tinged with disdain.

Her breathing grew shallow, rage coursing through her veins.

"I do know something about feelings! I understand pain and fear, but that doesn’t give you the right to use my soul for your purposes! And stop calling me a monster. I was a Hunter, damn it—I know what that feels like!"

Jin Woo’s eyes widened in shock. His anger gave way to confusion.

"A... Hunter?" he echoed.

Her furious expression turned to one of disbelief and confusion. What had she just said? She was a Hunter? That was impossible... he had found her in a Solo Dungeon.

[Y/N] stared blankly at a distant point, her mind in turmoil. What had she said, and why was she so certain it was true?

Images flickered through her mind—brief, static-like distortions, too fleeting to grasp.

"I... was..." she began, her voice trembling.

"A Hunter?" she repeated, more to herself than to Jin Woo, who continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

Before she could process the thought, searing pain shot through her temples, and she gasped.

Instinctively, she clutched her head as fragmented, flickering images filled her mind.

Flowers.

A hand holding hers.

The static distortions resembled a flickering television.

"What’s wrong?" Jin Woo asked, his irritation replaced by genuine concern.

"Something’s... wrong," [Y/N] managed to say through gritted teeth, digging her fingers into her hair.

Her pained, unfocused eyes darted briefly to Jin Woo, who had pushed himself off the wall. What was happening to her?

To the searing pain, a piercing, high-pitched tone in her ears added itself, drowning out everything else. Her hands pressed against her ears, desperate to block it out—but it was no use. The sound was inside her head.

Panicked, she shook her head. She just wanted it to stop.

Jin Woo felt helpless, unable to understand what was happening to her. But he could see the fear in her eyes. Was this like what happened with Esil? Was the System trying to prevent her from revealing something?

Before he could react, he saw her body falter—unable to withstand the pressure any longer.

Before she could hit the ground, he moved swiftly, catching her in his arms.

Her body had gone completely limp, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

He had already noticed he could touch her, but the fact that her body resembled that of a human caught him off guard. Every living being, whether human or monster, had its own mana flow, but with her? There was nothing.

Carefully, he laid her on the ground, the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight dancing over her face. The gust of wind from Jin Woo’s swift movement had set them in motion.

The Shadow Monarch’s expression softened as he removed his mantle, rolled it up, and gently placed it under her head as a makeshift pillow.

Clearly, there were far more mysteries to her existence than he had initially realized.

Her face had relaxed, the pained grimace replaced by something softer.

"Beru," he said quietly. Before he could finish, the large ant emerged from his shadow.

"Yes, my king?" Beru asked, his antennae twitching as Jin Woo shot him a brief glance.

"What’s wrong with her?" he asked, hoping the shadow might understand one of his own better than he could.

"I can sense that she is one of us—but there is something else," Beru replied, his mandibles clicking as he spoke.

"What?"

"There is an unusual aura surrounding her. Her soul is far stronger than her body," Beru said, his gaze fixed on her still form. He could see it clearly: the aura enveloping her like a shield, glowing faintly and keeping the shadows at bay.

"What do you mean?"

"I fear... I am not authorized to share that information," Beru replied cautiously, sensing his master’s piercing glare.

Not authorized?

For Jin Woo, that could only mean one thing.

His gaze shifted from the nervous Beru, who was already anticipating consequences, to the unconscious [Y/N].

The System didn’t want him to find out.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Thanks for all reblogs, likes & comments.'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

~Utopia ༊*·˚

[captain039]

He’s Grumpy, I’m sunshine

Alpha!Logan x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, age gap (legal), light swearing, grumpy/sunshine, anxiety, mental health issues, intimacy, violence, torture, plus size reader, medication usage for anxiety, depression and sleeping, heat pills, scent blockers

Set at Charles school

Your mutation: fire creation and control

I watched Deadpool and Wolverine and found my Wolverine cravings again xD

I’m in love with Hugh Jackman again

This school was your life now, having gone too many nights in a fire proof basement for your ‘out of control spells’ as your father put it. You didn’t have a bad childhood, rich parents each working hard to make their living, sending you to a nice school, college even till you set everything on fire.

You were staying at the college, it was your first month and everything seemed to be going well, your new room mate was nice a beta woman and classes were easy so far. You had your own space some clubs you wanted to check out, new places to see if you ever got the energy. Right now it was study till you passed out, get up go to class, come right back and repeat. It was draining but you needed to get use to it, your mother would call mid week and message every other day. Your father would say a brief hello on the calls but that’s all you’d hear from him, not that you minded. You kept your mutation hidden even if sometimes you felt yourself running a little hotter than usual, sometimes small flames would jump off your skin and you’d stop whatever you were doing, put some music on and focus on the moment. It was the third week, your roommate had invited you to party, you didn’t want to go, but your therapist did say to ‘get out more’ as she put it. So you went, stuck by your roommates side for most of the night till she got pulled away by some guy and they left. You were about to leave when someone approached, another girl in your class, an alpha, you’d forgotten her name but she handed you a drink with a bright smile, sat down with you and talked. It felt nice to laugh about whatever crazy story she was telling, she lived in the country, way out in the country living off home grown vegetables and herding cows. You checked your phone once your drink was gone finding it late so you excused yourself and went back to your room. You found your roommate passed out in her bed and shrugged feeling your head spinning a little, that drink definitely had alcohol in it. You laid down after forcing your jeans and bra off before curling up in and sighing. You awoke to the smell smoke and burning, you shot up, your room on fire, your roommate screaming as flames engulfed her. Your body was on fire also, the flames coming out of you. You tried to stop them tried to reel them in but you had no control, your panic worsened your anxiety worsened and the fire worsened. You heard sirens, shouting and chatter, but all you could do was stand by your roommates bed seeing her charred body. The fire brigade couldn’t stop your fire and you couldn’t cry.

“You’re alright” you frowned looking around seeing no one, but a males voice filled your head.

“Walk outside, we’ll handle the rest” you felt compelled to listen, you walked through the burning hall and outside as the voice said.

“Storm” a man called and you frowned. The world around you stopped, everything frozen but you and the group in front of you. Heavy rain poured down helping stop the flames on the building.

“I can stop this, I’m going to calm your mind, it will feel strange though” the voice said.

It did feel strange your body calming your heart slowing, the flames subsiding, just you, naked in the middle of the campus entrance.

“Jean” the older man in the wheel chair said as you quickly hid your body as the woman came over and wrapped a blanket around you. You thanked her softly shivering but not from the cold.

“Come, let’s get you some place safe” the older man said.

That’s how you met Professor Charles Xavier, Storm or Ororo and Jean grey that day. They said they found you by one of Professor Xavier’s machines he uses. Now you stay here in a fireproof room, with no one else in it, continuing your studies and nobody knew the cause of the fire. The nightmares still haunt you though, your roommates scream, she was such a lovely girl. You found out later that something had been in your drink spiked, majority of the other students just passed out for a day while it turned your powers hay wire and burnt quarter of the college down. You avoided most people, happy in your solitude and avoiding your powers. This school was full of different mutants, still some alpha douche bags around your age but it was a lot less intense and easier. Every time Professor Xavier would ask you to train your power you’d decline quickly and say you were fine with your studies. To be truthful you hated your power, hated the destruction it caused even if majority of these kids had tragic back stories too. You connected with most of the teachers, Jean more so though, Ororo was probably your second, but Jean was an alpha and reminded you of your mother somehow, so you subtly clung to her, made an attachment as your old therapist would call it. Sometimes though you’d catch whiff of another alpha on her, not Scott, Scott was a beta, nor another teacher, it was a strong intense scent you couldn’t pinpoint the smell, Whiskey was one of them, leather it would fade with Jeans scent of Grapefruit and spice.

You were going to see Jean seeing as she was one of the doctors there for some more anti-heat medication, you really wish they would come up with a stupid medical name for the stuff so you didn’t have to say it, even if you were a grown adult. You didn’t knock, figured she knows already with her mutation. What you didn’t expect was to be slapped in the face by a new scent. Slapped in the face was a little excessive, it felt like that though, you stopped in the door way stared at the alpha in the room and forgot how to breathe. Jesus Christ.

You stuttered pointing out the door cursing yourself as Jean smiled a bit.

“I didn’t know someone was here- I’ll um-“ your eyes finally left the male alpha, wondering who he was and wondering why the hell your legs were struggling to hold you up. You almost purred and bared your neck like some cat in heat.

“He was just leaving” Jean gave the male alpha a stern look and he sighed uncrossing his arms and walking to you. You forgot all manners and normal human function as he approached.

“Can I get past you Bub?” He asked voice rough and you slapped yourself mentally.

“Yes sorry, uh bye?” You moved out the way saying goodbye even if you didn’t know him. You heard him chuckle lightly and swore your stomachs did flips.

“You ok there?” Jean asks and you snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“Yes, that was embarrassing, I’ve smelt him on you before it was weird putting scent to face” god help you, you shouldn’t have said that.

“That’s even more embarrassing, I literally hate myself right now” you hung your head and walked over to her desk and sat down.

“You’re alright, how can I help?” She chuckled lightly and you sighed nodding.

“I need more um, Anti-heat pills, maybe some more scent blockers” you mumbled the last part. Scent blockers blocked your scent and others, if he was only briefly staying then good, no more embarrassing malfunctions, but if he was, damn.

“Is he a teacher?” You ask.

“No, Logan is I guess you could say he’s the muscle here even if Charles doesn’t like the thought, Logan’s helped this school more than once, he’s just got back from a mission sometimes he helps trains” she explains as she types on her computer.

“Oh, that’s cool” you say feeling a little stupid as Jean heads over to the locked room in the corner.

“Need any updates on your other meds? You’re going ok? Do you wanna come off them?” She asks.

“No they’re fine, thank you though” you answer as she returns with a small bag and hands it to you.

“Charles asked again if you wanted to join training this Friday?” She asks sitting down again and you tense.

“Oh I’m ok, thank you though” you say and stand.

“I’ll let you get back to work” you smile and say a small goodbye before leaving. You sigh shoulders sagging a little. You’re definitely not going to train now if that alpha will be there.

Next part ->

[waliminium]

All That’s Left Behind

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, emotional strain/conflict Word Count: 2.3k Summary: After you walk away, Harvey is left to face the emptiness of his life without you. Months later, a chance encounter compels him to reach out, leading to a cautious journey of rebuilding trust. Slowly, Harvey learns to show up and fight for the relationship he once took for granted. Though the road is fraught with pain and uncertainty, hope emerges as you both take a chance on each other again.

The rain came down in sheets, slicking the glass walls of Harvey Specter’s penthouse and softening the city’s sharp lights into a blur. He sat in the dark, staring out at Manhattan, a glass of scotch dangling loosely in his hand.

It was almost laughable how much his life mirrored the storm outside. Chaotic. Relentless.

For the first time in years, the one thing Harvey couldn’t control wasn’t a hostile client, a legal loophole, or some rival firm.

It was you.

You were the only thing that had ever made him want to stop running, to stop being Harvey Specter, closer of deals and breaker of hearts. But even with you, he couldn’t stop the one thing he feared most. Losing.

You had been gone for three months, and the hole you left behind seemed to widen with every passing day.

The penthouse felt cavernous without you. He hated it. He hated the emptiness, the silence that seemed to swallow him whole the second he walked through the door.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch the things you left behind—your scarf draped over the back of the chair, the half-empty bottle of vanilla hand lotion on the bathroom counter. And your mug. God, that damn mug.

It sat on the kitchen counter, chipped and worn but untouched since the morning you left. It was a small thing, insignificant, really. But to Harvey, it was everything.

Some days, he’d find himself standing there, staring at it, his hand hovering over the handle as if touching it might bring you back. But he never could.

The fight—or rather, the end—was etched into his memory.

It hadn’t been loud or dramatic. No screaming, no accusations hurled like weapons. That wasn’t your style.

Instead, it was quiet. Painful in its simplicity.

You had come home late, your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you dropped your bag onto the couch.

“You’re late,” he’d said without looking up from the case files spread across the dining table.

You didn’t answer right away. When he glanced up, you were standing there, staring at him with an expression that made his stomach twist.

“We need to talk,” you’d said softly, your voice steady but carrying a weight that made his chest tighten.

He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for you to sit, but you stayed where you were, arms crossed as though bracing yourself.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said.

At first, he thought he’d misheard you. “Do what?”

“This. Us. Whatever it is, we're pretending this is.”

His heart stopped, but he forced himself to stay calm. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but it was hollow, and it cut deeper than any words could. “I’ve been trying, Harvey. I’ve been trying to make this work, to be okay with how you live your life. But I’m tired. I can’t keep being the last thing on your list of priorities.”

“That’s not fair,” he said sharply, standing now, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You knew what my life was like when we started this.”

You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I did. But I didn’t know how much it would hurt.”

“Damn it, I love you—”

“No, you don’t.”

The words hit him like a slap.

You wiped at your eyes, your voice trembling. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. Of having someone to come home to when it’s convenient. But love? Love means showing up, Harvey. And you never did.”

He wanted to argue, to tell you that you were wrong, but the words stuck in his throat, suffocated by the truth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you repeated, softer this time, and it was then that he realized you weren’t angry. You were broken.

When you turned to leave, he didn’t stop you. He told himself it was because he needed time to think, to calm down, but deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t know how to fight for you.

The first few days after you left, Harvey convinced himself you’d come back.

You always came back. After every argument, every tense moment, you’d find your way back to him. You’d walk through the door with that soft smile, telling him it was okay, that you could work through it.

But this time, you didn’t.

He tried calling once. Twice. But your voicemail picked up each time, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave a message. What could he say? That he missed you? That he was sorry? It felt hollow, insufficient.

He threw himself into work instead, taking on case after case, staying at the firm late into the night to avoid going home. But even the thrill of winning began to lose its edge.

Mike noticed first, his usual smirk replaced by concern.

“You look like crap, Harvey,” he said one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Thanks for the observation,” Harvey replied, not looking up from his desk.

“Seriously. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

Mike sighed, his brows furrowing. “You know, whatever it is, you can—”

“I don’t need a therapy session,” Harvey snapped, cutting him off. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine.

One sleepless night, he found himself sitting on the floor of his living room, surrounded by the remnants of the life you left behind.

The scarf you’d forgotten in the backseat of his car. The book you’d been halfway through, a folded page marking your place. And your notes.

You’d always had a habit of leaving little notes around the penthouse—on the bathroom mirror, in his briefcase, tucked into his suit pockets. They were silly things, mostly. Jokes, reminders, affirmations.

But they were you.

He pulled one out of the drawer, the paper crinkled and worn from years of being shuffled around.

“Don’t forget to smile today. It looks good on you.”

His chest ached as he stared at the familiar handwriting, the words blurring as his eyes burned.

Time passed, though Harvey barely noticed.

He stopped going out to drink with the associates. Stopped caring about his reputation as the untouchable, unshakable Harvey Specter. He still won his cases—of course, he did—but the fire that once drove him had dulled to embers.

Jessica tried once to talk to him, her sharp eyes softening with something akin to pity.

“Whatever’s going on with you, you need to deal with it,” she said. “Before it deals with you.”

Her words haunted him, echoing in the back of his mind as he sat alone in his office, the city sprawling out below.

It wasn’t until he saw you again, by chance, that something inside him shifted.

You were outside a coffee shop, laughing with a friend, your smile radiant even from across the street. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

You looked happy.

He wanted to turn around, to walk away and let you live your life without him. But then you looked up, your gaze meeting his, and the world seemed to stop.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you nodded—a small, almost imperceptible gesture—and turned back to your friend.

Harvey stood there long after you disappeared into the crowd, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t name.

That night, he wrote you a letter.

It wasn’t long, but it was honest. Raw.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not being what you needed, for not saying what I should have said. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know.”

He left it on your doorstep the next morning, his heart pounding as he walked away.

Days turned into weeks, and Harvey told himself he’d done all he could.

But one evening, as he sat in his office, his phone buzzed with a text.

“We need to talk.”

For the first time in months, Harvey felt something close to hope.

The text was brief, no more than three words.

We need to talk.

Harvey had stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, rereading the message until the words blurred.

It wasn’t a declaration, a reunion, or even an olive branch. It was neutral, cautious. But it was enough to make his heart pound.

He didn’t reply immediately. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, second-guessing every possible response. Should he ask when? Where? Or would even that make him seem too eager?

Finally, he settled on something simple. Name the time and place.

The café was unassuming, a quiet little corner of the city that Harvey had passed by a hundred times but never entered. He got there ten minutes early, an uncharacteristic move for a man who was usually fashionably late to everything.

He didn’t know what to expect. Would you come in angry, demanding answers he didn’t know how to give? Would you be indifferent, already halfway to moving on?

When you finally walked in, he felt the air shift.

You looked… different. Not in the way you dressed or carried yourself, but in the subtle confidence you exude. You didn’t seem like the same person who had stood in his penthouse months ago, broken and pleading.

And yet, to him, you were still everything.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice steady but guarded as you slid into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” he replied, his hands clasped tightly on the table to keep them from shaking.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything unsaid and unresolved.

Finally, you broke it.

“I got your letter.”

He nodded, his throat tightening. “I meant every word.”

“I know.” You took a breath, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “That’s why I’m here.”

The conversation was careful at first, like stepping across a frozen lake and waiting for the ice to crack.

You asked about work, and he gave you vague answers, not wanting to burden you with the truth: that everything had felt meaningless without you.

He asked about your life, and you told him you’d been keeping busy. New projects, new people. You didn’t say much more, and he didn’t push.

But as the minutes passed, the tension began to thaw.

“I didn’t think you’d respond,” he admitted, his voice low.

“I almost didn’t,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “But then I realized I couldn’t keep running from this. From us.”

The word us lingered in the air, fragile and bittersweet.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you began to rebuild, piece by cautious piece.

It started with texts. Short, casual exchanges that slowly grew longer as the walls between you came down. Harvey found himself waiting for your messages, checking his phone more often than he cared to admit.

Then came the phone calls. They were awkward at first, filled with pauses and the occasional stumble over words. But as time went on, they became easier, more natural.

And finally, there were the dinners.

The first one was at a small Italian restaurant you loved, one he’d never gone to without you.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again,” he admitted over a glass of wine.

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. “I didn’t. Not at first. But I realized something: I miss you, Harvey. Even when I hate you, I miss you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “But you did. And if this is going to work, we can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his tone almost desperate.

“Show up,” you said simply. “Be present. Be here, with me, instead of always five steps ahead or stuck in your own head.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I can do that.” But promises weren’t enough, and you both knew it.

There were setbacks, moments where old patterns threatened to resurface.

One night, after a particularly long day at the firm, Harvey found himself canceling dinner with you at the last minute. The second the words left his mouth, regret settled in his chest like a stone, but he knew there was no taking them back.

Your silence on the other end of the line was worse than any angry response. Finally, you said, “It’s okay, Harvey. I understand.”

But your tone—it wasn’t bitter, and it wasn’t sharp. It was tired, resigned in a way that twisted something deep inside him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, though he doubted his own words even as he spoke them.

“Sure,” you replied quietly, and then the call ended.

Slowly, he did.

He started leaving the office earlier, something that shocked even Donna. He’d show up at your place with takeout and an exhausted smile, but he was there.

You began to see glimpses of the Harvey you’d fallen in love with—the one who made you laugh, who challenged you, who made you feel like the most important person in the world when he actually let his guard down.

And Harvey began to see you too, not just as someone he wanted to keep but as someone he needed to fight for.

One night, months after you’d first agreed to see him again, he found himself sitting on your couch, his arm draped around your shoulders as you leaned into him.

“I never told you why I wrote that letter,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against yours.

You tilted your head to look at him. “Why did you?”

He hesitated, his throat tightening. “Because I realized I’d rather risk you rejecting me than spend another day knowing I didn’t try.”

You didn’t respond right away, your gaze searching his.

“I don’t know if I can forgive everything,” you admitted softly. “Not yet.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice steady. “I just want the chance to earn it.”

For the first time in months, you smiled—small, hesitant, but real.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s try.”

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, Harvey felt something he hadn’t dared to hope for:

Peace.

[lostyesterday]

I’ve been thinking about disabled protagonists in Star Trek recently, which got me thinking about Seven of Nine. It’s interesting because I’m almost certain the writers of Voyager did not intend to write a disabled character, but they ended up accidentally writing one anyway, and one whose arc I find surprisingly compelling as a disabled person myself. Seven is dependent on electronic devices both inside her body and external to it in order to survive and she requires regular medical treatment and specialized adaptations to her environment in order to function. She is absolutely canonically disabled (as are all the other ex-Borg in Star Trek), even if the writers probably weren’t aware of that. The major reason that I think Seven’s arc resonates with me so much is because it reflects a deep tension between independence and dependence that is a fundamental and complex part of so many disabled people’s lives.

To be disabled is to be deeply aware at all times of your own dependence on external things (such as wheelchairs, canes, medications, etc.) and other people. At the same time, to be disabled is to also be deeply aware of the societal standards of independence and self-sufficiency you are constantly failing to live up to. You cannot do things that people are “supposed” to be able to do independently. You need help for basic tasks, and you have no choice but to trust that these external supports you are dependent on will not suddenly disappear, causing you to be unable to participate in society at all. It’s difficult to express to someone who hasn’t experienced it how much being disabled forces someone to consider their own level of dependence and independence constantly, how it becomes a deep part of one’s identity and can often be a source of trauma.

Seven’s arc on Voyager is often focused on the nature of individuality, but it is interesting how often “individuality” becomes a stand-in for independence. Seven’s disability makes her deeply dependent on the crew and resources of Voyager for survival. She could theoretically leave and use her own skills to do maintenance on her implants and install an alcove somewhere to keep herself functioning, but it would be a great risk, and her safety would be constantly in doubt. At the same time, Seven hates this dependence. She tries to rely on other people as little as possible, hating her need for the Doctor to diagnose issues with her implants and refusing to ask for help until she has no other choice. She hates this dependence because she sees it as challenging her ability to become a complete “individual” who is able to make her own autonomous choices. She hates this dependence because it forces her to rely on other people who could at any time abandon her or abuse their power over her.

So it’s far less frightening to pretend this dependence doesn’t exist, to hide it even from herself. Seven’s arrogance in her own abilities, her focus on her intellect and vast knowledge and superior physical abilities are in many ways genuine, especially early on. But at what point does this confidence in her own abilities – this reassurance that she is smart enough and strong enough to control her own destiny and be a true individual – become a coping mechanism to deal with the reality of her dependence on objects and people outside of her direct control?

Seven is told often by members of the Voyager crew that being an individual who makes her own choices and decisions is what she should strive for. And at the same time, those same people often exert control over her, attempting to restrict her autonomy. Janeway or the Doctor tell her that they know better than her what her needs are – that being an individual only goes so far. Seven’s anger at this contradiction is one of my favorite parts of her character, partially because it captures a similar feeling of anger deep inside me when I think about the ways society constantly pressures disabled people to maintain standards of independence impossible to live up to while at the same time deeply restricting our autonomy and freedom.

In the episode “Imperfection”, Seven says that what she wants most is to be useful. To be useful is to be a valuable part of society – someone who is self-sufficient and talented and certainly not deeply dependent on other people for basic survival. To be disabled is to have society constantly demand that you be useful, that you be independent and strong and never let your disabilities limit you. And at the same time, to be disabled is to discover over and over that you can never be that fully autonomous, fully functional human being seen as ideal in society. No matter what you do – no matter how far you run from the truth – it’s an impossible reality to escape.

[goodlucktai]

I don’t know if you’re still taking the angsty dialogue prompts but if you are could I humbly request 18 and/or 25 with either the twins or Leo and Gio?

dialogue prompts

18. “Stop. No. Wake up. Wake up! I said wake up!”

x

When Donnie designed the broadhead arrow with an explosive tip, it was after a vision board evening with Mikey that someone definitely should have crashed before the peanut butter half of their iconic duo starting pitching chaotic and nefarious ideas to an audience of the only mad scientist in the greater Manhattan area willing to indulge him. 

A few of the trick arrows they came up with skirted the line of comic book fantasy and practicality neatly—the smokescreen and knockout arrowheads were things of beauty, to name a couple. The three hours spent in an abandoned grain elevator in Brooklyn testing the range of Gio’s brand-new arsenal was some of the most fun Leo could remember having post-invasion. 

But the explosive ones—those were unmitigated destruction in a tiny unassuming package. Gio considered one of them for all of two seconds before sliding it back into its designated sleeve. 

“Aww, what?” Mikey said. 

“We’re on the fourth floor of a derelict grain terminal,” Gio said, which was a very compelling argument. Raph looked a little greener than usual at that reminder, and glanced down at the floor beneath his feet as if visibly reliving the way the whole building had shuddered from the concussive force of the knockout arrow Gio had fired through the window into the overgrown field outside. 

Mikey still pouted about it until their eldest brother, physically incapable of not spoiling little siblings rotten whenever he had half a chance, notched one of the zipline bolts into the barrel of his bow and said, “Angie, how fast do you think you could get down to the field and back up on this?”

Brightening predictably, Mikey shouted, “Like, two minutes, probably!” 

It turned out to be more like eleven minutes, but Michelangelo was not the giving up kind of turtle. Leo had a stitch in his side from laughing by the time their youngest had clambered gracelessly back up the line, and Donnie was muttering about electric rope ascenders to add to their usual kits. That was about when a security truck rolled up to the grounds and they had to skedaddle, and those explosive arrows were left unassessed. 

Donnie built them because he could and because they sounded cool and because when Mikey says anything with stars in his eyes it makes you want to pluck it out of thin air and present it to him before common sense can elbow its way to the front of your brain and say, ‘hey, uh, is that, like, the best choice we could be making?’ 

He didn’t build them for this. 

Whoever the EPF are, they’re coordinated and heavily armed, and have the turtles backed into a corner in a manner of minutes. Fighting baseline humans isn’t really their bag—their bad guys tend to be Foot Clan goons, or mutants running amok in New York City, or any random yokai from the Hidden City they manage to tick off just by existing—and Leo’s heart thuds in his chest when he finds himself on the wrong end of a dozen guns. 

What the heck, he wants to ask, where did you guys come from and where were you ten minutes ago when the mutant silverfish outnumbered us ten to one?

He doesn’t ask, because he really doesn’t think this is a situation that can be solved with their words. 

His hand drifts toward his sword, just an inch, just to see. One of the men in riot gear fires a warning shot so close that Leo feels the heat of it on his thigh. It punches a noise out of Raph instantly, a chest-deep rumble of panic that sounds, to the untrained ear, like a dangerous snarl. Leo can practically see trigger fingers getting itchier around the room. The situation is spiraling out of his control by the second. 

I just need two seconds to reach my sword, Leo thinks, mind racing for a way to pull those seconds out of thin air. 

And then a bolt shatters through the window of the warehouse behind him and hits the floor right at the foot of one of the EPF agents. The room is filled with rolling curtains of thick gray smoke instantly and enthusiastically, and Leo has his sword drawn a second later. 

He teleports to Mikey first, and then opens a portal beneath their feet that deposits them in front of Donnie, and opens one next to them like a door that Raph’s huge hands reach through instantly to scoop them up and yank them in close to the armor of his plastron. 

“Get us back up to Georgie,” Raph says, and Leo has another door open to do exactly that almost before Raph has even finished speaking.

Something makes him look back over his shoulder. A tug on one of the strings tied around his heart. 

None of the humans have pinpointed Leo and his brothers yet, despite the light show Leo has put on, and in part that’s because Donnie designed this smokescreen the way he designs everything he puts his Genius Built stamp on, so it looks like it could be dense enough to bear Leo’s weight if he were to test it. 

But it’s also in part because those humans have someone else to gun down, and that’s the spotted turtle making a clear and present target of himself on the other side of this huge abandoned packaging plant. 

No, Leo thinks in the one corner of his brain that hasn’t shuddered to a stop like a cold-stunned reptile. 

Raph’s hand on his arm starts to pull him backwards, through the portal, and it shocks Leo into action, propelling him forward, body on autopilot. Something bad is about to happen. Something bad, something bad. Something like a Krang spike piercing through shell and shoulder, something like an escape pod that wasn’t his carrying him to safety, something like a big brother left behind in the hands of people who want to hurt him. 

Time slows to a crawl. The tableau burns itself into Leo’s mind. 

No, he thinks. 

Gio’s dark eyes swallow all the light in the room, unflinching when they meet Leo’s. He slips a white bolt from the quiver and Leo’s heart climbs right up his throat. He fights the hands grabbing at his shoulders and the arm wrapped around his middle but it’s three against one and he’s hauled through the blue light a second later. 

“Leo, what the hell was that?” Raph bites out, shaking hands gripping him by the arms as the snapper crouches to look him in the eye, searching Leo’s face for any clue as to why Raph had had to wrestle him to safety. “Why would you try to—”

The explosion cuts him off. It’s the loudest thing in the universe. Leo exists outside his body. His mind is the aftermath of a flash grenade, burnt white nothing. 

It feels like watching the portal close around the Technodrome, feeling the searing heat of it on his skin before the void vacuumed even that away. He’s floating. He’s back in the dark. It’s the end of the world again. 

“Wait, where’s Georgie?” Mikey says, loud over the sound of crumbling concrete and tearing sheet metal. He’s looking around the roof they’d left their eldest brother on when they noticed the mutant silverfish making a racket, their archer in overwatch position behind them as always.

Donnie notices the zipline first. The usual rich gold of his eyes is bleached with fear, neon yellow, when he turns to meet Leo’s. As always, they’re a perfect mirror of each other. 

Leo doesn’t remember saying anything. He doesn’t stick around to see understanding creep into his twin’s face, or to listen to his baby brother’s questions get loud and hysterical, or to watch his big brother’s expression slacken with horror. He clenches his fist, feels the familiar shape of a hilt beneath his fingers, and falls through a portal back into the warehouse. 

He has to pull the collar of his jacket up to breathe through the dust, squinting to see anything. There are still wafts of thinning gray smoke, and the disconcerting loose-gravel sound of broken concrete giving way. It’s disquieting to feel a structure made up of tons of concrete, among other things, wobble above and around him.  

“Gio!” he shouts. The call reverberates and goes unanswered. A first time for everything. 

Running footsteps thunder past him, too many and too heavy to belong to his brother. Leo slips around behind an upstanding pillar and watches the humans appear through the grit and gloom like spectres as they beat a hasty retreat. A few of them are supporting the weight of a few others, but a quick headcount proves more or less all of the agents are accounted for as they pile back into the armored cars outside. 

Leo wouldn’t lose any sleep if a few of them had been turned into pancakes, but he’s pretty sure of his math, and—and the warehouse is still standing. If Gio had fired it at the roof, or at the ground where the agents were standing, the building would have come down matter-of-factly. 

But, Leo thinks, heart remembering how to beat and doing a really messy job of it, all uneven and in his ears. But—if he’d fired it away from himself—if it went off outside—it would have been enough to scare the goons away without anyone getting hurt. 

Still a risk he shouldn’t have taken, still a call that was much too close, but better than the alternative. Better than the waking nightmare Leo almost had to live in.  

“GIO!” he screams, hands cupped around his mouth. 

His phone is ringing in his pocket, he realizes belatedly. The ringtone is Kesha’s We R Who We R, which means it’s his twin trying to reach him. He scrambles over a collapsed metal shelving unit with tinny synthpop blaring from his hoodie and feels detached from reality. He feels like a studio audience is waiting for the cue to laugh. It doesn’t feel like real life. 

Then he feels a tug again—that muted gray string in the multicolored skein of his soul, pulling him forward—leading him right to the crumpled form of his oldest brother. 

The music cuts off and starts up again. The strength goes out of Leo’s legs and he folds to the floor. He cuts his knee on something sharp, and as he crawls over to Gio’s side, the cut stings every time he puts pressure on it. It shakes him out of the strange haze he’s in. His hands tremble as he rolls Gio over. The music cuts off and starts up again.

Shaking fingers wrap around Gio’s wrist and find a pulse. Leo plants his finger at the pulse point beneath Gio’s jaw just to double-check. That stubborn heart is beating loud and clear. Leo has to blink a few times, because for some reason his eyes are all wet. He runs a careful hand over the back of Gio’s head and doesn’t find anything broken or bleeding. The facts are presenting a tentative case that the world isn’t ending after all, but the fear is loud and clear and shouting over everything else.

Gio’s face is slack and still manages to look tetchy, two spots on his forehead drawn low above his eyes. Leo has only known him for the better part of a year and he can’t imagine life without him. He can’t imagine waking up from a bad dream and not having Giorgio’s steady presence beside him at the dinner table at two o’clock in the morning, tireless and patient, like he had nowhere else to be when Leo needed him. 

“Stop,” Leo says thickly. He feels stupid. He knows better. It doesn’t stop him. “No. Wake up. Wake up!” His voice climbs into a shout, echoing around the empty cavernous room, “I said wake up!”

He’s not expecting it when the hand in his turns, and cold fingers close around Leo’s tightly. He’s startled into silence, staring down at the proof of life he’s holding. He doesn’t miss it when Gio’s expression twitches, brow furrowing, like he’s fighting sleep. 

“Oh,” he mumbles. “You’re okay. Sorry for shouting. You’re okay.” 

His ringtone goes off for the hundredth time. This time, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s voice pipes up over the music, announcing, “I’m pushing this one through, boss.” 

“Nardo,” Donnie says on speakerphone. 

“Tello,” Leo parrots automatically. “He’s okay,” he adds. 

There’s a loaded second of silence. He doesn’t have to hear his twin’s relief spoken out loud to know it exists. 

“Disappear like that again and I’ll disappear you,” the softshell bites. 

“Can you get the two of you out of there, big man?” Raph says with that forced calm that has never fooled Leo once in their lives. “Can you, uh, meet us back up here now? Please?”

Leo’s knee-jerk reaction is to respond to that particular tone with reassurance. To spring to his feet and create a solution. To banish his brothers’ fear with a dumb joke or a silly scheme. But when he tries to pull himself up, his limbs wobble like jello and he gets exactly nowhere.

“I, um,” he admits, embarrassed, “I don’t think I can stand up.” 

“Oh, buddy,” Raph says, his whole heart in it. “Raphie’s coming.”

“Yeah, sit tight, Lee,” Mikey’s voice rings through, force-of-nature cheerful. “I’m the master of this zipline thing now. I’ll be down in two shakes. Maybe a shake and a half.” 

Leo hums, grateful to have their overlapping chatter keeping him company. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the prison dimension. It felt like it for a second back there, but he’s sinking slowly back into his body now. His knee stings from whatever he cut it on, and his eyes are itchy from all the dust and smoke, and Gio’s grip on his hand tightens as his eldest brother claws his stubborn way back into consciousness. 

They have a new bad guy to be on the lookout for, and since they don’t do anything by halves, this new bad guy is an entire evil organization. They have explosive tip arrows to dispose of, since clearly Giorgio can’t be trusted with that much firepower any more than Donatello can. Dad’s gonna have a conniption when he hears about the events of this evening—if they manage to make it past the part about the EPF agents drawing guns on them without being grounded until their thirties it’ll be a miracle. 

But they’re all okay. It could have gone so differently. It could have been a lot worse. 

Leo has a brand-new understanding of what that view from Staten Island had looked like for three of his brothers, and he hated every second of it. There has to be another way to do it. To keep them safe without hurting them. To be the kind of hero that comes home. 

Gio’s eyes finally open, two narrow slits. Usually so quick to alertness, his gaze skates muddily over Leo’s face for a few seconds before finally focusing. 

“You’re not allowed to disappear, Gigi,” Leo says quietly, feeling bruised and fragile and one harsh wind from coming completely apart. “‘Cause I’m not going anywhere without you. You made me your problem and now you gotta live with it.”

If Gio held his hand any tighter it’d probably hurt.

“You are my problem,” Gio mutters through gritted teeth. “All of you. And if anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, I’ll blow them up next.” 

“Uh, we’re gonna have to have a serious talk about that one,” Leo says. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a viable option. Ever again.” 

“Hm,” Gio says, very clearly a ‘we’ll see about that.’  

The laugh that bubbles out of Leo is entirely involuntary, and probably makes him look like an insane person when their brothers arrive to extract them from the structurally unsound warehouse they’re hanging out in. 

But it could have been worse.

[imissivan]

so i think in every universe that’s not the present one, ivantill is requited openly and goofy and sometimes still repressed and bad at communicating, but however long it takes, they find each other. but i have to admit. what they’ve gone through — the lack of freedom, happiness, the total lack of human social networks, not even not being raised by humans but the total absence in their lives of humans who connect with humans AS HUMANS — rather than as human pets — it prevents ivan and till AND mizi and sua from forming relationships like we think of them. yknow? mizi and sua are much more open about their regard for each other, because of mizi’s unique character and situation, the level of innocence she’s able to retain. but the rest of them know what’s going on. the pain of that existence stunts what possibilities are available to them. in that environment, they do what they must to survive — which means ivan keeping his feelings under tight control and accepting his fate to yearn and never have; till deeply, deeply repressing whatever he feels for ivan bc mizi represents innocence and a hope for a joyful, free life that has been denied to all of them; sua not connecting with anyone besides mizi, marching to her death without consulting mizi bc it’s all she can think to offer. the circumstances of this universe are such that it’s nearly impossible for healthy or full human relationships to form. for children destined for alien stage — for whom growing old is already a distant dream, much less growing old with someone they love by their side — it’s even less likely. this is also what makes these relationships that DO form despite the circumstances so damn powerful and compelling — the time mizi and sua get to share (mizi crying with frustration when they drift apart when they’re so little) — the stability that ivan and till’s bond provides, even if it is volatile and characterized by miscommunications and misunderstandings. for me, with ivantill, it’s key that it’s NOT totally unrequited — the feelings till has for ivan are confused and unexamined, but like, i don’t blame till for that! he’s got plenty to worry about already, and the circumstances of the garden also exacerbate ivan’s struggles to communicate and understand his feelings properly, too. loving gently and warmly and out in the open like mizi does does not come naturally or at all to ivan in this world! and that adds barriers between ivan and till. but they still care for each other so much — till does look back, there are moments of tenderness, of ivan being different for till than other ppl, of till treating ivan differently, which along w the narrative structure and their relationship paralleling mizi and sua’s and so on, express a deep regard for ivan that goes mostly unexpressed / is made difficult by their situation.

but then!!! you look at the goddamn AUs and shit!!!! and one, look at ivan’s character — outside of the trauma of alien stage, he’s so much more open and soft and loving! to till, specifically — able to get his attention and form a relationship not just based on proximity or thru antagonizing him. that’s very important, in my eyes, to making ivantill work. it’s something ivan can’t do in alien stage, that kind of open expressive love, but if he could, i think it would present him as a viable option for love in till’s eyes (as much as such a thing can exist in that world). like at the bare minimum, till would KNOW — whether ivan confesses or not — that ivan loves him, be more aware or sure of that. ivan can express affection or admiration for till in the open, at times when till’s not asleep or distracted or whatever.

second, till is also different! mizi is not the only source of warmth and happiness in an otherwise bleak and deeply painful, abusive life. without those incredibly challenging circumstances forcing till into survival mode, he has more options for how he can imagine his life, relationships, and express himself. he doesn’t have to put his whole being into loving the one person who expresses warm love as a survival mechanism to keep inspiring himslf to live. instead, he can observe and better understand ivan. and ivan is also less difficult to understand, himself better at expressing himself. with fewer thorny barriers between the two complicating their attitudes towards one another, the two can be friends, best friends, without complication — and thus also more. and i feel like i can’t ever stop thinking about the biggest barrier to their relationship in the alien stage world, the lack of examples of loving human relationships. how do you know what it means to love someone, if you have never seen it? never felt it? i think about this on a queer level, too — took me forever to figure out that i DO feel certain kinds of attraction differently towards different kinds of people, that i do feel it at all, bc at first, i only had 1 narrow example of what romantic or sexual attraction could be. without examples of other possibilities, it never occurred to me that what i was feeling counted. and that’s still with and understanding of any concept of love or romantic relationship!! poor ivan and till are out there fuckin tryna invent human social networks from scratch, RIP

this has been such a long stream of consciousness thinking about these guys so i just want to mention one final thing.

THE GODDAMN ACTOR AU.

they can be platonic OF COURSE. but the depth of emotion and their bond and everything in the other universes — to me, actor AU is the healthiest and easiest and sweetest universe in which the two of them get together. they’re not in each others lives from childhood, and it works in their favor acrually — they’re both fully realized humans, who have lots of chemistry, who deeply admire each others abilities, have similar interests — if we can bring the knowledge of their dynamic and the depth of their bond from the alien stage world to consider what they’d be like together in the actor AU, like 🥹🥹🥺🥺🥺🥺. an open and confident and loving ivan. a mature and expressive and affectionate till. they’re at their best in actor AU, and it’s that AU that really settled my brain into “shipping these two forever and ever” mode. because it can’t happen in their original universe — not without huge changes and a lot of time, like even if they both escaped with their lives, they would need time to heal and grow into their own people before they could really have a health relationship. but in actor AU 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 what they have and can have in actor AU 🥺🥺🥺🥺 gives us a glimpse at what they could be, if they got that time, if they got that chance. what they can be in every other universe, whenever they get that chance. AHHHHH i just love them so freaking much

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

hi! so i started reading when christ and his saints slept (your recommendation, it's great btw) and wow george really dropped the ball on the dance cause what is this going on. like older sister against brother?? why would that work George??

i've seen tb make arguments that the usurpation set women's rights back for centuries, and that seems kind of silly cause the rule of (bloody) mary i still led to the rule of elizabeth i. personally, i think the issue of women's rights has more to do with the lack of queen dowagers and regents which are more common in real history but less in asoiaf who use their power of being mothers of the king to advocate for women, and lay the groundwork (e.g. margaret beaufort, nurbanu sultan, anne of austria, etc)

but, also what are the greens meant to do because if viserys did not settle inheritance for his sons (through heiresses) whilst he lived there's no reason why rhaenyra would do it when she's queen.

for me the greens have three options : take the throne through conquest, ask for a great council (they have vhagar they can make demands), or three literally die.

like as much as i am green supporter if i was rhaenyra and i peacefully ascended to the throne and my half-siblings who are brothers with sons of their own well, they just have to die ottoman style, because allowing them cadet branches undermines her own and in the end you get a house bourbon supplanting house valois situation (something catherine de medici committed war crimes to prevent); you can't let them leave because well 6 dragons outside of targaryen control — you might as well be asking for trouble ; send them to the citadel —well two are married to each other, one has vhagar with clear anger issues, the other has tessarion and can just leave when he wants and, not even talking about the kids with their own dragons.

the truth is the greens can't just sit and do nothing. if viserys doesn't want the trouble of his sons ,and wants rhaenyra has queen then simply don't remarry or do you your duty to the sons that you have sired.

reading christ and when his saints slepts its actually comical how house targaryen don't have mistresses and they began to have them when the dragons are dead

this was a long rant but the greens don't have much options especailly cause their living in an environment where sons inherit before daughters. i would ask how would you make the story more compelling and logical causing reading penman the dance is not.

also, big can of your writing ofcir and akab are holding me down since hotd has been feeding us crap.

Anon I've had this reply sitting in my drafts and should have answered ages ago, so my apologies for the late reply!

I'm so glad you're reading When Christ and His Saints Slept. It's my go-to recommendation for historical fiction about the Anarchy, and Penman in general is just my absolute favorite historical fiction writer. I hope you continue the series that follows Matilda's son, Henry II, his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their brood of children.

You're right that the greens didn't have many options if they wanted to stay alive. The show has downplayed that aspect this season but Alicent's sons and grandsons would always be a challenge to Rhaenyra and Jace's rule. You only need a basic understanding of the world to see that they were in an impossible position. Ultimately, Viserys is the one who destabilized his succession and deserves a lot more blame than the show is willing to give him.

As for the matter of powerful women, queens regnant, and women's rights, irl history is full of powerful queen consorts like Eleanor who exercised power, defended garrisons, negotiated peace, and sometimes, as in Eleanor's case, even rebelled against their own husbands. In the Anarchy, Stephen's wife, Matilda of Boulogne, was a force to be reckoned with, besieging Dover castle and making a treaty for Stephen with the king of Scotland. When he was captured in battle, Matilda raised an army, and when her army captured Empress Matilda's half-brother, Robert of Gloucester, who was one of her biggest supporters, Matilda of Boulogne negotiated a hostage exchange and secured Stephen's release. And this isn't even a Westeros problem because we see politically powerful women who are not queens regnant in-world-- Cersei as regent for her children, Catelyn, who was basically running the war effort before Robb set her aside, and even book!Alicent, who exercised a good deal of power. In fact, somewhat ironically, show!Alicent was well set up to exercise even more power than her book counterpart. It's clear Aegon actually listened to her and valued her counsel, even seeking out her advice and guidance. Having the ear of the king is no small thing, and if she'd done anything other than belittle him she could have ended up as his most trusted advisor. Look how easily Larys moved in! But the show instead had Alicent alienate Aegon and then treated her disempowerment as if it were a function of her gender rather than a result of her inability to provide useful counsel.

So no, a lack of queens regnant is not keeping Westerosi women out of powerful positions, and you're right anon, in that HotD seems to have decided that powerful women didn't exist as consorts, dowagers, and regents even though that's not true irl or in Westeros. As for women's rights, unfortunately having a queen regnant historically has done very little for women as a whole. Royal women tended to align their interests with other royals or nobles rather than with women as a whole, that is, solidarity is formed along class lines more often than it is formed along gendered lines. We see this even in our world today, where companies with women as CEOs in fact tend to hire fewer women in lower management positions. Rhaenyra being denied the throne doesn't mean much for the average Westerosi woman, but civil wars caused by an unstable succession can make everyone's lives demonstrably worse.

[bonefall]

Talk and/or rant about why you like Bumble from DotC please?

Bumble makes me want to cry. Her story is just... heartbreaking. She's one of the sweetest, most honest characters in the entire series, and the way she is abused by Tom the Wifebeater and denied asylum by the Moor Cats, then murdered for Clear Sky's arc, genuinely makes me feel sick.

But I've talked about that before. Many, many times. Let me celebrate her brief life for this one post, just covering her during The Sun Trail. Her first appearance in Book 2 where Clear Sky murders her, Thunder Rising, is the start of the scene that begins her slow, agonizing death.

I don't only love her out of spite for how she died; I love her because she was a wonderful, warm, confident character, and an excellent friend. She provided relief from the agonizing Settler group, who are insufferably angsty and controlling of each other, and most importantly, space away from Turtle Tail's awful friend, Gray Wing.

The closer that Bumble gets to Turtle Tail, the more confrontational Gray Wing becomes. He starts to hate Bumble, as if she's stealing his Plan B while he spends all the rest of his time with Storm. I'm convinced that the writers (and the fandom sometimes <_<) believe that this is "compelling romantic drama" which makes Turtle x Gray sweeter when it finally happens, but it just makes me feel like TurtleGray is the Bad Ending for every woman character involved.

After a brief appearance as she witnesses the Settlers arrive on the moor, the very first time we get to meet Bumble is when Gray Wing and Turtle Tail are hanging out on some sunny rocks. She's cheerful, outgoing, and curious, wanting to get to know her new neighbors.

Gray Wing, the POV character, immediately makes an incorrect assumption about her weight, thinking she won't be able to climb. She can, just fine, and she plays an Uno Reverse card on how skinny they are lmao

First thing out of her mouth is, "Oh you are SKIN AND BONES!!" Same energy as grandma who is about to make you feel more full than you have ever been in your entire life, considering she's going to open her home to Turts in a couple chapters.

They get into a conversation where Bumble asks where they came from, and why they left the mountains. She remains friendly and open, just enjoying small talk with these total strangers. She's enjoyable and lighthearted, in welcome contrast to the Settler's group which is full of moping, miserable cats.

(and in my live-read I was even frustrated at the time by how it seemed like the Settlers would have 1 or 2 nice moments, and then go back to fighting or brooding. It's unpleasant.)

In this first interaction it's just a glimmer, but it seems that what Turtle Tail LIKES about Bumble is that she makes her feel special. She LISTENS, unlike how Gray Wing is going to be in a couple of chapters.

She likes telling the shocking tale of giant birds to Bumble, and Bumble is happy that they're away from such hardships now. When Turtle Tail turns the questions back on her, Bumble is happy to gush about her life as a house cat.

She loves her people, playing with their children and always having plenty of food, explaining that when she gets bored she comes to the woods for a nice walk. Then, she mentions something very important.

Historically, there WAS no aggression towards outsiders. Cats like Bumble didn't take what they didn't need, and were left alone for it. This first interaction paints the full picture. Bumble wasn't afraid of the Settlers because there never was a reason to be scared.

CLEAR SKY is inventing the borders to aggrieve random cats. Him. His idea. Before him, you could walk through the forest freely like Bumble did.

This is before the arc irrevocably goes up in flames at the end of Book 3 by committing to a Clear Sky "Redemption," and is forced to create One Eye and Slash out of nowhere for Books 4/5/6. Before that absolutely baffling mistake of a choice, it is clear that The Settlers are the problem.

There WAS no Slash or One Eye. They were retconned in midway through the arc to make Clear Sky and The Settlers look less bad.

After this exchange, Turtle Tail dismisses Bumble's way of life and chuckles at a joke Gray Wing makes about how they'll probably never see Bumble again because she'll be afraid of them... but she's thinking about her. It strikes me as being the same kind of feeling as the swirling, murky feeling of a new crush.

Can't get the chunky kitty girl out of her head, can you, Turtle Tail?

We don't see Bumble for a few more chapters, but in her next appearance, it's implied she's been visiting Turtle Tail for a while. Gray Wing sees them sharing a meal. Please note how Turts is immediately defensive. As if she feels like she's being caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

(Tangent: note the constant suspicion and aggression towards Wind and Gorse. who live here.)

Gray Wing is as oblivious as ever. For a character described as "wise" he's incredibly dense towards the feelings of others. Yet, always, ALWAYS, Bumble is cheerful. This brewing animosity is NOT returned, she's happy to see him again.

He tries to recruit her to the moor group and she enthusiastically declines with a "No way! I love my life, actually!"

As soon as she's out of earshot, Here Comes The Confrontation. The exact one that Turtle Tail correctly anticipated when she got defensive earlier;

"You shouldn't have friends I don't approve of, Turtle Tail. It bothers me."

How can I NOT love Bumble? When her primary purpose is to be a friend for Turtle Tail, while Gray Wing is either ignoring her or sending her on guilt trips through this entire book? She's RELIEF for a woman who's being treated like trash, and every time she shows up she's doing something cute or helpful!

(Tangent: This book's pacing is garbage. The next scene is a sudden fox raid where a billion foxes attack the camp, and then the Settlers reveal that they don't know what a fox is. BUMBLE taught Turtle Tail about the danger of foxes. This is contradicted by the later books where there's cats back at the tribe named after foxes and Quiet Rain calls her shittiest son a foxheart. But there's waaay worse continuity errors in this arc.)

Gray Wing, the POV, hates her for no goddamn reason. It's right there on the page that he can't give Turtle Tail an answer as to why she should stop hanging out with her. The two continue to fight as Turts desperately tries to salvage their relationship while Gray Wing finds ways to snap at her or offend her.

I think the next appearance of Bumble is actually the most cringeworthy, though. I get secondhand embarrassment reading this one.

Turts just stayed with her friend overnight, and Gray Wing throws a fit about it, hissing at her that she's using the wrong terms and that she's forgotten where she belongs. Bumble watches this all happen like 😬, and then when Turtle Tail apologizes for this asshole having a conniption, he hisses AGAIN and whines about how he doesn't need to be apologized for.

But Bumble, up to her very last appearance in this book, is helpful and open.

After Gray Wing is nearly slaughtered by Fox at the border on Clear Sky's orders, so he kills him in self defense, causing Clear Sky to disown Gray Wing as his brother, which is the final straw for the pregnant Storm to run off, and then The Pacing Brothers have a casual chat over the still-warm corpse of the dead lackey, the input lag finally sends the signal to Gray Wing's brain that he needs to go find Storm.

It's BUMBLE that tells him where she can be found, as always, cutting through tension. Turtle Tail stays behind because she's understandably fed up with Gray Wing, so Bumble brings him where he needs to go. She guides him through the town, over roads, to the abandoned building where Storm is staying.

Gray Wing whines the whole time because he is a loser.

It's also interesting to me that when Bumble's annoyed with him, she doesn't huff or even get rude. She just glances back, and points out that there's disadvantages to his lifestyle too. You get used to it.

In better books, Gray Wing's POV would be considered unreliable in the end. He's an oblivious jackass whose thickness causes him to treat other people poorly, EXCEPT for his monstrous brother, whose violence and abuse he enables through the entire series. Though he's hailed as a "perfect boy so very full of love," he causes a LOT of the problems in his own relationships and familial dynamics.

Smarter books would encourage you to step back and think critically about the events as he perceived them;

Why did his judgement of Bumble begin to harden as Turtle Tail spent more time with her? Did Bumble do anything to deserve this?

Did Gray Wing's behavior lead to Turtle Tail's eventual decision to leave the moor? Were there other factors?

What are the flaws he can identify about himself? How will he grow from this?

Are there broader problems with The Settlers, which may have influenced the mindsets of both Turtle Tail and Gray Wing?

Unfortunately with Gray Wing, the only thing they identify as a "problem" in how he treated Turts in The Sun Trail is that he spent less time with her, as he pursued Storm. The controlling behavior and frequent arguing, the condescension, and the public embarrassment are NOT treated as negative traits to address as the series goes on.

(they never are. These are not directly addressed in any of the other terrible men in the series; Clear Sky, Bramblestar, Raggedstar, etc. only paternal neglect is condemned. Men are even allowed to beat their kids and it will not be called out.)

And breaking through that lens, you see Bumble. Who is just here to be a person that Turtle Tail needs, a good friend, someone who's confident, self-assured, and LOVES the life that she lives. I can't help but feel joy every time she walks onto the screen in The Sun Trail, because Gray Wing is SO frustrating that I'm rooting for Turtle Tail to go somewhere that she'll be appreciated.

It's as if they NEEDED to invent Tom the Wifebeater, who spawns in like some kind of random event just before Thunder Rising (the humans just... went to the shelter and adopted The Worst Cat. No checks on if he's aggressive towards other cats or anything), so that Turtle would HAVE some kind of reason to leave. Because, as you can see here, she wouldn't have gone back otherwise.

[misctf]

Being Supportive

Joe had known Tyler since they were kids, the two forming a close friendship with one another. Having grown up in the same small town, the two would often talk about their futures. Joe would had plans to join the military when he turned 20, while Tyler planned to pursue a political science degree. When Tyler did leave for college, Joe remained behind working in the family store and getting in shape for the military. The two talked less and less, but Joe heard a rumor while working in the store. Apparently, Tyler had come out to his parents. Joe was shocked to say the least, but when Tyler reached out asking to hangout, Joe wanted to be there for his friend. But as the two sat playing videogames in the back room of the store, Joe couldn’t help but feel awkward.

“So...” Joe said clearing his throat, watching the screen intently, “Uhhh...”

“So what’ve you heard?” Tyler asked, his eyes focused on the screen. It was a small town, and Tyler knew that nothing stays secret in a small town, “I’ll bail you out buddy, yeah I’m gay.”

Joe flinched, “Uh yeah I heard.” He replied awkwardly, “So everything okay? I know your parents aren’t exactly...”

Tyler replied, his voice lower, “It’s fine, I appreciate you still wanting to hang out, man. I needed this.”

Joe chuckled, “Yeah no worries bro! I just wanna be supportive. Besides, what do I care if you like dick in your face?” He asked with a grin, nudging his friend.

“I’m sure you’ll get plenty used to that army boy.” Tyler smirked. The two continued to play their videogame in silence before Tyler took a deep breath, “Ya know, I’m sure my parents would’ve been happier if I joined the army.” He chuckled, “But, I’m not exactly the type.”

Joe shrugged, planning to respond when the lights flickered and he felt a strange sensation shoot through his body, causing him to throw his controller to the ground. He heard a similar sound, as Tyler had done the same, the two looking at one another in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” Joe laughed awkwardly, “Felt like a shock.” It was raining pretty bad outside, so he figured lightning could’ve hit the house. Tyler just nodded, and Joe got up and looked out the window, taking in the violent storm outside. When he turned back to Tyler, his eyes widened, “Bro what the hell? Where’d your clothes go?” Joe asked turning away.

Tyler’s eyes widened, “Me? What about you?”

Joe looked down and found that he was also fully nude, quickly moving his hands to cover himself. Tyler blushed and went to cover himself, only to find he had a raging erection.

“What the fuck dude?” Joe yelled.

“Dude I don’t know what’s happ...” Tyler let out a moan as the feeling in his cock intensified, pleasure reverberating through his body. He stood, his eyes half open as his dick throbbed.

Joe knew something was wrong, and quickly scanned the ground for his clothes, finding nothing. But when he looked back over at his friend, another strange sensation shot through his toned body. Against his will, Joe slowly fell to his knees, his mouth forcing itself open.

“Dude, I need help.” Joe tried to force out, but Tyler barely registered him, still moaning. Joe’s eyes widened as Tyler suddenly walked forward, his erect dick approaching Joe’s face, “Wait dude, what are you...!” Joe felt Tyler’s dick enter his mouth, the feeling completely foreign to the young man.

Tyler meanwhile only moaned as he felt his friend’s mouth wrap around his dick. He knew this was wrong, that something was compelling him to do this. But he couldn’t help it. And when Joe started sucking on his dick, Tyler could only let out another moan. Since when did his friend get so good at this? And why did it feel like his dick was growing? Joe meanwhile felt tears fall from his eyes as his friend’s dick went further down his throat. And to his horror, he could swear that it was starting to grow, taking up more space in his throat. Against his will, Joe could feel his arms wrap around his friends waist, his hands clasping together, as he massaged his friends ass.

“Fuck dude...” Tyler moaned, his voice sounding somewhat deeper, more masculine. He threw his head back and Joe looked up, noticing Tyler’s hair begin to reshape itself into a standard military buzz cut.

Joe tried to say something, but with his friend’s dick deep in his throat, no words could come out. Both to the young man’s horror and relief, the discomfort of sucking on his friend’s member seemed to vanish and it became much easier to handle, as if his mouth was growing accustomed to it. Equally concerning to him, as he looked around, he noticed the muscles he’d been developing in his arms had seemingly disappeared. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but his arms seemed to be slightly discolored, having taken on an almost light green hue.

“What the fuck!?” He thought, tears falling from his eyes, “Please Tyler!” He felt a new sensation well up in his abdomen and chest. He looked down and to his horror, watched as his defined pecs and abs flattened and disappeared, the rest of his body taking on the greenish hue of his arms. He winced as his torso and legs shrunk and he felt his newly flat abdomen and legs curl upwards, following along his friend’s taint and connecting with his clasped hands.

“What’s happening to me!?” He thought, panic rising. He could no longer register his limbs as being separate, it all just felt like one piece of him. And what seemed to be worse was the sensation of Tyler’s ass filling his new body.

Meanwhile Tyler became aware of something soft covering his ass cheeks. And with a grunt, he felt his ass firm up and swell with muscle. Joe grunted as his new body was strained against his friend’s enlarging muscular ass. But Tyler’s ass wasn’t the only area that was experiencing this newfound growth. He felt a burning sensation in his legs as his calves packed on and toned with muscle, followed by his legs. He fell back onto the couch, taking Joe with him, and began to hump his cock deeper into his friend’s throat, which was starting to feel even softer to him, almost like cotton. Joe was forced to move with Tyler, watching as his friend seemingly packed on insane amounts of muscle in mere moments. Abs popped up along his abdomen, while his pecs grew out and firmed up. The newly muscular man happily squeezed his meaty pecs and ran a hand down his new abs, relishing in his new musculature.

“Fuck dude this feels so good.” Tyler moaned in a voice that sounded nothing like him. Deep, masculine, and dumb is how Joe could describe it. Tyler put his arms behind his head and took a deep breath as his pits filled with dense hair, which filled the room with his manly musk.

“Please stop dude!” Joe thought, “I can’t...” Joe could feel his face begin to rearrange and flatten, watching as his hair fell from his head. Joe felt panicked as his eyesight became worse, until he couldn’t see a thing. As his vision faltered, he felt as though the dick in his mouth was now pressed up against his entire face. And that’s when Joe became aware of it: he no longer had a throat, or a human body for that matter. Whatever his face had become was now pressed up against his friend’s tented cock. And while his vision was impaired, he could still process all the smells, sensations, and warmth radiating throughout his new body. He mentally moaned as he felt Tyler’s hand grab his fat cock through his new fabric body and begin to pump.

“Fuck...” Tyler breathed as his biceps and triceps exploded, while his shoulders and back expanded with muscle. He continued to jerk himself through his former friend, the pleasure coursing through both of them.

“Tyler... no...” Joe mentally begged, becoming fully aware of what he had become, “I can’t...” It was the strangest feeling for him. A new set of thoughts began to invade his mind- he was to provide support for his friend, absorb his sweat, cum, and protein farts. He was going to enjoy having his friend’s dick in his face... just as good underwear should do, “Not... underwear...” Joe did his best to resist, trying to remember he had a greater purpose in life. That he wanted to join the army. That he was human. But as Tyler continued to jerk himself off through his former friend, Joe became more and more accepting of his new role. So what if he always had a dick in his face? All he wanted to do was be supportive, right? Now he could be.

Tyler for that matter was going through his own mental rewrite. He never went to college- in fact he had no interest in college. Political science? No way. He didn’t have the brains for that. No, he was a soldier, having joined the army after high school. And so what if he was gay? With his new confidence, he didn’t care what anyone had to say. Tyler chuckled as his eyes dulled and he readily accepted his new reality. He quickened his pace, letting out a guttural moan as he filled his underwear with his seed. At this point, Joe’s resistance completely crumbled, the former young man happily absorbing his friend’s cum and accepting the idea of being this soldier stud’s favorite pair of underwear. Tyler breathed deeply as his underwear seemingly tightened around him. 

“Shit...” The new soldier whispered, “Gotta clean myself up.” He chuckled dumbly. He got up and posed in the bathroom mirror, taking in the sight, “Damn I look good.” He smirked, feeling his dick harden again.   And so Joe, now Tyler’s favorite pair of underwear, would always be there to support his friend. And Tyler for that matter, was happy to live his new life as a musculature soldier, always ensuring that his fellow soldiers were always taken care of.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Four

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Almost-car accident? Talk of getting smushed by a car.

Notes: Finally, a little something-something! I’m trying to post on the weekends to have some sort of schedule, but I have zero impulse control… so here it is a day early!

Word Count: 2146

Series Masterlist

• January 25th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Jasper

Not only am I lucky enough to spend lunch with Y/n, but some godly force must be watching out for me in that today’s history assignment allowed me to team up with her and learn more about her.

Her energy is absolutely fascinating and it almost worries me that I’m internally compelled to want to spend even more time in her presence. Two days and I’m already a goner, Emmett is going to have a field day interrogating me tonight.

Which leads me to now, after completing our history assignment with only a few minutes to spare, I’m escorting her to her car in an effort to prolong this addiction to her attention.

“Where are you from?” I ask, curious to know anything about her.

“Texas. Well, Dallas more specifically.” She’s still watching the ground as we walk, nervousness pouring from her.

“Why Forks? You couldn’t of picked a more completely opposite environment.” I miss my home state, and if it weren’t for my adversion to the sun - I would return.

“My parents divorced.” She continues before I could apologize for the intrusive question, “Happily divorced and I protested the whole ‘stay together until she graduates’ bullshit.” Fingers gesturing around the air quotations.

She trails off after that, circling back to our history assignment that no doubt has her still worked up. The Civil War, I cringe internally at today's topic since it’s a sore one for myself - having lived through it and fought in it.

“All I’m saying is, maybe history class should be more focused on the lessons learned, than just the events themselves.” She states rather passionately while inserting the key into the lock on the driver’s door of her car.

“To recognize and avoid in the future.” I respond, leaning my back against the rear of the small vehicle as I scan the wet parking lot packed with kids.

“Exactly!” She pops her head up, an excited smile in place as she garners my gaze again.

But just over her shoulder my eyes flick up to catch the sight of a blue van headed our direction a little too quickly for such a busy spot. A car horn blaring has her turning in its direction and the gasp I hear across the parking lot from Alice sends me into action. I grab Y/n by the waist and spin her against her car, so that my back might take the brunt of the hit, but it never comes as the rear of the van just barely slides past us. I relax the grip I have on her and tear my eyes from hers as I spin my head in the direction of the vehicle, ready to yell at the driver for being so reckless. The words die in my throat as I see where it’s headed - straight for Isabella Swan.

“Bella!” Y/n screams, but it’s lost in the screech of tires and the headphones in her ears that are keeping the outside world out.

Just as I’m about to damn us all to save another girl from this idiot driver, Edward flashes past to stop the van from crushing the Sheriff’s daughter.

“Fuck.” I whisper, glancing back to where my other adopted siblings are standing next to their own vehicles - faces unreadable, but emotions blaring alarm.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Please be safe getting home?” I ask her urgently as I peel my fingers from where they want to stay gripping her, safe and close to me.

“But Jas-“ she starts, a little shell shocked at my quick action of saving her and the close call with her friend.

A whistle from Emmett interrupts her before she can interrogate me, so I flash her an apologetic smile before jogging at a normal human pace to the familiar silver Jeep. My hands flex in my lap the entire tense ride home, warm and tingly from when I gripped Y/n to protect her fragile little human body.

If we weren’t vampires already, this family meeting about to take place would definitely give Carlisle a full head of gray hair.

• January 26th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Hey, mind catching me up on what that was yesterday?” I immediately bombard Jasper as I sit across from him at what I’ve mentally deemed ‘our table’ at lunch.

He glances up from his sketchbook with a look that says he wasn’t prepared for my blunt line of questioning.

“The saving you from certain death part, or?” He leaves open ended for me to clarify.

“The part where Bella was alone next to her truck, but your brother teleported to her side AND somehow the van skidded to a stop right before turning them both into pancakes?” I’m not pulling my punches with my queries, after having spent last night stewing over what I had seen.

“He wasn’t that far from her when I moved you out of the way, I must’ve distracted you enough that you didn’t see him walking to her after he got out of class. Plus, the van wasn’t going that fast, maybe when it hit the back of her truck the tires got traction and he could brake properly.” He answers, turning his gaze back to his sketch and resuming his work.

I don’t really buy it, but I mull over my recount of yesterday afternoon as I pull my lunch from my bag. Was I so focused on Jasper the moment he put his hands on me? Was I so soda-strawed in on Bella being in the way of the van that I missed Edward?

No, something isn’t adding up. I know that van was hauling ass in the parking lot, I was going to yell as much at the idiot driving before I saw it headed for Bella. But I can also tell I won’t be getting the answers I want from Jasper. I can tell from the rigidity of his spine that he’s worried I’ll ask more questions. I mean, his recount of the accident isn’t out-landish, but I know what I saw!

I need to talk to Bella.

“Yeah I guess that makes sense.” I acquiesce. I see him deflate a little with relief as I pick at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.” I add nervously, a little heat working it’s way onto my cheeks.

Jasper glances up to my face and with a small smile, “Anytime Y/l/n, anytime.”

• January 27th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Bella!” I yell down the hallway, catching her as she slams her locker shut. I jog over to her as she turns towards the exit, everyone that has Mr. Banner for Biology is going on a field trip today.

“Hey Y/n, what’s up?” She questions, seeing the look on my face.

“Tuesday, parking lot, what the hell happened?” I jump right into it.

“Tyler must’ve lost traction-“

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Edward was nowhere near you.” Cutting off her redirection. “Jasper won’t budge, he insists I was distracted and didn’t see his brother before the accident.”

Bella glances around the hallway and decides to pull me into the empty female bathroom for some privacy.

“Edward is avoiding me, I was asking him the same questions when I was at the hospital and he refused to answer.” She answers nervously.

“It’s weird, right? I mean, one second I’m unlocking the door to my car, and the next Jasper spins me around to protect my body with his. And then I see Edward jump over the tailgate of your truck when I thought Tyler’s van was going to end you.” I’m just rambling the thoughts that have been pinging around the last two days.

I can see her hesitate, “You can talk to me, you know? I kinda don’t have any friends besides you, I mean - if you want to be friends?” I tack on the last part, worried I’d over stepped.

“Yeah no, of course - I um, I could use a friend to vent to.” Bella glances down at her shoes, picking at the sleeves of her sweater as the both of us exit the bathroom. “He’s coming on today’s class trip, I’ll talk to him then and see what I can find out.”

“Perfect, want to sit with me on the bus?” I ask, walking out of the building for the student parking lot where the buses are waiting.

“As if I’d risk getting stuck sitting with Mike Newton, absolutely.” She jokes back. “I’m going to grab my book from my truck, I’ll be there in a sec - save us a seat!” She yells as she jogs to her vehicle across the parking lot.

As I board the first bus I can hear Mr Banner yell at everyone loitering in the parking lot, “Yo yo yo, hey guys c’mon! We gotta go, we gotta go! Green is what? Good, let’s go!”

A few moments later Bella joins me in our claimed seat, book in hand looking a little frazzled. I see Mike pass us with a forlorn expression on his face, “Oh God, what happened?” I ask.

“He asked me to prom and I told him to ask Jessica, please don’t make me talk about it.” She answers with what I assume is a shiver of discomfort.

I want to laugh, but I just grin instead. “Your not-so-secret admirer fumble is safe with me, Bells.” I knock my shoulder into hers to tease her a little as I crack open my own book I brought for the bus ride.

• Community College Greenhouse •

Reader

Walking alone in line through the greenhouse, my hands drift over the different sprouting vegetables. Behind me I can hear Mr. Banner giving a spiel on “compost tea” and how its derived from table scraps and other organic waste. Every now and then my fingers float over the soft petals of flowers placed sporadically through the hundreds of food-producing plants; earlier it was explained that they encourage pollinators to visit.

Even though I’m a smidge lonely since Bella is hanging back with Edward, I’m glad to be surrounded by greenery instead of stuck in a stuffy classroom.

Just as Tyler Crowley pushes past with a clear mug of what looks like poop/dirt water, I spot Alice just ahead standing to the side of the isle with Jasper to allow students to flow by. When I get within arms reach, Alice loops her elbow through mine, almost like she could sense my loneliness.

“So,” she drags out the word cheerfully, “Enjoying the plants? Fresh air? Freedom from school?”

“Oh absolutely,” I glance over my shoulder at Jasper following behind us silently. “I’m surprised you’re not off in a corner doodling flowers, Hale.” I catch him duck his head and chuckle under his breath as Alice watches our interaction, surprised.

“And isolate myself away from your commentary? Never, Y/l/n.”

“Oh, Emmett’s opinions on your drawings are too much, but mine aren’t?” I smile as I turn to look at new plants as we pass them in our slow walk through the final greenhouse.

“My brother isn’t nearly as interesting.” His response catches me off guard and if it weren’t for Alice’s grip on my arm I would’ve stumbled on the wet concrete.

“As I live and breathe, Jasper Hale flirting-“ but Alice doesn’t finish her sentence due to Jasper snaking out a pinch to her ribs, her flinch forcing our hold to separate. Before I could chide Alice for teasing her brother for just being nice, Edward storms up to the three of us.

“Ready to leave?” He glances between his siblings, pointedly ignoring me so that I wouldn’t feel the obligation to join them.

“Edward-“ Alice says disapprovingly, but he pushes past us without waiting for an answer. She looks at me apologetically before skipping after him.

“Sorry about my brother, he’s insufferable when he’s in a mood.” Jasper offers as explanation as we watch the two of them exit the greenhouse.

“I get the feeling he’s always in a ‘mood’.” My fingers emphasize the last word with air quotations and it draws another chuckle from the gorgeous boy at my side.

“Touché.” He says with a grin. “I better catch up before they ditch me, see ya around darlin’.” He weaves his way through the crowded isle and out of sight before the heat settles in my cheeks.

I manage to file outside and towards the buses with the rest of my class after I gather my wits. I spot Bella already in our shared bus seat with a sad expression. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask as I sit.

“Not right now.” She answers, turning to look out of the window.

Next

[romans-empire]

Hi, I adore your analysis posts! I do have to say something I do really love about Clover is the huge emphasis on how Clovers' choices are their OWN. This isn't like Frisk or Kris where they're controlled by some outside force, and they make many huge choices that you can't control as a result

Like off the top of my head there's the fact that Clover refuses to go over the velvet rope, stopping you from going to Asgore, the fact that you can't kill Martlet until the Vengeance final boss (Even the way that Clover lets her go free TWICE before then), the way you can't kill Moe, just rob him, or the fact that they will ALWAYS accept Martlet's offer if you take a Neutral route

Just...the way that they're doomed by the narrative but they have such strong conviction in their beliefs that they can at least steer the narrative how they want (even if that ending is either bad for them or everyone else) is so cool

Also just the fact that Clover is doomed by the narrative except for when they forcibly take control in the Vengeance Route, but that's a ramble for another day I think

This!

I agree so much! Clover has always been their own person. This is first illustrated by the fact that when you first start up the game, you don't get the option to name them. When opening the status tab, it says point blank that their name is Clover and there is no way of changing that.

They've always done what they want with no input from the player. This could also be seen with the very little dialogue options we have. Unlike Frisk or Kris where your dialogue options could dictate their personality from true to their actual personality to complete asshole, Clover gives you very little options. Most of the time none at all! The options are either something rather short and blunt or silence, doesn't leave much to the imagination I must say. The only dialogue choice I could think of that doesn't follow this is the option of correcting Flowey or playing along with the name "GunHat". Either way, both dialogue options do align with how other characters describe Clover without the player's influence, especially in the team talk dialogues.

While I don't deny that Clover is doomed by the narrative (they very much are), I have to point out how their last act of agency was choosing how they will go. It's such a fantastic display of control. We know that Clover will inevitably die but the way they took that and made it their own is just fantastic. They could've lived with one of UTY adults and waited for the day it would end but no, they've made their choice and they're going to stick to it. The player doesn't get to choose, that is Clover's right and only Clover's alone.

Clover has always had agency over themself and I think that's why they're such a good silent protagonist. A lot of games struggle with writing a compelling silent protagonist and this game just hits it out of the park. Props to the game devs for writing such a good and beloved protagonist!

[invested-in-your-future]

Having just started to rewatch Arcane S1, one of the things that I like about it is how it lays out its premise and follows through on it.

In episode 1, Benzo tells Vander that the young people want to write their own stories, and won't be held back by the caution of elders, even well-meant. At the end of the same episode, Vi promises Powder that one day the city will know their names.

And the rest of the season follows through on that, both through Vi and Jinx driving the story in spite of Silco's efforts to stop or control them, but also Cait's refusal to take dismissal lying down, and Jayce continually pushing against Heimerdinger. They drive the story and won't let themselves be held back. (It felt, in many ways, like a better-executed version of what RWBY volume 6 was trying to do).

Which is why the most disappointing aspect of S2, personally, is the way that aspect got lost, as the story became dictated by the hexcore, by Ambessa, by outside forces compelling the protagonists to react instead of driving events the way they had before.

Yeah, one of my biggest issues with S2 is that it offloads every major resolution to an outside plot device.

Vander resolves the sisters' feud. The Magic Robogod subplot resolves the Viktor and Jayce subplot for them AND the class divide (LOL). The child plot device resolves Jinx's role (without even starting it). The random traitor girl resolves Caitlyn's position.

Now, don't get me wrong—reacting is an important aspect of character writing (and character building)—outside stimuli are usually how characters change and develop.

The issue is that Arcane S2 is not interested in having characters react.

Viktor's struggle with his humanity could have been fascinating, but he just shifts between his S1 self, a messiah, robot god, and plot device man in an instant, sometimes within the same episode. Vi and Jinx's feud gets resolved via the Vander subplot, but do we get Vi's characterization and screen time dedicated to her processing what happened? No. Likewise, Vi's "I don't care" would have hit harder had she been allowed to react to Caitlyn going full dictator and struggle against it throughout the season—Caitlyn being even a bit remorseful would hit differently for her if we had seen that struggle where Vi is happy to have her back now.

The show posits those plot devices as "resolutions" but doesn't actually use them at all beyond that—it's as if writers are content with having "closed off a plotline" rather than portraying its effects on the characters or HOW they change.

They created all those new out-of-nowhere subplots and plot devices, and then characters aren't really allowed to react or change due to them—because the plot devices are there to close plot threads rather than characterization.

The annoying part is that Arcane S1 gave all the tools needed to tell the same story but through the lens of the key characters' journey.

Season 1 ended with the inciting incident that every character in the cast could be reacting to throughout Season Two.

Jayce's push against Heimerdinger could shift into Jayce's push against Viktor as the city pushes for more aggressive use of Arcane in "handling the unrest."

Vi and Jinx confronting each other was already set up perfectly—it didn't need a death retcon MacGuffin to solve. By just playing out the character conflict here to its conclusion, Vi and Jinx WOULD have ended up in similar positions they did.

The show didn't need Vander, Black Rose, Noxous, or Magic Robo Gods to convey the cycle of violence, resolve the ongoing civil war between the two cities, or address the destructive nature of unrestricted use of arcane/technology.

They could have done that already and not wasted precious final season screentime introducing all the additional subplots.

And that would have led to a proper, worthy follow-up to Season One's greatness.

[g0blinsprout]

mama .. ur shane is so delectable and SO handsome .. the moment i saw u draw him looking sweaty and stinky i was like oh now THIS is a shane truther 😋 i also think ur shane + jas content is TEWWWWW CUTEEE GRRAAAAAAAA ! anyway this is me asking u to spill the beans on ur farmer darcy bc i am so charmed by them

If Shane isn't a bulky 30 something year old flop wiping the sweat from his brow from toiling in the field I don't want him 😤

Also thank you ab liking the Jas and Shane content too! I really like to imagine how Marnie, Jas and Shane and all of them work through issues in their little ramshackle family. Shane being a sudden and reluctant father figure to Jas is so compelling. Drawing small moments between the two of them 🤌 I love a small, tender, sweet moment between an adult and their child it's just so wholesome.

As for Darcy, thank you omg 😭😭😭 I'm still kind of developing them in my head but here's what I have about them so far!

- They're from Zuzu city and would come to Stardew Valley to stay at their grandpas farm as a kid and into their preteens. I think their Grandpa passed away when they were still relatively young though and the farm was left empty for a long time.

- Darcy had been struggling to really thrive in the city and in their corporate life. I think they're kind of an impulsive person, so the move to the farm was kind of a sudden change and they jumped headfirst into it without really thinking about the gravity of taking on an entire fixer-upper farm.

- Even though the transition was really sudden, I think at first they struggle with feeling like an outsider. But after a while, I think they absolutely start to thrive living in Pelican Town! The change of pace and a slower way of living really helped Darcy feel like they had control and agency in their life.

- Darcy is impulsive and kind of blunt, but very friendly, sometimes overly friendly. Whatever they set their mind to, they do it, and only think about the consequences after.

-I think growing up in the city separates them pretty starkly from the other people in Pelican Town, appearance and personality-wise.

- They cut their own hair to save money and I think when she gets to know Sam, they dye and cut each other's hair together.

- I think their relationship with Shane started with Darcy and him kind of being forced to interact bc of proximity and the fact of living in a small town with very few places to go. Shane was actively very unfriendly but I think Darcy would just be like "ok." and leave him alone but would come back to interact with him like normal and like Shane didn't tell them less than 12 hours ago to leave him alone lmao

I've rambled for so long OOPS but thank you again for being invested and interested in my art 😭 I appreciate you so much!