#i wish someone could see my brokenness but understand that its not all i am | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

porkcracker · 7 months ago

Note

Hello!!

I just wanna say I really liked your Optimus father figure headcannons and Ratchet grandpa figure headcannons! It was really nice!

I was wondering if you can do a oneshot of those headcannons with a Non-binary reader? I think it'd be really wholesome and nice to see ^^

I was staring at this ask for a very long time and man I wish I had time to answer it quicker, because it hits some buttons. I'm happy you liked my headcanons btw. Still being probably months late, I still hope you enjoy this.

Dad!Optimus & Grandpa!Ratchet & NB!Reader It had been in no way your fault, but nonetheless you still found yourself shrinking into yourself as Optimus looked at you with a disappointed look in his bright blue optics. As the oldest of the humans on base, you had taken to watching over the three younger ones. Which as a result lead to you being equally in trouble, when they got in trouble and like in moments like this had broken something. You had been busy with yourself for a few minutes, so there was no clear way to say who had started it, but by the time yells and screams had drawn your attention they were running around the base, chasing each other with water guns.

To a degree you could understand them, the summer was hot, and even the base could grow uncomfortably warm at the height of the day, but to use water guns? Around a lot of technology? An exasperated sigh had left you, and you had to move to stop them, yelling after them. Alas, too late, an over enthusiastic shot from Miko had missed its intended target of Raf and instead hit Ratchets workstation. You watched with bated breath hoping it would do no damage, relaxing as it seemed to be fine and turning to the equally frozen kids, when there was a crackling noise and just as you turned back around the previously lit display darkened.

As the Bots returned, the children and their guardians were quickly sent on their way to bring said children home, which left you alone with Optimus and Ratchet. Ratchet had not left his damaged station since returning, attempting to fix the damage. Optimus on the other hand had turned to you. Which was what had led to this moment. The big bot wasn't angry, but the disappointment in his optics was far more disheartening in your opinion. Disappointing Optimus never sat right with you at all, not that you had been at this point very often before. No, rather, you were far more commonly sitting on his shoulder and conversing with him.

"(Y/N), I'm very glad that you watch the younger ones when you're alone at base, but if you need help than please do tell me. I would not want you to be overwhelmed by watching three other humans by yourself. I am quite sure, leaving one of the others at base to help you, would be manageable.", his voice was as gentle as always and perhaps the fact that he was seemingly more concerned for you than the damaged equipment and even considered leaving someone at base was worse. With the Deceptions being more experienced fighters and having no qualms, leaving someone to watch would be impractical. While usual Ratchet was at base, he was ready to leave base when necessary, so to stop that would be impractical.

Still you nodded and watched, still hunched into yourself, as Optimus joined Ratchet to look at the damage from the equipment. Coming to a decision, the next day, when the Bots and the kids left base, you made your way towards the workstation and had a closer look at the damage. It was quickly clear why such technically minimal water damage made this much trouble. The cables were sized for humans and while it must have been hard to connect when building the station it had no casing then and no it did, making it even harder for big cybertronian hands to work half hidden small human cables.

It didn't take long to get a torch and a few tools from your back, something you carried with you just in case, since you had started to get along better with Ratchet, often listening to his stories and grumbled life advice. Once back at the workstation, you turned the torch on and climbed into the casing of the workstation and working along the few small cables that needed to be fixed. Fixated on your work, it only registered that Optimus and Ratchet had come over, both not out with the others, when they began to talk, or well you assumed began to talk as you hadn't registered it before.

"It's almost amusing to watch you, how do the humans say it, mother hen them.", the sentence made you slow in your work with curiosity, wondering if they were talking about the other kids, your curiosity mirrored by the confused tone of Optimus. "What do you mean, old friend?" "Hah, it's obvious. (Y/N), you talk like you're their creator.", the way Ratchet said it was not judgemental, rather it seemed genuinely amusing. "I-", Optimus began, but was cut almost off immediately by a yelp. Both bots snapped their helms around, looking around, pinpointing the origin just as you crawled out of the casing of the workstation, your finger bleeding where you had slipped at the answer of the medic.

Before you could even fully get over the hem of the workstation, Ratchet scooped you up and walked off with words of chiding for injuring yourself. As much as Optimus had been caught off-guard by the words of his old friend, reflecting on them proofed them true. But alas, at least he was not the only one, he mused quietly as he watched said old friend fret over your cut with a rare care in his optics.

#request #transformers #transformers prime #maccadam #optimus prime #ratchet #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #reader #non binary reader #platonic #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #found family

127 notes · View notes

lemonsrosesandlavender · 5 months ago

Note

Soft Rolan thingy incoming!

Rolan with a Tav, who is also a magic user, but one that gains their magic through means other than strict study or innate magical abilities, helping the tiefling wizard expand his knowledge of magic? Like maybe Tav is a Moon Druid, showing and explaining some of the magical secrets that can be found in nature, with Rolan suddenly notice how... enchanting Tav is under the moonlight... despite the tiefling wizard's best efforts to remain focused on the moon like Tav is.

Here we go, anon! Sorry for the long wait. I hope you (and flower crown anon) enjoy! Rolan x gn druid!Tav, 3121 words. No warnings, this one's just sweet :)

If there’s one thing that Rolan thinks of, when he thinks of Tav, it’s the glow of moonlight on their lips as they cast. They seem to carry it with them; back in the Shadowlands, it saved him from the dark. Back in the brief but brutal days under Lorroakan’s thumb, it was their moonlight that called to him, though Dame Aylin’s glowed far stronger. And now, in the peace and comfort of his new life, it dances with a radiance less fearsome; a dusting of hope instead of a blaze of glory. He knows very well that they’re capable of both.

Moon magic is beyond the reach of most wizards, but Rolan does not consider himself to be merely any wizard. Besides, even if he cannot master it himself, he might improve his own practise with its knowledge.

He’s surprised when Lia outright laughs, when he presents this plan in some detail over breakfast.

‘That’s a complicated way of asking them out.’

Rolan frowns in confusion. ‘I’m not asking them out. I simply wish to expand my magical knowledge.’

‘Did you run out of books in the library? I thought you said it had everything a wizard could ever wish to know.’

‘Lia, you are well aware of the concept of a figure of speech.’

‘I’m well aware of how to get someone to go out with you. Are you going to suggest they hold your hand whilst they’re at it?’

‘Oh for the Gods’ sakes,’ Rolan mutters. ‘I do not fancy Tav.’

‘Are you sure?’ Cal giggles. ‘Even your projection tries to flirt with them. It leans over the counter sometimes. I’ve seen it!’

‘Wretched Hells!’ Rolan huffs, gathering up his plate and the morning’s Baldur’s Mouth with an irritable sigh. ‘If the projection is broken, then tell me. And I am sorry the exchange of scholarly ideas means so little to you, but that is truly all I am after. Tav will understand that, even if you troglodytes won’t.’

They do, in fact, understand it perfectly, even if he fumbles his words over it for reasons he can’t quite be sure of. Probably Cal and Lia’s teasing, making him self-conscious. Tav leans in slightly, and the words jam tighter in his throat.

‘Tomorrow, then?’ they murmur. ‘After shop close?’

They smell of wood and husky spices. Rolan swallows.

‘Ah - yes. Excellent. I will be… ready.’

He endures Cal and Lia’s mockery for the rest of the next day. It is almost as if they want him to date Tav. Which, of course, they will be disappointed in; though the more he thinks about it, the more he can almost see why they would believe it. After all, Tav is his closest friend in the Gate; they are capable, and powerful, and kind. Rolan has made no secret of thinking such, since the day they battled Lorroakan, though most often he shows it in offerings of herbal teas and discussions of fascinating artifacts.

In fact, he showed them one such artifact the other day, found deep in the Vaults. It was a pendant made of pearlescent shell set with silver; magic he could not yet identify, but he felt to be protective. Abruptly, a memory of their fingers brushing over his inserts itself, and his heart skips a little. Did it do that the first time? Did he simply not notice? Are Cal and Lia… right?

Gods forbid.

A sudden, heavy banging drums him from his thoughts.

‘Coming!’ he shouts, and misty-steps over, opening the door to their rather beautiful face.

They shift their metal staff over to their other hand, and smile. ‘Here to teach you the power of Nature. If you’re so inclined.’

Rolan nods. ‘Yes. I’m ready.’

Laughing, they raise an eyebrow. ‘You’ve said that twice now, but I’m not sure you are. A good Druid is always rooted to nature, first and foremost.’

From most people, Rolan would consider their teasing tone an affront. But from Tav…

‘What do you suggest?’ he asks.

‘Close your eyes.’

Rolan frowns, but he does it.

‘What are you - oh -’

He has the strange sensation of having his hair stroked. Caressed, even. And then, the caress gets just a little bit tangled -

‘There we go,’ Tav murmurs approvingly.

Opening his eyes hesitantly, Rolan touches the base of his horns, and then touches them again, baffled. It feels like… flowers?

‘Now you’re ready,’ they tease.

‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Rolan asks, blushing, and looks around for the shop mirror. Intended for trying on magical accessories, not vines; but it will do. Sprays of small, bright white flowers intermingle with large, delicate blue ones, twisted up with the long green rushes he’s seen down by the shore in Rivington

‘Bunchflower and Leeblossoms,’ Tav says. ‘And Swordgrass. And no, it wasn’t. But they suit you.’

‘Hmm,’ Rolan mutters. He finds himself smiling. ‘Well. Shall we proceed?’

Tav spends the next two hours teaching him to listen to the plants on the Tower balcony. It’s not quite the glorious start he had hoped for, but he listens diligently anyway, doing his best to feel the strangs of magic in every leaf. They whisper quietly, but they’re there. When he does feel them, reaching for him, he reaches back; hoping the leaf will move or grow or show some sign of his connection. But the tenuous filaments seem to blow away like spiderthread at even his delicate grasp.

They’re smiling, when he looks up.

‘You felt it.’

He nods and stares.

The hazy sunset glow cannot be the cause of the silver in their eyes. That’s their own, personal moonglow. But it does illuminate them in a warmth that catches him in its haze, as if awakening from sleep on a summer’s afternoon. Oh no. He bites his lip, standing up sharply.

‘Yes. I suppose that’s the end of our lesson for today.’

Tilting their head curiously, they smile. ‘If you want. It’s a very good start. For someone a little out of touch with Nature.’

‘I don’t mean to be,’ he says. ‘But it is very easy. A wizard can sit at home with their books and scrolls for a long time and… not think of anything else.’

‘You seem like you’ve got more on your mind than that.’

The breath catches in Rolan’s throat. This is altogether too much to think about at once. He rarely makes friends beyond Cal and Lia. To have discovered feelings for the only one he has - feelings he has a concerning belief were there all along - is not ideal. And if they don’t return them -

He yanks off the flower crown, and their face falls.

‘Ah. Sorry, I won’t do that again.’

‘No - I was not thinking -’

Even putting it back on can’t restore the moment; but he wasn’t sure he could survive that moment for a second longer anyway. He needs to write in his journal, or down a large glass of wine, or something. Anything to work out what it is he’s feeling.

The moment Tav leaves is the moment Lia and Cal arrive back, as if they were waiting for them to go; but he won’t even let them finish the smirking sentence ‘Nice flower crown,’ before he misty-steps up to his room and sinks down against the wall, burying his face in his hands. His claws bump up against the flowers, and he takes it off, wearily, gently, looking into the ring of tiny golden stamens in each star of white, as if that might offer a clue about what to do next.

He can’t tell them. He feels that much is obvious. They’ve already rescued him from so much, and he doesn’t want to be a burden. Besides. They are the hero of Baldur’s Gate, beloved by their many friends and every stranger alike. Competing with that seems hopeless.

There is one thing he can do, though. Carefully, he unweaves every strand of the flowers, unpicking with the delicacy of a tailor so as not to break any stems. In the morning, he moves the vase with the reassembled bouquet down to the front counter.

Now, all he has to do is wait.

By four o’clock, he begins to see the flaw in this plan. They might not come in at all. Some days they’re too busy, or out visiting a Grove beyond the city. But if they’re doing that - they might not be back in time to see the flowers at all. Hells.

‘Rolan?’ comes a familiar voice. He whips around.

‘Yes!’

‘What are you doing down here? Something wrong with the projection?’ they say lightly, though their smile is less easy than usual.

‘Ah - inspecting it,’ Rolan mutters. ‘I’ve had reports it is acting inconsistently.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ Tav asks. ‘I think it’s charming.’

Caught on his own tail, Rolan hastily thinks of something else to say. ‘Well. Perhaps we should take a closer look. Maybe it’s nothing.’

Their eyes wander to the projection, and then they start. When they turn back, their face is aglow with something unreadable. Curiosity, or relief, perhaps.

‘You kept the flower crown?’

‘Yes,’ Rolan says, flushing.

‘I’m glad.’ Tav smiles. Then, they pause. ‘Close your eyes?’

Well, perhaps an overflowing number of vases is a small price to pay for a crush. Certainly, Rolan feels it worth his while. Each time they come by, they see the flowers dotted everywhere - the counter, the desk, an empty row on the bookshelf - and smile, and cast him another one. New flowers every time, that they tell him all the symbols and uses of, whilst he runs his fingers softly over them and feels Tav’s presence in their petals.

The longer it goes on, the more he almost resigns himself to this life. Of course he wants more but - that would threaten everything they have. Each week, the Tower’s plants grow higher beneath his fingertips, guided by Tav’s thorough teaching, though sometimes they inexplicably sprout thorns.

‘Probably reflects your mental state,’ they tell him gently. ‘Clear your mind and try again.’

Lia snorts. He hadn’t realised she’d come up to the balcony.

‘If it’s based on that, I’m surprised they don’t die on the vine. I’ve seen him scowling at them when you’re not here.’

‘Lia!’ Rolan barks.

Tav laughs. ‘They annoy me too sometimes. Plants have got minds of their own. Bastards.’

That makes him snort. ‘Indeed.’

‘Where’s my flower crown?’ Lia teases. ‘Or do you make them specially for Rolan?’

Their eyes flick to him, and he feels strangely hopeful; but then, with a laugh, they tell her they can make her one too. He has to comfort himself with the fact it’s not as pretty, or as detailed, as his own. Only one kind of flower, for starters.

‘You know,’ they say, turning to Rolan. ‘I think you’re ready to try Moonbeam. But we’ll have to wait for the full moon for that. It always makes your first time easier.’

It’s only five days’ wait, but it makes him both nervous and impatient. Not that it’s any different, seeing them under the night sky; or at least it shouldn’t be, when he’s seen them like that so many times before. But they’ve promised to take him somewhere special, and secret, and the mystery snags his thoughts, over and over, ripping his focus away from whatever book he’s reading to make him wonder where on Faerûn they mean.

At last, the night arrives. He brushes down his nicest silk robe and puts a silver ribbon in his hair, one that he hopes will complement their choice of flowers.

Their staff raps on the door, and he yanks it open so fast they almost fall over into him.

‘You’re keen,’ they laugh.

‘Ah,’ Rolan mutters, searching for an excuse. This time, he can find none at all. ‘Come in,’ he says hastily.

A bundle of scrolls sticks out of their pocket.

‘What are those for?’

‘Where we’re going.’

Rolan frowns. ‘I see.’

Tav grins. ‘All will be revealed. In one moment, I promise.’

It’s automatic. Rolan closes his eyes eagerly, awaiting their magic, and they laugh; but it’s a soft laugh.

‘You know me well.’

They begin to murmur the words of the incantation, and the vines begin to weave, brushing his temples as they go.

‘I like your ribbon,’ they murmur. ‘I tried to match it. This kind of flower only blooms at the full moon. It’s called Selune’s Blessing by some, though we prefer to attribute its grace to Silvanus. At least, he can share in its glory.’

A long glance in the mirror reveals intricate midnight bells, brushed with silver spangles and filled with silver stamen. He can see where it gets its name. The last of the petals are still unfurling, and he watches them, breathing quietly, feeling Tav’s eyes on him.

‘It is beautiful,’ he says quietly, and they smile.

‘It goes with your ribbon, too.’

‘Hmmm.’

They linger a little in the moment, and then they shake their head, shaking something off inside them. ‘Right. Let’s do this.’

‘Do what?’

They pull out the scrolls - scrolls of flight - and hand them to him.

‘Go up to the roof.’

‘Oh.’

It takes a while for them to ascend the Tower’s many portals and staircases, wending their way to the highest balcony. Normally, they’d be talking more than this, but today feels different, and Rolan is suddenly uneasy. The feeling worsens as they take his hand to fly to the roof; not strictly necessary, when both of them have the spell’s blessing. It’s only another ten yards or so up to the very top, but when they’re so far above the city - he feels untethered from reality somehow, and the feeling only worsens as they land lightly in a puddle of moonlight that seems to have been drawn to Tav themselves.

‘Normally,’ they say softly, ‘I bring new druids out into the wilderness when I’m teaching them. But I thought that for you, this seemed more fitting. And the moon is very beautiful, over Baldur’s Gate.’

Rolan does look up, briefly, but what he sees holds not a candle to Tav, awash with celestial radiance. The lights of the city beneath form the stars in their own night sky.

There’s a long pause. Tav looks as if they’re about to speak; but then they stop. The unease grows. If these flowers only bloom tonight - well, after that, they’re gone. What if Tav is leaving? Going out to the wilderness, where a druid really belongs? Not that it could matter anyway - he’s resolved not to say a word to them, and he won’t, not even as they throw open their arms and call down a ray of moonshine, ethereal and yet powerful, cool and beautiful, throwing open the recesses within him and shining light into each and every one. He loves them. He should have acknowledged that a long time ago - but in this moment he’s grateful, that he has been spared this pain.

‘Rolan?’ they ask. ‘Did you catch that?’

His tail lashes. ‘Ah. No. What did you say?’

‘Feel the ground beneath your feet first. Then, seek your vines; anchor yourself in the ground.’

Closing his eyes, he twists his tail around his ankle, trying to clear his head of thoughts and his heart of feeling. The stones beneath his feet murmur their connection to the ground beneath; and to some miles away, too, where first they were quarried. But the vines - the vines are harder. They taste of Tav’s scent, they twist like Tav’s fingers, they hold him softly in a way he wishes only Tav would. He winces.

‘Are you alright?’ Tav asks.

‘Yes,’ he hisses, strained. ‘I’m fine.’

‘We can try again next full moon. It doesn’t have to be perfect, this time.’

‘You’ll be here next full moon?’ Rolan asks, too quickly, opening his eyes.

They only smile.

‘Of course. I belong in Baldur’s Gate, I think. There’s plenty of nature to be stewarded here too. Fighting for its space alongside the rest of us.’

‘Oh,’ he says, relaxing a little. ‘I thought you’d… want to be out of the city. Eventually.’

Their eyes glisten with sudden, piercing light. ‘Would you mind if I left?’

A cold breeze licks at his neck, and he blushes. Panics, even. ‘Ah - I would miss any friend, if they left.’

Tav looks a little faraway, the glow in their eyes extinguishing. ‘Mmmm. Well. Now you’re grounded. Reach out your arms.’

He closes his eyes once more. Ground yourself, he orders his mind. Now.

‘Alright. I’m channeling the moon’s essence for you, as best I can. Let yourself be open to it. And… repeat with me. Ex textura.’

‘Ex textura,’ Rolan murmurs. ‘Ex textura. Zurgan - Ex textura - Hells!’

‘Clear your mind,’ Tav replies.

He grimaces. Get a grip.

‘Ex textura - ex textura - oh piss off!’ he snaps at himself, at the growing, tangled buzz of frustration in his brain.

‘Are you alright?’ Tav asks. ‘Perhaps we should try again next -’

‘No!’ Rolan hisses. ‘No - it won’t be any better.’

‘Is there something the matter?’

Rolan wavers, but - if his feelings are the block to his magic, then Tav must surely not return them. Not one single frown of effort has marred their face. No. They must be at peace in his company. Which makes him a fool, for lacking it. He turns.

‘I think we should stop.’

‘But - you’re so close,’ Tav says. ‘I promise. I can feel it.’

‘What does it bloody matter?’ Rolan snaps. ‘I’m not like you. Tranquility is not my typical state, if you hadn’t noticed.’

They frown, catching his arm gently. ‘It’s work for me too. I have plenty of feelings; I just learn to put them aside during my connection to nature. Once that connection is really strong, it can feed off them; you just have to learn to use it.’

Hope flickers inside him, but he doesn’t let it burn.

‘Oh.’ He hesitates. ‘Feelings like…?’

‘Anything strong, really.’ Tav pauses. ‘Rolan - I didn’t want to say this - to put too much pressure on, when you were starting your new life - but…’

‘Yes?’ He twists back, looking at them uncertainly. Hopefully. Fearfully.

‘I like you. More than like you. I care for you very much.’

‘Oh, Gods -’ A stupid tear runs down his cheek. ‘I -’

‘I’m sorry -’

‘No!’ It’s his turn to catch their arm. ‘Please - I care for you too. I… love you, even.’

‘You love me?’

‘Ah - ’

‘Because I love you too. Gods.’

They pull him closer, into their pool of moonlight, and brush a strand of hair from his cheek.

‘I -’

Tav never finishes their sentence, because they kiss him instead.

#rolan x gn! Tav #rolan #cabbage answers #soft rolan #cabbage writes

31 notes · View notes

bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

Text

Biograft x engineer Reader

i am writing this sitting next to my dad and my sister while my dad’s biological father and his wife are also on the couch so that’s fun, also in this the specific biograft will be called zeta for short

- Running into a broken Biograft that acted strangely was odd, what was even more odd was after you repaired it it thanked you and asked to stay with you

- After a long interrogation and like three headaches you figured out it was different, he was sentient, you definitely did not expect that one, he didn’t know how it happened either but he was also very not into the idea of you looking through his parts to see if something inside him had caused it, you relented and then agreed to letting him stay with you

- He was an enigma to you at first, as far as you both knew a Biograft gaining sapience should absolutely not have been possible, but you weren’t against it, he was sweet and very curious, you had to teach him about very basic things and he made for great conversation, when you realized you had fallen for it you were conflicted, it was a machine one that shouldn’t exist in the way it does, yet he was different, he could feel emotions, he could think what he wanted, you weren’t sure what to do, regarding the relationship, but after late one night you told him of your feelings he expressed the same and wished to be with you

- Dating a robot was definitely unexpected but he was so amazing you stopped caring, it was a bit awkward figuring out stuff but hey, there’s a learning stage to all relationships

- Zeta couldn’t feel touch but still wanted to hold you hand, since you could feel it, though he did worry about gripping your hand too strong and hurting you, then when you leaned in to kiss him for the first time you both were unsure how to go about it, you eventually just kissed where his mouth would be if he had one and that was good enough for you both, he did with he could kiss you back though

- He was sometimes too curious for his own good and while adventuring outside he’d get himself hurt or broken in some way, luckily you were always there ready to fix it back up with welding and wiring, it appreciated what you did for it greatly and tried to show its gratitude in any way it could

- Those ways consisted of holding your hand, awkward compliments since he was still trying to grasp the concept, getting you parts you needed for your engineering and tinkering, or touching ‘horns’ with you, you’d come to touch horns as a different way of kissing, it felt just as intimate and close while working to be just as sweet, a Biograft’s horns are one of the only places on it a body it can feel touch (hc), as it’s horns are one of the more sensitive spots in the way that if in combat someone got ahold of its horns it could do some serious damage, you had used your engineering skills to enhance the feeling to be one of pleasantness and not of panic and fight, so afterwards touching your horns together became a good way of showing love for each other

- Zeta liked tinkering in your workshop with you, mostly random bits and bobs as he was understanding how things worked and what he could make different metal and electrical components come together to do, it also gave him a better understanding of he he worked, so even if he made a mess and used important parts of yours sometimes, you could never be mad at him just trying to understand things better

hope these were good! i though about logistics a lot as to how different parts would work, again like stated with previous ones these are centered around reader being a engineer so PLEASE let me know if you want general biograft dating hcs!

#x reader #phighting #phighting x reader #phighting!#biograft phighting #biograft x reader #phighting biograft #phighting biograft x reader #biograft x reader phighting

27 notes · View notes

that-ari-blogger · 6 months ago

Text

Win, Lose, Take, Fail (Remember)

Discussion of stories and historical research are very similar practices. A ton of history is source based, and is, in a very real way, media analysis. A historian will look at a text written centuries ago and deduce not only linguistics, but also the themes prevalent in the day-to-day life.

I will eternally be impressed by some of the ideas that people find written between the lines of even the most well known about pieces, and its humbling to know that the stories that we tell in the modern day might be time capsules in their own right.

If you’d indulge me for a moment, I would like to briefly address those future historians who may be reading this: Coral reefs are magical, you guys really missed out on that, sorry.

Anyway, this is a post about She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, so what am I going on about?

Well, there are a few sources in both media analysis and historical reconstruction that are more valuable than an almost objective source. I say almost, because every narrator is biased, and that impacts even what they decide to include. No source is perfect.

So what about a think piece that lays out its biases for your convenience? How about a look directly into the mind of your characters to see what they perceive about the world and what they wish it could be? How interesting would that be?

This intro is getting a bit long.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Stray Gods: The Role Playing Musical)

My analysis of this episode can be summed up in one sentence. Catra’s worldview and desires are fundamentally opposed to her reality, and so when she forces the real world to fit it, things fall apart.

This is nice and all, but it fails to take into account the nuance of her perspective, and the fallacies inherent in this desire. But its also important to understand that this is where Catra’s redemption arc fails, or… where this redemption arc fails.

In my eyes, Catra has two main redemption arcs, one that stops in this episode, and one that starts up at the start of the next season. If you want to be granular, she has about a hundred different attempts, but that’s needlessly specific and way to close to exactly what I do on this blog for comfort.

But I think its easier for the purposes of analysis to divide Catra’s journey in two and discuss why the first fails and what the second would have to do to succeed.

Starting with something that threw me for a while. Catra isn’t conscious of this different world, at least not until the end of the episode. Which is a brutal trauma response. Catra doesn’t want to succeed in the life that gets better, she doesn’t care for healing, she wants to forget. Catra will burn the world down to keep a blindfold on and leave her memories behind. Blissful ignorance.

Let’s talk about Stray Gods: The Role Playing Musical.

Stray Gods is a Greek mythology, murder mystery, musical, video game, and conveniently, I have a series about it on this blog. (Link)

A slight quirk of Stray Gods is that the online argument I have seen about it has mostly focused on picking the second best song in the set list, because the most powerful is so obvious its almost funny.

Read my analysis of The Ritual for more information, but briefly, Aphrodite is a trauma survivor who repeatedly subjects herself to a form of amnesia in order to forget the horror she has experienced. Ring any bells?

Instead of trying to get better, Aphrodite slaps a band aid on the wound and tries to ignore it. This might help her eventually, but it directly harms those closest to her.

“Mother, I’ve stood by your side, now I no longer see, the purpose of love, when it tears at the centre of me. My arrows are rusty, forget the bow, and I won’t be begging you not to go, but when you’re away, you leave us a broken home, and you leave me alone. Lost in a moment, lost in a song.”

That was Eros singing. Cupid, the one with the arrows of love. This is someone who’s life has been wrecked by his mother’s trauma. Not in the same way as Catra lashing out at Adora, but with similar effects.

Both characters have tried to apply a quick and easy solution to a more difficult to solve problem, and the side effects of that are what perpetuate this cycle of trauma.

Hey, look at that, it’s the theme of cycles again. It’s almost as if I have a point here.

I could go on for hours about this one song, and I have, three times on this blog for a start, but I know I’ve annoyed people in my life with this obsession. But, I want this post to be vaguely on time, so I have to move on.

Before I do, though, the trauma in the idols (gods but fancier) of this story has a little quirk in its realisation that matches with Catra, linguistics of trust.

None of the idols in this musical use the word “friend” at all. Well, that’s not true, Pan says it once in a mocking way, but nobody uses in earnest. This exhibits itself more noticeably in The Ritual, where Aphrodite specifically says the following:

“He struck a deal with our enemy’s enemy.”

These characters can only conceptualise the world in terms of give and take, and of relationships in terms of allies or enemies.

Catra, meanwhile, can’t conceptualise the world in anything other than win, lose, take, and fail. Her ability to trust has been eroded so much that she will destroy the world to obtain something that has been attributed value for her.

That’s why she willingly forgets things, and its why her revelation is heartbreaking. Catra thinks the only way she can trust again is if she loses the memory of betrayal, but that’s not exactly how it works.

The moment in which Shadow Weaver is nice to Catra is a demonstration of why I don’t think genre exists. This is a comedic moment, right? It’s got the build-up, you think it’s going one way, then it undercuts itself with the unexpected. So why is it so devoid of humour?

Because the reaction of everyone in this, including the audience, is one of fear, and serves to validate the fact that Shadow Weaver is abusive. Even if someone is being kind in the moment, if you automatically flinch in their presence, there is a history there that you can’t escape from.

Catra doesn’t know why she is scared of Shadow Weaver here, she can only remember the good times, but the PTSD from her mother figure’s actions runs deeper than surface memory. It’s a wound that still hurts, even if you look away from it or cover it up.

This is actually why things keep breaking in this reality. The whole thing is based off people ignoring specific details. It’s centred on complacency, but it doesn’t understand its characters.

Which is where the hamartia and all of those complicated terms come in. Essentially, Catra wants to keep Adora with her, but part of Adora is the strengths and flaws that lead to her leaving Catra.

Adora is fundamentally kind, but she’s also an incredibly quick thinker. This doesn’t always lead her to the most reasonable solutions, but it means she can almost immediately recognise that things are wrong. In this case, the fact that people keep saying everything is perfect, and nobody says that this much unless they are hiding something. So, Adora looks inwards, and notices holes in her memory, glimpsing beyond and getting those flashes.

The world reacts in a similar way, things exist contrary to their nature, and collapse in on themselves. This world is a paradox, the story has turned cannibalistic and is eating itself alive. It can’t be supported by the fallacies that hold it together.

Those fallacies in question, are Catra’s desires, and now I get to talk about how the first arc ended up here. Because we can all agree, if a character’s developmental trajectory ends up with them willingly destroying the world out of spite, things haven’t gone so well.

Catra has been trying to achieve her own autonomy from the trauma and abuse that coloured her upbringing and guided her actions in the Horde. But she hasn’t been confronting how this has actually affected her biases. The band aid solution comes back, but here it takes the form of those four words. Win, lose, take, fail.

“I won’t let you win. I’d rather see the whole world end than let that happen.”

Things can only be one of these four things, everything is exclusionary. Catra either loses or wins, she either takes or is taken from. She can’t fail or bad things will happen.

But let me let you in on a secret. I don’t know why I’m talking directly to a fictional character here, but oh well. Life is about the moment, rather than the value you put on it. You don’t have to take, you can share, or be given. You don’t have to fear failure, because there are people in your life who care about you no matter what.

Also, this is entirely my opinion speaking, but I think I’m right here. You’re in a war story, there are no winners or losers in war. There are just survivors, profiteers, and poets.

Back to the line above, in searching through the transcript, I found that the word “won’t” is used thrice in this episode. It’s a word of commitment and resolution. It’s not vague, or noncommittal, it’s a promise, and it's used in the above line, but also earlier on, once by Scorpia, and once by Adora.

“If you get us out of this, I promise I won’t hate you. I will just dislike you a reasonable amount.” “I won’t leave you behind again.”

Characters resolving to be better. Scorpia deciding to improve upon a relationship, and Adora making it abundantly clear that she has no intention of repeating her mistake.

But Catra is falling back, she won’t lose, she can’t fail, att least in her mind. And its that promise that destroys the world that she wants. Catra wants happiness, but its her own need for the four words above that break it. Catra is self-destructive, not necessarily in a direct way, but in a sense that she is sabotaging her own happiness.

So, what would a redemption arc for Catra have to look like?

Well, she would have to learn to shift up her values a lot. She would have to be in a place where she can accept friendship in a controlled environment. Maybe just a friend who is willing to offer a hand of kindness.

She might also need a way to let out her emotions in a healthy way. Maybe a declaration of love, but that would be a little too on the nose for this story’s patterns. So I’m picturing a creature with some kind of emotional connection to her. Maybe it changes colour or something.

Also, Shadow Weaver needs to exit the story permanently. I don’t think she needs to die, I don’t believe in retributive justice, but she needs to be banished in some capacity. Shadow Weaver needs to go.

Now, I know how much of what I have said will come true, and if you have seen this show to the end, you probably do as well. But if you haven’t, leave your thoughts in the replies. How do you see a redemption arc for Catra working?

Ok, before I go, I need to discuss Madam Razz, because there is so much going on in her scenes.

Starting with, why is she here?

I don’t actually know the answer to that, and its one of my problems with the episode. She’s there because Adora needed a mentour and because the episode needed some levity, but why is she there in story?

“It’s been such a long time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it? That or it hasn’t happened yet. I always get those two things mixed up.”

You wanna say that again? Time is funky in this world, I guess So maybe she’s being generic?

“Because this has all happened before! I remember it like it was yesterday. For Madame Razz, it was yesterday.”

Nope, Razz is just displaced from time. That’s fun, but there is more to this line.

Madam Razz is a phenomenally well written character, purely because of the masterclass of tone. At no point is Razz either serious or humorous, she is both always. Razz is approachable morality, a la Philosophy Tube, but I’m sorry @theabigailthorn, you ain’t got nothing on Razz.

In one interaction, Razz explains the thesis of the entire show. That abuse and trauma are cycles, and that the only way to stop them is by confronting the trauma itself. Start at the beginning.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has some of the best single lines ever written for television, and Madam Razz gets them all.

There is one moment in the finale of the series that is a perfect example of what I mean. I’m avoiding spoilers for too far ahead, but if you know, you know.

Final Thoughts

This episode is such a well-made examination of Catra’s psychology and her lack of sanity. Catra doesn’t see the world the way it is, and what she wants is incompatible with how she wants it. She needs to work out what she needs and then go from there.

I actually think that this episode does something interesting by making Catra unredeemable. She fails, she had her chance, and she didn’t take it. Her attempt to connect with Adora involves physical abuse. Catra is irredeemable.

But this isn’t the last of the redemption arc, is it? Catra will try again and again, chance after chance, and gradually improve. The failures only serve to make the success hit harder. Catra’s life is a Dark Souls boss, essentially.

I often feel like the people who declare Catra's redemption as unsalvageable haven't got past this season, and don't take into account that she gets better, and I don't fault them for that. No show is for everyone, and what you do or don't find interesting in media says a lot less about you than how you express your like or dislike.

Anyway, next week, I will be examining The Portal and my thoughts on this season as a whole. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

24 notes · View notes

cryinginmelodrama · 1 year ago

Text

and you you you. i know you are trying too hard to love me and maybe are wondering why isn't it enough, and i want to take your hands and kiss them over and over and hold you in my arms and tell you to stop sowing seeds in a cold barren land. its too far rotten for you to water it back to life. its just a tangled mass of dense webbed memories and broken bones inside me, and none of what you pour is seeping in to water the shriveled heart. and it is not your fault my love. none of this is your fault. i wish i could make you see that people who have known love as harsh winters all their lives do not understand the language of warmth and comfort. you try to shower love with your feathery touches and angelic words but my heart aches for someone to plunge their nails in me and make me lose all sense. for someone to drench me with love that borders violence. for someone to mirror the ghosts of my pasts because despite being haunted it's the only home i've ever known. and you my love, you're an angel, but i am too far gone for absolution. violence isn't your language and i know you won't use your weapons on me even if i beg you on my knees, so forgive me for not taking your love, for my heart craves the taste of venom and you're as sweet as ambrosia. forgive me for not being the right person for you today and let me just love you from afar, because you're the sun to my earth and I'd burn myself to ashes if i get too close. because you're my day and always will be.

but i do pray to find you in some other lifetime. I will love you then as two gentle souls do. i will love you then as you're supposed to be loved, gently and fiercely, both at once. and I'll love you then so you'll know that people don't always leave, and I'll love you then better than your heartbreaks ever did. I'll love you till you discard me yourself. and I'll love you as eternal lovers do. and I'll love you in all the coming lives and after-lives, and I'll love you until this universe disintegrates every part of me, and even then my love for you will float as divine dust in the vast dark expanse. loud and echoing.

but i do sincerely hope that you forgive me just this once.

58 notes · View notes

dana-chan-the-control-brain · 1 year ago

Note

(SAMS related)

Hey so maybe this is a stupid question, but I'm curious to hear your opinion....

What do you think they're doing with BloodMoon? On the one hand they're acknowledging how BloodMoons known nothing but hate and being used, which makes me sympathetic and seems to indicate a direction of change/redemption. But on the other hand, its FUCKING BLOODMOON. Hes garnered hate because hes an insane psychopath that has admitted that they enjoy the killing and dont see it as a curse. That's not someone you leave loose or free. It seems that solution is to kill them again, but that also seems like a waste cuz they JUST came back and now have a custom VR model.

I dunno, I'm sorry for rambling, I just want to hear what others think. Cuz to me they're giving us plenty of reasons and tidbits to want a BloodMoon redemption of some sort, but BloodMoon has seemed to make it very clear that they dont want to stop being the bloodthirsty killing machine and have "killed" and/or burned bridges with the individuals who would have TRIED to accept them. So I'm confused on how to feel and what to think....

I don't know honestly.

On one hand, they point out constantly BloodMoon's abandonment issues and him being constantly used as a tool.

While I am disappointed with how KC's death was handled, I do agree that he needed to be fridged by Bloodmoon in this case. (I just wish the circumstances aligned so KC didn't antagonize him for no reason and didn't throw his life away for no reason. And due to his inaction caused many more homeless people to possibly die, and now it seems like he was just feeding the homeless for clout on tinder and not genuinely care about these people.... I honestly find the stupid easy jabs at the homeless in the sams series kinda gross and while it has been toned down I still wish it would stop all together...)

And what I really think will happen, Bloodmoon wants to be fixed... but since his introduction... Bloodmoon (well, the old Bloodmoon, not the Bloodmoon based on Ruin's SAMS wiki lore... cause remember. This is Bloodmoon 2.0 with not all his memories in tact.)

He did seem to lament that he had these bloody cravings.

youtube

Yeah. I haven't forgotten this episode. Released on the Day of the actual Blood Moon.

(I kinda miss when they used to talk with their hands to convey which twin was which)

It was the first time we as a fanbase realized that his urge to kill is more of an addiction and he has said as much a few times.

And retrospectively, looking back on this episode, (cus at this point I didn't care about bloodmoon back then. It always takes me a bit to warm up to a new SAMS character) Bloodmoon is exceedingly lonely.

He has himself. But that's all. no one will ever really get him or understand him. And I think there's a great lament with that. Being unable to be understood from anyone outside of your twin or 'other'. Yeah, you have eachother, but no one else.

I'm wondering if Bloodmoon 2.0 has this episode in his memories. As he seems to be determined to rip and tear and kill.

My working theory right now is that Nice Eclipse WILL fix Bloodmoon as he wants..... but he'll also fix his cravings.

The best case scenario is that Bloodmoon will only crave shades of red.... and rare steaks....

or... this might cause complications in the duality of their nature, and maybe one of the twins might get broken, with the other needing to be alone for the first time since they woke up.

I don't know. I really think Nice Eclipse will pull through... and give Bloodmoon everything he wants, and more. Because I don't think Eclipse will readily fix Bloodmoon in his entirety and just let a homicidal maniac run loose and terrorizing everyone.

Bloodmoon was the only person Sun felt guilty about, and even Old Moon felt as if Bloodmoon, given enough time and the right circumstances could change.

We also know that Ruin Eclipse is possessed by the Ruin Virus. So he isn't in his right mind, and can easily be redeemed as well. He just needs that virus out of him.

I'm already seeing a lot of parallels with the Eclipse and Lunar takeover. And How Lunar was developing more as a person and strongly learning Eclipse was bad for him and the side of good.

Meanwhile, Bloodmoon is slowly figuring out that he's been used his whole life and he no longer wants to be a weapon for others. The only way he can prevent himself from being a tool in this way, is to not play the game.

Which I think Nice Eclipse is the key.

#tsams #sams #fnaf #danachan's asks #danachan's rants #danachan's replies

83 notes · View notes

lamponellatempesta · 6 months ago

Text

JWCT COUNTDOWN

DAY 5: Roadtrips

For this prompt, I've decided to write the first encounter and trip of Ben with his red Jeep (thanks @gingericywolf for putting this headcanon in my head) I hope you will enjoy it!

(Countdown gently created by @campbenji)

"Hey wait wait!" Ben said, late, as he ran towards the bus, "One more second please!" His pleadings were not heard, and the bus resumed its run to the school, with the boy staring at him as he vanished at the intersection, without him on board. Ben cursed, running for the next stop was useless and he couldn’t miss another day of school, he had already lost enough, the only option he had left was to continue on foot so, reluctantly, he started.

He decided to vent his frustration by hitting a rock along the way. "For once I do a late night, This is the result. On foot. Because some stupid driver doesn’t want to wait for someone who’s practically yelling at him. Of course. Pfft. If I only had a car I wouldn’t have these problems, am I late? No problem! I’d go with the car and I wouldn’t have to run after a stupid bus!" he said, hitting the rock harder while talking to himself on the way. He’d got his driving licence for a few months now, but his mom wouldn’t get him a car because she said he had to earn it, work it out with the money he was earning from his summer job at mantah corp island and the delivery job he did on the weekends during the school year; He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was saving it to get the car he wanted. He wasn’t too pretentious, it didn’t need to be new or luxury like Kenji’s, he just needed it to work.

He looked through the cars he saw parked along the street to see what he might like, even though he already knew it; a jeep had always been one of his dreams since he had driven one for work on mantah island, he had literally fallen in love with that kind of car and he would have really wanted to have one of his own so he could go around camping, be in nature on his own and facing roads not easily passable would have been a thousand times easier with a Jeep than with any other type vehicle. He’d been looking at car ads for months, hoping to find one in vain. Those who owned one apparently held tight on them and envied those he saw in the driveways and sighed.

He had almost arrived at school, when he noticed one in particular in a parking lot; it was not very well put, the red color had some rust and some scratches, the right mirror was broken and the front bumper almost seemed to come off, the wheels were a little flat. Ben scrunched his nose, "Who is owning such a beautiful car in this condition?! I understand that you may have lived it to the fullest, but at least some care!! If I had it it wouldn’t be in this condition-" the boy interrupted his complaining on the owner of the car when he noticed the most important detail, onw he had not noticed at the first glance; the jeep was for sale and at a price he could afford. It was a golden opportunity. He couldn’t miss it. He looked at the school on the horizon and the jeep again.

The choice was not difficult.

Not even an hour later Ben was in his "new" jeep and was taking her for a ride to see how she behaved on the road, "Please don’t explode, you’re doing well! Just a little bit more and we’re home and I’ll starting to give you a nice setup." Ben said as he squeezed the steering wheel all happy; finally he had a car! And it wasn’t an ordinary car, it was the car of his dreams, a jeep! And it was also red! He couldn’t wish for anything better! He had to find a name for it.

Luck was with him and he managed to bring the car to their garage, where it made a bad noise and died suddenly. Ben sighed; he would have a long morning ahead of him, but it would be worth it.

The boy did not even notice the hours spent in that garage replacing, cleaning and fixing the various pieces of the jeep, following old video tutorials made by Brooklynn on her channel, until his mother found him, "Benjamin!!!"

Ben was cleaning the interiors and slammed his head against the roof. "Owww! What?! Oh... mum! Hi! Eheh.. hellooo," Ben said while trying to look cool behind the wheel.

"What is this?! And You should be at school!"

"Uuumh, that’s..uh.. well.. my new car??"

"And you couldn’t pick it up after school?!" She retorted, with Ben getting out of the vehicle.

"I couldn’t miss this opportunity mom! Look how beautiful she is! It was a unique opportunity I couldn’t let go! Look!" And Ben started to go around the car dragging his mother with him to show her all the changes and improvements he had already made, while his mother was not so convinced of the result, but smiled anyway, proud of her son, "You’ve done a really good job, Benjamin, I guess you are skipping school today. Only for today, though!"

Ben smiled all excited and made jumped of joy, "Accompany me to try it out!! Come on!" He said jumping to the driver’s seat without leaving his mother time to respond. She sighed and then climbed into the passenger seat, "Are you sure... sure it's safe?"

"Of course! I checked everything Brooklynn said to check in the video! I’m 90, maybe 85%, sure!" Ben exclaimed all excited as he turned it on, with some difficulties, as the engine made some not so reassuring sounds and Mrs Pincus grabbed the handle for the passenger, which detached and remained in her hand; she turned to look at Ben who giggled nervously as he got out of the garage. He was ready for his first official ride in his jeep!

He decided to make her go around the neighboring blocks, honestly even he didn’t trust her to go long distances yet but heck it was so nice to feel independent, the feeling of the rough skin of the steering wheel under the fingers and the distorted radio sounds, he should have changed it but he didn’t care, he was happy. He already dreamed of future roadtrips.

"Everyone has to see my new ride! Mom, isn’t it great!? I love her!"

"Don’t get distracted!!" And he took a corner a little too wide because of the worn tires that had no grip on the asphalt "Need to change them yeah. Eheh." "Benjamin, you are a crazy child!" She said with a nervous laugh and smiled, "You want to go get some take away, you won’t even have had lunch focused how you were." Ben still had a smile on his face, "You’re right, I’m hungry... Take away! Let’s go Jolene!" And he turned steering wheel, which again made some uninviting noises, "Ooops. Sorry,"

Mrs Pincus held to her seat and then looked at him, "Jolene? You gave her a name?"

Ben blinked, he hadn’t even noticed, he unconsciously had already chosen the name, and it was great. "Of course! Every car must have a name!"

"It’s a nice name, but be more careful and don’t strain it too much!"

"I’ll treat her like a princess mom don’t worry!" And the two continued on their journey to fast food and continued to talk and laugh among themselves.

He felt happy, this was the first of many trips with Jolene, and he could only reward himself with some food.

Later he sent some photos to the campfam groupchat while eating his reward sitting on the hood of the jeep,

"We will make many trips together, Jolene. And you will be the best jeep of all. I assure you."

#jwctcountdown #day 5: roadtrips #jwct #jwcc #jurassic world chaos theory #chaos theory #jurassic world camp cretaceous #ben pincus #ben fitzgerald pincus #Jolene the red jeep #with beta reader #I really like how this turned out!#Ben is hilarious all the time in this story #The story of a boy and his jeep #lampo writes

19 notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 1 year ago

Text

Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.

[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]

You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.

'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'

It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.

You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.

But it became something you were rather dependent on.

'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.

'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?

You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.

But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.

I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.

I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.

This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.

I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.

Yours Sincerely,

Y/N Greene'

It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.

You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.

Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.

"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.

At least for someone, it was.

You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.

Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)

You stilled, you were alone here then.

Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.

Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.

And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.

"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"

"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"

"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."

"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.

The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-

"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"

"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."

You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"

"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."

You paused, "An invitation?"

"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."

"What?"

He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."

"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"

"Lost count."

"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"

"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.

"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"

"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.

"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."

He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"

He merely nodded.

"Well, why do I only have one, then?"

The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."

The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.

You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.

Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.

Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.

"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."

Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.

And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.

It was not yours.

Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.

You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-

Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.

Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-

But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.

It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.

And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.

You supposed they could.

Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.

Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.

'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.

'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.

And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.

To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.

I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.

In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.

Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.

I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.

So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.

Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Yours,

Richard Grimes'

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may #narrative letters ??? drama

119 notes · View notes

shhh-no-ones-home · 3 months ago

Text

future friends 2/2

james 'logan' howlett

+++++++++

part one

song: gold medal ribbon my pierce the veil

+++++++++

i sat on my bed and thought about what had happened in the danger-room. it had been a little over a week already and i still couldnt stop thinking about it. his face, the way he sounded. so broken. it was an accident. and of course i couldnt think to face ororo either. im sure she already got an earful from him about it.

but the thing is, i hadnt seen him or his reading since that day. and that worried me. all of his classes had been cancelled but i couldnt exactly blame him. i think i wouldve done the same. i half thought to go find him but i wasnt sure i could face him again. nonetheless i picked myself up off the side of my bed and walked out of my room and out into the hall. kids were rushing past me to get to their next class but i ignored them as best i could.

some of them were harder than others, all of the images of their pasts behind my eyes as i paced by them. but then his made its way into my brain and i stopped. i had already made it to the end of the hall but it wasnt his room he was in. it was the library. some place i hadnt ever seen him go. he didnt find place in there like the students did. but it was quiet. i pushed the door open slowly and there he was, sat at the table with a book open in front of him. it was a book about the civil war. oh. i watched his face as he looked up.

"hey kid, or uh, y/n."

he corrected and i drew my brows, walking slowly to him like you would a wounded animal.

"hello logan."

he closed the book and placed it flat on the table, folding his hands on top of it.

"first of all i wanna apologize-"

"dont worry about it."

he cut me off and i tilted my head to the side in confusion.

"but i lied to you?"

i questioned and he nodded, a half smile making its way to his features.

"i know. i talked to storm. and though i wish someone would have helped me sooner i understand she was just trying to keep the professors wishes. damn bastard."

he laughed.

"so youre not mad? at me?"

i asked hesitantly and he scooted his chair back, standing up to meet me.

"storm explained a bit about you. how your powers work, how old you are, the god that cursed you."

i looked down and he took my hand in his. i gasped and tried to pull away but he held on tight. i looked up with wide eyes, trying to study his face.

"i made peace with not knowing anything about myself but you changed that. now i know who i am. or was, at least."

he squeezed my hand and then let it go.

"you arent scared?"

i asked and he laughed.

"terrified actually. but if youre willing to work with me. id like to get to know myself. and you."

i watched as he put his leg up and sat on the side of the table.

"logan i want to but with my powers only a handful of things can happen. the more i look into your past the more i will get attached to you and i dont want you to resent me for something i cant control."

he nodded, studying my face.

"y/n you are the only person ive ever met that is my own age and is willing to help me. i dont think i could resent you even if i tried."

i laughed, tapping a finger on the table next to his leg.

"you say that now."

he reached forward and grabbed my hand again but i didnt pull away this time. he closed his eyes.

"they dont come in waves like the first one did."

he said softly and i drew my brows.

"each time i touch you i get isolated stories. ones that i only got glimpses of the first time."

he said coolly. opening his eyes and looking up at me.

"is that how you see them?"

he asked and i nodded.

"if i focus hard enough yes, or if im around the person a lot. the glimpses get longer. especially if im not trying to suppress them."

"you are extraordinary."

he complimented and i could feel some heat forming in my cheeks. i knew to much about him to not blush. it didnt help i already had a crush on him.

"tell me, whats something that youve been wanting to know? more than anything else."

he sat and thought for a second

"striker said i volunteered for his program but i cant believe that. i want to know what actually happened."

i nodded, stepping towards him a little more. he drew his brows and watched me.

"bare with me please."

i whispered, looking over his face and stopping at his lips. i took a deep breath before closing the gap between us. as soon as our lips touched i was overrun with his memories. i searched through them like a file folder, stopping on his time at alkali lake. i could feel my body tense and i shared that memory with him, his recruitment, the experiment, taking gallons of his blood and storing it, the wires and machines he was hooked up to, keeping him in a cage like an animal, and his escape.

i held on as long as i could but it got too overwhelming. i pulled away from him and seized, my head falling back and my eyesight going white as i looked to the ceiling. i fell limp against him, feeling his arms wrap around my body as he caught me, slowly guiding me to the floor and into his lap. i shook against him and breathed heavily as my eyesight came back. i could hear him shushing me and stroking my hair, rocking back and forth.

"logan."

i gasped out, gripping at his arm.

"its okay, im right here."

he said, and i could hear the fear in his voice.

"i held on as long as i could."

i whispered and i felt him kiss the top of my head.

"you gave me just what i needed, now relax. please. ill take care of you while you do."

i nodded against his chest, feeling my eyes heavy.

"im gonna sleep now okay?"

i asked and i could feel him chuckle to himself.

"ive got you. you go right ahead."

i hummed to myself.

"lets hold off on any more memories for a little bit okay?"

i asked and he laughed.

"youve got a deal. kid. now just take it easy."

the last thing i remember was my body going limp against him and everything going black. at least i could help a little. give him some part of himself back. and i could hear it in his voice. he was sincere.

"thank you y/n."

#wattpad #x reader #imagines #one shots #marvel #the wolverine #james howlett #logan x reader #james howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #351

10 notes · View notes

artist-issues · 11 months ago

Note

I think the problem is when you say "nothing about you is good" is that a lot of people, young people in particular, afraid admitting leads them to think "Why am I even alive then? If nothing is good about me, maybe I should just die", it leads to despair and sometimes even suicide and the only solution they see is self-love and self-compassion.

Not only that, the powers that be which is modern secular society make it where those who admit this are punished for it. Especially on social media.

You admit you're wrong or not perfect, another person will use that as justification to bully you or use your faults flaunt their supposed moral superiority, not unlike Jesus's parable about the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. Only the Pharisee is more rooted in secular beliefs.

Modern society has made it that if you admit your no good and be selfless and self-sacrificial, then they get to exploit that to punish you relentlessly and call you a hypocrite when you fight back.

It's kinda social coercion and its despicable when you think about

But too many people just gloss over all this and just try to lecture someone in once again, moral superiority

Not saying you're wrong or what you're doing, but I think understanding the current circumstances, personal, cultural, and societal can help address the issue in a way young people can understand and know what to do.

Could be. I agree with what you’re saying. The thing is, figuring out how to say it in the right way only has so much power. Truth is truth; even if you say it in the perfect way, at the perfect time, there are still people who are just not going to like or accept it no matter how well or carefully it’s presented. My post about Wish got a reblog where someone said, “I like how this person is tiptoeing up to saying they wish Disney was Christian without actually saying it.” Because it’s like, yeah, that is what I meant, and no, I didn’t come out and say it exactly like that—but someone still saw what I meant, and they disliked the truth that was there. No matter how I couched it.

I mean, we can agree that everything Jesus said, He said perfectly, at exactly the right time, in exactly the right way. But people still rejected it. And I certainly can’t do better than He did.

So at some point, it’s not how you say it; the problem’s not with how it’s said. At some point, the problem might just be with the person you’re talking to. It’s like a bridge. One end (speaking truth in the exact right way and right time for the audience you’re speaking to) goes halfway, and that’s great, but the other end has to meet it in the middle (the audience has to accept the truth when they realize it is there) or else the bridge doesn’t work.

But please note; both sides are equally important. I agree with you that the truth has to be spoken in the right way, in the right place, at the right time (and I certainly don’t do that well all the time, or even most of the time.) That’s what the Bible means when it says, “speaking the truth in love.” It’s got the power of a hammer but it’s supposed to be used with the precision of a scalpel.

Anywho, as far as people not wanting to admit they’re broken or wrong or have no good in them—welcome to the human race.

(I’m going to say some potentially triggering things below the cut, but it ends hopefully, so if you’re reading and you’re someone who struggles with suicidal thoughts, proceed with caution ((I know what it’s like, it can be too slippery a slope to chance at certain times in life))—but it ends hopefully, which is why I’m saying it at all.)

And actually, going from “there’s nothing good in me” to “why am I even alive? What’s the point of me, then?” is scary because yes, it can lead to suicide…but that is logical. It is natural. If you stop at “there’s nothing good in me,” then yeah, the conclusion of that thought, alone, is hopelessness. Of course it is. Of course that’s why we shy away from it.

But you’re not supposed to stop there. You’re not supposed to stop at “there’s nothing good in me.” And really, you’re not even supposed to begin there either.

That’s just the middle part.

The beginning part is, “there was supposed to be something good and worthy about me—I was made in the image of God. He bothered making me, and loved me and wanted to make me, when He didn’t have to. He set humans apart and gave them dominion over everything else He created; we were special, we were chosen, and even now we get to have something His other heavenly supernatural creations, angels, don’t have. I was made as His “very” good creation—everything else was just ‘good.’ I am special to Him; He made me special.”

Then the middle part is: “And it’s ruined. And there’s nothing good in and of me, because I reject the very source of Goodness, and I reject what I was made to be, which is good. And I’m not special—because I reject the One who invented “specialness” and gets to decide what that is. And I’m not worthy—“

Then the best part, the conclusion is: “—except that GOD GETS TO DECIDE WHAT “worthiness” IS, and what “worthiness” is for, and HE said having a right relationship with me instead of leaving me as an evil empty corrupt creature of the dirt was worth the ultimate sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice is what I’m worth, and the ultimate purpose is what I’m worthy for.”

If I didn’t have that last part, that part that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with God, I wouldn’t be here to type this, about ten times over.

There is no hope, no light, no truth, no life, inside of you by yourself. It’s only outside of you. It’s only in God.

But there’s a third point of view here. We’ve established Point of View 1) “I’m worthy because God says I am,” and we’ve established the one that gets stuck halfway, Point of View 2) “I’m evil and there’s nothing good in me.”

But then there’s Point of View 3) “Yahweh doesn’t get to decide what makes me good or worthy or anything because if He did, that would make Him God—in charge—and I don’t want Him to be in charge of me, or to say anything about me; therefore the only thing that matters is what I say and how I feel about myself. Hope, hopelessness, worth, unworthiness; it’s all defined and felt by me, for me, nobody else…(which makes me God.)”

Point of View 3 is the one that most people are actually stuck on. So they reach for it and condemn anyone who has Point of View 1, and meanwhile try to encourage Point of View 2 people to get to Point of View 3 with them.

But Point of View 3 is going nowhere. It’s empty and hollow. Because once you decide you can define good for yourself, and worthiness for yourself, both “good” and “worthy” change to be whatever you want them to be moment-to-moment, and therefore…lose all objective, real meaning. And even if you can fool yourself into thinking that Point of View 3, which does not line up with reality, isn’t as hollow as it is, you’ll still have to deal with the consequences of that eventually.

Read the book of Romans, or the book of John. It’s all there.

Romans 2:11-12:

“…Remember that you were at that time without Christ, alienated from the citizenship of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”

#my one comfort both in life and death #christianity #thanks for this ask #asked #answered #agreed #hope #suicidal #life

32 notes · View notes

sillybilly-room21 · 2 months ago

Text

words cannot describe how much i love fawfulydoo’s candyman before he got turned into candyman if that makes sense

oh boy henry where do i start 😓

Henry, you are the most jollyest, most jovial person i have ever laid my eyes upon. Your absolute whimsical personality causes innumerable amounts of serotonin to flood my brain. This may sound weird but i have almost all of fawfulydoo’s art of you in my candyman album, quite literally causing me to run out of storage (including the candyman art). Henry you do not understand how 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 i want to get with you right now /j. Your funky yet fancy style makes me go “😍” but it’s only special when worn by you though. Everytime i see a drawing or anything that replicates you i start rolling around on the floor to try to release my happiness because if i don’t i’ll spontaneously discombobulate. Henry i cut out a drawing of you with the new curly hair design and taped it to the wall of my desk to stare at intensely.

You are the thorns to my rose, the pencil to my paper, the bullet to my gun and the gasoline to my fire.

Henry you are the most wonderful person i have ever EVER acknowledged in my whole life and you make me go

because of how wonderful you are. I bet your voice is super silly and whimsical and joyful and “hehehuhu” and all that pink and rainbows stuff. Henry.,,,., honey, my pookie bear. I have loved you ever since i first laid eyes on you. The way you hit the anti gravity ball with your cane to absolutely obliterate your opponent. Your dazzling button up, and those snazzy pants. I would do anything for you. I wish it were possible to freeze time so i would never have to watch you get taken by the tri government. You are so awesome sauce, and you are so coolio toolio. You are amazing playing lethal league, you’re a great player with an amazing cane, sometime i even call you my silly billy. I forever dread and weep, thinking of the day you will one day be experimented on. I would deplete my energy if it were the only thing that could give you an advantage on your opponents. You have given me so much joy, and heartbreak over the years (one year). I remember when you got snatched by the tri government and its like my heart got broken into a million pieces. But a tear still fell from my right eye when i watched you laugh in a transparent void (i don’t know any times he was happy with some sort context except for that gif of him crying laughing), because deep down, my hp deserved it. I just wanted you to return home and unmutate. Then allas, you did(n’t), my skrunkly skrungo (didn’t) came home and i rejoiced. 2023 was a hard year for us zude, but in 2024 you made history happen. You could be so whimsical in almost every situation and i couldn’t believe it. I was crying, crying a river even. and then my glorious pal yelled “DRAT!! I’M ALL OUTTA MEDS AND INSURANCE HASN’T APPROVED IT YET!!”

Not only have you changed your silly appearance (you still look silly)

but you’ve eternally changed my life.

And now you’ve got defeated again, but you’re still the silly, MY silly.

I love you pookie bear, my silly man, Henry. 😋❤️❤️

urghh i have homework to do what am i doing..

i don’t know if i want to tag fawfulydoo in this i’m scared can someone do it for me out of spite please

if fawfulydoo is tagged, sorry if this is weird fawful but henry is just so awesome saucr dude 😞

#henry #not my oc #lethal league #fawfulydoo #YOU’RE SO COOL…..#RAGHHHHHHHHH

7 notes · View notes

velvet-vox · 3 months ago

Text

A needlessly over-complicated analysis on Doll's bathroom line.

<<<<Previous part (unnecessary)

I thought that, since I brought it up, I might as well analyze the one line from Doll that I tend to overlook the most, so that I can move on from it and forget about his existence again, since, quite frankly, I doubt that I'm going to bring it up again in the future, as I don't see any use for it outside of its context: it's just a silly, comedic line whose only other purpose is hide a minor incongruence in the story.

Final note: this is a serious analysis, but this line isn't meant to be taken seriously, so while I will try to look at it with analytical lenses and insert it into the slightly more serious larger picture of the show, I'm not going to pretend like that's something Liam Vickers ever expected anyone to do.

Once again, the lines in question are these:

...... It's a joke.

1: How did it slip under my radar for so long?

The first and major problem that I have with this line, and the reason why I ended up overlooking it for so long, is that it comes right after what is my favourite line of dialogue from Lizzy:

"Dude, no one will notice SHE is missing. Just do your thing, and I'll let in V. We'll see you there!"

As a Doll analyst, this line gives me A LOT to think about, it not only provides a lot of implied characterisation for both Doll and Lizzy alike, but it may also be the closest we get at understanding how deep their partnership truly went.

In fact, let's actually take a break from the Doll line and let's talk about this Lizzy one instead.

Why is Lizzy saying this line to Doll? The most obvious conclusion one may arrive at is that this line is a response that Lizzy is making to something Doll has said to her off screen. So, what did Doll say to get Lizzy to respond like that?

At first glance, it would seem that Doll was showing Lizzy concern for being caught by killing Uzi, after all, both Khan and the Teacher know that Uzi went at Doll's place to prepare for Prom, it would basically be impossible for the two of them to pass off as unaware. It would also perfectly line up with the picture of Doll that was built up to this point in the episode. But then... The rest of the episode actually happened.

So, Doll CLEARLY always intended to blow off her cover at the Prom, when she would finally kill V. Furthermore, Doll doesn't seem particularly concerned with chasing down Uzi, as her reaction to as they say in Russian whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of the ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs would entail.

So, why does Doll feel any form of concern over killing Uzi when she's yet unaware of the fact that Uzi is a Solver host? Could Doll have possibly... cared about Uzi before even knowing that she also shared her sickness? These are questions for another time.

Going back to the titular line of dialogue that started all of this, let's actually try to dissect the individual components of this pun to see if there's any new or weird information (aka implications, because that's all you ever get out of Doll) that we can extrapolate from it.

2: Over analysing the nothing.

(If you wish to know what rules for this analysis are... I don't really have any. Once again, I don't think anyone on the production team of this show was expecting people to take this line seriously, once again, this is a comedic line, and while I am going to sound serious in the following segment, most of the stuff I'm going to say can be chalked up to mere, yet fun, speculation.)

The scene starts with Uzi panicking at the mere sight of Doll's broken furniture, and then hearing footsteps coming closer to the bathroom's door. Having terrible feelings about what's about to happen, Uzi quickly pulls a Dream clutch and uses the mirrors inside the bathtub to reach the ventilation shaft above her head and escape from Doll's apartment.

After setting foot inside the bathroom and seeing what Uzi has been up to, Doll reacts by putting her mechanical hands on her sides and finally proclaiming the iconic line:

As they say in Russian...

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Doll keeps staring at the moved out vent in the ceiling for a couple of seconds, with a dumbfounded yet pensive expression, then the scene ends.

Fun fact: this is the longest uninterrupted string of words that we ever see Doll formulate, as she's quite the quiet type.

Let's start our analysis by taking a look at the first phrase:

As they say in Russian...

Already, there's a question we could ask: who or what does "they" refer to?

It could probably be another "sentient" being by Worker Drones standards, as it's highly unlikely for there to exist a not-sentient object/machine that said the hyper specific line of "Whoops, I should've...." enough times or in such a memorable way for Doll to have it internalised as something "they" say.

Though remember, the Murder Drones universe is also extremely unserious by nature, so it's entirely possible for there to exist a preprogrammed machine that says this very specific lines in Russian.

I can totally imagine a shop alarm in the Murder Drones universe going like: "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." in Russian when someone steals something from the store. It's reasonable to assume that Doll inherited some money from her parents when they died, hence how she manages to pay taxes without getting a job (if Workers need to pay taxes at all), but I doubt she actually uses them to buy groceries and other stuff. I wouldn't put stealing past her.

Where was I? Oh right.

It can't be something. It has to be somebody.

But who?

The second part of the phrase that we have yet to discuss clues us in that whoever this somebody must be is capable of speaking "in Russian".

The word "Russian" actually makes a universe of difference, because if the actual sentence was "As they say in Russia..." like how I remembered it to be, the answer to the question "Who?" would be much more simple: Doll has never been to Earth, where Russia is, therefore, with this phrase she was actually referring to the Humans/Drones that inhabited Russia on that planet, and unless Doll has secretly had contact with a human/drone coming from that country in the past, she either must have gotten this information from another source, or she's making it up on the spot basing it on her preconceived assumptions.

But no, the line of dialogue is "As they say in Russian...", which is ten times more vague.

Keeping in mind that the aforementioned theory of the russian humans/drones being the answer to the "who does they refer to" question is still a valid conclusion, other candidates could be Doll's classmates, teachers, neighbours, unknown russian drones and parents.

While we can't defy one, singular, correct answer to the question, let's review our options either way:

- Classmates - I'm going to divide Doll's classmates into two possible camps (fever): those who speak Russian as their default language, and those who don't speak Russian as their default language.

As far as we are aware, none of the students in Uzi's class aside from Doll speak Russian by default, which means that the default Russian speaking classmates in question must be students of other classes. We see Doll hunt down and kill some kids of other classes right at the start of the episode, implying that both Doll and Lizzy know various other students in their school, and probably spend time with them.

In case the students in question are the classmates that we have seen in the episodes from 1 to 4, whom we know for a fact that they don't speak Russian, then let's ask us another question to divide them into two more groups: can Drones change their language setting, or are they stuck with their default one?

If Drones can change their language setting to Russian from English, then a reasonable conclusion as to why Doll's classmates said "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." in Russian was to mock Doll for messing up something in her language, and it remained impressed inside Doll's mind exactly due to the circumstances and people it was used (It's not really probable).

If Drones cannot change their default language setting, then this implies that Doll's classmates and at least all of Gen 2 Worker Drones kind can speak languages not adhering to their default one, which, while a fun and interesting theory, doesn't lead us anywhere.

- Teachers - it's definitely possible, we don't know if Liam is the only teacher at their school, for what we know, the class or the school could have multiple teachers, and some of them could be Russian speaking ones; probably, since Russian speaking Worker Drones were likely built to serve humans who could only speak or primarily spoke russian, the russian speaking teachers could've taught Doll what they perceived as some way of saying the Russians taught them.

The line "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." would then make far more sense than you think: we know that the humans used Copper-9 as a base for their experiments, therefore, it's possible for one of these experiments to have escaped through a ventilation shaft using, and the Russian speaking human in service could have said the iconic line in front of one of his pet drones, to which he interpreted it as something Russian people say in general.

I'm attributing this theory to the teachers, but this also applies to Doll's parents, just like the default language question applies to both students and all of Worker Drone kind alike.

- Neighbours - we're never given any reason to believe that Doll has neighbours, much less that she interacts/has interacted with them and they spoke to her in her language setting; they are a perfectly valid answer, but they are also an incredibly bland and uninteresting one.

- Unknown Russian speaking Worker Drones - pretty much in the same camp as Doll's neighbours; they are perfectly valid, but they are a blank slate type of answer. Also, one thing against both this and the neighbours theory being plausible is that these made up characters should be memorable enough in order for Doll to pick up their lines as something she would quote in this situation.

Memorability isn't a necessary qualification for the classmates and the teachers, as Doll is forced to see them every single day of her life, meaning that even if she finds them boring, she has to put up with them enough times for her to memorise some of their characteristics.

- Parents - Lastly, we arrive at Doll's parents, characters that have massive importance to Doll's personal life story.

It's heavily theorised by the community that Doll's parents probably spoke russian a lot, and may have even been their default language; this theory is so popular that the majority of the fanbase views it as canon, and can you blame them? The evidence is there:

Yeva is the russian version of the name Eve, wife of Adam, first sinner, giving Doll's mother (and maybe her father too, if we ever end up learning his name is not Mitchell 👀) possible ties to the Bible. Also, if Doll's parents spoke Russian, it would explain why Doll speaks that language as well: she probably inherited that default language setting from them, or at the very least she favours it over other options because that's how her parents preferred to speak, in case she's able to change her own language settings.

That being said... What reason would Doll's parents have to say the following line of "Whoops, I should've..." at all? Much less in front of Doll?

Yeva had the patch, therefore she probably didn't need to kill and consume other Worker Drones for their oil, and it seems that Doll only awakened her Solver powers when her parents died, so again, if the implication is that someone tried to escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs (mirrors that, may I remind you, probably weren't there when Doll's parents were alive, and were put there by Doll after she was orphaned) and Doll's parents were commenting on that in Russian, what would have been the necessary situation for this to happen?

Furthermore, Doll uses the word "say", not "said", and if Doll's parents are truly dead like we think, it would be illogical of Doll to quote their words with the present form of the verb, unless she's delusional and still believes they are alive, which is something plausible if their position at the dinner table is anything to go by.

But now, I want to zoom out those analytical lenses and take a second look at the phrase in its entirety:

As they say in Russian...

If the "they" that I've been talking about this whole time actually refers to all Russians, as a community, and in the most generalized meaning of the word, then, we might consider the idea that Doll, despite speaking their same language, may not view herself as a Russian, or it's trying to put some distance between herself and that group of people.

And if these are the cases, we could ask ourselves this:

Does Doll like the fact that other people think she's Russian? Or does she like speaking Russian at all, if Worker Drones are only capable of speaking one language only?

Maybe Doll doesn't like her own russian speaking voice, as it alienates her from the rest of her class, maybe all of her school, and, since we never see any other Russian speaking Worker Drones, maybe the entire colony (Khan's multiple languages manual is not a piece of counter evidence, because as far as the series shows us, all of the Russian speaking Worker Drones in that colony with the exception of Doll might have died before the pilot).

This little idea would also tie back to Uzi's own feelings of social alienation, helping Doll to better serve her purpose of dark mirror/foil to the protagonist.

Finally, let's look at the second line of Doll in this scene.

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Despite this line being way longer than the last one, this portion of the segment is going to be far shorter, as there are far less things that I want to discuss.

"a ventilation shaft" is interesting, as it implies that Doll has multiple ventilation shafts inside her house, unless, of course, this is a phrase she took from someone else.

From what we know of the Patch, it seems capable of shielding the wearer from possession, but there's no evidence that it also stops the overheating problem, therefore, it's possible that Yeva installed multiple ventilation shafts inside her house to avoid this precise problem, or she might have done it as reference to how human trauma victims have respiration problems. (Shout-out to @dreamii-krybaby for reminding me of the overheating issue).

"discarded" is also a very interesting word, as it's pretty much in the same vein as "Russian": surprisingly vague when you inspect it further.

I looked up the meaning of its present form online, and its etymology is: get rid of (someone or something) as no longer useful or desirable/a thing rejected as no longer useful or desirable, which... it's a surprisingly in character word for Doll to say.

This is actually a VERY huge thing to me, as it makes me think that the writers could have putted a minimal amount of effort to make this line sound like something Doll would actually say, which runs counter to what my original assumptions when starting this analysis were.

Keep in mind: this word didn't have to be discarded, it could have easily been broken, or bloody, which still fit, but no, it's discarded. Where did Doll get all of those mirrors from? I don't know. Ultimately though, I don't think any of this leads to any interesting theory or idea.

Finally, let's repeat what we did with the "As they say in Russian..." phrase and let's take another zoomed out look at this entire line:

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Now it may be a good time to ask the question Why is Doll saying both this and the previous line, as it doesn't seem to fit the context of "my next victim has just escaped from my grasp and this could lead to problems for me later on". This could just be Doll's way of expressing stress, but her facial expression is so hard to read, that I have absolutely no idea of what she could be thinking in this moment.

Now that I'm finally done squeezing the "reading between the lines" metaphor to it's absolute limit with this scene (I could have gone on for much longer, I could have talked about the possible meaning of the tent showing a toaster inside a bathtub or other things), it's finally time to go back to another question that has been going on in my mind lately:

Are this lines something that Doll would actually say?

Is this joke in character for Doll?

3: It's Doll... Right?

Do you remember how I previously implied that this joke line was out of character for Doll? Well, the truth is... that it really isn't.

I actually believe that this line makes perfect sense for the character that Doll has been built up to be... up to this point.

One of the things that analysing these lines made me notice is that every time Doll changes design she also feels like a completely different character then the one we were introduced with; I can definitely see the classic, cheerleader Doll that we saw in episode 2 and in the earlier parts of episode 3 saying these lines, but not Prom dress nor button eyed Doll.

All the times we saw the classic, quiet girl Doll she was presented as calm, unbothered, and collected, even if she was secretly a serial killer; that's the Doll I can envision saying this joke in such a situation.

Prom dress Doll by contrast is completely different, she's extremely emotional, very spiteful, deadly serious and has lost all of her cool.

Button eyed Doll is straight up the bottom of the barrel, she's completely lost it: she lacks both the coolness factor of classic Doll and the threat level of Prom dress Doll, she's so emotionally unstable and irrational that it's a miracle that she's to formulate any plans at all, then she dies once she's no longer needed for the story.

Keep in mind: all of these different characterizations make sense and are supposed to be different stages of a much more nuanced antagonist, it's just that... not all of the puzzle pieces are there. Everything adds up to one unique identity eventually, it's just that some of the steps are way too up to interpretation or are just omitted entirely.

4: is this joke actually funny?

You might think that this is an unnecessary talking point, and it is, but since we are already overanalyzing a joke line, we might as well see if the general public finds this to be an actually funny bit of comedy or if it had any lasting impact in the fanbase.

Since comedy is subjective and I'm a machine, I thought about doing a Google search to see what are the most common ingredients that make comedy hit, but then I remembered that the main reason why I went so unnecessarily in depth when breaking down the dialogue of this scene was because these lines, despite how unimportant and uninteresting they might be to me, are still undisputable pieces of Doll content present the show; looking up the comedy aspect of this dialogue and attempting to objectify it, something that would get me to be clowned on a lot by basically everyone despite how happy I would feel to show other people my mental instability, doesn't really give me any new informations about Doll's character aside from maybe seeing if she has some hidden comedic potential.

So instead, let's just see how other people view this line.

Fun fact: I started writing this post 6 days ago, and I was going to use only the comments under episode 3 of Murder Drones as evidence for the public opinions, but then Yagster, the poll guy on YouTube, made a poll to see what was the best line of episode 3 according to people, and as you can imagine, this joke was amongst the four options, and it's what was picked up as the best.

Anyway, here's some screenshotted comments:

(Got these from various sources)

Here's the positive ones.

And here's the negative one. (I was sure there were more of these, but this is the only one I ended up finding)

From what I've seen, the fanbase has a mostly positive opinion of this dialogue, there was a sizable chunk of individuals quoting it in the comment section of episode 3, though it doesn't pop out as often as other great lines from the show, probably because of how long and overly specific it is.

I would have said that they have forgotten about it, but if you bring it back up to their faces they remember it immediately.

So there we go.

Closing thoughts.

I think this is it.

I didn't have to do this, nobody wanted me to do this, but now that I've done it, I feel an immense sense of closure, something that I've been needing for a while.

I feel like one of the major problems that I need to work on a lot is my priority list.

Originally, I started writing this post as a side project, something to push out to compensate for the amount of time I needed to complete other works of mine, but due to my maniacal need for perfectionism and short attention span, this "side project" ended up taking much more time than I wanted to, I feel like my ideal model for fast produced, high quality content just isn't viable for me, and I should really learn to focus on one task at a time.

Once again, this line is just a comedy bit, I doubt anybody ever expected it to be put through as much scrutiny as I've put it to, but if any of the ideas I came up with while writing this stimulated your creativity in any capacity, I'll be glad to have inspired you.

Good morning, afternoon, evening, night and day everyone.

#murder drones #murder drones uzi #murder drones doll #md lizzy #khan doorman #murder drones teacher #analysis #funny #russian #Да #yeva murder drones

10 notes · View notes