#it's tragic and complicated obviously

[sofieartz]

[ Fnaf fanart ]

// Blood, very slight gore

I love when people made Mike and the MCI close, in a My father have killed you all and now it is my duty to take care of you until I could end this sorta way.

They both mess w each other, but also took care of one another yk.

And also plot on how to kill your immortal father w them

[rawliverandgoronspice]

given that seems to be the new popular take in the fandom at large since totk got out: let the record show that I'll gladly let myself get repeatedly manipulated by the wind waker speech and be foolishly moved by its implications over rejecting space for humanity and vulnerability in the monstrous and the dispossessed, and then feeling weirdly smug about severing that fleeting attempt at connection and deem it obviously insincere

[qoldenskies]

Hi!!! I'm really sorry to be pushy, but are you ever planning on posting more of Circumventing Death? I'm just really really curious about where things are going to go!

hi dw it doesnt bother me!! and if i ever plan on abandoning a multichapter i'd just orphan it, but with cvd i do want to get back to it some day so im choosing to keep it up on my profile. i dont actually know where it'll end, i just have up to chapter 10 (although i might do some condensing) planned before i just go into silly slice of life shenanigans lolol, i have a bunch of little ideas and i know what i want to do arc-wise, but things will probably end up getting episodic hehe. some day!

[anghraine]

I honestly feel a lot better about having posted anything at AO3, even things I won't finish, and there's something that warms my heart about posting fic for The Borgias in 2024.

I was actually deciding between two different WIPs to represent that "phase" between my undergrad years and grad school. The other one was the prologue to a Legend of Korra/Star Wars fusion in which Noatak/Amon is Korra's father and this is revealed in S1 (I think it was going to be Tarrlok who figures it out first, lol) and it actually affects the plot and it isn't just the LOK canon plot with minor adjustments—the fusion with SW was meant to be more than vague I-am-your-father inspiration. In any case, I only ever wrote the prologue about the Noatak/Senna quasi-romance that led to Korra's existence and never even got to the sheer comedy of Korra as Tarrlok's niece :(

But the Juan and Lucrezia as dysfunctional twins one-shot is closer to being a whole fic (in a side-story way) and I did like being able to add one more to my Borgias oeuvre—and getting at least some part of that AU on AO3 after all the time I spent on it!

[chirpsythismorning]

"See, I was thinking, once all this is over and Will’s back and you’re not a secret anymore, my parents can get you an actual bed for the basement. Or you can take my room if you want, since I’m down there all the time anyways. My point is, they’ll take care of you. They’ll be like your new parents, and Nancy, she’ll be like your new sister."

"I mean what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?"

"And then I was thinking maybe you could come up here for Christmas. And Will, too. You can come before or after Christmas, or whatever Mrs. Byers wants, but I was thinking Christmas Day could be super fun, because we'd all have cool new presents to play with and... Uh. Sorry, that made me sound like a seven-year-old."

Something something Mike thinking about being in his basement with Will for the rest of his life and thinking it's childish, even going as far as to call it stupid...

[fishparasite]

"the world is already bad enough" is an insane thing to say about fictional tragedies and works of horror and other things that can't be used as escapism. especially if they're used to express something tragic in a creator's life.

[lesbianelsas]

#“maybe he's lonely” and then seasmoke finds a new partner at the same time rhaenyra finds a new partner in mysaria.... much to consider.

House of the Dragon | 2.03 "The Burning Mill" dir. Geeta Patel

[bluebellhairpin]

Sanji Vinsmoke X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sanji takes his job as cook on the Going Merry very seriously, and seeing as he has yet to discover what you enjoy eating, he makes finding out his top priority. Lucky for Sanji, Luffy lends a hand. (a.k.a, reader has a complicated relationship with food, and Sanji finds a way to help fix it.) (wc. 2.8K)

Warnings: Food, food, more food (possibly a ED warning needed). They make out in the end :) Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied +tragic backstory.

Listening to: 'clementine' by Halsey - "Left my shoes in the street, so you'd carry me, through a breakdown. Through a breakdown or a blackout, would you make out with me on the floor of the mezzanine?"

Masterlist || AO3 link

To Sanji Vinsmoke you were an enigma, and it was driving him half mad trying to figure you out. Sanji had figured out everyone else in Luffy’s crew fairly quickly. In regards to food that is.

Luffy loves meat, Nami has her tangerines, etcetera and so forth. But you? He barely saw you finish a single plate of food, let alone go back for more - or forbid look like you were enjoying eating at all. Sanji’s whole life revolved around food, and he wasn’t going to have someone he decided to care for so deeply dislike it so much.

His stare pinned you to your seat at the kitchen table, fingers tapping the wood as he ran through the list in his head to find something new to try your tastes at.

“You’re really sure you don’t like tangerines? They’re in season at the moment.” Sanji watched your face form into a grimace, teeth bearing as you sucked air into your mouth.

“Not really. Sorry.” He waved his hand, shooing away your worry like swatting a fly. His thoughts wandered again before speaking after a few long moments of silence.

“Your not liking seafood feels like a crime.” he mumbled. As he looked at you he saw your eyes flicker to the side.

“I’ll eat it, I just can’t say it’s my favourite.” you said.

“You’re just saying that.” he smiled, “I saw your face screw up the first time Zoro had a poor attempt at making sashimi.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” You sat up, ready to defend yourself from Sanji’s interrogation. “I’m just not used to eating raw fish!”

“He can’t make it like I do.” he said softly. You looked into his eyes and he had to hold himself back from sighing dreamily.

Sanji, besides believing food shouldn’t be wasted, loved seeing people who needed to eat happy with what they ate. You worried him, since it had been weeks and yet you’d never expressed such approval. You never even went back for seconds - which obviously was on his mind more than he’d ever admit. He tried so hard to find something you’d like, and hadn’t yet. He wondered how happy you’d look when he finally found out what you liked. How your pretty eyes might light up, or how you might finally bless him with a real toothy grin instead of a shy smile.

He almost sighed again at the thought of how beautiful it would be.

“You care a lot about food, don’t you?” your voice was quiet, but it cut through Sanji’s thoughts like a knife. He watched your face soften. “You don’t have to answer. I can tell.”

He watched you, the way you took a deep breath and how it shifted your shoulders. Then you stood, and came around the table. You hand rested inches from his, and he knew he shouldn’t want to hold your hand as badly as he did. He wondered if your fingers were soft or calloused, felt hot or cold. He wanted to hold your hand so badly, but he didn’t.

“You don’t have to care so much about me, Sanji. I’ll eat whatever’s put in front of me, whether I like it or not.”

Your words made him frown, and he watched you turn and leave. Something about your words left him feeling an immeasurable amount of sadness. He once said women were mysteries to be unravelled slowly, you were the slowest he’d come across. You sounded so sad when you spoke, as if resolved to a fate you never wanted.

It made him scared to uncover what possibly happened to you to resign like that, and sad to think about how different you might be now if you hadn’t gone through it. Clearly, you had gone through something, or someone, to make you so uncaring for something many people found joy in.

He decided then that he would help fix it. Sanji would bring joy back into your life through food.

Calm, quiet nights on the Going Merry were a favourite of yours. The sea was still, the salt sat lightly in the air, and the sky was so clear you could see stars no matter which direction you looked. It was peaceful. Carefree. On nights like these you could clear your head, spread out your thoughts like photos on the floor and organise them one by one.

You kept nights like these a secret because you knew if someone found you and got you talking that you’d keep no more secrets. With your vulnerability laid bare before you it was also laid bare to anyone who came by. Doing this small ritual late at night meant no one ever had seen it. Tonight changed that.

A hand reached at the railing inches from your face, and a wide grin soon followed. Someone had found you.

“You trying to scare me into a heart attack Luffy?” His grin softened at your nonchalant reply.

“I don’t believe I really scared you with how you’re reacting.”

“My heart’s beating right out of my chest, really it is captain. You should feel it.” You said, watching him climb over the railing and sit down beside you. His quietness while doing so was unusual. “You don’t usually come up here.”

“I wanted to ask you something -”

‘Here we go,’ you thought, rolling your eyes.

“- You gave your dinner to Ussop tonight. Distracted him by getting him to tell a story then put your plate in front of him so he wouldn’t notice. But I did.” he said. Luffy looked across at you, his hat rested around his neck by its drawstring. Without the hat he looked more serious - that paired with the genuine concern in his eyes and your own aforementioned vulnerability was dangerous.

“Why did you do that?” You looked at him, and he looked back at you. You sighed.

“Before dinner he said he was starving.” you said, “After he finished eating I gave him mine so he didn’t have to get up.”

“You need to eat too. He says that all the time, it’s just a joke.”

You sighed. Your arms rested across the banister of the crows rest, and your chin now nestled on top of them. When you spoke again your voice was soft, and you didn’t look back at Luffy.

“It’s not a joke to me.” From the corner of your eye you saw his position mirror yours, and his legs slowly started swinging from where they dangled over the edge.

“Why?” he asked. It was such a small unassuming word. Normally it wouldn’t bother you, but tonight it was the one thing you were most worried about. It could open a floodgate you’d been dying to keep closed since you joined the Straw Hats - and now it had opened.

“My family.” you said. “My island was good. We weren’t well-off but we never went without the things we needed. Then pirates came, and the marines came. Then if we had something and it wasn’t stolen by pirates, it was allocated to the marines. We started starving.”

Finally, you looked across to Luffy. He stared at you with a frown, the kind he’d get when he was focusing and trying to understand. You’d seen him direct it to others but had never been on the receiving end yourself - it felt strange. With that look, however strange it was, he made you feel like you needed to keep talking just so he understood. So you kept talking.

“With the lack of what we needed, my mother died, then my father. I had to look after my sister on my own, so I worked. I skipped eating so she got breakfast and dinner, I only ate the food I got from work. I did my best to go hungry so she didn’t have to and she died anyway.”

The weight of your words sat heavy in the night air. Your words were gentle, resigned - you’d gotten used to the thought long ago that losing your family was an act you were helpless to stop no matter how hard you tried. You’d spent the rest of your life until now trying even harder to see if that would have made a difference.

For a long time all you heard was the lapping of seawater on the ship’s hull.

“I don’t want to see the people I care about go hungry again. I want them to be happy. I want you all to be happy.” You turned your cheek to rest on your arm, suddenly feeling tired as you looked back at Luffy. “So I give up my food, I don’t eat more than my share.”

Luffy, again, mirrored your action. His cheek squished against his forearm as he looked at you. He lacked the frown now, and his eyes held understanding. You could tell your story made him sad, but he also looked grateful. Eventually his face broke out in a new, wide grin.

“If you could eat anything without a care in the world, what would it be?”

At the look on Luffy’s face, you let out a quiet noise that almost could’ve been a soft laugh. His eyes were expectant, so you looked back to the ocean and thought.

“I know it’s a drink, but I loved tea.” You sighed dreamily. “French earl grey was my favourite.”

Sanji knew you liked your quiet time, so he never went up to the crows nest with you. He stayed on deck, out of sight and smoking, until you climbed down and went to bed. He liked to think he was making sure you didn’t fall, but really he treated it like your own secret.

You up there, him down here, and that's the special time you get to spend together, a moment where it was just the two of you - even if you didn’t know about it. When Luffy started climbing the rigging, Sanji was prepared to get really pissed off for ruining your peace. He was glad he didn’t though.

Still night’s means sound travels well and fast. He heard everything you and Luffy talked about.

Thanks to your Captain, he’d figured you out - and he wasn’t going to bed tonight. He stomped out his cigarette and turned around back into the kitchen.

The plan for today was to dock the Going Merry and spend most of the day ashore, either gathering supplies or, in Luffy’s case, finding some local trouble to get in the middle of. Sanji’s original plan was to do that too, but after last night he had new plans.

The fact everyone else would be gone was fantastic - and your own plan to stay close to the ship to spend time around the hull scraping off barnacles was even more perfect.

Sanji was even more grateful to Luffy’s talk with you last night, since your whole mood seemed lighter today. Convincing out to climb back aboard was almost too easy - and the lack of trouble it took to get you to entertain his shenanigans was almost just as easy.

“Sanji I don’t know why you have to cover my eyes, I can keep my eyes closed just fine.”

“I don’t want you peeking.”

“If you’re going to show me some food sculpture again,” you trailed off. Sanji controlled the fluttering in his chest at the feeling of your cheeks moving under his palms - movements that meant you were smiling.

“If I was, you’d be very impressed.” He guided you to a stop, making sure to position you just right. He suddenly felt very nervous. This felt worse than when he made his very first meal. What if you didn’t like it? What if this was a big mistake? What if-

“Sanji?” you whispered. He didn’t even realize his hands were resting on your shoulders until your fingers came up and grazed his own. “Are you okay?”

He smiled. Of course you’d ask that - it made sense now, now that he knew you were the most selfless person he’d met.

“I’m perfect.” he said, hands squeezing your shoulders, “Are you ready to see your surprise?” You nodded. He let out a soft ‘okay’ and reluctantly pulled away to stand next to the kitchen table.

Sanji watched as you took it in, but your face gave nothing away. He nervously looked toward the table again - maybe something was out of place? - then back to you.

“What is this?” you asked. Your voice was so soft that if he wasn’t on a knife's edge he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Earl grey and chocolate cheesecake, and a lemon and earl grey chiffon cake.” He noticed your eyes lingering on a porcelain set just behind the cake. “And tea ready to brew.”

“Sanji, you didn’t have to do -”

“No!” His objection was abrupt, and it made your eyes snap from the spread to him. “I’m sorry, but no. I won’t hear you say it. Just eat it. Please.” Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, too scared to even blink.

You could tell Sanji felt just as tense as you did. No one had ever gone through so much just for you - hell you didn’t even know there was French earl grey tea anywhere on the Merry, and here Sanji was with a whole morning tea that was themed after your favourite flavour. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll get on my knees and beg if you want.” he offered with a small and unsteady grin. Your head shook, declining, and his eyes glanced down at where your fingers nervously fiddled with themselves. You stilled them, instead gripping the coarse fabric of your skirt.

“What I want?” you said softly, almost to yourself. You looked at the food, so carefully prepared and baked, then back at him. “Could you join me? I don’t want to eat alone.”

Instantly, his nerves seemed to visibly melt away - and you in turn felt like you could relax too. He was by your side again, guiding you with a phantom hand at your waist into a seat, and then took the one beside you.

“You’ll have tea, obviously.” Sanji offered, reaching for the teapot, “You’re sweet as you are, but do you need some sugar today?”

Your hand faltered for where it reached for a piece of the chiffon cake. He turned his head to face you, to see you frozen again. This time the look on your face was different. Like a cheeky child had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“Do you think I need some sugar today?” you asked, snickering.

“I’d give you some any day you want.” Then you started giggling - a sound he’d never heard from you before. He looked over and there it was - the smile he’d been longing for a chance to see.

“I think I need some sugar today,” you said with a smile. Your giggling had stopped, but you looked up at him with a soft smile. He couldn’t have been dreaming, but he might’ve since he swore you lent closer.

Sanji decided to be brave. His arm came up to rest on the back of his seat, and his fingers brushed your jaw. His heart skipped a beat when you let him do it.

“How much sugar?” he asked, feeling like he’d been lulled into a daydream at the sight of your happiness.

“A little bit,” you replied, shyly smiling over at him.

“Like this?” he said softly. Ever so carefully he lent forward. His fingers held your chin gently, and when he was close enough to count your eyelashes, your eyes fluttered closed. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the edge of your mouth. It was a short kiss, but he could die happily now - he knew he’d remember the feel of you on his lips even from beyond the grave.

“No,” you whispered, and your fingers ghosted across his jaw to guide his head closer still, “Like this.” you said. Then you kissed him. Your kiss was just as soft, just as gentle, but it was longer, and less afraid. When you pulled away your eyes finally opened.

Before, Sanji could tell you weren’t the kind of person to have done that. To have taken a kiss for yourself, no matter how willing the recipient was. To think all that it took to break that spell was a morning tea.

“Thank you Sanji, for doing all this for me.” You said. Your smile was content - it wasn’t the full toothy grin Sanji had hoped for, but it was genuine, and it made him feel fuller than any meal ever could.

“No, thank you,” he replied, “Thank you for letting me know you.”

[elixirfromthestars]

Crossroads

Pairing: Ex!Bucky Barnes x Neurosurgeon!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night on your way home, fate decides to cross your path with someone who used to hold the dearest place in your heart.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning(s): ANGST / heartbreak / failed relationship / very tiny mention of a surgical procedure, not in great detail / I know I mentioned angst already, but this is all angst with maybe like a tiny sprinkle of fluff / medical career mentions (I did my research, but just in case I got anything wrong) / mentions of Bucky's trauma and hardships from his past

Prompt/Theme: chai latte (caught in the cold rain) + melancholy (write a tragic tale)

a/n: This is my submission for @the-slumberparty ‘s Winds of Autumn Challenge. Did I choose melancholy because of my name? Perhaps 🫢 In all honesty, it has been too long since I wrote a pure angst piece, so I knew I had to write something to get the heartbreak going. As a piece of advice, not everything is as it seems, so wait till the end for the whole story to come together. I would say happy reading, but instead, I'll wait here with tissues and a hug for those who need it after reading this. ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`) Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

Lightning crackles across the sky as you scurry across the puddle-ridden streets of New York desperately searching for a cab. The wind had rendered your umbrella useless, so the rain fell in harsh sheets against your body—soaking you from head to toe. 

You had been performing an emergency surgery on one of your patients in a different hospital from the one you resided in. Your patient had suffered from an aneurysm brought on by a complication from a previous surgery. She couldn’t be transported across the city as immediate medical attention was needed, so you were transported to said hospital via the hospital helicopter. 

Which you obviously couldn’t use to fly back home.

The surgery took longer than anticipated—eight hours to be exact. When you were close to being done there was unexpected bleeding coming from the surgical sight and you had to go back in and reexamine everything to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, there were no more complications after that and you could focus on stabilizing your patient so she could go and recover in the intensive care unit.

The downpour had started towards the end of your surgery. You were far from home and the already unfamiliar streets had blurred together amongst the harsh streaks of water obscuring your vision. It was still the early hours of the night and you were exhausted—longing to collapse against your bedsheets and wrap yourself in their warmth. Tiredness had seeped its way into your bones faster than the rain had seeped into your coat. 

As you cross another street you spot a bus shelter nearby and make a run for it. Knowing it might be a while before you can catch a cab and at least those glass walls would be enough to protect you from the icy wind that threatened to freeze you. Once inside you try your best to warm up your hands, observing the way your breath materializes in the air. You consider ordering a rideshare, but you know the numbness in your fingertips has to go away before you can take your phone out and order it. 

Fate, however, had other plans for you. 

“Y/n?”

Your body stiffens when a voice calls your name, flinching slightly at the way the thunder that follows rattles the glass shelter. The shiver that makes its way down your spine is no longer from the chilly air. 

This can’t be happening—not after two years. Not when you had finally moved on from him. 

He calls your name again, his presence cementing itself into reality. You don’t want to face him, but there’s that small part of you—the part that will forever be his—that begs you to look. That needs to know if it's him. 

Your head turns slowly, holding your breath as you keep your emotions in check as best as you can. Hoping the universe was playing a cruel joke on you and presenting you with someone who sounded exactly like him. 

But what stranger would ever utter your name with such heart-aching familiarity?

Deep down you knew there was no mistaking it. It was him. It was Bucky. You would know the sound of his voice even in the loudest of crowds—like a language only your heart spoke. Even now when it was on the cusp of becoming a forgotten one.

Your eyes meet his as a flash of lightning illuminates you both. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the way his eyes seem stormier than the sky. Filled with as many conflicting emotions as you know are reflected in yours. 

“Bucky. Hi…”

When you find your voice it sounds foreign to you—quiet and tight. The years of rebuilding every part of yourself are on the edge of crumbling down in a simple greeting. Bucky gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks between you and the bus shelter. He frowns for a moment as if having a silent debate with himself.

“Is it okay if I um…?” He nods towards the inside of the bus shelter as he trails off. This is when you finally notice the way the rain whips against his skin, soaking him where he stands, and it dawns on you what he’s asking. 

He wants to know if it’s okay for him to seek shelter from the rain with you. The man who used to insist on holding your hand wherever you went because he loved the feeling of your hand in his, the man who would hug you from behind and hide in the crook of your neck as he showered it with kisses when he missed you on the days you came home late, the man who cuddled you close every night and whispered how much he loved you between kisses that seemed to want to reach your very soul—that man was now asking for your permission to be in the same space as you. 

Oh, how cruel fate could be…

“Yes, of course. It's fine,” your response is polite—too polite, and your movements are virtually robotic as you take a few steps to your right to keep a stranger’s distance between you. He mumbles a small thanks before he steps inside, his hands firmly in his jacket pockets. Keeping to his personal space as much as possible.

Silence stretches between you—heavy with unspoken sentiments—interrupted only by the booming of thunder and the drumming of rain as it hits whatever is in its way. You try to distract yourself by counting the seconds between the stoplight changing from green to yellow to red and then green again, but it's no use when he’s but a few steps away from you. The man who you used to know like the back of your hand is now a stranger and it's causing you more distress than you’d like to admit. The inside of your cheek feels the brunt of that torment as you bite it incessantly. You have to do something about this silence before it consumes you. 

“How have you—”

“How’s it been—”

You both speak up at the same time, holding each other’s gaze for a fraction of a second before falling into an awkward laugh. He clears his throat before encouraging you to speak first. You look away, the civility of his tone crawling under your skin and unstitching mended wounds—some of which still had not fully healed yet. 

“Okay, well how have you been, Bucky?”

“Good. I’ve been good. You?”

“Oh. I’ve been good too.”

The exchange went by quickly between half-truths and hesitations. Then it crept up again—the silence. Gnawing at you both and mocking you for not being able to have a simple conversation. When words between you used to flow as freely as the rain that traps you here—really the lack of vocabulary now is laughable. Your past selves would have never been able to wrap their heads around how hard talking to one another would be. 

Your past selves would also never understand why you broke up.

Your current self still doesn’t entirely understand. 

Bucky shifts on his feet, lips in a tight line as he speaks up, “I read about your recent award. Congratulations, you deserved it,” the sincerity in his voice causes your head to snap in his direction. When you see his genuine smile, one that makes the corner of his eyes slightly crinkle, it tugs at your heartstrings in a way that threatens to pull you back to him. 

You won that award for your research achievements in neuroscience a few months ago. Which could only mean that at least until a few months ago, Bucky had been keeping up with you. A piece of information that left you speechless and with a million thoughts running through your mind.

Had he always kept up with you?

Or did he only just recently revisit a part of his past?

Were you on his mind all this time like he had been in yours?

There was so much you wanted to ask—to say—but instead, your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until you were able to mutter a soft, “Thank you.” The sound so quiet it was almost swallowed by the rain. Bucky caught it, however, his body less rigid hearing the familiar cadence. He smiles a little wider, the kind of smile that chips away at the walls you built up these last two years and insists you spill a string of secrets you have locked away in the deepest depths of your heart. 

All secrets that revolve around him.

How you also kept up with him, never scrolling past a social media or news post highlighting anything that had to do with the Avengers in hopes of getting a glimpse of him. Visiting the coffee shop where you two met on occasions telling yourself it's because no other coffee tastes better, but really it's because of the memories of you two that lie in every corner of that building. The loss of him follows you even when you order takeout because you would rather deal with the lie of ordering for two rather than with the truth of ordering for one.

However, the biggest secret of them all pertains to those days when the ache, the longing, and the loneliness become a cacophony too loud to ignore, that you find yourself rummaging through your closet. Searching for the shoe box that’s tucked away amongst miscellaneous items. One that holds the pieces of your heart that shattered the day Bucky broke up with you.

A faded movie ticket from the Lord of the Rings marathon you took him to, gum wrappers folded into hearts that Bucky had a habit of doing every time you needed a new bookmark, photobooth pictures that always ended with you two kissing, a letter he wrote you on your one year anniversary where he told you he loved you for the first time, and other items you cherished with every part of you. 

Holding onto these things might seem to others like a mistake when your goal is to move on, but these were things you couldn’t find the strength to get rid of. And if that made you weak, clinging onto bits of what was the greatest love of your life, then so be it. 

You were weak—and quite frankly you didn’t give a damn.

The one thing holding you back from pouring your heart out to Bucky was how things had ended. The vagueness, the fight, the resentment and confusion. All of it took hold of you and screamed at you to be more cautious—to keep your guard up. 

Thunder snaps you out of your thoughts, grounding you in the present once more. You need answers, but you know you have to be careful about how you retrieve them. 

You cross your arms, pressing your coat tighter against your body in an attempt to comfort yourself—turning to face him only to have your heart skip a beat when you realize he is already looking at you. His gaze softens with a vulnerability that makes the words get stuck in your throat. 

You let out a shaky exhale, “I uh—I saw Sam became the new Captain America. I also saw you on the news fighting alongside him. Are you two friends now?” The question comes out innocent enough, making Bucky’s demeanor brighten as he takes it as a sign that you’re open to talking to him. Your hidden intention behind that question is a need for confirmation of something that eats away at you anytime you think about his reason for breaking up with you. 

Bucky runs a hand through his damp hair, “Yeah, sort of—it's a long story. We went on a mission together and I realized he wasn’t that annoying, so we became mission partners and I guess you could consider us friends now,” he explains to you with a fond expression, one that leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Through the occasional flashes of lightning you’re able to get a better look at him and the sinking feeling is on the verge of drowning you. 

Bucky no longer had harsh dark circles under his eyes, his scruff was nicely shaven, and his posture was lighter as if the world was no longer falling heavily on his shoulders. His hair is shorter than when you last saw him, he had lost a bit of weight, and he had found a friend in Sam. Something you had encouraged him to do while you two were still together, but he refused on account of saying he only needed you. All of this verified to you the one thing you feared the most. 

Bucky had been right all along. He had been right in breaking up with you. 

Two years ago, Bucky had sat you down on his living room couch and told you he wasn’t ready for a relationship. That was it—that was his reason for ending things with you after almost two years of being together. He claimed he wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment, not after everything he had gone through. And seeing him now, seeing how much better he looked was enough proof for you. No amount of your love, your support, or your companionship would have been enough to keep him in your life. 

Bucky had been right all along, and you hated how utterly bitter that made you. 

How could you accept that what tore you to pieces mended Bucky back together?

The air between you shifts, it’s thick and acrid, and your heart races in your chest with fury as loud as the thunder that rumbles in the clouds. Leaving you wondering if Bucky can differentiate which one is more turbulent. He can sense the change in you and it causes the heaviness in his shoulders to return and his body to go rigid—his own heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

Your phone rings and you use it as an excuse to turn away from Bucky. You pull it out of your bag and check the caller ID—it's Nate. Your neighbor from down the hall of your apartment complex who moved in a couple of months ago, and was now a casual hookup of yours. You weren’t one for hookups, but after years of no connection you longed to feel something—anything with anyone. 

You were only human after all. 

You answer the call, needing to put your attention elsewhere before you say anything to Bucky you might regret later. You keep your responses short, knowing Nate could only be calling you at this hour for one reason and one reason only. Bucky didn’t need to know that reason, so you decide to keep the conversation as brief as possible. 

Bucky shifts his weight on his feet as he pretends to watch the rain. Focusing on a water droplet sliding down the glass wall as it races the other droplets to the ground. He’s tempted to use his super soldier hearing to listen in on your conversation, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to. There are only bits and pieces that slip through—like the fact that you’re talking to a man—and it has one soul-crushing thought come to his mind.

You have someone. Bucky comes to the conclusion that you have moved on. 

As soon as you end the call the words slip out of Bucky’s mouth before he can stop them. 

“Was that your boyfriend?” The word boyfriend tastes bitter on his tongue and he can’t help the prickly edge to his voice. You catch the way his jaw tenses and he averts your gaze—ripping the wounds of heartbreak right open. He has no right to feel any sort of way about you moving on. He knows it, you know it, and yet there he is troubled at the thought of you with someone else. 

Screw not saying something you’ll regret later. 

“Yeah. That was him,” you lie with the utmost confidence that even you believe it. A tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you for lying, but it's hard to hear it when the resentment fights its way up to the surface and wins. 

Bucky had fallen from a train, been brainwashed, tortured, beaten left and right in battles, gone to war, blipped out of existence, stabbed and shot more times than he can count and yet no physical blow could ever amount to the sheer devastating pain he was feeling right now knowing you had found someone else. Knowing there was someone else who got to see your sleepy smiles in the mornings, who got to cuddle you close to his chest on movie nights, who got to steal kisses from you while cooking dinner together, and who got to hear your laughter whenever he wanted—a sound that never failed to make Bucky all warm and fuzzy inside. 

There was someone else who now had the privilege and the honor to be loved by you, and to love you.

Bucky would never be able to recover from that.

“I’m…happy for you. I’m happy you were able to move on,” Bucky lies through his teeth as he says those words that feel like acid on his tongue. 

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” you retort coldly, causing Bucky to flinch as if you had struck him. 

“Y/n I—”

“No. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear how you weren’t ready for a relationship. How ending it was for the best. Breaking every single promise you made to me like it meant nothing to you. You don’t tell someone you love them, that you want to move in together—you don’t talk about the future and then turn around and break up with them because you’re not ready for something long-term. Not unless…not unless it was all a lie from the start,” your voice cracks by the end and it takes everything within you to swallow the lump in your throat before it suffocates you. 

The thunder roars so loudly it shakes the glass walls around you and for a second you think they might break—but ultimately they don’t. Bucky doesn’t know what to say, taking a sharp intake of a breath before blowing out the air in what sounds like a choked sob. Every fiber of his being longs to break the distance, wrap you in his arms, and never let you go. Cradling you close to his chest like he used to whenever you were upset. 

He had lost that privilege—he’s well aware of that, and yet his wishes remain the same. 

Bucky knows there’s more he can say. Things that might not restore what was broken, but that will definitely give you answers or closure. Although, at the risk of hurting you even more he keeps them to himself and instead whispers a strained, “I’m sorry.” Letting the weight of his apology hang in the air.

Your tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away not wanting to cry in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t be bitter and resentful—after all the man you loved with your whole heart ended up better off without you. If you truly loved him you should be happy for him. Despite that, there is no ounce of happiness that you can conjure up for him right now. At this moment, you are swimming in an ocean of negative emotions that are close to pulling you under into a very dark place. 

You can be the bigger person tomorrow—tonight you won’t be.

Bucky can hear it before it comes into view, a cab is finally making its way down the road. He steps out into the road to wave it down, the rain ricocheting off of his shoulders. Without speaking another word, he heads over to the cab and opens the door to the backseat, gesturing for you to go in. For a second, you hesitate to take the cab. You know once you do this is it—it's over. 

A beat passes until you make a decision. With a heavy heart, you force one foot in front of the other, stepping into the rain and then into the backseat. Accepting this small gesture from Bucky as a heartfelt goodbye. If you stuck around any longer that bit of animosity brewing in the pit of your stomach would’ve boiled over. 

You don’t look at Bucky as he closes the door, but you steal one last glance at him as you tell the driver your address. The sight squeezes your chest so tightly it might stop beating—Bucky is crying. He’s hiding it well with the rain and with the way he stands, but you know him better than that. At one point he was your other half and you can tell by the way his jaw trembles, his eyes narrow, and his expression molds to one of pain that he’s crying.

You hide your face from him as the dam breaks and everything you had been holding back comes flooding out.

Bucky steps back into the shelter of the glass walls and watches the cab drive off with you in it—taking his heart and his hope with you. 

Bucky tries to force the tears to stop, but he knows it's no use. Just like you, he had held back a sea of truths he wanted to confess. Truths he wasn’t sure you even wanted to hear or he even deserved to tell. 

Bucky is not doing good. He has to throw himself into work and missions every waking moment because if he doesn’t his thoughts will run straight to you. Every night he has to hold his pillow close to his chest because he got so used to sleeping with you cuddled against him, that he feels like a part of him is missing and it steals his sleep. He tosses and turns for hours and stares at the ceiling as if there he’ll find the answers on how to make the heartache go away. In the silence, he longs to hear your voice, so the radio and the tv stay on so he doesn’t have to sit with the uncomfortable. The food he eats lacks flavor and the world around him seems devoid of color. 

His existence feels soulless without you.

Sam is trying to get him to talk about it, but you’re the one thing Sam is not allowed to bring up. Not when Bucky is ashamed of the full story—of the truth. 

The full story—the full truth—was the one thing most of all that he wanted to get off of his chest and confess to you. Bucky didn’t break up with you because he wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship. That was the biggest lie he had ever told and one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He was ready. He was so damn ready he even bought the ring to ask you to marry him—to make forever official. That was until he noticed how his problems began to bleed into your life. So much so, that your career as a surgeon began to suffer from it. The one thing you were most passionate about—your dream—the one thing you worked blood, sweat, and tears for was in jeopardy because Bucky was still suffering from the baggage of his past as the Winter Solider.

Bucky felt like a burden. You would never call him that and he knew if you ever heard him call himself that, you would do and say everything you could to assure him he was wrong. You loved him so deeply and so selflessly that your career became an afterthought. When his nightmares plagued him, when his PTSD was triggered, when the world felt like it was closing in on him—there you were. By his side no matter the time of day to hold him close and reassure him he wasn’t alone, that he was safe, and that he was loved. Bucky had become so dependent on you he didn’t realize how it had affected you until he stumbled across the warning letters your job sent, the voicemails, and the overheard calls. The articles that came out questioning your morality for dating the Winter Solider—a cold-blooded killer.

Your reputation as a surgeon was on the line because of him.

That’s when Bucky knew he had to call it off. He had to be the one to end it and fix his own problems before his darkness ruined you. You had sacrificed so much and worked endlessly to prove yourself in your field, that there was no way he would let you risk all of that for him. He knew he couldn’t be honest with you over the real reasons—you would never accept them. So he made sure to find a reason that would lead you to hate him. 

Bucky knew he had to be the villain of the story. He was used to it, he’d be okay with it. As long as you were safe from the shadows that followed him, he would gladly be the bad guy. For some people that was all he’d ever be, at least in this case he could control the narrative and in the end it would benefit you.

Bucky couldn’t give you forever, no, but in letting you go he made sure you kept your dream—and that was enough for him. That meant everything to him. 

He had to suffer the greatest loss of his life so that the love of his life could be free. A hard truth that he would forever carry the weight of and that you would never know was done as an ultimate act of love—the selfless act of knowing when to say goodbye. 

[lkblackham]

Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

[ad-astra-per-aspera-1389]

her name is Carter for the same reason buddy's name was buddy. Charles sees it written on the inside back of her pants and calls her that, and by the time Edwin sees it and realizes it's just the brand of her clothes, the name's already stuck

I started writing a snippet of it, but... payneland "accidental baby acquisition" buddy the elf style? a ~6 month old girl dies of SIDS in the night while our boys are on a case, and her ghost crawls into charles's backpack without either of them noticing until they're back at the office

[championari]

So I’m constantly thinking about Charles and how he could eventually meet Edwin with his feelings.

Here’s something I realized: Charles, despite constantly talking about things he miss, things he wants, he actually has a complicated relationship with desire as a concept.

How I would put it is by taking Supernatural as an example. There’s an episode in Season 5 where the boys meet Famine, a horseman of the apocalypse. However, Dean is not at all affected by him. It’s because due to being the older brother, and a Hunter, Dean was never allowed to consider acting on or even having desire for anything.

You can see where I’m going with this. Charles, like Dean, doesn’t actually believe he should want anything, due to “not being good enough”.

This is something actually touched on subtly in the show through the acting. When Niko says, “I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.” Edwin directly looks at The Cat King’s bracelet, while Charles stares off into space. When Tragic Mick describes Angie’s light as enforcing a sense of yearning, Edwin looks at Charles, while again, Charles looks off blankly (can’t access screenshots right now). Edwin knows what he wants but is scared of it, while Charles doesn’t know what he wants because he can’t allow himself to consider it. This gives an entirely new meaning to Charles’ hatred of the Cat King. A supernatural entity who describes his kingdom as being about “want and pleasure”. Thomas is the encapsulation of everything Charles was never allowed to have. Charles chases after things that he knows he can’t have, romancing a living girl despite knowing she will eventually leave. Charles can’t consider returning Edwin’s feelings because that would mean he’s been running away from what’s been in front of him the whole time. That what he wanted was always there, at his lowest point, when he thought he deserved it least.

Returning Edwin’s feelings means he was already enough. And Charles can’t imagine that yet.

While I would obviously adore an interaction between Charles and Desire of The Endless, ultimately I don’t think it would do anything. Like Dean, Charles might be completely unaffected by them because he’s spent most of his existence building walls around his desires. Edwin was completely blindsided by Thomas because he never even considered having to think about Desire due to having no attraction to women and that being the dominant narrative of his time. Charles pursues Crystal because he still wants to feel like he has a chance at “normal life” (which as I said is self-punishment by throwing himself at something he knows he can’t have). To accept that he’s in love with Edwin would mean no longer pursuing a living person. Edwin would be it for him, which he kind of already gets but it hasn’t fully sunk in yet. Just like his death

There's also this exchange that drives me nuts:

"You gave up tranquil eternity…for your friend?" "Does that sound like someone who belongs in Hell?"

THIS. MAKES. ME. INSANE. Because Charles, like he always does when confronted with his own wants, completely avoids it. He doesn't respond to The Night Nurse's obvious confusion as to why he ran from Death, and instead turns the conversation back to Edwin. He makes it all about what Edwin deserves, not what Charles saw in Edwin that led him to make that choice. You could say this is practical as time is of the essence, but I think that's the point. Charles throws away the chance to explain his viewpoint on their first meeting, the consequences of his choice to run from Death with a boy he just met and knew for a few hours, and instead remains single-minded on Edwin's safety. Like when Edwin reasonably questioned, "Why are you getting angry?" when he began freaking out over Thomas getting close to Edwin, he says nothing.

There's just so much happening in that head that I can't stop thinking about.

[glitter-stained]

Not vague posting about anything i've seen recently but I do think like in general, our experience and analysis of comics could benefit from focusing on what character knows what. I know it's hard because the continuity is complicated, but sometimes it is doable and I think it's important, even/especially in stories and characters we don't like (there is a technique and subtlety to the art of hating)

Ie:

"Jason would hate Alfred, he talked shit about him while he was dead and was the one to put up the memorial case", Jason was dead when this happened

"That scene where Jason says "i've never seen you hit anybody this hard not even the joker" was stupid Bruce put the Joker in a full body cast after he killed Jason" Jason was dead when this happened

"Jason was cruelly and willfully trying to take away the one person that Mia felt safe with" Jason looked at two newspapers, saw similarities between Mia and him and projected so strongly onto her we're at the limits of astral projection. He didn't know shit about Mia's feelings for Ollie or that she hadn't been taken in to be Speedy, man didn't even known she had killed before."

"Bruce is so cruel for burying Sheila next to Jason" Bruce has canonically not a fucking clue why Jason went into the warehouse

"Jason should have hated Tim for all the victim-blaming and shit-talking" again, Jason was dead when this happened

"But doesn't Jason know his family grieved him??" ..........Jason was dead when this happened

Obviously this is centered around Jason because he's the one I'm trying to get a phd in but it works for all of them. Like don't get me wrong, all of these are interesting points that I understand wanting to see developed in the comics, but we can't blame stories for making characters act according to their knowledge. Jason being buried next to Sheila for example is really damn tragic because nobody knew what she did to him, just that he called her mom and gave his life trying to save her. Mostly the frustration about those topics means, imo, comics should have them have fucking conversations and find out about stuff that happened more often. Also it's good practice to train our theory of mind.

[nobodysdaydreams]

My toxic trait is that I think if Elphaba, Galinda, Fiyero, Nessarose and Boq had all gone to the Emerald City together as friend group, they totally would have been able to stop the Wizard and Morrible. Wouldn’t have even been a challenge.

Galinda, Nessarose, and Boq might have been hesitant or afraid to openly challenge the Wizard, but as soon as Elphaba objected and the Wizard and Morrible made their little threats, Fiyero would for sure throw a punch in the Wizard’s direction, at which point the battle is on and the group is running through the Wizard’s castle being chased by flying monkeys like they’re the Scooby Doo gang. Fiyero swinging around on those hot air balloon ropes knocking guards left and right, Boq panicking and accidentally doing some looney tunes style stunt that saves Nessrose, and they all escape on the balloon to Kiamo Ko with the Wizard as a hostage, because Fiyero would for sure drag that pathetic mess on board, tied up and everything to make sure they can escape.

And Morrible wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it because you know that the second Nessa calls her dad to complain, the governor is going to come rolling up to the Emerald City in his ridiculous top hat yelling in Morrible’s face demanding to know “what kind of school she thinks she’s representing here?” and talking about how he wasn’t made aware of this unauthorized balloon field trip, and panicking about Nessa falling out of the sky. Now Morrible has to deal with him, and she can’t pull the “a wicked green witch kidnapped our Wizard and his spellbook” this time, because is she really gonna say the witch was either helped by or succeeding in kidnapping (in addition to the Wizard) a famous prince, the daughter of wealthy upper class, the beloved and favorite daughter of an esteemed governor, and another random student all on her watch? There are only so many people you can throw under the bus before the story is too crazy to be believed, plus now you have all those angry parents demanding explanations. So now Morrible has got to tell everyone some bs story about an “unfortunate ballooning accident, which she is sure the Wizard will rectify in no time” while she figures out her next move.

Meanwhile, at Kiamo Ko, the kids have the Wizard tied up and he’s trying to reason with them but they aren’t having it, and since this is an integration, it eventually comes out that he’s Elphaba’s deadbeat dad. He gets emotional and tries to spin it as a tragic star crossed lovers story rather than a one night stand and Nessa’s not having it because if you found out your parent cheated with a villainous dictator who tried to kill their own child who is also your half-sister and then said dictator has the nerve to try to spin it into a story where you’re supposed to feel sad for them because they “couldn’t be with the woman they loved” (because she was married to your father) and “never knew their child” (because they left knowing full while their actions could have created your sibling) you’d be mad too. And Elphaba is also angry because who would want to be related to someone willing to oppress people for power? Pathetic.

But Boq stops Nessa from angrily doing anything crazy to the Wizard because after he saved Nessa from some flying monkeys, he realized that he loves her and that Galinda doesn’t like him and he has to respect that, and now that the gang has had time to talk, Galinda also realizes Fiyero obviously loves Elphaba and decides to be happy for them, because they all take one look at the Wizard’s fake overdramatic crying for a woman he had a one night stand with who was never gonna leave her husband for him anyway who he never even called again anyway so why is he crying now, and they say “let’s not over complicate our love lives and be mature about our feelings.” Good decision on their part.

Meanwhile, the Wizard tries to start singing about his regrets and offers them all a chance to rule with him if only they’ll untie him, but no one is having it and they send him and Morrible to jail and make Elphaba the new Wizard because she’s the one with the actual power. She can visit her father in prison, and he can do his silly little puppet/figurine shows and song/dance numbers for her then. If he has good behavior, maybe Elphaba can make him her court jester because goodness knows all the Wizard is good for is being a clown. Morrible stays in jail, no parole. Then you’ve Elphaba ruling the Emerald City, Fiyero ruling Winkie Country, Galinda being an elite socialite in Gilkin Country or wherever she’s from and Nessa ruling Munchkin Land with Boq at her side, willingly this time. The whole friend group is running Oz and making it better. The end.

[comicaurora]

Hello! As a thorough enjoyer of Overly Sarcastic Productions and also a rabid fan of The Dragon Prince… was there anything that you did like about S7 or thought was especially well done? Obviously it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and there were certainly parts of the show that were disappointing, but I’m curious to see what you might have enjoyed. (If there’s not anything that’s fine too!)

I think the premise of Aaravos's zombie army, "any soul that died with unfinished business is fair game," was a brilliant way to constantly gutpunch the audience with surprise heartbreaking cameos from tragically dead loved ones. I was not expecting Zombie Avizandum, but it made perfect sense - he died in terror for his wife and son, desperately reaching for them! Of COURSE he got to be a rage zombie! Sir Sparklepuff, Betrayed Revenant? Poetic justice. It's just a shame Viren wasn't there to see it.

Ezran having complicated feelings about the guy who killed his dad? Good! Let the paragon process messy feelings like grief and rage! Even if I thought the execution was made awkward by looping it into the Magic Nuclear Deterrant arc, I thought letting Ezran confront Runaan directly in the end was excellent and well-earned.

Runaan's arc going from accepting his death to tearfully embracing his life? Excellent! Runaan immediately being ride or die for his daughter's cringefail human boyfriend? Hell yea! Runaan taking continuous L's all season? Honestly kind of hilarious jfc let my man live

Prince Karim is another very interesting villain whose death I think is cool but whose absence from the story I think will broadly strip it of much-needed depth. Karim thinking he's so profoundly important to the story, clearly convinced he's the tragically betrayed rightful heir, utterly nonplussed when reality fails to cooperate with his vision - fascinatingly narcissistic in the most classical sense. He's infatuated with his own story to the point that he doesn't realize he's not even a player.

Every time Aaravos does one of his Count of Monte Cristo style monologues where he reveals horrible secrets to an old enemy he's about to kill it's extremely fun and rad

Rayla being forced to confront the nameless cannon-fodder moonshadow elf assassins who died offscreen back in season 1 was a nice way to narratively reaffirm how difficult, painful and courageous it was for her to make the call to spare the princes and save the Dragon Prince. It cost real lives, and she's deeply regretful of that, but not of the choice she made which ultimately united the kingdoms and ended the war. Also I feel like Rayla didn't get much else to do this season so it was nice to let her actually confront some emotional stakes.

[callmrmorrow]

Your angst takes are so heart breaking 🥺🥺🥺

omg please oh please tell me your thoughts on shapesmith

full disclosure, shapesmith has never been on my radar as a particularly interesting character for me, like… angst wise. but i’ll give you something because i’m nothing if not capable of making people suffer

shapesmith reminds me, oddly enough, of john doe (joker) from the telltale batman series. i played that shit YEARS ago. but there’s something about the two of them that feels the same to me, and it might be the endearing unfamiliarity with the world around them — in telltale, i think joker had memory problems — and their source of heroic action being a result of mimicking those around them. also their childish naïveté.

“my bed’s a racecar!”

hes also a silly guy. like john doe and oliver, to an extent, he has an incredibly low awareness of how the world functions, what morals really are. thats all well and complicated, but i think the sadder thing about him is that he felt this complete pull away from his people, a fundamental difference between them, and was reckless enough to follow the dream even though it cost his people EVERYTHING. its a common theme in invincible where characters follow their own paths selfishly, setting themselves apart from what’s expected of them (nolan and mark come to mind almost immediately). i think shapesmith takes a lot of blame from the people around him for the sequid invasion and while he does feel guilt, he has no clue how to repent for that in a way that is appealing to humans. unlike nolan and oliver, nobody’s teaching this guy how to be human.

even the way he interacts with powerplex is, i feel, a genuine attempt to understand him. shapeshifting into invincible wasn’t mocking him, i think he just took it very literally and was pretty excited to be able to do something helpful. obviously not helpful, because he misread it. he also seemed gutted that the police didn’t recognize who he was.

he’s not sad in this gut wrenching, overly tragic way. it’s kind of a slow-bleed pity, a knife wound ya didn’t really feel at first, where he’s so funny until you really think about it. then it’s like “oh, this guy didn’t get his dream of seeing the stars bc he got fired from nasa, nobody likes him, he doesn’t understand the world, he’s a piece of utility for the gda, and he has nobody to talk to even though there’s other characters who might get it”

like ouch! hope this suffices. a little think piece and a silly doodle just about sums up what kind of blog i aim to be