#nor can i really completely pinpoint One... i think there is a Plenty...

[kasarian]

character trope ask game: i would say yours is beefy men who hold truly deep sorrow and/or grief in their hearts and yet refuse to be hardened by the cruel hardships surrounding them. strong, warrior's hands that would rather bake bread than take up arms, but will fight if truly necessary. an estrangement from humanity and normalcy that lends itself to a will to protect the human and normal. rejected souls that are prepared to use themselves as kindling in their loved ones' hearth. a soft smile from someone that has already given up on their own future, but truly believes that everyone else's is so dearly precious.

and in terms of love (not necessarily romantic) interests for these characters: a hand to reach out to the abandoned and an embrace to grant a moment of rest to those who don't seem like they would need it. a steady heartbeat to their ear, to remind them that they are at rest and this future they have fought for is theirs as well. someone who will save them a warm seat in the home they have built and fought to defend. someone who is willing to carve out a future for them when they wouldn't think to take it themselves.

spark. spark spark i am holding this ask very dearly in my palms i have been staring at it since i woke up. its like. a very clear and accurate read of me and im grinning but also ive been ueueue-ing everytime i reread it im--

looks at you with pitiful wet eyes..... you are correct...

[a-lil-perspective]

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

[lilbabycee]

sundown // steve rogers 🌇

↳ summary: steve’s little ray of sunshine isn’t shining so bright.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 2.5k

↳ warnings: angst angst angst (i was in my feelings with this one), hurt/comfort and some fluff 

↳ author’s note: hi! i wrote a kind of sequel to daybreak today! i’ve been stuck in a writing rut for like two weeks but then @pinksdaydream​ inspired me to write some more for this! 🥰

READ DAYBREAK

A year later and Steve still hasn’t learned his lesson. Every day, he stares for hours at the brightest light that he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing in his many years of life. He can’t believe how close he is, how easily he’s able to touch and feel something- someone so precious. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t been burned yet, but he knows that it’s because this light doesn’t pose a physical threat to him - emotionally, perhaps, but rather, it’s much more the contrary. He basks it in, soaks in its warmth and revels in its brilliance all because he’s allowed to. He’s allowed to because this light is his. 

It’s you.

You’re not perfect - you tripped on the fluffy white rug in the living room and subsequently ran into the sharp marble corner of the kitchen island this morning alone - but you’re still his. However, this time you’re awake and standing in the kitchen - too far away from him. One of his grey Henley’s shields your entire upper half from his eager gaze and he silently curses himself for throwing you that shirt when you’d asked for one - if he was smarter, he would’ve just insisted that you walk around naked. He knows that your legs are completely bare, but his vivid imagination has to be the one to conjure up the image of those miles of exposed skin because his view is obstructed by the kitchen counter. For now, he’s stuck admiring you from the waist up. He bets that he could rip the counter right out of the tiled floor if he tried hard enough, but he knows that as of right now, he has more restraint than that. 

No matter what time of the day, not once in any of those twenty-four hours for the past one-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighteen days has he failed to be amazed by how you can make him feel like the asthmatic man he was all of those years ago by simply walking into a room, no matter whether or not you even know that he’s there. You’ve been quieter than usual lately, running endless back-to-back sprints as opposed to marathons inside your brain that wear you out because you refuse to take a water break. He knows what this is - he’s seen it before, watched you run so far only to drop the baton in the relay race at the most critical moment. And as much as he can coach you to not push so hard and pace your running, in the end, you’re the only one who can really make those decisions for yourself. 

Of course, you always take his advice in stride, using it to propel yourself those last few meters to the finish line. But time and time again, he’s watched you fall short, letting all the different facets of your overactive and often noisy brain speed past you to snap that finish line tape in half much like the way that they break your soul. Your aura dims considerably in moments like these, despite the glow of the late afternoon sun swallowing the white walls of your apartment and spitting out rays of golden light. One shines right on your face and Steve almost laughs - it’s as if the sun itself knows how deserving you are of the limelight - a star in his eyes having taken center stage in the production of his life. 

He’d let you take all of the attention any day. But you’re not like that - as much as you can be his little social butterfly, the taste of pink lemonade and cherry lollipops in your speech, there are still those days when he can both physically and emotionally see you sink in on yourself, the words you speak stinging him in a way that makes his entire body shudder just thinking about it. They always taste like copper to him.

He knows that you don’t mean it. It’s the way you’ve always been and who is he to think that he’s entitled to make you change it? But the way that you deal with what goes on inside your head isn’t healthy. He knows that. You know it, too. And you’re trying. That’s all he can ask for. 

And so here he sits on the floor of your living room, large body wedged in the sizable space between the coffee table and the couch that his back rests against. You’re directly in his line of sight - still too far away - but that’s okay because even though you haven’t spared him a glance or uttered a word to him in the past hour, at least you’re together. 

Sometimes he regrets the mantle that he carries around - Captain America. True, it is such an integral part of him but he can’t help but resent it some days. It keeps him away from you all too often. Time and time again, people have chased him just to meet the man in red, white, and blue. They’re not interested in the man behind the shield and honestly, he doesn’t know if he is either. There have been plenty of times where he’s spiraled into an identity crisis, unable to separate Steve Rogers from his superhero persona. 

But every single time, you’ve been there to work through it right alongside him. You’ve dealt with him at his very lowest - when he was in a hole deeper than rock bottom and couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed in the morning. So there has not been even one moment when Steve has thought about leaving you alone when you get like this. He now knows not to pry just as well as he knows that you don’t want to be by yourself in times like these. You may not explicitly vocalize it, but in the seconds when you do meet his stare across the dinner table or right before you fall asleep, he can see the love housed in the depths of your eyes and that’s more than enough for him.

His own eyes haven’t left you for the better part of the hour. His favorite black leather-bound sketchbook is open to what was once a blank page at the beginning of the day but is now an almost complete sketch of the angel in front of him. The luminosity of the sun on your body reveals your halo, usually hidden during the day but in rare moments like these, he’s able to appreciate your otherworldly presence casually standing in the middle of his kitchen with a hand propped against the edge of the counter. A notebook is set in front of you and Steve never thought that he could be so jealous of an inanimate object before - it’s held your undivided attention for hours. 

His eyes widen as you shift, leaning forwards to rest both of your elbows on the counter top to type something on your open laptop and giving him a clear view of your breasts through the gap in the front of your shirt. Your lips have been wrapped around a ballpoint pen for virtually the whole day which is how he knows you’ve been working hard because sucking on the ends of pens always helps you focus. He, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus at all as soon as you whip out one of those godforsaken pens. Steve swallows hard - almost immediately regretting wearing grey sweatpants as he adjusts the crotch as subtly as he can - and tears his eyes away from you to flip to a new page, sketching profusely so as to immortalize this moment in his sketchbook before his mind can even dare to forget it. 

In his haste, he doesn’t even realize when the silence is broken by the chime of your voice. 

“Steve. Steve.”

His hand moves fast and he’s squinting at the page in concentration, willing his brain to hold onto the picture of you bent over the kitchen counter as if he doesn’t have the real thing standing right in front of him-

“Stevie,” you call out, your brow furrowing slightly in concern. This makes his head snap up - finally - and you can’t help but notice how blown his pupils are and how strategic the placement of his sketchbook seems to be. You can pinpoint the exact moment that he starts to panic. For someone who is usually so stoic, he wears his heart proudly on his sleeve. Realization quite literally dawns on his face but it does nothing to alleviate the dusting of light pink across his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” his unused voice is raspy but he doesn’t bother clearing his throat, as if he knows exactly how it makes you clench your thighs together where he can’t see them. “I was just really invested in- uh,” he hesitates, gesturing vaguely at the page that you can’t see, “the sketch. What’s goin’ on, doll?”

And the flower of your heart blooms at the look in those eyes that remind you so much of April showers, those eyes that are filled to the brim with the rain that has watered all of the dead and decaying blossoms that line your stomach, crawl up to your ribs and up your throat, their vines climbing up through your skull to wrap around your brain. That look alone, framed by those insanely long eyelashes, has extended a helping hand to your beaten-down spirit, telling it to dust itself off and keep going. 

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” Steve’s sinfully pink lips quirk up into a demure smile as he teases you, his thick beard shielding the brief flash of white teeth. You decided a long time ago that the beard has been the best thing to happen to you, as is the long hair that he’s currently running his hands through. 

“Sorry,” you say but continue to stare unabashedly at his beautiful face because you don’t mean it. You can’t help the way that your eyes trail down his chest that has woefully been covered by one of his too-tight black t-shirts, though you don’t miss the way that it strains against his bulging biceps, nor the way that it’s slightly rucked up at the bottom which gives you an eyeful of the dark blonde wisps of hair that travel downwards towards one of your favorite parts of his body. 

Steve, always so perceptive, doesn’t miss where your gaze has traveled, and he can’t help the self-satisfied smirk that grows on his face. It’s easy to forget that you’ve been down for these past few days when you have seconds like these in between those tired hours when you oversleep and he hasn’t slept at all because he’s too busy watching you.

“See somethin’ you like, baby?” he hums, continuing his sketch absent-mindedly because he knows that the image of you standing in front of him like a dream will forever be ingrained into his memory. 

Heat ignites your veins and blooms in your cheeks; you can’t help it when you look away, smiling shyly to the side. Steve has resigned himself to the fact that you won’t answer, going back to tracing careful lines with the point of his pencil. 

“In fact, I do,” you murmur, knowing that if it was anybody else, they wouldn’t have heard you. Steve’s eyes meet yours and you can almost taste the saltiness of the ocean on your tongue as he drowns you in their depths. He stands abruptly, casting his book to the side carelessly and taking long strides to get to where you are. 

Once his hand lands on your hip, the warmth seeps in through the cotton of your shirt and melts your entire body; it catalyzes the small eruption of the volcano in your chest, causing the burning lava of the breath that you didn’t know you were holding to spill over and out of your mouth in an audible sigh. His other hand soon joins the first, framing your body and pulling you back into him. You stare down at the dusting of hair on his forearms when he slips them around your waist and you squeal when he turns you around in his hold, meeting your eyes with a softness that you weren’t expecting.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?” he probes lightly in that same low voice, recognizing your deflection and not wanting to cause that volcano to explode. You bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact because you don’t want him to worry (you don’t know that he worries about you every second of every day because you’re almost his entire heart) but he grasps your jaw in his right hand. He ducks his head down a little, trying to catch your darting eyes. When they finally rest on him, he thinks that he’s dying because your stare is glassy and your lip is trembling. 

“Baby,” he coos, tugging you into his chest. You relent, releasing your hold on his forearms to throw your arms around his middle. It’s hard to hold back the tears anymore: Steve’s concern has kicked down the fragile floodgates of your emotional control. Pressing your head into his chest, he says nothing while your body shakes but it’s better this way. You know that you’d only cry even more if he started speaking. Instead, you inhale gasping breaths between babbling as you try to explain why you haven’t been yourself recently. He listens attentively, rubbing circles into your back and dropping frequent kisses on your forehead. 

The room is more orange than yellow by the time you can finally speak coherently. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffle into his shirt, fists clenching the material tightly. He pushes you away from him so there’s just enough space for him to lift his hands to your face. Slowly, he wipes any residual tears from your cheeks and underneath your eyes with this thumbs. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, baby,” he speaks softly, your face still in his hands when he presses a kiss to your nose, both of your now mostly dry cheeks, and then right on top of your lips. It’s chaste, only lasting about a second but it makes your soul sing nonetheless. 

You stand in silence for a beat longer, merely staring into each other’s eyes before something flashes in Steve’s eyes. You squish your face to his body again, feeling his chest rise slightly, signifying that he’s about to speak. 

“What did you need before, sweetheart?”

You’re confused. 

“What do you mean?

“When you were calling me before - what did you need?”

Now you get it. 

“Oh- I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner...”

Your voice falters at the end because - and you have no clue why - this makes Steve throw his head back as he barks out a surprised laugh. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him slightly. 

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing - I just love you, that’s all,” he clarifies, casually throwing the sentiment out there because it’s so easy with you. It’s always easy, even when it’s not.

“I love you, too,” you place a lingering kiss on his jaw before pulling back to stare in his eyes with a grave expression on your face. Now it’s his turn to frown in confusion. “But seriously, what do you want for dinner?”

[coffeebeannate]

From This Prompt List

“If a person is destined to have a soulmate in this life, they will find that one of their eyes has changed colour, reflecting the colour of their anticipated soulmate.

For this to occur, the two must be in close proximity to one another (most studies say no less than several miles, but others claim that there have been some variations), and that, upon meeting, the eyes will revert to normal.

In some legendary, and notable cases, the eye colours will remain heterochromatic for the rest of their lives.

Of course, keep in mind that these stories are not always the same, and not every couple has a soulmate status. And that there is nothing less valid about non-soulmate couples.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, hastily closing the cover over his tablet, “Ah, sorry, can I help you?” 

“The computers broken, again.” His co-worker sounds the most interesting combination of annoyed and sheepish, “Do we have to call tech support?”

“No, no, let me take a look, it’s alright.” Standing up from the desk, “The one we use for catalogue searching?”

“What else?”

He sighs, muttering curses under his breath, “Thing is about as good as a piece of scrap metal, at this point.” Resigning himself to an afternoon tinkering with the world’s most stubborn library resource computer. “It’s alright, go back to work, I’ll let you know if it decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Nicky, call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem” Facing the not-ancient but absolutely useless desktop, “You going to behave, or do we have to fight?”

Predictably, the computer blinks at him, Nicky sighs again and settles before it.

---

It isn’t that Nicky hates his life. Because he doesn’t, and despite what people might think, he’s fairly content. Working full-time as the head librarian might seem like an outdated job, but Nicky’s only 32, and he likes to argue that libraries are a vital part of society. Upgraded as they are, and some facets available entirely online. Besides, he had a degree in the stuff, and plenty of practice.

Andy might’ve had a series of interesting names for his life. His small apartment, three cats, more books and tech than is strictly necessary for a single man to have, and a car that is really a ridiculous thing, but it runs and he loves it and maybe the radio doesn’t work and it has no AC and the heater is also dying, but it’s a good car and he happens to find it charming.

He’s fine.

He’s dated, some one night stands, but nothing sticks.

“Are you reading that book again?” Andy asks, when she catches the soulmates book opened up on his tablet for what is definitely not the 10th, 12th, let’s not talk about it time.

“I think it’s comforting,” Nicky retorts, catching her look of disbelief.

“You know that in most cases, that shit’s a load of crap, yeah? Quynh and I have been married for eight years, no issue. She’s my soulmate, magical eyeballs aside.”

“I know I know..I just think it’s sweet.”

Nicky does not tell her that, for the last six or seven months he’s been glued to the damned thing. Everything feels antsy. He’s not an anxious man at all. His life has never felt empty, nor hollow. And yet, a few months back everything started feeling weird. Like he just couldn’t settle. Bee’s beneath his skin. Ghosting sensations across his scalp. Tingles.

He’d casually mentioned it during his yearly physical, but the doctor determined nothing out of sorts physically, and Nicky had been delaying calling a psychiatrist.

“Maybe you just need a change of scenery.” Andy suggested, stirring too much sugar into her coffee. ‘Maybe your library is finally getting to you.”

Nicky had declined to respond, but filed it away in the back of his mind regardless.

--

The morning that it happens, Nicky is running late, and doesn’t bother to look in a mirror much beyond ‘brushing teeth and running a comb over hair” before heading into work. 

They’re finally upgrading the useless front computer, and he has to let the techs inside. Meaning he’s supposed to be at work an hour before he’d usually be, fiddling with his keys and muttering apologies as he opens the door fifteen minutes after he was supposed to let them in. Offering to buy them coffee for the troubles.

He’s that sort, after all.

He stands in the early morning crowd rush at the cafe yawning and buzzing, body thrumming with tension he can’t pinpoint, nor understand. It’s ridiculous and by the time he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar order, he feels much like he’s about to explode from it all.

The techs are thankful for their coffees, at least, Nicky tries to do some work in his office, and by the time he finally takes a break from his unsatisfactory work, it’s nearly noon.

There, in the libraries Men’s Room, is when he finally notices it.

His left eye isn’t grey, or green, or blue.

(Or whatever true colour his eyes seem to think they are)

It’s dark brown. So dark Nicky can barely see any other colour to it beyond pupil.

He blinks. Splashes water across his face, scrubs his cheeks.

It’s still there.

He takes a selfie with his camera, and stares.

Still there.

It’s still there after work, and the next day, and the Friday when he meets Andy for their usual after work time at the bar, Andy staring at him.

“So it’s not a contact?”

“No, I don’t wear contacts, or glasses! You know that.”

“You think your flowery soulmate shits legit then?”

“What else could it possibly be, Andy?”

Andy studies her beer, for once, she has no answer.

---

It is an extremely boring Wednesday morning when Nicky scrolls through his emails and finds something that bothers him for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s from one of the other departments, and it’s about the national art show being hosted at their oh so esteemed library. Nicky’s library is a popular venue because the building is historic and has a nice receiving room.

That’s not what bothers Nicky. He looks forward to this show. And it’s the first time he’d be in charge of much of it since becoming head librarian some eight months back, but no, it’s the shows headline artist that is prickling at him for yet again, reasons he can’t discern.

Nicky scrolls past the necessary details, but keeps going back to the beginning.

Headline Artist: Mixed Mediums. Classics with a Twist. Yusuf al-Kaysani

Nicky saves the email.

Again, no reason at all.

--

“Do you think it means anything?” He asks Andy and Quynh while four beers in and sitting on their couch.

“Some artist’s name you’ve never even met or heard of?” Quynh snorts, ‘Yep, definitely cracked some universal secret code there Nicky.”

He sighs, “Hand me another..”

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

--

“Sorry, are you uh,,Nicky..Genova?”

Yes, okay, that does sound odd. But to his credit! He was named  Nicolò thank you very much. His mother had made some comment about classics, traditions, blah blah.

“Yeah! Sorry just let me-”

He’s at the top of a ladder, fiddling with a birds nest, of all things. The outside of the library (again historic building) attracted plenty of them.

“Take your time, I don’t usually yell at people on ladders, on principle and all.”

The voice is nice.

It’s the dumbest thought Nicky has had in his head in months.

“Good practice, that.” Finally gasping the nest, starting to climb down the ladder, “Okay!” When he’s returned to solid ground.

“So, what can I do for-”

Nicky, quite elegantly, forgets how to think. Or breathe. Or do anything appropriately life sustaining like that.

The man before him, nice voice man, his brain helpfully supplies. is..gorgeous. And see, Nicky has SEEN gorgeous men and is nicely partial to them. But this man is gorgeous, attractive and, most distractingly, has one blue-grey-green who actually knows eye, and one dark brown one.

And! Nicky notices, has completely lost his own ability to speak. The two of them seem to amend this moments later by pointing at each other’s face mostly rudely, stunned and confused.

Nicky seems to find intelligent language first, but only manages to say, “..Are you Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

The equally stunned gorgeous man confirms this, and Nicky is quite sure he either faints, or dies.

(He does neither of these things, thank you very much)

“..It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.” Yusuf says, finding actual intelligence far before Nicky does. Nicky just swallows.

--

Their eyes never reverse to their birth states.

Not at the first date.

Not at the proposal.

Nor the engagement party.

Or the wedding.

--

10 years later, Andy remarks that ‘the most romantic bastard she knows’ would indeed, find an even MORE romantic sap, and that they’d have the perfect book romance.

--

Joe’s cleaning out the closet one evening when he finds a well-worn paper back version of the novel that Nicky had read endlessly on his tablet all those years ago.

“Hey babe, you never told me you had a paper copy of this.”

“Hmm?” Nicky pokes his head out of the bathroom, “I do? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit worn out.”

Joe flips open the cover of it, peering down into the slightly musty paper, reading aloud and finding his way to join Nicky at the vanity.

~~

“Before reading this book, we must advise and remind that soulmates in this manner are rare, and that there is little scientific study to show a truth. Please do not fret if you never fall into this concept.”

Nicky hums, accepting the arm to his waist, the familiar kiss to his cheek, ghosting along the side of his lips.

“Go on,” Nicky says, casually.

“You know this story, my heart.” Joe chuckles, but continues.

“This rare phenomenon has been observed throughout history..”

[mercurial-muses]

Meeting of the Minds

Valdyss has nearly completed her first phase of research into ley lines and places of magical power in Drustvar. I realized last night that, since a lot of that has been happening in one-on-one RP or 'off screen' completely, there's no way my Autumnhearth guildies and those who RP with us would know that. I'm posting this scene with my writing partner's permission to catch everyone up a little. As a bonus, y'all get to meet Faye's younger sister, Asta.

- - - - -

Valdyss may have met one of the Ladies of Frostfall, but the second remained apparently rather elusive.

Where Faye spent a good deal of time in her workshop, Asta was across the hall in the keep’s study. The other Lady Callahan slowly opened the door and took a step outside. Not out of caution, but because she was distracted. Another book sat open in her hand as she gradually walked out from the study. ‘Rumination on the Elements and Nature,’ read the title. Yet another way to feed her curiosity about the ways of nature based magic.

Asta frowned slightly as she went over one particular passage, moving down the hall with the sort of practiced, subconscious ease one might expect from a regular resident. She was headed towards the kitchen apparently, with the unconscious desire for food.

At least she was going to try and eat unlike someone else in the keep.

The portal behind Valdyss blinked from existence with a quiet whoosh, plunging the spacious guest room into darkness. A snap of the mage’s fingers conjured a tiny flame that hovered between them for a few seconds before it grew into a fiery ball the size of a marble and moved to levitate over her palm. The illumination it provided did little more than push back the shadows immediately in front of her, but it was enough light to allow her to get to the door without taking a header over anything that might be in her path.

Val opened the door with her free hand and, standing in a rectangle of light cast into the room from the hallway, she shook her other hand to extinguish the fire it held. She waved away a wisp of smoke as she stepped into the hallway… and very nearly right into a woman passing by the room. “Oh!” she yelped, unconsciously bringing a hand up to cover her galloping heart. “Light, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

Asta subconsciously moved away from the sudden figure, but the yelp drew her eyes away from her text towards the mage. They were a much darker blue than Faye’s and currently filled with both alarm and confusion.

She shut the book in her hand sharply, giving Valdyss a once over. “That’s…fine. Who are you?” With the small number of servants they had, it wasn’t hard to recognize this was not one of their friends. And she couldn’t recognize her from the village either.

Nerd that she was, Val’s attention was almost immediately drawn to the book in the woman’s hand. That, combined with a beauty that was so familiar by now, made all the pieces click. “Asta?” she said, brow raised.

“Valdyss Duskbane, but Val’s fine.” The mage made a critical study of the other woman and, noting the alarm in her eyes, remained alert for sudden movements or any other signs of a fight. “I come in peace, I swear just don’t…” The fingers of her left hand wiggled in the general direction of the floor as she held her right one out in a defensive position. “Don’t root me, or whatever.”

Valdyss would have to look up to meet the woman's gaze, as Asta stood easily over 6' tall. The recognition was confusing up until Val introduced herself.

The alarm dropped from faintly familiar features. Asta's entire posture relaxed with a small huff. "You're Valdyss?" The younger Callahan asked, looking the mage over in a new light. She pursed her lips for a moment before humming with a shrug. "Mmm, I think I get it."

Nonetheless she offered a hand out towards Val. "I am Asta, yes. My apologies for the suspicion. I didn't recognize you, nor did I know you'd be visiting us today. Usually Faye warns me so I don't barge in and make a fool of her. Well, more than she already is anyhow."

Val grinned up at Asta as she took the younger Callahan’s hand in a firm grip. “I am indeed Valdyss.” She withdrew her hand and instead gripped the strap of her pack and pulled it a little higher on her shoulder. “And I am also at fault for you not being warned of my arrival. Faye’s not expecting me yet.”

A faint blush began to rise in the mage’s cheeks as she continued on. “I finished up earlier than expected in Dalaran and, um...” She paused, cleared her throat.

“Well, I was wandering around to kill time and came across a vendor selling a spiced liquor that I thought would add a nice kick to the Crackle n’ Apple.” Val’s hands moved as she spoke and her expression grew animated in her explanation. “And then I found this roasted pork tenderloin and thought that along with some brie would pair really well with the apple and-” Her words tapered off into a chuckle. Val shrugged. “And I didn’t want to wait any longer to see her, okay?”

An amused expression very similar to the one her sister often got grew across Asta's face. She just waved the fluster off with an easy gesture before turning.

"Then by all means: I was headed towards the kitchen anyways. I can help you make the drink and you'll get to kick in Faye's workshop door to make her eat this time. Stag knows you'll probably be a lot more appealing than me getting to lecture her again." Asta snorts, starting to walk off.

"Do you honestly think Faye takes issue with you interrupting her?" Val called to Asta's back as sped to catch up to the retreating woman. She fell into pace at her side and looked up at her. "Asta, your sister adores you."

Asta lets out a soft scoff. "Oh no, I don't really. Well. Most of the time." She corrects with a pause. "The one time she spilled Shroom Bloom on herself was a... very interesting incident." Despite that, there's a hint of fiendish delight that crosses Asta's expressions for a moment. But then it's gone, and she's looking to Valdyss.

"But I adore my sister as well. And if you do too, you'll know I essentially have to intrude or she'd be in there for hours without a drop of water."

“I do,” Val replied without missing a beat. She hefted the pack hanging off her shoulders to emphasize her point. “It’s exactly why I ran around half of Dalaran putting together a meal before finally caving to my haste to get here. "Brought plenty for three, by the way,” she added with a smile.

Asta shot Valdyss a look when that little addition was made. “Trying to curry favor with food?” she quipped with a faint smirk. “My my, you may be as smart as Faye claims.”

“Not looking to curry favor as much as to take advantage of an opportunity to get to know you better.” Val had to jog for a few steps to catch up to Asta’s side again. These tall Callahan women and their long strides. “If it isn’t already, I believe it will become important to your sister that we meet and spend some time together. Light, at least I hope my read on things is correct in that regard.”

Asta finally made it to the kitchen with Val: a large space with a stone oven, some door inlaid with runes, a healthy fireplace, and many more stonework "appliances." Magic hung thick in the room as Asta went to open another door and begin pulling out what must have been supplies to make the Crack N' Apple.

"If she's as fond of you as I suspect, and this continues as it does, I suspect the same." Asta commented. "But that extends both ways, you know. I'd like to understand just who my sister is seeing."

Blue eyes shifted aside to look at Valdyss pointedly, framed by the shorter blonde hair on her head. There was no maliciousness to the statement: no threat. But she was observing the woman.

Valdyss had no control over the grin that transformed her previously tense features, and wouldn’t have tried to compose herself even if it was possible. Of all the emotions she could wear outwardly like a badge of honor, those she felt growing for Faye were among the most important.

“Well, to use a cliche I suspect you’ll appreciate, I am an open book.” As she spoke, Val unpacked the food and then bustled around the kitchen, gathering what she’d need to warm the tenderloin and then plate it up along with the cheese. "I don’t have a thing to hide, so ask away.”

"Well first- Oh here." Asta moved aside and got a large metal pan. She walked over to the fireplace and slid the pan into a niche made partway up the stony alcove. Reaching below, with a murmur, Asta ignited the rune carved there and a hearty fire sprung to life.

"There you are: and the plates are right over there." Asta pointed to a cabinet in question before returning to making her drink. "First: why were you in Dalaran? I was told you are doing some studies there? Something about ley lines I believe."

Valdyss muttered a quiet thanks as she crossed to the cabinet Asta had gestured to. She grabbed three plates and brought them back to the counter closest to where Asta was working. “I’ve been trying to locate areas of concentrated arcane energy here in Drustvar. My hope is to use those as pinpoints that can then be connected together to accurately map the network of main ley lines in this region.”

The mage peeked into the stone recess to check on the roast, smiling as she inhaled the pleasant scent of rosemary. “This trip wasn’t to research as much as it was to log my findings so far.” She shook her head. “The Kirin Tor doesn’t have nearly as much data about Drustvar as I imagined they would, and I intend to remedy that.” Val sighed. “The dark history of your homeland and the potential for that history to repeat itself is just too important to go unnoted.”

Asta, meanwhile, was busying herself with mixing their drinks. She was listening of course, judging from the eventual hum that left her as Valdyss finished speaking.

"Interesting. And what have you found so far? I have a sneaking suspicion a lot of the arcane points of power would likely also be tied towards important places for natural magic."

Val nodded. “What I'm seeing here in Drustvar is consistent with the relationship between ley lines and places of power all over the world. Sites that hold a concentration of arcane magic are either over a main ley line- a trunk, if you will -or where two or more smaller branches intersect.” Talking with her hands as always, the mage crossed her index fingers to illustrate that last point.

“As for natural energy being tied to sites of power in the same way arcane is, that makes complete sense to me.” She leaned one hip against the counter and watched Asta work for a moment before adding, “I can give you copies of the final map and my findings once I have it all pulled together, if you’d like.”

Asta glanced over to the mage as she spoke, and there was clear interest in her expression. Even more so when the offer of a map came into the picture.

"I would absolutely love a copy, if that were possible." She agreed, putting the whipped creme into each of the three glasses. "My knowledge of ley lines is not quite as advanced, but they are rather intriguing. It feels as though the notion of arcane magic isn't quite as talked about around here, despite the Lord Admiral's daughter being a particularly potent mage herself. Or perhaps even more so because of that, actually."

“Ah. We mainlanders with our strange Light and magic, eh?” Val replied, adding a wink for Asta.

The mage looked in on the roast again and, seeing it would likely be perfectly browned in a few minutes, she turned to the counter and unwrapped the round of brie she'd brought. “I’d be interested in visiting a few of the mapped sites with you.” Val centered the cheese on a plate and held her open hand a couple of inches over it, palm down.

“My theory is that you may feel a stronger pull of nature magic there, just as I will with the arcane.” As she spoke, a flickering red glow illuminated the space between her palm and the plate. The brie began to bubble and melt.

“Not to say they’re the same magic. I mean, they’re channeled in different ways, as far as I know,” Val continued. “But I believe that- in the most elemental sense -nature and arcane magic come from the same energy, so I think we’d prove that there are more similarities in the way that our people actually conjure and wield magic than there are differences.”

Asta was in the middle of sprinkling the cinnamon across the drinks when Val made her second offer.

Her hands paused in their work, hovering there for a moment in thought. She continued shortly after, but seemed ever so slightly distracted. It might be subtle enough for Valdyss to miss initially.

"It would be something, certainly, depending on the days you'd choose. I have not gotten the chance to read much into the interplay between the Arcane and Natural magics: most of mine have to do with the latter. Aren't you the Steward of Autumnhearth as well, yes?"

Val nodded. “I am...well, I will be.” She lifted her hand away from the now perfectly gooey round of brie. “I'm currently the Court Secretary and, as honored as I am to have the role, I’m not sure I would have accepted it if I had the impression that all of my time would have to be dedicated to that alone.”

As she spoke, the mage moved to the oven to remove the tenderloin. Once she’d set that down to cool, Valdyss swiped a hand across the rune carved low on the fireplace, cutting off the flame. “As it is, I’ll have the flexibility to choose days that are convenient for you.” She leveled a gaze at Asta, softened by a warm and genuine smile. “We both know your sister won’t need any convincing to cut you loose from here for a little while.”

And here, Asta stopped. She stared down at the three prepared drinks with an intensity they didn't deserve. It was a few seconds before she turned her attention towards Valdyss and smiled politely.

"Well," She finally said, picking up the drinks, "I suppose I'll just have to speak with her on the matter." And that was that. "Now, what can you tell me about your work in Autumnhearth? It seems to be quite the up and coming barony in Drustvar, which is good given everything that's happened."

Valdyss was tempted to push because she knew how much Faye adored Asta and desired more for her and- unexpectedly -because she already liked the younger Callahan enough herself to want to help. It wasn’t the mage’s place though, and Asta’s curt response and quick change of subject only drove that fact further home. ‘What do you know about family matters anyway?’ the mage silently mused to herself.

Taking the hint, Val found a cutting board and set to work slicing the meat as she spoke. “It’s my duty to represent and speak for Autumnhearth, in person or by correspondence, when the Hallewells aren’t available or have had to recuse themselves.” She shrugged. “I haven’t had to do much of anything yet, but I’m ready and honored to… and a bit nervous to, if I’m being honest.”

Valdyss grew quiet then, clearly lost in her own thoughts. The silence between her and Asta didn’t feel uncomfortable, not to her anyway, and she briefly wondered if it was the same for the other woman. She slid the precisely sliced tenderloin onto a plate and tilted it so there was a little space between each slice, allowing one to see beyond the golden seared surface to the pale meat in the center. Grabbing up the pan, she poured the juices- dotted with rosemary, pepper, and garlic -over the roast.

“Promise I’ll help clean up later,” Val said, eyes on the plates of meat and cheese as she picked them up. “But, for now, I think we’re ready to eat.”

tagging @merelliahallewell and @alexandriawilliams for brief mention of the Hallewells

[thanatophobia-thoughts]

Sleep is considered relative to death in some mythologies. We have Thanatos and Hypnos, after all, in Greek mythology.

Plenty will say that sleep is the closest we will ever get to experiencing death while alive. I can’t say how true or false that is, having never died, nor having any personal Near Death Experiences, but it seems accurate enough.

Despite my fear of death, I do quite enjoy sleep.

Saturdays and Sundays, I find I don’t want to get out of bed. Not that I do throughout the week, nonetheless I do on those days, whereas on the weekends I will stay tucked into the bed for hours longer, not concerned with the time I am “losing” by being in bed.

A recent Saturday, I had the realization of “becoming aware”, of realizing I had reached the point where I wasn’t going to fall back asleep, because I was sensing things more completely. I felt my heartbeat, I was aware of my legs were positioned, I felt the tickling tingles on my side draw me out of sleep, and I had the thought that I really wasn’t aware prior to that, although I was awake.

Where am I going with this?

Many people claim they’re not “awake” until their first cup of coffee, until they’ve splashed cold water on their face, and things of that nature.

It’s a strangely comforting thought to consider that, perhaps as one is dying, they really will not know it.

Like our intent to go to sleep – we cannot pinpoint the moment we fall asleep, because it is preceded by moments of distracted thoughts, that taper off, until eventually there are no thoughts.

I can’t tell you what I was thinking prior to becoming aware I was awake and not going back to sleep.

I can’t tell you what I was thinking before I went to sleep. I know I usually have a daydream plot I like to follow, but it tends to go off the rails, until I’m just…asleep. I can recall where I left off, but I know it’s not my last thought. I know this from those moments when I’m shocked back into awareness, I can reflect on how ridiculous the thoughts were prior to it, before I forget them entirely.

The odds are, as I’m dying, I’ll have some moments prior to death that are not filled with anxiety. Oh yes, I’ll know I’m dying, the way I’ll know I’m falling asleep…but it’s not like my thoughts are going to sing “you’re dying, you’re dying” over and over, the way my thoughts don’t sing “you’re sleepy,  you’re sleepy” over and over.

I will be aware.

I will not be aware.

And then I will be dead.

That lack of awareness part, the loss of consciousness…it’s still a fear. It’s still not something I want, but I can be grateful for the small mercies that may exist in my passing, and how my last thoughts may not be of what is happening to me. With any luck, it’ll be as ridiculous as my thoughts prior to drifting off to sleep.

And on that note – I’ve still been sleeping better by turning off the television before I finally drift off. So that’s working for me.

If you’re still struggling with sleep, try making some changes to your own sleep process.  

[therodrigator6]

Well, hello there fellers.

You can ignore this text post if you want, it comes straight from me, completely outside of Drawings or Proyect updates.

I just really felt as though I needed to take the time to write up my thoughts into a, very possibly, LOOOOOOOOOOOONG post, since I have a LOT on my head right about now.

So, my melancholy, rather depressing, but perhaps amusing, musings, under the cut.

Right, so my whole string of thought was sort of just... proppeled out of me reminiscing about the past... 2 years, maybe year and a half.

I got thinking hard about She-Ra again, LMAO. and I know, I KNOW, why am I even thinking about that damned show again.

BUT, I was really thinking hard about how much I went through, positively I mean, how much growth I had (Around my art and my vocation obviously) with She-Ra.

And really, if you were to scour through my blog, if you went back all the way to... maybe it was late 2018, early 2019, when I posted my first fanarts around She-Ra, you’ll see how far back I was, skill-wise. I mean I wasn’t exactly a beginner, but I weren’t no Grade A artist neither.

And PRIOR to all of that I had more or less drawn fanart intermitently.

Anyone who followed me back when I made RWBY stuff, specifically Whiterose fanart could attest to that. I wasn’t consistent at all, and I experimented more often than not with every single drawing I was making. And don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed drawing stuff for RWBY, I sort of miss it now LMAO.

But I can certainly see just HOW POWERFULLY drawn I was to She-Ra, because my output of content and the growth of my skill as an artist was EXPONENTIAL. I suppose in a way I owe it really to MY sudden... obsession? Fixation? on that show.

VERY HONESTLY, at this point in time, I feel like I could REALLY speak on what things drew me to She-Ra, and precisely what things KEPT me there. IDK I think it used to be a very special little show.

On one hand? I really had just decided to watch it because I was starting to fall out of love with RWBY.

RWBY WAS a show I’d also loved, and which also meant a lot to me, but the things that MEANT a lot to me, were just not given the story I would’ve been interested in. That AND the small fandom space I’d carved out for myself was getting even smaller. Smaller AND very... toxic? Uncomfortable? I felt as though... my efforts and my involvement in that fandom were neither welcome nor appreciated at one point, let alone the fact that on the SHIPPING side of things, it stopped being fun.

So there I was, starting She-Ra up. I’d known about it for some time before, and I’d *Heard* that it was a fun good show, and most specially... *With an active, HUNGRY fandom, raging about a very popular Ship*. So I thought to myself, YAY, I’ll watch this show and I’m REALLY gonna do my best to go for everything popular.

I was tired of unwelcoming fandoms, tired of enjoying the very little measly, *Unpopular* things about shows, this was all about having a GOOD time. And maybe finally getting my works out, really finding a motivation to create stuff.

I mean in hindsight, now I know I fucked myself over MANY times.

You see because, as soon as I started watching She-Ra, I TRIED to do something different about the way I consumed shows.

In the past I used to be VERY ship-centered about my show experiences, to the point were FANON-Ship-centric relationships with shows would make the stories I was watching really boring and bleak in comparison. I had been afraid at the time, that THIS would also ruin She-Ra for me. So I really thought about... NOT tainting my vision and perception of the show with... Fandom stuff, Fanon or Ship-centric views, NOT EVEN CREATOR INTERACTIONS. I really tried to watch it blind and enjoy it for what it was.

Fool I was, I should’ve done the opposite.

It’s a tired old story, and a really redundant thing for ME to talk about. But I really felt a DEEP disappointment with She-Ra. Akin to LOSS almost.

Cuz you see, for a year and a half I ended up CENTERING myself on She-Ra, on more than one level.

On one hand, I TRULY believed She-Ra was a show with a story that I loved, there were plenty of characters that REALLY spoke to me. Characters like Glimmer? for example? And her storyline? for me are *one in a million*.

Of course I’m... REALLY compacting my She-Ra experience. I had come to appreciate MANY things about it. It’s world, it’s story, the characters, the comedy, the animation, the people who loved it and grew because of it, etc.

Furthermore, once my initial *doubt* about the show had passed, I really immersed myself in the fandom side of things. And I gotta say, I really enjoyed it for as long as it lasted. I think I experienced a new level of feeling like I *belonged* in a community, and a feeling that people LIKED what I did for it, and that people wanted MORE of ME in it.

Alongside that, and going back to animation. Geez, She-Ra came at the best *or worst* (depends on how you wanna look at it in hindsight now, LMAO), time of my life.

Literally on the verge of me finishing up with Prepschool and having to chose a career for University.

Prior to She-Ra, I really was trying to pinpoint my vocation, and animation had been in my mind for a LONG time, since Steven Universe really.

AND... Idk, AGAIN, THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT SHE-RA... which told me... “This is important”. Animation is important, being able to tell tales for people is important. Telling tales for people who need it, or people who don’t often get to tell tales is important. This medium is BEAUTIFUL, I MEAN, LOOK AT EVERYTHING IT CAN SPAWN OUT OF PEOPLE.

So it helped me make THAT decision.

Also alongside these things well... I go back to all of that about “Belonging”, and “community”.

Boy I met some of the most amazing friends I ever have in my life. People whom I respect, people who I admire, people who thought like me, liked ME, enjoyed this show, etc.

OF COURSE, at the time, and I really should’ve known better. We met out of our mutual LOVE for Glimmadora, LMAO.

ME? FALLING IN LOVE WITH AN UNPOPULAR SHIP? Who’da thought.

AND I DID SO, *DAMN NEAR DIVORCED FROM FANDOM* LMAOOOOO, you can see how my “I’ll learn to love whichever aspects of this show I’m *gonna* love, outside of fandom influence” policy really just fucked me in the ass.

AND GOD, DID I *LET IT* BE A PART OF ME.

That comunity, those friends, that ship, that show, those creators. It was all I thought about, and it DROVE me. so much so I put up with so much shit from my University. I put up with so many bad things in my life that were going on because of that show.

And I see now that many of those friends I mentioned did too. GOD, how I wish... we just hadn’t.

I think... for most of us things had already been pretty shit, not gonna lie.

There was the pandemic, for a start. Prior to May the 15th I had an uncle of mine die of COVID, which shook me to *my* core, but dear old She-Ra and the Glimmadora fandom gang were there to cheer me on. (This was around the time really horrid people in the She-Ra fandom, whom LOATHED Glimmadora with a passion were making “Glimmadora shippers must have Covid, since a symptom of Covid is a lack of taste” Jokes btw.)

And I think of my friends also, who have always spoken to me about their problems and their lives. For all accounts I think, they’d always had it harder than me, and they found themselves a WILL and a DRIVE to go on... through this, through She-Ra, and our friendship.

Then May the 15th came and it’s all been going downhill from there HSEBRGJKSEHRBGKJSERHGBJK.

I mean... I understand NOW, just how DAMAGING for myself it was to... cling so much to that show, to all of it. NEVER should’ve connected the drive of my vocation to it.

Cuz yanno... even if I HAVE continued to grow and get better the past few months, some things haven’t changed for the better.

For instance, I basically LOST my entire space here, in fandoms, in ejoying shows. I LITERALLY ONLY CREATE NOW... Either out of spite, or for my friends.

There is a VERY DEEP loathing now within me about stuff like... Catradora for example. I hate it, it makes me feel disgusting, simple as that. And THAT kind of feeling isn’t welcome here, also simple as that. So I’m out of a space and that hurts.

PFFT, basically all the pieces I produce now, which I still do with a She-Ra theme. Nobody’s gonna wanna consume MY content anymore, and they don’t. I made sure they couldn’t because I knew, I wasn’t going to be able to stomache this She-Ra fandom anymore.

That’s been another thing too. I don’t like being a contrarian, I don’t like being the guy who thinks the thing everybody loves is bad or wrong, and if I could SO HELP ME GOD, I’d change my entire view of it all. I don’t really care about being right or wrong anymore, I just want that peace of mind back.

HELL, there were people I knew since 2016 almost, who kinda just told me...

Shut the fuck up or leave.

On some cases I shut my mouth, on others I just left.

And yanno... I do feel miserable about it. But it also makes it all the harder when I think of my friends?

GOD DAMN, EVERYTHING THAT *COULD* GO WRONG, WENT WRONG FOR THEM.

ALWAYS, for all of my friends. And even through the hurt, I sit here and think, well I think I still have hope! I think I still have a drive to go on and persue animation  and tell good stories.

But I understand now... that *I* have a priviledge over my friends. The priviledge of support. I’m not REALLY alone, there’s people helping ME.

My friends don’t have that, and I can’t give them that, how I wish I could.

And it does just HURT only being able to tell my friends, “HEY! Have hope things’ll be better!” And then we all turn to the only beacons of hope we shared, and seeing them all dull and out of light. No Glimmer of hope.

Like, how do you tell people to hold out, to keep fighting, to keep trying to STILL CHASE THEIR DREAMS... When you can’t even help them keep their heads high when they’re trying yo get a damned job. When no matter how much THEY try they keep getting knocked down.

When there’s no longer a space were they feel confortable sharing their creations, because everyone they had ONCE tried to please with them? suddenly decided they were of no value.

So here we are.

I’m starting up a new semester in a couple of days, hopefully building myself up more to chase MY dreams... whilst all my friends suffer and can’t chase theirs.

Shit’s fucked. I wish I could do more.

PFFT, I guess, long story short:

Life unfair, Me Sad.

Me Angery, Me Bitter

Me Lost, They Won

Boohoo I guess.

SO ANYWAYS... I really just... needed to put these thoughts out in words. Scream to the void as it were.

I can’t wait to go back into discord or twitter or tumblr and see how my friends can’t catch a fucking break.

And how things will continue to get worse before they get better.

God I hope they get better, for all of us, if not atleast for them. They’ve already gone through enough.

[ijwrsmff]

I really love the one you made with the prompt I choosed.. ahhh I´m already afraid to ask if you could to a continue for the one with Bubba and “My hand was made to fit into yours. That’s all there is to it.” If not that is totally okay!! I love your work already, keep up the great work!♥♥

No problem!! I’m glad you enjoyed it :D I’m mixing a few requests, all for the Bubba continuation lol, so here’s those! Kept SFW because there were several requests for the same thing, but maybe eventually…

Soulmate Prompt 20. “Everything about you is amazing to me.”

Fluff Prompt 17. “My hand was made to fit into yours. That’s all there is to it.”

As soon as you were back at the campsite, you knew something was off. All of your friends seemed…on edge. Knowing nothing could hurt them inside their campsite usually kept their anxieties at bay…but what was different today?

One quick look around and you easily pinpointed the reason for everyone’s sudden burst of anxiety. 

Bubba was standing just on the border of the campsite, barely hidden behind the nearest tree. He would be completely covered were he not twice the width of the tree. The sight was…quite cute honestly. Everything about him just radiated curious kid energy. 

When you locked eyes with him, he ducked back behind the tree, but still clearly there. That definitely brought a smile to your face. You tiptoed, not wanting to alarm him, and one of the survivors in the camp tried to grab your arm to prevent you from approaching him, but you shrugged them off. 

Approaching the tree, you peeked around the corner at the same time Bubba had planned to, effectively startling him. With a loud squeaking noise, he fell to the ground, backing up until there was some distance from you. 

You held up your hands, showing surrender and knelt down to his level, “hey…it’s alright. I’m sorry for scaring you! I just wanted to know what you were doing here is all, not that I mind you being here…” not noticing your rambling for a moment, you paused, looking back down at Bubba. “Sorry, I tend to ramble. Come on, we can sit together!” 

Holding out a hand, he looked at it for what had to have been at least a minute, but did nothing to reach for it, nor get up himself. Deciding he was uncomfortable with physical contact, you went to retract your hand. Before you could fully pull it back, he reached out, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer in the process. 

You stood still, knowing you were outside of the safety borders of the camp. Bubba didn’t seem to notice. He lightened his hold on your hand, carefully running his fingers over your hand, almost as if trying to memorize the shape.  Something in his eyes made it seem almost as if he was completely entranced with simply…holding your hand. 

Slowly moving, as to not startle him again or break your hand away from his, you sat on the ground in front of him. Noticing the close proximity, he shrunk in on himself, but still unable to let go of your hand. 

Slowly reaching over to him with your free hand, you carefully placed a hand on his cheek to lead his gaze back to you. “It’s alright…my hand was made to fit into yours. That’s all there is to it.” A cheesy line, that you planned to use to make him laugh, seemingly had a much different result. 

With sparkling eyes, he pulled you closer, into as much of a hug you could have from the awkward positioning. After the initial shock had faded, you slowly wrapped your arms around him to hug him back. 

You were unsure how long you had sat like that, all but sitting in his lap as he played with your hair. For all you knew, you fell asleep like that for a while. Eventually though, he slowly scooted farther away from you. 

Giving him a questioning look, you went to move closer but he shook his head rapidly. “What’s wrong?” It was all you could get out, worried at this point that you had done something wrong to upset him. 

Bubba huffed, making a wide gesture with his hands indicating…well all of him. A small growl escaped and then he gestured to all of you. Confused, you tried looking between the two of you, but other than some wrinkles from being on the ground so long, there was nothing similar between you two. 

Oh. 

“Do…do you think you’re not good enough for me?” There didn’t seem to be a better way to phrase one of humanity’s longest, and deepest running insecurities. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a small sniff, that quickly grew to full on sobs. Immediately jumping into action, you moved closer and held his face in your hands, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. 

“Well…that’s just no way to think now is it? Because you wanna know something?” With a soft tone, you aimed to do anything to make him stop crying. For some reason…seeing a man that was meant to kill you for sport…it made your heart sad as well. That was definitely something you’ll have to look into later. 

With a small noise and a nod, you could tell you had his full attention. “I think…” you paused for a moment, beginning to run your fingers through his hair as he had been doing with yours previously. “I think you’re more than good enough for me. If anything, you seem so sweet, so kind and caring. I think you’re too good for me.” You placed a small kiss on his cheek, testing for a reaction. 

When he didn’t seem to react, other than a sharp inhale, you slowly began kissing closer and closer to his lips. His hands instinctively moved to your hips, pulling you closer. Letting out a small laugh, you kissed just the corner of his lips, making him whine in frustration. 

Attempting to pull back to look at him better, you found yourself completely unable to as he pulled you back with unwavering force. He was still careful, but you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

Maybe you were being a tease, or maybe you just wanted his consent first, but with a small smirk you couldn’t keep hidden, “are you sure it’s alright for me to kiss you?” 

The laugh that bubbled in your chest as he vigorously nodded his head wasn’t one you could contain. With that in mind, you leaned forward slowly, stopping just before you made contact. 

Bubba wasn’t one for patience. 

Pushing his face closer, he initiated the kiss, although with plenty of prompting from you. It was a messy kiss, but his eagerness made up for it. It was clear he didn’t have much experience with this, but that was alright. You both had a potential eternity to figure it out. 

Just in case, you let him take the lead…with some direction. When he pulled back, he was panting, clearly having enjoyed your simple make-out session. 

You smiled, pushing back some of the stray hairs on his face that had gotten messed up a moment ago. “Everything about you is amazing to me.”

The blush that crept up his face at your words was unmistakable, even from behind his mask. At the sight, you let out a joyous laugh, and soon it seemed he joined in. It was a sweet sound, a rumble that resounded from his chest that shook so much you could feel the vibrations from his chest. It was a good noise…something you wanted to hear again…and again. 

Whatever it was the two of you had, you would figure it out. Together. No matter what the entity threw at you, you knew you could handle it with Bubba sitting right there waiting for you to come back. 

Tags:@highdwightofmylife

@melodramatic-butterfly

[shartlord420]

What do you think Matt Engarde would be like if he wasn’t bad?

EXCELLENT question. And I apologize in advance- the reason it took me so long to answer this one is because.......... I have a lot of thoughts, and Tumblr has no character limit, so I wrote an essay. Hope you don’t mind a bit of light reading!

 So, to start with, I think we need to answer a few questions first.

 1.  What is it that makes someone good or bad?

 I don’t think anyone would really ague that Matt is a good person. He’s a villain character! He’s the big bad of Justice for All, of course he’s a bad person.

But why exactly is that? What is it about him that makes him a bad person?

In my opinion, the terms good and bad are a little too vague. Everyone has their own view of morals and right and wrong, good and bad. So, to simplify things, instead of good or bad… I’ll be approaching things as either “harmful” or “helpful”.

And Matt Engarde was indeed a very harmful person overall. His beliefs and his actions both caused immense harm to those around him, and even ultimately to himself, even if he believed he was acting in his own self-interest.

So, the question is, what would Matt Engarde be like if he wasn’t as harmful as a person as he is? What would that look like?

And to get to the bottom of that… we go to question number two.

 2.  Why is Matt Engarde a harmful person?

 Now, we don’t exactly have a fully fleshed out canonical character backstory for Matt, so we aren’t going to be able to sift through his childhood and pinpoint “Ah, there it is, THAT’S why he’s so fucked”, but we can still look at all that we do know about him and try to piece things together from that.

So, what do we know about Matt?

Well, he’s an actor. A young actor, in fact. They don’t give us exact dates when it comes to the beginning of his career, nor details about his acting career. But from what we do know, he’s been acting at least since he was 19, presumably earlier. He was 19 years old when Celeste died. We don’t know how long her relationships with either man were, and we don’t know how much time had passed between Matt breaking up with her and her starting to date Juan. Considering how heavily everything effected Celeste, though, I’d wager that it was at LEAST a year for all of this to transpire, maybe more. So that puts Matt as a starlet of at least 18.

Personally, I would wager that Matt was probably a child star, or at the very least had his start in the entertainment industry rather early on. My friend proposed the idea that he likely had fairly wealthy parents that were also in the industry to some degree, and I’d put my money on that as well.

The acting world is tough. It’s something you find out pretty early on if you have any sort of interest in it. Acting, singing, modeling- stardom is difficult to obtain. The competition is real and cutthroat. It’s hard work. It seems like a really dreamy job from a distance. Plenty of people fantasize about being discovered for their talent and just rising to the top, but that’s not really typically how it works.

Sure, it’s certainly possible to have raw talent and to be scouted! But the illusion that everyone has equal chances and opportunity is just that: an illusion. Just take a moment to look through the early lives of child stars. On the rare occasion you’ll see a starlet who came from nowhere but just happened to be scouted, but for a majority of them you’ll see two common factors pop up. Wealthy parents and/or parents that are in the entertainment industry themselves. The fact that they ended up in the entertainment industry wasn’t luck or chance- they had what most other kids didn’t have. They had opportunity.

There’s no part in Ace Attorney where it’s stated that Matt Engarde came from a wealthy family, or came from a family with roots in the entertainment industry, but it feels like a natural conclusion to me. Considering his wealth, his early rise to stardom, his prowess in the entertainment industry, and all of his flaws- these can all be easily explained under the assumption that he did indeed come from a privileged upbringing such as that.

So, what does this mean for Matt Engarde?

 “Because of the nature of show business, child actors are exposed to drugs, alcohol, and sex at an early age. At the same time, young actors must constantly cope with rejection, jealousy, self-scrutiny, obsessive thoughts, and the nonstop need to be perfect.”

“These children are at high risk of becoming emotionally unstable and of becoming drug, alcohol, or sex abusers.”

 … the entertainment industry is rough. It’s a difficult field for an adult, let alone a child. I’d say this would give ample insight into how someone could end up the way that Matt Engarde did.

He’s competitive. Well, of course he is. Growing up in the industry he’d know he’d have to be if he wants to get anywhere. His fellow actors aren’t peers, aren’t potential friends- they’re competition. Everyone dreams of getting the lead role, but only one person can. You have to work to get that lead role. And presuming he grew up in the darker parts of the industry… well, he’d know that not everyone plays fair to get that lead role. So why should he? That’s showbiz, baby.

It isn’t uncommon for child stars to kind of miss out on a normal childhood. They’re working from a young age. Less high school drama and clubs and friends, and more private acting classes and sets and homeschooling on the road… less opportunity to just get to know people under normal circumstances. His entire world would pretty much just be within the industry. All his peers would be those in the entertainment industry with him.

… Which would make everyone else potential competition. And if everybody’s competition, if everyone is potentially willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure their rise to the top… well, then you can’t really trust or get close to anyone, can you? Because if you let your guard down and trust them, well, then they might just use that against you. It’s a weakness. Trusting in others and getting close to others is a weakness. He can’t expose vulnerabilities- it’d put everything he works for in danger.

And so when you mix this warped entertainment industry worldview with a level of privilege, you get someone who just kind of believe this is how the world works. And instead of being faced with consequences for the things he does, he’s instead met with nothing but rewards. As long as everything’s under the radar, everything’s fine. Keep up the public image and you can do whatever you want. No comprehension of real world consequences or the impact of his actions because they never affect him, and they’ve been completely normalized to him. Why would he think twice about it?

So of course he’d be a fucked up individual with no qualms about harming others.

But let’s also discuss the implications about being a person who can’t trust others, who doesn’t allow himself to rely on others, who views closeness and vulnerability as weaknesses and dangers.

Human beings are social creatures by nature. We weren’t designed to be alone, we just weren’t. People break down in isolation, people suffer on their own. Nobody wants to be alone, not really. We seek out communities, we form bonds with one another, we’re stronger together. That’s the one truly beautiful and wonderful thing about humanity- our unbelievable social nature that leads us to do shit like raising tarantulas and wholeheartedly loving them. Human beings didn’t survive and thrive because they were strong and powerful and coldblooded. We thrived because we worked together. We thrive because of our connections, our bonds with other people.

So you can imagine the toll it would take on an individual who believes that they simply can’t get close to another human being. Someone who views everyone around them as a potential threat instead of a potential friend. Someone who thinks they have to control and manipulate the people around them instead of just knowing and being able to trust that those around them have their best interests in mind.

What an absolute fucked up way to live.

It’s like being a parrot who believes that if they make a sound they’ll be hurt. If you know anything about birds, if you’ve ever had a bird, you know what I mean. Birds don’t shut up. They just can’t! There’s no way to train a bird to not be noisy, it’s just the way they are, and it’s hard wired into them. They’re social creatures that engage with each other by screaming all the time. To exist without doing something that is natural to them would be stressful, to say the least.

To be a human deprived of genuine human connection would be agony. And without therapy, you wouldn’t even know why you feel so terrible. It makes sense that someone like that would harbor a lot of pent up emotional turmoil, stress and frustration. And even if they weren’t able to place exactly why they felt that way, it would make sense that those feelings would intensify when they saw others actually being close with one another. Other people doing the thing that you believe you can’t do, seeing people being happy doing so. And so, that anger and hurt and frustration would be aimed at those people. Lashing out.

Because they’re wrong and stupid to do such a thing. Because the world is dangerous- how can they just brazenly trust in another person, so proudly display such a horrendous weakness? They have to be the ones in the wrong. Because it can’t just be him, right? Because then why would it just be him? What’s so wrong with him that there’s no one out there that he can trust? Why can’t he have that? It has to be them who’s wrong. It has to be. To admit otherwise would be world shattering.

You can see shades of his desire for closeness with others if you look closely enough. Even if he denies himself personal relationships, he soaks up the adoration and praise from fans. It’s like the illusion of closeness without the actual intimacy. It’s ultimately hollow, so it could never truly fill the hole, but it’s something. Fame and popularity and approval from the public- that’s his substitute. But it’s not the same.

In his breakdown you see it too. He finally gets slammed with the consequences of his actions, and in those final moments, it’s painfully obvious to himself and everyone around him. He’s alone. He’s completely and totally alone. He’s a man who’s burned every single last one of his bridges, and no matter how much he begs for someone to help him... there’s no one coming to his rescue.  

The closest thing he had to genuine intimacy was most likely with his cat, Shoe. Because cats can’t stab you in the back. Cats don’t think like that.  You feed a cat, you take care of it, and it loves you. A cat isn’t the same treat as a person is. So, while there’s minimal evidence with regards to Matt’s relationship with Shoe, I do like to imagine that Shoe was probably very important to him. A very precious friend indeed.

 And this brings me to answering the final question! (You know... the actual question you asked?)

 3.  What would Matt Engarde be like if he wasn’t bad/harmful?

 Matt Engarde was undoubtably a harmful person, but that doesn’t mean he was devoid of positive traits. If he were actually able to push past his issues, if he were able to allow himself to trust in others and work on forming actual bonds with other people… well, I don’t think he’d change too dramatically.

The biggest difference I’d say would be him actually being close with others, or at the very least trying to. Being more genuine and vulnerable with others, instead of constantly putting up an act and shutting others out. Being honest and trying to trust others instead of default relying on manipulation and control tactics.

Besides his struggles, he’s also a very hardworking man. As horrible as some of his methods were, he was undoubtably a skilled actor, and it takes WORK to get to where he did. He had dreams and ambitions and he had the determination and the skill to achieve them. If he could rely on his hard work and genuine connections instead of manipulations and blackmail… that would be a better Matt.

He has a genuine passion for acting, for performance. I don’t think that would change.

I think he wouldn’t rely on playing dumb as much. He’d be more honest and open. Somewhere between his fakey nice persona and his evil persona, something more real. I don’t think he’d pretend to be as nice, he’d be a bit more openly obnoxious and mean and competitive, at least at first. Which may sound counter-intuitive to being a better person, but it’s being more open and honest about his feelings. You don’t just flip a magic switch and fix your world views. But being honest about how you feel instead of bottling it up inside and pretending all the time makes it a lot easier to make progress, to have your worldview challenged and improved upon.

I think he’d probably always struggle a bit with competitiveness and impulsivity and anger, but with time and appropriate help and guidance, he’d be able to manage it in healthy ways instead of lashing out and letting things spiral out of control.

So I guess overall, I’d say Good Matt would be kind of just a toned down version of regular Matt. Matt With Therapy, basically. Being aware of his issues and working on them, not letting things spiral out of control, actively doing personal damage control and preventing himself from lashing out at others, and working on developing interpersonal connections and bonds with others while being fussy and complaining the entire way. But ultimately being a lot, lot happier and healthier.He’s a kind of childish theater kid, he has a flair for the dramatic, he has a tendency to get caught up in himself and forget about others- I don’t think any of this changes. The main real difference is simply the willingness to think about people other than himself, and to see the value in his relationships with them, and to put the effort into maintaining them. The choice to do better. That’s all.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Ketch introducing you to the new android he’s been working on for the past months, David, and Dean being jealous of how interested he seems to be in you because it looks like flirting.

“You. Have got. To be kidding me!” you breathed out, eyes wide as you took in the sight before you.

“Wow, Ketch this is-” Sam breathed out a laugh “You've been really working on getting organised again huh?”

“It wasn't easy with the sources I had but let's say, borrowing a few did help in completing most of the work.” the British said with a proud smile as he too looked around the place he'd been trying to set up for over a year now. After not being able to be with the Men of Letters anymore, or what was left of them, and while finding your, Sam and Dean's ways still too primitive – you had made a mental note to punch him for that – he had tried his best to build a base of his own that would help him still do his job with the same ease as when he was with the British Men of Letters. “I don't know if the British Men of Letters have gone any further with their designs but I believe I did the best I could with what I could get from them and what I could find. I took the pieces, put them together and perfected what I could so here he is.”

“I can't believe what I'm seeing.” you muttered, shock still written all over your face.

“Well, then that makes it two of us. Those douchebags really hid the best part from us huh?” Dean nodded his head, the same look of awe on his face as he looked around the place “They even had real freaking androids and they let us play around with- with funny angel cuffs?”

“Well, humans are really not an ideal hunting partner at the moment, at least not for me. And if it is any comfort the androids were not perfected up until four months ago, so there was no possible way you should know.” he shrugged “He may be just one for the time being but updates shall be made and I fear not that David will be the next step in helping us effectively deal with monsters.”

“He really does look like a human, so realistic it's unbelievable for what's really just a machine.” Sam all but said in awe, geeking out and barely holding himself back from rambling on about all the new advances made by the British Men of Letters and Ketch himself.

“He does indeed. It has been the purpose from the beginning. To achieve his full capacity we should limit any problems and one of them unfortunately happens to blending in.” Ketch said with a hand in his pocket, back straightened and smile full of pride of his work “So... human features were the key.”

“A-and you've created the perfect combination. It's- it's like the perfect disguise, the way we use a fake badge or a suit, but here you- you've managed to make him look absolutely human. He looks human-”

“He is for most parts.” Ketch pointed out “But not the parts that can make him vulnerable. And every human part has been specifically enhanced so that he will be the perfect assist during battle.”

“Incredible.” Sam breathed out a laugh while all you did was look at him with a blank face, mixed with one of disbelief “This would mean that when it comes to, like, a vampire there are no chances of- of losing in a fight or being slowed down. Like, a vamp won't be able to drink his blood... does he have any?”

“Or a demon can't possess him.” Dean added with a shrug “Or an angel. And wait- An angel blade can't kill him, right?”

“No, it can't! I mean, probably no usual weapon can right?”

“I'm starting to feel jealous now. No feeling pain, no need to sleep and saving time, no- wait, does he eat? He can't possibly eat. Man.” he made a face shaking his head “That sucks. Imagine not being able to taste pie, what kind of hell is that? Nah not a good thing. That's actually a terrible thing. And he doesn't eat burgers, does he? Nope, of course not.”

Sam rolled his at his brother's mumbling which didn't seem to end “Means more pie for you when he joins on hunts anyway.” he said instead to him before adding “But there's something much more exciting. Just think about it, being an android does mean he has a bigger knowledge about things that us so he could like read hundreds of books and always be able to recall everything when we need? Imagine how much faster that would make solving cases o-or-”

But Sam only trailed off when he noticed the look on your face and his smile dropped altogether “Seriously? Is that seriously what you guys have to say about- about him? Seriously?!” but all you got was blank stares from the three men “Has any of you not seen Prometheus? Alien Covenant? Anything?!”

Despite all the noise of the hunters around the place, you could hear the gears in their head spinning as they tried to understand what you meant. Until Dean finally asked “...What?”

“Oh my God, why do I even hang out with you guys?” you rubbed your temples “You've both seen the Alien movies countless times, and I've specifically forced you to watch those two movies with me and yet not a single brain cell in those heads of yours seems to remember him? Him?! And you, Ketch, of all the androids you could get, you got him? Him?!” you whisper-hissed at the British man who was only giving you a funny look, certainly being just as unable to understand what you were trying to say or why you were acting this way.

“Geez, (Y/n), relax. The dude seems pretty cool, why are you even freaking out so bad?” Dean blinked, relaxing in his chair that he had long ago taken a seat in.

“Relax? Relax?” you narrowed your eyes at him “You've got an android that looks exactly like David from Prometheus and Alien Covenant with plenty of monster-related weapons and samples here and you guys are telling me to relax? Alright, that's it, I'm getting out of here. And if he turns you into mummies after you give birth to baby aliens then I won't be here to say I told you so. I'll be living my life in peace and eating all your pie, Winchester. But, keep in mind, I'll say it in the afterlife where I will kick your asses for being such idiots and trusting him.”

“Last time I remember-” Sam started with a smirk before you could get up from your seat “You said something along the lines of letting Michael Fassbender as David do anything he wanted with your body especially get to-”

“Alright-!” your eyes widened as you said a-little-too-loudly and a little-too-fast to stop him from saying the full sentence which you certainly remembered very well saying all that time ago “No. Nope. Definitely don't need to share that kind of information with everybody else.” as expected Sam snickered with your red face while Dean's face had entirely vanished “And by the way, is that seriously the only thing you remember out of two whole movies? How come Dean doesn't?”

“Alright, first he fell asleep during the first 30 minutes and second, it just clicked that's all. And now I certainly remember you saying many many more things about David and Michael Fassbender in Alien Covenant so I'm asking, are you sure you really wanna leave (Y/n)? Besides, this is not the same David, you know it, so it makes me wonder... what's the real reason you want to leave and not get to meet him?”

You narrowed at him without saying a word at first before ending up muttering “I'll kill you tonight in your sleep. I promise.”

“What's the real reason?” Dean's voice was more gruff, the one that sounded a lot like the one he used when interrogating someone. But the look on his face, although definitely serious, held something else that you had not seen before nor could pinpoint.

“Wha- I- I don't- What are you even asking? The reason is obvious! I don't want to guenie pig for whatever baby monster he plans to-”

“Allow me to intervene now and tell you there is no chance of him doing any of that. David is a valuable asset to the team, not our enemy. And he was not programmed-”

“Yeah, well tell that to all the people that died in two movies because of him and then you-”

“(Y/n) it's movies, come on! This is not the same person.” Sam still kept that smug knowing smile on his lips and you were on the verge of snapping at him.

“And our lives are a TV show in another world, where's your point? Besides, I'm saying-” you looked at Ketch “Didn't we deserve a warning for this? Had I- I known that- that I would come here a-and find-”

“Michael Fassbender's look-alike.” Dean said, still in a very serious voice tone “That's what you found. So how about you answer my question, sweetheart, what's the real reason?”

“That's just stupid Dean. And I already told you. This- this doesn't have to do with how he looks like, it's all just-”

“You're getting nervous.” he pointed out, eyes almost narrowing at you, as he cut you off “You don't get this nervous when I ask you something unless you have something to hide.”

“He's speaking from experience.” Sam muttered, this time not earning a glare from his brother the way he normally would because the older Winchester was too busy being, well, jealous at the moment. But it was true anyway. If Sam had a coin for every time Dean had turned into stuttering mess when anyone questioned him about yours and his “friendship”, he'd be a millionaire by now.

“And I remember that Fassbender guy now.” Dean continued, speaking almost accusingly at you “You've talked about him before, in fact you have talked about him many times before. Sometimes I get confused because of course, who can keep up with your celebrity crushes which I still struggle to understand what the hell you even like in those guys when there are men out there that are certainly much better and would ask you out in a heartbeat but you won't even-”

“Whoa whoa whoa Dean!” you rushed to say, cutting him off before he popped a vain “First, take a deep breath, yeah? You need oxygen to survive. Second, this- this has nothing to do with Michael Fassbender o-or how I feel for him. It's different, and the fact that the British Men of Letters had first started working on it makes it only worse; movie or not.” you pointed out to Sam who only had an amused smile on his lips “This is a very serious subject that concerns us being moms to baby aliens because of a-”

But as you were speaking, your words got caught in your throat when you dared look over your shoulder and found that said android wasn't all those feet away from you but rather only a couple inches away. You nearly jumped in your seat and as expected – which you wouldn't dare admit to Dean – you felt your face heat up not because of embarrassment that he might have heard something but because of how close he was and how more beautiful his features were and just how drawn you were – again not something you'd tell Dean.

“Hello” his eyes were fixated on you, refusing to leave, as a smile played on his lips. A smile which you couldn't read and didn't know if you had the mind to, but you could definitely say he had something in common with you: He was intrigued.

“David, why hello!” Ketch grinned but only a way that was meant to annoy you or embarrass you more, or maybe even both “Bit busy, weren't you?”

“It would seem so, yes. I did get something for you to drink, though, as an apology and...” he placed a beer before Sam who sent him a big smile, next up Dean who only kept his jaw locked in place and made David's smile flutter before he moved to Ketch while saying “A welcome. I've heard a lot about you and it is certainly a pleasure to meet you from up close.” he looked at the British man and asked “The usual sir?”

Ketch hummed as the android poured him some whiskey “You seemed quiet popular right there, we feared you wouldn't have time for us. All those new hunters acted like they have never seen an non-human being before. The Winchesters came all the way here for you and... (Y/n) here was actually rather eager to get to meet you.”

You all but felt your blood run cold when you heard his words and saw David's eyes fall right back on ou again, a smile on his lips a bit different from the previous one that got you wondering just how much was he capable of feeling. Not that you wondered for too long because you were too busy planning out Ketch's death.

“Well, if I am allowed to say so myself and up to the degree my programming allows-” he got closer to you again, too close for you to be able to think anything else and certainly too close for Dean's liking; especially at the words that followed next “The feeling's mutual.”

“David has been looking forward to meeting you.” Ketch said with a smirk

“As anyone would.” the synthetic brushed it off with a mere shrug “I have in fact seen footage of you on the field, as provided by Mr Ketch-” you did send a glare at Ketch who only shrugged “As I have heard many things about you and allow me to say it is all extraordinary.”

“I-” you shook your head a bit shyly “It's not anything special.”

“Do allow me to argue. You are.” he placed the beer before you, soon followed by a white lily next to it which made your eyes widen and Dean's back straighten in alert “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady... Is that not proper?” he asked reluctantly in the end when he noticed the surprised look on your face.

“N-no- I- I mean, yes. Yes it is. It's just that-” you shook your head softly “I don't get things like this frequently. If anything the men around me have forgotten how despite being a hunter and covered in monster blood 24/7 I am still a lady and I'd very much appreciate this kind of-”

“Wha- Hey!” Dean went defensive “You want flowers, I can get your flowers! I can fill up the entire room. You want lilies? I'd get you all there are.”

“Too late now Winchester.” you shook your head before looking back at the android,missing the way Dean threw his arms in the air and shook his head in disbelief “Thank you so much for this, David.”

“No need, Miss. I do happen to grow them in the garden in the back. It is one of the few things I do besides building up new programs and look for new monsters. I could show you if you would like?” he suggested.

But just as your lips parted, Ketch beat you at it because he obviously noticed how stiff Dean had gotten “David, why don't you bring the computer and show our friends what you've been working on and let the tour wait for later, yes?”

The android's smile flattered a bit but he did nod his head and mumbled a small “Of course sir.”

“So, not that scared of him, are you (Y/n)?” Ketch asked you as your smile flattered and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Nope. Too busy thinking about all the ways I can murder you for what you said.”

“Sure you are (Y/n). And Dean is on the verge of being best friends with him, too, and not thinking about what flowers to get you right now.” Sam grinned but you only glared at him “And hey, by the way, is that the way robots flirt?”

“Sam I swear, if you don't shut up I'll-”

“Get in the line. I'm gonna kill him first.” the older Winchester grumbled.

“Fine, fine by me.” Sam raised his hands in surrender “Only... one last question. To Ketch.” he looked at the man as you took a sip of your beer “Hey, you don't happen to be working on another android that will go by the name of uhm... Walter maybe?” and as expected you choked.

“W-Walter?” Dean blinked “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Oh because it is.” Sam grinned “He is an android too and... he looks exactly like David.”

“Son of a bitch.”

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 7

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price. This Chapter: Negan gives you a dress and brings you to The Kingdom to help look for him.

Warnings: Citrus, Nipple Play, Danger, Fear, Negan’s Mouth, Lucille, Wonderment

Featuring: The Kingdom, Richard, Jerry, King Ezekiel and Shiva

Word Count: 2172

Read the rest of the story HERE!

The Kingdom was farther away than you’d expected; the bumpy car ride in Negan’s Charger lulling you to sleep as you rested your head against the sleek leather door. The previous night’s refusal had kept you awake as you did your best to keep your hands to yourself, burying yourself in medical books until the sun finally crept over the horizon. You were exhausted, welcoming this brief moment of rest as you let your eyelids fall to images of trees and abandoned buildings that sped past the car and into your dreams.

“Your brother is gonna lose his SHIT when he sees you in that!” Negan’s voice drew you from slumber, humming a tune as he glanced over at you from the driver’s seat. “I mean, goddamn, I shoulda put you in that thing a long time ago.”

“It’s only temporary, though, right?” You cut him off, pulling the fabric down to your knees.

Negan bit his lip and looked back at the road, sucking in the hot summer air through his teeth as he pondered your question. “Probably,” he smirked, exhaling slowly. “It’s just for show, baby, but if you like it so much I just might let you keep it,” he chuckled, slowing the car down to half speed as he approached a small ghost town.

“I don’t,” you reassured him. “This thing isn’t very functional.”

“Functional?” Negan rose his eyebrows, taking one hand off the wheel before tracing the hem of your collar. “Sure it is.” His fingers sent butterflies into your stomach as they slid underneath the fabric, tickling your skin and rubbing your nipple between his fingertips. “It’s all kinds of functional.” He kept his eyes on the road as he twisted and pulled, sending little bolts of lightning into your chest as your skin played victim to his grasp.

You leaned forward and rubbed your thighs together, providing friction for yourself as you leaned into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he pinched even harder, those bolts of lightning making your moisture more apparent in your short black dress. Maybe he’d put you out of your lustful misery and pull this car over, after all. If only you could just slide your hand over the top of his pants to get him hard...

He laughed and licked his lips, taking his hand out of your dress before slowing the car down to a complete stop. “Nice try baby, but you know the rules.” He winked at you and opened his car door, grasping Lucille by the handle. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with that later, but for now, it’s showtime!”

He walked you up to a group of people who looked like they were ready for the most intense laser tag game of their lives. If you had come across them under any other circumstances you would have greeted them with a smile and a wave, but today you were with Negan. Today you were in a dress. Today you were bait.

“Negan, we weren’t expecting you in person.” A middle-aged man straightened his posture at the sight of him, walking toward you with a machine gun clutched close to his chest. He spoke firmly and without trepidation, keeping his gun pointed at the ground as he got closer. He must be their leader.

“Richie Rich!” Negan bellowed, sauntering toward him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist just yet! Gavin’s still coming for your weekly offering, and I hope for your sake it’s up to par.” He patted the man’s arm. “He’s just a few minutes behind us, but that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned back so far you thought he might fall backward.

“What can we do for you, Negan?” The man’s icy blue irises expanded as he looked at your lover, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as the grip on his weapon tightened.

“I’m glad you asked, Little Richard!” Negan stood up straight, pulling him in close. “I’m looking for some of my men. Men and women, to be exact, and Good Old Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen them.” He took a breath and pointed at you. “Her brother took himself and two good workers away from the Sanctuary, and you guys are next on my list for where they might be hiding out.” He brought his lips to the man’s ear, his grin barely brushing its cartilage as he smiled into him. “Now, have you or anyone else in this group seen anyone new around these parts?”

Richard turned his head to face him, their lips almost touching. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind escorting me and my little lady friend here through the Kingdom just to make sure, now would you?” He turned and winked at you as he clamped down hard on Richard’s shoulder.

“That’s up to the King.” His voice began to falter, the fear taking over his vocal cords as they vibrated in his throat.

“Well then, take us to the King.” ————————

Richard led you through rows of plentiful gardens, the air fresh with the aroma of lilacs as you passed by leaves of green and juicy fruits. Women and children sat outside freely, learning skills from painting to archery as smiles painted their young and jubilant faces. The Kingdom was made up of bricks and mortar just like the Sanctuary, but something here was drastically different. The air was clearer, the sun shone brighter, the colors more vibrant as you made your way through this Utopian community.

“The king’s not expecting you.” A large Samoan man cautioned, a medieval battle axe in his hands.

“I know, Ben and Jerry, that’s the whole point.” Negan smirked and tilted his head, sizing up the giant man who stood guard to the king’s residence. “It’s kind of a surprise!” He leaned back with his last word, glancing over at you before pointing toward the double doors. “Jerry’s not too bright,” he whispered to you.

“I heard that,” Jerry muttered, turning around and opening the doors. “Come on,” he sighed. Jerry motioned for you to follow him, the metal of his axe reflecting the warm sunlight before disappearing into the cool darkness of what you soon discovered to be a theater.

A rush of cool air hit you, the smell of moth balls and patchouli reaching your nostrils as a few stray hairs fanned away from your forehead. The doors shut loudly behind you, encasing the four of you in the pleasant scent as the very bricks smelled far more pleasant than those of the Sanctuary. Another scent hit you as you stepped down the slanted aisle of the auditorium, bypassing Negan’s cologne that usually took over your senses completely. Was it wet dog, or a barn smell, or….

A thunderous roar echoed against the walls of the theater, answering your unspoken question before you even had time to ask. A tiger. A tiger?! A tiger was in the room! What was a tiger doing in here?!

“Jerry! To what do I owe the pleasure?” A theatrical voice broke your concentration and brought your eyes forward, the bouquet of fragrances taking a backseat to the visual masterpiece in front of you.

Rows and rows of worn-down seats led you to a stage at the opposite end of the room, a medieval backdrop reminding you of your early days in community theater. Judging by the cityscape, it had to have been from an old production of Camelot, complete with a throne and pedestal for it to set on. The man occupying the throne lounged on it nonchalantly, his chestnut skin glowing in the stage light as his dreadlocks cascaded down his shoulders. He smiled unapologetically, his dimples and crow’s feet exuding genuine joy as he looked over at the wild animal at the end of his chain. He was beautiful, in every essence of the word.

“Zeke!” Negan bellowed, his voice drawing a defensive growl from the tiger as it paced in front of its owner.

“Negan of the Sanctuary.” The man’s tone changed from theatrical to worried, his posture straightening in his seat. “I thought we had an agreement inside the Kingdom walls.” He leaned forward and glanced over at you, taking note of the bruises on your neck and wrists as his kind eyes warmed you. Maybe you looked more like your brother than you gave yourself credit for. Maybe Alex was actually here, after all.

“What, you don’t want to bring me home to mom and dad? Let them know you’re in bed with a white guy who takes half your shit?” He paused and looked over at you, grinning wide before looking back up at the King. “I mean, I know we have kind of a... friends with benefits situation going on here, but I’d like to think we’ve always been honest with each other.”

The King sighed, his eyes all but rolling back in his head as Negan continued with his graphic analogy. “We have,” was all he said in return.

“Good, your majesty. See, three of my people ran off in the middle of the night, and Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen hide nor tail of ‘em. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would ya?”

You stepped forward without even realizing it, your feet carrying you toward the man whose next few words held your family’s fate along with them. What he said next would determine if your brother lived or died, if your relationship with Negan continued, and if your father and sister had to keep worrying back at the Sanctuary. Had he seen them? Was he hiding them? Did he know anything about them at all? You squinted to watch his face as he answered the most important question of your life.

“If my scouts found travelers, they would have brought them to me for review.” The King told your leader.

Dammit. You’d hoped Alex wouldn’t be here, but a part of you wanted to see his face again.

“I want to believe that, Zeke, I really do.” Negan stepped closer to the stage, gripping Lucille tightly on his shoulder as the tiger began to square up. “You’ve never lied to me, at least I THINK you haven’t, but if for some reason I think you are, well…” He placed his free hand on a walkie talkie you didn’t even know was there. “All I gotta do is give my men the word and we’ll be all up in your shit like white on rice, ransacking this place until we find them.” He paused and unlatched the device from his belt loop, pressing the button to speak. “Dwighty Boy, you in position?” The static scratched over his last word, disappearing as soon as it had appeared.

“Yeah, boss,” Dwight’s nasally voice came over the radio. “You good?”

Negan’s smile brightened the room like a blinding red light. “I’m good.” He paused. “For now.” He nodded as if his lieutenant could see him, keeping his eyes on the King as he lowered the handheld back onto his hip. “I got my best cook, seamstress and strategist out there just walking around as bait for the dead while we sit here and talk. I know you don’t want to change our relationship status, and that makes two of us, but if I…”

“I wish I could help you, Negan,” the King began.

Without letting him finish, Negan grabbed the handle of Lucille with both hands and smashed it down onto the lacquered wood of the stage. “Then help me!”

The tiger roared so loudly it echoed throughout the theater, putting a pressure on your eardrums you’d never felt before. It was deep and loud, shaking the lights above the King as it jiggled the very screws that held them together.

“Shiva!” The King yelled, standing up and pulling the chain back towards him. “Shiva,” he whispered, walking up to the tiger to pet its head.

“I was nice enough to come in here without the rest of my men to follow YOUR rules, now, I didn’t have to do that. The least you could do is work with me.” Negan followed up, stepping away from the jungle cat.

“Your actions are beyond generous, Negan the Red. Feel free to search the premises if it offers you peace of mind. Take what you need for sustenance, but I must ask you to be discrete.” He glanced over at you again. “We have great doctors if she needs medical attention.”

“She doesn’t need shit.” Negan stepped in front of you, blocking the King’s line of vision. “What she needs is her brother back, and I need my people back at the Sanctuary providing for me. If I’m not back before sunset, my people are gonna get real familiar with your people. Now I know you don’t want that to happen.”

“Of course not.” The King took a breath and pondered his options for a split second. “Richard and Jerry will be happy to show you around.”

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

Tags: @genevievedarcygranger @annablack1102 @negans-network @negansdirtygirl22 @letsby @sherrybaby14 @ptite-shit @inappropriatecabbage @irrelevantwriter @collette04 @mblaqgi @namelesslosers @bishsposts @chamberofsloths @rasa1945 @haleyea @bodhi-black 

[thenovelartist]

Collar for a Kitty

She always rushed to the balcony the moment she heard the tap. His tap. One he made up to signal that he was there. Not that he needed one specifically for him; he was the only person who would come in via the balcony.

“Kitty!” she cried, tossing the door open and throwing her arms around him.

He let out a soft “oof” of surprise, but he caught her and held her close, giggling softly. “Well, hello to you, too, princess.”

“I haven’t seen you all week.”

He chuckled. “All week, huh?” he teased, even though the way he clung to her proved his words meant nothing. “Poor Princess. I can’t imagine what a torture that would be.”

“It was,” she whined, smirk creeping across her lips.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for me?” she pouted playfully, propping her chin up on his chest.

She regretted her words immediately. “I was out of the country, princess,” he whispered. “I couldn’t come even if I wanted to. And I wanted to.”

She smiled. “Well, you’re here now,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s all that matters.”

His smile made her heart race.

Slowly, his hands came up to cup her cheeks, and she felt them immediately warm. Slowly, he leaned down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to her cheek.

It was perfectly chaste that held a world of meanings and made her body go haywire. How this had all started, she didn’t know, nor could she pinpoint just when she had fallen for Chat Noir. It wasn’t like she’d ever had to explain to anyone—well, besides her parents, but that was another story—that she somehow ended up dating the superhero of Paris. And he never told anyone about his secret girlfriend he kept “safely tucked away in her tower.”

His words, not hers.

“Come in,” she invited, her voice strangely weak. “Maman and Papa made cookies for you.”

Chat’s face lit up, as always when talking about food.

“They missed you, by the way.”

“Well, I missed them, too.”

“And you can tell them that,” Marinette said, walking over to the desk where she’d placed a plate of cookies and a present. “After we’re done visiting.”

Chat swaggered up to her. “Oh, so this is just a visit.” He shot her a wicked smile. “A drop-by and say hi sort of thing? I’m insulted. I thought I was more than that.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she teased, sweet smile on her face as she tilted her head in an attempt to look innocent.

His smile widened. “I don’t know. Maybe it was your kisses.”

“I am a princess,” she said, tilting her chin up. “’Tis a customary greeting.”

His eyes glinted dangerously. “So my princess greets every one with a French kiss?” He tsked, shaking his head. “This will not do.”

She giggled despite the fact her cheeks were surely as red as Tikki and her stomach held more butterflies than Hawkmoth owned.

With a teasing grin quirking his lips, he snatched a cookie from the plate and took a bite of it. “What’s that behind your back, princess?”

She grinned. “A little something that’s only given to good and well-behaved kitties.”

“I’m plenty well-behaved.”

“Oh really?” she said. “The yarn incident?”

“My claws got tangled.”

“The flour incident?”

“Again, claws.”

“My shirt.”

And Chat turned beet red.

Marinette snorted. The comics had it all wrong: superheroes in black leather were the direct opposite thing from entitled, lust-driven cads. Chat may play it up, but in the end, he was genuinely respectful of her.

Even if there was an incident with him tearing the fabric of a shirt he offered to help her make.

She took his red cheeks in his hands, knowing that once he was flustered, he didn’t recover quickly. It was an odd sort of quirk of his that she found endearing. “And that’s how I knew right then that you’re my good kitty.”

His smile was bashful. “I try.”

“You do,” she said, leaning forward so their noses were pressing together. “Which is why I love you and think you’re the best superhero in the entirety of Paris.”

“Princess,” he whined.

“And so chivalrous.” She kissed his cheek. “And brave.” She kissed his other cheek. “And handsome.” She rubbed the tips of their noses together. “Such a handsome kitty.”

His cheeks were brilliantly red, and his smile was almost shy. “Well,” he said, struggling to get a word out. “I think compared to this one woman I know, I fall pretty short.”

“Well, we all know Ladybug is pretty incredible but—”

The way his hands grabbed her hips, tugging her in close made her stop short. “Not Ladybug,” he said, his voice low and genuine and dangerous. “I’m talking about another stunningly beautiful, sweethearted, brave, creative girl in pigtails.”

“Yeah?” she said, her heart racing and causing her voice to be breathy.

He nodded. “I have a magic gem to help me achieve such greatness. So does Ladybug. This other girl… she doesn’t, which makes her pretty spectacular.”

She snorted. “Flatterer,” she whispered.

“With you?” he returned, the look in his eyes earnest. “Never.”

She let herself get lost in that green-eyed gaze for a moment. “You’re going to make my gift seem silly.”

“It’s from you,” he quickly said. “Even if it’s funny, it’s never silly. And always means the world to me.”

With a smile, she pulled the small gift out from behind her back. “Happy anniversary.”

“We actually have one of those?” he teased.

She chuckled. They had to have, even though neither really knew when it was. They somehow went from the occasional visit to “wait, we’re actually dating?” within the span of a year. Neither really knew how it happened, and neither really cared that they never had an official date. For Marinette, she just cared that she got to spend time with her kitty, and she knew that for Chat Noir, some days could go from bad to better with just a smile from her.

And they were comfortable with it just being like that.

He took the box carefully, then sat down on the chaise lounge. She took a seat beside him as he carefully undid the ribbon. He used his claws to cut the tape so he could unfold the paper.

“You know you could just rip the paper off,” she said.

“What fun is that?”

She shook her head amusedly.

He removed the paper from the little box, then opened it.

Only to give her a quirked brow.

She smiled, pointing at the gift.

He picked the green cat collar out of the box, looking at the large, round tag. He held it carefully in order to read the engraving. “Chat Noir” the front said.

Marinette’s smile widened.

Chat turned it over. “12 Rue Gotlib… Street…” and then he looked at her, his eyes shining with something.

It was clear he was trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle, so she wouldn’t leave him wondering. “I just wanted to give you a little something,” she said, sliding her hand into his, “to say that we—I love having you here. And I wanted to give you the closest thing to a real, safe home that I can, complete with food, bed, shelter, and people here who love you. You’ll always be welcome here.”

His eyes were growing watery, that much she could tell. She squeezed his hand.

Suddenly, he launched at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Caringly, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders, letting her fingers tangled in his hair. “You’re welcome, Chat Noir.”

They stayed like that for a while, both relishing each other’s comfort before Chat pulled himself away. He wrapped the collar around his wrist and tightened it to fit, admiring it the way a girl would admire a charm bracelet. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiled back up at her. “I… I got you a little something, too,” he said.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Stupidest line ever.”

She grinned as she watched Chat pull a little box out of his pocket. “It’s… not quite a collar,” he said. “But it is a band.”

And then he opened the little box to reveal one of the prettiest rings she’d ever seen in her life. “Chat!”

“Can I please have your left hand?”

She extended it automatically but quickly pulled back before Chat could grab her hand. “Chat, we’re seventeen.”

He grinned. Not his charming, rouge, signature Chat grin. It was his slightly lopsided, sweet, endearing grin that was a thousand percent genuine and the most attractive thing ever. “I know,” he said. “Meaning that this is only a promise ring. A promise that I will be there, always. A promise that I love you, and that you’re precious to me. A promise that one day, I’ll show you who I am.”

Her heart had stopped at his realization, and she thought it unlikely to start again. “I love you.”

The words spilled out so quick, she didn’t even realize she said them. But his look of mild surprise morphed back into that sweet grin she loved so much. “I love you, too, Marinette.”

He could kill her by saying her name like that: loaded with love and meaning.

“May I have your hand?” he asked again.

She gave it without hesitation.

He took it, raising it up to his lips in order to leave a kiss lingering on her knuckles. From there, he took the ring from its box and slid the sapphire-laden, filigree-decorated band onto her ring finger.

It fit criminally well.

And he seemed to think it too. He sighed in relief.  “I’m so glad I asked your mom for your ring size.”

She blinked a couple times. “You… you…”

His eyes glowed with a warmth that she just wanted to get lost in. “Princess, no way would I just get you a ring and risk freaking out your parents. I respect them far too much. They trust me enough as is to let a guy in black leather come sneaking down into their daughter’s room. I don’t want to go testing that trust by putting a ring on your finger without telling them.”

“They trust you plenty,” she assured.

His gaze softened. “Which is why I asked in the first place,” he insisted. “They deserve to be warned that I’m not proposing proposing. Yet, anyway,” he added quietly. “Still, I was thankful they gave me their blessing.”

Her heart felt like it could flutter away in an instant. “Thank you, Chat. It’s beautiful.”

He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Even if it wasn’t,” she said, taking his cheeks in her hands, “it’s from you. And that’s all that matters to me.”

“As is anything you bestow upon me, Princess,” he said, cradling her head in his hands. “But you are the greatest gift I could have.”

“Flatterer,” she whispered, somehow finding her head getting closer to his.

He chuckled, and she could feel his breath on her lips. “With you,” he reverently whispered. “Never.”

[inkbydahlia]

WE’RE FALLING LIKE THE STARS ➝ JOLIA.

TAGGING ➝ Dahlia Harper, Jordan St. James.

LOCATION ➝ Hotel bar.

TIME FRAME ➝ 2/14.

WARNINGS ➝ None.

NOTES ➝  JoJo and Dahlia go on an official Valentine’s date.

DAHLIA HARPER

Admittedly, Dahlia was still kind of failing at this whole ‘more than friends’ thing between she and JoJo. Navigating the transition was difficult; she didn’t want to come on too strong, nor did she want JoJo to think she wasn’t into her by holding back. So, finding a middle ground was proving to be a task, one that had Dahlia falling over her own feet and stumbling over her words whenever she was around the other girl. Today, however, she figured she could maybe drop her guard a little bit, what with it being Valentine’s Day and all. She wasn’t going to do some huge gesture, that would be too much. She considered chocolates, but they didn’t seem very personal, and a rose felt like a declaration of love, so it was way too soon for that. Instead, Dahlia settled on a different flower; a single sunflower, one that she held behind her back as she made her toward the hotel bar, heart instantly beginning to flutter in that increasingly familiar way as her eyes landed on the other girl already waiting for her. Usually a total tomboy, she felt kind of dumb in her dress, but the sight before her made it easy to forget all about that—JoJo could easily steal her focus, after all. “Um, hi,” Dahlia greeted as coolly as possible—so really, not very. She rocked slightly on her heels, producing the flower from behind her back and holding it out toward JoJo. “For you. Because you’re kind of like sunshine, you know?” Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, soft chuckle leaving her lips. “I know, it’s super cheesy. I’m not good at this.”

JORDAN ST. JAMES

The most fatal flaw in JoJo’s system had always been her ability to fall for someone too quickly. The moment someone would give her the kind of attention she was craving she could begin to feel them pulling them pulling at her heart strings. But with Dahlia things had always been different. She tried to keep her as a friend, even best friend, for most of the time they had known each other. But when she really gave herself time to think on it, there had always been more. The way JoJo’s heart fluttered when Dahlia entered a room, the stupid smile that would (and still does) grow on her face when her phone lights up with a text message from her, the small things they would do for each other that people that were dating tended to do for each other; all blared alarms inside her head. Oh god she was falling. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud...at least not yet. But today of all days there could be more mush to their relationship? — if that’s what they were calling it she wasn’t even sure. Maybe they were just testing the waters or maybe tonight could be the night for her to finally ask for a label. Either way, in true JoJo fashion she arrived plenty early to the hotel bar. Dressed in a sweet and simple red dress, that was ‘perfect for valentine’s day’ as her little sister, Jackie, pointed out, the red head stood up from her seat when she saw her date approach their table. “Hi,” she cheesed before Dahlia brought out a gorgeous bright yellow sunflower from behind her back. She smiled even more (if that was possible) and took the flower from her, “You’re perfect,” was all she could mutter out, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on her cheek. Offering her to sit down, they settled in, “I’m so stinkin happy to be your valentine.”

DAHLIA HARPER

When the sight of someone she’d considered her best friend had started to cause her stomach to flap with a thousand butterfly wings, Dahlia couldn’t really pinpoint. That was exactly the way she felt as her eyes landed on JoJo, though. She always looked great, but Dahlia noted just how incredible she looked in her dress tonight, and couldn’t help but hope that her own boring black dress would somehow impress JoJo in return. She rarely cared about other people’s opinions, but lately, JoJo had become an exception. In fact, she wanted her approval more than anybody else’s. So, her heart stopped momentarily as she held out the flower, silently praying it wasn’t as stupid an idea as she had begun to think it was. The bright grin that spread across the other girl’s face helped to calm her nerves, though, and Dahlia’s teeth sank gently into her lower lip as JoJo leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “You think?” She grinned in response, cheeks darkening a shade in the process. She nodded politely as JoJo motioned her to sit, pulling out her chair and somehow managing to seat herself without falling. She mentally chastised herself for not hurrying around to pull JoJo’s chair out for her, but she figured she could make up for that somehow later. Maybe hold a door open for her or something. She wasn’t trying to think about their date coming to an end yet, though. Setting her purse down by her feet, she placed her focus onto JoJo—not a difficult task—and offered her a gentle smile. “Me too. I always thought Valentine’s Day was super dorky, but I think I’m starting to get the appeal.” Dahlia smirked softly. “You look really great, by the way. Beautiful, in fact. It’s actually making me kind of nervous,” she chuckled awkwardly, “Maybe we can order wine or something? This feels like a classy wine kind of place.”

JORDAN ST. JAMES

"Um, yes, hello have you seen you tonight??" She asked with sarcasm in response to Dahlia questioning if she really though she was perfect. There was a tension in the air, not a bad tension, if anything it was almost good. Like this was the first time either of them had truly let themselves feel the way they wanted to about each other. But it was great none-the-less. The soft smile that came across the brunette's face helped JoJo to relax into her seat, "Valentine's Day is totally dorky," she emphasized, "But that's why I love it," she goofed, her face now flushing with a pink tone from the compliment. "You don't think it's too much?" She questioned, "Jackie helped pick it out but I wasn't sure..." she trailed off before turning her attention back to the last part of Dahlia's statement, "Wait, I make you nervous?" Her brow perked. "That's so cute." — JoJo looked around, admiring the beauty and taking the drink menu in hand, "Definitely feels like a classy wine kind of place," she agreed, "Let's do it. Are you in the mood for a red or white?"

DAHLIA HARPER

Although Dahlia really was nervous, it was also easy for her to snap back to her normal self again with JoJo. It was hard to explain; even though their situation was so new, the other girl just made her feel so comfortable, just like she always had done. Maybe crushing on your best friend really did have it’s perks, she mused silently. Dahlia’s brow quirked, head shaking gently. “No, not too much at all. Jackie has good taste,” she motioned toward JoJo’s dress, “Very Valentines appropriate.” The last thing she wanted to do was make her think she wasn’t completely happy with their arrangement, so Dahlia quickly shook her head. “I mean, you do, but like the good kind of nervous. The kind where I kind of can’t believe we’re actually doing this. But it’s not something I don’t want, you know?” Her lips eased into a small, sincere small, eyes locking with JoJo’s across the table. “It’s just new, but I’m happy to get to navigate it with you.” Honestly, Dahlia didn’t even care how cheesy she sounded; her crush was evidently more than just a crush, and she was learning to be okay with that. She thought over the wine options for a moment, before eventually shrugging a shoulder. “I prefer white, but I feel like red is classier. What do you suggest?” Dahlia asked, easing into this a little better already. So much so that as she crossed her legs under the table, her foot brushing delicately against JoJo’s, the contact barely made her flinch, and instead just shot her date a grin.

JORDAN ST. JAMES

With that JoJo definitely had to agree there was only one person that she trusted as far as fashion goes that was her sister, Jackie. The girl had a very keen eye that's for sure. "Yeah you know, guess it's a little cliche to wear a red dress on Valentine's Day but I'm a cliche person so it works," she chuckled. It was so simple, the idea of them being together, at first was sort of hard to wrap her head around but the more time they spent together the more time all JoJo wanted to do was kiss her and that was very clearly more than just a friendship. Dahlia was nearly talking in circle and it was charming, though she knew exactly what she was saying when she mentioned a good kind of nervous. "I understand, I totally never though we'd be trying .... well this.." she motioned between the two of them, "But I'm so happy." Looking through the wine menu she read a little bit but mostly just glanced, "Red is classier but I'd much rather drink white," her smile widened and she felt her heart nearly skip a beat as Dahlia's foot grazed her leg. Once the waitress made their way to the table JoJo placed an order for two glasses of Chardonnay and turned her attention back to her date.

DAHLIA HARPER

“I happen to like cliches,” Dahlia shrugged, small grin still displayed on her lips. “I mean, I’m literally wearing a little black dress, what could be more cliche than that?” The more she talked, the easier Dahlia was finding it to settle. Mostly because she knew JoJo wasn’t judging, even when Dahlia was being her awkward self and talking in circles. JoJo’s presence was both calming and exciting, and Dahlia was in total agreement with everything she had to say. She nodded her head in agreement, finally feeling her heart rate slow back to a more normal pace. “I’m happy, too,” she nodded gently, eyes trained on the other girl as she perused the menu. Honestly, she didn’t really care what they drank, she was more interested in the company, so she allowed JoJo to order for them, then took note of how much she liked it when it was just the two of them again after the waitress had disappeared to go fix their drinks. Hesitating only briefly, Dahlia eventually held out her hand across the table, palm up and fingers motioning for JoJo to take her hand. “Are you nervous?” She asked, head tilted slightly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

JORDAN ST. JAMES

The corners of her mouth quirked up as their cliche became more and more obvious. "Touché," Jordan nodded, "We're the best cliche I know." A million thoughts were racing through her mind though it was hard for her to truly process the next thing to say. Maybe Dahlia did make her more nervous than she was letting on. Knowing that her date was just as happy to be there though made her feel much better. Taking Dahlia's hand was something so small yet so meaningful to her, "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do that," she admitted, "Just reach across the table and take your hand." The pink in her face starting to show again same as a piece of her heart. "I don't really know..." she trailed as she thought, "I guess I'm nervous in a way but I'm mostly really happy. You're just - amazing and I didn't really want to mess anything up between us with the whole dating thing?" Yikes, she dropped 'dating' but still continued, "But I can't deny how I feel about you anymore either."

DAHLIA HARPER

Dahlia nodded her head in agreement, the natural grin on her lips never faltering. She liked the idea of she and JoJo being considered a duo of some kind, even if it was a cliche. She hadn’t even considered the risk of holding out her hand—if JoJo hadn’t taken it, that could’ve been awkward—but her fingers instantly wrapped around the other’s, the new position feeling so natural to her. Like something she hadn’t realized she’d wanted to do every time they’d hung out, in fact. “I know,” she nodded, pad of her thumb running gently over the back of JoJo’s knuckles, “I have, too. Sometimes, we’ll be walking together, and I’ll get this huge urge to grab your hand. I guess I’m allowed to just do that now, huh?” She questioned, cheeks flushing all over again. She could see JoJo’s cheeks heating up, too, and couldn’t help but quietly note how adorable the sight was. The thought of any kind of label with anybody had scared her before, but as JoJo dropped dating, Dahlia couldn’t help the way her lips curved upward at the corners, bottom lip dragging in between her teeth. “I totally get that. I didn’t really think about it like that, us literally dating… But I like it, you know?” Her voice quietened a little, now an almost bashful tone. “I like you, JoJo.”

JORDAN ST. JAMES

Every touch between them sent sparks through JoJo's veins, it's like not only did her brain know that things were different now but so did her heart — but it was natural in the best of ways. The way her hand rested peacefully in Dahlia's calmed her presence, "I had no idea you wanted to hold my hand so bad," she teased playfully, "You can definitely do that now...in fact I expect you to." The simple gestures always meant the most to JoJo and she knew that the other girl could deliver on those things. Noting every movement of Dahlia's face she could see the curvature in her smile as she mentioned dating, it at least made her feel as though the other girl wouldn't go running away on her, maybe there'd be a label for them after all. (Not that she'd push it) — "If you're not ready to label anything I'm completely okay with that," she covered her tracks, "We can do this at our own pace, whenever we're both comfortable...." she paused, "But if it wasn't incredibly obvious yet, I like you too Dahlia," flashing a blissful smile to her right as the waitress returned with their wine.

DAHLIA HARPER

It wasn’t uncommon for JoJo to steal all of Dahlia’s focus, but especially now, with the two of them sitting across from one another, literally on a date. She felt so comfortable with their fingers intertwined, it was easy for her to relax, and despite the way her cheeks continued to darken a shade, she couldn’t help her amused grin in response. “I guess I didn’t know how badly I wanted to either,” she shrugged softly, glancing down at their connected hands briefly, before allowing her gaze to drift naturally back up to JoJo’s face. Dahlia didn’t know how to do this, she didn’t have a lot of experience with falling for her friends, but it definitely eased her mind a little that JoJo was so easy for her to discuss everything with, and that it seemed the other girl was on the same page. Not that that was exactly unusual for them—they tended to just have that connection, that kind where everything just made sense. “I don’t know about specific labels,” she admitted, a little embarrassed by her own naivety, “I don’t know how that all works. But I do know that I don’t want to go on dates with anybody else…” Her lower lip dragged in between her teeth, gaze trained on JoJo even as the waitress returned with their drinks. She paused briefly, until it was just the two of them again, before continuing, “Is that super intense?”

JORDAN ST. JAMES

Everyone around them seemed to dim the more comfortable they got with their date, her focus was solely on Dahlia and that's all that mattered. She was noting every movement and change in the other's face as they spoke, hoping that she wouldn't stumble out of place with her words. She took caution as Dahlia explained where he head was with them but felt lighter when she admitted she didn't want to date anyone else. Taking a sip of her wine, she smiled softly with the brim of the glass still on her lips. "Not at all," she replied happily, "I don't want to go on dates with anyone else either. And even if we don't label it now, I think as long as we're both on the same page with that part then we can continue to grow us together." Everything that was happening was like it was ripped right out the page of her childhood diary: she would spend time day dreaming about romance. She had always fallen easily for people but this was different and she could feel it.

[bucreviews]

So I saw this movie today and here is my response to pretty much the only negative video review there seems to be.

Not seen Hop so I can’t comment on that comparison, especially since they don’t even talk about how it compares to Hop, they just mention it and leave it there, that opening is literally the only time it’s mentioned!

“I hope you like 90′s movies” well I do and I think many other people do, so I don’t really just that as a criticism. BTW it’s funny how he says that in the first 30 seconds and in over 20 minutes he never compares it directly to any movie from the ’90s. They mention Hop from 2011, Masters of the Universe from 1987 and Playing with Fire from last year.

“It’s 30 years too late” The games aren’t even 30 years old yet!

“A Sonic game would have killed around 2000” Maybe it would, but does that mean it wouldn’t kill now? The Sonic fandom is huge and has been for a long time.

“This is every bad 90’s kids film” And yet you fail to name a single 90s film that it is similar to.

“Sonic looks good enough, “passable” is the word to use here” Why? What more do you want from that design? Maybe not have his eyes be completely separate so he looks more like the design from the games, but other than that I don’t see what more was needed.

“The owl looks more like the original design for Sonic” Yeah he does, but he’s not on screen very long so I don’t think it’s a big problem.

“You’ve seen this movie a million fucking times” Maybe we have, but is that in and of itself such a bad thing? If it’s done well then it will still be worth watching.

“It jumps around between tones” maybe a little but it’s never too jarring.

“This film is a lot of 90’s cliches and that’s not what is fun about Sonic” but it is what fun about this type of movie, and the things that make Sonic fun, the running and fast action, are still in there.

“It’s a road trip and that’s not fun” I don’t know, I thought it was pretty fun in this film.

“It opens with a 90s trope of a freeze-frame and “I know what you’re thinking” Yeah it does…is that a bad thing? You guys are fans of Gravity Falls and  Ratatouille and they both open the same way, so clearly it can work when done right.

“And then it says 10 years later and I’m like “ten years later from what?” From when he arrived in the human world, why did you find that hard to follow?

“Haha they the thing, they called the town Green Hill” Yeah maybe that’s a little cheap but it’s pretty much the only thing like that in the film.

“Why not set this in the actual magical world of Sonic” Because the Sonic games that take place there have no story and it would have meant a ton more CGI the no studio would have been willing to give them the money for. But yeah maybe that would have been interesting, but how about instead of moaning about what the film isn’t, try looking at what it is.

“This is Master of the Universe film” which is NOT a 90’s film BTW

“Oh gives a fuck?” Well, maybe you will if you give the film a chance.

“The script was clearly written in the ’90s and not updated at all” Maybe it was, but just because the script is old doesn’t mean it can’t still work.

“No one was laughing at our screening” So what? Maybe they just weren’t laughing out loud, or just laughing quietly. I never came across as that kind of film anyway, Carrey’s style has always been that kind of comedy where you are quietly chuckling while he does his thing rather than “joke, laugh, joke, laugh,”.

“It’s not Carrey doing his normal Jim Carrey” I disagree, he felt like he was doing The Riddler from Batman Forever, which makes sense since he’s the bad guy in this as well.

“It’s not Ace Ventura” Nor should it be, since he’s playing the bad guy in this.

“There are very few laughs or cheer moments” Maybe not, but so what? Is that what you were promised or something? In my experience, it’s rare for a movie to have a big enough moment that the audience cheers, in the last year I can only think of one time that happened, that being Cap catching Mjolnir in Endgame.

“The audience perked up when the movie was over” well you are told to be quiet during the film, once it’s over people will start talking about the film a bit more.

“The comedy was never funny is was written for five-year-olds and idiots”, I don’t know if I really agree, the jokes were mostly just, thinking to yourself “oh haha” kind of funny. But they never made me cringe, there weren’t many low-end fart jokes (though there are some) and I never felt insulted watching it. I’ve seen kids entertainment in the past that either makes me cringe or just ask “what’s the joke there?” and this film really didn’t do that.

“Sonic spends the first half of this movie sad and alone” Which to me helps makes the second half more enjoyable when the spend and tone perks up a bit.

“If you don’t compare it to the games it’s just a bad movie” What’s bad about it? So far the only really bad thing you’ve pinpointed is the lack of humour, while also admitting that the kids were laughing.

“This stupid mushroom kingdom…Mario gave you a job, also Mario won” Does that mean he can’t still make fun of him? Also, I think that’s actually a reference to the Mushroom Hill Zone from Sonic and Knuckles.

“It’s just dull, bland flavourless mush” ok it certainly doesn’t push the boundaries of what you can do with a film, but does that mean what it does is bland. There is plenty of good action, comedy and the character are all fairly interesting. The worst thing you seem to be able to say about it is to do with things that are not in it.

“It’s not a family movie it’s a kids movie” I agree, it’s a kids movie that the adults will find perfectly watchable, nothing wrong with that.

“The adults won’t laugh” maybe not out loud, but I remember a few times I was amused.

“Let’s not do the games, let’s do something 30 years old.” Aren’t the games nearly 30 years old? But again the games have no plot, how do you make that into a story?

“It’s such a lack of imagination, creativity and effort” Sounds like the Nostalgia Critic over the last couple of years.

“The chase scene around the world was fun but it’s over so quick, you have the world, you can go anywhere!” But it would have gotten boring if it went on any longer, are you suggesting they go to over tons of locations just for the sake of it?

“This film aims low” I don’t think that’s such a bad idea for a first film. For a lot of people just having a good Sonic film on the big screen is enough. Keep in mind how many bad video game movie there have been, just the mere fact this movie avoids being another one of those is enough for a lot of fans.

“This has been done a million times and done better.” yet you can’t give me even one example of where that has happened.

“Why not have him run around with a kid and put him in Sonic’s world which looks more interesting?” I don’t really see how that would make for a more interesting story, but how do you know they won’t do that in the sequel?

“Our screen was only half full” Well maybe that’s why you weren’t hearing the laughs.

“All the positive reviews were saying it was for kids” which it is, you don’t need to read a review to work that out, that’s clear from the movie. But there is nothing wrong with that, the movie is still perfectly watchable for adults which is more than I can say for a lot of kids movies.

“Kids deserve more” and they will get it, this movie isn’t stopping that.

“People seem to just like the fact it made it to a movie” Well given it’s his first ever movie, is that really surprising?

[sparda3g]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Chapter 158 Review

Chaos is right; this battle is chaos. The last chapter hyped it up greatly, so I was ready. There’s plenty of reasons to be hyped. You have Doma the Upper Moon 2, you have Kanao in a serious fight, and this series is known for intensity, so you can expect great choreographic work. This chapter delivered beyond my expectation and more. It’s an all-out brawl with thrills and chills (no pun intended) with a cliffhanger that got me hyped even more than ever.

Before the battle ensue, we get one last insight on Kanao’s mind and feelings. This is a good way for fans to empathize her pain and anger. Many fans were heartbroken when Shinobu was killed by Doma, who laughed and mocked for all her worth. We are rooting for Kanao to win, even if the odds are against her. It’s also good to understand her viewpoint. As mentioned before, she was a mute earlier in the series. It’s the most emotional expression she ever feel, and it gives her the motivation and drive to fight. These two pages give me chills, shaking for the battle to start, and when it does, I will be glued completely. That’s what ended up happening.

Reviewing this chapter is a bit difficult, due to the heavy focus on the action with plenty of attack sequences to adore. It can be done but that’s resorting to play-by-play commentary. If you have read the chapter, you’ll know how intense it was. With that said, I can comment on the things I like about it.

To begin with, it is clear Doma is overpowered compare to Kanao, despite the early showing. As impressive she was, he is not easy to deal with. I knew that would be case, but I have to address it because some fans were actually afraid that she would defeat him alone. I know I said that I didn’t know if that would be case, but I was leaning more on negative. The one thing that I greatly appreciate this series is the realistic expectation when dealing with a powerful enemy. While it’s about skills and swordplay, if the enemy is tough, the enemy is tough. It doesn’t mean one must be stronger, rather a helping hand is required or a mere luck, which rarely happened. I’ll save the rest for later.

That all being said, it doesn’t have to mean a character have to get steamrolled or be a fodder. Case in point, Kanao is very impressive in her combat skills. She is not only fast, but she has great eyesight to detect and focus well. It’s why she can sense what’s approaching and dodge them swiftly, which she’s also pretty athletic. I said this many times, but speed is key. Although Doma gets the upper-hand most of the time, she still keeps up and barely slows down. I love how she dodged a sick fan slash to her eyes and immediately spins for Whirling Peach to cut his head. It’s crazy but wonderfully sequenced.

Doma is no joke. I know it is common knowledge that he would be powerful, but I didn’t expect his Blood Demon Art would range from simple Freezing Clouds to Cold White Princesses, whom resemble as named but attack like a separate entity. It’s very fitting for his persona, but disgusting at the same time. The creativity is really good, helped by great choreograph. It’s also helped by his despicable personality. He’s not only thoughtful, but he sadistically amuses himself, pinpointing Kanao’s incredible skills and trained body. It’s distasteful, but that’s the point of his character.

I’m really loving this battle with its stellar sequences and suspense. The narrative is Kanao must not slow down nor weaken her strength. It’s why the action is thrilling and non-stop; it keeps you on the edge. One blunder is all it takes to lose. That’s why Doma was amused, throwing crap load of attacks. I didn’t know he can do Lotus Vines. Kanao is so good for keeping up the speed. Every moment feels like her last or at least takes a fatal blow. She escaped swiftly and narrowly, but I was still shaken. The most feared I felt was when Wintry Icicles appeared out of nowhere and she had to dodge in a second. This is Sekiro the video game level of hard; give her a break. Fun fact: I was going to use that reference for my video on the anime, because really, it is, more or less.

While I did say that moment with icicles was when I gasped, that was before the next scene. I gasp hard, probably lost all gasp for a day, once her sword is stolen instantly by Doma. That’s the blunder that will send her to her death bed. It’s sheer suspenseful with her having no sword and Doma uses Blood Demon Art Scattering Lotuses, which is practically flying blades. She has to observe fast or she’s good as dead. Now, I didn’t know what was going to happen. If it was done by another mangaka, you could maybe expect a random power-up on the spot, or the greatest luck in the world. Instead, we got a surprise guest.

You thought asspull or random power-up would save Kanao, but it is he, Inosuke! I laughed at the fact he has to create his dynamic entry, breaking through a ceiling and presenting himself as “Lord Inosuke.” Here he comes to save the day, takes out all the blades coming towards her, and hyped to fight, thanks to the crow. The man doesn’t think about the danger from fighting an Upper Moon 2, but that’s him, alright. The cliffhanger got me excited. The chemistry between him and her should be interesting. Doma is now against a man, which I wonder how he would react. Lastly, Inosuke is so hyped up; a personality that changes the mood significantly. It’s all calm, but with him, expect things to get wild.

This was a really engaging chapter with its intense action from start to finish. Kanao did a hell of a job despite being overwhelmed, and that’s fine since Doma is a serious threat. Give credits where it’s due. It goes without saying, heroines are really good. The artwork is solid and choreograph is stellar. Inosuke joining in the battle should add more diversity and fun factor, and I can’t wait. It’s time for pig assault!

[heka-write]

Merlin Rewrite #2: Morgana’s Character Arc

Doing this rewrite series has made me realize that all of the characters in this show had a lot of lost potential. Merlin could have been more enlightened, Arthur could have been more accepting, Gwen could have had more natural character development. But Morgana was probably the most robbed character of all, and I think the show mishandling her character was ultimately one of it’s downfalls. 

Morgana Pre -Villain days

Morgana was really at her peak in Seasons 1 and 2. She was good at heart, but also edgy enough to be a rebel. She cared for the citizen’s of Camelot, both magical and non-magical. She scolded Uther’s treatment of the poor and the magicians, in contrast to Arthur who was more hesitant to question his father’s policies. 

More importantly, she was complex. She hated Uther’s policies and did plot to kill him so he could be overthrown, but when time came to actually go through with her plan (in Season 1 episode 12) she couldn’t do it. Not only does she really care about Uther, but she was good at heart. She couldn’t kill.

Even in the season 2 finale when she plots to kill Uther again, she shows such reservation on going through with her plan. You can see how hesitant and regretful she looks after the plan is set in motion. 

Then Merlin poisons her. She is visibly hurt and shows feelings of betrayal.  Morgause takes her away, and she is gone for a year. 

Naturally, her hatred for Camelot grows, and her anger for Merlin for betraying her is intact. It makes sense for her to try overthrowing Camelot once again. 

So what part of her arc in the show doesn’t make sense? 

Morgana’s Behavior Post-Villain 

Morgana comes back, rightfully mad at Uther, rightfully distrustful of Merlin, but she is suddenly brutally killing harmless guards, and letting innocent civilians die. 

Good? The whole reason Morgana went against Uther in the first place was because he was killing innocent people. Why would she say “good” or even put other innocent people at risk? Morgana joining the villain team because she has no other way of fighting against Uther’s tyranny makes sense, but this? This is straight up OOC. 

People often talk about how Morgana wasn’t an effective villain. Seasons 3-5 are essentially three seasons of Morgana trying a scheme to overthrow Arthur, failing and trying again the next episode. Critics are definitely right in this respect; the only thing that she really accomplished was killing Uther, and Arthur in the very end (but also dying herself, so that doesn’t really count) all of her other plans fail repeatedly. We know Merlin will come in at the end of the episode (or the next if it’s a two parter) and thwart her plan. 

In season 1, we had a different villain every week. Each one had their own unique personality and goals so seeing them fail didn’t get repetitive the same way it did for Morgana. 

Not only that, but her motivation was completely whack. Her goal was to protect innocent magical people from being killed, but she killed plenty of innocent people herself. How exactly would that work? None of the peaceful magical people would bow down to her if she looked like she would be a ruthless and cold leader. 

Her hatred of Gwen in particular came out of left field. Morgana had a strong bond with Arthur before becoming evil, and it made a bit of sense as to her hating him because he was following in Uther’s footsteps. However, her bond with Gwen was completely shoved under the rug for the sake of causing conflict. The show was trying to say she hated Gwen because she betrayed her (in her Season 3 takeover), but where did the hatred of her becoming Queen come from? Morgana never cared about royalty until she found out she had a right to the throne, so why is Gwen such a threat to her when they had an intense bond? When just the prior season she was begging Uther to save her (Guinevere and Lancelot)? Morgana didn’t just hate the way Uther treated magicians, she hated the way he treated the poorer civilians of his Kingdom. Her hatred of Gwen completely contradicted her motivations. 

I’ve watched the show twice as of now. The fact that I can’t pinpoint the exact actions or reasons as to why Morgana started hating her best friend shows how convoluted it all was. 

Back to her bond with Arthur, the aftermath of that bond wasn’t addressed well either. They were super close in season 1, distant in season 2, and after season 3 they are just enemies. There is no recollection of their pre-villain bond. No moments of hesitation or complexity. No mention of their bond before Merlin even came to Camelot. Morgana simply hated him and he simply treated her as an enemy. We only get some half assed lines about “my sister” or “my brother”, there is no real feeling behind them. 

All in all, Morgana was not an effective villain action wise nor motivation wise. Villains are nothing without their motivation, and the thing about Morgana is that her motivation was not evil. 

Her motivation was that she wanted to protect magical people from unjust persecution. Camelot embodied that oppression. Uther was a tyrant. Her motivation was actually good, but because it went against the hero’s (Merlin and Arthur) destiny, she was automatically vilified by the narrative. 

The reason Morgana failed as an evil character was because the writers’ were too desperate to have a consistent villain. They wanted a final boss instead of a villain of the week routine. It didn’t matter that Morgana’s motivation made little sense in portraying her as evil. It didn’t matter that two seasons of character interaction and relationships were being contradicted. As long as they could have a FV they would do it.  Morgana failed as a character because the writer’s shoved her complexity under the rug for the sake of making her a villain instead of embracing her complexity and letting it flourish. 

How it Should Have Been Done

I have spent the entirety of this post talking about how badly Morgana’s villain arc was handled, but I am not against the idea of her having a villain arc. In fact, I think Morgana would have perfectly suited the anti- hero arc, one where she joins the villains to fulfill the needs the hero team can’t meet, but ultimately comes back to the good side with a fresh perspective. 

Other people have pointed this out, but Morgana’s character would have been perfect for a lancer arc in the five-man band. In this case it would be the four-man band of her, Merlin, Arthur and Gwen. 

Arthur is the hero of the show, and in true lawful good nature he follows the law of the land and is completely loyal to his father’s ways. Morgana, in the lancer contrast, is more chaotic good and does what she thinks is right, regardless of if it is lawful or not. She has openly rebelled against Uther for what she thought was right. Morgana and Arthur were presented as complete foils to one another, and it fit perfectly well because they were half brother and sister. 

It does total sense for Morgana, not having any other resource to turn to, to join the villains to take down Camelot. Especially since Merlin had kept her in the dark, she could have joined them or worked with them but not go completely off the rails like she did in the show. 

A prime example of this is Sasuke Uchiha from Naruto. Sasuke was more morally ambiguous than Naruto or anyone in the Leaf Village, so he temporarily joined the villain Orochimaru to achieve his goals of getting revenge on his brother because his hometown simply could not help him. However (in the early days of the show) even when he was with Orochimaru he would not kill innocent people. The show had implied since the beginning that Sasuke would eventually come back to the good side, because he was never truly evil.

Plenty of other shows have followed a similar arc structure, and even though it may be cliche to some it would have been beneficial for Morgana’s character because it keeps her complexity while also highlighting the complexity of the issue.

Morgana, in her time away from Camelot, would have to struggle in deciding which side to choose. The villains would insist that the only way to get rid of Uther’s unjust laws is to hurt the citizens of Camelot, but she wouldn’t do it because she knows that’s wrong. Arthur and Camelot would insist that the only way to rid the world of the evils of magic would be to persecute magicians, but she would stand against that too. In her time away, she would learn that there aren’t just two sides to a problem, that the world isn’t black or white. That instead of joining Morgause or any other magical villain, she could join the Druids and other peaceful magical people in protest and rebellion. 

 If she eventually came back to help Camelot, this would have a positive affect on Arthur as well. The girl he thought betrayed him came back to help him, despite the fact that she is now working with magicians. He would be confused because his father had taught him his whole life that magic was wrong, but his own half sister would be fighting for good. 

Arthur and Morgana relationship could be a lot more fleshed out and complex. Arthur would be fighting the side of Camelot’s protection, Morgana would be fighting the side of innocent magician’s protection, and they would eventually have to come together and find an even solution that meets halfway. It would be especially symbolic because it would mean Uther’s children are bringing peace to the land by bringing together both sides that he had failed. This type of rivalry of philosophies in fiction is almost always done in male-male or fraternal relationships, so having it done through a brother and sister relationship would be something new. 

The middle ground that these two siblings would meet would obviously be through Merlin. He has always the one in the shadows mediating relations between Camelot and the magician, so having him do the same thing between Arthur and Morgana and eventually bring peace through that would earn him his title in the show. This would be possible if Morgana was still IC, and not just turned completely into a villain and closed off to Merlin. This scenario would be much more preferable than him simply taking Arthur’s side and eliminating anything that got in the way. The show completely threw his bond with Morgana under the bus for the sake of Merthur and fulfilling his destiny, and I think that was ultimately his downfall (but I’ll get into that in another post). 

This scenario could also fix the problems with her relationship with Gwen after season 3. I could definitely see Morgana being away from Camelot and resentful of it, but coming back to help save Gwen when she is in danger. Arthur would be annoyed, but reluctantly accept her help because someone they both care about is in danger. 

I could also see Gwen being resistant to Morgana, but ultimately accepting her because Morgana proves she is loyal to her, the same way she was before she found out she had magic. 

This storyline for Morgana would also make so much sense because in the Arthurian legend (to my knowledge) she does get redeemed at the very end. She does turn good, so why couldn’t the writer’s give her this chance in the show? 

In conclusion, this storyline for Morgana would have been 10000x better for the show than what we really got. The reason the real ending failed was because Arthur and Merlin ultimately failed. They failed to bring magic back to Camelot. They failed to bring peace. Arthur failed to live on as a successful king. They failed because they refused to acknowledge the humanity in Morgana’s argument, and the side of the magical people. If Merlin had reached out to the opposite side (the side that he has ties to), he would have been able to win them over. If he defended Morgana in front of Arthur more, she would have stayed good. Instead, anything against Camelot was automatically labeled as evil, and nothing was really able to change. The show just continued the cycle of two sides, and failed to bring them together because it failed to let Morgana be seen as a complex leader of her side. But I’ll get into the detail of Merlin’s toxic loyalty to Camelot in a different post. 

Believe it or not, this post was actually cut short. In the upcoming installments of the “Rewriting Merlin” series, a lot of my other posts would be influenced by a better Morgana storyline. That’s how important she was to the show.