#so a lot of time and effort has been put in this

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

Idk I don't really think I need to specify but assuming I'm right it's like this;

Sympathetic - you can sympathize with the decision. Maybe you once made that decision yourself, and are familiar with the consequences. You might not support it, but you have a personal understanding of why someone would do it.

Example: the character is put under a lot of pressure and says something they don't really mean - you don't like it, but you're familiar

Understandable - you can understand why the decision was made. Colloquially it tends to mean you find the choice agreeable, but generally you at least understand the logic behind it and believe the character would and SHOULD have acted in that way, in that situation, based on the character itself.

Example: it's understandable that Zuko (from Avatar: The Last Airbender) would agree with hunting Aang down, as the way he was brought up guaranteed he would focus his trauma in a direction that can "fix" his relationship with his father

Reasonable - the decision has a reasoning behind it that you believe to be sound, one way or the other. Like with the previous words, there's a degree of nuance, as "reasonable" tends to mean you agree with it, but it could just as well mean that the characters internal reasons for doing it are consistent with the story and considered a normal response in-universe

Example: it's normal for a Hunter (from Bloodborne) to kill Beasts - that's what the order was made for - but any regular person would likely struggle to do so when they learn the Beasts are just transformed people. Thus, it's reasonable for a Hunter to Hunt, just like it's reasonable for the regular Yharnamites to hide in their houses and not open the door, no matter what

Objectively the best solution - feelings are irrelevant in this one. It is what it says on the package; we might not like it, the characters might not like it, but at the time it was by far the best solution - not necessarily a good one, but the best one available.

Example: in the Shadow of the Erdtree DLC for Elden Ring, the main antagonist is revealed to be Miquella, a character who we don't meet in the main game but who is famous for his intellect, eternal youth (in body and mind) and his extreme charisma, coupled with his Charm, which he's had from birth. Being a kind-hearted child, he always looked for ways to make everyone, and I mean everyone, get along. To help everyone. To do the right thing. In the DLC, he realizes all his efforts thus far were useless, and so turns to a measure generally considered extreme and vile, but to this literal child it only makes sense - if he can become a god, he can use his charm to make everyone get along - by brainwashing the whole world. For some of the characters, it's only practical; if everyone gets along, even if by such means, everyone gets to be happy. No more wars. No more starvation, no more oppression, no more pain and suffering. Miquella promises a thousand year voyage guided by compassion; he can actually deliver on that promise. Alas, the story demands you kill him, and while it does chafe my own morality, I think it would have been interesting if we could join him... Oh well. You can always just get hit by the grab attack twice. That sort of counts, right? Though it only results in a modified "You Died" screen.... Anyway! For the goal of "world peace" it is, by far, indeed the best possible solution ever thought up. People would literally be UNABLE to not get along nicely. It would be an unprecedented age of peace, harmony and love. But it's a solution that, ironically, ignores the most important part to all this: the heart. Forcing people to get along, no matter how much they'll eventually accept it, is wrong and, at its core, false. There is no such thing as a perfect happy ending.

One thing i've run up against when dealing with fandom and characters making less than ideal choices is that people seem to treat a character's decision being sympathetic, the decision being understandable, the decision being reasonable, and it being objectively the best solution for the situation, as synonymous. When those are 4 very different things.

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[kheta]

2 for 1 Genres

Thriller-Mystery: Young Justice is missing. They've been missing for two months and no one noticed. The League is devastated and panicked as multiple members try and look for their proteges and family members. The BatFam are enraged and feel stupid to have not noticed Tim was missing sooner, angry that they didn't check in sooner. The Arrows are walking a tightrope, not knowing how much they can do to help without compromising Cissie's strong boundaries, but also unwilling to step-back from rescuing one of their own, even if she's been distant for years at this stage. The Flashes are resigned to Bart disappearing, though the rest of yj being missing is definitely heightening their anxiety. Superman is quietly guilty for not noticing Kon's absence as abnormal, while Jon is giving his dad the silent treatment because he knew something was up and is mad that Clark didn't believe him and mad that he didn't look into it anyway. Wonder Woman is upset that she hadn't realised Cassie had vanished, but has quiet faith that the team will manage to survive until the League manages to find them. It's a desperate push against the clock as the mentors juggle their everyday disasters with their efforts to look for the team, especially because all of these mentors are also maybe 100% going to butt heads as they play the blame game, struggling to reconcile their guilt when the mission is a lot more personal, with no clear cut villain to blame. Comedic-Hi-jinks: Meanwhile, the YJ crew have all been kidnapped. Kidnapped by a bored and lonely Bart Allen, who was sick of all the failed reunion plans and jealous of the fact that literally everyone got to spend time with each other except him. (no, going to see them one on one doesn't count guys! their a team, a family, they deserve more than just occasional face-times and drop-ins) Honestly the little pocket dimension they ended up in was surprisingly neat and child-friendly, so Anita's not too mad at being kidnapped. There's even some small fry's she gets to deal with and a hand picked group of perfectly available baby-sitters who she trusts with her life, all on hand, unable to say no when she leaves her not-parents in their care. Cissie's a little worried because she definitely has some work things to look after, but this mini vacays actually been a good time to unwind, even if she was a bit mad that Bart gave her no time to prep and Tim gave her absolutely no heads up. And despite his arguments, she knows Tim had expected this to happen. Bart was way too put together after getting Tim, no bruises, no scolding and no glitter bombs in sight. Kon, Tim and Cassie meanwhile are just vibing, brains off as they meander through this little pocket dimension. Nothing was gonna stop Bart from doing this and at least he's relented to a three day adventure instead of the week long one he had initially planned. Greta is a little worried, because things are going surprisingly well on this little excursion and that's way too weird, but she loves being with her friends again, so she's really hoping the worry is unwarranted. Bart feels like he's forgotten something, but for the life of him he can't think of what he may have forgotten. He has his friends, he found the perfect, most harmless pocket dimension and he even remembered to set the YJ code to show they had gone out on a mission. (Bart definitely forgot to do the time math. He was going to do it, honest! He just got a bit too excited. And maybe a bit too annoyed at Cissie hogging Greta and Cassie's time. But only very slightly annoyed.)

[yuurei20]

I've seen several fanfics say that the potion Azul gave Leona cause Leona to accumulate Ruggie's blot. It there anything in canon to back this up?

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🍩🦁🐙

"Ruggie would have overblotted in Book 2 but Leona shouldered Ruggie's blot to save him" is a popular fan theory! ^^

For background: Ruggie used a lot of magic throughout Book 2, culminating in that potion from Azul that enabled him to overcome his own magical limitations, which sounds like it should be a big deal for blot accumulation (there is no reference in the game, manga or novel to the potion also sending Ruggie's blot to Leona: it only enhances his magic).

But Ruggie never seems to suffer any consequences to his physical or mental health while Leona, one of the objectively most powerful characters in the game, overblots after using his unique magic just once.

And we see Leona use King’s Roar a lot more during Book 6 in much more physically challenging conditions, while simultaneously being limited by the blot escaping the Underworld, all after using the thunder spear three times (twice by himself alone, while Riddle and Vil both received help each time).

This is often tied back into the theories that

1) there is a time loop happening where everyone is reliving the same incidents over and over again

2) Leona is aware of the loop to some degree: he may have already experienced a scenario where Ruggie overblotted and has been taking on Ruggie’s blot in every loop since then in order to keep it from happening again.

Looking at Ruggie’s backstory, all the effort he put into Book 2 and why, and how badly he was hurt when Leona crushed his dreams, Ruggie seems to have experienced just as much trauma and uses just as much magic (if not more, since his gets enhanced) as any of the others, and using their unique magics on too many people at once is exactly what led to overblot for Riddle, Azul and Jamil. These contemplations seems to be the main foundation for the theory, but that is all there is!

I have not been able to find any references to "mages can shoulder other people's blot" being canon, for example, so the entire process is possibly a fan-made invention that does not actually appear in the game, manga or novels (at this time 👀), with no confirmation that that is actually what happened. But it is interesting to think about ^^

On a related note: looking forward to Book 7-11, releasing on the JP server later this month 👀👀👀👀👀

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

your ideal partner is like...

On this pick a pile reading, im focusing on positive traits to take into consideration when wondering if someone is worth putting your time and energy into a committed relationship. This is not meant to be strict guideline of arbitrarily imposed "must have's" to look for, but more of an opportunity to reflect on what could be beneficial to your ideas of a healthy relationship.

dividers by @chilumitos

pile one pile two pile three

‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number one ˚.⋆

I get the feeling that you value certain aspects of relationships that could be considered “traditional” or “old school”, but not necessarily the ones that are limiting to your sense of identity or your will. I think you find value in things that bring peace of mind and comfort due to being structured in a way that feels natural and balanced, or at least aim to provide those qualities into your life. In your case, I feel like commitment in any sort of union is something you value a lot, specially because you have a deep understanding of your own individuality which involves wanting to connect with someone who is just as conscious as you are, and just as willing to bring out the best in you as you are willing to do so for them. 

Your ideal partner is someone who wants a certain level of structure in their lives, but also wants to find opportunities to experience child-like wonder. This is a person who is patient, and knows that building strong foundations in the relationship is the best way possible to ensure that both of you get to be joyful together. A key aspect here is that you look for someone who shares your values, not because they aspire to them, but because they live by them even if their lives are completely different to yours. Maybe your life experiences of the past might not be similar, but what’s important is that your ideals and aspirations are the middleground where you are both capable of nurturing a genuine connection. Both of these cards show me that you are determined to achieve harmony in a way that you consider both practical and fulfilling, and yet you are not willing to sacrifice your individual aspirations. Therefore, whoever is meant for you, needs to embrace the way in which you decide to nurture a relationship.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number two ˚.⋆

This combination of cards is telling me that you are someone who has coherent reasons to be slightly afraid of vulnerability. You have been in places where your honesty and your vulnerability have been misunderstood as weaknesses and treated as such. Nobody deserves to be hurt because of such noble traits. What's relevant here is that you are cautious with who gets access to your truest self, which is not that bad, but from time to time your anxiety in regards to vulnerability might be something that makes it more difficult to find true connections with others. It is hard to know who will value your genuine ways of living and expressing your feelings if you never try to do so, if you never give people the opportunity to show if they are worthy of you being in tune with your sensitive essence.

Your ideal partner is someone who is not only empathetic, but also someone who is willing to put effort into building a sense of trust within the relationship. Whoever wants to love you, needs to understand your healing process and willfully put in the work so you feel secure with them. I'm talking about a person who values having the difficult conversations instead of running away from the issues or hiding anything that could turn into a problem. This is someone who shows their loyalty by either being helpful or being a good company. You can be very introspective and mindful of your issues, you are too used to solve problems on your own. These are amazing qualities that can be nourished when you engage with a person who is willing to learn when you need help,when you need company and when you need your own space. Finding out who has this characteristics is only possible if you find the peace of mind and the confidence to approach vulnerability in a way that gets you out of your comfort zone without getting hurt.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number three ˚.⋆

Well, I can’t lie here, these cards are giving me a subtle “opposites attract” type of scenario. Which doesn’t mean that you should go and look for someone who is nothing like you, but it does mean that maybe you should consider your own virtues and defects and how they can be complemented by a partner, while also thinking on how you compliment them. This is not only about superficial compatibility, but more so about both of you being able to rely on each other and able to ask for help. From what I see, it’s most likely your ideal partner is someone who shares a similar life path to yours, but they have an entirely different set of skills. Having shared objectives and aspirations is something quite valuable, especially if both of you are equally as committed to them.  

What I see from an ideal partner in your case, it's this passionate approach to almost everything. It is not a kind of passion that comes from a need to fill a void in their lives, it is the kind of passion that comes from a deep sense of responsibility and consciousness in regards to their own lives. This is a person who sees the value of their journeys and is able to be truthful and fair with their approach to new experiences because they want to remain aligned to their honest desires. They are fully aware of what they can and can’t do, but what’s interesting about them is that they also see value in creating dynamic ways to work around that. You need to find someone who respects you enough to allow themselves to ask you for help, but are also willing to help you too. A key thing to consider when thinking of an ideal partner is the sort of enhancements made possible by a connection where both genuinely respect and admire each other, without idealizations that could harm the relationship.

hey there! i hope this reading was useful or at least entertaining for someone <3 if you did enjoy it, don't hesitate to check out my other P.A.C readings i think they're also kinda fun??

anyways, big updates (maybe not too big)

i set up a ko-fi (finally, ik, im sorry, many people told me to do so but apparently i had to drop out uni to find the time to do it lmao actually not funny btw i dropped out to focus on my work because economic crisis, fuck you javier milei, i work on a tarot reading app btw but i cant disclose it or share my profile from the app idk why)

I FINALLY CAN TAKE PICTURES OF MY CARDS !!!!! (they are still samsung phone quality but they are expensive samsung phone quality ok) so yeah things are going to look prettier i guess??? maybe i'll do videos someday??

im also working on a posting schedule and taking this blog more seriously because i missed tumblr so much tbh and i need a way of sharing the beauty of tarot thats not literally too close to working a 9 to 5 call center job (i love my job tho, but working in tarot apps is... interesting) . i love this site so much, i was literally raised by it at this point (i feel like an elder user because i've been here since 13 and im 23, i saw gen z underage people calling 25 year olds "uncle" online and honestly i cant even be mad about it because if any gen z calls me an auntie i wont go against it, i've been on my single auntie patty and selma vibes since forever tbh and im technically gen z too?? )

last big update: i got a kinda fun and silly oracle deck which i will be using for an ask game eventually.

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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ bookings are open ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[zepskies]

Aww thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear that you're excited to read the rest of this little series, because I've been very excited to start sharing it with you guys! 🥰💜

More on your lovely comments below the cut:

Also thank you for that compliment on the setting being immersive. I've never written a Western before, but I love history and the time period fascinates me. I did put a lot of effort into researching the time period, the culture, etc., as well as the look of the banner art and stuff. Canva is an awesome tool! lol

You don't know how big my smile was at Baby's appearance. I love how you always incorporate characters, objects and details from the original Supernatural universe and incorporate them into your stories.

Aww yes!!! I loved including Baby -- her little reveal was one of my favorite moments. I was partly imagining Black Beauty. lol

With AUs I try to include key details from the canon into it to have those fun little easter egg fun moments!

I can already tell I'll absolutely love Mila. There's already so much action, can't wait to see where the road is headed.

Oh thank you!! I haven't written an OFC in a while, so it was very fun for me to create her character. You'll definitely learn more about her as we go along, especially in Part 2. Our adventure has really only just begun!

Thank you again so much for reviewing Part 1 and reblogging, friend! 💕💕

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

COMING 11/10! (New chapters every Sunday.)

Or read Part 2 on Patreon now!

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[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin)

(. . . Uhrg.)

(Your blinding head is killing you.)

(You feel like your whole body's been put in a wine press. Everything hurt in one way or another. What. . . Happened?)

(You breathe in, and out. Okay, what happened. You remember fighting the sadness, winning, and. . . Something bad happening. You, woke up, had emotions. went to the woods, found, found the people who did this, fought them, and. . .)

(. . . Uhrg, did you loop a lot again? Everything was still so fuzzy, less remembering and litteraly asking what happened. Or like calling Loop for a reminder. Soooo what, you must be in bed, at the inn- oh wait, you, hear people talking. You hadn't really realized at first, heh. . .)

(. . . You're comfortable, you'll just, rest a bit and listen in.)

"-iching is expertly done! Much better than I could ever do." (That was Isabeaus voice. So he was okay, good. . .)

"Ha! Don't sell yourself short, I've seen you work!" (And Ramos, they're fine too, that's good. . .)

"Aww thanks Rams, you know I'll at least try! Look, they even weaved crafted stitching into the inner lining of their cloak!"

"Woah, that looks complicated."

"It is! Very expensive I imagine, they must have had people who really cared about him. . ."

(. . . Oh, they're talking about your cloak. You try not to make a sound. Stars, what if they noticed you were awake. Just, keep pretending.)

". . . I hope, I hope Siffrins parents, or, whoever gave them this, knows that they're being taken care of."

"Yeah. . ."

". . . You think they'll wake up soon?"

"I dunno, if not today then deffinatly tomorrow."

(Ah stars, uh, do something, convincing! Yeah convince them you're asleep! You shift a bit and roll onto your side, tucking your legs and arms in a little. There, it was more comfortable too.)

". . . . Did you see that?"

"How could I NOT see that!!"

(?!?!?!?!?!?!)

"I told you! He's just, so, so. . ." (Isabeau was about to say cute, right?)

"So cute." (RAMOS?!?!?!) "How did I not realize earlier."

"Don't beat yourself up over it! You had a lot going on!"

"I-I guess, but, well, look at them!"

"I know right?!?"

"How is it that even when he's fast asleep he's so cute."

"They talk in their sleep sometimes, y'know."

"Oh stars, that's so cute."

(The compliments from Isabeau were already going to make you blush, but, but Ramos ALSO?!? A-and, and why were they so, well- pointing it out?!?)

"Crabs what am I gonna do Isa. ."

"Well, you could talk to him about it."

"No way!! Do you have any idea how bad that could go?!?"

(Wait.)

"Aww c'mon, you never know if you don't ask! Sif's a funny fella! Full of surprises and all-"

"Isabeau," (Ramos cuts him off.) "I nearly killed them in Jouvente and ruined their life for a bit! They still don't trust me after all that. How am I supposed to just confess a crush after all that?!?"

(WHAT?!??!?!!??!?)

(RAMOS, RAMOS, THEY, HAD, WHAT?!? ON, YOU?!?!?! WHY?!?!?!?!?)

(Despite your best efforts, you can't help but gasp a little hearing that. You hope, pray, that they didn't hear, or notice, or, or just, anything. But, you could tell by the very loud silence, they deffinatly, 100% noticed.)

". . . . . . . ."

". . . . . . . ."

". . . . . . . . H-hey Ramos, could you uh, go, ask, Bonnie uh, about dinner? I-if it's soon then, uh-"

"Y-yeah, I can, do that."

(You hear Ramos get up, walk, open a door, and close it. You wait a few moments more to hear them walking away.)

". . . . S-sif, are, you uh. . ."

(. . . Stars.)

(You open your eye, and wince, it's so bright! You blink a few times, and look over to Isabeau, holding your cloak, who was blushing VERY hard. At least you were in good company then.)

". . . . . Hi Isa." (You speak quietly, he sinks into his shoulders.)

". . . Hey Sif, uh. ." (He grabs his arm and looks away.) "How uh, how much, did you hear?"

"Talking about stitching, and everything after." (You grimace.)

"O-oh. . ."

(There is a VERY awkward silence.)

(You look away.) ". . . S-so, so, Ramos, uh. ."

"Y-yeah."

"When did, that, happen?"

"They realized it when they poked in your head, f-for medical reasons!" (He quickly adds,) "A-and uh, y-yeah."

"Oh. . ." (You shake your head weakly, then regret it, still dizzy, and achey.) "Ow- uh, I, don't think I remember that."

"T-that's okay! Uh, should, should I, say anything? Or, thoughts?"

". . . . ." (You. . . Didn't know. You knew the others didn't like Ramos at all, but you liked having them around. You'd have to think about it, but. . .) "I, well, I dunno. What about you? Since, we're, y'know. . ."

"I'm fine with it!" (Isa beamed at you.) "They're my buddy! A-and it's, kinda cute!"

"Right. ." (You mumble, thinking some more.) ". . I'll, I-I'll think about it, but, I, uh. . . C-can we pretend I never heard that?"

"Well, Ramos deffinatly uh, knows, you heard. But uh. ." (He thinks for a moment.) "We can, all agree to pretend you didn't? Just, go through the day like normal untill you figure it out?"

"And recover."

"AND recover!"

(You take a deep breath, then end up coughing. In a flash Isa was by your side with some water. You take a sip and instantly feel much better.)

"How long has it been?"

"Aboooout four days? Three or four days." (Isa puts a hand to your head.) "I guess that medicine we got helped, and that guy Wren knew a lot about overusing crafts."

"Huh. . ." (You remember how he deflected Odiles attack so easily. Actually, all three of them were, weird.)

(Isa took his hand back.) "You're still hot, try and get some rest? I'll let everyone know you woke up, okay?"

"Thanks, Isa. . ." (You smile up at him, then close your eye again.)

(Try not to think about, Ramos. Think of something else, think about, about. . .)

(. . . Wren, so stoic, able to counter craft without a second thought. Vixul, who didn't seem to be from anywhere. And Polaris, who struck like lightning, and who was like you.)

(. . . You should talk to them before you leave.)

>>>

"Woah there, Loopy, don't eat the whole plate now." [Nille jested as you scarfed down lunch. It was breakfast for you, having not eaten yet, but semantics didn't matter. You were HUNGRY!]

"Go Loop go! Go Loop go!" [Bonnie, Mira, and Isa were all chanting, by contrast.]

[After gobbling down breakfast at what was probably a record breaking pace, that trio started cheering.]

[You do a sitting-bow.] "Thank you, thank you~ Absolutly delicious Boniface~"

"Of course it crabbing is!!!"

"Language." [Nille was barely holding back a laugh.] "You better not still be hungry after all that."

"Can you blame me? I'm eating for four~" [You giggled behind a hand, oh good! You made the others laugh too!]

[There's a knock at the door, Bonnie runs over.] "I GOT IT!!!"

[A moment later, Odile and Ramos joined your little group. Ramos, you note, avoided your eye, for a good reason too, because the look you oh so wanted to give was utter disdain.]

[You wanted to jump up and strangle them.]

[Imagine it! Your head, blurry as can be in a sleeping, unconscious mess and all of a sudden this little crab wormed their way into your mind! The only thing you liked about their little visit was that sweet face of UTTER TERROR.]

[And they were gone! And you spent the rest of your timewell, asleep! The mind had to rest, after all~]

[But then.]

[BUT THEN.]

[Stardust has a wonderful little time being able to wake up, oh how lucky! You were still recovering so you were a bit late to the party, oh if ONLY you could have stopped it, could have taken that little memory and gobbled it up like a star! But no, you were far too late~]

[Because Stardust pops to the favor tree for a wonderful "team meeting" and told you all that Ramos, that rat, that pest in your family, gotten a teeny weeny itsy bitsy little CRUSH. ON. YOUR. STARDUST!!!]

[It was enough to make you LAUGH!!!]

[STARS, but despite EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU telling Stardust to NOT TRUST THEM. All he told you was "I'll think about it." Sure, Stardust, go think about that. Trust your heart with someone who ruined your life~ See how that works out~]

[Was it mind craft? Did that sneaky little devil plant that seed in Siffrins head?!? How DA-]

"Loooop, hel-looooo earth to Loop" [Isa was waving a hand in front of your face.]

"Hmm?" [You snap back to reality, smiling.] "Sorry, lost in thought is all."

"A-are you sure you're, feeling okay?" [Mirabelle asked.]

[You nodded.] "I promise, I'm not the one pushing the body, after all."

"Right." [She huffs.] "Null will be getting a piece of my mind once they're aronud."

"Hear, hear." [Nille nods.] "Had us scared for a bit there Loopy."

"Does that have to be my nickname?" [You mumble.] "Besides, it's only been a few days, far faster than last time."

"That's thanks to Wren." [Odile responds.] "All three of them, actually. They're quite knowledgeable on how to treat craft exhaustion."

"That tells a story in itself." [Mira adds.]

"True, true. Who do you think's the "Null" of that group then." [Isa laughs a little.]

"Polaris, I bet~" [You shrug.] "For how little experience he has, he was quite the powerhouse when we fought the sadness."

"Oh!! Right!!" [Mirable jumps up, raising a hand.] "We should get to buisness!!"

"Right!" [Isabeau coughs into his hand and speaks in some exaggerated posh voice.] "I now call to order this official meeting of the former saviors of Vaugarde!"

"Charming, fighter~" [You rub your neck, sitting up straighter.] "So, what did we miss durring our beauty sleep."

"Quite a bit!!" [Mira jumped in.]

[Mirabelle started recounting the events you had missed, with others jumping in to fill holes. The sadness, the experience Mirabelle had with that sadness, how Merlon fought, how everyone was okay, your recovery, all of it. You mentally listed out each question you had for when she was done. She only left out one thing, and it was the thing that was causing Ramos to stay quiet.]

". . . Alright, one thing at a time." [Quetion time.] "How did you beat Perci when we were struggling so hard."

"Well, Ramos actually explained it best!" [Mira turned to the defender-in-training.]

"H-HUH?!?" [Ramos jumped, and looked away.] "I- uh, sorry, right. Okay, well, well essentially Mirabelles mind is, cluttered? She jumps from one thing to another, worries on everything, notices everything, it's hard to make things out."

". . . And ours is somehow more put together?" [You rolled your eye.]

"Uh, yes?" [They sink into their shoulders.] "I-I mean, well, it's, it's complicated."

"Sure, Ramos." [You move on.] "Next, Merlon. Now, I just have to double check, but what do you blinding mean they used wish craft to fight."

"That's exactly what I mean." [Odile responds.] "From Mirabelle's description, it was wish craft. The extreme smell of sugar, the flashes of light, it points to wish craft."

"It, well, it looked like the sky after we, I, froze the King." [Mirabelle looks down.]

[. . . Red.]

"That, just leaves more questions." [You hold your head.] "Stars, lets, just move on. What about the sadness, and that stone?"

"Well, the sadness is gone now, mostly. I confronted it, since it was my sadness, and it dissolved and left this." [Mirabelle untucked a necklace, a new necklace, from her shirt.]

[You look in confusion, then shock.] ". . . Is, that looks like a frozen tear from the House."

"It does, doesn't it!" [Mira confirms with quite a bit of enthusiasm.] "That's because it, well, it is! When Nille went pick it up, she got frozen! Well, untill I undid it but still!!"

"Not exactly a good experience." [Pétronille rubbed her shoulder.]

[Mira continued.] "We got it encased in some crafted glass so it's not a problem, but still!!"

"Iiiinteresting." [That could be useful.] "And, what about-"

[Mirabelle coughs.] "W-well, there, is, another thing. . ."

". . . Go on?"

"I don't know how to say this, so. . ." [Mira takes a breath.] ". . I can freeze people in time now."

". . ." [You, stare in disbelief.] ". . . . . . Pardon?"

"Well," [Odile jumps in to save Mirabelle.] "The running theory is that Mirabelle's sadness held much of the Kings remaining wish, likely due to Miras own gift to be immune to being frozen. And when the sadness returned to Mirabelle it brought that craft skill, fueled by that wish, with it"

". . . Stars." [That's, that's a lot to take in- oh blinding-] "O-oh I'm, not mad at you Mirabelle, I-I'm more just, well-"

"No no, I understand." [Mirabelle takes a breath.] "It's, conflicting. It's scary, and unnerving, to be able to do that."

". . . . . ." <You smile up at Mirabelle.> ". . We've got your back, Mirabelle, no matter what."

<She smiles back.> "T-thank you, Loop."

[. . You ignore that itch at the back of your head. You were curious. . .] "Have you used that skill on anyone?"

"I-" [Mirabelle holds up a finger, then sheepishly puts her hands behind her back.] ". . . Yes."

". . You-"

"Wren wanted to know what it was like!!"

"Know what it was like?!?"

"He's very, invested in his research."

"Heh, I dunno anyone like that." [Bonnie said with a grin.]

"Neither do I." [Odile said flatly. Everyone laughed a bit at that.]

[Stars, thank you for breaking the ice you two. Now, what next.] ". . . So, do we know who our mystery duo is?"

"Percival Monet and Merlon Monet. Percival is 32, and hasn't stated where he's from. While Merlon is around mid thirties, and doesnt remember where they're from." [Odile retrieves a page of paper from her coat.] "Let's see. The Monets are known for being reputable historians and archeologist. They've published reports and books relating on every country in the world bar one. No prizes for guessing which."

[Ha. Ha.] "So are they just looking to fill out a trophy wall?"

"I doubt it." [Odile tapped her chin.] "From what I can tell the only mark against them is the fact Percis writing can be a bit. . . Dramatic."

"I could tell." [You sigh.] "And that's it?"

"That's it."

"Stars." [You rub your temples.] "Well. . . Anything else?"

"Well!' [Isa smiles and walks back to your side.] "We're gonna try and leave in the next few days since it's uh, gonna get busy here. Winter and all."

[Oh right, you almost for about that.] "And that's it?"

"I believe so."

"It should be!"

"I got nothin'"

"Ditto."

". . ." (Ramos pauses.) ". . . Yeah that's all."

"Aaaaaalllllright then! With that I call this meeting-" [Wait.]

"Waaaait a second, Isabeau~" [You interupt.] "I actually, do have something to add."

[Everyone was looking at you, expectantly. Your confidence waivered.]

[No. It was now or never. You couldn't forget what you had learned on that first loop. About how that shadow had been more daring than any of you! No, not anymore.]

". . . Isabeau, about, your Stardust."

"A-ah." [Instantly you got his attention.] "Uh, y-yes?"

"Well for one, they really do love you very much. I hope you know that despite their cowardice." [You smile. You don't look, but you were hoping Ramos was listening.]

"O-oh, uh. . . Thanks? F-for letting me know?" [He looked away, blushing.] "I-I already, knew that though-"

"Look at me, fighter." [You reach up and turn his face to look back at you.]

"While yes, Stardust has been a coward when it comes to talking about intimacy, having taken weeks, months to talk about it. . ." [You lean up, making sure all attention is on you.]

[. . . . Please, please, please be good.] ". . . Let it be known I am no coward."

[You grab his shirt in a quick, smooth motion and pull Isabeau down into a kiss.]

[You hear squeals and gasps from the party, and the silence that followed. You feel his warm lips against yours. And you feel, And, and, and. . .]

[H-he, he, he doesn't pull away.]

[There's a pause, then, then you feel, a hand, on your cheek. A hand that felt warm, and soft. A strong hand. A hand that dwarfed yours with how big it was. It was his hand. A hand that you had begged, cried, pleaded to the universe to feel one, last, time.]

[The moment lasts just a few seconds, but it felt longer than every loop you went through combined. And it was worth it.]

[He pulls away from the kiss, face dark in a very, very strong blush. His mouth is open in a stupor, his eyes wide.]

". . . . . . Stardust has good taste~"

[soodoonimin]

Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I��m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage. 

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

[dr-spectre]

I need to talk about this moment from Shadow Generations because this broke me beyond comprehension in the best way possible.

(SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!)

Shadow smiling, like giving an actual genuine smile and not a cocky smirk, got to me. This mother fucker has been through hell, he was so down on himself on the ark because he was made to cure Maria yet he couldn't. G.U.N came in and killed someone he loved and it drove his creator mad, making him alter his memories so that they would wake up angry and bitter… and i bet it didn't even take that much manipulation to piss off Shadow either… just a few tweaks to his memory… Shadow then finally remembered Maria's true wish thanks to the help of a pink hedgehog. He had to face his prototype, a ghost from the past... Shadow briefly died after saving the world with the help of Sonic, he then contemplated if he was an android or not, finds out he is part alien, spends 06 trying to prove that's he's gotten over Maria and stop Satan himself, and then finally... he got to the chance to see his family one more time and....

I think this game fully cemented that Shadow is my favourite character in the entire Sonic series. He always allured me as a kid, with his black and red colour scheme, his demeanour, his voice, the way he skated around and the way his quills looked...

He smiles. He smiles because he gets to see Maria and tell directly to her face, "I'm gonna keep fighting for you. I'm gonna protect the world you love." And he finally got the closure that he needed BADLY!

In Shadow 05, he wanted to say goodbye to his past self because thinking about the past and Maria probably gave him so much grief and pain... But now? He changes his mind, he wants to fight for the good that Maria stood for, instead of saying "naw fuck her." While also acknowledging that he can be more than just Maria's wish and fulfil his endless potential as said by his creator/father Gerald. Plus, growth is not linear, seeing Maria and Gerald must have been seriously shocking to him and revert some of that growth from Shadow 05 and Sonic 06…

Shadow has always interested me and it wasn't until recently where I not only replayed Sonic Adventure 2 with a retranslated mod but also Heroes, 06 and Shadow Generations that I've come to truly love and respect this character.

Shadow is surprisingly so fucking well written and the way his story and arc were explored in Sonic Adventure 2 was insanely well done. Even the music was muffled and confusing, just like his memory and his anger. THE MUSIC REFLECTED WHAT HE WAS FEELING AND THINKING!!! THEY PUT IN THAT EXTRA EFFORT IN HIS FIRST APPEARANCE!!!

Not everything they've done with this character after Sonic Adventure 2 was perfect, but some of the stuff they did felt like they gave the character justice.

I am so proud of Sonic Team and what they've done for Shadow Generations. Good on you guys... you've made a game that has emotionally affected a lot of people. I'm proud of you...

[evilmoldywizard]

More Logan headcanons because I'm being given messages from god (pt 2!)

- music taste is actually just fucking all over the place with just being a weird combination of literally anything he's liked over the entire time he has been alive. do NOT let his silly ass on aux he will play something from the 20s followed by rob zombie or literally Creed or something and be like “Yeah I remember when these came out” like it's even remotely the same time period

- can and has frequently had fleas

- this is in addition to his “likes animals” hc I had but I feel like he sort of just collects them, sort of like Will Graham and Hellboy with dogs and cats, but hell just be here keeping his weird ass bear in the woods near the school that he shows up to feed and hang out with, and will bring home baby raccoons and opossums in just jacket at the time

- paranoid about sleeping next to anyone or anyone trying to wake him up because of his PTSD and how he wakes up from nightmares, especially after almost killing Rogue in the first movie.

- as far as immortality goes, he seems to be coping pretty well, but by god does this man need anxiety meds, and a high dose. Like now.

- has a lot of irrational small little fears despite being effectively immortal, like his canon fear of airplanes, I feel like he's also super freaked out by the ocean and large bodies of water. Like he will complain through a flight about feeling like its going to crash and kill him, but at least he doesn't need to SEE the water he's going over.

- the younger kids at Xavier's school have basically peer pressured him into really liking Halloween over time, he will even put on a really low-effort costume but he really does get excited about it now that he's around kids frequently, he will never admit it though.

- in addition to that, he honestly loves interacting with kids so much, and is really good with them. His situation growing up was godawful of course, especially with his immune system being as bad as it was before his mutation kicked in, so he is just subconsciously really careful about how much they look up to him and how he treats them. Most of them see him as like a cool uncle, and he would absolutely die for them no questions asked.

- is super sensitive to smell and hearing of course, but also he will usually hate this, and gets a lot of sensory issues because of this. Yeah, its super helpful, but he really is bothered by this and he has a hard time managing it. He's definitely curious about looking into ear protection but none of it is usually effective enough for him. He usually will just be able to hear electricity moving around with headphones and it bothers him a lot.

- On top of that, this is another reason he fucking stinks, is because most scented products like literally any deodorant bother him sensory-wise so much.

- he can of course survive any conditions really, but he's actually a big baby about discomfort that isn't direct pain, especially temperature, because of his mutation and immense sensory issues, he also literally has a metal skeleton, so cold is a nightmare. He will power through getting shot multiple times and stabbed easily, but the second its any degree near freezing he complains so much.

- he also just loves to complain👍

- adding, honestly though him complaining is a good sign from him that he's doing well. He's so used to dealing with insanely harsh conditions, and having to power through it, despite feeling every ounce of pain before his healing will kick in, including his claws. But when he starts to be annoying about the temperature or something, it really means he feels safe.

- again, I cannot express how much this man CANNOT drive! I don't care how much he is seen driving a car in x men media, I am NOT LISTENING. Motorcycle is different though to him. For some reason. Especially stolen. He CAN however steal a car, he just can't drive one, and will frequently get other xmen to drive him places like the little passenger princess he is. Mostly Scott. Scott hates this, Logan knows it.

- super sensory seeking with touch, as its one of his few senses he can control completely, so he will usually wear lots of layers, is super big on physical touch as a form of showing affection for people, anything deep pressure calms him down fast.

- he hoards bedding like a little nest. One million pillows and blankets for the freak. Again, deep pressure and control over temperature.

I think this is it for now, I will for sure be back with more, this thing (Logan) is so headcanon-able for some reason.

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTWO !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART TWO. should run for the hills !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, proper introductions. sassy!reader. fictional locations. maybe improper ballet terminology. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 1.4k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. this was going to be sm longer but i decided to split it up into two very sorry </3 it just feels right in my head! considering what the chapter titles are ... hehehe ( i am posting the masterlist today so u will see )

it was routine at this point; getting out of class and heading to destiny dance studio before you made it home across the street. you practically couldn’t sleep without needing your muscles to feel like they were giving out first — so, like clockwork, there you were, again.

and there he was, again. 

he was a lot quieter — and much more reserved — when it was just the both of you. whether it was you leaving destiny, or about to head in, he was there at least once, a cigarette dangling from his plush, pink lips. 

he never spoke to you, though; never offered up the name of his, never made any effort to be anything besides the annoying lead singer of the band next door. all he did was watch, smoke curling around his mouth as his eyes drank you in. 

you passed him — an addition to your routine at this point — as you round the corner of destiny, key already having been plucked from your pocket. your hair was still tied in that tight bun from school that day, finding it easier to just wear it until dance practice rather than take it down and try to put it back up again. 

and all was the same, him lingering by the glass double doors of sunset blvd without so much as a breath in your direction… until, it wasn’t the same. his lips split as you stood outside in the chilly night, and for the first time in a week, words tumbled out of them.

“this place better be paying you for keepin’ ’em in business, at this rate,” he mutters, and on his exhale, the translucent gray smoke dances its way over to you.

you wave it away with your free hand, swatting at the dissipating smoke, and he’s got the audacity to stand there and laugh about it. his laugh is deep and throaty, probably rumbling in his lungs. 

“is something funny?” 

and there was that little quirk to his lips, dimples embedding his cheeks, as he turns that amused expression onto you. “you are such a prissy little thing,” he muses, fingers curled and tapping against one of his thick biceps. 

“because i don’t want to get secondhand smoke? makes me prissy?” the key is literally in the door, already twisted and unlocked. the only thing keeping you out here is that pull to him — the one that’s debilitating you from calling the cops on the band practically living in the abandoned building next to you. 

he shakes his head, one side of his nose and lip scrunching up as if he was thinking about it. “nah,” he says finally, “you’re a prissy little thing for many reasons, that’s just one of them, i think.”

you are bristling. this man who doesn’t even know you, is causing you more issues than anything related to dance in the last year, who could be in jail right now if you weren’t so generous— making assumptions about you like he had the right to? 

“i am not prissy,” you snap back at him, your words as venomous as a snake bite. you cross your arms firmly over your chest, your mouth puckered in a furious pout.

that just seems to make him even more amused; his leg falls from where it was braced on the brick wall behind him, letting his back collide with the wall as he snickers. 

“oh, and you’re proving it so damn well!” he exclaims, the sarcasm dripping from his words like the venom was dripping from yours. he drops the cigarette onto the ground, stomping its cherried end out with the toe of his boot. “standin’ there, fuckin’ pouting away… downright precious, lovebug.” 

lovebug, it seems, was your breaking point. something cracked like the facade of normalcy you were keeping up to maintain around him, and now he’d crossed that invisible line. or tried to, since you were finally yanking the key from the door to the studio, and stomping off inside. 

maybe, looking back on this moment, you would let yourself realize this moment for what it was. you would take the fact that, while you usually lock the door behind you, this time you didn’t. and you could blame it on your mind being preoccupied with your one-sided fury, but in reality, there wasn’t any way that it was an accident. 

there was that pull, and it sank its teeth into your unsuspecting skin. 

you’d only just sat your bag down on the ground by the entrance, just to the right of the balance beams, when the second set of footsteps starts to echo behind you. when the door latches for a second time. 

“so, this is the place that gets all of your attention,” his voice drawls, and you barely even get the moment to spin around, hardly even get your mouth open to tell him off, when he’s adding, “expected something raunchier.” 

your hands immediately fall on your hips, and he’d never admit it, but he thought it was adorable, and you’d never admit it, but you could tell what he was thinking just by the way his eyes fell to your clenched fingers around your waist.

“what the hell does that mean?” you ask, just as incredulously in your tone as your widened eyes were when they locked onto him. 

him, who stood there with nothing but a shit-eating grin on his face. his boots were going to scuff up the floor, and then how would you explain this? that the man staying illegally next door followed you, and you didn’t turn him away? 

“just the way you are,” he hums, shoulders lifting in another nonchalant shrug. “thought you’d have at least one filthy secret up in that pretty little head of yours, but… turns out you really are just a sweet little thing.” 

“i’m sorry, when did i start giving off the impression that you knew me, or that i wanted you to?” 

“i’ve always liked a challenge,” he pushes back, his large hands curling around the balance beam nearest to him, leaning over it like he was physically crossing the line that divided you both. “especially when they’re all dolled up like you are.” 

you decide, then, like a split second, rash decision, that the best method of dealing with him is to just ignore him. you bend at the knees to start to unzip your bag and pull loose your pointe shoes, and—

it’s almost indistinguishable. almost barely audible over the sound of her rifling around. but there it was; a sharp, guttural inhale. 

oh, jesus christ. “gonna have to give a man a little warning before you go getting on your knees for him,” his voice drawls, “not that i mind.” 

“i don’t even know your name,” you fire back, as if that’s the only comeback that you could even think of in your adrenaline-amped mind. he was getting to you, gnawing on your bones to the point of awareness, whittling you down. “and you’re standing there, accusing me of trying to—” 

“jensen,” he interrupts, his fingers tapping along the balance beam, trimmed nails scratching its wooden surface just enough for the sound to echo around the room, just like his voice. “and you never asked.” 

“i wasn’t ever planning on it,” you say, and you try to shoot him a glare from the ground, but all that does is make his eyes flare, bright and glimmering with something you didn’t even want to address. “was hoping you’d all be kicked out by now, so i never have to deal with you again.” 

his laugh is loud and echoing throughout the room, those dimples dipped into his cheeks as deep as his voice, the crinkles around his eyes only serving to make you angrier. 

“you would, huh? wish the worst for me?”

you don’t even dignify him with an answer. really, fueling whatever plan he had with following you in here was probably in your best interest. 

“don’t blame you,” he continues on anyways, as you’re kicking off your tennis shoes and lacing up the pointes, “i’d run for the hills too.” 

there’s something about how he says it, though, in that soft voice so at odds with the deep, rough one he usually bore, that makes you pause. not because you want to give him any more attention than he’s already gotten from you, but because of something far more concerning.  you didn’t want to run.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

[darkmold]

BG3 characters + mundane parenting because I’m mental illness coded

Warnings: babies I guess, it’s not specified how they and Tav acquired the baby (could’ve been theft), I liked this lemme know if anyone wants an npc edition, got depressed on Karlach’s entry oops-

Astarion

He requires very little sleep, so he’s typically on nightshift with the baby. If the little one fusses, he’d rather be the one to handle it than have his poor, tired partner wake up. Sometimes if the baby is being particularly clingy or petulant, he’ll take one of that week’s sewing projects into the nursery to keep himself entertained while he sits by their crib. Sewing project is usually a new garment for the baby- they grow too fast to keep up with.

Halsin

Halsin has wanted kids for so long but never allowed himself to settle down. You know he’s never putting that baby down. Carries them in a sling all day long sometimes just because he’s so thrilled to be a papa. It’s an honor to show them the world.

He would never pass up a chance to spend time with them. He knew having children would be require effort, and he’s fully prepared to be active.

Gale

When his partner is out and he’s left with the baby, he quickly realizes he’s not half as good at getting them to stop crying as they are. He tries everything that usually works- bouncing, feeding, changing, etc., but soon finds that the quickest way to soothe them is by using his voice. Gale runs out of things to say, which results in him carrying the baby around the tower and just explaining various objects.

“See? The metal points are called the ‘hands’. The big hand represents how many minutes have passed, and the little hand represents how many hours have passed…”

Wyll

Reads to his child every night. It was rare that Ulder had the time to, but he remembers his nursemaid reading to him frequently. It’s important to him that his baby get that experience. Plus, maybe it will encourage them to read more when they’re older? There are lots of good stories out there including the ones about their cool dad

Karlach

Keeps to tradition any chance she gets. She wants her kids to grow up like she did- with family gatherings, and sun melon slices, and stupid inside jokes. She wants her babies to know what home feels like. One day, the memory might be all they have left.

Some of her favorite memories growing up were of birthdays. They didn’t have a lot of money for presents, but her dad always baked sweet rolls, which is one tradition she’s not giving up on anytime soon.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Sticking Noses Where They Don't Belong

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Previous Part - Internal Conflict

Summary - The batfamily starts to dig into Bruce’s personal life.

Warnings - Mentions of canon typical violence, implied/referenced character death and mention of injuries. If I missed anything, lmk!

Taglist - Taglist at the end of the fic, reminder that this is the only taglist I have. If you would like to be added/removed feel free to message me!

A/N - I know it's been another long break between updates, inspiration has been lacking, but good news is that the next part should be up toward the end of this month or at the very start of next month!

Word Count - 1.6k

Sunlight streamed into the clocktower through the large clockface. Gears turned as the pendulum swung back and forth. The ticking filled the silence that hung over the three people crowded in front of the computer screen. On the screen were a list of different files. All of them included various evidence and documents that pertained to different cases that Bruce had worked on solo. 

They were all alphabetically listed and most of them had a tick next to them. An indication of a successfully closed case. The ones that didn’t either had [OPEN] next to their names, for the ones that were still being actively looked in to. While others had a cross. An indication of a case that had run cold and was no longer a priority, for the time being. All of the cold cases could be counted on one hand because of the effort Bruce had always put into them. Doing his best to make sure no stone was left unturned. Even if that meant weeks or months of sleepless nights and neglecting everything else.

Barbara, as well as Dick and Tim, were familiar with all of them except one. It had been hidden to them at first. It was hiding as a subcategory within one of the completed files. It would have gone completely unnoticed unless someone was purposely looking for it. Which they hadn’t been until Tim had spotted the incredible small arrow.

Within that subcategory was a single folder. It was marked with a bat symbol and had a lock on it. They had already made several attempts to get into the case file. Their final attempt warning them that another failed attempt would send out an alert and lock the system down. 

The only reason they had even gone looking into the folders in the first place was because of Tim. He had seen Superman bring back an unconscious Bruce, stating Harley was the cause for the state that he was in. Several days later, once Bruce was awake and talking, he had overheard the conversation he had shared with Superman. He had been asking about someone. Whoever it was, they had been with him when got injured and that had led him to wondering if there was a case that none of them knew about. 

“What about the case it’s attached to?” Dick asked. “Could there be any connection?”

“Maybe, let’s see,” Barbara replied. She backed out of the subcategory and opened up the file it was attached to. 

Even if they weren’t working closely with Bruce, just the name would have them knowing the exact contents. Everyone in Gotham, and even outside of Gotham, knew. It had circulated in the news and online circles for months. 

CASEFILE - SLAUGHTERHOUSE 

They had all seen a lot of things in their line of work that had made their stomachs churn, but this case was one of the worse. In terms of blood, guts and gore, that was. Describing it as gruesome felt like an understatement.

The night had started with a breakout at Arkham. Joker had been silent for months so, in a way, it had been expected. The months leading up to it being the calm before the storm. And like every time he got out, it had been all hands on deck. 

They had started out by checking all of his usual haunts. As crazy as he was, he still remained a creature of habit. Well, most of the time anyway. And there were a lot of his various safehouses scattered across the city. 

It was in the funhouse in the abandoned amusement park that they had finally found a clue. Signs of a struggle. Blood on the floor, a couple of teeth and a smear of that makeup the clown was so fond of. It hadn’t taken the World’s Greatest Detective to figure out who had attacked him so brazenly. 

Harley Quinn. 

She had vanished shortly after her very, very violent, breakup with Joker. A breakup that had almost taken half the city with it. Bruce had spent months looking for her afterwards, concerned of another attack from her considering her ex was still alive and he was sure she would do whatever she had to in order to lure him out.

By the time that Bruce had found out where she was headed with him, it had been too late. At the exact moment that he had run into the slaughterhouse, Harley had shoved Joker into the one of the machines. Over the sounds of the machines running, his screams had been heard, echoing through the building until they fell silent for good.

Harley had managed to escape and disappear while Bruce had emptied his stomach of what little he had eaten before the news of the Arkham breakout. But not before she had made a mess of the Gotham Zoo in order to steal the two hyenas kept there. 

No one had seen her since. Well, until a few days ago when Clark had brought back an unconscious and injured Bruce and Diana had dropped off an unconscious Harley, right on Arkham’s doorstep. While the hyenas had been sent to a sanctuary. 

“We know that Harley’s involved with whatever is on that file. The question is who was with Bruce? It wasn’t Clark or Diana. He wouldn’t ask for their help with dealing with Harley and we know, from the conversation Tim overheard, that he wasn’t by himself. So who was with him?” Dick said, thinking aloud. 

They stood there for a while, trying to think of who could have been with him that night. All they had was a long list of people he wouldn’t work with outside of League duties, for various reasons and excuses. 

“What about one of the League’s newest member?” Tim piped up. “You know, the last set of people they inducted in. It’s been a while since they last did it so the list shouldn’t be too long.” 

“It’s worth a shot,” Dick agreed.

Tim had been correct. The list wasn’t very long. A total of six people had joined during the last induction. Atom. Black Lightning. Doctor Fate. Blue Beetle. Zatanna. And you.

Your file stood out amongst the rest. It was completely neutral. Just facts. None of the comments or remarks or observations that Bruce usually included. It was completely devoid of them. Which was suspicious. Really suspicious. 

It wasn’t the only thing that stood you. There was no personal details anywhere. Not even a remark about your identity, like he had once done during his early years and had first met Selina or run into Riddler. In the boxes that should have had that information there was just question marks. It didn’t even look like there was an attempt to look into you and find out who you were. Which didn’t sound like Bruce at all. Not with his level of paranoia. Especially when it came to strangers. And even more so when those strangers were being considered for the Justice League.

Dick quirked an eyebrow and leant forward onto the desk, as if that would show him something that wasn’t there. The only information there was were the things that you had done before and after joining the League and your skill set. So it wasn’t like he had forgotten to upload things to the secure cloud that Barbara’s system and the Batcomputer shared. 

“Unless he saved the rest of the information locally, this doesn’t make any sense,”  Barbara muttered.

As they got to the very end of the file, there was one tiny that only served to confuse them further. 

Would make a good addition to the Justice League.

“He never does something without a reason. Even if it’s a really bad reason,” Tim trailed off. If there was one thing that Bruce was good at, it was making bad decisions and backing them up with an even worse defence.

With their search through Bruce’s files ending in what they had all considered to be somewhat of a failure, Dick decided to grab his suit and headed for the Watchtower. Maybe he would find some answers there. Or he would just end up with more questions. That was a running theme when it came to Bruce. 

The Watchtower was quiet for the most part. The only Leaguers he ran into were Red Tornado and Hal. He thought about asking them before deciding against it. The last thing that he needed was for it to get back to Bruce about what he and the others were up to. That would certainly bring their investigation to an end if it did.

As Dick was headed toward where he knew Bruce’s lab was, he overheard a couple of voices. Bruce’s and a woman’s. They were hushed. Doing their best to not be overheard. They were also muffled thanks to the closed door. Which made it impossible to make out what was being said.

He continued to creep along the hallway, while also doing his best to not look super suspicious at the same time. He froze when the door opened. You walked out with Bruce at your side. The pace was a slow one. The way that you were holding your side showed that you were very clearly injured. Bruce stayed close to you. Not close enough that he was touching you, but close enough that if you stumbled or something he could easily catch you long before you hit the floor.

Dick watched as the two of you walked down the hallway and he decided to head back the way that he had come from. He still had more questions than answers, but if Bruce caught on to their little investigation they wouldn’t get any answers full stop. For now, he could at least report his findings to the others and they could continue digging deeper at a later date.

*

Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @callalily2000 @geminicinderella @theclassicvinyldragon @aniya7 @bluebear19 @jdream55 @x-ratedhimbo @sketchiethebear @wandalfnation

[dullgecko]

Fabian has a pretty strict rule about no fighting at his parties while drunk (he’s learned extensively from his dads crew that fighting while drunk can lead to a lot of people not involved getting hurt, especially when it involves weapons, which a lot of the people at his parties have)

He has broken that rule before exactly once, when some dude had been hitting on Riz (who was very used to this at Fabian’s parties, for reasons Riz could not wrap his head around people seemed to find him very attractive) and was not taking no for an answer, long story short the dude had grabbed at Riz’s neck, Riz scratched him and ran away to hide in Fabian’s room, texted the group chat what had happened, and approximately five seconds Fabian was beating the shit out of the dude after he refused to apologize

Fig shut down the party immediately after so they could take care of Riz, who was having a full blown panic attack (it was bad enough when his friends used do it while he was sober, having some rando drunk dude do it while he was also not fully sober set him off), and it took like an hour of watching a bad spy movie in what could only be described as a nest for him to calm down

Riz was very alarmed by Fabian’s face (the guy had managed to get a few good punches in, Fabian was very drunk) when he finally calmed down, Fabian had been cuddling with Riz so intently that Kristen couldn’t get him to put him down so she could heal him

(Needless to say the guy ended up at Mumple two days later)

Look, Riz would be the first one to admit that he might have been a bit rude to the guy when he didn't take the hint he wasn't interested the first two times. The rogue was trying to de-stress for once so he was a little drunk, and as a direct consequence his brain-to-mouth filter that usually stopped him from being quite so much of an asshole to people that were annoying him had shut down about half an hour ago.

He wasn't completely oblivious to people trying to flirt with him, he just usually pretended he was because it was offputting and would usually weird them out and make them stop after a while. This guy was persistant though and kept handing him more and more alchohol as the night went on, all of which got tossed into a nearby potted plant with just a little bit of sleight of hand because Riz could tell he was trying to get him hammered.

Riz had tried to disengage himself from the conversation about a dozen times by this point, not trying to be rude in case he did something to fuck up Kristens campaign, but the guy had followed him to another room and had crouched to box the goblin into a corner and continue chatting with him. It was getting weird, the guy clearly had a bit a goblin fetish, and when Riz decided to be less polite in his efforts to turn him down again the guy had snapped. Darting their hand out to grab the rogue and pin him against a wall because they were just chatting and he should give him a chance.

If they'd grabbed him by the shoulder rather than the neck it would have been fine, sure he would have been pissed and scratched him anyway but he might not have been quite so vicious about it. Fabian had been on the receiving end of one of Riz's ptsd flashbacks the first time it happened and the goblin had nearly blinded him and he liked the half elf. This guy though? The rogue was not pulling his punches the instant his hand touched his throat and went straight for the jugular with his claws.

The noise Riz made when he struck him was downright furious, an animalistic snarl in the back of his throat in comparison to the wet gasping noises currently being made by the orc teenager now crumpled on the floor. The rogue taking the oportunity to misty-step part-way out of the room before dashing to find a place to hide.

There had been enough clerics in the room that the guy had been healed before Riz even made it out the door, something that he only half noted in his flight because the idiot was able to breath well enough to call him some rather choice slurs before he was out of earshot. Riz accidentally left more than one bloody hand print on the handrail of the stairs as he made a beeline for the one place none of the party go-ers would be able to get to him. The rogue trying very hard not to hyperventilate as he slammed the door to Fabians room behind him and locked it from the inside.

He really didn't do well with people grabbing him by the neck, not after Killian killed him that way, and the smell of the blood on his shirt and hand was just making the panic even worse. But he still managed to dig his crystal out of his pocket when it started buzzing frantically.

There must have been plenty of witnesses to his freakout because it didn't take long for his crystal to start blowing up with texts. Starting with his friends asking if he'd attacked someone, then why, then apparently incredibly worried about him when they noticed bloody goblin handprints left behind from his paniced fleeing from the scene.

Riz could already feel himself on the edge of a full blown panic attack but his crystal wasn't going to stop blowing up until he answered. He didn't want to think about it but he needed to let them know what happened.

//Creep was hitting on me. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Grabbed me by the throat when i tried to leave... hiding now. Don't want to talk. Sorry.//

The goblin ended up ditching his shirt, vest and tie (too tight on his neck, need to change into something loose) on the floor of Fabians bathroom, scrubbing his hand and arm clean before stealing one of the fighters shirts and crawling under his bed to hide. The ridiculously silky duvet getting dragged underneath with him so he could cram himself into the corner against the wall and try not to hyperventilate too badly.

He wasn't doing a very good job of calming himself down, the roar of his heartbeat in his ears so loud that he didn't notice the door to Fabians room opening and closing as someone came in some time later. He DID however notice when someone shuffled under the bed with him, finding the edge of the blanket to half-crawl inside his bolt hole with him and grab him by the leg.

It was almost pitch-black in his little nest but his dark vision was good enough that he could see Fabian with total clarity as he crawled further inside until he was tucked up next to the goblin. Riz's ears flicking up in surprise and momuntarily stalling his panic attack when he noticed the quickly purpleing bruise on the fighters cheek. His concern for his friend overriding the part of his brain that was freaking out as he pivoted to fussing over the half elf instead.

"Fabian what the fuck happened?"

"Oh I beat up an orc, 'nd now ''m coming to check on you." Fabian grinned, though it was obvious he was very drunk by the slurring of his speech and the drooping of his ears. "Parties over. Fig 'n Gorgug are tossin' everyone out."

"Ah." The rogue blinked, rubbing a hand gently around the bruising and wishing he had some healing magic. "Gods he got you good."

"Y'should see the other guy." Fabian looked rather pleased with himself, shifting to wrap his arms around the goblin and use his stomach as a pillow. The action making Riz huff as the half elfs weight squished him slightly.... though it was making him feel a bit better. Like an overly warm weighted blanket.

[tobiasdrake]

Here we go, it's Ranma time. Episode 5! The introduction to Ryoga continues.

God, I love how mournfully quiet this is.

This is what happens when women write women. Male writers don't often think about things like just how much a long-haired girl's hair means to her. Akane's been growing that out for years.

Look at how little she was when she started growing her hair. That is the product of years. Many years. Gone in an instant.

But she rolls with the punches. Akane has remarkable emotional fortitude. She'd kind of have to in order to survive all the shit she's had to put up with in her day-to-day life.

I love that they leave so much unstated, yet clearly implied, about the way her long hair relates to her longstanding crush on Dr. Tofu. When she says she wants to grow it out so she can be like Kasumi, there's an implication there that she thinks Dr. Tofu will like her more if she has Kasumi's hairstyle.

She's trying to walk in her big sister's shoes so that the man who likes her big sister might look her way. An idea that was doomed from the moment of its conception. She was never going to beat Kasumi at being Kasumi, and if she has to try, then she's already failed.

The manga's a bit more explicit about this, as Kasumi directly tells Baby Akane that Dr. Tofu won't like her very much if she keeps acting like a boy. From that, she draws the conclusion that having hair like Kasumi will make him like her more. But the reboot anime keeps it implied and understated.

So there's a lot going on here when Akane breaks down and cries into Dr. Tofu's chest. This is the end of an era. The loss of her hair symbolizes the death of a child's dream. The end of her efforts to be more like Kasumi so that this man would like her better, and the beginning of a new era where someone else out there will like her for being Akane.

While also demonstrating how much she leans on and depends on Dr. Tofu as a stabilizing figure in her life. She feels safe enough with him to finally let down her walls and cry out the grief over her lost hair, in a way she doesn't have at school or at home. Ironically mourning the death of her pursuit of him to him.

My dude, you desperately need to get a hobby. Supervillains are more considerate. Giving some real Vegeta energy here, but specifically the TeamFourStar kind.

And also the Tendo home desperately needs to get some door locks because he just strolled right on in here to do this.

And they both get punished for this.

Story of Ranma's life.

Takahashi's comedy remains incredible. Kasumi objects to Akane going out there not because she doesn't think Akane can take the mystery robber but because she wants Akane to hit him with something heavier.

I want that too. So Kasumi and I are on the same page.

She does, too. Nails Ryoga right in the back of the neck with a long-range shotput throw of that fucking barbell. Akane wins Ranma v. Ryoga, Round 2.

The moral of the story is to... not... do... anything that Ryoga did here.

...or, really, anything that Ryoga ever does. Don't be like Ryoga. That's sound life advice. (Not that the rest of the cast is any better.)

Immediately followed by Kasumi with another punchline. Man, I did not remember how funny she is.

Akane's rematch with Ryoga goes super well too. She is on fire.

Sincerely want to know what could possibly have possessed him to think jumping Akane while in piglet form was a good idea.

So begins the saga of P-chan.

AND ALL FOR BREAD AND BREAD-RELATED PRODUCTS

My dude.

The curry bun was not worth it.

Like.

Like. The part where Ranma knocked Ryoga into the piggy spring without noticing and then Genma tried to fucking eat him? Yeah. I can see being homicidally mad about that.

But he didn't even know that was them until literally this scene. Everything up to this point has been Ryoga blaming Ranma because he, Ryoga, stalked Ranma to China to avenge his curry bun.

Speaking of Genma.

I love how he just walks in on his son in girly form having Naked Bath Time with some random boy, and his response is to just... apologize and peace out. Whatever this is, it's none of his business.

Actually, not just any random boy. Specifically the random boy that got Ranma in trouble earlier tonight when he snuck into their bedroom for a late-night call.

Genma definitely thinks these two are up to shenanigans.

Literally the only member of her family that actually objects to Ranma sneaking into Akane's room late at night to do shenanigans to her (read: trying to fucking extract Ryoga from an unsuspecting Akane's bed) is Kasumi. Who merely scolds Ranma for moving too fast.

Is it any wonder she doesn't feel safe being emotionally vulnerable at home?

(Seriously, though, there is so much drama that could be avoided if Ranma would just tell Akane that P-chan is Ryoga. She has a right to know that, and not telling her makes Ranma complicit in Ryoga's shittiness.)

[makingspiritualityreal]

I had an interesting conversation with my friend recently and she claims my observations were valuable and should be shared with others.

The context of the conversation was from a phenomenon that we can see on social media recently that criticizes “nice people” and says that “they don’t get what they want” while “bad people get their way”. I have seen many pseudo spiritual teachers preach something similar, but all that it does is preys on people’s anger and resentment and has nothing to do with truly figuring out the vibration of the Universe.

The Universe responds to the frequency of our true intentions and is aware of the truth in all situations, thus it can’t be tricked. And from that comes a very important realization, that being “nice” is not equal to being good.

The other important truth is that this Universe operates within a certain harmony and is not kept forever “out of check”. Thus, it is impossible to infinitely commit destructive actions with no reaction from our environment.

Most people are nice habitually, but it is an action directed at social adherence, devoid of depth of feeling. How many of us can really say that they wake up with a genuine feeling of goodness in their hearts every day, even in difficult situations? It is not only impossible, it is not required of us. If we polled a “vibrational” monthly average there are people out there with foundational goodness of character, but sadly so few of them compared to those who are simply superficially nice. And for those who radiate genuine goodness, it always ultimately comes back in some form. Those who are only “nice” on the surface but sulk about how bad life is to them are dishonest about the true motivations of their character.

The discernment about people called “bad” is necessary, because very few human beings are genuinely bad people. People are complex and have different aspects to their personality. Someone can be a very successful worker and make a lot of money but treat people in their personal life poorly, and their life will ultimately reflect that. This is the problem with the perception of “bad” behaviors - their seeming victories are short lived. You will see that while up until a certain age these kind of people have enough energy to keep repeating their mistakes, they never gain any long term payoff from their bad behavior.

To show you an example, this is the reason why totalitarian leaders ultimately fail and face opposition, because while they power they way through short term victories, they don’t achieve long term respect, as it would require a certain integrity, so the opposition they attract makes them fail.

Genuine goodness is something very fragile, hard to build and easy to shatter. It requires effort and self discipline, yet gives unique results. It is irrational to say that people who don’t work on themselves at all will get the same results as people who refine their character on a regular basis.

If you need an example to put this in perspective, think of a relationship you have with someone, that is bound by negative attachment. Most of us are born with certain difficult karmas, so we go through at least one such experience in this lifetime. You may be temporarily bound to them, you may be afraid or unable to escape them, but if someone has not been good to you, they have shattered your genuine love for them a long time ago. Love and attachment is not the same, and once good feelings between people are destroyed, you can’t really manipulate your way out of it, as deep inside a person’s heart something is irrevocably changed.

That’s why goodness and trust is so rare and so precious. Because, unlike what the modern media tries to tell us, there is really no cheat code to bypass the truth and the effort required to create something genuine. Being good is not about weakness, it’s about hard work, and few people really achieve it.