#so sorry this got a little wordy!! i tried to read up on all things shining & the trade as a whole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

4K notes · View notes

uncouth-the-fifth · 4 months

Text

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. bloody mary, rough draft.

read it on ao3.

words: 6k notes: hi y'all! yes, you read that chapter title right - this is a little unconventional, but since I've unfortunately shifted hyperfixations and have drifted away from SPN, I thought I would post what I have for the next part of pythia. since I'm moving into resident evil land, I'm not sure if I'm going to come back to this fic—but I absolutely didn't want to leave you guys empty-handed!! I'm so so sorry that this fic will go unfinished (for now), and I'm so grateful to those who were along for the ride with me. I have so much love for all the people who motivated me through writing this fic. all of you are beyond kind!! and I hope you enjoy this dose of pythia content, featuring some of my notes and process-work, lol. I only had a few heavy chunks of the beginning written, but the prose for this chap (ironically) started to get into the meat of what I really wrote this fic for—psychic bullshit between reader and Sam. It was just too plain juicy to not share!! All of my spn fics will remain up, but if you keep up with me, expect lots of Leon Kennedy bullshit and tomfoolery. Again - thank you so much for your endless love and support, I had so much fun writing what I could of season one!! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this unfinished chunk of silly/ansty Christmas drama :)

EAU CLAIRE, WISCONSIN - Dec 21st, evening.

Sam drops the stack of glossy, brand-new legal pads into his lap, and flashes his brother a plain smile. “Thanks, Dean. I needed more of these.” From your spot seated on the living room rug, you twist your rings and wait for Dean’s witty reply. With all those notes you’re always makin', Sammy, I’ll hafta buy you some for New Years, too. You wait for him to make a crack about the gift he got Sam, something about diaries or his brother’s girly handwriting.

Instead, Dean shrugs, “Well, then there ya go.”

Voila. And with that, the feeble threads you’d tried to braid into a proper Christmas are cut. Without a word, your Mom picks up the little wooden jewelry case the three of you had thrifted her and recedes into the dark hallways of the house. Dean peels himself out of his seat to clean up. Sam sighs, picking at the plastic seal around his legal pads. Hilariously, this all plays out while Paul McCartney chimes about what wonderful Christmastime he’s been having from the radio in your kitchen.

Technically, you hadn’t just been celebrating Christmas. No, you managed to completely bomb both Christmas and the sacred Winter Solstice sabbat that the Proctors had been celebrating for a bajillion fucking years. The special sabbat that would have a real spiritual effect on you for the next couple months.

You’d given it a good ol’ college try. First, you’d painstakingly picked out gifts for the boys and your Mom. Good ass gifts, too, that you’d been hiding in your duffle since summertime. Hell, you’d been looking for the Eagles album you bought for Dean in tape form for at least two years. (Cool, Dean had said, half alive in his armchair after your chupacabra hunt in Illinois. He was at the ugly front end of a cold. He’d sniffled, Don’t have this one.) And knowing that this would be Sam’s first Christmas without Jess—the one person who had given him any kind of good holiday when he was away from home—you’d poured extra love into his gift, too.

He’d been begging you to read Frankenstein since high school, and you’d dodged it because sometimes books that pushed too far into the “classics” category could lose you. Mary Shelley got a little wordy at times. But you were a big girl with a big brain, so you’d read the whole thing for Sam… and annotated the whole thing for Sam…

He’d taken one look at your labor of love and murmured, “Good. Glad you read it.”

…Yeah. You had half a mind to check if he’d been replaced by a clone, hearing that. Fifteen-year-old Sam would have melted into a babbling, ecstatic mess if someone had carefully combed through one of his favorite books and shared their thoughts on it with him. Bare minimum, you figured he’d at least enjoy having his own copy of Shelley’s work. All his other books had been lost in the fire.

But you’d given the book to a Sam who was twenty-two, not fifteen. Fine. People changed.

The boys being a collective bummer was something you could deal with. Sam was always sullen around the holidays, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Dean for being exhausted after a stressful hunt. But your Mom…

Beth used to make Yule her bitch. When you were a kid, come December 1st, the Proctor House could easily have been the center of all Wicca celebrations in the world. If working retail during the holidays tested one’s love for festive music, then the non-stop winter songs bouncing off Beth’s vinyl player would’ve made Santa beg to hear something else. Every room would gush with the smell of evergreen branches and holly. Your family’s altar, the home of all the love and joy for the season, would be lush with offerings and presents. The candles you lit as a family to welcome the light of the new year would glow in a neat row—your little silver candle, your mother’s tall red one… and the biggest. Your Dad’s.

Now, your Dad’s candle was tucked away with the rest of the unused decorations in the attic. From your spot on the floor, you couldn’t help but stare at your piss-poor excuse for a family altar. Beth hadn’t “had the time” to find the table runner your great-grandmother had embroidered just for that space. The small bouquet of mistletoe you’d brought sat pathetically on the wide, barren surface, framed by your family’s dollar-store candles: silver for you, red for Mom, and twin green candles for the boys.

It was stupid. Really, you shouldn’t have cared so much. You were almost twenty-five, and the older you got the less people cared about silly, trivial things like a single holiday out of the year. That was just a fact of life.

Still, an ugly ball of bitterness sat in your gut. She couldn’t have tried to decorate? Even out on the road, you’d still found ways to make today a little special for the people you loved. Did she really have such little strength left in her? You’d dragged the boys up to Wisconsin with you so your Mom didn’t have to be alone. Was it really that impossible, after eleven whole years without your Dad, to try and be happy?

Fuck this. Yule isn’t over yet. There’s still time for you to squeeze some life out of today, and you’re going to start straight at the source. You find your Mom in the kitchen, mindlessly swiping invisible crumbs off pristine counters. When she senses you paused behind her in the kitchen doorway, clutching in both hands the gift she got you this year, the radio suddenly needs to be toyed with. Then cleaned. There are gray strands in her hair that shine like tinsel in the low kitchen light.

“Hey,” you say, your voice bright and christmas-card perfect. “I don’t think I got to say thank you for the gift.” (You did. More than once already.) “It’s been a bit since I read this one.” The gift in question is your Dad’s second edition print of The Shining. It’s even older than you are, with soft, petal-thin pages that reek of that wonderful old book musk. Rolling the flexed and cracked paperback between your hands, your Gift automatically picks up the distant echo of the hands that had touched these pages when they were new.

When you were little, you’d always found it kind of strange that your Dad considered this book his favorite. He was a sweet, soft-spoken person, and the mental image of him indulging in uncensored horror novels didn’t mesh with the Ray preserved in your head. Having since grown up and read it for yourself, you understood that it was less about the gore of the Overlook and more about “the shine;” the array of psychic abilities that kept five-year-old Danny Torrance alive through the book.

Years of having book-club with Sam had trained you to form cultivated opinions about the stuff you read, but The Shining existed in a realm that made it hard for you to describe how you felt about it. See, you had Danny Torrance’s shine—on the same level, too, enough shine to power the decades of ghostly ballroom parties and mob conspiracies inside the Overlook for a century. Seeing your Gift put onto a page so nakedly and cinematically made you uncomfortable. Yet, feeling the weight of your father’s book in your hands, standing in the kitchen he hasn’t touched in a decade, you know that it must’ve comforted him. Back then, surrounded by a psychic mother-in-law, girlfriend, and daughter, it would've been impossible to survive without a little shine of his own. You’re sure that your Dad's Gift was faint and unimpressive next to the psychic blackholes of your Mom and Grandma. Just enough to know if you’d skinned your elbow or had a nightmare. On the days that you came home from school tear-streaked and ruddy-faced, Dad would be waiting on the porch with soup.

You can still feel the faint psychic imprint of one of his whiskery kisses on your face. You don’t have many vivid impressions of him left to feel; none that haven’t been rubbed again and again, like the hollow of a fingerprint smoothed into the face of a rock over time.

Your Mom gives a non-committal hum at your attempt at conversation. Not because she doesn’t care—you can feel how much she cares from across the room—but because she’s tired. Adult Tired, like when she’d turn down your pleas to play together as a kid. Not tonight, baby. Momma’s exhausted.

“Mom,” you say, sounding as glossy and clean as a brand-new cookie tin. You open your mouth to say more, maybe to start in on one of your long-winded book-rants that had everyone wondering where Sam had suddenly appeared from. You know the answer, but you ask anyway, “This was one of Dad’s favorite books, right? I vaguely remember him talking about the hedge animals.” Beth accidentally hits a button as she’s dragging a rag over the shiny front of the radio, forcing Paul McCartney to have yet another wonderful Christmastime. She doesn’t look at you.

“Yup. But you knew that already, honey.”

C’mon. Nothing? She won’t even throw you the smallest, most pathetic olive branch? A psychic battle occurs. You get so frustrated all at once that your throat closes up, and that frustration balloons out into your family kitchen like the expansion of a bomb. You push. There is no give. The bubbling stormcloud of grief and loss hanging around Mom is there, then it’s not. The side of the kitchen your mother stands on is suddenly a void of absolute nothingness, empty of any feeling whatsoever, good or bad. She’s cutting you off from reading her—and protecting herself from your explosive emotions, as per usual.

Beth keeps cleaning the radio, her back to you.

Your rage bubbles out of you all at once. One day! One day out of the entire fucking year, the day your Dad always made special, and she can’t even pull herself together for that. You know you should be a good daughter and empathize with the woman who made you, but you’ve been a good daughter about this since you were twelve years old. Eleven Yules have gone by since your Dad passed. Just for one measly moment, you want to talk about him like he’s not a corpse rotting in the living room.

And the worst part is that Mom knows that. She’s known you’ve felt that way all day, a slow-bubbling pot building to a boil across the room. The two of you can always feel each other. You’re the only two who can; she’s the only other radio tower that can receive your station in its purest quality, and yet she has the gall to shut all her signals down.

“Fine!” You burst out, making the conversation physical.

It should feel good to yell, really. After the slow, ungratifying day you’ve had, you’ve been a shaken soda bottle waiting to implode. Instead, since you’re the crazy person yelling at nothing for no reason in the kitchen, your anger booms out of you and fizzes out in the same breath like a faulty firework. Fine. Fuck all of this. If you can’t beat em’, join em’. If everyone’s determined to rot the day away, then you’ll go wallow in self-pity the Proctor-Winchester way, too. Merry fucking Christmas, and a happy fucking Yule.

There is no satisfying door to slam on your way out of the kitchen. You take a sharp right down the front hall, hoping to veer up the stairs and slam your feet down on every single step up to your room. If your Mom wants to live forever in the year your Dad died, by all means—you’ll even bring home your thirteen-year-old self and her childish tantrums, just for time-accurate ambiance. Sam’s standing frozen just outside the kitchen archway, and you catch his deer-in-headlights look as you go peeling around the corner. You’re still keyed up with enough lashing rage to spare, so seeing him, just as hollowed-out and not there as your Mom, only feeds your pyre.

As you get to work thoroughly stomping the staircase to death, you hear him go into the kitchen and ask Beth about soup for Dean’s sore throat.

Upstairs is even more painfully quiet. Through the floor, Paul McCartney muffles down to a cheery mumble. All old houses shift around a little, but yours settles like it's alive, clicking, creaking, swaying. You don’t look at the portraits of Proctor women up the stairwell. The dusty grandfather clock in the hall watches you with its stained glass face, and you’re so lost in your own head—

—and Dad’d be so pissed we didn’t decorate the altar or listen to the Tull Christmas album, he’d riot, he’d talk some sense into her—wouldn’t think any of this is stupid— —that you don’t hear it when it chimes. Muscle memory plants you right in front of your bedroom door. Having a good cry under the covers sounds like a perfect end to the night, right? And yet you stop. Your hand drops on the knob and stays there, unmoving. Maybe it’s your Gift, or good old-fashioned human instinct knowing when something in the home has been nudged two inches to the left, but the air in the hall tastes staler than usual. A draft? Your gaze is pulled all the way down to the opposite end of the hall, where the untouched, stately storage room door is ajar.

Your Mom probably left it open. Maybe she’d gone in there to hunt around for all the heirloom Yule decorations, only to rediscover Dad’s football memorabilia or Dad’s engraved cigarette case and go bolting out of the room. —everything’s different without him, Sam and Mom and Dean too. So am I. Everything’s twisted—without him— Still riding the whirlwind, you stomp from one end of the yellowing, starry zodiac carpet (Aries) to the other (Pisces), the floorboards squeaking under your weight. You push the door and it goes shuddering into the darkness. This was one of many rooms in the house that Mom had banished you from as a kid, mostly as a way to shoo you away from the hunting world. It’d given you this insatiable fascination with it as a result, but when you tug the chain to turn on the closest lamp, what it illuminates doesn’t come close to the spectacular stories you’d made up in your head.

It’s just a room. It has windows and shelves and old things, some from your childhood, some from your Mom’s. Some from even further back than that. The closest fascinating thing is a shiny gold blob poking out of your baby things, which turns out to be Sam’s eighth-grade mathlete trophy. You had no idea what possessed Mom to come up here so often. There was no way she wasn’t in here at least a couple times a week; the tall metal storage shelf where she immortalized your Dad’s things was never dusty, and yet the whole room reeked of rotting books and insulation. You shove the box with Sam’s trophy aside with your foot until it skids out of your way, and then send the heavy door shut behind you with a wall-shaking bang.

A flurry of dust hails down from the ceiling. You cough through the cloud, wandering in your blindness towards the neat row of plastic storage tubs labeled with your Dad’s name. Clothes. Misc. Books. Maybe that’s where Mom had gotten your new copy of The Shining from, halfway through one of her sacred meditations over Dad’s things. You drop a hand onto the cold lid of the tub. Nothing, not even the slightest psychic imprint, reaches back.

What is she even holding onto anymore? You try the clothes next. The rounded corners of this bin have been scuffed gray from how many times it’s been pulled off and then pushed back on its shelf, again and again. The case feels as lifeless to you as it would for anyone else, but you try your luck and slide it out onto the floor. It comes loose with a solid thud.

When you were old enough, Beth would sometimes send you up into this room to grab things (spell ingredients, books you didn’t keep downstairs). You would run full-tilt right up until you hit the storage room door, then pass inside like a stranger in a dangerous realm, watching where you stepped and always, always keeping your Dad’s shelf in the corner of your eye. On brave days you would pick up his silvery cigarette case and roll it between your palms. It grew harder and harder to feel him each time, the ghost of him whittled down like a rock made round by the current of a river.

When you crack off the lid, you expect some kind of smell. You don’t remember what he smelled like, but you have a few guesses—cheap, vanilla-sweet aftershave, or maybe the woody stale smell of cigarette smoke you know you shouldn’t love. Maybe both. It doesn’t really matter. The neatly folded stacks of your Dad’s old shirts and jackets don’t smell like a damn thing. You dip your face into a holey band-shirt with the sleeves scissored off, but all that comes back to you is the rotten smell of dusty insulation. He’s here—he’s right here in front of you, right in your fucking hands, and yet the whole world is dead of him. You can’t sense even a sliver of him left.

The same old reservoir of despair pushes and pushes at your composure, wiggling through your cracks, widening them with a hundred thousand tons of pressure bearing down on you a minute. It is a day by day task to handle the reservoir. You like to think you’re good at handling it, at patching the cracks as they come and letting them breathe when the moment calls for it. But when you lift your face from the bin, the leak springs—really, genuinely springs, like it hasn’t in years.

You fall back onto your haunches, swallowing back sudden stinging tears. The bin and its askew lid go shrieking back onto the shelf with a lash of your foot.

The music downstairs stops. You can’t tell how long it’s been.

When his death was fresh, and you were stuck deep, deep within the reservoir, you’d wondered if it would always feel this way. It got easier, right? And in many ways it had—on most days you could talk about your Dad without it hurting, letting the dam’s water run. The battle was still there, but it was a burden you were proud to carry if it meant his memory lived on in you. He would want you to be happy, your Mom used to urge. So you gave being happy your best shot, loving and giving as much as you could.

That’s what frustrated you so endlessly about your Mom. She’d been right; your Dad would’ve wanted the two of you to move on, and yet she still entombed herself in the bottom of her reservoir far too often. There was no release, no acceptance with her. The dark part of you that wanted to pass blame wondered if this was all because of John, and how well Winchester grief happened to mingle with a Proctor’s. How would your mother’s life be different, if the evil that’d taken Dad hadn’t been put down a week later? Would she be just as hellbent? With your knees sore from pressing into the floor, you knew the answer. You knew if the thing that’d taken Sam or Dean from you was right in front of you, you’d chase it until you were in your own grave. You knew that even after it was dead, you would be digging your nails into the backseat of the Impala and clawing for every psychic molecule of them left in the leather.

And that’s what scared you—was she just going to be chasing Dad forever, til’ there wasn’t a wisp of him left in the world to feel?

Something dawns on you, thudding through your mind like a rock dropped down a chute. With limp hands, you slide The Shining towards you on the worn wood floor, part the pages with your thumbs, and press your nose into the binding. There’s the smoky, earthy scent of old paper first… then something just underneath the surface that no one but you and your Mom can pick up.

Old books. Yes. Yes, that’s what Dad had smelled like.

You’re seated on the floor of the storage room, back pressed to one of the ancient metal shelves holding up your gramma’s VCR collection, when a blot of the future is tossed at you. Cheap deodorant and lemon cough drops.

Around a minute later, the stairs beyond the door squeak under someone’s weight. Even without the roulette glimpse of the future, you can tell by the footfalls who it is. Heavy knuckles rap the door and come straight in without waiting for an answer. Behind him, the silence of the rest of the house is even heavier.

You try to sound like a reasonable adult, but the mopey teenager slips out anyway. “Thought you were sick, Dean.”

He artfully dodges your point. (Dean is, after all, a master of the craft.) You don’t look back at him, but the lemon cough-drops glimpse you got of him creates a clear picture: Dean’s whole body listing into the door frame, one hand on the knob, his face lacking its usual color. His cheeks have graduated from stubbly to scruffy, neglected. “Hey,” he says. It’s the, okay, you’re done cooling down, let’s have a grown-up conversation kind of hello.

You don’t know what to say back. You’re not sure if you can have any kind of conversation right now.

Dean rolls with it, trying to decide if this silence is begging for a subject change or a heart-to-heart. You’re not sure what he goes for when he says, “I had an idea.” “Did it hurt?” You joke. Jokes you can do.

There’s his opening. After a beat, you’re—

—fucking lobbed with a foam football. Like you’re fucking twelve. Dean’s throw arcs straight towards your head and bounces clean off the top, a perfect spiral. You yelp in outrage, and before you can think you’re following where the stupid ball went so you can clock him right in the face with it. Asshole. It loop-de-loops on the floor around an old dining chair, and you clamber on your knees to fish for it.

Just when you get the toy in your hands and you’re about to demolish him with it, Dean ducks behind the doorway, chuckling, “Woah! No face shots! You wouldn’t bash a poor, sick guy’s face in, would’ja?”

God. You can’t fucking believe him. If anyone else did that…

You lower your hackles and drop the foam toy into a basket, far out of reach of congested troublemakers. When his shining eyes appear in the slit of the doorway again, your cheeks are aching with an impossible smile. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, loser. What is it?”

Dean hesitates a moment more, just in case you’ve got something else to throw at him, then joins you in the storage room with the evil little oily smile you love. The same dust cloud that got you earlier descends on him in a rough coughing fit, but this lets him get a good look at the little mess you’ve made: the book on the floor, your Dad’s things open and askew. When he clears his throat for the last time, he looks pained.

For your sake, you pretend it’s an empathetic kind of pained. And you know that’s a part of it—Dean doesn’t enjoy seeing you and your Mom like this. But it’s an unfortunate fact of your life that you will have four times as much context for him than he will ever have for you. Just breathing the same dusty air as him, you know he’s been nursing a sinus headache since Monday, one that’s made his head feel like it’s chock-full of stuffing, and that Sam made him canned chicken noodle soup—and at first he felt a little smug making Sam play nurse, until he stewed on it more and—

—hate it when he gives me that dead-eyed look, like he can’t even pretend to care anymore. Like he’s just dragging himself through this for our sake. Poor kid scares the shit outta me. Is this how it’s always gonna be? Sammy aching over her, night after night after night—

You know just touching the bins holding your Dad’s things that on a icy February afternoon in 1994, fifteen-year-old Dean had picked up the plastic tubs for your Mom from the store.

So when he gives you that pained look, you know it’s part-concern, part-fear. If this is what you look like eleven years after your Dad’s passing… if John never comes home from his hunting trip, is this what Dean will become? The loyal son, waiting and waiting on that porch for a man who would never come home?

Your whole life, you’ve felt like you were becoming more and more like Dean; lately, it feels like he’s becoming so much like you. Your last four years on the road together had slowly but surely melded you together.

“Okay, so, Yule’s a fire festival, right?” Dean grasps around in his memory for the yearly history lesson your Mom gives about the Wicca calendar. “Uh, we lit candles… I thought about burning Beth’s Muppet Christmas CD with my lighter a couple times. That’s about all the fiery, burny-stuff we did today.”

“I love the Muppets Christmas album,” you pout.

“After the millionth partridge in John Denver’s goddamn pear tree, you’d change your mind,” Dean swears. “But I was thinkin’—we got the firepit in the backyard, marshmallows, and I think I could put together some vodka shots. Then we can blow em' out and eat em' with the s'mores.” Your eyebrows raise. Only he, of all people, could take your sacred family traditions and twist them into such a wonderful, stupid-ass thing. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but… there is chocolate and graham crackers downstairs… and with how cold it is outside, a fire would be perfect… It’s the best blend of weird Proctor-Winchester traditions you need to save Christmas and Yule. Dean takes your silence as glowing awe. “Exactly. I told you, I'm a fuckin' genius. Helluva way to start the wiccan year, right? You in?”

You’re well aware that this is an elaborate plan to coax you away from your moping. Still, it’s just too Dean to turn down. “...Hell yeah.”

At first R hopes that it’s just her and Dean, and that Sam and Beth keep their grief to themselves. But then she realizes how cruel and selfish she’s been—everyone grieves in their own way, and just because she works through it by talking about it doesn’t mean it will work for everyone. It’s not good that Beth is holding on so tightly to her loss, but that doesn’t mean R wants to leave them out.

Lead this into a touch of psychic!Dean and how he has a teeny tiny second sense for what she needs, just like her Dad did. Just enough shine to get by.

R and Dean come downstairs and invite Sam and Beth to their campfire 😀

Or, at the very least, all the psychic happenings in the house echoing between them; if Dean's sharper instincts were as psychically heavy as a shadow falling on grass, then Sam's Static was six feet of snow in an arctic blizzard.

It tingles all the way up to your shoulder when Sam touches you. And that, oh, that was a whole new can of worms. As they get dressed for the snow outside and assemble the s'mores and flaming shots, you try not to head down that train of thought again.

Every time you’ve glanced at Sam these past few weeks, you’d been unable to hide from what you’d sensed there—from what you’d seen in the demon, and what you now knew to be completely and utterly true after reading its mind.

Sam had It. The Gift, the Shining, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. Not the vague imprint of psychic-ness from loving one or sharing the Impala with one for four years; full-on, unlatched, REDRUM, I-saw-it-before-it-happened psychic abilities. In the weeks you'd had to sit with that revelation, you'd poked carefully at Sam from afar. Obviously, you knew what a fucking psychic felt like. The five-year-old Sam who'd cut Dean's gum out of your hair had not been psychic. Yet this Sam, twenty-two with three-fourths of an ivy league law degree under his belt, was as psychic as a fucking—well. You. He was just as psychic as you.

Without even a sliver of the same control or even understanding of—of what he had, yes, but you were confident that if Sam was pushed, he could reach into your mind just as easily as you could reach into his. There had been a shift, then. At six, having gum cut out of your hair, you had been decidedly less psychic than you were at twenty-four. So Sam had gone through the Proctor Rite Of Passage; some terrible moment had cut him deep, deep enough to pull a new kind of blood to the surface. After Jessica, he had been... yeah.

It was fucking crazy. And yet it also slotted perfectly into some of the weirder things you understood about Sam; about who he was now and the vague, strobing flashes you got of his future. It freaked you the fuck out. Did Sam know? Did anyone know, besides you? Had your Mom recognized that spark in Sam, the same way she'd seen it in you? Had John?

And the plain existence of the Gift in Sam begged the question—why? Had he just happened to drop from the tree as a different kind of apple? Or was this something you could trace back to his mother, the same way it traced back to yours? Had Mary…?

The implications of that took pretty much everything you understood about Sam and Dean’s life, lined it up on the chopping block, and cleaved it in two. Needless to say, thinking about it made you sick. How could you even begin to bring this up to them?

You cursed your abilities with all you had. There were nights when you sat on the bathroom floor, wishing you could dig in with your nails and rip out whatever had put It in your head. Never in a billion fucking years would you have wished It upon anyone else; especially not Sam, good, selfless, wonderful Sam, who already ached so deeply for other people. Seeing their future, too? And even more often, seeing it and being helpless to change it?

He used to cry over squashed spiders as a kid. You'd felt a whole lot more than just spiders die.

…Beside that shuddering horror was another, far more selfish feeling. As scary as the implications could be, when you thought less about the Winchester family and more about your relationship with Sam, you were… excited. Relieved, even.

There were only four people in the entire world that you could share your Gift with. One of them has been six feet under for over a decade. Your Gift was a clingy, possessive creature, too. It was maybe two steps shy of being an eldritch horror. It poked through Dean’s dreams when you slept beside him, sucking them up like cigarette smoke. It breathed down Sam’s neck wherever he went. If you wanted, no one could lie to you—all punchlines and stories were spoiled for you, you knew when people found you annoying or pretty or stupid. If that particular Proctor gene had skipped you, then maybe you’d be able to form relationships with people where you didn’t immediately, intrinsically understand who they were and why. Dean would say, You need a drink. You would know without asking that he meant, You scare the ever-living hell out of me n’ I know I can’t hide it from you. Fucking hell, kid, I wish I could.

You knew you were a freak. The tiny human vessel for the lashing, bubbling, soul-melting, cosmic weight of a star about to bloom into a black hole. Only your mom would ever understand what it felt like to exist on the fringe of time, between the exhaustive influence of the past and the vast, spotty expanse of the future. You were a tool to men like John; an anomaly for men like Bobby; and a responsibility to men like Dean.

But Sam… Your best friend Sam, he’d always tried to understand. Maybe he’d never fully get it, but the point was that he tried to. You remembered sitting with him on the curb outside your old high school, the concrete thrumming with music from the junior prom you’d both left behind inside.

How either of you had gotten dates was a miracle. You, the class weird-freak-emo punchline, and Sam, on his fourth round being the new kid that year, were two peas in a pod. Your date had never picked you up; Sam’s had escaped with her friends long before their first dance. Neither of you were very broken up about it.

The future had sprawled in front of you that night as clear as could be. You must've sat and talked on the curb for three straight hours, pressed together at the hip with Sam’s blazer around your shivering arms.

He was always beautiful in the boy-next-door kind of way, dimples popping with every good smile and freckles rising out of the too-short sleeves of his button-up. But that night he’d been fucking Helen of Troy, and the roar of the past and future slowed to a halt around him.

Do you really see the future all the time? Every second? Sam had curiously tilted his head, sending a gleaming swish of chocolatey hair out of his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you’d hesitated, Not every second. But a lot, yes.

Again, the head tilt, then the swish. His gaze was innocent and intrigued. No existential dread, no sweeping sense of fear. Just plain curiosity. Not even morbid curiosity. Sam had asked, What about right now?

Sam’s cologne—oh god, his cologne—was steaming off his borrowed jacket and floating around your head in a wonderful rosy fog. You’d poked at the future. Sometimes things came back, sometimes they didn’t. That night, the future had come back tasting like Sam’s vanilla chapstick and junior prom punch, and your face had gone up in flames just sensing it. He’d waited for an answer. You’d blurted out the plain truth: In a minute or two, you’re gonna kiss me.

This kind of absolute, unshakable certainty about the future had made other hunters’ blood run cold. You’d braced yourself for Sam’s displeasure or worse, his fear. But instead, there were those dimples again, and Sam had the gall to bat his lashes at you and delightedly ask, Really? That’s what the magic eight ball has to say?

His big hand had dropped onto your knee and you’d squeaked out a shrill, Signs point to yes!

Sam loved the stupid magic eight-ball joke. You could feel him smiling about it as he kissed you, kissed you, hand-on-knee, his face tipping down to yours, the shitty school punch staining his lips as the two of you connected. At fifteen and sixteen respectively, this was the first kissing that either of you had ever done. It’d been wetter and warmer than you’d expected, and Sam’s vanilla chapstick had left the slightest print on your mouth, one that your tongue swiped over obsessively for the next month. Your Gift had chased him for weeks after that, silently and invisibly swarming him every time he entered a room.

Back then, your mind had been on the Curse. But now, you thought about what had led to the kiss in the first place. Sam hadn’t kissed you on a night when your Gift had been crammed down deep where it could bother nobody but you. He’d instead chosen the precise moment where your Gift was most raw, one of Its fingers coming down from the sky to press against the pulse of the future. It was small, but at a time in your life when you’d wanted to claw your Gift out with your bare hands, Sam had gotten the smallest glimpse of It and had fallen in love.

You couldn’t help but see this thing inside him, his Static, and feel the exact same way. His powers were twisted and unavoidably demonic, and yet you kind of loved them. It made perfect sense to you. No one really understood you like Sam did. Now, it's clear why.

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan @notanotherthembo

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

49 notes · View notes

fountainpenguin · 1 year

Note

Who are some of your favorite FOP characters and why? Or more specifically, what is something they character did that made you like them?

For the sake of rambling on about some of the convoluted reasons why I love these children, here's the upfront disclaimer that I'll be referencing a few of the early draft episode scripts (from Fred Seibert's Scribd); that's where the wordy screenshots are from.

[ Tagged as "long post" but same deal as usual - if I put a Read More on it, it'll crash and delete :') Sorry ]

Imaginary Gary was my first true love in terms of FOP characters. He's such a brokenhearted little 5-year-old trying to play with the big kids. His debut episode starts out so lighthearted and silly with Timmy talking about this imaginary friend who used to attend therapy with him play with him when he was 5. The tone shift you get punched with after Gary realizes Cosmo and Wanda have to grant his wishes too because "he's a part of Timmy" just hits so hard.

I also just love his debut episode because it speaks so much to me about what the show is really about at its core... Timmy got physically and emotionally wrecked by Vicky as a kid, and that's a trauma he's still recovering from. The boy is not okay.

Fanart I made the first time I watched FOP, circa 2016

"Escape from Unwish Island" is very good too, such a fantastic episode in both context and execution.

I think Mark was the second show character I fell in love with, namely around "New Squid In Town" and "Five Days of F.L.A.R.G." There's something so incredibly charming about a teenage alien prince who flees his fiancée at the altar and seeks protection from a scary rival boy... and then just, like, enjoys being human so much that sometimes Timmy shows up at his house and Mark is just hanging out in his human 10-year-old disguise. By himself. Because he likes to be 10 and human. Love that for him.

His entire character type of "surfer dude alien prince" is so funny and creative. Mark is the guy who suffers physical pain when he's hugged, but he'll hug Timmy anyway in an attempt to show Earth affection. He has such a good heart. I also enjoy his dynamic with Vicky, like how he still wants the real girl even though his parents cloned her for him in Season 2, and how he keeps making attempts to be physically affectionate with her according to American culture even though things are drastically different on Yugopotamia.

They break up at the end of "King Chang" because she finds out he's an alien, then a few episodes later in "Wishology" they're hanging out again and he tries to put his arm around her while in alien form and she's like "Don't even think about it" and he respects her rejection, and then they still get back together in Season 9 even though she blatantly knows he's an alien and she decided she was okay with it, and he just adores her so much and has ever since Season 1... he's a sweetheart.

Also this early "Foul Balled" script hits the right spot for me-

Sob... they are in LOVE, your honor.

Mark's journey to being a terrifying prince who feared a human boy to becoming Timmy's biggest fan and best friend is just really sweet. I like to imagine they become roommates later in life. Timmy has to say good-bye to Cosmo and Wanda someday, but Mark stays in touch forever.

Flappy Bob has always been a favorite of mine. The man played the perfect role of an untouchable antagonist while simultaneously doing nothing wrong. Worked hard in school, started a business, did his best to make it a pleasant place to be. Stood up for Betty when she told Gary to respect her touch boundaries, straight up chased him down to make sure he didn't cross a line... all-around great boss.

Got handed magic and wished to make the world a safe place where people could feel loved and not get hurt. After his world of peace was in effect, he walked around, did his own research, and came to his own conclusion that this wasn't working out. Apologized to Timmy for being wrong and did all he could to fix the situation. Sold his business to Gary and Betty, then left town to live his dreams.

The clown theme was a lot of fun to see in a movie, and I'm glad it was acknowledged since it would have felt weird to see him namedropped in Season 2 ("Totally Spaced Out") and then not have the clown aspect be followed through with... The Musical is my favorite episode for good reason. Absolute sweetheart, 10 out of 10. This man can do no wrong.

I don't have much to say about him beyond that, but he's a fantastic character I adore. I would have loved to have seen more of him, but he did all that he needed to do and he's perfect. Also, big shout out to Timmy for handling the interactions with Flappy with grace even though in this same season, he revealed he has a clown phobia.

H.P. is just a funny guy. He's the big boss of a race of clones who file magical paperwork and he really just wants to swing by the club and dance and hang out. Incredibly sarcastic. He'll call you "Dude." Teamed up with Anti-Cosmo and immediately dubbed him with a nickname. Successfully took over two worlds in a single day (after planning this for 37 years) and just wanted to chill in a hot tub tbh.

He's a big, sassy goofball who likes to party and he shouldn't be brushed off as "just an old guy who speaks in monotone and does dull and boring paperwork and nothing else." He is very much Not That. Fairies canonically get drunk off soda, which means we've literally seen H.P. drink on the job. Slaps high-fives and fingerguns his underlings. Smirks and snarks constantly. Respects contracts even when they don't go his way. Keeps detailed files about members of another species. Supports his employees when they join music competitions. Gave his godson a nice car and flowers and sent him on a date with a girl he'd already screwed up with.

Literally gambled all of Fairy World in a bet against a 10-year-old boy and then almost quit after like 30 seconds because he wanted to go to a rave instead. Laughs at his own jokes. Complains when his employees suck up to him. Dressed in drag to flirt with Jorgen. Straight-up lost a golf game to Timmy despite the fact he was cheating in an attempt to win. As in, like... even before Cosmo tipped the scales back into Timmy's favor, H.P. was straight-up losing slkdjfs.

He golfs in his full-on business suit. Twirls his club like a baton. His head will stick in a dartboard if you throw him hard enough, and when Jorgen used him for darts the only thing he said was "You can only imagine the joy I feel in my heart right now." He has a laser cannon in his head. Jabs his elbow into you for attention. Always being snooty with hands on his hips. Used a newborn as a yo-yo. Kidnapped a baby, then announced he wanted to name the child Bill because "Bill's a guy you'd trust with your insurance portfolio."

Went out and bought office supplies in the middle of the Fairy World Games. Won a footrace against Anti-Cosmo. Uses dollar bills as pizza toppings. Keeps chicken drumsticks in his ear. Will flap his arms and make chicken noises at you. Monotone "Go me, go me, it's my birthday." Literally makes you use enormous microscopes just to read the fine print in his contracts. Will hand you a cell phone and then call you even though you're standing in front of him. Once wore a bowler hat on top of his already existing hat.

Keeps his golf club on the table during board meetings. Likes to breakdance. Anti-Cosmo started taunting him and H.P. jumped on a scooter and said "The only thing you'll be eating today is my dust! Later dude!" and peaced out. He might be one of the oldest and most "professional" characters in the series, but in his heart he's like 21 and a total party-loving dork. He's all business on the clock and he might even pay attention to you for five minutes, but honestly he just wants to drink soda, attend raves, and do the worm. H.P. is my dear beloved and I just can't imagine not adoring this perfect man.

And he really is just Like That:

I love him so much...

I like how H.P. was totally okay with splitting the world with Sanderson when they take over... When asked WHY he wants to take over, his reply is "I'm not a hater, but I must cater, to my mission, my ambition, to be the world's administrator" and I like to interpret this as "I don't hate Fairies, but their world is disorganized and I have OCD." Oh no. His hat is also a pen.

Also the OG script shows Jorgen, Anti-Cosmo, and H.P. each choosing a contest for Timmy to judge them on so Timmy can name one of them the "best in the universe." I am obsessed with the sheer confidence of H.P. selecting one task in the universe he knew he could beat Jorgen and Anti-Cosmo at, so obviously he picks:

(Anti-Cosmo wanted to play cowboys)

This early script also depicts H.P. and Anti-Cosmo getting in a magic fight and exchanging insults like "Bring it on, meat" and "Oh no you didn't" while they shoot each other with duckzookas and magic and I need everyone to understand how much I treasure the bitter frenemy silliness that is... Them™

Idk, I feel like if H.P. had been portrayed as a younger character with the exact same personality then he'd probably be more popular in the fandom, and that's really too bad because he's freaking hilarious. He is just a guy. A dude. He's here to party and make it everybody's problem. We need way more H.P. content out there, I adore him.

Sanderson I like for many of the same reasons as H.P.- I've always loved dorky suck-up characters. Plus, Sanderson blatantly cheating at every competition he touches is funny to me. He has a similar goofy attitude to H.P. except he's also like, more vulgar and easily distracted and it's hilarious. My boy really broke a rhyme scheme to compliment his boss on the same hat he's been wearing since forever. In his mind, H.P. is just really really cool and he'll say it.

Sanderson loves music, but when he had the chance to describe himself in song form, his response was basically "Lol, I'm about to end Fairy World's whole career; bite me" and I respect that. He is just the perfect embodiment of "that suck-up who likes to drink and party with his boss, but oh wait! He also has a lot of genuine affection in his heart! But oh wait! He'll also screw you over :)" He's great.

I very much enjoy the fact that when Gary called for Pixie backup in the Musical, it was Sanderson, not H.P., who got the call. I like to think Sanderson took Gary and Betty under his wing and might be a little more attached to his dorky music-loving "godkids" than he'd like H.P. to know. H.P. gets to call the shots, but Sanderson will sneak them candy. As Gary starts sliding off the deep end in my 'fics, I think Sanderson's slowly breaking heart is one of my favorite parts of the whole arc. He really likes Gary, but his hands are tied on how much he can interfere even when his mental health comes crashing down. He's a high-up at Pixies Inc., but still can't overrule the boss's orders. It's lots of fun to play with characters who have power, badly want things, but can't take the risk to use power for the things they want.

I just love my little dynamic of Happy Peppy "I'm a pawn who can't cry in front of my godfathers" Gary and Mr. "I can't express affection in front of Gary or I'll get fired" Sanderson. There's just so much pain there to play with if you jump into FOP canon, point at Gary's call to the Pixies, and say "And I took that personally."

I also enjoy the fact that Timmy was extremely insistent that Poof needed to score "perfect 10s" on the gymnastics course in the Fairy World Games and the Pixies bribed the judges to take 1st place, which implies that it was the Pixies, not the Anti-Fairies, who scored a 10-10-9. Sanderson and H.P. are the only pixies seen on the field in that event and I would have loved to see that. Sanderson likes to be where the action is. He is hanging out.

Happy Peppy Gary and Betty are just inherently fascinating. It's pretty obvious that they know about the magical world. Even if we wave off their weird laser tech and overlook the fact that they got teleported from California to Florida, then made it back before the end of their work shifts in "Baby Face" and didn't even question it... there's a scene in the Musical where Gary picks up a phone that is blatantly labeled "Pixies" and calls Sanderson directly. My boy really went "Dad pick me up, I'm scared" slkdjf I love him.

Actually that's not true, his actual words were "Kids just being kids; they could all get hurt!" and honestly my heart. Like, I'm a full believer that the Happy Peppy duo were in on the Pixie takeover scheme even though Flappy wasn't, they are miscreants, but still... Vote Happy Peppy duo some of the sweetest and most innocent characters in FOP canon, please and thank. Ignore the times they launched babies off-screen, used lasers to cage infants, stuffed a child in a box in front of his horrified peers, and all that other stuff, that's not important. My children did nothing wrong.

I just really love thinking about all the different backstories you could write about these... extremely intense teenagers getting mixed up with magic. I favor the idea that the Pixies have always raised them the same way they raised Flappy Bob, but I think the concept of these two showing up for work one day and accidentally walking in on Pixies scheming to take over the world is equally hilarious.

I want what Gary has- I want the absolute confidence to look a crowd of kids and adults in the eye after they've just been tormented - after I'VE just been tormented - and say "Welcome back, give me money." The extent of the brand overhaul he did on the Learn-a-Torium was slapping his and Betty's names on the side and investing in giant images of their heads. He changed nothing else, not even the uniforms, and just decided to shoot his shot. I love him.

It's also VERY cute that we saw a cardboard "You must be this tall" Gary standee in "Baby Face" and I'm obsessed. This is before Gary and Betty took over, so why isn't it a Flappy standee? For some reason this cracks me up because the implication is that either Gary loves his job so much that he volunteered to be a standee model or someone else took one look at him and knew he was destined to be the smiling face of the Learn-A-Torium so they made standees of him. I love it.

I adore Gary and Betty because they make me think... To me, they're not easy to brush aside and overlook because I have a million questions, and they're cute and fun and I love them. I wonder if Vicky runs in their social circle. They probably cross paths in the babysitting field sometimes.

Also the fact that Betty is so physically affectionate with Gary on a daily basis, but the moment he turns to her for genuine comfort, she bolts out of the room, always gets me laughing. I guess it evens out, because Betty passed out in front of him once, yelling about her heart and clutching her chest, and Gary just covered his ears and screamed that the world was falling apart sdklfj. My babies.

I talk about this all the time, but Gary and Betty also have some fantastic scenes in early episode scripts that were cut from the final versions, like this gem from "Totally Spaced Out":

I love them.

Also in the early days of planning, the Musical's antagonist was actually Imaginary Gary.

While it's not confirmed that Gary and Betty sing this song since unfortunately there's no full script for the Musical available, just the first song drafts, the lyrics for the OG version of "Get Flappy" remain almost identical to the final and it's said to be sung by "Clown cheerleaders," so it seems likely that this refers to them.

I think about this a lot. I mean, if Gary and Betty are singing while Imaginary Gary reveals himself, the implication is that they found out their boss Flappy Bob was actually a 5-year-old in disguise who came out to them as an imaginary friend and they were like "Yeah, that's cool with us." For obvious reasons I don't treat the Imaginary Gary plot as canon in my 'fics, but like... They accepted him. Man.

Like... I can never express how much I enjoy the BFF dynamic that is "I'll keep working here even though our boss is 5 and imaginary, I'll run away to Mexico with you, I'll run a business with you when our boss skips town, I'll catch you when you jump in my arms, but if you want genuine comfort then BOI I'm walkin' out." Betty sdjklf

On that note, I feel like something does need to be said about Gary seeking comfort from Betty when scared and her response is "But I don't like you like that!" She obviously felt like she needed to clarify that and I have so many questions about their relationship. Ignoring for a moment the obvious need to transition to a new scene, it's just not a good look for Gary that Flappy felt the need to chase them and mediate. Is Gary okay. Does he need to be held. My son.

Anyway Gary and Betty have my heart and they know it- they fascinate me and I love them very dearly. I feel bad for the fact that literally every fanfic scene I've put them in is just a horrible downward spiral of their relationship and sanity; I'm pretty sure I've never actually been nice to them, and honestly that's terrible slkdjf

Foop will be ranked at the top of my fave characters for forever and a day. He's just a messed up little sweetheart ping-ponging between being socially awkward in school, hanging out with his loser friends, and struggling against the desire to consume the world in a black hole. He's just struggling so hard and there's, like... no one giving him actual help and it's heartbreaking, but also you don't feel too bad for him because he also has a healthy social life and he's doing okay.

There are something like... 5 or so episodes where you can see Foop's alternate personality take over and I'm just happy that the alt personality thing wasn't pushed as a reason for his destructive behavior. The alter is focused on a little when Foop is freshly out of solitary confinement, comes up again when he's going to school, but all the other appearances are a lot more subtle and just showcased in later episodes by Foop getting that extra highlight in his eyes and gushing over things ("Oh, goody! I found a spot on my body where I wasn't bitten by a spider!" which... isn't the same way Foop speaks when he's in pain any other time in the series, because usually when he's hurt, he'll moan, grump, or panic). It is interesting to me.

Anyway I'm just very happy that the alter wasn't a one-episode gag "played for laughs" who then got thrown aside like nothing happened. Rather, the alter features majorly in two episodes (or three if you want to make an argument for "Terrible Twosome"), then quietly becomes part of Foop's character in a few episodes after that.

We saw extremely valid reasons for where this alter came from. Foop was locked in solitary confinement from the day he was born, developed claustrophobia, accidentally yeeted himself into an alternate dimension for an unconfirmed amount of time while the timestream was frozen for 50 years, and although there's a certain humor in his alternate personality (like when said alter rigged the class president vote for the wrong person) there's also just... this quiet melancholy to the whole experience, this very legitimate childhood trauma that Foop is recovering from... Yikes.

Also this comes later in his life, but he also experienced other fun childhood events such as being tortured with magical shocks while trying to escape a bully and also that one time in Season 8 when the Fairy Council ripped him out of reality. Foop is not okay.

Anyway, Foop's alter is there for him while he adjusts to life outside of solitary confinement and again when he starts a stressful first day of school, and after that he becomes a smaller aspect of Foop's attitude that you can still see in later episodes when he's stressed. Like yknow, that time he literally saw the Grim Reaper and got told how he'll die, I also would probably struggle emotionally with that.

Foop is great- he'll bribe you to spare his life with a dollar bill and he'll still ask if he can keep the change. Disaster child. He's a struggling little kid who's struggling with massive amounts of trauma and doesn't seem to have much of a relationship with his parents. At least Anti-Wanda packs anti-venom in his Kelly Clarkson lunchbox, so I'm glad they're on good terms. Overall, Foop is such a goofy character with a harsh backstory, a difficult family life, a criminal record, and high political expectations and he's also a bad boy evil genius, so like... He's the best kind of character type. But he also has silly subplots where he spends hours TP'ing a house because he forgot he had magic (twice), he loves making prank phone calls, and he freaks out when Crocker doesn't invite him to a party. His dialogue is always fantastic and I really enjoy when he's onscreen.

The downward spiral of his mental state when being tortured with lightning and forced to team up with Vicky in "Scary Godcouple" to the point that he stops caring about anything, straight-up ready to let her kill Poof even though he'll ALSO die just... Man. Hits hard. This happens after "Timmy's Secret Wish" where Foop was violently yanked out of reality. He already ceased to exist once and begged for life again, and then the forced team-up with Vicky happens and he just... can't. He can't.

He screams and begs and finally surrenders to it all, right up until seconds before Poof dies. Finally he lashes out at Vicky and blasts her with magic, gets tortured because of it... This boy is not okay. My man be STRUGGLING. And then the fact that he had to face Vicky AGAIN in "Certifiable Super Sitter" and he just did not trust her for a single second... ouch. The emotional arc of Foop saying "Ooh, I really like her :D!" in his first encounter with Vicky to Foop throwing himself in front of her chainsaw to save Chloe in their last...... Love that.

The Crocker / Dark Laser / Foop friendship is important to me. I just want Foop to have adults in his life who care at least a little about his well-being. He has very few people to turn to... Chloe made him cry with a hug, the boy struggles so hard with healthy affection. He might be a destructive force of chaos but he's also just baby.

I also just really like Foop's dialogue; he's this posh British boy genius who will get extremely worked up about how "For the record, if he HAD thrown a lightning bolt, it would have been done in protest over being asked to participate in this candy-coated farce that you call theater!" but he's also like 5 so he'll just groan about how things are "Super lame" and it's adorable. He has a certain twang to his speech where he'll "spit" these single-word sentences like "Wow" and "REALLY?" and "SERIOUSLY!?!?" and I just find him both refreshing and easy to write. He's so loud and so very cute.

This kid literally runs around on the playground eating poisonous spiders while trying to pick up girls by comparing them to potassium chloride, he'll also distract his teacher by pointing at the window and yelling "A van of rich single men!!" where else can I go to experience this character type, he's the best. He booked a restaurant for Cosmo and Wanda at a black hole. When will I ever be this funny.

Also I cry over the fact that Foop corrected Goldie every time she called him by the wrong name - from the day she came to class to the day they held the play - until he finally screams that his name "isn't that difficult!" and honestly just the fact that he had to deal with that is interesting to me. Goldie knew Poof's name, she memorized her lines in a play... there's no way she "forgot" his name. She was doing that on purpose. In his debut, Foop made it clear multiple times that he hates his name, but he also stood up for himself when misnamed. Love that.

It's also extremely funny that in "Spellementary School," Foop reveals he's never been able to understand anything Poof says and he just has to guess all the time, yet he's also shown to be extremely accurate in recognizing when Poof is grumpily agreeing with him, arguing with him, or straight-up swearing at him and I love that about their relationship. The scene in "Two and a Half Babies" where Foop assures Poof that he can be trusted because he's "not a pathological liar" and Poof just looks at him sadly and says "Poof poof" and Foop backpedals with "You're right, I am; I lied about that" is v funny to me.

Nonverbal popular kid and the boy who needs someone to talk to for the absolute win. They are bonded for life... Good luck, Poof.

I also really like Poof, especially in "Love Triangle" when he screws Foop over by making him take over as understudy and then he just eats popcorn while Foop fumbles around onstage. Comedy gold. Poof is sweet and forgiving, but he's also a straight-up savage and he knew EXACTLY what he was doing. Love him for that. As good as he is, he still has that wild streak the same way that Foop has a secret soft spot for people. Poof doesn't mean to cause trouble except for the times when he definitely DOES mean to cause trouble and it's hilarious.

Poof has a certain "looks like a cinnamon roll, but could kill you" vibe. He's this kindhearted little boy who's very cautious and sweet and you can just imagine what a little gentleman he'll be when he grows up. I love how the first thing he did when he met Chloe was tip his crown at her, the sweetheart.

He'll jump into new adventures. He'll play along. He'll help you out. Yet while all of this is going on, you can see how when he's scolded - either when it's being scolded for "not forgiving people after they try to destroy you" or Timmy yelling that getting them both stuck in a spider's web is all his fault or even just Wanda telling him to calm down because he was getting so worked up when he was unable to articulate what he wanted to say......

Poof doesn't know how to stand up for himself in those situations. He holds himself to this standard of respecting authority even when he's overworked to the point of exhaustion. When he was assigned as godparent to Mrs. Crocker, he went into it with a good attitude but came home wiped out. Didn't voice a single complaint. Just exhausted. Didn't know what to say.

Meanwhile, Foop will flip the heck out if you accuse him of anything and I really enjoy that... Here are two counterparts, and you've got one kid who struggles to speak up so he usually just keeps his head down, and then you've got Captain Overshare who will outright lie and throw blame on other people and it's just... nice to see the personalities of two opposite creatures truly be opposite like that.

There's definitely something to be said about how when Poof finally started talking in sentences, it was while dueling Crocker in a magic fight. The poor kid had been been begging for others to step in and get Crocker out of Spellementary School for two days. No one was there for him. Poof got backed in a corner and had no choice but to challenge Crocker himself. Kid got blasted with magic lightning, slammed into a wall twice, and finally pushed himself off the floor and stood up for himself. Good on ya, kiddo. He WILL get in a physical fight to protect himself or others, but if he's in a situation where he needs to say "Hey, I'm struggling with this assignment" or "No, I'd rather not hug the guy who tried to kill me last time we met" then oh heck no, absolutely not, he'd rather die skldfj.

Poof finally spoke and the second sentence out of his mouth was "Your plan to absorb all the magic from my friends and Foop has failed" slkdfj. Tell us how you really feel. And then after Foop apologized for a lifetime spent trying to kill him, Poof still tried to extend the hand of friendship, my heart...

Also, the dynamic of "I blatantly do not like Foop, but I tolerate him because he's my cousin / counterpart / classmate" is very funny. Poof doesn't usually go out of his way to hurt Foop, but he absolutely sits back to watch Foop create problems for himself. If Foop launches a spiked ball at him, he'll fling it right back at him instead of eliminating it. He also accidentally pushed Foop into a garbage can one time and chose to leave him there instead of helping him. Love that.

Poof's great, I love his vibe. He's neither a brat nor a goody-goody... He's just this shy little kid who was born a celebrity and has to deal with everything that comes with that, like attracting a crowd of friends at school and being nominated class president. He's sweet with a streak of mischief... He'll go along with a plan to steal Cupid's arrows, he'll eat all your brownies, and he'll also eat 11 pounds of chocolate just because he wants it. He has his share of chaos, but he's a lot more thoughtful and controlled about it than Foop is. Needlessly dramatic and likes doing things with a flair <3

Woo... This post became much longer than intended, yikes. I'll wrap it up, but Juandissimo, Kevin, Norm, Crocker, Ed Leadly, Chester, A.J., Elmer, Sanjay, Binky, Jorgen, and Dr. Rip Studwell, are all such fantastic characters too, just to name a few off the top of my head. There's a special place in my heart for Chet Ubetcha, Mr. Bickles, Schnozmo, Chloe, Molly, Dark Laser, Cosmo, Wanda, Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Blonda, Schnozmo, Remy, Mama Cosma, Big Daddy, and Sammy Sweetsparkle too. And Timmy himself, but I think that goes without saying.

So many funky dudes; I love them so much...

41 notes · View notes

nickmaghighlights · 1 year

Text

Nick Mag Highlights - #118 February 2006

Welcome back to Nick Mag Highlights! Would you believe it: Two of the greatest Nickelodeon shows crossing over in one half-hour special? For the second time? It’s a kid’s dream come true! Again! So let’s read all about it.

So yeah, sorry for the wait on this one. A couple of IRL setbacks plus taking on a volley of different big personal projects at once resulted in quite a hit towards my motivation. But hey, we’re here now, and I’m happy to get back into it.

Little sneak preview while I’m here: One of the things I’ve been working on is a new NMH Side Issue post! One that’s covering a mag that’s ostensibly part of Nickelodeon history thanks to its connection to a very prolific creative figure at the studio. Very wordy book though, so naturally both reading it and my analysis of it is gonna take longer than normal. And then I gotta do the research and fact-checking and yadda yadda, it’ll be ready when it's ready. In the meantime I’ve always got Nickelodeon Magazine to come back to.

Read along if you’d like, I think it’s the cool thing to do!

Neopets was still Viacom (parent company of Nickelodeon)’s latest big purchase at the time of this mag’s release, with them having bought it eight months earlier back in June of 2005, so it’s not surprising seeing the new blockbuster Neopets thing getting a big ‘ole two page spread right at the beginning of the magazine.

While Neopets is famous for originally being financially supported by scientology, it was Viacom's stint with the brand that actually got me to give the site a try for a short time (thanks to a Burger King promotion of all things, if memory serves me correctly). If they don't delete old, inactive accounts then I hope my T-Rex Neopet has been doing well for itself. They can’t die, right?

I love this ad. I’m not sure what kind of vibe they were going for here but it almost feels kind of dystopian with the polluted-looking air and all the TV screens weirdly protruding out every which way. Adding to that feeling for me was that I initially thought all that shrubbery down below was a huge audience of adoring viewers. Feels like something out of The Running Man. Super cool.

Always important to check out what Nickelodeon itself was doing around the time. I remember being really excited for Drake & Josh Go Hollywood, and seeing how it went on to gross more than 5 million viewers, I guess I wasn’t alone. Really bothers me to find out it’s just called Go Hollywood and not Go To Hollywood like I thought it was all these years, but I guess I’ll live.

And speaking of millions of viewers, this section also mentions the then-upcoming SpongeBob SquarePants special “Dunces & Dragons” (oddly not actually referred to here with an actual title), which grossed more than 8 million viewers.

Oh, and it’s Black History Month. Y’know just kind of a footnote slotted in the middle there. You'd think that'd get an article or interview, I don’t know. I’m sure Kyra appreciates the shoutout at least.

Woah. Imagine living in a pre-High School Musical world. Nowadays High School Musical is the made-for-TV-movie that baby made-for-TV-movies want to grow up to be. Now we’ve got two sequels, a TV spinoff (a TV spinoff that won five Kids’ Choice Awards apparently, funnily enough), and a mountain of films that tried to cash in on that success. Mostly from Disney Channel themselves. Camp Rock, anyone?

Funny to see the not-Jumanji family classic Zathura listed as Josh Hutcherson’s big recognizable role when he’d end up co-starring in the critically lauded cultural touchstone The Hunger Games just a few years later. And now he’s starring in that Five Nights at Freddy’s movie coming out this year. What a career.

There’s gotta be some irony to me sitting here and enjoying what I probably called the “boring parts” of the magazine back when I was a kid. C’mon though, this is pretty neat! I’ll run through all the topics real quick if you’d like to learn more.

Notes From Underground - The Great Stalacpipe Organ

Still standing to this day, the instrument has been refurbished a couple times since it was featured in this magazine. In 2012 a band by the name of Pepe Deluxé composed and played the first ever song exclusively for the Stalacpipe Organ, called “In The Cave” and featured it in their album Queen of the Wave. Give it a listen, it’s a creepy kind of beautiful. Must’ve been hard to record, too!

Playing With Their Food - The Vienna Vegetable Orchestra

The orchestra is still active and has even done a couple of performances this year! I doubt they still make soup from their instruments though. But to be honest even without having to worry about viral diseases I’m not too interested in soup made exclusively of vegetables that have been blown into for several hours.

Talk About Slow Jamz! - Organ²/ASLSP

Miraculously the performance is still on track. They didn’t play a note this year but the next one is scheduled for February 5th. The second slowest performance of the piece lasted 16 hours and took place last year.

World’s Hottest Tunes - Fire Organs

I can’t really find much about this one online, but I guess it speaks for itself, doesn’t it?

Take a look at a performance and try not to think about how hot it must be in that auditorium whenever he plays that thing.

Alright, it’s time for a confession. You ready to hear the horrible truth? …Okay, here goes:

I don’t know very much about music.

I guess it was probably a bad choice for me to write about a magazine themed around music. I got pretty far without having to disclose my lack of knowledge though, right? And in my defense, Nickelodeon lured me in with that Jimmy Timmy Power Hour cover.

And I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like music. I love a bit of jazz now and then*. But still, none of the names here really ring a bell, so I don't know if any of these answers are ironic or out-of-character or so in-character it’s adorable or whatever. At least I can appreciate they spared no expense, they never usually have this many interviews. There’s even a third page with even more of them if you want to check it out.

*My top jazz favorites are Kim Scott (Spotify) and Pieces Of A Dream (Spotify). If you were curious.

It’s really cool to see something encouraging kids to make their own mix CDs. I do kinda wish there was more than one cover though. Not everybody wants to chill.

Aw man, come to think of it, is Gen-Z the last generation to do personal mixtapes and CDs? Or is that still a thing? Regardless I kind of wish I had gotten into doing that when I was younger, it seems like a fun thing to do between friends. Plus my knowledge of music would probably be way stronger than it is now. What do kids do nowadays, send each other Spotify playlists? I guess that's a bit more convenient.

I think I've talked about these Pop-Tart ads before. They were in these magazines all the time so they must’ve come up already. I think I even gave them some credit. But as attention grabbing as they were I really still don't understand the intention. What's so appetizing about seeing these little guys just get absolutely destroyed all the time? Are kids supposed to think about how they’re snuffing the life out of their morning Pop-Tarts?

A very awesome and adorable cover we have here, courtesy of Vera Brosgol (author and illustrator of the award-winning Anya’s Ghost, plus Head of Story on Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio). You can check out her website to see more of her work here.

Nice little comic by Greg Cook. And wouldn’t you know that guy’s Wikipedia article has Nickelodeon Magazine mentioned in its first sentence? That’s cool. Also I feel like the man himself might’ve written his own Wikipedia article. The lack of citations and the way it’s written like the “About Me” page for a blog gives me that kind of vibe. If so, thanks for remembering us, Greg!

Now here’s some of that Jimmy-Timmy content I was promised! I was starting to get worried.

I find it interesting how well Jimmy and Timmy bounce off of each other, but I guess now that I think about it their shows weren’t that different really, at least in terms of subject matter, were they? In broad strokes they’re both kids with big egos whose imaginations tend to get them into trouble. And seeing those big egos clash is naturally gonna lend itself to some good comedy.

In regards to the art, I love the warm colors utilized here, it’s very cozy. The art throws me off just a smidge though. Absolutely no disrespect to Scott Roberts of course, writer and penciler behind this comic (and also creator of Patty Cake, a recurring comic for Nickelodeon Magazine that we… haven’t actually encountered yet on this blog unfortunately), he’s got some great work under his belt, and Timmy and his fairies look as to be expected here. But I do think it was a weird choice making Jimmy look like a Rugrat though. That’s not just me, right? The second page in particular has him pulling off some serious Rugrats-faces. Maybe Roberts was just doing what he knows, because he actually did tons of work on a Rugrats newspaper comic strip just a couple years before this.

Aside from that, Jimmy’s lab is a bit weird. It’s not the usual cave, instead being a regular room with windows and a checkerboard floor? And the exterior shows it to be a wooden cabin? Maybe it’s supposed to be the shack that’s built above the lab Jimmy uses as a secret entrance. Doesn’t really matter, I certainly didn’t notice as a kid, but it does make me wonder if the artist wasn’t provided that much reference material.

I love that snail comic so much like you wouldn’t believe.

Throughout the years I always managed to miss out on LEGO’s constant edgier reinventions of itself, y’know like Bionicle or that one about the ninjas. I guess it helps that I was never really into the toy itself. Unlike those previous examples though, Exo-Force here isn’t ringing any bells for me, but I do find it noteworthy how they were trying to go for a more anime/gundam vibe with this one, what with the Japanese affixed to the bottom of the logo and the faux-anime designs of all the main characters. Surprised to see this one didn’t even warrant its own cartoon, instead having its epic storyline played out through a series of commercials. And while I may like an overarching commercial narrative as much as the next guy (anyone remember those Goldfish Cracker commercials that did the same thing?), I bet you any fans of this line were sore it never got the whole TV show package like Bionicle did.

Oh right, Valentine’s Day is in February, isn’t that right? How many more years do you think that holiday has, you reckon? Nobody likes it. It’s just a reason to buy more greeting cards and do nice things for people that you probably should just be doing anyway and not need a holiday to tell you to do. Eh, still though I guess if you were in a small class at school this would be a pretty useful sheet of cards.

Skyland, huh? Can’t say it rings a bell, but it certainly looks cool. How did this slip by me? I even had this issue as a kid and watched Nicktoons, so I must have just completely tuned it out. I wonder why?

youtube

Oh, that’s interesting, it seems like it's all done with motion captured 3D animation. That’s fine, I guess, but that illustration in the magazine had me thinking it’d look a bit more like The Last Airbender. I’m impressed that they spared no expense on the story at least. This intro here can barely keep down its exposition to forty seconds!

So, does anyone remember this one? Apparently it was a French production that was licensed to different channels across the world, airing on Teletoon in Canada and CITV in the UK. I’d love to know if it was any good!

Pretty good smorgasbord of facts in this month’s calendar. And I guess a blanket theme is good as any other theme. Ooh, National Pancake Day! What a great month.

The Jimmy-Timmy quiz is fun, but I wish we could’ve gotten an interview with someone a part of the production of the episode or something. Obviously they’re not going to just interview some random part of the staff (although I’d find that interesting personally), but a voice actor would’ve been cool. I like how Jimmy’s answer considers Sheen a responsibility. Maybe all of Jimmy’s town-threatening inventions were just to distract Sheen from causing any real damage. We all know what kind of terror he’s capable of.

Wow, Bill Clinton! BC himself! Pretty impressive guest for an issue of Nickelodeon Magazine, I must say. ‘Course they got him talking about eating vegetables and exercising instead of something cool, though. It is good to know that being on the receiving end of the most widely-reported-on gobbling in the United States wasn’t enough to get you disqualified from having a spot in Nick Mag.

Another neato guest in theory, Tommy Tallarico is a pretty big name in the video game music space. He’s known for having a hand in loads of different soundtracks over the years and also allegedly being a pathological liar and taking credits for lots of other peoples’ work, which isn’t as nice as the former thing I listed. If you’re interested you can check out more info on the topic in this video here by hbomberguy, which basically runs through a lot of the lies Tallarico has told throughout the years, made as a response to him using legal pressure to get a sound effect he claims to have made removed from the online game Roblox. Oof.

But yeah, to give him some credit, this interview is better than ‘ole Clint’s was. At least Tallarico’s talking about the thing he gets paid for instead of vegetables and dieting. And that “What’s on Mario’s iPod” section is pretty good, but considering Tallirco’s track record it makes me question the legitimacy of his answers… I always thought Crash Bandicoot was more of a Dead Or Alive fan.

Oh god, not QZ again. I did not miss seeing this freak, I’ll tell you that. Why was anyone encouraging this guy with any more questions? He was getting kids names and addresses and we all sat idly by! I like how he sidesteps half the questions too, only giving a direct answer when it concerns protecting a kid from bullies. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all…

…Nah. Screw him.

If you remember these guys, you qualify for an Apple Jack’s discount!

I’m willing to admit as a kid I was more than willing to buy into whatever brands wound up on my TV as long as they had a funky mascot and even funkier commercials (and having a website that sported a suite of Flash games and cartoons certainly helped), but the hijinx of this Rastafarian cinnamon stick and goblin-looking apple particularly stick out to me as some rather memorable marketing. I’d say chalk it up to the distinct claymation style the commercials sported (which I’m pretty sure got replaced with 3D animation at some point, which kinda stinks). I found it funny how the character known as “Bad Apple” here eventually got redeemed and just became a friendly competitor that races Cinnamon to the bowl as opposed to the villain he’s presented as here. Did the marketing team really not see from the get-go that people might have a problem with a commercial depicting cinnamon and sugar as the good guy and apples as, well, “bad”?

Still, as much as I loved the commercials, I never actually had a single bowl of Apple Jacks as a kid. Shocking, I know, but my friends told me they sucked and I remember reading one particularly nasty long-winded online review that basically said the cereal is garbage, so I stayed away. I eventually did have a bowl or two of the stuff many years later, and… they’re alright. I will agree with this comic on one thing, Apple Jacks definitely do not “taste like apples”. In fact, they don’t really taste like anything.

And that’ll do it for this edition of Nick Mag HIghlights! Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you had a fun time going through this issue with me. It had tons of fun stuff (that article on the strange and interesting instruments and that Jimmy-Timmy Power Hour comic were my personal highlights) and hopefully some of you can get more entertainment out of all those musical interviews than I did. We even got a Billy C cameo! It doesn’t get more engaging than an old president, does it?

As well, I’d like to reiterate my apology for the time it took to bring this to you all, and I’m hopeful I can pick the pace back up and rebuild my motivation now that I’ve gotten this finished. I’m looking forward to finalizing my aforementioned new Nick Mag Side Issues post, I think that’ll be pretty interesting and add a little spice of variety to the page. Guess we’ll see!

Keep on reading, and maybe listen to your favorite song while you’re at it. I’ll catch you next time!

#nmh post #2000s #2006 #nickelodeon #magazine #jimmy neutron #the fairly oddparents

16 notes · View notes

ghoulangerlee · 1 year

Note

if i could ask without it being rude. . .

what/when did you realize you were nonbinary?

lately i've been wondering if the gender binary fits for me and i was just hoping you might have some answers or guidance or something

anon this is not rude at all! i am always open to talk about my experiences with gender identity! thank you so much for feeling safe enough to come to me, I do hope my answer sheds some light on things for you.

please excuse any spelling errors bc I am currently typing with one eye open haha. (also under a read more bc i got wordy sorry I hope this helps!! I'm here for you anon!!)

So, I was about 19 when I realized that 'girl' didn't really fit me? Looking back I think it might have always been like this, but I grew up in a small southern town where the only out gay person was bullied so relentlessly that he left town and we never saw him again.

So, 19, I come across this tumblr account that centered heavily on genderfluidity, and for a while that identity felt safe to me? I've always been more masculine leaning in general, from a very young age and at the time (this was 2011) genderfluid seemed right. I would fluidly slip between masc and fem and it all felt comfortable and safe and nothing like I'd ever experienced before. Small town me finding out there was more than just gay, lesbian, bi and trans? (trans here in the sense of transgender like, trans man or trans woman).

So yeah, I think at that point for me though, I just lost my mom, I was dealing with a lot of stuff and I didn't have the bandwidth to look too far into anything beyond something that finally made sense in my brain. So while I do still stand by me ID'ing as genderfluid for a few years, it never actually felt right. And you know? That's okay. It was sort of a stepping stone for me, I think. To look more into other gender identities. Because at that time, beyond genderfluid I only knew of trans men and trans women, in like I guess the binary gender sense?

To preface this, I know that definitions of transgender has changed over the years, this is just my personal experience with all of this, which is why some of it may come off as idk outdated?

Anyway, while I ID'd as genderfluid, I went by a masculine nickname and still used she/her pronouns just because I didn't really consider using anything else. Someone once referred to me using he and that sorta felt okay? But also not...right? At the same time. Like it felt better than she, but in the sense that it was a little off to the left of better. Not a perfect fit, but an okay one.

Honestly I could probably dig deep enough on my blog and maybe find some ramblings from that time if I tried hard enough, though I can't for the life of me figure out what I'd have tagged it haha.

So, I don't exactly remember what finally brought on nonbinary other than once I told someone that I didn't really feel like a person? I felt more like a genderless blob so to speak, and that she/her and he/him didn't really feel right to me.

And that friend was like 'well what about they?'

And then someone referred to me using they and everything sort of clicked into place right after that.

My experiences with gender have been quite turbulent, in the past I've dealt with heavy gender dysphoria because I had this idea in my mind that I needed to look androgynous in order to identify as nonbinary. That I wasn't nonbinary enough if I had tits. I binded for several years and fucked my ribs up with it because I am also fat. So, in I would say 2013 is when I finally started using nonbinary? So internet culture led me to believe I needed to be thin and have a flat chest in order to be the right kind of nonbinary, because otherwise I was just a woman.

I still get called she/her in my real life, other than my husband and our friend who both use they/them when referring to me. But, I've learned these past several years that nonbinary doesn't look a certain way? That I don't have to be more masculine leaning in order to ID that way. It feels right, when people use they/them and when they call me Lee, which is why I typically introduce myself that way, other than doctor's offices, and other official places use my birth name.

It took a lot of growing for me, because I had so many negative ideas about femininity and how I could also navigate that while being nonbinary. I refused to wear makeup for the longest time because I thought that that meant I was just faking it, and being a woman.

I've always wanted to be feminine but in the same way that like, a masculine person can be feminine, I guess? So like, in a 'cis man wears a dress and makeup' sort of way if that makes sense.

And I had this idea that I couldn't do that, otherwise I was just a fake nonbinary person?

What ultimately helped me was in 2016/2017 when I worked for Home Depot, my head cashier actually lead a local lgbt+ group and she immediately latched onto me not being straight or cis. Again, this was the south so there was a little bit of growing pains, we all ended up sitting down and talking about gender identity, I talked with some older people who were nonbinary and it opened my mind to start viewing things in a way that like, helped me, I guess?

Like, yeah, makeup is traditionally worn by a woman, but because I am not a woman, wearing makeup does not make me a woman. Just as wearing traditionally masculine clothing, does not make me a man. It just makes me a person wearing make up or a person wearing clothing.

I think overall, if I would have stayed on the internet and kept listening to those people who say that you have to look/be a certain way in order to be nonbinary, I wouldn't have probably reconciled my own issues with how I perceived myself vs nonbinary.

Overall, I'd say start small, the first thing I did was use neutral pronouns, this isn't to say you can't use neopronouns if those feel right to you, or use something like he/they or she/they bc a lot of nonbinary people do that too.

It's okay to experiment with gender. It's okay to tell your friends that you want to be referred to using only neutral pronouns, or a set neopronouns, or what have you. See how that feels.

Take a step back and look at how you perceive certain things, when I was finally able to let go of the idea that things had to be gendered, and that those gendered things only fit one particular gender, it made things so much easier for me.

I stopped hating my chest. Like I'd said earlier, I binded for a while, and it was so uncomfortable, but I Felt like I had to just because of what I'd heard the uh "gatekeepers of gender" say. But now? finding a bra that fits nicely and accentuates my chest? Euphoric.

None of that makes me a woman. I am just a person, and I like things.

Living in the south, good luck with me trying to ever explain this to people around here. So I'm out, but I'm not explicitly out I guess. If people clock it? Good for them. If not? Oh well. I don't really correct people on my pronouns, just because I've finally reached a point where I'm okay with it. My sister and brother in law still call me by my birth name and that's fine too. Because in my head, my name is Lee and my birth name is just a nickname that they have for me.

And again, all of this came with time. With several years. I started this when I was 19 and I'm 31 now, so it took a decent chunk. It's important that you've got a good support system too. And honestly, I'm here for you anon. If you ever need to talk, or vent or anything, my askbox is open. If you wanna come off anon and dm me? Sure.

I can even give you my discord if you'd prefer that.

Navigating gender can be scary, but, it'll be okay. <3

#ask replies #sweet anon ive got your back

4 notes · View notes

zhalar · 1 year

Text

i did these posts with books i read in 2020 i think, bout to make another for black sails. this is just a yardstick for my progression with the series, aka my extensive nonsensical notes and quotes i liked etc. no clear indicators whos saying what and when, just Vibes and Real Drama Television so i'll generally remember whats Happening. watch out its quite a wordy fucknig thing if you press read more also i started at episode 4 of season1 for some fucking reason and it pisses me off immensely. IT TOOK ME SIX MONTHS AND NINE DAYS TO FINISH THIS SHOW. I NEED TO PUT THESE THOUGHTS SOMEWHERE. heres also a twitter thread of reaction for however long the site's gonna be usable at this point

(watch and read as my opinions on characters and decisions change in real time)

ep4 fuckign FUCK jack is the funniest motherfucker in this SHOWWW . "you'd be a valuable asset to anybody .. my [most valuable thing??] is my wits [and as someone who just lost 5000 pesos of their own crew's money, it isn't worth much atm]

"and that, my darling, i feel compelled to state out loud, life is simply too FUCKING SHORT".

also anne as the muscle and him as the wits.❤️ straight rights

ep5 "i specifically tried to talk her OUT of getting wrapped up in my selfish scheme" it's the Best when men are. self-aware.

ep6 eleanor holding john's life in her fingers❤️ tasty delicious i love women with power yes girl destroy every other person for the woman who you love

the enslaved people fucking their captors shit right up. i love this flavor. fucking hell. fucking fuck the stunt scott pulled almost got me ooohhhh thank god it didn't go as i feared.

john has this cadence about him it's like he's constantly trying to sell me a used car

BILLY ? FLINT. ARE YOU. FOR REALLLL

"you had your say. now i'll have mine" ANNEEEE

ep7 gates: "because billy. Wasn't expendable. To Me." MY MANNNNNNNNNNNNN IM GONNA. CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

eleanor PLEASE get your head outta your assSSSS....

back to jack rackham's funtime brothel business attempt :) hes so bad at this... what the hell.... "the wRong tree" BITCH.... he is so pathetique godbless

"get your fucking house in order" MAX. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!

the . fuckign tears in Gates' eyes when Dufrene says that after this trip, Flint dies. . ajdslfhjl

ep8 flint you . flint. Flint. you fucking. YOU SADDDD PATHETICCCCCCC LITTLE MAN. NOT! GATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! not the sobbing and im sorry's and cradling his dead body in your hands. this sucks. this fucking SUCKS

i wish vane would suck some sand and die :)

john's manic smile "had to be done" you are. sssssso. YOU.

"no-man's-land. there was a time when stopping halfway across this bridge would have been unthinkable to you"

sorry to be so crude but flint's tits are fucking Humongous. Who allowed this.

ep1 "but i'm the only person within a hundred miles of here who doesn't want to see you dead" hm. my god. so flint and silver, like...

"maaadam guthrie" jack <3

"so i actually have to fight him?" "WELL WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN"

"you have absolutely nothing to worry about" i doubt that, jack. but thanks

OH MY DOUBTS ARE UNFOUNDED !

flint and silver make each other worse :) yay!!!

ep2 ".. but seducing her was certainly... an interesting approach"

idk where this is going to go yet . but jack. "take our, predicament" bruh. MANN. hes so pathetic and i feel bad for him but do nottt be a dickkkkk. HE'S TALKING LEGALIZE LIKE A DICK AND JUST. TAKES THE SHOT. [DRUMROLL] READY TO LEAVE,

. JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. "Please know that all i have ever wanted for you is to be happy. come to bed when you're through" for. REAL?????????????????? JACK MY BEST FRIEND JACK?? POLY KING..

ep4 im sorry i know theres all this war and politic intrigue happening but the . threesome morning after, jack's awkward but jovial ?? grimace at max when he's leaving the scene, ohh my god... also max being a ma'am now within the brothel❤️ and jack kissing anne's head as he rose from bed....

flint and john insane homoerotically charged conversations. always reverting back to his share of the gold huh.

ep5 miranda's actor doing SO much for big frustrated female emotions(tm)

(utterly unimpressed) "all right. what's the matter with the articles"

"so again fuck's your problem?" anne... anne your voice is like a SO~NG

"and another to tell them why they should want to do it"

ohh my god, uhhuh. Uhhuh. huh? . yeah. yeah i thought so. i mean. fuck. Wow. uhhuh. no one's spoiled me enough to prepare me for this, then, huh. james fucking flint you complicated hard-headed queer jackass of a man. your plan is bad but fuck man who am i to tell you anything

ep6 please tell me jack doesn't know how to be a sailor please please PLEWASE he is so pathetic. "listen... no women" SHUT UP!!!!

anne's stride to that man's neck to get him to spill the beans about the gold. her voice and eyes. i love you strange angry violent bisexual woman. god. you know. trauma !

thhhe fucking shadow work when small scared traumatized anne lifts her gaze to max. oh the shadow in that. MAX'S VOICE.... MAX PROMISING TO. PROTECT ANNE?? at some cost i bet.... BUT ANYWAY????

i love the fact that jack is just compleeeteely not scary intimidating or physically impressive at all. wet blanket of a man but at least he's got a brain (?) and a heart ???

ep7 max standing up for anne, both of them owing so fucking much to the other. i love how much authority max has...

oh its sooo fucking delightful how silver and flint are just. thick as thieves, suddenly, i love to fuckin see it. OK NEVER FUCKING MINDDD LMAO. but theyve still got that rappor!!! like!!! cant get rid of the other fast enough. or at all!! no matter what! tied at the ankles together!!

oh. thank. fuck max hugged her. ohh my god... and [the other lady] was so .. idk whats going on exactly but how kind of her to . come and usher anne out of the situation. you dont need to be doing this. go. HHHNNN

silver telling max about the gold >:) MAX'S SMILE. ILOVE HERRRR

hyiiii EWW THE ENDING OF THIS EPISODE... EWWWWW

ep8 "please go with him, so he doesn't get himself killed" ".. oh for fucks sake.."

the power that silver holdddds. ooohhhhhhhhh

wait HOLD UP. ? DID :) did flint kill hamilton's father for putting him in an asylum (??) am i reading this girl's tale correctly..

"for if anyone is responsible for what happened that day, it's, Me." ma'am. ily

oh god oh lord. the birds of prey over the fort. has vane Really just murdered 40 men ON HIS OWN.

ALRIGHT. YEAH. WAIT. NO. I FORGOT ABOUT THE NASTY UNPLEASANT VIBE OF THE LATEST EPISODE LOL <33

FUCK charles vane i HATE THIS BITCHHHHh EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKING DIFFICULT ALL OF THE TIME

ep9 "footrope. bitch of a spot"

"you idiots are the fucking riggers of this ship" AHSDHFJKH

oh but i thought there were two ships. one in charlestown and one at nassau. and that vane's men would yknow. be in Nassau. cuz how did they get into charlestown THIS QUICK ?

i know it's main character syndrome but man oh boy is silver good at keeping himself alive

"where are we going?" "to execute the third option"

i hate that anne has to kill :( but it is also so fucking sexy that she is so GOOD at handling a fight

fuuuuck eleanorrrrr,,, GRRRR

tjhe lingering hand hold with anne and max.... AUUUGH

the LOVE. that miranda and flint share for thomas is SO FUCKING WILD TO ME WHAT A POINT WHAT A POWER. ????

OH . SHHHHE. FUCKING. DIES??????????? JUST LIKE . THAT????????????

john's smug ass grin when vane says theyre saving flint... whaaaatttt

NOT THE AVALANCE ??????

ep10 "like we was two halves of the same thing""i can't be your wife, jack"[A TEAR FROM JACK'S EYE]"but you and i are gonna be partners til they put us in the fucking ground" HET! RIGHTS!!!!!!!!!!!

john seeing how the crew starts rising up for him.. oh the power. oh the power is DELICIOUS.

"everyone is a monster to someone. since you are so convinced that i am yours... i will be it"

"what do you suggest?" "that we remind them that they were right to be afraid" FLINT!!!!!

"where are his keys, and has he seen them since he took me away from my men" BRO. JOHN!!!!!!

oh flint is. fully gone :) kill my lover kill my wife i've HAD ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the fear the genuine guttural fucking FEAR at john's voice over the state of his leg . the crew all around him. oh this is. OH THIS IS.

point of no return.

"would you like to see something shiny?" PIRATES!!!!! WOOOO YEAHH

MAX AS THE SEASON'S FINAL FRAME ILYSM

ep1 TEACH!!

"any capital sentence against a pirate would hear my answer" he's an avenging angeeeeel. OF SOME SOOORT

haircut and facial hair to show that time has passed, yes, i see

"this crew has spilled a great deal of blood to make your name what it is. it doesn't belong to you" WOW

oh. Oh! alright! jack you piece of shit huh! vane i'm sorry for my very mean words (still deserved, but you know, people, being human, piracy)

"take this, and leave me be" max.....

"jack, if i thought it gave you any pleasure, i would've killed you the moment you suggested it" goddamn. goddamn these two. fucking fuck.

season three poster kicks ASSS

ep2 "lovely. good old jack gets buried beneath a pile of rubble while you two begin a well-funded life of leisure"

"i am here in part to ensure my own future, i will not apologize for that" max you deserve eeeveeerythiiiiing

sjhaking jack and max in a bottle grr GRR they both love anne GRRRRRRRRH

"this is the second time in the last few months im facing certain death, and you are again offering moral support" "does that mean we're married?"

oh . oh :( john having to witness and hold this guy through as he's helpless and fucking drowning before his eyes. fuck tthis fucking SHOW!!!!!

i love how much this all. Affects john. he's so fuckjing sad to lose yet another of his brothers.

"just how fucking stupid, exactly, are your men" "... it's hard to say"

"... like fucking rodents, preparing for the winter"

flint's nightmares in this... ough. miranda... HAUNTING

oh fuckyes the becalming be upon us. IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS.

ep3 "no, i think we should feed some of the men and not, others" dfhjk flint flint flint flint this is FUCKED UP. BUT WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO???? AS CAPTAIN!!!!!

jack's "[whistle] that's enough. you, sit down" charming charming guy

"though might be you're the only one who actually made a career of it" jack and anne and jack and vane and hdsfdbkjbvkvj what is this do they even like each other is this old friends is tHIS ABOUT OLD FRIENDS ???

"i think it's torture for him. and i think the only way he can imagine it stopping is when there are no more of us left to witness it" john's insight into flint.... why is he so clever about this man. huh!!!

the ghosts hunting flint❤️ oh christ i cant do this . fucking trauma. fucking piracy. fuck this noise. FUCK!!!

"if you're not strong enough to do what needs to be done, [then] i'll do it for you" flint. my man. is this a love confession (fuck no it isnt but also HM)

oh shit, oh fuck , anne and max fucking love each other. FUCK. "you should stay. to see it divided evenly" ".... i trust you" AH! HOLY! SHIT!

"i'm one of the two men who've been on full rations for the last few days. you're the other. let's go" YAY AT THIS DYNAMIC. YAY AT TRYING TO BECOME WHAT HIS BEST FRIEND AND WIFE WERE TO HIM. YAY AT THIS ENTIRE TRUST-BONDING EXPERIENCE :)!!!

fight me or kill me "or acknowledge the fact that you and i would be a hell of a lot better off as partners instead of rivals" HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!

ep4 the men shouting and lying and demanding shit outside the fortress, appealing to jack, trying to get to vane. jack point-blank shooting the guy❤️ oh my god.

fuck yes retribution by enslaved people <3 oh man. where is this going to Fucking Take Us. ethically choppy waters, black-n-white thinking, i dont fcking know

jack is . so focused on leaving a legacy...

"how much?" "... mmh !"

"i was just gonna say 'i'll see you soon', but that would probably be a lie, wouldn't it?"

"i hate to be the one to say it, but is it possible we've all missed the point of that story? they all Died."

flint and john's epic fatherhood over billy ahljsdf:djflgk

"she will not let us leave this place alive" and good for her for that

MISTER SCOTT LOVE OF MY LIFEEEEE LIGHT OF MY DAYSSSSSS YEAH YEAH !! YEHAW!!!

oh fuckers and shitheads you did not just . shoot at him. did you. im going to eat you

ep5 "so i might oversee the survival of both places outside the scrutiny of either" mr scott.......

"you should know, people do not speak to me that way anymore" max you deserve the moon and the stars. eleanor get the fuck outta here...

h e r v o i c e w h e n s h e s a y s a n n e

scott smiling so fucking gently softly at his wife and THEN HIS DAUGHTER OUGH MAN HE'S SO..!!!! flint i swear if you fuck this up. if you get a knife on her im gonna [jsdfhmgjkfjngj]

"strange how little separates us" :( vane and that dying spanish dude talking...

"it's awful, isn't it. how the money makes sheep of us all"

max demanding herself a seat and a future. god i love you.

"and yet for some reason, right now i am bothered by it" the flint fucking curse i see

HE LEFT THE KNIFE!!! HE LEFT IT!!! THE CROWD GOES WILLLDDDD

"bring down nassau. maybe you bring it all down"

jack and his name..... ohhhh brother.

ep6 "in a few hours time, there's a good chance you're going to look awfully smart"

jack so angry and peeved and hurt-of-pride bc that english dude got the city to work and he didn't... ouhh the pride. OH WHY ARE YOU HERE YOURE GONNA GET IN TROUBLE.....

"no one prepared you for this, did they" ah the similar fates "but i know how"

"but it cannot be borne if you cannot stand"

"please understand i'm quite particular about my library"

"to have been a partner to him in this way" the homoerotic subtext mmmhh-hm!

"you don't think i can convey a thought to Anne comprehensible only to her? a thought as simple as 'run'?" ;_; BRUH,,, he's ready to . Not let Nassau be 'english' and for anne to have a chance out NO MATTER WHAT THE COSTTTTT

"english it will not be" or however the quote went..... badass... fuck yehaw.....

scott and his daughter ,,, scott continues to be so. fucking loving father to her despite the great gulf between them :( MANNNN

FUCK! ROGERS!!!!!!!!!!!

ep7 jesussss this plan is big and dangerous🙂

yes yess YES YES YESSSS THE DAUGHTER GETS ON THE BOAT!!!!!!!!! please tell me her name next. ffs.

billy taking her hand and helping her onto the ship COOL SHOT !!

".. but this battle is ours as much as yours. my word and your will govern in consort or not at all. and when i'm not present, that word shall be given by my daughter" POWER TO WOMEN!!!!!!!!

"we're all villains in nassau. don't think cuz youre new youre any different"

fuck :) now they gotta give jack as well as the gold. max is so pissed abt this. she gave anne her WORD.

i love that she had power and say over white men now. btw. love this flavor.

HER NAME IS MADI. BTW. THANK YOUU

"i understand this is the place cowards come to beg forgiveness from a king"

"captain flint is dead" "not anymore he's not" HE GOT BETTER

ohhhh ffffuuuuuck did silver just. kick glasses-guy's head in with his peg leg. ohh Brother.

"my name is john silver. and i've got a long, fucking memory"

flint coming to ask silver "are you alright?" after this all :)c not to be annoying. but im gonna be annoying. these two fucking guys <3

flint talking about both miranda and thomas this episode i love bisexuality

"... and spiteful to anyone who would find.. Happiness, under her rule" AFTER REFERRING TO THE FACT THAT BOTH THOMAS AND MIRANDA WERE KILLED FOR THE FIGHT FOR THE PARDONS ETC. WOW!!!!

vane and jack and anne and max polycube of all time. at this current moment just the three of them at all actively but it still stands.

ep8 anne and flint discussing routes. vane is there too. vane is playing with some tea cup. gets his finger slightly stuck on the ear--

"don't despair, some other poor bastard'll take my place soon enough" jack..... the RAT......

"there's a whole world out there, that ever so often rewards ambition"

"this does not seem like release"

"one waits for mr de groot to finish speaking, frowns thoughtfully, and then repeats phonetically what he said to the men"

"the depths of my ignorance on the subject" oooh yes. oh YES. learning the job. ON THE FLY.

he and madi have an interesting thing going on :) they should be friends i think

i really dont care for eleanor anymore. like good for her for girlbossing her own way but ohhhh stay away from max thaaaanks

ok sorry yeah i do like it when she's cussing men out its good its fantastic

the fucking spiderweb of people and relations and ideals and pride and trust and power and dsshfkdjfgkj

"for reasons passing understanding, mr dobbs still has a number of friends on this crew" fuck dobbs but FUCK this line is funny

madi :(....

jack is the son of a long line of tailors omg...

"but jesus did i make up a lot of ground to catch you"

anne clambering into the wreckage to kiss jack square on the lips hello............ "ow" HELLO

vane jack and anne "right behind us" vane's INSANE fucking stare at flint as he says "yeah" GOOD STUFF

i mean im not trying to sell the polycule but uuuhhhhoooohhhgh vane helping jack out of the carriage.. that hold is GOOOOOODDD

vane's NOT ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE RIGHT NOW. IS HE. I JUST STARTED TO LIKE HIIMMMM

ep9 "charles vane's death is inside that box. along with my good name. along with her lost love. along with your late quartermaster's life." holy fucking shit speak UP jack oh i LOVE THIS. oh my godddddd

"that, or he doesn't know how to say no to the both of us at the same time" flint and silver parents of all time

"... it could be catastrophic" "HE KNOWS." JOHN'S FACE HEREEE

"if you have something to add you should just fucking say it"

"i can't tell if this was a warning, or a welcome" WELCOME!!!!!! WELCOME TO H E L L ! ! !

madi hugging john OH GOD. OH THE . GHRGHGGRHG THERES A TRUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"get on with it motherfucker" oh fuck me i really like vane actually. he's not gonna fucking DIE, HAHA, THAT WOULD BE . WRONGGGG

huh. well this fucking hurt actually. gol d roger ass move btw. FUCK THIS SUCKS ACTUALLY!!!!!!

jack taking on vane's mantle . my teeth are gonna be ground clean off with the way im clenching my jaw right now. fffuck me this episode was pretty rough after all

eleanor guthrie youre a fantastic character i hope you also get whats coming to you❤️

hello mr teach and your sad little camp.... dad's about to be fucking furious about a certain someone's hanging.... "what do you want to do about it?" and the movement of his eye.... GIRL WHAT DO YOU THINK HE WANTS TO DO ABOUT IT

ep10 "the irony wasn't lost on either of us"

"but the one in whose name this war is to be fought... it is still a stranger to me" oh Words. also flint's stare in this moment mmmmmwah!!

"and given how much we have sacrificed to earn this battle, how can we do anything other but to see it through. my friend may have given his life to earn this battle"

flint sacrificed fifty of his men in a senseless massacre just to entice the english to chase after him.......... bitch this fucking MAN.

blackbeard coming to avenge his SONNNN and also jack closing his eyes to take in the news of charles' death oh my GOD

he is. so righteously PEEVED at eleanor over what happened to charles oh my god.....

BTW really very good hair insp from jack here. around 19minutes to the ep

"... once our relationship had been exposed, defiled, scandalized... everything ended"

"england was broken, and that sooner or later a good man must resist it" BRO. BRRRRROOO

flint's voice and face during this conversation haHa. haha ha ha. Ha., huh.

john..... partners and trust and dying 'for' flint ghngrhg

"there may be no one in the world closer to you than i am" THIS IS . INSANE. INSANE!!!!!!!

"i think he feels shame. for having disappointed me. and a great need to redeem himself in my eyes"

"but among them is the sincere confusion as to why charles invested any time and energy in you" BECAUSE THEYRE FRIENDS!!!! DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!!

"there wasnt any more to that thought, was there" JACK YOU LOSER....

"to be underestimated is an incredible gift"

"someone better suited to do what must be done" madi's so fucking cool and i would lay down my life for her .

"see you on the other side" "always." fuck will and elizabeth actually these are my emotional support straights (not straight). also jack just called charles their brother im going to dshfjkdbgjkhjhklfdg

oh i love comedy. blackbeard's ship getting shot at and jack faltering in his step, while Teach. Literally Just Stands there. giving him the eye. Jack trying to gather himself. lmao

"TELL YOUR GOVERNOR. YOU TELL HIM I'M COMING" YAAAAYYY

"but in terms of out future and the danger that you believe you may pose to me, bear this in mind. I've survived starvation, a tempest, pirate hunters, jealous captains, mutinous crews, angry lords, a queen, a king, and the goddamn british navy." the rest of that quote. THE SCENE WHERE THEYRE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER OVER THE BODY OF WATER. WOW!!! FLINT'S SMILE IN THE FLASHBACK. WOW!!!!!!!

"but that name isnt doing anything for us. see about that"

cant fucking describe how insanely fun it is to me that the crew at nassau are creating a myth, a man out of thin air, to serve as the poster boy for their efforts or whatnot. this is the Neatest fucking thing. WHAT the hell.

best fucking thing to have max be in these season finale final shots so often

THE LETTER. MADMEN, RICH MEN, TYRANTS AND KING. THE TABLE!!!!

ep1 "if it makes you feel any better, i havent considered killing you in months" aw he cares ❤️

also hhhiiiih the opening sequence underwater stuck in that ladder thingie :) yikes!!

MADI HOT AS HELL.

"today there will be vengeance for the death of charles vane" JAAAACKKKKK

THE REVENGE :)<3

oh that was. a nasty fucking trick, the barricade whatever. oh fuck me.

OH FUCK MEEEE flint i cant believe you'd leave silver on his oWN OH NNNO. and madi's reaction as well oh no....

"i dont know. got to make this" girl this is . So.

im still wondering about max and eleanor's roles in all this. who will max side with. No one? herself. is eleanor actually This, Now. after all That? shes the most selfish mf (honorific) that im finding this all Very difficult to swallow

flint telling madi how it seems that silver and her have become 'friends'.... "he is my friend, too" i see. I See.

MR. FEATHERSTONE DO NOTTTTTTT TRIFLE ME RIGHT NOW. BE. FOR REAL.

no no nnno not mister de groot :(

"there will be no pirate King here. of that much i am certain" GO GIRL!!!!!!!!! I SUPPORT THIS

ep2 "i gave you a life, and you repaid me by conspiring with my enemies" MAX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh NO???

aah, good ol sexism on the high seas. whats teach's fucking issue with anne.

madi has the fucking, CLASS and SWAG of a chAMPION. TALK BACK TO FLINT MORE!!! ILOVE THIS FLAVOR

israel fucking hands lmsjkdfglfk i fucking knew it was fking waiting for the name to drop i cant fucking, believe this

i love this, when john is spinning this tale about himself, i dont know if he believes any of it himself, whether he's so deep in the lie just to get out of a bad situation, is this where his heart actually lies. i love this. myth of a man. "now i am here". like some goddamned god

"at a certain point there is a good chance he'll just decide to kill you than take your no for an answer" "he can try" anne loml loml loml

"now that we're here, it'd be so easy. and i don't wanna do it"

[looks at the camera] oh. i Love Infighting.

"someone who shared anne's mistrust of sentimentality" anne and charles bff's for REAL.....

oh fuck off fuck me, teach's memory of charles and that bird and what it might mean, "dinner" fuuuuck meeeeeeeeeeee this FUCKING gUY

max is so tired of this fucking situationnnn but she has some sense of moralityYYY oh my god this tangle of WEBSSSS

john just lost a friend in max :(

ep3 max's voice when she's angry... loml

"the empire survives in part because we believe its survival to be inevitable. but it isn't. and they know that. that's why they're so terrified of you and i" flint and madi bestfriendism arc begins Now

wait this occurred to me out of nowhere as jack is pondering about his future status and whether he's gonna be blackbeard's equal one day. oh are these daft bastards all doomed by the narrative. cuz of the history thing. idk what happened in nassau, historically speaking, but is this whole entire endeavor gonna end Bad for them. oh no. OH NNNNO

madi YOUR EYES. OH THE TEARS

"do i need to run?" "that'd be fun for me to see. how would you do it?" "with great difficulty, i imagine"

this episode is paced and shot in the most . bizarre fucking manner. why does this look and feel like a relationship drama or a cheap version of one.

"i did not fail to do it. i refused to do it and would again"

teach offering that shithead rogers a tight lipped smile while he's captured. ok blackbeard you have rights

oh. oh they fucking killed. huh. teach is fucking dead, then. fuck rogers fuck him entirely what the fuck is this dudes deal

ep4 flint saying "our shared authority" like a . fucking confession. oh my God.

"a lot of them end up that way too. though i admire your optimism" AND THE WAY FLINT LOOKS AT HIM. THIS IS INSANE ON THE BRAIN

silver's personal vendetta against billy. <3 flint and silver sharing the mantle of Captain(tm) <33

"i think we all agree that it helps none of us to have those idiots armed to the teeth" "... yeaH"

this john billy flint + max conflict is so interesting. oh my god it's so . HM!!

"any man" "absolutely -- absolutely not" LET ANNE FIGHT FFS !!!!!

"anne get up" her hands. fully open. bleeding down to the bone now,

JACK JACK JACK MY BELOVED RACKHAM

"that i would have had to live with it" max is not a killer ohhh she's got the sensibilities of a human-person still when everyone else is ready to reign bloody murder upon anyone who crosses them ohhhhhhhhh

"do i need to be concerned that you took almost two hours to tell me about it?"

i know i know i know its about miranda (and thomas) but mostly miranda i know i know but fuck man fuuuuuuck when john tells flint that madi is the person who makes him the most vulnerable and flint is spacing out after it. dude. FUCK. but also uhhhhhh UHHHHHHH this could be. Bad❤️ flint is. NOT a good person. HHHHHHH

"wouldn't you trade it all to have thomas hamilton back again" HUUUUUUUUUH ? OH I DID NOT EXPECT US TO GO /HERE/ ACTUALLY

the way flint's face is twitching. sir toby stephens THANK YOU

"i suppose the good news is that's how we'll know we're finally getting somewhere interesting" AND THE SAD SMIRK AT THE END OFTHISSSS

fuck eleanor but the look she grants flint before the gate closes. damn.

eleanor i am sooooooo sick and tired of your shhhhit leave max ALONE <333333

ep5 eleanor's handmaiden lady is quite brave actually, to trust her word and go out to the wolves like this

billy is so. Baffled. this actor is really fun in this kinds of emotion

john trusts flint.... or at least. he is trying to convince billy that he does.....

ok this is Quite fucking fascinating actually. this Quarrel-type a beat between rogers and eleanor

i.... dont,,,, care for eleanor getting all emotional about madi and her mom and mr scott. dude. get real.

LOVE the way flint says "i'm not concerned" in regards to the change in plans (cache, and john)

sucha fucking powerful frame when flint and co. come from that tunnel and madi with her men are there <3

"HE just Said it."

"all it guarantees is we no longer have the cache that we all agreed was Critical" I LOVE THAT JACK IS SO. PRACTICAL AND SMART...

WHERES ANNE.

eleanor's commanding officer or whatever . his face when looking through the looking-glass and max asks him what he sees. priceless.

ep6 yes yes yes madi, stomp on those white girl feelings. FUCK eleanor

"'this deal'? as in the one in which you walk away with all My mOnEy?"

"i did not want this" :-(

"thats the power youve given me" oh, BILLY. YOU SHOT YOURSELF IN THE LEG WITH THIS CHOICE !!!

billy's vendetta against flint, wanting to see him dead...... silver asking him to stop it/be over it...............

max and jack, hm, not friendship necessarily. but the General Understanding between them. at times. yeah.

MAX AND ANNE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"i loved you. and i betrayed you. but i cannot apologize for it" ... "and i do not wish to lie to you ever again" MAX. GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR VOICEEEEE

did madi just. fucking die.

oh. shit. did eleanor fucking die also.

everythings. COMING UP, FLINTHOUSE,

flint's face acting once again, now that he's telling silver about the. Hnghn. situation. oh god.

"anyone who can't make it to the beach, i want them carried. i'll not leave anyone behind"

"how can we all have sacrificed so much and none of us has anything to show for it?" oh i get it now i get it . max isthe fucking insightful oracle or smth like that of the series. she's always on all sides and on her own side, selfish and giving and caring and loyal and scheming. oh she. Oh She.

"... and the governor is sitting in Nassau in mY ffFFUcking chair, victorious !!!"

this spat jack and max are having. Oh Man. i revisit my earlier statement. I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC????

"youre goddamn right i do"

"eleanor is dead, anne is nearly dead, and i want him to pay for all of it dearly" this is not the point but hoooooohhhhmy god if anyone suggests that this woman is bisexual rather than a lesbian im going to [choking noises. but humorously]

oh this shall be. Really Good. <- scene opens of silver lookng Fhucking worse for wear and red-teary-eyed. and flint's opening the captain's door

ep7 "she was curious and strong, not made to be hidden away from the world" THIS SUCKS. SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

flint asking "how are you" from silver...... hngnh. theres something so genuine in his voice in this. and in silver's eyes. oh fuck fuck fuck this

"they call you king, but only in the kingdom that is no more. we're all free men here, and i wish to Stay that way."

MAX FUCKING LOVES ANNE. LOOK AT THOSE LINGERING GLANCES FROM THE DOOR. FUCK!!!!!!!! FUCK ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"you told her to fuck off. she listened" IM SO SAD

jack's funy little breakdown over the whatever-fees like. bruh. this is SO domestic

jack's got the energy of a single father of four, methinks.

"when i was drowning myself over miranda, you helped me find my way out. Look at me. I will do the same for you"

"charles vane was my closest friend in the world" bruh............. JACK....................... BRO!....................

eleanor's grandmother's actor hello hello hello. Hello

hyii vittuuUUU the dead eleanor having moved her gaze towards rogers in his minds eye eeewwwwWW CREEPS ME OUT

"they are strong when flint and silver are united, but separate the two of them, turn them against one another and their world collapses" JESSUS THE CODEPENDENCY THE ISSUES THE . WOW!!!!!!!!!!!

BITCH. BITCH ??????????????????????????? BGIHNTUTDBGJK H:)DFGFNK MADI IS ALIVE?????????????? FLINT WHAT DID YOU . DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i think max is the only character in this show actually. thats what i think actually.

oh fuck Oh fuckkkk silver looks like a drowned cat when he realizes that flint and the queen are not... in favor of. getting madi ? oh goddddddddddddd

".. to divide us like this, i will not permit it, MADI, would not permit it..."

flint is like. RIDE OR DIE. for silver rightnow about madi. i respect this i like this this feels like an insane person thing in its entirety this is so good to me

"when you and i are of the same mind there is nothing we have not yet been able to do" and then he kinda Smiles. at silver. flint youre Insane.

ROGERS CAN SUCK SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

madi is so fucking through with this shes angry and tired and powerful and everythign and she will also die fighting i Hope this iSnt Foreshadowing🙂

"i mean, how could you be someone who would do that?" aint that thefucking question

"i do it for us. thats how it started. thats how its going to end" DID JACK FUCKING RACKhAM JUST INVENT. LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEEEEEE ? ?

"you'll. you know." "i will" bro they. they both love anne like crazy. they dont love each other they kinda despise/respect/pity each other but By Golly Gee God They Both Love This Woman and Will Put Aside All Arguments For Her SAKE

ISRAEL HANDS ARE YOU A LITTLE WEASEL BITCH IN THIS UNIVERSE ALSO!!!!!!!!!?????????

ep8 "right people ... to hold the world together while it finds its balance" "you think so much of what you and i can accomplish together -" "you and her." OH MY GOD????

"i think that you are the best of us" AND I THINK THAT THIS IS A LOVE CONFESSION. UNLESS????

a cold winter's niiiight. HEALING ONE'S WOUNDSSSSS. MAX AND ANNE!!!!!

oh the trust is so fuckingbroken. between max and anne. between silver and flint... jhessus the stare flint offers silver after the cache is revealed. FUCK.

ooooh the lady of the brothel and the lady in waiting and JACK JACK JACK

dads are. FIGHTING.

"but do not ask me to choose between a war, and a wife. i do not think youre going to like the answer"

"... but i demand your support. [...] do i have it?" [LONG ASS BEAT] "yes." HE SAID, YOU KNOW. !!!! LIKE A LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"but max refused" BUT MAX REFUSED. BUT MAX. REFUSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"she's a breath away from winning that fight. for whatever reason, she wants to share the spoils with you" IM GOING TO SPILL OVER IM GOING TO DROWN IN A PUDDLE IM GOING TO GNAW ON MY HANDBONES AND TURN INTO A FLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

no no no noNO NO NO!! SHES BEEN FIGHTING THIS WORLD EVERY DAY SINCE SHE WAS BORN!!! DO NOT!!! MARRY HER OFF!!!! TO SOME WHITE MALE DIMWIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

youre forcing her to sell herself again, to be someone else's to belong to someone who does not deserve her nor her affections, to hide behind a white man, im not angry at the show or the writers i am thrilled to witness this fiction but FOR FUCKSSSS SAKEEEEEE THE STORY OHMY GOD!!!!! SHE IS THE CENTRAL PIECE!!!! TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"that... is a Very oldman"

silver still making sure. that no one does harm to flint. he fucking trusts that man. oh i am in so So much danger

"it's a fucking mess out here, come inside" ANNE. YOU AND YOUR WAYS!!!

SHE SAID NO SHE SAID NO SHE SAID NO SHE SAID NO!!!!! I LOVE YOU MAX!!! DO NOT GIVE THEM AN INCH. GIRL YOURE MY EVERY.THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

"... because i refuse to situate a man in a position where he might interfere one day with my ability to repair things with you"

"you are the bravest ... the truest .... and i betrayed you [her voice breAKS] and it sickens me" IM IN THE FUCING TRENCHES.

"for failing to see there's nothing important that does not include you"

hey yo <3 the hurt and . tears in silver's eyes as he watches flint Fucking betray him. after everything. after all. burrowing mmy head in sand right now effective immediately. i hate this. I HATE THISSS. he's not gonna trust flint EVER again about ANYTHING, and flint is SO. he is SO GOING TO END UP LONELY FRIENDLESS ALL HIS CLOSEST COMPANIONS AND LOVERS AND PARTNERS D E A D BECAUSE THEY HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF EXISTING A HAIRS WIDTH TOO CLOSE TO HIM. HATE PREVAILS LOVE LOSES FUCK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE

ep9 "after i just climbed that fucking hill are you being serious right now?" heh. COMEDY.

god the fucking. gentle grins and smirks they share . to let pride get between them... and then they did. let it get there. right. i hate this show (i LOVE THIS SHOW???)

TALKIONIG ABOUT. LEARNIGN HOW TO DEFEAT YOU . :) THE GENTLE SMIRKS CONTINUE OHMYGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THIS IS AGONIZING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"on his own and disadvantaged countless times since i've known him... and here we are"

"i wonder if he knows just how much youve learned from him" ENDME.

we dont know who silver is.

"i'd be forced to hesitate before doing you any harm" hes putting silver in the same line as thomas and miranda.

"no seriously ive got quite a lot riding on this" JACKKKK

is this fucking bitch rogers blaming . MADI. of all people for eleanor death im going to k*ll this man

OK FAIR THE KNITTING NEEDLES CLICKING ELEANOR'S GHOST THING IS PRETTY EFFECTIVE

"i must answer to them" and "MY war." madi. fuckingchrist girl.

"THAT. YOU did." MADI RIP HIM TO SHREEEDDSSSSSS

flint bodily regretting his choice of companion as this guy will not fkcing Shut UP.

FLINT STILL. idk if this is care or plotting. BUT HE DOESNT WANT TO PART FROM SILVER

"that is to say you know my genuine friendship, and loyalty" im. going. to . scream

"can that be enough and there still be trust between us?" IM. GOING TO. SCREAM!

irrelevant to everything going on but my god the way flint is build. i'd like to look like this man thanks! gender OUTTTA the wazoo

THE OLD MAN LEADING JACK JUST FUCKING . DIED????????? NATURAL CAUSES?????? WHY ARE JACK'S STORYLINES ALWAYS COMEDIES IM LOSING MY MIND

THE THREE "mm-hmm's" JESUS

if flint fucking kills joji right now i will not be a happy camper i swear

god fucking fuck.

"it would be preferable to me if we solved this another way" AND WHY DO I STILL BELIEVE HIM!!!!!

"i know you cannot see why this must be. but it must be"

LIKE WAIT A MOMENTTTT silver i love your drive and love for your wife its only right <3 but fooor fucksake madi MADI HERSELF. ON THE ENEMY SHIP. is ACTIVELY SPITTING IN ROGERS FACE AND SAYING yeah whatre you gonna do kill me do it coward AND SHES LOOKING FORWARDDDD. PLEASE GIVE HER THE COURTESY OF DOING THE SAME.

mr de groot. i fucking despise the english.

"i have his true friendship, and so he's going to have mine" bruh.

ep10 ok i said i wouldnt comment on the last ep as i was watching but here me out. i hate that theres no fondness between them, at least not the sort that you(as a watcher?) can Reliably trust upon. its all just politics and selfish wants and needs and the flotsam and dead bodies that happen around you as you strive towards your goal. i hate that i cant trust jack!! and that flint cant trust jack!! and silver cant trust either of them!!! fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

. : D MOTHERFUCKER ALRIGHT !

#särmäs sermons #literature ramble #on a very personal note regarding this whole six months. loved the feeling of engaging my soft mousse of a brain to actually ponder at #themes and . meanings and characters on a deeper level than comedy/etc shows might force you to do. this is Not A Dig at comedies.#brother i live and breathe comedies. but as previously stated this was like PROPER DRAMA. AND I (ME!!! THIS FUCKING DUNCE????) WATCHED IT #AND GOT SOMETHING OUT OF IT TOO!!!!#fuck this was fun. THIS WAS FUN. despite it alllll #a nothing post by yours truly once again 💖

1 note · View note

ivan-is-autistic · 9 months

Text

12/25/23 - it wasn’t okay. content warning for shitty exes, a shitty roommate, and the trauma they caused me. i’m still processing the trauma from being a confused and mistreated autistic adult before i knew i was autistic, and the continuation of my mistreatment even when i knew and tried to advocate for myself.

it wasn’t okay for my ex “A” and his family to tell me i was ruining their fun on their trip because i got overstimulated from all the drinking and loud music and told him i needed to lie down for a bit. his entire family called me rude for stepping away and he told me to apologize to them over breakfast for what i had done. i felt guilty so i did . i now know that i was having an autistic meltdown and needed quiet time to retreat, they were all gaslighting me and convincing me that i was a horrible person for needing to lie down and that wasn’t okay.

it wasnt okay for my ex “R” to beg me to let him move in when we had just met, even if he was also a trans man who needed help and wanted to live away from his family. he was a stranger i had been seeing for like 2 weeks and i didnt have to say yes just because he was being pushy and i felt bad. it wasnt okay for him to spend all his money at the bar instead of helping with rent and it wasn’t okay for him to scream at me and be mean to me, even if he was self aware and getting therapy. im proud of myself for eventually standing up to him and kicking him out.

it wasn’t okay for my latest roommate to be dismissive of my needs that were very small/reasonable asks and continually not consider me in decisions that greatly affected me or my pets. it wasnt okay for her to make careless decisions that traumatized me and my cat and belittle my experience and make me feel small so that she could avoid taking accountability for her roles in the situations and avoid apologizing for literally anything at all. it wasn’t okay for her to continually flip the conversation back onto me and the little mistakes i made and make that the focus so she could avoid talking about her big ones that actually negatively affected people and animals. it wasnt okay for her to project her insecurities and flaws onto me so that i looked like an awful person in front of the other roommate. or to call me crazy and attempt to make me question my reality. it wasnt okay for her to lie and gossip about me, and it also wasn’t okay for the other roommate to enable her behavior and go along with her instead of taking a moment to hear my perspective. literally not a single thing she did to me was okay, not even the nice thing she did in the beginning because she later used it against me. whats even worse is i repeatedly told her im autistic and have trouble with communication (i told her im better over text and tend to be wordy and have situational mutism in person) and she was dismissive of that, said she wasnt gonna read my “essays” and suggested i get ABA and a “real diagnosis”, lol. obviously its already messed up to manipulate and bully someone, but i’m speechless at the fact she was told im autistic and have a history of being mistreated in part because of that, and she still chose to further traumatize an autistic person because she was allergic to the word sorry and didn’t want a “weird” (autistic) person around her friend circle. so she made up some BS to turn the other roommate against me and get me kicked out. it wasnt okay for her to do any of that and make me lose a job i liked and that paid well. i had to say goodbye to a nice safe place (well, physically safe) to live and a close job working with animals all because this person didn’t want to acknowledge her wrongdoings or work on her internalized ableism. living with me required minor accommodations (like reading a few extra sentences and only sticking to washing our own dishes) and self reflection. and that was just way too much for her. now i’ve had to uproot my entire life, move 2 hrs away and once again attempt to find employment that doesnt make me wanna Ya Know, and a new place to live that hopefully won’t be falling apart and unsafe to live in. and also find another roommate since i cant afford to live on my own. this is all extremely difficult to find being autistic, trans, without a car, and making 15/hr or less because no jobs close enough to get to will pay more. fuck you old roommates, i hope you have the day you deserve.

#actually autistic #autistic adult #autism #late diagnosed autistic #ivan is autistic journal log #trauma #it wasnt okay #exes #roommates

1 note · View note

dycefic · 3 years

Note

Hello, I recently read some of your work and I really really like your writing style! I’ve loved everything I’ve read so far and if it is not a burden to you and you are okay with doing so, I was hoping you could answer a few questions?

I was wondering if you had any formal writing education? Any advice for writing? Also wondered what kinds of books and authors you read, if you read?

I am sorry for all the questions, and if they’ve been asked before (I tried to find any answers you may have given to these or ones similar and I’m sorry if I missed them but direct me if need be).

I am also a writer and I’m always very curious about writers I look up to/ really like- most of them just happen to not be among the living so I do t really get to ask them any questions. Thank you for your time! It’s a pleasure to be able to read your writing!!

Thank you!

I am blushing extensively, thank you for all your kind words!

As for writing, I have had no formal education in it. I tried - and might not have dropped out of university if I'd succeeded - but creative writing required higher general scores than I got in school. I've read a lot of books on writing... like, a LOT... and always taken an interest in plot structure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who walked out of House Of Flying Daggers (I saw it in theatres, I'm that old) rhapsodizing about the way they visually represented traditional storytelling metaphors (ie 'a rain of spears').

I will note that while it seems that absolutely everyone recommends Stephen King's 'On Writing', I've never read it because a) I found the little bit I read wordy and self-indulgent, and b) the very mention of that man's name enrages me because my partner once got into a serious hyperfixation and we didn't have a single conversation in which King's name was not mentioned for OVER A YEAR. This is not King's fault, but the name still fills me with intense fury.

Books on writing I would recommend:

K. M. Weiland's 'Structuring Your Novel': I like her 'voice', and her chosen examples, and pacing longer stories is one of the things I have the most trouble with.

J. Michael Straczynski's 'Complete Book Of Scriptwriting': It's an old book now, but it's still one of the best I've ever read, and my long-standing favourite. There's a ton of fascinating history about the evolution of screenwriting, and a lot of very pithy advice that applies just as well to novels and short fiction as it does to movies and television.

Chris Baty's 'No Plot? No Problem!': I haven't reread this in quite a while, but I remember it as being really helpful as well as fun to read. I also recommend NaNoWriMo in general. I've been participating since 2002 - this year will be my twentieth anniversary of NaNo - and my writing has improved enormously in that time. Writing is like everything else, insofar as the more you practice, the better you get. I've hit 50K every year since the beginning, so even if I never got a novel I wanted to finish, polish, and put out there (and a couple of them are promising), that's still 950,000 words I've written.

Also? Fanfiction. Fanfiction is a GREAT way to practice the craft. Because the characters and universe are pre-built, you can focus on the writing itself, on things like examining nuances of character, identifying and using tropes, and building a compelling story. Between NaNo and fanfiction, over the last 24 years, I have written over 2,000,000 words, and you can't do ANYTHING two million times without getting better at it.

As for who I like to read, I can't recommend Diane Duane, Tamora Pierce, and Georgette Heyer too highly. Not only do they write good stories, they were/are very, very technically skilled. Reading their work is an education in itself. I also recommend consuming narratives from other cultures - I learned a lot about different narrative conventions from things like reading translated novels, myths, and fairy tales, reading manga, and watching Chinese and Korean movies and dramas. It really gives you a different perspective on the mechanics of storytelling, and shows you how many 'default' or 'obvious' plot tropes are actually really culturally specific. (I have consumed every re-telling, re-imagining, or re-translation of Journey To The West, including the old tv show AND the Hallmark movie. I really recommend this, as it is FASCINATING how many ways different people interpret the same story. The Korean 'Korean Odyssey' and Netflix's 'New Adventures Of Monkey' are my favourites)

Bonus reading: When Books Went To War, by Molly Guptil Manning. It's not about writing, but it's about why stories are important, the lifeline a novelist can throw to someone experiencing the darkest of times, and what I believe may have been publishing's finest hour. I cry every time I read it, and it makes me proud to count myself a writer. If you ever wonder why you're slogging away so hard at learning so fickle and difficult a craft, this book will remind you.

“The therapeutic effect of reading was not a new concept to the librarians running the VBC (Victory Book Campaign). In the editorial Warren published on the eve of commencing her tenure as director, she discussed how books could soothe pain, diminish boredom or loneliness, and take the mind on a vacation far from where the body was stationed. Whatever a man's need—a temporary escape, a comforting memory of home, balm for a broken spirit, or an infusion of courage—the librarians running the VBC were dedicated to ensuring that each man found a book to meet it.” ― Molly Guptill Manning, When Books Went to War: The Stories that Helped Us Win World War II

#writing

439 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 3 years

Note

Hi Callie! In your opinion, what are the top ten best Mccoy centric episodes in TOS? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, thanks for reading anyways! ❤️

Ooh, good question! This is a little hard because McCoy, compared to Kirk and Spock, didn’t get a lot of centric episodes. Actually I think he only really got like… two out of 79 episodes (depending on how you view it). But he DOES have a large prescence in others, so let me see here…

1. The Empath Technically it’s a Triumvirate episode, but this has McCoy’s best moment in the entire show. Like if you want to understand McCoy’s character, this is the episode that you turn to. I already blabbed about why once so I’ll let that go into it for me.

2. For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky: While some of the execution is a bit iffy, this is still a realy excellent episode. Mainly because DeForest Kelley plays McCoy here with everything that he has and just nails everything, McCoy’s sadness, loneliness, and invevat le fate of dying in a year, masterfully. The episode would be NOWHERE near as good if not for De Kelley.

3. The Man Trap: This and the last one are the only two McCoy-centric episodes, at least that I recall. This one often gets overlooked since it’s first so I think that the emotional impact gets lost. But God McCoy in this episode is just outright tragic. I wrote a whole post about it because it felt so unfair that it was overlooked because there is SO MUCH there. Also mrke amazing De Kelley acting

4. All Our Yesterdays: While McCoy does spend a good chunk of it passed out from hypothermia, he is freakin’ excellent in this episode. He’s not only hilarious (“He means it’s cold!”, De’s delivery made me burst out laughing) but when he’s finally awake, he’s just freakin’ awesome. He put himself at GREAT risk to snap Spock out of his mental state and then went ‘screw it’ and tried to find the portal home cause he wants his life back, with or without Spock (but preferably with Spock). He’s just great~!

5. Return to Tomorrow: This whole episode is super underrated. It’s the one where the alien beings posess Kirk, Spock, and Lady of the Week’s bodies. McCoy is the ONLY rational person in the episode and the one who has to deal with the majority of the problem. He has to both worry about everyone’s minds in the orbs and what the aliens do to their human bodies and is VERY concerned throughout. It also demonstrates how devkted to his profession and oath that he is. He even outright risks Kirk dying for good, as painful as it is for him, because it would mean allowing another to die and like Hell is he doing that. Seriously, this one is so freakin’ overlooked.

6. Bread and Circuses/The Immunity Syndrome/The Tholian Web: Yeah three way tie cause they all have one thing in common: they feature his complicated relationship with Spock. The first one I wrote a whole meta about already. It’s a Spones analysis, but it reflects why McCoy himself is great in this episode along with all hos geneal grumpy snark throughout. Oh and the ending with him throwing a mattess at a guy… and he wins IIRC. Best underrated comedy moment EVER. With the second, he’s not at all happy with Spock being picked over him to examine the amoeba and that Spock may die. Their whole interaction in the hangar, McCoy waiting until the doors close to wish Spock luck, Spock’s seeming final words, and of course “Shut up Spock! We’re rescuing you!”. The last one of course has Kirk gone and McCoy is angry, grieving, and stressed with everyone losing their minds and Spcok pressuring him to fix it all at the same time and he takes it out on Spock. Then they see Kirk’s final message and we all know what happens after. All three do such a great job showing how much McCoy cares about Spock and showcasing how great they really are together, and not even just the shippy sense. Only reason they’re at six is because of how closely tied to Spock he is in those episodes instead of being the central character, but he IS still central in them and showcase some of his best moments. So I hope I got my point across XD

7. A Private Little War: The episode’s message is kind of… questionable. But ignoring thay, McCoy is the real freakin’ hero of this story. It’s only because of him that Kirk survived and he’s more than willing to contront him on his questionable decision making. Which is the very thing that Kirk brought him for to begin with. It’s one of the best episode to show how much he cares about Kirk and the lengths he’ll go for him. Oh and he kept Spock from dying along with Chapel and M’Benga. Thank God he has competent medical staff who can do the job without him XD

8. Journey to Babel: Okay yes this is a Spock episode, but McCoy is VERY prominent throughout. He’s both hilarious in the cold opening and we all remember his reaction to Spock’s ‘teddy bear’ XD. But he managed to conduct a VERY risky surgery that put Spock and Sarek at great risk if he screwed up. A surgery he’s never really conducted. And during a battle that causes frequent rattling to boot. He succeeded and the episode appropriately rewards him by allowing him the final word. It’s not only oen of the best episodes showing why he’s the CMO, but he’s just freakin’ great the whole episode.

9. Amok Time: Again it’s a Spock episode, but I repeat what I said about Return to Tomorrow: McCoy is the real hero. He’s the one who recognizes that something is horribly wrong, puts up with zero excuses, actually usus logic to get Spock to comply, and of course it was him who saved both Kirk and Spock’s sorry butts. They’d both likely be dead had McCoy not been there. He may have had the least screentime of the three, but he damn wel made up for it.

10. Operation: Annahilate: It has one of the saddest but strongest McCoy scenes. Through the whole episode he’s super protectice of Spock, running various tests to get rid of the parasites and trying to keep Kirk’s kid nephew alive all at the same time. Then he gets made by Kirk and Spock to risk blinding the latter… and DOES blind him. Then his face when the test result revelaed that he didn’t need to use an jntense light and being outright unresponsive when Kirk calls him later… just ouch. It’s one of those moments I wish it had gone more in depth, but upseide is we have haply McCoy by the end. Want proof of how much he cares for Spock and others? Here you go

And he has really good scenes in other episodes despite varying levels of prominence (Miri, Space Seed, The Galileo Seven, This Side of Pradise, The City on the Edge of Forever, Mirror, Mirror, Friday’s Child, The Ultimate Computer, Spock’s Brain… no seriosuly he’s the biggest bright spot in that and for certain S3 episodes tbh). It’s a HUGE shame that he was treated like the third wheel both in series and the films, and even now gets the raw end of the deal in popular media. But I hope that this was a satisfactory list Anon. Sorry it got all wordy and long, I can’t help myself sometimes XD

(Image Source)

#star trek tos #tos #leonard mccoy #ask #Anonymous #there was zero reason to blab that much but i did anyways #hope my photo choices make up for that XD

266 notes · View notes

syndxlla · 3 years

Text

Part nine of the More to Love series

Summary: Plans for the ball are in full swing, the concealment of your relationship with the knight dwindles and you make a deal with one another that leads to both of you learning a new and valuable skill

Word Count: 8.9k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (oral sex F receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms), swearing, mentions of wounds

Author’s Note: and we’re back to your regularly scheduled royalty and princesscore writings. this chapter is very chill honestly, but i still really enjoyed writing it! there’s also the introduction of THE DRESS. y’all this dress is insane you really aren’t ready i am OBSESSED with this dress.

Part eight

“Are you listening, Princess?” You hadn’t even realized you had zoned out. Your cheek was bright red from resting against your palm, and your eyes had glazed over with boredom. You hoped you didn’t look too uninterested, but considering the literal Queen of Mandalore looked down at you with folded arms and one arched eyebrow, you were less than confident that you looked engrossed in the conversation.

The Queen, Lady Reeves and yourself have been inside a yellow-themed parlor all morning discussing plans for the ball. Your Knight stood patiently by the door, overseeing the entire meeting. You wore a long sleeve dress that was too hot for the summer sun, which was slowly drying out the mud and puddles from then two-day long rainstorm that no one predicted. You spent the entire day yesterday pretending to rest from the exhausting day previous, but you were really hiding your arm from everyone else. You tried to argue with Koska that a long sleeve in the middle of summer would look for more suspicious than a simple bandage on your bicep, but she disagreed to say the least. The Knight stopped limping this morning, although you were convinced he was just faking it for good measure. If others knew he was injured, it could raise suspicion that you were too. You also think he didn’t want you to worry about him. The stab wound really wasn’t that deep, but you knew it had to have hurt more than he was showing. You thought he should take a few days off to rest his leg and to really spend time with his son, but he refused to.

You look up from your emotionless stare out the window, which showed the sea in the distance. The ocean was so different here compared to what it’s like in Corellia. There are sandy beaches and the water’s warm, whereas back home, it’s often frozen over, and is lined with rocky fjords and coves. You wanted to go down to one of those beaches soon if you could. They looked relaxing and much more intruiging than a wordy meeting that you stopped listening in on Lord knows when.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute.” You clear your throat, looking up at the ginger above you. You bat your eyelashes, trying do play off innocent and truthful. She shrugged, and turned around to pull something out of Koska’s hands.

“I was saying that now that we have the food and decor arranged for the ball, we can talk about the important things.” She says as she whips around for the big reveal that you weren’t expecting: iher arms was the most extravagant, fluffy gown you had ever seen. It was a soft rose gold, the skirt was huge and round, tulle pillowing out from the bodice which had clearly been hand-beaded by nimble fingers to have five-pedaled flowers with curly vines growing out of them. There was a soft sweet-heart neckline, the lace and beading of the bodice came up past the structure to overlap where your skin would be, The sleeves were off the shoulder, which was common for Mandalorian summer gowns. The skirt had a soft hint of sparkles and real diamonds had been sewn into the centers of each flower along the gown.

You perked up as you saw the ornament, your attention being drawn from the crashing waves of the ocean to the prettiest dress you had ever seen. You think you sighed, but you weren’t really sure. Dresses have always been a part of your life, designers from all over the world would send you their best sets, and it’s rare for you to wear the same gown more than once. This isn’t the first time you had been presented with a dress that costed more than some of the houses in the kingdom, but there was something different about it. It had a special glow to it, unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Her Radiance Ahsoka brought it, it’s a wedding gift from the Woodland elves.” Koska speaks up when she sees your reaction. Both her and the Queen were amused at your childlike awe. “That’s why it has that shimmer, they used silk spinners and gold.”

“I… I can’t accept this.” You wanted to, but you were desperately trying to be humble and calm in this situation. The dresses never meant that much to you, it’s just a piece of clothing. You have always been far more into the politics that came with royalty, not the fashion, so this was a first.

“Well of course you can.” The queen chuckled, “It would be rude not to.” You wished you could tell her that wearing such an extravagance would feel in vain because you did not feel affection towards the person you’ll be wearing it for. However, you supposed she was right, it would be rude to turn down a gift from the literal elves. You stand up from where you sat, walking over the dress that took your breath away. You wondered what the Knight thought of it, and you turn around to look at him. You know that he wouldn’t show any type of reaction over this thing, especially if the Queen is watching, but you wanted to show him that you were thinking of him. You smiled, raising your eyebrows to really show how beautiful you thought the gown was, you’ll get to talk about it with him later. This is the second time Koska see’s something like this between the two of you, and she first looks at you, and the knight, raising a sharp eyebrow.

You place your hand over the fabric, running your palm over it. You did nothing to deserve this, but you were honored that it’s yours. “It’s like a faerie’s dress.” You sigh. “It’s wonderful, when can I thank her Radiance?”

“She’s out and about, she usually meditates in the gardens on sunny days, I can retrieve her, if you’d like.” Koska speaks up.

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll find her eventually.” You smile.

“Interesting that you brought up the fae…” The Queen brings up, “Allow me to ask, it is your engagement ball, is there anything specific you would like to have incorporated?” A few days ago, you would have had no answer, because a few days ago there was nothing about Mandalore worth it to you. However, things have changed. You’ve spent sleepless nights thinking about the boy in the beskar armor, and you would give anything to dance with him at that ball. You knew damn well that if you asked nicely, and maybe gave him head in return, he would do almost anything you asked. He would happily dance with you alone in the room after the events of the night, although you weren’t even sure if he knew how to dance. You did want to waltz with him, but not in that way.

So, last night you stayed up late, laying on your back with the balcony doors just cracked open to let in the smell fo fresh rain and a cool breeze into the hot room, thinking about him. You especially thought about the soft skin of his thighs and the way he shuddered when you raked your fingernails down his abdomen. But you also thought about how you could dance with him at the ball, where everyone could see. You knew that you would be dancing with far more people than Korkie, it would be many people’s last (and only) chance to dance with you before you’re married, and so you’re expected to give everyone the opportunity and attention they desired. It wasn’t your favorite thing you’d have to do, especially considering you would be dancing with a number of complete strangers and total creeps of Viziers, Grand Dukes and old viscounts who would probably whisper dirty things in your ear. And that is part of why you wanted this one thing for yourself so badly.

Dancing with a mysterious stranger wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted to share your affection towards him, and you especially wanted him to see you in your true element of balls and parties and gowns and tiaras. You knew it was risky, especially considering you can hardly control yourself around him, who knows what the crowd may be whispering as you dreamily look up at him. But after having to move and change your entire life, marry a man you resent in a kingdom that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in, you owe yourself this one thing. Just this one.

However, dancing with a literal knight would be far too suspicious and obnoxious for the biggest event in the western part of the world. And you knew that he would never remove his helmet, even if his life depended on it. It would be no easy feat to convince him to do something like that in such little time, but that’s when you got the best idea to have possibly ever cross your mind.

When you were just a little girl, your nursery caretaker would sit you on her lap when you had droopy, tired eyes, and read you a story. You can’t remember what it was called, it’s been so long since you heard it, but it was your favorite. It was the tale of the masquerade ball where the young peasant girl fell in love with the handsome magician. You were always drawn into it, because you once hoped you would fall in love with a mysterious and handsome man, too.The point of the story was that she never saw his face, as they both had on extravagant swan masks covering their eyes. If everyone had their face covered, it wouldn’t look suspicious if he did, too. You knew it would be a big thing to ask, and he may not even agree to it if the Queen approves of the short-noticed theme, but you wanted to live at least one night as the young peasant girl.

“Yes, actually.” You began to reply, “I would love for my engagement ball to be a masquerade.” You made sure to add in the ‘my’ to reinstate that it is for you. The Queen stopped to consider what you asked, and Koska looked suprised. It’s rare for anyone to ask the Queen for something like that out flat. But, she was the one who brought it up.

The Queen made you wait in suspense for her answer, and every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and wink at the knight to let him know that you asked for him, but even you, the naive princess, knew that you needed to be more careful with sharing your memories with him when others are around. “I suppose we could arrange that.” She thinks out loud, and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. The Queen really only agreed because she knew it would cause more buzz and conversation around her last event as Queen. Even you could see that, but if it meant you would get a chance to share the memory with your guard, it was worth it.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the ball is this weekend, I fear we will not have enough time to prepare for such a change in plans…” Koska spoke up.

“Well, not if we don’t have everyone in the palace working double time,” Both yours and Koska’s faces dropped, that is not what you wanted at all. “Every servant will be required to make ten masks before the ball on Saturday. Knights are exempt, obviously.” She placed the rose gold dress back in Koska’s arms. You immediately felt guilty.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty, I don’t want everyone to-“

“Oh nonsense,” She interrupted, “I love the masquerade idea, it will be grand. It will be the envy of Coruscant.” Was everything a battle for her? An endless contest of who’s the best between Mandalore and Coruscant? If everyone had extra work to do on top of their usual load, you would feel absolutely terrible, but there would be no changing the Queen’s mind. “As the head of the servants, you will oversee the masks, Lady Reeves.” Your face was in shock, pale and sick. Koska shot you an annoyed glare. You tried to respond with an apologetic smile, but the Queen was speaking up again, pacing as she spoke. “Of course we need the royals to stand out from everyone else, we’ll already have our gowns but the masks will make a difference too…” She thought out loud. “Koska I would like an owl mask as per usual, there will be gems incorporated as well I trust?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” She was not amused with her new task.

“As for our little Princess,” She was referring to you, but you couldn’t even listen out of guilt. Everything you tried in Mandalore somehow backfired on you. “Her dress is lovely, but her mask must also be the most extravagant in the room, after mine, of course. It would also be best if hers and my nephew’s matched, Yes?” Koska nodded, struggling to hold the heavy dress with her small stature. “Lovely, aren’t you just full of surprises, Your Highness?” The Queen smiled at you, and you forced a polite smile. “Now, excuse me, I have a designer to meet with to get as many feathers and adornments for masks as possible.” The redhead hastily exits the room, her high guard following her, leaving just you and Koska with your knight.

“What the fuck was that about?” Koska asked afterwards.

“I didn’t mean for any of the extra work to happen, I swear.” You defensively respond.

“You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?” She asks.

“No- that not at all what-“

“Let her be, Koska.” Your knight steps into the conversation.

“Ugh you knights are so frustrating sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what is going on with you two?” She asks and your heart drops to your ass. Was it that obvious there was something more there? Your knight tensed up, too. “Yeah, I can see exactly what’s going on here. Would either of you like to explain?” She asks.

The two of you stood awkwardly like children who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. You wondered how you were going to get out of this one. Your entire world could come crashing down right now if you didn’t play this out correctly, and a thousand outcomes of this situation simultaneously played out in your head. Would she rat you out? Would it lead to your knights expulsion? Or would she keep it to herself? She seemed to have a history with your knight, although you didn’t know what that might be. Maybe she would be on your side, but you highly doubted it.

You blame yourself for all of this. You should have put a stop to all of this long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He has you tied around your finger, and you like it. You wondered what was going on through his mind, was he as nervous as you? He had to be, if not more worried about what would happen. Someone knowing about your secret relationship would only lead to you getting a tap on your knuckles and then they would try to hide it from society to keep your reputation clean, but it would be the end of his career and safety for him. You were selfish for this, and you knew it.

“What?” Is all your stupid mouth says. As if you hadn’t just had the most sporadic and stressful thought process of your entire life. After all that, the only thing you were able to come up with was “what?”. You thought your body might be shaking, but you weren’t totally sure. You wanted to look at the knight by your side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Koska must have thought the same thing as you because after you just responded with an arrogant rhetorical question, her eyebrows raised like a mother angry with her teenage son. She scoffs, and walks to the other side of the parlor to place the gown down on a sofa. When her back was turned to you, you were somehow able to muster up the courage to look at the beskar-clad figure to your left. He didn’t look any different than, well, ever. Tall and broad and stoically looking ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But you knew better. He had to have had a similar thought process to your own. He never turned to look back at you, and that’s when the guilt really set in. This could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. You fiddle with your sleeve.

Koska comes back too soon, her arms folded over her chest and the same unamused look on her stupidly perfect face. “So, one of you better start talking now, or else I’m going to get impatient and go catch up with the Queen to do your chore.” She nods to you. Why was she doing this? What did she gain out of knowing any of this? It could be to protect Korkie, although you found that seriously hard to believe. From what you can tell, Koska could care less about the Mandalorian Prince.

You sigh out of embarrassment mostly, but know that you are the one who needs to speak up. This was your mistake, and so it was your responsibility to fix it. “This is all my fault,” You have to clear your throat after beginning because of how uncomfortably your words sit in your throat. “I take full responsibility for everything. Don’t blame him for anything.” You nod. He turns his head to look at you after you say this, and you wanted nothing more than to look back at him, but Koska had your gaze trapped.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘everything’ and ‘anything’?” The lady-in-waiting asks.

You sigh again, knowing this was going to be hard to say. “I...allowed myself to be…” You carefully considered your word choice, “i-infatuated with the wrong man.” You finally get out. That was the first time you had said it in front of him, and only the second time you had said it outloud ever, the first being to the Elven Queen last week. “I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand, but I fell under the spell of this Knight, and I don’t even know his name. I’ve never seen his face. In many ways, he’s a complete stranger to me.” You debated saying the next thing, but it just kind of spilled out, ‘A stranger who’s plagued my thoughts and actions since the day I got here.” It was hard for you to say, but there was something so liberating about saying it.

He never took his eyes off of you the entire time you spoke, but this time you were able to look back at him. Your eyes first looking down at the floor guiltily, and then they slowly make their way up his armor and to the visor on his helmet. You just looked there for a little bit while Koska processed what you were saying. You smiled genuinely at the knight, desperately trying to show him that everything you just said was true. For a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to say anything at all, and the room fell silent.

“Well…” She begins, you can’t hear any disappointment in her tone yet, “You’re terrible at hiding it.” She sighs. Of all the things she could have said, you did not expect that.

“What?” You say like an absolute idiot for the second time. You look back at the woman.

“Look, I’ve known him for a long time.” She shakily breathes, looking at him, “We’ve actually been through a lot together.” He was still looking at you, “And honestly, Neither of us were ever cut out for the Royal life we’ve been living for a while now.” You wondered what she meant by that. “And to be frank, I could care less about your personal life.” She said to you about you, “But since he’s a friend, and you really don’t mean very much to me, no offense,”

“None taken.”

“I suppose I’ll just keep it to myself-“

The relief that overcame your body was unmatched. You can’t stop the grin that goes from ear to ear or the sigh of relief that danced on your lips and out of your lungs. You look over at him, who still hasn’t looked away from your face, but he sighs of relief, too. You see it in the way his armor shifts.

“-Under one condition.”

“Okay…”

“You have to start hiding it better, no more over the shoulder glances. Okay? This is me looking out for him.” She gestures to him with a nod. Was she really going to do this for you?

“No more glances, got it.” You repeat.

“There’s no telling what might happen to him if the wrong person finds out.” She clears her throat, and that statement scares you. You try not to let it take up too much of your thought. “And you have to act like nothing is different. You’re still engaged to the Prince and you’re still the future Queen-consort. I don’t give a damn about what happens behind closed doors, but when others are around you have to behave yourselves. This is me looking out for my kingdom, understood?”

“Understood.” You nod back, although you weren’t the biggest fan of that condition, you knew that was the price you had to pay to get what you wanted… well at least what you think you wanted. “You’re not going to tell the Queen?”

“If you do those things, she won’t hear a word about it.” Koska shrugs.

“And what about Korkie?”

“Stars, I cannot stand that boy. I don’t even talk to him.” She rolls her eyes and you chuckle. You’re happy you aren’t the only one who feels that way about the prince. “But I’m not going to cover or lie for you two, I’m not going to help you hide it or anything. Alright?”

“Of course.” You reply.

“Great. I have over five-hundered masks to make by Saturday, so I’ll be leaving now.” She finished and on her way out, she pushes the knight on the shoulder playfully.

The door closes.

“Stars.” You clear your throat and turn to look at him, before you can say anything, though, he’s picking you up by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of weightless flour, and carrying you over to the second sofa that isn’t taken up by a ridiculously large dress. You giggle when he does, blushing at his enthusiasm. You’re placed on your back and he kneels between your legs.

“You’re excited.” You chuckle and he hums in response. There isn’t very much room on the sofa but he makes his place. He then grabs the hem of your dress, pulling it up over first your thighs, then up past your hips, over the corset and up to your face. He covers your eyes with the skirt and it hides the cheesiest smile on your face. light still poured in from the fabric, but you weren’t able to see anything.

You then heard the sound of metal being placed on the floor next to you, and to your pleasant surprise, his lips and pressed tightly to yours through the fabric. The kiss obviously doesn’t make any contact, but you’ve learned that with the knight, it’s the thought that always counts. You’re smiling into the kiss like a dork, and you shudder when you feel his bare hands against your bare thighs. He pulls your legs open, and then pulls away from your separated kiss.

Your first moan comes when you feel his lips against your soft thighs. He licks up and down your right thigh first, his fingertips strong and faithful against the outer part of your legs. Your breathing hitches, and you hum with pleasure when he moves to your left thigh, taking the same amount of time to kiss, nibble and suck on your pillowy skin.

Then, before you can think any more about the heat and want in between your legs, he’s pulling down your petticoat painfully slow. You bite your lip, you knew where he was headed with this, and you were more than happy to welcome it. His index and middle finger run soft lines around your cunt, massaging the swollen and wet skin around your opening that only got wetter. Your clit begged for attention, but your arms were trapped under the position of the dress skirt, and you didn’t want to risk adjusting it in a way that would make him stop. You would have to patiently wait as he teased and prodded your lips, his free hand rubbing your thigh and occasionally making its way to firmly squeeze your ass cheek. Your breathing was needy and short as he took his time to get to know your core with the tips of his fingers, which were now wet and slick and making the friction smoother.

He then gently places a light kiss on your clit. It’s so soft that you’re only able to feel it because of how sensitive and hungry you are for that type of contact. You slightly finch when his lips touch the nerve, and you’re able to feel him smile against your skin. What you would give to see his face right now…. Then, before you can think any more, he’s licking a flat stripe up from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit where he flicks three times with the tip of his tongue. You gasp at the sensation, and try to suppress a moan. He then take his time to lick each separate lip of your sex, avoiding your actual opening but teasing in such an addictive way that you were willing to be patient for him.

The knight then finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, pulsing with his lips and flicking back and forth quickly with the tip of his tongue. You do moan this time, a broken cry falling off of your needy lips. It was a euphoric feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you loved every moment of it. His arms wrap around your upper thighs, holding you in place around his head as he moves down to lap at your pussy lips. He moans at the taste of you, diving his tongue into your folds and prodding your sensitive clit with his nose.

You whine short and quietly as he does, biting your lip and bucking your hips every now and then as he took care of your sex. He must have gone down on you for close to ten minutes straight, never coming up for fresh air and never stopping the steady pace he had. You aren’t sure how you didn’t cum immediately at the feeling of his plump lips against your clit, but you also aren’t sure how you didn’t blackout from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. It was addictive, and it only got better after he pulled away to spit on your cunt. He spits onto your folds and then brings his fingers up again to start fingering you, sliding in his pointer finger with no resistance and slowly pumping it in and out. His mouth finds its way back to your slit, sucking on it as he fingers you. The sound was filthy, it filled the parlor with wet, obscene noises accompanied by breathy moans and gentle hums. Every time he hummed against your clit, your back arched from the added pleasure. The vibrating of it was pure euphoric, and you knew you were a sopping mess in between your thighs.

His chin was wet from spit and arousal and for one quick moment he pulled his wet mouth away from your core to kiss and rub the juices of your cunt on your thighs. He nibbles a few times on either thigh, marking each with a litter of purple and red hickeys. Before adding a second finger, he pulls his hand out to gently and playfully slap your cunt. He uses his wet hand to tap your core five or six times, each tap getting harder. You moan out at the feeling, and squeeze your legs together against the feeling in a horny attempt to get more pleasure from the moment.

“Huh, would you look at that?” He asks, his voice low and hungry and full of lust. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and the indulgence of the oral sex cause you to nearly forget how much you loved his rough voice. “Do you like it when I slap your cunt?” You whine in response. “With your words, Princess.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whine like a bitch. He chuckles and slaps it again, harder this time. You shudder at the feeling and feel your climax coming on. You want to delay it for as long as possible, but your thighs start to shake when he puts his mouth back in you and pushed both his index and middle finger into your opening, pumping and curling and twisting his wrist to make the most wonderful combination of finger-fucking you could of have imagined.

“I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your spine is burning and your stomach is flexing as you cum hard and long against his tongue and on his fingers. You cry out in broken, heavenly bliss, and look for something to grasp onto as you hit your high, but you can’t find anything, which leads to your sporadic back arches. You’re panting, and he doesn’t stop kissing against your core while you cum on his tongue. You bite your lip and swear you might make it bleed a little. His grip on your thighs tightens while he pulls you against his mouth, preventing you from pulling away from the addictive exhilaration that is his kiss.

He licks you through the entire orgasm, and then some after. You think you’re being over-stimulated but you never have been before, so you aren’t really sure. Just when you think he’s going to stop, he doesn’t and he just takes his sweet old time lapping against your core and slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You sharply breath in, your chest heaving against the dress and you desperately want to pull your dress down to see him and breath freshly again. The way he eats you out is so methodical, like he’s done it a thousand times (which wouldn’t necessarily surprise you), like it’s the only thing he’s ever eaten or the sweetest honey to ever grace his lips.

It begins to turn you on again, the pleasure shooting into your spine and down your littered thighs and melting against your clit. You can feel the gentle rub of his fingers against your thighs, stroking your skin as he takes you in. It’s heavenly and is the only thing you can think about. Your thoughts go numb and the only important thing in the entire world is the curly-haired boy at your expense.

You mutter and whisper swears, dirty words that aren’t meant to come out of a princess’ mouth but you can’t help it when you’re seeing white hot behind your eyes. He groans a few times too before his fingers speed back up to the pace they were at before you came the first time. Your dainty hands stroke lightly on your collar-bones as the pleasure fills your soul, licking your lips and trying to hold on for as long as possible before you cum again but you can already feel your second orgasm coming on. He uses a third finger to outline your lips, coating the tip in your slick and then slowly inserting the third and final finger into your cunt, helping you chase that final hit of release. The stretch is amazing, and you were surprised you were able to take it so well. This is when you realized that he’s been training you for something much bigger. The first time he fingered you wasn’t even any penetration, the second time was two fingers, just enough to stretch you that it hurt the right amount, and now this time, three fingers that felt amazing. You remembered the size of his cock, you knew it would be a challenge to take, but he was making sure you would be able to handle it and enjoy it as much as he will.

His focus goes from licking your clit to the fingers inside. He twists his wrist to make the curl and stretch your entrance. He collects the wetness and lets it make the glide and pump smoother. You’re so drenched and needy that the fluid is running out past his fingers and dripping onto the sofa cushion, staining it with your lust. He nips so slightly at your clit and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down. The orgasm is actually mind-numbing this time, and all you can do is moan and sob and claw at your own skin. Your scratch into your shoulders and collar-bone and it’s deliciously painful. Your thighs clamp against his head and he continues to finger you long and hard through the climax, cleaning your folds up as you cum against his tongue and fingers. You’re finally able to catch your breath, painting with droopy, lustful eyes but feeling completely fulfilled. He cleans up all the juices around your entrance, collecting the cum on his tongue and happily swallowing it down like it’s his last meal. You aren’t able to see it, but he then puts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the three that were knuckle-deep into your cunt. He groans at the taste, and wipes his mouth before planting one last, gentle kiss to the soft, angelic skin of the mound between your legs. You're so sensitive that the light kiss makes you flinch, and he chuckles at the involuntary reaction.

He puts his helmet back on and then pulls your dress skirt down to see your face. You’re surprised by the light initially, and you blink a few times to adjust to it. Your lungs fill with crisp air and you look at your favorite sight: the helm of the knight you think you’re falling in love with. You can’t stop the smile on your face. He chuckles and then readjusts your dress to cover you up better. He takes such good care of you. You see him freeze when he sees the scratch marks on your skin, and his bare hand softly runs over the red lines, outlining the marks. You blush at him, looking up at his expressionless face with a puppy-love look.

“Everytime I think it can’t get any better, you prove me wrong.” You sigh. Every orgasm has been better than the last.

“Just you wait.” You hear the smirk under the helmet and it causes butterflies to flutter in your tummy. You sigh, still catching your breath and you just take him in, looking up at how he’s propped up above you. He has hands on either side of your head and he’s just a brudding force of metal and sex and good kissing and caring about things that you didn’t even know you needed someone to care about. You probably look like a dork just smiling up at him but you don’t even care and now your hands are free to wrap around his neck and you just wish you could see his face and kiss it all over right now.

Your fingers lock behind his neck and the positioning of his armor and the way his head is bent makes it so you can just barely feel the skin of his neck. You move your index fingers up to look for the curls at the nape of his neck. You think you could sing out when you found the prize: some strands of dark, brown, thick hair hidden under the helmet. You twirl them around your fingers and that action alone is worth a million kisses. The feeling in your heart is second to none and you wished you could stay in this still moment forever.

“Did you mean what you said?” He speaks up in reference to what you told Koska about him.

“Every word of it.” You state, genuinely meaning it as you said it. He did respond but something told you he was smiling under all that armor. He sighs, and then lets his arms go weak so he’s falling onto you. You groan at the surprise and the sheer weight of both his broad body and the heavy armor on top. The air is pushed out of your lungs but at least he’s pressed into you, your hands still toying with his curly hair. You can hear him chuckle, and you wanted to freeze time.

“Someone’s gonna see us if we stay like this.” He mutters as you tilt your head to have it rest on top of his helmet.

“Then let them.”

He doesn’t reply to what you say, and you debate if it was even the right thing to say. When you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s hard to grasp the concept that someone may not want the same thing. You’re selfish for not caring about his safety and status in these types of situations. He grunts as he pushes himself back up and stands again, leaving only you on the sofa.

“How’s the arm?”

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes, you don’t want everyone to worry so much anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You reply more forcefully this time, sitting up on the couch.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sigh, and consider your next words, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You sit with your palms flat against the cushion, making aware of the wet spot on the fabric and smirking fondly at it.

“Anything, your Highness.” He nods.

“Well… I wondered if maybe I could teach you how to dance?” You were nervous about what his response may be.

“Oh Stars-“ He chuckles.

“What!?”

“I had a feeling that masquerade might have something to do with me.” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding you but there’s a guilty part of you that you like about it.

“Well it isn’t just about you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no.” He already knew you so well. He chuckles at your response. “So… what’s your answer?”

“Dancing isn't my style…”

“I don’t believe that.” You tilt your head. “Come on, it’s super easy and it would mean a lot to me.” You try convincing. He sighs and considers what you’re offering. “I can give you something in return…” You bite your lip, teasing. He chuckles just once.

“Alright-”

“What!? Really??” You stand up from excitement, you weren’t really expecting him to agree.

“But, only if you let me teach you something in return.” You nod in agreement, your hands coming to fold in your lap. You were expecting him to refer to something sexual, but his words prove you wrong, “I wanna teach you how to fight.”

“What?” Why would you ever need that?” It’s rare for royals to learn such a skill, especially princesses. You understood that it would be valuable, but you weren’t completely sure if you were up to the task.

“Well more than anything, I want to teach you how to defend yourself. So something like Keldabe doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” You were tentative to agree.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, “If it means I get to dance with you at the ball, I would be more than happy to learn.”

“Great. Let’s start then.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out for you to take.

“What?” You place your palm in his and he pulls you up off the couch, “right now?”

“Yes, c’mere.” You were nervous and honestly your legs were still weak from cumming twice, but you follow him as he begins to talk. “I’ll just teach you a few things and then you can teach me how to dance I guess.”

“Stop being a pill.” You tease.

“Only if you stop, too.” He teases right back at you which leads to a scoff from your lips. He ignores you. “When you're defending yourself, you always wanna protect your face, okay?”

“Protect my face, got it.” You repeat. He holds his arms up in front of his helmet, his hands fisted.

“Mimic my pose.” You roll your eyes but mirror him, holding your arms to guard your face. “See, is that so hard?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He sarcastically replies. “You can’t do much if you can’t see, so that’s why you gotta protect your face. If you wore a helmet you wouldn’t need to do this.”

“But I would always be wearing a helmet…”

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs.

“Something tells me that you don’t believe that.” You drop your arms from your face to say that, which was obviously a mistake, because instead of responding to your claim (which was probably right), he's jabbing his arm out towards your face. He’s not close enough to hit you but the quick and unexpected action is enough to startle you back. You lose your balance and fall down on the ground, wincing when you hit the ground and regretting agreeing to this. Your arms wrap into a frustrated position and you frown up at him. You look up at him surprised and a little pissed, and he just starts laughing. “What was that?”

“You let your guard down.” He says between laughs. He does hold his hand out for you to help you back up, and you take it to your own dismay. He hoists you up quickly, and you have to re-establish your balance.

“You are impossible.” You put your arms back over your face, ready to try again.

“You like it.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not?” He wasn't wrong but you figured you’d have to try and beat him at his own game.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Just go.” You roll your eyes again.

“This will also protect your ribs. Can’t do much if the wind is knocked out of you, either.” He explains. “You also want to stand wide, it’ll help you keep your balance.” He kicks your feet out to be shoulder width which breaks every rule in the book of princess manners. “And prevent… falling on the floor.”

“This isn’t exactly easy to do in a corset, you know.” You argue.

“And dancing won’t be easy in armor but here we are.” He shrugs, and you suppose he’s right. Neither of you are cut out for the tasks at hand. “When fighting someone without armor, you’re gonna want to go for their face, their eyes are vulnerable and you can do real damage on their nose.”

“Okay….” You try to remember what he was saying, making a mental note for any future situations, although you’re still skeptical. “And what about someone with armor on?” You ask, trying not to show the smirk on your face.

“Well the guy in Keldabe did everything right, he found where the weak points of my armor was and attacked them-“

“So here?” You ask before reeling back your arm and swinging it as hard as you can into his shoulder where there was only chain mail. Your fist crashes into the metal, and you immediately regret it. “Shit!” You pull your hand back and look at your bright red knuckles, shaking your hand a few times as you try to brush the shock away.

“...Yeah, right there.” On the bright side, he seemed to be surprised by it enough that he made a little groan from the contact that turned you on way more than it should have. “But now you fucked up your hand.”

“You think?” You place the angry knuckles at your mouth, trying not to be too upset about the pain shooting through your hand.

“Punching chainmail is always gonna hurt, especially if you do it wrong… like that.”

“So how do I do it right!?” You’re determined now. No one has ever put you in your place, you’ve always gotten what you wanted, and you wanted to prove to him that you could do it.

“Why are you so eager to inflict pain on me?” He asks, you can hear the teasing in his tone but you can’t blame him for feeling that way. Perhaps you did come off a little anxious.

“I don’t know… I guess I just want to prove something to you.” You sigh, still pissed off by the pain in your hand. You’re so distracted by it that you hardly notice him walking towards you. His gentle and soft bare hands take your fist away from your mouth. You’re tentative at first, but let him take it in his hand, cupping it in between his and looking down at your red skin. You frown mostly out of frustration, but the pain is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel pain.

Before you can blink, he pulls his top hand away and takes it to lift up his helmet just above his lips. The angle makes it so you can’t see any of his face but you understand. He bends down and kisses your knuckles in the same fashion one would when greeting you, but this was so much more intimate. His lips were like satin against your skin and the butterflies in your stomach fly right back. The physical pain didn’t go away, but the anger around it did. Your heart softened and wished he would kiss your lips but he’s already pulling the beskar back over his jaw. You sigh from the gesture, he was so romantic and you don’t even think he’s trying to be. He’s just trying to be kind and patient with you and it’s doing something to your heart that you don’t know if you can handle anymore.

“So… how do you waltz?” He asks, his hand still holding onto yours. You smile and sheepishly look down at your feet. You were unsure of how to begin, but were happy he was willing to learn.

“Okay.” You smile, “Well, you first need to loosen up. Stop being so stiff.” He tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language. “Like this.” You press your hands down on his shoulder pauldrons, he tries to rest them but fails and you chuckle just a little. “Roll them back.” You explain and do it yourself, he attempts to follow, and actually is able to relax a little bit more this time. Knights are always so stiff, you think it will be good for him to relax every now and then. “Good, now this hand goes here…” You lift his right hand to rest on your waist and he immediately settles into it, already feeling more comfortable now that he is holding you. You place your left hand on his shoulder, pulling your bodies a little closer together. He wanted your torsos to be flush against one another, “No, we have to keep our distance so we have room to do the steps.” You explain.

“Well that’s no fun.” He sighs. You blush and giggle.

“If we get this done I promise you can hold me as long as you want.” You tilt your head trying to make a fair compromise.

“Fine.” He’ll take it.

“Great, now we hold these hands.” You take his left hand and hold it into yours. “That’s the basic position, I learned it as home position, got it?”

“Home position…?” He repeats.

“Mhm.” You nod, your faces are close and you would give anything to feel his breath against yours. “It’s important that we sort of… ‘glide’ like we bounce as we dance, it will make it prettier.” He was convinced you were always pretty no matter what you tried or did, but we guessed he would comply this time. Your voice goes quiet and soft, the mood immediately changing from teasing to harmonious. “And your feet… okay this is sort of complicated but your left foot will go forward as my right goes back-“ You keep looking down at the floor as you try to explain the steps but his gaze is on your face, hardly listening to what you're saying and only being engulfed in your face and the way you talked about doing something you loved. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it.

You must have been talking for a while without really listening to yourself because he was slowly pulling you into his torso and closing the space without you really noticing that you were inches closer than you were before. “-and then your left foot will slide to meet your right foot-“ the last word fades out as you slowly look back up to his face which was now up close to yours, your bodies pressed together and both of his hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back. Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe as you look up at him and it just felt… right.

Your hands lift from his pauldron to his helmet and you want to take it off so badly. You knew it was too fast still, and he would remove his helmet for you when he felt like he could. At least that’s what you hoped for. It should be his decision, no one else’s. But your hands are grazing the bottom of the beskar and everything feels so right. He’s so still and his breath is quiet and for just a moment you think he might let you and then-

The door knob is turning slowly and both of you are splitting away all too fast, trying to make enough space between the two of you so it didn’t look suspicious. You both scramble, trying to put yourselves back together. The still and perfect moment was entirely gone when Prince Korkie opened up the door into the parlor. You tried not to look too shocked when his stupid perfect hair and young face looked on you. The knight held his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were bare and side-eyed the gloves on the sofa that laid by the wet stain on the cushion. He silently prayed that the Prince wouldn’t notice them.

“Ah, princess I was wondering where you were.” He looked between the two of you. He didn’t seem too suspicious, thank the stars.

“Korkie! What are you doing?” You awkwardly laugh. Your hands fold at waist level, and you fix your posture.

“Did… I walk in on something?” He asks and your whole body goes numb. You swallow and try not to pass out. The truth is yes, he did walk in on something very important to you, but here we are.

“Oh! No, we were just…” You search around the room looking for something to take the attention away from you and the knight, “Admiring the beautiful dress the Elves gave me!” You walk to the heavy, iridescent gown on the clean sofa, picking it up to show him. You smile desperately, hoping that would be enough.

“Ah yes! It is beautiful, isn’t it?” He nods, smiling. You sigh of relief when he falls for the bait. You set the dress back down.

“Can I do anything for you?” You ask,a king sure there was no attention on the knight being you.

“I… just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. My aunt informed me of the changes to the Ball. What a wonderful idea!”

“Why thank you.” You smile, taking a few steps towards him in a hopeless attempt to not seem so suspicious.

“Yes! I had just received the RSVPS from a number of the guests. Your parents, the twins of Naboo, the senator of Alderaan and Princess of Chandrila and I’m pleased to say that we’ve found no suspicion of any attack from Coruscant!” Stars, he talks a lot. You aren’t sure how he can have any more breath to talk. You were starting to decide that you liked the boys who were more reserved.

Well… one boy.

“Oh… Um, of course. That’s great news.” You nod and finish your walk towards him, suddenly hyper-aware of the fading scratches on your collar bone.

“Come with me, we should review the letters together.” You look back at the knight apologetically before walking into the hallway with the Prince. This isn’t exactly how you hoped your afternoon would go...

taglist: @waatermelon-sugaar @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @softly-sad @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel l @bewitchedbodyandsol @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian

“If you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interact with the post you are tagged on (ex. Reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

Part ten

283 notes · View notes

kmclaude · 3 years

Note

Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

#writing #making a graphic novel #writing a graphic novel #tutorial #writing tutorial

82 notes · View notes

anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Mommy Issues (Damian Wayne x Reader)

words: 2.2k

req? yes! from a lovely anon!

“Can I request a Damian x Reader soulmate AU fic where you write on your skin and it appears on your soulmate? I had this idea where reader doodles on her arm in class and Dami doodles back, and they start sending little notes in class and one day they ask for each other's names and just look cross the class and lift their arm? and then the school is under villain attack or something and Dami rescues her! I think it could be really cute<3 sorry for the long request”

this is too cute!!! 10/10 great idea i hope my writing brought it to life for you : ) hope you enjoy thank you for the req!

no notes today? you looked at the ink on your arm one last time before rolling down your sleeve. The notes and doodles had just recently started but you’d grown attached quickly- they were from your soulmate after all. However, today was silent, your notes exchanged last night had been washed off before you had woken up and there was nothing waiting for you. This seemed normal at first, whomever your soulmate is, they were always the first to remove the notes, most of the time before the sun fell for the days notes and similarly before dawn for the occasional late night writing. This was strange behavior as most everyone let their soulmates notes and doodles linger until they were just faint ink splotches, but your soulmate was diligent to never leave a trace.

You couldn’t help yourself, pulling up your sleeve to look for an answer but there was none. It was strange as whenever you were in english was when your soulmate was most active. English, what started as the most boring, dull class slowly shifted into the class you remember most fondly. Relishing in the slight tickle that comes from your soulmate drawing little pictures or little notes across your forearm you learned to appreciate the boring lectures your teacher gave as they made the perfect cover for getting to know your soulmate.

So far, you’d learned your soulmate was a he, with some wild artistic talent, even though he was always complaining about his pen bleeding through the small crinkles in skin as he tried to draw various pictures on your arm. It had only been around a couple days or so since lettering began to show, typically soulmates can start drawing pictures and whatnot that will show through a month or two before lettering fades through the bond as well, then finally your name will bleed through onto the base of your soulmates wrist, giving away the secret to your penpal. As is fate makes you patiently wait your turn, falling in love with the little doodles and notes until you finally know exactly who your soulmate is.

Your day dreaming was cut short by the familiar tickle on your forearm. Trying to keep calm you slid your sleeve back and watched as the beautiful penmanship appeared. As he wrote you admired the sloppy but exquisite writing, a mix of cursive for speed and lettering for flair that exuded a kind of careless confidence- at least that’s what you’d determined from hours of pouring over the little notes on your skin.

Apologies for the delay, hectic day. You smiled at the formal-ness of the message as it seemed he slipped into that type of writing when he was distracted- god, you needed to stop obsessing over every last detail of the writing. You grabbed your pen, considering what to write back before the tingling started again.

Do you go to GCHS as well? Your heart stopped at the message. Quickly you scribbled back, Yes! I do! You waited for a reply, scanning your class realizing that anyone there could be your soulmate.

There was no wordy reply, but you felt large swooping curves begin to bleed onto your skin meaning your soulmate was drawing something. “Y/n care to give us an answer?” your head snapped from your arm to your professor, your pen which you had been toying with sliding down your neck as you flinched, almost assuredly leaving a black line down your neck. Slapping a hand on your neck you looked at your professor who was asking about last night's reading, a section you definitely did not do. “I gotcha y/n it was in Chapter 39!” your classmate Jack called from the other side of the classroom, giving you a wink as he turned his attention back to the teacher. “That so? Can you confirm 39 was the chapter?” the teacher turned back to you with a glint in his eyes daring you to accept that answer.

“It was 41, can we move on now?” A voice echoed with boredom from the back of the class. “Ah mister Damian, welcome back, you know I’ll have to mark you tardy for class,” you let out a sigh of relief glancing back at Damian with a thankful smile, but his eyes were cast down looking at something on his desk.

Class got out shortly after and as you packed up your books you saw the curling black stem of a drawing peeking from the exposed skin on your wrist. Pulling it back you saw the most beautiful drawing of a large rose with vines creeping beautifully from it’s edges. You were too busy admiring the rose to realize that there at the base of your wrist in the handwriting you’d been obsessing over for days was forming a new message.

damian wayne

Your soul just about left your body.

Then all the windows in your school shattered.

You flung yourself to the floor covering your head as you heard shouting and the sound of bones breaking. Peeking up you saw cloaked figures tearing their way through the hordes of terrified students grabbing the wrists then throwing them backwards. You crept away until your back was pressed against the back of the classroom. Watching as they checked student after student you saw a blur flit past every cloaked figure, knocking many of them out with ease. You craned your neck to follow the blur but your vision was interrupted by a dark figure entering the classroom, following the same protocol as he grabbed the wrist of students then threw them backwards.

When he came up to you his ice cold fingers wrapped around your arm, you yelped, trying to rip your arm away but he held tight. He just stared at your wrist, then an eery smile crept over his lips, the cheshire smile was the only thing you could see from under the deep green, almost black hood. Unlike the other students his grip held strong, dragging you out of the classroom while you kicked and screamed.

“Look what I found” he cooed as he pulled you towards the main hallway of your school. The view from the second story of your school was shocking. There was a blue and black blur fighting alongside a green and yellow one as they both attacked a group of the cloaked assassins, all watched over by a tall woman dressed in black. Her head snapped up to you and the same terrifying smile slid over her face. “See! Was that so hard dearest?” her voice drawled as Robin looked up at you, his expression hardening. “Over my dead body mother” he said between clenched teeth as he sprang backwards, breaking into a run in your direction while (you assumed to be) Nightwing began sweeping through the figures.

You screamed as you were tugged backwards, you had way too bright a future for this shit. With all the courage you had you wound back, and swung, your fist connecting with the mans face. You winced as you felt your ring finger click out of place against his nose but it was a good and unexpected punch, sending him stumbling back as you ripped your other arm out of his grasp.

“Y/n!” you whipped your head to Robin who flipped past you, giving far too hard a blow to the assassin, returning to your side almost immediately. “Did he hurt you,” his gruff voice dipped into concern while you held your breath in his presence. When you gave a small nod he released a breath he seemed to have been holding for far too long, turning his gaze off of you and back down to the fight below you saw a black streak jutting down his neck. Your hand flew to your own, your mouth moving before your brain.

“Damian” his masked eyes snapped back to you. “Y/n” he answered, his tone softer and more natural. He continued, “we’ll sort this out in a minute,” as he jumped off the banister, rolling to break his fall and diving back into the fight with Nightwing against the woman. She seemed to be laughing into the fight, whispering teasing remarks that seemed to anger Damian, but Nightwing was already overpowering her and with Damian’s assistance she knew she was out played. She gracefully dodged Nightwings punch, gliding up to Damian. Giving his hair a little ruffle she winked at him “be terrible my son I’ll be back yet” and before he could reacted she ran out of the building, followed by her men.

You sat for a second in shock, trying to let everything set in. The school was silent, most students had either fled or were huddled in classrooms still unaware the fight was over.

“Hey! Your hand okay?” Nightwing gained your attention as he was waving his arm with a dazzling smile. “Oh uh, I hurt my finger but it’s nothing,” you replied, hearing your shaky voice echo through the halls of your school. “C’mon down I’d love to help you out!” Nightwing beckoned you, getting jabbed in the ribs from an uncomfortable looking Robin.

A few minutes later you were perched on the roof of your school sitting with Damian while Nightwing briefed the public. Damian broke the silence, “Which finger” his gaze cast down to your hands, you held out a shaky hand where your finger was visibly bent. “You gave him a hard hit” Damian mused, taking off his gloves to more delicately hold your hand while he began to bandage it.

“y-yeah” you swallowed, bidding your voice to stop shaking. Damian’s eyes refused to meet yours. “Do you wanna talk about the whole, wrist thing?” you whispered, casting your eyes down to notice his exposed wrist had y/n l/n written on it as well. He stayed silent, you brought your eyes up only to notice he’d been staring at you, quickly he looked back down, finishing the bandaging he released your hand with a sigh.

“Nice to meet you soulmate” you said with a small smile. Damian glanced up at you, giving you a surprised look. “Soulmates?” he gulped as he continued, “I completely understand if you like to move on and forget about all this, I know better than anyone how dangerous my life is and if today with my mother was any sign I should’ve known soulmates just aren’t in the books for me,” you watched as his hardened expression faltered, even behind the mask Damian seemed easy to read to you. “Oh uh, that was your mom?” he gave you a pained nod when you realized you’d hit a touchy subject. “Not the point! Soulmates are soulmates for a reason and as you saw today [you held up your bandaged hand] I’m a freaking badass and can totally defend myself. I’m not giving up or forgetting anything.” you finished with a deep breath, telling yourself that this was the beginning of something epic.

“Then, I suppose it is nice to meet you soulmate” Damian said, his lips faintly curling into a smile as he stuck out his hand. “Shaking hands with your soulmate? Absolutely not.” you teased, wrapping your good arm around him and giving a squeeze. He seemed frozen at first, but slowly but surely you felt his arms begin to caress your back in a lopsided slightly dysfunctional hug, but a hug nonetheless. You could feel him smiling against your shoulder, making you melt into his embrace as he let out a sigh, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Aw Dames this is too cute!” Damian scrambled out of your embrace as a tall raven haired boy joined you on the roof. “Dick Grayson, Nightwing” the man grinned at you, ruffling Damian’s hair against his protest. “You got your soulmate baby bird congrats!” you laughed as Damian huffed, a light blush peeking out from under his mask. “I’m all ready to go unless you wanna stay with what’s your name again?” before you could answer Dick grabbed Damian’s wrist with a laugh, “y/n! Pretty name isn’t it Dames” he swerved Damian’s fist half heartedly launching towards his face. “I’ll be at the cave waiting!” Dick cooed triumphantly as he careened down the stairs.

“I should be going,” Damian agreed, getting up and offering you a hand. As you stood up he quietly said, “I’ll text you okay?” and you nodded, “oh okay! Do you need my number or anything?” you began to pull out your phone. “No, it’ll be easy for me to find,” he said honestly. You shook your head, “right, Robin, Batman- oh my god you’re Bruce Wayne’s son is he-?” “Yup” Damian flashed a confident smile at your dropped jaw.

“See you around y/n” Damian nodded at you, pulling his hood over his head and grappling off the top of the building, leaving you standing atop Gotham still trying to process the days events. Pulling your phone out you dialed your best friend.

“Dude are you okay? I heard shit went down at your school!” their voice echoed from your phone.

“You’re never gonna guess but I found my soulmate” you said, revelling in just saying the sentence. “Who?” they screeched.

“R- Damian Wayne!” you cut yourself short, realizing that now you had a secret to keep for Damian. There was certainly more than meets the eye about the quiet boy in the back of English.

“HOLY SHIT BITCH YOU’RE GONNA BE RICH!”

#damian wayne #damian x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne fluff #dc fluff #dick grayson #talia al ghul #dc fanfic #batboys #batfam #robin x reader #robin x you #batman #damian al ghul #batboys x reader #batboys x you #dc

944 notes · View notes

mira--mira · 3 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering

How do you think Hashirama and Madara would be in a Road to Ninja version?

I remember once reading a Hashimada fic (which I never finished RIP) that was about Madara appearing in the RTN universe and the 3 things that stucked with me were:

1.- Madara was the first Hokage (something that Madara thought was horrible when he saw his sculpted face on the Hokage mountain 🤣)

And personally I think that it would not have been like that even in the RTN universe because we didn't see his face along with the other faces of Hokages in the movie (Yeah, apparently I'm basing myself on a movie which I'm not even sure if it's canon or not, even though Kishimoto wrote it) and the RTN characters didn't seem to even know who Madara is.

2.- Hashirama having his bowlcut as an adult

And I agree with the Madara from that fanfic, it looks awful on him. Hashirama, babe, I'm sorry but the only ones who can rock that style are Guy Sensei and Rock Lee, I know you just were trying to be cool but it doesn't suite you.

3.- Tobirama was a porn writer

Instead of being a fan of forbidden jutsu and creating justus, he wrote porn novels a la Jiraiya. And I'll hold that headcanon with my dead hands.

The only other fanfic that places the founders in the RTN universe is one where the protagonist is Mito (it's an interesting one-shot that pairs her with Itama 🤔)

She was kind of a shy person 🤔? And so it was Tobirama 🤣 which I found fun.

Hashirama, as the first fanfic I mentioned, was the Tobirama of the place (saddenly Madara wasn't in this fic).

So I would like to know what are your versions of the founders (or only Hashirama and Madara if it is too much) in the RTN universe! And how do you think things would be

Hmm, RTN is an interesting concept to me but, to be honest, I don't think Konoha would exist if a lot of personalities got flipped 😂 I haven't read any RTN fics with the founders, but if you, or anyone else, have links at hand I'd love to check them out 👀

1. Madara

Here's the big one and the crux of why I don't think the village would exist. Typically I characterize Madara as an extremely responsible man who internalizes things when he shouldn't, takes himself way too seriously, is aggressive and abrasive even to people he loves sometimes, but genuinely loves the people closest too him. Reversing this would make a character that slacks off, takes no responsibility, and is completely passive in life and has fleeting attachments to others around him. Assuming he wouldn't die on the battlefield, I could see the RTN "alternate" personality coming about of Madara's being so overpowered and competent that he loses interest and distances himself from things before he can get attached and lose them.

It makes building a village very hard though. (At first I was tempted to go RTN Sasuke route and maybe RTN!Madara is a little more openly flirty than canon!Madara, but the passivity and refusal to take responsibility would be the "core" qualities for me.)

2. Hashirama

Hashirama is a bit weird because he has a lot of surface-level "conflicting" traits in canon. He is optimistic but he pushes beyond his natural attitude and uses it as a mask to hide instead of addressing his feelings. He's mischievous, likes jokes and games, and can be a bit hedonistic with his pleasure but can equally be serious when necessary and will willingly sacrifice for others around him. And simultaneously, Hashirama and Madara are connected by a shared sense of idealism but also anger. Hashirama is a very kind, but extremely angry, man. I think a RTN!Hashirama would share a kind of apathy of RTN!Madara but instead of passivity his lack of anger would manifest as cruelty. Because canon!Hashirama is angry but his anger is usually a righteous kind. I don't think RTN!Hashirama would go out of his way to be cruel, but he doesn't have the empathy of canon!Hashirama, especially to others' suffering. He enjoys fighting just a bit too much and has no qualms about killing. In his mind, he should always come first in any situation and prioritizing (or even considering) others' is effort and him going out of his way to be "nice" and the other should be thankful. Similarly if he feels any negative emotion, he won't bottle it up and swallow it down, he'll immediately address it, usually confrontationally. RTN!Hashirama is as intelligent as his canon counterpart but he doesn't suffer fools and he hates it when people underestimate him. He's pretty proud and vain, tbh.

I really don't think the above would make him the "Tobirama" of RTN verse. To me Hashirama and Tobirama have different core values and perspectives and inverting Hashirama's doesn't make it become Tobirama's, if that makes sense. This one is also wordy bc I immediately knew how RTN!Madara would be RTN!Hashirama is a bit harder to pin down. But I hope it's clear why I have doubts about the village existing...maybe if RTN!Hashirama got it in his mind as a pet project for the hell of it, that he'd be a better leader for the country and not just the Senju alone, and RTN!Madara liked the idea of no responsibility and being able to detach even further than he already was? But that's still kind of grasping for a reason.

3. Hashimada

Equally I think any Hashirama/Madara relationship would be ehhh. They definitely wouldn't have the overwhelming bond of their canon counterparts, and it could be a relationship ripe for unhappiness. The closest I can think of to making the ship work is RTN!Madara would be drawn to Hashirama's absurd level of self-confidence and able to let the casual cruelty slide off instead of getting worked up about it. In a way RTN!Hashirama is stable and predictable. If he's pretty overpowered, there's less of a chance RTN!Madara would lose him, so their relationship isn't deep but it's more or less dependable and Madara knows exactly what he's going to get. In contrast RTN!Hashirama has an audience in the form of RTN!Madara and a partner that's not going to push back against his ideas. RTN!Madara doesn't ask for much and he doesn't complain when RTN!Hashirama puts himself first. He doesn't want, or might not be capable of, the deep emotional bond their canon counterparts have. RTN!Madara wouldn't leave Konoha (if it existed) in the AU, because he doesn't really care. If someone upset RTN!Hashirama and he decided to leave to 'do it right' RTN!Madara would probably follow, maybe out of some loyalty for RTN!Hashirama but mostly because it's what's easiest.

4. Tobirama

The core of Tobirama's character to me is prioritizing logic over emotion and both a conscious and unconscious failure to realize he can't completely eliminate emotion. Tobirama loves his brother, he's curious and has a desire to find out what makes things work and is willing to bend morality to get results if it'll serve a greater good. He's very aware of the unfairness of the world but believes it's an unspoken truth of humanity and can only be mitigated through logical means, but never completely erased. He'll be the sacrificial lamb, the one that works in shadows so his brother can have his utopian dream. Despite everything, he loves his genin, the strongest bonds he has aside from Hashirama, and does try to instill in them lessons he think will help them and lead to peace and stability in the village. He's still influenced by the prejudices of his time and can never find it in him to truly forgive the Uchiha.

A RTN!Tobirama would be a man ruled by emotion. Him writing erotica all day definitely could be one way this manifests lol. But overall he's sensitive and spiritual and can't stand the idea of killing. He and RTN!Hashirama don't get along and he actively tries to avoid his brother. RTN!Tobirama has equally strong principles as canon!Tobirama, but they're pacifist in nature and while he likes his studies, he prefers to be out talking to people and learning from them first hand. He's very naive and can be easily taken advantage of and he has trouble focusing on any one thing for too long. No matter how many times this happens, he never can harden his heart or be overly suspicious of others. RTN!Tobirama would most likely be the one support peace in this AU. He embraces the Uchiha and all the Senjus past enemies with open arms, almost to a foolish degree. It'd be a bad idea if he became hokage in this AU because he's a terrible negotiator and has a bad people-pleasing streak and struggles with long-term tactics. With the exception of RTN!Hashirama, who he considers an aberration who doesn't have a soul, humans at their core all have good intentions at heart.

5. Mito

I characterize Mito as a very level-headed woman. Her marriage to Hashirama is political in nature but they grow to be good friends and she never expected to fall in love and she's glad Hashirama didn't want a traditional wife. Mito is devoted to her community work (she works hands-on with people in the village), she seeks out connections with others and, despite the distance, remains close with her family in Uzushio, constantly writing them letters. She's spiritual and follows the Uzumakis' beliefs (not gonna list this OoT spoiler lol) and studies fuinjutsu in her spare time, something she's done since she was a child. She is willing to sacrifice if it meant protecting something she considered greater than herself, much to her own personal detriment. She loves and is proud of her children and grandchildren, but if she had a choice, she would have chosen to remain childless, she finds her true calling elsewhere.

RTN!Mito, similarly to RTN!Tobirama, is ruled by emotions. She dreams of one day making a good marriage for herself and centers romance and being a mother as her ideal life, but she's extremely picky when it comes picking the perfect husband. RTN!Mito knows how much she's worth and she refuses to settle and will not even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. She has a hard time forming long-lasting, deep bonds with other people and views starting her own family as the solution to this problem. At times she can be a bit absent-minded and unintentionally selfish, but she's not actively malicious. She blusters a lot and depending on the situation can come off as cold and uncaring, but it's only to hide the depth of her true feelings and loneliness. In this AU she would absolutely refuse to marriage RTN!Hashirama. Nothing on hell or earth, could make her change her mind.

Mito is such a blank-slate character it feels like writing an oc more than a canon character, tbh. And this is something I don't see brought up a lot but a "heart full of love" to combat the kyuubi's hatred to me has never been exclusive to romantic or familial (to children) love. *cough* I want a complex female character who's not vilified for not wanting to have children and/or regretting having them *cough* Mito's "love" was for the people of Konoha and Uzushio. My personal headcanon regarding her and Hashirama's child (I don't think she had more than one) was that she was dedicated to her son, but quickly realized being a mother wasn't her dream or something she even actively liked. The kid was well-cared for and she was dutiful towards him, but Hashirama was the parent that loved and embraced him with his whole heart and it led to some tension between Mito and her son as the kid could tell the difference and neither of them were "wrong" to feel the way they did. This is why Tsunade was shown with Hashirama instead of Mito, he was a lot more present in her life when she was young (instead of Kishi just not having made Mito as a character yet). But after Hashirama and Tsunade's dad died (and then Nawaki), she and Mito grew close but it was definitely more of a friendship or student/mentor relationship rather than a traditional grandmother/granddaughter relationship but both were satisfied with it and loved eachother. Likewise I didn't want RTN!Mito's characterization to be shallow and hit misogynistic undertones with her being an "opposite" to Mito's calm, level-headed, focused on her work/passions characterization.

6. Closing thoughts

#1: Wow this got long #2: I feel conflicted about RTN because it seemed to flip surface-level characteristics instead of deep characterizations, and ignored flaws altogether. The ones above, esp. Hashirama and Madara's, are kind of dark in a way? But that's the only way it makes sense to me...Gai and Lee caring about style and being stylish is a funny joke but if you were to actually poke and prod and say their personalities were inverted, neither of them would be top-notch ninja as we know...unless I'm just completely misremembering RTN because I realize it's been years since I saw it lol. Anyway, hope this was entertaining!

#naruto #hashimada #hashirama senju #madara uchiha #mito uzumaki #tobirama senju #asks #al-stuffy #rtn au #long post

25 notes · View notes

alirhi · 3 years

Text

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

35 notes · View notes

reallybadfeeling · 3 years

Text

My Obikin Playlist Masterpost

I'm gonna try to explain my reasoning, but you can give each song whatever interpretation you want. Also, use them however you want if any of them inspire you to make something creative.

(PS: Sorry for my ranting on the first song. I'm very passionate about it in particular.) (Tagging @imtryingsstuff because she asked for it. Even though I was already working on this post before she asked. I have way too much free time.)

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

❧ Heart + Bones - Roisin O

I've tried to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times But I was always too scare of what I might find But if I keep on blocking this pain out It might be too late To heal my heart somehow Don't wanna open that wound Don't wanna replay that night Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know that love is gone 'Cause if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind It's the heart and bones It's an empty soul The dreams at night that shake me to my core And I can't get up off this floor It's in the bones of me An empty soul in me The dreams at night that shake me to my core I can't get off this floor [...] Don't wanna think about you When you're no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone [...] The dreams at night that shake me to my core I just can't take this hurting anymore [...] Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone 'Cause if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all I've tries to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times

A fair warning: each and every break-up song in this playlist is basically me crying at the idea of a very heart broken Obi-Wan post RotS alone on Tatooine. But for this song in particolar I mention the repetitions with the slight differences because in my eyes they are actually HUGE! The more the song goes on, the more Obi-Wan is spiraling! The way it specifically tells that the empty soul is his the second time, like he accepts that despite what Anakin did he still thinks there's a soul there to save, and the idea of not doing so makes his soul feel empty. And the switch from "get up off this floor" to "get off this floor", literally him being so desperate he stops thinking that he wants to get up (and the last time it literally becomes "i just can't take this hurting anymore", because Obi-Wan had to see so many people he loves die, he literally can't take any more breaking of his heart). The first "you are no longer mine" is the realization hitting him, but then it becomes "when you are no longer mine" and that feels like acceptance of that realization (but then later in the song it turns back to "you are no longer mine" like he's so desperate he wants to deny it once again, distance himself from it)! The switch from "that love" from "this love", like the first time he's thinking about how Anakin no longer loves him, but then realizes that no matter how much he still loves Anakin, there is actually nothing he can do about how everything is broken. But most of all the first time it's "if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind", which is Obi-Wan still being rational about things, or at least trying not to let his mind linger on the thought of Anakin; but then at the end it becomes "if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all", because he's already thinking about Anakin and he can't let his mind linger on it, otherwise he would realize how much he lost when he lost Anakin, which is everything. And the ending too, by repeating the start, but now it has a feeling of resignation to it, like at first he was literally scared to let himself linger on his feelings because he knew he would find heart break, but now he's just empty and at the same times he knows he'll feel like that a thousand times more, because he just can't let that hurt go, he can't let his love for Anakin be forgotten. ... I love this song and it shows. I mean, the playlist is literally named after it for a good reason. I swear I'll be less wordy for every other explanation.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Black Hole - Griff

It seems like things are going really well for you I wish that I could say the same about me too I wish that I could say the same [...] Without a trace You disappeared and took some of me with you, babe Like the way I used to laugh untile my belly ached Well, that's all gone away now And boy, you know I've tried to pray, I've bruised my knees I've tried to bring you back to me I've tried my best to find some kind of peace Don't you see? There's a big black hole where my heart used to be And I've tried my best to fill it up with things I don't need It don't work like that, no, it's not easy To fill this gap that you left in me

So, I see this as a song for an AU, maybe a Modern Au. Something basic like the two of them maybe being neighbors and Obi-Wan maybe being a tutor for Anakin when he was a teen, and Anakin having a huge crush on him. But then Obi-Wan marries and Anakin is heart broken. (Don't worry the idea is also that Obi-Wan gets a divorce and comes back to Anakin, but still, the song fits for the first part of this idea). But feel free to see whatever else you want in it.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bride To make you well, to make you well When enemies are at your door I'll carry you away from war [...] Give me reasons to believe That you would do the same for me And I will do it for you, for you Baby, I'm not moving on I'll love you long after you're gone

This is honestly a classic. It would fit with any ship, but that line about lying, cheating, etc... That screams Anakin. Like, literally canon that he would do anything to keep the person he loves with him.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ What You Talking About? - Peter Bjorn and John

You used to be my hero Now you're just another boss [...] Five years as your understudy When I can't understand what you talking about [...] Tell me lies and I will listen Tell the truth and I'll be gone Tell me why I need permission [...] Shining in your shadow How could I sink this low? Our acquaintance has been so-so And I can't understand where my patience's gone

These lyrics just give me very frustrated Anakin as a Padawan trying to navigate his relationship with Obi-Wan. Not very romantic or shippy, but still relevant in my opinion.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Bruci la città - Irene Grandi

(Let) The city burn down or live in fear (that) within two hours everything will disappear anything else will disappear [...] I can't stop (myself) from screaming That I hold you to my heart To protect you from evil That I wish I could soothe Your pain, your pain [...] (Let) The stars explode (Let) The whole thing explode (Let) Everything other than the two of us die At least for a little bit At least as a mistake [...] I want to get my act together Maybe be better And shield you with my heart From catastrophe and fear

Don't really know why, but this makes me think of a quiet moment in the middle of the Clone Wars, just Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in a tent, hoping to have a moment of peace in each other's arms. (If you want the full lyrics translated let me know, I just picked my favorite parts)

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Atlantis - Seafret

We got here the hard way All those words that we exchange Is it any wonder things get dark? 'Cause it's in my heart, it's in my head I never take back the things I said [...] I can't save us My Atlantis, we fall We've built this town on shaky ground [...] Now all the birds have fled The hurt just leaves me scared Losing everything I've ever known It's all become too much Maybe I'm not built for love If I knew that I could reach you, I would go

SO MUCH OBI-WAN ANGST POST-ROTS! Like, the birds that have fled are the Jedi that survived Order 66, the things impossible to take back a reference to the entire conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan during their duel... And the one thing that always breaks me: "maybe I'm not built for love", which makes me think about that "infinte sadness" thing that comes from one of the novels. *chef kiss*

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

I should have known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe We were a pair [...] You were my life, but like is far away from fair Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else? That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side [...] I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Don't know about you, but this always makes me think of a lonely and bitter Obi-Wan after RotS. There's also another way of reading this honestly. This could absolutely be Anakin spiraling at the end of RotS, convinced that Padmé doesn't love him anymore; and then Vader facing Luke (the face from the past returning) and realizing the one who always lied to him was Palpatine.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ White Flag - Dido

I know I left too much mess and Destruction to come back again And I caused nothing but trouble I understand if you can't talk to me again And if you live by the rules of "it's over" Then I'm sure that that makes sense But I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be And when we meet Which I'm sure we will All that was there Will be there still I'll let it pass And hold my tongue And you will think That I've moved on

There's no doubt that this song has been overused. And it is a very classic meme, so sometimes it's hard to take it seriously. But I still love it. And I can't help but relate this to something with Vader trying to redeem himself but failing at that too, and his and Obi-Wan's relationship still being broken as fuck.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Fight the End - The playground

When it's all falling apart I'll be the one who can hold you Console you When everything's getting dark And you can't find the spark To get through I'll fight for you till the end Whatever's broken I'll mend For you If you think it's all gone Just breathe in and hold on Till the end of time

Once again, just some H/C during the Clone Wars kind vibes, but also good for an apocalypse AU of some kind.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Hanging On A Lie - Striking Matches

I'm not mentioning a specific part of this song, because the entire thing in my head is just the whole journey of Anakin turning to the Dark Side and then turning back to the Light right before he died. Seriously, up until the first chorus, it's just Anakin talking about what he feels like about Padmé's supposed betrayal. ("Baby you've been up to something / don't you tell me it's not what it looks like" but also "I might have been naive but I'm not blind" and "Don't you know you should know better than this / Than to cover up the truth with your poisonous lips/I'm not falling for it this time"). The second half of the song is Vader facing Luke. ("I'll be the one who got away from you when you / finally figure it out / you won't find me"). And the last part is Vader realizing all the lies Palpatine told him all alon. ("I'm not fallin' for it this time/try and try too little too late" and again the "you should know better than this/than to cover up the truth with you poisonous lips") A bit of a weird interpretation, that's for sure. But look at me making a song about cheating all about Anakin's journey!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Bloodsport '15 - Raleigh Ritchie

Your love is worth it and for that I will wait And though you hate me when you have a turn I drive you crazy, but you always return [...] Although you love me, sometimes we're mean Things can get ugly, but we're still a team We are an army that breaks from withing but That's why we're stronger and that's how we'll win [...] I've got your back, and though it's stacked against us I've got your hand, it's us against consensus And I will burn the people who hurt you the worst and I will no learn Cause I am too young and too dumb to consider the terms of breaking the law And I'll curse the day that they return With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor And they're done, now it's curtains, the bloodlust's a clusterfuck, it hurts but it's working And even if you ask me to stop, it's too late because I've already decided their fate It's not a distaste, it's pure hate and it pulsates and it works its way around my brain Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you till the day I meet my maker So don't fight me now cause you might need me later Loving you is a bloodsport Fighting in a love war It's not what I'm in love for, I'm yours I don't know if you can help it, maybe I'm just being selfish

Soooo, basically Anakin doing to Obi-Wan what he did to Padmé: loving him so much he thinks he has to turn to the Dark Side to save him. The first part I can almost imagine said by Obi-Wan, actually. Like, he's aware that sometimes Anakin hates their dynamics, but also that they are both in love... Which just ends with total madness.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Sweet Love of Mine - Joy Williams

I was broken, I was blind Lost in a moment I thought I left behind Then you woke up this dark soul of mine Carrying a light I thought I'd never find When you found me, I was all alone The whole world around me, but nowhere to call home I heard your voice sing like heaven's choir Gathered up my fears and threw them in the fire

I'm well aware this song is about pregnancy and how the singer found herself in the experience of becoming a mother. BUT, hear me out: what about an AU with either one of them being a Sith and the other one is still a Jedi. Instead of fighting each other, the Jedi tries to save the Sith, because they realize that the Sith actually never had a chance to be anything else since they grew up with a Sith as their "parent" and Master. But if we still want to keep the pregnancy element, fuck it! It's perfect for an Omegaverse AU, with Anakin maybe about to fall when he finds out he's pregnant and that is how Obi-Wan and their unborn child save Anakin. (Is this very specific? Yes. Do I care? Nope, and that's why this song made it into the playlist.)

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Senza fare sul serio - Malika Ayane

There's a post on my blog already about why this song makes me think about the Jedi Order in general. I know I should probably keep it in a different playlist. Alas, it's still here. Have a link to my previous post if you are interested on reading a complete translation and the explanation of my reasoning. HERE!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Conversations in the Dark - John Legend

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart [...] And we, we got places we both gotta be But there ain't nothing I would rather do Then blow off all my plans for you

It's just such a lovely love song, I couldn't help myself. This seriously gives me sappy Obi-Wan vibes in any way, shape or form.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ If You Ever Leave, I'm Coming With You - The Wombats

You know I'll do Whatever you want me to [...] Take you out of this You reluctant optimist And if you ever leave, I'm coming with you Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe If you ever leave, I'm coming with you [...] Am I losing you in the dark baby? No more breaking stuff No more acting up Filling your head with doubt

A song about the obsessive kind of love that hints of a way too dependent relationship? Something that mentions losing themselves in the dark? Of fucking course I relate this to Anakin and the way he loves people!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Transplant - Sea Girls

You're breaking all the promises tonight I'm always dancing by myself as the music plays I'm always one step behind, off-beat, out of place Now I'm looking for you, you're looking away [...] Your heart changed Mine stayed the same I don't recognize your voice when you're saying my name Your heart changed And mine beats the same way [...] Wish I could be back in the moment We were shining, we were making mistakes 'Til your heart changed Mine stayed the same

Have I mentioned that I have a lot of RotS feels? Yeah, so, in my head the "dancing" works like an analogy to fighting and the "music" is literally the sound of battle. Which is why this fits perfectly as far as I'm concerned. An even the "always one step behind" part is just Obi-Wan not realizing Anakin was slowly turning to the Dark Side. But it can be related also to how Anakin basically felt like he didn't truly belong with the Jedi.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Read my Mind - JONES

Can't control my thoughts But I'm trying every day [...] But sometimes I want impossible things When you hear my voice, what does it say? Need a language, we're lost in translation From impossible thoughts and feelings Why don't you know before I know? What I need to say, before I can How come you don't have the answer Before I asked you the question? Wish you could read my mind [...] It's been a long time since we've been together In the same world, just want you to look at me Like I was everything you ever wanted again [...] Just hold me like I'm everything you wanted again

A good song of the two people pining will always make me think of those two dorks. And their feeling are definitely lost in translation even in canon, with Anakin never realizing how much Obi-Wan actually cares for him because of Palpatine's manipulations.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ So Much It Hurts - Niki & The Dove

Oh, I ask you where you've been 'Cause you always come home late nowadays What a fool was I to think we were safe From the thieves in the temple [...] Oh, won't you bring it back? After all that we've been through together Is it now you gonna throw it all away? Oh, a love like ours Tell me, was it worth it? Oh, the thieves in the temple Oh, but you said that For better for worse You would always be there for me Always be there for me Always be there for me like I'll always be there for you Good times and bad times

So this screams Padmé being cheated on. Like, Anakin still married to her, yet he is always sneaking away after they spend time together to be in the Temple with Obi-Wan. Like, Obi-Wan is literally the thief in the Temple that steals Anakin away from her. (Which I'm sure is actually a metaphor for how the couples' marriage is the temple and someone is disrespecting it by taking away the other's lover. But look at me making this literal, 'cause why not!).

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Power & Control - Marina

Give a little, get a lot That's just how you are with love [...] Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good looking But you're not a piece of art [...] Power and control I'm gonna make you fall I'm gonna make you fall We give and take a little more 'Cause all my life I've been controlled You can't have peace without a war

Another song for an AU, this time one with both of them being Sith, most likely being enemies too at first. Before they decide to work together against Anakin's Master.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ No Hero - Elisa

Don't you shut your eyes And hide you heart behind a shadow 'Cause you can count on me As long as I can breathe [...] I've fallen from grace Yeah, I'm much less a saint than a sinner Oh, no I ain't no superhuman 'Cause that's just in the movies, I know But I'll carry you throught the night Through the storm Give you love, always love in return I can't jump over buildings I'm no hero But love can do miracles I can't outrun a bullet 'Cause I'm no hero But I would take one for you [...] 'Cause I'm no hero But I'd spill my blood for you If you need me to I'll be there

Another song from an Italian artist, but this one is in English! And I totally see this song for a scenario where one of the two isn't a Jedi or even for a Modern AU. But it can totally work for Canon compliant too because Anakin is the one every calls hero with no fear. It fits then if Obi-Wan tells Anakin that he doesn't feel like a hero, but he would do anything for Anakin.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

SOOOO, this post is getting way to long (like, it was way too long even just with the first song). And I made it to an even 20 songs. I feel like this a nice place to stop for now. Don't worry, these are just the first 20. I have more in my private playlist, but I want to make another post like this when I add them to the public one. Because I can. And that's what I'm gonna do.

#obikin #obikin playlist #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #if you do anything with these song please TAG ME!#I wanna know!#i get very emotional for heart + bones #it's one of my favorite song ever #the subtle poetry of it gets to me every single time #that is THE break up song #fight me over it #maybe I should have made a single post about it #that would have been smarter #oh well #also sorry for the truly terrible icon #i have no photoshop skill whatsoever #Spotify

22 notes · View notes