#this is her inner beast dont change my mind

[rukiexramen]

look man I see many cool art and pics of a edgy doggo representing Alucard

but what about SERAS tho!!!!?!?!

So I present to you: Pomeranian Seras

[strsburn]

destiny led me to you | loki

pairing - loki laufeyson x female reader

synopsis - driven by the heartbreak of losing your entire world by the hands of thanos, you set out to find him, leaving destruction in your path in multiple universes; thus creating a horde of branches in the timeline and catching the attention of the TVA.

but you would do it all again if it meant you could see him once more.

notes - this is hopefully going to be a series, depending on the feedback i receive, i plan to follow the episodes only slightly because i dont want it to be an exact copy of the show.

[THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR LOKI SERIES]

idea credit ( @horrorisunknowntoyou ) thank you for the inspo and allowing me to run with it!

warnings - death, violence, angst, and possible smut (in later chapters?)

wc - 2.4k

MASTERLIST • AO3

"Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same." A wrinkled hand reaches for your chin, running prune colored fingers along your jawline, doting; mockingly.

Your heartbeat pulses loudly in your ears, eyes glazing over with exhaustion and pain as you attempt to glare, the notion in vain as the titan merely chuckled amusedly.

"I can see great power in you, little one. An infinity stone pulses beneath your every vein. Tell me, where is the tesseract?"

You remain silent.

"We don't have the tesseract, it was destroyed along with all of Asgard." Thor interjects weakly from where he lies, his body held tightly in the arms of the black order.

Guilt sweeps across your being as you make eye contact with Loki, sharing a single nod as you both know what you must do.

Thanos grows annoyed with your unwillingness to comply as he walks over with loud steps, his footprints visible as he raises his gauntlet up, the power stone shining threateningly close to Thor.

"The tesseract, or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference." It's not a question. Merely a statement, one that Loki knows he must prove unbothered.

"Oh, I do. Kill away." To anyone else it would seem he couldn't care less about his brother's demise, but you know your love better than he does himself and you catch the glance of fear that washes over cerulean eyes.

You can only watch in trepidation as the stone makes contact with the God's head. Agonized cries escaping as his skin is burned by the mere power of the stone.

Loki does his best to look unaffected, but you catch the hitch in his breath as he batters inner turmoil. the universe, or his brother.

"Alright, that's enough!"

Loki turns his palm up, as a familiar blue cube materializes in his hand. The eerie blue glow casting a shadow upon his face.

Thanos steps away, smug. You force yourself to look away from Thor's accusing gaze.

"You truly are the worst, brother." Thor shakes his head, eyes disappointed but not surprised.

As Thanos moves to take the stone from his hand cerulean blue eyes make contact with your own and you feel a wave of fear wash over you as you recognize the look in Loki's eyes.

"I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again." He does not move his gaze from your own and you can't help but feel this is an unspoken goodbye.

"Your optimism is misplaced, asgardian."

"Well, for one thing, I'm not asgardian. For another, we have a hulk."

In a blur of color you are shoved from where you lie, a slithe figure covering your own as you breathe in the familiar scent of cinnamon and leather.

"We don't have much time, my love. I just want you to know that I love you dearly, and I am grateful for the time I had with you. May I see you again, in Valhalla." His eyes are teary and you barely process his words, as his hands grab hold of your face and pull you into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, filled with love and grief and you can only briefly kiss your love back as he steps closer to Thanos, rambling on about undying fidelity.

You catch a glimpse of silver behind his back and you gasp as realization sets in.

You move to reach him just as he leaps for Thanos, the knife poised for his head, frozen in mid air as the stones across his knuckles pulse.

"Undying fidelity, you should choose your words more wisely."

You cry out as Loki struggles in his grip, his skin fading blue. You crawl forward, legs aching as you reach for him, your progress hinged by your inability to walk.

"You will never be a god." The rasped words are followed by a snap as his neck gives out beneath Thanos' hands.

A tortured scream rings out and it takes you a second to realize it's your own. A broken sob leaves you as you crawl forward to reach where Thanos has carelessly thrown the body of your love.

You heave as your shaky fingers caress his face, his lifeless eyes staring ahead as you clutch him to your chest.

You rock back and forth knotting your fingers in his hair as you plead for the nightmare to end.

"No resurrections this time."

A portal opens and closes behind you, yet you make no motion to move.

You simply close your eyes and welcome the sweet release of death as the universe explodes around you.

N E W Y O R K 2 0 1 2

"'Coordinates for search and rescue, on my way now.' I mean honestly, how-" Loki is promptly shut up by the mouth guard that decorates his face, courtesy of his brother.

Displeasure makes an appearance as Loki is led to the elevator followed by the avengers that quickly file in. The only source of entertainment being the temper tantrum the green beast throws as he is denied entry. Loki can hardly contain his glee as he waves mockingly as the doors close.

As he is led to the ground floor his cuffed hands clinking annoyingly with every step he glances wearily around himself, dreading the lecture that is sure to come once he reaches asgard. He has no doubt in his mind that Odin will find perfect reason to throw him to the wolves, lest his mother get involved.

As he contemplates, his attention is caught by the sound of his brother calling for help, the guards holding him, attending to what he perceives to be a heart attack, to none other than the man of metal.

He watches, confused as a small stature kicks the case holding the tesseract away from view as the others tend to Stark.

Looking around bemused he watches to see what will conspire next. Before any other move can be made a shout is heard as the doors to the staircase along with the wall is torn apart, the hulk making his distaste for the tedious activity known.

For once since meeting the beast he feels thankful, as the case holding the tesseract is knocked open, the familiar cube sliding towards his foot.

A beat passes and grabbing a hold of the familiar cube he glances around, vanishing in a thin cloud of blue.

T V A U N K N O W N

Hurried footsteps echo down the corridor as the man moves with barely contained excitement. Tie swinging to and fro, a slightly wrinkled hand pulls at the collar of his neck nervously.

Mobius had seen many variants in his time at the TVA. Yet, none had ever come close to interesting as the file he currently held in one hand. Variant L1130 or Loki, as he was called, was perhaps one of the most complicated cases he had come across.

Born as a legend of mythology it was quite unbelievable to know that not only was he real, but he happened to be in their custody for creating a new branch in the timeline. Mobius could only hope Renslayer would agree to allowing him to be the God's superior.

Entering the courtroom, Mobius sits down and watches with rapt attention as Loki attempts to bargain with Ravonna. His plans are foiled as he tries to call upon his magic in a last effort to escape.

Mobius feels it's time to intervene when Renslayer makes it clear he is to be executed.

"You have no idea what I am capable of!"

"Actually I might have an idea of what he is capable of." He offers as he makes his way up to the stand.

His plea must be written across his face as Ravonna leans over to look at him directly.

"Whatever you're planning, it's a bad idea." She warns.

Nonetheless she reluctantly lets him go and Mobius has to fight off the urge to fist pump the air as he escorts Loki down the hallway.

"Oh, I'm Agent Mobius by the way." He offers a hand that is quickly ignored.

He can practically see the distrust written on Loki's face, his eyes calculating every move he makes.

Mobius is hardly surprised that as soon as he enters the room, his back turned to the God as he adjusts his projector, Loki is surging forward to attack. He doesn't even bat an eyelash as he clicks a button on his remote, resetting the God as if the action never even happened.

"C'mon, let's take a look at some of your greatest hits." Mobius waves a hand, as Loki curiously sits down, eyes trained on the projector.

He finds himself staring back at a hologram of his attack on New York. His blue eyes darting back and forth with glee as chaos erupts around him.

A feeling of something akin to shame runs down his spine as he recalls his reign of terror on the city, an illusion of preying on the weak to hide his own fear, lest he fail and succumb to Thanos and his minions.

Loki clenches his jaw, arms crossing over his form in an attempt to hide himself as he turns to avoid the screen.

"I see no point in this-"

"No, no wait, this is just getting good." Mobius grins as he points to the screen and Loki finds himself once again face to face with another variation of himself.

He briefly recalls the time he had lost a bet to Thor and had to change his form into that of a ginger haired man wearing a clean three piece suit, claiming he had a bomb and required over two hundred thousand in midgardian money just to see if he could pull it off. He did, in fact, pull it off, but his mother was not happy as well as the midgardians who failed to solve the case, naming him D.B. Cooper as they had no clue as to his real identity.

His attention is pulled to the screen as a familiar voice of silk enters the scene and he watches as his mother speaks to his future self, his eyes drawn into her face.

"Then am I not your mother?" He hears her ask. Yes, you are.

"No. You are not." Loki's eyes start to mist as he watches the look of hurt pass over his mother's features before she schools her expression into one of contempt.

"Always so perceptive, about everyone but yourself." She decides.

The screen flickers and he sees himself talking to an intruder, his voice amused as he suggests the monster to take the stairs to the left.

Then, his mother, Frigga, lying on the cold ground, a puddle of red growing rapidly beneath her body as her eyes remained closed.

His breath hitches, anger now licking up his spine. He turns sharply to Mobius who smartly remains silent.

"What is this! Some cruel joke? Where is she?! Where do you have her?"

Mobius steps forward, expression neutral as he speaks.

"She's dead Loki. This is the future, it's destined to happen, again and again because that's how it should be."

Loki falters his eyes narrowing as he spits "You're lying! I'll kill you!"

"What? Like you killed your mother."

There's a split second of silence before an angered shout is heard, a chair splitting the air as it crashes into pieces along the floor.

Before anything else can be said Mobius is summoned by Hunter B-15, his eyes falling to Loki who remains silent and he leaves with a slight tinge of guilt burrowing in his chest at the haunted look in the God's eyes.

"You think yourself so sly don't you." Loki looks up at the unfamiliar voice as the projector suddenly comes to life, a new image flicking gently on screen. His eyes catch upon your form and he watches in awe and wonder as you sit beside his future self.

"I don't think, love. I know." He grins leaning in to steal a kiss from you that leaves you both breathless.

He watches as your eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for him as you lean into his side.

"Loki?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Loki tilts his head in contemplation as he looks to you, before a soft grin pulls at his lips.

"I didn't until I met you. I know that no matter who or what tries to tear us apart, we will always find a way back to each other."

A smile breaks out onto your face and Loki watches in stunned silence as the clip ends with the two of your voices fading into laughter.

"You two are meant to be together."

Loki turns as Mobius slowly comes to a stop behind him, his expression thoughtful.

"I don't enjoy hurting people you know." He responds, motioning towards the screen in reference to his attack on New York and the death of his mother.

Mobius doesn't respond, and he takes that as a sign to continue.

"I do it because I have to. Because I've had to." He looks down as he fiddles with his fingers.

Mobius hums as he replies.

"Why? Why do you think that is?"

"It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

Realization lights up in Mobius' eyes as he answers back.

"A desperate play for control. You do know yourself."

"A villain." Loki sums up.

"Not the way I see it."

There's a mutual silence between them before Mobius sighs.

"Look I can't offer you salvation but I can offer you something better. A fugitive variant has been killing our minutemen."

"And let me guess, you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him."

"That's right."

"How could I possibly be of use to you?"

"That's the thing. The variant we are hunting, we believe is y/n." Mobius looks towards the projector where your image is still.

"I beg your pardon?"

U N K N O W N

Mutilated bodies line the floor as a hooded figure steps over them, eyes glowing an unnatural hue.

"Is it finished?"

"Yes."

A wicked laugh fills the empty space as a portal opens in the deserted land, a set of footsteps following through.

"I'm coming for you, my love."

[shadowturtlesstuff]

you belong with me- thomas

this is thomas’s pov. i like doing both pov (i dont know if you can tell) but there are a few things im working on but enjoy!

“How could-? Are you even hearing yourself speak you fool? No- no. God, you know what I'm done.” I throw my phone on the bed, scaring Sir Issac in the process. I cringe even as I begin pacing back and forth. It was truly absurd, utterly crazy, that William lived in such a world where he would ever consider me being with anyone but Audrey Rose. Whilst we weren’t together per say, it was clear there would be no one else for me. The fact that he had already caused trouble for us once makes this even more irritating. I turn and find Audrey Rose already watching me. Her hair disheveled in a messy bun which tells me she is studying or researching something. I give her what I hope classifies as a smile and watches as she pulls out a familiar notebook, searches for her pen and then writes: Are you okay?

Of course she would ask if I'm okay and not what happened; using our absurd way of talking to each other instead of using the window or even messaging me. I shake my head but smile and make my way towards my window. The wind hits me, sending my hair flying but I embrace the fresh air as I watch her move herself off her bed, cursing at her stiff legs. She has been there most of the day, not moving and lost in her work and music. She curses once more as she hits her elbow on the window sill and she looks truly adorable. “You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” I try to ignore the other thoughts I have of her mouth.

“Fuck you,” she scowls at me. It always makes me smile hearing her curse, she always sounds confident in them somehow, making them seem so real. The first time she swore was the time she failed a science test. Well, not exactly a fail, but she was marked wrong by a substitute teacher who didn't like her so she decided to berate him in front of the whole class, starting with her shouting ‘bullshit!’ as soon as she saw her results.

“I assume dear wadsworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” As much as I would rather climb across the gap and make her watch another one of my romance films again instead of talk about it, I know that I should. Otherwise it'll eat at my mind when I go to sleep. As well as it being used against wadsworth in some way too.

“Perhaps,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief as she rests her head on the wall and brings her knees to her chest, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” I nearly burst out laughing at her. She has a love hate relationship with my cat. She pretends to hate the ‘beast’ but will often let him sit on her lap or pet him whenever she is over here. When I first got him, she stayed round mine for the night and we settled him. Even then she had tried to pretend not to like him but she doesn’t remember that she fell asleep with him curled up next to her. I had to sleep on my chair because they were sprawled out, surrounded by her work.

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” Said cat brushes against me and I look at him, the memory still clear in my mind. Yet I know I need to stop avoiding the problem, Audrey Rose is too kind to push me into telling her, and will let me avoid it for as long as I need. It is not the worst thing we’ve faced yet I still hate it.  

“I assume you saw the call, well that was William,” she nods, her face already falling at the mention of his name, “Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumor that I'm with Miss whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I scoff at the sheer audacity of him and his friends. Sir Issac nuzzles into me, knowing that I'm upset and wanting to change that. As well get attention.

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?”

“Yes.” Anger rolls through me at the memory of that disaster. What hurt Audrey Rose the most is that she truly thought he was a friend. She’d explained that with me she didn't try, but everyone else she had too, so when they'd fallen into easy conversations during lessons she really enjoyed having someone other than me and lize and her uncle to talk to.

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' She begins pacing, her mind working faster than her steps as she no doubt recalls everything that happened. I am inclined to do the same. I can still remember her walking into her room, looking at me and falling apart. I climbed into her room and held her letting her calm before she spoke to me. I cried as well, slightly, knowing how much that friendship had meant to her. I'd made us watch a really cheesy film and she'd fallen asleep in my arms.

“I have never once,”I say to drag her back to the present “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” I drag a hand through my hair. “She's just- a lot.” the first time id met her she was just very loud and demanding, I couldn't stand her. I'd watched her insult so many people for being themselves, for liking childish things, or in Audrey Rose's case, morbid things.

“That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Besides, you wouldn’t work, she's too- your,” she falls silent, either lost in thought or not wanting to tell me those thoughts. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and I smile. She doesn't meet my eye as she sits herself down and I raise my brows as she asks what? As though she didn’t just show me that she has many inappropriate thoughts about me. She curls herself into a ball, hiding in her oversized hoodie, which is mine that I'm not sure she realizes is.

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“You're absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” she rolls her eyes though, even as the pink deepens slightly. Her eyes focused on my own. So I face her fully, like an astute student in class dying to seek knowledge, “you're too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” she stops talking immediately, as though whatever is in her mind she cant voice. Her face twists into something unreadable and I get the sense that she would rather not ever speak about me being with someone other than her.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” she suppresses an eye roll and her smile and ignores the way my voice deepens ever so slightly. I pat Sir Issac off me and earn a whine but he jumps off me. I reach out to her and she leans, her hair ripping free of her bun with little effort from the wind. Her dark curls cling to her face, framing her perfectly too. It makes me want to hold her face in her hands and kiss her deeply.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.”

She inflates my ego every time she smiles at me, whether that be because of my joke or simply smiling at me because I am her friend. “I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-I don’t belong with her, you’re right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.”

She blinks at me, her face falling flat. Silence falls over us and I realize she thinks I'm talking about someone else. And idea forms, one that she may hate me for but one I'm going to do anyway.

“I-” she begins, no doubt going to tell me she wants me to be happy without whomever I'm with. I stand before she can say anything and she stares at me for a second so I motion for her to move. I want to be able to hold her and be next to her. I climb over and set myself on her window sill, leaving enough space for her on the other side. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I try to hide my smirk at her. Preparing myself for the worst. Preparing myself for her calling me an idiot and that she doesn't like me that way. I wouldn’t blame her.

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” she blurts out, her cheeks red now and eyes bright with shock, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

I can’t help but laugh. She is one of the smartest people I have ever met yet she, just like I do, struggles with social cues sometimes. Albeit it she is better than I will ever be. “Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” Not that that would be a problem. As of right now I'd happily list the way her eyes are filled with both relief and shock and happiness and it's a look I want to capture whenever I need a reminder of something good in life.

She scowls at me, ignoring her blush. I take a risk and reach out my hand, moving closer so that her back is straightened on the wall, her attention fixed on me completely. No fake scowl or bright smile, just an intent gaze I can't quite pick apart. I rest my hand on her leg, now free of her (my) hoodie. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.”

I stare at my best friend, my love, as she tries to convince herself this is real. It's truly adorable. Then her eyes widen slightly as she whispers: “I have something to show you.”

She jumps from my grip, running the short distance to her bed and then shuffling through the mountain of books and papers sprawled there until she pulls out a notebook and shakes it, letting a piece of paper drop. It's folded and creased a lot, as though it has been opened often. I watch as she faces me and slowly, her face fixed on the sheet as she opens and holds it out to me.

I read the words: I love you.

I love you.

I read them over and over and over, trying to imprint it on my brain. Her delicate handwriting and her confession reaches out to me and I desperately want to reach out to her, hold her against me and press kisses and make her laugh.

Audrey rose takes her seat across from me and I instantly reach out, holding her leg again. Anything to reassure me this is real. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time.” her voice is soft, her curls once again framing her face as she looks at me, “Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Audrey Rose would never need saving, never want it, yet her words save my own dark heart that she has felt this way for so long, and we have somehow lived alongside each other and been so blinded by our love entwined with fears that it has taken so long to finally acknowledge them.

I debate pinching myself. Only minutes ago was I miserable and upset, yet Audrey Rose has taken her time to cheer me up. Yet even if I had left it as I am fine, even though she knows me better than that, she wouldn't have pressed for answers; would have waited for me to open up. So i lean in and the world stops as we both wait until our lips are pressed together It's a light kiss, one full of promise and wonder. When I lean back we are both smiling so freely my heart feels as though it too is reaching out to hold Audrey rose. We trade kisses, never wanting to leave this loop but I do lean back away from her. I’m already too drunk on her kisses, I need to breathe, to process this so I can remember it. Once my back is against the wall I pull her, twisting so her back is against mine, leaning into my warmth and I rest my head atop hers. Trying to contain my smiles but to no avail. My hand covers hers and as i look down at her i notice she doesn't bother controlling her smile. It is a magnificent sight.  

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.”

let me know if you want to be added to my tag list: 

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[mmmmalo]

This is a (meandering, non-exhaustive) overview of Homestuck’s use of

by which I do not mean examples of psychological realism in a character’s words and deeds, but rather the various means by which characters’ psyches are expressed outside of themselves. I wish to elaborate on how thoughts, feelings, and desires may find expression in the environment, in the medium of the story itself, and in the form of other characters.

That’s perhaps a little vague, so here’s a ready example of what I mean: brainghost!Dirk. He talks with Jake, but since he is a construct of Jake’s mind, Jake is essentially talking to himself. Brainghost!Dirk is an alienated medium for voicing Jake’s own thoughts, irretrievably distorted through its intermingling with what Jake thinks/wishes Dirk would say (not unlike a puppet). I am claiming that this mode of characterization is not a unique to Jake; the blurring of inner and outer voices is omnipresent throughout the story.

Or, rephrased: what I hope to show is that a great deal of Homestuck is haunted with brain-ghosts, of one kind or other.

An early example of this kind of storytelling in science fiction would be the film Forbidden Planet (1956). The film contains a pair of conflicts which eventually reveal themselves to be one: the scientist Morbius wants some space explorers to get off his planet, and an immense monster (pictured above) appears during the night to attack the explorers. Morbius, it turns out, has been experimenting with a machine capable of turning thought into reality. So when Morbius sleeps, his dream of driving off the trespassers materializes in the form of beast that forcefully enacts the wish.

The beast is declared a “monster from the id”, the “id” being a concept borrowed from Freudian psychology, indicating the part of the mind responsible for the unfiltered generation of impulses, of urges. In the film, this passing mention of psychoanalysis precedes the revelation of Morbius’s link to the beast.

Homestuck hints towards its own mixing of thought and reality with a device similar to Morbius’s dream machine: Sburb.

A snapshot of Dave’s Sburb client (1519) shows that the final subprograms launched during the games installation make reference to terminology associated with Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. The terms suggest that Sburb interacts with the ideas in the kids’ subconscious minds (archetypes) and brings symbolic representations of these ideas into conscious reality (manifests the ideas). The game alters the means by which reality is constructed. As with Forbidden Planet, a major result of this is id monsters.

When John slips on a staircase, he flips out (left, 560). And when he nearly launches himself into the abyss with the Pogo Hammer, he has to take a nap before he has calmed down enough to continue (center, 637). Immediately following both moments of vertigo, massive ogres appear. The eventual fight with the ogres begins after John looks over the edge of the platform above his house, into the abyss (right, 662).

All of this suggests that Sburb is reacting to John’s emotional state (fear) to produce in-game content. The game functions as a waking dream.

It should also be noted that Sburb provokes the reactions it elicits. Karkat once mentioned a nagging feeling that the game was mocking him by giving him a planet covered in the candy red blood he had spent a lifetime attempting to hide (2301). Karkat’s paranoia seems to be correct here, and moreover applicable to the cast in general -- John’s house was likely placed atop an immense spire /in order to/ bring John’s dread of falling into sharp relief. The suspicion can be substantiated with a few related motifs.

The story provides two likely origins for John’s fear of heights: his own fall from the slime pogo as a child (2626) and the death of Nanna, which John believed resulted from her falling from a ladder and being crushed by a book (52). What’s more, Sburb’s invocation of the Fall of Man (Adam and Eve being cast from the Garden of Eden) via biting into an apple hints that there is an allegorical significance to John’s more literal fear of heights. 

We can apply these patterns to other characters in an attempt to learn more about them. LOLAR being covered in ocean suggests that Rose is afraid of water, with the likely cause of Rose finding Jaspers dead and washed up on a riverbank (presumed drowned). Dave speaks openly about how his sword fights with Bro left him anxious of metal sounds (7749), meaning the grinding gears of LOHAC were a personalized hell for Dave. Jade’s first imp manifests in response to the sight of a yellow aurora (2998), inviting the reader to investigate why that image invokes a fear response.

But we won’t get to into all of that, not for now at least. Let’s take a step back.

For my reading of the imps as manifestations I’ve been leaning heavily on a piece of film theory devoted to the effects of sequential images. The sequence above constitutes two observations. One, that by this arrangement the viewer will infer the old man sees and reacts to the middle figure. Two, that the viewer’s impression of the old man will change based on the content of the central image, even if his expression is the same. Is he smiling at Nepeta or warm embrace Marvus’s armpit? The answer may influence your interpretation of the little smile.

The neat thing about montage is that the interrupting frame need not bear any obvious relation to what precedes or follows in order to be subject to a causal reading. Moments that occur sequentially can be read as triggering one another, even if what follows any particular moment appears to be a break rather than a continuation.

Example: There’s a moment where Aranea walks into Jake’s dream, and brainghost!Dirk immediately starts razzing Jake about his attraction to the alien girl and threatening to give him a boner. The scene is interrupted by Jack committing a series of gratuitous murders. We then cut back to Jake, and bg!Dirk is now teasing him about his dirty thoughts.

DIRK: You have got to be kidding. Did you seriously just think something THAT dirty? DIRK: You must be doing this on purpose to spite me now. I mean, just wow dude. That was x-rated as fuck. 

JAKE: (No no stop. See youre talking about it and now i cant help it!) JAKE: (You are psyching me into having dirty thoughts get fucking lost you interloping brain douche!!!) 

DIRK: Don't worry, I'm gone. It's like a goddamn peep show in here and I feel like a sleazy piece of shit watching this from a dark corner of your mind. DIRK: You have a graphic imagination, English. I'm kind of impressed. 

JAKE: (Shut up theyre just thoughts its not even like im trying to have them THEY DONT MEAN ANYTHING!)

The ostensible joke is that bg!Dirk is exaggerating or outright fabricating his account of Jake’s thoughts in order to hassle him. But by way of montage, one can infer that we /have/ seen Jake’s dirty thoughts, in the form of Jack’s display of overwhelming bloodlust. Violence is superimposed over the sexually explicit. 

Whether the scene literally takes place in Jake’s mind is secondary (though such a reading would explain why Jake’s brain ghost is even aware of Jack) -- the use of montage allows Jack’s actions to function as a /metaphor/ for Jake’s thought.

Another example of Jack functioning as a murderous/libidinous avatar would be the death of Mom and Dad. At their little tea party, Dad spills some wine on Mom’s clothes and declares that she must disrobe immediately (so that Dad might launder the garment). Mom calls the aromas wafting from his pipe sensuous. The two clasp hands and declare that all they need is eachother. Then they die! The joke is that while Bec Noir is ostensibly an interruption to date night, he also functions as its culmination, with murder acting as substitute for the sex act.

The link between violence and sexuality is perhaps a hard sell, but I hope to convince you that the reading holds merit. Let me emphasize that the very act of Mom and Dad holding hands was itself sexually loaded.

I owe to HS liveblogger elfstuck the insight that John’s linear 3 card sylladex is a reflection of his short attention span. Consider how John’s role as a game character means he is thrown all around his room, back and forth, as the player figures out what to make of the situation. If you ignore the fourth wall, you’re left with an extremely distracted person, who attention flows easily from one object to another. Accepting the object-in, object-out nature of John’s sylladex and the resulting shenanigans as a metaphor for this, it would follow that the sylladex in general can offer an abstract representation of thought.

In passing, I can mention how the enormity of Jake’s sylladex (it cannot even fit on the page, and contains an object that exceed most players’ size limits) would imply that despite evidence to the contrary, the boy likely has a big brain (and perhaps its being offscreen suggests Jakes own unawareness of much of his own thought). Dirk’s comment about avoiding items that are difficult to shoehorn into his mnemonic schema (4535) could be read as a difficulty maintaining information that doesn’t fit into his personal mental models. The sylladex becomes a metaphor for the mind that requires interpretation.

Under this mode of thought, the moments when Jade’s pictionary modus fails to correctly interpret her drawing become akin to a mental slip-of-the-tongue. For the Tanglebuddies to be misread as enmeshed hands implies an association, in Jade’s mind, of horny Squiddles and clasped hands. John affirms the association much later by miming Tanglebuddies as he attempts to grapple with the question of whether Jade and Davesprite are sexually compatible (5294):

JOHN: how do things even work if you marry a sprite?

JADE: what do you mean 

JOHN: i mean... JOHN: ok, he has a ghost butt, for one thing. 

JADE: uh JADE: so 

JOHN: a GHOST BUTT, jade! 

JADE: SO WHAT IF HE HAS A GHOST BUTT!!!!! 

JOHN: i'm just saying... 

JADE: WHATEVER YOURE JUST SAYING, JUST STOP SAYING IT! JADE: and whatever youre trying to gesture with your hands there, stop doing that too!

It should also be noted that before launching into her “daring dream”, waxing poetic on the miraculous union of the human and the animal with her hands clasped in wonder, Jade successfully captchalogued the Tanglebuddies (796). And more to the point, Jade’s pose in reproduced during discussions of cherub (5961) and leprechaun (6007) reproduction. Hand-holding becomes representative of an (oft-sexualized) union, underlining the euphemistic nature of Mom and Dad’s post-contact demise.

The next example of using montage to communicate thought requires a little more buildup.

There’s a gag in Rose’s introduction where the reader tells Rose to play with her writing journals, and scoots the journals under the bed and retorts that she would only do that if no one were watching (220). At first glance, the moment scans as a minor meta joke in a story filled with meta jokes -- but the trick is that Rose does not /know/ herself to be a video game character, her every movement controlled and observed. Rather, she /believes/ this to be true -- the joke about being watched establishes that Rose is paranoid, as will become apparent in the hostility she assigns to Mom’s every action.

The command prompt and narration are themselves brain ghosts of a sort: the voice deployed in them is always linked to the present point-of-view character. The insults that precede character introductions ( “Zoosmell Pooplord”, etc) become marks of anxiety, an intrusive proclamation of what the kids at times think of themselves (and/or what they think others think of them). “Nice time management skills, sweetheart!” becomes a bit of self-deprecation Rose as she procrastinates, which Rose experiences as having been voiced by some objective observer who judges her deficiencies.

A blurred line divides characters from the voice at the back of their head, belonging to the (presumed) omniscient, omnipotent author-god. This is why avatar!Hussie is dressed as Calliope when he is killed by Lord English. Both Calliope and Hussie are a voice in Caliborn’s head, and thus both present apparent obstacles to an unmediated self.

The left panel (3219) foreshadows the right (3358). Gamzee is not being declared the objectively most important character in Homestuck. Rather, Gamzee is declaring himself /to have been declared/ the most important character in the story. The line establishes that Gamzee believes himself to be in a story (with an author!) and that this author has declared him paramount. Furthermore, “fondly regarding creation” is an modus operandi of Problem Sleuth’s Godhead Pickle Inspector. Applying that turn of phrase to Gamzee’s actions further establishes that Gamzee believes himself to /be/ the god-author declaring his own importance. So it should come as no surprise that 137 pages later, Gamzee outright proclaims himself to be the god(s) he worships.

Going back to montage, it becomes interesting that this snapshot of Gamzee’s megalomania is inter-cut with the creation of Jadesprite -- the moment that dead!dream!Jade merges with Bec, forming a unity with a deity not unlike the unity Gamzee claims with his mirthful messiahs. The interweaving would suggest that Jade and/or Jadesprite experienced analogous thoughts of megalomania upon the moment of ascension.

This would be a good point to mention that not only imps and ogres, but trolls also function as manifestations for the people they impose upon. Karkat is not only an interruption here, but also a continuation. He points out that Jade’s self-loathing, that she cannot safely distance herself from the qualities of Jadesprite she finds distasteful. This is precisely why Karkat ends the conversation by telling Jade to turn off the fourth wall (which divides the self!), as well as the reason he imagines Jade making out with herself: Karkat is on every front presenting the prospect of union with oneself.

The notion of trolls as manifestations first emerges clearly when Rose and Dave receive their packages from John. As they finish reading John’s letter, each is suddenly contacted by a troll and greeted with the command “Answer.” Critically, by word alone it is ambiguous as to whether the command refers to answering the troll or the letter. And as it turns out, these answer occur simultaneously: Rose and Dave’s responses to the letters are embedded in the subsequent conversations. 

Rose receives a letter poking fun at her pretensions, claiming that her attempts to hide her affections for people are futile. In response we get Kanaya, who imperiously proclaims her disdain for Rose, only to suddenly change tact and explicitly seek Rose’s friendship, an entreaty which the oft paranoid Rose accepts. Dave receives a letter imploring him to let go of his insecurities and express himself. In response we get Tavros, the very picture of insecurity, who is fixated on the idea of making Dave shit himself (as part of an ‘emotional constipation’ motif that follows Dave). And Dave complies, in a sense, by way of the quasi-ironic gay treatise that compels Tavros to block him. Each conversation addresses the issues laid out in John’s letter.

Examples can be found throughout the comic. Equius remarking that he talks to Gamzee every day (2220) establishes that Gamzee is regularly haunted by the thoughts of domination that Equius voices -- both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Erisolsprite referring to Dirk as a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 and then calling himself 2ociiopathiic for even thinking something so callous (5516) expresses a conflict already present in Jake’s own mind, echoing the frustration with his own dirty thoughts expressed by the argument with brainghost!Dirk. Feferi’s pronounced enthusiasm for the imminent apocalypse should cause you to question Kanaya’s seemingly neutral resignation towards the end of the world, since Feferi manifests for Kanaya (2328). And so on.

The person being trolled is always being confronted with thoughts or feelings or memories already present within themself. Alien contact always doubles as a brain ghost haunting.

Another example, with some buildup: Karkat invokes the phrase “PERFORATE MY BONE BULGE WITH A CULLING FORK” to express his contempt for Vriska, and on subsequent pages we see Feferi pointing her culling fork at a cuttlefish (2181), as if to suggest that the creature symbolizes the bone bulge. Fast forward to Kanaya, who has just gotten through a conversation with Vriska and finds herself haunted by Eridan, who keeps going on about his romantic desperations and insisting (correctly) that Kanaya’s crush on Vriska is itself romantic. That his notification erupts from an image of cuttlefish held at Kanaya’s waist adds to the air of yearning, as though her own bulge is rumbling. The scene is capped off with a double entendre: “its hard and nobody understands” is playfully poignant jab at an inability to understand one’s own desires (among other things). 

And Homestuck devotes a lot of attention to desire.

It’s long been acknowledged by the fandom at large that Kanaya’s attraction to Light players functions as a joke on the proverbial moth-to-the-flame. As reconciliation with the fire destroys the moth, there’s a morbid tinge to the attraction, as though it doubles as a death wish. And the wish is granted -- when Kanaya dies in Homestuck, she dies to light, either from Eridan’s wand or the laser blasts unleashed by HIC. Even the death of Kanaya’s lusus pertains to light -- the matriorb ripped from her innards is shaped like a miniature sun, as if to establish some loose link between the notion of motherhood and the incandescence Kanaya eventually achieves.

This can be generalized into a principle wherein lusii (and the circumstances of their deaths!) can functions as analogies for the desire of the wards.

Vriska, for example, desires execution. When offering Terezi a flimsy apology for crippling Tavros and proxy-murdering Aradia, Vriska offers to slam her head against her desk in penitence. This moment should be read against Vriska’s addiction to breaking 8 balls, and leaving the broken shards lying around as though she’s inviting the “bad luck” of stepping on them. It /is/ an invitation. Vriska seeks love via violent retribution against herself. This is why in the right panel, Vriska’s blood-spattered head is juxtaposed with a broken 8 ball: the blood came from Spidermom’s execution (which characterizes Vriska’s desire), and motif of 8R8K H34DS connects the moment to Vriska’s idea of apology.

Like Kanaya, Vriska (to a degree) seems to structure her love life along these lines. In the words of @azdoine:

like ppl are actually out here writing Vriska as the top as if her entire Act 5 character arc isn’t about bratting out until Terezi has no choice but to punish her

“oh noo, I, the thief of light, stole all of your luck, and made the coin land on the scratched side! now you have to kill me! but I’m probably going to get away with everything, because you don’t have the guts to stab me with that sword of yours!!!!!!!! if only there was somebody, like you, who could prove me wrong!”

EXTREMELY SUBTLE THERE, VRISKA

Vriska’s approach to wooing Tavros also revolves around baiting execution:

The scene: Tavros leads a horde of imps and ogres into a mystery cave, the top of which is adorned with kissing lizards and an alchemical symbol. Tavros is putting a puzzle of a frog together, but Vriska has already pieced together the puzzle: making a frog universe is, in part, a cipher for personal reproduction. The Ultimate Alchemy is making a baby! And as Vriska says, “real gamers cut to the chase. They power through all the nonsense and go for the gold.” So she brings Tavros to LOMAT and makes the moves on him.

Tavros is equated to a treasure chest by the repeated use of framing and Vriska is GOING FOR THE GOLD, like a WINNER. Tavros later reaches into the same chest for his lance before heading off to attempt to kill Vriska -- affirming that the treasure Vriska seeks here is Tavros’s “lance”.

This setup was suggested by the conversation accompanying the kissing salamanders: Vriska gives Tavros a map with a big red X, saying he should take his legion of imps through the gate and go defeat his denizen. The gate actually leads to Vriska, but she isn’t lying. She is positioning herself to be Tavros’s final boss. The imps are manifestations of Tavros’s pent up rage (much of which was generated by Vriska’s harassment), and Vriska wants Tavros to take that anger out on her. Hence the later panel which uses Vriska’s boots to place a big red X directly over her groin, making explicit the implicit goal of Tavros’s trip to the windmill X-gate.

This pursuit of love through violent comeuppance may have something to do with Vriska’s bitter disappointment that ghost!Aradia did not seem to hate her.

An intermission/introduction of sorts, as we bridge from one discussion of desire to another: did you know that Michael Bay’s Armageddon (1998) structures itself in part around Freud’s Oedipus complex? I say this in total sincerity.

The plot: a meteor the size of Texas bears down upon the Earth, threatening armageddon. Luckily, a crew of rough-and-tumble oil drillers are ready to fly into space and split that mother in two. Oh HELL yeah.

Except, wait, the movie’s actually about family drama: Bruce Willis finds Ben Affleck sleeping with his daughter Liv Tyler; Willis proceeds to chase Affleck around the oil rig with a shotgun, bang bang bang. Not Allowed. The Protective-Father-Hates-Your-Boyfriend dynamic is presented as an Oedipal triad of sorts: although Tyler is not literally Affleck’s mother, she performs the mom-function of “forbidden object of desire” -- and Willis opening fire is equivalent to the castration said to await trespassers onto maternal soil.

The above reading is buttressed by jokes: Armageddon appears to function within an implicit dream machine, such that the characters’ thoughts and fears can become manifest in their environment. So when it comes to pass that whenever  Affleck climbs into a hole (heehee), a pipe breaks (hoohoo), and suddenly everything goes boom, I read that as Affleck reliving the consequences of boning Tyler, packaged in such a way that the Freudian fear of castration is more explicit. (The relevance of Oedipus to the proceedings adds some humor to Steve Buscemi declaring the entire disastrous situation a “Greek tragedy”)

At any rate, after some shenanigans, Willis comes to accept Affleck’s claim to his daughter and confers the deed, as it were. Willis gives the young couple his blessing and they get married. Hooray!

Except, wait, the movie’s actually about the perpetuation of the oil industry: the dream machine was declared at the beginning of the movie when a petty street-side argument triggered the first barrage of meteors. The meteor the size of Texas (aka Dotty) is triggered by conflicts that haunt the central cast -- namely Willis, who enters the film hitting golf balls at a Green Peace boat. On a metaphorical level, Dotty is a golf ball the size of Texas, striking directly at the Earth instead its self-declared representatives. There’s a certain irony here: the film lampshades that the men who are destroying the world have been tasked with saving it.

The family drama folds into the environmentalist angle: Liv Tyler is a symbol of the earth (which gets drilled). This is the joke when Affleck is bouncing animal crackers around on her belly like she’s host to the Savannah: she kind of is! It’s no coincidence that Willis confers ownership of the oil rig at the same moment that he offers his daughter’s hand in marriage: the motifs are being discussed simultaneously.

But enough of all of that: back to Homestuck.

Armageddon’s simultaneous casting of Liv Tyler into the roles of earth and mother offers a glimpse at the interpretive possibilities made available by Hussie’s statement that Homestuck is in a way a synonym for Earthbound (an RPG in which “homesickness” is a status ailment which can be cured by calling your mom). Stuckness or boundness can be deployed to communicate a sense of longing for “home”.

A good chunk of Homestuck is built upon feelings of nostalgia, taken to mean a sort of intense separation anxiety with the past. John speaks about this when he watches Con Air with Jade – John wants the movie to feel like it did when he watched it with his Dad long ago, but the feeling from when he was a kid is gone. This upsets him. Moreover, John’s freakout starts at the moment Cyrus puts a gun to the bunny’s head (5286): Con Air itself is partly about Nic Cage trying to return to the life he lost when he went to jail, and ‘putting the bunny back in the box’ is a metaphor for the attempt. Cyrus, in threatening the bunny, is highlighting his role as a force preventing things from going back to how they were. Thus, if we are to believe that John is responding to the movie thematically, Cyrus confronts John with his own inability to go back to a happier past – his inability to go home -- and this recognition is met with anger.

In making the leap to the psychoanalytic motifs, it helps to recall the part where baby!Dirk responds to being born by cracking open his ectotube and crawling back inside. Dirk, who aspires towards his “ultimate self”, illustrates here that he envisions his ascension as a return to the ‘essence’ of Dirk from which he (and all other iterations of himself) arose, as represented by the ectoslime. Baby!Dirk gestures at unity with his ectoslime/essence by crawling back into the place from which he was born, which I’m basically claiming is a “return to the womb” on a symbolic level, or at least that this is a useful parallel to draw. (A related motif to think about: Dirk decapitates himself by sticking his head inside a box, which as per Con Air symbolizes the place you wish to return to)

[Hella Jeff sez: “i took (my pants) off because i was banging your mom for a minute there..... AND NOW YOU ARE BANGING HER”]

Castration becomes unavoidable as you try to relate all of this to Dave, whose occasional references to banging hot moms are part of an ongoing reference to the Oedipus Complex. Critically, the complex is not /just/ about wanting to bone your mom, but also fear that your dad will chop your junk off if you do. The breaking of Dave’s sword on the rooftop is a realization of this fear (yes, we’re doing the “swords are phallic” thing). But Dave has no mom that he knows of, so what gives? 

The answer is in the way Bro inexplicably breaks the record emblem on Dave’s t-shirt, as though he has introduced a fissure into Dave’s very identity. Life with Bro has made it very difficult for Dave to be honest with himself, which is to say, Dave pictures Bro’s abuse as having divided him from an ideal “true self”, which can feel emotions without all the anxious ironic detachment. I mentioned before that seeking unity with that from which you came is a “return to the womb”. This is the sense in which the Oedipal mom attraction becomes relevant: the return to the past is sexualized. The ‘home’ Dave wishes to return to is /himself/, and in this sense Dave is his own hot mom (which is related to how often Dave compliments his own looks, as well as the above gif suggesting Dave’s boner – he is literally/metaphorically “attracted” to himself).

(Incidentally: this model of desire, in which a broken subject attempt to become whole again by seeking out its lost half, is basically the concept of the soulmate, as laid out by Plato. Cherub reproduction turns the metaphysical pursuit of one’s lost half into a plot-level objective)

John’s entry item (apple) was linked to fear embodied in a childhood trauma (the Fall), and the same can be said of Dave. Hatching from the shell that contained your primordial goop (Dirk) is analogous to being violently separated from yourself (Dave), which is why Dave’s entry item (an egg) hatching coincided with Bro slicing the meteor in half: the abuse that divided Dave from himself, his “castration” by Bro, is simultaneously the “birth” that separated Dave from his “mother” (which is also Dave).

The general idea is that birth = self-alienation = castration, insofar as all are depicted as modes of being separated from oneself.

The broad motif of ‘being separated from oneself’ can be very useful for identifying brain ghosts in unexpected places. Take for example, Roxy’s fenestrated planes: when they are introduced the narrative is quick to tell us that if someone were caught half in/out of one of the windows when the power cuts out, they would be sliced in half. By the rule of Chekhov’s gun, this introduction should mean we should eventually see someone get gorily bisected by the window, but alas we never do. 

Instead, when Gcat warped the panel away, trapping Roxy between the windows, we were shown the image of a bisected horse puppet in Dirk’s apartment, This signals that Chekhov’s gun has indeed gone off. But rather than splitting a body, it split a soul: Meenah’s introduction follows the sequence because Roxy has generated a shadow of herself, a doppelganger. This is not without precedent: an earlier portion of this post was devoted to exploring the fourth wall as a mode of self-alienation. Roxy’s panel mishap can be considered part of that pattern.

If Meenah functions as an extension of Roxy, all of her actions can be read as bearing some relations to Roxy’s own latent thoughts and desires. Prior to the epilogues, for example, Meenah imploring John not to give her the ring seemed to be yet another Fuck You to the late Chekov: the issue never comes up again. But a psychic link between Meenah and Roxy would suggest that John broke his promise to Meenah by giving the ring to Roxy, and that whatever motivations compelled Meenah to make her request in the first place would also apply to Roxy.

Decapitation is yet another mode of self-alienation, and thus can be construed as a mode of birth. Hence the image of Lil Sebastian hatching from his shell of taxidermied man meat. That’s a motif unto itself, but what I wish to call attention to is the match-cut from John’s broke body to Jake’s broken tower. The juxtaposition collapses the images into metaphor, such that Jake’s loose dome in the woods becomes a decapitated head -- an appropriate addition to the pumpkin patch it rests in, given all the Headless Horseman jokes. We can look to Dirk for for another example of a headless horse-man of the house echoing the head: for a guy who idealizes decapitation to such a degree, it is striking that Sburb aims to provoke him by reattaching his beheaded apartment to its underlying units.

Houses act as metaphors for heads, then “Homestuck” could also interpreted as “head trapped” -- like the title emphasizes confinement within one’s own mind. Such a reading offers up Failure to Launch and Arrested Development (posters on John and Jane’s walls) as alternate synonyms for Homestuck, as each satirizes (or outright mocks) potential failure states in the process of inter-personal and mental development (ie “growing up”). Like Earthbound, both lean on a sense of homesickness in characterizing despondency, as though characters are haunted by the needs that defined their childhood -- or else find themselves needing that childhood itself.

But collapsing nostalgia into infantile regression is far from the only way to approach the house/heads equation. One might read the transformation and growth of houses with Sburb as metaphors for expanding the mind. One might infer that the choreography of events within houses can map out thoughts like dancing bees. One might take the metaphor as a foothold for interpreting the significance of the Sburb logo being at once a house and a window. \I have my own thoughts about Homestuck’s brain-ghost haunted house-minds, but for now, I only hope that this document has raised some interesting questions -- and ideally, that the interpretive approaches I’ve described might be useful in seeking answers.

[violet-sabres]

Some quick observations re: TROS and some "reylo"musings (spoilers)

- the editing removed A LOT of emotional pay-offs for so many scenes. The decorations and actors change quickly, a bit randomly - in fact it takes a while before this movie finds its tempo and footing. Something weighty happens and no reflection is allowed even in briefest sketch of a reaction. Next scene. Next scene-

- Poe, Finn, Rose and two new female characters were absolutely robbed. Both by the ungodly pace of this movie (there is much potential for scenes that could mean much much more in the whole storyline. As is, they are discarded as soon as they happen). The bond between Finn and Poe got severed in the beginning with some awkward finnrey moments and strange jealousy (was that what it was???) from Poe. I say either carry out the finnrey thread (which was also beautiful actually, though Finn deserves so much better than how she treats him in TROS...) or finnpoe, something which JJ himself built up. Rose should be given an independent arc with no romance involved, or a love interest of her own.

- Rose's infatuation with Finn is never touched. Rose herself is absolutely erased - she is a statist, providing some dialogue with absolutely no weight behind it. JJ treated her terribly - it was his privilege and responsibility to utilize whatever he got from Johnson as he saw fit; but throwing away her potential only underlines the racist sidelining he did to all characters of colour.

- the heteronormativity I can't understand - Finn and Poe are JJs babies after all (and yeah, I know - shareholders...). Why tease hetero relationships for both and STILL leave even them hanging?? Like, he discarded Rose bc first of all racism, second - Johnson's 'leftovers' I guess? Unacceptable. The lady of Poe's was sketched boldly - but still sketched. Her inclusion wouldn't feel so random if Poe wasn't shown to be this randomly emotional abt her all of a sudden. Why now? It felt a bit forced and this is a shame bc she (and Janah, omg Janah...) is super cool. I'd love to read and see way more about all of them.

- Finn and Janah - wonderful rapport, so much empathy and loyalty, they are wonderful together. I definitely could see them together as well - so many threads to explore! There was so much potential to embed meaningful relationships for Finn into the plot. Janah is one of those that felt quite right but deserved more still. She deserves a story of her own. Not for the first time it is a secondary character of colour who carries so much potential and substance and gets sidelined. I dont mind Kylo content btw - but this series was shown to concentrate on 3 people and a villain. Keep to this proportion or perish I say. They didnt keep them and the movie feels unfairly skewed towards the force dyad of Rey and Ren. Hence, robbed. We were robbed of much of quality content here.

- the implication/suggestion that Finn may be Force sensitive held so much promise. I love Finn and Boyega played him with so much passion and dignity. He grew into leadership without pretense or drama, was competent and knowledgeable about the inner workings of the Fleet and found hope he was struggling for. Honestly the problem here is that his prominence was teased to be greater than the actual time and the weight of scenes he was given. This movie should be longer, scene order less abrupt and random - so the characters that were shown to matter in the first part could matter here as well.

- JEDI FINN please. The potential of it was teased - they should scrap some of the scenes and build those kinds of plot points more thoroughly. Finn's arc should be more - but that doesn't mean Boyega played it any other than magnificently. He got what he was given and made it his. I hate that this still means it was not as much as he and Poe deserved it. Same with Rose.

- galactic generals (*husbands) Poe and Finn. It could be marriage, it should be - Isaac played a man in love. I enjoyed this new romantic angle with the spice smuggler lady as well - but it required more buildup. As it was, it made for an awkward and frankly homophobic ersatz for finnpoe plotline of the first and even second movie. I hate wasting the potential of new characters in the movie, and this is what happened here. Also Poe's smuggling past - no previous setup that felt offensive to many bc of its randomness and no previous grounds in existing media. Felt like unnecessary sensationalism here.

- Rey is complicated here. I didnt like her attitude towards Finn and wished for more appreciation of their own idiosyncracies between them. Finn deserved his love (whether romantic or platonic) to be recognized. It was lacking here.

- I loved the fight scenes, the dialogues with Ren that should begin in TFA if they wished for the romance to be acceptably wet up. Driver is so fucking physical and huge, a bit awkward and very strong. To me it was attractive - but to me Kylo always lacked the threat in him when it came to Rey; I know this isnt so for others and respect that.

- Choreography is super effective here, the body work of Rey and Ren is wonderful.

- lighting, the sith locations were one of my favourites

- the creatures - while in the background, theybwere lovely. They made for lusher world out there.

- Palps was eh. Needed for the ending setup, ultimately fell a bit flat. The twist re his endgame would feel better if the whole scene didnt play this fucking quickly.

- the death (you know whose...) is quick and abrupt, passing fleetingly with no real depth or importance. They are rushing to another scene so quickly they forget that if you love somebody enough to accept them fully, this person's death tends to leave some kind of impression. As it is, Rey is hardly the first character robbed of emotional engagement in TROS.

- sigh. Ren. I love to hate him and hate to enjoy him still. Also feeling like a hypocrite bc would I enjoy him if not for my prefernce for how Driver looks like? Would anyone who I respect a bit more than his most fanatical reylo fans? I have no answer really.

I've never seen a character ripped into shreds from so many angles. For incels and dudebros he is a pussy (a lot of girls I know also mentioned that). He is supposedly not cruel enough, not awesome like Vader, whatever.

For others he is a genocidal criminal, and that he is. You can't sidestep Tuanul or his passivity in front of Star Destroyer wiping out whole planets. He is implicated in this genocide - and that scene where he is supposedly mutely watching it from the distance falls flat if its intention was to show he wasn't entirely behind Hux's agenda. He still never stopped him. So yeah, it is obvious that for many he is absolutely undeserving of any empathy, much less a romance plotline with movie's heroine. Especially when the first scenes setting it up were so messed up.

Now I hate the word reylo and I'd rather choke than call myself that. But I did enjoy their enmity and idk love?? towards each other? It should be plotted more consequently and I believe if JJ didn't muck it in tfa people would be a lot less opposed to the whole villain x heroine thing. Nobody opposes it bc of that - it's the torture bed and it's the "whatever I want" line that made so many recoil. It's the absolute lack of coherence at a time where more self awareness was needed from the director of the very first part in the series.

I believe there is a kind of generational divide on topic of their romance. Youve got gen z "antis" who argue about the abuse (and have a lot of good point more reylos should think hard and long about) - and mostly adult to older women (this includes older milennials also!) who grew up steeped in gothic romanticism that, up to gen z growing up, was a dominant romance paradigm in the West.

Youve got your Wuthering Hills, your Pride and Prejudice and Beauty and the Beast. I hate it. I absolutely abhor it, and the more the reylo fandom hammered their whole relationship from this angle, the more I was distancing myself. I believe the whole genre is steeped in toxic masculinity and yes, you can look at reylo from this angle as well - and I understand that when you saw those scenes from TFA, and didn't feel convinced by entirely paradoxal romance teasers (bc JJ mixed them both in equal measure, and thus killed wide enthusiasm for reylo for good) then what happened in TLJ and TROS must look like the embracing toxic hetero romance in entirety. And to some degree it is - entirely by JJs fault. The other elements that you mightve ignored in tfa suddenly get amplified in tlj, in tros and youre left wondering why the hell Kylo Ren could ever be seen as romanceable?

But the thing is, while the analogy of angry white male pursuing a pure young woman seems fitting, it doesnt work for me here. I also acknowledge that it may be in part bc I'm used to the gothic paradigm, attracted to Driver as Ren and feeling safe and assured that Rey would stay herself despite whatever he wanted from her (and she did in my opinion, she never caved even when she loved him). Kylo is white, and he is aggressive - he is a villain, he tortures and hurts Poe and Finn and plays psychological games with Rey, he shouts a lot and is very physical, which in itself looks threatening.

All those could end up somewhat accepted bc he is a villain - people will accept the consequent villain, or paradoxical one done with self- awareness on side of their creator. JJ was absolutely unaware of what a mess he did I bet - the worst elements that crossed "reylo" off the list for so many people I'd argue were first sown by JJ himself in paradoxical chase of I tease this-now I don't. Here's what I mean.

It was JJ who put Rey on that horizontal torture bed, even when Poe's was upright. It was JJ who had Ren say those gross words abt taking what he wanted. It was also JJ who irreaponsibly and paradoxically played with symbolism normally reserved for gothic princes DESPITE the gross elements he himself planted - the mask going off to reveal a goofy Disney prince, the crouching so as not to scare her, the freaking bridal carry, the humanizing via showing Ren's vulnerability. I actually hated some of those scenes - I loved the face reveal no lie, but what followed was unacceptable. Why style your villain this lush and vulnerable when you're shooting your own foot a few minutes after, with dialogue that had whole groups of young women discard him as trash? Why not polish your villain with more self awareness so that the ground for the romance is understood and cautiously accapted?

So youve got an internally cracked TFA that for some was obviously teasing reylo but for others made it unacceptable forever. This is one hell of a difficult mix to continue with and I believe if JJ was given the 2nd part to work with, perhaps he might be able to somehow work with Ren so that TLJ wouldnt feel like slap to the face to those who saw mostly the worst parts of Ren that JJ himself designed. Perhaps he would also polish the romance teasers or got rid of them altogether, idk. TROS shows that while he was eager to discard anything that Johnson had put into motion, he chose to leave reylo content still. This is really paradoxical to me, today as it was back then.

Now reylo isnt super mainstream - if he got rid of it, it would surely anger a lot of people but also satisfy an equal amount of others. Yet he chose not to and I'd argue it is because he planned for reylo to happen from the beginning, just in a shitty way we first witnessed in the worst scenes of TFA.

I'll also argue another point - if Johnson was given the saga from the beginning, reylo wouldnt be nearly as much hated and regarded as abusive for so many. It is this particular humanization of Kylo that was criticized by so many that would protect the 1st part from that torture bed, and from taking whatever Kylo wanted. As it was, when all this sudden humanity followed JJs paradoxical mess, only opposition could come bc it kind of must - it looked for many as woobifying somebody who was already irredeemable. The irony is that JJ probably never planned for this - maybe he thought he could pull this off, somehow work out the agreement between ugly Kylo and Kylo worthy of Rey. Johnson just put a fat line between TFA and his own vision, and irresponsibly ignored all the ugly heritage that should be better worked on if he ever hoped to rectify JJs paradoxes. He didnt do this and thus the mess.

I dont know if it would ever be possible though. Perhaps theres been a shift in ethics, in aesthetics even, so big that for the gen Z this kind of relationship is unacceptable. I dont see anything bad in this - even if I enjoyed a lot of reylo's potential, there will be better content, better romances done by those kids who despise reylo now as well. Meanwhile I plan to stay on this weird pole stuck deep into my ass between reylo enthusiast and haters bc I cant for shit choose a side fully.

Bc I dont see the abuse this clear cut - but am also unsure how much of it is my cultural baggage, the history of normalizing toxic masculinity etc. I bet it's both to some degree, like with all gothic romance genre, - and that there wouldnt be this whole rift at the heart of tfa without toxic masculinity normalization at all. Without it there would be no torture bed and no threats. And the irony is that Johnson would probably see to that better. But not as good as a woman behind the camera to begin with - if you want a heroine at its heart that is.

Like, you can see JJs initial vision as pretty homogenous - the bed, the words, and ignore all the paradoxical romance symbolism in there. You can also look at it as fractured and absolutely lacking coherence, and fish for the elements youd like to stay in next parts. I welcomed Johnson bc he took the best in Kylo and left JJs mess behind. This is also the very reason youre gonna hate the TLJ if TFA felt coherent for you. Bc you cant ignore that which felt threatening and cruel and very much obvious.

I have no easy recipe at dealing with this saga. I cant throw my weight behind reylo fully, ever, but will cautiously accept the potential it could have should it be more coherently written. I love so much of art and those fics that are in line with my wishes towards how Ren should be done from.the beginning.

When I was considering what to.think abt all that, back in the beginning, I didnt want for Rey to cater to emotional demands and baggage of an aggressive male, and I believe she actually doesnt - time and time again she asserts herself, maybe messily but she has the right to her anger and pain so the messy it has to be. She is shown to hope for him becoming better - and isnt manipulated or groomed to do so, and if loneliness was the only reason to stick to him then any other person would suffice, which isnt the case. She is loyal to the cause to the end and happily carries on despite Ren dying, even if it's clear she loved him. She is her own woman and the magnitude of his emotions, the physicality of his behaviour hardly influence her - she neither cowers before Kylo nor caters to him, ever. I love her for this, actually.

So there you have it, my messy thoughts on both TROS and 'reylo' dynamics. I cant say Im satisfied with both. There could be more, Ren could be fleshed out better in the beginning. The potential of so many characters was left undeveloped. I dont feel satiafaction even with elements I loved abt reylo bc there is no counterpart in other aspects I hoped to see developed. I wanted Rey to have more time with Finn, for Finn to have more time with Poe, for Rose to matter in tros as well. I wanted more of Rey and Leia, and for Ren to have more coherence to his character. Ultimately I got crumbs and some bits unable to be stomached.

Go and watch tros, stay in the place of engaging with this series that feels best to you, closest to your needs abd perceptions. Tros will not satisfy anyone in full, also bc of editing and the pacing - which is terrible. Reylo will either frustrate you or frustrate you for entirely different reasons. Dont take JJs shit, dont take Johnson's. Take from the saga whatever works for you.

I dont think it's possible to fully embrace reylo, without reservations. There are grounds for the so called antis to point out the toxic masculinity and potential for abuse. There are tropes suggesting romance despite this still, all in just TFA. It was a mess from the very beginning and it's normal people took sides.

I'm just glad it's finally over.

[triumphorce]

under umbras of bundles  of stars,

canopies of leaves & branches that shatter-scatter sky image held indirect

as a gleam in eyes

as conscious lay in fabricated gardens watching memories, & desires in dream form

from across highway covered by

blue-white, 

yellow,

& orange lights

sound of tires, mufflers, sirens, 

amidst a higher sense 

attuned to

muffled far cries muffled while crossing empty lands

filled with chilling wind howls, stealing hope, 

which

kickstarts the power on survival mode..

ups& downs 

drown the cries further,

that

war, warn, or cheer..

or just sing..

maybe

a hymn made by souls for souls under same umbra to set free to lead to wonder & beauty beyond the surface of senses directly to free to seek love loss between me and me

buried beneath  road of longest journey to reach

turn feet all around

all about a world I have no idea about

just mad ideas about Kept in journals i turn over

to all but from in front of views not yet exploited by value of which is, views are power,  & are the will in word- to-page transaction

self diminished to substantiate

entries from entrails, not shown to be conquered

win or lose is how I never saw things.

win or win, only optionss, only progress..

yet..,always over complicating;

marathon sprints from start to finish

as I choose, If i choose, to continue to choose to overlook slopes in existence, where hides I, in ruins, digging for recognition

contribute to a mind overloading with what I know I owe society, &me,

burden of see-through beast, I see illusions of future thru,mistaken as truth, play victim, get stressed or believe I'm down on luck ,in dumps of depression and slum of beliefs,

 in a slump with headphones on temple and music up, reminisce about the golden olden, me and broseph, SSB, PSO, kanto, johto, cartoon cartoons, many one saturday morning’s, plenty cinnamon toast, fruity pebbles, so many card games at Books-a-million

but when I open eyes from trance

I'm forever face to face with today is today

not then not later...

just

 changes who changed how I changed regret and anger to compensate for blaming everybody but me

now I stare afraid at dilemmas mass effect decisions

 daily in-and-out-terventions

to keep from falling back into resentment.. spite blinding shelves of subconscious-self- disappointed perpetuating judgment of others binding progression, tying tongue, boiling blood because old habits die hard and I continue fucking up, up raging rapids w/o a paddle,   almost 3 decades of failing infinite (according to projections) feel I missed and am missing out on so much, so much world, so many words coiled inside, waiting to explode,

all the time, just like everybody.. everything mind sets sights on turns to target issue     how unfortunate for aforementioned coordinates, for anyone close enough for me to put in poems' , important enough to torment conscious over, used to be everybody, used to be nobody, used to be just some people, now its just me and i dont know him

   attempts to speak, to learn again, to teach me about me       to learn to teach                     myself, to set example for ambition directed toward a better version, better verses, better reimbursement of time given tryna be an extrovert, free from bitter, free from bitch asses, set internal standards to never  get fucked with again, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, i only fucks with a journal & question  everyone,  everything, every word, every whisper, shit ima tell my children every day, breakfast lunch dinner,  do your best and fuck the rest, get it, get lit off enlightenment, fuck rest, save roosting for death, dont look at me, looknat the sky, seize the day in everyway brain permits, dont reach for others' and if anyone tries to take yours, that means they dont fundamentally respect life, so always permeate passion, ignore distractions keeping you from creating, test limits, test intentions, challenge imperfections with wisdom, know that perfect is just cosmetics, but i remain quiet.. remain tied up being alone, wondering..           whether I'm right to do any god damn thing        'cause if I don't do it right..       was I right to think I could, wrong to think I understood

am i wrong not to try?

what of what's sacrificed ?

how do i keep count

how did I end up here       in standby...

standing squeamish & deer eyed in light of opportunities rising in horizon of night skies, to step in to obtain warmth, maintain from days before, to do something, do the one thing, but when will I be ready will eyes be ready to comprehend right or wrong

only me, here. only us, on planet.

only who's responsible? how is who is affected by, afflicted by? when is too late? when is just right, always too soon to tell and.. if I don't do it now, then why expect change..

why, why, why

'cause I expect anything at all

anger toward unmanned vehicles imminent to collide with mine

driven mad up eighty-five degree angled walls during rush hour, sun beaming heat into ride, where i travel on path, thru battlefield of past where fallen intentions decompose to ignorance and wisdom sprouts in the mean time.. I'm in between times, feelin down, down down down down by the way

a trail thru fears past dead ends, rotting trees, looks like fallout hit

a past I try an' forget..

but remember out of reluctance 

to accidentally revisit regret,

stand next to biggest fears,  see if facing them uproots soul

rolls ideas in head, non-stop

like trolls troll under bridges 

to which billy goat gruff temper charges like crono's katana on zenan crossing,

lodes of odes to oaths, lightning loaded, aimed at negative minded sapiens bioshocks via rhythm and syntax, cryo cascades of ideas, locked away in moleskine or computer files to put to rest the rest of an inside in arrest to judgment, in side quest of public playthrough, i feel im on public display, static complaining in front of pretty much strangers   modes of awareness to mental problems i exploit to people who might not think im crazy, who might like what i write, might like to write about the same thing, might see giants in those same nodes i stand near, i hear crisp crackles filling an awkward air as i stare at words on sheets that i might tear, might let collect dust, or share prolly might be quiet, only sound is poetic drafts that fill in under open windows, I open slowly, cool rush, goosebumps, awake aware always, even when mind is a crinkled, crumbled candy wrapper still just construct wrinkles in time via           hairs stand, ovation, and encores to

     helping to cross over doubts, screams of slander, stop it all, right now, shed truth in another light, fed through veins like pen's ink to go over and correct vision of pinheads vane turnin art, free thought to cash and competition, trade purpose blow for blow with obstacles in the name of the next step, over opponents, trade nervous for nerves robust to withstand standing up to stretch and spread chest to stand up for work where time invested is braided circulation    goin in circles,        time wasted pet peeve number 1

    a nowhere never felt before        but something seems familiar.. overlooked,   under yards, under pressure of bone leverage, give life a lift thru cracks of a collapsing effort stretched behind chest and ribs

a heart glows in

hot coal hues hearth warmth under carbon sheets

till blood boils till steam coils from pores to kill the cold along roads

sun or none

no light above, isn't lack of.. 

(look inside)

----

harsh heat of reality hot enough to feel cold

make me go ghost in dark times..

friction strong enough to spark moist..

continue until i sear nerves disembody fromm pain till im felt by meta-form of others

heartfelt arcs between soul and soul-mind 2 mind

light releases thru iris folds spectacle in spectacles----

spectrum wheel of emotions spins &spins to  understand self an urge that intensifies the more  i live life as well as I can Improve every day, no excuse, don't ignore the corners, get behind my ears,every nook and cranny in creative muse-um, uhm, duh, raised on books, nintendo, animation,& wishbone, outside, only myself as playdate, use every square inch as play-scape under every hair in head, a mind uses face and body as way to create 4 fourever& vice versa to escape who ever & know I can do whenever, wherever

wherever i go, a voice in mind goes

that keeps on talkin , keeps me talkin tellin me I've talk--, wrote enough hoped enough to last a lifetime, but that's not enough

and I still got a lifetime

to either solidify or fuck it up

gradually let go of 

to concentrate on life's finest moments i build to build form in appreciation, saying get up, enjoy the sun rays breaching clouds just before dawn; gett off yo butt and do what you know what you taught you to do when you were at multiple low points and you promised you, you'd never fall to end, even if you fall again, again, and again, never stall in the middle of  takeoff stop in middle of road, cant press play if you lost remote, might as well get up and do it, crawl, run or walk away when the times calls to brawl dark-inner energy only honorable mentions defend health during dishonorable discharge of nega, into rivers, into blue sky.. bordered by white clouds and linear silver

a safe place, work space, desk clerk sifting day to day thru file cabinets memories in memos in notebook; written relativity explaining how I see, what I think say what i want like im eight, glad i spent so much time with words and space-bars,   to escape judgment, hatred,

anxious surrounded by bad vibes

above an Earth, below expectations; over a self under surveillance by approval from inside, crazy dimensions, On the fence between people and myself I close eyes, ride waves of nostalgia once more..

see plenty light to traverse pathways, walk fer hours, walk like back in younger days, playin, runnin, completely captivated immersed in games played, tv, roller blades, monopoly, scary stories, trampolines

&10thousand songs later, 10million thoughts later, here I am doing what I made me to.

can't wait for the next chance

supplied energy through lines to hidden gracelands.

[twinfanfics]

The tale of the three head beast -the marching fishes-

Digimon GoT AU

Second part of the tale of the three head beast series, you can read the first part The chosen children Here and here, or look for the tag  3t3hb  on this blog.

Resume: Three years had pased since Taichi won the hand of princess Sora and both get crowned King and Queen of the living land, now they must faced the duty of the monarchs. The war started on the Honest Island, does the King Joe would manage it?. Mean while at the other side of the sea Takato and Ruki stronger their forces.

Pairs: Taiyama, taisora, Joumy, daiken, and sooo so many others

ACT 1. ESCENE 1: THE RAIN

ACT 1. ESCENE 2: THE WILL  

ACT 1. ESCENE 3: THE TRIP 

ACT 1. ESCENE 4:THE SON after the cut 

Ruki never doubts, her hand  never shake at the sight of danger, all her life has always been all or nothing, rush and violence, a never ending run, still she has no regrets, no second thoughts; until him, until the prince.

Sixteen years has past since that night. The night that she decide Takato will live.

The moonlight  shone over the smallest cradle in the last tower of the castle,  it would be easier if the baby were sleeping,  if his crying didn't pierce her ears, if he was less tiny, if she wasn't so sure that his mother would never come to him.

The blood of the queen was still fresh on her hands

“What the hell are you doing!? Hurry up!” her partner yell since the door, surprise for her delay

“No”  she said, more for herself than for him “this is wrong”

“What?” they hear steps coming closer  “we have no time Ruki just do it!”  But she didn´t move, she saw him straight at the eyes as he said “we have orders”

“I'm not going to kill this baby and I swear on the sands of the desert that I will cut your throat if you try to stop me!”

“Damn you woman! what a moment for a moral crisis!” He locked the door and walked through her “if you think I would rather fight you than the entire order then you don't know me”  

His arm cash her waist and push her closer, she smile, like she only smile for him

An explosion sound on the down floor shaking the room just enough to break them apart

“Koushiro is gonna kill us” she said while wrapping the baby

“No if we kill him first” he prepared his knife ready for when they reach the door

“No!” she stopped him “we need to escape”  but it was pointless, there is nothing he hate more that run out of a fight “this baby is the heir to the throne, he needs to live”

“Live? Ruki, we killed his family, we burn his castle, we killed his Saurios!”  

They hear them forcing the door

“I can save him!”  she climbs on the window

“What about his brothers? why his life worth more than them?”

“They must be death by now, come on!” she hurry, desperate and he follow her standing on the cornice, getting close enough for their forehead to touch, his bright blue eyes stood out in the night and for a breve instant she aloud his strong armors to reconfor her

The baby finally calm down

“I would give you some time…”

“What? come on Ryo” she pull his shirt “ don't try to be the hero now…”

“I couldn't help it”  but again she didn't move “You want to save him, I want to fight!”

The hand that held his shirt pulled him harder and with that same strength she kissed him, Ruki loved the way she lived, fast, intense, sure.

“Until the next life my love” and she jumped out of the tower

.

.

.

Her current life wasn't that bad, She had been worse, boredom wasnt by far her worst misfortune.

Takato has grow, maybe not as much as she would expect; but he compensate in kindness what he lack in force, a good quality in a King, not that she would ever tell him.

“Tell me what?”

“I´m talking to myself”

“Then you must use your inner voice” he laughs, he use to laugh so much lately.

“How long we had been here? in piramide?” She walk behind him, while he sigh papers and decide meaningless stuff

“Three years, How do you don't know that?”

“It's too much, i never stay so long in anywhere…”

“We pass fifteen years on the temple!”

“wherever..” he put his travel cloat “where are you going?”

“To the town, i have a meeting with the council about the new dam”  

The investiture fit him well, the gold-embroidered cape, the crown forged with rubies, Piramide had prospered so much under his command but of course that would be something else that  she would never tell him

“You are wasting your time, our time! we must have sailed to the continent years ago”

“I´m not, this is my Kingdom Ruki and i must..”

“This is not ” she interrupt “this is not your Kingdom” he stop, turn to her, and talk in the most annoying tone

“Im the King of Piramide, my wife is the Queen of Piramide, my son will be the Prince of Piramide..”

“Your son!”

“Yuri is pregnant!” he yells

“Why don'tyou tell me?”

“I told you a month ago! and as soon as the child born we´ll sail to the continent, really what is the matter with you?”

“Takato!!” the queen voice surprise them, Yuri wave a handkerchief since the balcony “ mi amor! good luck in your trip!”  she blow kisses that he pretend to catch

“At least she has learn more than your name”

“Don't be rude!” he said “ Gracias Corazón! volvere pronto!” but a bit of discomfort show on his face

“What?”

“Talk with the Lion as soon as i left, he has instruction to not let her stand out of the bed”  he explain as soon as they keep out of her sight

“I´m not one of your lackeys” she refuse but still obey him

Outside of the castle a man and a carriage  await for the King

“What is he doing here?” Rika yells without shame when she recognize at Henry Wong

“I would join the majesty on his travel”

“Why?” she despise his calm tone, his heavy clot, his daring to speak to her with such a familiarity

“He is my translator” Takato try to stay neutral in more of their feud but he couldn't avoid his empathy with Henry, he was fun, in some ways it was his first real friend “Please wait for me inside” he order to him “ Listen Ruki” again that condescending tone “I know you don't like Henry”

“I don't  trust him, You should not travel alone with him, he refuse to train”

“ He prefer to train the mind instead of the flesh, what is wrong with that?”

“Takato… Takato.. Takato” she kick the ground “ those are the most dangerous kind of men”

“If you said that, listen  i understand that you are boring here, but just be a little patience, you know… like you just to be, back on the temple…”

“I had things to do on the temple! i have nothing to do here!”

“what?” he seems confuse “What did you do on the temple? you just boss me around and talked to mirrors”

She couln´t believe his audaci, she did nothing? who changed his diapers? who carrying him at night when he couldn't sleep? who teach him to talk, to walk, to fight?

“Dont put that face!” he climb at the carriage “Beside, what about the new reluctant? Hirokazu and Kenta were excited about your training! that is a good invested of your time!”

“That pair are the most idiotic, incompetent and disgusting men in the entire world, i has never been more disappointing of the humanity  in my life”

But the carriage was already gone before she end her complains, unfortunately  Takato was right, she past the rest of the day  in the training camp making that pair of buffoons bleed, the time passed so slowly, every minute was overwhelming, she began to miss her old life, the emotion, the mystery, the sun over the sand, sometimes even his blue eyes .

At night alone, she  think on the impossible, what if Takato was not the chosen one? what if be the King of Piramide was his greatest achievement? what if he was just another mortal king?

All her fears come together when the alarms sound, when the soldiers bring back the king to her, cover in blood, unconscious, on the edge of death.

.

.

.

Fire, light, heat, an unbeatable force, were he is?

He is sweating, the flames dance around him, it is like walking in the sun, and there is a boy; a toddler playing with a sword, Takato come near to him, he has his same brown eyes, his same wild hair, a slightly darker skin; the child smile at him, Takato also has a sword on hand, the both play for a long time until he was incapable of resist the heat and keep his journey.

Then it comes the rain, thunders and noise, the heat keeps the water warm.

Over the pots, jumping and smiling he found another boy, same eyes , thicker eyebrows and darker hair, but Takato is sure he is his flesh and bones; he is almost a baby, barely could stand on his feet; but that doesn't stop him, he jumps and falls countless times.  

The sound of the sea call him and he ended leaving the second boy.

The waves and breeze feet his spirit, the full moon shines and the stars dance on the sky.

A baby cries over the sand, a baby who looks just like him.

The hearth shakes, the storm becomes stronger, he could not stand on his feet, but the boys drow on the sea, far away from him, Takato must reach them, they are his family, his blood… a last roar explodes at the distant and everything turn dusk.

.

.

.

“What happened?!” she run until him, with a fear that she has only feel ones, ones when she hold a knife over his cradle

“We..” the traductor talk difficult and Rika hold her wish to stab him to death “we were attack, it was dark, it happened suddenly”

“He is not breathing!” she scream while the soldiers put him on the bed

“I´m a doctor!” Kenta yells at his way to the king

“Well at least you are good for something!” he ignore her while checking the injuries  “Is not a lethal attack,  they are only bruise and cuts”

“Then why does not he breathe?!”

“I don't know!” Kenta cryes sure that Ruki would kill him

“I think…” Henry yells louder than them “I think he was poisoned”

“That's impossible!” she stand up “He is a son of the house of courage, the poison is nothing to him”

“No, no with a substance, i think his energy was poisoned, an act of witchcraft… I… I.. “ he stutter “ I saw the attack and i had read about the symptoms”

“I have no idea of how treat that” Kenta lament

“Of course you don't have an idea you are worthless!” she exclaimed furious, witchcraft for the east, she was as helpful as the idiotic doctor  “did you?” she turn to Henry “Did you know how to save him?”

“I… meaby but im not sure..i have never done it before” she could smell the lies on his words, but she has no option

“Do it” she orders and suddenly he was the one without options

“I would need everyone to leave the room immediately” he stutter no more “i need to be alone with him”

All obey, except Ruki and he knew it has no point to argue with her.

The heavy coat fall and his tone muscles jump to the eye, Train the mind, not the flesh her ass

He put the cold body of the king on the floor as he stand up in front of him, his hand perform a ritual that make the room warmer, Ruki didn't know that kind of magic, his breathing change with each precise move of his wrist, his knees flex with the strength of a warrior, and all night long  Henry Wong fight against the death itself.

When he finish Takato breath again

“What now?” she ask

“now we pray”

Pray was for the weaks, for the desperate, for the fools, for the ones who has no control over their faiths.

So, of course she pray.

The next  days were her penitence, he breath but he didn't wake up, he murmurs and scream once in awhile, and she ignore the madness and chaos outside his room, everything but Takato was irrelevant.

The kid who cry at the moonlight was dying. She had been a fool for letting the prince walked alone, she confided on the peace of Piramide, this old land who loves his King, so far away of the old castle where Takato was born. But his enemies reached them even here. And now Takato, the survivor, was dying for the attack of a murderer that she hasn’t even seen.  

She asked to the light to mitigate his suffering, she begged to the old dragon and the wolf to give him the stretch and courage she knew he lack of, and finally she supplicated to the shadows to keep him alive.

Takato woke up at the sunrise of the third day.

“I need to see him” he yelled, sweating, standing up in his own feets,“Take me with him!”

“What?” she hold him afraid of his weakness, blissful by his recovery “who? you must rest…”

“No!” he seem excited and lost, probably stunned by the injuries “My son Ruki, I must see my son!”

Her smile fell apart, he was delusional

“You have no sons Takato…”

“What?” his eyes didn't focus on her “I know.. I know… I saw them..”

“Them?”

“My children… I saw them in a vision”

“It was a dream Takato, you were unconscious for three days, you were dreaming”

“No! no it wasn't a dream! I felt the breeze and the ocean, it was real!” he tried to get out.

“Takato wait!” she stopped him “You were attacked! you almost died”

“Let me go!” he fighted with too much stretch for someone on his condition, but he stopped  and hold her shoulders “Everything is gonna be fine Ruki! I saw my children!  I have to see Yuri,  tell her that this time everything is gonna be fine”

“Takato…” but she didn't obey “Takato you were attacked…”

“That doesn´t matter”

“Yuri…” she struggle with words “Takato… she lost the baby”

“No”  he shook her arms “No!”

“She cannot resist to see you hurt…”

“You are lying! I know what i saw!”  the panic made him irrational

“You were dreaming, it wasn't real” she tried to be gentle “Takato, all of this is a sight, we… you must change this path, we must sail to the continent right now”

“A sight? yes.. yes It is a sight, we, the next time is gonna be different… the next time” he mumbled, talking with himself.

“Why would it be any different!?” Ruki lost her patient “this one didn't work! not the one before or the one before that! Goddammit Takato! She cannot carry your children!”

She was a well training warrior, of course that when he raised his hand to her she reacted, but just the intention hurt as much.

And he ran and she followed him, away from the palace, away from the city, were he could feel the breeze and the ocean again, one foot near to the ravine.

“Takato!” she shouted breathless “Takato stop! we can go home! you… you don't need this, any  of this!”

“I'm not going anywhere, no without my children”

The wind became intense, the waves bursting with force, she saw him cry while throwing himself to the abyss.

.

.

.

Henry watch them leave the castle and followed them, but he wasn't fastest enough. When he found Rika she was on the beach, the knees over the sand, screaming, crying like a widow.

No, even worse , she whipped like a mother

He knew immediately that the worst had happened, but how?  He saved Takato, he saw him stay and walk. Henry’s heart hurt, he shouldn’t have dare to attack his King, he regretted when he saw Ruki crying, Yuri sicked, Takato hurt. But his remedies wasn’t been enough to repaired his mistake. For the first time in his life he felt like the murder he was.

The sound of the ocean could not quiet the sobs of  Ruki. Henry walked near to her, as if for some miracle he could comfort her

“Stay away from me!” he didn't even bother in touch her

“Como on Ruki we need to…” it was the first time he adresered her by her name

The violent tied suddenly calm, they hear a thunder at the distant.

“Ruki…” he called her

“leave me!” she begged

“No” he found the courage to hold her and with a new strength he forced her to stand up “Come Ruki look it up!”

And she looked at the sea and found the impossible

The king was there, walking through the waves until her, complete naked, save and alive, on his arms something roar with the sound of the ocean, three creatures sneaked over his naked torso.

It looked like a three head beast.  

living Saurios, breathing monsters almost as miracle as the resurrected son.

Henry stared at him, knowing he was unworthy, holding Ruki who almost fait in his arms.

And the King talked, with a confident Takato has never show before

“Calm down mother,  I have my babies, it is time to go home”

[badefuwa]

Carina Ojoko is the artist changing the faces behind movie scenes. Hailing from Nigeria, Carina is perhaps most known for her prosthetic makeup — her touch captures and creates various objects and faces, no matter at what stage. Without a shadow of a doubt, her craft has catapulted Carina to global audiences, even making her one of the very best in her craft.

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Can we meet you?

My name is carina ojoko, a film/tV and special effects makeup artist.

You seem to have an incredibly unique process of creating your art. Can you give us a rundown of your creative process?

Well regardless of what type of makeup I’m creating I always do a research I find images of real life reference so I can have more insight. Then I go ahead to find out the best product that would suit what I’m trying to create after which I get to work on it

Was there a specific moment in which you decided to fully commit to being an artist? Was that decision hard or natural?

Yeah during university days I knew I wasnt built for the 9 to 5 as  I wanted something that comes naturally and I ‘ve always been that artistic child, I also wanted something that is not saturated, different and something I can grow with. With a bit of thinking I just said let me try this side of art and after that I knew this was it. It wasnt difficult i pursued it immediately after uni. I moved to Lagos and started working towards it.

Where do you find inspiration and what keeps you inspired? Especially given that this is a trying time for all artists and creators alike.

I get inspired from alot of things … from my fellow artist, from a picture, from a conversation, etc and I personal think my passion to succeed and make some change keeps me going cos I do want to make a change for nollywood makeup sector

How do you define beauty?

Beauty comes from within, from every stroke of brush towards creating something, beauty is the smile on my face when I create something that I never knew I could, “beauty is the beast “, when you release your inner beast into your creativity, you ll be amazed at what you can do

Do you have a personal connection with all of the subjects you create?

Yes some of them I do , it could be the first time I tried out a product and I finally got it right ( cos you ll practise alot before you can master a product) Or the a look you never believed you could even have achieved but you did it

When did you discover painting and how has your relationship with your art changed over the years?

I discovered special effects 2016 and with every year the passion to do more, to grow more , to achieve more keeps increases and this has helped my mind to be focused and also to be versatile in my thinking process What is the greatest piece of advice you have ever received?

Every advice is great, to be Consistent, to look at the bigger picture, to treat every job like you are being paid millions for it, Never give up, etc so all of these advices are all great because they have impacted so much in my craft. I dont take any advice lesser than any.

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What are you now looking forward to, both personally and artistically?

Personally looking forward to owning my own school for film/tv makeup and special effects makeup and artistically I’m looking forward to doing bigger things as big as hollywood and I know I will only time.

Words and Interview by Bade Fuwa

Breaking Boundaries|Carina Ojoko

[crimsonclove]

Rowan

Her feet don’t touch the floor. Her hair is too close to the color of the harvest moon. Eyes are much too gold instead of the green of her people. Of what should be her people.

Father is burly and dark as well as her brothers, her mother and sisters are fair skinned with eyes like the northern seas of blue. She simply does not belong.

A changeling she has been told since before she could long remember is what her true roots are. She was the youngest and handled in the most brutal of ways for mere survival.

A cold burst of air travels through the open window as she stares at the stars. She is seven Autumns old and all she wants is to be loved, to be part of something that her soul calls out for. If she has one…

A wail in the night brings her to straddle the window sill her father of sorts built in their home. Four rooms, a common space, and a side kitchen where mother and sisters prepare food. She is not allowed to help for fear of contaminating anything. There is a creak from where her brothers sleep and her heart begins to run as the pounding of hooves. There are not many reasons for the wood to disturb the night unless there is a bed becoming empty.

Her ears try to follow the sound of rough feet cross the dirt floor. Gold eyes in the night reflecting the moon’s beams to help her see as she throws her other leg out the window. There beyond the garden, deep into the trees she could hide; she could run and be free and never again have to feel things a child should not.

Her fingers tremble and she is unaware that her nails shape into talons, or that her eyes grow bright. Mouth open she pants in her fear, adrenaline coursing into her being. She cannot take anymore nights of pain thrust upon her, of words the next day like knives across her back. Everyone knows and none stop it. The wind raises up and there is electricity in the air.

Dark hair and eyes appear just inside the doorway. His eyes are adjusting to the darkness still, but he knows his way and briefly she is unsure why he has stopped and is staring at her. She is small, worthless, frail. But his eyes take her in, she is ethereal and dangerous. Her moonlit hair turns blue in the night, eyes sharp as an eastern tigers, nails that are halfway dug into the wood sill.

Lightning strikes behind her into a tree and it sparks to life. Her eyes take in his shaken state and read the fear seeping from him. She is not sure how she should feel about this. No one has ever been afraid of her before.

The crash of thunder rolling wakens her sisters around her. The two of them crowding into bed at the mere sight of their little sister.

“Mamma! Papa!” They scream into the darkness. The girl listens keenly to the house move and groan at the weight of her family. Of what is supposed to be her family.

She shakes at the sight of her parents. Her brothers crowd into the room with the others. There are five children staring at her older than herself.

“Monster! Demon! Fairy! Get it away! Burn it!”

Nothing she has not heard before. But this time something inside of her breaks as her father reaches to grab at her.

Something unholy climbs from her stomach and into her heart where it mixes with sadness, rage, disgust and the power she was born with.

Her eyes dilate, her hear beat rises, the blood pounds in her ears till all she hears is the faint echo of the storm outside. Red coats her vision as her father is a hairs breath from her. Every conscious thought has fled from her mind besides vengeance, survival, and thirst.

Fingers curl around her fathers wrist and tighten. Her mother screams at the snap that reverberates. Her father howls but tries to snatch at her again. Again she snaps his other wrist and brings him into his own rage.

She is blind to her inner beast that has taken hold. Blind to the storm spreading the fire from tree, to grass, to garden, to the fence connected to the home they have lived in for however many years.

Seven years of neglect, abuse, and raw need is released into the atmosphere and into her father as others are to stunned to help. Her sisters run with their mother to try and get the neighbors, but they are stopped by the roaring flames.

Her brothers try to help their father that she has left broken handed, with arms torn to shreds and bite marks across his legs.

May he feel the burn of her heart as her head begins to clear.

Blood drips down her fingers and mixes with the dirt.

Something very old, very powerful, and twisted speaks through her.

“By your blood you are cursed to never leave, or sleep. May the sun you take pride in cause you to burn in your keep. The child brought to you has been broken by your hands. You will live without time and in agony for as long as she plans.”

Smoke filtered through the windows as the little girl climbed fully out the window and raced into the woods. The flames parting for her.

///

Feet dangling from a birch tree she hummed the song taught to her by the vines that sway in the wind.

Once her heart had been black, but now it was rooted deep with moss. Her fingers clutching a foxglove she stopped her humming.

Near by was a river that ran constant and true. Birds quieted around her, a squirrel dashed up into its hiding place.

Stretching high her long limbs carried her into the safety of foliage.

It had been years she had fled, farther than she imagined. Waiting, wondering, becoming one with nature around her.

Surprises led her away from civilization for a while. From people like her. But she found her way back. She had to eventually. A girl who does not age simply does not exist in the new world.

Wood twigs snapped into her heart, echoing as nature stood still for a moment.

A spider paused before continuing it's silken web above her head. She tried to stretch her ears, let the earth and all its surrounding living arms tell her what was below.

Her eyes turned dark, hunter green, pupils searching through as she connected. Her fingers tight around a branch, feet steady.

Two men, two women, familiar in their appearance. Maybe like her own. Talking softly and im good humor.

"George! Why on earth are we here!"

"To find this old witch. This is ilmatar or some such creature! Come on, where is your sense of adventure. It's told she had been banished long ago."

"I lost it the last time you took us all out for some silly fairy tale. You cant really believe in all this, such nonsense."

"I'll bet he finds nothing but a spider as he runs into it."

"Wait. I thoughts everyone loved magic....Why would the banish some witch and keep the rest? I mean mother always said grandfather had the best magic wielders at his balls."

"Oh please. Magic is so hard to come by. I must agree. Every one who has the talent is accounted for. I dont believe a word of their being some witch nonsense out here."

"And if there is?"

"Then I will profess my love and marry you at once! "

Laughter like bells tormented her ears, slight tips twitching. Her vision returning to herself she let the foxglove drop upon one of their heads as they walked below her. Her silver hair absorbing the sun, her skin fair darkening softly, her gold eyes changing to a soft mossy green.

The man below whose head had been attacked by a flower looked up and caught sight of her foot, one of the women laughing at him.

"Hello?" He called out. "Hello?" The girl shifted down to the last hanging branch just out of their reach head dipped low, lashes bowed gracefully. The other females cooed while the other man seemed thoughtful.

"Henry is my name l, girl. Who are you and what are you doing so far on your own?"

The girl blinked at the man and sat on the branch, shrugging her shoulders she wiggled her finger at them.

"I am called..." She started. What was her name? She couldn't remember those who raised her ever giving her one. But the forst creatures, the wind, the mother earth and father sky.... they had called her Witchling in her heart. A chipmunk scuttled by and chittered. Distracted momentarily by him she giggled before turning back to the expectant adults, her eyes catching a rowan tree.

"You are called ...?" Henry questioned.

"Rowan. I am called Rowan."

One of the woman looked at her.

"My dear girl. You look like a wild child. What is it you are doing out here?" Rowan blinked at the female and stood up quickly, jumping down from the tree and landing as graceful as her lynx friends; the forest blared to life as her feet touched the ground.

"Why! Playing of course!" She giggled as birds twittered over head.oh she had wanted to play. Maybe toy with them as they truly didnt believe in the ruling gods and spirits. No one ever looks for a child witch.

The adults looked at each other oddly. The girl must be wild, or had hit her head, surely.

"Rowan. Where are your parents?"

A gust of wind pushed the adults towards her, she could not help herself at that.

"Why does everyone assume...." She twirled her fingers through her hair, watching leaves fall around the four. "Why do they assume that I am without my parents now?"

The surrounding leaves sunk leaving an empty moat around them.

"Well then, where are they? You should be at home or with a chaperone at the least." The other female stated and took a few steps towards her before getting her foot stuck in the sinking moat.

"Oh heavens! What is this?! Robert, help!" The other man went to help the woman out but hesitated at the womans scream. A hand had shot out and grasped the womans ankle pulling her.

Rowans eyes began to swirl with gold hues.

The four began to panic. She could taste it in the air.

The animals above her began to squal, hoot, sing in cadence with her heart beat. The darkness welling inside her. Her skin lightened into moonlight, her hair fading as clouds began to roll.

Four pairs of eyes turned to her as feral animals surrounded them. A hand raised from the depths of the earth.

Roawn could feel her blood run thick and the edges of her vision grew red.

When was the last time death had filled her?

"You came looking for a witch here, man from beyond the edge. Let me show you what happens when you cross forbidden lines." Darkness over took as she curled her feet into the dirt. Hands dug from beneath and bodies stood before the ring. Not mindless creatures but still the same that she had burned so long ago.

"If you would like to meet my parents, they would be so glad to take you home for dinner..."

Rowan squealed in delight as the two men tried to fight and the women screamed. Chaos ensued as she approached them all. Her hair raising in the wind, eyes bright as the stars, her nails raked across one of the females arm watching the blood rise. Rowan stared at the crimsom coating her nail before grinning wickedly and running her tongue over the sharp edge. The taste of iron engulfed her senses.

"Beware the witch, the spirits, the gods." Rowan backed away as those that were once her living heathen family tore the group apart. She relished in their screams.

Animals cleaned up what was left over as her father and mother tried to approach her.

She hissed at them and then growled.

"People come to the forest to prove me wrong. Go. Show them why they should fear this place again. It's been too long."

Without pause they turned, her parents and siblings, animals wild teeth bloodied in hunger.

It had obviously been too long that people didnt realize what a true witch was and that at least one still existed.

Oh they would be reminded, she thought. Even if she had to tear down the world till her death.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Indie

Bants, partying, discussing Drew’s antics, Buster and that camgirl life.

Rio: You drum safe, younger? or you been mashing all night wit rudeboy that was way too amp chirpsing at you? blates your type i thought 😉😂 Indie joined the chat 3 hours ago Indie: me and baggamanz 5-0! if you want amp its dem feds! 💀 They was finkin they all bad got me bennin but it's cotch now I can chirpse my way outta mad things 😂😝 Indie: rudeboy was crump tho yeah 😍 Rio: Is it? They always been inner wastemans but your old man the one that gotta cotch tbh wifey. Gotta be LONG still dealing with all their reh teh teh at his age, even if he's still buff n shit Rio: look at my galdem, finkin she mad bad now she got dem titties Rio: so proud 😍 Indie: innit 🙄 nah dem jakes wanted to roll with me ONLY but I got dem reckonin they slipped 😈 trouble in these endz? Couldn't say po i'm just a nextman 👼 Indie: all while my da out shottin Indie: Such jokes! So you link wit hubz when I was back in me yard? Rio: flatroofin n gassin way too extra on that bullshit babe got me creasin here 😂😘 Rio: peak Rio: fuck nah he got me vexed Rio: i ain't fucking wit him rn, bare dry wit his jealousy 'cos i linked with that bloke at the marker last nite Indie: 'llow it 🍼 he so extra  it ain't like you bredding 👴 is he bait or what? 😕 ex hubz be out here like he ain't crutterz Indie: boi you dashed now. I'll give him air later Indie: you should roll w that dj from the other day Rio: init tho! he's gotta go tbh babe, or i have. making daily grind bare dred, getting lairy with punters when a bitch is just pulling pints n bein' polite for the $$$ Rio: might see if they lookin' for new blood in his club then Rio: tho, track record proves that ain't the best idea 😂 i could sugar baby full time at this point but i like the scene still, n i can keep an eye on you, lil miss jailbait gettin' rude😘 Rio: i've been looking into other shit but...i dunna...you might think its bare skanky, never mind it ain't something i can proudly tell the fam 🙊 Indie: He's peepin for bare gyaldem 😆 I threw my hat in but he's lookin for dem olders like. I acted proper vexed shouting like I'm bare legal but he dashed me out ⛔ Indie: Standard but you can seckle babe I don't need no watching Indie: is it? ah nam? What's the vibe u gonna bredd them for 💰💰 Rio: Baby girl... 😂 going from actin like u grown to having a straight up tantrum, only u 😘 u gotta act like u not bothered boo, too hype for your own good sometimes, listen to muvva 💋 Rio: alright but i like cotchin wit chu! u too grown for me now?! Rio: 😭 Rio: rahhhhhh ok Rio: basically, cam girling, but it ain't necessarily what u think Rio: u can do what you want, like u don't have to wank or even get naked or anything Rio: as long as u set out ur vibe n intentions, if the punters vibe with what you doin, u can earn like 100euros an hour, which ain't to be sniffed at when all i'd be doing is chillin Rio: like lots of girls just chat, blokes are bare lonely out here, or i could smoke a bowl, whatevs, like lbr, i'm probably gonna be in my good undies 'cos why not, obvs the more you do the more money, like the sugar baby shit... Rio: what u think, have i lost it? 😵 Indie: Skeen! Watch when I'm 18 I'll be out there earning 🎂 by eating it. I've spied that b4 it'd be sick bet that shit i'll be rinsed when i'm grown tho raah 😡 Indie: you still gonna smoke w you wifey innit? Indie: it got me wilding but only cos its bare boss get ur crust babe 🤑 Rio: i know what you mean, those asian girls eat mad cals, you'd be beast at that Rio: i'd be an actual beast tho, like heffer not hefner namean Rio: and duh! tho u can't come on stream, u really too lil for that and i ain't catching a charge for directing and distributing that kinda filth 😂 Rio: maybe ur dad will fund me 🤑😍 promo his merchandise for some good good 😈😇 hehehe Indie: allow it bitch u chung! dont be skippin no meals 2 draw in dem heads 😘 Indie: he'd love that hype shits getting militant in this endz way he's spittin when he rolls back to this drum Indie: the tourists reckon his gear aint off the hook 😩 Rio: 😘 u always know how to gas this bitch up, love chu Rio: imma start setting it up then, been thinkin' bout it for time but you know, thinkin what if chiefs give my youngers shit at school 😤 Rio: i don't want that, you know? i think most of the fam would be chill if they found out, or would just not step up to shout about how chill they ain't, keep it to themselves like but... always gonna be one cunt ain't there Rio: speaking of, have u seen buster mckenna about? 😂 Indie: I'll watch for them too standard. No chance of any getting owned then like Indie: nah I've seen his sister some ways but he don't venture to my ends in dem garms mandem get wiped the fuck out Indie: He vexing u? Rio: You're a 💎 Rio: Yeah Nance is chill, you probs got her shook wild child 😬😵 but she's solid Rio: Not even but lowkey, yeah! Rio: Idk where u was...I think your old man wanted a quiet one in for a change, chinese and old eps of only fools, I think ANYWAY Rio: I saw him out and was shook myself 'cos he never comes round these ends no more, too good or sum shit; so I was telling him off, but like jokes too, for not seeing his sister enough and he was such a prick, I can't even explain gurl Rio: Mans so in love with himself he thinks everyone else is too, including me like 'low it boy Indie: raah he's your fam and he wanna be bae 😵 allow it chief like you're peng but thats amp boi Indie: want me to merk him Rio: Bahaha that would be so jokes babe but not gon' help him think I'm not obsessed wit him if i set my wifey on him, like 🙄 Rio: he won't be here long anyway, then i won't see him 'til the next family function and so many of us no need to chat is there? Indie: Set him up with your stream link make him pay for being so hype 🤑 Rio: 🤢😂 you just as bad as him, gurl honestly! that's what i'm tryna avoid, imagine how much of a twat he'd be if he knew, he already thinks i'm a thot without knowing i'm hoeing lowkey 😎💋 Indie: what's that wasteman know cept how to drop 💰 on cardigans or some shit Rio: truuuuuu 😂 Rio: fuck him Indie: don't tho 😝 Rio: behave 😤🤢😂 Rio: he has grown bad like but not that bad Indie: hit me with a pic bitch I'll judge cos you're beefin & he blood like Rio: [sends Instagram link] Rio: he fucking knows it like he's never got clothes on but i can't chat shit there can i 🙊 Indie: bruv i'm gassed 💓 imma add him 🙈 peak Rio: indie! have u not been listening to me Rio: he's practically ur fam too u better not bitch Indie: not bothered 😍😈 Indie: Don't be moist like Indie: I can lips him he ain't nothing to me yet Rio: he remembers you when u was wettin in ur pampers in all the ways, babe, i don't think he's gonna go for it somehow Rio: and i ain't having it, militant like, fuck w me Indie: Law it Indie: I'm grown now and he proper is Rio: no means no lil thirsty ass Indie: You dry 😏 Rio: someone's gotta be 💦 Indie: 😂 Indie: You comin round 4 a bowl or you too hyped about mckenna like Rio: if u don't seckle imma block a bitch swear down 😤 Rio: course tho, see u in 5 💋 Indie: jam wifey you just get treckin its breakfast time no more mad bants 🤞

[eva105]

Aaaaww❤️

look man I see many cool art and pics of a edgy doggo representing Alucard

but what about SERAS tho!!!!?!?!

So I present to you: Pomeranian Seras