#I am expecting a sequel of some kind though

[nymphilily]

Something dangerous is going to happen soon

#We have to wait a week to see what's going on #Alright what are your theories? #I'm hoping for a sequel game Ensemble Stars!! style #I am expecting a sequel of some kind though #This is an entirely new account btw #It's not a rebranding of the main IDOLiSH7 Twitter account #IDOLiSH7

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad. #SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

[justanotherwriter140]

Kung Fu Panda 4 - The Movie

The last really, really long discussion post (for now).

Major spoilers ahead!

This review is full of spoilers, so please refrain from reading through it until you've watched KFP4. I would highly suggest doing so, as I want everyone to form their own opinions without my influence. The movie has its flaws (some of which admittedly being a bit distracting), but it's a fun film that has things to offer.

Kung Fu Panda 4 is a fun movie (take that as you will) that takes its audience on an action-packed, surprisingly funny, yet relatively contained adventure on which Po doesn't really do much. It's an inconsequential, safe sequel that doesn't really hurt the franchise but adds close to nothing.

I had a good time watching the movie. It was obviously produced with its theater experience in mind and the action scenes especially reflected that priority. The humor was actually funny sometimes and I enjoyed Po and Zhen's dynamic. During the film, I was able to put most (most!) of my grievances aside and take the movie for what it is. I've discovered that the best way to watch KFP4 is with low expectations and an open mind.

I have a lot of things to say about KFP4, both complaints and compliments (though the former might be taking the forefront in this review), and I hope this review can help those of you who have seen the movie organize your thoughts. I've been having a lot of trouble with that specific aspect of things myself. Those who get it get it.

With that said, let's get into my full review of KFP4! I've been waiting for nearly 2 years to write this and I'm so excited to share every single thought.

I'm going to follow the format of my first discussion post and curate a bulleted list of my thoughts, followed by an analysis of each of these points. Keep in mind that everything I say is IMO and this is more of a rant post than anything else.

Here are my main points:

The Furious Five's role is comically minuscule in the context of the film. Their actions are inconsequential and add nothing to the plot (a confirmed last-minute add), and they have 30~ seconds of screen time. Shifu is also largely irrelevant.

Mr. Ping and Li's presence has little to no effect on the movie (though I won't complain too much because they were pretty fun to watch and this movie has bigger problems). In almost any scenario, I am adamantly against having characters present that don't add anything to the narrative; however, Mr. Ping is an exception. I love Mr. Ping. James Hong is a gem.

Zhen's screen time is not utilized well and her character is underdeveloped. She definitely wasn't annoying, but I didn't find her either compelling or funny enough to warrant the screen time she was given, especially considering it wasn't used to establish a backstory/strong motives. This makes me feel bad for the character because the movie kind of screwed her out of any substantial development.

The Chameleon, while complimented greatly by Viola Davis, is an underwhelming villain. Viola Davis is amazing in this film and I would suggest watching it for her performance if for nothing else, but the Chameleon is underwhelming considering the super cool concept behind the character.

The film feels very rushed. Apologies to those who disagree, but I think the pacing is atrocious and the final fight is anticlimactic. The movie felt like a word-vomit with no discernible intermissions that stops abruptly when the film ends.

I felt as though Po didn't change/grow as a person and the audience never had a chance to either bond with or relate to his character. His internal struggle is kept to a minimum and we don't spend a moment alone with him as an audience, which is disorienting and distracting. Watching the film felt like running into an old friend at the store who's too in a rush to have a real conversation.

The action scenes were strong with few exceptions. Creative art direction was utilized and I thought the martial arts choreography was entertaining and dynamic. I love the color palette of the film and many scenes were very impressive visually.

With my main points established, I do believe it's ranting time. Strap in, folks.

Let's start strong with the Furious Five: I'm gutted. Chagrined, despondent, crestfallen, etc.

The lack of the Furious Five negatively affects KFP4 so much, because not only does their absence hurt the atmospheric integrity of KFP as a franchise, it also forces KFP4 to bring in a slew of different characters—all while still noncommittally including the FF at the very end because I believe the marketing team required it—that clog up the cast a bit. It all goes to show how important strong, established side characters are.

The Furious Five are side characters, but the role of "side character" does not equate to being irrelevant, expendable, or exchangeable. I recognize that the Furious Five aren't super developed as characters beyond a handful of lines that allude to traits sprinkled sparingly among the members; however, I believe that the tiny bits of development we have been given have proved impactful in the past. Tigress's development in KFP2 is a prime example of how much narratively conscious changes (however small they may be) can positively affect these movies.

Because of limited runtimes, the Furious Five often operate as more of a singular unit than five individuals. Even so, I don't think discarding them is valid. They're so important to the KFP universe (to Po's universe!) and not having them with him feels so wrong. The Furious Five are fully integral to the heart of Kung Fu Panda, which is why I believe a lot of those who have seen the new movie have expressed something feeling "off" or something being missing.

I agree with this sentiment. To me, KFP4 didn't feel like a KFP movie. I don't need a Furious Five spin-off movie and I can be fully content with a KFP5 centered around Po's journey as an individual as was intended from the beginning, but he can't carry an entire movie on his back. As strong as he is in every sense of the word, he is only one character. He's the centerpiece of the franchise, but a centerpiece can only go so far without the rest of the design, so to speak.

For me, the Furious Five's absence is one of this film's biggest faults. It's huge and glaring. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, either, because the friends with whom I saw the film refused to talk about any other aspect of the movie after seeing it. Seeing them at the end was better than nothing, of course, but it was a disappointing culmination after eight years of waiting.

That all is to say I feel robbed. Despite all of this, though, I understand that there were reasons why the Furious Five weren't included in the movie. I don't believe the production team would exclude the Furious Five unless they weren't given a choice.

Shifu and Po's dynamic continues to be thoroughly delightful but their interactions are short and simplified. I would have loved to see more of them in this film, especially considering the extreme relevance of teacher-student relationships in KFP4. I (somewhat) digress, though, because the idea of Shifu having to live at the Jade Palace with only Po for an extended period of time is hilarious enough on its own. Maybe that's what the short film is about!

The comedy is odd but has some jokes that stand out. Po maintains a healthy relationship with his inner sass, which I think makes him more fun to watch and kind of eradicates the man-child verdict. Some jokes don't land, of course, but I genuinely thought KFP4 had some funny moments. Mr. Ping was consistently awesome and Po had some good lines sprinkled throughout the film.

As for Mr. Ping, he and Li Shan are the subjects of the film's B-plot as they follow Po to Juniper City out of shared concern for their son's safety. In my mind, they don't add anything to the story that couldn't have been brought about by other characters, but they had their moments of being entertaining. I enjoyed their silliness and thought they had a cute dynamic if nothing else.

Speaking of other characters, I want to discuss KFP4's deuteragonist and why I genuinely feel bad about the way her character was treated.

I want to let it be known that I'm still not on board with Po passing the Dragon Warrior torch to another character. While I agree that his arc is now calling for him to have a student, I disagree with the notion of him retiring from his DW role.

As I stated in my first discussion post:

Didn’t the initial significance and nuance of the title come from the fact that there is only one person who can be the Dragon Warrior, because the concept of the “Dragon Warrior” isn’t so much a title as it is Po himself? The universe (Oogway) must choose the Dragon Warrior because they are a singular being of legend. It is one person, and that person is Po. Wasn’t the point of the first film that the title ultimately doesn’t really matter because there is no “secret ingredient,” so to speak? The title doesn’t actually give Po anything. “It’s just you,” Po says, and that was the resolution.

When it comes to Zhen as a character, contrary to what I predicted I would think of her, I thought she was okay. While I was still a bit distracted by how out-of-place her design looks, I wasn't truly annoyed by her at any point and she and Po had some cute moments. Even so, I think their relationship could have been a bit more refined and developed.

While it's evident that Po and Zhen are meant to have a teacher-student/mentor-apprentice dynamic, I think their relationship feels half-baked. There were parallels that contradicted one another and ended up being confusing come the film's conclusion, and the nature of their relationship seems to vacillate depending on the scene. Additionally, the strength of their bond goes from zero to one hundred within thirty-ish minutes and left me with a bit of whiplash.

We're shown that Po and Zhen care about one another, but we're never shown why. They have a brief conversation during which they bond over being orphans, and Zhen says at one point, "You're actually a good guy," but that's it. This obvious lack of development is a bit disorienting because we're later led to believe that Zhen and Po care very deeply for one another when there's almost nothing to back it up.

A scene that sticks out to me when discussing this is when Zhen attack-hugs Po in a way that explicitly mirrors Tigress's hug from KFP2. This happens around the beginning of the third act, and while it had the potential to be an endearing moment, I think it fell flat.

The impact of Tigress's hug was brought on by her character's hardcore nature and reputation of being heartless, further strengthened with the knowledge that she was hugging Po (which was obviously way outside her comfort zone) as a show of companionship and fundamental understanding. Tigress hugged Po because he needed someone to recognize his strive for closure.

Zhen's hug had little to no impact because she had no reason to do it and it didn't indicate growth. She hugs Po because she's sorry for betraying him and doesn't want him to be killed by the Chameleon, but neither of these things are newly-established via this hug; we have already gathered by now that Zhen regrets betraying Po and doesn't want him to get hurt.

The hug is far from the movie's weakest point, but I think it's unnecessary given the context. I'm big on hugs in movies (an underutilized form of platonic affection, in my opinion), but it didn't fit here. I don't hate it, and I see it as an honest effort to bring emotionality to Po and Zhen's relationship, but it seems arbitrary.

Zhen and Po's relationship has a lot of potential and I'd be open to seeing more of them in the future, but I think some more thoughtful development needs to occur before I can humor it further. Even so, I can see myself featuring Zhen in some future post-KFP4 one-shots—sparingly, of course, because we have a lot of Furious Five content to compensate for.

Overall, they had a cute dynamic and some sweet moments but I'm not attached. I'm on board with Po having a student but I think their relationship needs a lot more development, something that this film unfortunately didn't give them time to either accomplish or earn.

Now, onto the Chameleon!

The concept of the Chameleon's character is admittedly super interesting. She's the deuteragonist's fastidious mother figure who feels that Zhen owes her a debt and as a result holds her to an impossible standard. That dynamic had the potential to be so interesting but I didn't think it was explored at all. There is no indication of Zhen having any internal conflict about fighting the Chameleon, no emotional complexity between them at all; it's disappointing because I think it would've added a bit of earnestness to the film.

Additionally, the idea of a shape-shifting villain is versatile. A shape-shifting villain gives those telling the story a lot of room to experiment with the protagonist and different ways in which the main character can be challenged and tested. It's yet another good idea utilized poorly. Just one idea: the Chameleon could have disguised herself as one (or several) of Po's family, friends, etc. and brought to fruition a new arc with his character (seeing as he arguably doesn't have one in this film), but she only disguises herself as Zhen very briefly in the movie.

Furthermore, the Chameleon completely relies on the powers of previous villains to pose any sort of threat to the main characters. She summons Po's former nemeses from the Spirit Realm (despite there being little logic in doing so considering Kai's literal evisceration) and takes their kung fu abilities for herself.

An excerpt from my first KFP4 discussion post that I think is relevant to the point I'm trying to make:

I don’t think it would be in the best interest of anyone if the past villains were to come back in any way that’s not a flashback (even then, I’m not sure I’d see the point). In all honesty, I thought that the whole point of the villains was that they died and stayed dead. They were defeated by Po once and for all as a testament to the idea of establishing Po's character growth and journey as a person through the bad things he’s able to overcome. It’d be highly contradictory to the messages of the other films if these villains were to suddenly come back.

While there was an honest effort made to portray the Chameleon as intimidating, I never felt as though any of the characters were endangered by either her or her army of lizard henchman. She's a visually appealing character (aside from her eyes, which I thought more resembled those of a gecko than a chameleon) and I greatly enjoyed Davis's performance, but overall I don't see the Chameleon as a notable villain.

The return of Tai Lung (had he been on his own) had the makings to be an excellent story, especially considering the importance of teacher-student dynamics in KFP4. To see him interacting with Shifu would have been incredible and could have led to further closure on Tai Lung's end (because I think that's kind of what the team was going for anyway), but it didn't happen.

It was nice to see Ian McShane reprise his role, but I wish Tai Lung's characterization had been more reminiscent of the way he was in the first film and more complimentary of his overall character arc. Tai Lung isn't a one-dimensional villain with a singular goal and motivation, and I couldn't help but feel as though the complexity of his character was simplified for the sake of KFP4's narrative.

Tai Lung's presence in KFP4 may be odd, but Shen and Kai's appearances are even more so. Kai, if I remember correctly, was fully obliterated by Po, reduced to literal particles on screen (which is kind of wild now that I think about it). Shen being in the Spirit Realm makes sense all things considered; however, Po and Li had no visible reaction to his presence, which seemed a bit unlikely considering Shen's deeds. This plot hole can likely be attributed to the fact that Shen and Kai's cameos (to my knowledge) were last-minute additions to the movie.

I have to talk about the pacing. I have to. I'm sorry, bear with me.

To me, the film's pacing is erratic and disconcerting. While I can appreciate a quick-moving narrative that doesn't dawdle on storylines that aren't interesting/important, KFP4 kind of flings itself too far in the opposite direction and ends up being frighteningly fast-paced. Once the credits began, I felt like I had been holding my breath for the entire movie.

KFP4 is confusing because while the runtime is standard for a KFP movie, it feels incredibly short. At the same time, the film's story moves at a breakneck speed and leaves little time for heart and development. These things culminate into a barreling boulder of a movie that simply doesn't have time to let its characters, story, or audience take a breath.

A fast pace is not inherently negative, but I don't think it worked in the favor of KFP4. The KFP franchise has always been very emotionally grounded (and just very grounded in general), so to see a film in which emotion/heart takes an aggressive backseat in comparison to action and comedy is jarring. While I think it's unreasonable for fans to expect the same emotional integrity as the original films to be present in the current and upcoming ones, I still think there's room for Po to grow and I felt as though the notion of him developing further was brushed aside in this film.

As for Po's growth, I felt it was nearly nonexistent. The previous trilogy wrapped up his character's journey beautifully and I know that KFP4 was bound to struggle with this particular aspect of making another KFP film; however, just because the strongest pillars of Po's character are established doesn't serve as a valid excuse to reverse his development and repeat what he learned in KFP3.

In KFP3, Po learned firsthand that he is capable of spreading wisdom and teaching kung fu. He also learns that he is constantly growing and that change is inevitable; there is always something more to learn.

"If you only do what you can do, you will never be more than you are now."

"I don't want to be anything more, I like who I am!"

In KFP4, Po pushes against this narrative despite fully accepting it in KFP3, actively reversing crucial parts of his character development achieved in the latter. KFP3 was non-ambiguously about learning to cope with change and responsibility, and I can't help but feel like KFP4 is simply copying this message while not adding anything to it.

Additionally, I felt that KFP4's Po generally felt less personal than he has in the past. In every KFP movie up to the franchise's most recent addition, I felt very connected to Po as an audience member. I felt like I was truly seeing the world of KFP through his eyes. I consider this to be one of the franchise's most impressive feats; it's incredibly difficult to build a universe around a character without making the audience feel limited to one perspective and one part of the world.

With KFP4, I felt both limited and disconnected. The world didn't feel as vast and all-encompassing as it has in the past and Po didn't seem fully like himself. This could be me nitpicking (as I'm prone to do), but I can't recall a single moment in the movie in which Po was alone on screen. Scenes like these are crucial for me because I see them as a meet-cute between the character and the audience, a moment for us to cross the bridge into their world in a way that's silent and intuitive. These little bonding moments are absolutely integral to feeling connected to a character.

Po's dream sequence in the first KFP movie is one of the best examples of this. It presents his aspirations, alludes to his way of life up to the point of the movie, and showcases his personality. During Po's dream sequence, the audience is quite literally inside Po's mind; we're there with him, seeing what he sees, subsequently feeling what he feels. Po is a dreamer at heart and makes the audience feel like dreamers, too.

In KFP4, I felt like I little to no point of reference when it comes to how Po was feeling. I didn't feel immersed in him and his world.

I know I've been very "doom and gloom" throughout this post, which is an exhausting mindset for everyone involved. I want to end my critique with something positive because I think some praise is deserved. Let's just say the movie could have been a lot worse, the details of which I'm sure you're all well aware.

The color palette of the movie is beautiful and somewhat reminiscent of the first film. While the animation style of KFP4 is far more simplistic than its predecessors, I was very impressed with its use of shadow and light. Po's many faces were also hysterical, props to those who helped make him as expressive as he is.

Additionally, the movie's action sequences were clearly thought out and discussed in great detail. The experimentation with camera angles was really fun to watch and I enjoyed the majority of the film's fight scenes. They were fun, bouncy, and entertaining, and quite likely reinstated audiences's love of watching a cuddly panda kick butt.

Congratulations, you've reached the end! Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to read this unnecessarily long and detailed review. As long as I help someone translate their conflicted feelings into coherent thoughts, I'll call it a win.

I want to reiterate that I don't hate Kung Fu Panda 4 and I had fun while watching the film. It has its flaws and there are a lot of aspects that I dislike, but the effort of the crew is obvious and I greatly admire and respect the hard work put into the film by those who worked on it. This does not at all excuse my issues with the movie, but it's worth saying.

As for the future of the series, I only hope that the next installment is more considerate of the franchise's origins and why Po's story is being told in the first place. I fully believe that another sequel could be good given a strong, passionate crew with a great understanding of the characters and world (and I wouldn't be averse to some previous directors returning, just to put it out there).

Thanks again to those who took the time to read this crazy excuse for a movie review. Feel free to either disagree with me or add things in the replies/reblogs, I'm always looking for more thoughts to think.

Until next time!

#kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda #dreamworks animation #kfp #kfp 4 #movie review #i'll add the actual picture of the furious five's cameo when i can get ahold of one of decent quality #my time has come #it wasn't THAT bad #i didn't love it #but it is what it is #it's a tentative 6/10 all things considered #free the five #perhaps i treated kfp3 too harshly #don't get me wrong the movie had good qualities and i can tell a lot of work went into it #a lot of missed potential imo #a lot of characters done dirty #i didn't even mention the score but i thought it was just okay #i wasn't wowed #i know close to nothing about composing though so i should probably just not even go there #credits were the best part both cinematically and musically #i feel mean but i'm not going to be dishonest #bc obviously you all simply must know how i feel about the silly panda movie #a more detailed version of the grievances i have w the dragon warrior plot can be found in my og discussion post if anyone's interested #as well as my thoughts on bringing back old villains #might make some edits to this in the future but this is all i have to say for now

[im-not-corrupted]

A sequel to this Dreamling fic here, though this can be read as a standalone. Written for @merry-moody-missy, who requested I write more and get the two of them together. Also, thanks to @samsalami66​, who gave me a prompt (that felt more like a fic outline, but that’s great too XD) for this fic.

Edit: Part one and two are now on Ao3!

--------

Dream came to him more often, after that.

Once a month became once a fortnight. He wasn’t half as reserved these days as he typically was; if anything, he seemed to be even more comfortable in Hob’s presence, now. It was rather wonderful to witness for Hob, who, for the longest time, knew Dream only as his distant Stranger. A far star, unreachable. A sun for him to orbit, but a sun who would only bless him with light once a century.

Every two weeks, Dream appeared beside him at some point in the day. It didn’t matter where; he’d often appear at the back of Hob’s classes while he was working, entirely unnoticed by his students. Or he would materialise next to him and fall into step as Hob walked home, content to follow in silence, or to listen as Hob recounted his day.

The first time he did that, stepping up next to Hob when the space beside him had been previously empty—well, the first time scared him half to death, naturally. That simply wasn’t the kind of thing one grew to expect, even after living for nearly seven centuries.

(He didn’t care. In fact, Hob looked upon that day with fondness, a grin upon his face, because that was the first time he’d heard Dream laugh.

He didn’t have a particular lovely laugh. It wasn’t melodic, or sweet. It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to be a sound of joy at all, really—if Hob tried his best, he’d only be able to describe it as an awful, croaking thing, terrifying and perhaps the least lovely thing he’d heard before—but Hob didn’t care at all, because Dream laughed.

Loudly, and without abandon. Rosebud lips had spread wide in a smile that stole Hob’s heart entirely, and the joy in his eyes was unmatched. There, stood in the middle of a London street with laughter in his face and sunlight catching his stray hairs—well, he was beautiful, and Hob found himself falling.)

(No. No, that wasn’t true. He found himself falling for Dream a long time ago. He was already so far gone for him; hearing him laugh had merely made him fall further, and he hadn’t known such a thing was possible.)

Today, Dream appeared in his apartment—only, this time, he did so before Hob was about to sleep.

Which…wasn’t a problem. Not at all. Sleep didn’t matter, not when Dream was there. He would gladly drop anything and everything, if Dream wanted him to. If his friend wanted his time and his energy. All of it was his anyway; he needed only to ask.

(And he did ask, these days. Indirectly, naturally—Matthew somehow gained the job of messenger raven, and would often fly to the Waking world for the sole purpose of seeing Hob and delivering a message.

The message was usually short. A quick, Boss asks if you’re free today?, and Hob would reply, Let him know I am before quickly cancelling his plans.

Dream still didn’t ask for what he needed. But he still asked, in a round-about Dream kind of way, and Hob? Hob was proud of him. He remembered all too easily the pain on his face when he thought he burdened Hob with his affections; he could only imagine what it took for his friend to be able to ask whether he was busy or not, after that.)

“Dream,” he said, blinking at the being who materialised at the foot of his bed. To his credit, his heart didn’t so much as stutter, proof that he was used to Dream simply appearing out of nowhere. Proof that they truly were friends, now, after so many centuries of him wanting exactly that.

(They were friends. He couldn’t quite believe it, sometimes. They were friends, and Dream didn’t shy away from that title when Hob gave it to him. If anything, he seemed proud of it, like the title of ‘friend’ was an honour.)

(It certainly was for Hob, at least, so he understood that.)

Dream stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly, cat-like. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Hob underneath his duvet, which—seemed fair. He still didn’t have much of a clue what Dream was, for it didn’t matter, but he knew now that it had to do with a place called the Dreaming—his realm, which certainly gave Hob a bit of an existential crisis the first time he heard that—and sleep. Perhaps he had a second sense for when people were about to sleep. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Hob had seen him do.

”Hob,” he said, then frowned. Some of that old hesitance kept him from saying much else for a moment, but he eventually asked, “I did not think…Is this a bad time?”

Progress, Hob thought, and shot a grin in his friend’s direction. Dream was making progress, small and still so, so important, and he was simply glad to be a part of it. “Not at all,” he promised, because this was Dream. Dream, who owned his heart entirely by this point, who Hob would gladly dedicate every waking moment of his days to if he could. If his friend would appreciate that, if he would even want that.

That hesitance held him in place for a second longer, but that was all. His floor-length, high-collared coat disappeared, shadow replacing the impossibly soft material of it before vanishing entirely, leaving Dream in a long-sleeved top (black, of course) that felt so casual on him.

(He’d seen Dream without his coat many times before, now. Another testament to the fact that Dream felt comfortable—safe, even—with him. It still startled him, though, and it never failed to make warmth bloom behind his ribs. This—this vulnerability, his desire to abandon armour when with Hob—was another display of trust, and Hob wouldn’t get over that any time soon.

Dream trusted him. It was a fragile thing, that trust, not at all suited for Hob’s bloodied and calloused hands. He’d had many years to practise gentleness, though, and he used it with this; with Dream’s trust, a gift offered so painstakingly.)

And then Dream was moving, climbing onto the bed and tucking himself into Hob’s side. One half of his body ended up entirely on top of Hob’s, his face buried into the crook of his neck, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

It tickled the skin of his neck a little, but Hob hardly cared. How could he, when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Dream’s feather-soft hair, when Dream’s arm came to wrap around his waist?

He chuckled softly. His heart felt so full, all of a sudden, his fondness for this strange and lovely creature lay on top of him almost overwhelming. There wasn’t enough room behind his rib cage for it all, for the adoration pouring from his heart in waves. He brushed his fingers through Dream’s feather-soft hair, the smile on his face growing wider as his friend burrowed further into him, and, without thinking, he said gently, “Yeah, dove, I love you too. And I missed you dearly.”

Missed you dearly wasn’t quite enough. It didn’t explain the way he missed Dream like an ache, in those two weeks he was off doing whatever the ruler of an entire realm did. But it was true enough, so he let the words hang in the air. Dream deserved to know he was missed when he wasn’t around; deserved to know Hob thought about him, even in the louder moments where his head was so busy. Missed you dearly didn’t quite fit, but it said enough.

It was only when Dream’s head snapped up in a movement faster than anything Hob had seen from him before, ocean eyes almost comically wide and lips parted slightly, that Hob realised what he said.

I love you too. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t think he was capable of that, even subconsciously, when it came to Dream. Always, his heart has been laid bare before him, every little thing it contained inside free for his viewing. Hob made little attempt to keep it hidden. His fondness, his adoration, always slipped into his voice unbidden. Experience told him every attempt to mask it would fall short; there was simply too much to keep it trapped behind his ribs. It was always his friend’s choice whether or not he took it at face value or not.

He did love Dream. Loved him like he loved life; endlessly, with more depth than he thought himself capable of putting into words. Though he wasn’t much of a poet, he would try, if Dream asked that of him. He would do much for his dearest friend, his Stranger, if only he asked.

”Love me,” Dream murmured softly. He sounded almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t thought of himself as something able to be loved. That thought rang too true for Hob’s comfort; he had to stop himself from holding Dream closer, unwilling to make him uncomfortable in an attempt to offer comfort. “You have. Said this before.”

Not in quite so many words, Hob thought, but yes. He had. Never apologise for wanting to be loved, he told Dream, and that was another admittance in and of itself, wasn’t it? It was an I love you, and I’m happy to do so, and a request; Let me love you, I want, it was always yours anyway.

Fear coiled in his stomach, a poison almost potent enough to stop him from answering entirely. But he met Dream’s gaze and saw the impression of new stars within them; he met his eyes and saw a fragile kind of hope. Fear or not, his dearest friend deserved to know he was loved.

“Yes,” he answered gently. Perhaps he’d run, now, leave Hob as he had in 1889. That, Hob thought, would be alright. It’d hurt, but it’d be alright. Dream would come back to him, just as he had once every month before, and now every fortnight. That knowledge was just enough to make the worst of that fear melt away, and to loosen his tongue. “I love you dearly. With everything I am. Doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to—I don’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give, I promise you that.”

A furrow appeared between his friend’s brow. That hope didn’t leave his eyes, even despite the confusion that joined it. “Why would you tell me this, then, if you did not want reciprocation from me?”

Hob ached, suddenly, at the confusion in Dream’s voice. Had nobody loved him without expectation before? Had nobody loved him simply for the sake of loving him, because they couldn’t do anything else? “Let me rephrase,” he said gently, and he sat up. Dream frowned further at being disturbed, though said frown disappeared fast enough when Hob cupped his face. “I would kill to have you feel the same for me. It would be so many centuries of pining resolved in a mere moment; I would love for nothing more than you to love me back. But I don’t expect you to. I didn’t tell you I love you expecting you to say the same. I told you I love you simply because you deserve to hear it; nothing more, nothing less.”

Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, in which Dream simply stared at him without moving a muscle at all and Hob grew increasingly conscious about the fact that he was still very much holding Dream’s face in his hands.

He was about ready to let go, no doubt followed by an awkward apology, but Dream said slowly, “You are. A strange creature, Hob Gadling. I continuously find myself baffled by you.”

Quietly, Hob laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment then, love.” His hands fell from Dream’s face, only for his friend to catch them by his wrists.

”And,” Dream continued, slow and stilted, and Hob froze. Dream’s skin against his, not quite a normal body temperature, was different when initiated by Dream himself. It meant more, somehow. “And. You are not alone. In your feelings.”

Hob was fairly sure his heart stopped in his chest at that. Just for a moment. In his defence, this moment did feel particularly heart stopping. Important enough to fling his own world off its axis.

When he found himself capable of thought again, he asked, barely able to contain the joy pouring from his heart in waves, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Dream?”

”I am saying,” he said heavily, severely, like this moment was as important to him as it was to Hob, “that I adore you, Hob Gadling. That you are a comfort I did not expect to find. That your arms are a place of safety, that I find comfort in your presence, that you are a fresh breath of air after so long spent underwater. I am saying that your continued friendship is an honour, one I am eternally grateful for; I am saying that you baffle me entirely, your joy for life and your willingness to love me, and that love is too small a term to label the depths of my feelings towards you, but it is enough for now.”

Hob stared at him, wide-eyed. His heart spilled over, everything it contained too much, and all of it Dream’s. All of it, shared by Dream, too. “Christ, love,” he said, his voice light with elation. A sob caught in his chest as his hand, still held by the wrist in Dream’s grasp, came up to play with the raven hair at the nape of his friend’s neck, as he pulled Dream into a kiss.

It was gentle. Barely a hint of pressure at all, for fear he’d perhaps misunderstood. But Dream made a noise against his lips, surprised yet pleased, and kisses back eagerly, an answer to a question Hob didn’t realise he’d asked.

Eventually, though everything in him screamed against it, too lost in the sensation of Dream’s mouth against his own and Dream’s hands clutching at the thin top he wore for bed, he pulled back for breath. Dream gazed at him, eyes so dark they were almost black. Hob could see the stars so clearly, now, and found himself breathless for another reason entirely.

Awed, he said, ”You’re beautiful.” His thumb stroked the skin underneath Dream’s eye, reverent and worshipful, and Dream practically preened.

At some point, he lay back down, taking his friend—Dream, his Stranger, who he had loved for centuries and who loved him in return—with him. He tucked himself against Hob’s side, knee wedges between Hob’s legs and an arm thrown over his waist. The duvet was pulled over up to both their shoulders, and Hob let himself kiss the crown of his head.

He needed to sleep. He was tired, his head a little foggy. But elation kept his chest light, and there was enough joy in his veins to last a lifetime. They’d have to talk tomorrow, Hob knew that, but they’d figure that out.

For now, this—this was enough. More than enough.

”I love you,” he said again. His eyes slipped shut. 

Sleep would come difficult, with the way his heart felt so full, but that was alright. A small price to pay for the way Dream shifted against him before pressing feather-soft lips against his cheek, whispering, “And I you, beloved,” before settling back in place again.

Hob slept eventually. And when he did, he dreamt of Dream.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob #the sandman netflix #eris writes things #my fic #dreamling fic

[redfurrycat]

🤠🐕‍🦺☃️🐾🏍️🐱🐓Animal Companions Fic Recs🐓🏍️🐱🐾☃️🐕‍🦺🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Aphroditedany, Bbr1, BeautifulCreature, Buckybraciole, Callsignyours, Demiclar, Emmedoesntdomath, Indybob, Kazanskysmitchell, Kerbyfullyloaded, LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade, Lesbiseresin, LoveChildofInsertShowHere, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking, ToukoJalorda003, Whimsicule.

Art Bonus - (coming soon)

> Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} > Daily Heroes/Animal Care {🤠🐓}

his dark materials / dæmon AU by buckybraciole {T} {🤠🐓}

A series of one-shots about fighter pilots and their dæmons.

Golden Retriever Puppy by bbr1 {G} {🤠🐓}

“Have you ever had a dog?” Jake asks. “Nah, who am I kidding. Of course you haven’t. I’m going to get you a dog.”

Bad Idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Bradley: Hey, are you and Ice around? Well, this is slightly odd Mav thought but he replied anyway. Yeah, why? Bradley: We have our baby! We’ll be there in 10. Mav almost dropped his phone at the reply. What the fuck. Bradley Bradshaw, you better call me this instant.

A cat named Crow by LoveChildofInsertShowHere {T}

The Meowfect Evening {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a kitten can make an evening even better

Some Birds Can't Fly {☃️🏍️}

Crow becomes more of a part of the Mitchell-Kazansky family

How Crow Won Slider's Heart {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a cat will settle an insane debate better than Ice can

The Bumps in Quiet Nights {☃️🏍️}

Ice worries when Maverick takes too long to come back home from picking up dinner

And A Partridge in a Pear Tree {☃️🏍️}

Mav and Ice obtain 3 new family members in the form of kittens

Is it a Racoon? {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Rooster meets the new additions to the Mitchell-Kazansky family and gets talked into getting a pet

Goosebumps {🤠🐓}

Jake and Bradley find the perfect cat for them, which brings up some emotions for Bradley

How to make a Flock {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Mav discovers a box full of kittens on the side of the road on his way to suprise Ice at work

Nick's worst weekend ever by Aphroditedany {T} {🤠🐓}

Nick Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw's cat, might unexpectedly bring him closer to a charming co-pilot. It doesn't mean Nick likes it, though.

Skies of Dust by kerbyfullyloaded {T} {☃️🏍️}

Walking into the sky

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Every atom of me and every atom of you

The turn of a dial, snapshots of a life, dust all around. Maverick, Iceman, and their daemons in the years between 1987 and 2019. "'On,' said the alethiometer. Farther, higher. So on they climbed." The Subtle Knife (or: a series of stories based on the different symbols of the alethiometer, a sequel to Walking into the Sky)

at my side by demiclar {M} {☃️🏍️}

"If there's one thing Maverick is good at, it's taking care of his own." Slider said, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "I'm just glad we can return the favor from time to time." Pete Mitchell came back from the Dagger mission with PTSD worse than he'd ever experienced before. His family is eager to help, but piecing themselves back together after a decade of separation is a challenge not easily overcome. Pete isn’t the best at accepting help, and the family’s problems go deeper than expected, but they won’t stop trying until they bring everyone home.

Goose the Dog and Mav the Human, the Fun Never Ends by ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking {G}

Man's Best Friend

Maverick is one of the most kind hearted people ever and the things he loves, he does so with everything he has. Why not let him have a dog? AKA What if Theo was originally Mav's dog?

Well Well Well, What Have We Here?

It's Fourth of July Weekend and Ice has invited friends and their families over to celebrate. However, before the day of the actual celebration, Mav takes his dog Goose out for a run. Will they be able to beat the storm brewing or will Mav land himself in trouble yet again?

Wrench the Golden Retriever by emmedoesntdomath {T} {☃️🏍️}

“Mav, please tell me you didn’t get us a dog.” Silence. He sighed. The contractually obligated hey-I-bought-a-dog-without-asking-and-then-gave-it-a-name-you’ll-hate-but-you-should-still-love-me fic

call it what you want by lesbiseresin {M} {🤠🐓}

“Shit, Mav,” Bradley says through a laugh as he squats down, leaving his beer on the railing so he has both hands free to stick out. “You finally get me that dog I was always asking for?” It’s another joke. He knows that Theo belongs to Penny and Amelia, but there has to be a reason Maverick is bringing this up. “You caught me,” Maverick deadpans. Bradley can see Penny elbow him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in the happy pants Theo is letting out as Bradley switches to scratching under his chin. “You could say I did. Sort of.” “Sort of, huh?” (alternatively: jake & bradley getting their shit together ft. theo the dog)

Dust is Everlasting (And Love Even Moreso) by ToukoJalorda003 {M} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

If Time Rewound to Dust (Love Would Endure Anyway)

All Rooster had ever wanted was to work for Jurassic World - his godfather did, and for his whole life, it had been his dream. Now he finally had it, and he…wasn’t so sure how he felt about Hangman. The man was just too dangerous, too unpredictable, and Rooster feared it would end in disaster. …But disaster had found them anyway, and now it was starting to look like it was too late to accept Hangman’s offer for a date. Damn.

When Dust is all That Remains (Love is Eternally Present)

After the events of the park’s catastrophic closing, Bradley just wanted to rest. Maybe take a nap and remind himself what he’d nearly had. But he couldn’t do that, because an active volcano was going to wipe out the remaining dinosaurs - including Jake’s raptors. …And if it was possible, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Maybe, while he was at it, he’d finally get that date, too.

be the ocean where I unravel by whimsicule {T} {🤠🐓}

He’s not even thirty years old. A lieutenant in the United States Navy. A highly-decorated aviator with two air-to-air kills. And he’s suddenly gone ahead and become scared of the goddamn sea. What a fucking joke.

make a lil' room for me by callsignyours {G} {🤠🐓}

Jake somehow ends up with Bradley's dog.

The Tiniest Problem by BeautifulCreature {G} {🤠🐓}

Bradley has an allergic reaction to his and Jake's new puppy.

Mine, Immaculate Dream by kazanskysmitchell {M} {☃️🏍️}

After the ever-so-stressful Dagger mission, Pete Mitchell is tired and craves some normalcy. It's seemingly difficult for him to return to normal this time, and his protective (and very worried) husband can't help but notice the changes in Pete's mental health. After an official PTSD diagnosis, being permanently grounded, and the adoption of a service dog, Pete Mitchell attempts to adjust, but can't do it without the help of his wingman and their adopted and dysfunctional family. (+ art from Cannibal_Hellhound)

better than your best dreams by teacupivy {M} {🤠🐓}

“Hey,” he says, nudging Bradly with his toes. “You brought Aubergine in, right?” Jake watches Bradley look up from his screen, stare into the mid distance, and decide to lie to him. “…Yes.” Tense and robotic, he slides his laptop onto the coffee table and slips out from beneath Jake’s legs. “Unrelated, I’ll be right back.”

With our pets, a house becomes our home by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute.

Domestic Bliss by indybob {T} {🤠🐓}

Jake has had the longest week of his life. Between hops, training, and instructing, he’s worn out. Noticing how exhausted his husband is, Bradley takes it upon himself to go above and beyond to give Jake the most relaxing evening and weekend possible. Or: Much like Jake in this story, I’ve been very busy for the last couple of weeks, so I’m using this as my own form of catharsis. Feat. Brisket the Dog

Come on baby light my fire… by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

An apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

#Animal Companions Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #icemav #iceman x maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

[contentment-of-cats]

Thrawn, age, illness, and injury.

Ahsoka talk below.

Fandom can be shallow and disappointing. First up, it's possible to dislike the representation of the character without shitting all over an excellent actor whose body of work is more than Disney can bound with contracts and Filoni's scripts. Disney got a full on smack in the face with Jon Boyega (who like Kelly Marie Tran got the shit end of the stick in 2 out of 3 of the sequels), you can bet that there are NDAs and 'you can't say mean things about us even if they're true' clauses.

Mostly I want to talk about age, illness, and injury and the way that people take it as a personal insult to their existence.

Let's start with the man himself. According to the Official Timeline (because everything eventually gets retconned and there is no actual canon) Thrawn was born 59BBY. He was 59 (two years older than I am now) when the space whales yeeted himself and as yet unknown other ships into the dark. Counting forward from the official timeline, he is at the very least 68 years old. He was in exceptional shape before the space whaling, yes. And no, he is not fully human, but is 'near human' - the Chiss evolved from human origins, their blue color explained in canon by something in the Csillan hydrosphere.

But let's look at this.

That is pain.

I'd guess about a 7 or 8.

Those tentacles are tight enough to hold him still, the twisting could induce torsion injuries to the spine and pelvis, cause spiral fractures to bone, dislocate joints, and compress/crush organs. Even with my Chiss physiology headcanon, I can't see anything but pain, crushing and twisting injuries, possibly with internal bleeding.

Additionally, I think that there could have been some kind of brain injury. While some of it could be the makeup and the lighting (or unlighting as the case may be), I think that the droop of one side of his mouth could be from nerve damage somewhere. My mother had a droop like that after a 'baby stroke' - transient ischemic attack.

He and Ezra were alone on the bridge, and he shot Ezra. Further, I can't see Ezra doing anything to help Thrawn after the credits roll. Once those Imps break through the blast door, he's going to be lucky to survive the fist minute.

In the great in-between that moment and the new canon?

So Thrawn, at the end of nine years is not just nine years older, but has managed to get his ship operable without a shipyard, not starve to death after the two years of consumables were gone, and not die of his injuries. (I've posted my theory that the survivors went into coldsleep to preserve the supplies.) Filoni has retconned bacta treatment into a magic potion - except when it isn't. The man is so inconsistent and wishy-washy that I could drive a 1960 Cadillac Eldorado through the smallest plot holes.

Y'all were expecting the buff blue daddy after all that. Elon Musk and 'dad bod.' I get it though, a lot of people invest in the concept of youth and health, go to extremes to hold onto it, even worship it - and denigrate the people who visibly age, are ill, or injured, or disabled. So many of the posts about Thrawn's portrayal in Ahsoka carry the stench of ableism and ageism. As for hating the character for his portrayal, blame Filoni instead.

#thrawn #ahsoka #grumpy about it #ageism #ableism

[thecoffeelorian]

May 10, 2024

Hello again, everyone...

Firstly, I'd just like to offer a little friendly reminder that the Bad Batch section of this fandom is not dead, just done with its main source material. There are, however, a million directions we can take our derivative works, as I expect this fandom overall is just getting started with the material from "Tales of the Empire" and I, personally, am kind of excited with where we all might go next.

Secondly, thank you to everyone who took the time to like and reblog my past entries, as I know for a fact I wouldn’t have gotten very far without your consideration.

Thirdly, though, I would like to state the purpose of this weekly entry, because it can and should double as a mission statement of sorts:

As a lifelong Star Wars fan, I do this list every Friday to bring more visibility to art and stories that might otherwise go unnoticed on the Tumblr timeline, as well as to help the creators of such fanworks achieve more followers in the process.

This means that I will look for the entries with the lowest amounts of likes and reblogs and then add them to my weekly list, as well as liking and reblogging them to my own Tumblr page.

And so, while we’re all on the subject, here are my picks of the week::

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanart--From @foxyaran:

The Clone Wars Fanart--From @angela-art13:

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--From @ireadwithmyears:

The Clone Wars: Tukk Tales Fanfiction--From @gun-roswell:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanart--From @nocturius8015ficore:

The Bad Batch Fanart--From @s-pirth-lemonade:

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--From @groguandthebadbatch:

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--From @jedi-princess-kestis:

TALES OF THE EMPIRE

Tales Of The Empire Fanart--From @robinthephoenix:

STAR WARS SEQUELS

Rey Skywalker Moodboard--From @skyofnostars:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every week, highlight those artists and writers who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the artists and writers a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget...thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, good morning, and good luck.

No Pressure Tags:

@maxims-multifandom-corner @skellymom @melymigo @ankossss @sharpasanaro

@ilovemedia @snap-my-kneecaps @algo-o-nada @somethingsaladsomething @rott1ngbra1n

@brownielocks69 @ratcatchinggirl @yeehawgeek @ilcuoreardendo-fic @chefobiwankenobi

@lilithastar @wondermadeleine @theosb0rnway @here-comes-the-moose @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod 

@trixie2023 @callsign-denmark @smw-on-kamino @ray-rook @saphiranishimurashan

@serinzatravel-blog and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new and interesting works around the fandom.

#star wars #fandom friday #fandom recs #starwarsblr #the clone wars #tukk tales #the bad batch #tales of the empire #star wars sequel trilogy #the clone wars fanart #the clone wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanart #the bad batch fanfiction #commander fox #mortis #mortis gods #the daughter #the father #the son #star wars fanart #star wars fanfiction #tcw kix #clone trooper kix #kix x reader #captain tukk #high ground animations #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega

[snowblossomreads]

Day 14: A Light in the Night

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Wife!Reader

Summary: We revisit the Colonel and his wife, along with their little dog Tulip as they ready to welcome a new life into the world.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): pregnancy, brief description of child birth, fluff, and wholesomess!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: And we are back with these little lovelies from day 10! I have to admit I didn't think to make this a sequel yet my brain was like yes we can use this prompt! So here we are~ I hope you enjoy this little cute fluff 😍😍

Snow melted, flowers grew and wilted, and leaves of all colours scattered the ground before a blanket of snow returned to cover the lands around Delaford Estate with its beautiful brightness that made everything shine brightly.

Some things had stayed the same, like the staff at the estate, and her sweet Christopher, handsome and gentle as he always was. While other things had changed just like seasons did.

Namely [Y/n]'s belly, which was now large and round, filled with the babe that she, and her husband were expecting sometime soon, if the doctor's words were to be taken.

Honestly, while she did get excited at the sight of her belly, she had to admit she was ready to give birth as she felt a bit cumbersome with how large she felt. Dressing took longer in the morning, walking was a tedious task after a few months and don't even get her started about sleeping or the constant need to well...relive herself.

It wasn't all bad though as she had mentioned.

For one, her Christopher had become even softer and doting towards her which she hadn't thought possible considering his naturally sweet disposition. Yet he had.

'Come darling, here let me help you out of bed, I don't wish for you to strain yourself so much. It drives me mad, the thought of you and our babe being hurt.'

'Is there anything you wish for me, or the servants to bring you while I am in town, my love? You need only tell me and I shall retrieve it with haste."

He was so ridiculously sweet, sweeter than any person alive she bet, especially when they would lay in bed at night and he would gently stroke her stomach. Kissing her swollen belly, he would whisper to the child within about how much he was looking forward to meeting them, and how he hoped they were being kind to their mother while she kept them safe as they grew.

She could tell how excited he was as his eyes always lit up when he got to speak about how they were expecting, and his excitement increased as they got closer and closer to the winter season when the babe would be born.

So when the signs of labour began to show, and she felt a small pop below and a gush of wetness in her undergarments, she knew it would not be long before the babe they had waited so long for would be in the world.

"Martha!" [Y/n] cried out urgently as she struggled to her feet from her chair near the fireplace.

Tulip, her naughty but sweet dog that had grown in height, sprang up and began to bark loudly, only to be hushed by [Y/n] who waddled to the entrance of the parlour. She was met with Martha and Christopher who had come to see what the commotion was about.

Looking at both of them, her hand on her stomach, and a dark stain beginning to grow on her nightgown, which the other two seemed to spot simultaneously, she stuttered out a nervous,

"I-I think it's time."

As if her words set something off in him, Brandon’s posture immediately changed into one of a seasoned leader who was ready to command his household to help his wife during this important moment.

"Martha take [Y/n] to the bed now!” He barked, firm yet kind were his words, and Martha answered with an equally firm ‘yes sir!’ ready to take orders from the lord of the house. “I will send a rider to fetch the doctor! Wake everyone up once [Y/n] is in bed!"

"Darling that is unnecessary!” [Y/n] exclaimed, only to wince at the pain the excitement seemed to cause. “Do not wake the house I beg you we just need the doctor and Martha no one else."

"Absolutely not, everyone has been waiting for this day and I will not deprive them of it, and Martha may need some extra hands is that not right?" 

"Of course sir!" Martha answered with glee as her eyes twinkled with joy. “We’ve all been waiting for our lady to give birth! No one will mind being woken my dear! They would probably be quite angry if we didn’t wake them!”

"Good now please there is no time to waste!"

"Oooh, how delightful dear!" Martha gasped, going to [Y/n]'s side and gently guiding the woman while Tulip trotted behind them, tail wagging from the buzzing energy that was around her humans."Come there is no time to waste! You should have been in bed already, but oh you and your strong will my lady!

Both sets of people rushed off in different directions, and soon [Y/n] was in the birthing bed while a rider was running to mount their horse and fetch the local doctor.

Candle lights in each window of the estate lit up one by one, illuminating the dark home in the night as news spread that the lady of the house was soon to bring a child into the world. And it wasn't long before the sounds of birthing began.

Had she thought she knew what she was in for after talking to other mothers and to Martha, herself who was a trained midwife and a mother, she was sorely mistaken when the first pains of labour began.

Even Christopher, her poor dear sweet Christoper was going mad as she cried in pain each time she tried to push the babe out. He sat by her side, refusing to leave even when the doctor said that the process was far too messy for a gentleman of his status to watch.

"Sir I have been in trenches filled with mud and the bodies of good men who are no longer here. I have seen messy, and this doctor, this bringing of  new life, while messy, is wondrous and I shall not leave my wife's side until I know she and our child are safe." He was so stern when he said it, she had thought someone had taken her sweet and mild manner Christopher away with the aghast way the doctor stared at him.

But when he looked at her with such worry and concern, she knew he was still there only wanting her pain to end.

And in the wee hours of the morning, relief come for [Y/n] and all of those in the home who waited with bated breath. With one last push and a loud shout, a sharp wail filled the halls of Delaford estate.

"A healthy baby boy!"

Both the doctor and Martha announced after the babe had been cleaned, examined, and swaddled cosily to keep him warm.

"And my is his constitution healthy indeed! Larger than any one of the children I've delivered this year. Oh, he'll be just fine this winter Colonel, my lady!" The doctor stated as he handed the crying baby to [Y/n] who was eager to hold the little wiggling thing.

"Oh Christopher," [Y/n] whispered in wonder, as she stared in awe at the baby who had calmed immediately when he was placed on her chest. "He's so beautiful oh god-." Her voice wavered as emotion filled her throat and eyes.

"He is beautiful indeed," her husband murmured as he stared in wonder with her at the child who rested against her. "Just like his mother beautiful and marvelous."

She turned to him and was surprised yet not, as she saw his eyes glassy and filled with tears. Her strong and calm love. Steady and unwavering as the English oak trees that dotted the estate, was filled with emotions at the sight of his little family that had grown.

They stayed this way for a moment, silently marvelling at the child, as Martha and the doctor helped clean [Y/n] up. Once done, they bowed to the couple and left to give them a moment of privacy. The Brandons thanked them before they left, and only moments after the door had shut, did husband and wife hear the cheers of the house.

It brought a large smile to both of their faces knowing how much support and love the staff of Delaford already had for their babe.

"You make me such a happy man darling such a happy man," he stated as he kissed her temple and leaned down to kiss the babe's forehead.

The little thing stirred at his father's touch, yet made no noise of protest. This seemed to amuse them both as they let out a watery chuckle at his actions or lack thereof.

"And you my Christoper, you make me such an unbelievably happy woman. Oh goodness our babe, I pray that he is as strong, yet kind and gentle as his father," she whispered stroking the child's cheek. "You and him, you both are my everything darling."

"Woof!"

Their eyes widened, and they turned to look at Tulip, who had been calm and quiet the entire time during [Y/n]'s labour. Only now did she seem interested in reminding them she was still here.

"I do not believe Tulip agrees with her being left off the list as our son's sister," Brandon mused as the dog stared at them with a look of expectancy.

Letting out a delighted laugh at the dog's antics, [Y/n] smiled and giggled.

"And yes, you to my Tulip I could never forget you! You do have a little brother to take care of and protect now."

This seemed to appease the dog who let out a softer bark before she laid her head down and closed her eyes.

Laughter from both was music to each other's ears as they took in the new life they had been gifted with. A new life, in the wintertime to light up the darkness that the season was known for because of its early nights. It was most importantly a new life in the Brandons’ home, one that completed the little family they had both wanted.

A/N: Yaaaay oh goodness Brandon would be such a good father, he's so gentle and soft spoken. I think he doesn't have a mean bone in his body even if he were in the army. Stay warm friends it's getting chilly out here!

#colonel brandon x reader #rickmas2023 #rickmas #blossom writes

[canmom]

NieR Orchestra Concert 12024 [the end of data] (London, 15/2/2024)

NieR concert was incredible just as expected. Honestly, from the moment I got there - the cosplayers, the general atmosphere, it was just a good place to be surrounded by NieR nerds lmao. So many people happy to chat with the stranger next to them, kind of a con vibe.

But of course we were there for the music! And it was fuckin amazing. The emi evans/j'nique nicole duets😭These were special orchestral arrangements specifically for this concert, and the way the sound of the orchestra fills the space, how you can see a phrase physically ripple across the orchestra... I don't get to go to a lot of concerts but I really should try to go more often, because it's something else to hear orchestral music.

below: further comments on the concert, lots of cosplay photos.

The multimedia elements also worked really well - every piece was accompanied with backing videos using either demosceney abstract visuals or images from the games, along with text that told a short story over the course of the concert, with some segments voice acted by the English voices of 2B and 9S (Kira Buckland and Kyle McCarley, who have previously made their own performances of the original Japan-only concert readings). I won't spoil the story in this post since there are still concerts to come, but it was... not that substantial I'll admit, but sweet, and a nice framing device to create a flow through the songs and various moments from the games.

Hearing J'nique Nicole's voice live though, that was incredible. Emi Evans was there just as last time, and just as amazing as always - but this time we had both of them on stage together, and it was absolutely sublime. We all went wild. They performed duets in several songs, with the standouts naturally being A Beautiful Song, Ashes of Dreams, and of course Weight of the World. I think we all thought that was the end because we gave it a standing ovation but then Emi came back out to perform Kainé. After that we got into the groove of standing up and stood up again like three more times lol.

Yoko Taro and Yosuke Saito showed up at the end and made a bunch of rapidfire jokes in Japanese that the translator couldn't keep up with, bless her. But we got to give them like the fourth standing ovation of the night, and made a lot of noise when Yoko Taro suggested it would persuade the president of Squeenix to fund a sequel. I'm sure they appreciated it lmao. I think it must be so weird for Yoko Taro to go from someone with a career of niche, unsuccessful games to being internationally renowned to the point that a massive auditorium full of people in multiple countries will go absolutely nuts just to hear him speak a language we mostly don't speak.

Good mix of people who were at a NieR concert for the first time and people who'd been to the last one. There was a guy near me who had apparently been to the Berlin concert just a few days before, and snagged a ticket for this one literally yesterday just to get it again with better acoustics. I respect it lol. Everyone I spoke to was remarkably friendly - last time I went to one of these things I felt really nervous about approaching anyone but it seems I've gotten better about that kind of thing in the last few years. Anyway, people had come from all over - I chatted with a pair of Americans from Boston all the way down the merch line.

Here are some pictures, mostly of cosplayers. I am still getting used to shooting with the DSLR my friend gave me, so not all of these came out perfectly steady and some of them the exposure wasn't right,, but there are some nice ones in here...

bokeeeeehhhhhhhhh... I spoke a bit to the owner of this 9S doll. Her mum was there too, and it turns out she's a haberdasher who makes cosplays for her daughters and has now done over 70. That's a legendary mum right there.

The 9S cosplayer here gave me his instagram. he's a pro photographer so I feel a little embarassed at the quality of the photos I took of him ^^'

I got some merch too, since I understand it's the main way events like this support themselves.

That Kainé thing isn't a print, it's a vinyl record with a few arrangements of Kainé. Though I was totally prepared to buy it as a print because it's a lovely drawing. I don't actually own a record player, but one day I'll surely listen to it ^^'

I was too fatigued to make a cosplay this time, but I'm sure there will be another concert and next time, for sure, I will go as Devola or Popola. Unless Yoko Taro comes up with another redhead character in the meantime lmao.

#nier #nier automata #nier replicant #nier reincarnation #nier orchestra concert #if you're in any of those photos please let me know! i'm gonna post them on instagram and twitter too

[fermentedfanfics]

a little wine and charcoal.

hello welcome to my first writing that wasn’t a rewrite in a while. i hope you guys enjoy this ?? i randomly thought of this idea at like three in the morning and wanted to write it so bad– so forgive me if this is a little all over the place or written badly because i finished writing this at like six am and wanted to post it immediately. i might make a sequel to this, i kinda wanna write some smut for them. please know that this fic is explicit and for 18+ audiences only, minors dni.

summary: you enjoy taking figure drawing classes at your local college a few times throughout the year– this month you take up figure drawing again and find you’ve caught the model’s eye. (model!loki x artist!f!reader)

warnings: (possible smut for future sequel) fem!reader, make out sesh, reader is a little drunk, more than a little she’s a lightweight like me, light praise kink, kind of dry humping, orgasm denial, slight dom/sub dynamic (reader calls loki sir.) i’ll add more if i think of anything. word count: 3.2k

You are keenly aware of a pair of eyes on you, and you’re almost afraid to lift your gaze off the newsprint paper in front of you.

For a moment you wonder if you’re the only person who feels uncomfortable, but when you drag your gaze across the room you find everyone hard at work– focused on properly taking in the form of the man in front of you. Was he really a man though?

His ivory skin is chiseled like a marbled statue, and his thick, pitch-black hair was pulled back tucked behind his ears at the start of the class but has loosened and fallen into his face now. It’s given him a disheveled look and you’re rattled by how attractive he is. You’ve barely drawn anything, but you’re glad he’s not fully nude. Well– he is, but the way he’s posed has completely covered himself. You aren’t sure how you’d hold up if you were able to see him completely.

These figure drawing classes were supposed to be a source of relief for you. Twenty-five dollars and three hours of drawing live figures in silence with a couple of cups of wine was such a steal, and you’d truly enjoyed the last few times you’ve been– but the recent model has stolen that comfort from you.

At first you didn’t want to be conceded, clearly he was not staring at you directly. But the entirety of this month, each time you’d come and sit in that stuffy little classroom and painfully tried to draw the most beautiful being you’ve ever laid your eyes on, you could always feel him staring. It’s intensified by the wine you sip on throughout the class, your skin humming with the warmth of the alcohol and hot just from his mossy shaded eyes watching your every move.

Your hands delicately slip around the epicure of the glass next to you, it’s red and stinks of cheap wine but you drink it anyways to break the edge. Finally taking your eyes from the paper in front if you to the model, you swallow thickly when your eyes meet. You didn’t mean to look directly at his face, but curiosity got the best of you. Gripping the piece of charcoal in your hand, you begin to sketch.

You avert your stare from his face and to his body, and your mind wanders as your hand moves. Does he like your gaze? Observing every curve and rocky edge to his sculpted form– does it turn him on as much as it does you? You’d probably notice if it did. Each sip of the wine has your mind cloudy, and fills you with a kind of confidence you know isn’t good for you. Sneaking a peek to his face, you instantly regret it. His stare is intense, and the shine on his lips indicate he’s wet them with his tongue sometime between you taking your time studying every part of him and the last time you looked him in the eyes. You shiver.

The class wraps up faster than you expected. The conductor of the class brings the model a robe, and when he leaves the room bursts with conversation. “My god he was sexy, I couldn’t focus the entire time!” One of the women next to you boasts. Each class has a set of people who've never tried it before, or you’re simply just not lucky enough to get paired with anyone you’ve drawn with before. You feel seasoned among those around you, but you would be lying if you said the model hadn’t affected you in the same way.

You swallow the rest of the wine from your last glass, setting it down on the nearby tray it sat on. Trying to drown out the chattering and clattering of the class putting themselves together to leave, you try to pull an image of the model from your brain. You’ve seen him three or four times now, you didn’t keep count– each time you try to engrave him into your mind. You think this drawing is the closest you’ve ever gotten, fingers stained with charcoal. You decide to take this drawing home instead of leaving it like that last time.

By the time the room is empty, you’ve finished gathering your things. You take your time, knowing you have to call an uber since you finished about three cups of wine and you were a lightweight. Taking one last look at your drawing, you begin to take it down from the isle you used.

“I think yours is my favourite out of the bunch.”

His voice completely startles you, causing you to tear the top of the paper for a split second. You quickly stop yourself, letting go of your drawing allowing it to float helplessly to the ground so you wouldn’t completely destroy it. Instantly annoyed, your hazy, drunk gaze looks over your shoulder. It’s then you realize the class model is speaking to you.

He’s fully dressed, the first time you’ve seen it. It seems more intimate, you feel yourself burn hot at his voice as he apologizes, bending over and picking up your drawing. Smooth, sultry, and thickly accented– he’s rendered you speechless. “I always like the ones you draw– you’re very good.” He offers the paper to you.

“Thank you..”

You barely whisper your thanks, carefully taking the drawing from him. The rip doesn’t reach the art, thankfully. All your words are caught in your throat, he’s openly staring at you this time and you think he knows the effect he has on you. Swallowing your spit, you visibly relax ever so slightly as you begin to roll it up ready to leave.

“Do you come here often? I’ve seen you before.”

“Couple times a month.”

“Mr. Kilmyer let me keep some of yours of me, they’re hanging in my home. You’re incredibly talented– is this your profession?”

You’re trying to be respectful and listen to him, but you can’t. Your skin is boiling and the way the stupid cashmere turtleneck he wears fits him so perfectly that you can practically see his sculpted form beneath it is driving you up the wall. Though, that’s probably because you’ve seen him naked before and want to see it again. It’s fresh in your mind, and every time you blink you get a flash of his intense gaze. Wine plus him does not mix well.

“No.” You breathe out. He’s stepped closer, you’re in a full blown conversation with him now and you can see the quality of his face better. He has beautiful high cheekbones and strong brows giving him an intoxicating expression. His lips are thin and pink, you see he’s put chapstick on now. You wonder what it tastes like.

“It’s just a hobby. Um, thank you– I’m glad you like them.”

He cracks a smile, and your heart leaps so far into your throat you’re sure you can taste it. He seems to realize he hasn’t introduced himself, and offers you his hand. You’re delighted. “I am Loki, it’s a pleasure.” Your hand slips into his easily, a friendly shake sending electrifying shocks across your sensitive skin. You’re too drunk for this.

A little smile curls onto your lips, finally he thinks. “Y/N.”

He catches the slow blink of your eyelids, it’s late. You’re tired, and drunk– he can tell. He pulls his hand away and tucks a strand of his own hair behind his ear, drawing you in more. Does he know how sexy he is? You think he does. “I apologize, you must be tired. I don’t mean to take up your time, it’s just amazing to me how you’re able to master the human form in such a beautiful way.” His compliments give you a dopamine rush, your brain is fuzzy like the sizzling of a firecracker.

“I have to order an uber, so it’s okay..I have time.” You simply respond, he watched you drink those three glasses of wine.

Loki opens his mouth to say something, closing it as a thought come across his face. He sucks his lip in ever so slightly, biting it. He thinks for a moment, finger coming to his chin to caress it. His skin looks so soft and you’re instantly jealous of his own hand. Everytime you see him your mind floats away. Every single time he models, he’s fueled the bank in your mind to use late at night when you’re feeling lonely. You feel guilty a lot of the time, using a stranger to pleasure yourself– but you simply think of it as a one night stand. (That you keep going back to.)

You’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss his pretty lips, how it would feel and taste. You think he tastes like some kind of bourbon, and maybe caramel. A delicious mix. You especially enjoy remenecing on how he’d look at you while you drew him, how his mossy eyes bore deep into your soul and ignited a sexual flame in you faster than anyone ever had.

“Those can get quite pricey, hm?” He pauses, drawing your mind back to your conversation and away from your intrusively nasty thoughts about him. Loki rubs the side of his neck slightly, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Well, I know we only just officially met– but I could drive you home if you’d rather save the money?”

His offer lingers in the air for a moment, before a surprised oh leaves you and your brows raise. Free ride from the pretty model that eats you up with his stare every single time you see him? Yes please!

“I would hate to bother you..”

“It’d be my pleasure, truly! I do feel a bit honoured talking with someone who views me in such a lovely perspective.”

You don’t fight again after that, a sheepish grin taking hold of your lips– you giggle. It’s heaven to his ears. “Sure.”

The walk to his car was short, but he continued to ask you questions– egging you to socialize with him. You wanted to just stare and eat up his features, engrave as much as you could of him into your brain because you’re sure this is the last time you’ll see him. You’re able to muster up questions to ask him, so you’re not such a boring chatting partner. He is giving you a ride home after all. Loki does not model often, but he did get roped into it after his brother suggested him. It’s relaxing for him, because he’s able to mentally check out for a few hours and not worry about anything– it’s nice.

You realize he may have just been spacing out in your direction and you’re deeply embarrassed that you came to the conclusion that he was equally staring at you. Loki opens the door of the passenger side for you, it’s amusing to your intoxicated little brain and you can’t help but laugh as you get into the car. “It feels like you walked out of a fairytale.”  You murmur.

“Never had a gentleman open the car door for you? Such a shame.” He tuts at whatever past relationships you’ve had, and you can feel your standards raising.

Your drunk limbs find immediate comfort in the seat of his car, relaxing and laying your head back. The car ride is peaceful, and he lets you roll your window down so you can feel the cold wintery air on your skin. I’m a fan of the cold. Loki simply stated when you worried over him becoming too chilled. The cold air feels good on your warm skin, you know you’re in for a good night sleep.

Loki comfortably chats with you the entire car ride to your home, giving him weak directions as you try not to drift to sleep. Is it weird you feel completely at ease, and safe, with a complete stranger? Yes. But so far, he hasn’t given you any reason to feel any other way. In reality you wanted to fall asleep in his arms, but his car would have to do.

Thankfully you’re able to keep yourself awake, and when he pulls into your driveway you raise your arms above your head to stretch. It’s a damn good stretch, a euphoric feeling rushing through your body as you feel your muscles contract. Loki delightfully takes in the rise of your shirt, the sliver of skin showing your belly before you plop your arms back into your lap. You’re eternally thankful to him.

Looking back over to Loki to thank him for the ride home, you’re unsettled by his deep stare on you. It makes your chest and head thump once more. “Thank you for driving me home, Mr. Loki..” You try to be respectful, but you’re only turning him on.

“Of course,” He hums, not sure if he wants to let you leave just yet.

You don’t think your night will go much further with Loki, your hopes are not high. But when you grab for the handle to open your car door, his warm hand is wrapping around your free one. “Y/N..” He starts, and the way Loki says your name is magical. It’s the first time, and you’re a little worried at how much of an effect it has on you. You shiver once more, gulping thickly. “Yes, sir?” Your voice wavers for a moment, and you can’t help your usage of sir. You do wish to be respectful to him afterall. Your usage of sir seems to break him, make him snap– Loki is quickly leaning over the console and caressing your face with his hands.

“May I kiss you, Y/N?”

“Yes, please.” Your response is quick, and his lips crashing into yours is quicker.

Your stomach explodes like fireworks feeling his lips on you, and the desperation that follows only makes the heat rising in your core burn brighter. His lips are much softer than you were expecting, coating your own in that chapstick you can now taste is strawberry. You moan after tasting it, and Loki takes this free time to work his tongue towards yours. His lips are sweet like strawberries, but his tongue and mouth is minty and the stark contrast makes your head spin.

Loki’s left hand is wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you closer while his right hand cradles your face like you’d simply disappear if he let you go. The desperation in his kisses make your stomach twist in the familiar sense of need, want. Your hands have found his biceps to hold onto, fingers digging into the fabric of his pine-green cashmere turtleneck. “You taste so divine.” He breathes into you, devouring the whimpers and moans that float from your throat with every kiss.

Each compliment he spews is another match thrown into the fire thats on your skin. Your head is indescribably fuzzy, and you feel like you’re going to pass out. But it’s good. It’s so, so good. You might doubt this to be a dream later on.

The hand on your face is exploring you now, and it doubles all of what your feeling. His hand slides to your hip, rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. It’s overstimulating at best, and turning you on even more. You instinctively rub his biceps, feeling his muscles underneath. Loki drags his hand down your thigh, rubbing and caressing just the same as you are to his biceps. It’s stimulating the heat growing in your pants but it’s not enough and when you buck your hips ever so slightly all thoughts are thrown out the window.

Loki’s hand palms your clothed cunt, ripping a ragged groan from the back of your throat. He hasn’t even moved yet and you feel like you’re about to melt, about to cum. Please, please, please, please. Your tortured voice peeps into his mouth as he bites your lip. You spur him on without even trying too hard. Slowly, but with pressure, Loki begins to rub his fingers and thumb up and down the length of your cunt.

You hiss, and before you can moan out his kisses are occupying you once more. His tongue barrages your crevices once again, exploring your tongue, teeth, roof of your mouth– anything he can. “So good for me, good girl.” He moans praises, and you echo his vocal pleasure with your own. Thank you Mr. Loki, please! Feels so good, sir.. Your groan hitches when his thumb glides over your clit through your jeans and panties– he’s instantly dragging his thumb across the area. It shocks you like a voltage, your body tensing in utter glee as it begins to climb for it’s release.

Please, sir! You gasp as his simple drags of up and down have turned into calculated wiggles and zigzags that have you keening. Your skin is burning, and you’re so close. So, so close. He can tell by your breathing, your gasping between kisses– it’s so cute. Just as you’re about to reach your climax, just as your about to cum Loki seamlessly removes his hand from your warm, wet clothed cunt and grabs the side of your face in a deep kiss.

You finally tap his biceps, and he releases you from the passionate, breath-stealing kiss he pulled you into. You’re gasping for air, trying to ignore the wetness of your panties and dull ache coming from your hole. 

Loki catches you slightly as you slump, head far too heavy for you to hold up now. He remembers you’re drunk, and a giddy smile comes to his features. “Oh dear, I ‘ought to get you inside, yes?” He’s so sweet again, like he hadn’t just stolen your soul and heart with those kisses. If you weren’t so drunk you’d be pissed.

Scratch that– you are pissed. Your body is screaming for release, and you know you’re going to be too tired to rub one out once you’re inside your home. But Loki looks so mesmerized by you, so encaptured.

A small line of drool has dripped from the corner of your mouth, and tears have streaked your cheeks– your eyes still welling from lack of release. “Oh, princess..” He murmurs, kissing your cheeks where your tears roll down from.

Without another word, Loki gently releases you to rest against your car seat before exiting the car and making his way around. He opens the door for you, and helps you get out of the car. Your legs are wobbling, like a new-born deer. You want to throw yourself against him, beg him to come inside and finish what he started but you’re too tired. You’re too exhausted, and it’s hard keeping your eyes open. Perhaps it’s best the two of you stopped here.

He escorts you to the front door of your house, and places a loving kiss on your forehead and lips. He watches you fumble to open your door and get inside, bidding you a goodnight before heading back to his car.

You’re still buzzing with excitement by the time you crawl in bed, your bag and rolled up drawing laying haphazardly on your desk. You want to cry, weep even. You’re unbelievably horny and he simply just left you like that– although you want to keep thinking about how much he screwed you over and how much you’re going to pounce him the next time you see him, sleep has taken over.

You fall asleep with Loki on your mind, and a determined mind for next time.

Next time.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki au #loki mcu #loki x female reader #loki one shot #loki laufeyson one shot #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #fermentedfics #fermentedwriting

[devilsmoth]

Dead Rising (TFW x reader, Lucifer x reader?????)

Authors Note: I know this isn't the best thing I've ever written, but this is more just writing practice for me :] trying to get back into the swing of writing. Either way, I hope you enjoy it ! If not then I'm sorry ;w;

Warnings: Nothing, really. Language?

Pairing: I didn't write one in mind, though the way I ended up writing Lucifer I suppose it could be Lucifer x y/n if I make a sequel to this?

Prompt: "I thought you were dead!" / "Wow! The miracle of life!", "Just wishful thinking."

Words: 1,741

It was....weird. Death was weird, but then again it'd also be weird if it wasn't weird? Some sort of weird paradox. A weirdadox, if you will.

One moment, you were there, ready to fight alongside team Free Will, and then next you were just....gone? What was weird was that there wasn't even any pain, or if there was you certainly don't remember it. You've flirted with the concept of death many times before, all of them filled with unbearable pain and slight panic, but you've never actually died.

You weren't sure what happened, but there was no reaper to meet you, nobody to guide you to the other side. Dean and Sam were too busy fighting some stupid group of angels to notice you had died so abruptly. Or, at least you think you died? Question mark?

Your brows furrowed as you took a look at your surroundings, only to see Lucifer standing there with a smug smile on his face, and wiggling his fingers at you in some strange form of a wave. He was quiet, for now at least, instead pointing to something on the ground. Confusion was clear on your face as you followed where he was pointing, only to see your body on the ground.

You looked over yourself, searching for any signs of a wound, anything that would've attributed to your cause of death, but there was....nothing. No blood, no wounds, no gore, nothing. You looked back to Lucifer with a strange gaze, expecting him to explain just what the fuck is going on.

"Now," He begins, hands in front of him, "I bet you're wondering, 'Oh no, what happened, what am I, mehmehmeh,'" Lucifer takes on a high pitched, mocking tone, hands moving side to side as he speaks, "All good questions."

There was a long, silent pause, with him just staring at you.

"Oh, you want me to answer them." Lucifer announces in a bored tone.

"I think that would be the polite thing to do, yeah," You nod in agreement, "Especially since you were the one that killed me, I feel like I'm owed some kind of explanation."

"Huh?" He questions, but whether it's genuine confusion or he's exaggerating himself to mock you, you've no idea, "Dead? Do you see any reapers, y/n?" He asks, arms out as he turns around, as if he was looking for them himself, "You're funny, or maybe just stupid...Either way, no you're not dead."

"Dean!" You hear Sam call, "DEAN GET OVER HERE, NOW!"

Lucifer smiles when he hears the panic in Sam's voice. You turn to look at Sam, only to see him trying to shake you awake, calling your name. Dean comes running over, and checks you for a wound of any kind, and quickly becomes frustrated when he can't find one. Sam and Dean argue with one another for a good minute before they both finally agree on just getting you back to the car and heading back to the bunker as fast as humanly possible.

"Just, let's just get 'em in the car, alright?!" Dean commands, "Did you see what happened?"

"No, no, I-" Sam's words falter when he sees the angry and disappointed look on Dean's face, but he picks your body up easily, "I was fighting off Heaven's bodyguards Dean, just like you were!"

"I told you to keep an eye on 'em! You were the one that wanted them to come!" Dean argues as he opens the door for Sam to put you in the backseat, "I told you they should stay back at the bunker and work on researching, but nooooo-"

"Dean, they're obviously not dead!" Sam argues back in frustration, "So how about we wait to blame me for it, okay?"

Dean just grumbles as he gets into the car. The sight would've made you smile, if you weren't incorporeally separated from your own body, with still no explanation as the what the fuck happened, or what was even going on. Your gaze is back on Lucifer, this time with less confusion and more anger. Were you just here for his fucking amusement, or was he gonna get to talking? You glare at him, already plotting a way to kill him, and as if reading your thoughts, he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, look," Lucifer begins, "I'll return you to your body, just as soon as I can get what I want."

"Oh yeah?" You question, "And what's that? Jack? A new haircut? Maybe a shower-"

"You wound me," He puts a hand over his heart in faux offense, "Don't worry your pretty head about it, alright?"

"So, what?" You question, crossing your arms, "You're just going to leave my body to rot until who fucking knows how long, just to have some leverage? You expect the maggots to avoid my decaying body just because I asked nicely?"

Lucifer just stares at you for a moment, and you swear you see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He sighs out heavily, whining in annoyance before he rolls his eyes and looks back to you.

"Fine," He snaps his fingers, and you feel a part of you...spirit? lurch, "There. Happy?"

"..." You look around, wondering what the Hell he did, before looking back at him like he was fucking insane, "What the hell was that?"

"I'll explain on the way, I'm not staying here until the sun rises just chatting with you," He ushers you forward, and you comply, mostly because what else were you gonna do? "Come on, there we go."

He raises his hand to snap his fingers a bit, before a thought crosses his mind, and he squints before looking down at you.

"Uh, hold your breath," Lucifer warns, "Otherwise you'll find out what astral projected spirit-vomit looks like."

You shoot him another crazed look before listening to him, and just as you start to wonder what the hell he was talking about, he snaps his fingers and suddenly you're teleported to his throne room. Ah, that makes sense now, Cas would tell you something similar. You also recall Dean mentioning something about angelic teleportation and constipation as a side effect.

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean had managed to get you--or, rather, your body--back inside. Sam had set you on a couch nearby so that they could keep an eye on you while they tried to research what was going on with you. It just...didn't make sense. You had a pulse, a weak one, but a pulse nevertheless. There was no wounds, no blood no signs of some kind of spell, no hex bags, nothing. Not even a sign of a struggle. So what gives?

A couple hours had passed in mostly silence, occasionally broken up by one of the brothers chiming in with an idea, and the other shooting it down because you didn't have any of the symptoms. Poor Jack was also confused, but he was still trying his best to help Sam and Dean come up with an answer within the many books of the bunker.

Suddenly, without any hint or warning, you had sat up from the couch. The boys didn't notice you at first, until you had passed behind Sam, and Dean's hunter instincts kicked in. He looked up, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. He kicks his brother to get his attention, and Sam looks up in confusion, only to see what he was looking at and grow even more confused.

"Uh," Sam begins as he grabs your arm to stop you, "Woah, woah, slow down,"

"Yeah," Dean chimes in as you turn around with a raised brow, "What the hell happened to you?"

You simply shrug, "I'm not a fucking oracle, I don't know."

The response nearly gives them whiplash, you never talked like that. Dean's first idea was that you were possessed, and Sam puts a hand out to stop Dean moving to get his gun.

"Okay, okay," He speaks, thinking you're angry, "Do you remember anything?"

"I remember this place sucks," You shrug again, your tone flat and emotionless, "And that there's leftovers in the fridge I'd kill for right now."

"Oookay," Sam speaks cautiously, and the familiar sound of wings can be heard before a familiar presence enters the room, "So, you're okay?"

"I dunno, I guess?" You shrug again, "I could go for some cake right now."

"Okay, what the hell?" Dean chimes in again, "I thought you were dead!"

"Just wishful thinking."

"I feel I have missed something." Castiel announces a bit awkwardly.

"Y/N was dead, but now they're not." Jack explains with a smile.

"Wow! The miracle of life!" You roll your eyes and yank your arm out of Sam's grip, "I'm going to go make me something to eat, since the Brady Bunch is all caught up."

With that, you had left the room, and Castiel watched silently as you left. His eyes squinted for a moment, analyzing you before you disappeared into the kitchen. This was not good news. You were soulless, and given that Sam, Dean, and Jack were all confused as to what happened to you in the first place, Castiel is doubtful that they know who did it to you. The good news is that there's not a whole lot of candidates that could've done it.

A lot of people are dead.

Not that dead is a good thing, but it is in this instance. The bad news, is that really, it's just the one person he's suspicious of, and if it is that person, then there's no way they're returning your soul without something in return. He dreads to think of what Lucifer could want in exchange for your very soul. Oh boy.

"I know what is wrong," Castiel announces as he comes out of his thoughts, realizing Sam and Dean were arguing with each other again.

They both look to the angel, who quietly looks back at them.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Alright, you gonna tell us, sparky?" He shoots Castiel a look, who nods.

"Yes." Castiel takes in a breath, "Y/N is soulless, and given our short pool of candidates to choose from these days, I suspect it to be Lucifer's doing."

Sam and Dean were both quiet for a moment, looking to each other like they were having a silent conversation.

"You can do that?" Jack asks, and Castiel hesitates.

"Your father can, yes."

#supernatural #y/n #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #tfw x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #x reader #imagine #blurb #idk at this point ? #just a lil thang i wrote XD #jack kline

[cazzyf1]

Some of my favourite quotes from Mike Hawthorn's car reviews in the Sunday Times

Did you know Britain's first world champion, Mike Hawthorn wrote car reviews? Every so often when a new car came out Mike was given it to drive around and give his expert review on the car. Though often times speeding them down Fleet Street as he went to test them out at the Silverstone track, Mike did have a good sense of what was needed in a car. In the reviews, his wit and typical British humour come through, and there were some parts I just had to write down, so here's my collection.

'Stop fiddling with things on the dashboard. Forget the burnt toast or the row with your neighbour. Don't look at the aircraft's or the pretty girls. The way ahead is the only view that matters to the expert driver.'

'I WAS DEPRESSED BY the dangerous way the large and heavy doors opened forward.'

'It may seem unfair on the hawk that I should test it in such weather when other cars go through their paces in sunshine and on dry roads. I don't agree.'

'What a car it is...and oh! what a price it is, just under £7,000. I ignored the price and concentrated on the fun'

'And when I reluctantly left the Bentley I just had to take one more walk round and admire the perfect lines of its body.'

'Engine: 9, Comment: This Minx purrs'

'Cornering: 9, Comment: Does just as its told'

'It is frustrating to find a car that won't be bullied. As a tester it is my job to make a car sequel for mercy'

'The new Standard Ten just purred at my treatment'

'Get in your car, relax. No more wheel hugging, no more clutching at it with hands like ham. Caress it, for only gentle fingers can feel what the car wants to do on corners.'

'Shame on you if you have to look out of the window to find out what three feet of clearance is.'

'Trimming and finish: 10, Comment: Those fussy French men liked it'

'A phrase for the place: The French motorists say snails are for eating not emulating'

'I sat in the T.R.2 full of suspicion and as cold as charity'

'I have never been so flattering about a car before and it embarrasses me'

'In a phrase: Hawthorn in wonderland'

'The absence of a fourth gear is a thing I deplore, but mine is a voice in the wilderness.'

'I have been accused of bad manners in desiring to head the car queue. I don't agree.'

'Dislikes: The cheap ash tray'

'"Typical American," I grumbled'

'Oh the anxiety as the time grew near and the car was still to be delivered'

'A skid is as easy to correct as a 5 year old's homework'

'Those critics of road-test reports make one accusation. They say I am too kind.'

'But if mother expects to get her handbag, a face cloth and towel for whipping sticky juvenile hands and all her bits and pieces on it she will be disappointed'

'A phrase for the car: A fastish hussy is the minx'

'There's no stocking big enough for the present I would have liked for, only a garage would hold it. A large garage with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A garage with old masters on the wall. I'm dreaming of a large Bentley'

'I am not going to the trouble of filling in a score card this week. Just assume that the Bentley gets a ten plus for everything'

'Compromise... that's the world right out of a politician's dictionary'

'I am a back seat driver. Every time I test a car I climb into the back and view life from there. And what a task it can be sometimes'

'Off on a holiday...with the kitchen sink'

'I shook my head to clear the thunder from my ears'

'My wind-scourged face thawed into a glow as I settled myself in'

'Trimming: 6, Comment: Oh dear!'

'Mike Hawthorn interrupts a road test to air a pet hate...those lumbering diesel buses which travel along in a reeking miasma of black fumes'

'Comfort: 9, Comment: My passengers slept'

#classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #vintage f1 #mike hawthorn

[dreambigdreamz]

fanfic idea for future reference 😌 it’s a swanlake x eothiriel

This is completely rough draft and I have a lot to work on, but I just found it again amidst my profile from long ago and just had to keep it for sake. And maybe I’d like to share it too — especially @meluiloth because you so kindly tag me everytime but I am always lazy to do anything related to writing 🥲 this one’s in honour for you and all your kindness in tagging me.

So like, the latest one is a Swan Lake plotline where it will start off as a suspense story. (No one else would be reading this and it will be a long time when I finally write and any who read will have forgotten about it so I'm going in all spoilers yes?) Éomer visiting Dol Amroth, the seat of his new friend Imrahil, and when he goes on his solitary late night walks on the beach, he keeps sighting a mysterious silver figure dancing, yknow. And when he tries to follow her once, he sees that she vanished as she ran into the Palace Garden. Now this Palace Garden is the beautifullest of places with flowers, shrubs, and fountains. But there is a big golden cage too, and in it is a snow-white swan that the whole royal family seems to love so much. THAT SWAN IS LOTHIRIEL CURSED BY A WITCH AND HER SOUL WILL BE A SWAN UNTIL SHE FEELS THE LOVE OF A MORTAL MAN AND RETURNS THAT LOVE. 

Like, whenever a young man asked for her hand, she always refused and one young man went to ask help from the witch to make Lothiriel love him back but instead the jealous witch turned her into a swan and she now only has human form in the absence of daylight and ahhhhh

Very simple and plain, Iknow but. For some reason I'm so excited for it to play out. 

I mean, everything about Eomer is simple and plain but so beloved in my eyes 😍

Yeah like a sort of Beren and Luthien meeting. Very simple, but when made with care and love, it makes my heart burst eek I feel like what will hinder Lothiriel's falling in love with him is her being so foreign to that. For sixteen years she was kept safe under the watch of her spinster aunt and doesn't lift an eye at a young man unless her elders permittedly tell her so. So I'm sorry but this girl's mentality was wrecked very beautifully and she simply doesn't know how to handle love

And for the next six years she was a swan, so very very unused to human company in general. Lol me materialising introverts in a poetic way. I think you'll be onboard with that idea. I don't know about you, but I feel so frustrated that I want to go out and mix in with people but it's so difficult to let go of the old restraints that had been for so long.

AND YES HAHAHA I am so making her foreign to love, and even a sequel where, after they have already admitted to each other's love, the curse still isn't broken and she begins to suspect it's because her love for Eomer is really imaginary. She 'loves' him only because she wants to break the curse. She has never known what is love to actually realise what she is feeling is really love. She doubts it. And truly, yes, she is a little selfish and she begins to be scared she'll never love anybody truly and this curse is to be forever. And they set out on a quest to find a way to break the curse and on the way she finds out what it truly is to love someone selflessly, without expecting anything in return, to want someone to be happy even if it means without you in their life. 🤓🤓 I just had to go and add that bit of angst in.

Like the first fic could be called 'So this is Love' and will end as they admit their love. So it's an open ended ending for everyone, those who wants to have the happily ever after can stop there. But the second fic sequel is gonna be like 'What is Love' and will start off with her still turning into a swan even after everything. It does have a happy ending though, I just have this scenario in my mind that they're coming back from the sea on a raft and she runs throgh the water up the beach to her gasping parents, IN DAYLIGHT. She's human in daylight so it means the curse is broken!! And they just share a hug :) I have this quote 'No I've never loved anyone before. If my parents died, I'd cry, but only because I wouldn't know what to do with my life next. Only because I would feel so lost without them to take care of me.' And in the end she finds the true meaning of loving :))) Because, whatever it is, love is love, selfless or selfish. If you love someone, for whatever reasons, it is still love, isnt it?? But for her she's been trapped in the cage of her mind for so long, not trusting anybody in case 'it doesn't work out'. Like, most of my heroines they are scared because they've been hurt before. For her, she is imagining all the hurt that could happen and limiting herself from the joy that was possibly waiting. Ahhh me 😁😁😁

I feel like this is going to be my healthiest pairing yet. They both admit to their flaws in so honest a way and come to terms with their imperfections. Like they actually got to talk!!! The quest symbolises their journey to compatibility, yknow, learning more about each other, and not only that but adjust to each other's problems. For example, Eomer himself realises he did not expect some selfish outbursts from this angelic creature and realises he had fallen in love with her shadow instead, her beauty and dancing in the twilight. He soon learns a lot more about her and learns why she is this way and also like why she is selfish and how to remedy that (she hoards up her favourite cakes all to herself and threatens him not to touch them).But that is bc she has been brought up privileged and not had any contact with anybody outside the world that she doesn't know how to fit in.

I'm so proud of it. 

Like first, you fall in love with someone for their outside. Then you have to endure and try to get to know their inside and then once you know what they are like, it is up to choice to try and get along or leave then. I think that's the three crucial steps to love :] And only after that, can you attest whether that love is 'true' as in compatible for the long run.

Yeah! I need a real life 🫠

Eomer’s flaw is chiefly that he takes things at face value because that’s how he was brought up. The Rohirrim doesn’t have much disguises and are straightforward and honest, you know. And he takes it that way. And when he first saw Lothíriel, that was the case: he took her to be a beautiful creature, a heavenly being. He has to learn the depths and layers of everything. 

And like, one incident is when he’s to leave the next day and asks if she’d wish him to return some day. She says, what would it change if she wish or not? That he’d try to come back at all cost if he knew she wished for it. She starts saying something like ‘But I could tell you that I wish for you to never come back here again. Would that prevent you from doing so?’ 

‘It would.’ 

Startled, she asks ‘Why?’ 

‘Because you said so.’ 

‘But I could be wishing something entirely different and may voice something else because of . . . propriety. And I am only saying this for example, mind you. Would you still take it at face value of what I said, when you probably know it to be otherwise?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Then you are disregarding my— the person’s genuine wish?’ 

‘No. Though you may be wishing something different, I respect the decision you made to not speak of that wish. For whatever reason you thought it fit to keep your true feelings a secret, I will have to respect that decision of your mind that chose to not tell me your wish.’

Is this too cheesy—

I’m sorry I’m so proud of this atm tho

please let me know what you think 🥹🥹

#lord of the rings #eomer eadig #karl urban #lotr #lothiriel #eothiriel #dol amroth #swan lake #lotr fanfic #fic idea #future wip #dreambigdreamz

[justkending]

Found Memories. Chapter 1.

Finding Memories Sequel: (I advise you to read the 1st series for context).

Series Summary: Following the aftermath of Finding Memories, Bucky tries to complete goals he feels she would have discovered for herself as a way to let her memory live on. However, he never expected to find someone very close to who he believed she would have been if given the chance of normalcy. A journey of mourning someone he lost, turned into a journey of discovering someone new, happens upon the soldier. Maybe this whole normal thing isn’t as bad as he had pictured it in his mind. Maybe he had a better shot at it than he ever tried to imagine.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader insert

Chapter Word Count: 4000+

A/N (PLEASE READ): So I may or may not have gone back on my deal to not post until I finished writing it all, but I'm 15 chapters in, and though I have a ton more to write, I wanted to drop the first chapter for my Finding Memories people to have some closure, and also to see where Bucky's story plans to lead.

This series is told through 1st person unlike a lot of my others, but I realize I like this style a lot more. So all this is from Bucky's perspective in this chapter. I also understand this may seem a little confusing with this being a reader insert for both these stories, so using Y/N will make it harder to tell the difference between the characters. I’ll be calling our previous Y/N from the Finding Memories series, Sloan, just to avoid confusion. But please don’t let that take away from any of the personal aspects of the story. This is just a continued story of Bucky finding happiness after the ending of Finding Memories. (Just think of it as him falling for you 2x ;) There is a note at the bottom after reading so please read that when you finish!

Last note! For each chapter, I am connecting a song from the playlist our last reader left and Bucky took on his own. The song will play off the vibes of each chapter. You don't have to listen if you don't want to, but it is here as a little piece of Bucky's theme (sometimes thought processes and feelings) in each chapter. Enjoy!

Playlist song: At Last by: Etta James

Chapter 1: 

4 years and 364 days had gone by since her passing.

Almost 5 years, 2 weeks, and 4 days since I had rescued her.

I think the reason it stuck with me was that this was one of those missions that carrying on like normal afterwards, wasn’t really an option.

When you lose someone on the field, whether you know them or not, a piece of you is saddened that someone lost their life. Normal. Human. Emotions. 

However, you feel depressed and emotionally stuck when it’s someone you had become familiar with and plan to continue to grow familiar with. 

It hurt even more when it was someone who deserved to go far in life and learn so many things about themselves in a healthy and safe environment. It was a stab to the heart to know she never saw that for herself and had made a decision no one should be put in the position to make. 

But it happened. In the very likely chance someone was to find her and use her for her powers again, she erased all possibilities of it getting into the wrong hands. And with it erased all chances to experience the good in the world as well.

After she died, Bruce and Tony tested her blood to find what the other mutation was even if I knew for the most part. 

We didn’t have much time to understand it, or for her to really explain all the pieces that came with her enhancements that she seemed to remember the day before her ultimate fate. But from what she had passed onto me in the last moments of her life, I feel like I had some kind of grasp of it. 

Her hand over my heart seconds before her powers consumed her was more than just a sentimental goodbye. She shared within that touch her fears, her intentions, her understandings, and the peace she found in her decision. 

It was something I could never explain in words to someone else, but it was a feeling that made me understand why it all had to come to the end that it did. 

She had told me the night before, that her powers were created from the cosmos, and it was a power that could bring an end to society and the world we try so hard to keep afloat in what feels like constant choppy waters. 

She didn’t have to go into too much depth about what all that meant, but it would soon be proven within hours of explaining to me that we would not get the end we hoped for. 

I can’t lie and say I never expected things to take the turns they did. I live the life I have constantly considering the worst-case scenarios, and her death was always one of those scenarios as soon as we saved her in that hidden terrorist facility.

Bruce and Tony confirmed that her gifts were something that could be world-ending and quickly incinerated her blood so that no one could get ahold of that kind of power down the line. 

The wishes she made on her deathbed were met and I was trying to meet all the other ones she had made and never got the chance to do herself. 

It took me a while to go into her room and start to clean out the few personal items she had slowly gathered in the short time she was there, but really there wasn’t much to clean. 

She had a few plants. I took one and Wanda took the other. Her clothes were either taken by Wanda or Nat and the rest were donated. 

She had some books that had been gifted to her about random things she had found interest in while trying to find herself. A cookbook, a book on herbs and plants she used to read to put a name to the plants on the compound during her walks, and some history books Parker was kind enough to loan her so she could catch up with the world around her. 

The only other thing of significance I found, and didn’t realize was something she kept, was a journal. It was in the nightstand drawer, but it had been hidden under all the other books she had collected. 

Inside, it was a list of notes she made about those she had become close with. 

1. Wanda is from Sokovia and she had a brother named Pietro whom she misses dearly.  2. Nat had a sister that’s on missions across seas and sees her every other month, but they keep in contact when able.  3. Bruce has 7 PhDs but has test anxiety.  4. Tony blast rock music that can be heard 3 levels above. (check songs to see if they spark anything…) 5. Bucky acts like Sam annoys him, but I secretly think they’re just as good of friends as he and Steve are. 6. Steve and Bucky grew up together and from what Nat said, “One looks for trouble the other follows cause he still sees Steve as a 90lb Brooklyn kid.” 7. Sam is from Louisanna and mentioned making a shrimp boil… (Still need to look that up...) 8. Bucky likes to prank Sam and Steve in small ways that they never figure out and it drives them slightly insane. 9. Spiderboy is incredibly smart but is also somehow very naive to the teasing he gets from everyone else.  10. Movie nights are something that everyone gets excited about and they all have very different tastes in movies to show me. So far, I've enjoyed the comedies the most. (Peter picked the movie Grown-ups and some of the things they do make no sense and are extremely goofy, but I think that's why I liked it...)

The list went on for about five pages of random things she discovered and felt were important to know about the team and sometimes even herself. 

But in the back, only found if you looked through each page of the small journal, was a list of things she wanted to try once she felt ready and was given the chance to. 

It didn’t feel right ripping the pages out for myself, or taking the journal and ruining it with my scribbles, so I copied the list in a notebook of my own and added some things I think she would have enjoyed if I was given the chance to show her. 

She only got about 24 things written that she wanted to experience in the real world. Most of which were simple things most take for granted having the choice to do any day. 

Right now I was looking at number seven;

7. Go to a coffee shop and try different drinks with cinnamon in them. Find a favorite, so I can eventually say, “I’ll have the usual,” like they do in the movies. 

It was hard to know what her favorite would have been, but I did the best I could. Eventually, I had a usual at the coffee shop I started the adventure on. 

“He’s back.” The barista whose head was in the pastry display shot up and smiled toward me. “It’s been a minute since we’ve seen you. Life or work in the way this time?” 

“What’s the difference?” I responded though it came across a little more melancholy than I meant. 

Luckily, Trudy, the shop owner, had become familiar with me enough to know it’s just how I talk. 

“Get him the usual, dear,” she said to the worker at the front as she wrapped a muffin and handed it to a customer waiting on the side. 

When the worker just looked at her wide-eyed and freaked out, Trudy laughed to herself and pointed her to another task. 

“Forgot she’s only been here for 2 days,” Trudy’s New York accent was strong as she typed in my regular order. “So. Any big bad guys in the world I should be worryin’ about or do you have it handled?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about, Trud,” I smiled as she grabbed a cup and wrote one of her new names for me on it. She was clever with what she could come up with depending on the day. “Sorry, I haven’t been in. I was sent overseas for a bit the last few weeks.”

“You haven’t come in a month,” she said with a raised motherly eyebrow. 

“Hate to break it to ya, but there are bad guys I have to take care of over here too. They keep me just as busy sometimes,” I chuckled, moving out of the way in case someone else needed to order. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she groaned, grabbing a pastry and wrapping it up for me. “I made a new recipe from my Italian side of the family. Give it a try,” she stuck a sticker on it to seal the bag and came around the counter to give it to me. “Tell me how you like it.” 

“How much?” I went on to grab cash knowing she likely wouldn’t let me pay anyway. 

“Cost ya a review on Yelp,” she pushed it on me more. “I had someone come in the other day and try and cheat the system to get free stuff, and when I wouldn’t budge she lowered my rating on the damn website.”

“I don’t think one bad rating will hurt ya, Trud,” I sighed, taking it and putting the cash in the tip jar instead.

“Eh, I like to counter it with a good one where I can. Plus, I’m running out of fake emails to do it myself. Help a gal out.” 

I laughed knowing she may have been a small hole-in-the-wall business, but she got enough foot traffic to keep her afloat even if she joked about going under if I didn’t give her reviews and tell my friends about it. 

Before I could give her peace of mind knowing I’d help in any way she asked me, the bell rang as another customer came in. 

I looked back absentmindedly and saw a woman with her head down while she talked on the phone, but was kind enough to go to the side and finish her conversation before walking to the register. 

“That drink ready?” Trudy shouted to the back and just in time a barista walked out with the cup of my “usual” drink and handed it off. “I’ll be seeing ya sometime soon, right?” She withheld the coffee until I confirmed. 

“Tomorrow,” I promised knowing I had one thing planned and I knew it wouldn’t be interrupted. 

“Good. Have a good one, Boomer,” she winked and I looked to see the name matched on the cup. 

“What does that mean?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Something the kids are calling old people like you and me,” she shrugged. “Figured if I was going to be called it, you should too.” 

I rolled my eyes playfully before giving a final goodbye and heading toward the doors. The woman that had come in was hanging up the phone and happened to look up at the same time I passed. 

She had soft eyes and smiled up at me in a polite way before sidestepping and moving to the counter. 

I couldn’t help but stop with my hand on the door handle as I looked at her trying to grasp who she reminded me of. 

She had kind features and her light smile was what made me do a double take. I may have imagined it, but something about her beamed at me in a way that I couldn't shake.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when someone else tried to come in and I quickly opened the door for them and moved out of the way. But I looked in the shop one more time seeing Trudy smiling back at the woman and sharing a similar banter she had with me. 

I honed in my hearing some and caught the middle of the conversation. 

“I would ask if you want your normal order, but it’s been so long I’m not sure if it’s the same,” Trudy teased. 

“The move has been great. Thanks for asking Trudy,” the woman remarked with a laugh. 

It would become creepy pretty quickly with me just staring and eavesdropping in the doorway, so I moved on even if I was intrigued to hear the rest of this conversation. 

I took my time walking to my car since the woman’s face was sticking in my mind. Something seemed oddly familiar of her, but I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. 

________________________

“Hey, I was looking for you!” Sam’s voice sounded as soon as I walked into the kitchen. 

“I’d rather you weren’t,” I said back, going to the trash to throw my cardboard cup away and grab a snack from the fridge. 

“Hardy, har, har,” Sam responded. “But really. I need help with a file I can’t access.” 

“Maybe you can’t access it for a reason,” I gave a smug smile to him as I shut the fridge and took a bite out of the apple I stole from it. 

“You're really channeling that clown energy as Parker would say today, aren't you?” he gave me a straight face before pulling papers I hadn’t noticed beforehand and passed them to me. “It’s just some notes on a mission we did last week, but I need to tweak some things. For some reason, the file isn’t giving me access so I was going to ask if I can go through your account.”

“Have Tony look at your account. Maybe the clearance level got mixed up. He had a new protection server put in the other week and a few accounts were tweaked.” 

“Well, he's not in his lab.”

“Ok,” I dragged out. “Sounds like a personal problem.” 

“Barnes, just let me on your account for two seconds to fix it and then I’ll go and find him. It won’t take me longer than five minutes,” Sam groaned. 

I could continue to give him a hard time, but I needed to get some things ready for tomorrow and wasn’t in the mood to keep up my normal antics. 

“Fine. Where’s your computer?” I huffed, biting into the apple again and waiting for him to bring it to me. 

He smiled like he won, even though I could still say no if I wanted, and grabbed the laptop on the counter and handed it off to me. 

I logged in like normal and went to the file, but was stopped when I came to the same problem he had. 

“What the hell?” I glared at the screen and tried a few more tricks but this new protective program Tony had installed was foreign to me. 

“Damn it,” Sam crossed his arms and sighed. “You’re the third person now. Why won’t it let me see this damn file?” 

I looked at him waiting for him to explain. 

“I asked Nat and Wanda too. No luck,” he shrugged. 

That was strange. It was a file from the mission we had done last week. A thief that had been stealing intel from some division in the SHEILD operations over some classified information, but we had captured and incarcerated the hacker. 

“Friday,” I asked into the void and her voice followed. 

“How can I help, Sargent Barnes?” 

“Why aren’t we able to get into these files?” 

There was a pause as she tried to find the answer. 

“It seems to be in a classification you don’t have access to. Clearance levels are not high enough. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

Sam and I shared a look that showed we were on the same page. There were very few things we didn't have access to, so the system was screwed or not modified after the update. At least that was to hoping it was something that simple.

“No. Where’s Tony at?” I asked instead. 

“He’s headed to the lobby. He has an appointment with Ms. Clark.” 

The name didn’t sound familiar, though there were a lot of people Stark talked to that I never cared to learn about. He was the face of the team anyway, so luckily he handled a majority of the social aspects of our job. 

“Thanks, Friday,” I nodded my head to the exit. 

Sam nodded in agreement and we made our way to the lobby to find him. 

It wasn’t a portion of the compound we were usually in, so seeing people in business suits coming and going always reminded me of the mass amount of workers who never did fieldwork that came and went. 

“Stark,” I shouted once I spotted him at one of the reception desks talking with the secretary that was handing him papers she had just printed. 

He turned at his name and looked at us both confused as to why we would be there. 

“Got a question for ya,” Sam started out. 

“Can it wait? I have a meeting with someone I actually like,” he said sarcastically. 

Before I had the chance to spit something back at him and give him a taste of his own medicine, Sam took over. 

“I need access to a file of the mission report we just came back from, but it’s not allowing me to get to it,” he summed up. 

“Strange,” Tony hummed, looking at the papers he was previously handed as if our issue was nothing for him to worry about. 

“It won’t let me through either,” I said and he eventually looked up rolling his eyes before putting the papers on the counter and giving us his attention finally. 

“Can this wait like 20 minutes?” he asked. 

“It might be because of your new and overly complicated-” I started and once again, Sam saved me from saying something that would probably have Tony ignoring us the rest of the week if I wasn't careful. 

“We’ll wait,” Sam nodded. “We’ll be over there.” 

He pointed to a few chairs off to the side and nodded his head for me to follow. Though I was against the motion, I obliged to not make matters more annoying. I’d give him 20 minutes, but I was just as intrigued by this issue as Sam was now. 

Tony went back to the secretary and grabbed the papers looking through them before grabbing a pen and sloppily marking random things out before handing it back. 

Just as he turned back, he seemed to have spotted who he was looking for to begin with and I followed his eyeline. 

Walking in and looking around marveling at the size of the place before seeing Tony and smiling at him, was the same woman who I had seen at the coffee shop. The same one who was talking to Trudy about a move. 

I must have been staring while she and Tony met in the middle and started casually conversing. She reached into the tote she was carrying and handed Tony what looked like a sweater and a folder, but he only took the piece of clothing leaving her with just the folder still in hand.

My stare must have been unmoving cause Sam nudged me with his shoulder and gave me a weird look when I broke out of my trance. 

“What are you gawking at?” he asked, looking where I was and raising his eyebrows. “Oh, I see.” 

I furrowed my eyebrows and gave him a disapproving look to show his mind wasn’t in the right place. 

“Shut up,” I grunted, slouching some in my spot, but only to show disinterest in an attempt to push him off my case. 

“No, I get it. She’s a pretty lady,” Sam chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his own seat. “Just didn’t see you looking for something like that anytime soon-”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I cut him off. “I saw her at a coffee shop earlier today and she just looked familiar. That’s it.” 

He looked from me back at the girl and turned his head as he analyzed her. 

She was smiling at something Stark was saying and shaking her head about whatever it was he was grinning about. I wasn’t sure what the conversation could even be about, and with the loud echoing space, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was being shared. 

“I have an idea,” Sam spoke up after a second and stood up without any hesitance, and walked towards the two. 

“Sam, wait! Stop! What are you doing?” I whisper shouted sitting up and looking around as if someone else was in on this idea with him. 

When he didn’t turn back or let up in his steps, I was quickly on my feet trying to get ahead of him to stop him, but he was walking faster causing us to interrupt the two abruptly and throw them both off. 

“Hi,” Sam smiled kindly at her then back at Stark. 

“I told you I would help you after I talked with-,” Tony started, but Sam patted his shoulder and made him pause. 

“Sam Wilson,” he went on to introduce himself while putting his other hand out for her.  

The woman seemed surprised by the introduction, but she was kind nonetheless and extended her own hand before introducing herself. 

“Y/N Clark,” she smiled. “Nice to meet you.” 

Sam turned to me and she followed his look. I wasn’t prepared to talk to her, but I wasn’t going to be rude and just sit there silently and stare at her. 

I extended my hand as well and she smiled at the motion. 

“James Barnes,” I gave a tight smile, but it wasn’t because of her, it was because I was seconds from punching Sam right in the chest for putting me in this position. 

“Mr. Barnes. Nice to meet you,” she nodded, returning the handshake and it was surprisingly firm. 

I would have paid mind to the detail, but now being in close proximity to the woman, I was seeing features that I hadn’t taken in before. 

She had Y/H/C hair, Y/E/C eyes, and her smile was one I had seen before. She was wearing a bright red checkered winter coat that sat on top of a tan sweater tucked into a nice pair of brown slacks. It seemed fitting for her even if I hadn’t known anything about her. But something in her persona showed she was kind and had a welcoming nature. 

Tony rolled his eyes once again and decided to go ahead and introduce us. 

“Cyborge and Birdman, this is Ms. Clark. She’s Morgan’s teacher. Ms. Clark, these are two of my most impatient coworkers,” Tony motioned to us. “Who I asked to give me a second before I talked with them…” The glare he was giving us pulled me away from staring at her longer than what would have been socially acceptable. 

“Thank this one for the interruption,” I shouldered Sam harshly which he became slightly unbalanced from and gave me another glare. 

“Just seemed rude to not introduce your colleagues,” Sam gritted through his teeth, talking to me when the comment was directed to Tony. 

“It’s fine,” Ms. Clark spoke up, breaking the growing tension between us three, and I immediately turned my attention back to her. “I was here to just drop off these two things anyway.” 

“Yeah, well, I had a few things I wanted to discuss without,” Tony continued, only taking a second in between to send us yet another death stare, “this interruption.” 

“I appreciate what you’re offering, but I’ve already told you I have a job set with another district after this year,” she smiled professionally, and I couldn’t help but smile myself at seeing someone say no to Tony. 

“Yeah, but… Money.” His eat-shit grin worked on the weak-minded, but clearly, she was not that. 

“Money is great and all, but it's not what this is about, Mr. Stark,” she chuckled, readjusting her tote on her shoulder. "Maybe after winter break and I get some paperwork back from the new school I'll be at, we will better understand what I'll have on my plate."

“That sounds like a well-worded way to put this conversation off,” Tony smirked. 

She returned it which proved he was right, but she wasn’t falling for his schemes still. 

“It’s Christmas break, Mr. Stark. Have a great vacation with your family and happy holidays,” she nodded, turning to walk out, but not completely turned away. “You two as well. I hope the world is kind enough to give you all a break as you deserve during this time.” 

“If I know anything about teaching, I know you’ll be needing a break just as much,” Sam shouted in her direction with a smile. 

She laughed at that and it was a sound that made it hard not to smile as a reaction to it. 

“Happy Holidays,” she said one final time, waving kindly and moving to the exit. 

“Well, she seems nice,” Sam grinned in a teasing manner and turned to face us both by taking her place. 

“This is why I haven’t brought her around here,” Tony sighed heavily and ran a hand through his beard. “Now, what do you two want?” 

Sam followed quickly after Tony, who was already walking back to the lab, but I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes from the red checkered jacket that was out the doors now and walking down the steps. 

It was another feeling that I couldn’t quite put into words…

I unfortunately don't have a release date for the next chapter as I am going to stick to my promise of finishing the series before I post any further. This is just to give an idea of what's to come! As always, any likes or reblogs, and comments (even if just a heart or a gif) makes my blood, sweat, and tears for this series feel validated :') ANYWHO!! I'm excited to share with you all the stories to come with this series and these characters because in writing them, I've fallen in love with them myself.

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Monster Like Me (Tyler x Addams!reader)

Monster Like Me (Tyler Galpin x Addams!reader) Word Count: 3888 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: mentions of prison treatment, bad mental health, self-hate, a gun, medical procedures, bloody crime scenes, and (obviously) SPOILERS for Tim Burton's Wednesday tv show on Netflix

Tyler Galpin doesn't regret what he did. Or so he liked everyone to believe, even himself. But a visit from a certain empath Addams girl to his prison has him reconsidering his true feelings five years on. Is he truly alone? Or is she a monster like him?

I was never planning on posting anything I write on this account but the show Wednesday inspired me to write a bit of flash fiction (so don't expect a sequel) that I thought you guys would appreciate. Just a silly idea but fun nonetheless to write.

The overhanging light in the interrogation room flickers, casting shadows of ghosts long gone on the two faces presently staring at one another. 

The boy sits in his chair rigidly, restricted. Despite his smirk - the kind that oozed charisma, carelessness, and smug satisfaction of being right where he wants to be - he looks uncomfortable. But that’s to be expected when one is bound in a straight jacket and chained to the ground. A catheter tube is strapped into the back of his neck, hooked up to a machine pressed against the back wall. 

A caged, raging animal. That is what he is. All he has been since the day he was brought in.

The girl still stands by the door, unwilling just yet to join the chained boy at the worn table that separated them.

Curious eyes scan the boy’s figure. His usually dishevelled curls are even more unruly than before he was taken away. Colour is drained from every inch of him - even his chestnut eyes hold no spark of fireplace warmth like they used to. His cheekbones protrude grossly from under his taught, moon-sick skin. The gashes from his fight with the wolf have long since healed, but as their eyes lock, she senses that the mental scars still remain. Still fresh in his young but twisted mind.

‘You look good,’ she says, breaking the suffocating silence.

The boy raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider, more lethal. ‘I’m so glad you noticed. It’s this new treatment I’m using called enslavement. Maybe you should try it some time. It might just bring some colour to your dead life.’

Oh yeah. Very fresh, still.

‘You mistake me for my sister,’ she says taking a step towards the table finally. ‘Unlike her, I won’t break out in hives at the mere sight of another colour other than black.’

His eyes darken at that, and the smirk twists into a sneer. A wave of fury hits the girl as they stare at each other again. He no doubt still hates Wednesday for ruining his life. And despite the fact that he is a psychotic, shapeshifting murderer, she can’t help but feel a little sorry for him at the thought.

‘I’m not here to talk about her,' she continues. 'I came here to talk about you.’

‘You mean you were sent here to talk to me. Not by choice.’

She nods. ‘Indeed, I didn’t have much say in the matter, but…’ She pulls the seat out and finally sits down, her eyes meeting his equal level with equal confidence. ‘I am here, nevertheless. And we will talk.’

The boy scoffs and leans back from the table, shaking his head. Her heart twinges slightly at how his curls droop low over his eyes as he does it, bringing flashbacks of the times they would sit like this and chat. Except the flashbacks included sitting opposite sides of a coffee table, and his curls bounced and drooped because he laughed.

Venomous, hateful eyes peer up through his sandy blond curls. ‘What’s there to be said?’

‘You can start by telling me how you’ve been since we all last saw you.’

‘Do I really have to spell that out for you?’

‘I can make an assumption, but I’m not one to assume without concrete evidence. You should know that.’

‘Should I, though? Because you and Wednesday made it pretty hard to get to even know what your favourite colours were.’

‘Now, do I have to spell that out for you?' The girl crosses her arms, attempting a bored posture. 'Wednesday is a black and white person. Literally. She never hides anything except her subjectivity because it is grey… and she hates grey, ironically enough.’

The silence that ensues is only made more ominous by the haunting shadows of the flickering over-head light. They act as masks as they pass over the twos’ faces, hiding, revealing, and changing their true emotions in flashes. 

‘Do you regret any of it?’ the girl asks softly, hesitantly.

The boy chuckles darkly. ’So we are going to talk about this, then.’

‘Eventually,’ she quips, ‘I just wanted to see if you would deflect or accept the bait.’

‘Did I pass your test, then?’ 

‘That is yet to be determined.’

She pulls up onto the table a briefcase - one of them olden day ones with buckles and latches but made of good quality black leather. Unlatching the main lock, she opens it and reaches in to pull out a manilla folder. With a carefree flick of her wrist, it lands just on the table’s edge in front of the boy.

‘Go on,’ she urges impatiently.

He looks at her incredulously, the snark and the anger from before now replaced by confusion. ‘Really?’

After a moment, she laughs, clinking the side of her head lightly with her palm. ‘Oh my, how silly of me! Forgot that being a psycho means you lose hand privileges,’ she says, her over-enthusiasm cracking a smile on her dark lips.

Before he can have a dig at her, she pulls out a key from her sweater’s sleeve, and he gives her a curious look.

‘How did you get that in here?’ he asks.

‘Wednesday might be the more daring and riskier of us two,’ she says, standing up to walk around to stand behind him, ‘but I have a more subtle way of being rebellious.’

She bends to start unchaining him, then moves to unbuckle the numerous straps holding his arms and legs restricted in his straight jacket. Once she is done, she walks back and sits in her chair, folds her arms, and waits for him to move.

He slowly moves his arms and legs, giving them a stretch he no doubt hasn’t been allowed to have in a long while. 

‘Better?’ she asks, her tone impatient.

He chuckles, dead eyes watching her wearily. ‘You must have a death wish, or something.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh please. If you were going to kill me, you would’ve ripped out that gene-repressant medicine and changed into the Hyde by now.’ Her patience is wearing thin now as she leans forward, sparking her to push the manilla folder closer to the boy. ‘But you haven’t, which means I have your curiosity. And I intend to keep that. Now - look.’

His smirk returns, sharp as a knife. ‘You have my curiosity, I’ll give you that. But not my respect.’

The girl mutters something irritable under breath as she opens the briefcase to show something else hidden among the documents stashed inside. Something dark and shiny. Metallic. ‘Make one wrong move and I will-’

‘You’ll what?’ His following chuckle is mirthless, humourless, empty even of despair. ‘You’ll blow my brains out? I’ve heard that threat before.’

‘I was going to say I would blow my brains out,’ she corrects, patting the hidden gun lightly before withdrawing her hand. 'If only so you don’t get the satisfaction of ripping me apart yourself. And isn’t part of the fun hearing the screams of your victims... Tyler?’

That brings a small smile to his face, even if it does edge on manic. 'As much as I would love to chat about what fun it was killing all those people… I see what you’re trying to do, Addams.’

Wednesday was a much more memorable name than (y/n). To everyone back then, she was just her less-psychotic older sister that stood to the side quietly and pulled Wednesday out of trouble when needed. Still weird, but not weird enough, she supposed. But despite her seniority, she was never considered cool like Wednesday, who wasn't afraid to be who she was on a large scale. (Y/n) was happy to be herself too, but in the sanctity of the library, her bedroom, behind her camera. It's why she was subjected to being merely Addams. For the only cool and outcast-y thing about her was her lineage.

But Tyler never used that. Not once. It was always (y/n) when they hung as friends. And despite her objections to her nickname, hearing her real name always brought a little light into her dark and twisted life.

We're not friends anymore, though.

‘I’m not trying anything,’ she replies, batting her eyes innocently at him.

‘Oh yeah, then what’s with this folder? Why risk freeing me just so you don’t have to dirty your own hands?’

‘Why don’t you open the folder and find out.’

They’re dancing a dangerous dance, stopping each other at exactly the right moment when one wants to turn away. By the irritated look in his eyes, she knows it bothers him. 

He contemplates the folder for a moment, and she worries that he will try to escape. But he opens the folder, his boney hands shaking as he does.

Surprise softens his features for the first time since she’s entered the room, and he looks like he did the day her and her sister first met him in the Weathervane coffee shop in Jericho. Actually, his face was screwed up in annoyance the first day they met, having to deal with a broken coffee machine. But when Wednesday fixed it, his features softened, and the girl couldn’t recall a moment where someone had looked so… appreciative of their presence.

He flicks through pictures that were previously enclosed in the folder, slowly, shakily. Like he wants to make sure what he is seeing is true and not just ghosts. After all, for those of them on the outside of the prison, pictured in the photos, the boy was just a ghost to them now, five years on. 

The pictures are of the town, of the new and old structures that made it up, of the festivals that have come and gone since he last saw it. The pictures are of people, too. She watches him carefully as he holds onto those ones in particular. There is pain as he glides his fingers softly over the aging faces of his friends, she can sense it. His gaunt face tightens even more when he spies a particular pigtailed, dark-lipped girl, the photo capturing her in the middle of showing one of her infamous rare smiles. 

‘That was our graduation day,’ the girl says, her voice gentle and quiet. Anything louder seemed inappropriate. But she did not lose her edge. ‘Enid thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off the top of the fountain in the quad on our final day. She ended up breaking four bones and howling like a baby wolf. Wednesday found the whole thing… well, you remember how she was. Rest assured, she is pretty much the same.’

The boy traces the photo, his eyes wide with a wonder and tenderness that the girl is surprised to see. A flicker of the past lights up in his chestnut eyes, and a spark of hope ignites in her chest.

But that flicker dies out, his lips drawing up in a sneer as he suddenly rips the photo in half, then again, and again, until the photo is nothing but scraps on the table. ‘What the fuck is the point of all this?’ he asks, his voice of a mixture of both anger and hurt. ‘What does any of this have to do with me?’

‘It has everything to do with you,’ she replies. ‘Considering your reaction, I don’t believe you’ve fully let go of the past. That maybe after all this time… you still care.’

‘What? Are you a psychiatrist or something now?’

She shrugs. 'I’m an Empath, it’s unavoidable for me to not extrapolate and decipher people’s thoughts and emotions. Especially strong ones like yours.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ he snaps back, shoving the photos away. ‘I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about the future. I played my part and it pleased my master. That’s all that matters!’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. And neither do you.’

‘What do you know?’

‘A lot more than you think. As usual, you underestimate me.’

‘Well, try this.’ He slams his hands on the table so hard it makes a thunderous clap that is almost deafening. ‘The only thing that I care about is getting out of here and destroying Wednesday Addams. The only regret I have about the past is that I didn’t kill all of you when I had the chance.’

The words sting, undoubtedly, like a thousand bees stabbing her heart. But the girl holds still, willing herself to keep her composure. She’d heard from the Sheriff himself that his visits usually ended here, when the boy threw insults at his own father and drove him away.

Let’s see what happens when I keep pushing.

‘You speak with such hateful words,’ she says calmly, daring to look him straight in the eye. ‘And yet they hold no meaning.’

‘What?’ he hisses, spittle flaying from his furious sneer. 

'Sorry, do I need to speak in laymen’s terms? You. Don’t. Mean. That.’

A feral snarl erupts from him as his hand reaches over the table to grab at her throat. But her hand is in range of the gun, and she is quick to draw it from the bag, unlock the safety and push it hard against his forehead. He immediately stops, his fury dissipating slightly as he reassessed his new situation.

‘I said I’d blow my head off, but I never said anything about not shooting you first,’ she says, each word clipped with deathly promise.

They are so close she can feel his breath caressing her placid face. Surprisingly, it is fresh, like the gently falling snow starting to build up outside as winter settles in. The warmth it brings contrasts the cold of the room, and she stops herself from leaning closer just to feel the sensation once more.

A war wages in their eyes as they stare each other down, but she presses the gun more forcefully against his forehead, and he seems to take the hint. He takes deep breaths as he slowly backs away, his hands raised in mock surrender as he finally sits down.

‘Wise choice.’ The girl places the gun back in the briefcase, safety back on, and folds her hands on the table once more. As if they were just having a civil conversation.

‘You know, pushing people away isn’t the solution,’ she continues. ‘But it does tell me one thing.’

‘And what’s that, Doc?’ he asks, his smirk no longer as sure or as wide. He looks exhausted, the dark circles under his lifeless eyes indicative of the sleepless nights, the mistreatment to his body, the baggage he still carries but does not wish to anymore.

‘That you don’t want people to see you like this,’ she answers. ‘Especially those who love you, and who you love in return.’

‘They don’t love me,’ he spits, venom in every word. She senses that he truly believes it. ‘If they loved me, they would understand. If they loved me, they wouldn’t question why I did what I did. If they truly loved me, none of this would’ve even happened!’

His eyes redden with salty tears, and it is the enormity of his pain and hurt and sadness that has the girl resisting the urge to cry, too. 

He wipes at the tears that trail down his face, but still more fall. A beat passes, then another, and another until he calms down once more. His red eyes look over the photos again, brushing aside the picture he tore to inspect the rest. When he is done, he leans back and looks up at the girl.

‘Why?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Why what?’

‘Why are you not in any of these?’

‘This isn’t about me.’

‘How do you expect me to open up to you Addams after five years of not seeing you, and expect me not to ask you some personal questions?’

The girl shrugs. ‘Fair point.’ She gathers the photos and turns them to face her. She flicks through them herself, a gentle tilt of her lips the only indication of the joy the memories brought.

‘I’m a professional photographer now,’ she says after a moment. ‘I have a blog where I post the pictures and write about the things I photograph. I'm also commissioned for photoshoots, occasionally. Sometimes it’s places I visit, or people I get to meet. Sometimes they’re wonderful, but other times not so much.’ She takes a breath to compose herself, flashes of torn body parts and frozen bodies coming to the forefront of her mind. Crime scenes, no matter how many she visited, were always the worst jobs.

She wills the memories away before she continues. 

‘This is a collection of photos from my perspective. How beautiful the world is through my eyes.’

‘You don’t think you belong in that kind of world.’ 

It isn’t a question. The girl looks up, expecting the hateful eyes she’s come to know from him. Instead, she is met with curiosity and wonder. He stares at her openly, and she reciprocates.

‘Yes,’ she breathes, nothing lighter than a whisper. 

‘Why?’

She pauses to contemplate her answer. She is meant to be interrogating him, not the other way around. But his words come back to haunt her, and the truth ringing in them spurs her to speak. 

‘Because… I can’t see myself. It’s like I am ghost in my own body. I am surrounded by people who stand out, who have their own minds and hearts and stories to tell. From a young age I have felt other people’s wants and needs, desires and emotions that I have no business feeling. I feel them so intrinsically that I imagine those emotions and desires were my own. And if I think hard enough, I might just be able to… shut it off.’

‘Shut what off?’ he asks, though the caution on his face tells her he already knows.

‘Their humanity,’ she replies as quick as flicking a light switch on. ‘The very thing that makes them human. I can just turn it off at the snap of my fingers.’

‘I’m sure Wednesday would love that.’

‘It is not something I wish to impart on anyone.’ Her words silence his amusement, turning the room colder with the icy bite they come with. ‘Because once I switch it off, turning back on... has proven to be a challenge. And you may think Wednesday is a soulless, unfeeling creature, but her emotions are just locked away, carefully concealed and only to be revealed when the right person warrants it.’

She gives him a pointed glare, and he has the right mind to look ashamed. If only for a second. 

‘However slim it is, her humanity remains her sole reason to do what she does. Otherwise, I would’ve been sister-less a long time ago.’

‘That still doesn’t answer my question, Addams,’ he interjects. At this, he leans forward on the table, curls bouncing as he stares directly in her eyes. She remembers those eyes, how they smiled at her sister so many times. How they proclaimed their love for her sister so many times. How they bulged and raged and went insane as he transformed into the Hyde all those years ago. But now - now they seek answers, and something else.

‘Why do you think you’re a monster like me?’

A cynical smile stretches her lips as she leans back and gestures to the photos spread across the table. Of Xavier painting; of Enid and Ajax snuggled up the first time they went camping as a group; of Bianca and some other Fangs dressed up for the final Raven they all attended. All of them smiling, having fun, being human.

‘Because there’s a small part of me that would enjoy crushing their happiness,' she replies, the strength in her delivery reflecting the truth of her words. 'And good people don't think like that.’

The same cynical smile appears on his face, and for a moment it’s just them. Two monsters revealing their darkest desires.

‘I know the feeling,’ he says, and a flicker of guilt flashes in his eyes.

Hope sparks once more inside of her, and she does her best to sound genuine. ‘You’re a good person. Before Laurel got to you, and even now. I can see it. I can sense it.’

He shakes his head, his mirthless laugh echoing throughout the room. ‘Don’t try to brainwash me into thinking I can be saved. Because I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t fall for it. Like I said, I don’t regret what I did. I took pleasure in it.’

‘I’m sure you did, but you’re wrong. I’m not here to brainwash you.’

He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her, curiosity winning over his resolve. ‘Then what are you here for?’

‘This is the longest conversation you’ve had with someone since you were first sent here,’ she said, packing the pictures up in the folder and placing it in her briefcase. ‘The people who brought me in may want me to help you open up and try to get you on a path of redemption. But I feel as if that is a decision you should make on your own. Obviously, I am biased to their aim, but I believe in freedom of speech, of choice, and of action when it comes to a person’s life.’

She stands from her seat and looks at him, the shadows from the flickering light no longer as scary as she first perceived. 

‘You’re a good person, Tyler,’ she repeats, her lips pulling up in her first genuine smile in ages. 'But, arguably, so am I. Everyone is capable of being good or evil. It then just comes down to what we want out of life, and how we utilise our flaws to attain that life.’

When the boy says nothing, she turns and walks to the door. She gently knocks on it, and a few seconds later it is opening and guards are flooding in and straight to the boy.

He struggles a little as they strap him back down, but stops when he realises the girl is leaving. ‘Wait! When are you coming back?’

She pauses at the door and turns, a chagrin smile on her dark lips. ‘Aw, are you going to miss me? Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’

‘But when, (y/n)?’

The fear in his eyes paired with the use of her name, her real name, almost causes her to falter, to stay just a bit longer. She senses the impending loneliness that he fears, that he has known these five years of incarceration, and the heaviness it brings causes her heart to ache with longing and hope. She must leave, but...

I can spare him one last goodbye, though.

She walks back over to where the guards hold him, their eyes locked the entire time. Once she’s close enough, she uses her pointer finger to tilt his head up to meet hers. 

‘Whenever I need to talk to another monster like me.’

With a flick of her finger his head drops and she is walking out of the interrogation room, already anticipating the next time she can see him again. And as she leaves, she catches one last emotion from the boy.

Mutual anticipation.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday #tyler galpin #wednesday addams #reader insert #fanfic #flash fiction #short story #writer #writers on tumblr #friends to enemies to lovers #tyler x wednesday #twisted love #x reader #female reader #romance #enid emma myers #jenna ortega #the addams family #hunter doohan #christina ricci #hyde #don't know what I'm doing #dark #goth #monster #spoilers #wednesdayspoilers #gore

[kafus]

okay well i guess i didn’t need my alarms cause i can’t seem to sleep more lmao. it’s 5 am

soooo pokemon presents in a little less than 4 hrs huh? realistically i’m expecting something either johto or unova related and since they’re apparently lighting up NYC today, which is not usual for pokemon day, i’m kind of leaning unova. i have mixed feelings about this since as much as i actually did enjoy my time with BDSP, i was dually disappointed by them and i’m still sad that sinnoh isn’t going to get the HGSS or ORAS treatment ever - if unova remakes were to be of a similar caliber of bdsp, i’d rather them just not exist at all frankly. nostalgia bias and my immense love for sinnoh aside, i think the unova games, especially bw2, are some of the best games in the entire franchise, and if they are remade, or get bw3 sequels, or whatever, i want them to be GOOD. lets not spit on the legacy of gen 5 now!! but. i remain cautiously optimistic. i’m not a super cynical pokemon fan and like i said i did enjoy bdsp despite everything. also a legends kyurem or whatever would be awesome btw i wanna see the og dragon lol. johto would also be cool but i’m having a lot less thoughts on it for some reason. i’m sure if they announce anything johto ayano will have incredibly passionate thoughts about it

now i’m not really one for predictions, the above talk is maybe the most obvious outcome since they usually do remakes mid-gen. instead i’ll just talk about some things i would WANT even if they’re a pipe dream and i don’t necessarily expect them:

a new PMD. not an explorers remake, a new PMD with a fresh story and everything. we haven’t had a proper new PMD story since 2015 and i MISS IT. i’d also enjoy explorers remakes but frankly i want a new game the most and i wanna play as sprigatito SOBS THE PALDEA STARTERS WOULD BE SO GOOD FOR PMD

gen 3 on NSO with full online capabilities and also connectivity to NSO ports of colosseum and gale of darkness. i 100% do not think this is happening but it would blow me away if it did. the amount of gen 3 that so many people were never able to experience as children, especially me… could finally be done online!!! it’d be cool if they removed all the dumb trading restrictions too but unlikely. (as an aside if they released gen 1/2 VC again with stadium compatibility that’d be epic but i somehow expect that even less)

some sort of new stadium-type game with home compatibility that provides single player trials similar to that of the old gen battle frontiers. i just REALLY really miss old singleplayer battle challenges. i want a new one to spend a bazillion years on making wacky teams and winning w them. i enjoy VGC but sometimes that singleplayer experience hits different

i really am a spinoff enjoyer. surprise me with something new! that isn’t a mobile game with gacha elements! just a whole new standalone pokemon idea. no idea what genre just excite me

MAKE A COMFY FRIENDS SPRIGATITO PLUSH OR SO HELP ME GOD (this is barely related to the presents im just thinking about it i want one soo bad 😭)

and those r all my thoughts i think. these presentations r always a treat because i wake up early and watch them with my friends. i probably won’t be liveposting it on tumblr bc i will be lost in the sauce of discord w the besties. i’ll provide my thoughts later though!

#kiki was here #kiki.txt