#People tell me their favorite cartoons I want to watch more

[k8lynjoy]

I'm so tired of people telling those of us who are upset about the LA atla remake that we are "being too dramatic" or are just "finding things to be upset about". We are allowed to be upset that something that we love so dearly has been butchered, AGAIN. If you liked it, then that's your personal opinion, but don't sit here and tell those of us who didn't that we're the problem.

I personally think the CGI, costumes, and sets all look terrible. None of it is immersive. Sure, it LOOKS like atla, but it doesn't FEEL like atla. The heart of the og is gone, and people are allowed to be upset about this. They've altered characters to the point that they aren't the character anymore (looking at you Aang and Katara), which is a huge upset for me personally because Katara is one of my favorite characters ever. So watching her be turned into someone meek and docile is more than a slap to the face. Not to mention them removing her as the narrator as if Bryke themselves didn't state that Katara is the person the story is being told through. And before you start telling me that Aang is the same. No, he isn't. Major parts of his development through season 1 (him coming to terms with the fact that he's the avatar and embracing that role, and him also accepting the fact that he RAN AWAY and how he is never going to do that again, which is also pivotal to his character later on) are completely removed. And don't even get me started on what they did to Kataang. Regardless of whether you ship them or not, those 2 are deeply connected to one another from the start, and their relationship is a big part of the show, so to see that butchered is heartbreaking for me.

This isn't just about them "making some changes" or it not being a 1:1 adaptation. I'm fine with adaptations that aren't 1:1. What I'm upset about is that the changes they are making are VITAL changes to characters and dynamics between characters. They're rushing through the plot and condensing the story (and I will scream if I hear one more person say that it's because they couldn't fit it all in with their runtime. The runtime is an HOUR LONGER than the og, so yes, they did have the time). The changes they are making make it evident that they do not understand the og show, and if you don't feel like that, fine, once again, that's YOUR opinion, just as this is MY opinion. So stop telling us we have no right to be upset and that we just want to hate everything. That's not true. What is true is that we are expressing valid complaints about another bad adaptation of something dear to us.

Edit: If you also come at people who are upset bc they were expecting a faithful adaptation and didn't get it bc "its not supposed to be the cartoon," you're missing the whole point. An adaptation is ADAPTING SOMETHING from one medium to the other, not rewriting it. "Yall expected it to be just like the cartoon." No, I expected a FAITHFUL ADAPTATION and was met with poorly written fanfiction.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #netflix avatar #katara #aang #kataang #never made a post before but it had to be said bc it was starting to make me mad #atla is my favorite show of all time #stop trying to dictate how i feel about the remake #there is no live action in ba sing se #anti natla #anti LA atla

[piperlivingdeliberately]

Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked! Part II

This is the second part to my first fic! Here's the link to that: :)

Summary: Hazel and the reader grow much closer as friends through the club, and after the emotional bonding meeting, they think they might be ready to grow closer in other ways.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: fem reader (she/her pronouns used), swearing, sexual content (no explicit smut), making out, discussions of divorce, mental health, emotional topics, a bit of hurt/comfort, angsty because I got carried away, etc. Hazel is much less of a loser in this one, but she's just as cute. 18+

Your younger popular self never would have imagined that you would be sitting in a circle with a bunch of losers who you punched in the face every day. Yet here you were, surrounded by violent losers, your favorite loser with a goofy smile on her face sitting to your left. Hazel looked over at you, making you remember how much you never would have expected that smile to make you so weak in the knees.

You still got butterflies thinking about the first time Hazel talked to you; a simple two-word compliment after your first spar made your heart flutter with giddy nerves. The interaction spurred you on enough to allow you to feel comfortable giving her friendly smiles. These quick greetings turned to light touches, then to bolder flirtatious statements, and eventually deep conversations that were cut off by school bells. You wondered when you'd finally gather the courage to discuss what you really wanted to tell her: you had been crushing on Hazel since the first day of eleventh grade. If only your classes were longer than 15 minutes.

"So, we know that the club has been a good way for us to feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a way for us to feel empowered emotionally," Josie kicked off the meeting on yet another unexpected note. You were grateful for the interruption in your spiraling thoughts.

The trauma-dumping session began, everyone adding their own little secrets and worries. You felt comforted by the supportive listening ears and voices around you. You had grown so close to these girls, so close that you ached hearing the tales of their pain. You felt your heart clench even more when Hazel timidly spoke up about her tense relationship with her mother.

"It's just been really good for me to get to know people who actually want to know me," she finished, eyes locking with yours before quickly fixing on her shoes.

"I just want to go back to Brittany for a second--" PJ began, but you didn't listen. You rested your hand on Hazel's knee, an offering of support, of friendship, or maybe something else. You completely tuned out the rest of the meeting when her own hand rested on yours. Her thumb stroked your wrist. Your whole body went stiff, but your hand felt like rippling water being held in hers.

"I think that's a good place to wrap up," PJ closed out the meeting, thanking everyone for their attendance as the rest of your friends filed out. You and Hazel didn't move, though. Your hand stayed on her knee, her thumb stayed gently gliding against the back of yours. Her sharp inhale was the only thing that got you to look up from the spot where you touched.

"Thank you," was all she said. You didn't have to ask why she was thankful, and she knew she didn't have to tell you. Something unspoken was always settled between your eyes as you stared.

"You're welcome." You removed your hand, not knowing if it had been there for too long or not long enough. "If you... If you ever want to keep talking about your mom or anything else that bothers you, I'm always here to listen." Hazel's gaze softened even more, which you didn't think was possible.

"Do you want to come over and talk more?" She said it so fast that even she seemed surprised by the question. "I mean-- only if you want to. We could watch a movie or I don't know. If it's stupid, I'm--"

"Yes," you assured her. "Let's go."

Her eyes widened like a cartoon character, so you began rising off of the gym floor to urge her on. "Oh-- okay. Great. Let's go."

...

The ride to Hazel's house was realistically no longer than 15 minutes. It felt like hours, though, with you using all of your energy to avoid staring at her ringed hands on the steering wheel. Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of what they would feel like on your bare skin. Your cheeks grew even hotter when you finally realized that Hazel had already parked the car and was watching you ogle her fingers.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing, sorry." You pushed the door open, waiting for her to lead you into her house.

One step in, you stifled a gasp. Hazel's home was almost as bright and beautiful as she was.

"Do you want to go up to my room? I can grab some snacks," she offered.

"Sure, sure." You followed her like a puppy as she led you through the breathtaking halls of her house. She gathered various food and DVDs before finally plopping down on her bed when you reached her room. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where you were allowed to sit.

"Come here, you freak," she joked, patting the sheets next to her. You laughed as you tentatively sat at the edge of her bed. "I've had enough trauma-dumping for the day, so I'm thinking we should watch some Disney for a palette cleanser." You grinned like a little kid at the assortment of movies she had laid out before you. "Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?" you replied.

"Pick one." She looked up at you through her dark lashes. "The princess gets to pick the princess movie."

"Fuck off," you scoffed, shoving her playfully to prevent her from seeing how red your cheeks had gotten at the nickname. She simply raised her eyebrows, still waiting for your choice. "Fine." You pointed at the purple and yellow Tangled DVD case.

"Classic." She hopped off the bed and inserted the disc. When she rejoined you, you could have sworn she sat closer than she had originally. Don't think about it, you told yourself. You were just two friends who shared lingering glances and hand touches watching the most romantic princess movie known to man. That's all it was.

The movie was as wonderful as ever, if not more wonderful what with Hazel's poor renditions of all of the songs to entertain you. For the most part, you were able to sit comfortably beside each other. You were completely content to watch the screen, that is when you were able to ignore that you could feel her looking at you instead of the TV at times. It became impossible to ignore when the credits began rolling and you had no choice but to meet her eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked quietly.

She hesitated. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"...not bitchy?" you finished her sentence.

She laughed, "Well, not exactly. I guess I just never would have guessed that you were so kind and supportive."

"Yeah, most people don't expect the popular cheerleader to be anything but a ditsy fucktoy for football players, I guess." You had meant it as a joke, but Hazel shot up in defense.

"That's not what I meant." She shook her head. "I think what I'm trying to say is that I never would have guessed that someone as cool and-- and beautiful as you would hang out with any one of us in the club."

"Honestly," you sighed. "I never would have guessed it either." You shared a laugh with Hazel, marveling at how sweet she sounded when she was happy.

"I'm really glad you joined the club," Hazel told you, suddenly seeming more shy. Her soft gaze melted your heart, yet somehow made you feel braver than ever before.

"You're the reason I love the club so much." You almost whispered it, so afraid of the reaction it would elicit. Hazel continued to look at you for so long that you considered changing the subject as a diversion from your confession. You were unable to speak, though, because Hazel quickly pressed her lips to yours.

The speed of the kiss shocked you at first, Hazel moving quickly as if she were afraid that you would run away. Your hands found her hair and she instantly relaxed, your lips melting together.

You didn't know that kissing could feel this good, this easy, this right. Despite never wanting to stop, you tugged on Hazel's hair to look at her gasping face.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, hands framing your face in concern.

"God, yes," you laughed. "I'm so good."

Your giggles were once again cut off by her lips. They chased yours with more urgency, so you slipped your tongue against hers. She moaned softly against your teeth, spurring on your ministrations until she detached herself from your mouth.

You almost protested at the lack of contact until you felt her wet lips trailing down your jaw and neck. You whined as she sucked and softly bit a sweet spot, reveling in the sound of her moaning at your own noises. Her hands snaked around your waist, slowly climbing up toward your breasts.

"Is this okay?" she breathed against your collarbone.

"Fuck, please." She let out a low chuckle at your begging, her laughter soon muffled against your skin as she slipped her head under your oversized shirt. You felt her breath dance across your tits, aching for her already. After one delicate kiss to your left nipple, moans filled your ears. Hazel emerged from beneath your clothes when you both realized that the sounds were coming from neither of you.

"Shit!" Hazel exclaimed. "I hate it when she does this." She collapsed onto the bed, breathless.

"Is... Is that your mom?"

"Yes," Hazel groaned from behind her hands. "She's very vocal."

"God, I'm sorry you have to hear that." The pair of you couldn't help but laugh at the obscene sounds from down the hall, clutching each other's arms in disbelief as they grew louder.

"I'm just sorry that we were interrupted," Hazel whispered against your hand before kissing your palm.

"I am, too," you agreed. "It's getting late, though. I should go." You nearly got teary-eyed when you saw the sadness on Hazel's face.

"Right," she said. "Let me take you home."

You found yourself wishing that you lived farther from Hazel when she pulled into your driveway after just a few minutes. You planted a quick kiss on her forehead before thanking her and walking to your front door.

"Wait!" you heard Hazel call your name through the rolled-down window. You bounced back over to her. "My mom's not going to be home this weekend. So, if you wanted to come over again, we could... you know..."

"...watch The Princess and the Frog next?" you joked.

Her infectious giggle sounded like Heaven. "You got it, princess." With one more soft kiss, she pulled away from your house.

The weekend couldn't come any sooner.

...

AHHHHH sorry I got so carried away with this but there will DEFINITELY be a smutty part three for all of you sluts. Let me know if you liked this one!

#hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan

[peeweekey]

Sebastian likes frogs. Emphasis on the word likes.

He appreciates them, they do good for the environment. They eat up all the nasty flies that buzz around the mountain lake, too. He doesn’t have to worry about mosquitos snaking on his blood while he smokes. It’s just a plus that he finds them cool and interesting.

Which most people find weird. Sebastian thinks it’s weird that they find it weird. Frogs aren’t going out of their way to bother people.

Yes, he likes them. They’re his favorite animal, certainly.

But favorite is not enough for him to want to smooch a frog.

“Sam, I’m not gonna fucking kiss a frog.”

“C’mon! It’ll be like the movie!” Sam teases, insistently shoving Sebastian to the frog innocently sitting on a park bench. “Who knows, maybe it’ll be your very own froggy princess—”

“Didn’t the girl turn into a frog when she kissed it,” he shoots back, elbowing Sam backwards in the gut. The blond lets out an overdramatic hiss of pain, bent over and clutching his stomach. “Abby, back me up here.”

“I never watched that stuff,” Abigail shrugs, watching with amusement. She makes no move to help at all, comfortably resting against the wide wooden posts of a fence. “Watched a lotta cartoons though. Phineas and Ferb is my jam.”

“Not about the movie,” Sebastian grits exasperatedly. His brows knitting together in frustration “The frog.”

“Mhm, go on,” a cheshire-like grin on her face. “Kiss it, Seb. A big smooch right on its slimy mouth.”

Sam eggs him on, the pain of being elbowed magically disappearing. “Do it! Do it!”

Sebastian presses his lips tightly together. There’s no use resisting once Abby and Sam band together. They’re a force to be reckoned with like this—demanding and overbearing. Sebastian exasperatedly wipes a hand over his face, shooting the poor frog a sorry look.

Sam pushes him one more time, he gives him a stony glare in return. “Fuck—alright! Stop being so damn loud, you’ll scare it away.”

The frog in question croaks slightly, like it senses the trio talking about it. He gives it a wary glance.

As he slowly approaches, Sebastian can hear Abby and Sam’s satisfied sniggering behind him. They roped him into doing another stupidly outrageous thing for the umpteenth time.

He sighs, he really needs better friends.

Mustering up all his courage, he bends down, almost eye level with the frog, resting a hand on the wooden grain bench on where it’s perched upon.

He screws his eyes shut and goes for it.

Sebastian’s lips connect with the frog’s slimy, almost rough skin. So fast and featherlight that it can barely be considered a kiss. Cold against his lips. He pulls back immediately after, wiping any residue off his lips with the back of his hand.

The frog jumps, croaking with,what he assumes is, alarm.

“See?” Abby laughs, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. “No princess in sight. You didn’t turn into a frog either!”

“Man,” Sam snickers, patting him roughly on the back. Sebastian groans with every smack. “It would’ve been cool though, if you turned into a frog. We’d have a frog drummer in our band!”

Sebastian shoves his unruly friends off. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get going. The frog is probably traumatized.”

“You can check that off your bucket list,” Abby teases, a smirk playing on her lips. “Kiss a frog before I die. We’ll tell the story for generations.”

Sam howls with laughter, Sebastian feels absolutely mortified.

Before the trio could make any move out of the park, a cloud of green smoke curtains the frog, so thick and so unusual. Sebastian unconsciously backs away from it.

“What—woah,” Sam says, more mezmerised than shocked at the green smoke pouring out of the frog Sebastian kissed. “What is that?”

“The fuck if we know, Sam!”

“Boys, boys, shut the fuck up. Look.”

Abigail points at the fog. It grows and grows, stopping and dissipating once the whole bench is covered with the green mist.

The frog is gone—disappeared into thin air. Instead, a not-so-frog shaped person sits. You blink up at Sebastian slowly.

Woah, woah.

He feels his heart accelerating—for all the wrong reasons. An unusual thumping sound that vibrates all throughout his body—his fingertips, his stomach, his toes. Where there should be fear and panic and definitely fear, Sebastian feels exhilaration.

You’re pretty.

It’s also pretty horrifying for him to think—and feel.

You blink slowly—a frog-like trait that cement his suspicions. You’re staring up at him as he stares back down at you, curious meets bewildered. “…”

His eyes are wide, scanning each and every part of your now not frog-like features. Sebastian feels cold sweat dripping down his forehead—a stark temperature difference to the heat in his cheeks. “Oh—oh shit.”

“Uhm… ribbit?”

-

Another thing he blames on Sam and Abby—his horrifying attraction you; the person, not the frog.

He checks that off his metaphorical bucket list, too.

#i don’t know what came over me #sebastian x frog #CANON #HAR HAR #the magic of the valley is just limitless #stardew valley #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv abigail #sdv sam #sdv #sebastian stardew valley #sam stardew valley #abigail stardew valley #stardew writing #x reader #drabble #cw swearing #stardew valley writing #sdv ocs #sdv writing #sdv farmer #sdv oc #sdv 1.6 #frog #fanfic #sdv fanfic #fanfiction

[old-people-like-avatar]

Netflix Avatar the Last Airbender S1 - Overall Thoughts [SPOILERS]

I am a longtime fan of Avatar the Last Airbender. I did not watch it in its original 2005 run, but I discovered it in around 2010 after my good friend R.S. recommended it to me. It's been my #1 favorite TV show ever since and I have rewatched it more times than I can count. I was cautiously optimistic about NATLA.

Now, having watched the whole first season of NATLA, and looking at the season as a whole, I think the best word to describe it is uneven. I can't say that I loved it, and I can't say that I hated it. But there were things I really liked about it and things that really did not work for me. Overall, I enjoyed watching it -- if only to dissect what did and did not work about the adaptation -- and would want to watch more.

WHAT WORKED

Everything to do with Zuko and Iroh. I found myself going back through just to rewatch all of the Zuko and Iroh-related scenes. I thought Dallas Liu really nailed Zuko -- from tantrums about his journal being stolen to incredible action sequences to the boyish vulnerability of worrying about the laces on his gauntlets. He took an iconic character and made him his own. NATLA added some incredible scenes and lines to my favorite duo: Lu Ten's funeral (coupled with orchestral version of "Leaves from the Vine"); Zuko's first war council; Iroh choosing to go with Zuko on the boat; the 41st Division; Iroh putting a blanket on Zuko. And I liked that NATLA emphasized that Iroh needed Zuko in the wake of Lu Ten's death as much as Zuko needed Iroh after his mother left.

Daniel Dae Kim's interpretation of Ozai. Ozai in ATLA is kind of one-dimensional. Daniel Dae Kim's Ozai adds a deeper layer to him in that he genuinely seems to think he's doing legitimate parenting -- even going so far as to visit Zuko after burning his face and remarking, glibly, that he'll recover ("but he'll never heal," says Iroh). It adds an even more monstrous angle to his cruelty because Kim's Ozai seems to think he's doing it for his children's own good. This post perfectly encapsulates my feelings about why I thought the agni kai between Ozai and Zuko was an excellent addition to NATLA.

Zuko/Aang. These two bonding over goat hair brushes was the scene I never knew I needed. The way Aang managed to wrest a little smile out of Zuko in that scene before Zuko blew up at him for criticizing the Fire Lord? And the way that tied into the "Compassion is a sign of weakness" scene from the agni kai? Great character work.

WHAT DID NOT WORK

Dialogue. I already observed at length my dissatisfaction with the clunky, exposition-dumping dialogue in my episode-by-episode writeups. It certainly wasn't as bad as the Movie-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but . . . there was no art or subtlety to it, and no trust in the audience. A disappointment.

The GAang did not feel like family. The lack of breathing room in the 8-episode season meant that all of the "filler" episodes that fleshed out the relationships between Aang, Katara, and Sokka were sacrificed. I am not saying NATLA needed to recapture each of the filler episodes. But they needed to build the foundational bonds between the main trio with showing not telling and they really didn't. They separated them for big chunks of 2 episodes. And, really, they just felt like traveling companions. That took all of the emotional heft out of, well, everything related to Aang, Katara, and Sokka. I mean, frankly, the kid actors did a better job establishing the "family" dynamic just by being themselves in their press interviews than the show did with the characters.

Aang did not run away from responsibility. I am not one of those people that's just mad that the show wasn't exactly like the cartoon. No. What I mean is, even putting aside the cartoon, even if you just look at NATLA itself: their own themes were undercut by never showing Aang actually running away from responsibility. Each avatar seemed to be berating Aang for doing something he was never actually shown to be doing.

Katara. I really don't think this one is on the actress. Katara felt like a fundamentally different character from ATLA's Katara. It's not to say an adaption is not allowed to have their own interpretation of a character, but... I just did not understand NATLA Katara. There was no passion, no rage, no overbearing nurturing. She was... I don't know what she was. Traumatized, yes, but nothing grew out of that trauma? Meek, until the plot demanded that she suddenly become a waterbending master without any guidance other than a waterbending scroll? The "younger sister"? More than any of the main characters, I'm not sure what NATLA was trying to say about Katara at all. And, as a result, I'm afraid the word to describe it might be uninteresting. And given that she is the heart and soul of Team Avatar, this one was really tough.

Despite the fact that a lot of NATLA did not work for me, I still enjoyed it because the things that did work for me, well, really worked. So. I'm here for all of the Zuko/Iroh scenes!

#avatar the last airbender #atla #a:tla #avatar: the last airbender #netflix atla #natla #netflix avatar #live action avatar

[g00ngala]

i see some push back these days at the idea of "fandom adults" because there are plenty of adult fans of children's media who aren't automatically uncomfortable to be around, and especially because people who tend to love children's media to a "weird" degree are usually autistic people. but to me an adult fan and Fandom Adult are completely different concepts. i have literally no problem with 30 year olds who collect ducktales merchandise, or know everything there is to know about teenage mutant ninja turtles, or even adults who watch and love modern cartoons for children ranging anywhere from the owl house to the amazing world of gumball to fucking bluey. in fact, i think that's fucking awesome! i think that genuinely loving something so much even if it's intended for a younger audience most of the time is great! i think people who know everything there is to know about the ice age movies keep this world spinning. there's nothing i enjoy more than somebody telling me everything they know about something they care about.

HOWEVER. the problem begins when you get legions of adult fans in fandom spaces primarily for kids that expect the show or the fandom space to cater to THEM. when a bunch of adults start getting very invested in shipping child characters to an uncomfortable degree or expecting the show to be darker than it is and enjoy these things through an extremely skewed lens, sometimes getting into fights online with teenagers because that teenager said that the adult's favorite non canon pairing makes them uncomfortable, THAT fucking sucks. when you start to try and force kids media to cater to YOU, that is the problem. we see it now in many fan spaces here on tumblr, but if we go back in some years with internet history this can be applied to the brony movement as well. i think a bunch of adult men coming together because of their love for a show about magical ponies and friendship fucking rules, but a good chunk of these men either wanted to mold the show into something it wasn't, pushing out its intended audience from the online space or even worse making nsfw content of the characters which is where the actual problem began.

so if I'm hating on fandom adults, know that i am never talking about the autistic person who loves my little pony and collects all of the dolls, i am talking about the person who refuses to acknowledge that not all spaces should cater towards you.

#hannah.txt #this is ok to rb btw. sorry i was having a conversation with henry about fandom culture and i think this is my biggest problem w it

[jupitercomet]

Unique in All the World

summary - He feels you smile against his lips and, in the back of his mind, Bradley thinks that he could get used to this. The feeling of somebody being so excited to see him, they couldn’t even wait longer than a second. But just not somebody, you.

And when Bradley loads his luggage into your trunk and you scamper up to him with a bouquet of flowers in your hand, he really feels it then too.

or 

Three times you help heal Bradley’s inner child.

warnings - age gap relationship (Bradley is 38, reader is 25), language, talks of Bradley’s childhood, talks of death, I kind of made up Bradley’s timeline just go with it

word count - 3.9k

listen!! Bradley Bradshaw’s inner child is so personal to me. so yes I’m writing about these two four times in a row. they’re simply too powerful, it’s not my fault - bugs

i ain’t worried ‘bout it masterlist

The first time Bradley remembers it happening was a time as mundane as a Saturday morning.

He woke up to a completely empty bed, the sheets only holding the lingering warmth of your body temperature. It was quiet too, no sound of you rummaging through the kitchen or getting ready in the bathroom.

With a yawn and a stretch of his arms, Bradley gets up and meanders out of the bedroom. This is not the first, or second, or third time he’s spent the night at your place, so he navigates the apartment with ease. The morning sunlight is still a golden glow though the windows which is only more puzzling. Years of service have made Bradley a consistently early riser and you… are not, so it’s unusual for you to be out of bed and awake before him. Especially when it’s still early enough to catch the ends of sunrise.

When he steps into the small living area, he finds you sitting on the couch eating Lucky Charms and watching television. 

“Hey,” you look up with a smile when you hear Bradley’s heavy footsteps. “Sorry, I was really craving cereal.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up. I missed you.”

“I’m here now—” You close your mouth abruptly when Bradley shuffles over to the couch only to pick up Pooh and hug him to his chest. “You’re real funny, Teddy.”

Bradley gives you a cheeky grin, sitting down next to you, Pooh still tucked under his arm. “What’re you watching?”

“Spongebob,” you shovel another spoonful of Lucky Charms into your mouth.

“...Why?”

You look at him like it’s obvious. “It’s Saturday morning and I’m eating cereal in my pajamas. We stick to theme around here, Bradshaw. Didn’t you ever watch morning cartoons as a kid?”

Bradley does not think he had a bad childhood by any means. He grew up with a mom who loved him more than anything and, though it is still somewhat painful to think about now, Maverick did his best to fill all the roles that Goose couldn’t. 

But people always tend to equate being young with being stupid because they all acted like Bradley couldn’t see, clear as day, how much they were suffering—at least the first few years.

Bradley learned at age four and three quarters that Saturday mornings were somewhat hard for his mom. Carol would turn the portable radio on and whip up breakfast in the kitchen, and then suddenly a song would come on and she’d just stop moving, staring numbly into the bowl of pancake batter for several minutes.

And Bradley didn’t exactly know why his mother did this, but he knew that she did—because he was four and three quarters, not stupid. So he gave up Saturday cartoons to keep his mother company in the kitchen. He’d talk about what dream he had or what he did in preschool the day before or whatever his current favorite animal was and why it was still a shark, until Carol could hardly tell which song from which over her son’s rambling. And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to do that. But at four and three quarters, Bradley made the decision that he’d just have to be a kid later and he’s been putting it off ever since.

Bradley isn’t quite sure how to articulate this to you, and he must have been taking too long to respond anyway, because your features soften in understanding and you get up from the couch. “Wait here.”

You come back with another bowl of Lucky Charms, handing it to him with a kiss on his forehead before you sit back down with your own bowl. “As the guest of honor, you can pick which cartoon we watch.” You search for the remote, but Bradley can only look down at the floating marshmallows in his cereal.

“Uh, Spongebob is fine.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels so awkward, but the way he’s taking a bite of Lucky Charms is like an alien who’s never seen food before. Honestly he can’t remember the last time he had cereal, much less one as sugary as Lucky Charms. He keeps Cheerios or Raisin Bran stocked in his pantry, but that’s really just for show more than anything else. Jake got him hooked on “properly made” protein shakes back when they were still students at TOPGUN and Bradley has been living by those ever since.

You snuggle up to Bradley’s side, already reimmersing yourself in the colorful cartoon. “Spongebob is actually more than fine, but you’re new at this so I’ll let it slide.”

He watches as you happily munch on another bite of your cereal, indulging in the sugary treat easily as if you aren’t a grown adult who has grown adult Saturday mornings. Bradley takes in a second spoonful of Lucky Charms and chews slowly. He notices, between one of his next bites, that you’re saving most of the marshmallows for the end and he smiles because of course you do that—he starts saving them for the end too.

Before he knows it, Bradley’s finished his bowl of cereal, setting it aside on the coffee table, and is now laying his head in your lap, cheek squished against your thighs as he watches the TV intently. Your fingers are coming through his curls, taming his morning hair, and Bradley can’t help but press a kiss to the top of your knee whenever you giggle at something funny that happened on the screen.

Before you, Bradley didn’t watch a lot of TV—and certainly not kids cartoons like Spongebob—but there’s something nice about just being able to turn his brain off for a bit. That, for the morning, he can just watch something bright and nonsensical while you play with his hair and laugh against the back of his head.

Bradley’s smile grows when he sees three new characters entire the Spongebob episode. “Hey, honey?”

“Yeah, Teddy?”

“You wanna know something cool about sharks?”

Bradley didn’t like to think about his high school graduation. Over time he’d grown used to having no one there for graduations, or holiday breaks, or when he returned from deployment, but his high school graduation was the first time he felt that feeling. Walking off the stage with his high school diploma was the first time he remembered that “Oh. There’s nobody here but me.” feeling.

Because his mom had died and he wasn’t speaking to Maverick after he found out the older man pulled his papers from the academy. So on the day of Bradley’s graduation, he weaved through the crowds of families and other seniors, threw his cap and gown in the backseat of his car, stopped at a Dairy Queen drive-thru, and celebrated by eating ice cream alone.

Bradley only became more and more familiar with his feeling, but at 17 it still tasted bitter so his high school graduation hurt the most. If he had to put a positive spin on it, he’d say it prepared him for the many, many deployments he’d come back from without anyone waiting for him. It didn’t hurt so much see everyone else in his squad get greeted excitedly by family and loved ones.

And so Bradley walked to the baggage claim of LAX, listening Jake go on about some college football game to his right, fully ready to succumb to that “Oh.” feeling he’s so familiar with.

“TEDDY!”

Bradley only has a second to drop his carry on before you’re launching yourself into his arms. He stumbles back slightly, having to plant his feet against the tiled floor of the airport before you knock him over. You’re clinging to him like a koala, both your arms and legs locked around him, and Bradley’s hands have moved instinctively to support you around your middle.

“Sorry,” you pant, pulling away from his neck to hold his cheeks in excitement. “I know I should’ve waited for you to, like, weave through a wave of people to find me, ‘cause then it’s all romantic. But you were taking way too long and your old man eyes would’ve missed your suitcase like eight times before you realized it was yours and I couldn’t— Mmph!” 

Contrary to popular belief, Bradley is not the biggest fan of PDA. He likes the actual affection part of it, the small things like holding hands or giving you quick pecks, but he has a philosophy that anything he wouldn’t do in front of Maverick, he wouldn’t do in front of strangers. Maybe his friends make fun of him too much, or maybe he is getting old, but Bradley is not the type to push you up against a wall and kiss you silly—no matter how crowded the Hard Deck might be.

But right now, Bradley is allowing himself an exception as he kisses you deeply smack dab in the middle of the LAX airport. Because, for the first time in two decades, Bradley Bradshaw walked out expecting to feel that “Oh.” feeling and instead he was met with an “Oh!” feeling and your weight in his hands. 

“Damn, little lady, that homecoming for everybody?”

Despite your rocky introduction, you and Jake were on much better terms now. He apologized for his comments—due in part to threats from Bradley and Javy, but he did genuinely find himself meaning them when you presented a peace offering of yarn you thought “might look cool as a dog sweater maybe”. Since then, Bradley was horrified to find out, the two of you have become almost friends.

“No.” Bradley answers for you, narrowing his eyes at Jake, who only holds his hands up teasingly.

You’re still somewhat recovering from Bradley’s kiss when you hop down from his chest, so you just smile at Jake and welcome him home too while you grab Bradley’s hand.

“I brought you flowers,” you confess as Bradley picks up his carry on and leads you both to the baggage claim. “But I knew I’d probably get excited and squish them, so I left them in the car.”

It’s still hitting Bradley that he can hear you, and see you, and feel you, and again he can’t stop himself from ducking down for another—this time much shorter—kiss. He feels you smile against his lips and, in the back of his mind, Bradley thinks that he could get used to this. The feeling of somebody being so excited to see him, they couldn’t even wait longer than a second. But not just somebody, you.

And when Bradley loads his luggage into your trunk and you scamper up to him with a bouquet of flowers in your hand, he really feels it then too.

“Pfft,” you laugh when he takes them from you. “Kinda feels like you just graduated or something.” 

Bradley’s hands freeze around the bouquet.

You lift yourself up on your toes, moving his ball cap from one side of his head to the other as a stand in tassel. “And look at that! Bradley Bradshaw - the super, super, super, super, super senior has finally graduated! The crowd goes wild—” You cup your hands over your mouth to emulate a cheering sound, before you stop and wrinkle your nose. “Sorry, that was lame. I’m just really excited to see you.”

“No, honey, it’s perfect,” he places a much softer kiss on your lips and he thinks he’s going to ask you how to press flowers because he wants to keep the ones in his hands forever. “I’m really excited to see you too.”

You always kind of knew when Bradley had a rough day. Maybe it was something about how the wind blew, maybe you had a spidey sense but for men who look like they shop exclusively at Kohl’s, but whatever it was you just knew when Bradley would come home in a sour mood.

So when Bradley came home, closing the door a little harder than necessary, and only greeting you with a quick peck before he left to take a shower, you weren’t surprised. For the most part, Bradley stewed in his emotions. You always do your best to remind him that you’re there if he needs it, but you know better than to push him and, mostly, he chooses to keep his bad mood to himself.

So you are somewhat surprised when, as you both sit on the couch a little after dinner, he starts talking suddenly.

“My dad died when I was four.”

You look up from your phone in wordless confusion.

“And, you know, I don’t even remember being four. I didn’t, like, watch him die. My mom didn’t even tell me what happened until I was 15,” Bradley takes a breath, yanking a frustrated hand through his hair. “But, for some fucking reason, I get in the air and suddenly it’s all I can think about.”

You watch as Bradley gets up from the couch, still lost in his head as he starts pacing the living room. “It happened 34 years ago and I didn’t even— I can’t even run simulations without thinking ‘oh, this is how my dad died, what if I die like this too?’. And now Mav’s talking again about how maybe I’m not ready—”

“Bradley—”

“And it’s bullshit, because if he had just let me when I was—”

“Bradley—”

“—It’s fucking pathetic! You know, Hangman used to bring it up constantly, and I couldn’t even say anything because he was right. I’m just—”

“Bradley, stop it!”

Bradley freezes, his chest heaving, his feet frozen mid-pace. 

You take a breath and try to smile, but it’s weak and you have to bite your lip to keep your eyes from watering as you walk up to him slowly. “You were a kid,” you tell him and, gently, you cup his face in your hands. “You were just a kid, Bradley. Do you understand that? You did everything a kid could do, more than you ever should have had to. And I am so, so proud of you.”

Between your palms, Bradley’s face is unreadable. You’ve given up on holding back your tears, you can feel them welling up as you stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. Bradley’s own eyes look glassy, that’s his only tell—every other feature stoic.

“I am so proud of you,” you whisper. “And I love you. With my whole heart. But I love that little boy in there too,” you drop a hand from his cheek to press it against his chest. “The one who’s so brave, and strong, and kind. I love him so much, Bradley. So I won’t sit here and listen to you talk about him like he isn’t good enough.”

You feel his heartbeat underneath your palm, a steady rhythm that’s so predictable, so reliable. Bradley still hasn’t looked away from you, doing nothing more than swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, taking in the scars of his neck, the way they rise off his skin in thin, light lines. 

Sucking in a breath, you suddenly feel self conscious, your thumb faltering from where it strokes Bradley’s cheek. “So— So, yeah, um—”

It takes only a second and then Bradley’s arms are wrapping around you, pushing the hand you have resting on his chest between the two of you. You feel him nose your hair, his arms tightening around you like he thinks you’ll run away from him if he lets go. You won’t though, you never would.

Slowly your hands meet at his back. There’s never really been a time that you felt as though you were holding Bradley—not when he’s so big and broad and solid all on his own—but right now you feel it, that he’s finally letting you hold him. 

There’s a shake of his shoulders, a choked whimper, and then he’s unleashing painful sobs into your hair. His breath is ragged against your temple, coming out of his mouth audibly and shakily. Your own tears spill over your cheeks at the sound of his sheer grief and you rock your bodies slowly, your hand moving up to hold the back of his head.

Bradley’s back racks with sobs, you can feel them wetting your ear and temple. He breathes you in like you’re oxygen, like it’s the scent of your shampoo that pumps blood through his veins and the lingering notes of your perfume that cause his heart to pump at all.

His blunt fingernails dig into your skin. He holds you like the climax of a film—desperate, and raw, and so unsure of everything but you. And you hold him too, but like the end of a film—certain, and healed, and not quite back again but you know that you’ll get there. You hold Bradley like he’s worth staying for the credits, because you want to know every person in every role that makes up the movie of the man he is. 

Bradley cries. And you don’t shush him, or tell him that it’ll be okay, or make promises that you both know you can’t keep. You hold him, and scratch his scalp, and rock him gently.

Bradley cries, but you know it’s not quite your Bradley who’s crying. It’s Bradley at age four, who cries muffled in his pillow because he knows it makes his mom upset to see him cry and he never wants to make his mom upset. It’s Bradley at age 17, who cries silently at a funeral, biting down on his cheek so hard he can taste blood as he tries to keep his composure. It’s Bradley at age 17 and 7 months, who cries loudly and unabashedly because he’s finally accepted the bitter truth that it doesn’t matter now because there’s not a single person left to hear him.

And you hold all of them, as tightly as you can, and, even though it’s not exactly your Bradley who’s crying, he’s finally allowing the rest of them to cry, so you hold him too.

You stroke his curls softly. “I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear.

You repeat it over and over. Once for Bradley at age four. Once for Bradley at age 17. Once for Bradley at age 17 and 7 months. And once for Bradley at age 38. And you know it doesn’t fix everything, or make it all go away, but you don’t think that’s what Bradley wants anyway.

It’s a beautiful thing to be acknowledged. For someone to recognize that you’re here despite. When you say you’re proud of Bradley, you mean it. You’re proud of him when he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead every Wednesday morning because, for whatever reason, he and Natasha choose to surf at the ungodly hour of 6:00 am. You’re proud of him every time he plays piano at the Hard Deck, or drives his Bronco, or goes to work. You’re proud of him because he does all of that despite. He laughs, and sings, and forgives, and loves despite everything.

You feel Bradley pull away from you finally and he keeps one hand holding you as the other comes to wipe his eyes. “God, I— I haven’t cried like that in a long time,” he tries to joke.

“I know,” you let your hand drop to his neck, letting your fingers trace the skin. “And I’m proud of you for that too.”

Bradley looks at you almost like he doesn’t believe you're real. His lips quirk up into a small smile. “How do you always know just what to say?”

“Copious amounts of therapy,” you shrug lightly, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Bradley lets out a watery laugh. “Right, of course.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I think I knew that one day I was gonna fall in love with an emotionally unavailable man who uses facial hair maintenance as a coping skill and that I needed to be prepared.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing while I was being an angsty teen?”

“Well, actually, when you were a teen, I think I was, like, learning what colors were, but— Teddy!” You let out a shriek when Bradley suddenly throws you over his shoulder.

You cling to the fabric of his shirt, resigning to the position as Bradley carries you into your bedroom. He drops you on the mattress with a teasing lack of care, but you can’t find it in yourself to so much as glare at him. Because when you look up, he’s staring at you with soft eyes.

“Thank you.” And you don’t entirely know what he’s thanking you for, but you know that he doesn’t have to, that you’d do it for him a thousand times and more.

You open your arms up for him and Bradley settles between them, laying on your chest as you weave your fingers through his hair. You like being in bed with Bradley, there’s something about it that feels like problems can’t touch you there. Both you and Bradley do your best to never go to bed angry, to never taint the little sanctuary you’ve found between cotton sheets and bodies only capable of love.

“Hey, Teddy?”

Bradley’s grip tightens around your waist. “Yeah, honey?”

“You know you’re my favorite person, right?” It comes out soft—vulnerable.

Bradley’s quiet for a moment, and then, “Yeah, honey.”

“And you know that I love you, right?” You swallow, keeping your gaze trained on your fingers that are lost in his caramel locks.

“Yeah, honey.”

“Good, because I do. So much.” your voice wavers as your hands tighten some in his hair. It’s silent for a moment and then you wet your lips. “Did you ever read The Little Prince as a kid?”

Bradley shakes his head against your collar bone.

“Well, in it, there’s this fox and he tells the Little Prince that the only way he’ll understand the fox and be the fox’s friend is if he tames him. And once the Little Prince tames him, they’ll need each other and be unique in all the world. But, he tells the Little Prince, that the thing everyone forgets is that you become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed—”

Bradley’s lashes brush against your skin and you know his eyes are closed.

“—As a kid, I remember thinking that forever seemed like a really long time to be responsible for something and so that must mean you really have to love that something if you’re going to tame it,” you pause, scratching Bradley’s scalp gently. “I think I knew from the minute I heard you laugh that you’d be unique in all the world to me.”

It takes a minute for you to get a reply, for a second you think he might have fallen asleep, exhausted from all the emotions that had cycled through him. But then his voice comes out hoarse, “Can you say it again?”

“You’re unique in all the world to me, Bradley Bradshaw,” you whisper against his temple.

You feel feather light kisses on your clavicle, his weight on you heavy and familiar as his lips move against your skin. “You’re unique in all the world to me,” he whispers back.

And you don’t quite fix everything, or make it go away. But to Bradley, you do something better. You love him despite. And you know that he loves you despite too.

I don’t have a taglist but feel free to follow my library @jupitercometgold​​ if you want to be notified when I post

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster angst #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #i ain't worried 'bout it #buggy's got a pen

[fallen6253]

Hello hello!

I was rereading Choi Han’s indignity test for the thousandth time (I need more little rok soo pls I'm desperate) and the thing that catches my attention now is the clues.

It says food, warm home, clean clothes, and abundance of food for dinner.

Not thinking about any other clues the author did not show us (there was definitely so much more; we were robbed–) because that would drive me insane from what we know so far (there’s so much yet so little I wanna cry).

Anyway, some found it confusing how there were two notifications about ‘food’ and ‘abundance of food for dinner’ so now I want to word vomit about it.

There is a difference between having food to eat at all and being in front of so much food there’s no way you could eat it all.

Food in general was scarce for Kim Rok Soo at that age (well, at most of his ages but anyway) so imagine being Rok Soo and letting a stranger take you to their house because you want to avoid your own and instead of the things you probably had been expecting, this total stranger just.  Started putting food in front of you and tells you to eat.  To eat all you wanted.  And he leaves for a bit and Rok Soo enjoys the cartoons you rarely get to watch because the TV makes too much noise and you don't want to be locked away in your cold and dark room again.  But then the guy comes back with even more food and when you tell him you’re full he looks.  Devastated.  And the man hides the food he thought you didn’t see, which is so ridiculous you almost crack a smile, until he brings out an apple pie, and now you’re baffled.   

And what really gets me is that Choi Han calls him a good boy.  And little Rok Soo looks baffled.  And there is no notification about comfort or praise covering up his indignity.  

Which implies he is already at that stage where he does not know how to take compliments seriously and just assumes the person is either lying or stupid (which may track in his logic for this stranger that brought some random kid home and just started feeding him).

Or it implies that compliments and praise were never something Kim Rok Soo thought of wanting.

You can’t focus on wanting to be loved if your priority has to be finding a way to survive.

Which tears my heart into pieces because.  This little baby, o my lord, I wish you could feel safe enough to want someone to say something nice about you, that you lived well enough to be concerned about people liking you.  I wish he knew that there would be people who loved him, waiting for him in the future, and that he would not only feel lost forever.  I wish he was living well enough to want to delve into his favorite books with open fervor, talking with others who were reading the same thing and discovering a new way to see a story.  I wish he could feel safe enough to express himself in any other way that did not say ‘it does not matter much what happens anymore’ and ‘I don’t have the strength to go against all of this despair’.  Because this little kid grows up to be so strong, in ways he can’t even see in himself because he’s too busy lifting other people up from groundless depths. 

And he grows up to be something so big, and so warm that it’s such a happy miracle he survived the environments he lived through.  And even after suffering so much loss and failure, he still can’t help caring for people.  And he does it in a way he is conscious of, but he explains it away as a strategy to survive, and it’s his selfish way of finding solace in bright young futures he never had.  Because he needs to justify it.  Because simple kindness can be thrown away and mistrusted so easily, and it can vanish in an instant.  

So he explains it away as a selfish action when he wishes to find solace in saving others.

In becoming the comfort to others he did not get.

In becoming the person he wanted to save him.

#the big sad here oml #little kim rok soo #child kim rok soo #cale henituse #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #indignity test #can we just talk about this amazing little man #another TED talk about cale's shitty childhood

[sevsdollette]

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: Not So Sweet - sevsdoll - Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) [Archive of Our Own]

content warning: …SMUT (mdni. get out). drinking, smoking cigars. sex worker reader. face sitting (cunnilingus). fingering. brat taming (reader loves to bite back). dom!sevika. no use of y/n

summary: you’re one of Babette’s best girls, and you’re just taking a night off when you intrigue the most dangerous woman in Zaun. She just can’t ignore you, and soon the night becomes a lot more interesting than you planned.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

note: WC: 5.1k (@-@ i know). this is a series. i’m already working on chapter two. look i know the show came out two years ago, but someone’s gotta keep writing for her. she really just makes me foam at the mouth. i love her so much. I don't write very often so sorry if this sucks. this series will have the golden trio: smut, fluff, and angst. smut hopefully in every chapter.

—————(18+)—————

After a long day-shift, you wanted a drink.

The customers at Babette's weren’t so entertaining or pleasant when the sun was still up. What normal person (as normal as someone in Zaun could be) went to a hooker during the day? They were all perverted, or it was the only time of the day they could sneak away from their real “love” to see you.

Overall, not a fun time. You had a particularly nasty customer come through, and while after a normal day, you’d go right into working the night, you thought you deserved a treat.

You show up to the Last Drop, a frequent bar of yours, and plan to have a relaxing night with a cold drink.

You get in quicker than other patrons. While Babette didn’t like Silco, she played along enough and that got you some perks. She gave little tokens to her favorite employees and that earned you some privileges at the right times.

The bouncer opened the door, waving you in, and you were hit with the blasting music that usually infected the bar on a Friday night. Even when it was only eight.

The bass of the music almost made you nauseous, but you pushed it away, telling yourself you were going to have a good night for once. No brothel, no weirdos, and no sex.

You were sick of sex. It was getting quite boring. Even those customers who claimed to be expirimentive or interesting were not. It was the same thing over and over again.

Okay, but you were going to stop thinking about work now.

Since it was early in the night, you were able to get your own booth. Usually, that would be impossible, and you were sure that some group might come along to kick you out of it at some point. But, for the time being, it was your personal wrap-around booth. The stained leather cushions were like heaven. The table was cracked and carved into, but it was solid wood.

You felt good. You were dressed nicely: a tight and dark dress that complimented your complexion, and your hair was done up to reveal your neck and the long costume earrings you swiped once upon a time in Piltover. You showered a lot more often than the people you worked with, so at least you smelled good too.

The back booths were usually taken care of better than the crowded tables near the front. After a few minutes of you sitting down, a barkeep came over to ask if you wanted anything to drink. You ordered and then sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere.

No where in the Undercity was pleasant, but you began to enjoy your time. Your drink came back and you slowly sipped on it as you watched the bar fill with people. You put your feet up on the booth as well, lounging like you owned the place.

It didn’t matter that you didn’t, either. Silco and his whole crew didn’t scare you much. You’d seen worse than the whole crowd. All the immature prostitutes at Babettes would quiver and hide when Sevika, Silco’s number two, came by or when any other of her goons poked around. They didn’t instill the same reaction in you. Sure, they were strong, intimidating and ruthless, but you’d had worse done to you than have your face beaten.

You’d never personally served Sevika or her crew, but you knew people who did.

Speaking of the devil, the group just strolled in. It was around ten pm when Sevika and four others came into the bar and got their usual booth across the room from your own. The chaos of the dancing, drinking, and smoking crowd parted for them quickly, but paid them no mind, and they went about their usual business.

As you watched them sit down and order a drink, your eyes caught the shallow ones of Sevika. It was only for a quick glance before she looked down to shuffle cards, but she seemed to look longer than one would normally when accidentally meeting a stranger's eye.

You didn’t know what the hell her problem was. As much as you weren’t afraid of her, you sure as hell didn’t want to deal with her. All you wanted was a calm night, and whatever issue she had with you surely wouldn’t help.

You’d been jumped a couple of times. They were when you were younger and more naive, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. All those times, you had to stumble back to Babette with a bloody lip and bruised ribs for her to wrap up. You had no one else to take care of you.

For the next two hours or so, you kept your eyes to your own. Or, at least you tried to.

After that first look, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. Her steel gray gaze kept your form across the room as the club lit up with action. The loud music and crowd of dancers frequently broke her stare, but once there was a break in the mob, you’d catch her looking at you again.

The idea of her made you nervous. The way she stared made you feel weak—like she was a predator about to pounce. There was no way she’d hurt you in the bar, right?

Something about the look in her eyes made you feel something other than nervous. It was entrancing the way her lips curled into a smirk at a winning hand. Her banter with her men made her seem warmer—nicer. You couldn’t help but drag your eyes across her broad shoulder, reveling in the way the muscles in her forearms moved as she shuffled cards.

You tried to ignore her and her rough eyes as you watched the lively crowd. After two drinks, almost every sight was amusing, and you were feeling quite relaxed. The alcohol helped your nerves.

At some point, you got up and went to the bathroom. While fighting your way through the crowd, you didn’t even see Sevika put down her cards to follow after you.

The bathrooms were small, which was quite inadequate for the business of the bar, but it made it less common for people to be in there. It was empty when you went in, and you went into one of the stalls to relieve yourself.

The door opened not long after you came in, and when you were stepping out of the stall, you froze.

Sevika stared at you, still standing by the door. You couldn’t get out. Suddenly, the bathroom felt even smaller than it already was.

You decided not to poke the bear. Anxiety rushed over you as panic threatened to set in. But you wouldn’t let her know it. Reputation was all about strength around here. Any weakness would’ve your downfall.

You went into denial. Maybe you were wrong about her staring. Maybe this was all just a coincidence. She just so happened to catch your eye and it was just your luck that she came into the bathroom at the same time as you.

You washed your hands, keeping your eyes down at the sink as you heard her steps. They got closer and closer until she stood behind you, just far enough away that she wasn’t touching you. You stood up straight, looking at her through the mirror.

“Can I help you?” You tensed your brow, eyes stuck to the ones that had been watching you all night. This close, and in the dim light of the bathroom, you could’ve sworn they had hints of blue in them.

“What’s your name?” She asked. She reached out, touching your shoulder lightly as she leaned forward. She towered over you.

“None of your business,” you said. You could feel the heat of her body against your back, and she couldn’t stop exploring you with her hands.

It seemed she didn’t really care what your name was. Perhaps she only asked as a formality. Maybe some women found it rude when she didn’t ask, but you didn’t care.

“Are you just going to eye-fuck me all night,” she muttered. “Or do you want to do something about it?”

She ran her thumbs along the creases of your dress. feeling the bottom edge of your bra through the fabric as she did so.

“You’re the one who can’t stop staring,” you said, turning your head to look up into her eyes. “If I were a betting woman I’d say you have a small crush.”

She scoffed. “Don’t think of yourself so highly.”

You smirked. She just wanted to fuck. She’d been around the brothel enough time for you to know that, and the idea of her had always been an intriguing one whenever she came around. You’d never dealt with her, but you’d heard the stories.

Her fingers dragged down your hips, tugging at the edge of your dress before slipping under. It was just enough so she could feel the skin of your inner thigh. The light grazing of her skin against yours made you feel fuzzy, and you leaned back into her slightly.

She hummed, leaning into your neck and kissing under your jaw. Her lips pressed just under your ear as she asked, “Want to come to the back room with me? I'll make it worth your while.”

“Are you gonna pay me?” You jested. Of course, you didn't need her to, but teasing her just felt so right. You’d never even spoken to her before, but the banter was too delicious to ignore.

“I think you’re the one who’s gonna have to pay me,” she whispered, her hands now massaging your thighs as she tried to draw you towards the door. “Come on, baby, I need to get this dress off of you.”

You groaned, pushing her hands off of you. “So needy,” you teased. “Go and wait for me and maybe I'll show up.”

She stared down at you. The two of you were close; you could practically feel her breath against your face. In her eyes was anger at your attitude, but you could tell she was amused. Normally, the women she picked didn’t fight her: they crumbled and begged for attention.

Her hand came up and gripped your jaw. She moved forward, pressing you against the countertop as her lips met yours harshly. The wind was knocked out of your lungs as she kept you pinned, kissing you enough to make you dizzy.

She gripped your hip with her metal hand, the tips of her sharp fingers pressing into the fat of your ass just enough for it to sting. You whimpered against her lips, hands jerking as they didn’t know whether to push her away or pull her closer.

“Oh, you’ll show up,” she growled. And then, as quickly as she had come, she pulled away. The cold air where she once was made you feel funny as you watched her walk out of the room.

The bathroom was silent. You stood there, palms pressed against the counter, shaking. Outside, the bass of the music pushed through the walls and shook the floor. It felt chilly all of a sudden, and you realized it was because she was gone. She was so hot pressed up against you, and you were worried you’d freeze without her.

Screw the whole “sick of sex” thing. You were going to fuck the hottest, most dangerous woman in Zaun.

In your frozen state, another woman came into the bathroom and gave you a strange look as she saw you standing there. You hardly met her eyes as you walked past her, shuffling quickly out of the room.

The chaos of the main room hit you hard when you came out. The flashing lights and blaring music were a sharp contrast to the dim and quiet bathroom. Across the room you saw Sevika standing by her table, settling her bets with her fellow players quickly.

You made your way up to the bar to close your tab. You doubted you would want anything else. The bar was crowded and it took a moment for you to shove yourself to the front with your money.

You reached out your coins to the bartender.

“Thieram, put her drinks on my tab.”

The bartender looked past you and nodded at Sevika. He pushed your hand back and quickly walked away to serve another customer.

You turned to say something to Sevika, but she was already walking towards the back room. You took the moment to watch her walk away, your eyes grazing over her body.

Her back was wide and thick with muscle. Every part of her was woven together with strength, and the glow of the neon lights made every ridge seem deeper.

Your body began to get just as excited as your mind was.

When you walked into the back room, she was sitting on the sofa. This room was a small lounge with two couches and a couple of chairs surrounding a coffee table. There was a small side table with a lamp, and a large bay window on the back wall with the curtains tightly shut.

The lamp was on and it gave off a full glow that illuminated the room just enough that you could see her shadowed brow turn up to look at you.

It seemed like a place she came to often. She had her maroon cover dropped on one of the armchairs, and there was a pack of cigars on the coffee table with a lighter. It was a little messy, but you assumed it was a busy room.

“Thanks for the drinks,” you said, sounding unimpressed.

“They’re free for me.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You sighed loudly, stepping forward into the room more. Once again, her eyes stuck to you like glue.

She leaned back. “Are you gonna get over here or are you gonna make me chase you?”

That could be fun. But, no, you weren’t in a state to run at the moment. You smiled, almost mockingly at her, and strolled over.

You stood in front of her as she stayed seated, looking up at you. Taking her face roughly in one hand, you dug your nails into her cheek slightly. She looked up at you with tense eyes, studying the way you glared down at her. Your thumb brushed over her bottom lip and she nipped forward, trying to bite you.

You jerked your hand back. “Watch it!”

She chuckled, reaching out to hold you by your hips. She steadied you, keeping you as close as you could without pulling you into her lap. “You seem like someone who doesn’t give two shits about me,” she said. “I like that.”

You lifted your brow. “Don’t like attachment?”

“Fucking hate it.”

She pushed your dress up, the bottom now pooling above your hips, making your thin lace underwear fully visible for her to touch and rip off.

“Good. I’m a whore, all I ever have to deal with is attachment.” Her hands were now rubbing down the backs of your thighs. The ghosting of her fingertips over the edge of your underwear sent a shiver up your spine. “It’s always: ‘Oh, I love you’ and ‘oh, baby please come home with me’—drives me nuts.”

She smiled up at you. “I’ll never love you.”

“Thank god,” you breathed, lost in the sight of her so close to you. Her eyes stuck to your lips and her brow creased in focus. She pulled you in, trapping you in a kiss. Her hands pressed against the small of your back, pushing you down to straddle one of her thighs.

A sigh slipped from your lips as she pushed her leg up just slightly. It fit perfectly and her hard muscle did well to please the ache that was just starting to grow between your legs.

Her lips were soft yet demanding, holding you there as she devoured you. It was hard to breathe between her hungry kisses. It was intoxicating in all the best ways. Her tongue brushed against yours and soon you were tasting each other, drawn in and never letting go.

Your hands brushed through her hair, tugging out her hair tie and tossing it behind you onto the coffee table. She grunted, pulling you even harder against her and grinding your hips against your leg.

She kissed across your cheek and down your neck. She was harsh. She ran her teeth along your skin and bit down hard enough for you to whine. You gripped her shoulders and pressed your clothes clit harder against her leg, trying to find satisfaction.

You knew she was going to leave marks. Something about that thought made you crazy. You were not supposed to belong to anyone, but you wanted people to know she fucked you—that she wanted you.

Her tongue ran over a fresh hickey as she leaned back up and kissed you again. She exhaled heavily out her nose, settling into the kiss.

You clutched her face gently in both hands, cradling her head as she slid her tongue into your mouth. You could feel heat looking in your stomach. Surely your underwear was ruined by now. She might’ve even had a wet spot on her thigh.

Everything felt so disorienting. It was like she was her own drug, pulling you in and locking away the rest of the world. You couldn’t hear any outside of the room, and nothing matter but how her chest felt pressed against yours.

“Lie down,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair.

She wasn’t the type to listen to others, but something in the way you coaxed your voice made her comply. She was much too large for the small couch so her legs hung off the other end, but you made sure her head was nice and comfortable on a small throw pillow.

She propped herself up on her elbows, smirking at you as you stepped off the couch and pulled your panties off. “You just think you have all the power, don't you?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do I not?”

“Hm.” She wasn’t amused. You crawled on top of her, your thighs on either side of her head as you sat on her collar. You brushed the stray hairs off her forehead.

“I’ll put you in your place, baby girl, don’t worry,” she assured. “But I might as well let you have a little fun first.”

“That’s sweet,” you teased. “I’m almost intimidated. But, really, anyone who gets underneath me always ends up being my bitch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just fucking sit on my face already.”

“Say please?”

She ignored you, dragging your hips up and grinding your core against her face. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden movement, hands flying to her hair to steady yourself as her tongue parted you.

You pressed your lips together. “Oh, fuck, Sev…” you moaned, head falling back as she lapped at your folds like you were the last thing on earth. Her mouth was hot against your cunt and she was sending shockwaves through your body.

She pressed all your weight against her face and everything she was doing made you relax against her. Part of you cared if she could breathe but most of you didn’t. Your mind was only focused on how she circled your entrance with her tongue.

You dug your nails into her scalp, tugging as she moved up to flick your clit with her tongue. The pleasure had you tugging at her hair. She moaned into your folds, the vibrations eliciting another wave of ecstasy.

She gripped the backs of your thighs, keeping you steady as your strength wavered. As you unwound, she continued to undulate your cunt against her.

Everything she did drew you closer and closer to your peak. It was a constant assault as she dragged her tongue though you with a sharp tip before pulling your clit into her mouth to suck.

“God, that feels so good,” you moaned, grinding harder on her nose as her tongue fucked into you. “Don’t stop.”

With the tone of your voice, she could tell you were close. Her hands came from behind to cup your ass and squeeze it harshly, making you moan again before her finger came closer. She circled your entrance with them, coating each with your slick before easily slipping one thick finger in.

“Two,” you demanded, breathless.

She pushed a second one in and you almost regretted it. It was a tight squeeze as she pumped her finger deep inside, still working on your clit with her mouth. She was ruthless with her speed, and soon you were helpless. You rode her finger and face breathlessly until your orgasm hit with a wave of pleasure.

You cursed loudly, moaning as she helped you down from your peak. It seemed to go one forever, pulsing with your fast heart rate. She kept her finger deep inside you as she pushed you off her face.

“Sev…” you muttered, wiping her chin with your thumb. You realized you had no words. She curled her fingers inside of you. “Fuck,” you whined

She flipped the two of you over, pushing your hips down into the couch as she went harder.

“Wait,” you whined. The overwhelming sensation from your last orgasm was too much to bear. So much that she was leading you right to another one. You couldn't take it. “Sevika,” you cried.

She shushed you, demanding, “Take it.” She was peppering kisses down your neck and over your chest. Your low-cut dress was becoming more and more disheveled, and she could nearly kiss your nipple.

Just her presence was arousing. She was almost animalistic the way she hovered over you, so much bigger than you. She shadowed you in the dim room, gazing down at you like you were her prey. You couldn’t get out even if you tried.

Her hard metal arm that pinned you down radiated a sharp heat that reminded you she could kill you if she really wanted to. And that shimmer in her vials could turn her into a monster with no mercy.

You bit your lip, your head pressing back against the couch as you felt your finish coming. You couldn’t believe how good she was. The people you fucked for you job hardly ever really got you turned on. She made your head spin.

And she was so attentive. Every second she was digging her teeth into your collar or running her mouth along your breast. Her hot breath against you skin had you writhing under her, mumbling curses and urging her to never stop.

Her fingers pumped inside, curling with every thrust to hit your sweet spot. The heel of her palm rubbed against your clit as she abused your velvet wall, rutting against it when she would pull out and shove back in.

“I’m gonna cum, Sev,” you cried. “I’m so close.”

She hummed into your skin, quickening her cruel pace to a point that made your legs tense and your hands run down her back, pressing crescents into her skin.

Your peak was coming closer and closer. You could feel it rising in you with every passing second of pleasure. The ribbed rubbing of her fingers in your cunt overwhelmed every sense until she stopped.

She stopped moving.

“What the fuck—“

“You were real cocky coming in here,” she growled into your ear. Her voice was almost gritty. “You need to know that’s not okay.”

You squirmed under her, just trying to get her to move or maybe be able to ride her fingers. “Sevika, just let me—“

She held you very still. “In this room, you’re mine. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to, and you ask nicely for things.” Her still fingers were driving you insane. The full sensation of hay being full but not stimulated made you push against her shoulder, urging her to do something.

She lifted her head to look at your pleading face. “Outside of here you might belong to anyone with enough money in their pocket, but right now you belong to me. I chose when you cum, do you understand?”

You glared up at her, irritation alight in your eyes as you thrashed and tried to get her to move. You couldn’t speak, only fighting to move to reach your finish.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a fucking brat, baby.” She pushed a third finger inside slowly. The stretch was painful as you cried out, your nails digging into her back. She still wouldn’t fucking move. “But that’s okay,” she assured. “I’ll teach you a lesson. I’ll make you my good girl.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you sunk further into the cushion. “Sevika—“

She smacked your clit harshly. “Say please.”

You squirmed again, the pain pulsing through your core. You pressed your lips together, trying not to give her the satisfaction.

Her brow creased and she frowned down at you. Disappointed pooled in her gaze and it made you feel awful. She slid her fingers out of you, shrugging and moving to get up.

You holt forward, hands wrapping around her thick forearm to pull her back to you. “No—fuck—please, Sev, please.” Your wide, pleading eyes helped lure her back. “Please. I need it. I need it so fucking badly.”

She sighed, pulling you close to her again by your hips, cradling them against her own as she pushed you back down into the couch. She kissed you once, gently. “What do you need, baby?”

All attitude was thrown out the window. All you could do was obey. “To cum—please, just let me—“

She forced her fingers back inside of you, having you crying out at the sudden stretch. She pushed your legs open, spreading them widen so she could fuck you deeper.

The room echoed with your cries. The sudden intrusion made the stretch so intense it was painful. The feeling mixed with the incessant pleasure drove your mind to an unreachable place. You were a babbling mess underneath her, mumbling pleas and begging for her to never stop. You were rendered senseless.

“Please…please, I’m so close.”

She rubbed her thumb over your clit and bit on the pulse point of your neck, the sharp sensation pushing you over the edge

Your vision went white as hot, immeasurable pleasure shot through your core. Your legs squeezed around her as she slowed her lace to a gentle rolling of her fingers to guide you through your orgasm.

The way she held you made all your bitching seem so senseless. She was ruthless but caring, attending to every need as she brought you down from your high. It felt as if you couldn’t move, lying limp underneath her as she took care of you.

“Good job.” She kissed your cheek. “I knew you could behave.”

All you could muster up was a whine as you pawed at her face, pushing her up so you could pull her in for a kiss. She settled into your lips, helping you relax as your heartbeat still pounded against your chest. Her hands gripped your thighs, your juices sticking to your hot skin.

She pulled back. “Careful, you don’t want to make me start again.”

You shook your head frantically, mouth still so dry yet searching for words but you couldn’t find any. So fucked out, all you could do was lie there and stare at her.

Your eyes were glassy and she smiled slightly at the state she left you in. “You okay, doll?”

You nodded.

“Okay,” she chuckled, sitting up. “I’d hate to scare you off too quickly.”

You made some helpless noise, clawing after her as you tried to push yourself up. It felt like you could hardly move your legs, and your hands felt numb.

She helped you sit up, pulling you across her lap to rest your head against her shoulder. “Though you seem quite comfortable.”

You giggled. “Just tired.”

She hummed, reaching around you to find a cigar on the coffee table. You watched her hold it in her lips as she leaned forward again to grab the lighter.

You just liked to watch her. She moved comfortably in herself, relaxing back on the couch as she puffed on the cigar. She made rings with the smoke, showing off to impress you, maybe.

She let you take a puff, but it wasn’t exactly for your taste. Instead, you just relaxed against her, listening to the slight boom of the bass through the walls. You couldn’t even remember hearing it until now.

Minutes passed, maybe even a half an hour as the two of you relaxed. You could feel your eyes drooping the longer you sat against her warmth.

“It’s late,” she observed. “Do you need me to walk you home?”

“So chivalrous,” you murmured, fixing the neckline and straps of your dress. You sat up straight, blinking slowly to meet her eyes. “I think I’ll be okay. Babette’s is just down the street.”

A crease formed in her brow. “You live there?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.” Your eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Hm,” she hummed, adjusting the hem of your skirt so it was fully over your ass. Her limited reaction made you slightly nervous, but it was better than her overreacting. “I’m going to walk you home.”

She patted your hip, urging you to get up. Begrudgingly, you slid off her lap and to your feet. You stumbled, partially from the alcohol still in your system, but also from the ache in your legs.

Sevika held you against her, smiling. “Easy, baby.”

“Shut up.”

“Attitude's back already?” She teased, “I should’ve been meaner.”

You grumbled, waving your hand aimlessly to get her to stop talking. Hell, you would’ve loved if she fucked you with no restraint, but you couldn’t take any more. You worked all day, and she just knocked the wind out of you for so long.

She guided you towards the door, helping you walk as the two of you pushed through the front room. It was past midnight for sure, and the crowd had lessened, but those who were left were wasted and uncontrollable. You noticed how she held you away from everyone who seemed too intoxicated.

It was about then when you realized your underwear was still on the floor of the back room, but you didn’t give a shit. Maybe she’d keep it as a souvenir. You surely had the bruises on your neck to remind you of her for days.

God, you wished every night ended like this.

#fanfic #arcane #arcane league of legends #fanfiction #smut #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #dom!sevika

[mango-bango-bby]

HII can you do platonic!yandere!Gojo reacting to his daughter talk about her new friend (aka platonic!yandere!Mahito)?? and how Gojo would react and what he would do to keep his daughter safe? :>

♡ New Friend ♡

(A/N: I think I’m gonna make a platonic yandere Gojo masterlist soon because I have a lot of platonic!Gojo fics in the works!! And I absolutely love them 💓💓 I think it’s just so cute 🥺🥺)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, child!reader, stalking

Summary: Your father finds out about your new friend (Platonic!Yandere!Gojo x Child!Reader ft. Platonic!Yandere!Mahito x Child!Reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Gojo was never really the best cook so often for dinner he just made you stovetop noodles or frozen pizza. So for dinner tonight you were going to have stovetop ramen. He glanced over at you where you sat at the table. You say at the table, crayons and markers scattered across the table as you drew.

You put the drawing you just made into the pile with all the others. You knew your father would want to see them. He had a problem with keeping everything you drew, often showing them off to everyone he knew.

You were just to adorable and your drawings were also adorable. Things like cute drawings of animals, or cartoon characters like Hello Kitty or Doraemon, and your favorite thing to draw was you and your father.

Gojo glances over to you, hoping to have another fine piece of art to put up onto the fridge. Or perhaps he’d get another cute photo of you proudly holding up your stick figure art. He walks over to you as you continue to draw, swinging your legs as you do so. He peers over at your drawing. He considers himself very good at telling what your art is even when it’s just scribbles and random swirls.

He can’t tell what this one is though. He watches as you draw more. It seems to be two stick figures holding hands in a garden. One was you. The other he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the way you drew him. It was a stick figure with long blue hair, messy stitches all over the face.

“Who’s that?” He asks, watching you continue to draw. “Me?” He says in a sing-song voice, knowing it’s not him, but probably a character from a show. You pause for a moment before handing him your drawing. “Nuh-uh, it’s my friend” you say, calmly before picking up another paper. Gojo looks at the drawing once again. It didn’t look like anyone he knew. You only knew people he introduced you to. Perhaps it was an imaginary friend?

“Where’d you meet your friend?” He asks, slightly worried. He tended to worry a lot about you, worried you would end up hurt. “In the garden, he plays with me through the fence” You say innocently, not seeing how your words could possibly worry your father.

Gojo looks down at the drawing once again. The other figure you drew was clearly meant to be an adult. Was it a person? Perhaps a curse wanting to take you from him or hurt you? Either way he would be staying with you at all points going forward.

He needs to know you’re safe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#platonic yandere #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #yandere!gojo #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru #yandere!satoru #yandere satoru x reader

[melonteee]

When opla was announced I was guarded, but trailers and learning that Oda would have first and last word about everything made me hopeful.

But I knew that live action are never for the actual die hard fans.

Too much need to be cut because of time, as real actors cant look like they only age two years for 26 years, and some cartoon stuff doesnt translate well to live action *cough* garps fist of love *cough*

So I was able to convince my friend to watch opla with me.

She had read the manga when she was little, up to syrup village, so she was excited to see Kuro because she actually liked him back when she read it.

I was mostly there just to observe my friends reaction to it instead.

My favorite moment was watching her freak out after the "grandpa?" reveal.

I dont like that Garp was included that early on, I didnt mind him being there at rogers execution. But more than that seemed too much. I watched some Netflix guy explaining that they wanted to add a reason why the strawhat had to keep moving from island to island, but no marine would do because who would bother chasing a pirate crew with no bounty. I understand that reasoning. Still dont like it, but I understand.

But my friends reaction made it all better.

Did you know netflix wanted a romance between Nami and Zoro? Thank god Oda was there to stop it.

Also my friend and I quote "Oregano is for savages!" a lot now.

I'm truly glad you liked it anon and I do understand the excitement that came with it, but I honestly could not stand it. Nearly every scene and every line was like "Sanji wouldn't say that. Nami wouldn't do that. Why is this happening? Luffy definitely wouldn't say that."

An adaptation must adapt to its medium, true, but that is not what this did. This was an insanely loose reinterpretation that took so much charm away for me. I've talked about it on this Tumblr tons now but I've finally had the time to watch through all of it now that the hype's died down, and it just made me angrier per episode?

They had to shorten things down, but they included so many new scenes that added nothing? They had to explain the Strawhats going from island to island... WHY? They literally had a spine to go off, the original property had them going from island to island to find a crew and get to the grand line. That's literally a very solid reason. WHY did they need any marines chasing them? It just sounded like an excuse to add a fan favourite character so the Garp fans could scream about it.

And I've said this many times, but Oda being part of the process genuinely means nothing to me. Netflix infamously do not listen to their creators, and not only did they admit Oda HATED the Garp addition and they STILL added him, you can tell so much of his original vision was thrown aside for non-anime fan audience convenience. Usopp and Sanji felt like side characters for god's sake, Buggy felt comically evil for a LIVE ACTION, Mihawk's fight was literally so empty due to the fact no one was THERE? NAMI was the one who yelled she believes in Zoro and they'll always be friends??

I truly do not believe Oda would agree to most of that, and considering we know he was ignored for Garp, we know for sure he was definitely ignored for many other things.

As always, if you loved it, great! I'm glad the excitement was met. Maybe I'm cynical, maybe it's not to my tastes, but it screams Netflix cash cow to me and the whole time I watched it I thought "This is not One Piece at all."

As a reinterpretation? Great!

As an adaptation? It failed miserably. None of the characters felt like themselves and the additional scenes were so nothing. Sorry for the sour reply anon but for those on here who know, I indeed have a sore spot for that entire production.

I honestly think a lot of people got blinded by the pretty actors and the millions of dollars that went into production and promotion to really look at it for what it was trying to be.

#ask #melonask #oplatalks

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

👽AITA for telling kids that aliens are real?👽

this is a bit of a goofy one, maybe not THAT serious, i just want to know the internet’s thoughts.

i (20sM) have a friend (20sF) who is a nanny for a family of 3 kids, and has one kid of her own. i won’t give the kids’ ages but they’re all younger than 10. she often brings her own kid to work so they can hang out, and on this one particular day this summer she invited me to come hang out, getting ice cream and going to a nearby park.

i have a decent amount of tattoos, and since the weather was warm, this was the first time these kids got a good look at them. of course, they’re really into it, and start asking me questions like “did this one hurt?” “will they go away?” yknow, things like that. as they find different ones, i tell them little stories about what they mean: the flower behind my ear is our state flower, the skeleton just looked cool, that one’s for a band you probably shouldn’t listen to until you’re older, etc. at one point we arrive at the one on my upper arm, which is an alien spaceship.

here’s the thing. i’m not very good at talking to kids, and never have been. i was kinda using this ice cream date as my chance to practice and watch how my friend does it. i also do wholeheartedly believe in aliens, and got this tattoo as a way of getting silly with it and feeling less embarrassed when i tell someone i believe in aliens (not that it’s something TO be embarrassed about, i’ve just been talked down to about it a lot by people who disagree so that instilled a bit of shame. but you can’t be embarrassed about something you got permanently etched into your skin!).

so when i get the “what’s this one?” question about the alien ship, i decided i’d have a little fun with it, so i answered: “it’s an alien spaceship. aliens are REAL, you know!”

here’s how i see it: these are kids. i didn’t want to beat around the bush and give a long-winded “i really like aliens a lot, some of my favorite media is about aliens, and i think they actually exist.” i feel like that’s a lot for a kid to grasp, plus with the added concept of “i think this is real, but others might not.” the debate on extraterrestrials echoes a lot of ideas one might have debating the existence of god or an afterlife, and while i’m all for questioning the beliefs you were raised with, these kids are a bit too young for that, and they’re not my kids anyway. plus, believing in aliens is relatively harmless, right? i wanted to give them a little sense of wonder and encourage them to do some research if it’s something they liked the idea of.

after the kids weren’t around, my friend kinda told me off for it a bit. she didn’t want the kids she nannies for to go to their parents and tell them that “[name]s friend with a bunch of tattoos told me aliens are real.” and in that sense… i can see where i might’ve fucked up.

fast forward a couple months, and lo and behold, these kids are now obsessed with aliens. on the one hand, i do feel a little bad for it. but on the other hand, i kinda feel like aliens are a fairly common childhood obsession? lots of kids cartoons are about aliens, and in my mind it seems no different from an obsession with dinosaurs or greek mythology or something. it doesn’t seem like the parents are actively trying to discourage it, either. at the same time tho, i can see how telling the kids something like that could’ve cost my friend her job.

i’m more than happy to talk to the kids about alien stuff more if they want, but i’m still not fully sure if i should’ve said anything at all. is that something i should’ve let them discover on their own?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[yelena-bellova]

The First You - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plot: Soldiers don’t start out scarred, there was softness once where bitterness now lives.

Word Count: 753

Warnings: one curse word, too angsty to be fluff, lil’ spoon Joel

A/N: Had zero intention for writing anything TLOU related, seeing as I have zero knowledge of it…but fucking Joel Miller’s living in my brain so I figured I’d put it to good use. Wrote this in about 30 minutes, might delete this in the morning depending on how I feel.

————————

The ache in my bones belonged to someone older.

I considered the pointless thought as I turned my key in the door, rubbing my shoulder with my free hand. Double shifts were going to permanently alter my posture. But the longer I worked, the less time I had to think about how everything around me had gone to complete and utter shit.

The smell of whiskey permeated my senses as soon as I entered. A sign that things had been particularly bad today. Usually he’d wait for me to being drowning our memories. I swiped my finger across the kitchen table, picking up a stray morsel of a pill. Something had triggered this.

I almost didn’t want to look across to the bed, knowing what I’d see. In a world where everyone was at their peak point of suffering, he somehow made mine worse. The knots in my stomach, the pain in my chest, the fear lighting up every one of my nerves. Was love supposed to feel like this? Or had the Cordyceps infected that too?

Working up the strength, I turned around and saw Joel, in a dead sleep that couldn’t be achieved without chemical aide. I took calculated steps, avoiding the floorboards I knew creaked. Getting a closer look, I waited for the worry wrinkles in his forehead to disappear. People were supposed to find peace when they slept. Or maybe they were twenty years ago. Joel looked as hardened as he was when he was conscious.

Twenty years. Joel didn’t speak of his life straightforwardly. It happened more in passing and involuntarily. His knowledge of construction came out when we’d slip in and out through the skeleton of a building. His love of music peeked its head out when a signal would come through the radio. His foot would let out a single tap. Never more. And I’d figured out what food he’d liked by which meals he ate the quickest. Decoding him was both a hobby and a religion.

I sat down on the bed, biting back a groan as my muscles screamed. Working extra was good in the moment, horrible in the long run. I felt Joel stir behind me and as quick as I could, which wasn’t very fast at all, I gently rolled him onto his side. He was so far gone, he didn’t fight at all. The pills were in full effect.

I wrapped an arm around him, taking in the warmth of his body. His frame was solid, developed from years of manual labor and later, brutal confrontations. His clothes smelled of sweat and smoke, telling where he’d worked in the afternoon. I wiggled up on the bed and pressed my nose to the back of his neck, searching out any part that just smelled like him. As soon as our skin touched, I felt Joel shift his arm to sleepily grab my hand. That was the catalyst to let my thoughts wander all the places I stayed away from…

Had he slept in on Saturday mornings? Did he watch football? Were the Cowboys his team? Had he ever wanted to see the world, or was Austin enough for him? What games did he and Tommy play as kids? What was his favorite color? Had he celebrated his birthday, or gruffly brushed it off? What kind of guy was he in high school?

What kind of father had he been? Had he played Barbies? Attended tea parties? Painted a bedroom pink? Made pancakes into shapes? Watched weekend cartoons? Eyed any boy that looked his daughter’s way?

What kind of partner had he been? Was he romantic? Spontaneous? Did he do the whole candlelit dinner thing or had he liked cooking at home? Had his kisses once been soft and tender? Had he taken his time instead of urgent because how much time could truly be left? Did he like to go dancing or did he just randomly grab his girl’s waist and sway in the kitchen? Did his brown eyes light up when his love entered the room? Had they ever been filled with anything other than pain deep enough to have put down permanent roots in his heart?

Who was the man I could have had?

It didn’t matter, I told myself as a tear fell, it really didn’t. I’d have taken Joel any way I could have him. His strength, his resilience, his heart…I wanted it all. But that didn’t stop my heart from knowing he deserved better. We deserved better.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine

[thechekhov]

Oi!! Vc pode me dar uma dica de como vc começou a desenhar... tô tentando muito nós ultimos meses mais não consigo eu amo seu estilo de arte :)

Hey!! Can you give me a hint on how you started drawing… I've been trying a lot for the last few months but I can't do it I love your art style :)

Sure! The thing is...

it takes more than a few months.

I'm not saying that to discourage you. I'm not saying that to tell you to 'get good'. I'm saying that to explain that you should be patient with yourself. You are likely improving MUCH faster than I did!

This is what MY art looked like after a few months of drawing:

This is what my art looked like after a couple of years of drawing:

...after 5-6 years...

After 7 years...

After 13 years... 16.... 18 years

I've been drawing for... a LONG LONG TIME! And I'm STILL trying to make my art better! I'm still struggling.

So my first advice for you is:

Take your time. Relax. Enjoy it.

Art isn't an arms race. You won't win by being fast. You will win by having fun and drawing things you like to draw.

I recommend drawing as much as you can, but drawing things you LIKE or WANT to draw. Your favorite cartoon, or your favorite animal, or your favorite character. Don't pay attention to what you 'think' you should be drawing. Just DRAW!

Watch other people draw, but don't just look... WATCH. Don't just stare at their art and whine 'I wish I could do that, I'm not as good as they are!'..... instead, stare at their lineart, or their colors, and ABSORB their power. >:) Try to understand HOW they draw the things you like. Imitate them. Hell, trace some drawings if you want your muscles to learn the shapes (but don't post the traced drawings and pretend they're your own work, that's not art).

Draw for yourself. Social media is great, and being able to share your work with peers and friends is a fantastic way to grow as a person. But make sure you're drawing for YOUR benefit, not a hypothetical audience. Wanting to share your art with others is a natural and normal urge! Losing your sense of self and falling into a depressive spiral because you didn't get enough notes on a piece is not healthy, though.

I would give more specific advice, but to get specific advice you must ask specific questions. The vague 'how to get better' is unfortunately only answered by 'do more'. That's the only way.

#chekhov answers #art #arting

[destinygoldenstar]

Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

That’s a tough one.

I see quite a few arguments about some shows I’ve watched that ‘oh, this character is bad because they have too much screen time’. Or ‘I wish this character had more screen time to be interesting.’

Basically, too much screen time is now a valid critique to describe why a character is bad or doesn’t work for you. And to that I say…

Uh… no?

I’ll give some examples where I see this critique, but for now I want to state a case of examples where I expected to see this critique online, but didn’t, and I wondered why.

SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE SPIDERVERSE SEQUEL:

The main character of the Spiderverse movies is Miles Morales. Clear as day if you see ANY promotional concept art. The movies nail that home and give you a solid POV character among the Multiverse chaos.

The sequel begins with an over twenty minute backstory sequence involving Gwen Stacy, a side character in the first movie.

(Fun fact: When me and my dad went to see it in theaters together, he said that backstory was over twenty minutes long and that he thought they could've trimmed it down. Animated-phobia gives you weird opinions. He didn't watch Arcane with me and thought nothing of it because 'it was an animated show'. Not kidding.) (Both of my parents are like this, sadly.)

Now, in the context of the movie, it makes sense to include this to understand the full POV of her character going forward. As she is pretty vital to the story.

I tried imagining a version of the movie where we DIDN'T get this intro, went straight to Miles, and we just had to put the pieces together involving Gwen and her actions. And I don't think the movie would've worked nearly as well.

This brings me to another point involving Gwen Stacy in this movie: She's kind of become a protagonist as well, next to Miles.

Is this screen time theft? Under the screen time critique, it probably would seem that way.

And yet nobody I've seen complains. If anything, this solidified her as one of the best movie adaptations of Gwen Stacy out there. In my opinion.

Unlike the first movie, this one is not driven by the narrative of the main character, but rather multiple.

This is not uncommon. And it's an even bigger case with Arcane.

Yeah, this show is phenomenal everyone who says so is right Jinx is an icon Vi is my cartoon crush next to Petra I was crying so hard at the ending and for that alone this show deserves every ounce of praise it gets and I'm kind of an Arcane stan-

*Inhales*

I think I just have a thing for dystopian stories where characters walk through hell.

(Yes I consider TD a dystopian setting, that'd be a nice hot take to tackle one day.)

The Hunger Games is my favorite dystopian setting that I've seen, just because it's very memorable and inspiring. But Arcane is objectively the best dystopian story out there. If I fade out of my Total Drama obsession, this show might be my next target.

Cupcakes. El fin.

I could stop there, but lets talk about why we're here.

Arcane does not focus on the two main characters only as the driving force of its narrative.

Advertisement tell you that our main characters are the two growing war machines who go around calling each other sisters, Vi and Powder (Jinx. Idk how mad people get for which name I use for her. Sorry if I offend you). In fact, there's evidence to back that up. Other than they're the people with dyed hair, that's instant main character. They're the first characters we meet in the entire show. They're the characters with the final scene that closes off the season. EVERY ending to an act is with them. They're the main characters. Boom.

But wait. Nearly TWO THIRDS of this show doesn't even focus on them!

We have all the Piltover characters we keep switching back to. Jayce, Viktor, Mel, Caitlyn for Act 2 pretty much, Silco kind of becomes his own protagonist in Act 3. Really, the only people who remain consistent side characters are Ekko, and the two boys that get blown to pieces by Powder. And... some other people I'm forgetting the names of. (Sorry, I only had two watch throughs of this show so far and I know nothing about League other than the sisters become enemies.)

Now, why?

Why is this the case? I'm not saying characters other than our mains don't get fleshed out at all, but to the point where they're basically major enough to carry their own show? That SOUNDS like a detriment to the story if anything, especially how unfocused it kind of all gets until the end where everyone's in the same room.

Had Vi or Jinx interact with these characters, their fleshing out makes sense, and you definitely see that with characters like Caitlyn and Silco, who kind of need them to function.

But the Piltover gang? Jinx doesn't meet them at all, neither of the sisters meet Viktor, and Vi does meet Jayce, but in Episode 8 of 9.

Why does nobody complain about this? If anything, these guys are stealing screen time.

Well, it turns out, this is all done in Arcane's benefit, rather than fault. We are all the protagonist of our own story, and there are multiple POVs regarding the world.

It's basically if Hunger Games was third person instead of first, and we actually got a chance to flesh out the other rebels/children.

Me personally, and I know I'm not the only one out there, but the sisters were the most interesting thing about the show, and other characters that talk to them were how they caught my attention. That in no way means I don't care for anyone though, and it's COMPLETELY a PERSONAL thing.

So whenever we DO focus on the sisters and their story, not only do we get these other POVS on the scene that could clash with our view of them, but it makes it so that EVERY. SCENE. MATTERS.

No scene is wasted in fleshing out the sister's story. Everything has a purpose and drives it all to one heartbreaking simulation. There's no wasted space, there's no lack of attention to a certain detail, darn it, it's just right.

(I mean, I guess I would've liked to see what they went through in that time skip, like how Jinx was raised by Silco and processed her new identity, or better yet how tf Vi survived prison when it's heavily implied she beat people to a pulp and got solitary multiple times. But I think Season 2 is gonna cover it.)

Seriously, imagine a version of this show real quick.

Imagine a version of the show that took the Hunger Games approach, and used first person POV on one of the two sisters, doesn't matter which one, they'd both work. Cut out scenes not involving that sister. The other characters that appear revolve around scenes they're in with that sister.

Would that work nearly as well?

I don't think so.

Now First Person POV isn't necessarily a bad thing. Danganronpa is first person. Minecraft Story Mode is first person. Those are probably not great examples, but it can work. (TDDRI, a fic of mine, is first person, and I had to work around that to flesh out everyone else. It can work.)

This show is very hot topic and weirdly paced than what I'm used to. So take everything with a grain of salt as I am nowhere near an expert with this show. The show's story doesn't even get started until Episode 4, as the first three episodes are all flashback to explain where our characters are and why they're motivated to do what they do.

Again, I tried imagining a version of this show where we DIDN'T get those first three episodes, we started with Episode 4, and we just had to ASSUME all the backstory involving the sisters and the titular arcane and put the pieces together through Vi's words and Jinx's hallucinations. I don't think we would have been nearly as invested.

So with these two examples, WHY does nobody complain about screen time involving a character?

Is it because they're just really good pieces of media? Or is there a reason for this?

After all, Spiderverse and Arcane fall under the category of an 'ensemble cast'. A cast of characters in a story where there is no titular main character to drive the narrative, and everyone does instead. It's like if Harry Potter was 'Hogwarts' instead, or some title like that.

But lets take a look at some examples of ensemble casts where there's been a complaint of some sort with screen time:

Total Drama and RWBY.

Now I only like one of these two shows, so I'm gonna put that aside for now.

Total Drama. It has an ensemble cast. The show is about teenagers suffering-I mean competing for a prize, eliminating each other bit by bit as it goes along. Naturally with that setup, early boots are left to dry. But that doesn't stop people from complaining.

Ezekiel gets the most flack for too little screen time, and major fanboys say he should've had more focus. Personally I don't get that based on what role he's deigned to play. Caleb is a more recent example. I thought he was gonna have a bigger role and character than he ended up having, and him being a first boot gag makes even less sense than Zeke. Dawn is a fan favorite who isn't even in that many episodes. Axel is a ripoff of Shawn because of her lack of screen time. Scary Girl is... Scary Girl, who I don't see the fuss about her little screen time as she's comic relief, but the complaint is there. There is SO MUCH bashing about Noah's lack of screen time it is not even funny. So much so that he's sharing screen time with another person.

And who is to blame for this: Well, the characters who make it really far into the game, or course! How dare they steal screen time away from these guys!

I feel like Ripper is the most recent example of this. His character arc was about him breaking a world record. He broke it. It's Episode 5. Now he can leave the show, right-

Nope. He's around till Episode 8. Out of 13. And even then, in Episode 13, he's Millie's partner, which means screen time.

It sounds unjustified because it is. I'm not the biggest Ripper hater, but I definitely see the complaints. (Ripper and Damien swapping places are the only part of the elimination order I would change. Everything else is pretty spot on.)

We already have MK as a pre-merge antagonist and Julia as a post merge antagonist, we don't need this rando bully character as well as it adds nothing. Maybe Ripper would've been better liked if he wasn't a bully and just some morally average comic relief guy, but also... probably not.

But he's not the only fart based character in this show that gets complaints about screen time. Here's where I talk about the first gen.

For what I have seen, the ones with the biggest screen time complaints are Owen, Duncan, and Beth. I don't count Heather cause it's on purpose. I count Sierra because it's a personal gripe I have.

Owen was the original winner of TDI, came back on the show in the second season for a mole subplot nobody likes, and merged season three. He and Noah also got a spinoff.

Beth was the finalist of TDA.

And everyone hates it, including myself.

Then there's Duncan. Easily the character the show focuses on the most. Season 1? 4th place. Season 2? Winner. Season 3? Gone half the season so he's only in 8 episodes not counting what he didn't compete in, but he scored 5th overall. Season 5? Weakest performance, but he still merged. That's 8th place by the way.

By far, THIS is the character in this show that gets the MOST horrendous flack for his screen time. And from what I've learned, if you think this, you probably hate Duncan as a character.

Like, I haven't watched Winx, but I saw videos on YouTube that made fun of Bloom for getting too much screen time.

Somebody do those but with Duncan! I'm not a Duncan hater, but I would like to get a laugh!

So it'd just be easy to say the writers played favorites, it was an issue, and be done with it, right?

Except no.

My GF watched World Tour just recently. (And she was mixed on it.) Her comments regarding Duncan and Gwen were that she wished they had more interactions to sell them (she was routing AGAINST Duncney, basically) and it didn't help that Duncan was gone half the season. She said that it would've helped all the characters involved if he stayed to flesh that out.

To that I went: "Huh. That's interesting how you take no issue with this character's screen time."

But why though? She's not a stan of him, she's a casual viewer, so that can't be it.

And that's when it hit me.

Beth and Sierra. These two make it through an entire season each. And we both collectively hate them as characters. And we hate seeing them on screen.

That's because it's what the characters DO with their screen time.

See what I'm talking about:

Season 1: Duncan is an established character that develops relationships and friendships and learns to open up to people outside of his comfort bad boy zone.

Trent spends 16 episodes sitting still and looking pretty with a guitar. (Okay that's probably not a great example, and I don't hate Trent, but you kinda get it)

Season 2: Duncan is dealing with revenge on Harold for his spoiled relationship with Courtney where he gets abused by her, fights to hold his own, and dumps her.

Beth spends the entire season talking about a fake boyfriend and cheating on it.

Season 3: Duncan, again, is only competing in 8 episodes out of 26, but what does he do? He establishes a new relationship with Gwen, gets her cancelled, forms a friendship with Alejandro, and gets played.

Sierra is there the entire season sexually harassing Cody and passing it off as quirky. We hate to see it. (Seriously, you guys think the love triangle is worse than this? My GF and I agreed we would rather watch the love triangle ten times again, over Sierra being on screen at all.)

What's the difference here? STORY.

Certain characters have story to follow, that NEEDS that screen time to work. Ironically, the plotline of Duncan's that comes across the least genuine, is the season where he's on screen the least. (Not counting All Stars, but they're kind of equal in episodes Duncan's in.)

Again, imagine if we never had that backstory sequence of Gwen Stacy. Yes it eats up screen time, but without it? She would come across as an ingenuine traitor who supposedly ditched her dad for some cool spider society. We NEEDED that sequence.

Duncan is always doing something when the screen is focused on him.

The reason Beth and Sierra don't work despite having all the screen time in the world is that they do NOTHING with the screen time they get. Nothing of value at least. We could've learned a lot about their origins, Beth's underdog status, or Sierra's fanclub, flesh them out as dynamic characters to route for, with different sides of them that slip through time to time that gets the audience thinking.

Nope. Sexual harassment makes up for all of that. (I question why I put up with this show sometimes.)

That would be the case and that's the answer, just do something with your screen time and you're free to have as much as you want.

Except there's ANOTHER key to the puzzle here.

Duncan is in the top 4 of the TD cast for a reason.

He's a main character.

Something Jaune Arc is not.

Hello nemesis my old friend.

Look, I respect people who like RWBY. People can feel any way they want to about a show. Opinions are valid.

If you think Arcane is the worst show ever made, that's valid.

If you think Velma is the best show ever made, that's valid.

It's all VALID.

With that said I think this show is an absolute trainwreck when it comes to writing characters.

Now hold on before you say I hate everything about it, I don't. This show does have SOME merits to it. The music is stellar and I actually listen to the soundtrack from time to time. For a limited budget animation, it's impressive. The choreo is neat. I want these weapons. I actually like quite a few of the side characters. Keep in mind I said side.

But what I look for in a good show is a compelling story and interesting characters to follow.

Something this show just does not have in my opinion.

I keep saying I'll do an analysis post on why Team RWBY are awful protagonists, but I've been busy and my plate has not emptied. But one of my main points regarding them is screen time.

Keep in mind, I've only seen fully up to Season 8. I've only seen clips of Season 9, so whatever I say about 9 may not be accurate.

Team RWBY are the main characters of the show, and yet they have not done a single main character thing throughout EIGHT SEASONS. It's kind of incredible.

If I didn't know the name of the show but saw a clip, I'd assume the main character was Jaune, or Oscar, more on them later.

What have these girls contributed in the battle of Salem's forces?

Season 1: Blake helped stop a robbery. Not even all four of them, just Blake. (So did Sun and Penny.)

Season 2: They broke into the White Fang's secret operation and busted a train into the city to fight off some Grim, in time for Team CFVY to wipe them out. (Those characters appear TWICE in the ENTIRE show, this is the first time. Just to speak my point.)

Season 3: Yang got framed for assault which helped the bad guys. Ruby watched Pyyra die and she blasted an eyeball off Cinder.

Season 4: UH...

Season 5: They housed Oscar, they met Raven, and they took place in the battle of Haven where Yang got the relic. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 6: They took the relic to Atlas. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 7: They lied to the general about vital information that could've helped them get one on Salem, and doomed all of Atlas.

Season 8: They caused the death of a kingdom and fell through a hole.

Season 9: UH... (That's not me not knowing what happened in 9, they just climbed out of the hole, basically, as the season has nothing to do with Salem's forces.)

Now, because the main characters are not involved with the main plot very much, does that make them bad?

No. There ARE ways to utilize them outside of driving the external plot.

Some stories are Character vs Self, Internal Conflict. The basis of this show's story is that these kids who grew up to be military soldiers are learning that their lives and the world is not a fairy tale, and they're not the good guys. That SOUNDS like the show is all about internal conflict, right?

Well it's not.

I mean, they DO realize this and make a morally questionable choice with consequences they regret.

In Season SEVEN.

And even THEN, they're treated by gods themselves like they've done nothing wrong!

If you ask me, it should have happened a LONG time ago.

What internal conflicts do these girls have?

Ruby is a naive prodigy who wants to be a huntress and live out a fairy tale reality. And she lives out that dream. Then Pyyra dies and she loses that home. And then she's back to fairy tale land, just doing more crimes and hating authority. And I GUESS she learned a lesson in 9...? I just saw her as depressed.

Weiss is an heiress of a rich company trying to overthrow rule of her father, who hates her. She hates Faunus. She learns not to hate Faunus. And she gains a lot of powers.

Blake is part of a civil rights movement with Faunus and she likes assaulting her own kind and burning their homes. She also has an abusive boyfriend and kills him with a girlfriend by her side.

Yang lost her mommy and wants to find her. She loses her arm. She finds her mommy but doesn't give a s**t because plot. She also gets a girlfriend.

That's like Vi and Jinx's reunion, only they didn't care about seeing each other again after years, they just pointed fists and guns at each other and said, "Where's the arcane?! Where's Silco?! I'm not here for you, I have a police GF now!" "I'm not here for you, I just wanted an easy route to blast Piltover to pieces! Mwahaha!"

See where I'm going with that?

Internal conflict is a key to making characters screen time worth while.

But lets face it, Team RWBY not having very well established internal/relevance to the external conflict is not the full reason why this is a problem with their screen time.

It's their lack thereof.

Three quarters of every season, they're just sitting at some random place that's not even pretty to look at, and the SIDE CHARACTERS do all the plot relevant stuff.

See why I like the side characters better?

Lets look at that chart again:

Season 1: Sun and Penny stopped that robbery.

Season 2: Team CFVY stopped the Grim invasion.

Season 3: Pyyra's story and downward spiral to her death.

Season 4: Nora and Ren the season.

Season 5: Oscar. The tribe.

Season 6: Oscar again as he's responsible for the exposition involved in that season.

Season 7: Ironwood's descent into insanity AND Penny's descent into accidental heroism.

Season 8: Both those characters die. Everyone dies.

Season 9: ...okay, good point, there was no one else.

Okay so maybe Season 9 gets a pass, but the others? Can you really put Team RWBY in a plot summary?

And that's just external conflict talking, let's talk the MAIN CHARACTER with the INTERNAL conflicts throughout the ENTIRE show.

Jaune Arc.

A SIDE character, voiced by one of the writers, has some of the most plotlines to follow due to his internal struggle and conflict in this new war throughout the entire show.

He has something to do in MOST of the seasons of this show. Not unlike Duncan. The only time I think he didn't have anything going on was Season 7.

In the very first season, Jaune has an entire character arc surrounding him trying to find his inner strength with a one off bully character as an antagonist. That sounds fine, so what's the issue?

This character arc takes up FOUR episodes out of 16. A WHOLE QUARTER OF THE SEASON.

"Well, maybe those episodes cut away to other people at some points-"

No. They don't. It's all Jaune in all these episodes.

Season two is less so Jaune focused, but he has a little subplot surrounding letting go of his feelings for Weiss and finding another girl who would gladly take him. I guess it's priority respect because Neptune was into Weiss at the time? But those two wound up never being a thing, so...

The whole time I thought Weiss was just asexual, but then 9 came in to screw that idea.

Season three focuses on Pyyra, Jaune's love interest, and therefore he's vital to her story and her thought process, so much so that the big angst moment in the season is with him and their death kiss.

Season four and five are focused on Jaune's thirst for revenge on Cinder, a member of Salem's forces, for killing Pyyra. He learns about Salem's forces along the way, makes his own opinion about all this lore, and decides to help out due to his personal necessity.

Wow. He has an internal conflict going on, AND he's active with the external conflict. HMM...

Season six is him letting go of his grief after his moral failure from the Battle of Haven nearly getting Weiss killed. And also he pins Oscar to the wall because why not. It's brief but it's also a full on character arc.

Season eight, he kills Penny, a girl he has never interacted with before this point, and he's a grieving mess. So much so that season nine also includes Jaune dealing with MULTIPLE grieving instances and personal failures.

Everyone else got a seasonal break from the story, and yet Jaune could not.

Now, is this a screen time issue?

Yes.

But NOT for the reasons you might think.

Let's go off of Duncan again, a character with a major status in the show's story and conflict from day one. He was designed that way.

Jaune was not designed that way. BUT I don't actually hate his story for the screen time he gets. In fact, he's probably one of the most interesting characters in the show because there's so much time dedicated to his struggle and his story.

The elephant in the room isn't because Jaune has a story.

It's because the main characters don't have a story.

Again, Arcane, that show focuses on a LOT of characters that aren't Vi and Jinx. You could argue Jayce is the Jaune in their universe. But why does it work? Because there is NOT a neglect of characterization of the leads.

In RWBY, there's a serious neglect issue.

And it's not just Jaune. There are other side characters who've been stealing time away from the leads.

Oscar, ever since he debuted Season 4, has been devoted to screen time stealing, and stealing the main character status with a Chosen One narrative and a pretty offensive way of portraying Multiple Personality Disorder. He's the one with the chosen one story, he's the one who interacts with the bad guys, he's toe to toe with Ironwood, he's the one related to Salem, and he does all of it with the personality of a hollow pine tree.

I mean I guess he also has a crush on Ruby, but... I don't want to get into that.

Hell, CINDER, an ANTAGONIST of the show, has more conflict and screen time than the leads. And she's one of my least favorite characters in the entire show, isn't that sweet?!

On top of that, she's a VILLAIN. We shouldn't be routing for her!

Then there's the rest of JNPR. Nora and Ren have a season focused on them, that being season 4. Pyyra is the same case with season 3. Pyyra dies in that season, so she's obviously not getting screen time any further. But Ren and Nora are alive, AND they have a subplot in the Atlas arc. Having a subplot isn't a problem, it just becomes jarring when the main characters don't have an arc and they do.

Penny gets revived and dies in the Atlas arc. That's also a thing.

The fix here should be really simple! Swap roles! Have the side characters sit in the houses with their little arcs, and have Team RWBY on the fields reacting to everything. It wouldn't excuse their lack of inner struggle, but at least they'd be involved with the plot.

There are many ways you could fix this. Like Oscar's role of being related to Salem. Ruby's mom is dead, but like, what if her mom was Salem and was taken out in war and revived/corrupted into this monster figure? That'd be an interesting narrative.

And RWBY is not the only show, the previous season of Pretty Cure, Delicious Party, ALSO has this issue. And arguably they did it worse because I don't even care for the side characters there either. I'd be repeating myself with criticism there:

Yui, the supposed main character, has no character trait other than be a glutton and a stand in for her grandmother, the other Cures are also irrelevant to the plot and just spend their time eating. The boys of this magical girl show are the focus and have all the wishy washy plotlines, and none of them are even that interesting.

I will give RWBY this over Delicious Party to prove I can see its merits:

At least they only have ONE forth wall narration and do know boundaries to that stuff, as opposed to Delicious Party that thinks their viewers are IDIOTS, and needs a narrator to explain EVERYTHING. CONSTANTLY.

(What a new low for that franchise, am I right? At least we have Hirogaru Sky.)

So what have we learned here?

To answer the question: Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

No. It's not that simple.

It's what the character DOES with that screen time that matters. And their role in the story that warrants this screen time.

They need to have all the details of their story laid out for you to care about them.

They need every scene involving their story to matter.

They need to have a plotline that justifies the screen time, small role or big role.

They need to be involved with the main story if they are a major character.

They need an internal conflict to keep the time on them engaging.

They need to be doing something.

If they are a minor character, additional screen time is not a bad thing.

A minor character with a lot of screen time could be there to advance the world building, they could be heavily connected to major character, relationship or otherwise.

But the minor characters don't become favorites and neglect focus on the people the story is revolving around.

First Person POV is a difficult storytelling technique when it comes to screen time, but it's not a bad tool. It can be used as a certain perspective for every character involved if done properly.

And just... screen time alone isn't a valid criticism in my opinion. It's WAY more complicated than that.

What's your opinion? Reblog your thoughts, I'm very curious, especially with media with this issue I did not cover.

#media #analysis #media analysis #writing advice #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spider gwen #arcane #arcane vi #arcane jinx #the hunger games #total drama #td duncan #td ripper #td beth #td sierra #rwby #jaune arc #team rwby #oscar pine #pyrrha nikos #penny polendina #miles morales #arcane jayce #caitlyn kiramman #arcane silco #arcane caitlyn #caitvi #td ezekiel

[dilfelvis]

Blue Christmas

summary: austin throws a christmas party while elvis is feeling fuzzy.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: age regression, pure fluff

notes: this is actually a bday gift for one of my mutuals!! @mooodyblue happy (early) birthday lily!!! hope u enjoy and have a happy birthday ����🏽

christmas was elvis’ favorite holiday.

a lot of people said christmas was their favorite, but elvis held it near and dear to his heart. he loved it all– the lights, the gifts, being with family, cooking food– all of it. it made him feel like he was a boy again, pestering his mama about whether or not they’d see santa in their small little armpit of a neighborhood. he’d always fall asleep though– and wake up to one or two presents underneath their small tree.

they were never big gifts, and that was fine, because just being there with his momma was enough for him.

elvis, despite his big and loud lifestyle, actually liked small, quiet christmases. he loved when it was him, and a handful of people that he held near and dear to his heart.

this year, however, austin had decided to throw a little christmas party. elvis was surprised by this, because austin was a pretty reserved person. he didn’t like crowds– they made him nervous– and he was a wallflower at parties. but he told elvis that it would be small– just a few friends and some family that were coming to visit him, and that they wouldn’t stay long at all. austin said he was allowed to invite some of his friends, but…

it didn’t matter. elvis would get through it fine. he was looking forward to spending one on one time with austin, but if there were a few people around, he could handle it. he was a little worried about them figuring out his identity, but austin said he had told them some lie about him being a friend that just looked a lot like elvis– or something like that. whatever.

the day of the party came– christmas eve– and elvis was able to greet everyone with a smile and a handshake, despite that fuzziness in the back of his head. there was austin’s older sister, ashley, and his close friend, also ashley– and his dad, and an aunt, and someone’s boyfriend– and a baby–

about ten people in total showed up. it wasn’t a ridiculous amount, but it was more than elvis was expecting. he saw austin shoot him a nervous look from the corner of his eye, before trying to get everyone settled in the living room. he heard mumbles of people telling him he had a nice place, or that he really did have a friend that looked like elvis.

after that, austin approached him, smiling softly.

“i know i said a few people–”

“it’s fine, aus.” elvis said, waving him off. “y’don’t gotta justify nothin’ to me. it’s your party. i’m fine.”

the blonde looked unsure, gently taking elvis’ hand in his. “y’sure? you don’t have to pretend to be alright with this– i know this isn’t what you were expecting, and–”

“it’s alrght,” elvis hums, rolling his shoulders. “i’ll jus’ try an’ sit back. observe.”

austin gave him a warm smile, caressing his knuckles with his thumb. “lemme know if y’need me at all, okay?”

elvis nodded, and trailed behind austin to the couch, waving meekly at everyone. they all began talking, gossiping about things elvis didn’t quite get and people he didn’t know. he felt so out of place, but he did his best to look like he was somewhat invested in the conversation.

as time went on, he zoned out. he couldn’t stay focused on anything– even if he tried. that fuzziness in his head tried to take over, but he was determined to let austin have a good time. he tried not to give into that feeling or those thoughts. he tried not to think about how nice it would be to get nice and comfortable in his favorite pajamas right now– or how he desperately wanted to watch cartoons while snuggled up in the blankets on the bed upstairs– or how he really wanted a pb and j and some milk.

“...e? e? what about you?”

“huh?” elvis hummed, snapping out of his thoughts abruptly. “what about me?”

“you enjoyin’ the party? y’seem a little in your head.”

it was austin asking, but the whole room was staring at him, waiting for an answer. that didn’t help the tiny feeling in his brain as he scrambled to answer, the words seeming to get stuck in his throat. “i–”

he stuttered something awful, his cheeks flushing as he began to fidget with the sleeves of his sweater. “i-i– yeah, i’m…it’s fun. f-fun.”

the room accepts his response, but austin furrows his brows in worry as he gently grabs elvis’ hand.

“uh– we’ll be right back.”

austin pulled him up, leading him into the kitchen gently. elvis felt dazed and small and stupid for stuttering like that, in front of all those people, but all of that melted away when austin’s thumb gently brushed against his cheek.

“hey now,” the blonde crooned, his eyes gently glimmering with all of the pretty colors of their christmas lights. “whatsa matter, huh? you look all sad.”

elvis swallowed hard, wanting so badly to lie and try to spare austin’s feelings– but the more he thought about going back out there in his dumb sweater and uncomfortable pants, the more he cracked and just sniffled, overstimulated.

“i hate it, momma.” elvis whimpered, eyes watering with unshed tears. “too many people– ‘s all loud and hot and this sweater is itchy– i jus’ wanna snuggle with you and watch cartoons.”

“oh, baby,” austin frowned, taking elvis’ hands in his and caressing his knuckles. “why didn’t you say nothin’? i told you i was right there if ya needed anything.”

elvis sniffled softly, his cheeks flushing as he murmured quietly. “wanted you to have fun, momma. d-didn’t want you t’worry ‘bout me.”

“baby.” austin sighs, pulling him in for a tight hug, immediately making him melt into the warm crook of his neck, sniffling softly as the blonde rubs soothing circles into his back. “i’m your caregiver, i’m supposed to worry about you. you’re my little prince, and i’m your momma. i would do anything for you. you got that?”

“b-b-but–”

“no buts,” austin hushes, running his fingers through elvis’ soft locks. “how about this– you go upstairs ‘n get comfy, and i’ll be up there in a few minutes, okay?”

“okey,” he sniffed, pulling away from austin reluctantly and walking towards the stairs, hearing austin reassure the group of people behind him that he was perfectly fine.

he reached the bedroom and sat on the bed, fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for austin to show up. he heard their voices down there– faint and mumbly, and then a door closing.

the room to the door opened, and austin smiled at him softly.

“hi baby.”

“hi momma.” elvis muttered, rocking back and forth idly. “where’d everyone go?” he asked, noticing the lack of mumbling from downstairs.

“i sent ‘em home.”

“wha– why?” elvis whined, a little embarrassed. “y-y’didn’t have to– i-i didn’t mean f-for you to end the whole thing!”

“it’s not a big deal.” he said. shrugging. “besides, i was gettin’ a little tired too. and i missed my baby.” he hummed, pressing a noisy kiss to elvis’ cheek.

elvis whined, his face flushing as austin’s plush lips met his cheek. “momma!”

“sorry, sorry, i know how you are about kisses.” he hums, sitting next to him. “you ready to watch a movie?”

“r-really? wh-which movie?”

“any movie you want.”

“o-oh, uh…c-can we watch the grinch?” elvis asked eagerly, practically bouncing as he looked up at austin with eyes that were practically glowing.

“of course. let’s get your pjs on first.” he hummed, taking elvis’ hand and standing him up, letting him look at his options in the drawer before him. “pick a pair.”

“oooh….uhm, i want the pink ones!” he decided, his thumb making its way between his lips as he spoke. “the ones with the yellow stars,”

“okay prince.” austin hummed, before tsking and pulling elvis’ finger away from his mouth. “nuh uh. we don’t bite our fingers. you want your paci?”

elvis blushed, but nodded shyly. “uh huh.”

austin handed him his favorite pacifier, a baby blue one with little stars scattered all over it, making elvis smile as he took it into his mouth and began suckling idly. austin smiled and ruffled his hair, getting out the pajama set elvis had chosen.

austin sat him down and undressed him gently, poking him in his stomach teasingly every few seconds, making elvis pout and whine. once his shirt was buttoned and his pants were on, austin kneeled in front of him and looked him over once, before sneaking a kiss on top of his pacifier.

elvis went red, but didn’t whine. he just looked away, embarrassed as austin giggled at his expression.

“okay baby, let’s put the movie on. you ready to snuggle with momma?”

elvis nodded, crawling in the bed and snuggling into his usual spot, pulling the blankets to his chin. austin smiles fondly, making sure to grab elvis’ stuffed bear before he crawled into bed next to him. elvis eagerly grabbed his stuffie and snuggled it close to his chest, scooching closer to austin as he settled down next to him, turning the tv on.

it was quiet as austin put the movie on, save for the steady sound of elvis’ breathing. he snuggled into austin’s side as the movie began to play, giggling and smiling at the jokes and such.

not even halfway through the movie, he was fast asleep, his gentle snores filling the room as he subconsciously tried to press closer to austin, hugging his tiny stuffed bear to his chest like his life depended on it. austin couldn’t help but smile down at him, admiring how peaceful he looked as he slept. it warmed his heart seeing him rest– especially since he didn’t get good sleep often. the fact he felt safe and secure enough to sleep in his arms made him proud.

austin turned the tv off, pulling elvis’ head closer to his chest as he settled into the covers himself.

“goodnight, little prince.”

#elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis

[louscartridge]

dating bose o'brien thoughts or wtvr

bose obrien x gn reader

i do not give permission for my fics to be posted claiming to be yours, translated, or posted on another platform.

cw- reader knows bose is brainstorm, cuddling, mentions of horror movies, established relationship, reader calls bose 'baby' and /silly' once, angst/hurt +comfort if you squint, reader and bose say "i love you" to eachother.

danger force masterlist here

❥ bose is Literally the most golden retriever boyfriend to ever exist. anyways following you around and wanting to be with you. he'd (attempt to) do almost anything for you. when you're not around he gets all mopey and cant stop talking about you.

"no wonder he cant remember anything. all he ever thinks about is y/n"

❥His love language(s) are physical touch, and gift giving. Hes always clinging onto you when hes scared, or sad, or just around you honestly. You remember that one episode of danger force where shwoz's mom was "sick" and bose got her golf clubs? (Im gonna pretend he used his own money for that 💀) He uses the little money he gets from occasionally working at nacho ball, on you.

you put what bose had bought you back in the box, and onto the table that was in the middle of the couch the two of you were sitting on.

"Bose, baby. As much as i love this, and you, you really dont have to spend any of your money on me at all. Get something YOU want for yourself." you tell him.

"All i want to myself is you" he replies, his voice cracking slightly at the end making you smile while you blush at his statement.

"Ok, Ill tell you what. How about you get that new dvd you were talking about a few days ago, and we can watch it together. Then, we'll both have what we want"

❥ Obviously you guys watch shows and movies together all the time. I feel like he really likes watching cartoons with you alot too. You make him happy, cartoons make him happy, therefore- extra happy bose. You love horror movies, but as we know, bose is a bit of a scaredy cat when it comes to horror movies. However, that doesnt mean that he wont watch them with you. He knows how much you like them, and he also knows how much it means to the both of you to watch stuff together.

Youre on of the few people he'll actually watch a horror movie with. Though he still gets scared, he always feels the most safe and secure while watching a horror movie when youre there. Boes is practically hooked on your back like a koala, and his arms loosely wrapped around your neck. As hes watching the movie with you, he would occasionally yelp, and bury his face in the crock of your neck and his arms, tightening the hold his arms have around your neck slightly, all while saying "im not scared i dont know what you're talking about"

❥ This man absolutely loves cuddling. Spooning, sitting in the others lap, it didnt matter. As long as you were touching eachother, he was happy.

Hes most definitely is usually a little spoon. He feels insanely safe and protected by you. As much as he always says to the rest of his co-workers and friends that he "can protect himself" you know that sometimes he needs a little help, and he gets more scared then hed like to admit. With you tho, he had absolutely no doubt that he'll be alright.

❥ i feel like bose doesnt really care too much about sounding cheesy when hes talking to you or about you. At first he might've been a little scared to tell you how he feels about you, but after that, god he just keeps going on. He loves you and he'll sure as hell tell you that he does. He doesnt say "i love you" excessively, but he definitely says it at least twice everyday. At least once in the morning, and at least once before he or you go to sleep.

He actually said it first. One of his favorite shirts got ripped and he asked you to fix it. When you were done sewing it and gave it back to him, he exitedly grabbed it out of your hands while enthusiasticly saying "oh my god thank you, i love you" before running away.

a bit later bose came back to the couch in the mans nest where you were sitting, only this time he was wearing the shirt that you had just fixed for him a little bit ago. He sat down next to you but he seemed kinda anxious.

"Whats wrong bose?" You asked him, leaning forward slightly so you could see his face better. He was biting at his lower lip a little and looking down at his hands that were bouncing up and down from his leg bouncing. "I-im sorry if i weirded you out or anything earlier" he said not looking up from his hands. "No you didnt. Why would you? You didnt do anything" you took your left hand and softly brought it up to his jaw , turning his face so you could see eachother properly. Bose hesitated for a second before answering. "When I said i love you" it seemed as if he was holding himself back from looking at you, instead he was looking aimlessly behind you, or back down again. Only time time, instead of seeing his hands, he sees his knees slightly touching yours. You slowly rubbed your boyfriends cheekbone with your thumb. "Oh my god bose, thats what you're worried about?" You chuckle slightly. "I love you too. I said it back, you just ran away too fast for you to hear it silly" Once you said that, boses eyes immediately shot to yours. "Really?" Even tho he said it quietly, you could still hear the happiness in his voice.

"Really." You confirmed, bringing him into a soft kiss.

#x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #x yn #x y/n #x you #danger force #danger force fanfic #danger force fanfiction #bose obrien x reader #bose o'brien #luca luhan #luca luhan x reader #fluff #angst #hurt #comfort