#but they don’t put enough emphasis on the death

[vonkarma2]

Also do Joanna for the analysis?

Let’s go my own oc B) she’s a side character so this may be kinda hard 

My overall opinion on the character: I actually like her personality (and her design I’ve never posted any art of her I don’t think so like take my word for it I guess lol) but other aspects of her character are kinda hard to balance like I don’t want to be 100% serious like have her character directly represent real situations that we actually have bc she’s also supposed to be like a funny character who does insane things, and that has like emotional moments and an impact on the plot etc etc. So I don’t want to go too over the top with her but I also don’t want to take her too seriously and I don’t want to make her sympathetic but I don’t want to make her too like hateable that you completely hate her every scene she’s in because what I was going for with her character was that you’d start out liking her because she seems great but then every so often she’d do something terrible and it’d remind you not to trust her or whatever, which is kinda hard to do but whatever. But one thing I really like abt her character is her relationship with her son, I felt like I could umm relate to it I guess even though it’s of course not as extreme, but yeah I feel like that subplot has a lot of potential to be really interesting and sad to me. 

One virtue they have: Well first of all she is a great parent she loves her son would do anything for him has helped him in many situations they are very close etc etc Ive talked abt that before though. So I want to talk about another thing umm ok one thing about her is that she is not intimidated by anyone and doesn’t let fear of consequences stop her from doing what she thinks is important like ever since she was really young she has been that way.  So this has the potential to have terrible consequences considering she is a very bad person. But at least she isn’t like cowardly or whatever

One flaw they have: I’ve said this before with Joanna she’s like the best interpersonally but more broadly she’s like straight up evil. Like in that she’s willing to torture/kill people for research even when it isn’t strictly necessary just because it’s easier. She doesn’t actively enjoy it except in a morbid curiosity way she’s just able to completely shut off feeling bad for them because it’s for the sake of something she believes in. I feel like unlike many other Relesians she’s working with she doesn’t believe in cultural superiority or anything like that (whereas several of the people she works with and hates do (those same people eventually try to kill her by the way))… but she does think other governments losing their autonomy to Reles would be a good thing because she doesn’t trust their processes to be as efficient or reliable or whatever. In the end she is incredibly self righteous to the point of not trusting anyone but herself to make what she considers to be the right decisions (which is a major contrast with Lucia who doesn’t think she has the ability to impact anything and all and feels like she has no idea what to do whereas Joanna has a vision for like how the entire world should be and believes in it wholeheartedly)and also shockingly callous when it comes down to it, like she’s capable of being very compassionate and considerate when she wants to be but when it becomes inconvenient she doesn’t care at all. This is several flaws I’m sorry

Favorite moment from their arc: I like the part where she killed the king of Zeolan hell yeah get him fuck that guy. Shot him in the head let’s go. There are other moments from her arc that are better character wise or honestly more dramatic/interesting to me but this is my favorite part bc like she was almost assassinated for moving too quickly/being an unpredictable rogue element so they were honestly kind of regretting trusting her. But their attempt failed so she was like ok bitch you thought that was too fast what now. And killed him

Least favorite moment from their arc: I’m going to answer this from the perspective of like what has been the most difficult to come up with I have to say her introduction and interaction with Rocio. I have no idea how that would go it’s killing me. And because the reason for their interaction is not fleshed out well at all like the actual plot surrounding it I really have to develop that I guess

One relationship they have with another character: I guess I can only really talk abt her and Joseph so here it is. I have talked about it before though but basically he doesn’t have friends his own age in real life he was bullied at school which he also sucks at he’s very shy with people his own age, she’s close with him encourages him supports him and wants nothing but the best for him. However this closeness is eventually ruined when he finds out about various deeply fucked up things she’s been doing leaving him feeling alone and like he has to stop her somehow, and also they like live in the same place so he’s very paranoid around her. Which leads to her becoming somewhat concerned like she’s not suspicious of him at all but she is very worried especially because it just gets worse over time.  Which is great because that’s yet another thing she doesn’t need since Rocio stole from her + those fuckers in the state government won’t listen to anything she says, so she’s generally pretty frustrated. Ok that’s off topic but yeah it’s important that their relationship has basically been 100% positive (although of course Joseph became more reserved as he got older, and she doesn’t like how he’s prone to wasting all day doing nothing, but that’s just typical stuff and she genuinely doesn’t mind that much) up until this point so it’s literally like the most reliable thing either of them had in their lives has been ruined. Kinda depressing he’ll be ok I swear he has other family and even to an extent friends. She won’t though 

One relationship I'd like to see explored from this character: She really only interacts with 2 named characters or like has a relationship with them personally. Maybe her and Rocio because they are very similar (Rocio’s not As bad but still) but hate each other, or at least Joanna hates Rocio. So having her learn more about them could be interesting, it would definitely not change her mind though because she hates them not for who they are but for what they represent. Strangely enough her reasons for this are actually pretty reasonable like she’s right abt the wizard system being pretty fucked. So I guess she might even be able to convince Rocio of that too (<they don’t have any love for the system either they just see it as a vehicle through which to achieve their own goals).

What I would have liked to see happen with them in the media: Hmmm well besides things that I’ve already determined are going to happen I’d like to do something with what she does like right after the story which is go into hiding in a remote town or whatever forever with no hope of ever achieving her ideals. So from her perspective the world lost out on a utopian future mostly because of her actions, and even worse she can never see her son again. Which I suppose is somewhat sad but she had it coming soooo 😋😋😋 sadder for him I guess

Extra bonus opinion: I think she’s pretty funny here are some comedic aspects of her character

she loves Joseph so much her thoughts of him are as equally high priority as like her evil world domination plans

similarly to Gloria she will say whatever she wants including being incredibly rude because she doesn’t believe in dishonesty. People need to know that she does not like them and thinks they’re stupid. (

willing to kill at very little provocation 

the fact that I have to work really hard not to make the end of her story too similar to Walter White. Spoilers for breaking bad I guess 

#this ended up so long omg #my ocs #joanna andino #yeah but do you see what i mean like balancing serious vs comedic aspects and sympathetic vs unsympathetic moments #I definitely also don’t want to have it be like a tell not show thing like say she’s not good because she kills people #but then not actually go in depth with that and have it be like an informed trait or have it feel completely out of character #this might just be me but I hate when shows kill characters and you’re supposed to take it seriously #but they don’t put enough emphasis on the death #so it feels like it doesn’t matter yk to the characters or the media overall #and so even though it’s ofc kinda silly and it’s sci fi murder yk #I want to actually like convey the weight of the bad things she does #which is important to Joseph’s character as well

[charmwasjess]

Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma. 

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life. 

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender. 

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective. 

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post. 

#star wars analysis #lightsaber nerd stuff #lightsaber forms #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #disaster lineage #the clone wars #duel of the fates #the phantom menace #soresu #darth maul #star wars meta

[daisynik7]

Could you possibly do: Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado for Jean Kirstein - Smut (stg he needs more love on this app)

Promiscuous

Pairing: Jean x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: frenemies-to-lovers trope, one bed (in this case, tent) trope, modern day au, explicit language, smut – mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job

Summary: During your annual camping trip with your friends, you find out a little too late that the tent you brought with you is broken. With everyone’s already occupied, you’re forced to share one with Jean, who you don’t exactly get along with. Maybe sharing a small space together for one night will change that. 

Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thank you for your request for the y2k karaoke party! This idea is somewhat inspired by my main man AugustInTheWinter’s “Trapped in Your Asshole Friend’s Tent” (reddit link, +18)  except mine is more of a teaser if anything, since there’s no actual sex, hehe. I hope you like this one! I don’t write for Jean often, but when I do, I always have so much fun! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/mikeykuns.

Your tent is busted, and of course you only find out about it as you unpack it on the campsite, finding it torn up and unusable. You turn to Sasha, panicking. “It’s broken!”

She kneels down to inspect it, looking at all the parts. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it?”

“Everything is in pieces. It’s completely useless. Do you have room in your tent?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sleeping in Connie’s. And Mikasa, Armin, and Eren are squeezing into one. Which leaves only Jean – ”

“No,” you say with emphasis. “No way.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Come on. You’re only in there for a few hours each night, that’s it! Set your differences aside for once! Unless you want to sleep out in the cold.”

“I think I’d rather freeze to death and get eaten by a bear than share a tent with him,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest. 

She chuckles, taking a bite out of a baked potato she has stored in her pocket. “Fine. I’ll be sure to write that in your obituary.” She walks away from you, joining Connie by their tent, helping him set it up while you stand there, defiant, and all-too-stubborn. You look over to their right to see the EMA trio working together to assemble their big tent, but still not big enough to house a fourth person. Then, on the other side, furthest away from the others, is Jean. 

You seriously weigh your options, eventually deciding that death by the elements is worse by the tiniest margin than sleeping next to Jean. So you walk up to him, tapping on the thin fabric, pretending to knock. “Kirstein,” you call out when there’s no answer.

He unzips the entrance, glaring at you. “What do you want?”

You clear your throat, putting on the nicest voice you can possibly muster. “Do you have room for me in there?” You even bat your eyelashes, feeling more pathetic that you already do.

“What?!” he snaps, standing up to confront you. 

“My tent is broken and there’s no room in the other’s, so…”

“Fuck no,” he states, a little harsher than usual. 

“C’mon, Kirstein! It’s just for two nights!”

“Then sleep outside.”

“I promise I’ll be good!” you whine, putting your hands together in prayer, pleading. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely know you’re here,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, irritated. He yells out across the way. “Sash, Connie! There’s really no room in there for her?”

Connie answers, “Nope!”

“Mikasa, how about in your – ”

“No,” she responds immediately, the other two boys shaking their heads to confirm.

Jean groans, scratching his head anxiously, as if this is the worst thing he’s ever had to consider. Eventually, he mutters a contemptuous, “Fine. But we’re not sharing sleeping bags.”

“I never said anything about sleeping bags!” you protest. 

“I’m just saying!”

Not wanting to argue more, you ease up. “Okay, okay. Thank you. Seriously, Kirstein. I really do appreciate it.” You attempt to give him the most genuine smile you can manage. All he does is roll his eyes, zipping the entrance closed.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. After setting up camp, you all go for an easy hike on a nearby trail. Jean doesn’t interact with you, which is typical behavior from him. You can’t pinpoint the exact reason why he dislikes you so much; it didn’t start this way when you first met him several years ago through Sasha. But the more you hung out with them, the colder he’s gotten towards you. Because of this, you decided to act the same towards him, causing this hostile relationship between you two. Maybe sharing a tent tonight is a good opportunity to let bygones be bygones and finally get along.

Back at camp, you gather around the fire to roast hot dogs for dinner. Jean sits across from you, a serious expression on his face as he focuses on cooking his meal. You study him, watching the flames reflect in his eyes. He’s handsome, that’s for sure; sharp jawline, luscious brown locks on his head, an impressive stature. If he wasn’t such an asshole, you could see yourself being friendly with him, maybe even more. The thought makes you smile to yourself. He meets your gaze for a brief moment, startling you. You quickly turn your head to the side, pretending to be interested in the dirt on the ground, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. 

By midnight, with your bellies nourished with a hot dogs, potato chips, and s’mores for dessert, you all decide to call it a night. Armin and Eren put out the fire while the rest of you do a thorough job disposing any trash and putting away any of the remaining food. Everyone gets ready for bed in their designated spots around the wilderness. You especially take your time, wanting to stall as much as possible so you don’t have to interact with your tent-mate. 

Eventually, you’re the only one left outside and there’s nothing left for you to do but head in. As you walk into the tent, you quietly step inside, noticing Jean already curled in his sleeping bag to the farthest side he can reach, leaving plenty of space for you. He’s wrapped in an additional blanket, head resting on a fluffy pillow, expression the most relaxed you’ve ever seen. You grin, appreciating how cute he looks like this. 

You nestle into your sleeping bag, adjusting your pillow before you find a comfortable position to sleep in. Even with it zipped up and surrounding you, it’s still chilly enough that your teeth chatter. Holding yourself tightly, you rub your arms, hoping to create enough friction to warm yourself up.  

From the other side, you hear Jean’s familiar groan, then shuffling. Suddenly, you feel something thick envelop you. You crane your neck to see Jean near you now, his blanket covering you both. He faces you with that scowl on his face, eyes closed. “I’m only sharing so that you don’t keep me up all night,” he says.

You roll over to turn your body towards him, closer than you’ve ever been before. “Thank you,” you murmur, snuggling into your pillow. 

He doesn’t say anything else, probably drifting off to sleep by now. Although you’re warm enough, you still can’t fall into a slumber the way you want. Not with Jean so near you, pretty eyelashes fluttering, soft lips parted slightly; he is really handsome. Your chest swells, heat rushes into your cheeks. As quietly as you can, praying that he’s actually asleep, you whisper, “I’m sorry, Jean. For whatever I did to make you hate me so much.” You say it more for yourself if anything. Even if he can’t hear you, at least you’ve put it out there for the universe. 

“I don’t hate you.” It startles you when he says it in a low, gruff voice, eyes still closed. 

You swallow hard, not sure if you should continue this conversation, or let it end here. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, you decide to respond. “You don’t?”

This time, he opens his eyes slowly, blinking at you. “No. You’re annoying, irritating, always completely unprepared. But I don’t hate you.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Sorry for always being such a nuisance to you. I’ll be sure to leave you alone now.”

He sighs. “You’re not always a nuisance, okay? And besides, you’re the one who acts like you hate me.”

“I only do that because you did it to me first,” you argue. “I don’t even know what I did to annoy you in the first place. Tell me.”

“If I start now, we’ll be up all night,” he smirks, looking smug. 

“Seriously, what did I ever do to you? I need to know so I can apologize formally.” 

He stares at you, contemplating his answer. You wait with anticipation, nervous for what he’s about to say. Eventually, he admits, “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

More confused now, you ask, “Then why do you treat me like I did?”

He sighs again, this time even deeper. “I don’t know.”

You scoot closer to him instinctually, studying his face as if that will give you a clearer answer. “You don’t know?”

He’s caught off guard by the closing distance between you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, stammering. “I just…”

Closer now, your nose mere inches from his, the heat radiating from his body towards you. “Just what?”

He gulps loudly before leaning forward, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss. You don’t immediately pull back, indulging in the intimate touch until his tongue slips into your mouth. It shocks you, not because you don’t like it, but because of how much you do. You break apart, catching your breath. “What are you…” you trail off, fixated on his lips, slightly shiny now from your spit.  

He unzips his sleeping bag, freeing his hands to reach for you, caressing your cheek. “If you don’t like it, tell me now and I’ll stop.” His thumb brushes against your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body. 

You wiggle out of your confines to touch him too, placing your hands on hands on his chest, clenching his t-shirt in your fists. Something comes over you. Curiosity, lust, temptation, you’re not quite sure. All you know is that you want to keep kissing him, keep touching him, and save the explaining for later. It doesn’t have to make sense right now; all you want is to feel good. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s sloppier this time, his tongue flicking against yours, eager for a taste of you. His hand travels down your body, sliding around your waist beneath your pajama top. It ignites your skin, forgetting any ounce of coldness that occupied your body just moments before. 

“On top,” he huffs, fingers digging into your flesh. “Get on top of me.”

You obey, spreading his sleeping bag open, seeing the prominent bulge protruding from his sweats. You straddle his lap, grinding yourself on him, rubbing your clothed pussy along his shaft. He grips your waist with both his hands, watching you rock against him, biting his lip with a crazed look in his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes out, brows furrowed in concentration, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. If you had known it would be like this, maybe the two of you wouldn’t have wasted so much time berating each other. You could have spent the last few years doing this instead.

You lean down, kissing him passionately while you continue to ride him with your clothes on. He’s unbelievably hard beneath you now, his big cock straining against the fabric. Your arousal leaks into your panties, wet and ready for him. His hands glide to your bottom, squeezing your cheeks in his hands. Soon, his fingers are hooked on your waistband, tugging them down your thighs, coaxing you to strip. You hop off him, rolling to his side to properly remove your pants, him doing the same next to you. Both of you are naked from the waist down now, lying beside each other. You reach between your legs, rubbing your fingers on your clit. He watches, fist wrapped around his cock, stroking it feverishly. “I didn’t know you were like this,” he whispers, biting his lip to hold back his moans. “Fuck, if I had known I…I would have – ”

“What, Jean? What would you have done?” you ask, playing with yourself faster, watching him jerk himself off.

“I would have fucked you so much sooner. Make you my slut.”

“You want to slut me out? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah. But only for me. I only want you to be a slut for me.”

You reach for him with your wet fingers, replacing his hand with yours, stroking him slowly. He moans, eyes blown wide at the sight. “Come here,” he beckons, stretching his hand towards your pussy. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Kneeling beside him, you guide him to you, teasing your clit with his palm. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Can I fuck you with these fingers, baby?”

The pet name is unexpected from his mouth, but it spurs you on. You nod, lifting up slightly to sink down on his middle finger while his thumb nudges your clit. A moan escapes you, unable to keep quiet. He chuckles softly, shushing you. “You don’t want the others to know you’re getting finger-fucked by me, do you? You better be quiet.” 

You stay like this, Jean’s fingers pumping in and out of your cunt while he fucks your fist. Aching for a new position, you release him, pulling him out of you so that you can straddle his lap again, this time completely nude. 

He stammers, clearly nervous. “Oh fuck, should we…?”

There is no lube, nor are there any condoms around you. It would be a bad idea to have sex under these conditions, though temptation is testing you, especially with how far you’ve already gotten. As badly as you want to be fucked, you decide not to. “Not tonight. But that doesn’t mean we can’t feel good, right?” You flick the tip of his cock on your clit, your core tight with pleasure from the intimate contact. 

He relaxes into his sleeping bag, watching you with a dazed expression on his face, moaning as you grind your pussy along his shaft, hand nestled underneath his cock, stroking him simultaneously. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“Is that bad?” you ask, slowing your pace.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect you to be so promiscuous.” He reaches towards you, massaging your clit with his thumb. 

You whine from his touch, rocking back and forth on his shaft, almost inclined to sink down on his cock anyways. “Maybe I’m only like this with you.”

He continues to grin at you, caressing your sensitive bud faster. “Yeah, maybe you are.”

You stay like this until his cock pulsates beneath you, shooting spurts of cum onto his stomach. Soon, you’re coming too with his thumb pressed tightly on your clit, rubbing deep into you, gushing all over him. When you’re done riding out your orgasm, you roll off of him, back into your own sleeping bag. Jean stays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his tent, his breathing gradually returning to a steady pace. The two of you remain silent, equally confused and thrilled about what just occurred. 

You decide to be the one to speak first. “So…”

He turns to you, a kind expression on his face. Have you ever seen this on him before? It puts a flutter in your belly. “So,” he repeats. 

“Should we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He scoots closer to you, holding your hand in his.

“This. Us,” you say, interlocking your fingers with his. Who would have though being this way with Jean Kirstein would feel so…natural?

“Right. Us.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “The truth is, I’ve been a massive asshole to you because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

“So, instead, you act like you hate me?”

He points to himself, giving you a goofy grin. “See? Idiot.”

You sigh, squeezing him tighter. “So, you actually like me?”

Smiling, he kisses your cheek. “I do. I’ve liked you for a while. If you give me a chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If you let me.”

You don’t respond right away, contemplating the situation. Could it really work out between you two after all the petty arguments, snide remarks, contemptuous glares? It is comfortable, being with him like this. It’s better than you ever imagined. 

You snuggle into his chest, surrounding yourself in his warmth and security. “I guess we could give it a shot.”

“Yeah?” He tips your chin up to meet your gaze, smiling big.

“Yeah.”

He brings you towards him to kiss you sweetly, cradling you in his arms. “Thank you.”

You pull away, smirking at him before you whisper, “And next time, you’re going to slut me out properly, right?”

He laughs quietly, biting his lip. “Absolutely.”

#jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschstein smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

[mitsvriii]

Criminal

Lyney x reader

MAJOR spoilers for the Fontaine Archon Quest under the cut, angst no comfort, part 2 can be written if enough people request for it

315 words

Any reader type

Part 2

And I’m back from hiatus even though I never said I was on one. First off I would like to thank everyone for still following me despite it, and for the support. Shoutout to @itsofficialyeurionna for the inbox notes. They make me smile and I’m working on your request :). I came back with angst LMAO, and I know none of you deserve it. Thank you all again for the support.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

The answer hangs high in the thick silence among the two of you. Lyney was quiet as his sister as he started, downcast. You cleared your throat in a somewhat emphasis to get him to speak.

“Someday.” His bland response caused a loud scoff to escape you, he peeked up at your face but quickly put it back down at your stern expression.

At this point he’d rather of been found guilty rather than you, or anyone, have found out about him and his sister’s fatui relations.

You two were good. And frankly he was glad that your rocky relationship had blossomed into something steady. But then the trail happened after Cowell’s death and it was all downhill from there.

Hell, you didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself, although he didn’t blame you. I mean, the fatui basically stripped your family’s wealth away because of one loan.

“Someday”, Lyney spoke shakily, swallowing hard, “I was going to tell you I just-“

“You just what? Decided to keep something like that from me? And don’t bullshit we both know you’d never rip off that bandage.”

The ever-so confident magician stood weak at your words, nervously fiddling with his fingers. He could only stand there like a bullied child that had gotten his toy token from him.

“You know what”, you sighed as you held up your hands, “Forget it. Just forget it. If you’re not going to explain yourself then don’t. If you want to actually apologize then come see me when you get out of jail.”

Archons you didn’t even believe he was innocent in a murder. That was a sharp stab to the chest. He could only watch you walk away with slightly teary eyes. He however, covered them up with one of his acts.

After all, magicians never reveal their true selves on stage.

#lyney x you #lyney x reader #fontaine #genshin impact #lyney angst #lyney genshin #fontaine x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 2 Prompt: Winter Sentence Starters

3. Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon?

Pairing: Pre-Steddie | wc: 1664 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Steve?” Eddie asks, squinting into the blinding lights of the familiar burgundy Beamer that’s parked in front of the mound of snow where the driveway usually is. It’s hard to see with the blinding lights and the sunrise bouncing off the bright snow, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s Steve. He’s the only one who drives a Beamer around these parts of town, that’s for sure.

Sitting up on the outdoor couch, he adjusts the bundle of blankets around his shoulder. His hand fumbles in between the couch cushions until he finds the half-empty box of cigarettes and the lighter he and Wayne keep stashed there “in case of emergencies.” It’s a bit of a chore given the gloves covering his hands, but he gets the job done and brings the lit smoke to his winter-chapped lips. After a slow exhale, he tries again.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?”

There’s a clattering on the other side of the Beamer, followed by a string of curses before a figure emerges in the shadows of the lights. “Jesus dude,” Steve gasps. One hand stays pressed against his chest, the other clings to a snow shovel. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be inside it’s freezing out.”

It is freezing out, but there’s not that big of a difference between out here and inside Eddie’s bedroom. Not since the space heater took a shit at 2 am. He tried to fix it, he did. But it’s actually really damn hard to fix a space heater at 2 am when you’ve only slept for an hour because of chronic pain and nightmares and you can’t find the damn toolbox that’s supposed to be tucked away in the closet.

Frustrated beyond belief, Eddie needed a smoke and one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew he was being woken up by the rumbling of Steve’s Beamer. At least he was smart enough to put on gloves and wrap himself in his duvet before coming out here.

“Seriously, man. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“You know the dramatics are my thing,” Eddie teases, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’ve got a blanket and gloves.” Eddie wiggles his fingers for extra emphasis. “And this head of hair isn’t just for looks. Actually keeps me pretty warm too.”

Steve snorts, absentmindedly tugging on the end of his scarf. “Yeah, okay, man. Whatever you say.”

“So, I ask again,” Eddie says, pausing to exhale another puff of smoke. “What are you doing here at whatever time it is.”

“It’s 5,” Steve supplies, then holds up the snow shovel. “Who do you think shovels the snow around here since you’re out of commission? The snow fairy?”

The smoke in Eddie’s lungs gets trapped as his body tries to laugh and instead, he sends himself into a coughing fit that has him clutching his already aching sides. “First of all fuck you. Don’t joke about fairies!” he says, all bark no bite. “Secondly, I usually shovel the snow, but as you are aware, I’m still not allowed to lift more than two pounds thanks to our wonderful Spring Break adventures.”

“And you’re milking that for all it’s worth.”

Eddie’s quick to flip him the bird, rolling his eyes in the process. “S’Wayne paying you? That old bastard better not be paying you. I never got a dime when he made me shovel.”

“Probably because you always forgot, right?”

“You know what, Steve,” Eddie starts, trying to get up from the couch when a rush of pain races up his torso. Jesus H. Christ, he should be used to this by now. Biting his lip to keep the groan in, he settles himself back on the couch.

“M’just messing with you, Eds,” Steve says, shooting him an apologetic look. If anyone knows the pain he’s going through, it’s Steve. And yet, Steve’s wounds healed in record time, and Eddie’s on month nine of barely being able to make it down the three steps of his trailer. Yet another unfairness the universe has drawn for him.

“I was over helping the Mayfields during the last big storm and saw your uncle struggling to park after his shift. Figured if I’m here helping Max, I could help you guys out too. No big deal.”

Eddie’s not sure what universe Steve lives in, but agreeing to do manual labor for free is a big deal. A massive, big deal, actually. At least, in his universe it is. He doesn’t sign up for any sort of manual labor unless he’s getting paid. Fuck capitalism and all that, but also, you know, it’s only fair to cash in when it benefits him.

“Right, well, m’sure my uncle appreciates it.”

“He does,” Steve nods, resting the shovel on his shoulder. “So, you gonna quit distracting me now so I can get to work?”

Eddie extends one glove-covered hand out in front of him, fanning it out over the mountain of white snow separating them. “The snow is yours, my liege.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He takes a few steps away from the Beamer before repositioning the shovel in his hands. In one fluid motion, he drives the shovel the mix of  fresh and packed snow. The metal clatter against the frozen chunks at the bottom but the sound doesn’t drown out the groan that leaves Steve's lips as he hoists a giant pile of snow up and over to the side.

Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie takes an extra long drag from his cigarette, eyes glued to Steve as he does the same thing again. He holds the smoke in his lungs, tries to concentrate on not choking as he watches Steve shovel another massive pile of snow away.

There’s at least twenty feet of distance between them, but Eddie’s eyes are glued to Steve. His pale blue puffy jacket does a lot to obscure his muscles, but Eddie’s always had an overactive imagination. He doesn’t need a clear visual to know that Steve’s biceps are straining every time he hoists the shovel out of the snow. Or the way his back muscles flex, showing off that swimmer's upper body of his.

Steve’s ditched snow pants like most do around here and instead has his trusty pair of blue jeans on. Eddie knows from experience that denim does little to shield the freezing temperatures, but he can’t complain. Not when Steve’s ass is on full display when he squats to investigate what the shovel has just slammed into. (A stray dog toy from two trailers over.)

If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to be in trouble. Even the cold as fuck temperature can’t keep the blood from rushing to his dick for long. A blessing and a curse, Eddie supposes.

Taking another drag, Eddie tilts his head so it rests against the headrest of the couch. Exhaling, the plume of smoke and cold air mix, getting whisked away in the early morning breeze. It might actually be colder now than it was at 2 am.

With his head still turned upward, he can hear the rhythmic sounds of Steve shoveling the snow. The clink of the metal shovel with the snow, the scrape as he digs it down to the pavement. The occasional huff of frustration when Steve’s bitten off more than he can chew. Stubborn as always.

If he keeps making noises like that though, Eddie’s going to need a lot more than a smoke and a new direction for his eyes to keep his mind out of the gutter—

Speaking of gutters, they really need to get someone to clear out all the damn icicles clinging to them like damn Christmas trees. One harsh slam of the door and he or Wayne is going to take an icicle straight to the head. A month in a coma, seven months of physical therapy, and one dropped murder charge is not going to go to waste over a goddamn icicle. Not if he can help it at least.

Honestly, out of all of that, he’s still most upset about the murder thing. He won’t even go fishing with Wayne after that one year with the fish who flopped around practically hasping for breath until Wayne stabbed it with his pocket knife. Never again. Eddie prefers his food already cooked and void of eyes thank you very much.

Besides killing someone in his house is way too obvious. An amateur move if he’s ever seen one. He’d at least been more smart about it. If he was going to kill someone, but he’s not. Obviously. But if he was, Eddie’s thoughts trail off as the sun catches on the translucent icicle, washing his body in the warm rays of sunlight.

“You know, icicles would make the perfect murder weapon.”

The sound of the snow shovel clattering to the floor startles him. His head whips in the direction of the noises. It takes a moment a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light, but when they do Steve is staring at him, hands on his hips and a frown tugging at his pale lips.

“Maybe don’t joke about murder when we’ve just cleared your name,” Steve scolds, shaking his head. “Or do you want to go back into hiding?”

Eddie’s mouth is faster than his brain, words tumbling out before he has a chance to realize the implications of his words.

“Depends. Would you be hiding me again?”

A sickening silence falls between them as all the blood in Eddie’s body rushes to his cheeks. At least his nose isn’t cold anymore. He’s two seconds away from scampering into the trailer, head slung low in embarrassment when Steve’s unabashed chuckle breaks the silence.

“You can crash at my place anytime, you know.”

No, Eddie did not know that. But now? Now, he thinks that damn space heater isn’t worth bothering Wayne for after all.

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #dani writes #stranger things #stranger things fic

[robinsdearest]

Time is everything we may not have

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

“You better not stay too late.” You glance up from your computer, smiling at the man in your office doorway. Lucius Fox has his jacket thrown over his shoulder. He taps on the glass door, most likely making a note to text your husband to check on you. 

Your laugh bounces across the room. “I promise. It’s not even ten, Mr. Fox.” You make a few unnecessary keyboard clicks for emphasis. 

“Well, Mrs. Wayne,” he pauses as he puts his jacket on. “It’s a Saturday. We shouldn’t have been here to begin with.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you laugh again. Bruce had forgotten to submit a few government reports earlier this week, forcing you and a few select others to work overtime.

Being married to Bruce Wayne definitely had its overall pros and cons. Pro: wonderful, dutiful, and caring husband. Con: tasteless vigilante at night; you know, normal things. All bats aside, you loved your life. You helped raise some pretty amazing children. You worked at Wayne Enterprises alongside Lucius, one of the few sane people in your life. You and Alfred even had special weekly tea nights. The Dark Knight barely reared its ugly head on your side of the story.

You exchange a few more pleasantries before goodbyes, promising Lucius to text him whenever you head out. The morning light still illuminated your area, cascading to the corners of your top floor office. You finish all that your husband failed to do within the next two hours or so, swearing to yourself that you’ll have to keep him more accountable next time. You pack your bag, putting your heels back on before heading out. As you walk, your mind wanders to what tea Alfred has potentially left out for you.

You make it to the elevator when the lights start to flicker. Quite odd, there shouldn’t have been any maintenance scheduled. You pull your phone out to check the employee website. You truly become worried when you notice there’s no signal. You know damn well you paid to have enough Wi-Fi and cell service to power a small city. You sigh, shoving your phone back into your purse. No text to Lucius today. A sudden tremor shakes the skyscraper, forcing you to grab ahold of the nearest wall. The lights flicker again, and you make a beeline for the stairs. Fear and adrenaline course through your veins. At this height, an elevator ride to the bottom very well could be a death trap. There’s no immediate explanation for earthquakes in Gotham, but you don’t have time to question anything. 

Tremors continue to shake the ground as you run down the stairwell. The stairs appear sturdy enough even with the shaking. You drop your bag and shed your heels on the next landing. Workouts with your kids can help train for this type of endurance, however you don’t believe this exact scenario has been practiced. 

A few dozen flight of stairs later, an explosion rattles the entire building, and you’re sent to your knees. The blast seemed close, but the stairwell you were in seems untouched. Your breathing is labored, and your heart is beating in your ears. You check your phone again with no luck- still no service. You attempt to stand back on your feet, yet you’re stopped by another discharge. This blast is much closer as it tears down the walls around you. Individual stairs are rattling, breaking into pieces. The ground caves from beneath you and you’re sent plummeting. Your screams are drowned out with the sound of falling debris. The last thing on your mind is that your husband and children are safe, they have to be safe. Their lives flicker through your memories as your world goes dark.

****************************************************************

You wake with a cough. It feels as if a terrible weight has settled on your chest. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can barely make out your surroundings. A few steel beams create a makeshift roof, sheltering you from what you assume is the rest of the building you were just standing in. You can barely move your limbs, shaking a few pieces of destroyed building off of you. Thinking of Bruce and your birds, you know the pain now would pale in comparison to their’s if you were to stay here. Scanning your options in the darkness of wreckage, you finally spot a small glitter of light off to your left. Dragging yourself through the smashed concrete, you army crawl your way forward. 

The smoke outside is still settling as you inch from the rubble. The sun is visibly lower than it was before you fell, signaling that you had been out for quite a few hours. 

You look back to the path that you created, a trail of blood left in your wake. Peering down to your legs, the daylight finally illuminates your wounds- your clothes are torn and speckled with your own blood; glass shards litter your body; and a few pieces of concrete are embedded in dirty skin. You probably look as terrible as you feel. The only thought that crosses your mind is Bruce. 

You’ve crawled well enough away from the building to get a better look at the destruction. Wayne Enterprises- or at least what it used to be- is entirely reduced to rubble. The force of the explosion has leveled a block, only several other buildings are seriously damaged. Your corporate brain goes to the paperwork involved with repairing this Gotham district. You force yourself to stand and choose a direction to walk. A few cracked bones, maybe a broken rib or two, at maximum you decide. It explains the inability to breathe. You’re pushed forward by the sheer will to see your husband and your kids. Thinking of their lives without you brings tears to your eyes, leaving a clean trail down your cheeks. 

Despite your injuries, you make it surprisingly far. After several agonizing blocks, you finally see the mob. There are dozens of ambulances, several fire trucks, and more police cars than you can count with a blurry head. You’re acutely proud of yourself for choosing the correct direction to go. You can barely make out the metal barricades separating the emergency crew and the civilians. With the way things are situated, the citizens of Gotham stand between you and a much needed wellness check. Your mind drifts to think of where Bruce might be.

A traffic cone being thrown catches your attention. You strain your eyes and could collapse in relief with what you see. 

Batman has a finger in a police officer’s face. His other gloved hand is resting on another orange victim. You might need to remind him to mind his tantrums. This level of anger seen on the vigilante is quite uncommon. Your eyebrows furrow as your foggy mind attempts to find the reason. Beyond the need to smother Bruce, you know he’s exactly who you need right now. You’re alive and you have to reach him. 

You’ve finally made it to the large group of onlookers; startled gasps cause a path to be made for you. Your eyes are getting heavy and your legs are starting to slow. The adrenaline is wearing off, most likely, and there’s a particular large piece of concrete you can feel is digging into your thigh. You’re trying to not pay attention to the eyes on you. The finish line is right in your reach, the only place you want to be. The only place where you know you can be safe. This damn barricade is right in your way.

Superman’s hand is on Batman’s chest now. Wonder Woman has a hand on his shoulder, most likely speaking in hush tones in an attempt to calm him. Bruce’s cowl is not enough to cover the exasperation on his features: fighting back against Clark’s hand, he’s obviously yelling even if you can’t hear him exactly. What could Bruce be so worked up about? 

Scanning the other first responders, you eventually find Dick speaking with a fireman a dozen feet to your right. The boy you’ve helped raise is still in his Bludhaven police uniform. He looks like an old man with his brows scrunched together like that. You swear quietly, you’ll have to lecture him on his wrinkles later. 

Your ankle gives out as you take another step, launching you into the temporary barrier. The metal clangs too aggressively for your sensitive ears, and it has you swearing louder this time. Your bones seem to be getting heavier with time, and you lean more into the barrier to release some of the tension. 

Suddenly, you hear your name being shouted. Painfully, you raise your head to make eye contact with your favorite policeman. Dick is running towards you, speaking into his transceiver. He reaches you after a few seconds and is grabbing your shoulders to lift your head to meet his eyes. You decide to not call out the wetness of his cheeks, not in front of all these people anyway.

“Oh my god, where were you? You haven’t been answering your phone. God, B has been going insane. Why didn’t you pick up? Where have you been?” Dick’s questions hit your ears, but your brain is slow to process. Concussion, at minimum you decide. He’s still crying as he continues worrying. You mindlessly wonder if Dick’s reasoning for being upset is the same as your husband’s. 

You lift a hand to smooth down the wrinkles on his forehead. This seems to ease his mouth to a slow tremble as the tears continue. 

Dick finally takes an assessment of your current physical status, the tears stop and his eyes go wide.

“Mama.” You smile falters at how serious he gets. “You don’t look so good. W-we have to get you out of here.” He motions over to a pair of paramedics who rush to your side. Before you know it, you’re being carefully lifted over the barrier to be placed on a gurney. 

“No, Dickie.” You grab his hand so he doesn’t leave your side on the way back to the ambulance. Your throat aches but you continue, “I gotta see your dad. I gotta see Bruce.” You can feel the blood rushing to your head from laying down. Things are getting incredibly blurry. You just want to see Bruce, injuries can wait, they’re really not that bad.

Dick is shaking his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead turns his head as his name is being called. You crane your neck to see Barry speed to your side. The EMT’s are loading you in the car as Dick and Barry speak on the ground. You smile weakly at the speedster as the he turns his head to call the others.

At the height in the back of the emergency vehicle, you finally catch Bruce’s eye. 

Batman pushes off Superman’s hand. He breaks out into a sprint just as the ambulance doors close. Dick raises both hands to slow the bat down. Bruce is gesturing towards you and continues to yell. Barry is holding Bruce back this time. Even though you wouldn’t encourage how your husband raises his voice at your kids, you understand the anger, a lot is happening. You wish you could hold B’s stare longer, but your exhaustion takes over.

An oxygen mask is placed over your head as you slowly lose consciousness for the second time today. Realization hits you in the same wave finally: Bruce was worried about you. Bruce was ready to fight Clark, Diana, and Barry to come find you. The lack of service, the explosion, the hours that have ticked by. How long did Bruce think you were dead?

****************************************************************

When you wake again, it’s dark. The antiseptic smell of a hospital room is what you first notice as the rest of your senses follow. You hollowly feel the morphine in your system, a good solution to any potential pain. The beeping of the EKG fills the room, but is intermittently interrupted by slight snoring. Looking down to your side, there’s a small boy curled into you, his hands fisted tight into your hospital gown. The tuft of black hair tells all: Damian. Slowly wrapping an arm around your smallest bird, a gasp startles you. Whipping your head towards the sound, the sudden motion makes you flinch and swear once again.

“I told you we have to work on your language.” 

Your free hand goes to rub at the back of your neck as you relax. “And I told you to not yell at your children in high stress environments.”

You can make out the outline of a man standing from his chair, making calculated movements towards you. His weight settles on the other side of you, causing you to lean into him, Damian rolling forward as well. Bruce gently cradles your head, kissing your temple. There’s another beat of silence before he speaks again.

“Three hours.” You make a puzzled sound. He kisses your forehead. “How long you were missing. How long I thought you were dead.” Your sharp intake of breathe lets Bruce continue. “Kent threatened to fly me across the world if I didn’t calm down. Diana tried to convince me you weren’t at the office building when it collapsed.”

You stifle a laugh- he very well could have fought Superman to find you. You take his hand to kiss the calloused knuckles. Your head falls into the crook of Bruce’s neck as he explains the event. 

Low level punks thinking they weren’t going to do much damage to Wayne Enterprises or the surrounding business district. Too stupid to know what they were actually doing. You don’t know if it warms your heart or breaks it that you could have been lost to petty crime, not even a big name villain. 

Bruce is running fingers through your hair, the other hand drawing small circles on your hand with his thumb. He tells you about the first call to your phone, the second call to the boys, and finally the third call to the Justice League. He knew where you were; he instinctively knew by the twisting of his gut that you were there and he couldn’t do anything about it. Bruce mentioned how helpless he felt. Something about how Clark needed to check for more explosives before any rescue team could make headway.  

The freshly showered scent of your husband is almost enough to put you back to sleep. He whispers all his feelings and his fears from the day, kissing your head and holding you close. 

It’s an overwhelmingly tender moment. Damian eventually wakes up, hugging you and almost immediately crying upon seeing that you’re awake. At one point, the baby bird leaves to retrieve your other boys. This allows a small moment between husband and wife. 

Bruce cups your face with both hands and kisses you fully. His lips are soft and sweet, a bit salty from his or your tears you’re not sure. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“When I saw you being pulled into that ambulance, I wanted nothing more than to run to you and do just that.” He kisses you again for good measure. “I almost knocked down everything in my path to get to you.” You hum into his lips. 

“I was gross and dirty. You wouldn’t have wanted to kiss me then.” 

It’s Bruce’s turn to laugh. “No.” Another kiss. You can hear your boys on the other side of the door now. Bruce’s smile brightens your room and sends butterflies to your stomach. “Absolutely not.”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman fanfic #dc fanfic #robinsdearest #batmom #such a sweet dick grayson #tiny damian is my favorite #this one is long to make up for my lack of posting #dick saying mama kills me #bruce wayne x batmom

[dawndelion-winery]

Interruption

How they react to you interrupting them

Ft. Pantalone, Dottore, Arlecchino

Pantalone:

I have no idea why you thought it’d be a good idea to try annoy your boyfriend?

Alright, so maybe it was the insincere grin he had plastered on his face

You desperately wanted to know if his emotional range was wider than a teaspoon

So you barged in as he was discussing matters with the other harbingers

You smirked when you saw his smile flicker to make way for surprise for a brief moment, but it was enough to fuel your confidence

You sauntered over to him, hoping to fluster him in front of his esteemed colleagues

Plan unclear, you were now in his lap, face glowing red as his breath tickled your neck while he rubbed his thumb in circles on your waist

All the while, his cold grin never once faltered

“Excuse us, won’t you? It would seem my beloved darling here has been feeling rather neglected. I’ll be sure to finish this up once I’ve given them ample care.” 

Dottore:

I didn’t know you had a death wish

Anyone could see the second hand terror in his subordinates’ eyes as you made your way over to him while he gave them his orders

Perhaps it was for the best his mask concealed the upper half of his face, for the slight part of his lips in slightly offended shock was enough to have his subordinates visibly shaking as they cowered in fear on their knees

His voice was terrifyingly chilling when he addressed you

“Dearest, you do know how much I despise interruptions, yes?”

Why must you torment the poor subordinates? They fear for your life and their own

Dottore walks behind you and holds you by your upper arms, steering you to his seat

Vicious to a fault, he whispers by your ear just loud enough for the subordinates to hear

“Now then, dearest, how shall I punish these poor fools for keeping me from giving you my attention?” His wicked grin widens as he feels you tense up. “Wasn’t that what you wanted, since you sought me out despite me explicitly telling you that I’d be busy?”

Yeah, maybe don’t do that

Arlecchino:

Busy as always, she was doing who knows what and at this point, you’re not even sure if it’s on the Tsaritsa’s orders

You thought you’d surprise her with a snack but she’d apparently heard you the moment you opened the door

“You can leave it on my break desk, love. Thanks.”

She didn’t even look away from whatever it was she was working on

So obviously, you made your way over to get a proper thank you

She looked up at you with bored, tired eyes, asking if you needed something

She audibly tsked at you when you said you wanted an actual thanks, and while you wanted to be offended, your tongue fell limp at the saccharine smile she gave you

“Well then, thank you, my love,” she said as she kissed your cheek, putting added emphasis on the ‘my love’

Then she sat back down and returned to work

But not before wordlessly pulling up a chair beside her and motioning for you to sit and keep her company

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #pantalone #regrator #dottore #arlecchino #genshin pantalone #genshin regrator #genshin dottore #genshin arlecchino #pantalone x reader #regrator x reader #dottore x reader #arlechinno x reader #winery specials

[fancifulplaguerat]

Time to put Daniil back on the vivisection table because I am not done with him. I’ve been thinking recently about Daniil’s reaction to Aglaya’s ‘betrayal,’ because honestly I feel like people don’t talk enough about how much it affects him, or how much it influences his decision in the Cathedral. When I finished the Haruspex Route, I was kind of surprised by how central Aglaya’s death was to Daniil’s arguments in favor of the utopian ending—when Daniil tries to convince Artemy to save the Polyhedron, one of his main points is that in doing so, Aglaya will die. I also remember being struck on Day 12 of the Bachelor Route by that lengthy dialogue with Artemy, where he defends Aglaya and Daniil insists upon her betrayal. In the Bachelor Route, this breach of Daniil’s trust is a fundamental aspect of what informs his final decision, and is arguably centred more than the Polyhedron or Kains’ miracles. 

This makes sense to me, because I don’t think Daniil has such a strong reaction to anything else in Patho, not even Simon’s death—even though there’s much customary Dankovsky rage in his reaction, it seems underlined by genuine hurt. For instance, when he asks, “Aglaya, how could you do this? This is an honest to God betrayal. I trusted you...” It even feels a little childish, for want of a better word, how he says “I don’t want to talk to you. I despise you.” It’s also ridiculously hypocritical how he lashes out at Aglaya, telling her that revenge is a poor companion for someone like her, while simultaneously saying shit like “I do not want to take revenge on the Powers That Be anymore. I want to take revenge on you, Aglaya,” or “Watch me sign your death sentence.”

Returning to that dialogue with Artemy, I enjoy how his defense of Aglaya sort of picks apart this reaction: 

Haruspex: You're just holding a grudge, oynon, nothing more. You only feel betrayed because you've entrusted yourself to her—but that was your own choice. It's unwise to brand someone a savior beforehand and then denounce them when they fail to live up to your expectations—even though they didn't know you had them.

> She knew. That's the difference. She knew and exploited my hopes.

[...] 

Haruspex: The feeling that hinders you now is rage, oynon. You feel deceived because you put too much hope in those who have been guiding you all this time. Consider the fact that Aglaya has been guiding you according to her own truth. She is a servant of the Law.

> It doesn't matter—she has deceived and betrayed me. She treated me like a pawn, and I won't ever forgive her for that.

I feel Aremy’s emphasis on how Daniil feels hurt because he put too much hope and trust in Aglaya gestures to that Daniil seems pretty trusting by nature. I think how he acts in the Haruspex Route in particular suggests that he might not give out his trust completely right away, but he still strikes me as quite a social and collaborative person, despite everything. Just in how he quickly refers to Aglaya and Block as his best friends, or works amicably with Rubin and Artemy, or refers to his relationship with characters like Saburov as friendship, rather than an alliance or something similar. And it seems that Daniil truly did trust Aglaya, because when Clara first tells him about her plot, he shoots back, “You liar. Aglaya is my best friend and the most reliable ally I have.” So again, I think there’s an undertone of personal hurt here that goes beyond anger at being a pawn or made to tell lies (though in my opinion, they weren’t *really* lies).   

In this vein, I want to mention that Daniil already seems to associate lies with deception and a breach of trust, given this dialogue: 

Herb Bride: Do you really never tell lies?

> I hate lies. 

> Nothing is more villainous than deceit.* 

Herb Bride: Why? I didn't say 'deceit'. Telling a lie doesn't equal deceit.

> All my life those who pretended that black was white prohibited me from winning. Every deceit hides someone's dark intentions.

Herb Bride: What makes you think they have to be dark?

> Because they replace the true state of affairs with a false one to profit from someone else's suffering.

> It's in their nature.

The exchange provides some interesting insight into why Daniil despises lies so much—they have been used to fool him before, and prevented him from accomplishing his goals. I doubt this is his singular reason, but he seems to see lies as inherently manipulative and exploitative, which probably added salt to wound in the Aglaya situation. Daniil likely assumed that she had the worst intentions and took it as a personal attack against his victory, when really, Aglaya’s deceit was in their mutual interest in terms of getting back at The Powers That Be. After all, they wanted the Town unchanged, so to destroy part of it would indeed allow Daniil and Aglaya revenge. 

A final thing I want to mention is in an opening dialogue, when an Executor tells Daniil that “He who trusts everyone is asking to be deceived.” One of Daniil’s replies is, “Yet he who trusts no one is deluded. I know that from experience.” Which potentially makes this even more depressing, if Daniil was previously rather guarded. I could see how Daniil could  fall into considering himself his only ally, as he has rather outlandish goals that many people likely wouldn’t take seriously. Or perhaps it was from a place of ‘I know better than everyone else,’ which drove him to not take others seriously. Either way, the dialogue implies that Daniil was initially not as trusting as he seems in the game proper.  

I like that Daniil is trusting and hopeful; I personally dislike the idea that that is somehow more naïve than being guarded or pessimistic. I consider it one of his strengths, which allows him to work with others (even if he can be exceedingly ornery sometimes) and is an important foundation for his ideals. It’s all just sad to me how Daniil’s own virtues end up being used against him, but it makes an interesting case study of his character 

#pathologic #daniil dankovsky #aglaya lilich #patho.txt

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐏𝐓 𝟐)

PAIRING: sergeant hunter x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the aftermath of order 66 for the bad batch, and the reunion of a jedi and her squad.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS + RATINGS: general audiences, mature themes, angst, fluff. happy ending to this chapter! female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death and order 66. series. follows the bad batch timeline.

NOTES: part tew. peep the masterlist!

STAR WARS MASTERLIST THE GREAT FIGHT MASTERLIST

Things were tense in the Marauder, the air thick and suffocating as they finally departed from Kaller. They had remained there for longer than the other clones on the planet, for they had suffered a loss of great devastation. 

Miri Rocksled had been an exception to their isolation from the rest of the GAR, she was one of them and perhaps she had been all along; thus was why approximately eighty percent of the Bad Batch was more than certain she was not guilty of the things the Jedi had been accused of. All, except their own sniper—Crosshair had never been one to express the warmest of emotions to the world around him, but he was unusually callous on the status of his former General. 

It had started with the kid, how he reacted to the orders to kill the padawan that struck something in Hunter. Orders or not, this was not something Clone Force 99 stood by; to claim they had been avid followers of the rules to begin with would be a shameful lie, but to choose such a time to start raised concerns in the man. And it was his reaction to Hunter’s reaction to realizing Miri was in danger that triggered such tension. 

“Hunter, we cannot go look for her,” Tech stated, voice stern as he spoke from the front of their ship. “Do you realize how that would look to the other troopers? To whoever gave us this order?” 

“When have we ever cared?” Hunter shot back. “You know her, there’s no way this is true.” 

From the back of the ship, like a creature lurking in the dark, Crosshair's voice filled the space. “The Jedi are traitors.” All eyes turned to him, sitting alone with his helmet still on, and he leaned in closer from his hunched position to put emphasis on the next blow. “We were given orders to execute those guilty of treason, and your Miri was no exception,” he sneered. 

An unexpected eruption came from where Wrecker stood, and everyone soon realized it was the large man launching himself at his brother.

Wrecker, with his heart on his sleeve and his fists bared, would not stand for such talk of his General. It took all three men to pull him off of Crosshair, but eventually they were able to separate the two. “Wrecker, enough!” Hunter grunted, shoving him into a seat. 

“Listen,” he panted slightly, holding his hands up to diffuse the situation. “This is getting us nowhere. Tech’s right,” he finally agreed, the prior exchange having knocked some sense into him. “It won’t be a good idea to go looking for her, we don’t wanna catch the wrong attention.  But—” he gave a pointed look at Crosshair, “we all know Miri isn’t a traitor. She’s almost loyal to a fault, something the other Jedi never seemed to stop giving her a hard time about. Whatever it is that they’re saying the Jedi are guilty of, we need some more information before we start blindly following orders. Got it?”

One by one, they all nodded their heads, Crosshairs albeit reluctant. But in his true nature, he couldn’t help but have the last laugh. Quietly, almost as if he didn’t want the others to hear, he questioned Hunter. “Besides, what would you even do if you found her body?” 

As they entered hyperspace, Hunter held himself together with the hope that she had gotten away. That her death was also falsely reported; the padawan had gotten away but nobody really needed to know that. Perhaps Miri, that clever one, was able to escape. This hope resided in them as they walked into the facility on Kamino, it was what kept their heads high and facing forward as everyone around them acted even more strange than usual. 

The sight of red and white armor once again raised alarm in Hunter. “Shock troopers?” He questioned as his head turned to watch them walk by. “What’s the Coruscant Guard doing here?” His attention was broken by the words over the intercom, the modulated voice repeatedly announcing ‘level five lockdown remains in effect. Security teams, report to the command center.’ 

He looked to Tech, and without fail he had the answers. “This isn’t a drill,” he stated, sounding surprised to hear such information. 

“Oh man,” Wrecker whined. “What did we miss now?” 

“The end of the war,” a Shock trooper answered as he walked by. 

 Hunter stepped forward, as per usual. “Say again, Trooper?”

“General Grievous was defeated on Utapau. The Separatist leadership has collapsed,” he answered. “The war is over.” A statement spoken so casually, yet possessed the weight of thousands of tons.

Behind him, Tech looked over at Wrecker. “Just like I said,” he quipped seriously.

Wrecker gasped dramatically. “It is just like you said,” he marveled, earning a side eye from his brother in response. Hunter was hardly paying any attention to this, however, as two troopers carrying a gurney walked by, a body with a sheet covering it laying motionless. Just as they passed him by, a lightsaber fell from under the sheet, and the shock trooper he was speaking with crouched down to pick it up.

When he rose to his full height, his eyes were trained on Hunter and the look he was wearing as he watched this scene unfold. He had tried to mask his emotions, but evidently he wasn’t doing that good of a job at the moment as the clone questioned him with slight hostility. “Is there a problem?” 

Though he made no effort to put some trust in his gaze, Hunter answered immediately. “No problem,” he replied, glancing over at Wrecker and then at Echo as casually as possible. “We’ll just head to our barracks then.” 

“Best hurry,” the trooper responded as he turned to walk away. “There’s a mandatory general assembly at 1500.”

And this assembly, one of the first the Batch had committed to attending, shed light to the situation while, somehow, leaving a dark shadow behind. 

“And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.” 

Chills ran down Hunters back at the words coming from the cloaked figure of what was said to be Chancellor Palpatine. Claims of an attempt on his life leaving him scarred and deformed echoed in his ears as his eyes drifted to the gallery, when the higher ups of Kamino watched from above. But what had caught his attention was a little girl, already watching him. 

She smiled when they made eye contact, but his focus shifted as Tech spoke up from behind him. “What is it?” 

When he looked back, she was gone. “Nothing.” His eyes remained there as Palpatine's voice grew louder and louder. 

“...the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

Briefly, a memory came forward of Miri meditating on the ship while they were stuck in hyperspace for who knows how long. She had been uneasy as of late, yet she tried to hide it. Meditating was something she did often, but what was peculiar to them was the scrunch of her face as she sat still as stone. They tried not to bother her when she did this, understanding it was…just something Jedi did, when she looked so distressed they felt inclined to keep watch. 

It was when she began to breathe heavily, almost gasping, that Hunter stepped forward. “General?” He questioned lowly, not trying to startle her, but she jolted at the sound of his voice anyways. “General, are you alright?” 

She had not responded, only looked at him with wide eyes as her chest rose and fell quickly. “Miri,” he tried again, formalities slipping away in his worry, “are you okay?” 

“Something is…going to happen,” she began, voice slightly frantic as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t know what it is, or when, but it’s heavy. It’s…” She sighed, rising from her seat and running her hands through her hair. “It’s dark, and I don’t think anyone is going to see it coming, and if they do it’s just going to be too late.”

That feeling had persisted throughout the end of the war, nagging Miri any chance it got. It was ever present, when she rested, when she relaxed, when she was dispatched for missions and campaigns as well. Constant, the shadow was for Miri Rocksled, and now the curtains had been drawn and it was displayed right before their very eyes. 

Around them, troopers cheered at the revelation, unaware of the looming darkness that weighed heavy on Clone Force 99. “Still don’t think the clones are programmed?” Tech questioned, side eyeing the men around him. 

They would soon find that they were, in fact, programmed. Everything that transpired on Kamino before their forced departure was an echo of Miri’s prediction. She had been so unfortunately correct; it was heavy, it was dark, and it had been too late for anyone to stop it. The plans, orchestrated by someone they could not yet pinpoint, were already in motion, and all the Bad Batch could do was play the game as they always had; and it would seem the game had always been rigged against them. The food fight in the cafe with Omega, the live rounds during their battle simulation for Tarkin, Omega’s warning to not return, the supposed insurgent retrieval mission they were sent on. The undeniable and jarring change in Crosshair, the revelation that Omega was one of them, the weight of the fact that Miri would never leave a child in harm’s way, the devastating betrayal of one of their own. 

It had been made clear that the Empire had no room for Clone Force 99. It was time for them to leave, and Omega would be coming with them. They had a Jedi to look for. 

Many rotations had passed before the need for a pitstop was brought to their attention. Rations, medical supplies, and fuel were running low; and the severe lack of resources for a child was something Hunter had not thought of when he asked Omega to join them. 

They had learned from their visit with Cut and Suu that the Empire was spreading quickly, and travel between planets was growing much more difficult. They had to go out of their way to look for places seemingly untouched, or as much as they could be, by the heavy presence of stormtroopers. Options were running out as their journey was only just beginning, but they had no choice but to make do with the cards they had been dealt. The village they found themselves in was seemingly alright, people milling about but minding their own business; excitement was minimal and danger was mostly undetectable, a rarity these days. 

However, Hunter could feel something. A nagging feeling, that someone was out there. Watching, waiting, plotting, he did not know; but they were there. It was hard to ignore, impossible to shake off as Omega rambled about whatever had caught her interest in the market, and his eyes scanned their surroundings over and over again. He could not put his finger on it, though, for no matter how many times he looked, he came up short. He tried not to let frustration fester where caution resided. 

Until his eyes, squinted and serious as they flit over the horizon, caught a flash of a cloaked figure in his peripheral. A smaller frame shrouded by the loose fabric, identity shielded by the wide brim of their hat, he lets himself hope that it is Miri. A foolish and desperate hope, made as the figure turned away from him in the distance, disappearing in the blink of an eye.   

The hunch he had was far too big to just let this go. The feeling, still lingering on his skin as he quickened his pace to catch up with his brothers, was familiar because it was her, alive and breathing. It had to have been. 

To test this theory, he told everyone to finish gathering whatever they needed, as they were headed out, but instead of making their way towards their ship, however, he led them into the forest with arms full of supplies and faces full of confusion. Their feet carried them past the treeline and deep into the greenery, and still Hunter offered no explanation. Wrecker whined, Tech and Echo fired off logical explanation after logical explanation, and Omega was left looking around in wonder. So caught up in what was potentially ahead of them, he didn’t even notice the body tailing them from behind. In fact, it was Omega who pointed it out, feeling the eyes on her from afar. 

“It feels like we’re being watched,” she whispered, looking up at Hunter with furrowed brows. Worry was etched onto her face, but he didn’t really know how to soothe that worry at the moment. Miri was always better at this than he was. 

“That’s because we are,” he answered gruffly, as if it was no big deal. Nonchalance was something Hunter wore well, but they had so much to lose now that Omega ran with their crowd that so little care in a situation such as this was out of character for him. 

“We are?” Echo shot back through gritted teeth, alarm evident in his tone. “Hunter—”

“I think it could be Miri,” he interrupted, not looking back at Echo. The sergeant found himself almost hesitant to reveal the information he had been hoarding for the last little bit for how it would make him sound. Yes, she was special in a different way, but she was still their general and he knew her. He knew her, and what she felt like, and he was almost certain this was her. The fact that he didn’t hear a branch one snapping coming from their watcher, the fact that she remained out of their sights while keeping them in hers, the fact that nobody ever followed them with intentions of just watching; it all made too much sense to not make any at all. 

“The likelihood of that is quite low,” Tech started, holding a finger up but he never got the chance to continue for Hunter held up a closed fist, a signal for them to stop in their tracks. His eyes were trained not on ground level, but up in the trees, and he spun around as he searched for the lost Jedi. 

Unbeknownst to him, his brothers share skeptical glances. They did not like it, but they had stepped closer to accepting that Miri Rocksled may never show her face again for one reason or another than Hunter had. His desperation, while understood, was painfully obvious. 

But, always one to prove someone wrong, the missing woman made her presence known from a thick branch above them. Hunter had ventured too close for her liking, it would seem, and she stepped into view with her saber drawn and pointed at him. Perched there perfectly, draped in the same neutral colored poncho he had seen back in the village, Miri Rocksled was alive. 

The orange blade hummed lowly as the glow illuminated the expression she wore. Brows furrowed and eyes wide in a horror Hunter didn’t recognize from under the brim of her hat, her knuckles gripped the weapon so tightly the skin had gone ghostly white. Once again, the brothers exchanged glances, this time one of shock. Wrecker’s gasp cut through the ambient noise of nature. And Hunter, who could only stare up at her in awe, could not think of what to do or say. Instead, his limbs remained frozen as his eyes took her in for what she was, his greatest love. 

He had missed her so terribly, more than he thought a close was capable of, and yet he had carried through every rotation she was missing. The weight of it was suffocating, and just seeing her lifted it from his tired body tenfold; he was light with his eyes on her once again, for she was the answer to every problem he could ever have. 

“Miri…” The words left him of their own accord, coming out as a breathy whisper pointed towards the heavens. 

His voice, the sound of it in her ears, made her face screw up even tighter, eyes drawn to slits and lip quivering ever so slightly. “Stay back,” she demanded lowly through gritted teeth as tears brimmed her eyes. They stung, and she blinked rapidly to keep her sights clear on them. She tried to keep the fear at bay, tried her damndest, but to finally be face to face with her clones after Order 66 had dread settling itself in the pit of her stomach. Against her order, Wrecker took a few steps forward, eyes wide as he looked up at her. “I said stay back!” She shouted, voice harsh as it echoed throughout the forest. “I don’t want to hurt you guys; please, please, don’t make me,” she begged, words shaky as emotion threatened to take over.

Hunter repeated her name, snapping out of his daze at the genuine fear that they would try to kill her. Fear, it was not something he was used to seeing on her, and he didn’t like it one bit. His hands went up in a show of peace, demeanor that of a man approaching a cornered animal. “It’s okay. The chips didn’t work in us, we didn’t follow the order,” he explained, desperation hiding behind his words. When she remained still he gave her the smallest of shrugs and the smallest of smirks. “Defective, remember?” 

Tech took that as his signal to step forward, for he knew that Miri needed all the details then and there in order to clear the air. “What he means by that is the inhibitor chips the Kaminoans implanted in all clones did not show signs of controlling us. We have since discovered that is how Order 66 was administered, and that is why we did not participate in it; well, all except one,” he rambled, eyes never leaving the General in a show of true honesty, though Tech was never one to lie. “That is why Crosshair is missing, he…he now works for the Empire.” 

“Crosshair…” she whispered, voice low and hesitant. “It worked on him? He—” she looked away, sadness taking over for but a moment. “He would have tried to kill me?” 

“Yes,” Tech affirmed. “He believed that the Jedi were guilty of the accused treason, because that is what we were told by the Emperor himself.”

Oddly enough, Miri appreciated the bluntness of Tech’s delivery in that moment. One would feel the need to soften the blows, but they had since been dealt. Dealt the moment she had to fight for her life on Kaller against her own allies turned enemies. The facts of the matter almost helped ease the sting of betrayal she had harbored since, knowing that it had not been personal. They could not help but turn their weapons on their generals and commanders, and Crosshair could not help the change in his ideology. 

With this information, she had deduced that the Bad Batch were not a threat to her any longer. They did not display the behaviors other clones did in the presence of a Jedi, and that was the largest indicator that what Tech had said was indeed true. But it was also the look on Hunter’s face that swayed her heart when she tried to keep it stoney. 

A man in love, a man lost in his love, looked up at her as if she was the angel he had been hoping for. The grief of her presumed death, and the denial of acceptance, had worn him down along with everything else, and she could see how he had been changed. He would not harm her, could not harm her; that much she believed. 

There was one question to be asked, however. “What happened to the padawan on Kaller?” 

When Hunter stepped forward to answer, her weapon moved to point at him once again. It startled him, pausing in his tracks as he held his hands up once again. “I let him get away,” he answered, the words spilling out of him. “Lied to Crosshair about it, lied to the Empire about it.”  

She eyed them all one by one, gaze lingering on the little girl tucked away in the back with Echo by her side, before she retracted the blade of her saber, orange light disappearing into the intricate hilt. Her arm fell to her side, but her feet were still planted firmly on the branch. Miri had been in survival mode for so many rotations that she was finding it difficult to let it slip away, even if slightly. Her heart beat rapidly and almost painfully in her chest as she took a deep breath in an effort to steele the resolve to relax. 

With that, she clipped her weapon to her waistband and effortlessly leapt to the ground below. Her feet hardly thudded as her boots made contact with the dirt floor, and she looked to Hunter. She felt herself being pulled to him by something greater than the both of them, and she couldn’t even try to fight it. He watched her as if watching a ghost glide toward him, helmet at his feet as he had dropped it upon seeing her once again, and his hands had begun reaching out for her without even knowing. She almost tripped over the piece of armor as he yanked her into him when she was within reach.  

He held her close, arms wrapped tightly around her as if she would disappear again if he let go, and he breathed. He breathed clearly for the first time in what felt like centuries, lungs able to expand to their full ability instead of being constricted by constant worry. He breathed her in, the scent of her still lingering after all this time of chaos and turmoil. She was her, alive and persisting, and he felt as if he could weep as her body weight felt so solid in his hold. 

“I knew you were still out there,” he whispered into her hair, voice cracking. 

“You found me,” she whispered back, throat tightening as she fought off the same feelings. Hunter, her Hunter, had found his way back to her. She had been so worried that what they had was forever lost, that what she had with them all had been forever tainted, and to let go of that felt incredible. 

He shook his head the best he could while having her so close. “No, you found me, Miri,” he insisted, not caring about anything else besides this moment. “You found me.”

all works on this blog belong to www.hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost on to other sites, or claim my work as your own.

#this series may be self indulgent bc i am EATING it up #damn this bitch spittin! #it’s me! #the witch: writes #—signed; hunter #the great fight #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #the bad batch series #tbb #tbb x reader #tbb x you #tbb fic #hunter tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #sergeant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #tcw #the clone wars #star wars #star wats fic #sw fic #the bad batch oc #hunter x f!oc #star wars oc

[9w1ft]

lord you made me feel importunt..

so basically… i feel like taylor is singing from karlie’s perspective in WCS. and i think she is addressing two people— taylor and josh.

i imagine this song as the culmination of a lot of arguments and negotiations between the three of them over the years about how to proceed with things. i think it’s not too wild to imagine that karlie has been caught in the middle of the two of them a lot, in terms of emotional labor. i don’t have a specific time pinpointed for this song but maybe it is the “night i nearly lost you” that taylor talks about in the great war. it was karlie finally reaching her boiling point, and airing her grievances at both of them.

judging by interviews and karlie’s overall persona and demeanor, i think that karlie is the type of person who puts others before herself, and doesn’t easily let things get to her. so i imagine that when she does get angry enough to raise her voice, that it’s very jarring and would stick with you.

here is a selection of lines that i draw parallels with, which, in aggregate, make me think wcs fits more in the kaylor narrative than anything about jm:

years of tearing down our banners // tore our banners down took the battle underground

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired

if i never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this // they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // touch me and you’ll never be alone

and if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? // you paint dreamscapes on the wall

i keep on waiting for a sign // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time // you say what a mind, this happens all the time

i miss who i used to be // remind her how it used to be

the tomb won’t close // spineless in my tomb of silence

memories feel like weapons // we can plant a memory garden

some other small points are..

i think she sings with a certain tone to her voice that reminds me of karlie. her emphasis on the word “important” reminds me of how karlie famously pronounces that word funnily, and there are a few expressions that remind me of how people in the midwest/southern united states speak “damn sure never would’ve” “but lord you made me feel” “god’s honest truth” “god rest my soul” etc

plus, karlie was introduced to josh at 19 years old so. there’s that parallel too.

so given these things i think the first verses might be addressed to josh and the second verse to taylor and maybe the third is to both of them. “if clarity’s in death than why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners you and i” at her and “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts give me back my girlhood it was mine first” at him

and a sidenote: following a similar framework i actually think it’s possible that illicit affairs is also from karlie’s perspective directed at the two of them.. “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby”

i also think it’s sort of important that both of them are older than karlie, in terms of the dynamics. i feel like maybe it had made karlie feel like a toy or pawn or not listened to… or that the way they talked about what karlie should do—their style of communication when risk assessing—might have felt too clinical at times. the muse as object. and over time, perhaps she looked back and wondered, was this right? should i have gone along with everything like i did? or was it just what i grew up knowing?

listening to the song this way makes me incredibly emotional.. getting so close to being together publicly indefinitely, all the praise and centering of karlie as the hero and centerfold of taylor’s life during 1989 era, only for the backtracking and erasing. one might also say we were starting to get flickers of this with early lover era. years of tearing down banners.

so yeah… and, we count renegade as written from her lover’s perspective because of the tn tweet,

so i think it’s not that far out to assume she wrote other songs with karlie’s perspective too

just this idea of taylor taking the time to explore her muse’s perspective.

so yeah, this is my thought.

#by popular demand 🥴 #i’m emoshunul

[connecting-the-stars]

OKAY-Okay-okay….

That did hurt. I am hurt. WHY does the season 2 end like THAT!?

As someone who’s in a late crowd, I would be so seething in anger at the amount of time that’d I’d have to wait for all the shit to be solved in the next season. It really leaves such a dreadful note and kinda definitely depressing.

I’m over here like - yeah I know My Main Man Tech is gonna “kick the bucket” but I’ll be fine - I AM NOT FINE!

Bruh him sacrificing himself, Wrecker refusing to let him go, Omega being injured to have to remember his fall all over again, everyone is Big Sad and then Omega refuses to follow orders and tries to save Hunter and Wrecker to then have her be taken anyway! And Crosshair just lying unresponsive! It’s 28 minutes… My life was ruined in that span.

It’s definitely giving fighting a losing battle. Man, that was not an easy watch, everything just crumbles around them just as hunter has decided to go through with the plan to retire at Pabu too! It’s defeating in every sense of the word, but Star Wars is about hope persevering - (S3 please give me hope in the end!)

Seeing Cid have this regret about herself and I’m like “shut it! SHUT IT!” I guess it’s fine to show characters have remorse but she’s pouting as if the situation isn’t entirely her fault.

Seeing Wrecker in that neck brace and on his knees surrounded by the soldiers - my heart like sunk. The writers went after the character thats always been shown to overcome overwhelming amounts of soldiers and this time he can’t.

- I’ve seen some perspectives that point out that going on this mission to place a tracker on Hemlock’s ship was mute, like it was an excuse to give Tech his Hero Moment and kill him. But I don’t want to believe that the writers who put so much emphasis on his growth this season would make this his end. In the end, his actions prove Omega’s initial misassumptions wrong. “Doesn’t act like he cares.” He down write was the one to double check if crosshair was actually a prisoner, he fully supported the plan of getting his brother out. He reminds Hunter that Crosshair is still their brother, he has shown his care for Omega, and his growing connection to Phee - improving in places where his wealth of knowledge does not support him. I know the mission failed, that hemlock’s ship was never tracked and Crosshair is still very much a prisoner, but I don’t think it’s in vain. At least to me, his death almost certainly feels not permanent.

- Hemlock looks for Tech’s body and retrieves his shattered goggles, uses them as a tool to force Hunter to bend his knee. Use this emotional leverage to make hunter doubt himself and increase the fear of losing another brother. This ploy turns my head because hemlock has been shown to be quite determined and unshakable in his quest for completing his project for palpatine, of course he wants to capture Omega at any means, but he is also working with his unsightly experiments. The adult sized green tubes that held all sorts of people when Omega found Crosshair. I don’t find it hard to believe that he knew exactly how to pressure the bad batch in order to get them to surrender and he took a gravely injured Tech as his latest project. The head scientist in charge of this doomsday-esc lab facility on the planet that can’t be found, the scientist that brought back the Zillo Beast. He’s the one who seems to eventually be able to create clones with enough M-count for the emperor. If he got his hands on a member of a genetically enhanced clone group, it’s like a holiday present, of course he’d take them as another tool in his arsenal to ensure his mission and impose his control over the clones.

#Techisalivetruther

Also it was uncalled for when they played “when do we ever follow orders” his last words to open the recap of season 2 for season 3. (This literally made me have some inhuman miserable noise escape me)

(Many have pin pointed this behavior and I agree) But this also give me pause because the bad batch DOESNT follow orders! Who else doesnt follow orders well? >:D

#hes alive #i can feel it in my nose #i swear #really strange move to not reveal the identity of CX-2 tho in ep 12 #feeling a bit of being strung along and I haven’t gotten through the season yet #tech is alive #tech the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb s2 #the bad batch season 2 #thoughts aloud #tbb #the bad batch

[whothehellisoli]

ok, alastor thought/theory dump:

i think HIS magic is the green. i see why it could by the color of his deal but the chain he had on husk was green and based off valentino and angel it’s safe to assume the chain color is the overlords. i think all green magic is his.

however when his eyes go all radio dial creepy they turn black, which, in my opinion, shows his soul isn’t his when he’s using his powers, similar to how angel only has one black eye because valentino only owns his soul in the studio.

it’s honestly a confusing mix, when he uses his powers his soul isn’t his, but they are HIS powers. so i think it’s most likely he sold his soul to make it easier to gain power on his own. he’s not stupid, if he got power through a deal the deal maker now has an element of control over his power. so he cuts corners, and with the help of presumably lilith, becomes more and more powerful.

if the deal was the source of his power he wouldn’t say that getting out of it will let him “pull the strings.” he wouldn’t even WANT out of it, his only motivation that we are certain of atm is power and control, and yes his deal takes his control but if it gives him his power losing that would take BOTH.

i think a crucial bit of information were missing is when did this deal happen and how does husk know. (and why didn’t alastor kill him but that’s vaguely explainable)

was it when he first got down? young and dumb and selling his soul, which would explain how he made such a big splash so quick? or was it seven years ago? gaining power at the expense of leaving hell with lilith to do god knows what?

i think it’s far more likely to have been when he first got to hell, and lilith was able to exercise her control over him to get him to leave with her. obviously his place in the hotel isn’t because he’s bored, that’s been made clear several times. so why?

it’s possible it’s part of his deal with lilith but she’s still such a mystery i don’t think it’s safe to say anything about her. alastor said in ep 7 that charlie was powerful, being on her side was a good bet, and he could mold her. based on that and his presumably genuine interest in everyone, i think he’s choosing to be there. it’s chess, moves and counter moves, etc. he stays at the hotel and he isn’t lying when he calls it his latest project. he’s just lying about why. he saw naive charlie on tv and knew she would welcome him in, hence his evil little grin. that’s HIS choice, not liliths.

now, for his monologue in the tower. i’m going to be working off the idea everything in the song was an intentional decision and not made for the sake of sounding good.

“this place reeks of death, there’s a chill in the air” that seems like filler, painting the scenery, but i don’t think so. i think it’s meant to show he cares about the hotel and the people in it. he can physically FEEL the tragedy affecting him. he might not be as distraught about it as someone else, but he does care.

“i barley escaped being KILLED by a hair” he put emphasis of killed while singing, that’s the key take away. he almost died. he’s coming to terms with the limit of his power and it’s driving him insane. and i think it’s important to note that… he kinda, didn’t? almost die? his microphone broke (which does show power far greater that him) and he got thrown against the wall. that’s hardly enough to kill someone. he’s been untouchable most if not all of his time in hell, so this fight was a brutal reminder he IS vulnerable. he told adam he though he was tougher than him. tougher that the first ever soul and someone only lucifer was able to take down. his ego definitely got killed but i think this line shows he’s never really processed the idea of losing.

“‘alastor altruist died for his friends’” if you watch with captions you can see that line is in quotation marks. someone else is saying that, meaning he thinks the general perception of what happened will be that his reason for almost dying is to save the people in the hotel. but that’s just the words, next step is his facial expression. his eyes are wide and darting around, he’s gripping his face, he’s TERRIFIED. love is a weakness, he’s not just feeling weak (which IS part of why he’s spiraling), he’s being perceived as weak, which is so much worse. he’s losing his control and needs it back, leading to:

“sorry to disappoint, that is not how this ends.” there’s a couple things with this line. the Vs and other overlords will be disappointed because he’s not dead and his “friends” (his word, not mine, but i think it fits) will be disappointed he’s not willing to die for them like they maybe assumed he did. “not how this ends” is obvious, he didn’t die, so his rein didn’t end. but pulling back to his desperation in this scene, he’s angry, his latest power grab isn’t working out, but it will.

“i’m hungry for freedom like never before, the constraints of my deal surely have a back door ” again with the desperation, the fear, not sure if mania is the right word but it’s what comes to mind. he’s scrambling. but at the same time, how did his deal almost make him die?? he wants out of it, hence why i said i doubt it gives him his powers, so it must in some way limit his powers? but why would he make a deal that hinders him? again, this is why i think when he first got to hell he sold his soul to make it easier to gain his own power. but in some way his power isn’t HIS. it still is on a leash.

“once i figure out how to unclip my wings, guess who will be pulling all the strings” is showing us how he is still very VERY much power driven, and will stop at nothing to get control. he may be bound now, but in season two i think we’re gonna see a lot of him trying various means to break deals. i doubt he will be the big boss at the end of the season, but he’s playing his own game, and he is CRACKING. he’ll be violent, have an even quicker temper, charlie is going to try to help him but he’ll refuse. his mouth is sewn shut, so he can’t say WHY he’s so upset, but everyone will know something is wrong.

good GOD that was long

TLDR: “i think when he first got to hell he sold his soul to make it easier to gain his own power. but in some way his power isn’t HIS. it still is on a leash.”

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers #hazbin lilith #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin alastor theory

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Jedi Night"

Right, just going to go ahead and pass around the boxes of tissues.

Live reaction version.

And here we are at last. The entire latter half of the season had already began shifting at "Rebel Assault", but here the shift becomes permanent.

From the promos and synopsis put out before this episode, the genre-savvy among us could kind of already tell what was coming. But it was still devastating.

All right, enough stalling, let's get into it.

Aww man, this is the same spot Ezra sits in the finale isn't it?

Dammit we're barely ten seconds in and I'm already sad.

The Loth-wolf theme is heavy over this scene as Kanan is bombarded with an audio portent and foreshadowing of things to come in the WBW.

"You want a ride?" "The Jedi Temple is in danger." "Kanan, you haven't gotten me a present since we met." "You can learn what it truly means to be a Jedi." "You didn't prepare me for this, Kanan." "There's something I need to tell you." "I know I can always count on you."

Kanan hears mostly himself, and the two most important people in his life--Hera and Ezra. He hears Ezra's despair at losing him, and his resolve in entrusting his life and mission to Sabine. He knows the Jedi Temple is in danger. He's connected deeply with the wolves at this point, and either knows or at least suspects what he and Ezra will be asked to do.

This is probably where those extra episodes explaining Kanan's backstory and connection to Lothal would have come in handy. As it is we get the mysterious voiceover dump and have to piece things together after the fact.

What I think makes the most sense is that the Loth-wolves stopped Kanan from going to rescue Hera last episode precisely because--connected deeply as they are in the Force, associated with the WBW--they could see ahead to the potential futures of that course of action and knew that if he went after her, he would die. No matter what he did, no matter which way he moved, one way or another, it would happen. So they warned him. They showed him why lay ahead.

If you do this, we cannot save you, they told him.

And that's why he spends so much of this episode trying to mentally prepare the others, especially Ezra, for his absence.

Because the wolves still a Jedi to save the Temple from Palpatine's evil intentions.

Kanan is resolved in his purpose: He's going to save Hera. He's resigned to his fate: He will trade his life for the chance. And he's determined in his resilience: "Then I will make it count." He won't just make his death a meaningless sacrifice. He will ensure the completion of her mission, honor her by fulfilling the end goal of her failed attack. He will save Lothal by destroying the fuel pods and bringing the factories to a halt. He will give his life for Hera's dream.

Kanan proves in the end that he understands how to love without attachment. (Also why he makes Ezra formulate the plan, because he knows his feelings are compromised when it comes to Hera.) He will not cling selfishly to her. He will free her and then let her go and then let his own life pass away. He will take his place in Hades, and then teach Ezra how to grieve. Because Ezra won't be able to save him.

Because you can't go back down into Hades to retrieve the ones you lose.

“In mythology, if you go to Hades to get them back you’re not doing it for them, you’re doing it for yourself. You’re doing it because you don’t want to give them up. You’re afraid to be without them. The key to the dark side is fear. You must be clean of fear, and fear of loss is the greatest fear. If you’re set up for fear of loss, you will do anything to keep that loss from happening, and you’re going to end up in the dark side. That’s the basic premise of Star Wars and the Jedi, and how it works."

George Lucas, Mellody Hobson George Lucas - Virtual Speaker Interview, 2021

I love this shot, Ezra entering lightsaber-first, a visual emphasis on the fact that they are Jedi, and the Force requires much of them. Much sacrifice, much compassion, much selflessness. To whom much is given, much is required. With great power comes great responsibility.

All that jazz.

Kanan is preparing Ezra for the greatest responsibility he's going to have, to be asked to do what is right regardless of what it will personally cost him. And he's about to become a very painful object lesson.

He also talks like he's been given multiple visions of the future and is arranging things specifically so that they'll fall out in a specific way. It mirrors how Ezra speaks in the finale--If Thrawn shows up too soon, then this path, if he doesn't, then this one.

Some very painful paralleling that you don't realize the first time through.

Ezra's a bit uncertain at first, but honors Kanan's request, and gets started formulating a plan to get them into the Capital.

OH HEY WOULD YOU LIKE TO DESPISE PRYCE A BIT MORE?

Conducting the interrogation personally in her own office is quite the flex.

Once again paralleling to the Season One finale, another character comes in to start the questioning, and gets awfully personal with the digs, bringing up the interrogated party's painful past and history. In this case, Thrawn has brought Hera's kalikori down from its pedastel in his office on the Chimaera--that "place of honor" he promised her--in order to rub it in how he's deciphered the cultural meaning behind it.

Really leaning in hard on those icky cultural appropriation vibes aren't we, writers? Let's be clear, it's not that Thrawn was curious about Twi'lek culture and researched what meant what on a kalikori that's so gross, it's that he did so in order to learn more about Hera specifically so that he could hurt her more personally, namely by taunting her about her dead brother. It's the context, not the curiosity.

Thrawn is an Imperial warlord and only comes into contact with these cultural relics because he's a member of the tyrannical force currently oppressing those cultures. If he really respected or cared about them as items important to the people the Empire was conquering, he should leave them in their damn place. OR, if destruction of the relics at the hand of the Empire was inevitable, he should save them from that destruction and then be finding a way to give them back to the people they belong to or the closest equivalent. Instead he hoards them in his own art gallery to dissect and study to glean more insight into the cultures, so that the Empire might better defeat them.

Yeah no, the staging parallels to the Grand Inquisitor are super 100% on purpose and deliberate.

Also! Because I like ruining people's days, would you like some more Fridge Horror that you may or may not already have seen if you've been following me?

IT-O droids monitor prisoner vitals. Heartrate, blood pressure, adrenaline, other hormones and physiological markers. Hera's already pregnant at this point. Possibly far enough along that the IT-O was able to detect it.

Thrawn and Pryce might knowingly have tortured a pregnant woman.

~You're weeeeeeeeeelcooooooooome.~

Love Sabine whacking Zeb and shushing him to not interrupt Ezra as he's meditating and sensing out.

Also this look. <3

And also the soft conspiratorial smiles between Ezra and Sabine as they vibe on the same wavelength in regards to this plan.

The Kiners go all out on the music this next scene, as we montage building the gliders and Kanan preparing to shave and cut his hair, fully reclaiming his identity as Caleb Dume, The Last Padawan, again.

Kanan's theme plays, in bright flute, with bouncy string accompaniment. It's ritualistic how he moves. Like a samurai slicing off his topknot. Luke's Theme crossfades in through his to mark the heroism of the moment, as the preparations are finished.

And thus begins a long series of hidden goodbyes.

"This is one of those times I'm glad the Force is with you." Zeb says, about how crazy the plan is, and Kanan just silently puts a hand on his shoulder, the last time the two men would ever speak.

(The animators also go all hell out, making this episode one of the most gorgeous yet put to print.)

Cut to our favorite blue asshole. And he's been summoned to Coruscant for a meeting of heads of state to quibble about budgetary proportions lol. Of all things to yank Thrawn away from Lothal, it's politics and bureaucracy, par the course. Thrawn seems offended and claims Palpatine assured him he supports the Defenders.

And while I'm sure Palpatine has paid a bit of lip service to Thrawn's face... yeah no sorry honey, Palpatine was always going to go with the Death Star thing, it's been in the works since before the Clone War broke out. The only issue is that it's sucking all the funding and resources of everything else dry because of the constant delays and problems (Krennic is apparently mismanaging to hell) so now they are considering ganking money from other various projects to feed it.

And that's just... SO like the government lol.

So exit Thrawn, straight into the Thrawn: Treason novel. And I am still SORELY disappointed that Zahn did not take full advantage of the fact that Treason was basically a Rebels tie-in in order to have Thrawn sloooooooowly losing his mind and patience over things dissolving on Lothal while he's not there so that by the time we get him back in the finale, his irritation and annoyance is peak comedy and perfect characterization follow-through.

"I was gone for ONE HOUR and you blew up my project???!??"

The gliders are telegraphed to us with a very slight sound effect, and the rigid wings. So it's amazingly effective at fooling the Troopers lol. Rukh on the other hand has probably picked up a whiff of Zeb lingering on the others so he's alert.

Aaaaaand hidden goodbye number two, frick my heart this one hurts. There's so much Kanan can't tell Ezra, lest the fear of loss cripple him and make him unable to act, drive him towards the Dark Side. Kanan needs Ezra to be able to function for this mission, so he just praises Ezra for being a good listener--a veiled admonition for him to continue listening to the will of the Force, to his instincts, to the wisdom of others, to the wolves--and tells him and Sabine, "May the Force be with you."

He entrusts their safety to the Force, and tells them to trust in it in turn.

"Ezra and Sabine have each other, they'll find their way home."

Oh boy, on this edition of "Terrible Rebels takes that make zero sense except to the perpetually offended", there were actually multiple people who complained about Hera's confession coming about as a result of the truth serum, and they were mad that her loopy state because of the truth serum was played for laughs.

To which all I will say is, shut up, Hera drunk on truth serum is hilarious. Maybe quit having such a stick up your butt about bad things happening to female characters and let them get in on the jokes and slapstick occasionally.

Heroic Main Theme here as Kanan makes his entrance.

About 90% certain the thing Hera wanted to tell Kanan here was that she was pregnant. I refuse to accept that time on the fuel pod as the first time she told Kanan she loved him. Does not make sense, rejected.

Not gonna comment much on the Kanan/Hera scenes, they're adorable and sweet and heartwarming and heartbreaking in hindsight but I will say this soft romantic cue that accompanies them is very lovely.

Pryce sounds more than a bit pissy that Hera got rescued right from under her nose. This leads directly into her recklessness later with the fuel pods.

Love Ezra and Sabine casually commandeering a gunship. "I'm the backup pilot, so I'm in the back." And the Troopers just accept that logic lol.

And the "something" Kanan needs to tell Hera is either that he knows she's pregnant (but maybe doesn't know she knows?) OR about his upcoming expiration. Too bad Rukh interferes.

Oh hey, another sad parallel, neither Jedi have their lightsaber for their moment of ultimate sacrifice.

Hgngnh watching all the pieces move into place for what I already know is coming is awful.

Still cannot get over just how polluted the streets are, look at that rust colored smog.

Lol Ezra's little fist pump, completely forgetting where he is a moment. He's so cute I love him.

Their teamwork in taking out the other Imperials is great too.

*watches the kiss, sighs with sadness*

You did not have to dig so hard into the mood whiplash guys. You really didn't.

All right, let's just... pull off the bandaid.

The animation, the music full of mournful male chorus and high siren wail, the muted soundtrack, the emphasis on Hera and Ezra, that Kanan is so deeply utterly in tune with the Force that his blindness doesn't even matter (which is what his eyes clearing up was, clumsily, attempting to convey) he can see them...

And then he's gone.

And how awful it was for Ezra, who literally just felt his bond with Kanan snap inside his head, to have to be the competent leader and shout at Sabine to, "Go! Go!". For him to have to be the one thinking clearly, because Hera is completely numb and in shock.

Sabine wiping her eyes as she flies them out of there, somehow still able to see through her tears.

And then a stark white and gray titlecard as ashen dust flickers down around the text.

:((((((((

Frick man it still hits hard. Looking back though, it was inevitable. The death flags were all there, the pieces all set up and in place. This wasn't done on a whim, this was meticulously thought out, to devastating effect.

I was never quite as emotionally attached to Kanan as a lot of other people in the fandom, and I'm also a grown adult, so Kanan's death, while incredibly saddening, was not nearly as emotionally devastating to me as it was to quite a few younger viewers. For a lot of fandom this was their first time experiencing a fictitious loss like that, of having a character, a person they had as a staple in their lives, suddenly leaving it. Leaving behind an empty hole.

And that's one of the reasons I have to respect the writers for doing it. They had a story they needed to tell--about loss, about dealing with grief, about how to pick yourself back up and continue doing the right thing, as a Jedi specifically for Ezra, and as a person for everyone else--and they knew they needed to give it the weight and gravitas it merited.

You can't cling to things forever. It's one of the core staple lessons of Star Wars, the "point of the prequels" to borrow a common if oft-misused phrase.

Loss will happen. Death will happen. Do not give into fear about it. Do not let your fear of loss drive you into darkness.

Give yourself time to process the loss. Let yourself grieve.

And then let go.

So I appreciate that the next few episodes are spent almost as if in a funk, the cloud of grief hanging over us as we process through our loss with the characters and then pick ourselves back up and return to the mission. Because the war isn't won yet, and there are still things left to do.

It is darkest before the dawn.

#star wars #star wars rebels #rebels rewatch #kanan x hera #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #and his rainbow colored cupcake #sabezra #liveblog #spoilers #this is a pro jedi blog #meta rambling #Rebels Rambles #warning: hella sad #i'm not even kidding #grand admiral thrawn #dunking on the blue bastard #ezra bridger

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

Tales From Earthsea:

I don't think it could have been better, but it was just so off from from the books it was mainly drawing its inspiration from (I mean, I had no interest in seeing that weird weaver guy decide to off himself in the boat, but still).

Studio Ghibli is the perfect studio to capture the Le Guin vibe and yet Goro torched it so hard for no reason

To give credit where it is due, the film has some good settings and animation. Unfortunately, its beauty is only on the surface, and it is the worst Studio Ghibli movie I’ve seen. (I’ve seen almost all of them but Earwig and the Witch.) The plot is a collage of random bits of context from the first four books of the series, as well as its own stuff. It really is not the same story at all. I may have enjoyed it more if I had seen it as a child before reading the books, but not covering all the events exactly isn’t the only issue, it’s just worse. It takes the moral complexity and sensibility of the original and turns it into a typical fantasy war between good and evil (the Japanese title even translates to Ged’s War Chronicles) with emphasis on physical violence, in which evil is personified as a goth queer-coded villain whose death resolves everything. It completely misses the point of the books, which gives no such simple answers and is more focused on the darkness within everyone than an external battle. Where is the nuance? It also whitewashes everyone: most of the characters in the book are dark-skinned, but in the movie…

I was also bitter that they did my favourite character, Tehanu/Therru, dirty. She’s supposed to be horribly scarred and disfigured on half her body and reviled by people as a monster but in the movie she’s just a pretty girl with a red mark on her face. In the books, she doesn’t appear until the fourth book, Tehanu, which takes place after Lebannen is grown up and ruling a kindgom, and in which she is a mostly-nonverbal child. But here she’s aged up and thrown into the earlier story to give the protagonist a love interest and the film has him stay with them so it can focus on their romance. Even though a plot-relevant part of his character as well is his lack of interest in women and not settling into a relationship despite the people’s wishes.

Basically, they whitewashed, heteronormatized, macho-ified, and de-nuanced the narrative, and also took out the feminism.

On top of this, trying to cram the whole series into one movie is just not a good idea, and it would have been better to just decide on one book to adapt and do more justice. And yet they still added in so much that didn’t happen. When you have that much material to cover, you don’t have time or budget to be putting other things in, mate. Turning four books into one results both in a mess. Abridgment is one thing; taking particular aspects of different parts of the timeline and combining them in different ways is another. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. It’s in an unfortunate middle area where it doesn’t follow the source material but also doesn’t give enough context that people unfamiliar with the source understand. For Earthsea fans, it’s infuriating; for others, it’s confusing. Also, why did they name it after the fifth book, which is a short story collection that it doesn’t reference whatsoever?

The failure of the movie is upsetting because the books are sooo good. Yet, it was the highest-grossing Japanese movie of the year, and did win a couple awards… The Bunshun Kiichigo awards for “Worst Director” and “Worst Movie”.

The Golden Compass:

The Golden Compass isn't even the title of the book! It's called Northern Lights! And now there are editions of the book with the wrong title on them. Enfuriating. Anyways, the movie tries to follow the books story and fails completely because they don't kill off a character because they wanted a happy ending when that character being dead is crucial to the story in the third book. Also they made Mrs. Coulter blonde. Unforgivable.

They remove the ending of the book so it has a happy ending and I guess leave it for a better beginning to the second movie, only of course they never made a second movie cause the first one bombed. They also rearranged the order of the events, and, more importantly, made it lose its bite by removing darker elements and removing explicit critique of the catholic church by making the antagonistic magisterium way more generic

Terrible movie. The acting is awful, especially Mrs. Coulter, whose character in the books is chilling because of her smooth, sweet nature that belies a deep sinister calucating mind. Plus they butchered the story and took out any mention of the church as the main villain for fear of offending Christians. This ultimately defeats the purpose of the book. I hate this movie so much it's unreal

#tournament poll #the golden compass #his dark materials #tales from earthsea #earthsea #a wizard of earthsea #northern lights

[vallanoux]

𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟐

ps: here's chapter two of pulchra tragoedia <3 and no, i have no clear updating schedule :'>

A burst of magic surrounds both Lucifer and (name), enveloping them up and teleporting elsewhere. Back to Lucifer’s castle. The young woman’s eyes, now demon––or whatever she was––trailed around the vicinity, hungrily taking in every detail of the castle and jotting them down in her memory. 

The castle was dark, and had endless dimly lit hallways. It wasn’t musty by any means, and rather, surprisingly clean, but the cleanliness of the hallways did nothing for the somewhat gloomy aura that weighed in the air. It gnawed on the mind’s of visitors. Present, but never truly there. An itch in the back of one’s mind was the way most would name it. 

Lining down the hallways were portraits of Lucifer and his family, all having wide smiles on their faces. Smiling faces. Of Lucifer, of Lilith and of a young Charlie. They were portals of nostalgia, opening a memory long since forgotten––by time, or by choice, one will never know. 

It was obvious to (name) that Lucifer chose to ignore these portraits. He keeps his eyes straight on without stealing a glance at any of them, except, say for a couple of portraits of him and Charlie. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at a portrait of Lilith. (name) pursed her lips slightly, knowing that his attention wasn't locked on her. He wouldn’t notice the abundance of empathy swelled in her chest as she looked at him. A man, more broken than he’d ever been and desperately trying to hide it. To cope and coexist against the losing battle of sadness. 

To a mere bystander, Lucifer would have looked mildly troubled, but to the discerning eye, he was no better than a well-dressed husk of himself. It almost made (name) feel bad that she was putting up a front to fool him into helping her. Almost. 

(name) decided to break the silence, chasing away the negativity that was encroaching on the air, “sorry, but what’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it.” 

“Oh, that! Yes, that!” Lucifer loudly exclaims with a slight nervous trickle. “Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” 

“So.. the fallen one?” (name) questioned, hoping for more from him. It was all information that she herself already knew, but there was no harm in getting Lucifer to open up more. To feel safer and more comfortable. 

“The one and only head of Hell.” He continues, he pauses and looks (name) in the eye, purposefully activating his powers to give a little scare with his glowing red eyes. “Are you scared yet?” 

(name) held his gaze with slight hesitation, then answered him with an honest question. “Should I be? I’m not significant enough to warrant that sort of treatment from you.” 

“You don’t seem to realize the scent of god on you. You have divinity.” He pauses and looks at (name). “Wait, you don’t know?” 

I have the scent of god on me? Does that have to do with the reason why I’m here? Just as that crazy ass stalker jumped on me and stabbed me, I immediately blacked out. Right before I wished for… Wait, what did I wish for? I can’t remember- No, no, I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. I can do that later. 

“N- No?” She was visibly confused. “I have the scent of god on me? What does that mean? I don’t feel any different from when I… died.” 

“Then, how did you die?” Lucifer questions. His face then quickly forms into one of panic. “Oh, that was very insensitive of me! My bad. I really didn’t mean to. I just wanted to know if there was a correlation between you know, the divinity and your a um.. passing–” 

“-No, it’s fine.” (name) reassures him. “I was stabbed to death.” 

“Stabbed?” His eyes widened, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why..?” 

“I was a Broadway talent. I sang musicals and I guess.. Some people just got really crazy over me.” (name) was careful not to put any emphasis on acting or faking her emotions for a stage. A Broadway talent, a singer, a dancer, radio or podcast personalities––they were nothing more than professionally paid liars. Liars that sold stories. The entertainment industry was nothing but falsified humanity.

“Jeez, that’s a terrible way to go. And how old were you?” Lucifer couldn’t help but ask again, fully losing the battle to his curiosity. 

“I was 28 when that happened.” (name) smoothly answered. 

Lucifer put his hand behind his neck and focussed his gaze downward. It takes him a while before he musters up his next question, “did you leave anyone behind?” 

“No, I didn’t. I don’t have a family or any close friends. That’s the… only thing I’m glad about since I, at least, didn't make anyone too sad.” 

“I thought humans already had families by then. Don’t you all get married at 13 or something..?” He wasn’t sure how to respond to my previous statement, so he attempts to make a change of topic.  

“Huh? No! Well, not as commonly as back then.” (name) holds her hands up and shakes her head. “That happened way back when.. Like a couple of centuries ago.” 

“Really? I haven’t been keeping up with much. Not with hell, not with humans or..” He mumbles the last bit to himself, “anything, really... Times have changed, haven't they?”

“It’s not like you have to.” She shrugs. 

Lucifer nods his head, and finally picks up the pace. He walks further down the hallway and points to a tall, elegant wooden door to his left with his cute apple staff. “This will be your room. Mine is right down the hallway if you need anything… wait.” 

His eyes widen and he places his hands on the sides of his hat, pulling it down to hide the shame crawling up on his cheeks, “I didn’t even ask for your name! Oh no..! I’m so sorry, I’m not accustomed to uh-” 

“-It’s alright, I understand. My name’s (name) (surname). Just call me (name). What should I call you? Your majesty?” The young woman notices herself smiling at his panicked display, finding it extremely cute and endearing. 

Lucifer lets go of his hat and he looks at me with bright, big owl-like eyes. He had a reassuring grin crawl up his reddened cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No, Lucifer’s fine!”  

“Alright then, Lucifer it is.” 

(name) keeps her smile and pushes the door to her guest bedroom open. It was a nice cozy room, shaped like a square. The wall right opposite of where (name) stood was of a large window, overlooking the buzzing lights of Pentagram City. And, on the left side of the room was a bed. It was a cozy king-sized bed draped in white sheets layered with a (f/c) comforter and a thick (f/c) blanket. A nice bolster was placed in the center of the bed, with two pillows sandwiching its sides. It looked like a very cozy bed covered, especially with its silken drapes. 

(name) finally takes a step into the room, amazed at such classy luxury. She shifts her attention onto the wall beside the bed, empty and undecorated. It was a space (name) could decorate however she wished, if she ever found herself coming into possession of anything. 

“Oh my goodness… thank you Lucifer!” (name) turns around and beams brightly at the King of Hell, who returns a soft expression as he holds his staff close to his chest. Lucifer internally gives himself a pat on the back for doing at least one thing right. 

“It’s no problem, really,” he says with such a genuine tone it makes the broadway talent’s heart turn all mushy gushy. 

“And I can decorate this place, right?” 

“Of course.” He nods. He looks back down the hallway where we had come from. “Since now you know where your room is, would you like a tour of the palace?” 

“Oh, sure.” (name) steps out of her room, closes the door and she reigns in her own excitement. As a fan of the series, she’d always wondered what the castle Lucifer and Charlie lived in looked like. 

The castle was absurdly massive. Without Lucifer’s teleportation magic, (name) was sure the tour would’ve taken an entire day, or longer. From the gardens, the terrarium, the quaint little aquarium room, observatory, the library and the drawing rooms, it was all so wonderful and grand. Though, one thing she noticed throughout the tour was an absence of servants. Not one imp was spotted in sight. 

“Lucifer, since you’re the King of Hell, wouldn’t you have.. Servants? I don’t mind you giving me a personal tour, and rather, really appreciate it.. But couldn’t you have anyone else to bring me around?” 

Lucifer looks at me with an unnamable expression. It looked slightly troubled, “My… ah- uh, ex wife..? She took them all… wherever she went.” 

(name) was quick to figure that she shouldn’t dig in too deep into this and switches the topic, “so you manage this place all by yourself? That’s amazing!” 

“I try.” He graces me with a graceful expression as he fiddles with the apple on his staff. “Ah, we’re here. This is my room if you need anything. See? It’s not too far from yours if you need anything. Just let me know, alright?” 

“Then, if that’s all for the night, should I go back to my own room?” The (h/c)-haired woman questions. 

“Feel free! You can stay here for as long as you want (name)...” Lucifer’s words trailed off. His once excitable expression turns downcast. “It gets a little lonely here.” 

Internally, (name) had vicious delight crawling into her conscience. Lucifer truly was such an easy person to make use of. So easy to fool and manipulate. Easy to- She stops herself from thinking more like that. And rather, stills her mind as a prickled thorn of regret and guilt pierces her heart. Don’t find it funny. Don’t hurt him too much. You’re doing this to survive. Not for fun. 

She pauses and thinks. Then, she finds the perfect words to say. Simple and concise, but with much meaning: “I’ll stay.” 

“Thanks.” Lucifer’s expression softened up so much more (name) really felt the need to pounce on him and squish his cheeks. 

He reaches for his doorknob, and the moment he opens it, a rush of rubber duckies fall out of his room and onto him, burying him under a pile of yellow. At the King of Hell’s misfortune, (name) burst out in laughter. Lucifer lets out a groan of annoyance.

She quickly wipes her tear away and offers a hand, “need help?” 

Lucifer grabs her hand and (name) hoists him up, “Thanks.” 

His cheeks were completely flushed in a burning, crimson red. He was utterly embarrassed, “I- I swear I’m not a hoarder. These ducks are um-” 

“-You don’t have to be so nervous around me, really, I don’t judge. If you like ducks, then you like ‘em. There isn’t much to it.” She assures him by patting his shoulder. “But make sure they just don’t end up as um.. A hazard.” 

“Yeah, got it.” He snaps his fingers and the ducks disappear. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Since it’s late.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.” (name) waved him goodbye and walked back to her bedroom. 

When (name) walks into her room, she closes the door, locks it and leans her back against it. She slumps onto the floor and buries her head in her hands once more. She could feel an oncoming headache seize hold on her temples, absurdly tired from the day. While it wasn’t a bad day by any dictionary definition, it was filled with all sorts of confusion and information her brain had to understand and cram in. By habit, she runs her hands through her hair and pulls at it, the sensation arising from her actions bringing a wave of calmness to her due to its familiarity. It was one of her many coping mechanisms. 

Then, (name) jolts, feeling some form of fluffy protrusion on her head and she gasps. She rushed to the closest mirror she could find, which was in the bathroom. Her eyes widened. Out of shock, or horror, (name) didn’t know nor did she care. 

All she could stare at were the big bat ears that were perked up in shock on her head. At first, the woman lets out a nervous, disbelieving chuckle. Her hands reach to her ears, tugging at them to see if she was simply hallucinating from exhaustion. 

She wasn’t. 

(name) breathes in and out, her heart feeling as if it were going to explode from its own beating. She finds herself grinning wildly, trying to reassure herself that everything was fine––after all, wasn’t she? Wasn’t it normal to turn into a non-human demon in Hazbin Hotel after dying? Isn’t this normal? Calm down! This is NOTHING- 

Her efforts at calming herself down proved to be fruitless. So, (name) screams. 

And Lucifer, after hearing her (name)’s scream, bless his heart, came rushing right in. 

6.5 pages

2,224 words

status: edited

Notes:

woah, i did not expect to publish this chapter so soon! but i guess i'm really motivated rn :> a lot of the earlier chapters will really be lucy-centric, so all you alastor lovers will have to wait 

there will be helluva boss x hazbin hotel crossovers here <3

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #alastor x reader x lucifer #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar

[myreygn]

All's well that ends well

summary: Bachira is on a pranking rampage and Chigiri is collateral damage. That wouldn't be such a big deal if the day couldn't have gotten any worse already, but luckily Kunigami is there to get everything back on track.

an: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @giggly-squiggily AGAIN HERE IS YOUR BELATED BIRTHDAY GIFT! i'm hitting myself hard for not getting this out sooner but it's here now and i hope you like it! stay wonderful and next year i'll try the whole being on time things again <3

wordcount: 1969

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Practice was going great. At least Kunigami kept telling himself that over and over again, although believing it got harder with every missed pass, every flunked goal shot and every frustrated groan behind his back. They were all kinda off today and if it had just been that, he wouldn’t have minded as much. Of course having a bad day was annoying, especially when it seemed to be contagious to everyone else as well, but bad days were normal and they could easily be fixed by a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

However, it wasn’t just a bad day. In fact, Bachira was having a great day. Apparently their dribbler had had a clown for breakfast and it showed; so far he had swapped Igarashi’s clothes with Iemon’s, put toothpaste under the door knob for Naruhaya to grab into, changed Gagamaru’s alarm to a death metal version of Baby Shark, and tied Raichi’s shoelaces together, twice. He was on a roll and while everyone was certainly on their toes, Bachira had yet to go on their very last nerve. Emphasis on yet.

A startled yelp caught his attention and Kunigami didn’t even bother watching as the ball flew past the goal, turning around instead. Chigiri held a bottle in his hand, the front of his shirt and his chin drenched in water. Looking a little closer, Kunigami saw that the lid had been unscrewed. Their resident team princess was apparently the newest victim of Bachira’s prank spree and he was not having it. Oh yeah, practice was going amazing.

“What the hell, Bachira!”

“Sorry, sorry! I thought this was Isagi’s!” In Bachira’s defense, he did seem shocked. Kunigami didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling the truth; Chigiri’s day had started off badly enough with his hair do loosening every ten minutes and after he had literally tripped over his own feet during warm up, face planting into the field at full speed, the team had unanimously decided to just leave him alone for the time being. And Bachira would never purposefully make a bad day worse, they all knew that. Unfortunately, Chigiri seemed to have forgotten about that in his annoyance.

“Amazing, thanks, that’ll definitely dry my clothes.”

“I know it won’t, I just-”

“You just wanted to test my patience, I get it! Because my day went so great up until now!”

“Chichi, I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah well, you did! And don’t call me that!” The redhead’s glare made Kunigami go weak in the knees and it wasn’t even directed at him. “If you stopped playing these stupid pranks, shit like this wouldn’t happen! You’re not funny, just cut the crap already!”

“Woah, hey!” Isagi took a step forward as if to shield Bachira. “Chigiri-”, but Chigiri had already grabbed his things and stormed off.

The silence in the hall dragged on for an uncomfortable five seconds before Gagamaru softly cleared his throat. “Let’s call it a day. Bachira, do you, uh…”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but the dribbler turned away before any of them could comment on his quivering lip. “Sorry, I’ll just… I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit. Sorry, really.”

With that he was out the door and the rest of the team exchanged glances, then Isagi nodded slightly and quickly got up to go after Bachira. Iemon jumped upright as well, shooing his teammates away. “Alright, go and hit the showers, you reek!” The boys gathered their things and upon one last exchange of glances, Kunigami slipped out of the room to go and look for Chigiri.

—

He found the princess in the recording room, sitting in the corner that was the farthest away from the door, curled up with his head buried in his arms and just seeming overall miserable. On second glance, Kunigami noticed his shoulders shaking ever so slightly and he even caught a sniffle. Alright, approach with caution.

“Hey.” He quietly closed the door after himself, making the screens’ bluish shine the only source of light in the room, and carefully stepped closer. “Is this seat taken?”

Nothing, not even a huff of reluctant amusement and Kunigami felt himself deflate a little. Dumb jokes like this usually made Chigiri downright cackle, he had to be really upset if he wasn’t even gonna acknowledge it. Still, he also showed no signs of wanting to be left alone, so Kunigami sat down next to him, not touching him yet. “So… that was not excellent.”

No answer. The hero frantically tried to think of something to say that would get through to his friend when he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but… “Are you in pain?”

A shivery breath was the only response he got, but he wasn’t just gonna drop this. Kunigami sat up straighter and put his hand on Chigiri’s which had tightened its grip on his bad knee. “Hey, Chigiri, look at me. If you’re in pain, you need to tell me.”

The most anxiety-inducing three seconds of his life later, the smaller boy finally lifted his head and relaxed his hand a little. “I’m not hurt.” Despite the tear stains on his face, Kunigami felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Then Chigiri looked down again. “I was just scared I would be.”

Kunigami felt his heart clench a little at the quietness of his voice, but at least he was talking to him now. “What do you mean?”

“I was scared it’d start to hurt after I fell.” The redhead wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and Kunigami couldn’t help but feel a little good at Chigiri letting his guard down around him like that. “My knee is fine, I just… the entire time I kept thinking ‘What if it isn’t?’ and I got really anxious and I guess I kinda…”

Chigiri let the sentence trail off to silence and Kunigami nodded slightly. “You were tense and the thing with the water bottle was just the last drop.” That got him a quiet huff - still well below the average reaction, but he wasn’t gonna complain. A win was a win, however small. Next step. “That wasn’t okay, you realize that, right? I mean, I get it, but Bachira didn’t target you on purpose. And I think what you said really took a toll on him.”

Chigiri’s expression morphed into some kind of mortified guilt and Kunigami quickly put an arm around him, pulling him a little closer in the process. God, he was tense. “Isagi went after him, don’t worry. You obviously feel awful about this, I didn’t mean to make it worse, sorry. Just go apologize, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The redhead nodded, drying the last remaining tears. “I wanted to do that anyway… I wanted to take back everything as soon as I left, but then I had to cry and I went here to calm down, but then it just got worse being all alone, and… thank you for coming, really.”

Kunigami smiled, softly caressing his teammate’s back. “Anytime, princess.”

“Shut up.” Chigiri flashed him a weak smile and sat up straight, stretching his arms. “Guess I should go apologize.”

“Oh no, not yet.”

“Huh? Why d- ehehehehey!”

Kunigami’s smile turned into a smirk at the way Chigiri immediately curled into himself as soon as he felt the fingers on his ribs, pressing his arms to his side and trying in vain to get away, but the taller boy just wrapped his free arm around him and pulled him back, not stopping the soft tickling of his ribs for even a moment. “You wanted to calm down first, didn’t you? You’re still as stiff as a poker, I can’t let you face Bachira like that.”

“Whahahahat dohohoes thahahahat hahahave toho dohoho wihihith tihihicklihihing mehehehe- aehehehe heheheherohoho!”

“Yes, princess?” He wormed his fingers under Chigiri’s arm and almost let out a giggle himself at the squeal that got him. He was careful not to be too rough however; he wanted Chigiri to relax, not perish. “Something the matter?”

“Yohohohou’re ahahaha jeheheherk, thahahahat’s the mahahahatter!”

“Tsk.” Kunigami gripped him a bit tighter and softly grazed a single finger over his knee, causing Chigiri to shriek and kick out. “I come here to cheer you up and this is the thanks I get? Such disrespect?”

“Kuhuhuhunihi, nahahaht thehehehe! Ihihihit tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuhuch!”

“That’s because you’re too ticklish, my lady.” Another soft scratch to the knee and Chigiri threw his head back, full on cackling now. “I’m barely touching you.”

“AEHEHE- heheherohoho, plehehehease!”

“Alright, alright.” Kunigami chuckled softly and released his teammate, softly wiping a laughing tear away with his thumb and caressing his back to help through the after-giggles. The tension had faded. Mission accomplished. “You good?”

“Yeheah… mahan, you suck.” Chigiri shook his head with a smile, then grabbed Kunigami’s extended hand to stand up with him. “Thanks again.”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s go. Make everything right again.”

—

Making everything right again was often a task easier said than done.

When they entered the room, Kunigami’s gaze immediately fell on Bachira’s futon. The dribbler said there with his legs crossed, slumped over and fiddling with his hands, not even looking up when the door opened. The ginger felt Chigiri tense next to him and he gently squeezed his hand, mouthing ‘You can do this’ at him when he was met with an anxious glance.

Chigiri took a deep breath and walked over to his friend slowly, then kneeled down in front of him on the floor. “Bachira? Can I talk to you?”

The dribbler looked up and expectantly examined the redhead, but he didn’t say a word. Kunigami felt himself grow slightly anxious now as well and he looked over to Isagi who was… smiling softly? Seeming relaxed? Curious. The ginger decided to just let things progress.

Chigiri didn’t catch the ease with which Isagi watched the scene. He was entirely focused on Bachira when he nervously grasped onto his shirt and began to speak. “I’m really sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, I was just… I was feeling stressed and scared because of the fall and I shouldn’t have taken that out on you, especially when you didn’t do it on purpose, which, I- I know you didn’t, I shouldn’t have accused you of that, that was a shitty thing to do. Everything I did was shitty, I’m really really sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Bachira tilted his head and just sat there for a few seconds, then a smile began tugging at his lips. “You’re lovely, thank you.” He put a hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “I’m sorry for getting you caught in the crossfire, I might’ve gone a little overboard with all the pranks today. Forgive me too?”

“Of course!” 

Kunigami smiled softly when Bachira pulled Chigiri in for a hug and the redhead relaxed visibly. A look over to Isagi however showed him a mischievous little smirk on his lips and a realization dawned on him. This was still Bachira. Before he could warn Chigiri, the dribbler began speaking again.

“There’s one last thing though…”

Confusion showed itself on Chigiri’s face. “What thing?”

“Revenge.”

“What are you- wait, waitwaitwait, not agahahAHAHAHAIN-”

“Again? So Kunigami got his turn already?” Bachira grinned and grabbed Chigiri’s wrist, pulling it to the side for better access to his armpit. “Then it would be unfair to deny me mine, don’t you think, Chichi?”

Kunigami couldn’t help but chuckle to himself softly and he turned away to make himself comfortable on his futon. All’s well that ends well, he could let this go on for a little longer.

#rey writes #blue lock #bllk #tword fic #hurt/comfort #(if you squint) #ler!kunigami #lee!chigiri #ler!bachira #ticklish!chigiri #kunigami rensuke #chigiri hyoma #bachira meguru #slight kunigiri #rey's moots #squiggily 💙