#just to drive home that parallel even further

[x-i-l-verify]

Something that I've noticed ever since the Smiling Critters were introduced is that they can so easily be paired off into complementary duos, ones that are specifically designed to teach children fundamental lessons about life and self-care from two different angles. It's really interesting to me.

Like obviously you have Dogday and Catnap, with their sun/moon, dog/cat dichotomy, that stress how important it is to have fun and get things done during the day, but also that it's important to wind down, relax, and get a good night's sleep.

-

Bubba Bubbaphant and Craftycorn were introduced as a duo in the Smiling Critter show's intro, and their dichotomy is quite obvious. They are basically the right and left sides of the brain personified. Bubba is the left side of the brain, logical, analytical, focused on math and science. Craftycorn is the right side of the brain, creative and imaginative, focused on the arts and self-expression. They represent learning and academia in all its forms, the different ways people engage with and understand the world.

-

Hoppy Hopscotch and Kickin' Chicken form the sportsmanship duo. They are both portrayed as enjoying sports and the outdoors, but in different ways that highlight the different ways sports can be played and enjoyed and also what it entails to be successful at them. Hoppy Hopscotch may be loud and impatient, but she is also a team player, shown in her willingness to slow down her fast pace to make sure none of her friends are left behind. Kickin' Chicken, on the other hand, is laid-back, relaxed, and chill, the described "cool kid" of the group, but he's also described as having a ton of perseverance, more of a "slow and steady wins the race" type of person.

-

This leaves Bobby Bearhug and Picky Piggy as the last pair. Fittingly, these two are all about how to meet the fundamental needs of yourself and others. Bobby teaches children how to nourish themselves emotionally through showing and receiving care from others, while Picky teaches them how good food is important to nourish the body and soul. Depriving oneself of either of these things only makes oneself and therefore everyone around one miserable, because those fundamental needs are no longer being met.

-

Like fr, this is some pretty genius marketing right here. You have enough characters that every kid will have their favorite, but not so many that any would get lost in the shuffle, because the lessons each one of them would teach would be integral to the group as a whole. It really makes me that much sadder we saw basically nothing of the Smiling Critters during the game itself, because Mob Games struck gold with this concept, only to ultimately do nothing with it. :/

But I guess that's what fandom is for, eh?

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #picky piggy #kickin chicken #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #craftycorn #bubba bubbaphant #xi writes #tbh that 'slow and steady wins the race' comment makes me really wish Kickin' Chicken was a turtle instead #just to drive home that parallel even further #ngl i've been thinking about making this post for ages but i finally got off my butt and did it #me holding the Smiling Critters like Marge Simpson holding a potato: I just think they're neat! #it'd be a shame if the game company that came up with them never DID anything with them HUH MOB GAMES? #mob games don't walk away from me #MOB GAMES GET BACK HERE I HAVE THOUGHTS-

[comixandco]

The four Sages were called back into the past by Terrako and they remember it happening

Tulin got to meet his hero, Revali, and decided to be just like him, adopting his idol’s brash personality and drive. He practises Revali’s Gale and eventually comes up with his own way to show off his mastery of wind, and when trouble hits his home he rushes to fix it on his own to prove how strong he has become and because, like Revali, he can’t stand idly by while he knows there’s still things he can do.

For Yunobo, when he goes back and meets his ancestor Daruk, he is a very timid and reactive Goron. He needs a push from others to come up with ideas and carry plans through, and when bad things happen to him his first instinct is to use his fire magic as a shield, to wait until the threat has passed by or somebody else has come to save him. But when he is sent back in time to Divine Beast vah Rudania, for the first time he has to be the one doing the saving. Daruk encourages Yunobo and is proud of him from the moment they meet, and it’s this support that gives Yunobo the confidence to help fight against Calamity Ganon, and to start YunoboCo when he gets home.

For Sidon, meeting his family from 100 years ago is bittersweet. He is proud that he was able to protect his sister, and it’s a comfort to know there is a version of him who will grow up alongside Mipha because of his bravery and fighting prowess. But as much joy as he got from seeing her, hugging her, and hearing her voice again, it just reminds him of how unfair her death was, of just how young she was when she died and how he is now older even though he’s the younger sibling. And at the end of the war, when he’s returned to their original time, he has to readjust to her absence all over again, and in light of that is it really a shock he’d have her statue moved further away from his home? And it also explains why he’s so desperate to protect Yona from the sludge.

Riju in AoC still a new ruler to her people, despite her accomplishments in BotW, she still feels guilty over the temporary loss of the Thunder Helm and isn’t sure if she can lead the Gerudo. She has a lot of confidence but is quick to falter when things go wrong. Urbosa treats Riju as a capable fighter despite her young age, and teaches her that she should never give up, to keep trying even when her resolve falters. There is always something you can do, even when it’s just stalling for time until help can arrive. Urbosa guides her in mastering the Thunderhelm, and possibly begins teaching her to summon lightning herself after Kohga attempts to steal it, and at the end of their time together Urbosa tells Riju she’s certain she’ll lead the Gerudo well. Riju treasured her time being mentored by Urbosa so much that she considers what Urbosa would do during the Upheaval in her diary in TotK.

I think the entire reason Tulin was added to the DLC was because the TotK team had already decided that Tulin was going to be the Sage of Wind, and that since the other sages were going to meet their Champions Tulin had to as well.

At some point in the years between Botw and TotK Teba, Tulin, Sidon, Yunobo, Riju and Patricia were summoned back in time by Terrako to aid the Champions during the Calamity, and even though those events took place in a parallel timeline and had no bearing on the world they returned to, the Sages’ personalities at the beginning of TotK are because of their experiences during the Calamity and the bonds they made with the Champions.

#totk #totk spoilers #botw #riju #yunobo #sidon #tulin #aoc zelda #age of calamity #bonus thought i cbb to make into it’s own post for all the tag reading girlies: #since the light dragon is canonically present during the calamity because zelda was sent back thousands of years.. #technically the light dragon is present for both botw!calamity and the aoc!calamity #and there is now a timeline in which totk!ganondorf will emerge in a completely different way because of timeline shenanigans #and there are two zeldas except one of them is a dragon #my belief is that in the aoc!verse since you can play as calamity ganon a part of it survived and like. it’s main goal is to find a way #to excavate the cave it’s creator is in and like maybe it lures link and zelda down there or maybe nobody even notices until it’s too late #idk. because there weren’t two zeldas in the past the aoc!zelda can’t travel back in time so like. either her character development means #her secret stone manifests her light powers instead of her time powers or she never gets the secret stone idk #what’s important is that aoc’s version of totk in my head takes place a few years after the calamity and by the end of it the light dragon #turns back into zelda and suddenly there are two zelda’s who are practically twins and this alternate time-twisted botw!zelda gets to see #the champions and her father again at the cost of losing her link and her friends in the future and having no idea whether her original tim #line is safe or not. and link gets to doublewield the master swords or smth. #if we’re keeping the aoc-style gameplay rauru is one of the jokey-warriors like the great fairies were and it’s just his arm and like. mayb #a bit of his shoulder or something because it’s 100 years ago and there’s a bit more of him left

[gffa]

Dick sneaks out to chase down a case about missing girls that Batman and Robin have been working on, ending up solving the case and freeing the girls by himself, while Alfred frets with worry about how Dick's putting himself in danger and throwing away his youth on this crusade and how he puts so much on his young shoulders. And now I'm thinking about just how many times I've seen Alfred step in and steer Bruce towards a gentler demeanor when dealing with Dick's determination to go down this path's crusade. How often we talk about Bruce could not have stopped him from it, that Robin was a leash on the kid, rather than putting Dick in harm's way for his own need to fight criminals--but the same is true of Alfred. He watches that kid, he worries about him, he's afraid that Dick is throwing away the years of his youth on this fight and if he'll regret, he never relaxes because he knows Dick's two seconds away from sneaking out to go fight people grown adults who are legitimately trying to kill him. But Alfred also sees the same thing Bruce does--that they're not going to stop someone that determined. And Alfred sees even further than Bruce does sometimes, in that Dick's desperate to prove to Bruce that he can be trusted to do this job, to justify the trust Bruce has placed in him, and that Bruce needs to gentle himself with the kid, even when he's terrified that Dick could have gotten himself hurt. Yeah, Dick put himself in danger without Batman there to watch over him, but he did it for the same reason that Bruce started this path, too. That Bruce didn't put that spark of angry need for justice in that kid, Dick came by that all on his own, the night his parents were murdered, and neither Bruce nor Alfred were pulling him into something that he didn't want, they were instead giving him shape and form to channel that need. Alfred has never liked this choice of theirs, to dress up in costumes and go punch criminals in the face, but he doesn't stand by out of passivity, but instead because he recognizes that Dick was going to do something and this was the best he could do to help shape the kid into something that would survive it. Including stepping in to help him behind Bruce's back or straight up saying, "Yeah, I helped him and you are going to be gentle with him, because that kid is desperately trying to prove himself to you and you're the only stability he has and you of all people should know what he's feeling about needing to help people." Alfred can't force either of them into a life that he would prefer for them, he can only help provide guard rails on the roads they've chosen, but what a difference that has made for them both. I love Bruce and Dick's relationship, I love it because the question of, "Where do you take a character who fights crime because of the trauma of his lost parents?" has a fascinating answer in, "You have him--step by painful step--grow into being a parent himself, learning to open himself up to being gentle with people he loves and fears losing, to learn to trust those he loves even though they might die." and, when Dick's own losses are mirrored in Bruce's, driving the parallels home even further, it's so important for Bruce to learn to be a father to this kid, as his own father figure nudges him back onto the right path. Alfred is such an important part of that character arc for both of these characters, he is part of the thematic bridge of parents and children that runs through the Batman family of stories, and his role of guiding Bruce into being a better father--to heal from the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne who should have been there to guide him--by telling him, in the most British gentleman way possible, to look the fuck around and see what's going through that kid.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #robin year one #long post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Duff 16

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far. ♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Andy wipes a fleck of lettuce from his tie as you walk along. He’s pretty calm despite being assaulted. You’re still rattled, a jittery pulse flowing through you. You hug yourself as you head up toward the office building.

“You okay?” He asks, yet again.

“Coming down,” you assure him with an exhale, “I’m so sorry about that–”

“I told you, you don’t need to apologise for that guy,” he insists, “he’s nuts.”

“Uh, yeah,” you sniff as you slow, glancing further up the street towards the bus stop.

“I’m just happy I was there,” Andy says, “seems like he was on a mission. I hate to think what would have happened if you were alone.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and shudder at the thought.

You can’t help but feel guilty. If you’d just answered Curtis, you’re sure he wouldn’t have got so worked up. You could’ve deflected him, at least lied and bought some time. You wouldn’t blame Andy if he holds this against you. You’re his employee and he was half-throttled on your behalf.

“Hey, how about I give you a ride,” he offers, “I don’t like the idea of you going off alone right now. He could still be hanging around.”

“Oh, I don’t know, that’s too–”

“It’s the least I can do. Really, I don’t mind,” he stops just in front of the locked up office, “come on. The drive will give you some time to calm down.”

You mull the prospect. You can take the fifteen minute ride or wait as long just to get on the bus, then sit in a compartment of strangers as you look over your shoulder every two seconds. You owe him, big time.

“Alright, thanks, Andy,” you accept, “I’m sorry again–”

“Please,” he waves you off as he reaches into his jacket pocket and you hear the chirp of a nearby car, “stop. No more sorries.”

He points you toward his car and you follow him. You parallel him as he gets in on the driver’s side and you daintily swing into the passenger’s seat. The curve of your thigh hits the clutch as you do. You wiggle back in the seat and buckle up. You give your address to Andy as he flips open Google Maps.

Andy clicks his belt into place and starts the engine. You clutch your bag in your lap and stare through the windshield. Your mind is already ahead of you. You just want to get home and have a hot bath, try to forget the day. You drag your fingers up your arm, you’re not sure you can get rid of the lingering sensation of Curtis’ grip or the echo of anger in your ears.

“So, uh,” Andy pulls out, “that guy was pretty worked up. Boyfriend or–”

You shake your head and scoff, “please.”

“Ah, hmm,” he grips the top of the wheel, his other hand tapping along the lower curve, “that club, you must’ve met him there, right? That’s the wild weekend you had, huh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. I can’t even think about…” you huff and bend your arm against the door, cradling your cheek, “oh, Jesus. I’m so embarrassed.”

“We all have our strikeouts,” he says lightly, “I tried out this dating app after my divorce, not exactly a positive experience, but I learned from it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, yeah, dating is… difficult,” you mutter.

“Tell me about it. Doesn’t get easier either. So much has changed since I got married, then divorced. I went on one date where a woman brought her friends. She just wanted me to buy dinner for them all,” he shook his head, “turns out she was a lot younger than she said on her profile… bit too young for me.”

“Sounds complicated,” you sit back and keep your hand on the door, nervously feeling along the buttons and divet, “I usually don’t– It was all my friends. They always want to go out but I’m just left on the sideline. He was there and I thought he was a nice guy… I was wrong.”

“Well, I can assure you, there are still nice guys out there,” Andy idles at a stop sign. You feel his eyes on you as he stay a bit too long before clearing his throat and stepping down on the pedal, “patience, that’s what my friends tell me, at least.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to just… wait. Hope he goes away, hope I find someone better. I don’t know, being alone isn’t bad, at least you make your own decisions,” you shrug.

“There is that. I don’t miss asking the wife for every little thing, that’s for sure,” he chuckles, “anyway, I just… if this guy keeps bugging you, I don’t mind putting him in his place again.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you trace your thumb along the interior of the door, “really, it’s my problem.”

“It’s not a problem you should have to deal with, especially alone,” he glances at you then back to the road, “you’re a nice girl. I kinda get why the guy is so crazy but just the thought of him grabbing you like he did, how violent he was, it makes me so angry. You don’t deserve that,” he reaches over blindly and caresses your arm with his knuckles, “don’t think that you do.”

He retracts his hand as you shift. His touch leaves a tingle along your arm and knot in your stomach. That uncertainty bubbles in your chest. Are you reading into this? He’s your boss, he’s being nice. If anything he feels bad for you.

“Thanks,” you utter and look down as you twiddle your fingers.

You stew in the silence as his car engine whirs softly. You lift your chin again to watch out the window, recognising the neighbourhood as he pulls onto your street. You point ahead, “the red building there.”

He follows your direction and pulls in at the curb. You wrap your arms around your bag and blow out a breath of relief. You’re home.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you unbuckle the seatbelt, “really, I owe you. How can I–”

As you turn to him, you’re suddenly smothered. His lips are on yours as he brings his hand up behind your head. His beard tickles, both soft and coats, and you squirm, letting out a pathetic murmur. You push on his chest, entirely surprised by the kiss.

You shove him away and heave, “Andy, what are you–”

“I’m sorry, did I misread–”

“Wow,” you shake your head and pick at the lock, facing away from him as you try to hide your horror, “I… you’re my boss.”

You finally push the lock back and open the door. You get a foot out, shaky and unsteady, and struggle to get out.

“I’m sorry,” Andy repeats again.

“You know what, let’s forget it,” You hook your bag in your elbow, turning back halfway but refusing to look at him, “I can if you can.”

“Yeah, of course, I–”

“Good night,” you swing the door shut and nearly trip over the curb.

You face the building, eyes full of tears. What is wrong with men?

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #dark!curtis everett #snowpiercer #drabble #au #the DUFF #series

[theflyindutchwoman]

You can choose to see that tattoo as your greatest failure. But I see it as proof that you're a survivor. It wasn't your day of death, Officer Chen. It was the first day, of the rest of your life. And no one can take that away from you.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 2.12 - Now and Then

This has to be my favourite moment, along with Lucy making an audiobook for Tim… Maybe it is because these two scenes have a very similar vibe… both of them taking place in the gym… with both Tim and Lucy working through their frustration in the same fashion… and making the other feel more empowered… Back then, she was fiercely telling him that his 'learning disability' was nothing to be ashamed of, and instead, was a strength… And here he is, saying something akin, just as passionately : that her tattoo isn't a sign of weakness or failure on her part, but one of strength. Of resilience. It's more than just reassurance : it's really about empowering the other… And this is genuinely a beautiful and powerful message, that epitomises their relationship perfectly...

The way the camera focuses on Lucy's DOD tattoo, with Tim appearing in the background, before he fully comes into focus, is brilliant. Him looking away, pretending he hasn't seen it, out of respect for her and complimenting her instead, is such a simple, but meaningful thing. Just like how he refuses to take any credit for the way she is. The reverence and pride in his voice are all for her. He's trying to drive his point home, but Lucy is not hearing him. Or at least, not entirely. He's about to leave before changing his mind. You can see the moment he decides to go for it and really talk to her. Something he has been trying to do already, like after he heard she was involved in a shooting : only, he kept it light in that moment, not daring pushing her out of her comfort zone. But his conversation with Nolan made him reconsider his approach, once he realised that her friends were too focused on her tattoo, treating its removal as a magical cure to her emotional wounds. No matter how well intended they are, it doesn't work like that. Something he knows all too well.

So instead, Tim opens up about his own traumatic experiences, share his own history and scars to help her… And this is huge for him. Lucy might have known about Isabel, but this is the first time he mentions his childhood and his dad to her (at least, as far as we know : he did it once while playing football with AJ, but she wasn't around). It's a very personal and intimate topic and the fact that he willingly shares this vulnerable part of himself with her says a lot on how much he trusts her. And it also feels natural : they were already getting closer, but regardless, this is the same man who opened up about his personal life on her second day. He has seen how she was there for him time and time again, with Isabel of course, but even recently, with how she made him feel safe after discovering he was a kinesthetic learner. So now, this is his turn to do the same for her, to respond in kind. And it parallels what Nyla was trying to do with Lucy when she shared her very own experience in the shop… and with Tim when she shared pieces of it in order to convince him to let her ride with Lucy for the day. He took a page from Harper's playbook, understanding that it might help Lucy more.

But unlike Nyla, Tim goes a step further. The reason why Lucy wasn't quite as receptive with her is that she needed more than empathy. It helped her of course, but what she requires even more is seeing her trauma in a different perspective. To see it through someone else's eyes. Tim's eyes. They already have a special bond and his opinion matter a lot to her. She can get through to him like no one else and so can he. But this is even more important since they haven't been able to ride together since that fateful day. She thought at first that the change in TOs for the day was a Tim Test. So it is primordial that she knows he doesn't think less of her. Just like he probably also doesn't want someone else he cares about to believe they're not living up to his standards… And at first, Lucy was getting frustrated with him as well. Even angry that he wasn't getting it. Until he started to emphasise on the fact that she didn't die, that she's still very much alive and therefore won, just like she defiantly warned Caleb in her last words to him. He's trying to get her to focus on that victory. That what she sees as a sign of failure, is instead a sign of resilience. Of her own strength. And I absolutely love how going forward, she will rub her tattoo whenever she's getting nervous, as a reminder of this. Because this is such an earnest and powerful message. At no point does he tell her what to do with this or how to feel about it - which was inadvertently what Jackson and Nolan were doing. It's simply about pushing her to see things under a different prism so she can make an informed decision. One that will bring her peace. To help her see herself the way he does : as a survivor, as someone who saved herself. Not a victim. It's about her retaking some control of her own story. And this time, she gets his message… The way she is clearly moved by his words, tearing up, just shows how much she needed to hear these words. Especially from him.

The tone of the scene instantly changes after that, becoming much lighter… Without undermining the core message either. This is a much needed respite, after that intense conversation. Tim looks so self-conscious and bashful when Lucy thanks him, like he's suddenly feeling under the spotlight. His whole demeanor - hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet, asking her if she's riding with him - feels very much like a teenage boy asking the girl he has a crush on to go on a date with him, while trying to be nonchalant about it. His beaming smile when she agrees is adorable. Her laughter as well… It's clear he has missed riding with her. They both have.

And that leads us to that last part : Tim giving Lucy back her ring. The one she left behind for him to find… There are so many symbols here… Like the fact that he had it in his pocket the whole time, even though he was about to leave her alone at first… The implication that he kept it with him, that he hung on to it, as a reminder that she was safe now, that he found her… It's how he's playing with it as well, as if a part of him is a bit reluctant to part with it… It's the way they don't even need words : they both understand the underlying message… It's in his smile before he leaves, the admiration he feels for her shining bright in his eyes… Or her surprise and delight when she catches her ring, having the confirmation that she was right to have so much faith in him… And how overwhelmed she is, to know that this tiny piece of jewellery, thrown as a last-ditch effort, saved her… That she saved herself. This moment encapsulates everything he has previously said in a very poetic manner… It was the perfect conclusion. Melissa deserves all the credit here for pitching this idea to the showrunners and writers, who, then, turned it into this wonderful scene. And hopefully, there will be a follow up one day on this...

#the rookie #chenford #chenfordedit #lucy chen #tim bradford #2.12 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

[jazzmckay]

anders & merrill parallels

despite coming from contrasting walks of life, anders and merrill have a lot in common. tension rises between them due to fundamental differences in their belief systems; things that could help them understand each other incredibly well mostly just drive them apart, which is such a tragic loss for two people who are in desperate need of support.

ways anders and merrill parallel each other:

childhood displacement and resulting isolation

on a quest for the good of their people

their faith

association with spirits/demons

lack of support and eventual tragedy

childhood displacement and resulting isolation:

at the age of 12, anders was taken from his parents to the ferelden circle. when merrill's magic manifested as a child, she was sent to another dalish clan that needed a keeper's first, having to leave her parents behind. their magic meant they had to be uprooted from their homes and families. merrill's displacement was not done maliciously--mages are moved around so that no clan goes without a keeper to preserve their history and culture--but it does still mean she lost her family very young and only has vague, wistful memories of them.

marethari, as much as she thinks she's doing what she must / what's best for merrill, is not a good parental substitute. their relationship may have started decently, until the matter of the eluvian drives a wedge between them, but what happens at this point doesn't paint marethari as a good parental figure. marethari chooses to send merrill away rather than trying to reach a compromise with her, or even just comforting her and helping her process her grief in a healthy way. it's clear merrill thinks of marethari highly, but it seems like acceptance and emotional support may not have been a large part of their relationship. in addition to this, as a keeper's first, merrill's training and apprenticeship likely took most of her time, making it harder to nurture other friendships.

likewise, the circles aren't a good place for mages to form relationships. they're under constant scrutiny, they have to be careful about any connections they form, many mages may feel they're safer keeping to themselves. children born to mages in a circle are even taken away from them. circles are a hostile environment in many ways, and wouldn't inspire the mages to foster companionship. anders refuses to talk to anyone, even the other mages, at first. he escapes seven times. it isn't until karl that he has any reason to stay, and then karl is taken from him, too.

both anders and merrill have the people they care about taken from them repeatedly--and in merrill's case, the people she cares about even push her away. they grow up disconnected, isolated, and having to fend for themselves. i think this leads to some of the personality traits they have in common as well, namely their intense stubbornness. they have learned that they're largely on their own, so they make decisions on their own, and can rarely be swayed once their minds are made up.

on a quest for the good of their people:

anders is fighting for mage freedom--eventually at all costs. merrill is determined to restore her people's history--not necessarily at all costs, but she goes far further than anyone else would. both of them are driven by wanting better for their people. they are passionate about their goals. these goals are at the forefront of their lives, they are goals they strive for across years, relentlessly. they don't give up, no matter the difficulties along the way. they desperately want positive change for their people. their goals say a lot about them as people, and these qualities are things they share with each other in an incredibly synonymous way.

their faith:

anders is andrastian, and merrill believes in the creators. anders' faith doesn't come across so strongly, because he is of course opposing the chantry's rule on how mages should be treated, but the chantry's teachings have been ingrained in him since growing up in the circle. he believes that there are spirits, and there are demons, and the demons are wholly, inherently evil. his understanding of justice supports his understanding of this dichotomy. merrill, by contrast, was taught that all spirits/demons are just like people, as varied as any mortal. she says all of them can be dangerous, but they can be helpful, too, and she is confident in her ability to treat them carefully and safely.

they butt heads on this badly. anders asks if merrill started blood magic by accident. she says no, she did it very intentionally. anders asks if maybe she just doesn't understand the difference between spirits and demons. she says no, i have a belief of my own and don't need to borrow yours, thank you. it's inevitable that you'll become an abomination, anders claims. skill issue, merrill replies.

their faiths are different, but the two of them are similar in how strong their belief is. it's that stubbornness again: they will not be swayed. they can't agree on blood magic, or how to view demons, which is the main thing that keeps forcing them apart despite how similar they are.

association with spirits and demons:

on the topic of their different perspectives on spirits and demons, another main thing they have in common is anders' relationship with justice, and merrill's relationship with demons she communicates with through blood magic. anders doesn't appreciate them being compared in this manner, but from merrill's viewpoint, they are very much comparable, and in fact, anders is doing the same thing she does, but far riskier. she has no intention of ever joining with a demon. she says anders has no room to judge her, when he has let a spirit in.

both of them are willing to communicate with spirits, both of them have a more open-minded approach to spirits, and this is something they could find common ground on, if not for anders seeing a difference between spirits and demons while merrill does not, and anders' belief that he has corrupted justice into vengeance. it doesn't matter who is right, if either of them are. both of them are doing something risky but thought/think they have a handle on it, that they could/can control it.

whether or not they're right, it leads them to tragedy regardless.

lack of support and eventual tragedy:

merrill is right that she can fix the eluvian. she's also right that eluvians were important artefacts to the elvhen and they could teach the dalish more about their history. she's right! and it doesn't matter. no one believes her. everyone thinks she'll only bring them destruction. her clan turns her away when she refuses to back down. even hawke can not believe in her. many of the other party members don't believe in her. she's right, and it doesn't matter. her clan has a high chance to end up dead. she loses marethari regardless. many party members comment on the fallout in harsh ways. the guilt is already eating at her. she fixes the eluvian, and there may be no one left to share in her success, she may not even be able to feel victorious herself, after what it cost. she is alone. she has always been, in some way, alone.

how different could it have been, if someone had understood what she needed? if someone had as much faith in her as she had in herself?

anders lived the experience of a young mage ripped away from their home and family, forced into a circle, forced under templar and chantry rule. he knows what it feels like to be a lost, scared child, locked in an unfamiliar place, where armoured figures with hidden faces are always watching. he has experienced the abuses. he has been imprisoned and tortured. he has had people dear to him taken from him and made tranquil, even though they were harrowed, even though they never would have done something to warrant it. until joining the wardens, his life was an endless battle to just be free.

the fight for mage freedom, and his manifesto, are a matter of life and death for anders. everyone else, though--they can ignore it, because it doesn't impact them directly. they can believe the potential for mages to be dangerous justifies systematic abuse and even culling. anders is frequently ignored, belittled, or even hated for his mere desire for freedom, and for his passion for the freedom of all mages. he is screaming at the top of his lungs, and no one is listening.

in the end, no matter what, he blows up the chantry alone. he's out of options. it's been years, and nothing else works. no one cares. he has been pushed to his limit. he doesn't want it to be like this, but it's all there is left, and something has to give. he does this alone, and is willing to give his life in the aftermath, because he has nothing left to give.

this likely never could have gone differently. anders has been doomed since the moment he was born a mage.

conclusion:

anders and merrill are characters whose lives often mirror each other: mages who have never been able to form strong, healthy, and/or lasting relationships, finding themselves isolated and needing to rely on only themselves. they are deeply passionate people who strive to do good and make a difference. unfortunately, this works out tragically for both of them.

in a perfect world, maybe they could have been exactly what the other needed. their empathy and determination could have let them help each other. the base is there: when anders first starts asking about merrill's blood magic, he does it with a tone of concern. many times, merrill can express her wish for anders to be happy. in a conversation with sebastian, merrill reveals that anders has warned her to stay away from the chantry. they disagree with each other, but they do care. at anders' harshest, he is talking about himself more than he's talking about merrill; as he feels himself fraying, he projects his anger at himself onto her. he sees their similarities, and he's afraid. she could have reassured him, they could have supported each other, could have put their heads together and found new solutions. the potential was there for their similar experiences to give them a uniquely strong companionship, but they just never managed to grasp onto it.

#dragon age #da2 #anders #merrill #da meta #can you tell..... i adore them both so #slacking off on nanowrimo to write this goddamn essay of a post #my meta

[pythoneon]

Someone might’ve posted about this before, but while i have the persistent brainrot, I wanna ramble about hatchetfield and the perpetual cycle of missed opportunities.

The first couple is pretty obvious: Paul and Emma. They’re two people who don’t get the chance to move past the early stages of a relationship. In TGWDLM, they’ve just gotten on a first name basis, even though he’s a regular and there’s a connection between them. It’s a slow burn that fizzles out because of the circumstances. Black Friday is a bit different because, while they’re not an official couple, Emma cares enough about Paul to bring her to what she thinks is a belated Thanksgiving dinner with estranged family. But that musical ends with everyone being blown to kingdom come, so again, it doesn’t evolve further than being “intimate” with each other. Then, of course, there’s their brief interaction in NPMD which parallels TGWDLM, with an interruption by Officer Bailey. In Nightmare Time, only Paul 23 and Android! Emma have a happy ending, but not without hiccups of course. They seem like an inevitability-pun fully intended-in every universe. Oftentimes, their potential is never fully realized.

Becky and Tom is an interesting couple because they’re the only main pairing that dated and broke up, only to get back together later on. They dated in high school and were pulled apart by circumstance. Tom goes to war, and in the interim, Becky becomes entangled with her abusive husband that keeps them apart even after he comes back. In Black Friday, they reunite, bone in the movie theater, but again, they get fucking bombed at the end. In Jane’s A Car, they actually get to rekindle their relationship, getting to the point that Tom brings Becky home to meet his son. Tim even likes Becky, acknowledging that she can’t replace his mom but she’s a good presence for them both. Unfortunately, Tom’s grief and guilt drives them apart again-pun not intended this time. There could be other worlds where they get back together as well, but that comes after years of heartbreak, trauma, and separation.

Lex and Ethan are interesting because in every world we’ve seen thus far, they start each story in a very committed relationship. We don’t see their beginning stages like the others, so we already know how they are together. This makes Black Friday even more devastating when we watch Ethan die protecting Hannah, and Lex never finds this out. She dies unaware of his fate. Then in Witch in a Web, they’re both in jail after trying to make money to get Hannah out of their neglectful mother’s home. Yellow Jacket is the worst, I think. Because Ethan wants the best for Lex and Hannah, he allows Hannah to take part in the super kid fight club, which accidentally dooms his relationship after they kill Otho and have to go on the run from Charlie. We see him getting her a ring, preparing to propose to her, but he never gets the chance. Lex leaves him behind in Hatchetfield to relieve him of the burden of having to protect her and Hannah. Ethan loves Lex so much that while trying to save her, he loses her.

Finally, our newest and most hopeful addition: Steph and Pete. The babies. We see them first in Abstinence Camp, finding kindred spirits in each other because they see themselves outcasts in their environment. I’d argue this is also true in NPMD. They’re both outliers in their social groups, and connect because of this. In TGWDLM, we can assume they both are infected before ever meeting-the same thing goes for Black Friday. The nice thing about their relationship is, in both Abstinence Camp and NPMD, they end the story in the early stages of their romance, and we can assume it’ll develop further because they both trust each other and have ‘defeated’ the monster. However, they don’t get through it unscathed. Nobody does. But I’ll be optimistic and say they’re the only ones who actually get the happy ending they deserve.

Some honorable mentions:

- Ted and Charlotte, and Ted and Jenny. Ted seems to truly care for Charlotte, and in TGWDLM, he watches her die for her scummy husband. In Black Friday, they’re briefly seen together at the end, but again, BOMB. Then there’s Forever & Always, where it’s revealed Ted is responsible for the death of his one true love, and also his own.

- Linda and Gerald is less subtle, considering they’re both batshit, but their insanity makes them a match made in hell. So, it’s pretty sad when, in Nightmare Time 2, Gerald dies helping Linda become the titular Honey Queen. And, of course, Linda dies in Black Friday while on the phone with him.

- DUKE AND MISS HOLLOWAY. OH BOY DO I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THEM. THE TRAGEDY OF FALLING FOR SOMEONE WHO YOU CAN NEVER SHARE YOUR LIFE WITH BECAUSE BUT YEARNING TO BE IN THEIR LIFE IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE. THE PAINS OF BEING IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE THAT YOU NEVER REALLY KNEW, NOR COULD YOU EVER TRULY KNOW HER, BUT YOU LOVE HER REGARDLESS, AND YOULL ALWAYS LOVE HER. PROTECTING THE PERSON YOU LOVE EVEN IF IT MEANS ACCIDENTALLY DAMNING YOURSELF INTO STARTING OVER WITHOUT THAT PERSON. GOD THEY MAKE ME SO SAD

#starkid #hatchetfield #nerdy prudes must die #starkid npmd #hatchetverse #nightmare time #npmd #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #paulkins #lautksi #barneston #holloweane #lex foster #ethan green #pete spankoffski #steph lauter #becky barnes #tom houston #paul matthews #emma perkins #ted spankoffski #charlotte sweetly #linda monroe #gerald monroe #duke keane #miss holloway

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @devirnis for WIP Wednesday! Here’s a whole scene from proposal fic because why not… (vomit content warning)

Bobby shows up on the doorstep before Buck's first PT appointment after being discharged and Buck is hit by sudden intense gratitude for the stupidest possible reason. Ah, he thinks, thank god Eddie isn't going to see what I'm like during one of these. And then What the fuck, Buckley? Eddie did see him after that first session, and it's not like his patheticisms start and end within a 45 minute time frame and the clean walls and persistent disinfectant smell of Dr. Shelley's office. He's spent the last two days in a shivering little lump on the man's bed, sleeping 16 hours out of 24. He's not really sparing him anything he hasn't already seen. What, then? Spread the different facets of exactly how fucked up he is around? Like if no one has to deal with too much they won't get tired of it? Here, Eddie, you can have helping me go to the bathroom because I can't stand up on my own. Maddie, you get me crying whenever I see you or even hear you on the phone because you're my big sister so I get to dump all my feelings on you, that's fair right? Bobby, you can hear me screaming in pain, is that ok with you? You were there last time, I'm sure you'll do fine. It's too much for any of them. It's too much for Buck.

"You ready, kid?" Bobby says, with the softest little smile. God. Buck is going to fall apart into tiny, gross little pieces. Eddie can mop the floor and be done with him.

“Ready,” is what he says, knowing it sounds like a lie.

They have him walking between the parallel bars today. He remembers them, from his leg. They don’t start there, most of the hour is more stretching (ow) and fine motor skills practice (frustrating). But they told him at the beginning they want to get him walking again as soon as they can to avoid any further muscle loss or atrophy, and they want to work with him to see if they can figure out how much of his dizziness is from brain injury and how much is from vestibular damage.

Well, he’s up on the bars now and he couldn’t fucking tell you. The whole world is just spinning around him at a sickening speed as the physical therapist and Bobby both mutter encouragement, tell him to keep taking one more step, he can do it. Buck tries, he really tries, he wants to take these five steps on his own and for the doctor to tell him he’s progressing fantastically and to be tired but happy on the drive home with Bobby, both of them smiling and cracking jokes. Instead he collapses three steps in and vomits on the soft plastic-y blue floor covering. His ear is ringing and he only has a split second to feel humiliated before there are arms around him.

“Sweetheart,” Bobby is saying over the background hum, “Sweetheart, I’ve got you.” There are hands in Buck’s hair and he chokes out a sob. He doesn’t really stop crying until they’re almost back at the Diaz house, how he got from the office to the car a mysterious blur. Bobby is holding his hand on the center console. When Buck squeezes a little tighter he hears him sigh in relief and it almost starts the tears up again. Bobby is out of the car as soon as he's parked, hurrying around to the passenger side to help Buck to the house. He’d protested, days ago, about the need to rent a wheelchair until he could carry a little more of his own weight, but now he guesses getting rolled to the door is more dignified than Bobby having to put him in a fireman's carry.

He’d do it. Buck knows he would, Bobby would pick him up and hold him in his arms and carry him as far as he needed to go. Bobby settles him on the couch, handling him as gently as he would a child at a disaster site, running to bring him mouthwash to get rid of the bitter taste of stomach acid, finding saltines in the kitchen, pouring ginger ale on ice and procuring as if by magic a bendy straw in old fashioned, environmentally unfriendly, single use plastic. He sits on the coffee table in front of him, at attention, ready to appease any want.

"Thanks, dad. Bobby! Thanks- thanks, Cap," Buck slams his eyes shut and drops his head onto the couch behind him. The indignities never fucking end, apparently. He's stopped from withering away entirely by the warm weight of a hand over his own where it lays on the armrest. Buck opens his eyes. Bobby is staring down at their hands, jaw working, breathing through his nose.

"It wasn't even-" Bobby frowns as his voice fails, and clears his throat to try again. "I kept wishing I could be mad at you. Being reckless again, running into danger, getting yourself hurt." He exhales heavily, breath stuttering into a sad little laugh. "But I watched you climb that ladder. I kept playing it over and over in my head. You had three points of contact the whole time. Could have filmed it for a goddamn safety manual. It could have been-" his voice catches again, and Buck turns his hand to grab onto Bobby's. "It could have been any of us. It could have been any of us up there. All the stupid stunts you pull that you walk away from, and it's-" Bobby's free hand waves wildly into the room. "It's a random fucking act of god that nearly-"

"Bobby-"

"That nearly takes you from me," he finishes, squeezing Buck's hand. He's crying, and Buck thinks he might be again, too.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Oh, kid," Bobby says, leaning forward, gathering Buck up in his arms. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re right here. You’re still breathing. That’s all I need.”

Buck weeps again, into Bobby’s shoulder, his captain or father or good friend’s hand rubbing up and down his spine. He is still breathing. He’s still breathing. Bobby’s soft flannel shirt smells like grill smoke and Eddie’s couch is familiar beneath him, and Buck hurts and feels sick and dizzy, and he exists. “Bobby-“

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Bobby’s face is wet when Buck pulls away after however long it takes for each breath to stop aching so bad as it rattles in and out of him. Buck wants to say all sorts of things, most of which amount to I love you, but what comes out is a nod towards the TV and “You wanna stay for the game?”

Buck doesn’t even know what sports, if any, are on today, but Bobby seems to hear some of the other words he meant to say because he smiles so kindly at him and says “Yeah, Buck. Anything.”

Tagging @iinryer @bigfootsmom @shortsighted-owl if you’ve got anything to share!

#wip #wip wednesday #proposal fic #thats his dad boogie woogie woogie #was listening to the interstellar soundtrack while finishing this scene up #i remember fuck all about that movie but the soundtrack hits #listen to Stay and cry about how that song feels like a building plea and a desperate desire to answer that plea #stay!! stay with me!! #arms wide open for you

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Dream and Fantasy & Handholding - Thingol x Finwë

Dear @the-red-butterfly, my friend, my partner in pairing crime...I dedicate this abomination to you!

This is further proof that I have no OCs, they're just knock-off, 2 penny depictions of people I know and love.

I give you...Old, decrepit men! Have fun!

Words: 1 065

Characters: Thingol x Finwë

Warnings: Geriatric grouches, barely veiled OCs, pudding, hint of bittersweet, innuendo to sex in the winter of life...

The middle-aged, chain-smoking nurse, lovingly called L at work, walked into the “quiet room” briskly, her eyes sweeping mercilessly across the softly bobbing ocean of hairless pates in search of the two most contrary residents of the retirement home.

After lunch, the inhabitants of the renowned facility came here to have a little chat before inevitably nodding off for their daily afternoon nap. Evidently, they could not be left alone—lest they choke on their own tongues or fall out of their ergonomic, cushioned chairs to their demise—so she knew that her favourite co-worker couldn’t be too far.

“Abril?” she called softly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as soon as her cheery young colleague appeared with a tray full of tiny pudding cups.

“Yes?” the youthful woman chirped in her melodious, soothing voice that had earned her the privilege of handing out gelatinous treats rather than wrestling wayward doters back into their rooms.

“Where are the two pests? Are they in time-out again?” the older nurse asked gruffly.

“Oh, leave them be. They really are so sweet, aren’t they? And they’re such great friends too,” Abril protested in a hushed tone, quick as ever to defend their resident troublemakers.

“They’re more than friends,” the other retorted not without a hint of humour. “I’m pretty sure that what they do beneath the table when playing bridge goes beyond your usual run-of-the-mill cheating, if you know what I mean…”

“You’re filthy,” Abril complained, balancing her tray on her shapely hip to gesticulate expressively, thus leaving no doubt as to her mild disapproval. “They’re just old men! And they’re so lonely!”

Remembering her colleague’s initial inquiry, she frowned, her gorgeous face the very picture of doleful commiseration.

“The holidays are coming up, and Thingol had a bad dream about…”

They nodded in wordless agreement. It was a well-known fact that Thingol had fathered but a single girl-child who had promptly decided to move with her strange husband to some remote spot at the end of the world.

Nobody here had ever laid eyes on the woman, but they’d all seen pictures of Lúthien whose beauty was, as Thingol never tired of repeating, paralleled only by the pulchritude of his wife who had chosen not to follow him into his assisted living arrangements.

As far as L could remember, the old curmudgeon had always shared his room, board games, and pudding with a similarly distraught old man who seemed cursed by the very opposite problem.

Indeed, Finwë had one too many descendants. Having been married twice, he’d fathered one irascible son with his first wife as well as two sons and two daughters with his second who had, in turn, brought forth a whole slew of legitimate grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well as a few more obscure scions claimed through strange patchwork-family situations.

The chaos these complex interpersonal relationships—ranging from outright, murderous loathing to deepfelt adoration—between the different members of that sprawling family tree bred was indubitably enough to drive any wretched bugger mad.

This was even more severe for poor Finwë because Thingol, his partner in geriatric crime, didn’t exactly get along well with his various kinspeople.

It was a surprisingly tense and fraught situation, a riveting drama playing out against the calming, beige background of an idyllic nursing home.

“Finwë took him to their room. Be a dear and take them their pudding; they love it so!” Abril said, jerking her chin at the tray encouragingly.

“Sure thing,” L sighed. “We wouldn’t want them to go raiding one of the other peaceful old souls. They’re owed pudding, and pudding they shall have!”

Abril’s eyebrows twitched, but she was too polite to ever laugh at a badly executed impression of her beloved favourites openly. “Just take them their treat—they’ve been very good today. No forks were thrown, and Ingwë was so unfazed by them that he didn’t even try to scoot across the room with his chair!”

Resigned to her fate, the cantankerous caretaker took the proffered desserts and trudged out of the room.

Neither one of the two old sourpusses could be heard from outside their chamber, and she took a deep, steadying breath.

As she was alone and nobody was around to witness the slip of her mask of dispassionate professionalism, she leaned her puckered brow against the smooth wood in a silent admission of reluctant sympathy.

Between Thingol’s loneliness and Finwë’s overabundance of ranting and raving offspring, they were a much put-upon pair who would not know a moment of peace before the last deliverance was granted to their unrestful souls.

Steeling herself, L pushed open the door slowly and, at once, had to bite back a sigh.

They sat, hand in hand, in their armchairs by the window, looking inward onto their dreams and fantasies rather than observing the squirrels frolicking across the front lawn.

One was never sure whether they were really asleep, and L slipped into the room cautiously, knowing only too well with what startling abruptness old men could shake themselves awake as if afraid of the long sleep that would not release them ever again.

At this moment, though, their faces—muted echoes of a faded beauty that certainly had been galvanising and terrifying to behold—were serene and relaxed, and their fingers were intertwined in a knot of papery skin and gnarled bone.

Against her better knowledge, L found that there was a touching, delicate sweetness in this ephemeral semblance of tranquillity they had caught like elusive butterflies in their clawed hands.

“Good old boys,” she whispered, prying open the small fridge in the corner and stowing the sweet treats away for later.

Yes, they were troublemakers, and their endless whining and complaining about children they had raised to be just as insufferable as them was exhausting, but L couldn’t deny that she understood Abril a little better now, watching them.

Thingol whimpered softly in his sleep, and—at once—Finwë’s creaking fingers tightened around his cold hand.

L fussed briefly with their blankets before leaving as inaudibly as she’d come.

“They’re all right,” she reassured Abril when her colleague walked briskly towards her, empty tray swinging inquisitively at her side. “They’re resting. Maybe, we could let them have dinner in their room tonight?”

“Ah!” the young woman cackled, her eyes bright with triumph. “They’ve at last won your heart!”

@fellowshipofthefics here's another cute one!

Have an abomination for your pleasure!

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Dark Romance Prompts #Sweet and Spicy Bingo #Sweet #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Dream and Fantasy #Handholding #Fingol #Thingol #Finwë #old men #in an old people home #pudding #just idiocy

[missmeinyourbones]

don’t want no other shade of blue but you ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

armin arlert x reader | wc: 0.7k+ | L’s FOLKLORE event

You often find yourself thinking of a lingering piece of advice. Like a constant comfort, it sits on your shoulder as it reminds you like a broken record.

Stare at the horizon to avoid motion sickness. 

You think of it when you’re riding shotgun on a long drive, eyes glued to the melting sunset as trees pass by in a blur. You thought of it the handful of times you’ve been at sea, on a ferry or something similar, as you watch the ocean waves bump up and down against the consistent parallel skyline. You’re thinking of it now, even though you’re stagnant as you sit perched at the windowsill of your living room’s pane.

The sunset is blue, which is a bit odd compared to its usual abstracts of pinks, purples, and oranges. The pastel sapphire sets over the neighboring houses in your area as you watch it seep further into a deep denim the closer it reaches the horizon.

A blue sunset. It’s funny, you think, how fitting it is for a moment like this.  

Armin sits directly beside you on the loveseat for two—instead of the usual tender touches shared on the cushions, the two of you keep a fair distance between one another. 

It’s a weird thing, to be sad together. It’s a special, sickening category of comfort. Knowing you’re not alone in your blue, knowing your lover isn’t feeling yellow without you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to squeak out. 

Armin’s eyes find your face, expecting you to say more. However, he’s met with silence as your gaze stays locked in on the horizon through the smudged window glass.

“For what?” he innocently presses. 

You adjust your body against the windowsill so that it faces him slightly, so he can feel your warmth, even if you can’t feel it for yourself. “That you’re sad,” your response is dry. 

Armin almost smiles at your sincere apology. 

Tenderly, he touches you for the first time since the two of you came home—his finger carefully catches the tear that threatens to fall from your waterline. He lets the droplet sit on his digit for a moment, before pressing it into his own skin, almost as if he’s comforting the salt-water. 

“You’re sad, too,” he points out. 

A watery and snotty laugh escapes your throat, and you're not too sure if it’s one of humor or irony. 

“I know, but,” a shaky exhale breaks up your thoughts, “I’m sorry that we have to feel this way together.” 

Armin knows what you’re trying to say, the intention you’re begging to get across through labored breathing and minimal words. He knows, because he understands you. He even agrees to a point. 

Sure, while he does wish the two of you were feeling happy together, he’s grateful to be feeling anything together at all. He’ll take what he can get. He’ll accept anything he’s given from you with open arms and an open mind. 

So he sheepishly speaks up, "I don’t think that I’d want to feel this way with anyone else."

Your eyebrows sink inwards with confusion, “What?”

With an inhale, he gently rests his hand atop of your own on the framing of the loveseat. His palm is chilly compared to your clammy fingers. 

“I’m happy to be with you,” he yearns, “even if it’s like this.”

Like this—rainy and grey and terribly grim. The not-so-pretty parts of love that come with a relationship, with an eternal promise to one another no matter the weather.  

Armin wants all of you—even your blue, as long as it means he gets your yellow, too. 

"I wouldn't want anyone else's sadness," he hums into your temple, leaving a tender peck to the sensitive skin that’s cold against his lips. 

Because there's far more to love than just the good—the light and airy that goes down easy like an expensive top-shelf liquor. There's the heavy and dense, the depths you didn’t even think you could sink to. There's the moments that don’t feel real—they feel abstract, like shades and hues and tints of blue.

Sure, love is who you choose to feel elated with, whose laughter you immediately search for after you crack a joke. But, it’s also who you choose to be sad with, whose dark days you choose to wait out the rain with. Whose storm you’d sit in the eye of. 

With your hand beneath his, Armin knows that he would spend ten lifetimes over in a cramped car or bouncing boat, with the worst motion sickness in the history of mankind, if it meant doing it with you. 

He would stare at your horizon for centuries.

@134340am yuna...this lyric means a lot to me and i tried to do it justice but i really dont think i did LOL so pls know that im so sorry. its just so special !!!! the idea of choosing to be with someone through sadness, choosing to welcome it as you would their happiness or anger or WHATEVER! its so sweet and i really tried to make that armin’s clear intent when interacting w reader. just two lovers being sad. together <3 but yea this isnt good but i wanted to try for u ;0

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin drabble #armin arlert drabble #armin fic #armin arlert fic #armin angst #armin fluff #armin arlert angst #armin arlert fluff #L's FOLKLORE event!

[whateverisbeautiful]

🀄️reflecting on richonne

5 words in Season 5 help make it crystal clear that Rick viewed Michonne as a wife by that point. In this dissertation I will…lol but for real. 

All of Season 5 is a really interesting exploration of Rick’s psyche. But especially the back half in ASZ as he struggled to bridge the gap between who he was and who he’d become. Since he couldn’t quite merge the two at first, he regressed, reverting to old ways and an old type of woman that wasn’t right for him. But even with that unnecessary owl lady storyline, Rick was still operating like Michonne was his love (even beyond the adorable elevator looks he still always gave her) and he eagerly wanted to provide for her. 

Most telling is in ASZ in 5.12 when Rick tells Daryl how he and Lori used to drive through neighborhoods like this “thinking ‘one day’…” and Daryl says “Well here we are.” Then Carl later says how this is the kind of place Lori wanted for them. This is also the place Michonne really wanted for Carl and Judith and their family as well.  

Rick isn’t just trying to make up for not being able to save Lori with Jessie. This whole time, he’s also trying to give Michonne what he couldn’t give his past wife. 

Of course Rick wants a safe place for everyone, but several of his actions show that he’s trying to make this place work for Michonne specifically. There’s verbal confirmation imo, and it occurs during R&M’s s5 finale chat when Rick wakes up after she knocked him out. (And I absolutely love so much about this post-knockout scene. I could go on and on about it but I’ll try and stay focused lol)

When Rick tells Michonne he couldn’t tell her about the gun, she says “Nah you couldn’t,” cuz she knows he knows he could tell her anything. And then Rick states those telling 5 words.

“Well you wanted this place.” 

That right there made it clear that Rick had placed Michonne in the wife category. His wife, Michonne, wants to live in a neighborhood like this. So he’s not waiting for “one day” anymore, he was going to do everything he could to get it for her right here and now, just not in the healthiest ways since he wasn’t well at the time. Just the way he says it too, it’s not as defensive as it could sound on paper. It sounds like a husband trying to say he’s been making these decisions in order to secure the home his wife believes in and because he values what she wants. 

Michonne soundly reminds him they had to stop being out there and very similar to Daryl in that previous scene, Rick says “Well we’re here.”  I’d say there’s definitely meant to be a parallel between that 5.12 scene and this one in 5.16, drawing the connection of Rick’s former and current wife. 

But one of many things I love about Rick and Michonne’s relationship is how Rick got to really learn that his love with Michonne is different in the best ways. That what he has with Michonne is a soul mate thing and healthier than what he’s had in the past. In his previous marriage, Rick seemed to feel like he had to be useful and be everything she wanted or else his level of care and love would be questioned. But Michonne understands him so entirely and so she doesn’t want this place more than she wants him and for him to be okay. 

All throughout season 5, Michonne was determined to find a home for her and her family and Rick was determined to give a home to her, both with Washington and ASZ. But what I love is at the end of the season, Rick got to see how he doesn’t have to not communicate and drive himself crazy trying to give her this place because as Michonne makes clear in the iconic “I’m Still With You” scene, home isn’t a place to her anymore. It’s a person. Home is him. 

And Michonne wasn’t just family to Rick at this point. In ways he didn’t even outright realize, she was his wife. She’s his home too. I adore the way Rick and Michonne were married before they knew it. And then when they did know it, their love story only got better and better.

These season 5 moments just further show that Rick and Michonne were always the one for each other. Always. 

#richonne #just a little random reveling because Richonne forever has my heart

[regallibellbright]

Sonic #50 Talk Under the Cut.

So. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Eggman beat Starline. Of course he did. It’s Eggman, and for all that his plans can get out of his control, he is still the most dangerous person in Sonic the Hedgehog’s world and Ian Flynn makes sure to drive that home here. The reveal that he played Starline as soon as he realized he was the one responsible for the core theft? Nice touch. Starline realizing that no, Eggman does listen to your talk, he just doesn’t acknowledge it because he didn’t really care? Excellent!

Speaking of Eggman’s plan, the way he and Tails both beat their counterpart by exhausting the finite power in their tech is an interesting parallel. As Starline said in Imposter Syndrome, they really do have more in common than either would probably admit. Tails does really well for himself here - he’s calm in the face of that ’it takes 40 seconds to drown someone’ line, and does a good job combining genuine enthusiasm and friendliness with some sharp reading of Kit’s motives to keep him off guard. Your tech’s cool but it’s not yours (and the person who made it for you probably sucks?) You’re still using it very well, don’t sell yourself short. You are 100% dead set on this plan and can’t be swayed? Fine, but how about we call a truce because we BOTH agree Starline needs to go down. Like I said, sharp, and keeps him from lending Surge support that might well have ACTUALLY challenged Sonic.

By contrast, everything about Sonic sets Surge off, and I think it goes beyond that Starline-conditioned hatred. After all, leaving everyone free to make their own choices DID leave Starline free to keep hurting people, and the fact that Sonic will not EVER take this as seriously as Surge is has to be infuriating. Sorry, new gal, he’s not trying to minimize your trauma, but seriously, he does this twice a month. Most of his former rivals are friends now. Of course there’s never serious doubt he’ll lose, even if Surge gets him to break a sweat - Metal Sonic’s not the only time Sonic’s fought someone who could be his match, if not a bit stronger, so he’s got a pretty good handle on this sort of fight. Probably would have done Starline some good to look into how he met Knuckles. And Shadow. And Blaze. And Silver. And…

Which will probably infuriate Surge when she comes back, and yeah, OF COURSE she’s not dead here. Nice ‘I spite you and fall’, nice ’You’re free to make your own choices but that means I can’t stop you from making bad ones,’ but come on. Death by bottomless pit for a character who’s just been introduced to give them more villains to play around with, especially as one of very, very few female villains in the franchise. No way she’s dead.

The one I think is a genuine question is whether or not STARLINE lives. He could probably replenish his Tricore if he gets back to base, but narratively? He’s been burned by Eggman before. He swore vengeance already. And he just got smacked in the face with the fact that Eggman will thrash him, even if he plays everything perfectly. His ego’s his fatal flaw just as much as Eggman’s is. This could be taking him off the playing field for good… but while it could be, I do think there’s still a bit more comeuppance in store for him. Starline still thinks he’s a mastermind and manipulator who’s one step ahead of everyone, and structuring the whole issue around each game character-comic character counterpart set (Eggman-Starline, Sonic-Surge, Tails-Kit, Metal Sonic-Belle) means he HASN’T found out his own creations played him like a fiddle. I could see him managing to survive this, composure shattered, and just as self-destructively reckless as he accused Eggman of being. We’ll have to see, especially with how big his presence has been up to this point - killing him off in a landmark issue would be fitting, too, and leave Surge and Kit unable to get the vengeance they REALLY want so they go even further in on destruction. We’ll just have to see.

Speaking of Surprise Tools That Will Help Us Later… Belle. Obviously Eggman has a plan having seen what she was capable of, and I don’t think he let her go out of the goodness of his heart. But I think it’ll be on the backburner for a bit - I could see her leaving the Restoration to go adventuring given her decision here, but even if she stays her arc’s resolved for now and whatever Eggman’s plan is will last a bit. She’s not the only Badnik who’s been abandoned, and I like that as a purpose going forward. I also like the more direct acknowledgment of Metal and Belle being parallels as Eggman’s most sophisticated creations, the one he keeps around and seems to respect on one hand and Mr. Tinker’s daughter on the other.

All in all, a solid milestone issue. Congrats to IDW Sonic’s team for 50 issues! Here’s to 50 more.

#sonic idw spoilers #sonic spoilers #idw sonic spoilers #sonic 50 spoilers #sonic issue 50 spoilers #I think that covers everything #idw sonic #sonic idw #sonic the hedgehog #Dr. Starline #Dr. Eggman #Miles Tails Prower #kitsunami the fennec #kit the fennec #surge the tenrec #belle the tinkerer #metal sonic #sth

[doonarose]

What is 'Crashing' about?

Crashing is a 3400 word framework that I haven't look at in a month. I wrote it as some sort of therapy after I hit a kangaroo in my brand new car. It would be a longer multi-chapter human AU fic (something I've never done) in which Crowley and Aziraphale meet on a dark rainy night after Crowley swerves to try to avoid hitting a deer and crashes into Az. They're both fine, cars are a bit fucked, deer is injured and Crowley basically commits to doing everything possible to nurse it back to life, including waking up the local vet in the middle of the night and throwing money at surgery.

Az knows the vet because has has a hobby farm where he rescues and rehabs injured and runty goats.

Both cars are too fucked to drive (the Bentley only makes it to the vet because Crowley wills it to (not really, he's human remember, but the axle is bent and so they are stuck)) and it's like 2am so Crowley ends up back at Aziraphale's little cottage/farm and they fuck. That feels like it comes out of no where but adrenaline, etc., and right before the vet calls to say the deer's on the mend which makes Crowley very happy.

Anyway... that's basically meant to be a one night stand except their lives kind of intertwine because of course Aziraphale takes on the deer rehab and Crowley's grown attached. And also Crowley's realized Aziraphale's got no money and now a totally fucked up car, but also doesn't want any charity.

Did I mention Crowley works in some sort of gross property finance roll and that his company is trying to buy out Aziraphale's hobby farm to build a highway or something. And basically forces that through... even though for a very long time (And several more unavoidable, definitely the last time, i'm just here to see the deer, one night stands) Aziraphale doesn't know Crowley's the one responsible for basically kicking him out of his home.

But then Crowley only works for the bank because it gives him the kind of power and income to do some very quiet anonymous good. Which then sees him donate substantially to the goat rescue thing. So Aziraphale will be fine, but has still lost his home.

So then the bad guy Crowley stuff comes out and Aziraphale rather hates him for it. And then eventually the penny drops that Crowley's also the good guy. And this is all very underbaked but here have a bit of the first meeting:

“Fucking fuckity fuck.”

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale calls as his sodden shoes slip in the mud.

The stranger whirls around like he’d thought he was alone. “Of course I’m alright. How fucking close did you need to get up my arse?”

Aziraphale’s taken aback. Hadn’t this gentleman been the one who braked, suddenly, on a narrow, dark, wet laneway, and caused the accident? Wasn’t he lucky that Aziraphale was quick-witted enough to swerve? Not that propriety would allow him to point any of that out. “Are you alright, though? No damage?”

That seems to take some of the wind out of the man’s sails. “’m fine, just… FUCK.”

It isn’t the most impressive vocabulary. “Perhaps we can exchange details and – ”

He’s waved off with a dismissive hand and the man disappears around the back of his car (which is facing forward) and into the dense trees beside the road. Aziraphale tries to scurry after him but a particularly sharp press of wind pushes him back.

“Excuse me,” he presses. “But we’ve been in an accident and I will need – “

The man appears, suddenly close to him, imposing but only to raise a finger to his lips and very loudly shush him. Then he stalks off in parallel with the road, back towards the ditch harbouring Aziraphale’s car.

Aziraphale watches him, pause and look around. “If you could perhaps – ” He’s shushed again. “Really, it’s pouring rain and – ” Again, the loud shushing. “Legally you are req – ”

“Shut it.” The spectre, barely more than a silhouette ghost, takes a sharp right and heads into the tree further.

#doonas fic #i really should revisit this #but also it would be like 75k at minimum #and i do not have that kind of stamina #doonas ask

[miroysprose]

The Next Note🎶⭕️

A short objectum story about a man and a song.

PART TWO, A Flowing Call

-Suggestive, Mature, or NSFT content.

Wildflowers. Crushed underneath the palms of a small child as they brisk through the winds of the woods. With their family beside them, they stray the path made by years of walking, and giggle as the tick ridden grass flickers in the sun's embrace. Each moving blade doubled as they flowed in unison, making a growling noise as if a tiger was controlling the breeze. Interlocking their palms, the family leaves the sharp corner, now blending deep into the park's pathway until the trees took them from sight.

Dan crunched up his pale nose, and felt a simmering lack of care bubble around him. The world was moving on while he sat in this park sulking like an angsty teen. Today was the day, Friday. He was to meet his aunt for a celebration later today, and knew that if he kept himself away from the house, he wouldn't have to deal with Alley's nagging about how much he eats in one sitting. But, she was right. He should've brought her to see the nature before anything happens to her. Guilt pooled in his throat as he swallowed, blinking and awkwardly looking all over, trying to escape his mind. What was he to do with himself without her?

The man stood, hands in his pockets, fiddling with his car keys and phone. A soft grumble from him startled his own heart, but as soon as he stopped to a calm, he looked around. Empty space in the park's walking trail. With greenery as bright as the sun around him, warming his forehead beyond the heat of a headache. What more was he to do in order to escape his aunt? She saw him at his lowest point, and still told him to leave her home. With his hope in packed bags, pride in pink and blue flags, and a long unsure settled hate in his tiny chin hair, younger Dan slammed the door on the idea of family.

Even Alley wasn't in his top ten for family making, even if her persuasion was enough to heal his wounds. The blonde hair on his head wrestled with the wind, and then drew his feet near the gravel of the path. He walked further and further until he reached his car in the parking lot. He was to drive home, or go somewhere else. Wherever he was to go, it just needed to be on a walk.

Dan proceeded, with the key in the ignition, and a foot on the gas while staring down the winding road. He braked slowly, eyes heavy with slumber left behind, now only containing a few coughs of boredom. Parking parallel, parking somewhere. Walking in a straight line, walking to someplace. Dan faced forward, attempting to keep himself from noticeable eyes. Those eyes watching his hands fumble with the keys on his pinky, and the green sweater that looked itchy, while he wore these ugly beige pants that hugged his calfs. His chest was hidden by the weight of the sweater, and the chill of his black scarf covered the indents that his body made in the clothes. Oil colored lettering on his sweater read an unfunny meme from a few years back, but it wasn't his choice to wear it. Alley always thought the sweater was corny, yet it was the only thing that he could find that would make other people not approach him.

Around him, walking beside or opposite of him, object'ji roamed. These objects were personal, or unique, and are tied exclusively to a human being. Were they pets? Maybe, but most seemed to be platonic relationships. While some sat with their plush hands on the seat beside their partner. They were possibly romantic relationships like his, but those relationships followed strict societal viewpoints. Someone like him had to make sure that the object'ji was willing and could use their AI chatbot properly. Song'ji, like Alley, no longer needed these AI chatbots though. They were useless, their words were clear. And society deemed that non-consensual.

A plush'ji brisked past Dan holding a human hand, with long legs and humanoid features, walking aided by a flexible jointed structure attached to their back. It was a planted into there and like a octopus, the limbs were inserted from the opening created upon installation. This was their normal since he was a young sprout, around 2 years old? Dan grumbled again, he doesn't remember.

All he knows is that the world has been like this for a while, and he was living in this era's prime. But this prime belonged to the scientists and these objects, not to regular people. These jointed structures in these objects, plush'ji or not, have ID's and different designs. Some attached to the bottom with booties, or with a silicone skin over it. It was all around him. Each object'ji that passed had words to say about the world around them, or words for their human. Each chatbot built by a human was most likely curated and updated privately by their handler, friend, or partner.

Some learn by their own using additional services in the walking aide, or they-

Dan felt his right shoulder bump on another, and when he looked over to see a person with a chuckle on their lips, he slightly smiled with a polite "sorry," not sure how to continue his walk. They dropped a few papers, which Dan helped them pick off the frosty pavement. Shops right beside them hustled with customers, and cars on their other side bustled like the street lights were nonexistent.

"No, it's not your fault. I was busy looking out for Rain that I forgot I was walking." The person mentioned rain, but where? Dan looked up, but then back down as a small speaker connected to the persons phone in their pocket gently played a tune at a low volume. They were a song'ji.

Dan felt his hands flicker with his keys nervously. They were allowed to be out in public like this. They had the joy of existing in the streets of Glenwinter without fear of sudden beeping on a tracker, alerting him to Alley's immediate repossession. He clenched his jaw, and then nodded.

"It's no problem," He stated with a lie in his throat, but soon his pen and paper came from his phone case, and he wrote down his number, "I am someone with a song'ji as well, maybe we can uhm chat?"

This was awkward. The person placed their papers back into the folder, which was titled "music sheets." They smiled when Dan asked and took the paper, eyeing Rain and then Dan.

"Definitely. I always keep my phone on me anyway," They sniffled a bit in the warmth, "I have to be going though. Can't be late to classes, you know?

Rain and them departed, leaving Dan in his own cold comfortability. He soon walked again, entering a food restaurant for a warming drink. The sun was out, and it was as hot as hell's piss, but the cold wind brisked through without care. Early Fall weather was still here, right? Or was the climate repeating their faulty phase.

The man exited with his coffee, sniffing the grounded beverage, and stirring in his mind as he leaned on the window's support for a moment. He watched folk walk up and down, until he joined them with a blank face. That person was nice. It was all he could think of when he came to his senses as the drink filled his empty stomach.

But the time had approached quicker than ever. His home welcomed him with a set of numbers; 7830. As always, it sat on Yellowhark Street, and moved only when a storm came. Dan laid his head on his kitchen counter, eyes baggy. The tune of Alley's song was now lowered, and she softly made her words cup around the closed door of their bedroom. Dan stood there, his head low. The party was pushed back a few hours, and he felt the joy of not going never arrive. Why wasn't he happy? He'd be able to get away, yet if he didn't show up, his aunt still knew he lived around here. She still knew. She still saw him as Dawn.

Dan bawled his fists and huffed out. In the short hours he had to spare, he'd find himself back in his bedroom, head on his pillow. The overwhelming feeling that had come the day his cousin had called him was coming back. Alley was still without her tracking device. He hadn't updated the model in years, nor had he ever used it after finding out what the owner's were battling for. Her life as a public song'ji. The object was the song themself, but the owners don't want her to be ID'd as an object'ji. At any time, an object'ji can have their ID taken away and their rights to being their own person- gone. It was that simple, and for Alley, it felt like the problem was to come sooner than later.

A silent whine wrapped his lips, and when his groin ached with attention, the man gripped his hair with a groan. It was hour one. 5 PM. There was no reason that this day, Friday, the day he's taking off of work, would be spent being gross like this. Dan groaned, and when he melted into his queen size bed, he felt hopeless. Just a little won't kill him? He can't go walking like this, nor can he simply eat away the stress of being erect.

For what? What was he thinking? Think dead puppies! A wilting rose? A loud car horn? Horrible sounds?! It won't go away. Alley's words..won't go away. She was right there, what was she to say when he is to do it? Alley can't see...but-but it's...still wrong? Right?

Dan slowly shut his door, and dimmed the lights. She can't see, she couldn't know if it was dark or light. But she'd definitely talk through his time, and he'd find himself listening to her words like the bible. Every word etched with a meaning soon to be uncovered. Yet, he couldn't turn her tune down. She made him feel things. Every note, her vocals, her whistling. Everything.

As soon as he realized it, his boxers were hugging his ankles, and he was sat on the edge of the bed with Alley's voice facing the other way. She was across the room from him, near the dark closet, but he could still hear her. Dan hissed as he reached down, pulling his fingers between the enlarged length that raged with blood. A dribble of spit wet it like an ocean. Oh what was he doing? This was a disaster. Everything at the moment was a disaster.

He slowly widened his thighs, and while his middle finger and thumb worked his length, he closed his eyes. There was no going back now, this felt like too much for even him. Quickening the pace, Dan felt his sounds bubble too wide for his cheeks, and as his jaw dropped, so did his moaning. God, what in the hell was he doing?

All this for a song? For the music's sound? For it's being? The love of his life? All of this? This moaning, gripping the blue sheets with heat in his face, shaking knees like he'd never done this before. All of it? For the eroticism of music? Oh, he was spiraling...

Alley hadn't made any noise in a while, her song had ended, and the playlist from his phone had stopped looping. She didn't say anything, now listening to him. Dan felt his thighs tighten as he picked one finger to edge him to orgasm, rubbing his head with the wetness of his own. A silent cry pushed his climax out, which allowed the man to huff out a breath of warm air. Hot air now. And until he laid back, only then did he realize her silence in the corner.

With how many times he queued only this song up, and how many times he had this on loop, he felt a strong buildup of disgust for himself in his stomach. Dan groaned out with a worrying tone. Why did she even stop? After 6 years, she was just silent. This silence grew on Dan, but it felt wrong. He cleaned himself, and washed his hands. A small frown came forth. And when he picked her body up, he saw the speaker had died. Oh.

That was common. But, he usually would hear a beep. Shit. Dan furrowd his brows in anger at himself. He was loud enough to bypass this too. Fuck, hopefully he didn't wake up every single possible person on this street. Idiot, idiot. He plugged in Alley's speaker, looking out the window in his room with a soft sigh. It was hour two. 6 PM.

When 7:30 came around, Dan was already at the door of his aunt's, seeing the other cars around him piled up in a small driveway, with some parked on the sides. He walked in wearing a black jacket, unzipped, and his bluelight glasses, a usual white shirt, and his black pants. His shoes and socks were black too. So far, he matched only when he wanted to. Before him, the party had already started, and music of different kinds played. Some kids were there, running around and venturing past the corners of the halls, giggling. Dan recognized most of the people there. Aunt Shannon, Glade, Grandma Lauren, Uncle Ben, and some of his aunts friends like an older creepy Jack, the one he steered clear of then and now. He awkwardly rubbed his nose until he made way towards the couch, located right near the door. He sat far from the other two folks, who spoke while eating some desserts with alcohol in their bellies already.

It was 7:55 PM.

Dan slouched until he saw someone recognizable beyond belief. She looked just like him, but with freckles dotting her face and the blonding ginger hair he wished he had. A smile formed, and when he figured it out, she was already rubbing his arm.

"Auntie said it was a 50/50 chance that you'd come." She spoke like him, dressed like him, but laughed like a duck and kept her sorrows to herself.

"Emerald, I'm just glad I'm not suffering alone."

She laughed. Like a duck. And Dan began to laugh too, holding onto her shoulder. The two attracted their cousin, Tabitha. She strode over and spoke loudly.

"Ah!" She exclaimed like they went missing years ago- well, "Dawn and Emerald, the twins. Dawn-y, I'm so glad you made it."

"Dan. It's Dan." Emerald glared.

"Yes, what she said." Dan glared as well.

"Dan is so generic. You were named Dawn because you matched with your sister." Tabitha chuckled and waved her palm. "Anyway! Please help yourself, we have food and drink if you need."

Emerald was swirling her index finger around her temple, referring to Tabitha who had walked away. Dan only stuffed his laugh behind his hand. The two had been best friends since childhood, and stayed that way when Dan had moved out.

Most of his family seemed to have watched him in those same old glass eyes of theirs. A small, petite, pale woman with the cursed hair of her mother. It seemed like the figures around him saw one idea of him through their tinted goggles. A woman, still. Even if he had cut the strings of a uterus from himself, dedicated years to recovering from top surgery, and pushed himself through the pain of getting meta, it all meant nothing to them.

Dawn, as is with all forms of herself, is dead. He killed her. His family realizes that she has been replaced with a version willing to still live, yet still chooses the dead one over his breathing heart. Dan clenched his jaw while pondering.

The night raged on, and when Dan and Emerald were on the topic of arrested celebrities, their aunt finally spoke up with a spoon to a wine glass. She smiled. Aunt Shannon had the brightest smile, one he had never seen before.

She said "With this party going on, I wanted to announce one thing on my mind," She was proud of her small gathering of the family. Nieces and Nefews, Uncles and Aunts, Grandparents in the kitchen on their phones, and some pets. Dan finally noticed the decorations around, and when he saw the baby blue colored drapes and designs, he felt physically ill.

Lord.

Dan and Emerald slowly met each other in their eyes, with Emerald trying to hold back a cracking laugh, and Dan feeling his gut overwhelm itself. It should have been obvious, the bright pastels of baby blue and pink, lightshow from auntie's tacky globe, and wrapped gifts from those who knew earlier. Dan didn't know shit, Tabitha only told him it was a celebration. She didn't mention that his aunt was pregnant.

Swirling in his fake happiness for her, when she announced the pregnancy, it was a surprise to most. No one knew who was fertilized until now, some (Emerald) assuming cousin Tabitha had gotten herself knocked up by the married man across her street.

Dan only clapped alongside the rest of them, hoping that the child grows up "normal," and wishing that the hatred bestowed upon him did not extend to this child still unborn.

Emerald looked back at her brother, and then smiled, "I'm going to go get a drink,"

Then, she left him on the couch, without anything to do. This wasn't so bad. The feeling of losing yourself to boredom was familiar. Dan shivered when his phone shook. It was a simple notification, and by the looks of it, it was a phone number he hadn't recognized. The person on the other side sent a simple message, it said;

{Heya} {It's weird music person from the sidewak.} {Walk*}

The text bubbles showed up just like that, and each of the texts were more and more frantic.

Dan grunts, and texts back. They weren't a bad person just by the looks of it. They were younger, and black, with curls of sun rays and clouds. Happiness poured off of them. He just hopes that he won't infect them with his gloomy self. His fingers meet the keyboard.

{Hello, I figured that one out.} {Is your class done?}

Of course their class is done you freak, god. Dan grumbled. Another ping, they responded.

{It's done, yeah!} {Main concern is how I'm gonna memorize these sheets.} {Anyway, u said u had a song'ji too}

He typed.

{Yes. She is on the blues era.}

They typed. Dan chewed his nails.

{That's cool man} {Rain is like on a more chill-hop.} {So what's up now?}

Dan hesitated, and looked up from his phone. Everyone was off the couch except him, walking around and enjoying themselves. Emerald still wasn't back. He clenched his jaw.

{My song'ji, Alley, is dealing with her public ID being revoked soon with no chance of renewal.} {She's been with me for 6 years, and she's the only thing keeping me up.} {I was hoping that you could help me "recreate" her in a way.}

He sent it, and flipped his phone down right as his sister popped up again. Small tears were left in his eyes, damp but not full. He smiled weakly at Emerald.

"Yo," she said, holding up her half empty glass of alcohol, "You wanna sip?"

"No, I'm good." He turned away with a soft sigh, like a pressure had been released from his heavy shoulders. His face was red and warm, and an itch on his neck stopped him from turning it any more.

His phone dinged, and when he saw the message, a true smile of pure bliss appeared. Happiness, real happiness. Dan slowly looked back at Emerald.

Emerald furrowd her brows in confusion. "What?"

The man took the drink from her fingers and chuckled, "a sip won't hurt."

#author #authors of tumblr #fiction #books #worldbuilding #creative writing #objectum #objectum queer #objectophilia #plushum #plushophilia #objectum author #objectum story #story #part two #short story #queer #lgbtq #transgender characters #transgender #books and reading #novel writing #suggestive #trans nsft

[firewalkzwit]

peace of mind // miguel o'hara x reader (2)

this is so mid but i lost everything mid work so this is a rewrite lacking some stuff from the og i also reiterate that english is not my first language and while im fluent at it, grammatical mistakes are bound to appear i hope u can bare w me :>

Masterlist

AO3 parallel

summary: In the eve of 2050, Spider-Woman is New York’s vigilante trying to maintain order in a revolting society, soon to collapse. The only reason to keep going is the hope for change, as the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but an unexpected turn of events will result in more than just New York to watch over.

(Contains some elements and references I gathered off other pieces of media to inspire the universe and, vaguely, the character.)

word count: 2.2k

Chapter 2

The least amusing part of her work was certainly the one where she had to serve hours of desk work on her computer in order to earn enough to sustain herself. While economically she wasn't in trouble, it was incredibly monotonous, and even if she was thankful that the era of office work was long deceased for minor employees like her, working from home was just as unstimulating. It was in fact hard to find anything stimulating when it contrasted heavily with the adrenaline rush of being Spider-Woman, and performing tasks that demanded the full capacity of all her senses. Even if she had reached a point where most of her vigilante work was also easier and eventually somewhat routinary, she had lately began to feel the excitement of being Spider-Woman again, which only turned up when she had a match in battle or simply something to feed her never-ending desire for mental exercise. The white entity from a day ago had disappeared from her radar leaving no trace, and she was only hoping it would turn up again in the shape of some conflict. Naturally, being Spider-Woman had taught her that supernatural beings tend to not like to settle, and consider such thing to be very human, so some ruckus was expected to happen and she was just waiting for it to call for her. This drive made her especially anxious to leave as soon as her senses warned her of commotion, getting rapidly geared up and shooting herself out the window with impressive speed. For someone in such a big and cramped city, one needs special agility and sense of reflex to get by, and with time she had learnt to master it, swiftly swinging through the crowd and swinging over and under the spiraling lanes that contorted around and across themselves like dozens of snail staircases. She jumped and swung moving further from urbanization and into the more open and spacious region of the city, filled with corporative colossal buildings. As her senses guided her through the turmoil of thousands of cars and the roaring sounds of the urbanization beneath it, she slowly descended onto walkable fields, pulling her hood back up to blend with the multitude. There was a growing commotion that manifested itself in the shape of agitated people walking with no sense of direction and tumult building up, which she tried to catch on to using her sharpened senses. A peculiar looking clairvoyant shook her hands in circular motion summoning a forming group of people around her as she chanted a warning "¡El hoyo en el cielo simboliza el fin de los tiempos!"* The concerning prophecy provoked her to quickly look up and eventually detect the cause of horror in the crowd. Just as the divination stated, multiple black holes that seemed to only take whoever dared to enter them into infinite void, contorted opening and closing several gaps of dimensional warping in the sky. She used her webs to jump onto a light post to catch a better glimpse of the anomalies, soon detecting just what she was expecting; the white entity jumping in and out of the hollow like it was completely casual. 

"Can those swallow you into eternal void?" Spider-Woman asked ironically as she jumped up onto the crown of a large and rusty hologram propaganda projector, trying to jump towards the nearest building in the hopes of crawling upwards to see clearly, however once she initiated her motion, she was met with an unexpected appearance of one of the black holes which consumed her into miliseconds of nothing but emptiness, before quickly opening back up like a portal, where she was met with a feisty kick in the face that sent her down on a rapid fall. She used her webs to grab onto the nearest surface that would aid her at dodging the impact, and once again fleeted back onto the top of the projector, crouching on it with her hands on the floor. "They can swallow you into eternal void, but they can also take you places. Was about time you showed up, Spider-Man." Behind her mask her brows furrowed into a frown of confusion, as far as she was concerned there was nothing masculine of her appearance. "Okay, rude.. But I gathered by your lack of a face that it might be difficult to see." As she tried to muster up the courage to retry her jump, having in front of her the clear possibility of another risky failure, a hole popped in front of her and the creature came out of it like a mole.

She finally was able to get a clear view of it, and not wasting too much time on staring at it, she attempted to strike a punch, which only ended up in half of her forearm being sucked into the abyss of a big black spot in the creature's face. What she thought at first were black spots around it's body were in reality multiple black holes such as the ones it opened in the sky. The hole pushed her out like a spit, causing her to fall on her back. "I haven't even introduced myself and you're already trying to punch me." She scoffed while getting back in a defensive possition, which camouflaged how puzzled she was at how to face a villain like that. "I mean you did kick me in the face first, so I owe you that." What only seemed like a painfully artificial laugh on it's behalf soon turned into silence before another hole opened in the gap between them. The white creature's arm popped out of it in an attempt to punch her, which she rapidly dodged catching it's wrist with a web to jump into the hole and meet it right in the beginning of the new one, finally being able to strike an offensive. She rapidly jumped back to the projector. "Ouch. I take it you're the Spider-Girl, Spider-Woman.. Spider-Whatever of your dimension." She nodded in a grin taking pride in the recognition of her image, but soon enough as she tried to take a step forward, she fell into another hole which only took her to another freefall that she saved herself from by swinging on a light post and immediately jumping onto the roof of a smaller building. As she launched a web into the hole it was jumping in, she was able to latch onto it's back and pull the creature out of it and by consequence, on top of her. Continuing to make attempts to catch the entity, which ended in her hardly being able to punch it a few times, she threw a web into one of the hollow dark gaps opened by the creature, soon ending up hitting her on the head instead as it opened it's continuation in front of her, sending her down to the ground violently. "Listen, I know it's your job to save the city and all that, but if you make this easier for us I will trully get rolling from this dimension as soon as you let me. Trust me I have no intentions of staying... here." The creature hopped onto another hole and continued to form a staircase of the anomalies towards one of the big windows on the skyscraper next to them.

"Why would it go there?" She mumbled to herself as she thought of a way to filter herself in. Soon enough, it was giveaway thanks to the giant Alchemax sign which projected itself in a giant hologram; dimensional warping, dimensions, Alchemax. Whatever that mysterious figure was up to couldn't be no good. She squirmed, releasing herself from her own webs before securing a strong grip of webs against the windows of the skyscraper. She jumped, propelled by all the strength she could give to her legs. She possitioned herself to be ready to kick the thick glass into shattering, which resulted in a painful fall, rolling in the cold ground of the office. The tumult caused by the spotted being's unconventional entrance seemed to only become graver as it moved closer to the collider. Spider-Woman slided on tables and webbed herself to any surface that could help her move faster, but her attempts of catching the figure were quite useless, as it seemed to flawlessly master the use of it's holes to move around the space and dodge her webs. A sudden noise that could only be described as the distortion of the sound field itched her to look back through the corner of her eye, only to divise the formation of another hole of dazzling warm colors which distorted the ones around it. Both her and the spotted being had interrupted their battle to observe the phenomenon, which she could only hope was just as unexpected to the creature as it was was to her.

From inside of it jumped a dark silhouette which ejected neon ropes that seemed to play a role similar to her webs, attempting to reach the hole where the creature was in to catch it. "Careful with that-" She witnessed the new guy commit the exact same mistake as she did, meeting the same painful fate of a sudden and unexpected strike in the head. Her face contorted into a painful frown, as she ran towards them. The spotted entity soon warped another hole into the office next to them, locking itself within it by activating a large veil of hologramic particles that prevented their entrance. Ridding itself from all the scientists inside it using it's holes, she made unsuccessful attempts of breaking the barrier, with the help of the guy who had just jumped out of what she supposed was another interdimensional hole.  "Look, I know this is a bad time to introduce eachother, but I have no idea who you are or why you came out of that hole, and maybe you know why we're fighting this-" Her beginning of a sentence was abruptly interrupted by the man beside her, masked by a suit quite similar to her's. "The Spot, he's getting away!" Spider-Woman only gathered from that rude cut-off that whatever that white entity was, his name was Spot, and by the vicious nature of the strikes the mysterious guy was uselessly giving to the hologram curtain, she assumed the initiation of the collider, which was an extreme liability to her city, was also risking wherever he came from. 

The collider had been used before, but was still in a testing field, and was of extreme danger especially if used by potential villains, but that's just stating the obvious. Now clearly to these guys there was no need of a collider to move around through dimensions, at least for the mysterious one with the neon webs. Spot seemed to have the capacity of creating gaps in the dimension he's in to move around where he pleased, but he seemed to need a collider to move accross them, probably indicating that he was not from her's. The other guy however seemed to be able to do this without the need of a giant collider. People from her universe had been trying to grasp the concept of interdimensional travelling for about ten years, and as far as she knew, it was plausible and possibly confirmed that there existed other Brooklyns with other Spider-Women in charge of saving the city simultaneous to her timeline, however it was hard to grasp that they could be male, or could jump into her dimension unanounced.

The Spider-Man sat defeated on the floor before an audible groan of rage, punching into the floor. Spider-Woman walked into the once locked office where Spot activated the collider, the sequence had carried out effectively and without major harm, while it did impact the surroundings, the building seemed to be safe. She turned to see the mysterious Spider-Man looking guy kneeled on the floor, and walked towards him to check on him and make a new attempt at introducing herself. "Hey, can we try that again? This jumping out of interdimensional holes is kind of new to me.." She looked down at him, her hands resting her on her waist. He stood up and the gadget on his arm displayed a hologram. "LYLA, scan the damage." The AI performed a sequence of sounds before replying; "Just some collateral damages on the building, canon remains intact." The man sighed before putting down his arm, the AI disappearing into the watch.

"My name is Miguel O'hara, I am Spider-Man, from another dimension..." She scratched the back of her neck before pointing at him, who was about to start explaining to her the concept of other dimensions before being interrupted by her. "Yeah, I gathered that. How did you even...? You know..." Her hands attempted to gesture how he jumped out of a strange gap in space and time like it was nothing. "Here we need that collider over there to do that." He was not paying much attention to her, but rather invested in scanning and reading data off his watch's yellow projections of a hologram. "It's complicated. Listen, that man who just activated your collider is a threat to time and space and all it's dimensions, including yours and mine." As he spoke, the gizmo on his wrist re-opened the portal from which he had come out of earlier. He began walking on it's direction, turning to toss her a gadget like his. "There's a lot to explain, we'll talk on the way."

*The hole in the sky symbolizes the end of times.

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #atsv #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #angst #slowburn #friends to lovers

[dinitride-art]

Accusing Michael Wheeler of Being a Main Character in Season 4 (and an unreliable narrator)

The first scene in season four is Mike reading El’s letter. Now, cinematic parallels and tropes are used in different types of media to convey a message that the audience can read. It is not that the creators of the media necessarily took inspiration from these, but that the commonalities are there because they are saying the same thing to the audience. Normally in scenes like this, it’s a montage of sorts that includes a character actually writing the letter- or some indication of them having written it visually- and then the character reading it at the end. When the letter scene happens, El is not seen writing. The point of the scene is to convey a harsh juxtaposition between what El is telling Mike and what is actually happening. What’s important about this is that it is showing what Mike sees and what he doesn’t, which furthers the theme of light and dark in this season. Will in the light, Mike in the dark. We can see what Mike doesn’t, he can’t. In the airport scene, we have to find out from El that they’re having problems. The card on the flowers is only brought up by El. Mike has been ignoring it, so we don’t see it. Even then, El literally has to spell it out for us when she’s yelling at Mike in her room. We’re confused at first and in the dark because our narrator is being unreliable.

              The scenes with Mike in them are centered around the mike. At Rink O’ Mania he’s placed in the middle of Will and El when they’re sitting down and putting on their roller skates. On the ride home, he’s in the middle again, looking forwards, while El and Will look out of the windows. This positioning flips back and forth between Mike and El. When El is the main focus of the scene she’s in the middle of Mike and Will. Like when she hit Angela in the face, and Mike asked, “What did you do?” We, as an audience, know that right there she’s the main one driving this section of the story. It’s the same when they’re at the dinner table later, El framed in the middle while Mike and Will are on her sides. She’s the central focus there, where as Mike was the central focus when he was in that positioning as well. It’s the same as the end of the season where Mike, Will and El are in the middle of the ending shot. Those three are going to be important in the final season. But also, Will is framed in the middle in the scene right before that which further indicates his importance later on.               

 The way that we see Mike for most of this season is through a very neutral gaze. Unlike will, who we see covered in light, or El who we see in somewhat sinister tones (like at rink o’ mania following Mike’s gaze from Argyle and Jonathan arriving to El. Then we zoom in and see she’s just scared, but Mike’s perspective of her is very interesting) and in distress, we see Mike exactly as is. We have nothing to go off of because there isn’t looking at something happening to Mike, it’s just happening and Mike is leading the way. Mike’s scene’s tend to show his reactions to what’s happening but not much of an indication of his actual thoughts and opinions. The most we’ve got of an honest look inside his head is when he talks to Will when he apologizes and in the van when they talk about El.                

Mike has been described as “oblivious” by many different characters in the series. Most - if not all- of them being his close friends. We can’t see shit because Mike can’t see shit. What is Mike thinking? What is he feeling? He sure as hell doesn’t know.                

Or, he has the inclination that something is wrong but he doesn’t want to look further into that because he’s scared of what he’ll find. 

The end of season three when El says that she loves him and kisses him. Right there is when he gets scared. He’s still scared when he goes to California and sees Will there. Maybe he doesn’t know exactly why, but it could also be that he doesn’t want to know. Mike and Nancy are better at ignoring things and pretending they never happened than processing them. If you pretend everything’s fine and never bring up any problems then it’s fine, right? We see that with Nancy and Steve and we see it with Nancy lying to Jonathan about if they’re okay.

              Don’t bring it up and you won’t know if you don’t like the answer. I didn’t like Nancy in certain parts of season three when I first watched it because at first glance I didn’t understand why she was acting the way she was, because she, like Mike, is an unreliable narrator. She didn’t tell Jonathan what exactly was going on, she just pushed it away until it imploded. And then she and Jonathan had a fight because Nancy was put into a situation where she couldn’t deal with what was happening and was absolutely miserable. But Jonathan couldn’t understand it and she went into a defensive mode. She and Mike are written very similarly in how they handle situations.

              So, back to Mike. He’s a terrible liar, to himself and others. An unreliable narrator if I’ve ever seen one. But he’s still being shot like he’s the main character, like we’re seeing what he’s seeing. We only get a few outside perspectives on him, and those usually belong to Jonathan, or El when she’s the center of the scene. Most of the time, we are getting Mike’s reaction to the situations put in front of him.

              His reactions just don’t make sense to us. And maybe that’s because they don’t make sense to Mike either. And he’s not ready to deal with that.

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #the lights #the byler is implied #i just didn't outwright say it but thats- it is in fact my point #mike wheeler i know what you are #also origional title when i wrote this was 'DEFENDING MY THESIS' #this is directly related to my post about will and lighting #this was also created because I've been going though Mike's scenes in season four #hes drinking main character juice the whole time #I swear #so i wrote this to try and figure out why