#I have finally written again!

[moth-like-habits]

Sunshine in a Smile

ethubs, 591 words

Here's it on ao3

Etho thinks Bdubs looks like the Sun. It’s ridiculous really, a bit too on the nose- believe him, he knows. Sleeps through every night, golden skin and shining eyes, yes of course Bdubs looks like the Sun. Etho’s even heard the stories from the trip through the rift: “Etho! Oh you won’t believe it, I became the god of the sun!” The cloak he came back in shimmered with every step he took but it couldn’t have shone brighter than the smile on his face when he told Etho everything that happened in the other world. They were in the ruins behind the monolith where Etho had started a small garden. He beamed and explained the wonders of improv as Etho tended the tulips, periwinkles, and dwarf sunflowers (yes, mini sunflowers. Etho may joke that it’s about his height but the creases in the corners of Bdubs eyes hid a knowing smile). They sat in the garden until the sun was setting and if seeing him glow in golden hour took Etho’s breath away then no one needs to know. Glowstone, sunbeams, and joy making him truly celestial. By the void, if Etho didn’t believe Bdubs became a god before he certainly did then. Yet the end of the day left Bdubs yawning and fighting to stay awake and talk- it took only a little convincing before Bdubs went to bed. 

That leads to now: Etho sitting on the front steps of the monolith, redstone blueprints abandoned in the kitchen. If Bdubs is the sun, then Etho is convinced he’s the moon. It makes sense, honestly, a bit too on the nose. As opposed to the warm summers of the sun the moon brings thoughts of a quiet winter chill. Cold and far away, without a light of its own. Not always, Bdubs would say, I think about warm summer nights and fireflies. Nights like this one, Etho supposes. There’s a soft pleasant breeze stirring through the leaves and creating the perfect atmosphere to sit outside and think. He looks up at the moon now- almost full, bringing a dim illumination to the birch forest around him. The moon reflects the light of the sun and well, Etho always seems the brightest when they’re together. Etho’s content to be the moon. 

Bdubs suggested he add ferns to the garden: “Well fine! if you had to put me in there then you should put yourself. Some fern or something.” Etho played it off as a jab at being boring, but he’s certain Bdubs heard the smile in his voice, saw the softening of his eyes. Being direct never really was their strong suit.  With a sigh, Etho stands up and heads back into the monolith and up to the kitchen. While he would admit it to no one, Bdubs is not a morning person. And so, Etho sets out his beloved mug (it’s a wonky shape and a familiar mossy green- not Etho’s best work but Bdubs insisted on keeping it) and fills the kettle with water to leave till morning. Coffee grounds are set out, right beside their old coffee maker. Easy enough for tired hands to move through the motions beyond half closed eyes (the sun will not rise without caffeine). With everything carefully prepared, Etho heads upstairs, finally tired enough to sleep. The moon must rest too.

Etho thinks Bdubs is like the Sun. Bright laughter, kind eyes, and plenty of warmth to share. And if that’s a bit too on the nose? Well, no one needs to know.

[cautiously0ptimistic]

No god, no religion, Just bad, bad decisions.

[moment-live]

I can't beat the Buno D'rhad fight so nothing happened and everyone lived happily ever after as one big happy family

[fiepige]

Did somebody say more Hobie GIFs?

No? Well have some anyways <3 (Theme: Hobie and all his hand gestures) Part 1

[ifyoucandaniel]

not to be dramatic on the tl or anything, but when hozier said “did you know i could break beneath the weight of the goodness love i still carry for you” and “that i’d walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you” he was talking about joongdok.

[mrs-gauche]

...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.

Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.

But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.

“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“That’s when you should lean on your friends.” “Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”

“I’ll rely on those I trust.” "You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”

"I trust my friends." "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal

You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)

And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol). 

And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.

(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)

"We aren't even people to you." "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."

But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.

I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol

“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”

Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂

[murdleandmarot]

A quick bluebelle painting :))

[dvredevil-s-initivls]

Biased

Aka : a self indulgent Matt Murdock fanfic that has been stuck in my head. You’re a jury counsellor and with a single night he changes your decision

Characters : Matt Murdock, jury Y/N

Warnings : oral (f receiving) unprotected sex,piv sex , Matt Murdock, slow burn

“The jury should not be biased by one or another attorney and their choice”

“Melanie, I told you. I left the earring on my bedside table, I don’t know where it went and that’s it! And i don’t know anyone else except you who lives in our apartment!” You sighed. Your roommate had taken your hoop earring but she didn’t wanna accept it.

It was a hot day for New York . The heavy air of July bothered the people as you went back to the courthouse after eating your lunch (a 15 dollars sandwich with extra iceberg salad ).

Your job wasn’t that hard, although it was picky. Almost everything depended on you and that weight on your shoulders was heavy. How the person’s life will go depends on you. That thought was eating you from the inside since you actually got the job for court jury. The case you were working on for now, was one of your biggest. A woman had killed her husband and lover, burying them in the back garden. Apparently her excuse was “that both of them had cheated” . Ugh, what a skunk.

Your former superior, Blake tower was fighting against some unknown firm, “Nelson & Murdock” . You thought that tower’s point of view was the right one and that the woman should go to jail, but she just continued saying that she didn’t kill them, but confronted them.

After a while you and your coworkers had decided on a break which led you here, sitting in the lounge room of NY’s courtroom, arguing on the phone with Mel and her friends.

Someone with a tall figure approached you, a cane in his hand. You realized it was that other attorney, mr. Murdock. “Uhh, I’ll call you back, Mel.” You put your phone to the side, helping the man sit on the chair in front of you. “I believe you’re Y/L/N, right? I wanted to talk to you about the DA, Tower.” He said, his voice confident and low. He was handsome, and somehow, he knew it. His chin was always high ahead, voice lingering over people’s minds. His hair a dark brown, eyes hidden by ruby red glasses. He was very attractive if we gotta be true, face like a painting. His tongue came out to lick his lips, waiting for you to answer. “Uh, yeah. What about him?” You snapped out of your trance . “I think he’s wrong in this situation. My client has the right to say that she didn’t murder them. But- ah. Sorry, you must’ve just gotten your lunch?” He asked. ‘How did he know?’ Eh, anyways. “Y-yeah. But it’s fine. Why do you think so, you sure?” You question. He told you that his business partner was going to give the best defence in court history, making you laugh. “Hey uhh, I know this makes no sense, but do you mind if you went on a dinner with me? J-just to change your mind of course.”he asked.

You questioned a bit but accepted, settling down to the same night.

|

|

|

It was 6pm, an hour away from your dinner with Matt Murdock, but you were nervous. Never choosing between a black dress that hugged your thighs and brang you luck or a dark red dress with a leg slip. You pondered for a while and put on the red dress, make up already done. ‘Why am I even doing this.He’s blind’ you asked yourself. But you felt good, confident, sexy , even. He made you feel that way.

You took your bag and shouted to Melanie in the bathroom “MELLS, You are gonna be gone till midnight, kay?” . You wanted the two of you to be alone if he actually came. Just in case. You heard her murmur something under the sound of loud music and took it as a “yess” or an “okayyugh “ .

Contently, you walked out with your small bag, wearing scandal black heels. ‘Tower wouldn’t be very happy to see me like this. Well, good that I’m going over to some unknown jazz house I guess.’ You thought as you got in the cab you called, almost singing the address he gave you.

As you walked up to the door he opened it for you. He looked magnificent, suit tidy and glasses that matched your dress. “Hi.” He said, grinning. “Hi hello” you said, voice drowning in the loud chello.

“Our table is somewhere over there. Apparently.” He stated , you giggling at his words.

The dinner went better than you thought, everything sweet and smooth . He gave you a couple reasons that his client didn’t commit the murder and you replied with a “I’ll think about changing my opinion, Murdock.” You guys talked about your work, craziest cases and where you went to university. And soon enough you guys were full of fries and enjoying the light music that twirled around the room, making the whole situation more romantic than it should’ve been. You agreed with him on some points and yes, there were some holes in Tower’s words but you still didn’t believe him.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, we have a case to worry about tomorrow so uhh…” you hoped he would offer to escort you home. And maybe, just maybe he could read your mind in braille because that’s exactly what he asked to do.

You were chatting in the taxi, up until your apartment’s door and- god, his lips looked so kissable, soft and red. So beautiful, his whole figure was beautiful, broad shoulders and biceps that were hugged just right by his shirt.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned a little closer to you, magnified by each other. And in one moment of heavy breathing and a little luck, his hand caressed your face, pulled you in. The kiss was passionate, all teeth and tongue. You had thought about the attorney since you met him a few cases ago but never thought it would end like this. As he deepens the kiss, you let your hands wander through his hair , he pushed your apartment door open. His hands on your waist, neck, in your hair. He was everywhere, his cologne, the faint smell of Oakwood, warm coffee and light alcohol. As he walks you two through your apartment,you pull your legs against his waist and hold his neck for support, and as he gets your hint, his hands snake up to hold you at your thighs. Strangely enough, he found his way around your apartment better than you, especially for a blind. drunk. man that has never been at your place before. But you didn’t really care at that moment because his mouth on yours was the only thing you could think about and the way that his smell intoxicated you. 

As he put you down on your couch, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. And you? You were enjoying the sight of Matt Murdock and those rolled up sleeves. “I really would like to finish off this fine evening with maybe pleasing you?” his words sent a pleasing shiver down your spine “Of course, only if you’d like. I can leave anytime, just-” you stopped his babbling with another kiss, drawing him in by his tie. And that seemed to finish him off, because as he growled into the kiss, pushing your legs apart, the leg slip of your dress pulling up between your legs. “I’ll take that as a yes, then” he smiled through the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the couch. He pulled your dress up and took a breath, your natural smell invading him. And he fucking loved it. Pointing his attention to your now soaked panties, he licked his lips, his senses tasting you in the air. He moaned groaned at your smell, pushing your legs further apart and breathing you in.

Then he pushed your underwear out of the way and devoured the absolute shit out of you.

And as he did so, you let out the most obsene noises, little whimpers and whines, then desperate moans. He licked a long stripe up from your core to your now throbbing clit, relishing in the fact that you were oh so wet for him,tasting you and diving in you like a mad man. But you could tell he was also enjoying this, by the groans he let out, that made you thighs shake. You tried to suppress your noises, but he was having none of that. Painfully, he withdrew his head away from you cunt, looking in your general direction, grabbing your chin. “Try to be quiet again and see what happens.” Your bottom lip quivering, you made a mental note to be as vocal as possible. He lowered his face and delved into you again. Devouring you like a man starved, adding his god shaped- hands to the mix. One palm gripping your thigh, at the little crease right before your ass, other one snaking to you cunt. Relishing in the hot feel of his tongue on you, not expecting those two cold fingers prodding at your core. Silent laughs at the little gasps you dropped as his fingers entered you. You looked down at him, feeling him knuckle deep, snug in your tight pussy. His mouth closed around your clit and he started sucking. And there you were, sitting there, thinking ‘this is it. i died and i’m in heaven.’ until he started moving with his fingers. Stretching them, scissoring you made your brain clear out of everything, thick fingers curling to find your g-spot and abuse it. He was mumbling something unintelligible, the vibrations giving you that delicious friction .Feeling a tight knot grip your stomach, you tried to warn Matt , but all that you could mutter between moans was a weak “M-Mattyy… ‘mma..” before you were coming undone around his fingers. Letting you ride through your orgasm, he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowing down the pace.

Murmuring praises, he kisses your clit, earning a jolt from your thighs and a mear whimper. Biting his way up your body, wasting time at your breasts, licking up the valley between them, until he was face to face with you, dark brown eyes unfocused and warm, the slight shimmer on his lips from your essence made you delve in. Kissing him, you tasted yourself on his tongue, salty and draft. Trying to get his belt off, you struggled, earning a chuckle from Matt. As he made quick work of sliding it through his hands and throwing it on the floor, pants following through. He towers over you, immediately making you feel small, causing blood to rush to your cheeks. He smirks, cradling your face in his hand. “Don’t get shy on me sweetheart, we’re jus’ getting started.” Pupils dilating, you look at his very obvious dick print, trying to figure out exactly how big he is. Almost answering your question, he takes the slacks off too, his impressive size slapping against his stomach. You feel your mouth salivating, but before you could get to your knees, he grabs your thighs, moving you to sit on top of his lap, crossing your hands to the couch behind his neck, trapping you in and suddenly all you can see, sense, feel was him, him, him.

He slowly slides your folds open with his tip, a wet squelch being heard. You whine, eliciting an amused sound and an “Eager, aren’t you, pretty thing?”, causing a moan to escape from within your throat. He slides in, the stretch burning slightly, making you let out a strangled sound. He stiffens, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you still. “Are you okay?” the words fade in front of your ears, the haze his dick put you in keeping you in your own Matt-Murdock-s-cock bubble. “Yeah… please. Please, Matt.” you let out a meak attempt to keep the moans in as he pushes in to the hilt, staying as still as he can. Once you feel stretched enough, you clench, once, hearing the groan (™️) that erupts from deeply in his chest. “Don’t tease me like that, fuuuuck…” Matthew grips at your ass, slowly moving you up and down, finding a rhythm the both of you could keep up. As soon as you feel confident enough, you push your sweaty face from his chest, where it had been lying till then. Gripping the headrest for dear life, you start slowly riding him, adjusting to his girth. Slowly letting your jaw fall, you can no longer contain the groans and whines of the lawyer’s name. A deep growl grows from his chest, the vibrations making you mewl on your own.

“Ma-atthew! I-” you attempt, but after hearing his searing “shh, I know sweetheart. J-just relax f’me.”, you let it come to you, drenching his cock in your juices, letting your head fall to his neck. You can feel him clenching his jaw, veins on his neck visible, as he painfully pulls out of you, releasing his load on his stomach. You stand there for a little while, letting each other catch their breath. You close your eyes for a little bit, letting yourself relax in his sticky, sweaty, but warming touch. Not later after that, you’re both cleaned up and in bed, cuddling. You don’t exactly know what that makes you two, but you don’t wish to worry about it right now. Not now. Not when his warm forearms are wrapped tightly around your stomach, leg draped over yours, securing you, in a way.

Some time in the night you’re woken up by a very low-toned Matt, saying something. "Your roomate just came home...drunk." Murmuring a curse, you cuddle deeper in his embrace, catching the warm chuckle that spreads through his chest and envades yours.

|

|

|

In the morning, you're waken up by an alarm, but it's not yours. Hearing a familiar groans, your eyes prickle with the sun beaming on you,and you crinkle a smile, seeing a very disheveled Matt Murdock trying to find his phone in the bundle of clothes you left from last night. Your door is bright open and Mellany springs through it, bringing both of you coffee, and with a bright smile on her face (and a wiggle of her eyebrows) gives you back the other golden hoop earring. You stand up, going to get your clothes, enjoying the silent morning, nothing too loud, which is weird, by the fact that the crappy apartment that you rented is in the heart of the real Hell's Kitchen.

"So... are we going to repeat this sometime?" you hear him, loud and clear. "We'll see how it goes, Murdock. But for now, we have a case to finish."

|

|

|

taglist : @moxkindagirl

[trainingdummyrabbit]

in conclusion the most poignant thing about ruina is its running theme of Imperfection. imperfection, focused not on its flaws, but on the miracle of it existing to begin with. imperfection not as a failing, but as a triumph. its cracked, broken, deeply in need of repair-- but it's real and its ours and it exists. despite everything it exists and that enough is a relief beyond words, beyond expression. to present a toppled structure not as a conclusion, but an opportunity.

its the choice-- and the joy-- of looking forward, unflinchingly, and facing it. one step at a time.

[amethystpath-writes]

Bread and Eggs

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

It started with the ringing of Villain’s phone. He wasn’t surprised to see Hero’s name pop up. He admired the too-small circle with her picture on it. It was impossible to tell by looking at the emblem, but Villain knew it was a picture from their first date.

To think it had been five years ago...

Villain’s picture on Hero’s phone had been a more recent photo, one from their engagement. An image of him kneeling with the classic black velvety case. It was warm the day of their engagement- Villain didn’t dare propose on a cold day; it would have led to an obvious refusal.

He used to joke that warmth was the only reason Hero even liked him. “You scorn me constantly,” Villain would tease. “You only like me because of the heat I so generously produce.”

“As if you have any control over it! You can’t help that you’re so warm, but it is definitely a plus,” she would ultimately agree.

Now, they were married- and, oh, hadn’t it been a dream? Looking for homes, buying a home, getting groceries, coming home to one another, holding each other at the end of the day. It was all Villain wanted in life, and for so long, it seemed impossible. Yet, here they were; her joyful face was beaming at his under the name ‘Love of my life’.

Answering the phone, Villain jokingly began, “Yes, honey, I remembered to get the bread and eggs.”

The voice that answered wasn’t Hero’s.

***

[novantinuum]

Anyways, I declare this era as Steven Universe Fixation 2: More Fun, Less Bullshit

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Can't send asks from my sideblog, but this is @chewing-the-drywall

I feel like much of s2 fell into Frenchie's "we put it in the box and then lock it and don't open it again" in the sense that it set up A LOT that I was intrigued about how they would address it, but it either never was mentioned again or was handled poorly.

Examples range from light, like how I wish we saw more of the crew interacting with each other in ways that built on their characters from S1, where in S2 they didn't feel any more developed, or even regressed. (Example, Fang used the word Fingies 2-3 times through S2, and it felt like they were using it almost as a shorthand for his character, rather than making him feel more real and multidimensional as a character.)

100% @chewing-the-drywall. When I first heard that line I had I was so excited for the story to prove Frenchie wrong. Or show how important it can be to put aside problems to stay alive in the moment. But in the end, this one line summarized how the season handled everyone, besides Stede and Ed. Below, is an in depth discussion on where this season decided to spend it's limited amount of time. Instead of focusing on the characters and plotlines they'd already established.

This season had so MANY ideas it wanted to touch on.

Izzy trying to deal with his unrequited love and opening up to a new way of living. The traumatized 'Revenge' crew trying to adapt to a softer way of life again. The abandoned crew learning how to help their traumatized friends. Introducing new characters like Zheng, Auntie, and Archie into our main group. Setting up a conflict to resolve in season three. Along the way, referencing Pirates of history like Ned Low, Mary Reed, and Anne Bonny.

Notice, I've said all this and we're not even at our romantic leads.

Which is fine. Stories are fluid things. As long as the story knows how to flow from our leads to our side characters. Which leads us to how I feel this show took a lot of time away from establishing our central crew-

[Warning- this will be a controversial opinion- I want to know what y'all think about this] Zheng/Oluwande. This seasons habit of retreading old plotlines and referencing scenes from S1.

What S1 did so well was paralleling the side stories with what was going on with Ed/Stede. Usually, highlighting how well Stede/Ed worked by showing how much Ed/Izzy DIDN'T work. Or general hijinks that tied into the plot (Oluwande and Frenchie on the French ship).

Season 2 chose to parallel our main story with what was going on between Zheng/Oluwande as a budding romance and Izzy's slow recovery. The reason Zheng/Oluwande scenes felt like a waste for me in that the story was JUST a retelling the story we watched from S1.

A frustrated first mate(Auntie), and a legendary captain(Zheng) fighting over the captain falling in love with an idiot(Olu). In season 2, much like every callback for me, it felt like it slowed down the plot by pulling us out of the story. Like...yeah, you did the thing again, do you want me to applaud you for it?

I LIKE Zheng and Oluwande as a couple! I like that Oluwande was debating leaving Stede and taking Jim and Archie with him. But at the same time, I didn't care about Zheng until episode 7 when she beat up Stede, showing that yes. She's not just some all powerful woman taken down by a mix of love(the crew in ep3) and thinking that she was above it all (ep 7). She's fast on her feet, smart, and willing to stab someone who gets in her way. She's her own person. But.

Every other scene that established her was about her romance, felt like we could have put Rhys and Taika in there. It didn't feel...unique. It's as if the show only knows 1 way to write a romance between a badass and a bumbling idiot. Again. Oluwande in season 1 wasn't dumb in the same way everyone else was. He was protective of Jim, a bit nervous overall, but he was the person the crew chose to lead them. The season just dumbed everyone down a bit and called it a day.

This comes to the larger issue. When we only have eight episodes I don't want to rewatch the exact same plot beats with different characters. Time spent here ends up taking away from other stories we could have told about trauma and growing as a family and other forms of growing as a family. We didn't need another romance plot line. Imagine taking this time instead to show Lucius reaching out to Pete AND the crew for help. Or Frenchie finally feeling safe enough to play his lute. Or Roach helping Fang get over his thing with cakes-you get my point.

The fact we took all the found family stuff from season one, and pushed it onto only Izzy in S2 means when he dies, all the found family shit falls away. His death makes us realize we've been ignoring the central family we were supposed to care about. Because in so many words, their trauma was ignored.

[I even theorize if Izzy was alive and sailed away with them. Showing how he was taken in and loved by his crew, the ending wouldn't feel so hollow. This crew doesn't feel like a caring family. The person who protected them for months died, wasn't mourned, and then they threw a wedding the same day. Not even a full day to mourn. The 'New Revenge' feels like a heartless crew of characters we barely recognize because they aren't a family like they were at the end of S1. More like coworkers who sometimes fall in love with eachother.]

Trauma, Timelines, and Tonal issues when jumping from Episodes 1-3 to Episodes 4-5.

When the crews meet up, the story chooses to focus on the fun plot. Ed and Stede recovering their relationship, only dipping back into that serious tone when Izzy or Lucius come on screen to 'make things sad' again. I don't think the transition from 'serious' to 'comedy' was handled well.

I don't have an official timeline of the events of season two. But from what I remember, everything happens within 2 weeks.

In episode 4, Stede ignored the vote of his crew- to let the man who was torturing half his 'FAMILY' for at least 80 days- back aboard. This rubbed me the wrong way, as it showed Stede being a selfish prick in a way that could seriously harm his crew. That's when I started to see how not adding a *single* time-skip mid-season would hurt S2.

Imagine if we had a one-week off-screen time skip between episodes 4 and 5.

Maybe it's implied that they stay in that town for a bit. Izzy would a bit more time to learn to move on his new leg and start to open up to those he already trusts. Include a scene of Izzy WITH the crew, maybe laughing about something with the old traumatized crew, even if it's just a 30-second opener. Imply that the traumatized crew would have more time to settle in with the family they miss. Show that yeah, the traumatized crew needs more time to heal. Imply at the start of the 'Ed apology' that Ed and Stede have had more time to talk their issues out.

THEN have Ed apologize. You can even keep the bullshit corporate to show that Ed still has to work for this.

Healing takes time. Setting a series over the span of two weeks after half your cast was tortured by your lead love interest? After five of your main crew thought they would sail off into a storm and die after months of stress and life threatening battles? Why did that shit get shoved to the side so quickly?

Framing episode 5 as the START of Ed making amends with the crew, only to drop the plot by episode 7? Not a smart move. Because let's be honest, 'poison into positivity' in episode 6, referring to the fact that they sold all of Ed's loot to pay for the party, ignores the sacrifices the crew made to live that long. (The death of Ivan, and intense trauma they all need to work through). In a way, Ed throwing this party was him asking the crew to start putting everything away in that imaginary box.

It's Ed retroactively letting himself say 'hey, that time I spent torturing my captives was worth it because we got something good out of it' while still ignoring his own guilt. Ed needed to take accountability for his actions. No more 'I took 'a' mans leg' bullshit. The reason his arc feels so unsatisfying is that the plot easily forgives him. Fuck. I hate what they did for Ed's arc, but that's not the point.

Overall.

My issue with this season is not that it chose to do these topics, it's that it didn't think about the implications of what they were bringing up. It didn't dare to think 'maybe it's fucked if we quickly brush off a trauma like this'. Again. I know we have to blame MAX for cutting off two episodes. But I don't think 2 additional episodes would fix a tone problem seen going from episodes 3-4.

Fucking hell. Each member of the revenge had the potential for their own arc, so it's baffling to see them all reduced to 'well meaning idiot' when they all felt so fleshed out in S1.

When izzy gives his speech about belonging, there's a reason the only image in the show of the crew all together was from S1.

At the end of the day, Season 2 didn't let our surviving side characters grow. This is a mean spirited bit on how I feel the writers see the their own characters.

Stede and Ed are our leads. They won't die, not in this genera. Their shitty actions will be forgiven because it's a comedy, and as long as it's joked about, it holds no weight. They won't die. They won't get fatally hurt. Their trauma will be taken seriously, but it's a 50/50 on if they'll talk about it before breaking up again. They will eventually get a happy ending, their trauma looked at head on, because duh.

Jim, Olu, Lucius, Pete? Characters who used to have defined personalities in S1, but haven't been defined much beyond their relationships with their partners? Whose trauma might be mentioned, but will quickly be 'resolved' in one scene? Shame. Seems like they're only useful as set dressing, But we might make you useful as interchangeable side characters to riff against. Oh, and you're in love! Isn't that cool!

Izzy? I'll just quote Jenkins here. "To have him become a father figure to Blackbeard, and on some level to the rest of the crew, and to see him become the heart of why we’re giving pirates the chance to stand for being able to live how you choose. In reality, they’re thieves and criminals, but what our pirates stand for is a life of belonging to something larger than they are in the face of a crushing, slightly fascist normalcy." So...Is Izzy a pirate and accepted into the Revenge family? Or is he still an outsider? Jenkins gave us a romcom but still defines Izzy's character as that of one stuck in a drama/tragedy. Point and laugh, because tonally these two things clash HARD and will make an audience lose trust in it's writers unless well established. Leading us to the entire issue we've pointed out of not letting your characters actions hold in dramatic weight in your story.

Frenchie, Wee John, Roach, and Fang- Ah. No love interests again...shit. Well. Background actors it is... for now. We'll see. But we need 2 more scenes of the couple breaking up, so MAYBE you'll get some backstory hinted at in dialogue. You all have 1 thing your good at, so that's easy enough to put you where you belong.

Buttons and Swede? Well. They're still alive!! Don't be sad, fans :) The actors just couldn't show up anymore. We don't want our silly happy queer pirate rom com to not end on a happy ending! (Closes the lid of the trash can where they're keep Con O'Neill a bit tighter, thanking God Con was silenced by a strike this entire season from social media)

Do you agree, or disagree? Leave any lingering thoughts down below!

I'd love to chat down below.

[thebluestbluewords]

I'm Not Scared of What You're Gonna Tell Me

(~2k, Jaylos, TW for food issues/isle related food restriction. Seriously. This one is a little heavier than I usually write for tumblr.)

+

“When did you last eat?” 

Carlos pulls himself out of the schematic he’d been mentally working on. It’s easier to focus on certain things (like the problem of where to put the extra wire in the blender he’s trying to reconstruct) when he’s got something to do with his hands, and even easier still to get absorbed in the mental work when he’s got someone there to watch his back. “What?” 

Jay makes a soft noise. He’s perching on the windowsill again, but at least he’s on the outside this time. It’s not that anyone in Hell Hall is going to come into the kitchen, but it’s safer to have an easy escape route. The last time he came inside they had to jam him into the kitchen closet when Jasper unexpectedly poked his head into the kitchen, and while the closet is great for storing things like the occasional rusty canned goods and unrotten potatoes they get sent over from the mainland, it’s not a great place for a human person to hide in, and the amount of dirt they had to try and clean up wasn’t worth the small increase in comfort that Jay gets from sitting inside the window rather than on the sill outside. “You’re always in here,” he says casually. “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything you make. When did you last eat?” 

There’s a pile of walnuts sitting on the countertop, next to the cutting board. Carlos reaches over with his left hand and picks up a single broken nut. He pops it in his mouth. It’s small enough that it won’t be missed from the sauce. “Right now.”  

“Doesn’t count. C’mon.” 

Carlos gestures down at the fully loaded cutting board he’s still working with. At the bubbling pot he’s got sitting on the stove. At the unmentioned presence of his mother in the next room, drinking herself to death and waiting for her nonexistent servants to bring out dinner to her and the guests, who also don’t exist and probably wouldn’t want to stay for dinner regardless. The Isle is a bit lacking in ingredients, and tomato-walnut soup isn’t exactly the level of fine dining that Cruella’s high-society patrons would have been used to had they ever existed, much less now, when they definitely don’t and likely won’t ever exist again. 

Still. Even without servants, without ingredients, and without a hope of ever getting off the Isle of the Lost again, dinner must be served.  “I can’t leave,” Carlos explains patiently. “I have to be here until dinner’s done.” 

Jay rolls his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “C’mon outside for one minute. She won’t notice, I promise.” 

She will. She has before, even just for a moment, even when it’s just a second of fresh air because the smoke inside the house is making his lungs close up again. “She will.” 

Jay shifts again, restlessly. His is a body meant to be in motion. He’s not built for sitting still and watching like this, but he keeps coming by to do it despite the fact that he’s definitely got more interesting things to do with his night. It’s weirdly sweet of him to keep coming by just to sit on the windowsill and keep Carlos company while he attempts to scrape something together to feed his mother and her minions, but it’s also wholly unnecessary, and they both know it. “What if you just hop out here for a sec? No door opening and closing means no problem with the noise, right?” Jay offers, hopefully. 

“She’ll notice if the noise in here stops. I can’t leave until this is done–” Carlos gestures with his chin towards the pot bubbling on the stove, not stopping the smooth chopping motion he’s been practicing since he was probably too young to hold a knife. Red juice drips down the sides of his hands, coating them in the sticky mess that he’s going to have to wash off the cutting board and the entire counter later. Jay would probably lick it off, if Carlos would let him. “And she’s eaten and left me the dishes to clean. I can maybe steal a few minutes while I’m supposed to be washing up, but nothing before that.” 

Jay whistles through his teeth, the sound low and impressed. Or maybe not. Villains are villains no matter where they are, and just because Cruella has a house to maintain doesn’t actually make her worse than any of the other adults on the isle. “Damn. Tight leash much?” 

“You know it. So, you gonna stick around for…” Carlos hesitates. At least another forty minutes for the soup to be done, and then twenty minutes of coaxing his mother to put down her drink and actually eat, and then dinner and cleanup after that. “At least an hour and a half until I’m done?” 

Jay nods. “So long as you promise me you’ll eat something after that.” 

It’s one of the easiest promises that Carlos has ever made. “Sure thing. I’ll meet you in the treehouse once I’m done here.  I’ve got food in there that my mom doesn’t even know about, and it’s not even moldy this time.” 

“Sure,” Jay echoes back. There’s a weird furrow between his eyes that’s not usually there. “You have food up there?” 

“Yeah, I just said that.” Carlos says, letting a hint of the irritation he’s feeling bleed into his voice. He’s tired, and hungry, and the smell of the tomato soup is making his stomach ache. “What else do I need to repeat? Hour and a half, treehouse, we’ll both be there. You can hang out down here until then, but I can’t give you anything from the kitchen tonight, I’m sorry. There’s barely enough for my mom and her henchmen as it is, and if we take anything she’s going to notice and have my hide for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Jay says, sounding irritated as well, even though he wasn’t just a moment ago. “I get it. You can’t share tonight.” 

It feels like they’re talking at odds with each other, which isn’t how talking with Jay usually feels, and it’s making Carlos more pissed off than he has any right to be. “I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I can’t give you anything from the kitchen. You can have whatever you want from my stash, you know that. It’s all up where it usually is. If you’re just here to take my food you can go up and eat already, you don’t have to wait for me to do it.” 

“I’m not going to leave you to starve down here while I go through your stash,” Jay insists, gesturing short and sharp and irritated. “Dude. I’m not that much of a dick. You deserve it more than me.”

Carlos doesn’t deserve anything, not until the food is done and his mom and her henchmen have had their fill. He cooks and cleans and survives on the scraps they don’t want, and that’s how it’s always been, and he’s fine. He’s got his treehouse and his machines, and the barrier that keeps him from dying outright from the hunger. He’s not like Jay, who steals all his meals himself and doesn’t get pushed around at school and isn’t afraid to tell people no when he doesn’t want to do something. 

“I–” Carlos huffs out a sharp breath, annoyed at the way things are going. “Whatever, man. Just do whatever you want.” 

A dark, sulky look passes over Jay’s face, and then he relaxes into his usual carefree expression. “Fine,” he says, letting whatever irritation he’s been carrying fade away into nothing. “I will.” 

Carlos breathes out a sigh of relief, and turns back to his pot, where the broth he’d made ages ago, back when he’d had a string of good luck with his machines and sold one of them for enough money to buy a whole chicken from the market, is bubbling away. They’d had a freezer up until about a day ago, when the stupidly old-fashioned thing broke down again in the first heat wave of the year, so now he’s using up the few things he’d had squirrelled away in there before they go bad. Or, worse. Not much makes it over to the isle before it goes bad, and the original broth had been made with some pretty questionable root vegetables, in addition to the chicken carcass that he’d saved after picking it clean. 

Jay clatters his way inside the window, and Carlos turns back to him, irritation faded but not forgotten. “What’re you doing.” he asks, and it’s not a question. “You can’t be inside when my mother comes in, remember?” 

“I know, chill the fuck out.” Jay says, leaning down to tuck his head through the open window. “I’m just helping you out for a sec.” 

There are only so many things that Carlos can worry about at once, and the whims of another teenage boy aren’t one of them. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Jay says, grinning, and presses their lips together. 

Carlos opens his mouth into the kiss on pure instinct. Sweetness blooms across his tongue, bitter and rich and complex all at once. Jay slips his tongue deeper, and the flavor spreads, somehow even sweeter than before as it melts and spreads deeper. It’s like nothing that Carlos has ever tasted before, and he’s kissed Jay a lot of times, in a lot of situations. It therefore stands to reason that this isn’t some new and previously unknown kissing ability that Jay’s developed, and is instead some rare treat that he’s chosen to share. Through kissing. 

Well then. 

Carlos tips his head back, going pliant and soft under the attention. The flavor is somehow hot, sweetness combining with the bitter bite of it and spreading to make his mouth feel warm and tacky with whatever the treat is. Jay nibbles at his lip, and Carlos obediently opens his mouth wider, so that Jay can slip more of his tongue inside, and– 

Oh. Deposit a soft chunk of something inside his mouth, something that tastes amazing and even more delicious when it’s not diluted by two people’s worth of spit and slick kissing messiness. 

Jay pulls back, one hand guiding Carlos’s chin up so that he closes his mouth properly around the treat, the other planted firmly on his hip, holding him upright. Gods, but it’s nice to have somebody around who knows exactly the ways that Carlos likes to be kissed, and also understands that the wobbly thing that always happens with his knees afterwards is fine and normal and just means he needs a second more support before being let go again. 

Gods. Carlos is a man (teenager. whatever.) of science, but a treat this good deserves the invocation of some sort of higher power, because there is no way that Jay got something this good on the isle without divine intervention. It’s soft and sweet while not being overpowering the way the usual boiled sweets they sometimes get over are, and the background flavor is somehow bitter like coffee without being like coffee, and it’s so good that Carlos doesn’t want to swallow the last little sliver of it and have it be gone forever. 

He does, because keeping a mouthful of sweet spit in his mouth forever would actually be disgusting, and opens his eyes to find Jay grinning at him. 

“It’s good, right?” 

Carlos nods. “It’s so good. How did–what is it?” 

Jay laughs. “It’s called dark chocolate. My dad got a case from one of the goblins, and he’s been trying to sell it without letting anyone know he has it. I got curious, and–” he gestures between them. “You’re the best cook I know, so I figured if anyone deserves to try it with me, it’s gotta be you.”

Carlos shouldn’t be greedy. He’s a– He’s a villain. He’s allowed a brief indulgence of greed. “Do you have more?” 

Jay pulls a paper-wrapped package out of his hip pocket. “Not much. I was gonna wait until later, but…” 

Carlos is still so hungry that the smell of cooking chicken broth and tomatoes is making him faintly nauseous, and the soup will have to be tended to soon, and his mother is still in the room just across the hall, and could come in at any moment, but. “I will literally suck your dick right here in this kitchen if you let me have more.” 

Jay laughs. “Dude. No dick sucking necessary. I brought it over here for you.” 

Carlos breathes in slowly, pulling the air in through his mouth. The flavor of the chocolate is still lingering on the back of his tongue, and he wants.  

“Give me an hour,” Carlos says slowly, letting the words drag over his tongue as he says them, imagining that they’re as sweet and delicious as the chocolate that Jay has waiting in the paper wrapper for them. “One hour. To finish this. And then I’ll meet you in the treehouse, and you can have whatever you want.” 

“Deal,” Jay whispers against his lips. “Don’t be late.”

[randomfandomss]

Was going through the Brendan Hunt Reddit AMA.

All the confirmation and closure I needed to get over this show. Thanks, byeee!!!

[isfjmel-phleg]

If you're a being of light, don't forget to charge up as much as possible before this afternoon. You don't want to get caught with no battery power while your power source is temporarily out of commission!

[bellasdragons]

Sketch of my progens!

I'm "participating" in NaNoWritMo this year - by writing lore for my clan! I'm not aiming to get 50k words or a coherent original novel, but I really miss writing and my friend was considering doing nano this year, so I said I'LL DO IT TOO, but my goal is to just... write. It's gonna be lore snippets (both for my clan overall and for individual dragons), stuff for my Neopets, maybe some fanfic ideas that have been percolating - whatever comes to mind. Have some fun with it, y'know?

I already got a nice little prologue written about how Magpie (Fae, custom progen) and Veil (Mirror, random progen) meet, and gives a bit of a setting introduction. c: