#Stellar Gal

[kyrartz]

Media be wild 🌟 i wanted to play with the journalist superhero trope 🥸

[denimshortsdean]

I can’t believe we got to see dean and cas be a married couple with a son in season 14 and they just let it air live on television directly into our homes like that wouldn’t kill half of us dead on impact

[thesilverlock]

Hey. @pallotdip.

Ily.

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

It's over! I can't say thank you enough for joining me and my adventures with Hobie and Mariana. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. I really grew attached to MJ and Hobie as their story just blossomed before me. While this is the end of the main story, I'll probably have a couple of one shots here and there for them. I just love them so much. Anyway~ once again thank you so much for reading this silly little fic and if you made it this far, I truly appreciate you for reading :)

please leave a kudo on ao3 or a comment <3

~Several Months Later~

MJ is trying to push her way through a rampaging crowd. She’s fighting against the current, but she could care less. The adrenaline pumping through her as she tries to look above the sea of people.

The screaming in her ears is starting to get irritating though. She elbows past a much larger man and finally gets somewhere off to the side where she can get a good visual.

Through the settling dust she sees Spider-Man knocking around the Vulture in the air. She brings her camera up and tries to take a few quick shots before she starts filming. She was getting tired of trying to frame the best front-page photo’s for Spider-Man slander at the Daily Bugle… but none of her other coworkers were willing to get that close to any of the action. She did get hazard pay from it and she was going to milk the cow dry as long as they were paying her.

They didn’t need to know that she’s got a small advantage since her boyfriends the vigilante… at least she feels somewhat safe getting up close to his fights. Even if the so-called vigilante in question does scold her every single time.

She was starting to kind of like it, it was just proof that he cares, not that she’d ever tell Hobie that.

Once she get’s a good enough photo, well, better than what her other coworkers have made in the past. She brings out her phone to film.

This wasn’t for the Daily Bugle, it was for her own personal blogging website. If she was forced by the corporate overloads to make money by slandering her boyfriends name, she could at least run a little side gig that tells the truth.

If she got more website hits on her blog than then Daily Bugle’s she didn’t brag, but god did it boost her ego. Especially since Mr. Jameson was too dull to figure out she was running the blog on the side anyway.

He wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

She’s scanning her phone to zoom in on Spider-Man and the cocky bastard has the gal to look over to her and shoot a peace sign at the camera. She rolls her eyes.

“As you can see our vigilante isn’t taking this fight very seriously since he’s flirting with the camera… It’ll make a nice fan cam later though.” She says sarcastically as she follows the fight.

Hobie’s high above, fighting the Vulture in the air. That was the nice thing about the Vulture, nothing was close to her on the ground.

Not like the Lizard a few weeks ago who literally flooded the whole street. Her shoes were permanently damaged. Not to mention her sliding down the road like a poor excuse of a slip and slide. She did get some stellar photos and videos from that. Even if she almost fell down into the sewer.

Hobie had finally conceded to the fact she was going to be near his fights. By her volition or by her new job. He couldn’t escape it. So, he did the next best thing, he started to make her gear that she could at least use to help herself.

The first being a web shooter. It wasn’t set up exactly like his. It was discrete enough to look like a watch. It was mostly to stop her from falling, which is how she saved herself from falling into the sewer.

The month it took for her to figure it out and feel comfortable enough to use it was not fun. Hobie was trying to teach her how to swing her weight, but he was a stick in comparison to her. She’s seen what his webs can do, she knows they can hold her easily. It was trusting herself to not screw up the momentum that was scary. That and the fact she didn’t like swinging to begin with. Even if it was Hobie’s favorite, it certainly wasn’t hers. The actions gave her whiplash and made her nauseous.

She only used the web shooter when she absolutely had to. She was more than happy that today Hobie was flying through the sky. She could safely keep her feet on the ground.

The Vulture shots his metal feathers as an attack toward the swinging vigilante. Hobie swings too close toward her and it has MJ running from the projectiles hitting the ground.

She keeps her camera steady as she readjusts to follow the fight again, “The Vulture should really start learning how to aim if he’s going to resort to his feathers.” She comments as she keeps filming. “I mean, how often have they really hit Spider-Man?”

There’s no one really around her but a few reporters on the sides of the streets. Most of them keeping their distance far away. MJ was the only one willing to get this close to the action. Which is why her online blog was skyrocketing in popularity. She didn’t even think about making one until one day Mr. Jameson pissed her off. He was ranting and raving about how the Daily Bugle was the only news source worth listening too because of how good their images were of Spider-Man.

Or as he said, “That no good Spiderpunk running around and destroying our city!”

If she had to bullshit some article calling Hobie Spiderpunk one more time she was going to vomit in Mr. Jameson’s waste basket. It was such a playground taunt. He couldn’t even be more creative!

It also made her eye twitch that her boss was using her perfectly good photos to slander her boyfriend. Hobie didn’t care. In fact, he never looked at a single news source, the most he did was hijack the police scanners to aid him. Didn’t stop the fire burning under her though. If MJ was anything, she was loyal to a fault. So, what if it meant she got a little petty? It was all in good faith. She made her blog that night, as a counter protest to her boss. She never expected her ramblings and bad videos to explode overnight.

It was an added bonus that her boss had also caught wind of her blog and couldn’t do anything about it. He had demanded MJ pay closer attention when she was out, to try and figure out who ran the blog. The man clearly couldn’t put it together that it was her. Who else would get that close to Spider-Man’s fights? She didn’t even disguise her voice, but she made sure to never show her face.

Hobie just found it amusing if anything else. She had a decent following online and made sure her content was always free. If she was going to report on what was happening she wasn’t going to profit off of it. Unlike the Daily Bugle who hid their slanderous newspaper articles behind a paywall. She loved what she did, uncovering stories and being near the action. It gave her a rush like no other. Even if Hobie would wish she wouldn’t get so close.  

This was one of those moments she wished she wasn’t so close.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She’s running from falling building debris. The vulture had taken a large chunk off the old brick building to her left. She could hear the car alarms going off as the falling pieces were crushing the cars underneath. 

She feels arms wrap around her tightly and she stops struggling almost immediately. Looking up to see Hobie’s mask staring down at her. A heavy sigh leaving his mouth.

“You were doing so good this time. Outta way and everythin’.” He teases half-heartedly.

She rolls her eyes before shrugging, “To be fair, I didn’t expect the bird to throw such a hissy fit he’d take out the corner of the building.” She replies.

Hobie sighs and nods. He sets her down a good distance away. “He’s really bloody upset over somethin’… I couldn’t tell ya for the life of me. I tuned him out ages ago.” He turns to dash off and take care of the giant bird man.

“I’m wastin’ my breath, but don’t follow alright.” He tries to tell her. She just hums in acknowledgement and she rushing off right behind him.

She was almost like a shadow with her new job at the Daily Bugle. Always behind him. It still frightened him. Had the rage simmering underneath his the second she was too close to danger. That dread would probably never fully go away. It was just a matter of trusting each other. He’d come running to her if she needed him, and vice versa. The least her could do was arm her so she could defend herself. Not that she needed too much defending. She did explode the Goblin with their own bombs. He knew the dangers that came with being Spider-Man and she had taken them with so much grace and shouldered them with him. It was more than he could ask of anyone.

Yet there she was, next to him, like she was always meant to be.

She grabs a few more photos and is able to catch the end of the fight. Hobie having the Vulture wrapped up in his webs.

“Once again, our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be found protecting us! He’s a little cross with me right now so I won’t bug him. I am expecting some fan cams from this footage so don’t let me down!” She signs off her video and shuffles her belongings into her bag.

Hobie turns to see her and she waves in small acknowledgement before jogging off back to her office. He shakes his head but goes to handle the Vulture, knowing he’ll see her later anyway.

Mariana’s curled up on the couch, nursing a half cold tea, when the door gently opens and she hears him kicking off his combat boots.

“Long day?” she calls out to him sitting up to look over at him.

He gives a dry chuckle before walking over to kiss her forehead. “It was more than just the birdman today,” he sighs.

She frowns looking up at him, “Go take a hot shower, I’ll make you something.” She whispers holding his face.

He nods his head and presses another soft kiss to her cheek before walking to the bathroom.

She shakes her head and gets up with a full body stretch. She goes to grab the leftovers from the dinner she cooked earlier. She goes to warm it back up for him, it wasn’t too cold but definitely not as hot as when she originally cooked earlier. It won’t take very long so she starts on a drink too. She goes over to the kettle and starts making him a cup of tea, while also making herself a second cup. Pouring her lukewarm tea down the sink. She leans against the counter and waits for it to heat up.

She doesn’t hear Hobbie come behind her as he wraps his arms around her waist. Pressing his half naked body against hers. She leans her head back to look up at him.

“Ya know, this would be lovelier if you weren’t still slightly wet.” She teases him.

He groans and shoves his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t care.” He murmurs placing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She smiles softly and moves her hand to pat his cheek. She doesn’t stop her task of making them tea but it becomes a slightly more difficult task with one hand.

Hobie slowly starts swaying their bodies to an unheard tune in his head. She easily moves with him as she makes their mugs. The silence isn’t stifling, it’s more relaxing than anything. His weight on her is comforting and he places more soft kisses against her skin, moving from her shoulder up her neck, to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her lips.

She turns her head to follow him, chasing his lips with hers. She hums contently against him.

“I have to pour our tea Hobbie.” She whispers against his lips.

He presses another kiss, this one deeper and longer. “Can wait,” He grips her hips to make her turn fully to him. He presses his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

Her hands snake up his arms and down his bare chest, touch feather light. He makes a deep groan in his throat. It has her chuckling softly.

One of his hands goes to grab both her hands, capturing them easily. His other hand moves from her waist to grip the counter behind her. His mouth moving down to her ear, “Watch it…” he whispers, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He presses a kiss under her ear.

She starts to squirm a bit, “Oh piss off!” She giggles her face heating up, “I’m not the one who walked in here half naked.”

He leans back and sighs dramatically. “I haven’t done the laundry in a minute luv.”

She rolls her eyes, “What you need is to just move in already.” She tries to say nonchalantly avoiding looking up at him.

He hums in thought, “Is that you officially asking me or joking?” He teases trying to make her look at him.

Her face grows redder, as she tries to wiggle away from him. He other hand releases hers and he blocks her in against the counter.  Leaning dangerously closer to her.

“I… I want you to move in, I mean you come here every night anyway, I just think it would be easier if-” she’s starting to ramble running over her words.

Hobie cuts her off with his mouth, kissing her once more. Pulling back to smile lazily at her furiously blushing face.

“I’m just teasin’. Course I’ll move in.” he tells him softly.

“Okay, perfect, cool…” she says quietly, eyes avoiding his.

“I’m keepin’ the house boat though. Don’t want to leave all my spider stuff here.” He says seriously.

She laughs with her chest, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m okay with that.”

He moves to grab her thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She makes a small noise before holding onto him tighter.

“Hobie! What about the tea, and your food!” She tries to scold him, but her laughter gives her away.

“It can wait, just want you right now.” He says walking them to her bedroom.

She leans forward, her small laughter being swallowed by his lips. They fall onto her bed together and her hands move to hold his jaw, deepening the kiss.

If someone told Mariana a year ago she’d be in a relationship with her cities vigilante she’d call them crazy. She’d also find it impossible that her path would have crossed with his to begin with.

She wouldn’t believe anything that’s happened to her this past year of knowing Hobie. She’s felt herself change for the better, becoming braver than ever. He’s everything she could ask for. Parts of her have healed in ways she never thought they could. The scares are still there, but they can fade with time. She doesn’t feel like a dog who’s been kicked one too many times anymore. She’s found her home in his heart. She knows he’ll protect it, like she protects his. It’s precious that she’s found this love and all she wants to do is nurture and grow it.

She loves him and she thinks she could forever.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

[sslowdeathh]

Not requested, for @dwllie's event.

Caelum. Orion. Mina. Estelle. Seren. Réaltín. Arevik. Eos. Aitine. Jupiter. Aoede. Callisto. Erriapus. Nash. Calypso. Cressida. Esther. Lyra. Mneme. Aegir. Narvi. Portia. Sinope. Vega. Danu. Venus. Altair. Kore. Canis. Polaris. Selene. Calytrix. Hesper. Astro. Aphelion.

Star stars. Constelle constellation. Moon moons. Cos cosmic. Star stardust. Super supernova. Milky milkyway. Neb nebula. Pla planet. Star starburst. Astro astros. Star starlet. Orbit orbits. Stell stellar. Crae crater. Gal galaxy. Star starship. Comet comets. Met meteo meteors. Astra astral. Eclipse eclipses.

Your (personal) guiding light. The skylight. The constellation. The night sky. The sky lurker. She who lights the way. The light in the dark. Your shining star. The girl lost in stardom. She who shines through darkness. The light of the night. The star-struck.

[cyb0rgsunset]

Once more a STELLAR comm by @kissingagrumpygiant thank you so much for drawin my gal she looks HUGE I am loves her 🥺💚

[wetcatspellcaster]

I saw you respond that you a very much not an SJM fan 😅 fair enough but I did want to ask what books/series you did like or would recommend that are of a fantasy/romantasy vibe!

lmfao, i am destined to become known for my parasocial enmity with the wingspan lady on this hellsite.

I don't read stuff with the same vibe as SJM all that often anymore. I used to read a lot of paranormal romance but the heteronormativity of SJM clones was upsetting me, so I've turned more towards the romance genre or just straight up fanfic these days.

So these recommendations might not be the perfect overlap but-!

Books with Fey Romances that are good

Holly Black, for all your fey needs. Tithe is the OG (and if you like sad men with white hair, have I got a blorbo for you!) but The Cruel Prince is her most popular series, that most people have read. The Darkest Part of the Forest is also an amazing standalone novel with a bit more creepiness than the other two. Not very explicit sex.

Olivia Atwater's Half A Soul and Ten Thousand Stitches are regency romance novels with fey associations, the first book is about a girl under a fairy curse and the second is about a fairy himbo trying his best at being a fairy godmother. No sex, that I can remember.

Heather Fawcett's Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Fairies. I've talked about this book a lot. If you like my fanfic, you will like this book, because this book was written for Me specifically. Not very explicit sex.

The Falconer series by Elizabeth May. This is the closest in this list to what SJM writes, only this is. um. better. Much sex, but also just... 'what if we started an apocalypse together, and the guilt meant I was scared to touch you, but we've got nothing else to live for now so why shouldn't I just do it?'

Fantasy Books with Good Romance

T Kingfisher's Swordheart and Nettle & Bone - both standalone novels. Swordheart is just Howl x Sophie dynamics, if Howl was a martial class, and also. A sword. Some sexiness.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (if we count the love interests as both the hot sexy wizard man AND the protagonist's gal pal). Some sexiness.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. If you like your immortal/mortal romances, this is a pretty stellar read tbh. Some sexiness.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan. This is such a fun book just generally but the slowburn of a 7 year high school romance sent me a little feral actually. Some sexiness.

Daevabad trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty. Now, this one is a little bit evil bc its an epic fantasy trilogy that is quite dense, and the romance is amazing but it takes a WHILE. *I* can write an evil slowburn, but there is nothing more evil than what happened in these books bc everyone is so fucking repressed. Alternatively, The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by the same author, which cut to the chase a lot quicker, romance-wise.

Fantasy Books that are 😌😌 sexy 😌😌

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman. This is my favourite paranormal romance I've read in recent years, and they don't even have sex but I'm putting it here because um. they did. to me. That's what happens when you write a regency romance where if a woman takes of a man's coat they have 37 horny thoughts about it in real time. Imagine if Darcy and Elizabeth for P&P were also fighting demons at the same time as falling in love (not metaphorically. literal demons.)

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. Talia Hibbert's books in general fucking slap but I wish she'd written more paranormal romance than just this ONE story bc um. This was. um. Good.✌️

A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth by Freya Marske. Freya Marske is also a popular fanfic author, and it shows with the way she writes sex.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming. This author is the one who went briefly viral bc she accidentally has a book cover with Astarion on it lmao. This book was the first in that series, and unfortunately it wasn't for me (dragon shifter porn, I did *not* know going in) but the sex was really, really well-written, if that's something you could be into.

[helluvapurf]

✨I got it all, a carnivale I'll bring you up, I'll take you down~ I'm sticky sweet, stuck in your teeth like- Cotton Candyyyy~ ✨

----

Ayyyy guess who decided to jump on the redesign trend after rewatching the "Queen Bee" ep again lol Mind you, I don't actually hate Bee's canon design within the show (esp with the honey hair, bee colors & lava lamp aesthetics being pretty stellar on their own~)... buuut your girl just couldn't resist the chance to draw up a cute lil bee gal lol :p

And so, here's Bee-Bee~ Decided to theme her more after bee flies (pointy nose/fluffiness), honeypot ants (lava tail), moths (antenna-ears/feathery neck), whilst simultaneously giving her a silhouette of a Fennec Fox/Chihuahua doggy so she'd blend in a bit more with her Hellhound crew (*though don't try to bug her if she's hangry lol*). Then I kept the rest of her color-scheme (mostly) the same, accented the blue bits more to her eyes/jewels, and then adding in a lil rainbow effect to her wings just 'cause I thought that'd be purdy~ uwu 🌈✨

[sunderlust]

this is me trying i (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw was the bane of your existence back at UVA - you practically burnt yourself out trying to outdo him. now, you’ve quit your big shot engineering job in search of something more meaningful - the wind blows you across the country and into fightertown, where a familiar, sandy haired jackass is crooning away at the stupid piano in some naval bar. And you’re not sure if you should wait for the next gust or plant your feet down. (enemies to lovers! angst! fluff! smut? lol) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, no use of y/n note: once again huge shoutout to seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse for beta-ing and inspiring some really good details and research. again these gals are incredible writers their input means the world to me and this fic wouldn't exist without them! plz check them out.

——

Oh, wouldn’t you just love to grab him by his big stupid balls and set him on fire.

There he is. Bradley Bradshaw. Playing piano in the middle of the Hard Deck - which you've now learned is some sort of Navy bar. You weren't one for theatrics (correction: you definitely were one for theatrics) - but you're convinced he's your arch nemesis. Ever since that first moment he sat next to you in Spanish 103 in your first semester at the University of Virginia, he's caused nothing but constant stress and mental turmoil.

And it's just like him to be at the center of attention in this naval bar, playing that same stupid song on the piano with everyone singing along and treating him like fucking royalty. He's no different than how he was in undergrad - just a little more built and now sporting a push broom on his upper lip. Idiot.

Freshman year at UVA. You showed up to SPA 103 as a hopeful computer science major with bright eyes and a can-do attitude. Already, you'd enjoyed your first data structures class earlier that day, and you were excited to explore the option of a Spanish minor as well; until a tall, sandy haired boy plopped down in the seat next to you with just a pencil behind his ear and a piece of paper he'd clearly grabbed from the printer tray last minute. Later in class, you had eagerly raised your hand to answer Señor Soto's question, and Bradley had the audacity to correct your pronunciation right after. And that was the beginning of an intense rivalry with Bradley Bradshaw. From then on, the two of you battled it out in every class you shared together - some of your Gen Eds and most of your Spanish classes given that he, too, was going for a Spanish minor.

It infuriated you to no end how easy classes came to him - you'd study your ass off for the Gen Chem exam and earn yourself a 95% only to catch a glimpse of Bradley's paper a row in front of you with a neatly circled 97%. You'd deliver a stellar presentation in your Spanish course on culture and cuisine - spoken flawlessly in the language - and Bradley would go out of his way to ask difficult questions just to make you stumble through an answer.

Most annoyingly of all, he was always the "cool guy" amongst all your mutual friends. Always breaking out in song if (god forbid) there was a piano, and pulling girls aside and making them giggle and never even sending a second glance your way (not that you wanted it). Although, there was that one time he had asked you to his frat formal. But you'd turned him down, knowing it was most definitely a hazing thing with how nervous and shaky he had been. As always, Bradley Bradshaw had a knack for making you feel small. Smaller than a tiny mouse.

Now, almost fifteen years later and he's sitting at that piano with adoring fans around and it’s almost like nothing’s changed at all. Well, nothing on his end. You, on the other hand, feel like a shell of your old self. You were lucky enough to land a lucrative new grad job offer as a software engineer from one of the most highly sought after companies on the east coast. But after working almost five years now at a well-known company in Raleigh, the days started blending together way too easily for you. And after one long commute home on a rainy Thursday evening, you had a huge revelation when you realized you couldn't even remember what you did that past Monday - aside from waking up, working out, going to the office, making dinner, and grinding out more work at your home office until you fell asleep. Was your career, your degree, worth such a sad, passive lifestyle?

With that, you quit your job. And right after that, you called up every last one of your connections in hope of finding someone who could help you figure out your next step. It was all dead ends - most of your friends' solutions were offering you the same exact position you had before, just at their company and wrapped up in shiny new job wrapping paper. But you weren't sure you wanted to go back. You couldn't. Not just yet.

Your saving grace came in the form of Camila - your old college roommate who was currently working as a data analyst with the US Navy in San Diego with their partner, Cher. The two had recently renovated their guest house, and upon hearing your predicament, Camila immediately invited you to take a sabbatical in Miramar. "You're kidding, right? If you hate your job, don't go back to it. Come stay here - our guest house is yours and we won't accept any rent from you. Just take it easy, girl. I'll say it now - you're fucking burnt out."

Within a flurry of days, you had quit your job, broken your lease, and flown over to San Diego to begin a new, uncertain chapter in your life. And in order to have something to do, you had picked up a barista job at a coffee shop starting in a few days. They'd asked you to take the early morning shifts during the week, which gave you plenty of time to collapse in the evenings into a puddle of existential dread in your new, fancy guest house that you now called home.

All that to say, you had no idea how long you were going to be stuck in this limbo for. Part of you was hoping you'd never have to find a way out of it - that you could remain suspended in this uncertainty for ages. Because as soon as you start planning for the future, a new wave of anxiety is bound to take over and stress you out unimaginably so, with hushed whispers of potential failure echoing through your brain. It's better to hide from the unknown than to try and combat it, at least for the time being.

Back in the bar, Camila leans forward to nearly shout in your ear. “I have to go pee!” they tell you, grabbing their bag and hopping off the barstool. They had insisted on taking you out for a drink at the Hard Deck before your first day at the coffee shop, but you regretted saying yes the moment you saw Bradley at the piano.

"Go piss, girl," you mutter in response, eyeing Bradley as he steps back from the piano with humble nods to his praise. He then makes his way over to the other side of the bar, and you can feel your blood pressure skyrocket. You focus on busying yourself with the straw in your glass and try hard not to make eye contact with the bane of your existence across the room. If you’re lucky, he won’t catch sight of you at all. Lord knows whether you can handle having to interact with him after almost such a long ti-

“I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but it’s really you! How's life, Buttercup?" Bradley easily squeezes into the empty chair next to you. He's wearing a signature toothy grin, accompanied by that mustache that he's somehow really pulling off (but you'll never admit that to him, or anyone for that matter). In addition, he's wearing a wife beater underneath an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt that you're 100% certain he had back when the two of you were at UVA, but you remember it hanging more loosely around his chest and biceps. Not that you're looking.

Buttercup - jeez, it’s been years since that nickname was able to boil your blood instantaneously. Bradley coined it your sophomore year after a mutual friend's apartment party gave you access to unlimited tequila shots and a cheap karaoke machine that had the lamest song selection you'd ever seen. You don't remember much about that night, but Bradley's infamous nickname does a great job of reminding you that you still took it upon yourself to entertain the masses with your own a cappella rendition of Build Me Up Buttercup. Thankfully, it never caught on with your friends. But Bradley always knew how to milk a joke for way too long.

"Bradley," you answer curtly, taking a long sip of the melted remains of your drink; the straw gets stopped up with a stupid mint leaf. "Fancy seeing you."

"Whatcha doing on North Island?" he questions, sipping from his beer and sending you a mischievous side glance. "Last I heard you were down in Raleigh? Working for IBM or some other-"

"You keeping tabs on me, Bradshaw?" you interrupt, hoping desperately to wean him off the topic.

Bradley raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Word gets around. Seriously, you over here on vacation or something? Because the nicer tourist beaches are about 20 minutes north of here-"

"I'm about to start a new job," you rush out, stopping the rest of his jest right in its tracks. It's not a lie - your first shift at the coffee shop off of Orange Avenue is on Monday. "I'm staying with my friend Cam here for a bit during my time off, living in their guest house. Wanted to change up the scenery."

He doesn't need to know that you gave your two weeks notice on a whim in the middle of one of the busiest sprints ever for your team. He absolutely doesn't need to know that you have no idea what you're planning on doing with your life, that you're just hoping to stay still for the foreseeable future before you pluck up the courage to try something new.

“You're just treading water,” Camila had said to you. “There's nothing wrong with staying still and letting the tide take you where you need to go.”

Bradley bounces his head in a nod, still wearing those stupid sunglasses. "Well, welcome to Fightertown," he sends an easy grin your way.

You send a tight smile back. "What's going on in your life?" you ask. It pains your every nerve to try and feign interest in his life, but you power through for the sake of being polite.

"Ah y’know, this and that,” he says and waves a bartender over for another beer. “Another corona please, and whatever she’s having,” he holds his hand up to stop you from interjecting at him buying you a drink. “My treat, Buttercup. Anyways, I went to the naval academy after undergrad. Well- tried to." His face sours slightly. "Had some turbulence the first time around, but I enlisted."

“You’re in the Navy?” You ask dumbly, eyeing the rest of his friends behind him in their khakis and returning your gaze to his lack of uniform.

He chuckles. “Buttercup, did you keep any tabs on me at all?” The bartender returns with your drinks, setting Bradley's beer down in front of him and replacing your glass with a fresh minty gin and tonic.

You shrug and take a sip of your drink to hold off on responding. “I didn’t take you to be a sailor.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh that emanates from his chest and makes him catch onto the bar to keep from falling over. You're not sure what's so funny. “Sweetheart, I don’t drive the boats, I just land on them.” Your confused expression remains unchanged. “I’m a pilot. It's different from the Air Force - still part of the Navy. Like I said, we just land on boats in the middle of the ocean rather than land bases. Seriously, Buttercup, you didn’t figure this out from the naval air station on this island?”

He goes on, talking about various deployments and you are trying so hard to hide your growing annoyance at hearing him talk about his accomplishments. Yes, that makes you petty - you can blame it on the fact that you’re currently nursing your depression with your third gin and tonic of the night. “So what, should I call you Sergeant, then?”

His amused gaze never falters. "We don’t have Sergeants in the Navy. And I'm an officer - so that's Lieutenant Bradshaw to you,” he winks.

You nod your head slowly. "Amazing," you manage, feeling a pit form in your stomach that has nothing to do with the alcohol settling in. While you've been off on some crazy Eat, Pray, Love soul-searching adventure (minus the eat, minus the pray, and definitely minus the love), Bradley's more successful and popular as ever and living his best life. And you're not sure what else to say to that without letting on that you envy him, just as you always have.

"Well," he says after a few beats of silence. You shake yourself out of your thoughts. "It was great to see you - we should grab another drink while you're here! You're buying next time though, with your massive STEMinist paycheck and all," he chuckles. You try your best to hide your scowl - it almost sounds like he's mocking you. He drops a couple tens on the bar top and raises his beer bottle in your direction in farewell. "Take care, Buttercup. Hope you find... whatever it is you're looking for here."

Same old Bradley. Making you feel small. Smaller than a tiny mint leaf.

--

At the ass crack of 5AM on Monday, you start your first day at Java Roasters - and unlike the language, there is nothing functional about the shop’s operations. For starters, your mentor didn’t even know you were starting that day.

“Who are you?” A man with the name tag Todd looks over at you scrutinizingly. After you introduce yourself and pull up the long email chain with the manager on your phone detailing your employment details (as well as the confirmation that you were indeed starting today) - Todd takes a step back and bounces his head a few times, deliberating on what to do next.

"Yeah, Nancy mentioned something like this, I just wasn't sure how serious she was about me teaching you the ropes. I'm kidding!" he says, bustling around behind the counter to clear up some space. "Come behind here, I'll uh... show you around."

Todd walks you through some of the basics - where things are located, how to work the register, and where the brewed coffee was. Then, he decides to move onto the 'sinful art of drink crafting' - whatever the fuck that meant. “So here,” Todd spreads out a number of yellowed index cards with various recipes scrubbed on them in faded black ink. “By the end of this week, you’ll have all of these memorized!”

You look up at him with an unimpressed expression. He’s grinning and bobbing his head to some music that must be on a different frequency than the normal human hearing range, because it‘s completely dead silent in the shop. He stops suddenly and frantically looks down at his phone. “I, uh, I gotta take care of something out back. Don’t follow me! But uh, memorize these. Coffee’s already brewed over there.”

“Wait, what if someone comes in? I don’t know how to use these other machines-“

“You’ll be fine! It’s 6AM and we’ve just opened. No one comes in this early, not even the Navy guys. Pretty sure they’ve got their own shop on base. You’ve got this, kiddo!” He rushes the words out and disappears in a hurry. The door to the storeroom slams shut, and you're left alone to sit with the mess of note cards and the heavy smell of coffee beans. You sigh, praying that he won't take long and no one comes in-

The door swings open, the little bell over it tingling mockingly at you. Son of a bitch.

"Good morning!" you call out as cheerfully as you can, back turned as you survey the multiple recipe cards on the counter. Best case scenario, they order a large boring coffee and all you have to do is fill up from the already brewed coffee sitting on the back corner. Please, please be boring.

You turn around to face the customer. "What can I get... " you trail off, immediately recognizing the six-foot-nil mustachioed man in a Navy uniform (still currently sporting a fancy pair of Ray-Bans, might you add). "...You."

Rooster's eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows lifting over his shades.

"Buttercup?"

The familiar, stomach swooping anxiety descends upon you. This could not get any worse - not only are you stuck on this god forsaken island for who knows how long, but your arch nemesis is here and you're forced to take his order, make him coffee like you know how to, and do it all with a bright smile on your face.

Bradley's removed his shades now and he's looking at you with an incredulous expression, eyes darting down to examine your plain brown apron, then up to the name tag where Doug is scribbled messily. "You're working here now?"

You take a moment to compose yourself: regulate your breathing, banish the bad thoughts from your mind. You can go to the back room and cry the moment he steps out the door. No one has to know, least of all Todd. Fucking Todd.

"Yeah," you manage, taking a deep breath and plastering what you hope is a close match to your genuine smile on your face. "What can I get you?"

He looks up at the menu hanging on the wall behind you, furrowing his eyebrows at the tiny print. "Thought you said you were just here visiting?"

You shuffle your feet, crossing your ankles and holding onto the counter top for support. You're not sure you can handle having to explain to him the long version of your story. "Just taking a breather here for some time. As I'm between jobs."

He raises his eyebrows and nods slowly. “Okay. Uh… I guess I’ll have a cappuccino?”

Despite your best attempts to control it, your face falls, and you hurriedly turn around to try and locate the recipe card. “What size?” You try to keep your voice even and blink rapidly to keep frustrated tears from forming. This is humiliating. Stupid Todd probably dealing fucking pot in the back while you’re manning this ship all by yourself. Stupid Bradley ordering a fucking cappuccino like a pretentious dick.

“Um… small.” There’s no way you’ll ever admit to Bradley that you don’t know what you’re doing, so you continue searching through the cards. Briefly, you chance a glance back at Bradley. He's standing attentively, narrowed eyes trained on you with an unrecognizable expression written on his face. You turn back and start sifting through recipes faster.

“You know what,” Bradley says after a few seconds. You halt your movements to look over your shoulder again. He’s now looking down at his phone. “I have to head to base soon anyway - can you make that a small black coffee?”

You exhale in relief as quietly as you can - but you know your whole body relaxes immediately. For the first time ever in your life, you think thank God for Bradley Bradshaw.

“Sure,” you say and grab a small cup with a cardboard sleeve to fill up. “That’s, uh..." a quick glance up at the menu above tells you. "Two dollars.”

“Thanks, Buttercup,” he replies and you immediately scrunch your face in annoyance.

“Never gonna stop calling me that, huh?”

He shrugs shamelessly and laughs. “Feels like nothing's changed. You still make the same annoyed little face.”

“Definitely, nothing has changed,” you agree with a sigh. “You still take pleasure in annoying me so.” You snap a black lid on top of the drink and slide it over the counter. “Two bucks” you remind him.

He smiles easily and pulls a five out of his wallet, pushing it towards you and sliding his glasses back on his face. “Keep the change, Buttercup.” And with that, he raps his knuckles on the countertop and saunters out of the coffee shop with an annoying amount of swagger in his step. You eye the five dollar bill like it’s personally offended you, like it’s the reason you’re in this mess.

“Keep the change, Buttercup,” you mock aloud before gingerly plucking the bill and ringing up the sale in the cash register. What a fucking douche - you don’t need his stupid pity money and his smug attitude and his-

The door to the storeroom behind you opens up and Todd stumbles in, smelling very faintly of marijuana. “Alright. Did any customers come in?” He says, a goofy grin in place. You shake your head, not wanting to have to explain. “Excellent. Now let's start simple. Ever had a cappuccino?”

--

You're almost through a whole week at Java (you now affectionately call it). Once a different, less stoned employee named Britt comes in for her 10:30 shift, you have a much better time learning and picking things up. "Todd definitely doesn't know what he's doing," she had told you. "I don't know why you got stuck with him for training on your first day. Probably because he's the only one who offers to open up, but we all know it's so he can deal out back."

Britt's amazing - she takes one look at the mess of index cards and wrinkles her nose, choosing instead to walk you through making the drinks one by one and talking you through the similarities. You slowly start to get the hang of things, finally able to make a cappuccino without burning yourself on Thursday.

On Friday, Bradley Bradshaw comes sauntering in again at 6:10 AM with his stupid sunglasses and stupid mustache and stupid brilliant smile. As usual, Todd has left you to handle the first thirty minutes after opening by yourself. "Good morning, Buttercup!" he sings, pushing up his glasses and scanning the menu above your head.

You squint at him. "Hi. What can I get you?"

Bradley looks down at your apron, smile widening further when he sees your name neatly written on a clean, laminated name tag instead of Doug. "I see you're settled in."

You rock back on your heels, averting your eyes to look at anywhere but him. "Yep."

He bobs his head idly. "Small latte this time, please," he says, pulling his wallet out. "Piping hot too- Hey! You got any non-dairy shit? Milk makes my gut-"

"Bradley," you cut him off. "Seriously?"

He looks at you like he isn't being the most ridiculous man on North Island. "What? I need my caffeine!"

"What happened to just a regular black coffee?" you ask, still making your way over to the machines to prepare an espresso shot. "We have almond milk, but I'm not doing this extra hot bullshit. You have a Starbucks on base - go to them if you want to burn the roof of your mouth."

Bradley rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively as you begin heating up the milk. "They’re way overpriced. I figured you've had a week to warm up, wanted to come back here.”

You narrow your eyes, finishing off the rest of the drink with an abysmal attempt at a latte heart. Good. You don’t want to give him the wrong idea."What, so you took it easy on Monday and now you’re ready to really test me?"

He shakes his head defiantly. “No, no, I really was in a rush that day! But usually I like my drinks complicated - Todd once told me it’s all about the ‘sinful art of drink crafti’-“

“$5.60. And no ‘keep the change’ bs,” you tell him flatly, ringing up the sale and pushing the drink over to him. Bradley shakes his head in amusement and pulls a card out of his wallet instead of cash.

After he swipes his card, you pull the monitor back before he can choose a tip option (yeah, it’s petty to hold back on it, but it’s just one customer. And you don’t want to fuel his savior complex by letting him tip some egregious amount). Bradley hits you with a “See you around, Buttercup!” before exiting.

You bury your face in your hands.

—

On your weekend off, you binge the entirety of Stranger Things. Not just the newest season - you start right from episode one. You hadn't given yourself time to indulge in any movies or tv shows in the longest time, and after several awkward pauses in conversation with Britt and Todd regarding pop culture references, you took it upon yourself to educate yourself in your downtime (it also has the added benefit of keeping you from falling into a deep pit of depression).

Camila and Cher insist on having you over for dinner most nights during the week - you oblige under the one condition that you cook every now and again. It’s nice to have something social to look forward to in the evenings, and you’re especially happy to be reconnecting with Cam again. You lend an ear to Camila’s qualms about the sexist men at their job and a new hire that can’t seem to grasp the simple concept of pronouns, while the two of them listen to you recap your Stranger Things and Silver Linings Playbook thoughts, all your gripes about having to be in the same city as Rooster (“you’ve always given him such a hard time,” Cam had said to your unimpressed glare), and your deep-seated fear that you’ve made a horrible mistake quitting your job and working as a barista across the country. Typical easy dinner talk.

And it’s not like there’s anything wrong at all with being a barista. And it’s perfectly okay to be changing things up and taking a breather - Camila constantly reminds you that you’re just treading water, that a completely different job during the week might defog your brain. They're absolutely right.

But no matter how many times you tell yourself to just let things be, every night your fear of the unknown strikes deep anxiety in your heart. And every morning, you let the prospect of a new day wash away your worries, and take on your new life with determination.

You're treading water, floating in place in a peaceful ocean. You only hope no malicious rip current sweeps you by the ankles, drags you deeper, tears you away. Or like, a bird doesn’t shit on your face.

—

On Monday, your Bradley-free streak is tragically broken twelve minutes after Java opens at 6. This time, his request is an iced dirty chai latte - you vaguely remember making with Britt last week. You’re tempted to dump an extra scoop of ice into the drink when he interrupts your process with a cheeky “less ice, please!” Instead, you go a step higher on the petty scale and only toss in two ice cubes.

Unfortunately, Bradley finds your move to be downright hilarious as he chuckles the whole time while paying.

+

On Tuesday, he comes in to order a caramel macchiato - with a twist (the twist being a drizzle of chocolate syrup on top. That really should be an abomination).

After he pays, you spin around to busy yourself with the espresso machine to avoid being on the receiving end of his signature goodbye wink. But as soon as the door closes behind him, you turn back around and your eyes are immediately drawn to the tip jar that’s now five dollars richer. You scowl.

+

Wednesday, he's absent. And while you revel in your moments of peace, you still find yourself eying the door the whole time from 6 to 6:30. And even after that, but you tell yourself it’s just a matter of being vigilant.

+

Thursday, he’s back. And you have to say, it’s definitely your breaking point with Bradley’s most absurd request yet. “Hey sweetheart,” you’re not really digging the new nickname. “Can I do a large nonfat matcha latte with some caramel syrup and extra whip? Oh, I know you guys have almond milk but i was thinking of getting some soy action today-”

“Bradley,” you settle a very unimpressed glare on him. “What gives?”

He’s quiet for a minute - furrows his eyebrows in confusion with his hands on his hips. Then, he bursts out into laughter. “I’m sorry sweetheart, just wanted to give you a hard time.”

You level him with a hard stare. Same old Bradley, pulling the same shit he did in college. “You’ve been giving me a hard time. Seriously, are you trying to humiliate me? Is this some kind of sick joke-”

“What are you talking about? I figured it’s just some light hearted teasing between old friends-“

“We’re not friends,” you hiss, gripping the edge of the countertop until the wood digs into your palms uncomfortably. You’re barely containing your anger - it’s just like him to play things off like it’s nothing.

Because it’s important to note that no matter how standoffish you were, no matter how insistent you were on not even giving him the time of day, Bradley still treated you like you were old pals. He did in undergrad and he continues to do it now.

He cocks his head at you. “Wha- I mean… maybe not now, it’s been a while, but we were cool back at UVA!”

You bristle. “No, we weren’t. I hated you then - you made me miserable!”

Bradley’s amused smile drops. Oh fuck - yet another reason you resent Bradley Bradshaw: he’s mastered the Puss-in-Boots look. “You hated me?”

You wave your arms frantically in the air, trying to ignore the sinking feeling his sad expression gives you. “Of course I did! I - fuck! You beat me out in half of our classes, you gave me such a hard time during Spanish presentations, you asked me to formal as a joke. Need I go on?”

“Spanish presentations, I didn’t… what? Formal?” Bradley sputters. You sigh and clench your fists, landing your gaze firmly on the empty tip jar between the two of you.

“Bradley, even now you’re giving me such a fucking hard time just by ordering stupid little drinks that you probably dump the second you step out of here. And I can’t stand all these fucking jokes to just humiliate me and give me a hard time at this new job like you’re making a mockery o-or a fool out of me! Yeah, go on! Laugh it up at the failed engineer!”

Bradley’s mouth hangs slightly open in shock. “Wait, did Apple or whatever fire you or something?”

You feel your heart clench painfully as his words hit. Was it that easy for Bradley to assume there had to be some foul play in your career for you to be standing in front of him at a completely different job? After losing half of your academic battles, after losing the tour guide exec position to him (oh yeah, you still resented him for that, too), after every time he told you to loosen up and “get the stick out of your ass” during frat parties you had been unceremoniously dragged to by your friends - did he think - no, did he always secretly expect - that you were just destined for failure?

You feel small. Smaller than the stray coffee bean that’s sitting on the counter between you two.

Anger has always come easier to you than pain; you throw your hands up in the air and let out a loud groan of frustration. “Oh my fucking god! Bradley! I say this with the utmost sincerity: you were the bane of my existence at UVA. Quite possibly my arch enemy. We were never friends. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d quit making my life so miserable right now!”

He’s staring at you, completely slack jawed now. Then, he picks it up. His jaw muscle tenses slightly. “Fine,” he says tersely. “I’ll leave you be.”

And with that, he gives off a two fingered salute (the audacity, you think furiously to yourself), and makes his way towards the door.

Fuck Bradley Bradshaw.

—

part ii here

Note: full disclosure this fic is kinda inspired by the bs I'm going thru rn but I tried to make it as generic as possible - at the very least I think we all can relate to just pushing ourselves so hard and burning ourselves out and maybe stagnating at one point and wondering where the fuck are we gonna go now??

[kyrartz]

it’s the little heroic moments 🥺🕊️🌟 

oops accidentally turned a painting into a comic lol. Now it’s like one of those chapters in a manga with a special colored page 😅 anyway, booooo pollution

[toy-powerhouse]

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Disappointments: A Brutally Honest Review of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is the most disappointing thing since my son… And, my other three sons, my four sons who also happen to be teenage mutant ninja turtles. You know what they say: life imitates art. Much like my dissatisfying sons, I really wanted to like the series when I stumbled across it, but there was so much lacking in its execution that prevented it from reaching its potential (Editor’s Note: okay, Red Letter Media-esque joke over). Before its release in 2018, there were very vocal Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fans who were skeptical about Rise of the TMNT and many of the changes the series made to established lore. Raphael is the fearless leader, instead of Leonardo; April is Black American as opposed to white like she is in most iterations; and the series is more comedic in tone, unlike other recent adaptations that have an even balance of comedy and drama. I welcomed all the changes to the TMNT formula, and I was eager to see it. Now that I’ve finally finished watching it, I’m left disappointed with it. Before we jump headfirst into why this series can be dissatisfying, I want to preface this to state that many fans treat this series with a certain level of reverence often to the extent of hyper analyzing it. Here, I’m going to give it that sort of treatment, but this time to analyze its shortcomings as a work of fiction.

Bad Comedy, Worse Drama

The major driving force of RotTMNT is its comedy (that acronym is unfortunately very apt). It’s arguably the most comedy-centric animated television series since the 1987 TMNT show. With comedy being the most important quality of the series, the biggest question then is: is it funny? Even ardent dissenters of the show say it’s somewhat funny. As for myself, I’m a person who can find humor even in media that I may otherwise dislike. I’m a simple kind of gal, if it’s funny, then I’ll laugh. With something like RotTMNT, that I did, initially, like, I’d sit patiently waiting for any of the slapstick or quips to make me laugh. Smiling politely at the screen, just waiting, only for me to not laugh or even chuckle before the end credits rolled. So, what’s the problem? Usually, there’s something off about the humor that stops it from being funny. The character’s expressions are too exaggerated or too subdued, sporadic insertion of weak meta or fourth-wall breaking humor, jokes running contrary to canon events or characterization, gags end too abruptly or continue for too long, poor timing of punchlines, poorly directed line deliveries or less than stellar audio mixing (e.g., characters’ speech being difficult to hear from speaking too quickly or quietly), and so on.

Something else that causes the humor to fall flat on its face, is the overreliance on subpar slapstick comedy with lots of pratfalls while mugging for the camera. Too much of Rise of the TMNT relies heavily on characters making goofy faces and acting buffoonish in place of carefully executed comedic scenarios or witty dialogue. There are many children’s cartoons that largely avoid resorting to overusing such low hanging fruit, so RotTMNT cannot be excused for its limited variety in comedic stylings in a bid to appeal to its young target demographic.

The character that best reflects all this bad comedy is arguably, and ironically, the funniest of the turtles: Donatello (no, why’d it have to be the overrated one). Jokes that tend to land often involve Donnie and his funniness seems to be confirmed in-universe when in Season 1, Episode 16, “Shadow of Evil,” Splinter refers to Donnie as being the “funny one.” Because much of the humor is flawed, many of the jokes or gags with Donnie at the center of them don’t stick their landing. Using Donnie, let’s briefly examine how something like inconsistent characterization can break a joke:

LEO: “And Donnie, where’s your . . . your thing, your – emotionless passion?"

DONNIE: "[Head down, speaks very quietly.] Here."

This joke doesn’t work because “emotionless passion” is not something that accurately describes Donnie. He’s a very emotional lad. Even in the context of this episode, he’s a very emotional lad. The very notion of Donatello being “emotionless” doesn’t make sense as it doesn���t align with his baseline characterization. Case in point:

Yup, baseline Donnie is totally emotionless. Look at all that no emotion.

As a result, what could have been a funny joke, is ruined by clashing with what’s been established about Donnie. Were Donnie a more reserved character, it could have been somewhat chuckle-worthy. As is, it's pretty unfunny. While this is only one example of how the humor is off, it’s still very indicative of this issue. Like, I could go on, but this review is getting long enough, and I get the feeling I’ll need to check on my own unfunny teenage mutant ninja turtle sons soon.

Anyway, the only thing worse than RotTMNT’s comedy is the drama. While the comedy of the series very occasionally has its merits, the dramatic cues virtually all fail. For dramatic points in any form of media to be developed successfully, they need time to be set up. In this series, finer plot points don’t get the opportunity to unfold properly and are mostly shoved into the finales. The rush to introduce new dramatic plot elements and quickly wrap them up really depreciates the value of moments that are meant to be heartfelt or intense. Premature cancellation aside, more could have been done to avoid this problem. If the first season had not wasted so much time with bad comedy, the series could have set up crucial stakes and important characters sooner rather than later. The season two finale is especially guilty of rushed, poorly set up melodrama with how they speedrun introducing a key character like Karai only to send her off before we as an audience really got to know her. Speaking of poor set ups, this segways perfectly into my next segment.

Overly Hyperactive Storytelling and Underbuilt Worldbuilding

A common complaint levied against RotTMNT by critics is how fast paced everything about it is, to the point of being downright incomprehensible at times. From the animation to line delivery, the show is HYPERACTIVE, caps locked and bolded for emphasis. This is especially true for fight and action scenes, where all sense of direction is easily lost by how quickly characters, props, and backgrounds move about. It can become grating having to rewind, pause, or even reduce the playback speed simply to understand what happens. Goodness, even my disappointing and rambunctious teenage mutant ninja turtle sons think this show needs to chill.

I’ve taken to referring to the series as being a “memory vampire.” I can watch an episode and almost immediately forget what I have just seen as if RotTMNT is feeding off my memories like a loathsome parasite. I can recall watching episodes from other TMNT adaptations that I saw nearly a decade ago, I remember even the smallest details with ease. But an episode of Rise of the TMNT that I saw last week: I got nothing. Because it’s so much of a whirlwind of pointless action and bad comedy where very little is usually accomplished. I’ve seen fans make light of how Rise of the TMNT is “ADHD the show,” and while true, it’s definitely not a good thing.

If that weren’t bad enough, we also must contend with careless worldbuilding. That issue of ill-advised worldbuilding being most apparent with the Yōkai and their world, the Hidden City. Possibly one of the greatest missed opportunities of this series is how underutilized and underdeveloped the Yōkai are. Despite their species namesake being lifted from yōkai, supernatural creatures from Japanese mythology and folklore, they lack any significant connection with that very specific lore. Most Yōkai we see in Rise of the TMNT, are generic monsters and anthropomorphized animal beings that don’t appear to have any direct relation to traditional yōkai myth. There’s Big Mama, who is a jorōgumo, a nefarious spider creature who often shapeshifts into a beautiful woman to lure in prey, and maybe Mayhem who could be the show’s take on a komainu or lion-dog, those lion-like dog statues positioned at the entrances of Japanese temples and shrines to act as protectors of hallowed ground.

Aside from Big Mama, Mayhem (maybe), and a few others (including one-offs like the dragon yōkai Boss Bruce and his posse and possibly Tummytello, that could be a take on the parasitic yōkai disease, oseichu), there isn’t much Japanese mythology that influences the portrayal of the Yōkai. As a casual yōkai enjoyer, it’s disappointing to see the crew behind the show not make full use of that rich history through explicit representation. Maybe there were concerns about mishandling Japanese culture, but then why invoke the yōkai name in the first place if cultural insensitivity was a concern? Maybe there are more explicit designs or references to Japanese lore that I’ve forgotten to mention, again this show is a “memory vampire,” but even if that were the case, there’s still too much plausible deniability to it all. Regardless, the Yōkai mostly being a hodgepodge of indeterminate ghoulies is distracting and fails to create a more cohesive, immersive world.

Various yōkai that don't seem to make appearances in RotTMNT. This is just a sample of what could have been.

Collective Characterization: Friendless Losers with Unearned Power (cool band name, idk)

This will be less of an in-depth character analysis as much as this segment is a general overview of how the series approaches two things: the turtles’ status as underdog superheroes and their social support network.

Besides disappointing, another word I would use to describe Rise of the TMNT is unearned. For much of the series, our protagonists tend to bumble about, causing almost as many problems as they resolve. In fact, just about every major problem the turtles encounter, is of their own making; from releasing the oozequitos that mutated the denizens of New York to unleashing the Shredder who has villainous ambitions of conquering the world, just about everything can be blamed on them. These aren’t heroes, they’re troublemaking buffoon clowns. These buffoon clowns ultimately get rewarded time and time again for blundering misdeeds that they fix at the eleventh hour. This especially becomes tiring when it’s all nestled in the series’ ad nauseam lesson: the turtles need to focus and take things seriously. Over and over again it’s the same lesson of “get your (pardon my French) merde together.” I’ve seen fans misguidedly try to spin this as the turtles being lovable cringefail, losers, which may have been the case had the series not tried to portray them very earnestly as the ultimate heroes, without a shred of irony or self-awareness. In that way, the show plays itself too safe and yet not safe enough. Instead of a cynical romp with mutant losers with even looser morals, or well-meaning mutants who try their damndest to achieve their noble goals, we get something awkwardly caught in between, unable to commit to either in a satisfying way.

Being the insufferable screw-ups that they are, it’s not surprising that the turtles lack a support network. Friends, allies, helpful acquaintances, or friendly neighbors; doesn’t matter, because these turtles ain’t really got ‘em. In actuality, the series is more about making fiends then friends as almost every character the turtles encounter becomes an antagonist. For a show that seems to pride itself in presenting more positive bonds between the characters, especially the turtles, it’s a little odd, isn’t it? In this regard, it’s hard not to compare Rise of the TMNT to other iterations, because it appears to be missing something inherent to many other adaptations. That something being the turtles desire to form connections with those outside their family unit and, seemingly against all odds, their ability to do so. A common theme throughout the franchise is their pining for meaningful relationships outside themselves and Splinter and how they manage to forge those relationships with other misfits. Rise of the TMNT has virtually no interest in engaging with this theme and, as a result, is left emptier for it.

While there are a handful of characters who do become allies, or even family members (e.g., the redeemed Baron Draxum), they’re largely kept at arm’s length with their loyalty to the turtles at times being, for lack of a better term, “dunked on.” For instance, in the season one finale, “End Game,” the following allies join April and Splinter to rescue the turds, I mean, turts: Bullhop (legit, forgot that dude existed), Frankenfoot (who deserves better than being a sentient punching bag), S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N (who, mind you, is basically Donnie’s son), and Todd Capybara (Splinter x Todd 5ever, fuck Draxum). Only for the quartet to be “humorously” captured immediately and never brought up again in the episode. RotTMNT is so strangely anti-friend/ally that the only relationships given any real weight are virtually all familial with April herself being upgraded from friend to honorary member of the Hamato clan by the end of the series.

The turtles lack a support system outside themselves and it’s not something they ever angst about or that poorly impacts them, despite how integral social deprivation tends to be for the turtles in other iterations. Even the Micheal Bay produced films portrayed that anxiety around being outcasts as worthy of attention, that the turtles are brutally aware of being misfits and that seeking acceptance from the outside world is important to them. This theme doesn’t need to be the focus of every adaptation. However, its absence in RotTMNT does strip from the characters an extra layer of depth and misses out on an opportunity to make them more relatable to members of the audience, especially those who’ve ever felt alienated.

The Cowabunga Conclusion: Let’s take a moment to enjoy our Hot Soup!

Not all of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is disappointing. There are good aspects of the series. The increased presence of female characters. Big Mama, Cassandra “Casey” Jones, and Sunita (Casey x April x Sunita = Caprisun, the best ship 5ever); I <3 these girls! Casey had the most satisfying, fully realized character arc of the series. The turtles get to be more emotionally vulnerable, which definitely is a welcome change. I love that Raph is a proud lover of plushies and other cute things, that’s so adorable. Mikey is explicitly artsy, and as an artist myself, I really appreciate that. It’s been confirmed by a show writer that Donnie is on the autism spectrum. Right on! Leo is gay (that’s not confirmed, I’m just being facetious). RotTMNT has brought a lot of good to the TMNT table. As a result, it breathed new life into the overall franchise and its fanbase. Post-RotTMNT, the wider TMNT fanbase has experienced a bit of a paradigm shift into becoming a more inclusive, safe space. Honestly, I’d say my return to the fandom was all thanks to RotTMNT and its rejuvenating effect on the franchise.

Nonetheless, the series itself is still a raging migraine. I’m only scratching the surface with this. I plan to explore other failings of this series more in-depth in other posts. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie… I’m coming for you… I got a bone to pick with how Draxum’s redemption was handled. The turtles’ deus ex machina mystic powers… Atrocious. The merchandise…

Sometimes a picture, of off-model action figures, is worth a thousand words.

I know I’m not the only one who thinks this series fumbled the ball big time. While executive meddling and lack of support from the network certainly contributed to RotTMNT’s downfall, a good deal of the show’s shortcomings cannot be blamed on those factors. Not the execs, not the airing scheduling, not the marketing, not the audience; the show itself is flawed and that in part led to its premature demise.

The series leaves me disappointed. Very disappointed. Like, Splinter is in “Insane in the Mama Train.”

RAPH: “Puppy dog eyes won’t cut it. [Splinter] isn’t mad, he’s disappointed. We need to make it up to him guys big time.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my teenage mutant ninja turtle sons. I got a text from the unfunniest one, and it seems like they’ve accidentally doomed the universe like the cringefail losers they are. Oh, well. If they fix their mistake in time, I might treat them to some pizza rolls. Cowabunga, dudes and dudettes! 🐢❤️💙🧡💜🥷

[esta-elavaris]

7 and 29!

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I'm a walking stereotype and I end up happy with very little of what I ever write. Which I think all in all is a good thing because it stops me from getting complacent. Like, I think I can string an entertaining story together but I don't think my writing is that sort of prose where you stop and go "oh shit those WORDS tho", y'know? Like you might laugh, you might cry, but there aren't gonna be some majorly profound sentences that you want tattooed on you.

I was pretty proud of this chapter of CTW, though (spoilers ahead!) just because it was such a bastard of a scene to tackle because of the sheer emotion, and I think I managed it in the end. Plus we need more men openly sobbing in fiction.

All this time. When they'd fallen for one another, when they'd planned together, when they'd married. She'd known. She'd carried that burden, and she'd carried it alone. What he hated most was that he could see why she had not told him - for he would have stopped her. If he could go back now and redo it, he would do everything in his power to keep her away. He'd have locked her in their house at Port Royal before departing, and taken his chances out here alone. If he perished as fated, he'd at least do so knowing that she was alive.

But she was not. She's gone. His mind kept repeating it to him, over and over until the sobs that wracked him strained his muscles and the few that weren't so harsh that they were completely silent sounded hoarse and pained even to his own ear - more strained gasps for air than cries. It was wrong. No matter how much his mind stabbed at him with the fact, he could not accept it. The bed in the corner was topped with a red blanket that resembled the colour of her hair much too closely for comfort, and through his blurred vision he kept on thinking it was her. It made no sense, but it made more sense than her being gone. And it was absurd - for he was a soldier. He knew loss. But he'd never known loss like this.

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Listen, I'm not a Solas gal as far as Dragon Age goes, but I would give my left arm for this fic to be finished.

Like I know it's not the same as a prequel/sequel, but I can't remember a finished fic I've read where I felt like the author didn't do a stellar job in wrapping it all up to the point where I thought there was another story's worth of stuff to be said! The talent out there is fckn astounding.

Thank you!! And I'm sorry it took me so long to reply to this - these were tough questions 🫠💜

Ask game.

[im-out-of-mana]

Interpretive comm for @rosiemoo of her gal Xandra <3

Super proud of how she turned out, especially with @pommycore's stellar art to design around <3

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Hiya!

I understand people's frustration with Rammstein sticking with the same supporting act, but honestly, I feel it's the best choice within the context!

It'd be hard to find a band that could fit the specific vibe of the show and be suitable for a stadium audience AND be available for the duration of the tour. Furthermore, I reckon it'd be difficult to find an adequate place for them to perform. The main stage already requires a lot of matienance, and I believe it works better if it remains untouched until Rammstein appear in order to preserve the gravitas of their arrival. The B-stage is simply too small for most bands and plus! Without our piano gals, there can be no Engel sing along!

True, they are not very exciting as a supporting act - they mainly provide beautiful background music as the crowd finishes shuffling in and prepares themselves for the big show but that is all they need to be to be honest. Rammstein has already given us a complex and stellar show - they don't really need a supporting act, and its nice they've given space to an unexpected group.

But that's just my opinion!

All good points actually (although personally i wouldn't mind if the acoustic 'Engel' was exchanged for another sing a long song, but i don't know which one i would like in stead)

Also, although i doubt it is meant in any way as a statement, i think after last year's allegations stuff (which i just found out is still the topic of the first 'popular' post i found when searching Tumblr with the rammstein tag), it's great to have an all-female supporting act 🌺

And it will give me, first time concert goer, time to find where i'm supposed to be before the show starts (current thoughts are about getting lost in the venue and missing the show alltogether, then missing the shuttle bus back) 😄

[sslowdeathh]

Space themed names, pronouns, and titles. Requested by @personisjustrandom.

Names

Altair. Apollo. Cosmo. Atlas. Cielo. Castor. Mars. Orion. Jupiter. Neptune. Caelum. Vesmír. Leo. Nova. Callisto. Jericho. Portia. Cassiopeia. Esther. Juno. Soliel. Orion. Cruinne. Linivè. Pollux. Keid. Vulcan. Cairo. Lennox. Vega. Eclipse. Auren. Ixia. Darrius. Anduin. Sirus. Reva. Leith. Astraea.

Pronouns

Star stars. Space spaces. Gal galaxy. Void voids. Moon moons. Star stardust. Ne nebula. Cos cosmic. Comet comets. Astro astros. Gal galaxy. So solar. Stell stellar. Sky skies. Star starship. Aster asters. Bry bright. Cast castor. Cele celest.

Titles

The stars in the sky. His infinity. The world and more. The constellation. Your guiding light. The boy made of stardust. The boy of the stars. The cold of space. The astronaut / astronomer. The moon. The one that loves to the moon and back. His star-filled heart. The one of stars.

[valaruakars]

Let’s Get Physical (Part 1)

Viktor/F!Reader || 1.8k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW (for now!)

A beefy gal looking for a better place to workout, your friend Jayce invites you over to his home gym. He offers you everything you could ever want: great equipment, great company, and a ridiculously hot roommate that might just hate you. 

A/N: Was this (loosely) a request? Yes. Is this about to be wildly self indulgent? Also yes. Last thing: tytyty @sweatandwoe for providing the header that’s absolutely not jayce. nope. not at all.

It starts simply, as most things do, with a text.

Your phone pings from somewhere in the mess of your bed, and you fish it out to find an unexpected name lighting up the screen.

[Jayce (Talis?), 5:03pm]: Hey! This is kind of random, but Caitlyn told me that you’re not happy with your current gym situation. I get it! Those big gyms are always full of creeps haha! I have a pretty great set up at home and I promise I’m not a creep, so if you’re ever interested in working out together, it’d be cool to have you over. Let me know sometime!

He’s a friend of a friend—just an acquaintance to you—but Jayce has always seemed like a good guy. Truthfully, you’ve always wanted to get to know him better. Met him multiple times through your friend group, and your mutual interest in fitness clearly aligned, but somehow the opportunity to grow your friendship kept slipping through your fingers. Never the right time.

Until now.

You’d give anything to have a more private space to work out in without the prying eyes of men who, at best, stare through your squat set or, at worst, ‘just want to help’ by approaching unsolicited about your lifting form or your workout plan. Assholes, the lot of them. You know what you’re doing and you’re sick of being treated otherwise. Sick of paying to be uncomfortable and skipping workouts out of dread.

It’s a bonus that you’d get to spend more time with Jayce. He has a stellar reputation, known for being a supportive, giving person and pretty hilarious to drink with. Nobody’s ever called him a creep, even drunk, and it makes you feel even better knowing that he has a girlfriend too.

You don’t hesitate to respond.

[5:05pm] Hi!! Not random at all, thank you for offering :) If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to take you up on that. I’ve always wanted a workout buddy and a home setup sounds way better than where I’m at now.

Hitting send is the easiest thing you’ve done all day.

The hardest is waiting for him to respond.

It’s not immediate, letting your excitement slowly sour into anxiety. Maybe he thought you’d say no? Maybe you shouldn’t have sounded so eager? Did he think you were desperate?

You might be.

Just a little bit. 

You’re not particularly interested in joining the women’s boxing gym with Cait and Vi, which up until now has been your only decent alternative. Nothing against them! But it’s expensive, and a good lifting to cardio ratio has always been your preference. 

About twenty five minutes later, the text tone sounds in your lap and his name finally lights up the lock screen again. You scramble to unlock it.  

[Jayce (Talis?), 5:24pm]: Short notice, but would you want to come tonight? I’m thinking around 7.

Before you could move your fingers to respond, another text came through.

[Jayce (Talis?), 5:24pm]: Vi might come too. Not 100% sure yet.

Playing it cool, you force yourself to wait a few minutes. All of which is spent staring at the message, formulating the perfect casual response. You settle on:

[5:30pm] Sounds great! Tell me where to go and I’ll be there :)

An hour and a half later, you find yourself dressed to sweat, pulling up to the address he’d sent. 

It’s a well-kept house in a pretty nice neighborhood. Not far from you either—about twenty minutes when the traffic’s light. Bigger than you expected, definitely, with two cars in the driveway. 

Neither of which belong to Vi.

You pick one to park behind and, as you kill the engine, consider that it would’ve been more polite to park on the street instead.

“Oh well,” you sigh, rife with nervous energy. Too late.

He’s seen you.

It’s not as if you could sneak up on him. The garage door is wide open, giving you a distant glimpse of the ‘great set-up’ he promised. Of him, with a huge, welcoming grin and an enthusiastic wave after he sets down two colossal dumbbells on the floor, thickly padded out over the concrete slab. He’s wearing the shortest neon shorts you’ve ever seen on a man, but hey, to each their own. Certainly makes his thighs look like tree trunks, if that’s what he’s going for.

His breezy, upbeat demeanor is contagious. You feel the part of you that is thrilled for the opportunity take control, practically bounding up the driveway, gym bag slung over your shoulder, to greet him. Your smile brightens; you feel it keenly in your cheeks as you wave back.

“Hey, welcome!” he says, meeting you at the wide open threshold. Hardly a bead of sweat on his brow—yet.

“Good to see you, Jayce! I really appreciate the invite.”

He goes in for a casual hug, like you’ve known each other for years—plural. Not just one and some change as two ships passing. “No problem,” he grins, giving you a good-natured squeeze. “Happy to share.”

You return it easily, pleased to be treated like a familiar friend, before you’re rocking back on cushioned heels and peering around his broad frame. Curious to see, and there was a lot to take in.

From first glance alone, this man owns two mid-line treadmills, a water rower, and a decidedly ridiculous range of benches and weights. Kettlebells, dumbbells, weight plates—you name it, he has it. Not to mention the fully mirrored wall and a sound system you can faintly hear, turned down in the background. Remixed pop music, very dynamic and bass-heavy. The iron-grated industrial fan was a pleasant touch too, grateful for it already in the lingering summer heat.

“You really weren’t lying… This is pretty extensive.” 

Not to mention, expensive.

“You think so? It’s been a work in progress for a while.”

“I mean, is there anything you don’t have?” you gawk, stepping clear around him to stand side by side.

The smell hits you, then, of rubber and metal and some lemony-scented cleaner. Refreshing, if only because it’s nothing like the humid scent of stale sweat you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s still cluttered from the sheer variety of equipment, but everything has its place—like a well kept sanctuary, you can tell. 

Jayce sounds almost sheepish, all in that nervous little laugh that skitters out of him as he says, “Well, uh, I still haven’t installed the TRX straps yet. Need to find a strong enough anchor point in the wall, y’know? And I’ve been meaning to recalibrate—”

But you’ll hear nothing of it.

“Stop that, I was kidding!” You give his barrelling arm a well-meaning nudge of your shoulder, offering a smile meant to reassure. “This is seriously incredible, you’ve curated a lot of great equipment. What’s the membership fee? I’m pretty interested in joining.”

His shoulders relax, though you hadn’t noticed until then how tense he is. 

It’s surprising that he isn’t more confident in the space he’s offering. Makes you wonder who or what he could possibly be comparing it to. 

Probably some rich, frivolous influencer with a home gym and handful of sponsorships.

Which checks out, knowing Jayce stays active on his socials. He’s always posting videos of his workouts and very stereotypical mirror flexes, though you try not to judge him for it. It’s not from a place of douchebaggery—he’s just having fun with it. 

Maybe you’ll be brave enough to post one some day, too.

Jayce nudges you back, taking a step inside that invites you to follow. “It’s free if you’re nice and always put your weights back when you’re done with them. Helping me clean is negotiable, but I’d appreciate it.” 

Easy enough and very generous. You could probably stand to grab him coffee or take out from time to time, as a thank you. 

“My only hard and fast rule is no heavy barbells without a spotter, but otherwise I’m not worried. Cait gave me the impression that you know what you’re doing.”

“Wait… Then who spots you?” you wonder aloud, looking at the conical rack of weight plates—as small as two and a half, all the way up to fifty pounds. “If you lift as heavy as I think you do, I definitely won’t be able to save you from getting crushed, sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugs, “Vi has that covered when she comes by.” 

When you look back toward the driveway, as if she might pull up at any moment, that uneasy edge creeps back into his voice. “Oh, yeah, by the way… She’s actually not coming tonight. Something about dinner plans, I think. Did you, uh, still want to stay though?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” you ask, finally noticing a characteristic of his body language that is, well, interesting. 

It’s the way his shoulders aren’t tense, but hunched to the effect that he seems smaller, if that’s even possible. Non-threatening, you realize, and it clicks just how much Caitlyn must’ve said about your bad experiences with men at the gym.

He really is a sweetheart. His girlfriend is very lucky.

“I dunno… I just thought you’d be more comfortable if she was here.”

“That’s really considerate, Jayce, but I’m fine. More than fine. I’m really excited for this and feeling pretty good about it.” You drop your bag on the floor for emphasis that, ‘yes, I am staying, no getting rid of me now,’ in a spot that’s hopefully out of the way. “Can I have the new member tour now?”

“Awesome, let’s do it,” he says, clapping his hands together in that oh-so-familiar, now endearing, gym bro sort of manner. “Oh uh, yeah! We can start with where to actually put your stuff.”

That’s how you find out in quick order that you’ll want for nothing here. You can cancel your old membership without an ounce of regret. Everything you need is in that garage—great equipment, great company, and twenty-four hour access, though you aren’t one to pump iron at three in the morning.

All that, and more still. 

You hadn’t known before, but Jayce has a personal training certification that he got some years back. He mentions it in passing, as if it’s no big deal. Offers to help you plan workouts to meet your goals if you want, but no pressure. 

You’re going to take him up on it, of course. Time permitting.

Throughout the workout with Jayce, inclines on the treadmill and an intense leg day—or rather, evening—with weights interspersed, you start to wonder what part of this is too good to be true.

You come up short by the time it’s dark and you, drenched in sweat and sore to the bone, are leaving with the promise to come back soon and his garage code stored in your phone.

But you see something then, as you stand at your open car door. Right out of the corner of your eye as you wave a final goodbye to Jayce, the garage door slowly rolling closed over his bright, sweaty, smiling face. Something you aren’t sure what to think about, but you know what you saw. It’s not your imagination.

The blinds on a dimly lit far window snaps shut as you move to get into your car. Not fast enough to escape your notice, though you see no more movement after that. Just a steady glow from the windows, washing the white stucco siding in shades of warm yellow light.

It reminds you of the reason you came here in the first place.

You hate feeling watched.