#but it keeps getting delayed so its been a real struggle

[echoingkarma]

Now that Celestial Syzygy is over I notice I'm getting more comments of people just saying they read the whole thing and enjoyed it and stuff, sometimes they have more depth to them too, describing what parts / themes they like

Makes us really happy. Thanks to everyone who reads our silly little writings and looks at our silly little drawings

[littleplantfreak]

Dicentra

Umemiya Hajime x Reader

1700+ words

All aboard the angst train! I'll be your conductor. Please keep all your hands, feet, and hearts within the car at all times! (Read the CWs!)

Cw: Character death (implied), Thalassophobia (if you don't like the ocean this isn't for you dude), Heart Disease/Heart Attack, Animal death maybe? There's a one line comment. Angst without comfort

Thank you @hvlcy0n for helping me with the title, and i'm sorry if it makes you sad. Also I read and edited it like twice so if the sentence doesn't make sense, or there's a typo I will be alright.

A delayed honeymoon with an unhappy ending. That's it for synopsis.

Life is a lot like the ocean. It ebbs and flows, pulling you from the place you once were. You can feel the otherworldly tug even if you bury your feet and hunker down, never able to figure out if you've managed to stay in place long enough to catch your breath. Sometimes, when a wave large enough comes along, it knocks you off your feet, rolling you across the coarse floor. Breathing is no longer a choice as you struggle, and salt covers your tongue before it seeps down your throat.

The ocean today, though? Today, the sun bathes you in warmth as the water soothes itself against the coast. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect week to spend your honeymoon here.

When you and Hajime first got married, there was no time for a real trip. Right in the midst of summer, when the community greenhouse he ran was in full bloom, and your work insisted there was no way for you to take off enough time to properly travel anywhere, marital bliss was enough to keep you more than satisfied, and it still is! But your husband insists this is necessary for both of you to take time for yourselves, says it's actually a crime for him to have taken this long to spoil you the right way. He's been acting kinda funny, so you've chalked it up to the stress he's had to endure to make sure everything was squared away before you both came here.

The sundress you're wearing is just for him, the color he loves best on you blowing in the cool breeze, lifting it higher on your thighs, and he's watching that more than the scenery around you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." You're teasing him because he's been taking photos nonstop since you arrived a few days ago.

"Shoot! You're right," he says, patting the pockets of his shorts only to come up with a hand full of shells that he's been collecting during your walk along the beach. "Shellfish of me to be keeping this view to myself, huh? Need to show everyone how pretty my wife is," and he stresses the word wife like he always does; it's liquid warmth that makes its way past the barriers you'd put up long ago as if they were never there in the first place. Only because it's him, you think, because if it had been anyone else, you wouldn't be nearly as smitten or prone to tears when his words hit the spot in your chest that makes you breathless.

"Mr.Umemiya forgot his camera? How careless," you tut, walking up to him and tugging on both sides of his open shirt, the same one you wore to bed last night. "Looks like we might have to go back to our room and look for it. Maybe it's under the covers?" You ask innocently, or as innocently as you can pretend to be. For a second, his expression is one of confusion as he tries to figure out if you're being serious. The look in your eyes must've clued him in because his big beautiful smile spans the length of his face, almost blinding you in the process.

"You know what? I think I did leave it there. Sorry to make you walk all this way out here without it, lovey, mind if we go get it?" And before you can answer, he's hoisting you up into his arms as easily as he has any other day. You're carried far past the umbrella you set up earlier and even further along the trail of tall grass that lead towards your small beach house. He huffs a little, easing you to your feet on the hardwood, and you pat him on the chest.

"I know you're getting older, so you might wanna take it easy with lugging me around everywhere." You smile.

He gasps, offended by your suggestion just like you thought he would, "Never. If I had it my way, I'd carry you 24/7."

"If I had it my way, you'd never leave our bed again."

"I might be able to arrange that," he murmurs, drawing you in as he plops down onto the edge of the bed. Sitting sideways on his lap, you thread a hand through his hair before taking a good look at him. Still handsome as ever, your gaze traces the shape of his lips and the dip of his nose, trailing a way to the scar on his eyebrow, years old but still a vivid reminder of the past. When you settle on those light eyes of his, you frown. Were the circles under his eyes always so dark? His own gaze smothers you half loving, half exhausted, sending a prick of anxiety down your spine.

"Why don't we nap first? I'm a little tired from walking earlier," you lie, and it burns, but it's a necessity when you know he'll try and perk up if you were to say he looked tired, making light of it and showing you just how awake he can be.

He's thrown for a moment because the words coming out of your mouth aren't sounding quite right. He shakes it off with an easy smile, maneuvering you both up higher on the bed, and he grabs the blankets to wrap over you before throwing his leg across your hip, pinning you so you're face to face with him. "This alright?" he asks.

"Better than alright." Snuggling closer, he's practically surrounding you, and it eases the earlier nervousness out faster than it came.

_____

You can't see the ocean from where you're at in the field. It's a shame because it would've made a stunning picture. Still, the one you got of Hajime and yourself sitting on the bench near an ancient oak tree, wild flowers spanning across the background for miles was just as good.

His arm was thrown loosely over your shoulder, wind whirling the strands of his hair as he smiled and laughed with the old man who took the picture for you. It's your last day here before you go home, and you've taken it easy after that last day at the beach. Stretching up, you take in everything for what it's worth, trying to commit it all to memory. Sure, you have plenty of photos and videos taken, but you'll never feel this specific way on this specific day ever again.

As you soak up the tranquility, he asks if you want a drink. No sooner do the words sounds great come out of your mouth than he shoots up and tells you to wait there for him. It's only a jog down the road. You go to get up, but the insistence that you relax pushes your legs to sit once more, heaving a sigh at his doting.

Ten minutes go by, but he could just be chatting with the person at the farm stand. He has a bad habit of bringing out the extra long stories when he's in a good mood, usually leaving you to be the one dragging him away. Twenty minutes has the pebble in your throat feeling like a rock, kinda like the ones Hajime can grab with his toes in the the sand under water. The first time he showed you the trick you called him monkey toes and laughed till he splashed you in the face calling you Mrs. monkey toes. When you start the walk, you feel the pull of a wave on your legs. The ambulance siren is drowned out by the water in your ears.

_____

If he had to describe you with one word, Umemiya Hajime would know immediately what to say. Strong. Stronger than he is, even if you didn't believe it. It was hidden and yet plain to see, often being mistaken for something else. You complimented each other so well that he doesn't imagine a time when he'd have to be without you. He is without you right now, digging for his wallet as he approaches the farm stand he's spent an hour at a couple days ago, talking to the couple who ran it and gushing over their produce before showing pictures of his own garden and greenhouse.

He'd be lying if he said the pressure in his chest didn't bother him, but he could push through it. It's not like he was unaccustomed to pain given his background, and he has to wait for the results of the tests the doctors ran a few weeks ago before he starts stressing over how to tell you there's something wrong with his heart. It doesn't sound right. It's the heart he loves you with, loves the town with, and loves his siblings with. So saying there's something wrong with it, though logically he knows there's a difference, is hard to believe.

What's harder to believe is that the world has spun on its axis, gravel cutting into his arm though he just barely feels it over the pounding in his ears and chest. He recalls at this moment the fact that animals hide when they're sick and ailing, and briefly wonders if that's what this was. Deep in the back of his mind was he trying to spare you the stress of what was about to happen? He would've made the decision regardless, but there must be some comfort in it.

Try as he might, the screeching cacophony of noise and light that was once normal sensation only furthers his stomach's twists and turns. He can feel a breath ripped from his lungs, and then everything starts to get a little hazy. He feels the sun on his face, hears the bubbling of the ocean, and for a moment, he's at the beach with you.

Sometimes life is like the ocean. Sometimes, a riptide pulls your legs from under you and drags you deep beneath murky depths, panic causing you to sink only further and further, light swallowed up just like you. If you manage to surface, you're exhausted. If.

Can you see the hand slipping up past water's edge, grasping at air to be pulled up? You thought the ocean wasn't that close, but the cold laps at your legs even before you get to the farm stand. The world dull and gray like far off waves surrounds you when you see your husband being put into the ambulance, usually warm skin tone mimicking the same water that seems to drown you.

[kawarikisaki]

Okay! So with the new case finished up I'm ready to talk into the void about it.

Starting with the fact that this case has made me reevaluate how strong Hakuba is.

Cause I have always thought of him as being somewhat strong, but lo and behold he can just lift a whole Kaito and keep him on his shoulder for several minutes (it was six pages, and most of it was dramatic deduction time, which is usually not particularly fast dialogue) without any signs of being encumbered by the weight. He does adjust position a few times (his hand moves between panels so either he's adjusting or he's rubbing Kaito’s ass, I'm eating well as a Hakukai shipper but I'll take the innocent explanation) but there’s no sweat, no wince, no commentary about Kaito being heavy. Like, yeah, a fireman's carry is an effective way to carry a person. However, the average person is still going to struggle to lift someone that's a similar size to themselves.

Also, while im sure his assertion that he was going to walk him to the police station was just him being cheeky and bantering... he didn't seem to have any intention to put him down any time soon. I'd like to think that he was waiting for Kaito to call him out on it then make his escape, but if Kaito hadn't he'd have probably kept it up till the deduction was done then walked over to Nakamori-keibu and said something like, "this is Kid by the way, can you handle him from here?"

Anyway... Hakuba strong actually? I have decided to think so.

Can I just say I love all the little faces they make at each other? All the bois, not just Kaito and Hakuba. Granted, the character interactions and shifting dynamics have always been my favorite part of dcmk.

But like....

Hakuba bending down to talk to Conan. Kaito looking to proud of himself when he pulls out the 'hey did you consider it could actually be suicide?' While Conan’s in the background like 'oh shit oh shit oh fuck'. Conan and Kaito both thinking they had Ran Convinced, but she was sus.

Speaking of sus, I think Hakuba figured Conan out.

Sure, that last page had him back off from it and be like, "You got in contact with Shinichi and had him help." And that explaination works but... its an explanation that just makes less sense the more you think about it.

Even if I give the benefit of doubt it doesn't make sense to do it the way Hakuba explained, because if Conan contacted Shinichi to help then why would Conan be acting as the middle man? It'd introduce unnecessary delay to have Shinichi hear what's happening via phone, then Shinichi tell Conan his response, and Conan bowtie it to Kid, and Kid say the lines. (Realistically speaking the way they actually did it should also have this problem, but adding a step like this when in theory its completely unnecessary to have Conan as the middle man beyond just contacting Shinichi is just going to imcrease the delay.)

That said I can actually kind of see how that could be a conclusion he reached from this interaction:

Hakuba, at this point, knows that Shinichi is Kid and that Conan is helping him by supplying lines, but he hasn't figured out the details. So when he notices that Conan reacts before 'Shinichi' that's him reaching that conclusion that he brings up later about Conan being so invested that he was mimicing Shinichi’s expression and attitude.

I don't think he fully believed that, though.

Looking at the information that we know he had:

1. 'Shinichi' is Kid (and also Kaito Kuroba using his real face)

2. Conan is supplying Kid with lines.

3. The lines Kid is saying are from the real Shinichi.

4. Conan gets worked up if you say something that Shinichi would be worked up about

5. Conan has gadgets. (Hakuba is at least aware of the bowtie having speaker/microphone function, bit arguments could be made that he’s aware of the voice changer and also the sleep needles from the events at sunset mansion)

6. (Bonus) In a previous case Hattori had been upset with Hakuba being the representative 'detective of the east' but was completely fine with Conan taking that role.

I think he figured out that Conan was Shinichi, but that he wasn't certain until he brought up 'the real Shinichi' during the deduction and saw Conan begin to panic. I think he had mentioned it purely to get a rise out of Conan and see how he would react, and upon getting his answer he played along and gave Conan an out to jump on because if he exposed him here he wouldn't get the answers as to how this had happened.

And I feel like this read of is is reinforced by his final lines expressing that he understands why Shinichi/Conan would help Kid for the sake of solving the mystery because it's a detective’s nature. Hakuba gets it because he’s doing the same by helping Conan get away with his deception in hopes that doing so will help him get answers to the mystery.

Thats how I've decided to view things anyway, though it is possible that im partially blinded by my hope that he continues to be relevant.

[caffstrink]

do you have any tips on how to live off as artist professionally?

First of all art isn't always a viable option depending where you live. The only reason ive been able to live off art is because the american dollar is worth 5x more than the brazilian real so even if i didn't get many comms i could still get by with the few i had. and if that wasn't the case I'd pretty much be eating breadcrumbs off the floor like a pigeon.

1. Whore yourself out and draw fanart of every popular or trending thing to gather attention to youe art

2. Learn your platforms: learn how each websites algorithm works, learn what are the best hours to post, etc

3. I cannot stress enough how important it is to find your niche

4. Everyone is fake no one wants to be your friend, other popular artists will start following you the moment your following becomes good enough. They'll start to interact with you too and want to become mutuals in order to share followings/traction. If you can play into that you can get them to share your stuff as well, but honestly don't fall for it bc most of them shittalk other artists on their privs or personal servers and the stress isnt worth it

5. Draw nsfw if possible/if you're comfortable with. People who commission porn pay well and they often have very few options when commissioning stuff bc most artists don't accept porn commissions.

6. Accept being an artist is a hard job that doesn't pay really well. If you're freelancing on comms life's always going to be a tightrope, so i suggest trying to do professional work once in a while so you can at least have the security of a salary. Draw backgrounds, gestures, scenes, studies, and the likes, bc those are what companies will want in your portfolio

7. Depending where you live it's extremely hard to live off as an artist, and being an artist is often means a very difficult struggle with finances. It's a job that requires passion, and more often than not turning art in a job causes creative burnout and complete loss of spark for it. Ask yourself: why do you want to be a professional artist? Isn't it better to keep it as a hobby? Maybe a side gig if you need money? You can still pursue art even if you don't do it to earn money, and it doesn't make you any less of an artist. It's a difficult job, and you need to understand its not going to be viable at all times and sometimes you'll have to throw in the towel and do something else to survive and there's 0 shame in that.

8. Be professional and courteous with your clients. Don't be a doormat, but don't go around ghosting people or being passive aggressive or taking them for granted and never deliver any product. Doing art for money is a JOB. Treat it like such. Inform your clients about delays, or any issues that may come up.

9. Take care of yourself and by that i mean eat decent food, exercise your arms, get 8 hours of sleep and get some sun (or take vitamin D periodically if youre a basement dweller). This isn't some self care uwu shit, it's actual science that your body is a machine and not providing what it needs to function leads to issues, and some of those issues include affecting your mental health, and mental health issues include and are not limited to: anxiety, depression, burnout, loneliness, feeling like your art sucks, feeling unmotivated, feeling like you're a failure, etc. Same with physical: for the love of GOD you DON'T want wrist issues. You dont want carpal or ulnar nerve entrapment. Don't draw 24/7. Don't push yourself either. If youre feeling shitty its time to STOP. Just picture a shitty graphics card trying to run minecraft with 5 shaders and 10 mods at once on fullscreen with 60 fps. Thats you. Youre the graphics card

10. Don't be a bitch, don't get involved with drama. Can't be an internet artist if you get cancelled so don't try to start shit at any point in time. Don't be a shit person.

And from the top of my head thats it, hope you like eating plain bread 🍞

[rayspookyhistory]

ᡣ𐭩 Poisons in novels ᡣ𐭩

sorry for the late post, ive been busy sorting my room and figured id get a simple post before a social event this weekend :3

Poison has been a pervasive element in historical novels, captivating readers with its dual nature of subtlety and lethality. Its allure in literature can be attributed to its rich symbolism, its capacity to shape plotlines with intrigue and suspense, and its reflection of historical realities and human psychology.

In historical novels, poison often symbolizes betrayal, corruption, and the dark underbelly of human dynamics. Unlike other forms of violence, poison operates in the shadows, representing the covert machinations that often underlie historical events. It embodies the insidious nature of treachery, as it can be administered by those closest to the victim, highlighting themes of distrust and paranoia. This symbolism is potent, offering readers a lens through which to explore the darker aspects of human nature and societal structures.

For instance, in Alexandre Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo," poison symbolizes the ultimate betrayal. The character Madame de Villefort uses poison to eliminate those who stand in her way, demonstrating how poison can be a tool for personal ambition and revenge. This act of poisoning underscores the theme of treachery and the moral decay that accompanies the pursuit of power.

Plot Device for Intrigue and Suspense

Poison serves as a powerful plot device in historical novels, driving narratives with its inherent mystery. Its delayed effect allows for complex story arcs where suspicion, investigation, and dramatic revelations unfold. The use of poison can create tension and suspense, as characters seek to uncover the perpetrator before it is too late. This gradual build-up keeps readers engaged, as they are drawn into the puzzle of who, how, and why, mirroring the investigative processes in real historical events.

For example, in Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose," poison plays a crucial role in the plot, creating a series of mysterious deaths that propel the story forward. The slow unraveling of the truth behind the poisonings adds layers of depth to the narrative, intertwining historical, philosophical, and theological themes. The intricate details of how the poison is administered and the subsequent deaths create a labyrinthine mystery that engrosses readers.

Historical Accuracy and Realism

The use of poison in historical novels often mirrors actual historical events, lending authenticity and realism to the narratives. Throughout history, poison has been a tool of assassination and political maneuvering. Historical figures such as Lucrezia Borgia and Catherine de Medici have been famously associated with the use of poison, cementing its place in the annals of history as a weapon of choice in power struggles.

In Robert Graves' "I, Claudius," the depiction of the Roman Empire is rife with poisoning plots, reflecting the historical accounts of Roman emperors and their courts. This realism not only grounds the novel in a believable past but also educates readers about the intricate and often brutal realities of historical power dynamics. Poison, in this context, becomes a symbol of the precariousness of life and power in ancient Rome, where a drink or a meal could be a harbinger of death.

Reflection of Human Psychology

Poison in historical novels also delves into the psychological aspects of fear, control, and vulnerability. The threat of poison taps into primal fears of being harmed in unsuspecting moments, making it a tool of psychological as well as physical domination. Characters who wield poison often do so to assert control, manipulate outcomes, and instill fear, reflecting real-world psychological tactics used by those in power.

In Shakespeare's "Hamlet," the use of poison is not just a physical act but a psychological weapon that drives the protagonist to madness and despair. The poisoned cup and the poisoned sword symbolize the pervasive corruption and moral decay within the Danish court, illustrating how poison can metaphorically represent the degradation of the soul. The psychological torment that Hamlet endures due to the poisoned state of Denmark mirrors the physical effects of actual poison, creating a profound interplay between the mental and physical realms.

Case Studies of Poison in Historical Novels

In "The Count of Monte Cristo," poison is used as a weapon of vengeance and ambition. Madame de Villefort, driven by greed and a desire for power, uses poison to remove obstacles in her path. Her actions not only drive plot forward but also highlight the themes of corruption and moral degradation. The meticulous planning and execution of her poisonings add layers of suspense and intrigue to the story, engaging readers in a complex narrative of revenge and justice.

Robert Graves’ "I, Claudius" presents a vivid portrayal of the Roman Empire, where poison is a common tool for political maneuvering. The novel depicts numerous historical instances of poisoning, reflecting the cutthroat nature of Roman politics. The use of poison in the narrative serves to underscore the precariousness of power and the constant threat of betrayal. This historical accuracy enriches the novel, providing readers with an authentic glimpse into the brutal realities of ancient Rome.

Shakespeare’s "Hamlet" uses poison both literally and metaphorically to explore themes of corruption and moral decay. The poison that kills King Hamlet sets off a chain of events leading to the unraveling of the Danish court. The climactic scene, where multiple characters are poisoned, symbolizes the culmination of the court’s corruption and the ultimate destruction it brings. The psychological impact of the poisonings on Hamlet reflects the broader existential questions of life, death, and morality that pervade the play.

The prevalence of poison in historical novels is a testament to its multifaceted role as a symbol, plot device, and reflection of historical and psychological realities. Its ability to evoke themes of betrayal, suspense, and the dark aspects of human nature makes it an enduring element in literature. Through the lens of poison, historical novels explore the complexities of power, fear, and morality, offering readers a gripping and thought-provoking experience. The subtlety and lethality of poison make it a uniquely powerful tool in the hands of novelists, allowing them to craft stories that resonate with the enduring themes of human history and psychology.

please dont go poisoning people :)

[anthonybialy]

Truth and/or Consequences

Israel getting attacked for minding its own business offers as easy a statement about good and evil as it gets.  Naturally, the left is confused.  Baby decapitators didn’t mean to provide such an easy choice.  That’s Hamas and not Israel, for the record, which seems odd to those who claim to seek justice while doing everything they can to undermine it.  Excusers for devilishness can’t be double agents, as that would take craftiness.  Observations based in truth perplexes them the most.  They can’t determine who good guys are but surely get everything right otherwise.

The same shrewd assessors of character who thought professional serial killer Andrew Cuomo was a prophet struggle to discern who’s right and wrong in a war where bloodthirsty intruders slaughtered anyone they could find who was Jewish.  Struggling with trivialities like facts shouldn’t deter the pursuit for righteousness, so keep lecturing a country about avoiding inflicting casualties as it carefully targets those who did the precise opposite.

Fish don’t spot water.  The inability to perceive truth is not a new delusion, which is why sufferers are unaware they keep committing violations.  The same thorough reality fans urge you to enjoy a purring economy where you can buy every single item desired thanks to inflation’s irrelevance.  Spot those who get experiments wrong by how they profess a belief in science.

A righteous entity fighting for self-preservation is ordered to delay with temperance by every smug lecturer who sees violence without bothering to check who went first.  The type is crucial, too, as in how massacring festival attendees differs from collateral damage when attempting to eliminate festival attendee massacrers.  There will be a ceasefire after every single Hamas operative has been sent to their eternal destination.  They will be the only virgins.

As with the rest of liberalism, the fantasy works right up until something happens.  Drama junkies have announced what they’d do if faced with a holocaust more frequently than vegans proclaim they CrossFit.  They meant freaking out when Donald Trump ran off his mouth.  By contrast, a mass extermination of Jews doesn’t move them.  The Hamas Reich-inspired mobile extermination camp is as obvious a clue as possible, which is why they missed it.

Leftists must decide if they’re indifferent to rampant terror murder in the Jewish state, happy those they insanely and diabolically deem to be persecutors are suffering losses, or sad at the imaginary assault on Palestinian orphans that faces the technical difficulty of never happening.  They’re accustomed to depriving options, which is why they’re baffled by choice.

Evidence of atrocities in real time is insufficient for self-proclaimed science fans.  Seeing a free country attacked prompted reactions ranging from unprompted dubiousness to collaborator-style victim-shaming.  This whole global network of sharing information on glowing pocket screens should shame them, and they instead find other awful idiots to amplify their lies about the world.  Foes of civilization use instant communication to believe the Hamas Truth Squad claiming Israel cavalierly flattened a hospital.

People who know they’re better than you are divided between lecturing about how both sides are responsible and thinking the victim asked for it.  The very nuanced approach to crime blames burglars and homeowners for burglary.  Announcing the homeowner deserved it for hoarding resources that perpetuate inequality is the new complex approach to fighting lawbreaking by allowing it.

Settlers usually look for something useful, which renders the whole narrative of Israel ripping off land.  There’s a strange fixation on possessing an otherwise worthless strip in a lousy neighborhood.  Terror enablers didn’t want until Jews had it.  Anyone with a simpleton of a sibling who dealt with jealousy over an item that would go unwanted were it not possessed by a nemesis.  Extending rights to everyone within its boundaries must be part of their trickery.

Pretending the only tolerant country in the area is a terror state like America where everyone who’s not the preferred race or religion gets routinely repressed is a reflex for those who cheer from afar for the crudest Gaza-originated rockets.  They’re not going to show support in person, as Yasser Arafat’s intellectual descendants don’t allow rainbow flags for some reason.

Wanting to be left alone is the most horrifying notion possible to liberals.  A philosophy that doesn’t allow for dangerous concepts like doing your own thing is horrified by Israel sitting there and not bothering anyone.  American business proprietors sympathize.

Nagging Israel comes naturally to meddlers.  Not content with hassling successful entrepreneurs and law-abiding gun owners domestically, professional busybodies also look to irk abroad.  The annoying tendency get exponentially sinister when they ally with nefarious forces who won’t let that one Jewish republic just exist. 

The one religion that’s been persecuted more than any other sadly knows nothing on this rotten globe changes.  Accusing Judaism of colonial cruelty is nothing new to a faith that routinely gets blamed for global ills.  Wanting to live on their terms without hassling others is the conspiracy that’s true.

Twisted lectures about their need to protect civilians while pursuing human demons who actively targeted their own is merely a manifestation of wanting desperately to believe the wrong and awful thing.  If that doesn’t make sense, you understand the left.  It’s uncanny how readily professional Jew-haters wanted to believe Israel is dying to commit war crimes.  The only thing missing is actuality.

Wrongly accusing Israel of awful things truly being done to it sums up its sane and decent foes.  Seething loathing of an innocent nation valiantly fighting against the obviously guilty is not merely anti-Semitism, although palpable contempt for Judaism shows how ugly bigotry remains even as society’s trappings get prettier.

Israel represents the West, which is what genuine villains think is villainous.  Brutality’s enthusiastic defenders express a vague sense that Israel is nothing but a band of invading oppressors, which is a common complaint amongst those who benefit from the natural rights and prosperity which follows.  The class warfare front extends to thriving Jews.  Anti-Semitism is just one more symptom of deranged resentment from life’s losers.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (13)

Summary: Tony leaves for a long-term, interstellar mission.

Warnings for meh lousy parenting. Tony is still struggling. Rated Teen/Mature so 15+ only, please! Short chapter. WC ~1k

Deflection, part of Book Two: Mind (see previous or series)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN—July 2038

Tony couldn’t really focus on just one piece of the globe below, a vast marble rippled with land and sea, oasis and desert, life and death. The Avengers’ Satellite Station had launched only six years ago; it had taken that long to recover his wits and the integral structure that had exploded with…Pepper. This orbiting bulk was the reason her Memorial Garden had taken so long to build, and his mourning was the reason this orbiting bulk had taken another half-dozen years.

Orbit had its advantages, however, because it’s easier to notice a massive, red sinkhole leading to hell when staring down upon it. They may have never seen Mephisto coming from inside the Earth if not for being able to view a thousand miles within the space of an arm against the thick, triple pane fiberglass. That didn’t prepare Tony for who he would, and wouldn’t, see down there. Ever since Wanda had cut him off from such vivid experiences with Pepper, Tony lost so many of the minuscule details that kept her feeling real, kept her close to him. The delayed slipping away of his memory felt all the more tragic, for he had truly lost Pepper Potts long before he gave up on her. Loss seemed as inevitable as the rotation of the Earth below. You could change perspective to keep seeing what you wanted, but the surface would never stop moving away from your gaze.

Tony could sense a tentative presence at the door. He dropped his crossed, contemplative arms, turning to invite Maria inside. “What is it, Hill?”

The agent entered, holding up a slim file.

“It’s from the watch list. He was first mentioned in our interrogation of Simon Marshall, a pharmaceutical terrorist trying to create an ingestible drug to produce super soldiers…and he managed to alter several people. The unfortunate side effect was also to turn them into psychopaths.”

“To be fair, he probably just nudged them there,” Tony allowed. “Gimme.” He snatched the file from the agent. “Lem-u-el Dor-cas?” he snorted. “That is officially one of the worst names I’ve ever heard. It’s not even a syllable—it’s a letter away from Doctor Dorks. Are people trying to make us not take them seriously? What’s this guy done that’s so bad, eh?”

“He may have been behind the stolen shipment of bio-samples last year.”

“Two letters away from Dork-Ass. I mean…come on. At least Klaue could be, ya know,” Tony looked up with outstretched fingers on an ominously tense hand, “scary, sorta.” 

“Stark, this doctor has not only been linked to Professor Marshall but has also been linked to some created mutants. Unfortunately we do not have much information on those individuals or their abilities yet. We only know these were not given a little pill. Best guess so far is genetic manipulation.”

Tony shut the file and tossed it onto the nearest table. “Easy. Have Point Break electrocute him and send me the crispy bits. Next.” He looked around the lab, pushing some useless part over.

“That’s the thing, sir. Thor is currently off world helping the Guardians with annihilation—” she checked the file, “—Annihilus, ’scuse me, so you’re going to take the lead on this—”

“Are we trapped down there?” Tony gestured back to the view-ports.

Maria, after years of practice, snapped back and forth between Tony’s mangled thoughts easily. “We have protection, sir, more than most. You’ve put quite a bit of armor around the world now.”

“Yes, but how will people get away,” Tony whispered, “if I’ve locked them on a dying rock.”

“Sir?”

Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. Build a wall and moat to keep the enemy out, and still all you’ve done is kept your loved ones in the crosshairs and the target on your forehead. He thought of a promise he once made Pepper. “Hill, why didn’t you have kids?” He blurted after a bright bit of light in Florida caught his eye. Maria replied with a touchy and annoyed expression. He continued, “if you’d had children, at what age would Disneyland be out of the question?”

Maria hesitated, confused, but Tony did not let her form an answer before trying to dismiss the wayward thought. “Nevermind.”

“Sir, Sam may not—”

“So Dorkmeister-Flex is where exactly now?”

“The bad doctor was last credibly identified in Morocco. The Atlantian King Namor is concerned at that proximity to his nation.”

“So what you’re saying is I get to go on a lovely vacation and possible Safari hunt?”

“Stark—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t raid the mini-bar this time.” Tony launched into the air and via comms added, “and keep the missions coming. Friday will keep a running tab.”

“Of course, sir,” his AI promptly answered.

“Tony,” Maria jumped in before Stark could swivel quickly out of the room and ditch the station’s monotony, “Sam Wilson woke up.”

“Duh,” Tony brushed, tapping his glasses, “Friday is keeping me apprised.”

“And I’d say she’s too old.”

“I update her regularly.”

“Samantha, Tony, for Disney,” Maria clarified, but Tony didn’t miss a beat.

“On second thought,” he said, “I think Thor and Quill may need some adult supervision. You know how their pissing contests can get,” he twiddled his fingers in front of him, “messy.”

She held up the file, wiggling it to keep him on track.

“T’Challa can handle that, land and sea united and all. I’m contacting—what did Quill call this new ship?—Blondie?” Tony disappeared in the space-safe, modified quinjet. He had a fleeting thought that perhaps he should make a pitstop on Sakaar and take a break from the relentless passage of time. Time only served to remind him of what he’d missed and could never have back.

[Ch 14: Rusted]

[Main Masterlist]

[puddygeeks]

Wᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ Dᴇᴀᴅ Oʀ Aʟɪᴠᴇ - Sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ Tʜɪɴɢs, Eᴅᴅɪᴇ Mᴜɴsᴏɴ/OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5: Iᴍᴘᴜʟsᴇs

Masterlist

Episode: Pre season 4

Rating: Mature

Summary: Since she was five years old, Marcie Bell and Eddie Munson have been inseparable. There was never one without the other. That is, a near death experience with the Mind Flayer changed everything. Now, Marcie must navigate her newly realised feelings for Eddie, whilst facing down the Upside Down all over again. Whoever said love was easy?!

Fix it fic. There will be absolutely no Eddie Munson death here!

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC

Status: Ongoing

My writing is entirely fueled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee  

Warnings: 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔/𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙 𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡/𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛, 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑈𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑦.    

Taglist: @toobsessedsstuff

A/N: I am so sorry for the massive delay in getting this published. It was a real struggle to make this chapter work and took many edits, but we got there in the end! As for my posting schedule, I actually just had my first baby a couple of weeks ago so life is complete chaos right now. I still absolutely plan to write when I can but I have no idea when that will be. Thanks for sticking with me anyway. Every kudos and comment means the world to me <3

♫  ♠  ♫  

Chapter 5

Robin and Steve looked equally uneasy as they followed Marcie into the dive bar. Their feet stuck to the floors as they walked, residue of spilt drinks or other substances that didn’t bear thinking about now decorating the soles of their shoes. Though there was a gig planned, it was surprisingly quiet with only around 10 drunks hanging around by the bar. However, they could only shake their heads in bemusement at the way Marcie strolled in and waved at several of the audience as if she was in her element. 

Marcie approached the bar with confidence, chuckling at how lost her friends looked behind her. Despite being underage, she knew all of the tricks to a good night out at this venue and simply ordered three colas, planning to top hers up from the flask that was hidden in the back of her jeans. She gestured for the other two to come take their glasses when she caught the eye of a familiar older customer who sat on a stool nearby.

“I was starting to wonder where you were.” Terry called as he wandered over to her side with a teasing smile. “Your boy’s playing tonight. He was looking nervous without you.”

“He’s not my boy, Terence.” Marcie scolded lightly, her words making as little impact on the clearly drunk man as usual.

“Sure he’s not and I’m stone cold sober.” He laughed, before turning to nod toward the others. “You bought friends? Almost enough to count as an actual audience here now. Let me know if any of you want a beer. My treat.” 

“Thanks for the offer, but you know I always have my own supply. Besides, I think I’m the only alcoholic in my crew.” Marcie winked, breaking away from the well meaning bad influence to rejoin her friends who seemed utterly horrified by the interaction.

“You hang out with a lot of creepy old men who like to get teens drunk?” Steve questioned whilst she pulled out her flask to mix a drink.

“Yes, actually. This is the Corroded Coffin fan club. Welcome.” She teased, breaking into a laugh at the way that Steve’s brows shot up. “You should really learn not to judge a book by its cover, Harrington. Terry used to babysit my mom. He’s one of the good ones. He’s still pretty well known for keeping an eye on the youngsters here. I got spiked a couple years ago and he took care of me until he could hand me over to Eddie.”

“By buying underage kids alcohol?” He questioned, noticing that even Robin was slipping her the side eye for this.

“As if you never drank underage.” She scoffed, before rolling her eyes at his judgement. “Terry’s policy is simply that it’s better to allow people to break the rules in a safe way, by getting weak, unspiked drinks from someone who will ensure they don’t get wasted, than to leave them to get taken advantage of by trying to find their own way.”

Clearly not entirely convinced by this story, Steve simply shook his head and glanced at Robin, who made a concerted effort to disguise how uncomfortable she was. Marcie shrugged it off as she led them closer to the stage ready for the show. After years of hanging out with Robin, she’d got used to having to remind herself that not everyone grew up in the same white trash environment that she and Eddie did. Things that seemed mundane to them were shocking to others and she had learned that most times it was easier to agree to disagree.

“I do appreciate you guys coming with me tonight. I know this isn’t really your scene.” She remarked, flashing them both a smile that seemed to at least partially calm them. “This place gets a bad rep, but it’s really fine. Most of the sketchy people won’t arrive until much later. And if at any point it gets too weird for you, we’ll leave. Okay?”

“I’d still rather if either of you wanted a beer you asked me.” Steve pointed out, earning a sceptical look from both girls. “You’re right. I’ve been drinking for years, but not through creepy old guys. I have a fake ID.”

“Okay, Mom.” Robin groaned, easily earning a snigger from Marcie.

The unexpected comment eased the tension in the group, and in little time at all Robin and Steve had already engaged in one of their usual spats. Marcie was content to sip on her drink, only half listening to their conversation as she watched the empty stage. 

There was a far stronger feeling of apprehension in her stomach tonight as she waited for the band to appear. As well as she had done until now, she was painfully aware that there was no time more challenging for keeping her attraction under control than when watching Eddie perform. No matter how badly she wanted to be here for him, there was something about him playing guitar that drove her absolutely wild every time. 

A couple of drunken cheers echoed around the draughty space, announcing the arrival of the band and as her friends finally stopped bickering to position themselves on either side of her, Marcie steeled herself. 

From the moment that Eddie stepped foot on the stage, he began scanning the area with a nervous expression. It only faded to a relieved smile when his gaze landed on her face. In an instant, she knew that she had made the correct decision by pushing herself to attend and couldn’t even bring herself to imagine how crushed he would’ve been if she’d missed it. 

With his confidence restored, Eddie moved to the front of the stage to get the crowd hyped up. It wasn’t long before the usual band of drunks were cheering together to the songs and even Robin and Steve found a way to enjoy themselves, as he returned from the bar with beers for the two of them whilst he nursed another cola. 

Marcie finished her drink rather quickly as a result of repeatedly catching Eddie’s eyes and being unable to withstand feeling as if he was singing directly to her. There was no denying that she would find the man attractive if he was wearing a garbage bag, but whilst dressed in his ripped jeans and shirt, his hair thrashing in the dim backlighting of the stage, she could have fallen in love with him all over again.

Eddie strutted the stage with a confidence befitting any rockstar, his husky voice blasting from the speakers and sending shivers down Marcie’s back. Just as she felt as if she could hardly keep her thoughts clean, he descended into an epic guitar solo that drew her attention to his hands. Watching the way that he worked the strings, the spotlights reflecting off his signature rings, she found herself biting her lip.

By half way through the set, she gave up on mixing drinks and instead took sips directly from the flask in an effort to suffocate the rising desire in her chest. Between songs, Robin bumped into her side and flashed her a concerned expression.

“I don’t want to kill your buzz, but you might want to slow down on the drinks, Marce.” She fretted, glancing to Steve for backup. “I know you can hold your liquor, but I’m starting to fear for your liver.”

“My liver has been well trained. Believe me, it can handle it.” Marcie insisted. “Besides, it’s all part of my tactic. I’m having a drink every time that I think of non-friendship thoughts. It’s helping me to bury them.”

“Actually, I think it might be bringing them out.” Steve argued and she turned to face him with confusion. “You’re totally giving him bedroom eyes.” He added, his accusation supported by Robin snorting with laughter.

“I am not!” Marcie gasped, whipping her head between the pair of them in horror.

“You kinda are.” Robin choked out between breaths. “You look like you want to climb up there and devour him. Why do you think he keeps looking at you?” She cackled as she necked the last of her drink and put the empty glass aside as if she didn’t ever want to touch alcohol again.

“It’s okay, Robin. We’re clearly imagining it.” Steve interrupted with an equally amused smile. “Just like the little bit of drool you’ve got right there.” He continued, pointing to the corner of Marcie’s lips.

“Where? Right here?” She crooned mockingly, before reaching out to punch him in the arm. “You two suck.”

♫  ♠  ♫

Eddie struggled to concentrate during the cleanup of their set. Though he’d been delighted to find that Marcie had attended tonight, he couldn’t deny the fact that her bringing Harrington along had gotten under his skin. Sure, it added to their usually sparse audience, but he couldn’t stand the thought that she might use one of their gigs as an opportunity for a date.

Then again, if that was the case then Harrington had absolutely failed to get her attention throughout the night. He held a smug satisfaction for the way that Marcie’s gaze had been glued to him during the entire set. Now that he thought about it, perhaps that had been the cause of his distraction. He felt somewhat strange for thinking it, but he could’ve sworn there was something different in her eyes tonight, something strangely resembling desire.

Eddie shook his head to dislodge the thought before it could settle, rushing to finish the job so that he could assess the dynamic between the pair for himself. It took longer than usual to pack up without his head in the game, but eventually they finished loading the van and he was able to re-enter the bar. He pushed through the crowd that had begun to gather for the next act looking for any sign of the trio, but was only able to find Marcie and Robin near the door.

Robin was standing protectively by Marcie, who was half sat, half leaned against a bar stool clutching her ankle. They both seemed in high spirits still, talking loudly and laughing together, but something seemed off about his friend that caused him to rush over to join them.

“Hey, Marce. Are you alright?” He blurted the moment that he reached them and Robin startled as if she hadn’t noticed him coming.

“Eddie!” Marcie breezed, turning to him with a familiar sense of delight that indicated she had been drinking rather heavily. “I’m totally fine. I might’ve just missed the step coming out of the restrooms and given my ankle a little roll. Fortunately, the whiskey has numbed all pain.”

“Unfortunately, she’s walking like a wounded animal.” Robin cut in, throwing her a long suffering look that hinted she had been the one to force her into a seat. “She’s sprained it, but apparently doesn’t think that should stop her from dancing. We’re gonna take her home before she really hurts herself.”

Eddie chuckled at her enthusiasm, especially when she stuck out her tongue at Robin. It was exactly the kind of behaviour he would expect from drunk Marcie. She was the kind of person who wouldn’t let anything ruin a great night, but judging from the heaviness of her blinks and the slight sway in her position, they were correct in deciding that the time had come to remove her.

“Getting high of your own supply again, Hells Bells?” He teased, a fond smile filling his lips.

“You know it.” She answered with a devious expression, opening her jacket to reveal the trusty flask he’d bought for her last Christmas. “You guys were great tonight. You really tapped into your rockstar performance. The way you handled that guitar-”

“-Had girls swooning. Other girls!” Robin interjected.

Eddie raised his brows in surprise at her flirtatious attitude, wondering exactly what she would’ve said if not interrupted. Robin made a conscious effort to catch her friend's attention, her eyes wide in warning as if silently instructing her to keep quiet. Marcie giggled to herself, amused by her antics.

Eddie opened his mouth to question how they were getting home, when the answer rushed through the door. Harrington seemed flustered as he jogged to Robin’s side, barely even noticing Eddie’s presence as he turned his concern to Marcie.

“I’ve moved the car out front, but security is only giving me a couple of minutes so we need to be quick.” He explained, looking sceptical of her speed when she stood and immediately winced. “Okay. You know what? Hold on.”

Without warning, he crouched to lift Marcie and threw her gracelessly over his shoulder. 

“Steve!” She squealed in shock, before releasing a slurred laugh as she dangled over his back. Eddie felt his temper rising at how casually he handled her and when Robin moved to wave goodbye, he couldn’t prevent the words from escaping.

“Woah! Hold on a second.” He spat, grabbing Harrington’s arm to hold him in place. “What’s your plan here? You can’t take her home like that. Her mom will freak.”

Whilst Harrington focused on analysing him, Robin appeared as if she had only just considered this problem. Eddie held his rival’s gaze, struggling to contain the need to rip Marcie out of his grip as he willed himself to use his words instead. His hands clenched at his sides as he forced his attention away from the places that Harrington was gripping her.

“He’s right. Her mom is cool with most things, but she’ll be pissed that she got drunk enough to injure herself. She at least needs some time to sober up.” Robin conceded, drawing the attention of Harrington who observed her with confusion. “I could take her back to mine?”

“Yeah? Your parent’s cool with your friends getting too wasted to walk?” Eddie questioned, waiting a few moments for Robin to shake her head in a defeated manner.

“I’m fine!” Marcie slurred, attempting to fidget out of the tight hold. “And perfectly capable of my own choices, thank you. Put me down, Steve!”

“She can crash at mine.” Harrington suggested, ignoring the squirming of the girl on his shoulder despite Robin’s obvious disapproval. “I’ve got a spare room and my parents are away. I’ll drive her home in the morning. No harm, no foul.”

“Absolutely not!” Eddie growled, his voice filled with an intensity that caused both of the people before him to flinch. “Look, I’m the one who lives closest. I’ll drive her back to mine, she can put her foot on ice, hang until she’s sobered up and walk back when she’s ready.”

Marcie’s friends turned to face him with scepticism, as if they were aware of something that he was not. They didn’t answer this suggestion for a few moments, instead peering at each other in silent conversation, until Marcie gagged from being held on her stomach and Robin grew tired of watching Harrington hold her captive.

“Steve, put her down before she pukes all over you.” She warned, reaching out to assist him in lowering her to the ground delicately so that she wouldn’t fall. “I can tell my parents I’m staying at Marcie’s and come back with you. You’ve still got a few movies from the store to catch up on. We can make it into a sleepover. What do you think, Marce?”

There was something about the way that Robin pushed this idea on her friend, gripping her shoulders to focus her attention, that didn’t sit right with Eddie. Behind her, Harrington gave her a meaningful look too, as if they were both encouraging her toward the decision. Though he was sure that their intentions were good, he couldn’t deny the feeling that she wasn’t being given a choice and couldn’t understand why they would blatantly ignore his offer.

“Guys, as much as I love your company between work and school, I think I’ve seen quite enough of you lately.” Marcie answered, her words bleeding into each other from the effects of the whiskey. “I want to go with Eddie. He’ll take care of me.” 

For a few moments, Eddie faltered as she turned her half lidded gaze to him with a dozy smile. His heart skipped a beat, hardly able to believe that she had so clearly chosen him and he couldn’t help returning her smile.

“If that’s what you want, then I’d be happy to have you.” He offered, relishing the way that her eyes lit up at his words. “She can take my bed if needed. It’s only a short walk home and Wayne’s working tonight so no one even has to know that she was there.”

“Oh, I’m sure her mom would love that.” Robin grumbled, her arms crossed over her chest as she seemed to struggle to decide whether she was more annoyed by his behaviour, or Marcie’s.

“Actually, she’s pretty cool about her staying out, as long as she’s kept updated. Just pass a message that she’s staying at yours. Her mom won’t even care.” He countered, noticing that Robin didn’t seem convinced. “She slept at mine when she got spiked, too. I know how to cover for her. It’ll just sound better coming from you.”

Harrington nudged her side, quirking his brow in silent question and Robin sighed in defeat as she noticed that her friend was still smiling at Eddie in delight.

“It’s her decision. She trusts him, she said she wants to go with him, so we should respect that.” Harrington muttered, barely loud enough for Eddie to hear as he leaned closer to check on Marcie.

“I parked at the back to load up the equipment. You gonna be okay to walk that far?” He asked in a hushed tone, and she rolled her eyes.

“I only sprained my ankle, Eddie.” She chuckled, shaking her head at his concern. “It might take me a bit longer than usual, but the fresh air will do me some good anyway.”

“If you say so. I just didn’t want anyone accusing me of not treating a lady in the way that I should.” He teased, winking at her and noticing that a rosy blush spread across her cheeks.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a lady, even if you found one.” She retorted, issuing a challenge without even realising it.

“Fine. She’s all yours.” Robin announced, turning back from whispering with her conspirator and Eddie couldn’t prevent a smug smile from spreading across his face.

“Alright, my lady. Your chariot awaits!” He announced, dipping down to meet her before she could protest.

When he lifted her from the ground he made a point of demonstrating that his treatment of her was far more careful than Harrington’s had been. He balanced her in a bridal style carry, pausing for a moment to reestablish his balance from the additional weight before navigating only slightly clumsily out of the door.

“You’re a nutcase, Munson!” Marcie giggled in his embrace.

Her arms came to rest around his shoulders and her head nuzzled into his neck, as if she were hiding from the cold of the nighttime air. It was strangely nostalgic to have her this close to him, but he knew that he couldn’t show too much joy for this situation as he felt her two friends following closely behind.

When he reached the van, he lowered her into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure that he didn’t bump her injured foot and turned to find Robin lurking behind him as if she was waiting to check on her. In a bid to keep the peace, he stepped aside to allow them to catch up whilst Harrington seized the opportunity to grill him on everything he’d had to drink tonight to prove that he was safe to drive.

Stepping closer to the van, Robin leaned against the door to examine her clearly incapacitated friend. Although she knew that she had promised not to hold her responsible for the events of the evening, she couldn’t help feeling as if she had somehow let her down by allowing her to end up in Eddie’s care and for her own peace of mind, she needed to confirm one final time that this was the correct decision. 

“Are you sure you’re good with this, Marcie?” She asked quietly, her brows knitting together in concern. “I thought you didn’t want to be alone with Eddie?” She questioned, noticing that in her current state Marcie seemed thoroughly confused at this suggestion.

“Eddie will look after me! Eddie always looks after me.” She stated in a tone of minor offence, but seeming to notice the worry in her friend’s face, she flashed her an understanding smile. “I’ll be fine, Robs. I promise. I’m just having a moment of weakness. This isn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you and I won’t be tomorrow. You can go home.”

Though reassured by her surprisingly clear consent, Robin hesitated for a few moments longer until she noticed Eddie making his way around to the driver's side. She quickly checked her friend's seatbelt, then faced her with a forced smile.

“Alright, Marce. You deserve a night off from your heartbreak.” She breathed, despite a tightening in her chest. “But if he does anything to upset you, I’m going to take a page from your book and come after him with a baseball bat. Capiche?”

“Capiche.” Marcie laughed. “Night, Robs.”

♫  ♠  ♫

Eddie had his hands literally full with attempting to coordinate unlocking the door to his trailer, whilst also keeping Marcie upright. With only one hand available to grip her, he wrapped an arm around her waist and clung to her hip as she sagged against him, mentally willing the door to give him a break.

Unfortunately for him, the fresh air had only caused the alcohol in her system to take further effect and she seemed significantly more drunk than she had at the bar. Now he had her complete lack of inhibitions to contend with alongside her injury.

Without warning, the door swung open and they practically fell inside, Eddie barely managing to catch Marcie before she face-planted the floor. He paused to prop her against a wall, instructing her not to move before turning back to lock up for the night.

He was so distracted with the task that he failed to even notice her moving around behind him. In fact, he was practically completely lost in his own thoughts on his next move as he seemed to only just have considered how strange this situation was after she had been avoiding him for weeks. 

It occurred to him now that he might have scored the perfect opportunity to ply the truth from her, but a small, niggling part of him wondered if the truth was really something that he wanted to hear. Not fully present in the moment, Eddie turned slowly toward the living room and slid off his denim jacket, followed by his leather jacket, throwing them both onto the couch where he realised he would likely be sleeping tonight. 

It was only when he spun back to where Marcie had been standing that it dawned on him something was wrong, something he never would have imagined in a million years would happen to him. He froze to the spot, his eyes widening to an extent that he was sure they hadn’t ever before.

In the time that she’d been unsupervised, Marcie had dropped her jeans to the ground and stepped out of them. Her t-shirt was already making its way over her head, thankfully giving way to a tight silk camisole that protected at least some of her modesty. However, the length of this garment failed to cover the very small pair of black lace panties that were currently on display to him, cutting over her perfect ass in a way that made his mouth fall open.

Eddie wanted to speak, to say anything to interrupt her, but the words seemed to fail him. He stuttered the syllables, desperate to prove to himself that he wasn’t a creep, but no sound emerged. Instead, he found himself staring as she threaded her hands under the delicate straps of her cami to fish out a bra that matched the panties, throwing it onto a dining chair in a mind blowing method that somehow kept her breasts covered the entire time.

Unable to allow this to continue any further, Eddie suddenly sprung into action as he leapt forward to grab her arms before she could remove anything else.

“Woah, woah!” He cried as he hurried into her space and she startled as if she had only just realised that he was present. “Christ, stop! What are you doing?”

“Eddie!” She gasped in surprise. “Don’t be a perv! Get out of my room.” She slurred her words, but the annoyance in her face cracked some of the tension between them.

“You’re in my trailer, Marce.” He chuckled, before his gaze was drawn downward by her attempting to cross her arms over herself despite her complete lack of coordination.

Through the thin fabric of the cami, Eddie caught sight of something he knew he absolutely should not have seen. The smallest sparkle of silver was visible on either side of her chest, its placement easily translating to Eddie who had spent more than his fair share of time staring at alternative models in magazines.

Eddie’s mouth rapidly became dry and he struggled to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat. He willed himself not to stare, already noticing that his pants seemed tighter and he shifted his grip on Marcie to hold her slightly further from him. He strained to think about anything other than the undeniable nipple piercings she had that were wreaking havoc on his mind, tearing his gaze from her altogether before he could say or do anything that he would later regret.

“Fuck me.” He cursed under his breath as he released her to search the room for anything that could remove the distraction.

At the bottom of a pile of old clothes, he managed to find a practically vintage trucker t-shirt of Wayne’s that was several sizes too big. Throwing it roughly over Marcie’s head, he was relieved to find that it covered both the piercings and her panties, the length coming down to her knees on her thin frame. 

“Better.” He choked out in a voice that was obviously strained, but Marcie seemed entirely too inebriated to notice. “Come on. You need some sleep.”

“M’not tired.” She grumbled, rubbing at her eyes and spreading an exceptional amount of black eye shadow all over the back of her hand.

Despite already being stained with more substances than Eddie cared to name, he worried how his sheets would fare against this amount of dark makeup. Unsure what he would be able to supply to assist in properly removing it, he decided that it was better for her to discover tomorrow morning that he’d at least tried to meet her needs.

With a heavy sigh, he wrapped an arm around her waist to lead her toward the bathroom. Squeezing into the tight space, he leaned her against the counter and busied himself with searching for a clean washcloth. After soaking it under the tap, he returned his attention to her face as he attempted to push aside her unruly locks. 

“You have so much hair.” He remarked, pushing as much as he could behind her ears to prevent drenching her. 

“Rich coming from you.” She scoffed and he could only smile at this entirely fair retaliation. 

“Alright. Sit still. I need to get some of this war paint off.” 

Marcie attempted to argue with him, but was quickly silenced when he pushed the cloth to her face. Regardless of his best efforts to be delicate, he couldn’t help some degree of clumsiness in his movements. The more that he wiped at her skin, the more the makeup seemed to simply push around and when he rinsed the cloth under the water, he chuckled under his breath at the state of her.

Instead of revealing clean skin as he’d hoped, she now resembled a child who had been wearing face paint in the hot summer sun. Concentrating his energy on the black eyeshadow and dark lipstick that would undoubtedly get everywhere, he managed to remove a reasonable amount, but eventually had to accept that soap and water couldn’t hold up against the staining under her eyes. 

When he finished, he rinsed the cloth again of the murky water, before he was distracted at the sight of the only hair tie that he owned. He spun Marcie around to face the mirror so that he could go to battle against her waist length locks. 

“Eddie! What did you do?” She slurred, leaning closer to the mirror whilst he gently yanked her back by her hair. “I look like a panda!” 

“Pandas are cute.” He chuckled, but the moment he removed his grip on her when he finished his task, she whipped around to flash him an annoyed pout. “Only so much I can do with soap and water. I don’t exactly have many lady visitors, Marce. You can’t say I didn’t try.” 

Marcie moved to storm out of the bathroom, but lost her balance almost immediately and Eddie shook his head as he swooped her into his arms again. 

“Easy, Sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” 

It was a challenge to navigate the narrow halls of the trailer with her laid across his chest, but he stuck with it anyway, knowing that it would take far longer to herd her back toward the bedroom. He almost tripped over the mess of clothes on the floor, barging his way over to the bed where he lowered her down as if she was made of glass. 

Finally tired enough to stop fighting him, Marcie sank into place as he lifted the covers over her in satisfaction. Her eyelids began to flutter closed from the moment that her head hit the pillow and he couldn’t resist hesitating for a moment, gently stroking the hair back from her face. However, when he turned to leave, she startled awake. 

“Where are you going?” She gasped, gripping onto his wrist with as much strength as she could muster and he spun back around to face her with a fond smile. 

“The couch.” He stated in a nonchalant manner. “You can have the bed, my lady.” 

“No. I don’t want you to go.” She slurred, causing Eddie to freeze to the spot for the second time tonight. 

Her brows were furrowed together with stubbornness, as if she hadn’t imagined for a second that he would leave her until now. By stark contrast, he had been deadly serious when he advised her friends of the sleeping arrangements. Sure, they had shared a bed before, but things were different nowadays. He hadn’t considered doing that again tonight at all and the very thought caused him to gulp. 

“I’m not gonna be far, Marce. Just the other side of the trailer.” He chuckled awkwardly, but her expression was unmoved. “You’re really drunk and I’m trying to respect your space. I really don’t mind the couch.” 

“But…I don’t want to be alone.” She admitted, her determination giving way to a vulnerability that caused his breath to catch in his throat. “Please stay with me, Eddie. Like old times.” 

Eddie’s stomach flipped at her words, his mind struggling to decide what the moral thing was to do. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in this exact situation with her in the past. He’d slept at her side when she got spiked, despite being sober himself, but that was mostly because he was afraid she might choke to death during the night. Then there was the night when the power went out and she ran to his trailer in fear of the storm. She’d demonstrated that she was comfortable with this arrangement before, but since she’d been avoiding him, he was unsure whether she would regret it in the morning.

He fidgeted on the spot as he agonised over the decision, but when his eyes met hers again, he felt his resolve begin to crumble. There was a sadness in them that he hadn’t seen before, something deep and hidden that made it almost impossible to deny her. He glanced back toward the couch again, before a defeated sigh left his lips. 

“Alright. You win.” He mumbled, watching as visible relief washed over her. 

Eddie switched off the light then removed his jeans, leaving his T-shirt on. He nudged Marcie to move her over so that he could climb in beside her, and was careful to ensure that he left plenty of space between them. It felt strange to stay so far apart, when they had spent the night snuggled into each other for warmth one winter when they couldn’t afford to heat the trailers. 

In the silence of the night, he stared at the ceiling unable to sleep. Where this would previously have been comfortable, he found himself feeling self conscious, worrying that he might have overstepped by bringing her to his home at all. The only sound to distract his wandering mind was Marcie’s breathing that grew steadily deeper and slower. 

Eddie couldn’t be sure how long they had laid there, when she shuffled closer to his side. Delicately, she leaned her head against his shoulder, one of her hands wrapping around his upper arm in a reserved embrace. Without thinking, he leaned his head toward her too, his jaw coming to rest on the top of her head and allowing him to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair. 

“I miss this.” She whispered, her voice barely even registering against the crushing silence of his bedroom. 

“Me too.” 

The confession escaped before he could stop himself, relieved when he felt her smile against him. Her breathing grew heavier still, indicating that she was battling against sleep and he debated whether it would be taking advantage of her condition to ask why she had been avoiding him. 

“I wish it could be like this all the time.” She admitted in a slow, sleepy voice and Eddie couldn’t resist the opportunity that she had presented him with.

“It can.” He muttered. “I don’t know why it ever changed.” 

“Because of the secret.” She slurred between deep sighs that almost sounded as if she was talking in her sleep. 

“What?” He questioned, his stomach dropping with nerves. “What secret?”

After a few moments without a response, he lifted his head to glance down at her, only to find that she had finally succumbed to her alcohol driven exhaustion. Eddie cursed under his breath. If he had thought that he was going to struggle to sleep before, he had no idea how energised this teasing comment would make him. 

He looked down at her dozing off, her face tucked into him as if it was the most comfortable place that she could be. It was the longest that he’d ever been able to stare at her, especially this close. Even with her hair messed up and eyeliner smeared down her face, he couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she was. It took a few more moments of admiring her before he acknowledged that a fleeting thought of kissing her at the back of his mind had grown to be all consuming. 

Wait. Shit! 

This was Marcie he was thinking about. The same girl who had given him wedgies when they were kids; the one who stuck chopsticks in her mouth and did walrus impressions; who almost got arrested with him one summer for a ridiculous firework prank and got sick on the waltzers at the last fair. She was his best friend, his partner in crime. He couldn’t ever risk doing anything to jeopardise what they had. 

However, he couldn’t deny what he felt as he noticed how peaceful she looked sleeping on his shoulder. He wanted to kiss her. 

Now that he considered it, it wasn’t the first time this thought had occurred to him. There had been numerous moments in the last few years where he had found himself wondering what it would be like to cross the boundary of friendship. Each time they had come close, it had been harder to pull himself back from the edge. The last time she slept over, he’d had to put himself through a cold shower after she left to try to clear his head. 

As hard as he tried to deny that anything had changed between them, he supposed it wasn’t unreasonable for him to have doubts. She was arguably the only person who he had allowed to get close to him in his entire life. She knew his darkest secrets, and he knew hers. They had comforted each other during the worst times, celebrated together during the best. It was inevitable that she would become important to him and it was only natural that he might wonder at the nature of their bond. It didn’t have to mean that he wanted more. 

Marcie shuffled closer in her sleep, her arm draping across his waist and he lifted his arm to allow her to snuggle into his chest. At this angle her head tilted slightly toward him, positioning her face exactly into the moonlight that streamed in through the window. 

In the dim light of the room, Eddie found himself utterly fixated on her lips. He was consumed by the thought of kissing her, acutely aware of every part where their bodies touched. Delicately, he reached out to tuck her fuzzy hair behind her ear, lingering his touch for a few seconds on her jaw. 

Her lips parted for a moment, a drunken mutter escaping that he couldn’t quite make out. His heart leapt into his throat as he replayed the sound in his mind and was almost able to convince himself that she had said his name. He watched as her lashes fluttered indicating that she was dreaming, only finding himself hoping that it was about him. 

Regardless of what he might tell himself, one thing was clear to Eddie at that moment: he had already passed the boundary of friendship a long time ago.

[walkeddeath]

for one muse to push the other out of harm’s way / buck

  "Hey, when we get back, you owe me a meal. Like, i'm talkin real food. outside food, shit i can order off a menu and not eat off a tray. got it?" 

The mission had been a success, as in, they hadn't actually had to do anything. Whatever had been picked up on the scanner had been a fluke, a fluke that had forced her out of bed at an ungodly 2:00 AM, only confirmed after waiting for half an hour for the kaiju to show its face. It hadn't, Gen had even started calling out for it as if it was a cat or dog ––– though that had been more for sanity's sake than actual attempts at summoning it.

Being cooped up in the con-pod, just waiting, with all the beeps and blips of the different sensors was worse than actual combat, the unease of where is it and are we just not seeing it hanging unsaid in the air. The attempt had at least gotten a smile out of Buck, a success in Gen's book, so they don't mind feeling just a bit silly. It hadn't produced any bites from what they had been trying to bait, no new sightings on the radar ––– as if it had simply disappeared, if it had even existed in the first place.

 " This is like, so fuckin' unfair, if i'm gettin' out of bed this early –––– "

They don't get to finish their sentence, or thought, or even the breath she was about to take. The entire world stops in exactly three seconds. First, there's a sudden fury of alarms and DANGER DANGER messages flooding the screens, her brain is screaming along with it, matching intensity ––– Gen looks over at Buck with a deep dread in their bones, but there's no time to say anything .

Second, there's an even louder sound, a sharp as razors scream from somewhere outside of the Jaeger, the source unseen but presence deeply felt.

It shakes and rattles her bones, even under the layers of the drivesuit, and Gen doesn't know if they'll ever get used to hearing it. It sounds different when it isn't expected, when it's delayed, when they can't fucking see where its coming from. Kaiju might be massive, horrible and god-like in their appearance, but it's when they're still lurking in the depths of the ocean that they're at their most terrifying. 

Even though you can't see it, that doesn't mean it can't see you. Not seeing it doesn't mean shit, only means that you're an even easier target. 

Third, there's a sudden crash against the front of their machine, sending it skidding backwards. The strength of the hit knocks the wind out of Gen's lungs, the surprise of it not helping in snatching her breath away, and they struggle to keep upright. DEATH IS HERE, get your fucking head in to gear. 

Gen yells a quick "YOU READY?" to Buck and doesn't wait for an answer. There's no time to wait. The only thing there is is FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT against the raging mass of fury outside. was it waiting this entire time? did it know to wait until defenses were down?

Two questions that will remain unanswered, now and if they get out of this ––– Gen can't think about it, head has to get out of its own way, don't fucking spiral don't end up down the RABIT hole , not now, stay out of it. It would be easy to fall, keep falling down into old memories and past blood spilt, but they are not alone and Buck can't afford to follow her down. So, Gen tries to pull herself together just enough to refocus on killing the bastard god trying to kill them.

Moves are barked out, quick calls back and forth to keep an update on the running plan of action. It isn't doing much, whatever cat classification they had given to this one was clearly underestimating it. No matter what they both throw, nothing is working. Gen can hear the voices of the team back at base that backup is coming, to just HOLD ON AND DON'T FUCKING GIVE UP. They'll get them out of there, though there's no guarantee or promise they'll get there on time. It's the smallest shred, the tiniest glimmer of hope in an otherwise shitshow situation and Gen isn't ready to give up on hope just yet.

It's another three minutes of non stop fighting, they've been throwing their all into it, Gen's throat is raw from yelling and they're drenched in sweat, shaking from exhaustion, the thing is almost fucking dead up and it looks like Buck is going to have to buy her food after all. The thought slipping into her head in this moment almost makes them laugh, but they can't and they have to focus. All thoughts must be on ending it ––– and they hear another update on backup.

It won't be able to get there for another three minutes.

It's nearly the one minute mark when time once again stops, Gen isn't sure it ever truly started back up again, when Gen hears Buck yell something ––– they hear a sharp " MOVE " ring out in their head and in the fraction of a second it takes for them to look over at him, he's diving and shoving her, and before they can say anything there's another scream and it's far more horrifying than the one of the kaiju. It's her own, it rips out of her and it hurts it tears her throat apart in the process ––– 

Something had been slammed through the window, directly towards where they had been standing, they hadn't been paying attention ––– and Buck is laying on the floor in a heap and there's a rip and tear at her skin. Her heart is being shredded, it's a pain so truly unique they have no name for it. He isn't moving. He's on a heap and he isn't moving and she can't hear him in her head anymore she can't hear him can't feel him and they've been plunged into what could only be hell. They can't find him in the drift and they're still fucking stuck in it. 

All she wants to do is check on him, see if she can bring him back she has to be able to has to has to has to ––– they later tell her he was gone for three minutes but she'll say it went on for eternity. They should be trying to finish the job, but like a fucking miracle , the other Jaeger shows up, at least god has a sense of humor .

Gen scrambles to his body ––– she's been screaming at him to get up to stop fucking around that he needs to get up come back please come back –––

nothing.

He's gone. Everyone is silent, aside from Gen, who is still screaming at him ––– at herself for not paying attention when she should have been.

"Buck, please, come back ––– please ––– "

They're begging, holding on to him, and later they'll tell her that nobody knows how they were able to stay as functional as they were ––– Gen chalks it up to that knack of evading shit they've got.

There are voices in her head again, telling her she needs to calm down that they can't do anything until she does. 

It isn't until three minutes pass and she's getting tired from the stress that suddenly everything is online again, barely, but it's there.

three goddamn minutes of him being dead  –––– they'll tell them later, in the hospital bay, while they also tell them how it was a miracle he even made it.

like something wouldn't let him go. something held on and wouldn't let go.

[airasora]

So, I have some shitty news. And I'll keep it brief, but the point of me telling this is to say I'm pushing my livestream of the new horror game Bramble - The Mountain King to Friday next week.

If you want to know why, click the keep reading button.

I was fired. From the best goddamn place I have ever been.

Well, not fired. "Let go". Along with every single person on my team, including my team manager, my "boss".

Long story short, I work for an outsourcing company who were hired by a major travel company to find travel agents to work from home in all of Scandinavia. I, along with 10 others, were hired last year in July. We became part of a small team with just 5 people already present. Then came a couple of new "waves" of people and our team suddenly had 30 people.

By December, this big travel company had already asked our outsourcing company to let go of two of the new travel agents. Then in February, we were told another 10 would have to be let go. And now, last working day of April, we were told all of us were gonna be let go.

The reason? Redundancy. Which is bullshit because we've always had plenty of work to do. The real reason is money. My country ensures a VERY good salary for the work we do and, in return, our work was brilliant. In fact, our team often cleaned up other teams' mistakes and so forth.

But, despite our team bringing in the most money and getting the best KPIs (Key Performance Indicators) we were also the most expensive one of all their teams, so they let us go.

The one good thing out of all of this is that the outsourcing company itself is doing its best to find alternative jobs for all of us. If we want them at least.

Doesn't change the fact that the first job in my life that I have ever loved and continued to love is now gone. I'm 28 years old, and been in a total of 6 different work fields.

I've been in two toxic work environments, one of which where I cried almost every single day for 7 months

I've been let go from one place due to my chronic headaches.

I've been let go on the last day of the 3 months trial period, which I later learned was their plan all along because it gave them three months of free labor from me since my education covered those first three months.

Three of my educations were delayed by a year by the school itself, was suddenly under investigation by the governement and the third one was rendered completely useless.

I'm not saying this to get sympathy. I'm saying this because I am so fucking tired of having to start over again and again and again. This job was the first time I was happy, that I kept loving it, that I loved my coworkers and that I felt good at what I do.

I've struggled with believing in my own abilities for years due to all the shit I've been through. My confidence and self-esteem grew every day at this job, and I was finally reaching a place where I could actually believe that I was good at something worthwhile.

The thought of not being able to achieve that feeling again is terrifying. This was the first time I ever felt like I belonged in a work field. And it's been ripped away and I'm back at zero.

Again.

And it's that "again" that really kills me.

Ok, enough woe is me. I will play Bramble next week, hope to see you guys there :)

[crestfallercanyon]

Tag Game: fandom edition

thanks for the tag, tea! and sorry for the delay, been a busy couple o'days @its-tea-time-darling <3

your name: everyone calls me crest!

your first fandom(s): Fire Emblem

your current fandom(s): most active -- maze runner, inception, the flash/legends of tomorrow (though not as much as I used to), Legend of Zelda; but I'm getting back into Fire Emblem lmao.

how did you first get into fandom? the pandemic -- I wanted Claude's story in Fire Emblem Three Houses to be better tied in than it was in the game (I found his whole angle on the war to be so interesting and I'd really wished that he had an arc where he could unite fodlan and take down the church of seiros because that would have made him less like an extra "take or leave it" character to the dimitri/edelgard King Lear story (which was also great!!) and given his ambition a real end -- I feel like he actually believed edelgard but understood dimitri's morality and I wanted him to be the bridge that he should have been) and I found a story that did give him a better story in the after the war and then I just never left!.

how long have you been engaging with fandom spaces? the pandemic. though one could argue I dabbled in it when I was much younger for the anime Naruto, but I barely knew what I was doing then and wouldn't have known that's what it was called.

how often do you read fanfics? depends. usually not a ton, but there are times where I start to read a lot

top 3 characters from your current fandom(s): I struggle with naming only three, because I feel my third favorite fluctuates with who I am currently writing -- so I'm going to name the three characters that keep me coming back to my fandoms -- Gally (the maze runner), leonard snart (the flash cw and legends of tomorrow), and Claude (fire emblem three houses)

have you ever written a fic for a fandom? if so, shout it out! the creation of this tumblr was initially to put out the fact that I was writing fanfics lol, so yes, I write quite a bit! here's my profile on ao3: crestfaller's fanfics

have you ever drawn fanart for a fandom? i've drawn sketches of the glade for the glade discord. I definitely painted the three houses logos at some point.

share a personal headcanon that you feel very strongly about: I've shared so many the maze runner headcanons on this tumblr, let's go to Legends of Tomorrow: Mick Rory knew that they were never going to become legends and that Rip Hunter's reasons for putting them on the trip were for his own selfish gains and that was why Rip immediately hated Mick and consistently belittled him to try to get everyone to not listen to him so that no one would discover that Rip didn't care if they all died if it meant he'd gotten his family back.

you’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. what episode, clip, or scene are you showing them? the maze runner? I agree with tea, it's the opening sequence of the first movie. the flash? the episodes with Leonard Snart in them, because Wentworth Miller is easily one of the best actors to get on the flash.

and finally, what does fandom mean to you?

I think it comes down to this: it's a place for me to enjoy my stuff with wild abandon. I love the characters I love and can obsess about the stories I adore all I want. And the best part about fandom? Is I get to share my obsessions and adorations with other people who feel, in some way or another, similar to how I feel about these pieces of media! and I think that's neat.

-

tagging whoever wants to do it because I don't know who's done it anymore and don't feel like searching haha -- but thanks again for the tag tea and I hope others participate!

[shefatalesarch]

HERE ARE SOME OF MY HEADCANONS BELOW THE READ MORE FOR BRUCE WAYNE. FC: RICHARD ARMITAGE (still wish he got the role for bvs)

The Bat symbol in his suit is made from the melted down parts of the gun Joe Chill used to kill his parents, when he was arrested and charged Bruce took it, and used it as a symbol to be something better rather then a symbol of pain.

Martha and Thomas' room in the Manor looks exactly like it was the day they died. This is where Bruce keeps his mother's pearls which were given to him after Joe Chill's arrest and charged with their murder. It was the only time he ever entered the room after their death. Alfred enters it to keep it clean, dusted, but otherwise it remains unaltered, untouched and always locked. Bruce refused to move into the master suite when he got older and fully took over the Wayne Manor, Wayne Enterprises and came into his fortune, and when he returned from his travels to take up the mantle of Batman. He couldn't bring himself to sleep there.

Bruce had all the pearls reconstructed into the necklace they once were after Gordon returned his parents personal effects upon the arrest of Joe Chill.

although he may seem like he has given up hope on harvey two face is one bad guy he struggles with and believes he can turn around. harvey is a long time friend of bruce and he believes that his friend is still in there so he’s constantly on the look out and working on the side on some kind of cure or method to saving harvey from the madness inside.

although he can be forgetful and distant and sometimes drop the ball in regards to the boys it is a misconception that he doesn't care, or is a poor father. damien is everything to him, and he would crumble at the thought of ever losing him. he's tough, but mostly because he feels he has to be. i do not accept the random beating he laid on jason in the recent red hood comics, or that he wasn't invited to alfred's funeral. one thing comics fail to do is find balance for bruce being batman and bruce. i take a lot inspiration from the animated series in regards to bruce's ability to balance fatherhood and batman.

Bruce doesn't care to take my in the way of drugs and actually works towards more natural healing, and pain medication because when Bane broke his back he fought an unhealthy addiction to performance enhancers trying to get himself out into the field again when he wasn't ready to be out again. He hated the kind of person he was when he was driving that way, and since then has been careful about his medications. bruce also has a weak spot in his back if he gets hit too hard or takes to serious of a beating it could trigger his old injury when his back was broken and leave him useless, and easily taken out. recent comics illustrated this when he was left for dead after taking a back injury, and had to take an entire month to get back in the game and only survived because selina found him in the snow.

Bruce doesn't usually open up, it's his reluctance to be open that usually delays his romantic life, or letting people in but when he finally does let someone in he is a very romantic being. evident by his engagement with selina, he had her get close to the robins, all of them, he had her move in, he tells her he loves her all the time. Bruce is a romantic once he opens his heart its all yours.

DCEU SPECIFIC:

Because Bruce has been Batman for 20 years in DCEU he did have a rather lengthy and deep relationship with Selina Kyle but they realized that it could never work, she was a criminal, and he had a complicated moral grey area with her but they could never be together as Bruce and Selina, and that wasn't a real life. So they ended up calling it, and he hasn't seen her since. It was about ten years into being Batman that they tried and failed.

for everyone who needs it said. it wasn't just that clark kept saying martha and that their mom's names are the same that stopped him that day from killing clark but rather that it humanized clark for him. he was so fixated on clark being this unstoppable alien that he lost sight of the fact that he grew up here. he was human, and more so than even bruce in that moment. it snapped him out of it through something that was meaningful for bruce and relatable. it made him realize clark was just as human as him or anyone else, and that he didn't deserve to die because of bruce's fears.

Bruce trailed with Ras al Ghul in order to better himself in his years before becoming Batman. It was during this time he met, and shared a complicated romantic relationship with Talia al Ghul. They had a very on, and off again relationship. Sometime after his break up with Selina Kyle, Talia and Bruce crossed paths once more. Beneath Gotham, in Wonder City (or Old Gotham) there is a Lazarus Pit which Ras was trying to use to prolong his life, but thanks to Bruce and Talia turning her back on her father they stopped his made tyrant and she took over the league from there, Talia is the only Bruce trusts to ensure the protection of the pit beneath Gotham and thus the only one he lets near it. During their time working against her father they shared in a reconnection and ended up sleeping together, a few times. It resulted in the birth of a son, not that Bruce knows yet, Damien is about 8 years old with the mental age of like a 30 year old lbh

[reviewsthatburn]

This is a mediocre conclusion to what promised to be a great series. It long, slow, and boring, with repetitive angst and worry from characters who keep choosing to delay happiness on offer until right before it gets taken away. This then makes them feel like any happiness they do get will be temporary, and then they delay longer the next time. Once or twice was interesting, but it happens over and over to the point of being predictable. The only couple who actually get a happy ending is one where one of them has technically already died. The Nightbringer was way more interesting as Keenan, and I kind of wish that they had either been two different characters, or that the series had waited longer to reveal his real identity. Being an enemy who's over a thousand years old doesn't actually have to remove a character from being in the running in a love triangle (as most vampire books can attest), but this series seems to have resolved its various relationships by killing off family, friends, partners, and potential love interests seemingly at random. I have no problem with books killing off characters, but the way their vibrancy and uniqueness was bled away before most of the deaths contributed to the dull feeling of this whole book.

Full Review at link.

[fmpmelissa]

Week 07: Sunday - Production and Reflection

Production:

This weekend, I worked on redoing the rig, as I had been experiencing issues with the previous one. If this new rig doesn’t perform well, I still have the old rig saved as a backup. This rig uses a different method, using a "Follow Path" modifier with empties. I started by creating an circle empty and flattening its base to create a natural curve seen in movement. Next, I created another empty, which was connected to the claw of each leg using an IK constraint. I then applied a modifier to follow the path of the previously created curve. By using the offset option, I can move the leg along the curve. I repeated this process for each leg, as I couldn't mirror the IK information. Finally, I created another empty for direction control by parenting each curve to this new empty.

Surprisingly, this rigging process was easier than expected, as I was able to add other controls that I had previously used, such as the full-body control and the head controls for rotating the mesh. I then moved on to animation, starting with the run cycle, which had been a struggle with the older rig. I adjusted the offset of the "Follow Path" on each leg, varying the starting points so they wouldn't move simultaneously, similar to how real spider legs operate. To make the animation loop continuously, I selected all the curves and, in the animation tab below, chose the "Linear Extrapolation" parameter, which caused the selected animations to repeat. This method worked incredibly well, and I was surprised at how simple it was to animate the legs. I added final touches by simulating breathing by increasing and decreasing the scale of the body bone and applying a jitter modifier to give the body a natural sway. Comfortable with how the rig was behaving I reapplied the textures back to the model to get a final look for the animation to send for feedback.

Feedback:

Reading feedback I had received about my animation has been valuable, particularly with the recent critique of the walk animation. The feedback highlighted that while the animation already looks good, thanks to impressive secondary animations and effective breathing effects, there are areas for further improvement. Specifically, it was suggested that adding some jiggle to the model, especially in the back and flesh areas, could enhance realism. Additionally, synchronizing the mouth's movement with the character’s breathing would create a more dynamic and lifelike effect. These insights will guide the refinement of the animation, aiming to deepen the visual impact and bring the character’s movement to life even more effectively.

Personal Reflection: Despite this week's setbacks due to complications with the rig, I’m glad that I persevered, even when things didn’t go as planned. I often felt frustrated and upset with the constant obstacles, but with the support of those around me, I pushed through—and I’m glad I did. After a much-needed break, I was able to research potential fixes for my current issue, which, luckily, was resolved after a few changes. In the end, the results turned out better than expected, allowing me to easily create the animation and get back on schedule according to the Gantt chart. This was such a relief, as it prevented further delays and late nights. These kinds of struggles will likely be common when working in the creative industry, and they will test your ability to resolve issues quickly and effectively to avoid delays. Being able to prove my capability to push forward and adapt my plans in the face of challenges gives me confidence in my abilities to work in the industry one day.

Gantt Chart

Light Red highlights marks the day

This is in place to keep me on track what has been or needs to be done this day of the week.

[noblebs]

4, 8, 9, and 19 for the pride asks

thank you for the ask, forgive how delayed this is lol!! Bernie Sanders meme I am once again babbling about Orion

4. Is your oc's environment supportive about their identity? How does this impact them?

hmm, I'd say somewhere between "apathetic" and "supportive" - for the most part, the people and situations she finds herself in have something to get from her or its more of a working relationship, so as long as they can get whatever they need from her, her identity doesn't really matter one way or another.

he doesn't care frankly, he's self-assured enough that as long as no one makes it a problem he's got bigger problems to care about.

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

nah, again Orion is very comfortable in his skin, and when faced with external threats or criticism he tends to have a "keep your head down and get away quietly" approach but it's not going to make a lasting impact on his psyche. growing up, her family was um. even weirder than she is lol, so if anything she's the conservative one among them, but as a general rule her parents spoil her rotten. there was never a chance they wouldn't boost her self-confidence to extremes.

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

Orion grew up among the fae, and all their conceptions of gender/sexuality are essentially acquired from human society lol. so her understanding of identity is mostly the same but just slightly off-center--it's kind of like she conceives gender as a fashion accessory more than an identity, if that makes sense? it doesn't feel intrinsic to who she is, she is both a man and a woman because she wants to be.

19. Do you have preferences about depicting homo/transphobia in your stories? What, and why? Does it vary by story?

in EWT specifically, I have chosen not to depict overt bigotry regarding queerness and race. 1. that's simply not the kind of story I want to tell, and I wouldn't want to treat it as an aside, and 2. Orion's perspective plays a role, her self-confidence and the way she interacts with other people mean she frankly doesn't notice if anyone gives her an odd look.

it's not that transphobia/cisnormativity don't exist, but I'm going to be totally real, I think it would be annoying for every character to introduce their pronouns and such every time they meet someone lmao, I don't think it's possible to write that kind of thing realistically in a way that doesn't bog your story down horribly. so the important characters implicitly know what pronouns and gendered terms all the other important characters use and will never misgender each other.

in theory, this varies by story, but it's been a long time since I did it any differently haha.

[tonysfilmblog]

Your Heart Out / Cry Wolfe Shoot

Despite the co-producer thing falling apart, I managed to hitch a role as 1st AD.

This is a horrible thing to say but I’m glad I wasn’t the only one to have difficulties with producing this semester. I think poor Michael, the producer of Your Heart Out, really struggled with similar aspects.

Day one was a little bit of a mess. I don’t mean to say this to criticise anyone or paint anyone in a negative light. I only say this because there was some real character growth on this shoot. The change in everyone from day 1 to 4 was genuinely such a great thing to experience.

I think we were mostly just ill-prepared. I was a little bit concerned at the call time for the day, just because with every single shoot I’ve been on, the schedule overruns especially with the initial set up.

However, we managed to pick up the equipment and make our way to the shooting location. Then it was a frantic set up before the actors arrived. 

Shooting was slightly delayed but we got there in the end. The first day was strange in the sense that I feel like we all did a bit of everything. I helped with camera for a bit, so did Sean. I made sure the actors and crew had everything they needed. I got umbrellas, batteries and other shop runs.

Now I get onto something that excites me more than it should. Ciaran, one of the actors, was not happy with the way the shoot had proceeded. 

The semester began with me and Michael deciding to co-produce both Sean and Mark-Antony’s scripts. While this inevitably fell apart, I think we both still ended up taking on producing attitudes when it came to the shooting process.

I got to talking a bit here and there with the actors, making sure they had everything they needed and I think because of that Ciaran trusted me more since I was secondary crew. He essentially said that 'they' needed to get their shit together. Me and the team sat together and brainstormed for the next few days. The plan was to engage with the actors constantly. Me and michael would chit chat and keep them tuned in to what was going on and Sean and yat would continuously rehearse and block and talk to them about each scene.

Day 2

Day 2 came with its own unique challenges however, immediately it was a much better day. I feel awful for Sean, Yat and Michael. I think Ciaran’s comments rattled them a bit. While this made for a slightly tense shoot, I saw a newfound energy in the crew. Every single one of them seemed more determined to make this a successful shoot. I had suggested that Yat should maybe work with the actors a bit more and that he did. Him and Sean were on top form making sure that the blocking was sound and that the actors felt involved and that they better understood the process. 

Our biggest issue on the day was the sound problems from the construction work which was stressful at the time but looking back, it was a very successful shooting day. The construction work was so loud, it essentially meant that we could not film at all in that area. We thought that we’d just move location ever so slightly which was a shame but it had to be done. Moving down the street, we managed to escape the construction however, there was this loud, continuous beeping noise that was coming from one of the nearby buildings so it seemed like the only choice we’d have would be to completely change location which would have been a nightmare moving equipment and crew so in a last ditch effort, I ran to the construction worker and very politely asked how long he was going to be. Bless the man, he was really nice about it, he said he’d only be another hour. Which was great news. It meant we were very behind schedule but we had a plan. Sean and Yat worked with the actors and our DOP Chelsea to nail the blocking and shot composition so we could bang out those shots when we could while I went to help finish the set dressing for the interior scene. 

It wasn’t the end of the world that we were behind schedule here as we were a bit behind setting up for the interior scene. 

Day 3/4

Rain….rain….RAIN!! I spent the morning of day three buying umbrellas for the cast and crew as we unfortunately were hit with two miserable, rainy days. The thing with miserable days like these is that you find that either everyone is miserable or sometimes everyone is somehow in high spirits. I think it’s when you’re with a good crew where even in slightly miserable circumstances, you all come together to push each other, to keep each other’s spirits high. It’s a lovely thing to experience. 

The camera stand broke so every shot had to be hand held which combined with the rain was an incredibly stressful situation but bless Jason or camera operator. He was only there for that day but we could not have gotten through this day without him!

Seeing how far Yathin had come as a director was amazing. He was terribly nervous on day 1, I think that’s why he was so reserved to cinematography but here he was more comfortable with relaying his vision. He could communicate with the actors and the crew more confidently and I think that’s partially why these scenes turned out much better than the one we filmed on day one.

Overall it was a much more chaotic shoot than Anything for You but I think I enjoyed the energy a lot more. I did a little bit of everything so it was really fun to run around between posts to help wherever I could.