#for the simple reason being that I can't process more than one thing at a time

[guarshroom]

Y'all ever just be an inch from having a complete mental breakdown at work?

[bo0tleg]

One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

[sage-nebula]

Little headcanons I have about Stan and Ford's childhood, and their statuses as the golden child and the scapegoat in the eyes of their father Filbrick:

I think that, prior to starting school, there is every likelihood that their positions in Filbrick's eyes were reversed: that Stan was the golden child, while Ford was the scapegoat -- the "extra Stan," if you will. I think this is likely for a couple of reasons; Stan's personality was bolder from the outside, more confident and naturally more aggressive, and therefore more traditionally "masculine." By contrast, Ford was shyer, less confident, less "manly." And then, of course, there is Ford's extra finger -- a "deformity," an "imperfection," something that could have been seen by a man as terrible as Filbrick was as an imperfection, something he was absolutely "not impressed" by.

So it is possible that, before the boys entered kindergarten, that Stan was the favored twin while Ford was the neglected one. Of course, the boys were very young for most of these years; they wouldn't remember most of them. But they would remember some of them, and then they entered school . . .

I headcanon that Stan was hit with the double whammy of learning disabilities: both dyslexia and dyscalculia. Unfortunately for Stan, he was a child in the 1960s. Research on both of these learning disabilities was still underway, to the point where a consensus on the definition of dyslexia alone wouldn't be reached until 1968. It wouldn't appear in the DSM III until the 1980s, either. And don't even get me (someone who is afflicted with it) started on dyscalculia; most people still don't even know it exists now, in 2024, much less back then when Stan would have been in school.

So the boys are in school, and Stan is struggling because his learning disabilities make reading and mathematics very difficult for him. He is playing on hard mode. But Ford, who has neither of these disabilities, is able to breeze through his work and to the top of the class. And suddenly he is able to do something that impresses the father that, heretofore, saw him as an extra, as an embarrassment, as a weakling with a "deformity." Meanwhile, the previously preferred son is the one who is now being an embarrassment by not even being able to do simple addition and subtraction, by struggling to read books that are meant for kids even younger than he is no matter how hard he tries.

And so the positions flip. Ford becomes the golden child, Stan becomes the scapegoat.

When he's little, Stan really does try with his schoolwork. He really does. But no matter how hard he tries he still can't get it to make sense in his brain, and his father and his teachers insist that he's just not trying, that he doesn't care, that he's lazy, that he's a slacker no matter what he does, so eventually he stops trying. Because if they're going to say he's not trying anyway, and if he's not going to get it even when he does try, then why bother? What's the point? So he gives up and decides to just copy Ford's homework.

And as for Ford, well . . . he realizes at some point somewhat early on that there is something up with the way Stan processes things. Of course, as a child, he doesn't know about things like "dyslexia" or "dyscalculia" either. But he'll see Stan look at a math problem, and go to copy it down, and the numbers will be transposed. Or he'll see Stan read a word out loud and mispronounce it as if the letters are flipped. And he thinks, there's something going on here, Stan's not doing this on purpose. But he's afraid to say anything. Because what if there is something wrong, and they get it fixed, and then suddenly Stan is just as good at school as Ford is? And then Stan is their father's favorite again, and Ford is once again just the unwanted, deformed extra? He can keep Stan from flunking out of school by letting Stan copy his homework. Their father won't be impressed with him, but so long as Ford lets him copy his homework and cheat off his tests, it'll be okay. That'll be fine. Ford remembers just enough of early childhood (and sees enough of the way Filbrick treats Stan) to know that he doesn't want to be the scapegoat again. The guilt eats at him, but he feeds it the justifications that he is still helping Stanley, anyway, by helping him cheat. So he kept quiet.

Years later, when they're on the Stan-o-War II, memories of their childhood resurface. Ford thinks about Stan's difficulties doing homework, and thinks about how difficult reactivating the portal to bring him home must have been -- both the reading and the mathematical equations involved, all that Stanley pushed through for thirty years to accomplish something that, for him, should have been impossible. (And Ford feels guilty for thinking that, but it's nothing compared to how bad he feels for the nasty things he wrote about Stan's reactivating of the portal in his journal. His face burns with shame when he imagines Dipper and Mabel reading those pages, and he only hopes they didn't share them with Stanley.) He does inevitably bring it up one evening over Irish coffees.

"Stanley, did you ever get tested?" "For what, STDs? Yeah, a few times. Why, do you need to get -- " "NO, for the love of -- for a learning disability. For -- " "Whoa, time out, what're you suggestin' I'm disabled for? I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world -- hell, we all know I'm dumb as bricks -- but -- " "That's exactly -- not it. You aren't stupid. I think you have -- do you know what dyslexia is?" "Sounds like an STD for nerds." "I need more whiskey in this coffee."

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

The Words Hung Above But Never Would Form

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: let's see fingering, handjobs, riding, marking/Loki with a pain kink- unprotected sex (wrap it or don’t tap it) I think that's it idk

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: You thought you and Loki wouldn't be more than a casual thing, but there's a reason they say never say never

I couldn't Utter my love when it counted // Ah but I'm singing like a bird to ya now ~ Shrike by Hozier

***

Your relationship with Loki isn't complicated. You call and he comes and- then you cum, all night, usually. It's a simple arrangement, because Loki's incredible in bed, and it's easier than anything you would've asked for from him. You'll admit there was a time you wanted more, but- never mind, there's no need to dwell on that. What you have now is good. It works. The knock on your door comes at exactly 9 o'clock p.m. It's funny, Loki's commitment to punctuality, even for something as low stakes as breaking your back a few times a week. You smile to yourself as you cross your apartment to open the door.

"Hello darling." Loki smirks, his eyes gliding over you.

"Hi Loki, how've you been?" You ask stepping aside to let him into your apartment.

"Busy. I don't know why I thought joining those ridiculous Avengers would be tolerable." Loki rolls his eyes as he drops onto your couch.

"Because it was that or being an intergalactic war criminal?" You remind him, climbing into his lap.

"I'm starting to think I'd be better off never being allowed to return to Midgard." He scoffs and you giggle.

"Oh relax, they can't be that bad, you guys save the world or whatever." You run your fingers through his hair and shower him with quick kisses against his lips.

"You can say that, you've never had to work with them." He mutters between your kisses.

"You're such a baby." You laugh.

"Shut up." He frowns.

"I will if you kiss me." You smirk.

"You-" Loki stops himself as if he didn't quite process your request right away. His hand comes around the back of your neck and he pulls you down for a proper kiss. You moan and Loki uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. He explores your mouth as he always does, the feeling so familiar yet still as thrilling as the first. It doesn't take long for his mouth to part from yours, traveling down your throat. He nips and sucks at the exposed skin as nimble fingers undo the buttons on your shirt. One of Loki's hands settles against your back as he lowers his head to take an achy nipple between his lips—your back arches against his mouth as he teases the bud with his tongue and teeth. You hardly realize your hips grinding against him until he growls lowly at the friction. Loki's other hand slides across your waist to dip beneath your shorts. Two digits plunge into your already dripping center and his thumb lightly strokes your clit, reveling in the breathy moans coming from you at his hands. He toys with your body like an instrument he's played all his life, a smirk plastered on his face as you grind against his fingers desperately. Quickly, frantically, you undo his pants, pulling his erection out and stroking him.

Loki momentarily loses his rhythm when you touch him and you take advantage of the moment's reprieve to shimmy out of your shorts. It's a bit awkward to do with his dick in your hand admittedly but you manage- although Loki makes it no easier, staring at you as he sucks his fingers clean of your juices. Distracting man. Freed from the barrier of clothing between you, you line him up with your entrance and sink down with a satisfied hum while Loki tosses his head back with a groan. You ride him eagerly, relishing in the drag of him against your walls, the feel of his hands squeezing your hips, the quiet cacophony of grunts and moans leaving his lips. You pull his shirt over his head exposing his pale, sculpted chest to your gaze, but more importantly your hands. He never says anything about it but you know for a fact Loki always cums harder when you mark his skin with evidence of your little trysts. You drag your nails along his body, harsh enough to see the red trails left in your wake, and hear the way Loki's breathing changes at the action. 

Loki, just as in tune with your body as you are with his, watches for the moment signs of an impending orgasm start to reveal themselves before his hand slips between you two, fingers finding your clit again. Your hips stutter for a moment at the stimulation but you only ride him harder as he rubs your bundle of nerves. Loki can feel the moment you tighten against him and with his free hand, he takes over rocking your hips against his as the waves of your orgasm make it impossible to keep pace. He allows you to ride it out before he flips you on your back rutting into you, chasing his own orgasm. When his muscles tense up and his grip on your hips tightens you drag your nails down his back, the groan he releases deep and long as he spills into you. You bask in the afters of your orgasms for several minutes before eventually, you tap his shoulder needing to get up.

"Well this has been fun, as always." You say stretching as he sits up.

"Kicking me out already darling?" He smirks.

"No, you're welcome to hang around but I have to shower." You shrug standing.

"Shall I join you?"

"If you do that I'll need a shower from the shower." You kiss him quickly.

"Seems fine to me."

"Of course it does." You roll your eyes. "Oh I have a date on Saturday so I'll have to let you know if you're still coming over that night." You tell him while you remember.

"A date?" He blinks at you.

"Yes, a date."

"With who?"

"Just a guy I met at a coffee shop." You shrug.

"You never mentioned a guy at a coffee shop." Loki tries to keep his tone light though he's not sure how successful he is.

"I'm mentioning him now. No biggie. Anyway, if you're sticking around I made stir fry- help yourself."

"I'd love to but I actually have something to do at the tower so I have to head back but enjoy your evening, have fun on your date, and maybe see you Saturday." Loki is quick to tug his shirt back over his head and tuck himself into his pants.

"Alright have a good-" Loki's out the door before you can finish your sentence, "night?" You frown to yourself for a moment but don't let yourself dwell on it. He said he had something to do, maybe it was important. No need to assume anything more.

The next few days you're pretty giddy thinking about your date on Saturday with the cute guy from the coffee shop. By the time Saturday rolls around and you're meeting up with Marcus you've barely managed to get your excitement under control. The date is as fun as you could've hoped, you go to a  jazz bar and spend the night giggling over drinks and food while lovely music acts as a soundtrack for your evening. You're even humming to yourself as you walk home from how much you enjoyed the evening.

Back in your apartment you take a shower and get ready for bed with a smile still on your face. Marcus has already suggested going on another date and you're not exactly against the idea of seeing him again. 

It's the next morning, when you're making breakfast that the calm before the storm ends. Your back is turned so you don't notice Loki appear in your apartment until he speaks.

"You know normally I wouldn't care if you left me hanging- but seeing as you went out with a stranger it would've been nice to know if you were alive." Loki's voice makes you jump and almost throw your spatula.

"Christ- Loki we've talked about that. Don't appear in my apartment without warning!" You scold him with an eye roll.

"You're avoiding the subject."

"I'm not. I just don't appreciate being jump scared in my own apartment. Especially not at 11 am on a Sunday. But on the subject, I didn't realize you worried so much about me, I'd have shot you a text when I came in." You shrug.

"Y/n." Loki sighs.

"Is something the matter Loki? Avengers getting under your skin again?" You chuckle.

"What?"

"You seem grumbly this morning. Something get to you before you came here?" You ask.

"I'm not grumbly. You're just- excited. What's with that anyway?"

"Dude- you poofed in here talking about the reason I'm excited. What?"

"All this over some guy?" Loki scoffs.

"He's a very sweet guy thank you very much." You stick your tongue out.

"Oh please." He rolls his eyes.

"If you're just going to be a downer Loki go back to the tower, you're not about to ruin my good mood."

"I'm not being a downer, I'm simply here to remind you not to be impressed by little shit. Him having manners shouldn't make you this giddy." He says.

"I didn't say anything about manners. And besides what would you know? it's not like you're trying to impress me." You let out a half laugh as you speak. Loki pauses for a moment, his brow furrowing as he looks at you.

"Is that what you want from me?"

"No? I mean- that's not what I was implying." You say.

"What are you implying?"

"That you don't have a leg to stand on in the dating conversation, it's not exactly your area of expertise." You shrug.

"I guarantee anything that coffee shop boy did on your little date I can do a hundred times better." Loki scoffs.

"Yeah right." You roll your eyes.

"I'm a god y/n, don't tell me you think I'm at all as mediocre as your mortal men in any capacity."

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah there's a lot you don't say it seems." He crosses his arms.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You frown at him.

"You may not admit it but you're comparing me to your coffee shop boy. It's a battle he'll lose in the end but I'm sure you'll hold out as long as you can."

"Loki we fuck a couple times a week. There's really no reason to compare you two. You're categorized differently." You shrug.

"Categorized differently?" He quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah. He wants to date me. You- don't. So, no need to think about you versus each other."

"You have no- You don't even know this guy."

"You are very much missing the point." You shake your head.

"You are the one missing the point."

"Oh am I? And what point might that be Loki?" You smirk, leaning against your counter with your arms crossed.

"Gods you are so stubborn." Loki huffs out crossing your apartment. Loki's hand cups the side of your face and kisses you fiercely. It's like second nature to you, the way you react immediately, matching him each moment. When he pulls away he doesn't step back, still so close you can feel his breath against your lips.

"You're- a strange being Loki." You say softly.

"It's you that makes me this way."

"I haven't done anything." You say with a slight shake of your head.

"You've gone on a date." He says.

"Well yeah but that has nothing to do with-"

"Y/n." He cuts you off.

"Loki." You say back.

"I love you."

"You what?" You blink at him, so shocked you lean back to look at him better.

"I love you." He says again.

"When did that- what?"

"I love you."

"No, I don't think you do." You shake your head.

"I do. Y/n I do and I may not have said it before but I'm saying it now. Please don't tell me it's too late." His eyes search yours, for what you're not sure.

"Too late?" You frown.

"Your coffee shop guy. I can't lose you to him."

"I don't understand- how long have you felt this way?" You ask.

"Too long."

"Then why not say anything before today?"

"I couldn't, I couldn't when it counted, but I'm saying it now. And I'm hoping I haven't waited too long because- I cannot imagine staying on this dreadful planet without being able to see you, to hold you, to call you mine- like a shrike to your glorious thorn, I cannot survive without you."

"That's rather poetic of you to say." You say carefully.

"It's true."

"I- your timing is- what am I going to do with you?" You shake your head.

"You said dating is 'not my area of expertise', allow me to show you how very false that is."

"Are you asking me on a date Loki?" You smile.

"I'd like to ask for more than that but we can begin there, sure."

"I'm not opposed." You say.

"Very well, enjoy your breakfast. I'll be back this evening to take you out." Loki finally steps back, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"That will be a surprise."

"Well, what should I wear?"

"Whatever you like. You'll look amazing in anything." Loki smirks.

"That's not enough infor-" before you can finish Loki disappears in a flourish of green sparkles. "-mation." You say to the empty air. "Nice. Guess I'll wing it." You mutter to yourself. You can't even manage to be fake mad at him for more than a moment, the possibilities for your upcoming night out filling you with delight as you make breakfast. So, maybe you do want more from him, since that's a possibility now.

***

[zae-heeyyy]

Resumption

Summary: You and Arthur revisit the past. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,362 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur

A/n: This is an anon request gone off the rails because I can't write less than 1000 words for some reason 😅. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

P.S I understand and respect Mary, so I hope I did her justice here.

Resumption: The act of starting something again after it has been paused or interrupted. It implies a continuation of an activity, process, or state that was temporarily halted.

Traveling with your found family brought you back to this place you had long tried to forget. All that time ago, you left without much of a choice, pushing you straight into the clutches of the Van Der Linde gang. While the landscape had changed a bit, the people hadn't. Despite you remembering their faces, no one truly recognized yours.

You didn't blame them; you tried hard to forget them all, but being so close to everything again brought painful memories to the surface. This country somberly reminded you of loved ones passed on, desperate acts of survival, and a heartbreak that left you wanting to burn it all to the ground. You thought you could handle a simple supply run, but the longer you stayed in town, the harder you had to fight the affliction coming to a boil within you.

But every time you wanted to flee, the presence of a broad-shouldered, fearless cowboy kept you grounded. Arthur had sensed your uneasiness the second you hit town and made it his mission to protect you. You felt his touch for every minute of your trip, him keeping a hand on the small of your back as you gathered supplies and ordered from the catalog. He only turned his back on you to load the wagon while you hovered nearby.

A stagecoach stopped abruptly at the train station across the road. You didn't think much of it until you caught sight of a woman with child being helped out the side of the coach. She was clad in the fanciest day dress you'd ever seen, and her grandiloquent hat probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. Your body reacted before your mind did, your stomach dropping to the lowest pits of your being and your heart's rhythm multiplying by two.

The memory of her had engrained itself in you, etched deep in your brain. Yet, her role in your past was unclear at the moment, too clouded by the whirlwind of your life for you to put your finger on it. Arthur noticed your forlornness, stopping his task to look between you and the woman now disappearing into the train station.

"You alright? You know her?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but as the carriage drove away, it revealed a man in a dapper suit carrying luggage, his face no older than the day you left. You jolted like someone had doused you in cold water. Arthur came to the rescue, putting a calming, steadying hand on your back, but you were too distracted by the man you almost married once to notice. The phantom from your past blinked slowly with sad eyes, then turned his back and followed the woman inside.

Her identity gelled in your memory finally; she was the high-society woman he left you for. A time ago, your eyes would've shined with tears, but besides the initial shock of seeing ghosts, you felt a whole lot of nothing.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, breaking you from your trance. You were because you knew you'd never have to experience such heartbreak again. You just nodded, wanting to get as far away from this place as possible.

After things settled down for the night, Arthur whisked you away to a hilltop clearing, starting a fire and throwing a relaxed arm around you. He popped open a bottle of whiskey, had a sip, and passed it to you. His uneasy glance felt hot on your cheek, and you knew what was coming.

Scratching his beard, he spoke, unsure of himself, "so, that feller earlier…" His voice trailed off, the courage he had to ask leaving him as quickly as it came. Arthur hadn't pressed the issue of the brief encounter in town, trying hard to give you space. But his insecurity had gotten the best of him. You took a long swig from the glass bottle and shook your head, focusing on the ground.

"Somebody I really cared about once. Not so much anymore."

He didn't respond for a while, searching for the right words; he chuckled then settled on them, "he seemed real polished." You appreciated Arthur's mockery for once, his toothy grin lightening the mood.

"Oh, he is." You paused, eyes still focused down, eyebrows crinkling together. "Back then, I was doing what I could to survive, doing some things I'm not proud of, but he saw me. He saw me for me for me, invited me into his home, and cared for me.

Arthur scooted in closer, squeezing you into him. Talking about the past wasn't something either of you did much of. Yet, here you were, trusting him to carry some of the weight with you. It all left him feeling grateful and undeserving. You continued, "his daddy was a banker, and he follwed in his footsteps. They had money, a lot of it. His folks didn't think I was good enough, and then he made his choice. Found a girl who was more up to his standards, I guess. I loved him, and I thought he loved me. And maybe he did, but not enough."

You exhaled big when it all came out. Arthur laughed dryly, his eyes clouded over and focused off into the distance.

"I know all about that." You passed the whiskey back to him, and he accepted the silent cue, ready for his turn to open up.

"Had a girl that loved me once, Mary." The camp girls had whispered her name here and there, and even Grimshaw had commented that she liked you better than the last one. Many stories were told about her, and you weren't sure which ones were exaggerated for dramatic effect. None of it mattered, though. You trusted Arthur more than you'd ever trusted anybody and loved him enough to not only think of yourself in his rare moment of vulnerability.

"She was a fine woman. I can't bring myself to say anything bad about her, but her family, though…" he drew out a long, low whistle and started talking again. "I couldn't change, and well, maybe she did love me, but it just wasn't enough for us, either."

You took your turn to comfort him now, shifting positions to put your arms around his torso and lay your head on his chest. He hugged you back, resting his chin on your head.

"Didn't think love was for me. Was okay with that for a while. Then.—" vibrations from his chest tickled your ear as he laughed, "then Hosea and Dutch met this spitfire in the saloon and brought her back to camp. Said she was counting cards and scamming drunk fellers out of their money. The girl didn't even own a pair of shoes, but damn, was she sharp as a razor, and gorgeous. After a while, she had me thinking a lot about love again."

All that desperation seemed eons away now. Before Hosea and Dutch came along, you didn't know how you'd survive. Survival was the only thing on your mind; you didn't have time for anything else. Then, you met Arthur and knew it would all be alright again. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at him, grinning because you already knew the answer to the question you were about to ask.

"If that Mary girl came calling, would you go back?"

He grabbed you by the chin and spoke before he pulled your lips to his, "Hush woman. Can't you see I'm trying to be romantic? Yer my woman and yer stuck with me now. Ain't nobody for me, but you."

You kissed him for a long while, feeling his lips curving upwards. You pulled away and saw that all-so-familiar shit-eating grin creeping up on his face.

"What is it now, Arthur Morgan?"

"A banker, really?" he'd asked, his chipped tooth flashing under his lips, "I'm gonna try real hard not to hold that against you."

And then you threw your head back and laughed. Nobody made you laugh as hard as he did. And nobody else’s lips, hands, or body moved so perfectly in sync with yours. You were made for each other; you knew that for certain.

[mspaesthetic]

Tidbit: The "Threshold" Effect of Desaturated Objects Due to Increased Contrast

If you've ever asked how to replicate an effect like this...

...it's likely someone told you to apply the threshold filter, which converts any light colors to pure white, and any dark colors to pure black. And it's perfectly fine to do so. It's simple, straightforward, efficient. But I take issue with the assertion that it's definitively the only conceivable way Hussie did it when the evidence points to the contrary. Scrutinize the following examples under a microscope:

Did you see it? The singular detail that distinguishes these images from ones that have been thresholded? Congratulations if you noticed that these contain not only black and white pixels, but GRAY pixels as well! A threshold filter's conversion is binary; a pixel is either black, or it is white. No in-between. The presence of these gray values rules out its use, then.

One thing is clear, at least: these images are black and white in the traditional sense of the term, i.e. "grayscale", even if it's in drastic form. They've been stripped of any color, hue, chroma. Completely desaturated, in other words.

So from this observation, we can reason that they were converted to be grayscale at some point in the process of editing.

Of course, this is still lacking in the pure black and pure white departments. If only there was a way to adjust the intensity levels and push them both to their extremes... oh wait, THERE IS! Using the Levels adjustment tool!

Pushing the black input levels slider to the right makes all dark colors turn darker, and conversely, pushing the white input levels slider to the left makes any light colors turn lighter. This is a great way of increasing the contrast and adjusting the brightness. Speaking of which, the Brightness/Contrast adjustment tool in Photoshop with "Use Legacy" enabled also accomplishes a nearly identical effect.

This timelapse demonstrates how the Brightness/Contrast adjustment is basically equivalent to using the Levels one when used this way

I say nearly identical because raising the contrast all the way to 100% with Brightness/Contrast makes it actually identical with the Threshold adjustment tool. The black and white input levels sliders can't fully join in the middle because of the gray input level slider occupying the space, hence why there are some stray gray pixels even when pushing them to their limits.

Well, there could be several reasons explaining why there could be gray pixels other than the contrast not being high enough to clip them, but I'll spare you another needlessly complicated and overly technical rambling on how I can tell it's most definitely the Levels adjustment tool always.

This post is getting a little long, so I'll stop here and elaborate a little more on pertinent things under the read more link, like semi-opaque pixels, scaling down, sharpening, and the gamma slider. Also here's the potted plant PSD if you wanna check it out I guess.

ADDENDUM

Semi-opaque pixels

When separating objects from a background, it's usually easiest to do so with a magic wand selection tool, which selects regions of similar colors. There's an option to make the selection anti-aliased, smoothing the edges of whatever you've cropped. Unchecking it will make the pixels hard and jagged. The wine bottle and picnic basket are a good example of each, respectively.

If you've already cropped out something with anti-aliasing enabled, there's still a way to sharpen the edges after the fact. Duplicating the layer multiple times will increase the semi-transparent pixels' opacity. Do it enough times and they'll eventually become completely opaque. An analogy would be stacking multiple panes of tinted glass on top of each other. Stack enough of them and you wouldn't be able to see through anymore.

These semi-opaque black pixels would appear gray on a white background, and so would semi-opaque white pixels on a black one. That's the reason for the gray pixels around the edges on some of these examples.

Scaling down/Sharpening

Suppose you've already gone ahead and went through the whole rigamarole of editing the object to be black and white before deciding firmly on the size of it in your composition, and now you think it could be a little smaller. You could always resize it and scale it down, but with the interpolation method set to none/nearest-neighbor, it's going to look kind of shit, and with it set to something else like bilinear or bicubic, the anti-aliasing is going to make it a bit blurry (introducing these gray values). You could increase the contrast again, or you could use the Sharpen filter to do it.

Not to suggest that this particular example was scaled down after editing, it's just the one that looks closest to it since I'm too lazy to make one.

Sharpening repeatedly will bump up the contrast, plus Photoshop's Sharpen filter has the added benefit of hardening any semi-opaque pixels as well, making the edges sharper.

GIMP's Sharpen filter doesn't do that latter part, unfortunately, but if the layer has an opaque white background, it'll do the same.

Gamma slider

This effect might not be so obvious, but really take a good look at these board games:

Actually, maybe this Problem Sleuth bonus panel shows what I mean better:

The dark values are cranked up very high, and so are the light values a bit, but there's an inordinate amount of midrange values that are on the lighter side than what would be normal. That's because of the midtones input levels slider, the gray slider, the gamma slider, whatever.

I'm toot tired to explain any more than that, so make of that what you will. The end.

[mechanicalpiper]

Hey so I know your busy doing important things (And hearts out for whatever your doing) but I just had another idea come to mind that maybe you could put in a catalog for the future!

"Villain has just been defeated in a long battle by Hero and has decided to try a bit of seduction to win the day. However, Hero is Touch Starved to hell and back and cries at the slightest nice touch/caress"

Bonus points for some heart clenching fluff

Yours truly!

Cooper

You ever procrastinate so hard you start and finish an entirely different project?

By FAR the sappiest and most hurt/comfort-y I've done and was stupidly fun to write. Enjoy :3

Snippet #8

The sounds of strike after strike rang out through the empty city street.

Hero and Villain were once more locked in a tense brawl- nothing new, of course. It had become second nature to them by now- when you spend almost every other day scrapping with the same person for years, it's not hard to get used to it. Hell, with how familiar the two had gotten with each other's fighting styles by now, it was easy for either of them to just let their mind wander while they brawled if they just weren't feeling too up to it that day.

Hero was certainly having one of those days.

They semi-consciously blocked Villain's strikes and threw blows back, less like they were brawling for the safety of the city and more like they were doing a boring day job. An entirely different focus was on their mind... one that had stuck around for a while now. A thought? A worry? A feeling, or the lack of one? Hero couldn't tell by now.

They quickly ducked out of the way just in time as Villain threw a kick at their head, knocking them out of their train of thought and back into full consciousness.

Yeah, fuck, they were fighting Villain. Almost forgot.

Villain certainly took notice of their sudden attention. "Oh, THERE you are. C'mon, can't you at least focus? It's so much less fun when you zone out like that."

"Whuh-? Pff, fun? I'm here to stop you from committing murder, not for a little playdate." Hero grumbled back at their rival, still not fully back at attention.

"Hm. Certainly not the attitude from our first battle. Losing your touch, maybe?" Villain taunted back.

"You wish."

"I don't think I need to. You seem to be dulling just fine without help."

"Still sharper than you. I was winning without paying attention! You couldn't beat my subconscious, how do you expect to beat the rest of me?" As Hero shot back, a tiny smile began to form on their face. Wow, it's been a while since they've bantered in combat like this... it felt nice to just speak with someone, even if that someone was Villain, of all people.

"PFFFF. Winning? The only reason you're not bleeding out on the concrete right now is because I'm having fun with this. I spared you there, y'know~" Villain taunted, a confident grin on their face.

"Yeah, riiiight. How about you actually do something threatening before making simple empty thr-"

Hero was cut off by a sudden feeling- they brought a forearm up to block a strike from Villain, but instead of the expected punch, they felt a grab.

A... grab?

Hero froze in place for the slightest moment.

It was only a split second, but it felt like ages, as if their brain was desperately trying to to cling onto the brief moment. The slightest sensation.

Villain's touch was soft.

Yet, despite everything, the moment was still over far too quickly. Hero hardly even considered why Villain would go for a grab in the moment- by the time they processed the fact it was an attack, it was far too late.

Villain turned around to throw Hero against the concrete wall of the building behind them.

They let out a yelp of pain as they slammed backwards into the wall. After the touch, the motion of being thrown, the hard hit... Hero was far too disoriented to get back into action, let alone stay balanced. Unable to stand up, they just slid down against the wall with a small groan of pain until they found themself at a sitting position, defeated.

Villain let out a small, cocky giggle, stepping closer to Hero to look down at them.

Hero, while still rather disoriented, looked up to see Villain towering over them. ...Wow.

"Is that 'threatening' enough for you, sweetie~?" Villain taunted once more, looking down at the defeated Hero with cocky confidence. God, they loved the feeling of the weakened Hero looking up at them. Always felt nice to win against them.

Hero was already ignoring the pain.

Their brain latched onto that one word- one Villain didn't so much as emphasize saying, like it was nothing special.

Sweetie??

A pet name. A pet name??? Villain called them a pet name??? Sure, they've heard of it being used for taunting before, and really never thought much of it, but- but something about it felt so, so different. When was the last time they were acknowledged like that? Was there a last time? Why did just being acknowledged feel so good? Fuck, they shouldn't like this, they were beat up and lying against a wall with their arch nemesis towering over them, taunting them, but- but not k-killing them? It shouldn't feel... c-comforting, should it?...

...'Sweetheart'...

Villain just looked down at Hero, their cocky expression switched to mild confusion. They certainly didn't react like they were in much pain... Hero's face wasn't that red before, was it?

"Hm. Losing focus agai-"

Hero shook their head 'no' almost instantly, cutting Villain off in mild surprise. They were definitely paying attention, alright, but...

Villain slightly cocked their head at Hero, thinking for a moment. The pause was only a second or two, though. They were quick to get back to teasing, assuming they were simply overthinking a weird reaction.

"Hmmm~" they muttered, crouching down to get level with their defeated rival, keeping that same smug, satisfied look.

"See? I could've taken you out like that aaany time I wanted~"

Hero looked off to the side, as if trying to hide from the other's gaze- Villain's confidence only grew seeing the embarrassment they wanted out of Hero.

At least, what they saw as embarrassment. While that certainly was an aspect of it... it wasn't why Hero's attention diverted like that. Their thoughts weren't the feelings of humiliation and defeat Villain assumed.

An entirely different focus was on their mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling, or the lack of one?

It could be any of them. It could depend on the circumstance. It could technically fall under every one of them, with the right logic.

Hero didn't know nor care.

All they knew is what it felt like right now.

It's a fear.

A fear of this. This emotion.

The first time in memory they've felt so... acknowledged, so strangely comfy- the only time they could have this feeling was when their nemesis was using it to taunt them. The only thing they were ever really seen or known for is their protection of the city. The Agency was obviously impersonal and corporate, other Heroes saw them as an antisocial business partner, the citizens of course only liked them for the protection, and they had nobody else outside of that despite their years of previous efforts.

The only value others saw in them was the tangible benefit they provided. The only value they saw in themself was just that. They so, so badly wanted this feeling of comfort, but they so, so deeply believed they didn't deserve it.

Believed the only way they could ever be worth loving is when it was a punishment like this.

All Villain saw was Hero looking off to the side. Zoning out again? They mumbled something to themself, leaning down just a little more.

Hero didn't always used to do that. It had them worried, honestly. It only began somewhat recently, but it was absolutely constant.

Villain felt bad. Yeah, their public motive was always money or power or whatever evil plot they had for the week would accomplish, and while those certainty were good benefits, they weren't the reason they did it.

They did it for Hero.

They weren't joking when they said they were messing with them for fun earlier. It started as just a want to fight, but the second they came across Hero, they couldn't keep themself away. At first it was simply their fighting style being fun, as Villain justified it to themself. Then the wit in their banter was more entertaining than others. Then they provided the biggest challenge. Then... well, Villain couldn't deny a sense of warmth when they were around Hero.

They had so much personality, so much energy, but as time passed it felt like they got less so. Villain was almost scared to watch it. Not because it was more fun to fight them, but rather... well, they had to admit to themself they just didn't want to see Hero so thoroughly unhappy. So sapped of life.

Villain took one hand and gently swooped it under Hero's chin, turning their head back to face them and lifting their chin a little. Hero flinched a little, but didn't pull back.

"Hey. Pay attention, sweetie."

Hero's breathing got slightly quicker. Shallower. Starting off subtle, it ramped up.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, hOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT.

The feeling of Villain's hand was the best thing they'd ever felt. In their life. They didn't know anything could be this soft, any temperature could be this comforting and warm, that any grip could be so firm yet gentle, that any gaze could be so powerful yet soft- they were completely hyperventilating, tears welling in their eyes. They didn't want to trust it, but they wanted the comfort too badly to treat this rationally. They'd never felt anything so unbelievably wonderful. They wanted it so, so bad.

Villain couldn't stop themself from gasping. They certainly weren't expecting that reaction, but seeing Hero just break down like that, they were absolutely overcome with the heat of the moment need to just... protect them. Comfort them.

Only a moment later, the two simultaneously fell into an impulsive hug.

Villain squeezed Hero tightly against them as Hero buried their face in Villain's shoulder. Hero completely stopped thinking about their doubts- only one thing mattered right now, and that was Villain. It was so unbelievably comfy, warm, happy, soft, safe... years of built up serotonin was flooding out all at once, and it only got better as Villain brought one hand up from the hug to run it through Hero's hair.

They'd never been this much of an absolute mess. They'd never been this happy in their life.

Villain just continued holding Hero tight.

Minutes passed. Neither wanted the moment to end.

But finally, after what felt like years, Hero's breathing finally began to get deeper again. Villain let out a relived sigh, though didn't quite let go yet, allowing Hero's tears to dry and breathing to fully steady. Villain stayed patient as Hero got calmer and calmer until their desperate squeeze against Villain finally relaxed.

Hero felt the safest they ever had, and Villain couldn't be happier. The idea that they were rivals didn't even cross either of their minds- it just felt so right.

"...How're you feeling?"

Hero answered in a quiet, vulnerable, satisfied whisper, more emotion in their voice than Villain had ever heard.

"...n-needed this."

For the first time in ages, an entirely new focus was on Hero's mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling?

They were certainly leaning towards it being a feeling.

That feeling was love.

[eluxcastar]

Heyy! May i request dottore x fem!reader who is a Porcelain doll(a puppet like scara but she's made out of Porcelain instead) and likes all those cute feminine stuff and collecting stuff like bows, Porcelain dolls and more. And I wonder if dottore would like the reader being pretty feminine and what's his opinion on Porcelain dolls (don't mind when i did any mistakes, English isn't my native language)

~🎀🧷

Dottore with a doll reader

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: silly rambles about Dottore and doll reader being cute

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader (no gendered terms really used tho tbh), soft dottore (listen it's my guilty pleasure), reader has the properties of porcelain, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 950

THIS ACTUALLY reminds me of one of the very very first drafts I wrote even before Tartaglia's little brotherfication (coincidentally also of Dottore) so this is very fun. That doll was one of Sandrone's creations and I've decided so is this one

this also may hit close to home did I ever mention my slight obsession with dolls (it's worse than slight)

Dottore has fixed you many times, much to his inconvenience.

He has warned you many times against becoming reckless, but you never seem to listen, at least in his eyes. You are by no means fragile—porcelain is hard to chip away at—your habit is simply that of finding danger. Finding it, throwing yourself at it, and landing yourself here in the darkest corners of the Fatui's headquarters so the doctor can carefully string you back together.

A gentle touch is not his forte, the practised hands of a doctor toiling away in his effort to put you back together. You prefer him to Sandrone any day for how much less pain you associate with him. He can scold you all he likes, but it may never work. You'll keep coming back and asking for his help when your strings come loose, and he will oblige your request for reasons that escape even him. It is a simple process now performed practically from memory.

Your habit of collecting frankly worthless items is certainly something. The bows, frilly dresses, and varying spools of lace you always claim you'll do something with and never do all feel normal. The porcelain dolls, on the other hand, are...interesting.

You are a living porcelain doll, and yet you collect them like novelty items. Isn't that like your equivalent of collecting human babies? Whatever it is to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, so he keeps quiet as you fuss over their placement and hair, straighten their clothes or whether you're willing to sacrifice the careful styling of their hair to a pretty hat. It keeps you happy and away from everything dangerous that you seem to always run into.

The truth is, you are not in the slightest delicate despite making yourself seem that way. What you are is heavy, too heavy to always be lifting onto an operating table and too heavy to be lugging your pieces around—porcelain is not light.

However, there is interest to be had in the workings of your construction, which he is reminded of each time he takes you apart and watches you divide into inanimate pieces. You talk to him sometimes, pleasant background noise, or maybe just annoying when you start asking foolish questions he can't possibly answer. He can handle every "What are you doing?" and "Why are you doing that?" but when you begin to show your ignorance regarding your own creation and try to turn to him for answers instead of Sandrone, it frustrates him. 

You're supposed to answer his questions.

"She doesn't like my questions," you reason, and he never has to wonder why that is. Your incessant prodding and curiosity would irritate her, as does his indulging of your curiosity. She will complain that you're becoming restless and not as quickly satisfied, but really, nothing much at all has changed.

He can deal with your gravitation toward the things that make you happy if that's what keeps a smile on your face. One might even say he doesn't mind it, even when you pester him to help you tie your bows when they come loose in your hair or listen to your ramblings as you try to get him to help you with your dolls. He's better at tying knots than you. His hands have friction to keep the strings in place, unlike your slippery porcelain hands.

Your habits are endearing in their own way, the satisfaction with things that make you feel...human. You will never be, but the illusion of humanity and the yearning to chase it is not unlike the Segments. They think of themselves as human, believe they are, and exist as though they are human, yet they will never be as human as Prime. The only idea that makes sense is that you are displaying the same behaviour.

It is how Sandrone made you to be.

He can't say he especially blames you for following what your creation dictates. Your presence could bother him more than your interests could, namely a result of your many, many questions. It's not that you're sheltered or ignorant of the world around you—far from it—but most people don't know the nature of the things he works on, and you are no exception. You learned everything by asking, and he presents a wormhole of knowledge that you seek to understand by having him explain everything he's doing to you in great detail.

There's a bargaining that comes with it. Dottore will give you things so long as you stay out of the way, and you'll inspect them with a curious eye because he presents you with what Sandrone keeps you from. That is the only reason he can accept as to why you're talking to him, not that you like his voice and his smile, nor that you find the things he says fascinating or enjoy the light brush of his fingers against yours as he passes you your little 'distrations'. It's enough to watch him.

He complains his hands are always cold, and supposedly so are yours, but you've never felt temperature before. You like the faint glimpses of his scars, soft as his skin. They're not like yours, the closest equivalent being jagged cracks in your limbs that someone has to eventually fix before they worsen into breaks. 

Things are comfortable around him. He is used to the odds quirks of sentient, inhuman beings, and a benefit of being around them is that they don't mind how weird he is by most standards.

You are something he can easily get used to lingering around. Despite your similarities to the segments, he must admit that you are far less of a bother.

[gorgeys]

heyyy i've been thinking about this specific scenario w our queen for a while now and id love to see you writing about it if possible bc ur amazinggg

so basically ive been thinking about maeve and reader being in the beginning of their relationship but maeve is still very closed off and hates any sign of vulnerability so when reader notices that and tries to help maeve process her emotions in a healthier way than w drugs or just bottling up like she always does she gets really defensive and fight w reader about it but then maeve realize that it was a shitty thing to do n apologize to reader because she really wants this to work its just that old habits die hard

basically angst w happy ending bc im a sucker for hurt/comfort

never let me go ★ queen maeve

Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Maeve has her walls up, but you help her break them down

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2960

Note: thank you sm for the great request! i'm not the best at writing this hurt/comfort stuff but i really tried!! i hope you enjoy!

you stuffed shredded chicken into a searing pan of sauce.  if someone had walked in, they would have assumed you were cooking for a family of six. but no, the pan was piled high just for your girlfriend who had a never-ending appetite and claimed she'd rather eat your food than the meals at any restaurant.  that boosted your ego quite a bit considering maeve had literally dined at the most expensive and renowned restaurants in America.

some nights she'd come up behind you while you whipped up one of your classic dishes and wrap her arms around your waist.  she'd leave little kisses behind your ear and tell you how much she missed you, leaving a stupid smile on your face.  then she'd rest her head on your shoulder and ask you to tell her everything about your day because her day was "boring as usual."  you didn't consider being a crime-fighting superhero boring by any means, but you got the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

but then other nights you wondered if the meal was all she came for.  it was nights like tonight, where she sat silently at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and an empty bottle beside her, that left you worrying. whenever you glanced back at her, she always seemed to be blankly staring off into space, as if complicated thoughts were clouding her mind.  you had tried giving her space but you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.

she only makes her presence known when she gets up from her chair, opens the fridge, and reaches for another beer.  upon noticing, you release a tired sigh that catches her attention.

"maeve, do you really need another?" you ask without turning around.  "i mean, you're gonna finish the whole case."

she closes the fridge behind her.

"i can just go out and buy some more," she says with a simple shrug.

"no, maeve, that's not what i mean," you say.  you half turn to meet her eyes and just look at her for a moment, wondering if she'll catch on.  from the little twitch of her eyes, you think she does, but she still doesn't say anything.  she just stands there and stares back at you, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle.  you sigh once more.  "is something going on?"

"what? no," she quickly says with the slight furrow of her eyebrows as if it's a stupid question. she doesn't sound one bit convincing.

"right," you say, fully turning around and dropping the wooden spoon into the pan. you lean your back against the edge of the counter.  "so you just sit in silence, drinking like a fish for no reason at all?"

she scoffs and laughs as if you're being absurd.

"since when do you care how much i drink?" she asks with her usual satirical smile.  you know that smile well.  it's the one she always displays when the conversation is teetering on something uncomfortable.

"since you started drinking like a middle-aged man going through a divorce."

"oh, come on, y/n" she says, waving you off.  "it's just cause i can't really get drunk like a normal person.  i need a few more."

"a few more?" you ask with raised eyebrows.  "maeve, you drink enough to kill a couple racehorses.  i mean, the only people i've seen drink that much are people trying to forget things."

her smile falters and you take it as a sign that you're headed in the right direction.

"if anything's going on, i want you to know that you can talk to me about it," you say sincerely, taking a step toward her.  "i'm always here for you, no matter what."

you catch her rolling her eyes before she turns away from you.

"god, stop with all the sappy shit," she says sharply.  she slams the beer on the tabletop rather hard.  "i'm fine, okay?" she says, borderline shouting.

"then talk to me, please," you say, placing a hand over your chest.  you know you sound a little pathetic as you plead but you hope it gets through to her.  "because it's so hard to guess what you're feeling when you just sit there not saying anything.  i can only imagine the worst."

she audibly groans before she sits back in her chair.  her eyes lock dead onto yours and she ignores the desperation written all over your face.

"i have shitty enough days already, the last thing i wanna do is come here and talk about my fucking feelings like i'm in kindergarten.  i deal with enough children at vought already," she says, crossing her arms and staring daggers into you.

you press your lips together out of frustration.  she's a grown woman but she's acting like an immature teenager.

"well you can't just keep everything to yourself," you say, matching her posture and crossing your own arms.  "i know it's a lot to carry between the seven and vought and having to save everyone in this whole shitty city, so don't feel like you have to carry it alone."

she laughs at you and it only feels like a punch to your gut.

"god, i didn't know i was talking to my fucking therapist," she says, overenunciating her words and practically spitting at you in the process.  "do you come up with these lines yourself or do you steal them off inspirational pinterest boards?" she asks with a derisive smile.

"maeve," you sigh, growing tired of this game that you're playing.  she's usually awful at these touchy conversations but she's especially defensive tonight.  you take another step toward her. "all i'm asking is that you have a real conversation with me.  i mean, i feel like i'm talking to a stranger half the time because i don't know a single thing about you.  you wanna talk about the bachelor for an hour but can't tell me a thing about your day or what's actually bothering you.  it's like pulling teeth with you."

you take a final cautious step toward her and place one palm on the table to support your weight. you're standing just inches away from her.

"stop shutting me out.  it's hurting both of us," you say, more softly this time.

"you mean it's hurting you," she says, punctuating her words by slamming her fist on the table, causing you to flinch and jump away from her.  you look down and notice she's cracked the wooden surface.

you've never been seriously scared of her strength before, but you are in this moment.

"i'm doing just fine, actually. you just want me to have a break down so you can feel better about yourself and your small, meaningless problems," she says, rising from her chair.

you scoff out of disbelief.

"do you even hear yourself right now?" you ask, throwing your hands up in the air.  "i'm your girlfriend, not some villain you have to fight.  i'm not praying on your downfall.  all i wanna do is help you."

she laughs and shakes her head while you huff.  it boils your blood when she treats you like this, like some ignorant outsider, not someone who cares so deeply about her.

"oh, okay y/n, so let's just hold hands and sing kumbaya and maybe all my problems will disappear," she says, the typical sarcasm dripping from her tone.  it's quickly replaced by venom.  "you can't do anything to help me.  you're stupid for ever thinking you could," she yells, before falling back into her chair and opening the beer bottle with the flick of her thumb.

once again, you just stare at her, wondering if she'll recognize the insanity behind her words and the visible hurt they've inflicted on you.  but no, she just takes a long swig from the bottle, letting you know that nothing you've said has pierced her tough exterior.

finally, you've reached your limit with her.  you know this is going nowhere.

"well fuck me, maeve, for trying to help," you say, spinning around and turning the stove off.  she puts her beer down, a little surprised by the abrupt change in your usually understanding nature.  "you can make your own dinner and go back to your bougie penthouse and drink yourself to death up there, okay?  i'm not fucking doing this tonight."

she only watches as you, with glossy eyes, stomp toward your bedroom and slam the door behind you.  she doesn't make an effort to stop you, but instead sits there almost dumbfounded by the way she's tipped you over the edge.  she had never seen you like this before.

she stays at your now cracked kitchen table for quite a while, downing her third beer and contemplating if she should go in and talk to you or leave like you asked.

even if she did push aside the embarrassment and work up the courage to knock on your bedroom door, what would she even say to you?  that she has blood on her hands from all the people homelander's killed and she can't take it anymore?  that when she closes her eyes, all she can see are those screaming, terrified, innocent people?  that that's why she's broken inside?  no, those are her burdens to carry, not yours, she thinks.  she can't scare you away now, not this soon.

"fuck," she curses as she stands up from the table, eyes locked on your bedroom door.

she wants to be in that bed with you, her head tucked in the crook of your neck as you sleep soundly.  she wants to fall asleep to your perfect, soothing smell and the soft sound of your breathing like she usually does.

but no.  no matter how much her heart hurts, she can't bring herself to your door.  she can't let you see through her like that.  instead, she throws the bottles into your trash can and walks out of your apartment.

xxx

for the next few days, all maeve can think about is you.  she thinks about you opening your apartment door for her, close to midnight, after a long night of crime-fighting.  you're in your cute plaid pajama pants and maybe your oversized queen maeve shirt that she stole for you from vought tower.

she thinks about watching netflix on the couch with you, cuddled under your favorite soft blue blanket.  she thinks about the moment you slump against her shoulder as you begin to doze off.

she even misses your texts.  she misses your "have the best day, baby!!" texts.  she misses all the heart-eye emojis you send her.  she misses the cute impromptu pictures you take, especially the ones you take of yourself kissing random queen maeve billboards or posters around the city.  she misses your "i love you <3" texts.

and it's during a boring seven meeting where she keeps checking her phone, hoping for a text from you, that she realizes that she can't lose you.  she desperately needs you and every day that she doesn't see you feels like a pointless one.  she can't carry on with vought or the seven or saving people if she doesn't have you to come home to.

so maybe, to make this thing between the two of you work, she needs to change.  maybe she needs to open up, because losing you is not an option.

that's the sentiment she repeats in her head as she knocks on your apartment door, waiting impatiently to see you for the first time since your fight.

she hears the pitter pattering of your bare feet from behind the door before you swing it open.  and there you are, in all your glory of messy hair and sweatpants.  you don't say anything, so maeve sends you a weak smile.

"hi," she says awkwardly, looking almost embarrassed to be in her current situation.

"hi," you reply, more coldly than she's used to.  though she understands after everything she said last time.

she stares at you for another beat, soaking in every part of your presence.  relief floods her body just seeing you.

"i, um, i bought you a new table," she says, raising the cardboard ikea box she had tucked under one arm.  "i'm sorry about what i did to your other one."

you open the door wider so she can come in and set the box down in your kitchen.  when she walks back to you, you still have one hand on the door edge, holding the door open.

"is that all you came to do or..."

she can't read your blank expression.  do you want her to leave or stay?  it doesn't matter.  she has to be brave right now.

"no," she says, standing awkwardly in your living room, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.  she nervously looks down at the floor for a moment.  she reminds you of a shy school girl that's trying to work up the courage to ask out her crush.  "can we talk?"

you close and lock the door and notice that maeve's already invited herself to sit on your couch.  so you sit beside her, your body turned toward her and your elbow resting on the top of the couch.  you watch as she sits there stiffly, as if she's never been there before, with her hands tightly folded in her lap.

her gaze nervously flickers from your face to her hands every few seconds.  you can see the gears in her brain spinning in overdrive as she tries to find the right words.  although the air is slightly tense and awkward, you would sit there for hours if it meant maeve would finally share herself with you.

"y/n," she finally says, abruptly raising her head to look you in the eye.  your heart jumps a little. "being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.  i've...seen terrible things," she says before taking a deep breath.  "i've done terrible things."

you realize that this is the moment.  this is the moment where she's finally going to let you into her life.  her whole life.  so, you shelve your anger and gently rest a hand over one of her wrists.  you give her skin a soft, encouraging squeeze that tells her to continue.

"and...the guilt is the worst part.  i-" she pauses to take another shaky breath and then press her lips together.  you can see that tears are beginning to prick the corners of her eyes.  "i don't know what to do," she admits, her voice cracking.  your heart cracks along with it.

"and i guess..." she continues.  "i didn't want you to have to worry about that.  i didn't want to scare you," she says, looking back down at her hands.

"maeve," you coo, resting your other hand on her shoulder.  a pout naturally finds it's way to your lips.  seeing her this emotional almost makes you want to cry with her.

"and i'm so sorry.  because...not telling you made everything even worse.  and i just don't want to lose you," she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.  her hand immediately rises to wipe it away.  "i don't want to lose you because of something stupid like this."

"maeve," you say, your hand leaving her shoulder to push a strand of hair out of her face.  "it's okay., it's not stupid.  i get it, you're not used to doing...this. i know it's hard for you."  you gently hold her cheek in her hand, forcing her to make eye contact with you.  "but you could never scare me away.  i promise.  i'm with you because i want to know all of you.  all the bad stuff too."

"but, y/n, it's really bad," she says, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from breaking down.

you're leaning into her and holding her face with both hands now, your foreheads almost touching.

"maeve, you're a good person," you say.  you sound so sincere that maeve can't help the silent tears that start to flow rapidly.  that was everything she needed to hear and more.  "i know that.  you know that.  whatever is going on, it's not something that we can't overcome together.  if you let me in, i'm going to help you as much as i can, okay?  i'm always here for you," you say.

she nods in your hands and feels her body flooded by an overwhelming sense of comfort.

"i need you, y/n.  i need this to work. and i wanna be better.  for you," she says, finally bumping your forehead with hers.

"i know.  and i know it's scary to tell me all this stuff but i promise, it's going to get easier.  if you trust me, there's nothing we can't do," you say, a little smile finding it's way to your face.  you know it sounds cheesy and it's something maeve would have made fun of you for under typical circumstances, but in the moment, it feels right.  "and you know i love you, right?"

she instinctively wraps her arms around your shoulders, engulfing you in the tightest hug you've ever received from her.  she familiarly tucks her head into the crook of your neck, inhaling that smell she missed so much.

"i love you so much," she whispers into your skin and you melt in her arms.  you hold her just as tightly, your fingers rubbing up and down her back.  "i missed you."

"i missed you more," you say.

"i'm never letting you go again," she says, squeezing you to her chest even tighter, and you laugh softly.  she's telling the honest truth.

though fear still lingered in the back of her mind, this feeling sure as hell beat any alcohol.

[wuwaworld]

Mortefi x Reader (One-Shot)

— wishing to be in the front lines against the evil forces, you applied for submission to be a soldier. by some luck, you passed the test. now, how will you tell this to your co-worker.. whom you've found endearing despite the everyday banter? can you really leave the safety net of the Academy?

tw: Mortefi as a menace, idiots in love, prob ooc Mortefi, vague spoilers(?) (for those players who aren't that far into the quest/knowledge on wuwa yet, like me lol)

chaotically rewritten.

forgive the man's bluntness, but Mortefi doesn't really understand how you're fretting over something quite simple.

it started with fleeting glances throughout the whole Academy. Mortefi notices how you hold a thick envelope, flapping its seal but never actually pulling out what's inside.

“what are you doing?” Mortefi approaches you on a random afternoon, the Academy's activities were a bit mellow today. so he guesses he could take his free time to chat with you instead.

“ah-!” you fumbled with the envelope in your hands in a panic, “you can't just surprise me like that!”

“well,” Mortefi chuckles wryly, “someone is quite in a foul mood these days.”

“whatever.” you huffed, attempting to hide the envelope away from his prying eyes. your hands discreetly placing it beneath the stacks of paperwork–

but of course, it was the reason Mortefi approached you, wasn't it?

shamelessly, he picks up the envelope from your hands, flipping the smooth material around as he checks for something relevant on its cover. Mortefi swiftly leans away when you try to pry it away. his taller stature easily raising his hand out of your reach.

“hey! give that back-” you felt quite anxious as Mortefi continued to hold the envelope. “don't you have some manners?”

“weren't you the one who said I should drop the formalities, hm?” Mortefi retorts as he leans down to your height, the envelope in his hands still out of your reach.

“now, will you tell me what this is?”

“an.. application.” you sighed, attempting to cover it up as you reach out for the envelope once more.

“about what? you're oddly being secretive.” Mortefi prods, merely raising his arms out of your reach once more.

“if you give it to me, I'll tell you.” you bargained, crossing your arms as getting the envelope back seemed futile.

“I've seen children conjour a lie better than yours.”

“ugh, you-”

Mortefi merely chuckles, his fingers playing with the paper flap. an almost unnoticable teasing smile on his lips as he taunts further.

“fine,” you huffed, “it's a test result.”

Mortefi blinks once, processing the information.

as far as he knew, you didn't had any major work this past few days. the only things you had done were signing papers and fixing broken weapons that were dropped in the Academy's door.

besides, he's the one who gives you work. so this envelope must be something personal. something a mere co-worker shouldn't pry.

“it seems I've crossed the line,” Mortefi sighs, placing the envelope back in your hands, “I apologize if I came out rude-”

before he could finish his oddly sappy apology, you covered your mouth— laughing at his somewhat sheepish expression.

“you-” you laughed, looking at him as he stood confused, “you're taking it too seriously-”

Mortefi then deadpans, crossing his arms across his chest, “ha.. you're so eccentric.” he mutters. his eyes now looking at the way your lashes flutter as your eyes closed, or how your tense body seem to ease a bit as you laughed because of him. it was him, Mortefi, who had made you this happy—

but.. you didn't have to know that.

you didn't have to know the way he hids his expression as soon as you look up to him; the endearing look he once had replaced with nonchalance. he patiently waits for you to calm down from your peals of laughter, uncaring of the odd stares around the office.

“Mortefi?” he saw the way you tilted your head, a few strands of hair framing your face as you waved your hand in front of him. how rude, he thinks.

“I can feel you heating up.. even when I'm just in front of you. are you that embarrassed?” you asked curiously, a mix of concern and teasing on your tone.

“I'm upset that you seem to shrug of my genuine concern.” Mortefi scoffs, trying to quell his raging heart beat. he crosses his arms more tightly against him as an act of defiance. but really, he was trying to hide the way his chest rapidly falls up and down, his breath quickening on the way he feels at that moment. it almost felt as if the Tacet Mark on his chest was waving along to the frequencies of his heart.

he knows what he's been feeling for you the past weeks.. but a little more denial and study on his feelings wouldn't.. hurt.. right?

“ah, my bad.” you apologized, but Mortefi knew it was merely half-meant, if the way your shoulders just seem to shrug it off.

“now, since we've been in this conversation for a while,” he starts off as he ignored the flutters in his stomach, pushing up his glasses with his finger, “what really is in that envelope?”

if your laughter was any indication, Mortefi deduces that while it is personal, it wasn't something that truly concerns you to the point you'll shut people out. he began to scrutinize the way you bit your lip in nervousness, or the fact that you seem to hold the envelope even closer to your chest. (which he hadn't noticed that you already grabbed subtly when he places his arm down.)

“well?” Mortefi tilts his head, waiting for a reply.

“I..” you sighed, looking at him straight in the eye, “I'm going to the military.”

you notice the way Mortefi merely glances at you with a look of absurdness. it had made you realize that maybe your answer was quite vague.

“I'm leaving the Academy,” you made the announcement clear, and didn't miss the way Mortefi's eyes widens a tad bit, “I applied to be a soldier on the front lines.. I want a different kind of approach in helping Jinzhou.”

“.....”

for a while, you wonder if you had somehow.. broke the ever so suave Mortefi you did. if the way he seems to heat up more..? did he became upset on your sudden announcement of looming departure?

“Sir.. Mortefi..?” you called out unsure. at the end of the day, he was still your superior– no matter how much you banter like friends.

his eyes sharply turns to you, an inquisitive look on his face. “back on formalities again?” if anything, he sounded more and more upset.

“sorry,” you sighed, your hands tentatively pulling out the thick paper from the envelope. showing him the results of your test in applying in the military.

Mortefi looks down on the paper, he glances at the words etched on it. amidst the long words and paragraphs, his eyes zoned in on a sentence.

“we are pleased to have you with us as a fellow Midnight Ranger!”

not knowing his inner building turmoil, you looked down on your feet as you spoke, “I didn't know how to tell you.. the higher-ups already gave me an approval to leave the Academy within a week or two.”

the bustling sounds of the place were the only white noise. you watched as Mortefi stood in front of you, a thoughtful, yet unreadable expression on his face as he stares at the papers. flipping the page every now and then.

“Mortefi...?”

“is that all?” said man merely hums, as if his odd attitude previously was an illusion, “I should probably give you a newly made weapon to help you before you depart.”

“oh.. are you not upset?” you questioned, taking the papers back.

“should I be?” Mortefi smirks, a knowing look on his face, “should I not be proud that you're broadening your minisicule horizons?”

“you-!” you balked, watching as he continues to tease you relentlessly... before cutting him off with a, “gosh, Mortefi. at least take it seriously!”

“what's there to treat in such manner?”

“I.. uh..” you paused, gears slowly aligning in your head.

in a matter of seconds, you felt yourself heat up. a mad blush painting your cheeks as you hid your face behind the envelope. Mortefi was right, why should he treat it so seriously? in fact, he should be somewhat supportive as your co-worker, even amidst the bittersweet departing.

then why is it that you feel.. mad.. or upset.. at his lack of.. elaborative response?

“are you upset?” Mortefi taunts, giving you the taste of your own medicine from earlier as he leans his body to your height.

“nothing,” you tried to shrug off, your feet taking a few steps back as you looked away.

“if this is about your late announcent to me as your superior, then yes.” he teases, as he morphs his expression into a mocking anger.

“in the end of all this though,” Mortefi gestures to the envelope, “I commend your bravery on stepping in this hectic journey.”

“...thank you, Mortefi.” you feel the way your cheeks even grew more a deep red, and as you look up, you were surprised to see a soft look on his face. almost as if..

no, you can't assume something so serious like that.

..yet you can't ignore the tension, the way he continues to check on you at work even when he wasn't required to. the way Mortefi nags the mess on your office that you left previously on a chaotic overtime at work. yet you find your desk a tad bit cleaner than before as you went back after lunch. which he hasn't done with other colleagues, merely staring at another's messy office place in disgust.

you can't and won't ignore the whispers of the people in the Academy on how you two seem too close to be mere co-workers. on how he asks for your opinion regarding a prototype he has made, even if the both of you knew he already had the answer with how genious he is.

there was no movement from both sides. though Mortefi was a straightforward man, he can even hesitate on something as delicate as love.

while there were no clear answers, like a new problem that was put on hold to be solved— the both of you know the way you feel with each other without words. it's only up to time and fate as to when the answer would unravel.

until then, this distance seems enough for now.

“fine, since you've done this much for me,” Mortefi mutters, looking in your eyes with a somewhat fond look, “go ahead, tell me the wildest inventions you can think of, and watch me make them happen for you.”

the man took a step forward, and boldly places a hand on your shoulder. his thumb brushing against the fabric of your clothes leisurely,

“after all, I can't let my co-worker leave the Academy empty handed now, hm?”

[seirindono]

two questions.

one, HOW DOES ONE COMIC/STORY BOARD??

IM OBSESSED WITH HOW YOU DO IT ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

two, HOW DO YOU SO IT SO FAST( that’s question is more just me being super impressed oh my goodness)

you’re very good😳

Aw, sweet, a board question *puts on serious glasses*

Ok, bring it on anon.

So, the first thing to ask yourself when starting a comic, as I see it, is what type of board are you dealing with. Webtoon? A4 pages? 4 panels? There are many ways to go about it, and each involves different processes. For example, pages will allow for more superfluous scenes, whereas the webtoon format has to be super succinct because of the reading direction. I personally think that's the main reason I do pages, among other advantages: •narrative density •variety •Tumblr-friendly format

There are quite a few disadvantages too but you have to go through the process of trials and errors to really find out what suits you best!

Then there's the ambition of the sequence you're boarding for. And it goes from 1. how used I am to boarding this kind of sequence/drawing these characters/setting and backgrounds, to 2. is it an emotional sequence? Dialogue-heavy? Or more contemplative?

It changes the way you work and how you should approach your board! For example, in TMS, the very wordy chapters (4 and 5 for ex) generally called for simple and narrow framing. Of course, you don't want to bore the reader so you can spice things up to match the characters mood and reactions once in a while, but you have to bear in mind that the sequence aims to provide dialogue and information = the text bubbles are key and WILL take a lot of place. So let them.

( then again, it's all about pacing and balance. A page full of dialogue and one with too much happening are equally hard to read and boring to do)

Only dialogue, simple squares, no compostion, the focus is on Mel's reaction

On the other hand, parts 7 and 8 are all about action and atmosphere! This makes for wider and more varied shots!

They're fighting, things are going fast so why not use a single line to show many actions! They're still basically squares and rectangles but the pacing is totally different!

Or why not give the action a full page to really show its sheer impact

You can also split things, with a zoom or small time gap, depending on if it's a gag or if you want to put the focus on a reaction. Here, the asymmetry helps reinforce the unstable, jerky aspect of the scene. The situation is getting out of hand, and visually, the pages are affected too.

Now, these are case-by-case examples. And I never work on my pages separately.

For context, this-

-is the "first" board I did for part 8.

The drawings are very small and frankly difficult to make out, but the intention is what matters at this point lol I have the script (very important) next to my canvas, and I scribble the pages one after the ither. This allows me to see if the actions flow well, if the compositions are varied and also whether certain passages are too long or too short in regard to their importance. Which scenes can be merged? Removed? Toned down or if they deserve more bite?

This is a really fun and creative part but, I'll say it again, made a lot easier with a solid scipt. And I'm talking about a text document with clearly defined dialogues (or at least outlines) and actions.

I can't really explain how to write a script, it really depends on your work flow and how confortable you are with writing, but it's too important to just rush through it. No matter how much it changes before, during or after your finish boarding (cuz you gotta break your own rules sometimes and you'll often realize some things don't work as well once you put them on paper/sometimes art block can be resolved by writing the scene and just taking the time to imagine) but it's still your one guideline.

Aaaand, that's about it.

Other than that, I can only highly recommend reading lots of comics, Webtoon, books, watching movies, paintings, illustrations, animatics or listening to music, to inspire you and expand your own "personal library of references". Professional or not, anything your find inspiring and well executed. Boarding is at its core, telling stories. No art skill involved, just pure subjectivity. At the end of the day, it's all about squares, rectangles and bubbles so you gotta work on your creativity. The rest is gut feeling!

Constantly ask yourself how to tell this story, and how you want to tell it. How this sequence should be perceived? What do you need to show to make pages and pages of words appealing and interesting.

Be patient, be bold. Start with easy stuff to get some confidence if you need to. Accept that "boring" pages are smt necessary and that it's up to you to build up tension for a scene to really pop. Try new ideas and be ready to scrap many of them, the result will be worth all the work!

Now, concerning the "fast" part, I'm flattered but I personally think I'm super slow xD You prbly get that impression bc I finish the whole chapter before posting it, but behind the scene, I'm just working at a very regular pace.

Thank youuu anon ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[gacha99]

Vertin is a very emotionless character

but that doesn't mean she's entirely void of empathy or care. She's just kind of a monotone person, and we can see from Chapter 3 that she's always been this way even when she was a child. In all the scenes she's in she's got a pretty flat and even tone, and doesn't sound as if she has any real dislike of other people.

Particularly it's when she's with Sonetto who's so different from her in every aspect, that we see that Vertin despite her need for freedom and to explore the outside world doesn't hold others in contempt for having different aspirations than her.

Vertin's not unaware of how hard it would be for someone to shake off the hold The Foundation has on them if they've lived their entire lives being told what to do and what to think by The Foundation. And while Vertin was also just like every other child who was brought in at a young age, despite this she still holds an insatiable curiosity for the outside world.

So instead of trying to change other people's minds by forcing them to go along with her plans, or turning her back on them, she shows them the parts of the world that drives her to keep going. She shares the parts of the world that pushes her to keep going with other people in the hope that it just inspires them to join her, and nothing more.

And even though Vertin and Sonetto have very different opinions and views about The Foundation, we can see even in the earlier chapters when they're partners that Vertin hasn't stopped trying to bring others over to her side by simply showing them the outside world.

Vertin's care for other people is so strong that you can even see it in other parts of the game, such as the actual game mechanics for the game. I already mentioned on my other blog about how the Resonate game mechanic is a reflection of how Vertin impacts the characters in the suitcase, and I think it's pretty cool how they've managed to put so much of Vertin in the game even if she's not technically a playable character.

Whenever you "bond" with a character, the things they say are directly towards Vertin and not really "you" the player. There's a clear wall between the players and Vertin in terms of even the character interactions, and that's simply because the devs REALLY want you to know that this game is about Vertin trying to inspire people to come to her side on their own.

Reverse: 1999's core theme seems to simply be "Keep living for the future" and that's a nice message until you realize just about every character has a reason for why they'd want things to go "back to the way they were before". In the beginning, the games objective seemed pretty simple: Defeat these bad monsters causing the Storm, save Arcanists in each era, repeat. But by Chapter 2 it's pretty clear that Vertin didn't "win" in the end.

She managed to save some Arcanists, but she still lost people in the process and had no way of really saving those people's loved ones from the Storm. It's a bittersweet ending where Vertin has to ask these random strangers who have probably never interacted before they met her that day to say goodbye to everything they've ever loved.

So then ultimately what can Vertin do besides shelter a few people from The Storm? To her it is worth it to save even a few people if she can, because while she can't save their loved ones from a fate of being erased from existence, she can give them a chance to keep going forward "To the next era".

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 6th of June, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 6th of June, 2024

Question: How does Harry feel about not attending Trooping of the Colour this year?

Note: This reading was done with all the cards upright, so no reversals

Interpretation: He feels betrayed

Card One: The Emperor

This is the card for King Charles in his role as King, not as a father/brother/uncle. It is also the card of being in control, the ultimate authority, structure, stability, and practicality. It also refers to the fact that the Trooping of the Colour is the public celebration of the King's birthday.

This card tells me that the decision not to invite Harry and Meghan to the Trooping of the Colour was a practical one. The hassle of dealing with the two of them and their expectations (carriage ride) versus where they would be in the procession (minibus) was just not worth the effort. It was simpler and easier to leave them out of the event, so that is what happened.

This card also tells me that Harry blames his father for him not being invited to the event. He can't see why his father, the King, would not have given him and his wife an invitation. There is an energy of betrayal around this card, as per the underlying energy of the reading.

Harry feels very hurt that he is not invited and he is 100% blaming his father for this (not himself, his wife, his behaviour over the past few years, or anything else - in his mind, this is 100% his father's fault). There is also a very faint energy of him saying to himself 'they didn't ask me because I would be more popular than/upstage The King and my wife would upstage Queen Camilla, so they didn't invite us because they are jealous of us' or something like that - a fantasy to soothe the hurt he feels about not being invited.

Card Two: The Six of Cups

This is a card about childhood and looking back on the past in a nostalgic, rose coloured glasses kind of way. It can also be a card about children.

This tells me that Harry is looking back at the past and remembering all the times he did go to Trooping of the Colour. He is remembering all the good bits about those days and not remembering the bits that annoyed him or upset him. The card has a very strong energy of nostalgia about it.

There is a small energy of Harry wanting his children to have the same experiences that he did, but it is part of the nostalgia of this card and it isn't giving rise to anger or any strong emotion (yet). It is a simple feeling of 'I had this as a child and I want my kids to have it as well', but there is also a sense of competition with the children of Prince William, an 'if they have it then my kids have to have it as well' energy that is greedy and grasping and possessive.

Card Three: The Five of Pentacles

This is the card of being an exile, hardship, loss, poverty, and isolation. Not being invited to Trooping the Colour has made Harry acutely aware of his status as a non working royal and exile from the BRF. He feels very left out and he is upset at being left out. In his mind there is no reason to leave him out - he is rich, popular, with a beautiful hot wife, and having him there would only add to the event - so he does not understand why he has not been invited. He does feel the lack of an invitation as a sign that he is cut off from the BRF, and he feels this very acutely.

Underlying Energy: The Ten of Swords

This is the card of betrayal (among other things), and the energy of betrayal is pouring off this card. Harry feels betrayed by not being invited to Trooping the Colour. He feels deeply betrayed by his family, and he doesn't understand why they would do this to him. It's not as if he has done anything to hurt them (in his mind), so why would they leave him out? He doesn't understand it and he is very hurt by this behaviour, particularly from his father, who he was sure would have invited him and welcomed him back with open arms.

Conclusion:

Harry feels very betrayed by not being invited to Trooping the Colour. He blames his father for not inviting him and he can't understand why his father would do this to him (instead of welcoming him back with open arms and giving him his old place in the carriage procession, behind Prince William). He is hurt and feels like an exile from the BRF. This could be the first time that he has actually had some sort of realisation that he is not a member of The Firm any longer, but merely another non working royal, and that has upset him. He is looking back on past events with rose coloured nostalgia and he wants his children to share that experience. However, the main energy of this reading is one of hurt and bewilderment - a 'How could you do this to me?" kind of energy.

Note: At the moment the energy is still mainly hurt and bewilderment, but I would not be surprised if it changed to anger at being left out and Harry doing something to 'act out' and get his family's attention, especially on the day of Trooping the Colour itself or around that time.

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

I love how so many interpersonal conflict in MDZS aren't caused by simple 'miscommunication' – they're caused by people being too quick to judge things based on rumours or one-sided information, without consideration for the actual evidence behind that.

The soup incident? JZX only believed the guest cultivator's side of things without consideration of JYL's words. 3zun's fate? LXC only considered JGY's side of the story, without considering NMJ's may have some truth to it (because in his mind, JGY had a justifiable reason for all his actions). Sunshot-era Wangxian conflict? LWJ believed the unfounded* narrative he was taught around what guidao does, contrary to what the only source of evidence was saying, and it's this that leads to WWX constructing a barrier between them. Their final confrontation at Nightless City? WWX came to the conclusion that LWJ was against him, hated him too, despite the fact that "any sane person would be able to tell that Lan WangJi’s voice was clearly shaking" (EXR, Chapter 78), due to his mental state at the time.

This same mindset is also leveraged by other people, for varying purposes – whether it be JGS blatantly lying about WWX's words in the hopes people would believe him, or NHS spreading false rumours about the man-eating castles at Xinglu Ridge in order to stop people disturbing the sabre spirits (of course he uses this mindset in his plan to utterly destroy JGY as well, both directly and to contribute to the view NHS is useless). And that mindset also creates the main driving antagonistic force – the rumour-driven mob mentality so present in the world.

I just love how present this theme (the harm of coming to conclusions based on incomplete evidence) is in the novel, even when it's not drawn attention to**!

(more discussion under the cut)

Now, there are obviously other factors to the conflicts above – and in most cases, these reactions are understandable (WWX's misreadings due to his mental state at Nightless City, for one thing, but others, too). For example there was evidence that appeared to be there supporting LWJ's views on guidao: WWX did appear paler, there would definitely have been differences in his health vs the health of those with a working Golden Core, and he was quick to anger and did seem more arrogant than before, even though that was moreso a combination of trauma and constructing an image that meant nobody would look into the matter of his Golden Core too closely. So argubaly, he did weigh the evidence he had, and it just led him to the wrong conclusion! But none of that means this aspect wasn't a major factor in those conflicts – just as it doesn't mean that LWJ didn't instantly disregard the other side of the story (WWX's words), and came to the wrong conclusion partially because of it.

That also doesn't mean the characters can't learn from this or change their conclusion – LWJ comes to accept WWX's words towards the end of WWX's first life, LXC does open up to the potential flaws within JGY when Wangxian raise it, and after he's seen NMJ's corpse, due to receiving strong evidence (the wrong melody and cleanly missing pages in the Collection of Turmoil, for instance). If he only started suspecting JGY after he shows his cards at the Guanyin Temple, he wouldn't have done things like block JGY from the Cloud Recesses, for instance.

(And, a final note: the problem isn't that these characters chose the 'wrong side' of the issue to see it from – their process would still have been flawed even if they came to the right conclusion from its other side. The problem here is that none of them consider both and weigh them up to judge.)

––

*Regardless of whether you believe guidao has an adverse effect on mental state, and it isn't just trauma – WWX is the inventor of guidao! So any pre-invention speculation about the effects of guidao was, by the word's definition, unfounded... and these teachings were certainly pre-invention! So though I do have an opinion regarding this, it doesn't affect the point.

**Chapter 30 is a good example of when it is: '[LWJ:] “One should not comment without understanding the whole picture.”' (EXR) – but it appears in many of Wangxian's actions throughout the present day section of the novel (especially in regard to teaching the Juniors).

[eggedbellies]

Cumflation always fun

My favorite is when it's caused by tentacles

Especially if they cause... Side effects to say the least. 

Mmmhh even better if the slime that lubes them is an aphrodisiac to humans,  just a little touch and maybe you'll feel the heat start to creak in,  just enough to question if you should leave or not.  The air was heavy with the smell of it,  almost alluring.  Letting one come and poke around your mouth,  letting it slither in and coat your mouth in its gooey self.  It starts to leak as you succumb to the aphradaisc,  or maybe,  your true feelings. Feel as they undress you,  pull your clothes off you,  leaving more and more of their slime on you,  only making you more wet. Feel as they grab you,  hold you in the air, pose you so all your holes can be open to use.  Feel as they tease your needy hole,  leaking.  Beg for them to use you,  to stop teasing,  but they won't,  not yet.  Not till they are certain you are ready,  and when they did,  oh you came from a simple thrust. 

Feel everything go into overdrive,  feel as if you beg to be filled.  They explore your body,  giving it a nice clean coating,  one final feel before you change for the better.  Feel as the first tentacle fills you,  already causing bloat of cum.  Have it comfort you,  rub your belly to make sure you are ok.  Then the netentaclesles appear and repeat the process.  Can't leave you thirsty,  how about we put one in your mouth,  to keep you nice and fed with cum.  Hours pass as you are passed between tentacles,  your holes leaking all their cum,  until it's break time,  to allow you to rest and perhaps,  gestate,  to allow the eggs to form.  Don't worry, just call out and a tentacle will come and satisfy you. 

I wonder what you'll be like in a couple of days,  weeks,  maybe months.  Days of being filled to the brim,  with cum or eggs.  Laying eggs and being filled.  Maybe you've gotten a bit leaky in the tits,  and you have two dedicated tentacles to milk you.  Maybe even more,  who's to say you won't grow an extra pair?  Maybe so much breeding left you a bit alien,  perhaps an extra eye,  a skin change, or much much more,  , who's to say you don't have tentacles you can control yourself? 

All I know is the human who's going to come find you not going to want either. 

Oh yes slime lube is a classic! Yes! Good! We love aphrodisiac slime lube, that is a verye yummy thing. Finding your brain foggy and loose, and it doesn't seem like a bad idea - actually, it feels like a downright good one, now, to let them slip into your body, hold and carress you, letting them slip into your holes and take possession of you -- it's a perfect little gift, isn't it?

And then being nothing more than their toy, always bred and full, squirming tentacles keeping your body constantly oversensitive and round and … yeah… there's a reason tentacles were one of my earliest kinks slol.

[moons-of-dewclan]

I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!