#great resignation grief

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 10

MASTERPOST

I hope you enjoy reading <3 comment and reblog, it relaly helps!

Underneath the hot summer sun, Damian lay fat on Danny’s belly as the older boy lazily drifted underneath the water’s surface. Well, drifting was a strong word, as Damian estimated they were still going at about 20 miles an hour, but considering Danny’s top speed, it probably was like a peaceful drift.

The ocean water was crystal clear, all the way down to the shallow floor beneath them, as patterns shifted and ebbed with the movement of the waves. It was very much welcome change from the dark ravine they’d just evacuated.

They swam close enough to the surface that Damian could occasionally peek his eyes over the water. It was probably the first time he’d touched air since he woke up a changed being. It felt hot, quite hot in fact. Damian looked up to the sun, before quickly ducking back down as the harsh glare blinded his sensitive eyes.

“You’ll get used to it.” Danny had said. Damian resigned himself to idly batting away at the surface, watching the streaks and waves created by the speed of his hands pushing the water apart.

It was amusing. The peace helped to keep certain thoughts out of his mind for a little. But Damian was nothing if not decisive, and he would put the concerns that nipped at his fins to rest.

“I take back what I said. Earlier.” Damian muttered.

“Sorry, what?”

“About you being a poor excuse for a hero. All I have done is antagonize and belittle you, and yet you still choose to burden yourself with me.”

“Damian I feel like we’ve been over this.”

Damian crossed his arms. “No, that was for leading you into danger.”

“Well your forgiveness coupon extends to past grievances too this time.” Danny said, a ghost of a smirk gracing his translucent skin.

“You have shown a great heroic spirit. When I came to Amity Island, the reports of your character were confusing, and contradictory. Now that I have seen your actions with my own eyes, I can see the truth…”

“Aw, Damian…” Good grief, he was about to start getting mushy again. Damian had to stop this.

“You are just as much an obnoxious goody two shoes as my eldest brother.”

“You know? I’ll take it, backhanded compliment or no.”

Damian slapped his tailfin on Danny’s stomach. The older boy only laughed, that same obnoxiously contagious mirth that only Richard could produce. Damian lowered his head into his crossed arms, disguising any peeking grin with a pout.

Knock, knock, knock.

Bruce Wayne had made a note to visit Fentonworks sometime during their visit, but circumstances have moved that trip up his timeline. He took in the maddening contraption that was this building. There was no building code in the world that would allow this thing to stand. Above the brick and mortar, winding metal pipes lead into what appeared to be a huge radio tower complete with observation deck. Bruce could practically feel the stress those pipes had to take. It was so top heavy it was a miracle a stiff breeze hadn’t knocked the entire house down. He would definitely not want to be the poor sap who had to enforce building codes round here. Considering the Fenton’s penchant for shooting first, it would not be surprising if they had shot at them, likely yelling accusations of “collusion with the sirens!”

However, these people were his best lead, and he needed to follow it. For Damian’s sake, and for his.

The door swung open, revealing Maddeline Fenton in her signature jumpsuit, the hood pulled down and hair slightly disheveled. From the search, or out of worry for her wayward son?

It had been a good twenty-four hours since Damian had been dragged into the water by an unknown party. The moment Bruce noticed the beeping alerting that Damian’s tracker was going critical, he went into Batman mode right then and there, rushing to the scene of the crime. However, what he found instead was fourteen-year-old Daniel Fenton standing over the peer, a haunted look on his face.

Bruce had asked him if he was ok, before local authorities separated then and corralled them away from the scene, setting up tape and warning signs. Bruce verbally wrestled with them, demanding to let him see if his son was alright. However, as far as they knew, he was just a normal man, in no way equipped to dive into the depths and fist fight sea monsters.

It was at times like this that he cursed the need for secrecy.

Bruce didn’t see Daniel Fenton again. When he asked around, nobody had either.

Barred from joining the search physically, Bruce was given free access to the security footage in the area, searching in conjunction with other investigators, as per his insistence. While he recovered barely anything useful for Damian, it did show Daniel’s last appearance being around ten minutes after Bruce had found him. Daniel had slipped out of the crowd, last seen heading toward the cliff-face on the far side of town. Bruce sent off the info to the police and GiW as soon as he found out.

That lead him here. To console, but also to interrogate.

“Oh, Mr Wayne! We weren’t expecting you.”

She led Bruce into the living room, seemingly a very normal and domestic place, but a closer look revealed dozens of spare parts scattered around tables and desks and shoved to the side to make room for more unfinished inventions. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen, and Bruce could almost swear he saw glowing blue slime dripping out of it.

“Jack! We have a guest!” Maddeline called out, before inviting Bruce to sit down with some tea. “I’m terribly sorry, we weren’t expecting visitors. And I’m so sorry about your son. That close to shore, our preliminary bouy should’ve been able to detect the attack. We’re not sure what happened…” she trailed off.

All these facts Bruce knew well. He had been briefed on them in the early hours of the search, while there was still much hope to be hand.

“Actually, Dr Fenton, I was visiting to give my condolences about your own son. I know with all the talk about such a high-profile case, it’s easy for other cases to be swept under the rug, but that would be unfair for you.”

Madeline’s face warped not into sadness, or depression, but confusion. “Excuse me? Danny’s been staying at Tucker’s house at the weekend.”

Bruce opened his mouth to interrupt, but Madeline beat him to the punch. “Sorry, please give me a moment.”

She rushed over to an old landline hanging by the wall next to a pair of precariously placed prototypes for some kind of futuristic gun. Rapidly punching in what he recognized was the Foley house’s number, Madeline yanked the phone out of its receiver.

“Angela? Angela, is Danny there, I need to speak to him… What?!” Madeline’s face twisted into shock. Her left hand cradelling the landline, her right hand stroking her hair repteadly. “Danny told me he’d be staying at your house. Yes, yes. Please do so. Thank you Angela. I’ll call Pamela now.”

She hung up. Another rapidly inputted number later, and a second call went through. “Pamela, I’ve been told that Danny’s been staying with Sam. Is he there? I urgently need to speak to him.”

This time, the response was very audible. Bruce could hear a raised, ranting voice, a far cry from the sickly sweet dulcet tones ‘Brucie’ Wayne had been subjected to the night before. “Pamela I need you to listen to me. Danny told me that he’d be staying with Angela. Angela told me that Tucker told her that they’d be in your house. And now you’re saying Sam’s taken them all to a camping trip on the mountain? Yes… yes. I know.”

Just at that moment, Jack Fenton, barreled into the room, emerging from a set of stairs leading into the kitchen, a tray of chocolate fudge cookies steaming in his gloved hands.

“Brucie Wayne!” The man put down the tray of cookies and rushed over to Bruce, where Bruce’s hands were almost crushed by the vigorous handshake the man gave him.

“Listen, Brucie,” Jack Fenton’s voice lowered. “I really wanted to say we’re sorry abou-“

Before Jack could finish what he was saying, Madeline grabbed him by the collar. “We have to go, Jack! To the SAV!”

Bruce stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

That might have been a mistake. Jack Fenton grabbed his hand again with that bone crushing grip and pulled him outside. Madeline pressed a button on a remote, revealing a garage housing the scientific marvel and engineering horror of the Fentons’ hand-crafted and customised tank of a… duck boat.

The exterior was sleek white with silver lines, with reinforced tires on the bottom and a hull wide enough to float on water. The top sported a radar dish, and Bruce identified several seams all across the boat, likely where some of the numerous weapons the Fentons made were hiding.

Of course, Bruce had seen this thing in action before, and the only thing worse than Jack’s sailing was his driving.

“Come on Brucie, we can talk more on the way!”

Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…

“It is pitiful how much Richard adores that, that Jaws film.” Damian’s disgust is palpable in his low glare, a disgust mirrored by Danny’s own gag.

“Dude, no way. I hate that fuckin’ movie so goddamn much. Imagine making a movie where tiny puppies start mauling people to death for no reason!”

Damian nodded, sagely. “It is anti-shark propaganda in the finest, and its disavowal by its direct is incredibly telling.”

“I think the Dolphin Mafia were behind it.” Damian considered this thought. How he would love for that to be true, so he could sink his teeth into some dolphin flesh in revenge for what they did to him and to shark reputations worldwide. “Like dude! Sharks are the cuddliest fish on the planet! They don’t even fight sirens, let alone humans. Pretty sure sea urchins cause more injuries. Hell I think the siren attack numbers are about to overshoot them.”

“If the Dolphin Mafia do exist, I will make it my mission to hunt them down, and devour them all.” Damian said with fatal finality.

A beat passed. Danny blinked. “Dude, aren’t you a vegetarian?”

“… Perhaps.”

“Isn’t it like, a moral thing for you? Don’t tell me the siren instincts are messing up your brain chemistry. I literally wouldn’t know how to explain that to Bruce and I’m already fearing for my life.”

“I am of my right mind. It is just that I intend to slay them regardless, so why let their flesh go to waste?”

“You know stuff doesn’t go to waste in the ocean? Like, if you don’t eat it, there’s a million other tiny organisms waiting in line for you. That’s how the freaking ecosystem works.”

Damian considered these words. While yes, it was a relief that killing the Dolphin Mafia (if they did exist) would not necessitate their consumption to prevent wastage, it was oh so tempting to dominate them in the traditional fashion of supreme ocean animals…

“It is worth considering. I will ponder my decision at a later date.”

“I’ll pretend that isn’t utterly scary.”

Damian’s thoughts turned to another pod of dolphins… “That being said, I should like to relieve Skulker of his hunting dolphins.”

“You mean hunting… doglphins?” Danny said with another infuriating grin. Damian went to bad it away, only to get stopped by the older boy holding him back with a finger.

“Let me finish my point! If you intend to continue making inane puns, this journey will be difficult.”

Danny laughed.

“I am serious!”

Danny laughed again, provoking Damian to launch himself at the older boy’s face with a snarl. The boys tumbled and tussled through the water as they play fought…

Bruce was beginning to get nauseous.

His pleas for safer driving went largely ignored. “Sorry Bruce it’s an emergency!” Which left him to helplessly cling to his seat for dear life as Jack pulled sharp turns at top speed, and barrelled through barricades.

The SAV’s alarm sirens (how ironic) blared at full volume as Madeline’s voice blasted through a megaphone. “This is a siren emergency! Please be on the lookout for Sam Manson, Tucker Foley and our baby sweetkins Danny Fenton! HOLD ON TIGHT BABY BOY, WE’RE COMING FOR YOU!”

Scanning the streets for the teens while praying for God for safety from a civilian’s driving was not on his agenda today.

“You doing ok back there, Mr Wayne?” Madeline asked. Bruce grimly nodded.

Jack Fenton swerved through a roundabout, heading for the mountain.

If Bruce’s intuition on teenagers was worth anything (and it had to be worth anything, considering the years he spent wrangling some of the craftiest, most rebellious teenagers on the planet), those kids were definitely hiding something. He just had to find out…

[saintkunii]

All a ghost can do is haunt

Pairing. Zhongli x reader

Contents. arranged marriage, historical au, ex fiance childe mentioned, a simple life with your military general hubby zhongli.

Wc. 1.7k

It is with a heavy heart that you find yourself resigning to your fate, caressing a jade hairpin with grief. It’s smooth against your fingers. The intricate carvings give the illusion of a fluttering phoenix almost lifelike as if it’s about to soar to the skies. 

It’s the most exquisite thing in your possession and the only remnant you have of a certain diplomat’s son. 

With every stroke to the hairpin, you’re brought back to the day you received the item with so much fondness and excitement that you carried it with gentleness. afraid that if you put too much force, it would crumble under your touch. 

It was a rough hand that reached out to gift if to you that warmed up your soul. 

He said it was a promise of some sort. Of a lifetime and of his return. 

He said it was meant to symbolize your connection with him. Something physical. Something tangible. 

Something to remember him by.

You recall the soft breeze carrying ginko leaves off to the distance and the faraway clamor of a festive banquet in the background. 

His eyes back then were crystal clear, electric blue in hue stared at you with a tender grin, calloused fingers wrapped around your hand in a gentle hold. His thumb would rub around your knuckles in assurance as you were forbidden to meet in such a secluded part of the mansion. 

And he was rebellious in nature, always finding ways to get around and meet you in secret. When he enveloped you in his embrace, it’s as if it was meant to be, and you mold perfectly within his arms. 

It was perfect. 

His warmth soothed your racing nerves and the playfulness in his kiss filled you with nothing but glee. 

Everything went as it should. 

As the betrothal should have.

Ajax. You recall his name. What once filled you with joy and fondness has now turned into a bitter memory that makes you feel sick in your stomach. 

Your hold on the hairpin tightened and you let the item roll down your feet with a soft thud. 

It stings. Your chest feels constricted and your eyes warmed with tears. 

Oh you loved him so much, it hurts. 

Had you not decided to visit the marketplace with so much stubbornness, relentlessly pleading to your husband, you would not have met the sight of that man smiling and laughing with the woman he replaced you with. The ever so great foreign woman who attracted his curiousity. With hair as bright as gold, skin as pale as jade, and elegance as delicate as the calm winds that twists your heart with jealousy.

She was valiant. Aja- Childe would describe. Strong and courageous with a heart of gold, selflessly putting others above herself, and a woman of virtue. As you've been told.

You hated how soft his voice melted as he spoke those words. It was the same as how he used to speak to you in private. 

She was every bit that you're not. courageous and kind. 

It's a sight tainted with bitterness and such hollowness you can't help but resent the memory.

A servant at your side was alarmed at your reaction as she rushed up to you and supported you by your elbow. 

“Are you alright, madam?”

You choke a sob.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and exhaled. 

There was no point dwelling over the past. 

Try as you might not to let said matters get to you, you realized that the long years of affection you harbored to Childe was not so easy to dispel as you had thought so. 

“I’m fine.”

Ling Ji picks up the hairpin and brushes away any dust that might have cling to it before returning it to you.

You take one glance at it. It’s magnificent and beautiful, appearing with great splendor that you've worn over the years. It carried all the memories you have of Childe. All the good and bad.

“Sell it away,” you order with a final conviction.

You decided to discard any remaining embers of feelings you have left for your previous fiance. 

This is for the best. 

You hope so. 

Parting was inevitable. 

“Madam? Are you sure?”

Ling Ji asks once more, afraid that she heard wrong but you only nodded your head to her. 

She knew how much you treasured the item.

“I do not want to repeat myself again. Just do it.” 

“As you wish.”

She excuses herself out of the room and disappears, leaving you all alone to gather your thoughts. 

It’s best you hold your head high now that you’re married to someone else and focus your energy on building a better relationship with your husband. After all, he saved you from the humiliation of being branded as a discarded woman not wanted by their betrothed. In exchange for an heir, he offers you all the wealth and luxuries, prestige and honor that are tied to being his wife, and freedom to do whatever you want to your heart’s content. 

–

Zhongli was a feared figure in the battlefield, a war god that ravishes the land with blood and carnage. Just a mention of his name was enough to evoke fear among the mass. They said he beheaded a man and skewered his head as a warning to the barbarians, they said he took a hundred men with his bare hands and tore through their flesh like it was nothing. 

It was always he said, she said. 

With a reputation as gruesome as the military general, stories were bound to blow out of proportion and thus you’ve always thought not to put too much attention to the rumors. 

When you first met him. He was nothing as they proclaimed him as. There was nothing like a fearmongering god in his visage. He was cordial when you talked to him. Ever so polite and patient when he offered you tea and shared a box of pastries over a casual talk. 

His rich knowledge of everything under the sun made you initially think he has semblance to the overly pompous and close minded noble sons that sees others beneath their stature, and yet not once had you seen him carry that arrogance that comes with the scholarly attributes. 

The humility in his approach is a little endearing as you would find yourself admitting.

“Did you enjoy your little trip to the market?” He asks, his hand careful in pouring tea. 

You watch his callous fingers wrapped around the handle of the teapot and as green liquid fills your cup, the earthy aroma wafts through your nose and soothes your nerves. 

That was supposed to be your job and yet you watch your husband serve you refreshments. Ever since you entered Zhongli's family registry as his wife, you always made sure to spend even a little bit of time with him.

“I did, my lord. But there was nothing that struck my fancy.”

You took the cup with gratitude and brought the rim to your lips. One sip and you place it back down with a soft thud. 

For some reason, Zhongli's presence always exudes such calm temperance that sways you into tranquil silence. The words exchanged between the two of you are never short and yet there's an unspoken trust that lets you cultivate in such an environment for such a short frame of time that you've been together. 

You consider him a friend at least. At this stage.

And you've been working hard to close the distance between you two.

“I see. Maybe next time I’ll bring you to Mingxing.” Zhongli empties his cup.

He sees your barely touched tea and regards you with curiosity.

“And have you adjusted well within the mansion?”

Whether he notices your plight or not, he doesn't comment on it and awaits until you're comfortable enough to spill it yourself. For that you are grateful. 

“Don’t you have Xiao to report back to you, my lord? I’m certain he already told you everything I’ve done.”

“That’s true but hearing it from you would be entirely different. I'd very much love to hear your personal opinion.”

You nod in understanding and recount anything of worth to tell. From the way you're adapting to your role as the mistress of the house and everything that involves managing the estate. 

You suppose you're doing well. Aside from your heartbreak. 

Everyday you spend time indulging in your hobbies. From reading to embroidering and painting, you've never felt more relaxed in your entire life. Comparing yourself with your life back in your paternal home, from the scheming of your father's concubines, to your sisters sabotaging each other, you've finally tasted a life free of worries. 

Zhongli did make a promise to let you live a comfortable life. Not only that but he had gone above and beyond as you noticed the lack of women in his inner court. As of now, all his attention was completely on you. 

"The progress for the renovation of the east wing is going well, my lord. It is estimated to finish before the arrival of this friend of yours."

You notice him crack a smile. 

“There is no point being so overly formal between the two of us, wife.”

You raise a brow at this, a little taken aback because of how you've been used to calling him. 

You didn't think it would matter to him much as he had always kept a respectful distance between the two of you. 

You humor him a little. You like this. 

You're thankful that he's meeting you halfway with your efforts.

He must have noticed as he's always been perceptive. 

“Very well. I’ll take it as an invitation to call you something else then.” For a while, you ponder for an endearment. “Zhongli.”

Zhongli chokes on his tea.

“You don’t like it?”

“No- That’s not it. It took me by surprise. That is all.”

“Oh? You don’t think it’s too intimate?”

“I, naturally, have nothing against it." Your husband regains his composure. "I suppose since we’re husband and wife then there’s nothing wrong with whatever way you wish to address me.”

You smile in response to this, letting the silence settle in the space between you and the warmth of what you can now call your family of your own. 

Maybe you're not quite there yet with love, but you're willing to try again once more, open your heart and trust with the companionship of your husband.

It's not all bad. You think so yourself. Zhongli is a great man as far as you can tell and you're ready to move on to the next chapter of your life with him.

[mtkay13]

The peach blossoms are blooming

Lol @the fancy title, haha. Yesterday I promised "two hoboxu's today!" but I'm an inconsistant liar so the second is today and not yesterday, HAH.

Anyway, another painting of my very beloved; more about this piece below!

So aside of the obvious joke, what I really wanted to work on and represent on this picture is, as the title makes it clearer, grief, and what it looks like for ZZS.

The idea came from imagining ZZS setting off, happy with his disguise, and passing by a peach tree orchards and seeing all the peach blossoms blooming, and what it would entail.

...So let's talk about what TYK is about again, shall we?

(usual caveat: those are my thoughts and interpretations etc etc)

Little is known of the four years that separate the end of QY and the beginning of TYK. Even less is obviously stated when it comes to the reasons why ZZS has put in the nails, besides the obvious "requirement to leave Tian Chuang" part.

So, trying to leave all headcanons and other suppositions aside, and looking at what the text gives us, one of the main "storylines" of ZZS' personal journey across both books seems to be: dealing with the loss of LJX, first of their relationship, and later, of LJX entirely.

>I'm going to boldly announce that (I think) TYK is in great parts a story about getting over grief, or rather, properly living with grief.

Needless to say that it is clear that ZZS has a bunch of issues he's dealing with, including "the void after meeting your goals; what's next?" and some form of burnout from completely over-exerting himself and going way beyond what he thought he could sustain mentally; but also. Four years after he lost LJX, ZZS is still deeply grieving. Still seeing him in crowds, still thinking about him frequently, still hallucinating him, dreaming of him. He couldn't resist taking in ZCL because ZCL reminded him of LJX. Nearly every single thought of his own past ends up rooting back to LJX.

The first time he mentions LJX's name out loud in TYK, chapter 41, is the first time he mentions it at all in four years, and to quote the text:

Speaking out his name hadn't been that big of a deal, in the end; it had only felt like something had been pulled out of his chest—like he was now missing a piece, like it left behind an empty void.

(TYK ch41, TL by me)

The next scene is when it hits ZZS that he's going to die; from that moment on, ZZS starts feeling stupid, ZZS slowly starts wanting to find a solution, influenced by WKX... and the story culminates with ZZS making the opposite decision that he made in QY: instead of risking never seeing WKX alive again, and against WKX's decision, he goes to meet him, unlike LJX whom he was too scared to go meet, and lost forever without even saying goodbye.

>I think that ZZS essentially took the nails because he couldn't manage to live with that grief, basically. (I know, I KNOW there are other reasons, but for the sake of analyzing this theme, I find interesting to look at it from this angle; how the narrative shifts towards ZZS putting in the efforts to stay alive at the exact same times he starts letting go of LJX literally.) And then, as he learns, as he rediscovers life differently, the story becomes about getting free from the nails, about actially living with that grief rather than dying because of it.

*coughs* so, hum, yes. This is what I wanted to represent. What grief looks like, at this stage of melancholic, happy, self-deprecating acceptance of freedom through death—freedom of the burden of grief and guilt. It's a bittersweet feeling, but the way I see it, he smiles out of what he thinks is inner peace, resignation, and once again, self-deprecation.

I would go even deeper, in that ZZS' relationship to death with regards to LJX is quite complex and difficult, given how he was told by LJX himself that he ought to die for what he's done (or misunderstood LJX saying so), but that's a whole other can of worms and I don't have the brain juice to go there again (since it wouldn't even be the first time iirc). SO YEAH, again, grief, but ZZS style: turned into a bit of a melancholic, silly, but gentle joke, and with a smile on the face. On brand with TYK as well.

Cheers!

[lurkingshan]

Last Twilight Episode 10

Okay…okay. I have had some concerns about this show on a low simmer for weeks and unfortunately, the direction this episode took has brought them all roaring to the surface.

First let me just say there was a lot about this episode I really loved (anything to do with Night especially). But there are also a few things that did not work for me so well, so let’s take them one at a time.

Mhok’s Story

Mhok’s financial struggles, the prejudice he faces as a formerly incarcerated person, and his deep grief for his sister have been back-burnered for weeks while he and the story focused on Day. I chatted with @my-rose-tinted-glasses about this last week and said that I was reserving judgment and hoped this was an intentional part of the narrative that would come to the fore—Mhok was subsuming his own problems by making Day his entire life, and when he inevitably left the caretaker job he would have to face them again.

Welp, this episode was the moment for that to happen, if it was ever going to, and the show didn’t do it. Instead, they quickly glossed over Mhok’s struggles with two short scenes and a couple lines of dialogue, stuck him in a new job, and went right back to focusing on Day. Will I ever get a Thai bl that sets up class conflict and financial struggles and then actually takes it seriously?? Apparently not today.

This choice to gloss over Mhok’s money problems is also making the romance feel pretty imbalanced, and I’m really mourning the opportunity to see Day be a supportive partner to Mhok like he has been for him. I want Mhok to be a whole person, not an improbably perfect love interest. The lack of reciprocity in their dynamic is not great and it’s holding this romance back from reaching its full potential.

Day’s Mom

Let’s be very clear: Day’s mom’s behavior in this episode was abusive. She was within her rights to fire Mhok, which he knew and that’s why he resigned before she took action. But her choice to intentionally isolate Day and lock him up in his room with no access to the outside world was cruel and selfish. And it doesn’t seem like the show really gets that, given how they presented her and Day through the rest of the episode.

That family holiday scene was really missing the underlying edge it should have had given she was playing the loving mom while doing these things to Day, and other than one brief line from Night that got interrupted, we didn’t see any acknowledgement in the story of how wrong she was, or even get a good sense of how much she was harming Day.

I would have liked to see Day actually seem affected by his isolation rather than focusing on more cute date moments. Bad Buddy was really adept at delivering excellent couple moments while never letting you forget about the underlying trauma and melancholy of the story, but this show is not quite managing to do the same. Moonlight Chicken also has some glorious moments where bad and abusive parenting was called out very directly, so the lack of it here is really jarring. It all feels curiously light for the subject matter and I expected more from Aof.

Day’s Vision

Obviously after the end of the episode this will be the worry on everyone’s mind heading into next week. We know Aof previews can’t be trusted, but it seems clear the surgery is going to happen. Thematically, I do not think it makes any sense for the show to restore Day’s vision. I wish they weren’t going here with the eye donation surgery at all, but if they’re going to do it I hope its purpose is for the procedure to fail as a mechanism to force Day and his family to finally accept that his disability will not be fixed. But given the above noted poor execution on some of the story’s other themes, I am not currently feeling super confident that the show won’t do something very silly here. Fingers crossed!

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy on AO3

Excerpts from the Targaryen Histories in regards to Lady Abrogail Strong, as collected by Archmaester Gyldayn

[…] Introduced by the Lord Hand's wife, Lady Cybell Reyne, Lyonel Strong and Celeste Reyne were a love match. The third and final marriage for the lord, the two of them complimented the other well. The Lady Celeste was both a kind and formidable woman, a true lioness of the Westerlands. It was said that she could speak so sweetly for nightblooms to open in the day, and command an army as easily as she could command the ladies at a summer picnic. Lord Lyonel was a quiet man, intimidating upon sight but could easily indulge in discussing more obscure moments of history with great vigor. Children would be difficult for the couple, and after miscarriages and a child who passed shortly after birth, Abrogail Strong was born in the cool, early days of spring in 109 AC. Lord Lyonel named her for one of his more obscure historical interests of the demon sorceress, Abrogail Thrune, of Asshai.

Grandmaester Mellos has the most to share during this time, having attended the Lady Celeste in her final years and thus we can take his writings as primary source. The child, Abrogail, was installed in the nursery along with the young Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. The children were soon joined by the infant Prince Aemond, raised together as kin, under the watchful eye of the Queen and Lady Celeste. The children were rambunctious and close, frequently seen together exploring and playing. Sources agree that tensions began to rise once Princess Rhaenyra's firstborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon, joined what had been affectionately dubbed The Clutch per the command of the King. Later sources suggest that the rumors of Jacaerys' bastard parentage were strengthened here as the children grew older, with many remarking that both Abrogail and Jacaerys shared the same smile and dimples. The initial rumors questioned due to the darker features the boy had compared to both his assumed parentage; it was the similarities with the young Abrogail that narrowed the potential fathers down to Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra's champion and sworn shield.

Stories are told that the Hand of the King had attempted to resign but the King refused his request, and demanded that he return after setting his heir up in the Riverlands. Abrogail was meant to have accompanied them, but Larys Strong himself states that his father decided that he would send for her later. It was a decision that saved the child's life. Fire broke out in the holding, killing Lyonel and Harwin without any chance of rescue.

Grandmaester Mellos' records state that the child fell into a depression so deep, they feared she might take her own life. She had gone mute and listless, refusing to engage in activities that once delighted her, and refused to eat. She was considered unwell enough that it was deemed unwise to allow her to attend Harrenhal for her beloved father and brother's funeral. When informed of this, Lady Abrogail gave no reaction, and seemed to sink further into her grief. Septon Eustace provides an account of witnessing both Abrogail and Prince Aegon in the sept, where the Prince had joined her in her prayers. He does not know what words were exchanged between the pair, but witnessed a smile grace the Lady's face before he led her out by the hand to ride Sunfyre, a past time that the pair would indulge in together for years to come.

[…] There was little surprised when, on Prince Aegon's nameday in 126 AC, the official betrothal was announced between the prince and the Lady Abrogail. What was surprising was the declaration that the pair would reside in the Riverlands. House Targaryen had one holding outside the Iron Throne, that of Dragonstone, which Aenys Targaryen had made the seat of the heir. While many had expected the king to name his first born son heir during the festivities, it appeared that the king had other ideas. Had Queen Alicent sought to bolster her son's position and gain the support of the Riverlands when the time came? Or had King Viserys finally stepped in between the factions of his household, declaring Aegon's seat to be gained through his wife, and a holding that held such tragedy and foreboding?

@fyeahhotdocs, @ocappreciation, @stannisfactions, @fragilestorm, @starcrossedjedis, @darkwolf76, @arrthurpendragon, @dopedaegus, @hiddenqveendom, @mantillon, @lightofthearrow, @songsonacliffside, @acrossthesestars, @insabecs, @prosemoireia, @dragonsbone, @corporalicent, @jadore-andor, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @gwenllian-in-the-abbey, @notbloodraven, @impales, @arcielee, @thesunfyre4446, @thatmagickjuju, @kingsmakers

[nylongenesis]

Here’s the thing about Timothy stoker

here it is the tim post

People who say tim is an asshole are partially correct.

People who say tim is ‘toxic’ are INCORRECT.

I am very strongly about this because. listen to me. okay.

SPOILERS UP TO TMA SEASON 3 AHEAD

Imagine BEING timothy stoker. After whats probaboy the secondmost traumatizing experience of your life in which you almost die if not by the worms then by the MEDICAL EMERGENCY (respiratory acidosis is a medical emergency :3) your body was put into- plagued with nightmares and the pain of your body being covered in holes and your medical issues, you come back to the archives expecting to see your best friend, That will make it all better. It’ll be so worth it once you can see her again.

And then she acts so distant. And you dont know why.

And you have just lost your friendship. The one that’s kept you going this whole time. The one you were starting to believe might have been unbreakable. And you Don’t. Know. Why.

Eventually after many failed attempts to reconnect, you resign yourself to the fact that she just got tired of you. That you were right this whole time. That she just pitied you. You still don’t know what you did wrong and it’s eating you alive, but she won’t tell you, so you have to settle with pretending to be glad that she’s at least alive, All while your boss is literally going insane and STALKING YOU???

Only to find out after a YEAR of believing you were just unlovable that this person? The person youve been trying to ‘reconnect’ with? That isnt your best friend, Your best friend dies and you never noticed. How could you not notice? But when you see the real picture of her she feels like a stranger and you realize you have no fucking escape from your horrible, unforgivable sin of forgetting your friend. Because no matter what you do, trying to look back at your memories, that *thing* is there instead. You can’t even enjoy your memories before she died.

So you sit there, alone and afraid. Angry, grieving, everything else. What are you supposed to do but make the thing that has haunted you since the disappearance of your Brother feel the kind of pain it is making you feel?

Tim isn’t toxic. Hell I wouldn’t even say he’s that much of an asshole.

He’s a hurt child.

Mentally, especially in season three, he’s having the equivalent of a child’s breakdown. The kind they have when they don’t know how to express the emotions they’re feeling. These emotions- this grief, this anger, this pain- it’s so big, it’s so much, and he feels so small, so incapable and weak, and he cannot properly handle it. He cannot cope. Especially since he’s still somewhat trapped in who he was when his brother was taken.

Now im not saying the way he went about this is at all great, but yknow. Everyone forgives reactions to trauma until they’re personally inconvenient or ugly.

Tim lost everything, and honestly i would be pretty damn similar if I was in his position! That’s DEVASTATING.

In the end, there’s such a horrible tragedy to his entire character that goes almost entirely unnoticed unless you’re like me and you’re insane and overanalyze someone based on one word in an extra audio thats not in the podcast.

Anyways, that’s why I love Tim.

[fictionadventurer]

First Letter from Julia I. Sand to Chester A. Arthur

[1881 Aug 27]

To the Hon Chester A. Arthur.

The hours of Garfield's life are numbered--before this meets your eye, you may be President. The people are bowed in grief; but--do you realize it?--not so much because he is dying, as because you are his successor. What President ever entered office under circumstances so sad! The day he was shot, the thought rose in a thousand minds that you might be the instigator of the foul act. Is not that a humiliation which cuts deeper than any bullet can pierce? Your best friends said: "Arthur must resign--he cannot accept office, with such a suspicion resting upon him." And now your kindest opponents say: "Arthur will try to do right"--adding gloomily--"He won't succeed, though--making a man President cannot change him."

But making a man President can change him! At a time like this, if anything can, that can. Great emergencies awaken generous traits which have lain dormant half a life. If there is a spark of true nobility in you, now is the occasion to let it shine. Faith in your better nature forces me to write to you--but not to beg you to resign. Do what is more difficult and more brave. Reform! It is not the proof of highest goodness never to have done wrong--but it is a proof of it, sometime in one's career, to pause and ponder, to recognize the evil, to turn resolutely against it and devote the remainder of ones life to that only which is pure and exalted. Such revolutions of the soul are not common. No step towards them is easy. In the humdrum drift of daily life, they are impossible. But once in a while there comes a crisis which renders miracles feasible. The great tidal wave of sorrow which has rolled over the country, has swept you loose from your old moorings and set you on a mountain-top, alone. As President of the United States--made such by no election, but by a national calamity--you have no old associations, no personal friends, no political ties, you have only your duty to the people at large. You are free--free to be as able and as honorable as any man who ever filled the presidential chair.

Your past--you know best what it has been. You have lived for worldly things. Fairly or unfairly, you have won them. You are rich, powerful--tomorrow, perhaps, you will be President. And what is it all worth? Are you peaceful--are you happy? What if a few days hence the hand of the next unsatisfied ruffian should lay you low, and you should drag through months of weary suffering, in the White House, knowing that all over the land not a prayer was uttered in your behalf, not a tear shed, that the great American people was glad to be rid of you--would not worldly honors seem rather empty then?

Make such things impossible. Rise to the emergency. Disappoint our fears. Force the nation to have faith in you. Show from the first that you have none but the purest aims. It may be difficult at once to inspire confidence, but persevere. In time--when you have given reason for it--the country will love and trust you. If any man says, "With Arthur for President, Civil Service Reform is doomed," prove that Arthur can be its firmest champion. Do not thrust on the people politicians who have forfeited their respect--no matter how near they may be to you as personal friends. Do not remove any man from office unnecessarily. Appoint those only of marked ability and of sterling character. Such may not be abundant, but you will find them, if you seek them. You are far too clever to be easily deceived. In all your policy, have none but the highest motives. With the lamp of patriotism in your hand, your feet will not be likely to stumble.

Do you care for applause? Of course, you have had it, after a fashion. Perhaps from the dregs of the populace, inspired by the lowest of politicians. Possibly it pleased you at the time--it may have served some purpose that you solved then. But in the depths of your soul, do you not despise it? Would not one heart-felt "God bless you!" from the honest and true among your countrymen, be worth ten thousand times more? You can win such blessing, if you will.

Your name now is on the annals of history. You cannot slink back into obscurity, if you would. A hundred years hence, school boys will recite your name in the list of Presidents and tell of your administration. And what shall posterity say? It is for you to choose whether your record shall be written in black or in gold. For the sake of your country, for your own sake and for the sakes of all who have ever loved you, let it be pure and bright.

As one of the people over whom you are to be President, I make you this appeal. Perhaps you have received many similar. If not, still believe that this expresses the thoughts in many hearts, today--and do not give those who have had faith in you, cause for regret.

Yours Respectfully,

Julia I. Sand.

46 E. 74th st. New York.

Aug 27th 1881.

[kitkatscabinet]

Sleeping Beauty

Jacaerys Velaryon x Alicent's daughter

Summary: Slighted by not receiving an invitation to the birth celebrations of the newest princess, the sorceress known as Maleficent places a wicked curse upon the babe.

Word count: 800

INTRODUCTION

The birth of a royal babe was not always a grand affair. After Queen Alicent had gifted the king a son, Aegon the second, he had not much interest in any children that followed. Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond had barely received a second of their father's affection before the King retired to his chambers.

As such when the good Queen fell with child for the fourth time she had already resigned herself to disappointment. Yet when her fourth babe was born, another girl, Alicent felt a love within her she had never thought possible. And she knew without a doubt that it would not matter if Viserys could not love the babe, she would love her enough for the both of them.

Yet against all odds, the moment the King laid eyes upon his newest daughter he could not tear them away. King Viserys had instantly called for a feast, a grand affair, the largest in years. Nobility from all across Westeros had been invited, and not a single family had been forgotten.

The feast was a resplendent affair, with twelve of the wise witches offered spots of honour and gifted plates of gold in return for their blessings. The air was jovial and even the King seemed to be in far greater health than usual.

"Presenting Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and princes Daemon Targaryen and Jacaerys Velaryon"

The king received the party with enthusiastic vigour, pulling his brother in for a hug as little Jacaerys toddled over to investigate the new princess.

She was a small thing. Precious, his mind whispered as her eyes opened to stare up at him. The babe let out a happy giggle, reaching towards him and an entranced Jace reached down to let her grab at a finger. Unable to pull his gaze away from the cooing princess.

It is only when his mother pulls him away to sit that Jace reluctantly lets go.

The three good fairies arrived next. Mistresses Flora, Fauna and Merryweather, all moving to bestow a single gift upon the princess.

Flora granted the gift of beauty rare, with lips so red she'd walk with springtime everywhere.

Fauna was second, offering the gift of song, and melody her whole life long.

But just before the good fairy Merryweather could bestow her gift, the doors to the great hall flew violently open. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, green flames unleashing her wrath.

Maleficent.

At first, she appeared calm but the Queen could not help the feeling that something was amiss. Her suspicions were unfortunately proven true as the sorceress glided across the floor towards her babe, the promise of a gift on her smiling lips.

"Listen well all of you." She addressed the room at large. "The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. But, before the sun sets on her 16th birthday she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die!" Her words were punctuated by the eerie swirling green and purple magic.

The Queen let out a horrified scream, rushing to her babe and clutching her to her chest as if to protect her.

The King was furious and ordered the capture of Maleficent. Alas her magic was far too powerful and she disappeared before the eyes of all.

The queen was incandescent in her grief, falling to her knees, sobbing as she clutched desperately at her child.

The merriment had disappeared, the atmosphere immediately solemn, and little prince Jacaerys was unable to look away from the queen. From the princess, sniffles turning to sobs for reasons he couldn't quite identify.

"Your majesties" Merryweather stepped forward, "Maleficent's magic is far too great to undo, but I can still help" she supplied.

And thus the princess was granted her third gift.

That should a spindle her finger prick, a ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give to thee. Not in death, but just in sleep. The fateful prophecy she'll keep. And from this slumber, she shall wake, when true love's kiss the spell shall break.

The king, still fearful of his daughter's fate, did then and there decree that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned on that very day.

But the king and the three good fairies still had their doubts. Thus it came to be, that the beloved princess was to be raised away from the castle. Under the watchful eye of the good fairies until her 16th birthday did pass.

None were as devastated by the news as the good Queen Alicent, but it was said the young prince Jacaerys was a close second. And as the princess was taken from his side, she cried for the first time in her life. Perhaps aware it would be some time before she would see her prince again.

TAGLIST: @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest @kaitieskidmore1 @eli1fict @rainerax @dsl19999 @uno7 @shine101 @xinyourdreamsx @Kitty-marie725 @lacunaanonymoused @50svibes

[blackautmedia]

Sonic and Nine - Close friends under the worst circumstances

After my actual close watch of Sonic Prime, I can say one of the biggest strengths it has is the brotherhood between Sonic and Nine.

They both love each other. Even the villains comment on how much Nine admires Sonic at one point. But they're also both dealing with their own issues that make it harder for them to actually see each other properly. There's some projection going on and they also met under the worst circumstances possible.

Both invite the other to their ideal world and have joyful visions of all the things their world can offer the other to make them happy.

Nine offers Sonic a paradise where he can give him anything he wants. In his time alone, he doesn't make things for himself but builds things Sonic described he knew he'd love. But this would also mean Sonic abandoning everyone else and leaving his old world behind.

Sonic doesn't just want to free Nine from a tyrannical society and give him a single friend, he wants Nine to be surrounded by an entire community that'll love and protect him. Sonic wants to give Nine a life of freedom where he can feel safe. That would also mean Nine having to display more vulnerability toward others than he's willing to show, not to mention the reasonable belief that it may not even be possible. They want to give each other everything.

Both have a communication breakdown largely due to them both also navigating their own problems and grief.

Nine is largely characterized by the suffering he's endured his whole life. In addition to being assaulted by bullies for years to the point of hiding his physical appearance, he's lived his life under a tyrant in a dystopian city with no hope of things changing, no community, no loved ones--nothing.

But then this blue dork falls into his life. There's someone willing to protect him, put their trust in him, someone who relies on him and make him feel needed, and shows him fun, love, gentleness, and patience. Nine resigned himself to a life of solitude even though he clearly doesn't want it.

He clearly enjoys the attention and love his new brother gives him and the show provides so many instances of his unbridled happiness. It's unfortunate in that Sonic is figuring out the properties of the new worlds in real time. For all he knew this was "Tails who just lost his memories" or some kind of time travel deal.

He is projecting to a degree, but in time he also gradually comes to see them as separate even as that concept blurs throughout most of the show.

When Sonic first arrived in the New world, he's panicked at the fact that Eggman seemingly took over the world and is searching for Tails to get answers.

Imagine reaching out to one of your friends because you're scared and need answers only to find an emotionally vulnerable child in desperate need of your help instead. Worse, you don't even realize until much later that this isn't your friend who lost their memory, they're an entirely separate person.

Sonic sharing those memories with Nine wasn't done maliciously, but they were never Nine's. They communicate this emotional gap being just a little bridged purely through facial expressions. Sonic is lost in thought trying to figure out his situation, sees Nine with a look showing his vulnerability, then shifts gears to give him attention and assurance.

It's honestly tragic how a heartwarming scene is made painful to look back on by factors beyond their control that also shows how they already started off on the wrong foot through no fault of their own.

When Sonic learns the full gravity of the situation with their reality, he's so anxious we sit on a shot of him looking at his hands trembling.

He's not in a great place himself which exacerbates how he's not the best when it comes to helping Nine. He misses his friends, isn't entirely certain they can even be brought back. And he caused it...yeah.

On top of that, it's easy to forget that Sonic and Nine had barely any time to freely communicate without a crisis over their heads. It's easy to say they needed to communicate better (which is true), but they had next to no time to properly do it.

They meet in the first episode which is also one of the only moments in the entire show they get to talk face to face without something urgent pulling their attention.

They then get abducted, seize the first shard, and get separated when Sonic is transported to the next verse. After that, when they reunite and have a moment to breathe during the conversation where Nine makes his offer to build them both their own world in episode 6, they don't communicate their feelings properly.

But Sonic just got pulled out of a fight for the New Yoke rebels lives and freedom where he inadvertently abandoned everyone he already was trying to establish trust with. Again.

After that, Nine is a prisoner for most of season 2 and can't safely communicate since he's under surveillance.

When they reunite, they're also trying to escape with the shards and not die. They're under attack for two full episodes. They don't really get any breathing room to lay out details or properly elaborate on how they feel. I like how the show uses the constant urgency to support why they don't just talk things out.

They're emotionally hurting a lot for different reasons and finding immediate comfort in the other (Nine for finally having someone give him positive attention and Sonic for projecting his lost brother onto Nine and dealing with the larger guilt of losing his home and the broken reality he caused) while also genuinely caring for one another and I love that detail for such a simple story.

There are numerous instances where everyone tells Sonic that Nine can't be trusted and Sonic defends him every time. When Nine contacts him with a plan to stop Chaos Sonic, Sonic only hesitates to go through with it not because he doesn't trust Nine's intentions but because the plan involves luring a dangerous machine closer to Nine and can put him in danger.

Both Nine and Sonic have a major disagreement with someone (Eggman and Shadow respectively) defending and speaking highly of the other. Nine's more confident than he's ever looked when he talks about how Sonic is on an entirely different level than Eggman.

Nine in particular is interesting because he's able to maintain his cover in playing prisoner pretty well until this moment. It's not being insulted himself or having someone accurately verbalize his deepest insecurities that makes him slip up, give away information and get caught warning Sonic. It's his affection for his brother that does him in, AKA the exact same pitfall Sonic fell into in the first episode.

Meanwhile, Sonic does correctly identify that Nine needs a lot of intervention beyond being pulled out of this crappy city. He needs a community. Even if Nine got what he wanted--a paradise just for him and Sonic, he's not really healing a lot of those wounds he's lived with and while it'd take time, he'd get a lot of what he needs through Sonic's proposed world of living with him in Green Hill.

Sonic is genuinely trying to be the supportive brother that Nine desperately needs. The kid is hurting bad. But Sonic is also dealing with his own grief in the process and the two end up having a falling out in assuming what the other wanted and in being caught up in their own issues that they don't properly see how the other feels. He just sees Nine as "angsty Tails" and Shadow correctly points out that he's his own separate person.

Neither Sonic nor Nine are being malicious, but both of them are self-occupied and not engaging with the other.

Shadow is also only half right. He just believes Nine to be inherently untrustworthy. While he can see easily that Nine has a different desire from them, he doesn't engage with how Sonic couldn't have collected the shards without Nine and also the other shatterverse people helping him, right down to not being able to even touch the shards or run properly without Nine's help.

Shadow hasn't watched Nine show vulnerability, talk about how he was bullied and beaten, stick out his neck to help Sonic, manipulate the Chaos Council to keep Sonic as safe as possible, and all the other selfless things he's done.

But that also exists with Nine leaving others to die and only caring about himself and now Sonic.

I never really got why people were so up in arms or upset that Nine's betrayal was "obvious" when it was never designed as a shocking twist. Nine isn't trying to deceive anyone about what he wants. He feels violated that the only love he's ever felt seemingly was always meant for someone else.

Even something as simple as Nine having a chance to see Sonic earnestly defend him like Sonic has toward Shadow and the Rebels (all of whom had good reasons to distrust Nine) would have gone a long way in showing Nine that Sonic does genuinely love him even if he's partially projecting. I hope S3 helps show Nine that Sonic is hurting too and that he's only been looking at his own hurt.

The animators do a great job at conveying key moments through the sheer amount of expression they depict. You can practically feel the rush running up Nine's back from Sonic showing him gratitude.

It's the little details like his ears, chest, eyes, face and posture. Nine reacts positively to Sonic thanking him for his help and emphasizing what a great team they make.

Nine's ears perk up as Sonic's words sink in, he takes a quick breath and his chest sticks out a bit because of it, his shoulders roll and his posture straightens in response to being complimented. His eyes sharpen a bit and he grins from Sonic's gratitude.

It really conveys how this isn't someone used to being treated so nicely letting every kind word pour into him. The entire previous plan was them both showing the extent of their abilities to make an ultra-efficient team.

Nine picks up several of Sonic's mannerisms over the course of the series, and whether he's realized it or not, Sonic has changed him a lot.

During the fight with Chaos Sonic, we see a moment where Nine's insecurities are all called out by Eggman and he tries to cover it up. He shows nothing but remorse of the fact that he was manipulated into helping them create something that'd hurt his new friend.

The first thing he does when they reunite is apologize to Sonic. He looks away and doesn't make eye contact with Sonic while he's apologizing but goes back to it every other time, as if he can barely even look him in the eye with how badly he feels he screwed up. This also illustrates that Nine is capable of self-reflection even if he's not willing to be vulnerable or admit things to himself yet.

But then he sees that not only did Sonic not blame him, the thought of Nine betraying him doesn't even cross his mind. He immediately rejects anyone else suggesting it.

Both of them have the same thought: "He's definitely going to come around and see that my idea of what to do with the world is the best" and both of them are largely on auto-pilot getting through peril.

I feel Sonic Prime has a some things that hold it back a bit, but Sonic and Nine feel like the most powerful and "real" thing the show has to offer and I really enjoy it. You can truly love someone and be a big agent of change in their lives, but still hurt them because you're not perfect and still navigating your own hurt.

Season 3 will likely play into that because I don't see Nine as evil or having become a doomsday villain. Even in the bits of footage we've seen it's clear he's trying to convince himself that withdrawal and loneliness is all he can accept. When he says "we're all alone" he's not just saying it as some pushback to Sonic and Shadow--he's saying it to try and convince himself that he has to accept this.

But at the same time he's not unfounded in seeing how much Sonic has been projecting an different person onto him which calls his affection for him into question. Both of them screwed up and a lot of that comes to them meeting under poor circumstances. But they do have a genuine bond despite that and I look forward to season 3 getting them to properly reconcile.

I think Sonic Prime has its share of issues like pacing and character choices that likely feel like a consequence of time and budget constraints that really show through in it. Rouge especially can feel like an afterthought.

A lot of times, particularly with even the show itself showing exhaustion toward the chaos council, it can feel very sluggish at times or like we're moving in circles narratively.

But it also has some very big strengths like how well several scenes can work because of how ridiculously expressive they are and all the little details with the cast's eyes and faces that communicate their feelings to the audience. It's also quite fun with a lot of the orbiting shots frame an animation standpoint that really shows in a lot of the fight scenes. They have a lot of fun with cinematography.

But above all of that, these two working out their differences and slowly bonding clumsily, imperfectly, but genuinely is one of the best things the series has going for it.

The only way to fix the rainbow colored paradox prism is to energize it with more rainbow energy. Sonic and Shadow will have to muster up all the gay energy they have to save reality

[lihhelsing]

Bring me back

A/N: I wrote this in one go and I have no idea where it's going or even if it's going somewhere. So it's more of a half fleshed out idea than anything. CW: Angst, mentions of grief, MCD (but it's temporary, in the big scheme of things). Steddie | 1.4k words | Angst | Rated M

Steve knows he shouldn’t be here. He could hear the sounds coming from downstairs and he was pretty positive that meant dinner was going to be ready any minute. 

He was pretty sure he was gonna be summoned any minute. 

And maybe he was hiding, but who could blame him? 

Steve always thought that if he checked enough of his boxes by the time he was approaching 30, he would be happy. All the sadness of the past would stay in the past, and like everyone kept telling him: Time heals all wounds. 

So he crawled out of hell when he was 19 and he made sure hell wouldn’t follow him. 

He made sure everything stayed in the past like it was supposed to. 

His birthday is coming up in two weeks and Steve is doing good. He is doing great, actually. Minus the part where he shut down every meaningful relationship he ever had because he couldn’t handle dealing with all the bad memories. 

He talks to Robin on the phone sometimes, and she’s not even mad at him anymore. She’s… Resigned. She knows Steve loves her, of course he does. How could he not love her? 

But looking at her… It hurts. So Steve pulled away, and Robin let him because she figured it would be best for him. 

When they talk, they don’t talk about that. Don’t talk about him. 

Steve is doing great. 

But he is organizing his office because he read somewhere that making a big cleanout before a new cycle is supposedly good for him and Steve needed things to be good. And that’s how he ended up with the box. 

He had forgotten about it. The box was hidden on a shelf that he never looked in his office and it had a coat of dust in it like it hadn’t been touched in ages. He knew he hadn't touched it in ages.

He doesn’t know what makes him do it now. 

The box is not exactly what he remembers. There are a few old pictures that make his chest ache in a bad way. In a way that means he would do anything to turn back time and fix it. 

He’d completely forgotten about how all he wanted to do was fix it. 

His fingers move through the box, touching all the different textures of the stuff inside. There’s something cold and sharp and it takes him a second to remember it’s a medal he won, even if he didn’t consider himself a hero. He considered himself a fucking joke, but he had stood there with a fake smile plastered on his face knowing full well that this was the proudest his parents had ever been of him. 

There are a few plastic figurines and underneath it all he touches the long necklace that found its way into this box, somehow. Steve doesn’t remember how exactly because he remembers Dustin holding on to it and he remembers him giving it to Wayne. 

And now that he’s thinking about it again, he remembers Wayne sliding it into Steve’s pocket when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. 

His chest hurts again and it’s filled with guilt now, and he urges himself to close the box and put it back because this is tearing him apart piece by piece. It’s breaking him slowly and he had just spent the last 11 years trying to stay in one piece. It's too much time for him to throw away in a few seconds and because of a few trinkets.

It’s useless because his hands start to move again before his brain can understand the command. He touches something else. It’s a rectangular thing. Hard. Rough on one side and smooth on the other. 

When Steve pulls it out, he sees it for what it is. An old cassette player. One that didn’t belong to him but no one else wanted it, so he took it. 

There are no tapes in the box and Steve has no idea when was the last time he saw cassette tapes, but he soon finds another box filled to the brim with it. 

None of them are to Steve’s taste. 

He grabs the first one and it’s a DIO tape. Holy Diver. It’s old and dusty and Steve doesn’t even think it’s going to play. He still puts it on. 

In the background, he can hear footsteps on the stairs and he knows he’s running out of time. Knows she’s gonna chide him for being covered in dust right before dinner. She will tell him he’s doing it on purpose because her parents are coming to dinner tonight and they are gonna need to tell them their pregnancy didn’t work out again. 

It’s the third time and she’s gonna tell Steve she can’t take this anymore and Steve won’t know what to say because he also can’t take any of this anymore but he doesn’t know how to change things. Doesn’t know how to not be stuck in an unhappy marriage, with no friends and an infinite regret list. 

So he listens closely to the static sounds coming from the tape and there’s something so nostalgic about it that it makes his chest hurts again. Even if the tape doesn’t play, Steve feels like this could–

Oh there it is, Steve thinks. He hears Dio’s voice and feels something shift around him. He closes his eyes, hands holding tightly to the cassette player. His stomach drops like it does when he dreams about falling. 

And then, it feels like he’s falling, indeed. He tries opening his eyes but everything is black and all he can hear is the song playing and he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or not. 

Steve’s whole body spasms and he kicks his feet and closes his eyes and everything stops. Not the song, though. The song is still playing.

He opens his eyes and he’s lying in bed and he wonders if this was all a weird dream. It wouldn’t be the first, but Steve’s been taking some meds that prevent him from dreaming because he couldn’t sleep knowing he would see his face. 

The song is still blasting in his ears and the room is dark until his eyes start getting used to it. He looks around and… This is not his room.

It’s not his room and he might be dreaming again and maybe he forgot to take his meds tonight because he knows this room. Knows it like the palm of his hand. Knows it even after 11 years without seeing it.

He knows every place the paint is chirped. Knows how the posters on the wall are unglued at the corners. He could get up with his eyes closed and walk through the room without ever bumping into anything, no matter how messy it was. Because he knows this room and he knows the person it belongs to. 

Steve should will himself awake. But he never dreams about this room. He never dreams with so much detail and precision. It’s like nothing has changed in 11 years. Like he's walking right through a time machine. 

He hears noises outside and he thinks this is it. He thinks his wife is about to open the door and wake him up from this dream and he wants to hold on to it as long as he can, so he shuts his eyes. 

“Steve? What are you doing?”

His head must be really fucked up from all the times he got hit because even the voice sounds–

“Open your eyes, Steve.”

He does it because he can’t believe it. His brain must be playing tricks on him and once he looks at her he will know it’s all a dream. But when he opens his eyes... He’s there. 

It’s impossible. It’s absolutely crazy. DIO is still blasting and he’s right there and Steve thinks he’s gonna faint. 

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t know what to say. Knows his words will get caught up in his throat. He swallows and his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down. 

He stares. And he keeps staring, afraid to blink. He’s afraid that moving will make it disappear. Will make him disappear. And Steve can’t handle losing him. 

Not again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.”

And that does it. It snaps Steve out of his trance and he gets up in one swift motion, closing the distance between them, and then he’s touching. He’s burying his face in his neck and inhaling him in and he smells like cigarettes and leather, just like Steve remembers.

Steve feels arms wrapping around his waist and when he pulls back he stares into Eddie Munson’s face, and he has no idea how because Eddie has been dead for 11 years but this? This is real. 

[purgetrooperfox]

15 Lines Game

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

I'm here from someone's open tags heehoo

passing on npts to @hamburgerslippers @totentnz @killerspinal @kiwikipedia @alwayskote @galacticgraffiti @certified-anakinfucker and anyone who wants to do it!!

“It's not like I frequent these events,” he mutters, feeling like a broken record. “I would appreciate the help though, thank you.”

“A great many things might seem unbecoming when their purpose is obscured, Master Tapal.”

"Peacekeeping has many faces. The diplomats and negotiators do work that I can hardly even imagine." [redacted context] "You're right, all the same. There's a certain naivete and unconscious bias in a lot of Knights. Lack of perspective about what it takes to survive."

“The artist who gave my father his markings was the one to give me mine," he continues, a touch wistful. "Going back home was strange. Seeing the ways it had changed and the ways it was still stuck was… hard.”

"You would be wise not to show your condescension so openly, Skywalker. If I can feel it, so can most beings on this planet. Need I remind you that ties with the Force run deep here?"

“Just Bastra is fine,” Vargdan sighs. The look he fixes on Kenobi is equal parts irritation and resignation. “You said it was urgent, so I didn't pit stop on Coruscant."

“Not the way you do, but my Master did.” His smile is sad, but free from the weight of grief. “He took them very literally, and if you know what they’re like, I imagine you can see how that would toy with one’s mind.”

“The Order is all I have. This is the only reason I ever got off Dathomir.”

“It's not safe to be out here alone,” he says without turning, forcing her to jog a few steps before matching his pace, “especially for unsubtle thieves.”

“Don't say that. Not now. You had your reasons, you had Sifo-Dyas, and I got that. Eventually. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“I know.” A silence, then an admission, “She's not as angry as I was, I don't think.”

"I mean, it's not like I know how to conduct an army. Bones is miles more qualified than I am, so I'll gladly defer to his judgment."

"This was kept from you for a reason. Some stories are best left buried."

"Obi-Wan was killed in action on Utapau," he repeats. "I know nothing more of it."

“I nearly did, after Sifo-Dyas died.” [redacted context] “I was on my own out there, after, no contact with the Temple to replace him. In all that– with that gang, the things I had to watch. The things I had to do. I was right at the edge.”

(nocte and des under there ⬇️)

“It’s not just the job.” Still, Nocte pulls off his gloves and dumps them in a bin. His expression settles into something hard to read. "You're one of us now, whether you're ready to act like it or not."

"I've put myself on the line enough at least one lifetime, but here we are."

"I don't pity you, MacTavish. I didn't come here to fight with you either."

"What was it you said? No room for morality in war?"

"Well," he grunts, "call it a lapse in judgment if it helps you sleep at night. Not like I'd take offense."

“It doesn’t matter, Soap. It’s just not my bloody name.”

"It's exhausting. The upper crust is exhausting. Aren't you exhausted?"

"Price is going to kill me and it'll be your fault. Me and Lee, both," he complains, though it rings hollow when he doesn't stop her.

"It'll grow back, probably faster than the higher ups would like."

"I don't care whose fault it is. Get your asses back here and fix it."

"Are you threatening to blackmail me, Captain? Because that's a two-way street after–"

He whistles, low and appreciative. "That is one big bastard."

"Quit trying to pick me apart, Lieutenant, I'm fine."

"We shouldn't," he forces himself to say. "We can't."

"How do you ever get anything done with your head that far up your ass?"

"You will mind your goddamn manners or you'll see a different 'doc. Do you understand?"

“You came in with a referral, made my life a little easier, so I'll give you a discount. I respect you, Viktor, you're good at what you do. Not to mention your days in the ring – I was such a fan.” His expression twitches toward something that might even be genuine. “How about this, I'll dig up this chrome for you and you'll owe me a favor.”

"I doubt Royce would've let me walk away from that. Heard he's got a new right hand."

"Hard to believe that's true," he said, laughing a little. "Reckon this is more memory than imagination."

“The crew called me Eyes, which was a gonk ass nickname. Stuck, though."

“I’ve known Hands for a long time, grew up in Pacifica. Don’t get me wrong, I heard about you on the street, but didn’t really pay it any mind until he started asking after you.”

"I think you answered your own question. It's a clinic, ain't it? I'm getting doctored."

"Fucking disgraceful is what it is. You build something, pour your blood sweat and tears into it, just for some upstart leadhead to run it into the ground."

“So I’ll talk to him, clear this up,” he says, even though it’s an uncomfortable prospect. “He probably respects me enough to halfway listen.”

"No. No one ever made me do anything. I lost a lot, but I won't lose that."

[honeytapioca]

Ophelia✨🌸

Bit of backstory..

Ophilia loved Ardenweald dearly, cherishing its creatures and wondrous flora. The Faerie were her favorites of them all, she learned their songs and sung alongside them. The night fae became the family she never had, treating her much better than her druid circle and late family. The winter queen offered to let her stay if she agreed to protect the spirits that resigned there, tending to the cycle and wild seeds, easing her burden; The catch being she’d be morphed to match the Fae. Ophelia accepted instantly, excited for her new form. She was given moth-like features, her druidic form replaced (I imagine like moth man). She acquired an even greater affinity for magic in her time living in the wilds.

She became bonded with a young wild seed, the spirit of one she did not know. She tended to them with love and great care, cultivating its life and quelling its nightmares. She came to know this seed as La’tia.

The Drust began their invasion, Ophilia became infuriated that anyone would dare encroach on their dream, fighting with great ferocity. Though she fought hard, it wasn’t enough. Returning to La'tia’s cradle, she was met with a void. “Nay”, she whispered, weeping for days on end. Her beloved seed, gone, nothing but ash. A friend, a Faerie named Apricot, approached Ophelia in her grief.

“Ophilia? Why do you weep as you do?” The Faerie questioned, earning a sob in return.

Ophelia was broken, the queen had refused to save her seed, she was lost. In great fury and anguish, she cried out.

“To the hells with them. To the hells with them all. No wretched Drust nor man shall pass into the wilds.”

“What are we to do, dearest Ophelia?” The Fae spoke softly, approaching the elf.

“We are to burn them. I will burn them.” She snarled out, standing from her crouched position. “I will seek them out. Kill them at their source. No seed, no spirit will be disturbed. That is a promise.”

Ophelia left Ardenweald in search of the source of the Drust, killing any she came across out of bitter hatred. She now wanders Azeroth, as a protector of the wilds, the witch who lay in waiting. A cryptid to any adventurer.

[florestmoon]

86’ (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: 1986 was suppose to be Eddie’s year. It was suppose to be the numbers that marked his diploma that he was going to snatch from Principle Higgins and the year he ran like hell out of Hawkins. Now, as 1986 marked your gravestone, he wished you had ran.

Aka you die instead of Eddie and Max during the battle with Vecna.

Warnings: character death (you), mentions of blood and gore, grief, no comfort. Bittersweet ending though.

A/n: I woke up at 3am and only had this idea in my head , and had to get this out of my system because I love making myself and others cry. I listened to Romantic Homicide by d4vd the whole time.

Word count: 4.8k of pure angst.

The screeching and pounding against the trailers walls made Eddie realize how truly fucked you all were. He could hear the wooden door that separated the demobats in his room from following the three of you beginning to crack under all the weight.

Dustin was scrambling up the rope, his panic grunts followed by your own panicked yells for him to be careful had Eddie staring between the both of you and the door. Waiting for the second it breaks , hoping he would have enough strength to block the bastards from getting to you with the weapon in his hands.

“Eddie !” You yelled, snapping out of his thoughts and pulling his arm towards you. “Go!”

“What?” Eddie snapped his head towards you, looking up at the hole to see Dustin already pulling himself up from the mattress on the other side. “No, you go first! Hurry , climb!”

“Fuck no. I know you.” You grit through your teeth, pushing the rope in his hands. “You’ll pull something stupid. So go , before we both turn into bat dinner.”

He hesitates for a second, staring wide eyed at you. He was ready to grab you and throw you himself, but with the sound of the wood finally cracking and the demobats getting loud, he resigns himself to pulling himself up the rope as fast as he could. He never prided himself in being the top of gym class, but with the way he had climbed into through portal in just 3 seconds, you would think he passed the class with flying numbers .

He wasted no time to get up and stood under the hole, ready to catch you when you fell. But when he looked up and was met with your sad eyes, a smile that matched them. He knew he made a mistake.

“No. No. No. No,NO!” He cried,reaching to grab the rope to try to climb up again but you had pulled out a knife, cutting through it and pulled it into the upside down. His fingers reaching to try to catch it before it did, as he yelled. “NO! Y/N. DONT!”

“I’m sorry Eddie.”

“What are you doing!?”

“What are you doing?” Eddie laughed from the driver seat of his van. He glanced towards you, sitting on the passenger side as you were rummaging through the many cassette tapes on your lap. Your tongue sticking out from between your lips as you concentrated on the different tracks.

��I need to find something that will calm my nerves!” Many tapes were discarded to the side in your haste. “Eddie, how the hell do you only have metal bands. I mean I’m not saying they’re bad , trust me . But how am I suppose to think clearly with these guitars blasting my eardrums right now. Seriously…”

He reached over to turn the volume down of said guitar solo that was rumbling through his speakers, letting out a small laugh at your rambles. You were mumbling as you glared at the many tapes, as though hoping they would change into different artists under your harsh stare.

“I find Heaven and Hell very relaxing" he snatches the Black Sabbath tape from your hands that you were ready to toss to the back. “Puts me right to sleep at night. I sleep like a baby every time.” He grins as you roll your eyes and slump into your seat. He finally takes pity.

“Hey, don’t stress about that presentation. You’ll do great.”

You begin playing with the strap of your backpack, sighing before rubbing your eyes. “I been so anxious over it all night because fate decided I had to have that damn class in the morning.”

“You picked out your schedule, remember-”

You level him with a glare that shut up him real quick. “English is the only class I have a very low grade in and if I don’t at least get a B+ on this presentation, I may not have time to raise it up in time for graduation!”

Eddie stared at the road as he listened to you talk, Hawkins High visible over the end of the road. He looked over to you again once you stopped. “Y/N, we both know you’ll do great. I did not had to listen to your annoying voice repeat the same speech a million times for you to fail on me.”

You smack him hard on the shoulder, huffing at his exaggerated pained expression. “Easy for you to say. Ms. O’Donnell’s is happy to let you pass with a damn D so she doesn’t see you in her class ever again.”

“So rude. I think i’m pleasant to have in class.” He flinches oncce he feels the effects of your assault on his arm. “When did you get so strong?” Eddie pouts, rubbing his arm only to smile when he felt your hand on top of his as a soft apology. “Either way, we both are going to graduate this year. You think I want to walk that stage with out you? Remember what I said?”

You remained silent for a beat, forcing Eddie to sing your name. “y/nnnn”

“86’ is our year.” You mimick his voice but allow for the grin to tug on the corner of your lips. Eddie pulled into the parking lot of the high school, many students already heading towards their own classrooms.

“Fuck yeah it is. Now give them hell.”

Dustin begin cursing like crazy, his high pitch voice nearly drowning out the sound of a the demobats breaking through the door. You turned to look before disappearing out of Eddie’s sight. His only guess that you ran out of the trailer being confirmed by the demobats flying through the trailer and not paying any mind to the portal that lead to Hawkins.

“— fucking crazy! What the fuck!” Dustin was screeching, hands grabbing onto his brown curls as he turned to look at Eddie. “What..what are you doing?”

Eddie gave no response as he kicked the mattress out of the way, grabbing one of the wooden chairs that was thrown to the side of the trailer. His body was shaking from all the adrenaline and fear that was pumping in his veins, your sad smile stamped to the back of his eyelids every time he blinked.

He stepped onto the chair once he pushed it under the hole, only needing to jump a little to grab onto the sides. Dustin’s yelling continuing as Eddie kicked the chair from underneath him and pulled himself through to the other side.

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled as he watched his older friend land on his side with a shout of pain.

Shocks of pain erupted his side, prickles erupting through his skin but he pushed on. Stumbling to his feet and grabbing the trash can lid that was discarded on the floor. He wasted no time to run out of the trailer. The red sky greeting him alongside the faint sound of screaming and inhuman screeches off in the distance.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. It’s all he could think as he limped towards the source. His pace picking up despite the burning pain on his sides and arm , at the sound of what he heartbreakly recognized was your screams.

It was like a cloud, the way the demobats circled in one place. Surrounding you as you struggled on the ground, body thrashing and shaking from the teeth that sunk into you. Your painful screams being cut off by the slimy tail that wrapped around your throat.

“Y/N!” He yelled, his throat constricting as he sobbed at the sight of the demobats swarming around you. Your cries striking through him like lightening. It was more painful than the pain of his broken arm. It didn’t compare to any of the torture he went through in the hands of his bullies or his own father growing up. This was much much worse, and he didn’t know if he would survive it.

He continued to scream your name as he ran towards you.

“Eddie.” Your soft voice tore Eddie’s attention from the magazine in hand. Your figure standing between his doorway to his room watching him sit up on his bed. He grunted at your presence, annoyance tugging at him.

“I told Wayne to not let you in.” He mumbled as he rolled over on his stomach. The letters on the paragraphs on the random page he was on now becoming a blur. The bed sunk beside him where you laid beside him in the same position. Your hair brushing against his shoulder as you looked at the magazine.

“You know he has a soft spot for me.”

It was true. As much as Eddie wanted to be mad at his uncles broken promise, he knew the older man was as much of a victim to your sweet eyes as he was. That was the main reason he had ignored answering the door himself though, so he allowed himself to be a little bit mad at his uncles weakness.

It disappeared the moment you laid your head onto his shoulder, hands snaking toward one of his, intertwining your fingers. “I’m sorry Eddie.”

“What are you saying sorry for, you didn’t do anything”

“I know. But still.” You begin playing with his rings. “ If I didn’t stay behind to talk to Max, I would have been there when Jason and those assholes found you.”

“It’s fine.” He replies coldly, not towards you but at not wanting to think about the bruises that were beginning to form under his layers of jacket and vest.

“It’s not Eddie,” you huff stubbornly, “I could have smacked him with my binder.”

Eddie laughed at that, shaking his head at the image of your angry face and Jason’s horror. “Ah yes, he would be branded with that glittery mess you love so much. Imagine his face when he finds out he was knocked out by a dnd binder of all things.”

You giggle at the idea, his heart soaring at the sound. You both stay silent for a few moments before he looks to his side at you. Your soft eyes already on him. He finds himself beginning to talk again, because that’s what you do to him. Despite him initially not wanting to talk to anyone, you come and force him out of his shell. It was an impact only you had on Eddie “The Freak” Munson.

“I wish..things were different.” His throat clogs up and he looks away for a moment. “Like, I wasn’t hated so much. I know I joke and brush it off..but it hurts y/n.”

Tears were threatening to spill over the edge of his eyes but he forced them to stay put. “Not the punches, but the words. Why am I a freak simply because I do things I enjoy? Or the way I dress? Why does that bother them so much, why is me simply living enough for this whole town to look at me with so much hatred-”

He was rambling now, his breath becoming uneven. You pushed yourself into a sitting position and cupped his cheeks, letting him scramble for words. “Eddie..”

“Sometimes I wonder if they’re right, maybe I am..wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t be here-”

“No.” You sternly say, “they’re not right and help me god Eddie, I will not let you believe any of that bullshit.” He stays quiet as he listens to you. Doe brown eyes looking up at you, the resemblance of a small child.

“Those people, they’re just miserable themselves. And they take it out on you because they see that you have so much potential Eddie. They see that you are what they wish they could be. Brave.”

“I’m not-”

“You’re brave Eddie. You may think that you run away from things, but i’ve never seen someone so strong like you, and you make me want to be brave too.” You sniff as your own tears make an appearance. “You’ll graduate. Get in that van and leave Hawkins, and make a name for yourself. You’ll play your music, touch so many with those guitar skills-” you let out a soft laugh, “and you’ll make it. You’ll get out of this stupid town and make it Eddie Munson.”

His gaze softened as he looked between your eyes, taking in the determation and honesty in them. His hand coming up to cup your cheek, wiping the tear that was rolling down your cheek.

“Okay.” He whispers, admiring the way you leaned into his hand. “But you’re missing one thing.”

You frown as you looked at him questionly. He continues, “You’re going to be there. When I graduate, and in that van when we leave Hawkins. You’re going to be by my side when I play in front of a few drunks in random bars. You’re going to eat shitty pizza with me in whatever cheap apartment we could afford.”

“Only if it’s not pineapple pizza.” You joke which Eddie gasps and pretends to hold his heart in mock offense.

“Maybe I should reconsider what I just said.” He huffs as he lays on his back, his hands not moving from your cheek. “How dare I spend a day with someone with no taste. What, you want to eat only cheese pizza ? Disgusting. Unacceptable. Cant have that in my household.”

Your hand came up to grab onto the one on your cheek. A huge smile spreading across your face as you listen to him. He gazes at you.

“We’re both getting out of Hawkins, alright?” He whispers, hoping that you wanted the same thing. Relief spread though his chest with warmth when you nodded.

“86 is our year baby.”

The demobats had fallen onto the ground in a split second, Eddie barely putting any thought in the sudden drop of the monsters. His only thought was you. Your body too still when he finally reached you, dropping to his knees as his hands grab onto you.

“Oh god, baby. Shit, y/n?” He inhaled at the sight of the wounds that scattered along your body, blood coating his fingers from where he was holding you. He couldn’t even figure which ones were worse but looking at your face, your own blood staining your cheeks and around your mouth. Eyes barely opened as pained pants pushed past your lips.

“Eddie..” you whisper, so broken that Eddie could feel the panic rise in his own throat.

“You're okay. You’re okay, we’re going to get you out of here okay?” He reassures, trying to pull you more onto his lap but your sharped cry had him pausing. “S-shit, i’m, im sorry y/n”

You slightly shook your head and grabbed onto one of his arms as you gritted your teeth in pain. “I cant move Eddie, it hurts..can I just lay for a bit..please”

A sob rips out of him as he nods, bending down to move your hair out of your face. “Okay baby.” Your breathing became more steady as he held you. Tears mixing with the blood on the side of your face as you try to smile at him,

“I gave them hell right Eddie?” You struggle, coughing up more blood at your efforts. Eddie held onto you tighter, body beginning to shake as the realization was dawning him the more seconds went by. Some bats that seemed to have suffered from your makeshift weapon laid a few feet away from you.

“Yes. Yes you did,” he chokes. He didn’t know how he was speaking with the way his whole head was swarming with emotions. Your proud smile kept him leveled for a little longer. You were still trying your hardest to comfort him, despite your body twitching at the pain that radiates from where chunks of your skin was bitten off.

“Its your year Eddie,” you rasp, “promise me, you’ll leave Hawkins, okay?” Your words were beginning to slur, “you..you’ll leave and make it big yeah? Bars..eat pizza and..and make it.”

More whimpers and cries from Eddie cut through your rambling as he shook his head violently, “no, no no! We are leaving Hawkins, y/n. Not-not just me okay? We are, I promise. You promised and you can’t break that!” He yells but you only shake you head.

“Promise me , please..” he falters but the desperation in your voice has him nodding without any thought. Your eyes soften in relief as more pain coughs abuse your throat. Eddie was mumbling incoherently now, small “you’re okay”s trembling out of him as he cups your cheek. Your eyes watching him with a knowing hint of sadness.

“I love you Eddie..” your voice was so small, his name barely a breathe by the end of the statement. He didn’t have time to fully register it before you looked off to the side, breathing coming to a slow stop and eyes glazing over. One last tear kissing your cheeks.

It was like he was drenched in cold water. His eyes scanning your face trying to process the change, your still expression finally breaking him.

“no , please gOD NO” he shook your shoulders, stained fingers gripping your chin to turn towards him. Praying for your eyes to look at him but they stayed distant, staring off into the sky. Any life, all the warmth that he looked toward to seeing every day ever since he met you, drained into a cold expression.

“Don’t do this to me, don’t do this” he sobs, pushing your face into his chest as he hugs your body. No longer being able to look at the expression unless he wanted his sanity to fully snap. Although with the way he screamed and cried, he wondered if it already did. “Don’t leave me y/n, i cant. I can’t do this with out you!”

He didn’t know how long he sat there, crying out to the sky when a pair of hands latched onto his shoulders. Steve and Nancy attempting to pull him away from your body while Robin watched in horror, hand over her mouth as she noticed your battered body.

“Eddie..” Nancy called, ignoring his hands trying to push her off. “Eddie we have to go.”

“No! I’m not fucking leaving them here.” He seethes, trying to reach for your body again but was pulled by his jacket by Steve. Who kept his composure when Eddie reached back to hit him, “are you fucking crazy? We can’t leave!”

“We don't have time, i’m sorry but we need to go. Now!”

They ignored his screaming of your name as they pulled him away. Eddie didn't care if he looked insane with the way he kicking and screaming at them. He just wanted to feel you against his arms again, in his hands. Even if the warmth was turning ice cold when they had found you two.

You didn't deserve to lay there with the monsters that took you away from him. But he had no choice when their gripped tightened on him and they forced him through the portal into Hawkins, away from you.

—

May , 1986.

Hawkins was slowly piecing itself back together. The government had taken over the Hawkin’s police job in calming down the scared population. They build a fake story that cleared Eddie of the murder charges and explained the many disappearances, including yours, that occurred during the week of murders that plagued over the town.

Eddie and his uncle were given a new trailer, their old one destroyed and covered by the government.

The small group of outcasts that consisted of teenagers and adults knew the truth. Will had reassured everyone that he didn’t feel any connection to the upside down anymore, concluding that Vecna was truly defeated.

After all the horrors they went through, years of terror that begun in 1983, it finally ended. 3 years of monsters and other worlds that tried to dig it’s in claws in Hawkins to destroy it, came to an end in 1986.

They wanted to celebrate, host a huge get together to celebrate the year that ended their nightmares.

Eddie didn’t go.

—

June, 1986.

“We are here not only to celebrate the students who are going to walk this stage, but those who had that chance taken away from them..”

Eddie didn't care that he was graduating or that there were a few boos in the crowd when he walked the stage. He didn’t care that those boos were pushed down by the yells of the teenagers and his uncle that stood from their seats in the crowd. Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan yelling from their own places on the field among his class.

He didn’t care to snatch the diploma, allowing for the principle to place it in his hand. Or even to flip everyone off as he walked back to his seat like a zombie.

He only cared to stare at the empty seat beside him.

—

August. 1986.

Wayne had carefully placed the piece of paper, that was slipped under their door that morning, in front of Eddie. He was sat staring at a bowl of cereal that Wayne convinced him to try to eat.

Eddie glanced at the paper for a second. Only needing to see your full name and details of where your funeral will be held. Your parents had finally accepted that you weren’t coming home. One small look at the date that was on top of the page had Eddie pushing the bowl away and stomp to his room. Wayne’s call of his name a buzz in his ears as he slammed the door shut.

He didn’t make it to your funeral.

—

October 1986.

“They wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

That sentence was what started the screaming match between Eddie and Wayne. Words shooting at each other, the level of their voices rising as each harsh jab grew deeper and deeper. Eddie’s shouting finally overlapping his uncles. He grabbed onto whatever item he could find in his room, throwing them around as he remembered your amused eyes when you had walked around carefully in the same space. Pointing out items and asking about them.

He ripped the posters that you complimented and asked about, he broke a few records that you begged to borrow, he ripped the new magazine he was planning to show you before Chrissy had asked to meet up with him. His room wasn’t recognizable as he fell to the ground on his knees and begin to sob in his hands. Wayne bend down and wrapped his arms around him.

“I know. I know” he cried, letting Wayne to pull him closer. “I-i’m sorry, im fucking sorry. i’m trying. I really am.”

—

December. 1986.

Snow bit at his cheeks, the thick scarf that Steve has gifted him days prior protecting him from the cold wind that blew over Hawkins.

The silence in the cemetery allowing for the small buzzing of the wind to fill his ears while he stared at the headstone. Many flowers and candles were surrounding it. A teddy bear and an envelope catching his attention. Max’s handwriting of your name in red letters.

It's been months and he finally found himself in front of your headstone for the first time. He thought that he was prepared to see the finality of your name carved out in front of him. But it wasn't your name that had him crumbling into the pieces he tried desperately to put together these last few months.

It was the 1986 carved at the end of it that did it for him.

He ignored the harsh cold of his tears as he sat down on the snow covered grass. Shaky fingers pushing down the scarf and tongue licking his chapped lips.

“Hey..” he starts, clearing his throat. “I know you probably want to haunt me for not coming sooner..” a pathetic cry tickles at his throat but he pushes on. “It's been hard. Knowing that once I did come to see you, there was no more hopes that maybe..just maybe this was a whole fucked up nightmare.”

“Every morning, I wanted to wake up and hear that phone ring. Hear you yelling at me for sleeping in late and that I better be at your house in 5 minutes-” he chuckles sadly, “or else you would cut my hair the next time I slept in .”

He remembers those conversations so vividly. He stops talking for a few seconds to stare at the flowers.

“I look for you everytime Wayne makes me go to the store. That old man won't quit. But..but I always have this hope when I go, that i’ll see you in the frozen food aisle. Your arms full of those stupid pizza rolls you ate so much. You would turn to me and smile, and force me to buy them for you.”

“People still look at me like they’ll burn if they walk next to me..ha it’s kind of funny. I can see you sticking your tongue out and pretending to hiss at them.” Hands come up to rub at his eyes. “I stopped paying attention to the shit they say though. Like you would have wanted. Remember? You told me to not listen to their bullshit.”

He sobs. “Why..why did you do it? Why would you sacrifice yourself like that? I was so fucking mad at you. Uncle Wayne had to fix the wall so many times. I just was so angry, I'm sure you heard me cuss your name a few times..” he sniffs, “But I was really mad at myself. Because I would have fucking done the same thing if you went up that rope first. Did-did you know that? Is that why you did it?”

The snowfall was beginning to slow down. The snow was seeping through his jeans from where he was sitting but he paid it no mind. “I feel like I can barely breathe some days. Knowing I wont hear your voice, or feel you playing with my hair. Or, or the fact that we won’t leave Hawkins together. That’s what hurts the most.”

“I know it’s shitty and Mike would go on his stupid rants of me heing selfish, or that scary bald girl would probably explode my head off with her powers if they heard me say this but..I wished we would have let Hawkins burn. We should have let vecna destroy it all if it meant you wouldn’t have died.”

The words felt bitter, horrible coming out of his mouth but they held so much truth in them, he couldn't feel any guilt from them. It plagued his mind every day, how he should have grabbed your arm when they were planning the attack, and just left them to fight on their own. Take you away from it all and skip town, even it meant people were still hunting him and his name wouldn't have been cleared.

“But you wouldn’t have wanted that.” He confesses, “you wanted to fight. You wanted to make sure we helped a group we barely knew, and to make sure to prove my innocent. That’s..that’s just how selfless you were. I would have ran but you didn't. You stayed and look what happened.” He didn’t know if anymore tears could be drained out of him.

“You died when we were suppose to leave. We were suppose to leave Hawkins, and make it." He hands reach out to touch your gravestone for a second. “I didnt know if I could do it alone. I didn't leave Hawkins during the summer like we planned, it didn’t feel right. I’m sorry y/n, for taking so long. But..I think i’m ready now.”

In his van, that was park a hundred feet away from your gravesite, held a few bags with his belongings alongside his guitar and the many records that didn’t break under his grief. A notebook on the passenger seat, scribbles of lyrics that whispered everything he knew about you.

“I’m leaving Hawkins. I talked to a few friends out a few towns over, and they got me a gig.” Eddie smiles through his tears. He could feel the excitement that would have radiated off you if you truly were there. “I’m going to play at a bar and hopefully woo some drunks with my voice. I'm going to keep my promise.”

“I..” he pauses as he stares down at his hands. “I love you. I didn’t say it and I regret it. So much, but I love you. I loved you the moment you entered my life. I loved you when you came to my first campaign and totally killed your character off in the first rolls and reckless decisions. I loved you when you would show me all those books you read, or when you would talk about some soap opera on tv. I loved you when you held me on days I couldn’t be the Eddie every knew or when I held you and you got your snot all over me. I loved you everyday that you were by my side. and I will continue to love you.. I love you so much. Nothing will change that.”

He stands up, weakly brushing off the snow off his clothes as he looks down at your headstone one last time. “I love you y/n. You gave them hell, and I promise i’ll do the same.”

Eddie knows that he wasted most of 1986 but he can't say that he regrets it. Despite knowing it wasn’t what you wanted for him, he felt it was necessary to grieve the way he did. But with a few days away from the New Years, he still had a chance to make it out of Hawkins and make it his year. And the year after that.

He would do it for you.

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Time for random plot ideas.

For whatever reason, Ekko has fallen into a coma and finds his spirit drifting about. With no judging eyes and a bit of boredom, he goes looking for Jinx, free to indulge in his wants for the moment. Being able to float in and out of anywhere gives the freedom to go places he otherwise could not or would not go. 

He finds her hideout and her in it. At first, he's just content to observe. But the longer he stays, the more worried he gets. She's too thin, speaking to thin air, or so it seems. Bags under her eyes that may as well be carrying their own bags. He'd love to swoop in and pull her into a hug, but he can't or shake her into taking care of herself. 

Eventually, she lays down to sleep and it's about as restless as you'd think. Resigned to being incapable of doing anything as he is, he lies down beside her as much as an incorporeal body will allow and gives in to the urge to put his arms around her. Only as he does so does he falls into her dream. 

Terrifying dreams, dark, the dead giving her no peace, the overwhelming grief pushing down and again he wants nothing more than to comfort her and for her to see something more pleasant. He drifts towards her all the while imagining a different space, the tree as it is a comfort to him. Here in this dream world, he can touch her and as he does, the scenery changes to what he imagined.

As Jinx looks up to a far more welcoming view of him and now suddenly leaning against a great tree, he smiles.

So start the good dreams, silly conversations, dancing or flying on hoverboards, just sitting together under the tree. Much like little dates, he realises later. Jinx, in the meantime indulges, sleep is happiness now and allows herself to fall for the phantom. You can't hurt a dream, right?

Of course, after several weeks, Ekko wakes and the dreams stop. She mourns and falls into a deeper despair again. She even managed to kill a dream/ghost

Ekko has several weeks of recovery in which he is antsy and impatient beyond belief “you don't understand, I have to get back before I lose her again” 

Finally strong enough to head out again he makes a beeline for her hideout finding her pining away and being there physically rather than a ghost, he swoops in for that first embrace he so desperately wanted 

[purgemarchlockdown]

Hm...thinking about the Narrative Order in which everyone is introduced in Milgram. This is very speculative, I'm just considering how everything unfolded and how everyone builds off each other.

01- Starting with Haruka Just Makes Sense, his story is quite similar to a lot of common sympathetic murderers in fiction. A troubled kid in an abusive household who murdered animals. It's a good baseline for introducing the audience into Milgram and helps the conflict feel a lot simpler than it actually is. Haruka is Easy to Forgive, he's pitiful and shy. He won't hurt anyone else.

02- Continuing to Yuno also makes sense. Yuno's story is vague enough that it's easy to interpret as sadder than it actually is. Making it easier to sympathize (project) onto her. Plus Yuno as a character is charming and likable.

But Yuno also challenges the audience in her VD a bit:

"That’s right. You know those people who just wanna convince themselves, so they intrude in other people’s affairs even though it’s not their place—I despise them."

It's an easy forgiven but we're already alluding to some greater themes here.

03- Fuuta is a Great Choice to insert after these two. After two more-or-less easy forgiven prisoners, we have a guy whose rude, ill-tempered, and unwilling to admit fault for his behavior. It really makes sense that Fuuta would get a not forgiven verdict since he comes after two of the most sympathetic characters in T1. But he also challenges the audience even more since Fuuta is parallel to them and introduces some more fun themes about justice and righteousness.

04- And it makes even more sense that Muu got forgiven because she just came after ill-Tempered Mcgee here! Fuuta is set up to fail and Muu is set up to win in a way. Muu is pitiful, shy and similar to Haruka. And since she's coming right after Fuuta, those traits contrast with him. Even though there's a lot of hints in both her VD and her MV to Muu's more manipulative and callous behavior.

05- While everyone else's stories seemed (Highlight: Seemed) straightforward. Shidou's is vague, confusing and is alluding to him killing A Lot of people. Yet Shidou is affable and "kind" in the VD and seems grief-stricken and remorseful in Throw Down. I would joke about how Shidou is divided like this and how he's 05 but I don't know how to set that up. My point is he basically introduces more ambiguity and confusion to what Seemed to be a simple job before him.

06- Mahiru is interesting since people more or less ran based off a interpretation that had very little proof outside of Psychogram. I'd imagine that her placement in the lineup is to continue the increasing ambiguity in the character's stories and the dissonance between the personality and the actions they committed. Mahiru is so sweet and lovesick and her MV reflects that, yet we know Something Happened under all of this sweet fluff. We just don't know exactly What and Ai nan desu yo doesn't really make it Clear. And Mahiru seems so nice...she wouldn't of hurt him for no reason, would she?

07- Then Kazui comes in and makes things Even Worse. This job being simple? Completely throw that idea out of the window. What the hell happened in Half? What's going on with the lady? Did he cheat on his wife? Did he not? It doesn't seem like her directly murdered his wife what's up with that? You know he's lying, he told you in the VD so what is he lying About? Is he actually as tired and resigned as her presents himself in his VD? Is he scheming? You Don't Know and Es Does Not Know.

08- Amane's MV isn't really ambiguous, its highly symbolic yes, but it's easy to put together (Mostly) what's going on. Compared to Throw Down or Half. But her verdict is probably one of the farthest from simple in the series. Amane seemingly has the same stock sympathetic murderers backstory that Haruka does. An troubled kid in an abusive household. But since Amane personality is not traditionally sympathetic and her motives seem more threatening and dangerous, she's more easy to punish than Haruka is. But also...you'll be punishing an abused child. It's not easy.

09-010: these two are being put together for one reason: They Seem Simple. MeMe leans so Hard into the serial killer and evil alter idea and Harrow leans so Hard into the vigilante for justice idea that they Feel Simple. Mikoto jumps Es, Kotoko helps out Es. After Shidou, Mahiru, Kazui and Especially Amane. Having two characters whose stories seem Simple is reliving. Mikoto is Obviously like that and Kotoko is Obviously Like this. It's easy, it's real easy. Comforting even.

And then T2 starts and Everything goes to Shit as you realize that NO everyone is way more complicated than you initially thought and your all Fucked.

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Thinking about the way Bo-Katan stands when she’s meeting the Armourer in the coverts old forge on Nevarro. She’s standing as straight backed and official as a soldier and it manages to come off both as proud and vulnerable. How proud and vulnerable can kind of sum up their dynamic this season. They are both proud, bold leaders, with history and experience in their bearing, but something about the other brings out a vulnerable and open quality in both of them we’ve rarely, if ever, seen before. The way the Armourer herself sounds wistful and nostalgic when she tells Bo about this forge and of her memories of the Great Forge, an emotion I don’t recall us ever seeing from her till now. Regret and grief, yes, but there’s a longing there now where before there was resignation. They inspire each other. And the fact that their interaction brings out an aspect of each of them we’ve never seen before is beautiful