#i really liked all of the detailed shots in part 7 as well even though it ran into a really bad sameface problem toward the end

[shoechoe]

The eyes and lips are definitely consistently my favorite part of Jojo's art styles. Very pretty. I always really like the detailed shots where you can see them in full quality.

There has always been a particular allure to me with the way faces are drawn in Jojo- especially the manga. It gives it a very serene and delicate feeling which is interesting for a fighting series. I'd even say this about parts 1-3 to an extent despite everyone being hulkish and otherwise hyper-masculine.

[good-beanswrites]

My thoughts on how the Milgram mv machine works based on the evidence we have:

(I know there’s been discussion about where exactly the interrogations take place, but wherever they are,) the prisoners are made to sit in a specific chair near the wall that houses the machine.

It’s ordinarily hidden, but the wall panels shift aside to reveal it when the mechanical sounds play in the dramas. As well as the walls moving, the chair transforms to restrain the prisoner and attach whatever it takes to access their brain. The fact that none of the more frightened prisoners try to run or break it makes it seem like they physically cannot. This is why Fuuta sounds so panicked, and why Amane is suddenly helpless in front of Es in their T1 vds.

(My mind conjures very classic sci-fi mad scientist machines with wires, pipes, lights, nodes, needles, etc, but I’d love to hear how other people visualize it.)

In some vds (maybe all? I’d need to check,) you can hear Es take some steps right before their iconic line -- it would make sense that for safety reasons, the power mechanism is placed across the room. Once again it could be anything, but the sound effect makes me think of one of those giant wall-mounted levers you have to pull down.

The voice dramas don’t really provide the type of crime details that an actual interrogation would reveal, and it’s odd that they’re placed before the extraction rather than after Es gets to see the new details. This leads me to believe the machine functions with priming. All Es needs to do is get them talking about their murder, so it’s on their mind.

The video produced is much like a (non-lucid) dream. Even if the prisoners figure out that this is how it works, they can’t control it just by thinking really hard about something else. The murders produce the strongest emotional affect, and that’s what it picks up on. If someone else used the machine, it would default to whatever gave them the strongest emotional reaction in the ~15 minutes beforehand, hence why Es’ video focuses on their daunting task ahead. (The Undercover theory is still a bit loose, though, given the private shots that Es wouldn't have known about). It’s why the videos are usually closely linked to the vd topics/beats. I also like to think that the reason their prisoner colors appear so much is because they’re looking at those colors on their uniform 24/7.

The bell rings to inform Es that it’s the optimal time to use the machine -- the prisoner has been thinking about things for long enough that the video will be about their crime, and if the conversation lasts much longer they’ll start thinking of other things. It’s at a different time for each prisoner because it’s based on the specific conversation. I guess Jackalope is listening in to the interrogation, timing it perfectly. (The only one that kind of messes with this theory is Yonah, because they just keep talking afterwards lol, but it could just show that the interrogation is still in Es’ control.)

Their “Sing your sins” is the final priming nudge to get them to think of their actions as a sin, revealing their guilt.

Once activated, the prisoner enters a sort of trance/sleeping state. It’s very much like REM sleep, with the machine forcibly activating neurons and recording the output. The prisoners have asked Es what they saw, meaning they don’t remember the mvs. I like to think the prisoners do experience the mv in real time, acting as the major version of themself that appears, but can’t remember it afterwards. It’s when you experience a dream, but as soon as you wake up you’re just left with fleeting emotions and memories right on the tip of your tongue.

The video plays immediately upon extraction -- whether on a huge projection or little screen depends on which room it’s in. It simultaneously saves the memory so that Es can rewatch it later (on those old TVs in the jailbreak mix). The machine downloads the song and video together, but requires special parts to retrieve them. The technology is pretty new and fragile, so if one is broken, there might be a delay between when Es can hear the extracted song and see it with the video. (That’s my justification for Kotoko’s delays -- after 9 prisoners the parts wear out, or maybe Mikoto himself overheats it with his complex situation.)

Based on the lack of conversation we get afterwards, I picture Es leaving before the prisoner wakes from the trance. The machine adjusts their brain back to normal before they awaken, restraints freed and able to return to the rest of the prison.

It’s very much like a dream, so it’s not harmful despite the amnesia/head injuries the prisoners have. It does, however, exhaust them. Brain activity alone takes a lot of energy, so forced brain activity with added emotional strain would cause them to feel pretty drained the rest of the day.

[everythingwasnormalhere]

actually I've been thinking about it and kenny is so disability-coded???

like, even without my chronic pain headcanon, if we only take the canon material, he's incredibly disability-coded and im not sure why nobody's mentioned it before

Ok so, first thing first, south park isn't exactly known out of its community for having the best rep of... anything, actually, but anyone who's watched the show knows it has some of the best disability representation of any piece of media. Jimmy and Timmy, neither of their characters revolve around being disabled - they don't even make much fun of it! (It's south park, they have to make fun of everything). Their characters are complex, not because they're disabled, but because the writers didn't want to make them revolve around that. And if you don't believe me, please just watch the fucking show or at least their episodes (this is however not about them so I won't say much more about them, there's some pretty cool posts on this site that talk about this in more detail if you wanna read more though)

Now, onto Kenny: Kenny is a pretty cool guy. Fandom favorite, well-known even by people who don't watch south park. And besides how he's incredibly cute (like, c'mon, you heard his little "woohoo!"?), the reason why he's so famous is simple: He dies in every episode.

(well, not every ep in the latest seasons, but at the beginning he did and that's enough for me)

You might be thinking, "hey Loki, that's cool, but I have no fucking idea where this is going". And I'll tell you: his constant deaths actively avoid him doing stuff. Dying makes him spend less time with his friends, he can't take part in their shenanigans, he's generally unable to do things due to dying 24/7. Like, hell, he spent a whole season not hanging out with the guys because he was too dead for that! His friends substituted him, and he's still less-there since that happened.

This means: the impairment 'has a substantial and long-term adverse effect on their ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities'

(because he can't carry out normal day-to-day activities when he's, you know, fucking deceased)

Also, as Kenny himself says, "'Pretty cool'? Do you know how it feels like to be stabbed, to be shot, decapitated, torn apart, burned, run over? It's not 'pretty cool' Kyle! It fucking hurts!". His deaths cause him actual, physical pain. And guess what's a disability criteria?

You guessed: they have a 'physical or mental impairment'

(it "fucking hurts", I think that's physically impairing enough)

Also, his deaths have slowed down for the last few seasons, sure, but they still happen. And this is important, because they'll probably keep happening for the rest of his life - and if not, they've already lasted long enough anyway:

A 'substantial adverse effect' means more than just a minor impact on someone's life or how they can do certain things. This may fluctuate or change and may not happen all the time.'Long-term' means either:it will affect them or is likely to affect them for at least 12 months it's likely to last for the rest of their life It can still be considered long-term if the effects come and go. For example, a fluctuating condition might affect someone for a few months at a time with other times when they're not affected.

So, yeah. Kenny, canonical Kenneth McCormick, legally qualifies as disabled. But what makes him such good rep? He's still a well-loved character, not only in spite of his disability (yes, I'm calling his deaths a disability, sue me), but also because of it. Kenny is a pretty cool guy, he's cute, he's silly, he's a goddamn perv but really respectful about it too, and he dies in every episode which is actually hilarious. And about the perv part - fuck yeah, disabled character who not only isn't asexual, but is canonically the first in his friend group to do (consensual) sexual things! He's also canonically pretty desirable, he's the 7th in the List after all (and he's not just there for the girls' benefit like Clyde, Kenny is poor asf which means they genuinely find him desirable, and probably could've ended in the top 5 had it not been rigged). He's such a cool guy, and he's also disabled, and we love him for it.

Not to talk about Mysterion & PK, whose literal powers are the things that disable Typical Kenny - which, yeah, it's a bit of inspiration porn, but it's also a huge "fuck you" to god on Kenny's side. And it's not like "hey, I rose over my disability!", the moment in which Kenny talks (complains) most about it is actually when he's playing Mysterion - or it is in the show, at least. He was given bullshit, and yet he used it on his own benefit, but that didn't make the struggle disappear in his usual life - he's still disabled, no matter how much he uses it in his own favor. And we all love him for that.

I think he's actually awesome disability rep, mostly because he's accidental representation, and yet can (and in my opinion should) be read that way. Kenny McCormick is a beloved character everywhere, and he's also canonically disabled, and I love him for it.

[humbledragon669]

S1E6 – The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives P1 - up to the dissolution of the Horsemen

Well can you believe it? The last episode of the first season! And the first thing I want to make a note of is… the episode title. I really struggle to make sense of it because, linguistically, the only way something can be the very last of the rest of anything, is if it’s the very last of the thing at all. I can sort of make this idea make sense if I look at it from the perspective of the end of episode 5, where Armageddon is starting, and it does very much look like the world is about to end on that particular day, but it feels pretty woolly to me. Neil has been asked about this particular episode title before, but his answer did not help me wrap my head around the concept. In fact, it just made things worse:

Nope. No, I’m sorry, but that makes literally no sense. Anyway, I don’t want to get hung up on the little details... Hey, didja notice how Crowley (aka Aziraphale) greets his trial panel in exactly the same way as he greets Hastur and Ligur in the graveyard?

And that throw away line about getting some houseplants is pretty telling when you remember that  it’s actually Aziraphale delivering that line (oh, spoiler alert there I guess, but I would have thought that anybody reading this far into the labyrinth of my brain wanderings is probably going to have seen this show at least once before). It shows that Aziraphale knows exactly what the inside of Crowley’s flat contains, and that the only thing he would care about enough to actually furnish a space is houseplants. One thing I do question though, is how Aziraphale would know who Hastur and Dagon are. He definitely would have known who Beelzebub is, saw her on the tarmac at the airbase in fact, but those two? I don’t know when he would have come into contact with them before, particularly in their demon forms. Crowley could have given him a description of as many of the named demons as possible I suppose, but it’s a bit thin as a theory goes. But more curious is presence of the montage at this point in the episode.

It’s just short of 7 seconds long, and takes place less than 2 minutes into the episode. It also happens to contain the entire storyline for the episode in reverse. Shots of Aziraphale (Crowley really) tied up in Heaven, Aziraphale and Crowley in the park together, the Bentley and book shop in their respective restored state, Adam with Aziraphale and Crowley complete with wings, Satan breaking through the tarmac – it’s all there. It even comes complete with those fuzzy little lines that you used to see when you were rewinding a video back in the days of VHS (yes, I do actually remember that) to show that we’re watching events in reverse. It’s not like we haven’t seen montages used to represent the passing of time in this show before, but this is the first time it’s been done with parts of the story that we, the audience, haven’t yet seen. It goes by pretty fast so it’s not like you’d be able to work out the plot by watching it in real time, but I think it’s a risky play nonetheless.

Next curious thing in this episode. The music playing from Crowley’s Bentley as he approaches the gates of the airbase is different to what we heard in the previous episode. It’s the same song, but it’s a different section. Not only that, but the music continues playing from inside the car after he closes the door, whereas in the previous episode the slamming of the door cuts the stream of music off abruptly. There is nothing else different about this rendition of the scene from the one at the end of the previous episode as far as I can see but it’s a subtle difference that I find interesting, especially when you consider how many of the beings involved in the events leading up to Armageddon come to have somewhat blurry memories of what happened.

I have to say, the depth of Crowley’s grief at the loss of the Bentley came as something as a surprise to me when I first watched this show.

It’s true, we’ve seen him driving the car a fair amount in this season, and we saw him repairing the dents and other assorted damages following his collision with Anathema in episode 2, we even saw him giving it a pep talk as he willed it through the flames in the previous episode, but he talks about it here almost like a pet.

You were a good car.

But if I was surprised at Crowley’s response to the Bentley’s demise, I was more surprised at Aziraphale’s refusal to allow the demon to grieve purely because he still thinks of himself as “the nice one”. Well, mate, for someone who’s supposed to be inherently “nice”, you aren’t showing an awful lot of compassion here, and towards the being in the whole of existence that means the most to you too. Honestly, there are a lot of times I have been quite forgiving (no pun intended) of the angel’s behaviour because he genuinely believes in his own goodness, but I struggle with this. WHY IS HE BEING SUCH A PRICK? And who said he had to send the soldier anywhere (complete with magical miracle noise, in case you missed it), or harm him in any way? He could just have miracled the gun away, or slid him into unconsciousness like Death and Adam have already done with entire groups of soldiers. Is he just so used to Crowley doing all the footwork in situations like these that he’s lost the ability to think for himself? Or is it that him being “the nice one” is part of their agreed partnership, and that’s the role that the two of them have agreed he will play, not because that’s what he inherently is, but because that’s what makes the most sense and would usually be the most comfortable role play for them? Perhaps it really is the latter, because it’s not too long before we see Crowley make a conscious decision to resume the role that he is being expected to play.

I can’t help but feel like the incoherent noises that Crowley makes are his attempt at trying to ask Aziraphale to deal with this next group of soldiers because he’s not done grieving. I should think he knows he’s pushed his luck on that front a bit too far when his bumbling is greeted with this look from Aziraphale/Madame Tracy:

That is the face of woman/man/angel that is not to be dicked about with. And he knows it, giving himself a pep talk and asserting his position in a way that almost makes it sound like it was his idea in the first place. Almost.

Side note: there are a couple of lines missing from the original script here that I feel very sore that we didn’t get to see:

CROWLEY: Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new body? MADAME TRACY/AZIRAPHALE: Yes. Right. Madame Tracy, this is Crowley. He’s… Well, we’re sort of business associates.

Sad as I am that we didn’t get to see those lines, the tirade of double entendre from Aziraphale telling Shadwell to brandish his weapon so that they can “lick butt” almost makes up for their absence. Watching Crowley’s physical reaction because of his choice of words goes the rest of the way.

It’s interesting that he manages to use this phrase at all, even if it not only looks but sounds as if he’s about to throw up; he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word “Heaven” when he was screaming in the book shop earlier that same day.

Quick note about R.P. Tyler: this really is one strange little individual. He seems to think that a child causing damage to some plants is equivalent to that same child waltzing into a highly classified military air base. Eejit.

We’re taking a quick visit to the soundscape again, inclusive of an Easter egg. I am in no way surprised at the use of a harmonica at the beginning of this scene, particularly given the stage directions provided in the script:

The feeling here is spaghetti western.

I am not of the age that I would remember the original film and scene that this is clearly an homage to (the “Man With a Harmonica” stand-off scene from Once Upon a Time in the West), but I have been to my fair share of Muse concerts (I think I’m in double figures now), listening to the “Man With a Harmonica”, to get the reference. A tribute to the original piece was also used in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, again as a backdrop for a stand-off. I have absolutely no doubt that David Arnold’s treatment of the Omens theme tune in this way was intended as both atmospheric and as a pastiche of a piece of music that is arguably the most well-known of all spaghetti Western soundtracks.

Do you remember how I waffled on about the parallels between the members of The Them and the Horsemen? Well, in case you weren’t sure about that being a thing, or maybe just hadn’t cottoned on yet, this shot should spell it out loud and clear for you:

It’s interesting to see the character development that Aziraphale has gone through since his realisation that Heaven is perhaps not as “Good” as it portrays itself to be when we see him taking control of Shadwell’s gun to kill the Antichrist with, something which he has adamantly declared that he would be unable to do previously.

Crowley’s stance on the other hand appears not to have changed at all – he’s more than happy to support the decision to end the life of an 11-year-old boy in order to save the world, just so long as he’s not the one pulling the trigger. In fact, he not only supports that course of action, he vehemently chastises any doubts in it being the only one available to them. Madame Tracy’s interference with this particular plan of action feels to me like another statement of a recurring theme throughout the show – that the presence of free will is an inherently human quality. On this occasion, we see two non-earthly entities that both believe that there is only one course of action to be taken (i.e. there is no free will) whose actions are disrupted by a human entity who believes that this cannot be the case. What’s interesting to me is that the theoretically weaker of those entities, the human, wins out this little battle, suggesting that the actions taken as a result of free will always be victorious when pitted against actions taken through a lack of choice.

I absolutely adore watching Crowley’s expression when Aziraphale and Madame Tracy are separated. He can barely take his eyes of the angel, except when Madame Tracy announces that the separation made her feel “all tingly”.

That side glance looks almost jealous to me… And what's with the little head dip with the flirty yet smitten (smited? smote?) shoulder squaring…

Oh, that’s right, it’s love. And probably not just a little bit of gratitude and relief that Aziraphale has been returned to him, at least for the moment. There’s even a slow blink at the very end of that clip that looks a bit like he might be trying to keep the tears away. This tiny sequence of body language cues has my heart melting every time I watch this scene, and bearing in mind that David is actually acting in the background of the shot here it speaks volumes to just what an incredible job he’s doing that I don’t watch anything in the foreground – my eyes are firmly fixed on him and his reactions. I’m pretty sad we don’t get to see the moment when Aziraphale goes to join Crowley (this assumption is based on the positioning we see in this shot and the one immediately after Newt tells Anathema he isn’t really a computer engineer) – there is a part of me that screams to see the eye contact and facial expressions involved in that whirlwind of inevitable emotions.

For a show that’s filled with dark comedy, there’s a slightly jarring sense of social delicacy in the dissolution of the Horsemen in that we don’t see any of The Them actually land a “fatal” blow. We see them take up the sword, see them holding that same sword after they impale their respective Horseman, we even see the suggestion of an impact, but we don’t see the brutal imagery of an 11-year-old child thrusting a weapon through the middle of an adult-shaped monster. The speech at the end of this episode is heavy on the subtext of the disappearance of innocence from children as they grow older, and I suspect the desire to maintain the feeling of childlike innocence in each of The Them is the reason we don’t see them committing a very violent act. We’re not only allowed to maintain that image, but it’s strengthened by Adam’s empowerment of each of them to do what needs to be done, and his assertion that the things they’re doing battle against aren’t actually people, but concepts. It makes the whole thing feel like children playing games in the woods, which I think is probably the whole point, and the reason we saw them doing so much of it earlier in the series (and especially in the book – honestly I actually got a bit bored of how much “children playing in the woods” content there was in the original text).

As a side note, and knowing that it has been pondered over by many others before me: how did Aziraphale’s flaming sword become War’s flaming sword?! I remembered to look in the FAQ list for this one, and couldn’t see that it has ever been answered.

Next side note: Dagon says that all of the legions of Hell that are readying for battle were angels before. Does that mean that every demon is a fallen angel? Because that’s a lot of fallen angels (Beelzebub says that there are 10 million of them later on in the episode).

That’s also a pretty big revolution to have taken place “before the Beginning”. Surely if you were in charge of a place where half of your employees took place in an uprising, you’d have to question the validity of your leadership skills? There’s a little kudos going out to the sound editors here too – that effect of Beelzebub’s voice to make it sound like she’s buzzing like the flies she’s lord of is brilliant, mostly because it’s not there all the time, but fades in and out for maximum effect.

I also love the idea that a nuclear holocaust could all be avoided by running the disk defragmenter. It’s actually kind of appropriate, the job of the defragmenter being to rearrange important elements so that they fit together better, eliminating bad clusters as it goes, and all to ensure the hosting system can perform more smoothly. Feels like quite an appropriate analogy of a world gone mad with war.

Bearing in mind that I have been rattling on about parallels between the members of The Them and the Horsemen, there’s something interesting about Death’s parting comment to the group on the tarmac.

I AM CREATION’S SHADOW. YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME. THAT WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD.

If we’re considering that the previously mentioned pairings are mirror images of one another, would this suggest that Adam also cannot be destroyed? Or would it mean that his destruction would result in the creation of something else? Or if we took the words literally, would that make him the product of shadow (“shadow’s creation” instead of “creation’s shadow”). I like this latter idea, given who his father is (at this point anyway), but there’s something to be said for his potential for creation too, especially given his chosen name. I think there’s probably a lot to be said for possibilities for Adam’s character, which I’m planning on exploring in the future so I won’t go into this any further here.

Given the repeated suggestions we’ve seen that death = starlight (I’m paraphrasing for simplicity) in this show, and in other works by the original authors, it’s hardly surprising that Death disappears into a cluster of starts. God even tells us that, although they look like stars, they may be something else entirely, and that they reside within Death itself.

The complete dissolution of the Horsemen feels to me like a good place to stop. As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you next time 😊

[askew-d]

Can I ask, who are your top favorite romantic couples (can be canon or non canon) of all time from any media? Why you love them? Thx :D

here i go with another grand list that i was very happy to write! i’m in love with these asks, really. i’ll mention all of them, but at first i was in doubt if i could include one that isn’t ‘canon’, but rather rpf. either way, i added bonus couples for good reasoning! let’s go.

1. wangxian (lan wangji x wei wuxian), from mo dao zu shi — they are THE moment, they are THE couple, they are THE goals. who ever could have imagined someone would come up and write a troublemaker who falls into demonic arts and gets reincarnated to fight together with a sucker-for-rules expressionless man and make it work? they fit into any au as well, this fandom rocks. my lovely cultivators!

2. kagehina (kageyama tobio x hinata shouyou), from haikyuu!! — i dont even play volleyball. i dont even like sports! why do i love this anime and this duo specifically so much? they are so passionate about their hobbies, the rivalry and frenemy relationship? the POTENTIAL. the STORY they have. the "someone better will come and find you" promise. sheer beauty. they are silly and fresh and cute and i dont think i'll ever get tired of it.

3. yizhan (wang yibo x xiao zhan), from the untamed cast rpf — i know all the problematics about writing real person fiction. i KNOW, okay?? but people, let me like them and support them in peace?? 😔 i have so much love for these men, and its overall hella fun following their life unfold, even if they are not working together anymore. nonetheless, they are my dose of serotonin when i need it.

4. daiharu (kambe daisuke x katou haru), from fugou keiji: balance unlimited — i will not scream for a seson 2 here. i will scream for more FICS of them here! there ain't enough! its not even about the 'sugar daddy' appeal, its more about the 'partners in (solving) crime' appeal. oh and also the 'i hate you you arrogant prick but i WILL do anything for you' part. everything and every detail of this show.... seriously though: gold.

5. hilson (gregory house x james wilson), from house m.d — oh, my sweet stupid and repressed doctors, i would do unspeakable things for you. wilson has been through every hard moment of house's life. you can name them, he's been there. through every ridiculous situation of his too. it is overwhelming, honestly. the ending couldn't have been more reasonable and fitting for them, in my opinion.

6. hannigram (hannibal lecter x will graham), from hannibal — this gif alone of them with scratches and smiling conspiratorily to each other sums up their entire dynamic. they're toxic and no one's doing it like them. like, yeah, no shit, who would even dare, right? murder husbands can do anything and eat the rude as much as they want, i will be sipping on my drink and watching intently. (man truly looked at this detective he framed for murder and said he would remember their moment together forever??? just dont throw him in jail then???)

7. shiguang (lu guang x cheng xiaoshi), from link click — these pretty boys traveling through time invented the concept of yearning, and i will not explain more to not give season 2 spoilers. i fell in love with them as soon as i saw the first shot of the anime. it doesnt help that they have the same dynamic as wangxian, too. cheng xiaoshi, my beloved, you would never do anything to harm anyone (not purposefully) and i (as well as lu guang) worship you 🙏

8. renga (hasegawa langa x kyan reki), from sk8: the infinity — let's be true tho, can they never do a sports anime without pulling up homosexuals?? not that im complaining at all. please continue, in fact. every couple in this story is valid (adam does not exist), and i love this spirited, young concept of redescovering the beauty of a hobbie. lovely, all of them, but most specially my langa and his admiration for reki. their dynamic has no complications, its just so sweet.

9. moshang (mobei jun x shang qinghua), from the scum villain self-saving system — i will not share a pic of moshang official art because i find shang qinghua appearence too much childlike and annoying, meanwhile i find him much more interesting in the book and fanarts. in any case, i love this couple more than the main couple simply because our airplane-bro can make everything so hilarious. there are fics of them out there which are peak entertainment (check this one!). mobei's tsundere attitude and shang qinghua's shamelessness are a great combo.

10. hualing (hua cheng x xie lian), from heaven official’s blessing — the longing is unbearable. hua cheng loves this man so much, for real. waiting 800 fucking years?? being his most devoted believer? can you believe the audacity?? my man, though he has low self-steem, does anything to protect his god. he doesnt care about any realm. he only cares for xie lian, his dear god. they are the cutest couple.

bonus: aziracrow, johnlock, tododeku, victuuri, blackbonnet, mafuyama, redblue (from this is how you lose the time war).

these are my favorite ships ever! they are what i scream about alternatively, and when i say so, i'm not joking. one week i'm freaking out over new link click content and in the other one i'm reviewing house m.d episodes. my life's a circle with my favorite ships in it and i ain't regretting anything.

thank you for asking, by the way! big hugs! 🤍

[a-canceled-stamp]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you @motleyfam, @crows-murder and @selkienight60 for the tags! ^.^

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

157,488

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly DC, but Star Wars, Marvel, Malevolent (Podcast), Good Omens, and MHA make appearances too.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Long Way Down (To The Bottom Of The River)

Then Came the Morning

A Leap of Faith

Talk To Me

There Are Softer Oak Trees

5. Do you respond to comments?

I used to respond to every comment fairly quickly but recently I just haven't had the time :(( I appreciate every single comment though, they bring me such joy 🥹

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be cardboard box - the first (sort of) hurt no comfort I've written >:D

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably There Are Softer Oak Trees :)))

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do!!!! Or...I'm giving it a shot at least. Not for DC, but for Malevolent. Might post something real soon :3

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I didn't even know this was a thing before today. That being said, I don't think so??

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would love to collab sometime :3

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I cannot pick one because I don't really have A favorite. But Stucky (Marvel), DinLuke (Star Wars), Merthur (Merlin), SuperBat (DC), TimKon (DC) and Science Girlfriends (Orphan Black) are all ships I enjoy.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Dying Is Easy, Living Is Harder. I have many ideas for it but unfortunately, I'm not obsessed enough about the characters to fulfill them lmao. Also An Unexpected Visit bc similar to the previous one I have a lot of ideas, but I just don't think I am talented enough to actually write those ideas.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've rewritten this answer 10 times, but no version felt right. At one point, I decided I was just gonna skip it. BUT NO. I'm gonna stop worrying about other peepz opinions and just say what I actually believe. And here it is.

I know how to make my writing more immersive with various details like sounds, smells, sensations etc. (and I LOVE doing this. The only issue is I sometimes do it either too much or too little ahdjkhsd)

I am VERY nitpicky. This can seem more like a flaw (and it is), but it has also helped me grow and understand what I like and dislike about my writing. It also means I spend a lot of time editing which makes posting SO much more satisfying (tho sometimes I gotta get those shorter fics out there for the instant serotonin boost lol)

I'm not a huge fan of characters who say/do things that don't make sense considering the genre/plot. Spending more time on this is challenging since I both dislike and SUCK at writing dialogue (why is English so HARD??), but it is also a lot of fun bc I think I am getting better at it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, that part about being nitpicky is obviously a lie bc I didn't realize question 17 was gone ahdjshdkj. But I was the one who noticed it first among my friends so...maybe? Nope lol

English grammar. I have to double check every time I write a message to online friends to make sure what I've written is actually a sentence that makes sense.The thing is - I think I'm pretty good, but I actually suck. One time, I wrote mold wine instead of mulled wine in a fic. Never living that down. This is I think why it takes me so long to edit lmao.

Being too harsh on myself and not allowing myself to feel proud about my accomplishments/comparing my writing to other people. Yes, compared to other fantastic writers I suck, and it will always be like that. It's something I'm still struggling to accept, but I'm getting there!

Writing quickly. Like shutting off my brain and just writing doesn't work for me. I have to be there and edit every single sentence that I don't like, and I think this is why it takes so long for me to finish the first draft. Def gotta work on this!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Hmm. Instinctively, I think it makes more sense to write something like, "Person A said something in a language I didn't understand" than to write in that language. It's more fun that way. And if both the pov character and I don't understand what Person A saying it makes me sympathize with the pov character more.

That being said, if I ever see someone writing in Swedish in a fic, I will be immensely happy (and horrified)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Rise of the Guardians on ffn. The fic is still there and is still hot garbage, but I did have a lot of fun writing it.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I know what my LEAST favorite one is hjkahdsjk. Nah but for real, I love all my fics for very specific reasons. Like I have a sort of emotional connection with all of them depending on where I was in life, how I was feeling emotionally at the time, etc.

My top 3 would probably be Long Way Down (To The Bottom Of The River) bc it was the first fic I put a lot of thought and effort into, There Are Softer Oak Trees bc it makes me soft and fuzzy when I think about it, and cardboard box bc the comments made me fkn cackle.

It feels impossible to tag people who haven't been tagged yet but imma go with @miles2g0, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @liverobinreaction, and @bonesbuckleup. No pressure ofc!

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 28

Heyo! How would you feel if I said that I finally have details of the ending basically ironed out the way I want and have about 20 more chapters planned for you? Honestly, I'm kind of stoked, because I think what I have planned is pretty great. When I first started writing about Drunrag and Altan, it was supposed to be just a couple of short chapters of fluff and nothing more, but my own journey figuring out my sexuality and stuff opened up a door that made my curious mind and heart wonder, "But what if there's more to Drunrag? What is there's more to Altan? And their story?"

And so here we are, basically writing a novel at this point for a small but lovely group of people who all say really nice things about my boys even though I never consistently schedule out my chapters and have spent more time writing about our boys apart than together. (I'm so sorry for all of that).

Someday I hope to be better at interacting with you guys because you all are so funny and sweet and I think we'd all be friends irl.

Take care and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

I was used to the weight of my brothers laying on top of me. It was a comforting feeling to be weighed down by Robin’s warmth. Only his soft breathing cut through the quiet of the night. Everything was dark and simple, formless shadows in my vision. I could make out the shape of the guard who stood at the door, but nothing more. I had been lying awake for what felt like hours, just listening, thinking, and imagining. I had spent countless nights imagining while laying in this bed, tonight I couldn’t stop myself from pretending the weight on my chest belonged to Drunrag’s arm as he held me in his sleep and the soft breath tickling my neck was his. I could see his rough hands brushing against my arm, as he pulled me closer to him. He would be warm next to me and I would be helpless to not be drawn to it.

Drunrag had to be alive. I didn’t feel it in my bones like I hoped, but I held onto that belief, it was all I had.

I heard the cracking of a door opening and suddenly a strip of light exposing the torchlight from without, in the hallways. I did not move, but watched with narrowed eyes.

Selhar slipped in, and I heard him give a sharp retort to something that the guard had said to him. The door closed and the room returned to darkness again. I heard the guard resettle into his position in front of my door and then felt the warmth of Selhar sidle into the space next to me.

“Everything alright?” I whispered.

He hummed softly.

“Good news?”  I asked.

He hummed again.

“Well?”

I felt his hand tap me on my side and I reached for it. I felt a paper drop from his hand into mine and I grasped it tightly. I held it to my chest and willed sleep to come quickly so that I could read it in the morning.

Yet, in the morning, I was awoken to my doors being banged open and my father’s shouting voice. 

“What’s going through your head, son?” I blinked up blurrily and felt Selhar and Robin’s bodies tense next to me. Feeling that shot me awake and I rose up, keeping the paper crumpled tight in my hand. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

I raised my chin and held his gaze. 

“What you’re demanding cannot be done.” My father continued. His posture and his facial expression reminded me of a snarling beast, a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth and chomping to dig his teeth into me.

I put a hand on Robin and Selhar, each on either side of me and shifted to sit myself in front of them. “What exactly is so impossible? He is alive, isn���t he? I don’t find my request all that unreasonable.” I kept my voice light, but I knew my father caught the hardened expression on my face. He hated me, and while that used to be the thing I feared most and went through painful obstacles to prevent and avoid accepting, I finally exulted in that reality. We both understood where one another stood, and that gave me power. 

“Selhar, Robin, leave the room.” My father didn’t look away from me when he growled the demand.

“No.” Selhar said, his voice was venomous. 

Robin said nothing, but I could see his head shifting between myself and my father. He was too young to understand, and too young to be subjected to this version of my father. 

“Selhar,” I said softly, “Take Robin outside.” I turned my head and I saw the silent pleading on my brother’s face.

“Altan.” He breathed.

I shook my head. “I’ll be alright. Go.”

Selhar’s eyes darkened and he looked behind me to where our father stood. He grabbed Robin by the arm and pulled him off the bed and towards the door. The guards that stood there silently moved aside. 

“A moment with just my son, please.” The Duke said to the guards and they followed my brothers out the door.

I remained sitting, the paper in my hand, my heart pounding, but my face passive. It would be alright. Soon the dam would burst, and it would be over. 

“I had believed that we were on the same page when the Red Hunters brought you to me. But I see that you are more spiteful and ungrateful than ever before. Why do you resist this? After all I’ve done for you?”

“Talking about this doesn’t fix things. It never has.” I answered calmly. “I’ve told you what I want. The wedding will not happen unless you bring me Drunrag alive.”

“No.” He said. “That will never happen.”

I had to hold my face together, had to remain strong like stone. “Then for the safety of our people, I cannot agree to this wedding.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” He exasperated. “You keep speaking about the safety of our people. From what?”

I blinked slowly before answering. “It wasn’t obvious to you what I meant?” I smiled meekly. “I mean you, father. You are no longer fit for your position. And you may think that because I am your son that that means my witness means nothing, that the council will simply laugh me off my theatrics as an ungrateful, spoiled child. But I am prepared for that, and they will listen to me.”

“You’re threatening me.”

“Yes. If that’s how you wish to see it.” I said. “I already told you the games would end. I won’t subject Selhar or Robin to what you did to me.”

“What I did to you?” I caught the way his entire body was slowly clenching, like a wild cat ready to pounce. “I did what I had to!  Do you forget the debts I’m trying to pay off? The measures I’ve gone through to prevent economic collapse to our people? I let your mother coddle you because I thought it was what was best, I had to fight bigger battles than that and yet I’ve been proven again and again I was wrong to do so.”

“My mother at least told me she loved me.” I said, and I saw his eyes flash with disdain, “To her I was her child, her son. But you were more concerned about how I could benefit you in your plans and what you could do to cover up the flaws that made me undesirable for them.”

I finally slipped off the edge of my bed and walked towards him. “Without repeating myself too much, this isn’t really a conversation that helps either of us. We know one another 's motives. I know you wish me to be your pawn to pay off the debts you accrued and I want the prisoner Drunrag - wherever  you have him - brought  before me and the Council where a decision will be made that protects us and his people and benefits both sides.”

That was when my father smirked, “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish such a feat? As you said, the Council will hear me before they will ever listen to you.”

I lifted my chin. “We shall see.”

“Your plans won’t work, son.” He said, and he sighed. 

“This is what you wanted from me, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’m finally taking charge and doing something. You should be proud that I’m finally taking responsibility..”

“Son, this is not what I meant.”

I smiled wryly, ‘I’m aware, but I’m not really afraid of what you think you can do to me.” I yawned and raised my chain as I regarded him. “Was this all you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Altan.” His tone felt like a warning.

I lifted my eyebrows, “Yes?”

He held his tongue and held my gaze for an uncomfortably long period of time before he sighed and I saw his body release a portion of his tension. He stepped back, “You will learn the hard way it seems.”

He walked out of the room with no other words. 

I unwrinkled the paper from my hands and recognized Commander Gideon’s untidy scrawl,

I cannot return to the Great Hall, but I am safe. Your brother was very clever in finding me - and just in the matter of time. Thank you for the information you gleaned from the Lady of Triel. I agree with her that this evidence is enough to topple the powers that be. I trust the Gods are on our side and our efforts will not be in vain. 

Doxxah believes they are familiar with the herbs that Lady Allara may be under and is researching for an antidote that may help Allara resist the effects on her mind.

I believe I was able to locate the Red Hunter’s hideout, or at least one of them. There is no guarantee that Drunrag will be there, but I promise I will not give up until he is found. I do not know how long I will be, but if you are in an emergency and need refuge, you will find allies at the Soaring Elk. It’s near the edge of town and few guards ever travel there. You will be safe there for as long as you need.

Selhar said quite confidently that he believes you will win this battle, and I believe him to be right. Whatever the future holds for you, I know it to be good. For you, and for your beloved.

My loyalty goes to you,

G.G.

I folded the paper again just as Selhar returned, sans Robin. “What happened?” He asked urgently.

I shook my head, “Nothing yet. I don’t think father is ready to make the next move yet.”

“What are you going to do next?” He asked. “Father knows you’re opposing him, he’s going to fight back.”

I nodded, “Yes, but I think he still misunderstands me and won’t expect my next move.” I sighed. “At least I hope that’s true.”

“I think you’ve definitely rattled him.” Selhar’s voice lowered. “I think if the guard hadn’t been there, he would have hurt you.”

“He didn’t.” I said. “And he won’t. Not anymore. Have you had any luck finding that vial?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, I’ve been through Father’s office twice. There’s nothing.”

“How do you get around so easily?” I exclaimed. “You’re honestly terrifying.”

He grinned. “Mum taught me.”

I felt like my heart softened. Of course she did. I reached and tussled his hair. “I’m going to be summoning a meeting with the Council, would you join me and bear witness to father’s crimes?”

He let out a breath, one that felt like the release of something, “It would be my honor.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 7

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Settling into your seat, you trapped your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Now that you were in a dry cab, any movement exaggerated how wet you were. While Donatello had tried his best, you were still soaked through to the point that your clothes either clung or created a pool where they wrenched from your skin. Sneaking a peak to your partner, you found him set in a statuesque manner that you had a feeling was to minimize similar sensations. He was staring at the street outside and looked especially dashing against with the droplet covered cab window. The rain drowned out the quiet noise of the radio and as you watched trickles streak from the taxi’s speed, you became hyperaware that it was heading to your apartment.

“So, I’m gonna assume you already knew where I lived?” You tried to balance the weight of chide in your tone.

Donatello didn’t shift, but one of his cheeks seemed to puff up in what you assumed was him suddenly clenching teeth.

You waited him out, pushing your back into the leather with an uncomfortable squish.

You watched the moment he arrived to an answer and took great care in only having to turn his neck to view you. “Should I prepare myself for this to be a thing?”

“What?” You smiled. “Where I repeatedly bring up how you broke into my phone and gathered up a bunch of info on me?”

His brows came together with scant irritation. “First, those are not mutually exclusive.” He reached a hand out and placed it in the center seat that separated you before using it to stabilize himself as he leaned over the space. “Second, I was forthcoming.”

You tilted into him. “Good to know.” You then turned back towards the window as if you gathered all that you needed.

The way your cushion held its tilt said he refused to retreat. “Do you think you’ve tricked me somehow?”

You tucked a grin into the corner of your mouth. “I wouldn’t say it like that. It was more like I’d been wondering.”

“You’re curious.”

Watching a particular cluster of water droplets split apart as the cab took a turn, you narrowed your gaze. The simple sentence sounded odd; it was as if he had forgotten to inject inflection. It brought your head around. You found him still bridging the gap with even features.

Both of you stared at each other for a long time before he seemed to feel the need to clarify. “About me.”

Though you hadn’t recovered near enough from the events of the day, a little amused disbelief snuck onto your face. “Well, yeah.”

He blinked his gaze away and then right back. “If you had a question why not ask it outright?”

That same sneaky emotion intensified. You had the answer but hesitated. While you weren’t trying to levy knowledge over him, you weren’t sure if you were ready to give away another one of those little conversational quirks of his that you had picked up. Searching his face found the usual blank canvas. You wondered how far he would push it if you decided not to explain. Looking away to debate the options, the cab took another turn. This one turned the car right and you could feel the extra weight as Donatello kept himself still against the force.

You gave a small defeated sigh and decided to take a shot at trying to curtail a straight out blurting of the information. “It’s like how you said you were forthcoming or whatever.”    

You refused the tug of his gaze.

“You choose your words very carefully. It means you’ll drop things like ‘I looked into you’ when I’m not really prepared to take that as seriously as I should.”

The pressure on the seat intensified and for a moment you thought he’d reach out. Instead, he retreated. Though he hadn’t offered anything to assuage it, you felt all the more cold.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said tepidly after a little bit of time had passed.

Staring down at the floor, you noticed a penny half shoved under the mat.

“You’re still concerned.”

After digesting the phrase, you finally looked at him. If he meant from today, that should have been obvious so he must have meant something else. You studied his profile until it came to you. “I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still interested in you.”

His gaze sharpened with a negligible lid drop and he mumbled something. It was fresh enough on your mind that you were able to decipher it.

“Nope, not mutually exclusive.”

Instead of turning his head, you watched his pupil move to evaluate you. “How do you do it?”

You opened your mouth in question.

“We’ve arrived!” The cabby spoke.

You caught the man’s eye in the rear-view mirror and then looked back to find Donatello turned away. You gave a sad smile at the back of his head. “Thank you again for today…” He didn’t respond so you shuffled over to make for the door handle. Slipping your fingers under the latch, you popped it and heard the thick shift of wet fabric. It wasn’t enough to give you pause so you gave a little push. The first bit of rain tried to sneak through the cracks and the sound overtook Donatello saying something to the driver. Before you could turn you had a feeling what was happening. Using your knee to press the door open fully, you caught sight of Donatello in the middle seat with that strange umbrella of his in hand.

“This again? Really?” You looked between him and the object dryly.

“Just to your front door.”

“That’s not…” Hanging a foot out onto the sidewalk, you pushed out of the vehicle. Only a few droplets made their way onto your head before the umbrella extended out of the vehicle to cover you. “And you say I’m stubborn?” 

His voice came in close as you hadn’t moved far from the cab and he nearly pressed up against you. “I also never said I wasn’t. Regular humans are more susceptible to illness.”

“Isn’t that an old wives’ tale?”

“Yes, but lowered body temperatures can weaken your immune system while the humidity makes it easier for bacteria to proliferate.”

Unmoving, you tipped your head back to get a look at him. His jaw looked particularly sharp from this angle. “Alright, Dr. Donnie, so you’re doing this because you’re worried about my health?”

He looked down his snout at you and gave a small frown.

Breaking eye contact, you took your first steps away from the cab and he staunchly followed with the cover overhead. You hopped the stairs up your stoop with ease and turned abruptly to face him when you hit the landing.

He looked over your door for a moment and then landed back on you with what seemed to be a the barest struggle.

You tilted your head in a show of patience.

His mouth opened and then closed up tight.

You gave your head a shake to signify you’d given up and went to root your key out of your bag. Your fingers had just brushed the ring when he finally found the words.

“I didn’t like the way you looked.”

Pulling your keys out in time with lifting your gaze to him, you arched a brow. “What?”

He had now chosen to stare back at the cab which idled at the curb. “The rain.”

“You’re going to have to put those separate thoughts together.”

You watched his grip on the umbrella tighten. “When it was streaming down your face. It made it look like you were crying.”

 Your jaw didn’t drop, but it was enough surprise to make your lips part. “But you moved so fast. I was only in the downpour for what? A few seconds at most?”

That little frown that had yet to leave him deepened. “It’s not an emotion I care to deal with.”

You carefully etched his struggling expression to memory. “You must have known I was upset from how I contacted you. There was the very real possibility that you would have had to.”

He gave a single tight nod.

The rain filled the air and with him not giving you anything else, you looked over your keys. “Sorry for holding you up, I know the meter’s running.” You shifted to put them into the lock.

“That’s not-”

Swiveling your head, you found that he had at some point crept in very close and seized up as you caught him. You looked down to see his fingers curled inches from your arm before turning your attention back to his face.

“I understand that it can be inevitable, but I would rather you not express it.”

You gave him a dull look. That was a far too clinical way of putting something that seemed sweet.

 “I told you what to expect with me.” His arm retracted back to his side.

You watched it before studying the way the moisture collected and bubbled out on his mask. From what you had gathered about his standards, he had gone to some great lengths today. Looking back to where your key was still half-inserted into the lock, you felt your shoulders slouch. Today had been far too much and you still felt like a hollow version of yourself. “I… It’s not you. I’m not thinking clearly. I really do appreciate all you did. I think I just need a hot shower and some sleep...”

The rain tamped unevenly on the umbrella and you finally turned the lock. The door shifted with its freedom and you reached to grab the handle. Out of your periphery you saw a flash of green and black as his hand shot forward, past you, and pressed the frame shut. Your lips pursed as you reviewed his action and then moved to examine Donatello. His eyes were slightly wider than normal and, from the little information you read, he was just as surprised by the action. You watched as he came back to himself and then hitched his brows as he tried to make sense of it all. It rapidly softened your heart.

“I’m gonna guess that’s both of us, hm?” You shifted on planted feet to glimpse him behind you over a twisted shoulder.

His eyes struggled for a moment before he wrenched them away from the door and to you. There they evaluated you until his lids lowered. He poured himself further into your space. “You don’t need to give me an out. I’m fully aware of my actions.”

“Sure.” You steeped your gaze with sarcasm.

“Petulant.” He scolded and drew closer.

Despite your dampened attitude, your heart seized. These weren’t the ideal conditions for this, but the constant interruptions were starting to compound. You tipped your head to convey your accessibility. He gave you a once over and you thought he’d close the gap when you heard the sound of the door being opened. His face didn’t seem to betray the action, so you looked away to find he was indeed holding it open. When you brought your gaze back he had retreated. You might have been annoyed if there weren’t the faintest timid air to him. “Do you think you’ll be in an adequate mental state to reschedule our lunch for tomorrow?”

He was considerate to a fault. You straightened up and gave yourself a little shake. Coming out of it, you found him still waiting with his head tipped down. He seemed especially wary as if he were prepared for his body would betray him again. You wanted to pinch his cheeks, but shoved the sensation down. “Maybe. Can we tentatively plan on it?”

He turned the query over for a moment. “Considering the circumstances, I suppose I can accommodate that.”   

“Thank you.” You dipped under his arm and the move made it so he could open the door fully. “Text me when you get home?”

He gave a single nod.

You gave him a little wave and headed in. A creak signaled the door was closing soon after and just before it shut you could have sworn you heard something about getting warm. When you looked back you saw the faint outline of Donatello retreating to the cab.

-

It was less unfortunate and more a simple fact of the universe that your roommate sniffed you out as soon as she got home. She pinged that you were not only early, but had somehow had enough time to shower while also hiding yourself away in your room. She had left all her belongings in a trail across the apartment as she descended upon you. She had bundled you up as you carefully recounted the day. She then ushered your swaddled form to the living room couch and made soup as you continued your tale. She dolled it out and as soon as she was caught up, she’d already cancelled her plans for the next day. With the inevitable treatment of endless movies and pizza now looming over your Saturday, you got a hold of your phone. 

Donatello’s arrival text waited there along with a surprising confirmation of his change into warm clothes. It might have been the soup, but you cradled your device close and gave him an extremely simplified version of the events since parting. Though you hadn’t mentioned her much, he seemed to easily accept your roommates meddling and in another shock had offered a provisional go at Sunday. The way he was willing to bend over backwards was what really allowed you to categorize the heat pooling in your cheeks. As soon as your friend got sight of you, she switched from comforting to voracious.

You both stayed up late as you gave an edited version of your relationship thus far. Your roommate had scoffed at several things and you watched on fondly as she ranted. She always had your best interests at heart and the thought of spending the next day with her was sounding increasingly enticing. She’d shooed you off to bed sometime after midnight with the many promises of the Saturday to come. It might have been all the spoiling, but, in a minor daze before plugging your phone in for the night, you shot off a message to Donatello about how’d you badger him all the next day with your lazy activities.

When you awoke many hours later, you blearily stared at a response that passively accepted the announcement as if it were an inevitability. It’d been such a high that you didn’t even care it was immediately followed up by stipulations that his phone would be silenced, it was only allowed for the one day, and he’d reserve the right it ignore any message he saw fit. Heart beating a little too fast for the time, you could still feel the traces of emptiness inside you. Overall, thankfully, sleep had done wonders. With work still set to continue Monday morning, you were sure it was going to be an ongoing process. Until then, you’d take it day by day which meant starting this one with a bedhead selfie sent to the object of your affections.

Though you put no effort into the shot, you’d flung your phone away and fled to wash up. You returned to find a wall of text that seemed to be something of a New York law regarding the use of texted images. The legalese proved to be a bit too much for you, but you got the gist being something about personal use of photos sent voluntarily. There was no way to know for sure, but you had a feeling he’d sent that as a way to say he’d be saving the photo. The thought alone propelled you running right into your roommates room without knocking and jumping directly on top of her still sleeping form. Many curses were shared, but it was the start of your day together.  

Eventually pizza was ordered and you parked yourselves on your respective sides of the couch. Your roommate immediately hit play on the first movie in your watch list and you badgered her for not letting you decide. She scolded you for that being why your queue was so long and eventually the doorbell rang. Your roommate juggled an enormous stack of boxes and you gawked as you helped split the load. She joked about it barely being enough for one day and you bopped her with one of the plates you gathered. Between eating, lounging, and the constant string of distracting lights from the television, you slowly felt a reclamation of normalcy. You peppered the day with little updating texts on how a movie was or shots of your never ending slices to Donatello. He added little comments that didn’t necessarily hold great content, but gave you a sense that he was there. It added to the comfort and it was around the time that the sun was waning behind buildings but not quite set when your roommate made for a tub of ice cream she’d been hording.

You were unchecking the films you’d watched from your list when you heard the clanging of spoons against bowls.

“Oh.”

You gave an absently curious hum as you scrolled down a line of movie posters.

“He’s holding something back.”

Stopping and staring down the length to where the remote was raised in your hand, you chewed your lip. “Uh huh?”

“Sorry, realization.” Your roommate appeared in the corner of your eye and passed you a bowl with far too many scoops in it.

“The suspense is killing me.” You gave her a flat stare which you then turned with growing fear at the  mountain of cream.  

“Your boy toy.”

That got your attention. “Okay, wait, go back.”

Your roommate gave a knowing smile from around the spoon in her mouth. “Now you pay attention.”

“Sometimes you just ramble!”

“One: rude. Two: It’s because I have so many good things to say!”

You waved her off before pulling yourself out from where you had begun to fuse with the cushions. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She shot you a dirty look but relented. “There was that weird air yesterday, which is like yeah, yesterday was fucked, but also it seemed like he was rubbing you the wrong way, right?”

An image of petting appeared in your head and you drowned it out with a huge scoop from your bowl. You instantly got a brain freeze and scrunched yourself up around the sensation.

“Nice one.” You roommate rolled her eyes. “From what you described it sounds like he’s holding himself back.”

“From…” You pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth to abate the pain. “… What?”

She shrugged. “You almost caught him touching you multiple times, so probably that?”

“Well yeah we almost kissed…” You pulled your knees up to balance your ice cream.

“More than that, even during the first almost kiss, it sounds like he didn’t actually touch you.”

You searched the milky depth for the memory. He’d indeed gone to great lengths to prevent doing so. “Weird…”

“As much as he’s an enigmatic ass, he’s also like a well trained dog.”

You swiveled your head to her with mild offense.

She had a coy smile on her lips along with a blob of chocolate dotting the corner of her mouth. “Look, he follows orders! Did you accidentally give a command?”

Brows still knit in light irritation, you tried to speed through your dialog. You had mostly focused on his so yours fell by the wayside. “I… don’t think so? That doesn’t make any sense though!”

“Uh huh, that’s the part of him I’m not into.”

“Yeah, yeah, red flags.”

“The fact that you acknowledge it and willingly aren’t pushing it kills me.” She waved at you and you watched her curiously. She then pointed to your phone and you brought it up. “I don’t know when I can do a proper shovel talk, but I’d rather send a message now just in case.”

You pulled your device in close. “I get where you’re coming from, but he’s also…” You grimaced. “Ugh, it sounds bad, but he’s trying. I don’t know the whole story, but I like him a lot. You know I have a pretty good sense about people and I’m careful.”

Her usual playful air dissipated and she eyed you. She didn’t close out the examination and instead pointed to your phone again. “Selfie.”

Frowning, you brought up the camera. As you turned it to the front facing one, you felt the couch dip. As soon as the screen flipped you watched as she thread one arm around your body and the other came up to slice at her neck in the universal ‘you’re dead’ signifier. You made a show of rolling your eyes and snapping several pictures in rapid succession. As soon as you finished, your roommate retreated back to the comfort of her ice cream and you sent the best of the bunch to Donatello. His response came almost immediately.

Donatello: Is that your roommate? It’s good to know at least one of the tenants in that apartment has sense.

You scowled and turned to show the response to her.

She laughed brightly. “Okay, maybe I kinda get what you mean.”

-

After staying up far too late and sleeping in far too long, you rushed to make it to your lunch with Donatello on time. You found him waiting outside the establishment with a casual air. You greeted him with your usual beam and caught the way he seemed to close off at it. With your roommate’s guess fresh in your mind, you decided to keep an extra eye out. Between the delicious food, you for distracted prodding your companion about his knowledge. You ended up coming away from the meal now knowing that it seemed to encompass an insane amount of fields. It was as if he’d somehow gotten a discount on buying PhDs in bulk. It also meant you were more at a loss at his profession than ever. Refusing to sulk, you lead the charge outside and did a quick pivot to catch him in case he tried to scatter to the winds.

“Do you have other plans for today?”

He let the restaurant’s door close and stepped out of the way of impeding it. “Not until this evening. I assume you have something in mind?”

“How about walking lunch off and heading towards the farmer’s market?”

“Walking off this meal or yesterdays?” He questioned but headed in your direction.

You blew a raspberry. “I’d have to run a marathon if that was the case. We ate nothing but junk all day!”

“It raised your spirits.” He gave you a side glance as if he were passing judgment.

“It did. I’m dreading tomorrow a little, but I’ll be okay.” You thoughtfully tucked your hands into your coat’s pockets. Early spring tinted the air with a slight chill, but it was comfortable with breaks of sunshine leaking between skyscrapers.

Donatello chose not to comment and for a few blocks you both walked in comfortable silence. It was as you waited at a crosswalk that you started to sense something was off. Sneaking glances at your companion found nothing exact, but there seemed to be a palpable sensation you couldn’t name. Again, your roommate’s words echoed in your mind. You’d gotten a little too wrapped up in your questionnaire and tried to sweep back through lunch’s events. On recall, you found Donatello had gone for far more napkins from a pile between you than he ever used. Trying to reassemble the table’s layout, you weren’t exactly sure but you thought it happened to be close to where your arm was. It wasn’t conclusive enough so you rolled back further. You’d finally had enough wherewithal to pay for a meal and when you’d turned to him after doing so, he seemed closer, but again it was an uncertain dead end.

Pushing your lips into a tight line, the signal switched and you both crossed amongst milling pedestrians. Sunday seemed to seep in the area and there wasn’t as much of a rush as there usually was. You took the time to admire the surrounding stonework as you passed. It sparked another question from your list and you turned to shoot it off at your companion. You caught him with his hand seemingly swung out as if he were speed walking even though you knew for a fact he wasn’t.

You stared at it curiously before looking to his face.

He kept his eye staunchly forward and momentum pulled the appendage back to his side.

“How about architecture?” You drew out the question lazily, still studying him.

“I can name the designers of most of the iconic buildings, but it’s not something I studied at length.”

“Huh.” You marked the syllable with dry huff.

He grew quiet again and you tried to work out what it was exactly. Turning back to the sidewalk ahead, you picked over what was in reach. The offender had been his arm closest to you, but there wasn’t exactly anything to grab. Your hands were still in your pockets and with his height, you couldn’t imagine more than him walking with his hand on your shoulder. The thought was laughable and you unearthed a fist to close off any giggles by pressing it to your lips. As soon as you did so, you felt a tight seize from Donatello. He was only in your periphery, but he seemed especially at attention. You desperately wanted to ask, but you just knew as soon as you brought attention to it, he would squash the supposed unruly reaction. Dropping your arm limply to your side, you caught the way Donatello’s intense eye caused his head to dip down as he traced it. It hit you all too fast.

He wanted to hold your hand.

Giddy bubbles overflowing like a shaken soda turned your head all the way away as if you were still looking at the buildings.

That couldn’t possibly be it.

You chased the thought with a broom and dust pan. It had to be categorized away into the wishful thinking you often caught yourself in. All you knew for sure was that he had interest in you. Even though it wasn’t spoken, it was a known fact as you continued to seek each one another out, but he’d overtly turned down romantic notions. Enjoying his companionship was high on your list and besides the ever growing desire to actually commit to a kiss, you were satisfied with what you currently had. Still an image of clasped hands appeared and you felt a momentary high put pressure on your ear drums. A smile wrinkled your lips and you were glad you turned away. It was in this motion that a glass windowed business passed by your vision and you caught a sight that made you all the more light headed.

From your other side was Donatello reaching out towards your hand. Your stomach flipped and your fingers clenched reflexively. You watched in the window as he pressed his lips together in dissatisfaction and his other arm came around to soothe his failed one. One hand clenched the elbow closest to you and he turned his attention away. In the last pane of the building, you watched his fingers dig into his coat.

He was holding back.

Turning your head forward, you tried to think of the best course of action. You were sure you could easily rectify the current situation by just grabbing his hand and he’d allow the action, but that wouldn’t solve the bigger issue. He had implied in the cab on Friday that you could always ask him and you already had a testament to his honesty, even if it were often shrouded. Knowing that, he was sure to give some half answer since, by the way the way he struggled, he seemed just as perplexed by whatever was happening. Head tipping as you formulated, you thought about how to catch him in the act. You’d nearly caught him a number of times and he had always gone on as if nothing had occurred. It couldn’t just be almost, you had to catch him when he’d actually executed whatever move. A small smile played on your lips.

Tipping your head upward, you pulled your other hand out of its pocket. You then let your arms swing a little more freely as you caught sight of several pigeons on a nearby ledge. “How do the mutations work?”

“Are you sure that’s a subject you want to delve into?” There was a smug air to Donatello’s words.

“Ah, got a science explanation ready?”

The air shifted and you could tell from his tone that he soured. “If only it were that clear. There have been notable exceptions to whatever rules I try to put in place. There’s a frustrating element of mysticism.”

He had put a strange amount of emphasis on that last word. It flagged it as something to remember going forward. “I guess I’m just curious how the animals get picked.”

He was quiet as he gathered his thoughts. “Again, there are quite a few variables.”

“Okay…” You feigned as if that were difficult even though the conversation was thankfully playing out in your favor. You lifted the arm farthest from him and pointed at the next set of pigeons bumming about wherever they could roost. “Let’s say, why aren’t there more pigeon mutants? Isn’t there something like more pigeons than rats in the city?”

Out of the corner of your eye you watched him follow your guide. You moved a little bit closer to him as he digested the question. “You make a good point. It’s unfortunate that I’ve have had the pleasure of meeting a pigeon mutant.” There was a palpable disdain oozing from the sentence that made it very apparent he’d some kind of extremely negative encounter with a rat.

Your heart sank as you wondered if you had dashed yours chances by accidentally stepping on a land mind. You scrambled to shove the subject back into the right track. “So, the amount of the animal might have an effect?”

“If I were to attempt to explain it simply, than you could say it tips probability.” His sour attitude seemed to lessen with each word.

You mentally wiped your sweat away. “What’s the probability exactly?” You made it a few more steps and watched as two pigeons tapped beaks cutely from above. “And not the numbers I mean!”

He seemed amused by your save and you felt yourself finally in the clear. “For a human, you’ll usually mutate into a recombinant version of whatever animal you were last in contact with.”

“Zookeeper!” You rounded on him making sure to use your far hand in accusation.

“I was not created in that way.” He seemed to gloat more and more with each of your wrong guesses.

You turned away from him with a snap, but had maneuvered it that you were so close now that one little move would cause your shoulders to brush. You could sense how close his hand was to yours as each step brought them in near contact. In a final feign you played up as if you were thinking of another guess and waited as the silence filed in. Almost instantly that withheld aura cropped up and you could tell Donatello was once again suffering at his own hand. From where your fingers had lazily curled in a neutral position, you flex them out in a little stretch. He tensed instantly and your heart sped up with each step in anticipation. You willed him to finally go through with it as the air seemingly became oppressive. He wouldn’t even have to move at this point; he just needed to time the swing of his arm. Your heart surged as you felt the ghost of contact. Mind spiraling, you tried to come up with some kind of final push.

“We’re almost there.” It came off your lips because you could register that was the perfect move; it rolled up an honest truth, a warning, and a last call all into one.

You could see him falter in his steps before immediately scrambling to pick back up at your side. He slotted himself as close as you had before and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep from spoiling the moment. Steps continued to march forward and you leaned your fingers out an almost negligible amount. You felt that ghosting again, but this time it lingered. It was as if his hand were barely skirting the hairs on yours. You waited, unconsciously counting down to what seemed like an inevitable when he disappeared. You made it a few more steps before the missing echo of his telltale boots reached your ears. Popping your eyes open, you spun around to find Donatello hunched, fisting his hands in apparent fury.

“Don-?”

“I can’t take this!”

Your stomach bottomed out in a way that made your legs feel like lead.

“It’s constant, inane, and aggravatingly disobedient!”

Though you still felt at a loss, your head tipped to one side. Across from you Donatello was contracting so aggressively that it seemed like a blood vessel might burst. “Woah, hey…”

“Absolutely infuriating!.” He seethed.

You brought your hands up as he seemed like he could lash out and took a tentative step forward.

Instead of you rounding on you with anger, he snapped up with what almost looked like fear. “Stay back.”

The command had a lethal quality to it, but your feet didn’t seem to get the memo. Within another step, his hands came up as well. Still moving, your foot lifted to close the distance a little more. His body careened to one side and you desperately tried to track his unhinged tilt. Like a pendulum, he then shot in the opposite direction and was upon you. You stared up at his towering form. It wasn’t at all like when he’d tried to intimidate you. Instead he seemed to be teetering in an abysmal loss of control. Bringing your gaze down slowly and unsure about taking your eyes off of him, you tracked to find his fingers hovering centimeters from your arms. It was enough to completely shake off alarm for the confusion you’d had since leaving the restaurant. “Don, what’s going on?”

Your use of a nickname seemed to have the intended effect as a shred of his former self appeared. “I have not cleared-”

He stopped as you laced your expression with concern and he seemed to catch on that you had only done it as a means to get his attention.

He lowered his head until your were caught in his gaze. His eyes were nearly as wide as they had been when you thought he might attack your boss. Instead this time, the pinprick of his pupil seemed to correlate with manic distress. “I need you to listen closely.”

You gave a nod, keeping your eyes trained to his.

“I don’t like touch.”

“Oh…” You faltered, a new type of confusion settling in. “Okay?”

He exaggerated his features for a moment as if to double down on the statement.

Gaze breaking free, you searched his face where he seemed immovable on the subject. “I don’t mind? I think I just touched you the one time, but I can make sure to steer clear?”

He hissed as if burned and reeled away from you.

You watched on with budding awareness that this display heavily contrasted his usual unflappable nature. You’d seen cracks of it here and there, but on full display he seemed freed in a way that you might have regarded fondly were he not so distressed.

“It’s not you! Well, it is, but-!” He was moving again, nearly rocking as he attempted to pace. For whatever reason, he didn’t get more than a few steps to either side.

“Alright, let’s just-” You attempted to duck and weave to catch his eye. “Donatello, can you look at me?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Glancing at the few people on the street, you reviewed the buildings that lined it. “Can you step over here? Let’s move to the side.” You took your time making your way over to a small inlet worked into the stone near an alley.

Donatello shifted a few times before trailing after. As soon as he made it, he pressed a shoulder into the building to stabilize himself.

You mirrored his move and could feel the cold of the concrete through your layers. You closed your eyes in a form of accordance and focused on your breathing. For several minutes, everything seemed quiet save the sound of the city. With the way he had been able to sneak around, there was always a chance that he could have left all together, but you decided not to think about it. Instead, you slowly combed over the little information he had offered until he was ready.

When he finally spoke, it was in a low voice. “I didn’t intend for you to see that.”

Unsure if you should open your eyes, your brows knit. “Hey, it’s alri-”

“No.” The force lifted his tone and brought your lids up part way. Through your lashes you glimpsed that his steely expression had returned, but the mask had been placed in a hurry. A peek at his pearly whites showed his teeth were grit. “I pride myself on having more control. The fact that I buckled under a few compounding pressures…”

“Then…” You kept your gaze low. “How about we call it even? I don’t feel great about dragging you out when I was a shell of myself. We hadn’t even gone on a date yet.”

“It’s more than that.” His lips seemed to realize they were betraying his face and came to close the gap. “Besides, I’m glad-” As soon as the shield went up, it immediately malfunctioned and he sneered.

“Is it-” You pulled your own breaks, unsure if your usual nature of blurting things out was appropriate. Fiddling with your coat, you snuck a glance to find Donatello waiting with a look that seemed to urge you to form a distraction. You desperately hoped that reading was accurate as you opened your mouth again. “Is it a weakness thing?”

“Explain?”

The fingers that were picking at the breakpoint, fisted the fabric. “Admitting you like me or anything that might signify that. Do you not like it because it’s a weakness?”

This was usually around the time he’d punctuate something about you being presumptuous, but the quiet that followed was unnerving. You finally brought your gaze up fully and, instead of finding him put off, he seemed to be contemplating.

It meant there was a portion of truth to your question and you rotated until your back was pressed flat against the building. Even though you had a feeling, it didn’t feel great to see it confirmed. You weren’t sure if you could be with someone who thought of love in that way. You blinked twice, staring wide out at a passing taxi. That choice of word wasn’t right. At least, not yet. Putting further pressure into the concrete the eventuality took hold. You were getting so far ahead of yourself you wished you could strangle your own brain for even daring to think like that.

“I dislike the causality of it.”

Remembering you had been waiting, you whipped your head around to your companion. “Like cause and effect?”

“It means that somewhere along the line, in another infuriating loss of control, I allowed a series of events to take place that brought us to this moment.”

“Control, control… I’m sorry, Donatello.” You shifted to turn to him to also communicate that with your body. “I get that this is hard, but I don’t think I’m going to understand unless you explain it.”

He reached out and both of you watched as the hand neared your face. His other then appeared and snatched the wrist of the first. “There!” He glowered at the appendage as if he’d chop it right off. “I know you’ve seen it. I appreciate that you hadn’t called attention to it, but it keeps happening.”

You suddenly felt guilty for having tried to bait him earlier.

“As I said.”

“You don’t like touch.”

“Exactly.” He used the hand he supposedly had control over to put the unruly one back at his side. “And yet, my body continues to betray me.”

“Has this happened before?” You adjusted your coat and moved your arms to your side as he had done.

“Not this way.” He blew out an annoyed puff of air. “I might have had the urge, but when it played out I found the exchange repulsive.”

You mulled over his phrasing. “That bad, huh?”

He didn’t exactly relax, but he didn’t seem as strung up as he once was. “As a stickler as I am for data, it was the sort of thing that didn’t need much repeated testing to satisfy my hypothesis.”

“I see…”

“Which makes it dually frustrating because I already know the outcome and yet my magnificent mind is somehow choosing to both dump that info, something it has never done before, while also strengthening an exercise of my subconscious, something I had long trained otherwise.”

“Hence the control…” You spoke the sentence aloud more to confirm it to yourself.

 “Yes.”

“And the causality thing is you aren’t sure how you ‘let’ that happen?”

“In a sense.”

You gave a little hum and kicked an errant pebble on the sidewalk. It skittered a bit before disappearing into a crack.

“I usually don’t see the need to clarify, but there was a chance you said it as a means to pacify me earlier…”

You looked to him.

“Are you alright going forward without touch?” He then broke away to shake his head off to the side. “I neglected to add it to my warning list.” He then cursed under his breath something about oversights before turning his attention back to you.

Mulling over the response, you decided with a small frown. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’ve never been in a relationship like that, so I don’t know what I’d do, but then, pretty much everything else about this has been new to me…” You looked toward him with a tepid hope.

He regarded you evenly in a way that said he wasn’t sure where he landed on the matter.

“Though, I’m more worried about you at the moment.”

He gaze turned into a flat stare.

It seemed like his version of bewilderment and it made you smile. “Based on what you said, logic reigns supreme in that head of yours.”

He took the comment as appreciation and one of his brows rose a centimeter.

“And because of that, I can’t imagine that this conversation is going to fix your reaching out problem.”

For a moment his brows rose as he took in the information and then they came down as he appeared to come to a similar conclusion.

“Here.” You slowly brought you hands up and held them out in front of you. “You’re not wrong about how you feel or what you’ve decided and I don’t think I have some kind of magic touch that will make everything okay, but maybe you can try a quick graze to see if maybe that will at least get it out of your system?”

He tilted his head the slightest amount.

“I’ll stay totally neutral so it’ll all be on your terms.”

One of his hands came up and from its speed you weren’t sure if it was purposeful or not. He did, however, halt the appendage and give it a quick fist before squaring his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You nodded back, raising your chin as if you were preparing yourself for some great labor.

His other hand joined his first and he slowed. “I believe you said you weren’t going to hold my hand.”

If you weren’t already poised, you might have fallen over. Your roommate’s comment on commands surged in your mind. “Please tell me you didn’t take that seriously?”

“Don’t be absurd.” He huffed and continued his trek.

He turned his hand over so that your palms would meet. You watched carefully as his fingers skirted the underside of yours before sliding along what you knew to be your fate line. It brought a certain heat that seemed to linger in the tips of your ears. His thumbs then closed in around the top of your hands and the sheer size of his appendages completely encompassed yours in a loose hold.

He became very still and you had to force your gaze to him. His eyes were once again wide, but this times his pupils had enlarged in an attempt to match up. His gaze was unfocused and gave you the impression of a hungry animal who’s turn at the carcass was just one away. Before you could look back down, he gave your hands a proper squeeze. It sent a fluttering sensation up your arm. You suddenly had to put a fair amount of focus into not returning the gesture. On your left hand, you felt one of his finger skirt downward and land precisely on your radial pulse. Your heart picked up on contact and your eyes squeezed shut as he surely felt the exact moment it did.

“I require further testing.”

Your eyes popped open to find that hungry stare now pointed directly at your face. “How so?”

You immediately wished you’d said something more clever, but it also seemed like forming the two words you had required all your strength.

“Your arms, if that’s alright?”

You gave a nod that felt far too small.

He was in motion again, but it was slow and methodical. He traced the lip of your coat, tucking a finger under it to chase the skin momentarily before relenting to move overtop the barrier. Everything fell away to just him as he then took a grip of your forearms and instead of just squeezing, gave a gentle rolling massage motion with his thumbs.

You felt weak at the knees and were assaulted by the memory of him throwing his arm over your shoulder and holding your hand from a few nights ago.

Had you both forgotten about that?

You wanted to voice the exception, but he intercepted.

“To the shoulders.”

It wasn’t even close to a question and his voice was thick with a sort of need. You felt drunk on the intoxicating amount of attention he was giving you, but you somehow found more words than before. “If you do, my hands are going to hit your chest again.”

You patted yourself on the back for slipping in at least a reference to the outlier.

“I don’t care.”

He really didn’t as he gently cupped your elbows on a journey to your upper arm. As he drew close, your fingers pressed into the taunt surface of his abdomen and you remembered feeling a similar hardness before. Knowing now he was part turtle, you wondered what the shell his coat was obviously concealing looked like. The thought evaporated as he reached his destination and let the length of his fingers curl around your shoulder and onto your back. You squashed your lips together to avoid making a pathetic sound over such a simple touch. It caused your fingers to tangle up in his shirt and you leaned your head forward to keep from acting further.

“More.” His voice was dark now and his head landed somewhere around the top left of yours.

Swimming in a head rush, you couldn’t find any need to respond. Still he refused to move and gave your shoulders tight squeeze as if you wake you up.

“Please.”

A buoy thought about how he was using so few words surfaced. You clung onto it to make your mouth move. “It’s fine!”

You hadn’t meant it to be so loud, but he surged forward and embraced you in a crushing hug. You were thankful for the force because it felt like the only thing keeping you upright. Unfortunately, it also caused the sharp lip of something across his chest to press uncomfortably into your face. With your head slightly down it narrowly missed crushing your eye and you wormed out a little noise of discomfort from where you were buried amongst his clothes.

The reaction was instantaneous. You knew you were moving, but not where when your feet left the ground. You landed, seated against something, before he pulled back. Dizzy from the whirlwind, you watched as he dipped down lower until you realized he was trying to catch your eye from where your head had lolled down. It took all you had to muster a question with your eyes.

“I know.” He had a weakened quality to his voice. “You can-” He took your hands and delicately cradled them by your fingers before bringing them up near his shoulders. “If you want.” He then shot you a look that nearly pleaded you to comply.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to ask.

You wanted to ask if this was still about gathering data.

You ended up unable to say anything and instead broke free from him to rush getting around his head. He moved in tandem and you were swept up in another hug that you returned by wrapping your arms around his neck. Your face settled in a crook between your arm and his head. With the full contact, you could feel the sensation of him relaxing as if he sighed deeply. No sound accompanied it and you felt the pressure on your end reach a head. It manifested in you giving him a tight squeeze and worming your face in as close as you could get it to him. He returned the gesture with a sharp compression of his own, before his arms parted to cradle one of your shoulders with one hand and the small of your back with the other.

Slowly you felt the steam release and the desperation tapered off. Unlike him, you allowed yourself a contended sigh and his thumb gently rubbed your shoulder blade. “You okay?” You mumbled into the thick of your arm.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you felt a bob in his shoulders. You identified it as a single chuckle. It was a gesture that could only be felt and not seen. It opened up a whole new world of little things about Donatello for you to uncover. You tried to temper the rush of excitement as there was still a chance this was a onetime thing. As if on cue, you felt his hands began to retract. You loosened your grip and he shifted in a way that brought your cheeks together as he continued to part. You were suddenly hyper aware as his face grew in your periphery. Your fingers accidentally hooked the back of his collar and he slowed at the sensation. It meant he came out with his lips skirting the side of your head as he turned inward to question you. Your breath hitched as you awaited what seemed to be continually put off. His gaze focused on your eyes and your lips parted in anticipation. While he didn’t look down, he seemed to catch the gesture and just barely tipped his forehead against yours before fully pulling away.

You made sure your hands were free and he let them cascade over his shoulders and down to his lapels.

It made sense in a sad way.

A kiss would probably be too much on top of everything else.

His hands freed themselves from your after a last caress to your sides before he brought them up to cover yours on his chest.

“You didn’t answer…” You murmured to yourself, still trying to suppress the fringe melancholy.

“I’m okay.” His voice sounded far clearer.

You nodded and prepared yourself to let go when you realized that you were perched on a metal railing. Your contact point on Donatello was keeping you upright and you quickly blinked away the other lingering distractions in favor of measuring your jump down.

“May I?”

Unsure of what he meant you nodded and he slotted his hands around your waist again, but this time in a far less romantic fashion. He then lifted you like a toddler and set you down on the ground. It took a moment, but you rounded your disrespect on him with a glower and venom. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” There was an airy quality to his voice that was surely put on just to be snarky but it made his relaxed aura all the more apparent.

“How’d it go?”

He gave you his patented look and translated he knew full well of how you had also indulged in the moment.

You rolled your eyes and tried not to recount the memory already. You were giddy enough as it was.

He adjusted his coat in a slick move and raised his head as if he finally had all the composure in the world. “I suppose there was always a possibility that I could be wrong. Ah, the accursed asymptote.”

You watched him curiously, trying to think back to anytime before the hug and failing miserably.

“The farmer’s market, was it?” He took a tentative step forward and there was an odd teasing quality to him.

It created a sense of dread in you that only foreboded the best things that would also just so happen to wreck you.

You wondered if he was aware of that fact or just caught up in finally being freed of his supposed ailment.

“Yeah…” You drew out the word and hesitated to join him. “You still want to go?”

“Why not?” He turned an even but carefree look onto you.

You shook your head at him. “No reason apparently.”

When you came out of the motion he had dipped alarming close into your personal space.

You wondered if at any point he could have been wrong about his mutation as he always seemed to slink around like a snake.

“For the record, I’ll be reassessing my hypothesis.”

He even slid on his S’s like one.    

 He came in until his nose almost touched yours. “That means further testing is required.”

He punctuated the point with a shift in his brows before perfecting his posture by your side.

He was absolutely aware.

You moved to join him and he offered his arm.

You gave him a look which he pointedly ignored. Forced to give up, you chuckled and tucked your fingers into the crook taking great care for that to be the only bit touching. You both began walking and he passed you a grateful tip of his chin at your thoughtfulness.

“Did you think love is a weakness?” The sentence popped out of you as if your lips remembered your earlier concern more than your brain did.

“Isn’t it?” He was quick to respond and you turned to look at him curiously.

Waiting there was the fingers from his other hand which he used to flick your forehead.

“Hey!” He hadn’t held back much and you used your free hand to rub the spot.

“Case and point.”

“That’s not fair, you-” You froze as you realized there was a clear insinuation there. You sputtered in a similar way as you had when you brain had suggested the same thing. “I-I don’t-”

“Of course not, you’re just slow and gullible.” 

Annoyed at a number of things, you pinched his bicep.

The corner of his mouth turned up in tempered amusement.

“I could just leave…” You huffed.

“Be my guest.” He eyed you to see how you’d handle your bluff.

“I believe ‘wicked’ will be a great first addition to your negative list.” You relented by turning away from him to pout into the sidewalk.

You felt a comforting tap of his hand against yours before it returned to his side. “Good choice."

NEXT

[awkward-tension-art]

Remain By His Side Chp.7 Taxi

Chap.6 (Smut) Chapter.7

Leon's week to spend back home was over, and now you waited for the taxi with him.

Heyo! this one is shorter. my motivation for writing has been shot b/c of my allergies lol

Warnings: More slow burn, leon needs a hug, he and reader are both kinda sad, brief mention of sibling death, Leon ignoring his feelings

“When will you come back?” You asked him, looking into his eyes. Leon was leaving back to military training, and a taxi was already called.

He’s been…quiet towards you. Ever since he told you about Raccoon City in detail. Ever since that night, he hasn’t looked you in the eye. 

“I…don’t know.” He mumbled, “But I’ll come back. Unless you move. Or kick me out.” 

You snorted, “That's not going to happen, I like our apartment.” It was a good location. You were close enough to your medical school you could practically walk there. Once the semester begins in a couple months, you’d be grateful for the short commute, “Besides, even if I got a new place, I’d send you a key.” 

Leon’s grin seemed…empty, hollow, “I haven’t annoyed you yet?” 

“Not at all. Besides, you’re Mocha’s favorite person, I wouldn't kick you out.” Your teasing was lighthearted, but the smile on your lips was bittersweet, you always hated when Leon left. He’s become a part of your life you didn’t want to give up. Friend didn’t seem like a strong enough word, but you couldn’t think of any other word. 

“Oh, I see. You want me to stick around for the cat,” He gave you a tender laugh, though it didn’t meet his eyes. 

What happened? Did I do this? You thought to yourself. Maybe you forced him to open wounds he would rather forget. It's only been a few months since Raccoon City fell. Perhaps you should have waited before pressing him for details of that horrible night.

You covered your worry, “Well, she does deserve everything she wants.” 

He laughed again at your words, “Even when she wakes us up at 5am.” Leon snorted before putting a hesitant hand on your shoulder, “Take care of yourself ok?”

You felt…warm whenever he touched you. In any proximity. You felt warm, safe and cared for. In response, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, “You too. I’ll make sure to write every week.” 

He nodded as you pulled back. 

You kept your eyes on him, and your hands were on his chest. Under your palms, you felt his heartbeat. Strong, steady, but rapid. Like he was nervous. 

Leon nodded, now unable to meet your gaze. He seemed…flustered under your touch. 

Your frown wasn’t missed by him. But he didn't comment. After a moment of silence you sighed, “Did…Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes widened and he looked at you surprised, “What? No.”

Your hands stayed on him, “Ever since you told me about Raccoon City, you’ve been…acting different. I was afraid I might’ve forced you to talk about it before you were ready.”

“It’s not that.” Leon had both hands on your upper arms, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It's…it's just me. That's all.” He looked away, facing the street. As if he prayed the taxi would come sooner. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You pressed slightly, hoping he’d give in. you really didn’t like pushing Leon to do or say something he didn’t want to do. 

Lord knows his free will has been taken enough.

He shook his head, “You shouldn’t worry, everythings fine.” he lied. He was a terrible liar. Why was he lying to you?

You didn’t know what else to do except hug him. His strong arms wrapped around you in response, “Whatever is going on, I’m here for you.” reluctantly, you pulled back and looked at him. 

“Please…I…” He mumbled, looking at the ground, “Look, it's not important, ok?”

You held your tongue, debating with yourself before you said your next words, “You're important to me,” your words were honest, “and I want to make sure you’re ok…”

Leon swallowed, finally looking at you. His lips twitched slightly in a frown, before he swallowed. He spoke quietly, “I’m…just gonna miss you.” His response surprised you. You expected more from him. Still, you knew he was hiding something.

He’s usually so honest…

Your frown was obvious. But you didn’t push for more details, “I’ll miss you too.” you responded, just as the taxi was arriving. 

The two of you hugged again before he stepped away.

“I’ll see you later.” Leon smirked, but still, his blue eyes betrayed his smile. 

“See you later.” your words were not a goodbye. You’ve found out that after your brother's death, you couldn’t say ‘goodbye’. Not anymore. 

You watched the taxi drive away, out of sight. With a sigh you returned to your apartment. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about how lonely your home felt again.

[goombasa]

I Read Scott McCloud's Comics Trilogy Recenlty

So yeah, for anyone who doesn't know, Scott McCloud is a pretty big deal in the comics scene, one of the guys who helped to draft up the Creator's Bill of Rights, and has done a lot of major work independently and at major publishers, and near as I can tell, one of the first pretty big creators to actively campaign for the creativity of things like Webcomics. But he's probably most well known nowadays for his non-fiction educational work mostly centered around comic books.

And I finally bought and read all three of them. The ‘Comics Trilogy’ as I've taken to calling cosists of:

Understanding Comics (1993)

Reinventing Comics (2000)

Making Comics (2006)

And this trilogy is incredibly dense with information about the medium, where it was at, and where it was going. In fact, while there are several degrees of separation between each book (about 6-7 years or so), it is very impressive just how fresh and relevant almost all of the information in this trilogy manages to be. Yes, they do show their age in some ways; both Reinventing Comics and Making Comics refer to both the internet and things like drawing tablets as though they were still pretty new and unexplored technology. However, all three of them contain some very astute observations about where Comics as a medium is going and it's really fascinating to see how close to the bull's eye Mr. McCloud was on so many counts.

Discounting that though, these are just interesting to read because all three of them ask you to really examine WHY comic books as a medium work. Understanding Comics for example, serves as a very concise history of comics as a whole and tries to put a decent definition on what qualifies as being a comic (a task that it doesn't entirely succeed at, by Scott's own examination, but it very much gets you thinking on words and pictures, what separates them and how they can be intertwined into a story.

Reinventing comics is more about the potential of the medium and I'll admit, its more philosophical tone on the potential of comics was a bit much for me. I had trouble processing and digesting everything in this book compared to Understanding or Making. I certainly understood what it was going for, and again, this book, out of all three, is fascinating to read with about twenty years of hindsight, as Scott manages to bang-on predicted most of the trends that would come into the medium down the line. Just probably not in the ways he was expecting them to. It's still a very interesting read, but I'll admit, I had a lot more trouble following it than I did the other two books and I had to go back and reread a few sections to full feel like I was grasping the full meaning on a lot of what was said, but it was still a very interesting read.

The third in the series, Making Comics is probably the most straightforward, but this isn't like an online tutorial. Instead it's more like a lengthy instruction manual presenting you with the tools and ideas that can be used to build a comic beyond your skill as an artist. How to letter, how to frame a shot, when you should use captions or sound effects or word balloons. It gives a very detailed overview of everything you'd need to know in order to make your own comics from a practical standpoint. It makes some suggestions on the tools or software to use, but for the most part, it's more about giving you a proper overview of the craft rather than a tutorial for specific tools or software. That's easy enough to find elsewhere on the internet.

I think the reason these books work so well is the way they are presented; They are comic books. They aren't just books that talk about comics, they are COMICS that talk about comics. This isn't even the first time that I've seen this done. Back when I was in middle and high school, I did have a couple of classes that dabbled in using comics instead of traditional text books to introduce their subject matter. In particular, I was introduced to Larry Gonick's books like “The Cartoon History of the Universe” and “The Cartoon Guide to Genetics.” These books are a bit different than that, as yes, they are specifically educational, but they focus specifically on the medium that they are a part of, and I think that does a lot to convey Scott's arguments about just how far the medium can go, and helps to highlight everything that he's talking about with actual real time examples. That's not to downplay Mr. Gonick's contributions to cartooning and comic books as a potential tool for learning and education of course, he's written a LOT of these books over a multitude of different subjects, but one does have to admit, he is very much an exception rather than the standard.

(for an added recommendation, I'd recommend Larry Gonick's “Hypercapitalism” as well, really worth a read on its own)

These books manage to feel timeless in their subject matter and the way that they talk about the medium. Sadly, Comics as a whole today are still struggling to reach a sort of mainstream acceptance as a respectable medium, and yes, we do have big blockbusters for comic characters nowadays, but really, how many people who watch those movies read the comics those stories are based on? And for those that do read the comics, how many books outside of superhero books published by the Big Two do they read? The comics trilogy lays down the ideas of how the medium could potentially be elevated, and while that hasn't happened yet, I am hopeful for the future. If you have never read these before, and you have any interest in comics as a medium, especially what you can find beyond the standard of a super hero comic, I would really recommend this trilogy. Last I checked, I cannot find them being sold as a set anywhere, but all three of them can be found used for pretty cheap. Heck, even brand new, they don't typically go over $15, and I'd say they're worth every penny. Note that this is referring to paperback copies of the books. There are some hardcover versions floating around out there, but those are much harder to find, and consequently are a lot more expensive, at least for Understanding Comics.

[plutorine]

Making Raskolnikov's Birthchart

as per my post about doing a birth/natal chart analysis for rodya, i have finally gone and crafted this chart for him!

the process:

i needed to establish a couple of important information about our beloved babygirl 23-year-old student failure:

his birthday/year: crime and punishment was published in 1866, which makes rodya, from what i understood, 23 years old (turning 24, since i headcanon that he's a scorpio; will elaborate further) at the time of the plot; it doesn’t really make sense to me why rodya would only be born in 1866, because by the time he’s 23 it’s going to be 1889/1890 already (and Russia would have changed quite a lot by then) AND in doing this, we consider the hypothetical situation that rodya is a real person, thus 1866 is the book’s “birthday” and c&p is a story of what happened to him that year; ergo, i took the liberty to run it back by 23 years, but with some exceptions: i ended up with the year 1842 — i purposely subtracted a year (bc well, 1842 + 23 is 1865 so we’re short by a year) since the events of the book happen in july. this leads me to my second talking point:

i (and perhaps a couple of other readers) maintain that rodya is indeed a scorpio. like, come on. there’s no way he isn’t. ambitious, intelligent, mysterious (but is actually really obvious about damn near everything LOL) deeply emotional (but denies it), prone to extremes, and proud as HELL; there’s no other sign that fits rodya other than scorpio. for that reason, i headcanon that he’s a scorpio sun, born some time in early november. i didn’t want to risk putting him in the late october range, because it seemed to me that he’d have more sagittarius-capricorn influence instead of virgo-libra (which, from my experience, kinda “softens” out some scorpio traits)

his birthplace: in the book, we are given this passage that hints about rodya’s hometown:

“A minute later the letter was brought to him. That was it: from his mother, from the province of R—.” (Constance Garnett translation)

Now, a disclaimer: I am not from Russia, and have no idea which provinces existed in the 1860s, so I had to make shot in the dark #1: I had to look up “provinces in Russia that started with the letter R” (no joke) just to have an idea which province Dostoevsky might have been talking about (it's times like these where i wish he didn't censor those places out but oh well). i found two oblasts (Google says it is often translated into English as “region” or “province”) that started with the letter R: Rostov and Ryazan. i literally went “well FUCK which is it?” when i saw it — since it was like almost 3 AM when i was doing all this, i just went with my gut and chose Rostov.

his birthtime: okay, for this part, i had to make shot in the dark #2. when i made the post, @vintageshits suggested that rodya could be an aries rising. that was the first thing i kept in mind when i was tinkering around in astro-seek/astrodienst. this was a bit tricky to do, because i needed to check back and forth in between tabs to make sure that rodya’s birth time was going to align the way it has to to make him an aries rising. again, i was half-referencing from the transits at that time in 1842 (which was, again, no joke u guys it was kinda tedious) and half-choosing numbers from gut feeling, but in the end, this was what i came up with:

Rodya's hypothetical birth details:

November 7, 1842 3:21 PM, Rostov-on-Don, Russia

Plugging these in astrodienst gives us this chart: (yes ik it’s in whole signs don’t @ me on this i did it bc it makes my job easier even though i’d normally use placidus)

This makes our beloved twink ax murderer a:

Scorpio Sun

Capricorn Moon

Aries Rising

Sagittarius Venus

Virgo Mars

Scorpio Mercury

i’ll go into further detail about his chart in the next post I’ll make about this! I might do another one on his big six placements, and then maybe a couple of others about his major aspects. i'll link these under this post in the future when I get to do them.

edit: 08/02/2024

sun, moon, rising analysis post

[fazedlight]

20 Questions More

A deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks @eqt-95 and @inkedroplets for the tag!!

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

Daydreaming. Writing fanfic is secondary to that. It was only in the past couple of years that it occurred to me that I could write some of it down and see what happens.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

@searidings is my absolute favorite, the way she unravels the characters' emotions and angst is absolutely superb.

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Ohhh I really love this question:

Cat in Inauthentic, as well as this ficlet and this one. I love her sense of humor.

Lillian in Darkness in All Things. For the same reason as Cat, I just love her snark.

Zor-El in Even Though You're Kryptonian. He kind of surprised me when I started writing him, and to this day I don't know if some of his lines are driven by genuine confusion or if he's just trolling.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

I'm a never-say-never kind of person. There's a lot that I don't think I would ever write, but I've been surprised on where stories have taken me before, and may be surprised again.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

"Process" might be an overstatement...

I have a "scribbles" doc where I keep my ideas. I cull ideas often (though ideas often make their way back anyway). As I write more into the doc, a certain idea may get too big for it, so I spin it out into its own doc.

From there, I kind of go back and forward between outlining and writing. I write completely out of order. Which is why, so often, my multichaps are almost fully drafted by the time I publish chapter 1. I've usually already made it to the resolution point of the plot (meaning, no one's in danger anymore, the bad guy is gone, etc), though the final chapter often doesn't get written until later.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

I love when I've finished the first pass of a chapter/one-shot, and I'm in the editing stage. The story really feels like it's coming together at that point, and it's before all the self-doubt starts bubbling up (that hits hard just before posting).

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

A friend of mine is a professor in astroparticle physics, so I spent a couple of hours asking him about quantum mechanics stuff. But only a small portion of that ended up being relevant to the fic and the rest was just for fun.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

When I'm first sketching out a scene, about half the time I write in present tense (it feels more like I'm writing a play at that point sometimes), but I publish in past tense. So I end up needing to do a bunch of revisions 😭

Also TYPOS.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Fight scenes are ROUGH, man.

This is probably one of those answers I'll change every time depending what's at the top of my mind. But writing out a fight scene - like in Even Though You're Kryptonian, Darkness in All Things, or It's a Metallo Life - gets surprisingly difficult if there are more than 2 people.

I know exactly how I'd shoot those scenes if I had a camera crew, special effects, etc. But it's hard making sure the audience is aware of where everyone is positioned, why they can/can't act in the moment, etc.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

All the fucking time, man. From the very beginning, even. I was trying to have Lena still be angry by the DEO scene in So I Kept Pretending, but that didn't make sense anymore.

I actually recently had a fic idea dissolve because it wasn't vibing with the characters. Which is fine, it became a ficlet instead!

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Absolutely Kara. I have so many questions about kryptonian culture and how it drives her character.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

Trope-wise, I definitely return to the Rift again and again. I find themes around forgiveness and understanding to be really interesting. Can two good-hearted people with conflicting needs hurt each other while still loving each other? How? What does that mean for the aftermath?

I think that's part of what draws me to supercorp - the complexity of their relationship. How they can both be right, and both be wrong, and love each other enough to rebuild from the ashes.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Coffeeshops and libraries. Getting into slightly busy, cozy environments, out of the house, really helps shake loose the stuff in my head.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

Especially for longer works, I tend to put the work down (and circle to other works, or go outside, or whatever) before coming back to it. It helps to step away for a bit - it's easier to pick up on repetitiveness or unclear passages when coming back.

Though I always find mistakes in my stories much later, so I'm not sure I'm one to give advice on this anyway 🤣

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Posting anxiety is the absolute worst. If I leave myself in front of my computer I'll end up refreshing constantly waiting for the first kudos (if it's a one-shot or first chapter) or the first comment (if it's a later chapter) to figure out if I've accidentally pissed off everyone in the fandom somehow.

Luckily, my partner will usually pull me away to go on a walk or grab lunch or do something else to take my mind off it 💗

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

I only publish what I like. Sometimes I'm nervous that other people won't like it, but I will always like it. Stories that aren't going a way I like - even if I think the idea is cool! - will dissolve. Just recently I dissolved one that felt like it was a cool idea, but it didn't make enough sense for the characters.

Kudos and comments always make me feel appreciated as an author!! Sometimes I'll get a user subscriber out of it, too, and it feels like an honor that someone would want to hear from me more than once.

The thing that feels most precious, though, is when someone comments on how something made them feel (I love making people laugh at my dumb jokes, or cry when a story is supposed to hit emotionally), or when they pick up on something that I wasn't sure would get picked up on.

I tend to lean towards understatement in my stories. For me, the biggest success is knowing that someone recognized what I was going for, without me being overt.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Alas, I don't. But given that Kara is canonically a Britney Spears fan and musicals nerd, I feel like my default playlist works 🤣

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Oh gosh, I don't want to pick someone and create pressure, or not pick someone and make them feel bad. This fandom has so many great artists!

That said, some of my favorites do commissions, you can see everything I've commission here.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

1 supercorp & 1 rojarias (for @supergirlmayhem)

For me, 2-3 is my happy number, so I'm relieved to be down to this after being so high (I think up to 11?) for so long.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

If you're wondering why you can't find that story you want, it might mean that you're the one to write it 💗

- - - - -

Tagging (respectfully and without pressure) @rustingcat @luthordamnvers @sssammich @tinyvariations @thatonebirdwrites @theredcapeofk @sideguitars @luthordamnvers @mycatismyeditor @inkedroplets @nottawriter @snowydragonscave @jetgirl1832 if you want some rapid-fire q's thrown your way. But also anyone who'd like to do this!

[pancake-breakfast]

Time to start Maximum for Trigun Book Club!

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 1, Chapters 1-2 below. (More detailed thoughts will be their own posts.)

TriMax Volume 1 Covers

Kuroneko on the chapter index gives me serotonin.

Vash finally finds a lamp with a genie in it and all he gets is punched. He seriously has the worst luck.

Wolfwook looks VERY possessive over that cross of his....

LOL, switched to the sex doll. Of course.

Chapter 1: Hero Reborn

First Knives is reborn, now Vash will be reborn?

Yeah... kinda hard to forget someone literally shot the moon when there's a giant crater on it now....

Vash with dark hair has made his premiere.

Hmm. Needs more floaty cloth bits.

Well, someone's having a bad day. I know I wouldn't want to end up tied up and tossed in a fountain....

LOL, they shout for the sheriff and the next character we see is Wolfwood. He's not a sherriff!

You gotta know a place is welcoming when you walk into a saloon and everyone immediately pulls a gun on you. I mean, that's just a normal day in Texas or Arizona, right?

Oof. RIP bus.

I mean, I realize Fifth Moon was traumatic and all, but somehow I doubt Vash would be filling someone with "twice his weight in lead."

I guess the person dumped in the fountain was actually the sheriff. Nightow could have shown the guy's badge or something to give us an indication of that....

Poor Vash. He doesn't deserve NEARLY that many knives in his picture.

Everyone has to ask about the cross. Wolfwood rarely actually answers. Deflection and misdirection is better.

LOL, Lina's face here...

Oh, man. WW's face in literally the next panel after Ericks's entrance. He knows exactly who he's looking at.

Vash Ericks, I know you try to look for non-combative solutions, but female-bodied folk really don't have a lot of options when people get handsy if we want them to decide not to push their luck beyond just being handsy.

Ah, see, this is why he thinks she overreacted. Because now a lot more people are in danger.

Heheheheheheh, WW, Lina, and Vash are all in such a close clump here.

Aaaand now "Ericks" has fully noticed Wolfwood.

Who the heck is this evil hamster of a human being?

All I'm saying, buddy, is that her footpring miiiiiight just be an improvement.

Gods, WW is so intent in this situation. Just looking at everything and listening to everything.

Dude, who STOLE VASH'S JACKET?!?! Also, those sunglasses jut feel wrong.

Oh, Ericks. So gentle....

Yeah, pretty sure actual Vash the Stampede wouldn't stoop to humiliating people as part of a power play.

Ericks, though. He's like, "Cool, a bargain where people live at the end!"

I wonder how much of Ericks telling Lina to cover her eyes is because he doesn't want her to see his scars.

WW wasn't really with the group long enough to see Vash's scars before, but this really clears things up for the audience. And you can practically hear the gears grinding in WW's head as he observes this scene.

Dude. This imposter even copied his gay little earing. Now that's commitment.

Opening fire on a naked man? Rude.

*sigh* All of that for nothing 'cause Lina's still caught.

AGAIN?! How often does this guy get shot!?

WW barely knows Vash and he's already like, "I WILL CLOCK ANYONE WHO SPEAKS SLANDER AGAINST HIS NAME."

What? He has super-healing? I mean, I guess that makes sense.

People really need to stop barreling their way into the infirmary....

Sheryl has a point. Things gotta get done. If the young folk won't help, then this old lame woman's gonna have to do it.

LOL, Wolfwood waking up Ericks will never not be one of my favorite scenes.

Awwwww, Wolfwood! Don't remind him about Fifth Moon! He thinks about it every time he sees that moon, I'm sure. It's NOT a pleasant memory in any way, shape or form, and he hates the legends around him!

Ugh, someone give this man a hug....

Cruel, indeed. The way he looks when he picks up that gun. There are so many emotions going on here. Loss, resignation, familiarity, sadness. Seriously. Where are the hugs for this man??

Wolfwood, always the pragmatist. He knows this isn't a great path, and how unfair it is for him to drag Vash back to it. But he also knows it's the path forward.

Heh. Yeah, just the two of them. For Vash to exhibit this amount of trust in WW suggests he's at least suspected WW's true nature for a while.

PUNISHER REVEAL!!!

Annnnnd Vash's first thought on seeing the giant machine gun is, of course, "Please, no death."

This panel of them heading into the fight together just fills me with so much joy.

Fake Vash is in a bit of a pickle, isn't he? Looks like he knows it, too.

Wolfwood reacting to Fake Vash demanding actual Vash say his name is beautiful. He looks like he's gonna die of laughter there in the dirt.

Heh. And with that last gunshot, Vash reclaims who he is.

And even after that reclaiming, he gets a heartfelt, genuine, and warm hug from a young girl who has only really known him as her friend and adopted family member, Ericks. <3

Chapter 2: Lina

"Something freaky is going on here." Yes. You're dealing with Vash the Stampede and Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Even one of those should be enough to cause serious alarm.

SHOES OFF THE BED. Geez. Barbarian....

Ugh, I love his expression here.

I'm sorry, I can't get over Wolfwood's weird duck face in this panel.

This is a very interesting take on the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti dinner scene. That poor sausage....

Aww, you can see where his hair's gone all dark underneath now that he has it tied back.

Well, that's one way to get Vash's attention. He doesn't have as much chill when it comes to his brother. And understandably so.

Uhhhhhh, what's up with that spiky weird shadow guy?

TBH, Vash has good reason to be suspicious of anyone who knows too much about Knives. Knives's games aren't about humans. They're about Knives and Vash. Humans are just pawns and casualties.

I love how this 12-year-old girl is able to cow a bunch of whiny, scared men with just her presence. I love how angry she gets on Vash's behalf.

"If he and his followers sniff me out..." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA no comment. Vash just got really freaking lucky with exactly who's sniffing him out.

The comedy of this panel is great. Granny's all like, "Oh, no.... You're gonna end up beaten up in a ditch somewhere...." Meanwhile, her granddaughter has already begun just wailing on Vash. Without even dropping the groceries.

Ugh, just... having someone take care of him for a bit. It's a small and much-needed kindness. But that's how it often is with small kindnesses.

Wolfwood: "That brat (affectionate)"

LOL, Vash gets head-pats. GOOD.

Wait, Evil Hamster Man is back??

What the heck is even happening in this panel? Is this a second guy? Is this a growth on Evil Hamster Man's back? I don't know. We already had a guy with a LITERAL GUN for legs, so either wouldn't exactly surprise me. Wolfwood's face sums up my feelings perfectly.

Ohhh, Vash isn't having any of this guy's shit.

WTF, he just KICKED the round out of the sky?!

Vash isn't really prone to showing off just to show off. I'm guessing he's doing this to make Lina and Granny feel a bit better about how competent he is.

Even Wolfwood, who's seen Vash's weird before, seems a bit shocked.

Also, LOL, Wolfwood frog face.

Literally still can't tell if the second gunman is an actual dude or just some weird Evil Hamster Man growth.

Oh, there we go. He seems to be a separate entity, after all.

LOL, Wolfwood, calling them like he sees them. (Thank you, @trigun-manga-overhaul, for keeping the swearing. It makes it that much more funny.)

And now Evil Hamster Man is given a choice: a chance at redemption, or having to deal with an angry Stampede. Let's hope he chooses wisely.

Well, Granny's feeling better about the situation. Lina seems more... resigned.

There's something so lovely about the hair-trimming scene. It's one last bit of domestic comfort with his little found family before he heads off to war.

I genuinely believe Wolfwood here. He has a good heart, even when he tries to hide it.

*sigh* And as Lina cuts away at his hair, we just drown in their shared memories. The vast majority of it is simple things. Family things. Quiet moments. But they meant the world to Lina. And they probably meant the world to Vash, too.

I have thoughts about Lina burying herself in the cloth from Vash's haircut.

This chapter ends beautifully and makes me want to cry.

[proustianlesbian]

*i forgot to do my reviews for ep 3 and 4 of ft during both weeks smh.

episode 3 : very sweet vacation at the see also i was not aware of the joseph mccarthy and roy cohn gay allegations (not together). chokbar de bz like we say in french.

[insert here abby lee miller looking around her gif].*

diversity wins i guess, the anticommunist prosecutor who ruined so many lives is jewish AND gay. like tbh i didn't know at all because it wasn't written on his wikipedia french bio (but him bringing his mom to parties was though). like i thought the jokes about him and schine were just because theses environnement are full of men. i love the lightning on this show but it really stroke me during the scene where marcus walks in the alley at night. the costumes are so beautiful, i love the cuts of their suits.

*episode 4 : loved the christmas episode too. i knew mary's colleague was plotting something since episode one's ending. but also i'm scared for 80s timeline tim :(*

i love the actor of roy cohn also. like he's serving. serving conservative homophobic self-hating jewish but serving nonetheless (i'm not a irl roy cohn stan btw, will brill just absolutely serves as him). it was so sweet seeing tim and hawk being happy though (especially as i write those lines specifically right before the diffusion of the last episode). also small detail but it was interesting to see how even when the jewish person (here cohn) is on their side and does everything "right" to be accepted, people will still be antisemitic towards him (mccarthy and his wife).

episode 5 :

the scene of marcus and frankie on the bench ☹️☹️☹️ "i should have let him paint them red." killed me. i was so shocked by the death of senator smith though ??!! the scene where he looks at pictures with lucy was so sad in retrospect. also it's very funny seeing tim lurking around the mccarthy/cohn/schine trio. he's just a little guy. also lucy smith leave your husband and runaway with me !! i can make you happy queen ! she's so gorgeous and dresses so well i love her so much, and even more since this episode. i felt so sorry for her brother and how he gets no real help from anyone. and the last scene ☹️.

episode 6 :

lucy's outfits and hair are so gorgeous !! i really love what we saw her wearing in this episode's 1950s timeline, especially her baby blue and yellow dresses.

hawk being a daughter's father oh he's so real, kendall roy feminist icon coded to me.

the shot of tim in the police car with the back window showing hawk on the road is SICK. like i felt a pain in the heart. and i loved the last shot of hawk hugging jackson.

i kinda wish there was an episode in between 5 and 6 but at the same time it makes sense. we just didn't get used to hawk's children and had jackson for only one episode.

episode 7

an episode for the tim laughlin lesbian fans for real !! it broke my heart for the romance part but i could learn some things about harvey milk ! i'm not american so i didn't know he was murdered (or didn't remember it) but i read on wikipedia that he was jewish too ! i really love the costumes of the 70s, they're all so beautiful and fitting for the characters :'). i love all the small details in the sets and decorations, each of the era have a unique vibe ! i'm absolutely terrified for tomorrow's episode, i'm not ready to see them go at all !!

[oceansssblue]

A hundred followers celebration!!! 🎉🥳

Okay, yeah, it's not thaat much (at least not compared to other people or my almost 8k on wattpad in spanish) but I'm still excited to reach that number here in tumblr where I started just a few months ago! And also achieving that writing in a language that's not my native one :)

So I decided to do a little something to celebrate! 100 followers > 10 ONE SHOTS (cause I can't do 100 proper ones in a go y'all xD) of 10 IDEAS OF THE FOLLOWING LIST, which I ask you to vote your favorite on!!

Most of them are AUs and things I haven't written in here before. Some are pretty interesting ideas, some are pretty classy ones I know some of y'all might like even though you've probably read a hundred takes on them already.

The first step is for you to vote on the following list >>> Once i've recopilated the 10 most voted ideas, i'll go in that order and post an individual post where you'll be able to vote for the character you want me to write that specific idea with.

Thanks for following me, liking and rebloging my stories! Reblog this as well if you can; you don't have to be an actual follower to vote in this, just tag along and I'll write what the majority wants!

For those wondering, my requests are closed rn, but I will reopen a third part for them in the future once I've written all of this ten ideas. You can go check the 20 requests I've already written for y'all and so many more stories about our handsome clones in my masterlist!

Minor inconvenient; this 21 ideas don't fit in one same survay, and I don't really want to do several posts to figure it out, so VOTES WILL HAVE TO BE WRITTEN IN THE COMMENTS (sorry, my shy anon friends!). You can only vote for ONE idea; just WRITE THE NUMBER OF YOUR FAV ONE IN THIS POST COMMENTS!!

Without further do, here are the ideas! Vote, vote, vote!!

1. omegaverse AU

2. ⁠coffee shop

3. Sw characters in harry potter AU

4. ⁠angel&demons AU

5. ⁠super powers/fantasy AU

6. historic period AU

7. sex worker/pornstar (AU)

8. ⁠pirates AU

9. Mermaids AU

10. roomates (AU)

11. ⁠immortality/reincarnation (AU)

12. cops/firefighter AU

13. ⁠time travel (AU)

14. telepathy (AU)

15. ⁠arranged marriage/fake dating (AU)

17. prince&servant AU

18. penpals/online blind friends (AU)

19. ⁠teacher/student AU

20. celebrity (AU)

21. blind date (AU)

22. ⁠forced to share heat/one bed

When I publish each individual post with the 10 best ideas so you can vote for the character you want it with, you can also tell me any other details you want or wtv in it!

I will give y'all til the 21st of June to vote in this. If at that time we don't have enough votes I'll just pick the rest with the ideas I find myself more excited to write.

(If you want me to tag you in the next votation post with the 10 selected ideas or directly in the 10 stories once I start posting them, let me know in the commets as well).

Stay tunned!

Xx,

Sky/Blue.

[chloryn]

a/n || i wrote this when s4 came out, it’s been in the drafts, i may write a part 2, but it’s angsty and i’m all about it.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Robin Buckley has been your best friend since you were 7. She was 6.

In first grade, Robin started walking with you on the way home after classes. She swore it was too scary to do by yourself. She would make sure both of you stayed safe, no matter what.

In third grade, Robin would ask you to sleep over every weekend. She always made sure her dad picked up the best snacks from the grocery store, somehow always remembering your favorite.

In sixth grade, Robin would play her dads cassettes for you. She would point out which songs reminded her of you, and why.

In the ninth grade, Robin started telling you she loved you at the end of a conversation. She hadn't forgotten to since she had started. You said it back, never missing the chance to remind her.

Going into tenth grade was hard, Robin had told you over the summer she couldn't hang out with you anymore. It was in your backyard, somewhere between the early morning hours. She was blunt about it, telling you she just wanted space. She didn't tell you how bad you were, or how you had hurt her, she just gave you a little wave and took to the sidewalk.

Tenth grade had gotten easier though, you had separated yourself from her almost entirely. Robin was her own person and so were you. You had even made a new friend.

Well, kind of. Eddie wasn't supposed to be your friend.

You were just helping him with English, and then you and then you started hanging out with him after class. Which had eventually spiraled into spending most days after school in his trailer.

He taught you everything about his guitar, and he let you sit in during hellfire. He had even asked if you wanted to join, and after you had declined the offer he had of course acted broken-hearted. 'You've wounded me!' What ever will I do without you y/n?'

Eddie had taught you more than that though, he had taught you that being yourself was what mattered at the end of the day. Eddie was the first person you ever told, and he sat there and listened. He really listened, not that fake bullshit you were expecting, he wanted you to trust him with your story.

So you told it, down to every last detail. You kept her for last though, savoring the way Eddie's eyes shot open at mention of her name.

"Robin Buckley?"

*Yeah," you laughed it off, "she was the world to me,

"Why?” he paused,

"why don't you guys- uh?" He motioned his hands, unable to find the words.

"I think she knew, 'ya know?" A bittersweet smile finding its way to your lips, "She wasn't- you know? Into me like that."

Eddie nodded, "Steve Harrington.”

"Huh?"

"He was mine,"