#it could just be that i have less emotional attachment to the character than with the other partners but yeah

[beegswaz]

I MISSED BUG. BEING CORRECT ABOUT WHEATLEY..???? WHY IS THE WORLD SO CRUEL.

[vaugarde]

Sitting on these but I may rename my Cubone hero "Vega" (referring to the "fallen star" meaning) and Skitty partner "Milo"

[coquelicoq]

listen, i'm not saying you have to watch nirvana in fire. i'm not even saying you should watch it. if you don't watch it, you won't regret it because you won't know what you're missing; if you do watch it and ask me why i inflicted such pain upon you, i will deny all responsibility. that said, it is one of the best shows i have ever seen. do with that what you will.

[mauesartetc]

A while back I got a comment that demonstrated a misconception as to what the character design process actually entails, and I thought it had real "teachable moment" potential. So let me make this perfectly clear:

Drawing a character is NOT the same as designing one.

Let's say I wanted to draw a guy. No backstory, no defined personality traits or preferences, no details about his current life, just doodling some random, generic guy who popped into my head.

That's just a drawing.

But what if I decided to flesh him out more? What if I wanted his appearance to reflect his lifestyle and inner life as well? Here's where the note-taking comes in.

And now for the visual research:

I thought the bodybuilding angle would provide a fun contrast with this guy's profession. The mental image of a huge, burly dude working on a clock or watch with tiny, precise movements just makes me smile. Perhaps I could give him small, nimble hands that would suit his line of work.

Now that I have a better idea of how Mikhail's face and body will look, it's time to establish a pose.

Of course, I never expected to employ all the personality traits I started out with inside this single pose; those were just a jumping-off point. No one drawing will ever be able to encapsulate every single facet of a character, unless they're extraordinarily flat and generic (see also: random guy I doodled at the start of this post). If I wanted to write a story with this guy, I'd have to figure out how all the traits play off each other and how they'd cause him to react to different situations. There would be a lot more note-taking and development involved, but for the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) brief, let's just focus on visuals for now.

On to color!

I decided to give Mikhail a carnation in his pocket (for its round shape), specifically a red one, which represents deep love and an aching heart. Thus, the flower needed to maintain its red color for the symbolism to come through.

For some reason I initially pictured this guy wearing a pink shirt (perhaps as an offshoot of the "romantic" angle), but I wanted to try some different colors inspired by the 70s catalog pages I found. I ended up really liking the contrast of the cool blue shirt with the warm red pants, and that option made it into my top three as a result. I lined them up next to each other to compare them, and in the end, blue won out over pink. I think it also reflects the "colder", more cerebral, less-emotional parts of his personality well (namely "systematic", "stern", and "callous"- one from each column!). Just goes to show that you shouldn't get too attached to your first draft, as better ideas are just around the corner.

I then lightened the blue of the shirt so it wouldn't compete so much with the rest of the outfit, and wouldn't be quite as loud and "in your face". Mikhail strikes me as a bit of an introvert, so the calmer, quieter blue is a better fit. I added a darker belt and watchband and de-saturated the flower just a bit to make the values feel more balanced, and I think we've got it!

Let's see the final result!

Y'all, I was not expecting this process to make me emotional, but there's something special about fully realizing a little guy you've spent hours working on. All of a sudden you look at him and go, "Oh my god, there he is. That's him." This man wasn't even a twinkle in my eye a couple weeks ago and now I'd protect him with my life.

And the thing is, the only reason I'm calling this design "done" for now is that I basically just brought it into existence to make a point. But if this dude were attached to a larger story, he'd be nowhere near finished. I'd have to make a ton more iterations and go a lot more in depth with my research than I did (especially with the Armenian cultural stuff). Overall, though, I hope this quick project properly highlighted the difference between a single drawing and a more fleshed-out character.

Later!

[gemini-sensei]

New Neighbor | Jaime Reyes x Plus-Sized!Reader

Requested ● Fem!Artist!Reader

CW: 18+, minor blood and injury, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, Scarabs being Scarabs, Reader's scarab is like an overprotective older sibling, pregnancy, strangers to friends to lovers, probably more. (unedited)

A/N: I added some details to this that weren't in the og ask. They just kind of slipped in there, so I hope that's okay. I also gave the other scarab the name Rami because it was all I could think of.

It started off as being neighborly. Nothing more, nothing less, but it was enough for Jaime and Reader to notice each other. She was moving into the apartment next to his and he offered to help her move some boxes in. She was curvy and capable, seeming to lift the boxes without any trouble, but he was a gentleman and he'd still offer no matter what. The least he could do was hold the door open for her, but she smiled and accepted his offer.

"It'll move things along a lot faster," she laughed.

Once all the boxes and furniture were in her apartment, he offered her something to drink from his place since she didn't have much more than some convenience store bottles and snacks. She accepted and they spent an hour talking, getting to know each other. He worked as a law consultant for Kord Industries while she was a waitress at a new restaurant in the city. They talked about their families and why they decided to live in the city, both agreeing that it was easier to get to their jobs that way. Reader admitted that waitressing was just a temporary thing because she had bigger dreams of being an artist.

Then she had to leave to get ready for work. As soon as she was gone, Khaji Da started:

"Based off of your elevating blood pressure and hormone levels, I can tell you're highly attracted to Reader," it said.

Jaime groaned as his face began to burn. "Don't say stuff like that!"

"It's the truth," it said, continuing its analysis of what just happened without missing a beat. "I'll need to collect more data, but it appears the two of you would be compatible together."

"I'm not having this conversation with you," he told it, shaking his head. He cleaned up the glassware and pushed Khaji Da's ideas out of his mind, at least as much as he could.

In the apartment next to his, Reader was having the opportunity conversation with the pink alien weapon that had attached itself to her over a year ago.

"I don't like him," her Scarab, who'd chosen the name Rami to go by, said. Only she could hear its voice, which didn't bother her much. If anyone else could hear what it said, they'd be offended. It was fiercely protective of her, usually warning her about all sorts of people and their supposed intentions. Reader had gotten used to blocking it out when necessary. "He's hiding something."

"Everyone is entitled to their secrets," Reader told it, stripping down to get in the shower. "Like me. I have you to hide from the world."

"This is true, however, I do not like this Jaime character. He's too nice and obviously hiding something bigger than you think," Rami said. Though its voice was monotonous, it used every word smartly to get its point across.

Reader thought of Rami as somewhat of a brother figure despite it being a sexless war weapon that had bonded to her every fiber of being. She mostly thought this because of the masculine tone it had. The authoritative nature of its words and knowledge lended itself to the idea. It constantly reminded her of its engineered origins so as to not humanize it but she constantly reminded it that it cared for her, which was a human emotion. so, no matter human or biomechanical, they were complex beings.

However, its constant nagging over guys made her wonder why she had to be the chosen one. Why did she have to have a scarab attached to her back? What had she done that made Rami so sure it wanted her as its host? All questions she had asked herself before with little to no answers to be given. She let it be, accepting that this was her life and she'd keep it to herself, because surely there wasn't anyone else who could possibly understand her situation.

Over the next month, Reader and Jaime crossed paths now and again. They saw each other in the hallway or elevator up to their apartments, while getting the mail, or on the balconies right next to each other. They exchanged hello's or see-you-later's, sometimes more than that. Each time she saw him, Reader was a little more smitten by him. Each time he saw her, Jaime fell a little more for her. However, their schedules didn't always align.

Jaime's job, and his cover, as Kord Industries' law consultant, took up his mornings and sometimes his nights. He constantly helped his friend Jenny with something related to the company or the crime rampant throughout the city. He didn't mind, of course, he was being paid to help run tests even though he didn't always understand what they were doing. Reader worked evenings and nights. She raked in tips like no other waiter or waitress at her job, but she always came home tired from the constant pleasantries even if some customers had been rude to her. She kept smiling but after a particularly bad night where she'd gotten yelled at by a man for supposedly giving him the wrong drink on purpose (despite that being what he ordered the first time), she thought about quitting. Especially after Rami wanted to start a fight with the man, not that anyone else knew about that.

On her Saturday off, Reader was sitting on her balcony with a book and a lemonade. The sun was shining bright and it seemed like a night day to just relax, take things easy, and breathe. Jaime, unaware that she was outside and his door was open, was having a small spat with Khaji Da. It had decided to bring up Reader again, finished with it's "data collection" and it had come to the determination that Reader was the perfect "mate" for Jaime.

"You can't just say stuff like that! Do you understand how strange that sounds?" he asked, having been taken off guard by the statement.

Reader looked up, wondering who he was talking to. Sometimes she heard him talking to someone occasionally, but she just assumed that he was talking on the phone since he lived on his own. However, she'd never heard him arguing with them before and it seemed to be in intense one at that.

After a few more minutes of the back and forth, trying to explain to Khaji that certain words shouldn't be used to describe a relationship, he walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air. He was startled to find Reader sitting on the balcony next to his, though he didn't know why. It was her's, she could sit there all damn day if she wanted to. He just hoped he didn't just sound crazy to her.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded, leaning on the railing. "Yeah, everything's fine."

She smiled. "Were you on the phone with your sister?"

He nodded almost too quickly. "Yeah, she's always trying to tell me what to do in the weirdest way possible."

Reader laughed softly, but let it die down as Rami spoke to her; "He's lying."

She wanted to tell it to shut up but bit her tongue. Instead, she spoke to Jaime. "Well, advice from others is usually only that. Advice. The only thing you can really do is decide what you want. No one else can do that for you."

He nodded. "You're right, as usual."

They talked across their balconies like that until they couldn't. He had other engagements to attend to as lunchtime approached. She slipped back into her apartment once he was gone, which was when she called Rami out.

"You can't keep doing this," she mumbled, shaking her head. "He's a great guy. He hasn't done anything to us, so you can't go making assumptions about him."

"He's a liar," Rami stated, almost like a stubborn child. "Do not trust him so easily, Reader."

She rolled her eyes and started prepping to make lunch.

That night, she was watching TV. The news was rampant with coverage about a nasty bank robbery that had taken place downtown. Luckily, only a few people were hurt and were recovering in the hospital thanks to the local hero Blue Beetle. He'd seemingly swooped in just in time to rescue the hostages, take out the robbers, and ensure everyone's safety. The robbery had started not long after 1pm and things were only just beginning to cool down as night settled.

As Reader switched from the news to something a little more upbeat and cheery, a noise came from the balcony. She stood up and took a defensive stance facing the door, Rami ready to armor her if need be. She'd pulled the curtain over the door because the morning sun was a bitch, so she couldn't see outside. However, they were on the fourth floor. No one should be on the balcony. Reader was convinced the news had just gotten into her head a little bit and that there was nothing to worry about.

Except when the door began to open. Reader gave the command in a low voice, "Hands."

Rami armored her hands so she could easily make a weapon to defend herself with. A bat was easy enough and formed between her palms as soon as she thought of it.

The figure was walking into the room, pushing the curtain out. They were slow, easing their way into the dark apartment. Reader quietly made her way over. Once she was close enough, she swung and hit the person over the head, knocking them down.

They groaned and fell from the curtain, revealing the blue-clad superhero. Her eyes widened as she got a good look at him, shocked to see that he was there in her apartment.

"Oh my god!" she said, still holding her bat up. "What are you doing here!"

"I live here," Blue Beetle groaned. He held his head, a little rattled. His armor was in shambles and in need of some repairs. He'd been through a lot, a lot more than what was shown on the news. He obviously needed some help and some rest, but Reader knew one other thing was for certain: he didn't live here.

"I live here," she said, sighing. She lowered the bat, aware that she couldn't exactly let it go or put it away without giving herself away. "You must've hit your head or something."

"No head injury until you hit me," he said. He sat up, leaning back on his arms.

She winced. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't blame you," he said and looked around the apartment. "You're right, as usual. This isn't my apartment."

She nodded, then stopped as she caught what he said. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"You're right," he said, holding back.

"As usual," she finished, looking him over. She replayed his voice over in her head. "Jaime?"

"Shit," he cursed and retracted his mask, able to breath a little better. "I'm so sorry, Reader. This shouldn't have happened."

"Well, at least we know what he's hiding," Rami said.

"Why are you sorry?" Reader asked, leaning some of her weight on her bat.

"I've put you in danger simply by you knowing who I am," Jaime said.

Then Rami said, "That's a scarab."

Reader choked on air. "What?"

Jaime's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. He put his hands out in an assuring manner, sure that he'd freaked her out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I swear, I'll do everything to protect you should anyone come after you or try to hurt you."

At the same time he was talking, Rami was explaining how the armor Jaime wore was the same as she would if it would let her show her all it was capable of. It had been a long time since the pink scarab had been allowed to fully use its host, but the beginning of their partnership had been rough and she'd been resistant to the whole body armor thing. They hadn't tried again since they first bonded. It had never been necessary either.

"Stop, just stop, I can't listen to both of you at the same time!" she shouted, bringing her hands up to her head. The bat retracted into her hand and the armor that Jaime had thought were gloves in the dark disappeared. "Just shut up for a minute!"

Jaime stood in shock, wondering what was going on. He listened though and everything was quiet. Khaji was down needing as much rest as he did, so it was truly quiet.

After a moment to collect her thoughts, Reader looked at him. "You're Blue Beetle."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And you have a scarab."

He nodded again. "How did you know that."

"Because," Reader said and turned around. She rolled up her shirt, exposing her rolls and fat, but also the pink scarab embedded along her spine. It was a sight Jaime was sure he'd never see on another person. "I have one too."

The conversation would have gone on if Jaime hadn't collapsed on Reader's couch. It obviously wasn't the time to talk about it. As soon as she saw that he didn't have as much energy as he'd like to show her, she jumped into action to get him cleaned up. His armor retracted and he was naked on her furniture, but she didn't bat an eye at it. She covered him up and got a warm rag to start cleaning up a few injuries he had on his side, where his armor had been cracked. He was still conscious and talking, which was a good sign. She kept his talking, asking him how this had happened.

He explained that the bank robbers were on some sort of enhancement drug that made them nearly indestructible. He had to hand the case over to the Justice League once that little tidbit had been revealed by one of the overconfident robbers. It was supposed to stop others from capturing them, but they hadn't accounted for a hero like Blue Beetle to show up. Despite that, he'd got slammed into the bank counter somewhere near the end of the fight and a lot of his scarab's energy went to trying to repair it in time, but the fight still went on. Nevertheless, they'd been taken care of and were on their way to a highly secure prison where they couldn't hurt or scare anyone else.

Reader bandaged him up and put a pillow under his head. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

He frowned. "I still put you in danger."

"No, you just made Rami a whole lot more protective of me," she told him, smiling. "With the both of you on my side, I couldn't possibly get hurt. Not that I can't take care of myself."

He gave a tired smile. "Right. You've got one Hell of a swing."

She giggled and kissed Jaime on the head. "Rest up. I'll go get some clothes out of your apartment."

And that was how they got even closer. Knowing the other had some world-destroying biotech embedded in their backs opened up a lot of doors for them to confide in each other and get even closer. Jaime told her about how he became Khaji Da's host and of his father, who he'd looked up to all his life. Reader told him the story of how she'd found her scarab while backpacking in the jungle; she'd thought she found some ancient fossil, not a rock from outer space that held an alien war weapon.

They spent more time at each other's places, especially after Reader had enough of getting treated like shit after a new manager was put in charge at her job and quit. She'd saved up enough money to get by for a while and it gave her time to work on her art. It was a nice change of pace and she was happier because of it. Months went by of them hanging out, inside and outside of their apartment building, but the more time they spent together, the more Khaji encouraged Jaime to make a move.

Or rather, mate with Reader.

It didn't come up in those terms, but Khaji constantly brought up how great of a mate Reader would be. It was talking all the time the two spent together as proof that it was right about this. However, every time it came up, Jaime shut it down almost immediately. Because while he did like Reader, he didn't want to make a move too fast. He wasn't even sure if she liked him.

Reader was in a similar dilemma, though her own scarab could care less about Jaime. She liked him but didn't know if she wanted to go through asking him out. What if he said no? She'd make things awkward between herself and the only other person who understands what she goes through daily.

Rami disagreed. While it didn't like Jaime, it saw things Reader seemingly didn't. "He's staring again." or "This is the seventh time he's offered to do something for you in four days." It's very obvious to Rami that Jaime has a crush on her, more than a crush it will argue.

"He is highly attracted to you, Reader," it said one day while she was painting. "You're as equally as attracted to him as he is to you. Just look at what you're doing."

When she blinked and actually looked at what she'd been painting, it was a famous Blue Beetle. It was artistic and colorful and produced with admiration. She set it aside and decided to go on a walk to clear her head.

As she passed Jaime in the hall, Khaji Da noticed something. "She's happier and free of stress, making this her more fertile cycle yet."

Jaime could have died right there on the floor. He hurried to his apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. "What are you talking about!?"

"Reader. Her fertility is at its highest now that she has removed herself from a stressful work environment, allowing her to become happier. As a result, she is far more fertile than before and in the perfect position for breeding," Khaji explained.

Jaime felt like he was going to lose his mind. "We aren't even in a relationship! You can't assume these things are going to happen when we're just friends! I'm not talking about this anymore, mostly because this is a huge violation of Reader's privacy!"

The conversation might have ended there, but Jaime's mind couldn't stop thinking about it. Ever since they'd met, he'd been undoubtedly attracted to Reader. She's beautiful, kind, and smart. It was helpful that her voluptuous figure was so eye-catching. She was purely gorgeous and sometimes all he wanted was to grab a handful of her ass or squeeze her wide hips so he could pull her into him. He wanted to kiss her lips and feel her body against his, fat tits squished against his chest. But for the most part, he pushed those thoughts down because Reader was his friend and friends didn't think of each other like that.

The following evening, they were hanging out at his place. They'd had take out together and were cleaning up when he brushed up against her as she put the leftovers in the fridge. He only meant to grab another drink but he accidentally pressed up against her ass while she was bent over and it sparked something. Things grew hot quickly and both of them didn't know what to do or think for the longest time.

So, because of their inability to take charge of their destinies, Khaji and Rami (both on different wavelengths but somehow on the same page) forced proximately between their hosts. Khaji pushed Jaime forward and Rami moved Reader into just the right position. Their lips met in a surprising, hard kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for the two to want more of each other.

They threw themselves at each other and wrapped their arms around the other. They kissed feverishly, moaning into each other's mouths hotly. Jaime's hands roamed and explored Reader's body, squeezing her sides and hips to pull her closer. One of her hands laid on the back of his neck while the other pushed into his hair. He groaned as she gripped his hair and she took the chance to dart her tongue into his mouth. She took charge until he started leading her through the apartment, barely parting from each other to see where they were going. She giggled as they tripped over something on the floor, only for him to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her to his bedroom.

He tossed her onto the bed and she looked up at him, seeing the dark look in his eyes. It was lustful and needy, fell of admiration as she lay on his bed. She sat up quickly and pulled her shirt off, followed by her bra. Her body was revealed to him in all its glory, making him hard as a rock in his sweats. He pushed them down and kicked them off with his boxers, making her lick her lips as she saw him. Her mouth looked so pretty and warm, but it wasn't what he wanted in that moment.

No, the idea of breeding her had been planted in his head and he had to go through with it. He had to fuck her deep and thoroughly to ensure she was full of him and that they'd reproduce strong, healthy young.

He couldn't even push those terms out of his head, too clouded by need and lust for Reader. Under any other circumstances, he'd never use words like "reproduce" and "young" when even thinking about sex, let alone at the idea of getting his girlfriend pregnant. (Did this mean they were together? He hoped so).

"Do you want this?" he asked her, ready to help her out of her pants.

She nodded. "Yes, fucking yes. I need you, Jaime."

He tugged her pants off and slowly slid her panties down her longs afterward, making her whine as he seemingly decided that he now wanted to take his time with her. He threw his shirt off and dove between her legs, throwing them over his shoulders so he could eat her out properly in preparation for what was to come. He licked a stripe up her folds and used his thumbs to spread them, pushing his tongue into her already wet cunt. She moaned and shuddered under his touch, hands combing through his hair until she found a nice grip on it. She tugged on his dark locks with just about every movement he made, getting her riled up as she cried out his name. She came a few minutes later and Jaime lapped up most of her juices, selfishly tasting her. Her thighs squeezed his head and he swore he could almost die happy like that.

Almost. It would have been a nice way to go but they were nowhere near the end

He stood on his knees after throwing her legs off of him. He fisted his cock, a small bead of pre cum leaking from the tip as he looked down at her. She had to catch her breath after her first orgasm of many to come that night. He used his other hand to reach down and fondle her tits, which he was already imagining swelling with milk.

Even though the primal need had wormed its way into his thoughts, that he wanted this so badly, he still needed to ask her. If he was thinking rationally without being horny as fuck, he wouldn't phrase it like this. It was absurd, but it was all he wanted: "Can I breed you, please?"

Was it smart? Probably not, but Reader nodded. She couldn't see herself with anyone else, especially now that they've had this special bond between them, this thing that no one else will ever fully understand. And because of it, she could say she felt like she'd known Jaime for years, as opposed to ten months. Her answer probably had to do with her ovulation, but she wasn't thinking about that at that very moment. All she was thinking about was Jaime and his fat dick he was prepping for her.

He grinned and leaned down, kissing her hard. She moaned into his mouth as he pressed into her, the head of his cock popping into her tight pussy. She threw her arms around him to keep the kiss going, but it was hard when he continued to push into her. Her head fell back and she moaned, feeling the way he stretched her out. His hands held her hips, angling them up so he could press as deeply into her the first time. Once their hips met, her eyes rolled up and she gasped.

"So fucking deep," she sighed, looking up at him. "Holy- oh my- Jaime!"

"You take me so well, hermosa," he told her, kissing her head as she got used to his size. He held back for that reason, knowing that they had to get used to each other. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him once more. They made out for a while until she told him it was okay for him to move. That was when he tightly gripped her tender hips and slowly pulled back but not out. He then drove into her hard, hips smacking into hers harshly. She threw her head back to moan loudly, feeling the way he hit deep inside of her, somehow immediately finding that spongey spot that made her go crazy.

"Right there, right there! Oh fuck!" she cried out.

Jaime made a note of her reaction and thrust into her hard and slow, hitting that spot repeatedly. She was already high from her last orgasm, so it didn't take him long to make her come again, this time on his cock, making it easier for him to slide in and out of her. He upped his pace, making sure to hold her hips in place so he could fuck her perfectly. He grunted with each thrust, resting his forehead on hers. She stared up into his eyes and he watched her lovely eyes be full of nothing but lust and admiration.

He was so worked up that he came not long after her. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he said he was going to come and pulled him in close. He sheathed himself in her pussy to the hilt, firing off the first of many loads he'd fill her with. His cock throbbed with each shot of his thick cum he gave her. He kissed her sloppily, making a mess of their already slightly swollen lips. They moaned into each other's mouths, holding each other close, pressed together.

When he pulled away, they caught their breaths as he tapered off. He pulled out of her slowly, looking down at her pussy. Nothing happened for a moment, then a small trickle of his cum leaked out of her. It was beautiful seeing her like that, but he wanted more.

He turned her over and grabbed her ass, squeezing it hard and making her moan his name loudly. She was hardly on her hands and knees, mostly laying there with her ass up in the air. He gave it a quick smack before fisting his still-hard cock. "I can't wait until you're full of me."

She gave a hazy, happy smile as she heard this. She pushed herself up onto her hands and shook her ass at him, biting her lip. The little bit of rest she got between coming on his cock and now was enough to regain some energy. She reached back and spread her ass, then hit it with a loud smack! "Then fill me up, Jaime."

He wasted no time fulfilling that order, grabbing her by her hips and pulling her back into him. He slid into her with ease. He used his knees to make her spread her knees further apart and he pushed her back onto the mattress so she was properly presented to him. She grabbed a pillow to rest her head on and looked at him over her shoulder, grinning at him. "Fuck me."

He fell into a fast pace, pulling her back into his thrusts. One hand held her hip and the other wandered up her back, gently tracing the scarab embedded in her back. To anyone else, it would look rather unpleasant, but to him it was beautiful. They were alike in this way and there was no part of her that was not absolutely gorgeous to him. He wanted her to know that even though she said she didn't feel bad about how her body had changed to accommodate the scarab. Maybe in the beginning she had some thoughts about it and didn't think highly of herself for it, but after so long with it, she was at peace with it. Jaime just liked the idea of showing her he loved that part of her too.

Loved. Fuck, he loved her. Since he met her, all he'd been doing was falling in love with her. Her mind, her body, her kindness, her smile and laugh, the way she always greeted him and read on her balcony, or how she always offered him food when she cooked too much for herself.

He wrapped his arm around her midsection and pulled her up to him. He buried his face in her neck and kissed her scalding skin, making her tilt her head to the side. His hand wandered her body, starting at her tits and giving them a rough fondling before traveling down to her belly, where he groped it gently. His voice came out gruff and needy as his lips caressed her ear. "I can't wait till you have my babies in you. You're already so beautiful, but you're gonna be so fucking hot round and filled out with our babies."

She moaned, reaching behind her to put a hand on the back of his head, fisting his hair. Her other hand went to lay over his on her belly and he grabbed it, holding it there with his. All she could say was his name, enamored by every word he said.

"I'll take care of you. You can paint everyday, all day long, and grow our pretty little babies. I'll keep you pregnant and you can sit back and I'll take care of you," he mumbled into her ear.

She leaned her head back on his chest, closing her eyes as he fucked her toward another orgasm. She tried to tell him she was going to come, but it rocked her body before she could get all the words out. But that was okay. He knew, and he drove into her harder so he could come with her and fill her pretty, fat cunt up like they both wanted.

She shook in his arms as she came, crying out for him and that pretty little life he'd painted for her. It was so nice, so pretty. She turned her head to look at him, only for his lips to crash into hers.

After a few minutes, he laid them down and pulled her back into his chest. She relaxed against the sheets and rested her head back against him, only for his hips to start again. She moaned lowly, overstimulated but it wasn't bad. If she really wanted to, she could push back into his thrusts, but she was tired. Maybe next time.

She let him do his thing, feeling how lazy these thrusts were in comparison to the others before them. They let out soft moans and grunts, didn't speak this time, only let their actions speak for themselves. They held hands as he came again and he kissed her neck. She was so close to falling asleep, smiling as things began to settle. The heat of the moment eased into coolness and they laid together like that for a while. At some point, Jaime pulled a thin blanket over them and they fell asleep together.

Reader never went back to her apartment after that night. The morning after, Jaime made her breakfast and they ate together, then fucked again, and in the middle of that passionate romp admitted their feelings for each other. He told her he loved her and she told him she didn't know if she could live without him in her life. He never asked her to move in, that was just a given. He did, however, take it upon himself to move her things into his apartment and talk to the landlord about the whole situation, since her name was on a lease and blah blah blah.

They didn't talk about the whole breeding thing and instead let fate take the wheel on that one, even though they both liked the idea and wanted it. They didn't even get pregnant that first time, and thankfully so because, aside from meeting his sister when she came to pester him and get out of the house, she had yet to meet his family. It seemed to happen as soon as she was accepted by his family, though, before a few months after that, Rami was telling Reader the great news.

"Last night, I performed a physical evaluation for you after you're, as you put it, 'feeling under the weather', and have found something you'll be elated to hear," it said one morning while she was brushing her teeth.

She hummed and spit. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"You are pregnant," Rami said.

She'd just been getting ready to rinse and spit the water out, hitting the mirror with an alarming shot. She realized why the taste of her toothpaste had might have made her gag earlier. "What? Are you sure?"

"I am positive," it said, then started going over her blood and hormones, a bunch of doctors talk she didn't care to really hear. She stared at herself in the mirror, a smile slowly growing on her face. Then the scarab said something else: "And it appears the egg has split, meaning-"

"Twins?"

"Yes, that's correct."

Jaime was in the next room getting ready for work and was unprepared for Reader to come running in. She practically jumped on him and would have taken him to the ground were it not for Khaji and Rami's quick reflexes that caught them.

"Jaime!" she all but cried.

He held her, looking at her with a bewildered smile. "Yes, mi amor? What is it? Why are you charging in here like you've won the lottery?"

"I pretty much have," she giggled and took his hands from her waist and put them on her belly. She didn't have to say anything else.

His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I've got the best pregnancy test on my back. I'm pregnant!"

She jumped for joy and Jaime pulled her into a firm hug.

Rami was less than impressed. "Reader, be more careful. You are now in charge of precious offspring. Your body is delicate."

Reader scoff and huffed. "I'm not delicate."

Jaime had to stifle a laugh, sure that the scarab on her back had somehow offended her. He kissed her cheek and said, "Rami, be careful. You do know mood swings come with the territory of pregnancy, don't you?"

Rami, though knowing Jaime couldn't hear it, said to Reader, "Does he think I do not know how to take care of my host. I have already done my research on human pregnancy. As soon as I knew you were indeed pregnant with offspring, I plugged into the internet to find out more of how to properly care for you."

Reader sighed and nodded, still holding onto Jaime in a gentle side hug. "I'm sure you did, Rami. That's... wonderful, but we've talked about hooking into the internet router."

Jaime had to laugh this time and shook his head. "Come on, let's go to breakfast. You two can argue about internet safety later."

"But I thought you had to be at Kord this morning," Reader said.

He shrugged. "They'll understand I had to take my beautiful girlfriend out for celebratory waffles."

She smiled and giggled. "You know me so well, but I have to go finish brushing my teeth."

As she hurried out the room, Jaime watched her with a bright smile. And a little voice in his head said, "I told you the two of you were compatible."

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: I'm Starting To Think That This Drow Guy Is Kind Of An Asshole Edition.

Probably a Ranger in the hunter subclass. I actually intended to multi-class him as fighter/ranger at some point and make that his official class, but I haven't had time/quite figured out the best build that would still suit him - Ranger makes a LOT of sense with his backstory, arguably more than fighter, but he's still supposed to be a magic-less brick-house with 19 strength who hasn't handled a bow and arrow in 10 years, so I'm not sure where that leaves us LOL

A lot of people have suggested that Berserk Barbarian would fit him well, but I think that implies a lot of other characteristics that do NOT suit him at all so 🤷

HE DIDN'T EVEN GO TO THE CRECHE, and honestly it made the game feel much more immersive to pick one path and stick to it like Halsin suggested, even if I did have to endure the shadow cursed lands without the shiny mace 😂

Probably for the best, it'd be a real shame if the story ended there just because he didn't like Vlaakith's attitude.

But yeah Lae'zel (who, for the record, I adore) never stood a chance in his playthrough. Sorry baby girl.

I'm either uninformed or we have different definitions of what constitutes a crush, but sure I'll play in this space LOL

He's both jealous but also kind of aloof when it comes to things like that. It's yet another symptom of his arrogance, where it seems unfathomable that anyone who has him would be genuinely tempted by someone else. He doesn't mind a normal amount of glance-stealing and flattery, even playful flirting to a degree, but if there's persistence or if his partner seems to seek another person out for things he thinks he should be providing, he feels threatened.

Also, he has a difficult time discerning that "deep emotional connection" does not equal "romantic interest". So, at least immediately after the events of the game, he's more likely to be made insecure by his partners forming deep bonds with others than any throwaway expression of physical desire or fleeting infatuation.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Let me preface this with the (hopefully unnecessary) disclaimer that this murderous dark-elf's opinions are not my own, and that I very much purposefully made a bit of an asshole character because I find that entertaining.

And now that you're hopefully primed for what's coming - DU drow is pretty damn judgemental of people's looks save for the rare times when they give him a good impression right off the bat. He notes people's appearances and makes preemptive assumptions about them without even realizing it. He definitely does not equal beauty to value or prowess (in fact he will very much still mock of you if you seem too concerned with your appearance) but he does prescribe things based on looks.

I don't think he'd take issue with what you're describing, It sounds like a pretty average body, but he would assume that person is weaker and less fit to "keep up with him", basically. Which kind of diminishes interest.

As far as to what he finds immediately attractive, he definitely prefers people who seem physically fit (not more than himself though - gods forbid). But, the caveat to this whole tangent is that once you get past initial impressions, he could definitely come to be sexually attracted to pretty much any type of body attached to the person he's in love with.

Thank you! There was no main event, just the building up of resentment over time and the opportunity she saw opening up when the Chosen's plan came into motion. She definitely didn't always hate him though, they had a fairly close relationship until his obsessive behavior and arrogance became an issue.

Thank you!!!

They call him the/that drow, dark elf, or "big drow" if there's more than one present. In private they might facetiously call him Bhaalspawn if they get tired of referring to him by race.

I'll be honest, I forgot whether or not I found it in his playthrough LOL but if he did stumble across that would be VERY funny. He'd be like "look at these idiots and their fake murder god. What kind of dimwit would worship carnage as a religion. Hey Shadowheart get a load of this-"

HAPPY YOU ENJOY HIM! I think his unique situation overall with having been such a overwhelmingly horrid person and forgetting all about it is my favorite bit. That's kind of vague, I know, but I often think of dreams I've had where I committed a crime or did something horrible, and that immediate feeling of relief and disconnect that follows immediately after waking up. That's kind of what I imagine it's like for him - he knows of the things he did, but he doesn't really. In theory it's all true but that's a truth far too fantastical for anyone to conceptualize even if it's put right in front of your face.

That, tackling the guilt (or lack thereof) of something you genuinely don't feel like you've done and the intricacies of it, that's a fascinating state of mind to explore. I love how many directions you can take that.

For me, having a character who is not good, but is not necessarily pure unadulterated evil, makes for a lot of complex thought experiments and contradictory values. DU drow has a lot of those - things he believes and abides by absolutely except for this specific instance, being contradictory is a pillar of his character and it can be a little challenging to keep up with it - but I'd be lying if I said I don't deeply enjoy that aspect as well all the same.

THANK YOUUUU It took me so long to figure out how to draw Astarion in a way I liked, I'm so relieved that others enjoy it too 😂

Shockingly he did succeed it and was immediately put-off by it, lmao. They wouldn't really develop much of a relationship for a while after that, so at that point DU drow just figured he was trying to get something from him and wrote him off, much as he did with everyone else with the exception of Shadowheart.

He didn't meet her at the Tiefling grove! I didn't even know you could meet her before-hand for the longest time. But he did super, duper kill her at camp of course.

He managed to hide the body and everyone else was none the wiser, huge blood bhaal-sigil on the ground aside lmao. He was a little shocked but didn't feel all that bad about it, kind of resigning to that primal feeling of satisfaction at a job-well-done that overwhelmed him instead. He decided she was too weak to survive out there and he had just spared her the trouble.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

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A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

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“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

—- ——- ——- ——- ———

There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

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I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[assassyart]

I know he sacrificed his life at the end to save the universe, but I always found a but weird that after he killed Ratchet in a fit of rage, he didn't seem to regret what he did like ik he was probably thinking he could fix this when he saves the lombax but still tpu would've thought he would've had a "what have I done moment?"

I also find if weird that the great clock isn't a time machine and yet it can go through the past by 6 minutes

Ah. Yay. :) I love talking about Alister Azimuth's thinking process. Thank you for the invitation to rant about this!

The end of A Crack in Time is one of the best parts of Ratchet & Clank, period. It has two incredibly emotional scenes, and every character is so well done. Buuut there is obviously one part of the ending that sticks out, and that's when Alister Azimuth killed Ratchet. This was the moment the player finally realizes just how far gone Azimuth is and that all of those flags were, indeed, bright red. To understand why he made this decision, we have to get into Azimuth's mindset. It's important to note Azimuth's decision wasn't just a fit of rage.

Azimuth had revealed to us that he does not view this current time he is in as "real" and, as such, has been treating everything he does and everyone he meets as temporary until the present gets back on track and he fixes his mistake. He sees talking to Ratchet about the past as pointless because it'll be "fixed," so why does it matter? (But even he can't stop himself from gushing about Kaden.) He even declines to help the Vullards while they're being attacked by the Agorians until they offer him something he needs to reach his goal. He views everyone as just another stepping stone to reaching his goal. He's detached himself emotionally from this world because it is not real to him.

This is similar to how Nefarious views everything in ACiT as well, just less exaggerated and silly. In a way, the two are pretty similar. Nefarious copes with his loss believing he can rewind time to "wrong" the "right" while Azimuth copes with his mistake, chasing after the idea that he can still fix it. Both are consumed by their failures in the past.

While Azimuth does try to care about Ratchet, it's clear that he doesn't let himself care that much about any one individual more than his goal. He doesn't even care about himself making it out alive after being captured by Vorselon— he only cares about fixing his mistake (and pushes this duty onto Ratchet as well). He is still putting up that emotional wall between him and Ratchet, so he won't get attached. Because to him, Ratchet won't exist once he "fixes" his mistake. This Ratchet he is currently fighting alongside will be gone, replaced by a completely different person— a Lombax that got to be raised by his father and mother, and never had to face the hardships "Ratchet" went through.

In Azimuth's mind, once he achieves his goal and fixes the past, this "Ratchet" will die. There is no point crying over someone you already accepted will not exist. He will simply care about the Ratchet that he will "save" in the past, not the one he doomed in the present.

Azimuth believes The Great Clock will fix all of his problems. Ratchet going back into the past to find out what happened to Orvus only strengthens Azimuth's belief that this will work. It has to. He does not even want to entertain the idea that it won't work, because that would mean he'd have to sit with himself and think about all of the awful things he did to get to this point.

"For the Lombaxes," he says, as he kills one of his own. "For Kaden," he says, as he kills his best friend's son. "To fix the past," he says, as he ruins the present.

It's only when he is faced with the fact The Great Clock won't fix his problems, that Ratchet (just like Kaden) is desperately trying to salvage the mess he made, that he has doomed the universe... that is when he realizes that he was chasing after something that was never going to work. You can't run from the past. You must learn from your mistakes. Azimuth wouldn't listen to Ratchet, just like how he wouldn't listen to Kaden. History repeated itself, and now his mistake was going to get Ratchet killed. All of his guilt from everything he did washes over him at once. He apologizes, but that doesn't change anything.

And he knows that. Azimuth's redemption comes from the fact that he doesn't run from this mistake. He faces it head-on, and his last words break the emotional wall he had set up before—

"Take care of yourself, Ratchet."

He's finally acknowledged the past can't be fixed and that he's doomed Ratchet to being the last Lombax yet again, but his final words are one of care and hope. He sacrifices himself for Ratchet and the present. In this action, he atones for his mistake.

And gah. This character is so amazing. I hate him. I love him. He's one of the best characters we have in the series, and I could fill an entire video essay just babbling on and on about this beautiful ending. Every character in this ending can be dissected for their choices, and this ending has definitely impacted the series far more than any of the others. I would dare Insomniac to top this ending, but I think it's dumb to even try. There's no topping this.

The game itself might have some flaws, but this ending is just perfect. I'd change absolutely nothing about it. What a banger ending to a banger character.

[xtractors]

As my account says I am just here for the headcanon and The angst. So stick with me. [It looks longer than it is, but you can skip the bracketed section for my headcannon]

I've been thinking since I saw Deadpool and Wolverine whether Wolverine knew who Wade was as Deadpool? I came to a pretty solid conclusion, because when Paradox zaps Deadpool away, wolverine's first reaction isn't to be like, "So what's going on?", it's to automatically try and jump Paradox for disappearing Wade [which like maybe it wasn't because he knew it was Wade. Maybe it's just because he just really enjoyed flirting with him, but I think it's cuz he knows who Wade is]. Then in the void it's to attack Wade, which he doesn't seem to be surprised about his healing factor.

And this led me to, if Wade existed in worst wolverine's universe and had a healing factor. Then he probably could have been a version of origin's Deadpool?

And I have decided for THE ANGST, that absolutely origins happened, and worst Wolverine saw what happened to origin's Deadpool.

~~~~

[And here's my thing. I really wish origins had focused more on his relationship with his teammates, especially with the whole him and Wade making eyes at each other. Ignoring my feelings on the Kyla Silverfox lady, like I really wish the movie had just focused more on his teammates and relationship there. I think that he should have been "friends" with Wade and I think when he said "they finally found a way to shut you up" it should have been more emotional, and hurt and less sassy. I also really wish that Wade hadn't been just a mindless machine. Which I suppose we don't know how actually conscious he was, but could you imagine? Wade who's always expressed himself by being sassy and dealt with his trauma and being a mercenary by making jokes being unable to speak at all and unable to control himself as he attacks his friend?

Like I seriously don't think origins Deadpool was that bad of a character. I think there was just no emotional attachment to him. Cuz the whole mouth Sewn shut thing could have meant so much more if Wade was actually friends with Logan. ]

~~~~

Anyways, back to the plot.

So my thing is if there is origins Deadpool in worst wolverines timeline, do you think worst Wolverine ever just thinks about it?Do you think he ever has nightmares about his Wade being the one with the mouth sewn shut?? Unable to make his crude, but adorable jokes? Unable to call him Peanut and honey badger? Nightmares where his Wade, the one who saved him and gave him meaning and a new life, is staring into his eyes, as Logan's voice echos "They finally found a way to shut you up, huh." What if he wakes up guilty, a bitter taste on his tongue hearing how cruel those words really were to someone who means the world to him, someone who he never truly wants to shut up. Worrying his mind over not being able to save him once, not just not being able to save him, but having to kill him? Every once in awhile when he tells Wade "do you ever shut up?"[affectionate], he gets a flash of origins Deadpool in his head and goes quiet and regrets saying it?

could you imagine the angst?

Logan seeing his good "friend" who expressed his trauma through never shutting up unable to talk?Logan's "they finally found a way to shut you up" being breathless and painful and not just mean

Do you think Logan listens to Deadpool chatter and ever think about origins Deadpool and regrets not being able to save him? Regrets that one his last lines was taunting him for finally being unable to ramble?

[lady-buggerinton]

Ok I’ve seen some discourse on the reshoots so here’s my take

First of all, yes I also don’t think the wig is doing the continuity any favors, but the content is really more what I care about so I’m just gonna dive into that.

Personally, I think these reshoots were to give Colin a more defined character arc, seeing him with other women creates a contrast with how he is with Penelope, and effectively visualizes how the closer he is to his own sensitivity and true desires, the less interested he is in meaningless intimacy

I get that some fans think seeing Colin with other women is “icky” but please try to have a critical bone in your body and realize that they are not just for shock value and they narratively serve a purpose, mainly that of creating a sense of seeking and lack of fulfillment for his character to serve as contrast for his eventual reconnecting with his characteristic vulnerability.

The first brothel scene is to establish his “new personality” as a confident, needless, cavalier world traveller. Due to the hurt his innate soft-heartedness and romantic ideals of past seasons have caused, and likely the lack of his familial support (and Penelope’s) via letters, he decided to close himself off completely, which includes sex with women he has no emotional connection to.

I think it’s interesting they decided to include two women in the brothel scenes, narratively this could be Colin trying to avoid getting attached to one woman, so maybe he specifically requests more than one partner. NOT unlike another Bridgerton sibling we know who desperately doesn’t want to get attached (Benedict cough cough) he’s pushing himself into this lack of connection as a way to turn off the sensitivity, and therefore dampening the pain that comes with needs and wants.

This is especially evident in the second brothel scene, when to distract himself from the pain of wanting Penelope but not being able to confess his feelings, he returns to what he’s familiar with, but he soon realizes that meaningless sex doesn’t offer much when one is in love with someone else.

We see in the second brothel scene shots where he is kissing the women and there’s a seeking expression on his face, he’s trying desperately to find that same feeling with them, but it’s not about the physical action, it’s about the person, and the person he wants is Penelope. When he realizes it’s not working, he stops engaging with them physically and agrees to sit and watch, but he looks away, barely able to look at them anymore, clearly shaken by how this experience pales in comparison to a simple kiss with someone he cares about.

Him realizing this leads to his discussion with the toxic lord squad, he’s become disgusted by the emptiness of their interactions and can’t help but voice these feelings. They react negatively to his vulnerability, and he is plunged into pure wallow town.

Without the brothel scenes, I’m not sure the way he finds his vulnerability by asking for what he truly wants from Penelope would be as clear and well done, so I’m team reshoots!

[krowlovesinazuma]

Could you do marriage headcannons for miko with the creator

Read this prologue for context!

Scenario: Marriage

Characters: Yae Miko

Thanks to Inazuma's traditional values and culture, marriage is seen as quite the symbolic, and important social event, that can change one's life forever. As such, there are some that simply decide to live without it.

Ironically, Miko was one of these people. It made sense, as a youkai, to simply watch and not get too attached to the townsfolk, content with her influence as a shrine maiden and taking care of her publishing company. With her duties, and youkai lifespan, it just wasn't logical.

That's why, even when you appeared, showing such a fascination and preference for her, she never once thought about the possibility of marriage, and as such, you're the one bringing the topic up as a possibility! It's a certain way to catch her off guard.

She thinks it's a joke, or an exaggeration of your feelings at first, but when you refuse to drop the subject, or start imagining things, she decides to question you seriously, just in case. Better to settle this quickly, than let it drag on and confuse you!

She'll ask if you're really alright with the prospect of being attached to her for the rest of her life. As for if she's willing... Years ago, she wouldn't have given it a thought, but being with you made her happier than anything else in her life!

When you accept, Miko will ask for a break from both of her duties for a while, to embark on a sweet honeymoon with you! She'll take the chance to step away from Inazuma like you used to do with her when you controlled her from outside. She has so many places she wants to see again, now with you by her side!

While the ceremony and marriage could be done in public, Miko would rather it stay between the two of you. Not only does it make it more comfortable for her to show her true feelings, but it's way less of a hassle to prepare and maintain!

Life with Miko is quite interesting! As her creator, she makes sure that you're comfortable and satisfied, but she never resists her urge to tease and play with you for long. Since it's never as bad in public though, you can tease her back and see her true emotions!

She'll soften up whenever you ask for it, and sometimes she'll ask you to be fully compliant if she had a stressful day. Trust me, she really needs it from time to time, especially with the process of making Inazuma open again...

What about in public then? Miko uses the chance to make both hers, and your image even more mysterious! Teasing visitors that get curious, and making rumors spread, all while letting you have fun with them as well!

Overall, life with her is quite peaceful and relaxing if you're devoted to it, and listen to her wishes. Do so, and she'll be more than happy to listen to yours, and give you the comfiest life you could've dreamt of!

"Dear... Be a good darling and get on the couch for me. I want to cuddle you for a moment... Ugh, you wouldn't believe the nerve of some customers, demanding to meet me face to face when I'm clearly so busy. Yes yes, the others tried to convince him, but it wasn't enough to get through his thick skull. Shhh... Just be a good pillow for me, I need it."

[phantomato]

Tom Riddle As A Parent: Why So Compelling?

(to me. Not meant to generalize.)

Tom-as-parent runs counter to canon in possibly baffling ways. He despises his own father and has no respect for his mother. He doesn’t have a confirmed romantic or sexual attachment to anyone at any point in the story—I’m disregarding Cursed Child here, as my canon is the original seven-book series.

Tom is ill-suited to parenting: we see him in a challenging job or unemployed but busy with his pursuit of power. His personal qualities include a lack of bedside manner, and he’s shown to tolerate putting on a polite face only when it serves him with people who have more power. Yet I’ve written Tom as a parent multiple times, including my longest work. The idea continues to compel me. What gives?

Canon Tom has no business being a parent—let me make it his business

Partly, I want this because it is just so unlikely to fit the character as we know him. Whenever a fic idea or characterization choice seems incongruous and wrong, my impulse as a writer is to wonder how to make it right. What shifts must take place for this person to do this thing?

I’ve long held that I am interested in a Tom Riddle who can feel love. Not that he loves easily or admits it to himself, but that he is a person with the ability to feel that emotion. Given that Tom can love, a child is an interesting place to explore that. How did the child come into his life? How did he reconcile himself to loving it? What shape does that love take? No matter the universe, some parts of Tom will always struggle to be a conventional parent.

This is a great path for Tom as an unintentional parent—kidnapping Harry of course, but also (my favorite) partnering with a single parent and navigating the family he gains as a side effect of that romance. Particularly coming into a teenage stepchild, which was an interesting writing experience because with an older child who remembered a deceased birth parent, I was free to give that Voldemort less personal responsibility for the kid. He could create something other than full parenthood in his relationship with Theodore Nott, where they came to understand and care for one another through their shared love for Nott Sr. I let Voldemort recognize his own unsuitedness to parenting and thus make compromises with it, and the relationship was overall more emotionally moving to me as a result. 

Tom Riddle will have an impact on any parenting that I force him to do. Because he’s not traditionally fit for it, the unique form his parenting takes is a chance to say so much about his character and the choices that he’s made in that universe.

Forcing Tom to reconcile with himself

It’s no mystery that Tom Riddle has parent issues. His mom dies while birthing him. He was raised in an orphanage. He kills his father. There are a lot of obstacles in the way of Tom having a healthy relationship with parenting.

In making him a parent, then, I’m asking his character to get with it real quick. There is a baby or a small child only growing older and more independent by the day; they are pulling their ideas of the world from him like a sponge sucking up water. He will have an influence on them. And what has Tom Riddle ever wanted more than influence?

Part of what I like about parent!Tom is asking what would happen to him if he took the prospect seriously. He is responsible for this kid, so he takes care of them. There must be many feelings there. After all, Tom went to his father seeking something. Magical heritage, sure, but he knew before he walked up that hill that he wouldn’t find it, and still he went. We can’t know anything with certainty (except in fanfic), but when writing him as a parent, I like to think that he might be changed when he’s forced to play the opposite role.

Tom with a child is a Tom who can possibly come to understand his parents or regret not getting to know them. He might see his mother’s care, to deliver her baby where he would live. He might see his father’s fear, at confronting his own trauma through the form of his child. He never got to learn what his mother might have taught him, and my own dislike of her aside, the character of Tom might miss her, forgive her, or never learn about her abuse. If he does know that his mother assaulted his father, it might spark his regret over committing that murder. And he Mrs. Cole as a caretaker as well, whose faults do not erase the intimacy of their relationship. All of these emotions can be explored via reflection as Tom experiences raising his child. He is making his own choices about being a parent, dissimilar or not to those made by Merope and Tom Sr. and Mrs. Cole, and facing unpleasant facts about his sympathy for their positions.

And all of this is equally as interesting to me when Tom is the child, or when he considers his feelings about his parents and mentors later in life. Tom’s hope to be a teacher likewise takes on more dimensions if we consider mentorship and influence on young people as relating to how he might feel about his own childhood, or what must change to make him suited for that responsibility. Tom-as-parent is particularly special as it features in fics that have helped define my characterization of him, and it is because the role is so unnatural for him, not in spite of it, that it inspires this kind of consideration.

[stupidnicknamehere]

Zolu ship from an Aroace's POV

Since this is my personal experience and very, very intimate, I don't plan to delve into more details, but after recent situations and some zolu shippers sharing their aroace identity, I thought I would share mine.

As an aroace person, I have never experienced conventional physical attraction, but that in no way means I haven't fallen in love. With my partners, I came to experience a close emotional bond of trust and attachment, which led me to fall in love. There was no sensuality, flirting or courtship. Physical intimacy was not an act of carnal desire either, but rather an emotional and close experience.

A lot of this has resonated with the Zolu ship for me. It is not about passions or carnal desires, it is about that emotional bond full of affection and genuine trust. It is not a fall in love produced by dopines, serotonins and oxycotins. It's about knowing a person, really knowing them, and not being able to imagine your days without them. For me, it is not feeling my heart race when I see them, rather the opposite, it is feeling calm and safe. It's not desperation or debauchery to jump into bed with them, it's the curiosity of sharing a new experience with your partner, even though you know you could be fine without it. And it can be great and satisfying, but you know that you couldn't do it with just anyone, only with the one with whom you share so many emotions and affections.

It is something so rare for me to find within fiction that I have not been able to help identifying myself, not in Zoro or Luffy, but in this way of loving someone. That is why, above all, I value their true relationship within the canon. It feels like "more than a friendship but less than a brotherhood". Unlike many fictional pairings, this is one of those few that is based on affection, loyalty, respect, good and kind things.

Yes, I am an aroace person and have had some of the experiences that many have said an aroace person is not capable of, and Zolu is not only a comfort ship for me, it also helps me affirm my identity. Maybe that's why many of us aroace love this ship, at least I think I can understand why aroace like their dynamics so much.

Like I said, this is just my experience and point of view.

Furthermore, there is no canonical sexuality for these characters, and just because you like to imagine that Luffy is an aroace who ignores romance and doesn't understand physical intimacy doesn't mean you should push it towards others.

And screw everyone who says that an aroace can't fall in love or enjoy sex with someone. For me, Zoro and Luffy fuck each other👌

[la-pheacienne]

Alicent is unfortunately not the only lifeless portrayal in the show. I have to talk about my pookie. Daemon Targaryen, a fandom fave, grrm's fave (one of them), legendary, quintessential Targaryen prince, "both a great man and a monster", "the most admired, most beloved, most reviled in all Westeros", "made of light and darkness in equal parts", "to some a hero, to others the blackest of villains" (paraphrazing).

Now that is something isn't it? Except that I didn't see that Daemon.

The deal with Daemon is simple. Book!Daemon was, first of all, fiercely attached to his family and that part is extremely important for his characterization. That man was blindly devoted to his house, to his wife and to their kids, adopted or biological. That was his drive, that was his purpose, that was his inner logic. Secondly, that man was nuts. Genuinely terrifying, the "you touch my kin and you will be sorry you were born" kind of terrifying. The "I will not stop until I turn every single person who wronged my family to ashes, man, woman, or child" kind of terrifying.

And they violated his brother's will. They usurped his wife's throne. They murdered his boy. They dared make a fool out of him and tear his family apart, two clowns barely into adulthood, a whiny nun and an old man who faints at the sight of a dragon. These people did this to him. Like, can you even?

Daemon should be fucking seething. He should be coming down on these clowns like a ton of bricks. The mere mention of his name should make them tremble in terror. Blood and Cheese was his moment, and it was the moment of the Dance. Now Matt did a very good job conveying all of this up until Blood and Cheese but attributing Blood and Cheese to an oopsie severely underplayed Daemon's impact. Of course, the reason the writers made BxC a misunderstanding is simply the fact that they couldn't do otherwise, after what they did with Lucerys' murder. Show!Daemon, as he stands, could not unambiguously and straightforwardly order the murder of Helaena's son without turning into a cartoonish Ramsay type of villain, and this, because the writers have not established one of his two defining traits which is, again, his fierce, blind devotion to his wife and kids. Show!Daemyra is weak, Daemon's fatherhood is downplayed. This is a part of the general problem of the characters of the show feeling flat and vague in their motivations. The show may have included some intellectually stimulating changes, in all its anti monarchy blablabla glory, but in their effort to achieve that they stopped giving the characters space to feel, love, rage and form deep, unbreakable bonds with eachother which motivate the entirety of their actions. In the entire show the moments of pure, unfiltered, real emotion are extremely rare, and Daemon is a victim of that.

Since they have not established that emotional core for him, they cannot go full force on his vilest act either. The two go hand in hand. The one motivates the other. Of course you're gonna tell me that in the show, he still orchestrated Blood and Cheese and he is still technically responsible for everything that happened. Matt was still seething with fury throughout the entire episode. Fine. It is still far less impactful than the book version, far less powerful, far less horrifying, because the motivation behind it is flimsy, because Daemon's characterization is hollow. In the book, Daemon was both greater and meaner. He was just more, in every category. In the show, he didn't give me that "oh my fucking god" shocking moment I felt when I read the source material y'all call boring (!) in comparison to the adaptation.

Daemon's moral core is his family. Period. For his family, he becomes the blackest of monsters, without scruples and without mercy. That's what "light and darkness in equal parts" means. Both are necessary. The show ironically managed to dim both his good side and his evil side and turn this proud, fearsome, horrible, legendary Targ into a whiny man whose toy got stolen. Not the vibe. I hope they do better with the battle above god's eye.

[hollow-keys]

This tweet's already got dunked on a lot but I have things to say about the differences between Osha and Anakin that I haven't already seen said sooo I'm gonna say my piece.

The reason why they're reacting differently is Osha and Anakin are very different characters at very different points in their arc in these respective scenes.

When Osha force choked Sol, she had just started to turn to the dark side then and there. Before, that moment, she hadn't turned at all. She left the Order because she couldn't cut it as a Jedi, because of her anger and pain bubbling below the surface, but when she left she didn't feel particularly negative towards the Jedi, she didn't disagree with their philosophy or how they approached the force, she simply didn't feel like it could work for her personally and decided to go life a normal life. Meanwhile, Anakin immediately turned over to the Sith. She viewed herself as a failure for not being able to live up to the Jedi's code, Anakin viewed the code as a failure for not accommodating him.

When Anakin force choked Padmé, he had already turned to the dark side. He'd already beheaded Dooku, he'd already slaughtered the Tuskin Raiders, he'd already executed Order 66, he'd already killed or helped kill his friends. Even before he turned, he was flagrantly and shamelessly disobeying the Jedi code with the arrogance he carried himself with and his relationship with Padmé. Officially turning into a Sith was the end point of all that. He entirely gave himself over to anger, which blocked out his rational thought processes.

Osha was just a normal person who happened to be an ex-Jedi. When she got dragged back into it, she respected the Jedi she worked with but the tensions between her and the Order came back, particularly with how closed off they were to her, unable to reciprocate her non-Jedi like affection. Still, she didn't hate them or even really blame them, it was just a frustration. She was entirely on their side until she found out Sol, one of her closest friends, her father figure, had killed her mum.

She was in shock and disassociating, Sol, in his guilt, didn't explain himself properly and his poor attempt to justify himself only made her withdraw more. She's blank faced because she's not present in the moment. She's still carrying herself like a Jedi with a rational and detached veneer when she uses the force, probably on instinct, but under the surface she's angry, grieving and thus drawing power from the dark side. Sure, her face is blank, but her hands are shaking if you pay attention. It's repressed rage bubbling to the surface. meanwhile Anakin's rage isn't repressed at all and he doesn't feel any attachment to the Jedi's way of doing things. He's chosen the dark side at that point, Osha hasn't chosen any side, she's not thinking about sides, she's just hurt. Her disassociation is blocking out her rational thought processes and she breaks down once she's killed Sol because only then does she stop dissociating and realise what she's done.

Honestly, the correct person to compare Osha to is Mae. When Mae is given the exact same chance to kill Sol, she refuses even though she was recently corrupted to the dark side because she's had years to process that he killed her mum, and she has no prior attachment to him to feel betrayed by, which leads to a less emotional and more rational response. She doesn't just want revenge, she wants him to confess his crimes, she wants the Jedi Order to be rocked by controversy and have a reckoning, to be investigated and reformed. They're the same person under different circumstances.

And look, you can think that the Acolyte scene would be better if Osha was enraged or breaking down, but the fact Amandla Stenberg made a different acting choice than you would have preferred doesn't make her a bad actor. It's like how you can dislike someone's music because it's not your thing while still recognising that they're not a bad musician, but that's probably a bad comparison given a lot of people don't understand that either.

[thesoftboiledegg]

"Mort: Ragnarick" was pure fun, but a different kind of fun than "Rickfending Your Mort" and "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie."

"Rickfending Your Mort" was a laid-back clip show that gave the viewer a break after the insanity of "Unmortricken"--a smart decision but not one with a lot of substance. "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie" has been controversial. I thought it was entertaining, but it would've worked better as a YouTube short.

If "Unmortricken" represented lore episodes at their best, "Mort: Ragnarick" was the best of classic Rick and Morty adventures: a wildly imaginative plot, goofy satire, fantasy science and Rick and Morty working together as a duo, reminding us how much they need each other.

Rick's the driving force behind these adventures, but without Morty, he's just a miserable old man trying to distract himself. Morty's the heart and voice of reason. He also gives Rick something to live for. Without him, Beth, Jerry or Summer, why do anything?

Rick pretends to live for science, but "science" just caused decades of grief and isolation. His family isn't a concept; it's an entity that loves him back.

Bigfoot, an evil pope, Pokeballs, Valhalla, clone bodies, infinite energy sources, zombie Summer, Rick screaming "PO-O-O-O-OPE!": only Rick and Morty could combine all those concepts into one cohesive episode. I never thought "Wow, that took me out of the story." The Pokeball came close, but the end credits scene tied it all together.

Jerry's scene was a standout, too. Chris Parnell's reading of "Nana!" was genuinely sweet. It seems like Jerry's becoming a (mostly) willing participant in Rick's schemes instead of a helpless guinea pig. Is Rick learning that releasing his iron grip on his family makes them more attached to him, not less?

I also loved it when the Vikings called Rick a witch. He loves crystals, plays with magic, has two crows as familiars: damn right, he is!

You have to suspend your disbelief a couple of times, mainly when Bigfoot attacks Rick in the kitchen (he crushed Rick earlier like it was nothing, but now Rick walks away with a few scratches?) Still, the little character moments overshadow these flaws.

Judging by old posts that I've seen floating around, I think Rick and Morty's relationship is finally becoming what fans wanted it to be in seasons 1-3. Rick's still mean, but he's less dominant and more of Morty's mischievous co-conspirator. An alien mobster freaking out in "The Jerrick Trap" because of Rick's "touch my grandson and die" policy is straight out of fanon.

Rick's more physically gentle, and Morty responds in kind. He grabs and supports him when Bigfoot attacks him at home and touches his arm during their weird, overdramatic Bigfoot send-off. His pained cry of "Rick!" when Bigfoot nearly crushes him is heart-wrenching. Operation Phoenix is back online, but Morty's tired of watching him die!

Season five is when Rick started showing emotions on his face besides that cold, pissed-off glare--we all know the one--and in season seven, it's accelerated to Rick crying in front of others. He matches Morty's feelings instead of pretending that he's above human emotions.

Needless to say, dudebros have been flooding Adult Swim's Instagram comments and Twitter replies with "Rick and Morty is shit now!" "Rick's too nice!" "Rick and Morty has gone woke!" Justin Roiland's firing gave them more fuel, but they started even while he was still on the payroll.

Their favorite line is "Rick isn't Rick anymore!" And they're right. Rick's not the asshole from seasons 1-2 who had a couple of redeeming qualities. He's not the monster that he was in season three and parts of season four. He's not the defeated man in season five who started to realize that he's hurting people but still wanted Morty to look after him like a child.

Season six is when he started to grow up--not a lot, but enough that he began taking on adult responsibilities instead of thinking he's a teenage boy who sees another teenager as his peer. I wish we saw more therapy appointments, but while they're mostly off-screen, we're definitely seeing the effects.

This doesn't make Rick a great person or atone for what he's done. Some of his crimes are beyond atonement, and not just the obvious ones like blowing up planets. This is a universe where everyone has a body count and events that should've destroyed Earth have no effect on civilization. Death and destruction don't mean that much.

His worst crimes are the personal ones: destroying Morty's psyche in "The Vat of Acid Episode," treating his family like garbage for most of season three. You can't atone for that. You can't apologize for that.

However, I don't only judge characters by their past. I judge them by their capacity to change.

Walter White is a brilliant character, but he's not a personal favorite because his arc is a slow descent into hell. Rick's slowly climbing out of his crater, and while it doesn't erase the past, it's still happening. For me, that's more satisfying than watching a monster become a bigger monster.

Of course, he's still not above cosplaying as Odin while wearing a golden crown that literally says "GOD." But the former "no girls allowed" alpha male has become a dedicated therapy patient who's also a thirst object that would make bros cry about double standards. Sure, Rick, you're a god, now put on that weird half-shirt and prance around a little.