#some random drawings and ideas I had into an animated series

[saturnmortis]

Anyways. It’s the same universe as The Everything Man but has little to do with it except the Earth has exploded. Also because of that I’ve been considering calling it The Tinkering Man

I’ve also kinda ran out of ideas for robots

[pankekesito]

Rust Cohle's tattoos - A mini-essay on their possible meaning

Hi, this is probably my longest post, I may have to split it into two parts due to the length but I will try to see that everything can be compacted into one post.

DISCLAIMER!

This mini essay is done purely as a hobby by a die-hard True Detective fan, none of this is actually 100% confirmed (other than the interview part of ‘The Last Magazine’). While this is as logical and accurate a research as possible, it's just a hypothesis of what Rust Cohle's tattoos seen in the series could mean; if you don't think it's reasonable, that's fine. All opinions are valid as long as they are made on the basis of respect!

Without more to say, I hope you find this Mini Essay interesting and fun, I made it with all my love for you (and obviously because of my love for Rust); I would like to know your opinions about it, even if they are not the same as me! (I will leave a section in my profile to give you the sources used in the research in case you want to know more about the arguments to support my opinion).

An apology if something is not fully understood, English is not my first language ⸜❤︎⸝

And remember, ⥁‘Time is a flat circle’⥀

Rust Cohle has two tattoos which are a bird of unknown species on his right forearm and an unidentified symbol on his chest; right where the heart is located.

Focusing on the forearm tattoo, thanks to a short interview in “The Last Magazine” published on May 10, 2016; Josh Lord who is a renowned tattoo artist who has worked to perform various tattoos in the entertainment world along with Joji Fukunaga who directed the first season of the series mentioned that they wanted the tattoos presented in this one to have the same detailed realism that is reflected in the audiovisual product. For the case of Rust Cohle initially in Pizzolatto's original script his tattoo would consist of a pair of flaming dice. Personally I'm glad to know that this didn't happen because while they tried to give him that wild and dangerous meaning, Rust doesn't believe in the randomness of fate and every action he takes he does it consciously, carrying in him the responsibility for his actions and not granting it to fate. Josh and Fukunaga had something clear and that is that the tattoos would go from being a decorative element to a characterization, a symbolic element of the souls and the truth of the guts of the characters.

For this very reason they chose to draw on Cohle's undercover past as a member of a criminal motorcycle gang, whose emblem was originally intended to be a raven. Subsequent revisions turned the gang into the “Iron Crusaders” where very aptly the tattoos of its members refer to anvils, bones, engine parts, demons, weapons, etc. Something important to note is that the vision of the Iron Crusaders is dark, mysterious, funereal and gloomy (as all its operation within the series), the initial idea where the raven would be its emblem makes sense because in general the raven is associated with death because they are scavengers, predators and for some civilizations they embody death and the underworld.

But while the terrain where the Iron Crusaders unfold has a close relationship with the first and best known negative view (symbolically speaking) of ravens, its positive meaning has more to do with Rust Cohle's behavior and reason. The raven can also be a powerful animal totem, a protector and spiritual guide, a shape-shifter, a messenger and the symbol of transformation. In its benevolent symbolism, it represents giving up on the human world in search of wisdom, as well as being a cunning and intelligent animal capable of adapting and embracing change. In the Scandinavian tradition, the raven is a sacred and wise figure that brings virtues of “reflection” and “memory” while in Native American tribes, ravens are revered for their intelligence and spiritual importance. They are considered messengers of the spiritual world, possessors of universal wisdom and protectors against evil forces. It is also said that in Norse mythology there were two ravens that always accompanied the god Odin, whose names were Hugin and Munin. Hugin represented the power of thought and Munin represented memory and intuition; every time the sun rose both were sent to earth in search of information and every night at sunset they returned to Odin's palace and whispered all the news and events of which they had learned on their visit to planet earth.

A fact that may not be so relevant (and most probably I am just adding it to be interesting) is that there is a constellation called Corvus having four points in its constellation that make it to be, which is related to the raven (it is all due to a Greek myth). I like to think that this has a lot to do with Rust's tattoo because of the position of his tattoo (more properly speaking the wings) with the resemblance to the graphic references usually used for the raven of the constellation Corvus and the close relationship it has with the universe and the cosmic. Also the four points of the constellation remind me of the four stages of Rust Cohle seen during the series (1995, Crash Comeback, 2002, 2012).

Now we can't overlook the fact that the Celts held ravens in high esteem, associating them with battles and the Celtic Goddess of war and destruction (Morrigan). Ravens were seen as protectors and warriors, embodying the qualities of intelligence and strategic thinking. The raven's ability to shape-shift, attributed to Morrigan, further emphasizes its transformative nature. All of the above meanings attributed to ravens provided by various cultures, whether with a positive or negative focus curiously fit perfectly well with the ideology of our armored detective Rust Cohle. Rust is surrounded by silent anxiety, tragedy, death, chaos and pain. He himself struggles even with internal battles, his demons from the past. Yet he has a strong mentality, he uses his reason to adapt to even the most unsafe territories even if it means changing shape (like Crash). The fact that he more than likely made the decision to get the tattoo during his infiltration as Crash when he was in the narcotics department is reasonable as he was like a predator within the gang, a shape-shifting scavenger trying to get answers as he shrewdly roamed the rubble of human evil. The raven was his way of remembering his purpose and no wonder, Rust is very skilled with manual tasks. His hands allow him to do his work properly; watching them constantly do the dirty work and hide or reveal the ashes when necessary makes him evoke his intention in this world and how ephemeral it is on the earthly plane. It is not for nothing that the raven is on his forearm, showing his bones as a sign that death will always be with him until his last breath.

To focus on his last tattoo (and the most intriguing in my opinion) we must go back to Celtic culture. As we have seen throughout the series, symbols and religions (beliefs of something beyond comprehension) are always present because they touch the most sensitive parts of human beings. Their constant search for belonging and the meaning of life. In Celtic culture runes are used as signs, talismans, symbols and runic alphabets. Basically runes are a writing system that was used in Scandinavia and parts of Northern Europe from the Iron Age to the Middle Ages. Although it is not known exactly who invented runes, it is believed that they emerged sometime around the 1st century AD. Specifically “Rune” means secret. Runes are magical instruments of power, carriers of secrets and wisdom. There are several types of runes with vast meanings however in my research I found four runes which I will use to support my hypothesis about the possible meaning of Cohle's chest tattoo. First we must be certain that the tattoo on the chest of Rust does NOT exist as such in the Futhark Runes, or in any other compilation of symbolism so we can say that this symbol is a composite symbol; referring to the fact that although it is based on the Celtic runes, it has NO direct relationship, nor systematically objective. We can notice it even more thanks to the inverted cross of the tattoo (soon we will return to this point).

Talking about the possible runes used for the composition of the tattoo we have:

•Rune Thurisaz ᚦ

Meaning: Door. Reflection. New options. Magical use: Regeneration. Concentration. Override negativity. Meditation. New beginnings. When you need luck and control of any circumstance. Protection and defense. Neutralize enemies or opposition.

•Rune Raidho ᚱ

Meaning: Wheel. Travel. Communication. Help in taking risks. Self-healing. Magical use: Changes. Protection. Transformation. Justice according to good. Safe and comfortable travel.

•Rune Wunjo ᚹ

Meaning: Joy. Comfort. Harmony. Security. Tranquility. Magical use: Triumph. Motivation. Recognition. Achievement of goal. Success in travel. Luck in love or work.

•Rune Berkana ᛒ

Meaning: Growth. Awakening. Rebirth. Development of creativity. Magical use: Healing. Wholeness. Clarity. Motherhood. Self-realization. Fertility. When seeing the runes presented we can relate them with Rust Cohle because they present several descriptive concepts that define him; but to my point of view, of those presented the rune more linked (and similar to his tattoo) is the rune Raidho.

Throughout the series we can see the entire journey Cohle goes through both through the Lange case that is presented to him, as well as his growth individually. His journey in general has been dangerous, putting him in a vulnerable state but never fully achieving it, having Rust in a cathartic state of progression where although the road was arduous, it always ends with him having a safe process of introspection. This path was just like a wheel where he repeated over and over again aspects of his life that he had already lived (Time is a flat circle) but thanks to communication these repetitive aspects had a significant change. The clearest example of this is his relationship with Marty Hart; in the series they had a partnership that while solid was undeniably chaotic. Marty did not want to listen to Rust and Cohle could not stop spouting his pessimistic ideology until the issue related to Maggie happened which made them separate. It wasn't until 2012 that Rust swallowed his depressing verbiage in order to talk to Marty and he, took his time to listen to Cohle and support him in his plan. Changing their relationship and the situation through communication. Precisely to this, both were able to give the due justice that the case deserved and finally Rust was able to be a little warmer with himself, finally accepting the past that haunted him and taking the first step to self-healing.

Of course, the Raidho rune and the symbol on Rust's chest are not the same because as I mentioned earlier, Cohle's tattoo is (probably) a composite symbol but the resemblance both physically of the rune and allegorically to the detective's ideology is something worth mentioning. Rustin Cohle's first step in understanding his pain and being able to allow himself to open up honestly and vulnerably with someone as he did with Marty was to be humble about his feelings. Humility was an important factor in this, as well as dealing humanely with his penance given by the past. These two issues are ideological characteristics given in the Christian symbol of the inverted cross of St. Peter. According to tradition, Peter asked to be crucified upside down because he did not consider himself worthy of dying in the same way as his master, Jesus of Nazareth. However, in other contexts the inverted cross is often used as a symbol of atheism, humanism and occultism. This is also notoriously seen in Rust's philosophy as we know that the belief in something greater than the human being which governs the commandments of humanity seems ridiculous to him. A simple stoic belief to alleviate the rottenness of reality. That is why perhaps that rune was transformed according to Rust's philosophy (which makes sense, Josh Lord does not do work without tying up loose ends; much less from the hand of Joji Fukunaga).

While we don't have an exact answer about the meaning of the tattoos of our endearing and cold-hearted detective, I like the idea of trying to unravel the hidden meanings among the symbols that physically characterize his personality, trying to investigate as logically and clearly as possible the probable exact representations of Rust's philosophy embodied in his skin. I believe that the series is so well designed that even the smallest details count and that's why I took the time to try to dig into the secrets of what Rust's tattoos want to tell us.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this mini-essay! It was really fun to do, I think that while I'm not sure what his tattoos really mean; I was able to better understand Rust in different and meaningful ways. I hope someday we can know for sure what they mean (although part of me doesn't want to, because that would take the fun out of it). I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a like if you found it informative or entertaining, comment on what you thought, if you have any other theories of its possible meaning or reblog this mini-essay so more people interested in True Detective could see it! A kiss to whoever reads this and I hope the Yellow King never finds you! 💛

[yamujiburo]

So, I know TPCI have been vague about particular lore through out the years, and from what little we know, Delia & Jessie is a perfectly acceptable ship based on the info you've been able to dig-up about their correlating age-range. But if TPCI were to make an off-hand remark that the TR Trio were teens and some retcon-type comment about how they've always been, how would you react? Would you stop making art or state that it was an AU created before this announcement and continue on? I've drawn some art, and TPCI have retconned some odd quirks of the past at random before and I don't want to be left holding the basket myself. I guess I'm looking for advice in how to respond if that were to occur? I don't want to be giving anyone the wrong idea about what I support.

That's the thing, if there were even a CHANCE that Team Rocket were teens, I wouldn't ship 'em. But they've firmly established Jessie and James as adults since the beginning (particularly in the jpn version which is why it's probably lost on english speaking audiences), have confirmed them as such in episodes as recently as the SM series and the director Yuyama Kunihiko mentioning THIS YEAR that they're adults

For something like this, yeah I'd personally feel uncomfortable if they were teens and likely wouldn't draw hanamusa more after that. I've had no problem in the past just shifting my attention to something else. I feel l've made it known that I strongly believe, with proof, that Team Rocket are adults so I'd feel fine leaving up the stuff I'd drawn, with the disclaimer that they were established as adults at the time I was drawing them.

But again, I'm literally 100% sure these characters are adults. And I'm even more set in it now that the anime is done

[jelly-fish-wishes]

How dark could you see canon Super Mario Bros getting (either in the movies or the game's plots? The series has had moments where it's not all sunshine and rainbows (but considering the nature of Super Mario, it is sunshine and rainbows much of the time) The most obvious example I can think of is the recent movie where they dialed up the intensity of Bowser where he has a pretty strong bloodlust, a death row chamber, and a Luma who craves death.

Like I really don't see them going down the route of killing off a major character (without reviving them shortly after) but that does create a risk of cheapening death. One way they could do this is by making death reversible, but it still leaves deep seated psychological scars (think Steven Universe or Puss in Boots 2)

I also wonder if they could do a bittersweet ending sort of thing as well. I've seen some animated movies with a young audience in mind do this, but obviously they're not going go down the road of something like Grave of the Fireflies or The Little Matchgirl.

Ok ok so

Hers some random thoughts that the hardcore gamer in me thinks about.

We’re on the verge of a new console for the Switch. And that means a new 3D Mario game should be revealed soon after the new console is announced or released (stay with me, ok?)

In the personal opinion of a couple of people, Super Mario Odyssey was good! But it wasn’t AS GOOD as Super Mario Galaxy, which was a game that wasn’t really that dark, but had some moments that were out of place for an Mario game that had come before and after (not including spin offs, which seems to have the best plot of any Mario game than the mainline games).

If the next 3D Mario game is to be just as good, if not, BETTER than Galaxy, it needs to have an AMAZING story (gameplay is not my concern tbh).

As someone who enjoys a little bit of angst here and there, I had thought of two different ideas that could work for the potential Mario game.

Mario goes to a parallel universe where he lost an important battle and Bowser has taken over. Anyone who sees Mario would DEFINITELY not believe that it’s actually him and probably be enemies. And main characters like Luigi or Peach could be bosses. I imagine Luigi being the first boss completely in denial that Mario is right in front of him (imagine how cruel the realization would be SHJOSJKHSJASNOJ) and Peach could probably be the second to last OR final boss for the same reason. Idk it’s a neat idea in my head.

Another idea could be Mario accidentally being sent to the past. And I mean the FAR past before Bowser’s rein. Heck, before his birth! I see the way Bowser’s castle is themed after in Odyssey and I like to think that’s what Koopa culture looks like. I also just like the idea of Bowser being super formal when not in battle. Like the bowing, the utensil etiquette, etc. Bowser’s father, or grandfather if Nintendo decides to change it, could be the main antagonist and next to the throne could be a small nest of eggs. Mario’s goal is to use Kamek’s wand (or something magic) to get back home without changing the course of history or something. Yada yada yada, Mario learns more about Koopa culture, yada yada yada, he’s get destroyed except one, yada yada yada Mario gets back home,but Kamek catches a glimpse of him, setting up the plot of Yoshi’s Island (idk is that a good idea?) And Mario, after getting back home, just suddenly hugs Bowser and everyone is super confused. Idk I like the super sappy ending.

Idk it wouldn’t be TOO terrible in angst, but the slight change in tone for a Mario game makes the difference to me. Those are some ideas I had come up with (might draw them idk anyone’s allowed to draw this if they liked it so much) They might be terrible and overused plot points but it would be cool to see that in the next Mario game…

….

Did this…answer the question? I feel like I got off track 😅

[dark-frosted-heart]

Clavis and Bun!Emma interactions from the event

Currently only common route and Clavis' POV (premium end). I'll reblog with Emma's POV later

gif from this video

Emmas supposed to be out in town finding a gift for a friend so Clavis isn't worried about her not being around

Bunny reminds Clavis of Emma. Clavis pets her so much that she tries to jump out of his hold, but he just holds her closer and nuzzles her face.

This time when he pets her, her body becomes so relaxed. Emma gives in to his touch.

Even as a rabbit, Clavis can see she's tsundere

Clavis proceeds to gush about how cute Emma is

He even so respectful with the bun, calling her bunny-dono 😭

Clavis brings Emma to his room in the castle, sets her down on the sofa, and goes to get her breakfast - a heaping helping of colorful salad made with foreign vegetables

As he watches the bun enjoy her food, he fantasizes about her meeting Emma. The cutest person in the world holding the cutest bunny in the world.

You could take a shot for each time Clavis says "cute"

As Clavis continues on and on about Emma, bun!Emma's suddenly hit with a wave of sadness since she can't be with him properly

Clavis brings the bun with him to work, the first stop being the foreign affairs office

Clavis shows the bun off to Chevalier while he has him sign some papers. Bun!Emma can't help but feel embarrassed at Clavis petting her

"Look how cute she is. She's cute, isn't she? I know she is. Rabbits are so adorable, but this one even more because she looks so much like Emma. Don't you think so?"

Cheva: Shut up and get out

Clavis borrows a rare book from Cheva that Emma's been dying to read and tells the bun about it. He'll give it to Emma after subjecting her to a series of traps

Hearing how Clavis is going to give it to her, the bun's filled with love and snuggles up against him

They head to the gardens where they find Luke lying on a bench

Luke finds it interesting that the bun's not approaching him since all animals do. Bun!Emma can see why animals are attracted to him but at the moment, she feels the safest in Clavis' arms.

Clavis holds up a rose petal to the bun, a new rose with a scent that Emma would like. Perfect to use for a trap for Emma.

The two head to the common room next where Nokto's lounging on the sofa. First thing he asks is if the bun's alive. Nokto gives Clavis the highest quality thread that Clavis says would be perfect for a net to hold Emma in

As they head back to Clavis room, with Clavis being as punch, he thinks about how much he enjoyed his day without Emma since he got to spend it with a bunny and think of ideas.

He's been planning a trap for Emma because of something she had said when he set a trap a while back - She hadn't had the opportunity to experience one of Clavis' traps in a while. So Clavis gotta fix that

The more Clavis looks at the bun, the more she reminds him of Emma.

He tells the bun that they're going to return to his room and make traps until Emma returns.

The way the bunny's become more accepting of his touch, he wonders if Emma would be the same if she showed her dere side more. He feels as if Emma's the one spoiling him

The bun nods off but as he works on his blueprint, she suddenly jumps off the sofa and starts pacing around. Clavis wonders if she's looking for something while at the same time thinking how cute she looks

The bun goes from his bookshelf to his desk. She pulls at his draw filled with secret stuff - in it contains records of Emma's reactions to his traps. Clavis isn't too worried since a bunny isn't supposed to be able to read his writing (or any writing at all clavis....). I forgot that Clavis has trouble reading his own handwriting sometimes

As Clavis thinks about how cute Emma is from some random moment in the past, he notices the bunny coming toward him

The bun jumps toward the hand that he holds out for her but it seems like she overcalculated and ended up kissing him instead

In the next moment, Emma appears before him, naked

While Clavis is trying to process what just happened, Emma realizes that she's naked so he wraps her in a blanket.

Well this means Emma saw everything Clavis was planning, which is embarrassing for him. At the same time, he's happy because he got to pamper her.

Clavis's blushing. From embarrassment, delight, or both? Who knows, but he can't have her see him like this so he hugs her tightly.

Emma: I want to see your face Clavis: Nope Emma: I'm probably blushing too so it's fine

Clavis gives in and they look at each other - Emma cute

The two share a kiss - bun!Emma was cute, but human!Emma's even cuter

Now he'll give her more love than he could when she was a bunny

[ophelia-writes-stuff]

♥ talk like an angel . oneshot ♥

. pairing : yandere!doctor!elvis x patient!fem!reader

. summary / request : after barely managing to escape with your life after a car crash, you're rushed to the hospital by medical professionals. elvis is assigned as your primary doctor, and you find yourself enjoying his company. he's sweet, caring, and also incredibly funny. though slightly off-put by some seemingly random gifts and love letters you get from an anonymous person, you manage to enjoy your time there. and yet, as time goes on, you grow increasingly unnerved as the letters and gifts get more personal, and to your horror, later come to the discovery that maybe elvis isn't quite as sweet as he portrays himself to be. (request from @itlover8000)

. notes / warning : depictions of a car crash, portrayals and mentions of death, survivor's guilt, dark/yandere themes that include stalking, manipulation, threatening, forced affection, allusions to kidnapping, swearing, physical abuse, intimidation, drugging, more may be added.

. word count : 6.7k

(♥) . . . request something . masterlist . taglist . navigation

It was a late summer afternoon, and the sun had only just set. You and your friends had been saved from the sweltering heat of Memphis, though it was still quite warm inside your car. Luckily, the cool wind blowing through the window saved all of you from the stickiness of the heat.

You and your friend Laura let out peals of laughter at Cindy's joke. You couldn't quite remember what it was about-- but nights like these typically went in that fashion. No one quite remembered what had happened a mere five minutes ago, much too focused on the present.

Cindy, too, joined in the laughter, eyes scrunching up in delight as soft giggles left her cherry-red lips. She was much too focused on her own laughter to notice a deer attempting to cross the road.

Eyes slowly returning to the street, Cindy let out an audible gasp as she rapidly slammed down on the brakes, all while mindlessly turning the car away from the poor animal.

You all but shrieked as the car promptly lost balance and swerved off of the street. It all went so quickly-- one moment you were on the road, giggling like idiots along with your friends, and in seconds, your world was turned upside down-- literally.

For many moments, you just hung in some uncomfortable position, wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness. Eventually, though, you did move, slowly-- perhaps too slowly-- unbuckling your seatbelt. You let out a displeased groan as your head promptly made harsh contact with the car's ceiling.

You stayed in that position for a while, too, the heat blazing from some unknown source slowly drawing you into a deep sleep. You didn't want to move-- felt as if it would take much too much energy and effort

And then, after regaining your barrings and realizing the situation at hand-- because, after all, your life was at stake-- you frantically unbuckled Laura's seatbelt, and then Cindy's. Their heads, too, hit the car ceiling, hard.

"Laura? Cindy? We need to get out of here..." Your voice hardly exceeded a whisper, much too weak to make any more sound. A series of coughs followed your statement, and you closed your now burning eyes-- as if it would help the situation.

You roughly shook their bodies in a futile attempt to wake them up, but found that they didn't move in the slightest.

"Laura!? Cindy!? Please! Please, I can't--" Realizing the weight of the situation, your eyes started to water. You wouldn't be able to drag them out of the car with you, and it was already on fire. If they didn't drag themselves out, they'd surely die.

Frantically, you clawed at Laura's ashy skin. Sobs racked your body. They needed to wake up.

Your breathing was ragged as you attempted to then wake up Cindy, but the heat of the blazing fire was hurting your skin, causing you to give up on the idea.

"C'mon guys-- I can't bring you guys out-- we-- we need to go..." Another series of coughs followed your pleas, and, eyes widening, you realized why they weren't responding.

It felt as though your body moved on its own as you dragged yourself out of the car, despite your desperate wanting to get back in as soon as possible to let your friends out-- despite knowing that, if you did, you'd be just as dead as them.

In moments after barely exiting the car and dragging yourself just off the road, you all-so-suddenly collapsed, your body no longer able to support your own weight. It made sense, too; you were sure that almost every bone in your body was broken. And you were just so, so tired.

Because all you felt was the heat radiating off the car, and your now burnt skin, and your aching bones.

The heat radiating off the car, your burnt skin, your aching bones...

The heat radiating off the car, your burnt skin, your aching bones...

You soon fell unconscious.

You woke up in an unfamiliar place.

A hospital, you'd soon come to realize, buzzing with doctors and employees from just outside your room.

"She's awake!" You heard a voice yell, followed by the presumable entering of another person.

"Leave me to her. I'll call you if I need any assistance," a male voice spoke. You couldn't yet see him, your eyes having not fully opened to accommodate any new light.

"Ms. L/n, I'm going to have to ask you to open your eyes, if you would be so kind," the deep voice then gently coaxed. Nodding slowly, you allowed your eyelids to open, and you blinked harshly at the bright lights shining above you.

"I can turn down the lights if you'd like?"

Nodding slowly, your lips curved into the faintest of smiles as the man did as he said he would.

Once your eyes had successfully adjusted to the softer lighting, you took notice of the man standing before you-- most likely a doctor, by the way he was dressed. Coifed, sleek black hair hung atop his angular head, and a small smile was planted on his lips. He looked no older than his mid-twenties.

"It's glad to see you in the land of the living, Ms. L/n. We weren't quite sure you'd make it," the man lightly joked, a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm your medical professional, Dr. Presley, but I'd prefer you call me Elvis. You were involved in a car crash 'bout a week ago, if you recall-- we got a call from someone who found your body near the site of the crash."

His voice then grew solemn, sympathy lacing his next few words. "Unfortunately, you were the only survivor. The other two didn't make it. 'm very sorry."

Although your recollection of the incident had been only but a hazy memory when you woke up, it all came crashing back at you at the mention of your friends. Your eyes quickly watered up with tears as you stared at the sheets of your bed shamefully.

"Laura and Cindy..." you mumbled, the memory slowly but surely coming back to you. Your hands then gripped the sheets tightly, as though they were an anchor.

Once your mind had fully registered the memory, your eyes widened. Your hands gripped the sheets tighter. Your voice barely exceeded a whisper as you spoke, "I did it, didn't I?" Desperation and guilt laced your voice as you said those words ever so quietly. "I killed 'em. I left them there to die--"

Elvis was quick to notice your almost incoherent mumbling, and all the more so to put an end to it. "You didn't kill them, Ms. L/n."

Your eyes wandered to his own. You shook your head in disbelief. He couldn't be right. You saw them-- they were in there. They couldn't move. If only you'd just been less selfish and saved just one of them! "No, you're wrong. I was there-- I saw them. I could've saved them-- I could have--"

Elvis knelt down and clasped your hand in his own. "Ya' couldn't have done anything. We ran procedures on their bodies. Even if you'd managed to drag 'em out of that car, they would've already been dead. They suffered too much trauma to have been saved by any doctor. You yourself only narrowly escaped with your life. You're incredibly lucky you're still alive. Be proud of that, that's what I say."

It was odd, to think that someone you'd just met could cool your nerves in so few sentences-- and even though you still felt guilty, Elvis certainly made you feel much better about yourself. Though you supposed it must have been part of the job-- he was a doctor, after all. Still, it was sweet-- he seemed to care about someone he barely knew.

"Thank you," is all you said in response, allowing your appreciative smile to speak for you. You were still quite exhausted. Elvis returned your smile warmly, before standing back up and walking further from your bed.

"Your family's been waitin' outside of here for a while. Ya' fine if I let 'em in?" To this, you slowly nodded, and Elvis swiftly exited the room. A silence permeated through the air for lingering moments, before the door swung open.

In came your worried mother and father. Your mother quickly rushed over to your bed, though she hugged you gently. You let out a small chuckle-- the best you could do without hurting your ribcage-- before she pulled away and smiled brightly in your direction.

Your father, stoic as ever, merely smiled at you, though you could tell from the new creases near his eyebrows and forehead that he may have been even more worried than your mother.

And then in came your boyfriend, who maintained a polite distance from you, though you could tell that, if your parents weren't there, he'd be much closer.

"Oh, Y/n! Me and your Pa have been so worried!" Your mother exclaimed, grabbing onto your father's shoulder for support. "We've been here night and day, I tell ya', darlin'-- every procedure, we've been there! We've just been so worried. We're so glad you're safe..."

The confession didn't help with the ever-growing guilt in your heart, and yet, in spite of your own feelings, you smiled warmly at your parents.

"Oh, and of course, this young fella's been here whenever he could be." Your mother pointed to your boyfriend, and you felt your heart swell in your chest at the comment.

"But we're just so glad you're safe... we were so worried..."

The rest of the interaction with your parents went on something like that until they eventually let you have some alone time with your boyfriend.

"Hey, honey. How's a' going?" Caring as ever, he sat at the foot of your bed and placed one hand on your leg carefully, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb through the sheets.

"Well-- everything just kind of... hurts." You let out a faint chuckle as your boyfriend stared at you sympathetically.

"Okay, I guess, I just," your voice dropped to a whisper as you continued, "I guess I just feel guilty. For, you know." You didn't want to utter their names-- felt as though doing so would make everything more real. The grief was still heavy on your shoulders.

Laura and Cindy were your two closest friends, and now they were gone, and you were left to fight the grief on your own. You felt angry at them, in a strange way, but you could never really be angry with them. You felt like you lost a part of yourself upon hearing of their deaths, and it hurt you. Even if you couldn't have saved them, you still felt such a pang of intense guilt that ate away at your flesh.

Because all you could wonder was, what if I had saved them? What if I had convinced them not to go to that restaurant?

What if...?

What if...?

What if?

You hadn't even noticed you were crying until you felt strong yet gentle hands engulf your fragile figure in a soft hug, and you let out a soft sob into your boyfriend's shoulder as you leaned into it. "It's okay, honey. It's not your fault. I just wish I had been there too..."

Your family and your boyfriend, after much convincing on your part (as they needed to get back to their own lives and take care of themselves), did eventually leave, though not without promising to visit almost every day. Knowing you wouldn't be able to convince them otherwise, you nodded in defeat and offered each one of them a supportive smile as they left. You were sure your parents needed the sleep, anyway.

Life in the hospital was odd, but it was nice-- nicer than one would expect. Your doctor-- Elvis-- was kind and thoughtful, more-so than he needed to be, you liked to think. He'd often sit in your room during his lunch break and eat and chat with you, which you always appreciated greatly.

The both of you bonded over practically everything, and you found yourself growing quite fond of the man. Had circumstances not drawn the two of you together so late in your life, you would have openly admitted that, had you met him before, you would have most certainly been the closest of friends with him.

"I actually wanted to be a musician when I was younger."

After some gentle prodding into Elvis's passions, he finally told you about them.

"Oh yeah?" You titled your head, invested in his next response. "Why'd you become a doctor, then?"

To this, Elvis shrugged and sank into the seat beside you. "I tried my hand in the music industry, but I jus' don't think it was for me. My music wasn't half bad, but people didn't like the way I moved."

"The way you moved?"

"The way I danced-- I liked to wiggle my hips a little. The audience wasn't much of a fan. Figured I oughta get a safer job with better pay." He shrugged. "Here I am."

"So, what-- you just gave up on your dream?"

All but surprised by your comment, Elvis stared at you, eyes swimming with confusion. "Well, I gave it my best shot, it just didn't work out."

A mischievous expression twinkled in your eyes. "One try and then it's over? That sounds like giving up to me. How about this-- you sing me a song, and I'll tell ya' if I think it's good or not.

An awkward silence settled as Elvis made his decision. And then, slowly, he nodded, and closed his eyes, as if to think of something. You stared at him in wonder as he sang.

"And yes, I know how lonely life can be," his voice weak on the first few words, but quickly grew in strength.

"When shadows follow me, the night won't set me free," his voice sounded like honey, sweet and smooth as he sang every word.

"But I don't let the evening get me down, now that you're around me."

Upon his eyes reopening, you clapped, impressed thoroughly by his musical ability. "That was wonderful!" You praised earnestly. It surprised you that Elvis gave up on a dream like that-- with such a talented voice, it seemed like a waste.

Elvis merely stared back at you, a dazed expression on his face, before slowly smiling and accepting the praise. His voice was quiet as he muttered a quick thanks, before exiting and saying something about getting back to work.

It was early in the morning when you woke up and found a gift at the side of your bed, accompanied by a card with a stamp shaped like a heart. Curiously, you first read the card and found written into it:

I remembered you mentioning that you loved stuffed animals and the color blue, so I thought I'd get you this. Although it cannot express well enough just how much you have filled my heart as of late, I hope it can somehow relay the message.

With love, Yours Truly.

You then opened the gift to find a blue stuffed bear inside. Your heart warmed at the thought of your boyfriend leaving you such things-- let alone remembering such small details about you! Abashedly, you had to admit, you yourself weren't quite as good at retaining that kind of info, so it made you feel all the more special.

Later, when your boyfriend visited you that day, you thanked him for the gift, to which he confusedly explained to you that he did not, in fact, buy you a gift. You delicately changed the subject after that and managed to convince yourself that he must have simply forgotten.

And yet, you couldn't help but wonder how could he have simply forgotten something like that?

Regardless, you were thankful for the present and found your gaze lingering on it quite often.

It wasn't even a week that had passed by the time you got a second one.

You opened the envelope of the card to find-- not a card, but a letter, and in it, inscribed a heartfelt and meaningful poem. You couldn't help the smile that grew as you read it, and found yourself blushing at many of the comments written in it.

You then opened the present to find an opulent necklace, littered with the finest of diamonds. Now, this drew your attention. Of course, you knew your boyfriend's job had quite decent pay, but this must have been worth at least a few months of wages. And so, you had to wonder: how could he have gotten all that money?

You thanked him and asked him about it, and once again, he was as confused as ever, leaving you to predict that perhaps it was not he who had given you the presents. But then you had to wonder: if not him, then who?

Deciding to ask Elvis since he must have had some insight into the subject (after all, you doubted anyone was sneaking in and leaving you a present), during your shared lunch together, you inquired about the gifts. At the mention of them and your expressed lack of knowledge on exactly who was giving them to you and your initial belief of it being your boyfriend, Elvis grew quiet for a long, hard moment, before replying, "I really don't know."

Slowly nodding, confusion evident on your face, you allowed the topic to fizzle out into a different conversation with Elvis.

As weeks passed in the hospital you didn't receive any more gifts, though you had started getting into therapy for walking and using your limbs after so long, which you picked up relatively easily. Still, the nurses who specialized in the field ensured you were careful, not wanting to provoke your injuries whatsoever, which you supposed made sense.

After about a month or so passed, the nurses finally decided that you were ready to return to your home so that you could resume your daily life, to which you were more than glad. Other than bi-weekly checkups, you'd finally be free of the hospital that you'd been stuck in for ever so long.

"I'm gonna miss ya'," Elvis said, offering you a gentle hug. You rolled your eyes fondly as you accepted it, knowing full well he was being overdramatic.

"I'm still going to see you every week, Elvis. Twice."

Still, the goodbye left you feeling somewhat bitter, knowing you wouldn't be able to see Elvis daily from now on.

Life at home felt normal, in a sense. Of course, you weren't out and about quite as much as you'd been before the crash (and although you hated to think about it, it would make sense since your friends were gone), but it was nice to be able to live your life without the confines of a hospital.

Letting out a content sigh, you opened the door to your porch, keen on spending some time outside and getting some well-needed fresh air. That was, until you found a gift in front of the door.

Your brows laced together as you stared at the gift, and the letter on top of it, which so clearly resembled the ones you'd gotten at the hospital. You'd be a fool not to conclude that they were both from the same person.

Cautiously, you looked around you to see if anyone was watching-- because as paranoid as you may be, you were still getting love letters from an anonymous source who now apparently knew the location of your house-- before taking the present and card and slipping into your home, locking the door behind you.

Firstly opening the letter, you found another quite beautifully written love letter (this much, you had to admit), though what concerned you was what was written on the bottom.

To my dearest Y/n,

I know you love candies, I've seen you at that small bakery just down the street from your house, so I truly hope you enjoy this gift. I got it just for you.

You know, I find it quite odd how you wander around those stores and buy so little baked goods, but I suppose that's my purpose, and I in no way oppose that duty. I simply hope that someday we'll be able to go together, just so that I can make sure I buy your favorites.

With love, Yours Truly.

At the mention of the bakery you frequented, your stomach twisted with unease; you'd only gone there less than a day ago.

Once you opened the present, your heart only sank deeper into your stomach. Inside was a box of heart-shaped chocolates from said bakery-- a warm gesture, had you known who it was from at the very least.

But that was just it. You didn't. Whoever was sending you these knew both where you lived and where you went, which only unnerved you all the more.

A loud knock at your door quickly startled you out of your thoughts, and you quickly hid the chocolates and wrappers upon hearing your parents beckon for you. You'd forgotten that they said they were coming over.

The rest of the evening went by relatively calmly, your mind buzzing with worried thoughts and your parents cooling your nerves. Dinner was all but one of the best ones that you had, though you couldn't deny the sinking feeling in your stomach that grew upon saying goodbye to your parents.

Of course, you knew they'd drop everything and anything in the blink of an eye to stay with you had you asked, but you couldn't find it in your heart to ask them to do so-- they'd already given up so much for you.

And so, once they left, you quickly closed your door and locked it, and ensured all the windows to your home were locked, too. You didn't need any other things to keep you awake at night.

And yet, in spite of your trust in the blinds that covered your widows and the locks that sealed your doors, you simply felt exposed. And, sure, it was dramatic, but you simply couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched as your head hit the pillow and as you were slowly lulled into a deep sleep.

Despite your recent unease, life carried on as it always did. You had checkups with Elvis twice every week, your boyfriend would be over at your house constantly, making you dinner and such, and your parents would insist on visiting you nearly every day.

And yet, the ongoing buzz of the passing days was not enough to quell your buzzing mind and your thoughts of more pressing and recent matters.

The death of your friends was still something you felt the burden of, and regardless of the irrationality of the whole ordeal, you felt as though it was somehow your fault that they weren't still alive, living and breathing.

You also couldn't take your mind off the gifts you'd been getting, and the letters that were growing increasingly personal. They'd mention places that you'd been to mere days before and mentioned things about your past that not many were heavily informed on.

There were some nights when you'd go out and would find things like dresses and purses which you had all but glanced at the stores, and after about ten seconds of deciding whether or not you desired them to be your own, deemed them too expensive, but then later found them at your doorstep. Those types of gifts unnerved you incredibly, especially since they'd sometimes appear on your doorstep before you even came home.

There were also times that, after hanging out with your boyfriend or someone you'd met recently, the letters would lightly suggest that you stopped spending time with them, and would often go into detail as to why. And, although you didn't often listen to them, you certainly considered it.

You'd also considered calling the police about the issue several times, but what would you say? Hey, someone's been leaving me an excessive amount of presents in the past weeks. I don't know who they're from, so could you please track them down and tell them to stop? The question simply seemed preposterous.

And so, with a heavy heart, you kept it all to yourself-- only went so far as to suggest that your boyfriend stay the night with you so that you'd feel safer. Of course, you'd never tell him the real reason, only spun harmless white lies that you didn't quite need, anyway, as he was always willing to drop anything for you.

It was about an hour before noon when you went to get your presumably last checkup, and you were overjoyed. you'd finally be able to completely return to your normal life-- almost. Of course, you couldn't forget what you lost in that crash, but you were glad at the prospect of no longer having to visit the hospital, a place that constantly reminded you of your losses.

Walking into your designated room, Elvis turned around and smiled in your direction, and gestured for you to come closer. You obliged, and Elvis walked towards you and began running the normal procedures.

"You sure seem happy today," he remarked, to which you smiled wider.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"It isn't because you're glad of gettin' rid of me, is it?"

As the question, a small giggle erupted from your lips as you shook your head.

More witty banter ensued as Elvis did your checkup, and you appreciated it-- his seemingly natural ability to make you forget your circumstances and to simply focus on the moment. 

Once you were just about finished with your checkup, Elvis shot you a grin and a thumbs up that seemed to indicate for your departure, but none was such the case. Just as you waved goodbye and spun on your heel in an effort to leave, Elvis spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“Hey, Y/n, I was actually been meaning to ask you something before ya’ left.” 

Turning around at the statement you were all but taken aback at Elvis’s seemingly nervous demeanor. He’d never been anything short of confident since you’d met him, so you were curious as to what he was going to say.

“Shoot.”

Elvis cleared his throat before he spoke. “What do you think about… getting dinner sometime? With me?” He paused, cleared his throat. “A date.” 

The question rendered you speechless for quite some time. Ever since you’d met Elvis, you’d assumed that he was married– if not already settled down with some children. After all, why wouldn’t he be? He was charming, kind, and you had to admit that he was easy on the eyes.

“Oh, um, Elvis, that’d be wonderful, but…” You shifted awkwardly in your place. You never liked delivering bad news. “I’m– I’m sorry, but I have a boyfriend.”

At the rejection, Elvis’s eyes flashed with an emotion that you couldn’t recognize and he opened his mouth as if to speak before it quickly snapped closed. Solemnly, he nodded and gestured to the exit.

You didn’t like saying goodbye to someone with such bitterness, but you knew no amount of solace or apologies would mend the situation. Truth be told, you had never expected Elvis to develop romantic feelings for you, and you felt utterly despicable for rejecting him after everything he'd done for you, but you knew it had to be done. You had a boyfriend, whom you adored, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Unfortunately, you later found that that wasn’t your decision to make. 

A single letter was left on your doorstep the following morning.

There was no gift in sight, which both calmed your nerves while simultaneously sending them into an erratic frenzy.

You'd grown used to seeing the letters attached to some paper-wrapped box, but never had you seen one, alone on your doorstep.

You'd never noticed how dark the red of the heart-shaped stamp was, not until today. Or maybe it just wasn't that color until today. You didn't know, but you did have to admit that it did resemble the color of blood.

You shook your head at the thought of the ominous detail, successfully scattering your thoughts. You were merely overreacting.

And yet, your heart pounded fiercer than ever as you brought the letter over to your table. You were much too preoccupied with examining it to remember to lock your front door.

Slowly, fearfully, you opened the letter, sliding it out and taking a deep breath before reading it. Your breath caught in your throat as you did so.

Y/n,

I am truly very disappointed that you denied my proposal! I love you, as I am sure you must know by now, and it breaks my heart to see you choose him over me.

I realize now that I must take control of the situation. I had initially expected for things to go smoothly, but I suppose nothing goes quite as planned.

I'll see you soon.

With Love, Yours Truly.

You felt sick to your stomach. The letter slipped out of your hand, and you let it. Slowly walking backward, you recounted your interactions with Elvis.

But how could it have been him? He seemed so nice, and he seemed so respectful, too. And yet, looking back on it, it all made sense. From how he got your address to the fact that the gifts temporarily stopped when you brought the subject up to him--

You bumped into something warm.

You froze for a moment before you tried to quickly move away from it. Your attempt was futile, however, as the figure, much faster than you, wrapped one arm around your torso and the other rested firmly on top of your mouth, successfully pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You tried to let out some kind of scream-- a sound-- anything to alert someone that you were in danger-- but your voice was muffled by the figure's hand.

"Now, darlin', do you really think anyone's gonn' hear you?" Elvis's voice was deep as he whispered those words into your ear, the warmth from his breath sending a shiver down your spine. It sounded almost as though he was scolding you.

Your attempts to scream came to a halt and you felt a satisfied hum rumble from Elvis's chest. "Good girl."

To say that you were shaking would have been an understatement. You were trembling, your breathing ragged as your hands quivered. You were unable to do so much as to lean away from the man who held you ever so firmly in his grasp.

There was silence, for a long moment-- a silence that you did not dare to break.

"Y'know, Y/n, things could have gone by so much easier if you'd just gone out with me," Elvis then said, one of his hands idly toying with your clothing and brushing over your skin. You didn't even bother trying to pull away-- you knew you wouldn't be strong enough. "But now-- look what ya've done! You messed this entire thing up. This entire thing."

His hand traveled lower along your body, slowly, almost imperceptibly.

"I liked this dynamic-- doctor and patient? Would've liked to have kept that up."

Both of Elvis's arms then detached from your body, and he walked in front of your figure. He cupped your cheek and rubbed what would have been soothing circles along your skin, had the current circumstance been different.

"Oh baby, why'd you have to go choosin' that son of a bitch of a boyfriend of yours over me? Don't you know how much I've invested in ya'?" Elvis let out a scoff. "Probably more than he's made in a lifetime."

You didn't respond-- felt as if he didn't specifically want you to. Elvis paused, his anger slowly fizzling into an almost pleased sort of emotion.

"But it's fine. I took care of him, so you won't have to worry about him getting in our way. You hear that? He won't bother you no more."

At his statement, your eyes grew wide, having an idea of his implications. At your reaction, Elvis seemed to grin even wider-- as if your fear offered him even more pleasure.

"You look so pretty like that..." He then muttered mindlessly, his eyes slowly wandering to your lips. He brought his hand over to them and brushed his thumb over them. He smiled slyly, his eyes resembling that of a serpent.

And then, slowly, tenderly, he kissed you, and you let him-- kissed him back, even. It wasn't like you had much of a choice, so you gave in-- drank his invigoratingly sweet poison. You allowed Elvis's hands and tongue to roam your body as he did so before he deepened the kiss-- turned it into something hungry and desperate.

At that point, you tried to push him away, tried to stop this from becoming all too much all too soon, tried to gain some distance from him-- but his grip on your body suddenly grew firm to the point where you were sure you were going to get bruises by the way his fingers dug into your skin, and he bit down on your lip, hard, as if to scold you.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled away, but lingered inches away from your face. Unease crept up your spine as he stared at you, passionately, intensely, before saying, "Grab your things."

You didn't know what to say before Elvis pointed to your bedroom. You then simply nodded and ran upstairs. To both your surprise and delight, Elvis didn't follow. And so, heart palpitating in your chest, you walked up to your bedroom and closed the door as silently as you could before locking it.

You had to get out.

You quickly searched your bedroom for a phone of some kind-- anything to contact the police or the outside world and to alert them that you needed help-- but found that it was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach sank. I need to get out of here.

Loud, heavy footsteps hit your ears as you searched for some different way out. They were slow, but calculated, and took their time between each step.

It was then that you realized: he was baiting you.

Still, you wouldn't let your moment go to waste. Your eyes flitted to your bedroom window.

Bingo.

You rushed over to it and unlocked it, before trying to pry it open. And yet, despite your efforts, it wouldn't budge. You pushed and pushed and yet it remained firm in place, strong as ever.

Oh god, you couldn't breathe. Why on Earth wouldn't it move-- the one time you needed it to open? You weren't oblivious to the footsteps coming closer as you tried to do anything to make the goddamn window open. You didn't care if you needed to break some bones on the way out-- you just needed to get the fuck out of here.

"Y/n?" Elvis's voice beckoned for you as he approached, like a predator teasing its prey. "You almost done in there?"

You didn't speak-- you couldn't speak. You were so close-- so close-- to being able to leave, to calling the cops, anything. And yet, it seemed as if the universe found it entertaining to taunt you with the impossible.

The footsteps were suddenly put to a halt, and Elvis knocked on the door. "You still in there?" His voice was calm, peaceful, in a way. It lacked any sense of urgency or worry.

It was then that you realized: you weren't getting out. You didn't know how, but you did know that, somehow, Elvis planned this-- after all, why would he be so calm in this situation?

Elvis tried to open the door, but the lock stopped him from doing so (one thing that actually worked in your household). You could hear him let out a small, quiet chuckle before he spoke, amusement prominent in his voice.

"Y/n, the window's locked."

At that simple statement, you froze. Your hands shook as you ceased all movements and just stood there in shock. How did he know? How could he see you?

Elvis knocked on the door once more which-- you had to admit, you almost found funny, because why would he offer you the courtesy of opening the door to your own bedroom and not the door to your own goddamn house?-- before saying, "Baby, would ya' mind lettin' me in?"

Maybe, if you could move, for fear you would have, but you couldn't. You only stared at the door in terror, unease settling uncomfortably in your stomach. You wanted oh-so desperately to move, to speak, anything, but you were paralyzed, trapped inside your own body and your own mind.

"Oh Y/n, c'mon now. I know you can open this door, and there's no way outta' that room." Your body finally released you from its firm grip of paralysis at that statement, and you were able to move once more.

And then, finally, you opened your mouth to speak. "Elvis...? Why are you here?"

Your voice was shaky, but the words managed to get through eventually. The fear was evident in your voice as you spoke. You stared at the door, afraid of what his answer might be.

"Baby, all I want is to take care of ya'. Isn't that all you've wanted? Someone to take care of you and to make you feel safe?" His tone was sincere, and you found yourself almost falling for his deception. And yet, you were no fool-- you were now aware of the duplicitous man he was.

Elvis let out a small, light-hearted laugh before continuing. "Now, why don't you open the door and let me in? There's nowhere else you can go." The ending sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. Still, you didn't open the door-- only hoped that by some miracle the moment would end.

This, as it turns out, was a large mistake.

Elvis's tone turned from soft to infuriated in a matter of seconds as he banged loudly on the door. "Y/n, you better open this goddamn door right now." You let out a small, panicked sound at the harshness of his voice as you curled up in a ball and closed your eyes, as if that could somehow make you feel safer or make him leave.

You didn't listen to what he said next, only heard the loudness of his words that banged against your skull. And then, the loud slamming of a door opening. You let out a pained cry as you felt rough hands pull your hair in their direction.

"You just can't make this goddamn easy, can you?!" A loud voice screamed into your ear. "I've given you do goddamn many chances, but you just think you're so high and above them! Is that it?!"

Elvis tugged harshly on your hair at your lack of response. "Answer me, goddamnit!" But you couldn't-- could only let out a muffled whimper as he did so. He then paused, chest heaving for breath, and let go of you, slowly.

Elvis sat down beside you and placed one hand on your cheek, lovingly, sweetly, as if the moments just minutes prior hadn't occurred. "You look so pretty when you cry..." He muttered, guiding your face to look in his direction. "But you have to do what I say when I tell you. You got that, baby? Whatever I say, every time-- or I'm gonna have to go out and hurt some people, and neither of us wants that, do we?"

Head slowly shaking side to side, you agreed. Elvis smiled. "Good girl. Now, I didn't want to have to do this, but seeing as you've misbehaved so much, I'm afraid have to." Staring at Elvis fearfully, he offered you a sympathetic glance. "Don't worry, it won't hurt for long."

It was then that you felt a stinging pain in your neck. Unsure as you what exactly was happening, you attempted to pull away, but Elvis's grip grew tighter as he held you in place. Despite knowing that your efforts would be in vain, you thrashed against him, but he only held you closer, fingers digging deeper into your skin as you did so.

And then, slowly, you felt a certain exhaustion run through you as you eventually leaned right into Elvis's arms and were lulled into a deep sleep.

want to join my taglist?

taglist: @iloveaustinelvis, @powerofelvis, @kendralavon7, @bobthefishiesworld

[gravityglitch-blog]

The Amazing Digital Circus, as seen by a Murder Drones fan

("Candy Carrier Chaos" inspired me to write this. Fair warning, it's a long one. Potential spoilers ahead)

I stumbled into the indie animation scene on YouTube by accident. It was like finding hidden treasure. I have no hate for the big-name studios, but everything I'd been seeing up until then seemed...homogenized...over-processed, somehow? It's hard to describe. Like eating fast food when you want a home cooked meal.

Now here were stories that were all wonderfully different, in subject matter and style. I started with "Lackadaisy", which was so beautiful, it left me stunned.

(The only reason you don't see more Lackadaisy fanart from me is because it's difficult drawing cats. I'm practicing, though.)

A few more clicks brought me to "Murder Drones", and it was love at first sight.

I connected to Uzi's character within her first minutes on-screen. Despite the dark tone of the story, I still hold out hope for a good ending.

Then I started seeing teasers for a new series, "The Amazing Digital Circus".

The art style and bright colors weren't my usual speed, but I decided to check it out anyway.

Personal confession, "Digital Circus" scares me more than "Murder Drones". While "Murder Drones" wears its horror inspirations on its sleeve, to me, it's more the "cool" kind of horror that I would scribble on my notebooks between classes.

Vampires, monsters, battling the forces of darkness while jamming to nightcore, you get the idea.

I have legitimately had nightmares that look like the "Digital Circus". Strange worlds of twisted colors and shapes, people I don't know, doors and staircases that lead nowhere.

All that said, I did enjoy the pilot, I found the setup and the characters interesting, and wanted to see more.

Side note, I know the studio sometimes seems to favor "Digital Circus", and it causes some resentment between the fandoms.

For myself, I see our fandoms as siblings. Let us watch our faves (hopefully) triumph over the horrors together.

This brings me to "Candy Carrier Chaos".

It happened to debut on one of my bad days, when I was feeling down, to put it mildly.

Like I didn't matter. Like no one would notice or remember me if I were gone.

And so that opening scene of Pomni's nightmare hit me like a punch in the gut.

I won't go into the episode's plot too much, as I'm sure others here have already done that and better than I ever could. The whole reason I'm writing this is because of that ending.

The members of the Circus take the time and care to remember the friend they lost in the pilot, apparently the latest of many.

They all feel the pain of loss, of being trapped in this strange world. But they still have each other. For now, at least.

The look on Pomni's face when she realizes she's not alone. When her vision replays, it has changed.

Now, there are helping hands to take hold of her. To pull her back up out of the darkness.

I honestly became a little teary-eyed at that scene. It got me thinking, "maybe the bad days are liars. Maybe I would be missed, after all."

The power of storytelling through animation. With all my heart, I hope this medium continues to grow and flourish. To any aspiring animators and artists out there, this random Tumblr person asks, please don't give up the dream. There are people out there that need to hear your stories.

In the meantime, Pomni remains where she is...and so do I. Thank you so much if you've read this whole thing. I really appreciate it.

[tezuze]

So, I didn’t make any art for Odaiba day because I’m a procrastinator, but I thought I’d tell my story of how I got into Digimon because I think it’s kinda funny and personally I like reading stuff like that so I thought at least one person might get a kick out of it.

Obviously gonna put this below the cut because it's a lil long

I had very very passing awareness of digimon before getting into it, like I knew Agumon but didn’t know its name, and I watched part of a random episode as a kid and didn’t like that they talked for some reason, and that’s as far as my knowledge went. But I had a friend who really liked digimon and really wanted me to get into it.

My first real experience was that friend showing me episode 4 of adventure and I was very alarmed that Biyomon was a digimon and not a Chocobo like I thought.

The episode didn’t really sell the series to me, so I didn’t touch the franchise for another couple of years. I gained more passing knowledge through my friend and loved random digimon I thought were funny, mostly Togemon and Bakemon which I lovingly referred to as the “punching cactus” and “teethy ghost”, respectively.

Cut to my friend finds a V-pet at our local game store, so I bought one too because I always wanted a Tomogachi and thought it’d be fun to make our guys fight.

I loved my little guy! I thought little pixel Pagumon and Garurumon were so cute but had no idea what they actually looked like!

Later still, I had an itch to play a monster collector but wasn’t interested in replaying any of the Pokémon games I already owned, so my friend offered to borrow their copy of Next Order. I thought I’d give it a shot especially since I liked some of the V-pet guys.

Oh boy was that a learning curve. The only other monster collector I played was Pokémon so digimon not being exactly like Pokémon confused my small brain. (Wait, so digimon can evolve into whatever, but they also can’t?) (They have canon evolution lines but they also don’t?) (Turuiemon was just made but Lopmon has been around forever??) (MY SWEET PUNCHING CACTUS EVOLVES INTO A WOMAN WHAT.)

Anyway I enjoyed the game but didn’t really interact with the series much, until my friend and I were bored and threw adventure on in the background because I was like “Oh I know some digimon, it’d be cute to see them animated!”

I did think adventure was cute, but didn’t give it much credit at the time. It wasn’t until we moved on to 02 and I was actively sobbing at the end of Ken’s arc that I was like “Wait what, this is actually good????” And insisted we watch every installment of the franchise.

And now we cut to modern day, I’m sitting with my same friend, sweating and violently scribbling on my tablet with a deranged look in my eye, and they’re asking if I’m drawing Ruli’s friends again.

Oh yeah, and happy Odaiba day!!!!

As always I would love to hear everyone else's stories of how they got into Digimon if you would like to share!!

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

Tales From Earthsea:

I don't think it could have been better, but it was just so off from from the books it was mainly drawing its inspiration from (I mean, I had no interest in seeing that weird weaver guy decide to off himself in the boat, but still).

Studio Ghibli is the perfect studio to capture the Le Guin vibe and yet Goro torched it so hard for no reason

To give credit where it is due, the film has some good settings and animation. Unfortunately, its beauty is only on the surface, and it is the worst Studio Ghibli movie I’ve seen. (I’ve seen almost all of them but Earwig and the Witch.) The plot is a collage of random bits of context from the first four books of the series, as well as its own stuff. It really is not the same story at all. I may have enjoyed it more if I had seen it as a child before reading the books, but not covering all the events exactly isn’t the only issue, it’s just worse. It takes the moral complexity and sensibility of the original and turns it into a typical fantasy war between good and evil (the Japanese title even translates to Ged’s War Chronicles) with emphasis on physical violence, in which evil is personified as a goth queer-coded villain whose death resolves everything. It completely misses the point of the books, which gives no such simple answers and is more focused on the darkness within everyone than an external battle. Where is the nuance? It also whitewashes everyone: most of the characters in the book are dark-skinned, but in the movie…

I was also bitter that they did my favourite character, Tehanu/Therru, dirty. She’s supposed to be horribly scarred and disfigured on half her body and reviled by people as a monster but in the movie she’s just a pretty girl with a red mark on her face. In the books, she doesn’t appear until the fourth book, Tehanu, which takes place after Lebannen is grown up and ruling a kindgom, and in which she is a mostly-nonverbal child. But here she’s aged up and thrown into the earlier story to give the protagonist a love interest and the film has him stay with them so it can focus on their romance. Even though a plot-relevant part of his character as well is his lack of interest in women and not settling into a relationship despite the people’s wishes.

Basically, they whitewashed, heteronormatized, macho-ified, and de-nuanced the narrative, and also took out the feminism.

On top of this, trying to cram the whole series into one movie is just not a good idea, and it would have been better to just decide on one book to adapt and do more justice. And yet they still added in so much that didn’t happen. When you have that much material to cover, you don’t have time or budget to be putting other things in, mate. Turning four books into one results both in a mess. Abridgment is one thing; taking particular aspects of different parts of the timeline and combining them in different ways is another. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. It’s in an unfortunate middle area where it doesn’t follow the source material but also doesn’t give enough context that people unfamiliar with the source understand. For Earthsea fans, it’s infuriating; for others, it’s confusing. Also, why did they name it after the fifth book, which is a short story collection that it doesn’t reference whatsoever?

The failure of the movie is upsetting because the books are sooo good. Yet, it was the highest-grossing Japanese movie of the year, and did win a couple awards… The Bunshun Kiichigo awards for “Worst Director” and “Worst Movie”.

The Golden Compass:

The Golden Compass isn't even the title of the book! It's called Northern Lights! And now there are editions of the book with the wrong title on them. Enfuriating. Anyways, the movie tries to follow the books story and fails completely because they don't kill off a character because they wanted a happy ending when that character being dead is crucial to the story in the third book. Also they made Mrs. Coulter blonde. Unforgivable.

They remove the ending of the book so it has a happy ending and I guess leave it for a better beginning to the second movie, only of course they never made a second movie cause the first one bombed. They also rearranged the order of the events, and, more importantly, made it lose its bite by removing darker elements and removing explicit critique of the catholic church by making the antagonistic magisterium way more generic

Terrible movie. The acting is awful, especially Mrs. Coulter, whose character in the books is chilling because of her smooth, sweet nature that belies a deep sinister calucating mind. Plus they butchered the story and took out any mention of the church as the main villain for fear of offending Christians. This ultimately defeats the purpose of the book. I hate this movie so much it's unreal

[alloru]

Hey!! I was scrolling through your blog and got an idea, would you be up do doing a series of art based on random colours? Like- drawing something you assosiate with it or something inspired by it, etc etc 👀

oooh that's definitely a good idea!! it's one of the prompts I had lying around for an inktober some time in the future (I want to try practicing animals this year)!

I can assure you that I'll try it, however there's lots of stuff scheduled for artfight and other wips I'm finishing up, so it might take a while!!

have a lovely next 24 hours! :DD

[eferhilda-drake]

So. Curretly working on my own series and with the controversy of of Alastor, I thought it would be fun redesigning him as if he was in my series.

So a small summery of my mini series. I also have characters based off of deer. They were originally human, but because of the sins they committed, they were not allowed in heaven. However, with how some of their sins are not to severe, or they tried to gain salvation after years of working for themselves, they are allowed to redeem themselves in Purgatory. Purgatory also serves as getting extra workers as the grim reapers are understaffed. So the sinners how to help collect souls. The sinners get more animal features that natural born reapers dont usually show.

Of course I had to do some tweaking .with Alastor's character for him to be aloud to work in Purgatory. A sinner is put with a mentor/guide, and its usually random unless you have a certain trait. In Al's case, he was put in the group because of how he used to hunt people like deer, so it only make sense for him to be a deer. Now onto the inspiration of this design.

First off, the deer I used for him is a white tailed deer. The reason was in Louisianna, theres a few deer species. White Tail, Axis, and Fallow. I went with white tail as they are the most commonly hunted deer, which is ironic for Alastor.

Now for the suit. I was looking for 1920s suit and decided to keep the pinstripes. For the coloring I made it a red brownish color as brown suits/vests are whats worn with the Stags and Does group hes in. I was originally gonna give him a plaid suit, but I just couldnt draw it right. And I decided to keep his bowtie. Though, this is originally the suit I based it on

For the glasses I ditched the monocle and went with prince-nez as it was a good choice in the during the time of his death as a way to be socially acceptable to wear glasses. I also like the idea of connecting the chain to his antler.

So this is a major thing I changed about Alastor. With him being in Purgatory, youre supposed to work on yourself to get accepted into heaven, with the mentor/guide giving you the ok. (or at least youre supposed to. Some like working as a grim reaper and want to stay).

On his suit, I added hyacinth flowers. They are used to symbolize sorrow and regret. They are often used as an olive branch to try and gain forgiveness for a mistake.  Now, we dont know who exactly he killed. It could be innocent people, or bad people like hes some vigilante. In this redesign and rewrite, I like to think he killed innocent people at first but ends up getting a pleasure of killing terrible people, as a way to knock them off a peg. Making it more satisfying for him. Him wearing hyacinths, could represent of him feeling sorry for the innocent people he killed.

And lastly because I wanted to show hes still Alastor, I let him keep his microphone cane as he can still do a part time job being a radio host. I also tried to make him more white passing and tried to add features that he could be to show hes mixed like his wavy hair and more of thicker lips. I wanted to give him a 1930s hairstyle, but I just like the idea of hair falling on his face a bit. I was also unsure if I shouldve added a mustache for him, cause I think he'd look good as one.

[areanoodles]

Sunny and Luna madison headcanons!?

I have quite some headcanons, so this might be long. I also don't know if the headcanons in this post will be all of my headcanons, I might forget to add my other headcanons for them if I have any others. But anyways....

Headcanons are inspired by @rainbowhighheadcanons and by the fandom

Speaking of headcanons inspired by @rainbowhighheadcanons

●I like the idea of luna and violet being in a relationship or fling, as well as violet having feelings for luna

●Viluna(violet x luna) is an interesting ship with potential.

The ship is pretty much stuck in my head.

●Luna and Sunny were very close when they were younger, and started to depart during junior high

●I think the reason to why luna and sunny started getting distant was because of their interest(luna liking movies and stuff, while Sunny likes anime and cartoons), but I also think there's many other reasons for why they didn't have a good relationship. Such as violet maybe being the main cause.

●luna used to tease violet by calling her purple when they were younger(luna calls violet “purple” in the one episode in season 3 when they hacked into rainbow vision). Violet got used to the nickname over time and didn’t mind it eventually.

●Sunny mentions that her 10th, 11th, and 13th birthday was an escape room. I like to headcanon that their 12th birthday was something luna wanted to do and that luna dislikes escape rooms, and wasn’t very good at them.

●Luna tends to feel like an outcasts in groups. She felt like an outcast when she would be around violet, sunny, and their moms. Seeing how violet and sunny’s dynamic is, and how their moms dynamic is. She felt out of place not having her own counterpart to be around(This was a headcanon I had earlier on before the others).

●Sunny likes to draw with Luna, and would sometimes go to Luna for comfort.

●I used to have a headcanon where Luna also went to Shadow high because rainbow high didn’t have a film focus, but that changed once there were some rainbow high characters with a film focus.

●Luna likes physical affection, it varies though. Sometimes she’ll hug sunny(Like give her morning hugs when they were back home for the summer from their schools)

●Sunny is very much a physical affection person. Hugging people 24/7

●Sunny and Luna are very creative, so they’ll make anything out of anything. From random boxes all over the house to making some sort of creation. Sunny loves to make bracelets as well.

●When re-pairing their relationship, it was a bit awkward, but they overcame it and made up

●Even when Luna and Sunny were distant, they still deeply cared about each other(Even trying to check up on each other through text)

●I headcanon sunny as clumsy as well, she mentions that in episode 4 of season 4 during project rainbow.

●I remember having a headcanon where sunny and violet had this build-a-bear plushy and pretended to be the parents to the plushy.

●When they were younger, sometimes they’ll watch what each other wanted to watch(for example, if sunny wanted to watch a cartoon with Luna, Luna would give in and watch it with her).

●Luna’s best friend in Shadow high is Shanelle Onyx

●Sunny and Luna work together on a few projects together(when they’re at home back for the summertime), combining animation with live action. They do like short films sometimes for fun. They just like crafting together.

●Sunny likes Monster high, while Luna likes Ever After high.

I know it would be the opposite that luna would like monster high and sunny would like ever after high, but I like the idea of liking the opposite things.

●Sunny acts a bit different around Luna. Sunny acts a bit more chill around her sometimes and also tends to curse around Luna, and only Luna.

I know sunny would be the type to not curse at all, but her only saying curse words around luna is just a funny silly idea I came up with.

This is what I have so far. I honestly wish their relationship was more explored through the series. I always obsess over any little small details we get about the two because I'm obsessed with the madison twins. I also feel like they'd be unstoppable. I also would think(back during the beginning of season 3)that they called each other the evil twin mainly because they weren't on good terms. I might have more headcanons for them later on.

This post is long as it is, I might as well make a whole other post for them.

Luna is my favorite out of the two. I just find her interesting and funny at times. I love sunny as well. But, luna is my favorite.

But anyways, that's all, I just wanted to do this headcanon post.

Bye

[miradelletarot]

Please give us some random facts about Sagora like how does Sagora smile? Does she show teeth? Also is she a elf or an half-elf?

You wanna know about my wittle baby!? 🥹 I'm honored!

She's a wood, half-elf, in her mid 30s (half elves age at the same rate as humans do, they just live longer as my understanding goes with D&D lore).

Before the events with the absolute, she was actually preparing to take her mother's place as the first druid of their Grove. But then she met Gale, saved the world, and the rest is history lol (if you're not reading it, you should check out my series on AO3. It was intended as a way for me to flesh out her backstory!)

She's also horribly afraid of spiders. So much so that she avoids wild shaping into one at all costs. Unfortunately, I never wrote about it (though I wish I had,) but I had this funny little idea that during their adventure she had to wild shape into a giant spider and walked in front of a mirror forgetting that she was one and freaked out. All eight spindly legs splayed out around her as she scrambled around in an absolute panic.

Of course, Astarion laughed at her as did everyone else... Gale included. But, he stifled his laughter and helped her back on her feet. All eight of them LOL. In fact, he thought it was really cute actually. (Damn it, now I wish I had written this as part of a feelings realization chapter in my series but oh well.)

She also had a tendency to find injured animals as a child (in all shapes and sizes,) and spend her days nursing them back to health so she could release them back into the wild. She hated seeing them hurt and helpless. Definitely an animals are better than people kinda person 😂 #DruidThings

As for her smile? Well now, that all depends on the situation! If she's talking to Gale, it can range anywhere from the shy half smile to a full-blown face scrunching grin. He has that way about him...able to draw out the peak of every good feeling from her. He loves to see her smile, and will stop at nothing to see it.

Usually though, when dealing with others she's not as comfortable with, she'll offer a mouth-closed kinda smile. Simple, polite. Nothing flashy. Close friends and family get the full display... Mostly because she endured a lot of trauma (a LOT) so she really needs to warm up to you, or feel a strong connection intuitively that let's her know she can trust you.

Thanks so much for the Ask, Anon! I hope you enjoyed me yapping about my favorite OC hehe 😁

[quietpossum]

Do you have any tips on coming up with plot ideas? I’ve been wanting to write a sonadow fic of my own and I felt like asking because aurum, wolfboy, and child of prophecy are seriously some of the greatest fics I’ve ever read in my life lol I always wonder how you come up with these things

Hi! Thanks for asking! Unfortunately explaining how I come up with ideas is a bit like trying to explain quantum physics in the sense that it’s not easy to put into words. But I’ll do my best!!

Every time I come up with an idea, it spawns a little differently.

- I got the idea for Aurum by going on long hikes in the spring/summertime and listening to cool, inspiring music that helped me slowly build the idea by proxy of having lots of time to think.

- I thought of Child of Prophecy because I took a few basic ideas and mashed them together: one, I knew I wanted to make a medieval fic, and two, I’d always wanted to write a Deaf au of Sonic.

- with the new pirate au I’m developing, I literally just woke up one morning and had this brilliant idea, so whatever the heck i was dreaming about that night must have had some impact. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- There’s lowkey a superhero au now floating around the back of my brain thanks to my roommate and I watching Batman: The Animated Series together.

So I can’t necessarily say easily “this is how I do it” because ideas come from just about anywhere. And that’s the fun of it! Look for inspiration in the media you consume, the dreams you have, the things you learn at school/work/etc. But you don’t want to overthink every single thing you encounter— you want your brain to have time to idle, too. Because sometimes the best ideas come when your mind has a chance to rest.

There is a general formula I tend to follow, though— 1) pick a setting, 2) pick an interesting character trait, and 3) pick a problem that needs to be solved.

There are also a TON of idea generation tools out there. I don’t use this particular tool often anymore, but I own a deck of cards called “Storymatic”— the whole idea is that there are different prompts on each card, you draw two or three cards and combine those prompts.

Now, of course, that’s something that requires Buying, but it’s not impossible to make something like this on your own— index cards and a random noun or phrase generator would probably do the trick.

But anyways, there are SO many ways to come up with ideas and no one way is correct! I really hope this ramble of a post helped you out— I wish you the best of luck with your fanfic!

[emotional-mess-in-distress]

Wake up guys new esper!Reigen drawing just dropped

And some stuff about him under the cut cuz why not

I'm thinking of making comics with most of these ideas but I'm pretty busy so I'll just list them here in case I don't get to it lol

So I'm thinking of the timeline and idk, I guess somewhere before the psycho helmet arc but that might change.

He just randomly gets esp one day.

I fell like he'd be pretty mad about it ngl, like 'now of all times??' Also maybe some impostor syndrome cuz like 'why did he of all people get them seems unfair'

Anyway Im not talking much about what his powers actually entail but I definitely want him to be like a healer psychic. I know they exist but they mentioned it's pretty rare in the anime. I just like the ideea bc of all the angst turned into fluff I could do with it lol

He can do a bunch of other stuff too but yeah

He'd probably be scared shitless the first time he sees mob's and seri's aura ngl

I'm not sure yet if he's gonna keep pretending he had them all along but if that dose happen mob and Serizawa would for sure figure out he's bullshiting but wouldn't say anything ab it.

I like the idea of him floating random shit when he's nervous or flustered like Serizawa used to do. Which would be pretty annoying to him but it could lead to a cute interaction where seri tries to teach him how to figure that out. Or even mob can help that'd also be cute.

Anyway that's all I have for now :')

Also I do wanna say that I wouldn't like this concept in cannon, I don't think. Cuz to me so much of Reigen's character and overall role in the story hinges on him not being a psychic and giving him powers would negate a lot of cool stuff about mp100.

But fuck it this is my silly au so I can do what I want 👍

[justcallmefox89]

Irresistible Force Paradox: Chapter Five - An Open Heart fic

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

After a tragedy, Rory and Ethan call a temporary ceasefire.

I sprint into the waiting room at Edenbrook, frantically looking around for anyone who may have answers about Delores.  I spot Ramsey sitting alone, staring down at his hands, and I rush over to him.

“Dr. Ramsey?  What happened? Where’s Delores?” I pant, bending in half and sucking in air, my hands on my knees.

He doesn’t answer me for several long moments, making me fidget impatiently.  I’m opening my mouth to repeat myself when he finally meets my eyes.

“Delores had a seizure,” he says hollowly, his eyes distant and unfocused.  “Full eclampsia.  We had no choice but to deliver the baby.  It’s 50/50 he’ll survive the night.”

“No…” I breathe out.  My knees buckles but I mange to catch myself on the arm of the chair Ramsey is sitting in.  “Where’s Delores?”

“She died.”

My blood roars in my ears, drowning out all of the other mundane hospital sounds surrounding us.  My eyes burn as small tendrils of grief take root in my chest, quickly stamped out by the heavier, more intense feeling of anger.  Anger at the randomness, the unfairness of it all.  Anger at myself for not having done more, not fighting Ramsey harder, not making Delores understand just how serious her condition was.

NO.

“Dr. Ramsey, - ”

“I’m fine.”  He stands and quickly strides away without looking back. 

A while later I tiptoe into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, clutching that stupid stuffed frog, and silently begin searching the incubators for Delores’s son.  I allow myself a tiny smile when I finally find him and read his name tag.

Ethan Hudson.  How about that…

“Can I help you?”

I whirl around in surprise to face the attending on duty.  “His mother was my patient.  She got to name him?” I ask, vaguely gesturing towards the incubator. 

“She told me just as she was rushed to the O.R.  The poor thing.  We’ll know more in the morning,” she answers, casting a sad look towards the baby.

“Do you mind if I sit with him tonight?”

“Feel free.”

“Do you mind if he has this?”  I hold up the frog.  “His mother wanted him to have it.  It’s been sterilized.”

“Go ahead,” she says, shrugging as she walks away.

I pull on a pair of sterile gloves and place the stuffed animal into the incubator, tucking it close to the baby.  He snuggles weakly against it, and tears prick my eyes.  “That’s it, tadpole.  That’s the way.”

I sit down on the couch next to the incubator and put my hand back inside, allowing the baby to grasp one of my gloves fingers.  I relax into the couch, preparing for a long, sleepless night.

********************************************** Ethan rounds the corner to enter the N.I.C.U. and draws up short as the sound of a now irritatingly familiar voice floats out to meet him.

“Can you believe some people actually think Black Jack Randall is attractive?  Like the book version, not the actor in the series?”

Ethan peers around on the doorjamb to see O’Shea seated next to the incubator housing Delores’s son, having a very enthusiastic one-side conversation with the infant.

“I know!  After everything he did to Jamie… I can’t believe it either.  How do you feel about Lord John as a character?”  Rory pauses as if listening to the baby’s reply.  “Well obviously… clearly you’re a gentleman of taste.  Can I talk about my gripe with Roger for a second?  Because honestly - ”

“Ahem.”  Ethan clears his throat and Rory glances over at him, eyes wide and cheeks pink with embarrassment.  “What are you still doing here?”

“I’m staying here tonight.”  O’Shea turns his attention back to the incubator.  “I hate the idea of him fighting for his life alone.”

“There are plenty of doctors working overnight.  If something happens, they’ll be here.”

“I know.”

The whisper is so soft Ethan can barely hear it.  “Would you mind if I joined you?”

O’Shea’s wide green eyes betray his surprise and it takes him a moment to answer.  “Not at all,” he finally says, shaking his head and scooting over to make room on the couch.

***************************************************

Ethan settles down on the couch next to me and for a while the soft, rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator is the only sound in the room.  He catches sight of the stuffed frog and breaks out into a rare smile.

“You gave him the frog.  Delores would have been…”  His face falls and his falls silent at the reminder of the loss of his friend.  “She would have been pleased.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and blink quickly in an effort to hold off the tears that have been threatening to fall all night.

“The first patient I lost… I was in my fourth week,” Ethan says, his voice more gentle than I thought him capable of.  “I didn’t make any mistakes.  He had stage four metastatic melanoma.  He just… fought like hell and lost.  I liked him.  He wasn’t much older than I am now.  I knew he didn’t have long to live, but it still hit me hard.”

I take a shallow, shuddering breath.  “I can’t let this get to me,” I mumble.

“Grieving a lost patient isn’t a weakness.  Good doctors should value life.  For itself.  I’d be more concerned if you weren’t upset.  Just know this wasn’t your fault.  Or mine.  Or Delores’s.  We all made the best decisions we could with the information we had.”

The argument that we could have done things differently is at the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back.  “I could have done more,” I say bitterly.  “I failed her.”

Ethan sighs.  “It’s important to push yourself, Rookie, but you will take a lot of losses.  We all do.  What matters is that you come back stronger.”

I glance at him suspiciously from the corner of my eye.  “Why are you being so nice to me?  Usually you’re…”

“Demanding?” he helpfully supplies.

“An asshole,” I mumble.

Other than a slight raise of his eyebrows Ethan doesn’t comment on my assessment of his character.  He stares off into space, sorting his thoughts.  “There are doctors with unlimited patience,” he says eventually.  “I am not one of them.  Energy I could use socializing, or making someone’s day better, I put towards my patience.  They’re who I’m here for.”

“Well that explains why you and Dr. Emery broke up,” I mutter under my breath.

“Rookie…”  Ethan’s tone is warning.

“You’re a teacher too,” I point out, attempting to backtrack.

“One of many, and you shouldn’t model yourself after any of us.  Idolatry among physicians is absurd.  We’re here to teach you practical medicine.  You need to find your own way of being a doctor.”

“And… how do I do that?” I ask, twisting on the couch to fully face him, ready to absorb whatever Yoda-like knowledge he’s preparing to hand down.

The corner’s of Ethan’s lips tip up into a gentle smile.  “You already are.” 

What the fuck does that mean?

The baby stretches and wiggles, and Ethan scoots closer to the incubator, offering him a gloved finger.  A soft, absent looks washes over Ethan’s face as the baby tightly clutches his finger.

“She named him after you,” I murmur.

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks down at the nametag.  His jaw tightens and his throat works as he swallows.  “I… see she did.”

“Did you know Delores a long time?” I venture.

“Over ten years.  When I first emailed her I only meant to check in.  But she was recently divorced, feeling alone, so she insisted on coffee.  And then it turned into more emails and meeting once every couple months for Sunday roast.

“She sounds like a good friend.”

“I didn’t make friends easily when I started here, so I was always grateful to her for that.”  Ethan swallows hard and falls silent, gazing intently at Delores’s baby.  His eyes are red.

Unconsciously I reach out and place my hand over his.  “I’m so sorry this happened,” I whisper, my voice cracking slightly.

Ethan glances up at me, surprise at first, and then something I can’t decipher in his shining blue eyes.  He holds my gaze, his hand broad and warm beneath my own. 

“Me too.”  He roughly clears his throat.  “I think we need coffee.”

“I can get some,” I offer, not having the heart to tell him I don’t like coffee.

“No.  I’ll go.”

Several minutes tick by as I watch baby Ethan sleep, counting each shallow rise and fall of his chest.  I start to drift off, the ambient hospital sounds soothing me. 

“Here you go, Rookie.” 

I shake my head, trying to clear away the cobwebs, and gingerly take the steaming mug Ethan’s hand me.  I wrinkle my nose as the bitter smell of coffee assaults my senses and steel myself to take a sip.  I fight the urge to gag, rather valiantly I think, and force down the drink.

Ethan attempts to hide a smirk behind his mug.  “You could have said you weren’t a fan of coffee, Rookie.”

Apparently I’m not as subtle as I thought.

I sheepishly set the mug on the small table next to the couch.  “Sorry.  I do appreciate the thought though.”

************************************************

Ethan gazes down at the sleeping O’Shea, who’s currently curled up against Ethan’s side.  The two had talked long into the night, seamlessly bouncing from subject to subject.  Ethan had found himself truly enjoying the conversation; Rory had proven to be well-versed in many subjects, and his quick, caustic sense of humor had Ethan laughing more than he had in months.  Several strands of inky dark hair have fallen over Rory’s face, and his glasses are slightly askew.  Ethan’s lips quirk up at the endearing sight, his breath catching as Rory’s nuzzles against his arm.

“Rookie,” he murmurs, gently brushing the loose hair back away from Rory’s face.  “Come on Rookie, time to wake up.”

Rory sits up slowly, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.  He adjusts his glasses and turns to the incubator.  Baby Ethan rests soundly, still snuggled against the stuffed frog.

“He made it!”  Rory flashes Ethan a beaming smile, unable to contain his joy.

“And he’s getting stronger.”

Rory takes out his hair tie, shaking the unruly strands loose, unable to stop smiling.  He runs a hand through his now unbound hair and checks his phone, his smile falling a little as he notes the time. 

“Damn,” he sighs.  I have rounds in twenty minutes.  I need to go shower.”

Ethan sucks in a shallow breath, fighting to think about anything other than a naked, soapy Rory, hands trailing over lithe muscles…  “I’ll stay a little longer,” he quickly offers.

Rory stands, smiling at the baby one last time.  “Catch you later, tadpole.”

“Rory,” Ethan calls out as the other man is halfway out the door.

Rory skids to a halt and looks back over his shoulder.  “Hm?”

“Thank you.”