#these look really neat I might give ‘em a shot

[autoboros]

would you be open to showing us your drawing process? doesnt have to be on a completely finished piece but id love to know how you colour your art and how you use lines/lineart

This one has been sitting in my inbox for days - sorry bout that, I haven't had much of a drive to draw. But it is something I was interested in trying to show so I gave a stab at it today since I had the chance

I start off by drawing a circle and cross that serve very vague purposes. They kinda help generally. And pretty much right after I draw the side of the face and then the shoulders (for a bust). I don't really have any base sketches to guide, really just drawing what I think looks good

I draw the face, desperately trying to ignore how stupid it looks because it will end up better when it's finished. Hopefully. This is where you pray

Onto the second layer I begin to draw the hair (Depending on my confidence in the hairstyle, it might not even be on a second layer). Kinda winging it so I decide arbitrarily to tuck his hair behind his ear because he's such a pretty boy and I wanna see his face. Totally not because I could not. get the hair right no no

Add the back of the hair, erase stuff that needs erasing and that's the lineart. I use a big, thick brush with pen pressure because its just a lot of fun to fuck around with. Easy to manipulate lines ig. I use the eraser just as much as the brush in a way that's hard to word but the best I can do is "carving the lines"

Then he gets colour. Skin + clothes on one layer, eyes on a layer below, then the hair on the bottom layer. The undersides + suctions are coloured on a slipping mask. He also finally gets a nose here which is the starting point for the shading

I completely eyeball the colouring and shading. Just, again, what I think looks nice. Try to detail the hair but then decide immediately that the rings look bad, get rid of em, add lighting because he's a shiny boy and Bob's your uncle

This is the process for bust shots, sometimes even half bodies. Depends on how much time or effort I want to put into it. My art is seriously inconsistent and my process is even more so, and I'm mostly trying to draw in different ways with different brushes. I just find this way to be one of the easier ways. Hope this answers the question well enough :')) it was a neat question and I'd love to give details on how I do stuff

[sabraeal]

Merry & Bright, Chapter 11

[Read on AO3]

Written for @claudeng80 for her birthday! We have been friends so long at this point that my oldest kid is almost the same age as HER oldest kid when we first met. So when birthday comes around, Sarah always knows what she wants-- a few times she’s resurrected old fics that got stuck waiting for new chapters, and a couple times, like this one, she’s kept track of which regularly updated fics have missed their update 🤣

If it weren’t for the way the ghost of Doc’s cheek still haunted his lips, tingling so much he’s sure he still feels the heat, Obi’s sure he would have heard Bob’s casual, “Watch your head, son.”

Instead, he spends far too much time worried about keeping his feet underneath him-- Gayle may think the carpet looks nice, but he’s bit it too many times on these stairs to appreciate it-- and his head out of the clouds to notice that what used to be a comfortable distance had turned into the sort of overhang that would scrape open trucks like tuna cans. Only this time it’s his head. “Ow, Jesus. When that’d get so low?”

“Probably around the same time you got so tall.” Bob gives one of those huffy little laughs that would be right at home in his easy chair. “Now mind your noggin and get on down here. Linger there too long and Gayle’s gonna come ask you to buff your own bruise out of the woodwork.”

“Don’t I know it.” He takes the last two steps gingerly, scrubbing at his forehead. Maybe it won’t swell if he gives it enough attention. A long shot, but one he’s willing to take if it keeps Doc from fussing. “Still remember when she made Toddy-- aw, no.”

He’s been tricked. Bamboozled. Two days in the house Gayle’s kept with hospital corners, and he let himself forget. She might have dominion over every inch-- and a husband in the habit of keeping a workspace so neat top brass called it sterile-- but when it came to the trains...

Well, he can just see Bob’s head and shoulders over the maze of plastic tubs. “Don’t tell me you took these all out on your own.”

“Well.” Not a promising start. “There’s not that many.”

Obi hooks his hands over his hips, surveying the state of the den. “This has got to be two dozen at least! And I know from experience none of those tracks are light, never mind those houses or whatever.”

“Only twenty,” Bob blusters, as if four made anything like a dent in this mess. “And not all of them are mine! Some of this is your-- Gayle’s. Garland and knickknacks and the like.”

He knocks on a tote, too heavy to be filled with tinsel. “She told me you only had ten totes.”

A normal man might show some hint of shame. But Bob-- Bob’s a train guy. He just plants himself in the midst of his mess and says, not a bit contrite, “Well, she may not know about a couple of ‘em.”

Obi may not have stayed long enough in this house to learn much, but he did know: a picture may say a thousand words, but silences spoke volumes.

“It’s the O-scale, you see,” Bob presses. “Wasn’t enough track to get it all around the room. And then it’s got to have its own switches, plus that yard sale just down from the church had a nice holiday train-- lights up and everything-- and I couldn’t--”

It’s an effort not to sigh, not to scrub a hand right over his face and scream, but Obi manages. Somehow. “How’d you get all that without her noticing?”

“Oh, well, Jesse’s partner, he’s got this truck.” Bob slaps the top of one of the totes, too proud. “Took me right up to the drive and helped me load the whole lot in. Gayle was down at one of those garden sales the club puts on, and we just hustled the whole thing down.”

It’s impossible to imagine six-foot-we-stopped-measuring-when-we-ran-out-of-door Shane at a tag sale. Not just stomping down to one of those things, but letting Bob boss him right into a full bed of train parts. Not only that, but then driving him right across town where anyone could see them. Obi may have only known him a couple years, more as an accessory than an actual living, breathing person, but really-- he thought the guy had more sense than to go around Gayle.

“Even helped me stow ‘em.” One arm sweeps out under the table. “Had a helluva time getting them out though. Cal--”

“You brought Cal into this?” His shoulder gives one of its twinges, the kind that won’t come out without a nice, hard talking-to, but he makes do with a pinch of his fingers. If Bob thinks he’ll get less time in the doghouse if he just spreads the sentence between all his accomplices, he’s mistaken. “Coast Guard Cal.”

“Now, son, you know he’s in the Navy,” Bob says, all serious, as if he’s the delinquent here. “And we thought he got all of them, but it looks like there’s still two stuck back there, so...”

Obi sighs, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll get ‘em.”

The plan’s to grumble the whole time doing it; if he’s going to risk one of Gayle’s looks-- the worst ones, the disappointed kind-- then he should at least get the pleasure of telling everyone how he feels about it. But he gets as far as his knees before Bob smiles so bright it makes the overhead light feel like a firefly in full sun. “Now that’s my boy.”

His fingers curl against the grain of his jeans, bracing him against the flood of warmth the overflows his chest.

“If Gayle asks,” he says, hating how his voice trembles, “I’m going to sell you out for free.”

If anything, that only makes his smile brighter. “Wouldn’t expect any less.”

Bob waits until he’s well and under the table before he springs the question.

“So.” His voice is muffled by the layer of balsa or cork or whatever this thing is made out of, but Obi can hear him just fine when he says, “Just how serious is this whole thing with your girl?”

“Wha--?” He rears back, bumping the table so hard his eyes blur just the littlest bit. Nothing he can’t blink away after a moment or two. “What do you mean?”

Bob hums. “Ah. I see.”

“No, no.” He backs out, boxes forgotten, dust shaking off him as he sits back on his heels. “That’s not-- that’s not an answer or anything.”

Both bushy brows take a hike toward his hairline, though Bob makes a real show of not looking at him while it’s happening. “So.” His lips purse as he peruses the back of a gorilla putty package. “It’s not serious, that’s what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t say that!” Obi’s not sure what he’s supposed to be saying, but implying that anything with Doc is somehow temporary isn’t it. “I just meant...”

It’d be great if he did know what he meant. Instead he just sits there, hands dropped between his knees, and flounders.

“I getcha, I getcha,” Bob says, tone implying he doesn’t ‘getcha’ anything at all. “Just thought I’d ask. Gayle was wonderin’ if we should get her a stocking, and I guess I’ll just tell her...”

He lets the pause hang, the way he always did when Obi talked himself into trouble; like if he let him twist a few minutes the mess of a boy the state saddled him with would sort himself out. Would have been nice if the rest of his life worked out as easy as that, too.

“No dice,” he laughs, squirming back under the table. “There’s no way Gayle hasn’t had one waiting for weeks now.”

Bob huffs out a laugh. “You got me. Bought one right after we got back from graduation.”

“What.” The totes are right in front of him, but he can’t make his hands close around them, not when there’s so much noise in his head. “You guys hadn’t even invited us. There’s no way you could have known I would be coming, let alone...”

The silence that settles between them is answer enough.

“...For sure,” Obi adds lamely, gripping at the lid. It scrapes out of place, traveling across the floor like it’s made of sandpaper, grinding the whole way. “I could’ve had plans.”

“Didn’t, though,” Bob says, like it’s simple, and-- and maybe for once it is. Gayle’s not lucky, per se-- she got him on her doorstep in the first place-- but once she’s got her hands around something, it’s hers. By the time she’d wrapped him up in a hug, Christmas was a foregone conclusion.

Bob bends down, dragging the tote out onto the carpet. “So, what should I tell her?”

“Hm?” The next one’s stubborn, really stuck back in its corner. Even a good shimmy doesn’t knock it loose, and Obi’s got to wonder if there’s some nail it’s caught on, or maybe a side crumpled in from Shane’s enthusiasm--

“About your girl,” Bob says, so casual. “Should I let her get her hopes up?”

“Ah!” Surprise gives him that burst of stupid strength he needs to yank that thing out, careening right into his knees. “Yowch.”

“You all right down there?” Bob squints, stooping down to check in. “If you need help--?”

“I’m all right. Just...” Obi catches his breath, heaving that tote past the finish line. “It’s all pretty new. This, uh, thing. I don’t want to jinx it.”

Bob’s mouth curves, too knowing. “I dunno there, son. Don’t think there’s any chance of that.”

Obi shakes his head, braced on hands and knees. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you.”

Shirayuki stares down at the radio like it might bite.

Go ahead, Gayle told her, spraying down a fluted pan, put on whatever you like.

If it were Obi, he wouldn’t even spare a second; his thumb would scrub across the dial like it knew the precise groove his station was worn into, just a stretch of static until it settles onto a fast beat and wailing guitar, spitting lyrics that would have Gayle scolding him into the next week. But Shirayuki-- her tastes run to the niche, to the sweet voices that don’t carry well across the airwaves, the ones that can only be uncovered in the back of a music store or hidden in the annals of obscure playlists, with names like the angels that sing me straight to purgatory or we’ll all hold hands and make it through together (if it kills us).

(”Would it kill you to listen to something in a Top Forty?” Yuzuri sighs, scrolling through her Spotify to find something to pump over the lab speakers. “I’m not trying to tell you what genre. Just like...any of them.”

“It might,” Obi offers through the bench. “Maybe if she hears a four chord progression it sends her straight back to the cloud she came from.”

“I like popular music.” It’s not a lie; she enjoys whatever anyone else plays, it’s just... “I’ll hear it on the radio anyway. If I’m going to listen to something on my own, I’d prefer it to be something I won’t hear anywhere else!”

Yuzuri’s head thunks against the back of the chair. “You’re the worst kind of hipster.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Excuse me?”

“The kind I can’t actually hate.” Her breath hisses through her teeth. “All right, fuck it, I’m just going to put on some Marina.”)

Wincing, she guides the needle up the band, pausing at every hint of something between the crackles. It’s mostly commercials, half of them for cars and the rest for personal injury lawyers, but every once and a while she catches a snatch of country, or pop, and even once, a bit of R&B, but--

But none of them feel like the right thing to play for your grandmother. Or your boyfriend’s mother. Not that Gayle’s either of those things, but, well-- she’s supposed to pretend she is.

“I’m making this too hard,” she mumbles, under her breath. “I just need to...”

The last few notes of “White Christmas” waft out of the speakers, appropriately festive for the task ahead, and Shirayuki has a whole measure to pat herself on the back before--

“There’s only rule in this kitchen,” Gayle announces, slipping that cake of hers into the oven, “and it’s that there’s no carols allowed in here. Not until the afternoon.”

Shirayuki’s jaw goes slack. “Really? But...?”

A warm hand clasps her shoulder, leaving flour in its wake. “Trust me on this one, honey. If you start that business before Laila comes, we’re gonna be sick of it before those little men bake through. And we’ll still have the decorating left to do.”

It’s hardly the radio’s fault, but Shirayuki frowns at it anyway. If it’s good enough to bring Obi into line, maybe it might do something for whatever magic turned signals into music.

It doesn’t. But it’s a good try. Better than just scrolling the needle up and down the band until Gayle gets tired of the static.

“I’ll listen to anything, you know.” There’s a smile in Gayle’s voice, a patient one, the kind that’s used to sitting across the table from rounded shoulders and a chip balanced on one of them, big enough to fill the room. “Heard all sorts of things over the years. I can promise you won’t be the one to make me change the station.”

“I-I know.” It’s just important that she does like it, not just because she wants to like her, but because it’s something that she enjoys. Because that’s the point of music, to enjoy it, to feel that it adds something to the moment, even if it’s just running down a list, double-sided and with items scrawled in the margin, until it’s done--

(That music was old when her father was born, Opa snorts, wiping a handkerchief across his brow. Don’t they make anything newer?

Oma only shakes her head. Newer, but never better.)

Ah.

It’s like reaching across time when she puts her hand on the dial now, reaching into a different kitchen, a different Shirayuki. A smaller one, more innocent, and--

And maybe more lonely. But it doesn’t feel like it, not when the static breaks into, for it was I who chose to start. I see no need to take me home, I’m old enough to face the dawn.

It’s so easy for her voice to lift, not quite matching that notes Oma had, but close enough, “Just call me angel of the morning, angel! Just touch my cheek before you leave me...”

There’s an uncertain moment where the muscles in Gayle’s face tremble, where she’s not sure if they’ll curve into a smile or fall into a frown, and then--

Then her hands clap together, her laugh ringing out above the rising tide of the chorus.

“Now ain’t that just the thing,” she sighs, hands falling to her hip. “Let’s get to work, angel. We’ve got a real doozy of a morning.”

Shirayuki doesn’t need to be told twice.

[mla0]

Relistened to Tape 3 today (Mostly focusing on writing notes on [SHOT IN THE DARK] and [TOWER ON THE LAKE]) and man... I love the Princeton tapes they're so underrated. It's not just like. Interesting stuff with the main EMH guys but there's so much neat stuff like Roger and Patrick's presence. How frantic Patrick is in SITD is so interesting especially when you get to TOTL and he's like. hacking and coughing and clearly not ok but his actual tone is so much more chilled out. What the hell was happening to him. I also just love the aspect of Patrick's character it shows. Like. I feel like it's a more genuine version of him we don't really otherwise get to see.

Lines that are always incredibly interesting to me: "You’re not even a part of a game of chess, you’re just a-a-a fuckin' route in a game of Settlers of Catan, or some shit, I dunno, man." (This one activates my board game sleeper agent(It's the exact same as normal me but I'm way overeager to rope someone into a game of Catan)) "I guess that’s what makes us different. You’re efficient. I mean, it’s probably too good for your own safety, honestly. A squeaky wheel gets the grease, to a certain extent, I guess." "he other one told you- you- He said you had a sister, right? I had a brother, too. [Pause.] Meet ‘em, Vin. Another you did, in another time. He had, has, he will have...siblings. He will, eventually. But you're gonna fuck up every single time and they’re gonna die. [Pause.] And every time, you just have to figure out how to not take it personally." (This one kills me.) 'I dunno man, I’m kinda jealous of you. It frustrates the fuck out of me I remember everything, and I don’t get this kinda treatment but, you… You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for." "Fuck, man, I would be lying if I said I didn’t admire you trying." "Look, the only reason I even reached out is... I guess to try and push the wheel a little further. You’re doin’ well, man, and god damn, you are... not gonna make it out of this, and that’s a bummer. But you might, eventually. I feel a desperation and... I felt the solidarity, so... [He sighs.] 

Good luck, man. I mean that. I’ll s- I’ll see you around the bend." (This one also kills me. I eat up any concept of solidarity when it comes to the slenderverse it is the easiest way to make me writhe around in the dirt and scream (positive))

WAUUUUUUGH. I AM SO SAD FOR HIM but I love him so much. The tragedy of the Princeton tapes.....

[flowerinyourcare]

Spring 2020 Short Stories 🌸🌱

part 1 (ft. nero, owen, and mithra); part 2 (ft. shylock, arthur, cain, heathcliff, and murr); part 3 (ft. lennox, mitile, riquet, and bradley)

Spring 2020 Short Story 1

Nero: Hmm, I wonder if we have any twin-eggs left. If we do, maybe tomorrow's breakfast will be an omelette… Huh? Smells like something's burning.

Owen: Ahaha. This is fun.

Nero: Owen? What the hell're you doing?!

Owen: I wanted to try making a goopy, sticky, spongy thing, soaked in sweet condensed milk. But I ended up making something that looks more like the charred remains of a corpse.

Nero: Yeah, because you just threw all the ingredients together randomly… Ugh, what am I gonna do with this pile of charcoal?

Mithra: It smells delicious in here. What are you making?

Nero: Gah…! Another one of 'em…

Owen: You're just in time. Look, Mithra. It's your favorite. Go ahead, stuff yourself to your heart's content.

Nero: C'mon, now. Just 'cuz Mithra ain't a picky eater doesn't mean he'll wanna --

Mithra: Munch, munch. Oh, this is nice and crunchy.

Nero: No way you actually ate it… Is your stomach okay?

Mithra: Yes, my stomach is perfectly fine. And this tastes very good. You said I could have more?

Owen: See? The burnt mess is already taken care of. Aren't you lucky that your little problem has been solved so easily?

Nero: If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had any problem in the first place… And how am I supposed to get the burning smell outta here before breakfast…?

----

Spring 2020 Short Story 2

Shylock: It's been getting quite warm lately, hasn't it? At this time of year, the time passes quickly, and your mind is more relaxed.

Arthur: That reminds me - the Great Sage once mentioned that in their world, when the weather begins to warm up, many people take it as a chance to try something new.

Cain: Huh, that's neat. Why don't we give it a shot and start a new habit?

Cain: For example, every night before bed, we can do 300 sit-ups!

Arthur: 300 sit-ups… What a brilliant idea! I'd like to give it a try as well.

Shylock: Fufu, that's a very healthy endeavor. When the time comes, allow me to support you by preparing a drink to ease your fatigue.

Arthur: Thank you! I look forward to it. Oh, I know - how about we invite the Great Sage to join us for our sit-ups?

Cain: Since it's part of their world's culture, it might make them really happy! Let's go find them now. Seeya, Shylock.

Shylock: Of course. Take care… …Hm.

(the two leave)

Heathcliff: Ah, Shylock. Didn't we just meet in the common area? When did you get here?

Shylock: Fufu. Heath, are you certain you know who you're speaking to?

(magic sparkle)

Murr: Ahaha! A resounding success! Didja see how good my Shylock was?

Heath: Woah, Murr?! That was a magical disguise…? But you had me absolutely convinced, so why did you give yourself up?

Murr: It's all part of the game! It felt like the right time to start a new round.

Murr: After all, spring is the time of new beginnings!

----

Spring 2020 Short Story 3

Mitile: Oh -- Mr. Leno, Riquet! Look, I found a tree covered in flowers!

Lennox: Ah, good job, Mitile.

Riquet: Mitile, thank you!

Mitile: Ehehe. Well then, let's set up under this tree. Spread out the cloth, arrange the lunchboxes… and we're done!

Riquet: So this is "flower-viewing"... Having a picnic under a tree in full bloom is a wonderful part of the Great Sage's culture.

Bradley: Well, lookin' at flowers while ya eat isn't gonna make the grub any worse.

Mitile: Uwoh, Mr. Bradley?! Why are you here?

Bradley: Pipe down, pipsqueak. The places I go are none of your business.

Bradley: Alright, let's take a little look-see at these lunchboxes. Tomato sandwich, coleslaw, bits a' fruit… No meat?!

Bradley: Seriously… Eatin' plants, starin' at plants, how's that fun? This "other world" sure has some lame-ass culture…

Lennox: …I'm sorry. I hadn't expected that any of us wouldn't be able to eat vegetables, Bradley.

Brad: Huh?

Lennox: Don't feel bad. Many children can't handle vegetables. They can be sensitive to the bitterness or unfamiliar flavors.

Brad: …Hey, buddy. Don't go treatin' me like a kid. Of course I can handle eating some puny vegetables.

Lennox: Haha, that's good to hear. Well then, let's begin our flower-viewing lunch.

Riquet: Ugh, after all of that, I'm starving…

Mitile: Don't forget, Riquet and Mr. Bradley! This afternoon's not just about eating lunch, but also about appreciating the flowers. Let's enjoy every bit of the flower-viewing day!

[sorry-apsalar]

Frender Drabbles: Paternal Issues

Summary: more hurt/comfort but with fry’s trauma

[A/N] Oops, comfort didn't exactly happen in this one. Fry decides he'd rather emotionally run away from addressing the fact that he might have some unresolved trauma and Bender is Bender. Together they have the combined emotional intelligence of a sack of potatoes.

~

This was why Fry never liked to talk about his childhood or parents, everyone always gave him the kind of look Bender was giving him now. The kind of look one gave to those who just confessed to something horrible having been done to them. But nothing horrible had been done to Fry. He was the younger less achieving brother so of course his parents didn’t pay much attention to him. That’s just how it was for everyone, right? Or at least everyone from his home time.

“You ran away for three whole days and nobody noticed?” Bender asked, sounding almost like he didn’t believe it.

“Uh… yeah.” And it was supposed to be a funny story because his parents had certainly always told it as if it were funny story so it had to be. Though the way they’d always told it was that he’d ‘claimed’ to have run away for three days because they seriously hadn’t known until he’d asked them if they’d noticed. How big a deal he’d made of it when learning that was apparently the funny part. “I was fourteen so they assumed I was in my room all day.”

“That’s fucked up. Even I’d noticed if you disappeared for that long and I don’t have time to pay attention to all your silly organic fickleness.” As if he didn’t notice when Fry left unexpectedly for even just an hour or two. “But if this is an attempt at making me feel bad for taking all your money so I start going easy on you, it failed. Read ‘em and weep.” He threw down his cards on the table between them. His hand was certainly better than the one Fry had just laid down by a long shot.

“I’m starting to think you’re cheating.” Or he was just really lucky in addition to being good at poker.

Bender made a sound like he was trying to imitate an offended gasp. “Me, cheat? I would never.” With a chuckle, he pulled the pile of bottle caps they were using in place of poker chips to his side of the table. “That’s twenty more bucks you owe me. You wanna go another round to try to win it back?”

With how little luck Fry was having he should probably decline and insist they leave the kitchen to watch TV in the living room instead. But… “All right. I’m shuffling this time though.” He gathered up the cards and pulled him towards himself.

“Seriously though,” Bender said as Fry split the deck, “you should see a meatbag therapist, or whatever Leela was talking about the other day, about your paternal issues. They’re almost as bad as hers and she didn’t have parents growing up.”

“I don’t have paternal issues.” He’d had a perfectly normal childhood with perfectly normal parents… probably. Of the few friends he’d had back then he hadn’t been close enough to any of them to go to their houses and thus meet their parents. So he didn’t have much to compare his parents to that weren’t fiction or Leela’s parents and they didn’t count because they hadn’t raised her, not really anyway.

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.” Bender didn’t sound the least bit convinced.

“I will because it’s true.” Probably anyway. … But if even Bender believed something was wrong with the way Fry’s parents had raised him then… maybe something was wrong? If so, it was too late to do anything about it now though other than to complain and that wouldn’t get him anywhere so why bother? Fry would much rather go back to chatting and trying to win at least a single game of poker. He’d get lucky eventually, maybe even this next hand, wouldn’t that be neat?

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Usually wait until I have two chapters but who cares? Break week upcoming and I have feelings about this chapter. Starting with the easiest, nonspoilery one. Not a huge deal, but said something about it last time. The idea that Egghead might be the same island Oden met Toki, which has a lot of cool potential implications. It’s not the signature spotted rafflesia flowers that’d make it obvious, but this shot does show the similar trees we already noted this time with the right type of coconut-looking fruit. So one more point.

There’s some amazing stuff going on in this chapter from the angle we’ve been looking at. Luffy straight-up taunting Lucci so blatantly Zoro’s spelling it out. A certain redhead knocking around with less cool alternate versions of Luffy & Makino. That whole segment offers a lot obviously, but let’s go ahead and wait for 1077 to do em in pairs like we have been. I want to think on it and see our next step, but this chapter pulled the neat little trick of dangling something I was juuuust starting to seriously wonder about. This time, I only want to offer a plausible answer on the table to that finicky question; isn’t it past time to give it up? What on Earth could justify a newbie hanging out in the ship this whole time?

Aww, Shanks has a doofy Grand Fleet who decided they were his underlings too...

This was honestly on the short list of ideas from the start, hell I might have even mentioned the base logic before Wano ended, it’s a layup if you’re pitching an opening for a Quartermaster. Either way, at least back when we were just saying hey...arc could theoretically fit this rough sketch and build around a twist. We’ve done well sticking to that even if it was kinda vague. Vegapunk got the lore dump out of the way early and now this is devolving into chaos all while we’re keeping some of those big cards like X Drake back and still nailing the right themes.

Drifting away though, our goal at the moment is to lay out a hypothetical for how where we’re at on Egghead could be resolved through a quiet new addition working behind the scenes unbeknownst to us the readers. It’s the Fleet. Got 100 Marine ships in bound? Scary, sounds like a good use for Luffy’s ~70 backup ships. You just have to get Kizaru away from them, and him leaping into the fray on Egghead early is the perfect moment to turn the tables. Unfavorable, but not insurmountable odds at a perfect rate to justify the upset through smart command. Especially when you have guys like Orlumbus and Sai who can be your seasoned field marshals familiar with naval combat, it’s really a perfect stage for a Quartermaster who’s bringing social/speech skills. Less naval tactics, more balancing the egos. “Now Cabbage-kun...I’d expect a star to know the value of waiting a little to build tension.”

We have this big Chekov’s Gun loaded, look at what’s possible. Think taking a Gorosei hostage would count as historic proportions? The beauty is how it all just...flows. Luffy’s vivre card probably was going haywire over the past few weeks. Say they trusted Luffy and let it smolder from being thrown in Udon, but when it snuffed out and popped back for the Awakening or whatever decided they should probably move in. That’d give almost two weeks to get in the area, especially with the three days post-Wano. What if they’ve been trying to constantly call for a while now? Snails pick it up as they’re leaving Wano...there you go, that’s a perfectly fine excuse for someone new who gets the value of numbers spending a lot of time for a few days in the hold coordinating. It’s a great way to rapidly get up to speed on the wider world and could end up keeping a bit of mystery on the enemy end. You could even spin it into a killer Tokyo Rose-type vibe.

I feel like that type of propagandist, something like Gen in Dr. Stone, plays absurdly nice with what we’re seeing floating around this story. Don’t tell me it wouldn’t suit that little drama queen more than swinging a sword.

[mbrainspaz]

negative review of Ahsoka (with spoilers) incoming

it's jaw-dropping how bad the directing—the whole production—of Ahsoka is. One moment I'll be starting to think 'okay... okay... this could be cool' and the next I'm screaming at the screen while cringing so hard my face hurts. It shouldn't be possible to swing and miss EVERY emotional beat like this.

Some of the visuals are really cool and the story was vaguely interesting, but the script legitimately sounds AI generated. I've seen better acting in high school plays and I don't think the actors are entirely at fault. It's just too pervasive, as if they were all told to deliver their lines alone in office cubicles. There's no emotion. There's no feeling that the actors are connecting in any way. Sabine in particular seems like she got lost and wandered onto the set, then couldn't escape. The pacing is horrendous, with characters constantly pausing and posing at the camera like we're supposed to be impressed. Every shot that lingers on a character standing there pondering... something... drags on for a subjective eternity. This only draws more attention to the horrendous acting.

The fight scenes are underwhelming because there's almost never any weight or grace to the choreography. If there were we'd miss it because the camera is always either too close or cutting away from the action. In the fragments we do see it always seems like Ahsoka in particular is moving way too slow.

The creature/alien designs were neat but in most cases they were undercut by absurdly contrived behavior, rushed animation, and the inability of the actors to react to them in any meaningful way. The whole scene with Sabine talking to her gator-wolf thing was unbearably stupid and presents a kind of microcosm of the show's faults: An actor saying useless words to a creature that isn't really there and shouldn't be able to understand her if it was. I laughed out loud when she got all huffy and walked away from it. Tell me you've never witnessed a real human / animal interaction without telling me. Though it wasn't much worse than the human / human interactions.

The moment Sabine is reunited with Ezra might be one of the most awkward human interactions ever recorded. The sheer absurdity of the way she stands back so that the camera can get that perfect fan pandering shot had me screaming. NO! These are two characters who's motivation to be reunited is supposed to be carrying the entire plot and THEY JUST STAND THERE! 'uh... what do we do now?' Sabine pulls an 'I can't explain right now' and Ezra's like, 'Doh! Okay!' Then Sabine takes a nap, apparently. Jeeze, at least Ahsoka gave him a hug—even though he didn't really react to her arrival at all.

I'm not sure I've ever seen a show with this much wasted potential before.

Ezra was out there looking cool as hell though I'll give 'em that.

[itsallyscorner]

♥︎ The Struggles of Getting A Valentine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!reader

Summary: The three times Peter tries to ask you to be his Valentine and the one time he successfully does.

Warnings: none. Just a lot of fluff. Peter being a simp, Bucky being the cutest bby ever, and Tony being a dad. This is long. Happy reading💞

(Source — Pinterest)

Attempt #1

Peter watched as you vigorously took down notes. From time to time your eyes would shift back up to the projected screen on the board. Your hair would graciously fall past your ear and to the front of your face, causing you to continuously tuck it behind your ear whenever it bothered you. He let out a dreamy sigh at the thought of running his fingers through your hair and tucking the loose strands behind your ear for you.

He wasn’t paying attention in class; he should have cared more about World War II, but you had his undivided attention without even trying. Besides, he could ask Steve for help if he ever needed it, he’s literally lived through part of World War II. Peter felt foolish as he stared at you, a lovestruck expression was on his face while he admired you from afar. You were just a few seats away from him. You were in the next row, two seats ahead of him. He was so hopelessly in love with you, his feelings for you were more than just a crush. He admired every little thing about you. From your kindness to how talented you were as an Avenger; you were the girl of his dreams.

Ms. Atwell’s voice faded in the background while his mind clouded with thoughts of you. Beside him was Ned, who was also taking notes while trying to get Peter to focus once again. When Ms. Atwell turned her back to the class, Ned roughly shoved Peter’s shoulder. The hearts in Peter’s eyes popped and the chorus of How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees stopped playing in his head. He whipped around to look at Ned, annoyed that his friend took him out of his daydream.

“What?” Peter asks him through gritted teeth.

“Ms. Atwell already yelled at you twice yesterday for not paying attention in class, do you really want her to call you out again?” Ned whispered back harshly. Peter was one of the smartest dudes Ned has ever known, but sometimes he could be as dumb as a rock and as stubborn as a mule.

Peter shrugged him off, “She won’t notice.” He looked to the front to make sure Ms. Atwell’s back was still turned to the class, “I think I’m gonna ask (y/n) to be my valentine.”

Getting lured in with curiosity, Ned asks, “Don’t you guys see each other everyday? And do patrol together? How have you not asked her yet?”

“I don’t know—I couldn’t find the right time to.” Peter answered, turning his head back to the front when he sensed Ms. Atwell turn back to the class. She briefly mentions something about the Howlling Commandos and turns back around.

“When are you asking her?” He hears Ned whisper behind him. He leans back, face still towards the board, “Right now.”

Ned nods then takes a double take at the back of Peter’s head, “Now?!”

Peter rips the corner of the page his notebook was open to and began to sloppily scribble the words:

(Y/n), will you be my valentine?

Yes ⃞ No ⃞

— Peter :)

As childish as his note was, he believed that you would find the gesture cute. Little did he know that Ms. Atwell would too. While he excitedly folded the piece of paper, he had not realized that Ms. Atwell had stopped talking and was looking at him with that stern stare of hers. Cluelessly, Peter quietly giggles to himself and tapped MJ, who was in front of him. When she didn’t turn around, he looks up from the note to see Ms.Atwell hovering above his desk, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face.

Startled, Peter jumps in his seat, eyes wide and cheeks growing warm. He looks around the class to see everyone staring at him, including you. Although, you had that same unamused look on your face as Ms. Atwell. Like Ned, you also scolded Peter whenever he didn’t pay attention in class.

“Dumbass.” You mouthed at him shaking your head. A sheepish grin forms on his face as his eyes shift back to Ms. Atwell. Her red painted lips were in a thin line and her hand was held out at him.

“Give me the note, Mr. Parker”

Peter’s eyes widened even more, making him fear that they might pop out of their sockets, “NO—no, no, no. I—I can’t.”

“And why not?” She asks him in her posh accent.

“Uh—because..” Peter struggled to come up with an excuse. His eyes shifted between you and Ned, desperately asking for help. Ned shrugs in response.

“Just give it.” You mouth to him. He shakes his head at you furiously and was about to respond to Ms. Atwell, but the note was removed from his hands. Peter squeaks as he tries to take it back from his teacher but shoves himself back into his seat when Ms. Atwell glares at him. She opens the note, eyes skimming at the words written on the piece of paper. A small smirk grows on the older woman’s lips.

“P—please don’t read it out loud.” Peter pleadingly whispered to her. He leaned forward, “I’ll go to detention, I’ll even grade your papers for you—just please don’t read it out loud.”

You raise a brow at the brown haired boy, wondering what could have been written on that piece of paper that made him beg Ms. Atwell for detention to not read it. You shift your questioning gaze at Ned, who waves off your nonverbal question.

Ms. Atwell sighs, crumpling up the piece of paper, “Detention after school.”

“Yes.” He whispered to himself in victory, hands clasping together. “Thank you, thank you, Ms. Atwell.”

“I’m only letting this slide once. The next time I see you writing notes in my class, I’m reading it to everyone and calling home.” She warned pointing a finger at him. Peter nods eagerly, “Got it, Ms. Atwell.”

She returns back to her lesson while Peter shoved his face into his hands in embarrassment. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his heart was pounding out of nervousness. He musters up the courage to look at you again.

Much to his surprise, you were already looking at him over your shoulder. He flashes you a shy smile to which you reciprocate with one of your own. You turn back around, resuming to take notes from the board. The smile on his face only grew wider as he stared down at his scribbled notebook, the image of you smiling at him stuck in his head.

Attempt #2

The next time Peter tried to ask you to be his valentine happened a few days after his first failed attempt. He was spending the weekend at the tower after Tony and Steve suggested that he should begin training with them more. Of course, he took their advice; this was an opportunity for him to improve on his skills and learn new things. But most importantly, he would get to see you everyday.

Peter was sat on the floor of the Avengers’ shared living room setting up Netflix on the giant flat screen attached to the gray wall. He had finished training an hour ago and was now going to have a movie night with you. You had also finished training the same time he did and suggested that the two of you should watch some new movie that came out on Netflix. He thought it was an amazing idea to have a movie night, obviously it was an amazing idea, you came up with it. He agreed willingly and insisted on grabbing food for you both. He swung from building to building until he ended up back in Queens at the entrance of Delmar’s. The two of you would go to the bodega everyday after school and pick up your usuals. Then Peter would swing you to the rooftop of some building and the two of you would eat before doing some patrol work around the city.

He pulled out your usual sandwiches from the plastic bag and placed them on the coffee table. To pair with the sandwiches, he also bought chips and two bottles of soda. He set up the coffee table and made it look neat. He wasn’t usually a perfectionist, but he felt the need to impress you. Did table or food presentation matter to you? Would you think he was sloppy if he carelessly placed the food on the table? Or maybe you’d think he was a neat freak from how neat and trim the food was laid out?

While you gathered extra pillows and blankets from your room, Peter continued to fidget with the food on the table. He moved the bottles of soda around too many times and even tilted the chips to make it look aesthetically pleasing. When he was content with how everything was organized, he glanced at the plastic bag. Along with the food, he had also bought a box of chocolates. The red heart shaped box caught his eyes and he felt his fingers inching closer to it. It was almost Valentine’s Day and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his body when he took the box from the shelf and purchased it. Peter made the spontaneous decision that he was going to ask you to be his valentine during your movie night. He would place the box on top of your food and when you come out of your room, you would see the box and then he’ll finally get the chance to shoot his shot.

Peter gripped the red heart box and gingerly placed it on top of your chips. He eyed it nervously before shifting his attention back to the tv. He was searching for the movie you suggested on watching when Bucky walked into the living room. The two greeted each other quietly until Bucky caught sight of the box of chocolates.

“Are those chocolates? I haven’t seen them in these heart shaped boxes in forever.” Bucky reminisced, picking up the box and inspecting it. His eyes were filled with curiosity, “Woah, they make them look all flashy now. Back in the day, ours didn’t have bows or glitter on ‘em. It was just some picture.”

Peter found himself smiling at Bucky’s sudden interest in the box. “Did they come in different flavors back then, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky whips his head up to look at Peter, “No! They only had milk chocolate. They come in different flavors now? No way.” Bucky exclaimed, turning the box around to see all the flavors listed on the back. After seeing Bucky’s reaction to the chocolates, he wanted to just give them to Mr. Barnes. But if he gave them to Mr. Barnes, then he would have nothing to give you when he asks you to be his valentine. He didn’t necessarily need to give you anything to ask the question, but it would have made the gesture more sweet and somewhat romantic. Though, that smile on Bucky’s face was a rare sight.

Peter’s shoulders slumped against the couch he was leaning on. He mustered up a smile and told Bucky, “You can have it if you want.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, this is yours. I could ask Steve or Sam to buy me one at the stores.” Bucky waved him off, trying to hand the box back to Peter. Peter shook his head, making the brown curls on his head wiggle, “No, take it Mr. Barnes. (Y/n) and I already have plenty of junk food here. You know, with training and all, wouldn’t want all that work to go to waste just to eat a bunch of junk food.”

“Are you sure, kid?” Bucky asked still holding out the box at Peter.

Peter sent him a soft grin and motioned for him to take it, “Yeah go ahead, you’ll enjoy it more than us.”

Bucky’s grin widens and he holds the box of chocolates up to his chest, “Thanks Peter! You’re not as bad as Sam says you are.” With that, he turns around and walks back down the hall.

“Thanks?” Peter said, a brow raised at Bucky’s retreating body. You come around the corner with an arms full of blankets and pillows. Peter chuckles and gets up to help you.

“(Y/n), you didn’t have to get so many pillows.” He teased, taking a blanket and two pillows from you. You huffed and placed the items on the floor.

“I just want to make sure we’re comfortable, Pete. Comfort is important during movie nights.” You defended yourself.

As you set up the blankets and pillows you glance at Peter, “Bucky told me you gave him chocolate. That was sweet of you.” A tint of red forms on his fair cheeks.

“It was nothing. Apparently they didn’t have different kinds of chocolate back in the day. When I told him, his whole face lit up, it was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen Mr. Barnes.” He explained, sitting beside you on the floor.

You smile fondly at the boy next to you, he truly was the biggest sweetheart. “It’s not nothing. That probably made his day, Pete. We barely see Bucky smile.”

Peter hummed in response, too busy being mesmerized by the light in your eyes. He averts his gaze before you can catch him staring at your face.

Peter’s eyes land at the food on the table. His bottom lip pursed into a pout when he spotted a dent on the bag of chips created by the box of chocolates. The small dent taunted him and was only a reminder of how he should have been already popping the question. He mentally cursed at himself, he couldn’t help but become a perfectionist when it came to you. He couldn’t just ask you the question—you deserved a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, teddy bears—heck he’d give you the world without you even asking for it.

“Hey! I got you your favorite.” He sees you instantly perk up. That beautiful smile of yours takes over your features and the butterflies in his stomach came to life. He found himself reciprocating your smile.

“Thank you, Peter! You’re the best!” You squeal, pressing a light kiss on his cheek and throwing your arms around him. He was taken aback by the sudden form of affection. Shock was written on his face while his body was frozen. Meanwhile, you were already digging into your sandwich while he was still in his flustered state, processing what just happened.

Attempt #3

This had to be the perfect time to ask you, Peter thought to himself. The two of you were sat on the ledge of some random roof Peter swung you both onto. You were sat beside him, feet swinging back and forth while you looked down on the bright city. Your hands gripped onto the edge of the roof, your fingers brushing against Peter’s once in a while, making the both of you blush.

Wind gently breezed past you, causing strands of your hair to brush over your shoulder. He should have been patrolling the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but his eyes were glued to the side of your face. The lights from the city reflected on your features; giving your skin a warm glow and your eyes a sparkle. He thought you looked absolutely stunning.

“It’s not nice to stare.” You suddenly tease him. He’s been caught. His mouth was agape and he quickly turned his head away from you sputtering. You smirked to yourself knowing that his cheeks were turning bright red.

“Oh—um, I wasn’t—yeah, no, I’m sorry.” He muttered. His hand awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he glanced at you. He was thankful that it was the night time, this would’ve been more embarrassing if you saw how red his cheeks were.

A playful smile was on your lips, “I’m playing, Peter. Is there something on my face?”

Besides beauty? No, there’s nothing on your face, was what he wanted to tell you.

“No! Your face is—fine.” He answered smiling nervously.

Wait, why would you say her face is just FINE? He thought to himself. He then continued to stutter out words, “I—I mean, your face is really pretty.”

You stared at him, amused at his flustered state. You always found his bashfulness adorable. He easily blushed at any compliment or kind of physical contact. You could nudge shoulders with him and his cheeks would instantly go red as a tomato. Even though he easily blushed, he was the sweetest person you knew. He cared about others around him, he had the kindest soul, and he knew how to treat a girl right. He was also a thief, because he stole your heart the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You giggle at him and bite your lip, “Thanks Pete. Your face is pretty too.”

“Thanks.” He breaths out. His inner voice then spoke, this is your chance idiot just ask her the damn question. Peter agreed with himself, this was the perfect moment. The moon shined in the night sky, the twinkling lights of the city set the mood, and the two of you were finally alone—this was perfect.

“Hey, (y/n)?” You turn your attention to him to see him fiddling with his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You laugh, “You just did, twice, but yeah, shoot.” Your joke seemed to loosen him up because it got him to chuckle.

He eyes your hand before grabbing it. He fumbles with your fingers until you decide to help him out and interlock them together. You see him smile at your fingers.

His thumb rubs the back of your hand, “Well, I’ve been trying to ask you this for a long time now. People just keep getting in the way of all my plans. Uh—I was wondering, only if you want to, if you want to be my—“

A shrill scream interrupts Peter. He clenches his jaw, hanging his head down in defeat. You squeeze his hand, catching his attention. The adorable pout was on his lips again and you were tempted to kiss it away.

You flash him an apologetic smile, “We should check on that.”

“Yeah, we should.” Peter grunted, taking his mask and shoving it on. With the hand that was still holding yours, he helps you up from the ledge.

You wrap your arms around his neck while one of his hands rest on the small of your back. He checks to see if his web shooters are on properly and pulls you closer to his chest, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get ‘em.”

Success

It was only a night away until Valentine’s Day and Peter still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. His heart felt heavy when you didn’t walk through the doors of your shared first period class. You must’ve been running late, he remember thinking to himself. He waited to see you at fourth period, but to his dismay, you were still not there. During lunch, he kept to himself and picked at his food while he worried about you. Asking you to be his Valentine was long forgotten, now he was wondering why you didn’t show up to school. Were you sick? What if you were in danger? Was there an invasion at the tower? Maybe you were on a mission? But that didn’t make sense, since you’d usually tell him you had a mission before hand. His entire day was spent thinking of reasons why you weren’t at school.

The second the bell rung, he rushed out of the school, leaving behind a concerned Ned. He sprinted to the train, then stopped by Delmar’s to get your usual order and another box of chocolates. He shoved the items into his book bag and swung his way to the tower. He greeted the receptionist and squeezed his way into an elevator. When he landed on the Avengers’ floor, he saw Sam, Tony, and Rhodey at the kitchen.

“Hey kid! How was school? Educational?” Tony greeted him, ruffling his hair as he passed by.

“Uh, yeah.” He answered, not bothering to actually answer Tony’s question. “Where’s (y/n)?” He asked them looking around the floor. Sam and Rhodey share a look at the boy’s eagerness.

“A mission came up. She’s out with Nat, Wanda, and Steve.” Sam answered, taking a sip out his mug.

Peter’s shoulders sag, “Do you know when they’re coming back?”

Rhodey glances at the time, “Not till tonight.” Peter curses to himself. Tony raised a brow at the boy, “Why are you so desperate to see (y/n)?”

“I’m not desperate!” Peter weakly defended himself. “I just—I had to ask her a question before tomorrow.”

Tony smirks at Peter, “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” Peter sighs and tosses his bag onto the floor. He pulls out one of the stools at the counter and shoves himself to sit on it.

“Exactly.”

“So you finally grew the balls to ask (y/n) out? About time, I was getting tired of seeing the two of you make puppy eyes at each other from across the room.” Sam snickered. Rhodey nodded, agreeing with Sam.

“We don’t make puppy eyes at each other.” Peter grumbled crossing his arms. Tony leans on the counter across from Peter, “Did you get her anything?”

“I got her usual sandwich from Delmar’s and a box of chocolates. I was gonna ask her to hang out in the garden and we’d eat our sandwiches there, then I would’ve asked her to be my Valentine.” Peter explained to the three men.

“You got her a sandwich and a box of chocolates?” Rhodey asked him.

Peter shrugged, “It’s all I could afford! I don’t get any money from being Spider-Man.”

Tony felt bad for Peter. He saw how the two of you interacted; bright smiles and attached at the hip. You guys obviously liked each other, but were too chicken to admit it. This was the exact push you both needed to admit those feelings. Tony patted down his pockets until he felt his wallet.

“I don’t trust you with my card, so here’s a hundred.” Tony slides the bill across the counter to Peter. The boy’s brows knitted together, “For what?”

Tony motions to the elevator, “Go and get your girl some flowers or something, I don’t know. You’ve got time before she gets here.”

“What? Mr. Stark I can’t take your money.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Kid, you’ve been making heart eyes at this girl since the moment you first saw her. Now take the damn money and make this a memorable Valentine’s Day for her.”

Peter takes the bill and shoves it into his pocket, he stumbles out the chair and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He surprises Tony with a hug before running out of the kitchen.

Peter ended up at the nearest Walgreens. He went all out with the gifts, that he needed two baskets to hold his items at the store. When he got back to the tower he headed straight to your room. He wasted no time in decorating your room. He hung up stringed lights with little heart lanterns attached to them on all four of your walls. He got a few stuffed animals and a giant squishmallow. He laid those things out on your bed paired with some of your favorite candies. He also got that lip balm you’re always raving about, fuzzy socks, and a scented candle. The last thing he got, that he knew you would enjoy, was a Harry Potter Lego set. It was only a small set, but he knew you’d like it nonetheless. You’ve always told him that you wanted to build a Lego set with him and now he was going to make that happen.

He stood in the middle of your room admiring his work. Everything was set perfectly and he was proud of his decorating skills. A knock was heard on the door, making him rush to grab the bouquet of roses on your desk.

“Um, COME IN!” He yelled, fixing his hair and standing straight with the flowers to his chest. The door opens to only reveal Mr. Stark.

“Hey—wow.” Tony observered your room, surprised at how it looked. He turned to Peter and gesture to the roses, “Listen Pete, I appreciate the gesture but I’m a married man.” He raises his ring finger for show, snickering at his own joke.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined setting the roses on your bed.

“What? I just came in here to tell you that they’re landing in a few minutes. I got your sandwiches out the fridge and sparkling apple cider for you guys.” Tony hands the items to Peter and two champagne glasses.

“Oh, thanks Mr. Stark.” Tony waves him off, “Don’t tell the others, but you’re both my favorites in this building.” The smile on Peter’s face widens.

“I’ll get outta your hair. Good job on the room by the way, good luck!” Tony leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Peter sets the sandwiches on your desk and takes the roses again. If Mr. Stark liked how your room was decorated then so will you, hopefully. He sits on your chair and waits for you to come through the door. He waits for a few more minutes until he distinctly hears your voice from behind the door.

He gets up again and fixes his hair and clothes. His heart skips a beat when the handle of your door twisted. The door opens painfully slow till it finally revealed you behind it. You stumble in shock once you enter your room.

“Hi.” He breathes out, hands tightening around the stems of the roses.

“Hey.” You greet him shutting the door behind you. Peter scanned your body, not to ogle at you in your suit, but to check if you had any injuries. You walk towards him and stop when you’re just inches away from him.

“How was the mission? Are you hurt?” He questions you. You fondly shake your head at him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “It was good, we were just gathering intel, nothing too hectic.” You reassure him. Peter nods in response while your eyes dance around the room.

“What’s all this, Pete?” You ask him, a playful glint in your eyes. Peter swallows nervously and offers you the flowers. You quietly thank him, admiring the red and pink flowers.

“Well, remember that one night during patrol?”

“Yes, I do. You had a question for me.”

“Yeah—um I’m gonna ask you that question right now.” Peter explains, fiddling with his hands.

“Okay. But are the heart lights supposed to be a hint because I kinda have a feeling I already know what you want to ask me?” You take one of his hands and interlock it with yours. Peter eases up and chuckles bashfully, swinging your hands from side to side.

“I’ve been trying to ask you this for weeks now and every time people would get in the way of me asking you. I wanted it to be perfect and everything—because you’re perfect. And you deserve something romantic and extravagant for Valentine’s Day. I was gonna give you a sandwich and a box of chocolates; because it’s what I can get with my money. Then Mr. Rhodey called me out so Mr. Stark gave me money and—“ He was in the middle of explaining when you interjected.

“Peter, you’re rambling.” You giggle squeezing his hand.

“I know, I’m nervous, I’m sorry.” He apologized blushing. You shook your head and pulled him closer to you, “You don’t need to be nervous, just ask me the question, Pete.”

He looks down at you, gazing into your eyes, “(Y/n), will you be my Valentine?”

You beam up at him, “I would love to be your Valentine, Peter Parker.”

[sonofanactuallyveryniceperson]

what are your top ten futct lyrics and why

Let’s gooooo! I’ll give you a teaser, and the rest goes under the cut <3

1. “I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake / The hand behind this pen relives a failure everyday”

It’s such a quintessential Wentz line, and the vibe is so specific to the album, as well. It’s a little homoerotic, it’s a little self-loathing, it’s a little bit angsty. It’s got everything. What more do you want?

2. “Take our tears, put 'em on ice / ‘Cause I swear, I'd burn this city down to show you the light”

This has always been one of my favourite lyrics. Growing up, I was a small town kid. If you either are — or were previously — a small town kid, you know exactly what I mean when I say that they’re the sort of places that you either leave as a teenager, or you stay there forever. There’s just no in-between. I always knew that I was leaving. So, I’ve always loved this lyric because I was a country kid with an incredibly close group of friends. And I knew that one day I was going to leave, and they weren’t going to come with me. It was kind of an inevitable, bittersweet little tragedy, so we weren’t gonna cry about it (“take our tears, put 'em on ice”). But I would have done anything for those assholes. It was good.

3. “The best part of, ‘Believe’ is the lie / I hope you sing along, and you steal a line”

Again, I’ve always loved this wordplay. And I’m a skeptical bastard, so I like the sentiment, too. “I hope you sing along, and you steal a line” is such a good lyric in a song that’s mainly about hope and cynicism and growing up just to realise you might be a little fucked. Because it’s so ‘I hope you take this, I hope it stays with you and you keep it forever — for better or worse’. And the fact that it’s followed with “I need to keep you like this in my mind”, because it’s a give and take: it’s very ‘you hold on to these words, and I’ll hold onto the way you look tonight’. That’s pretty neat.

4. “They call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone / But for what we've become, we just feel more alone”

This is for all my intimidating homies out there! It’s just such a fun lyric. There is something isolating about the kind of person that you become in order to protect yourself from the world. As someone who has, indeed, been addressed as a ‘vicious bitch’ I get to own this one.

5. “And the poets are just kids who didn’t make it / And never had ‘it’ at all”

Every time that Pete calls himself a poet, my heart gets all gooey. I’ve been involved in the arts industry, both directly and indirectly, for a long time — and there really is this mentality that some people will just never be worthwhile creative investments because they don’t have ‘it’. It’s always a bummer to watch talented kids run themselves into the ground trying to impress people who aren’t invested in them. Also, I’m a writer and a sad bitch; so me too, Pete.

6. “I’m sleeping on your folk’s porch again, dreaming”

This is just such a warm, summer lyric for me. I’ve been that kid, passed out on a friend’s verandah/balcony, lying on the planks and sharing a shitty blanket with someone. This line specifically reminds me of being 16 and sharing a pillow with the girl I had a crush on, outside, at her parent’s place.

7. “It’s true romance is dead / I shot it in the chest then in the head”

It’s badass. It’s a game-changer. It lives in my head rent-free. Should have made it to the album. It fucks.

8. “I’m mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town”

This is just beautifully tragic imagery. It’s futile, and it’s empty. It’s twisted nostalgia and compulsive sentimentality. It’s about not being able to let things go. And you know me, folks; I’m always a slut for a ghost motif.

9. “Your secret’s out and the best part is / It isn’t even a good one”

Something about Patrick’s delivery in combination with this line? It’s just show-stopping, baby. For me, this has always felt like a particularly brutal line; something about guarding yourself against people’s judgement, and then finding out that no one even cares enough about you to throw the first stone. It’s a very ‘Pete’ fear — like, sure, they might hate me but at least they’re looking. And as long as you’re seen, you exist.

10. “To the ‘love’, I left my conscience pressed / Through the keyholes I watched you dress / Kiss and tell / Loose lips sink ships”

I love how this line flows and I love the difference between this bridge and the original chorus lyrics (“between the pages of the bible in the drawer”, etc.). Again, this song has always felt kind of ambiguously queer to me. The lines about leaving your ‘conscience’ behind, between the pages of a motel bible, reads very true to the experience of your first gay hookup. Very ‘fuck what the church has said, it’s never done a thing for me anyway’. So the difference between that and this final change — suggesting that, despite everything, the meeting still has to be kept a secret — is super compelling to me.

[absurdthirst]

I’m resubmitting something that might have been lost in the purge. Whiskey watching someone being hit on with great amusement when they reply “Tender what?!” to being asked if they were on Tinder and making his way over to try his luck. That other guy wasn’t your type but perhaps he just may be. 😏

***I LOVED THAT SCENE!!!

The Shot

It wasn’t often he found himself at a bar anymore, unless he was down in Kentucky. The cocktail hours and mingling of New York never seemed to sit with Jack. Too polished and so damn complicated. Talking about Tinder dates and stock market analysis when all a man really wanted was a stiff drink and pretty girl to flirt with, and if he was damned lucky, to take home.

Still, the loneliness got to him sometimes. The large penthouse apartment that echoed drove him mad. It was supposed to be filled with kids and a wife, but that future was dead and buried. To escape it, the reminder that he was alone, he ended up here.

It was a hole in the wall. As most good bars were. Crowded, and lacking the peanut shells or sawdust on the floor from back home, it still had that vibe that they weren’t as plugged into technology as the rest of Manhattan. No credit card machines or fancy martinis. More like whiskey and beer and a dim corner to sit in.

That was where he was, nursing his third whiskey. He’d already talked to the barkeep about carrying Statesman, but he supposed this would do in a pinch. He had already spotted you across the bar, nursing what looked to be a Guiness. He always did admire a woman who could drink beer.

He watched as a suit walked over to you. Obviously enjoying his happy hour after a day of trading stocks on Wall Street. Not looking anything like your type by the way that you looked him up and down, your eyebrow lifted as he introduced himself.

Jack smirked when you shook your head, turning down his offer of a drink. Lifting your beer in salute before taking a swallow. “I can buy my own, thanks. And I don’t drink Cosmos.” Feisty, just the way he liked ‘em.

He had to hand it to the guy, even when he was stuck down, he got back up in the saddle. The cocky man, who obviously thought he was better looking than you realized, leaned against the bar and shot you what was supposed to be a lady killer smile. “I’ll swipe right for you baby.”

A big grin settles on his face when you say something, a little too low for him to catch but the suit’s face says it all. You have no clue what the hell he’s talking about. Jack leans forward, very interested now, since his own blunder with that infernal dating app a few months ago.

“Tinder.” The suit says, frowning. “Swipe right on Tinder?”

“Tinder what?’ That makes him laugh, setting his drink down on the table and standing at the confusion in your tone, paired with annoyance.

“Tinder, the dating app?” He tries again, still not willing to give it up.

Jack decides it’s time for him to step in, the man obviously not realizing that he’s blown his shot. He is not your type. Although, given what he has observed, maybe Jack is. He makes his way through the bodies easily, his own tailored clothes were neat but far different from a suit. A dress shirt and jacket, sure. But it was paired with a bolo tie and jeans which were cut to fit his lean frame and cowboy boots.

Making his way behind you, he notices the suit’s eyes shift over to him and he gives a rueful smile. “Hey honey.” He says, drawing your attention. “Sorry, I’m late. Had a hell of a time getting out of the office.”

Your eyes widen in recognition of his play and he sees the mischief in them, making his lips twitch. You grab onto his offer like a lifeline and hand on tight. Turning your body towards him, you hold up your beer for him to take a sip, a silent challenge in your eyes. “It’s okay, baby.” You tell him poutily. “You will just have to make it up to me, making me drink all by myself.”

Jack does smirk at that, the twist of his lips hidden by the glass as he takes it from your hand and takes a healthy swallow, the foam catching in the edge of his mustache. He looks past you to the suit and offers his hand. “Daniels, my man.” He offers. “You are?” Grinning when the suit quickly makes an excuse and turns around to leave.

Looking over at you, he raises his eyebrow. “Wonder what made him light out of here like a cat with a firecracker tied to his tail?” He muses, making you smile. He takes another drink of you beer and then looks around to the barkeep to catch his eye. “Another for the lady.” He asks, looking down at you with a questioning look. When you nod, he grins and leans against the bar.

“I promise you I don’t know anything about Tinder.” He says, laughing at your relieved expression.

“Perfect.” You say as the barkeep sets your beer down. “Have a drink with me and I’ll decide if I’m gonna buy you dinner.”

Jack raises his eyebrows and grins, lifting the beer you had handed him when he walked up to you. “Yes madam.” He nods his agreement, looking like the shot he took was going to pay off.

MasterList

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[silkling]

Of Mistakes Past and Missing Home

Of Moments of Life AU

———————————————————————————————————

“You enjoy painting.”

The voice came from behind Boulder, and the unexpectedness of it made him startle. Which, in turn, made him jerk and drag his paintbrush across his canvas. The result of which was him turning a small cloud above a red and orange flower field into a streak that cut through the whole picture. Oops. That wasn’t what he’d been intending.

He turned to see who had spoken, his optics shuttering with surprise when he realized it was Dreadwing. He was quick to realize that the Seeker’s expression had quickly shifted to one of regret.

“I apologize, youngling. It seems I caused you to ruin your art.”

Boulder only smiled, shaking his helm. “It’s no big deal.” he assured. “Part is the artistic process is making mistakes and having to start over. I did it a lot, in the beginning.” He glanced at the canvas, tilting his helm. “But that doesn’t mean every mistake requires you to start over from scratch. That’s the great thing about painting.” he remarked distractedly, tilting his helm in the other direction. “Sometimes, a mistake can be turned into something new, maybe even something better.” he narrowed his optics, then they lit up with a realization. “Sometimes,” he repeated. “All you need,” he reached out, then turned the canvas around so what had once been the flower field was now at the top of the painting. “Is a new perspective.”

When he glanced back, Dreadwing didn’t seem to understand. Boulder smiled. “Let me show you.”

He picked up his paintbrush again, then lifted it and in a few short strokes he added to the stripe that sliced through the picture he’d been painting. He changed colors, adding some more careful strokes around that, and stepped back. It would need refining, but the shape and idea of what he was going for were there.

“See? It’s a feather in the sunset, now.”

Dreadwing only blinked. “I suppose, though I’m afraid I do not much understand art. I always preferred to read data pads and learn about various fields of study.” There was a pause. “Skyquake enjoyed art.” It was a quiet addition.

Boulder found his smile softening. “Yeah? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” he encouraged. He glanced at his canvas. “I like art. There’s no set way to do it and there’s not much penalty for making mistakes. It’s nice.”

The Seeker hummed. “Do you believe most mistakes can be fixed with a new perspective?”

Boulder blinked, frowning. There was something off in Dreadwing’s tone. The others might not pick up on it, but he was good with other bots. He always had been. “…this isn’t just about painting anymore, is it?”

Dreadwing startled, surprise making his field flare. “You are far more perceptive than your teammates.” he said after a moment.

Blades smiled, turning to fully face the flyer. “Blades gets too anxious and wrapped up in his own helm to really pick up on more subtle emotions, Chase can barley understand the complexities of his own feelings, let those of alone others, and Heatwave is too proud and headstrong to really know what to look for. They’re all good bots, and I care about them a lot, but they aren’t the most..”. he searched for the right word. “Emotionally intelligent. Blades can read others really well when he isn’t swept up in his worries, but the other two are a bit hopeless.” He wasn’t saying it to be mean or to criticize. It was just the way his friends were wired, he knew. They were naturally better than him at a lot of other things. It was just how things were.

Dreadwing nodded, acknowledging his words. “You are correct. It is not just about painting. But it is my burden to bare, and I will not trouble you with my struggles.”

Boulder chuckled. “Well that’s a bad idea.” he said lightly. “You’ve already helped us a lot. Chase told the team what you did for him. We’ve all seen what you’ve done for Blades. Why don’t you let us help too? You’re one of us now, it’s gotta be about give and take.”

Dreadwing stared. “Wise words for one so young.” he sighed. “Very well, I will share my thoughts.” he vented harshly, then stared intently at the painting Boulder had been working on. “My mistakes are many, and brutal, and not nearly as neat or benign as a misplaced streak of paint. I suppose I merely cannot see how a new perspective would fix them.” he said after a moment.

Boulder was quiet, before he lifted his gaze. “Can I offer my thoughts?” At Dreadwing’s nod, he continued. “You’ve made a lot of mistakes. You’ve done a lot of terrible things. I don’t doubt that. And I know there are a lot of Autobots who would want to see you pay for those mistakes.” he tilted his helm. “I don’t know the full scope of the War. I don’t know everything you’ve done. But I do know how bad off Cybertron was before we left it.” The Seeker shot him a startled look, and he smiled a little sadly,

“I didn’t join the Rescue Force just because I wanted to help others, Dreadwing. In fact, in the beginning, my motives were entirely selfish.” he explained. “When I got to the age where I’d be expected to work, I was told that my first shift would be at a construction site in Kaon. It scared me. I knew how dangerous construction work was and I knew that even if it didn’t kill me it would kill my spark to be forced into something I hated so much. The only escape, the only chance I had at something different, was the Rescue Force. So I signed up to the Academy, and the day I got in was the day I escaped what I would have suffered through otherwise. The others may not have been as aware of just how bad things were, but…I was from the lower castes, Dreadwing. I knew.” he said quietly.

The Seeker was surprised, his optics wide. He saw how Boulder gradually shrunk in on himself as he spoke, and it made something unpleasant twist in him. The bulldozer was usually more at ease and bright, it didn’t suit him to look so…defeated. After a moment of thought, he put a hand on Boulder’s back and stepped closer. He knew Chase would not want more than this, but Blades preferred hugs as his method of comfort. Dreadwing didn’t know what the little green bot preferred so he wanted to play it safe. His bid seemed to pay off, because Boulder shot him a faint smile.

“What I’m getting at is, I know how bad off Cybertron really was. So even if I don’t know your exact circumstance, I do have an idea of what might have pushed you over the edge. I did originally come from Nyon, after all. Granted, I came from one of its nicer quadrants, but…it was still Nyon.” Boulder sighed. Nyon, at one time, had been the cultural and religious center of Cybertron, rivaling Praxus in beauty and grandeur. But under Zeta Prime, Sentinel’s predecessor, it had fallen into near-total ruin. “You made mistakes, and some bad choices, but you only did it in the end when you were backed into a corner and had nowhere else to go. Your choice was the only one you had that would let you remain alive, and that was wrong. No one should have to choose between death and living life serving a tyrant.”

Dreadwing hadn’t explicitly said any of this, of course. But Boulder was perceptive, like the Seeker himself had said. He’d read between the lines. He had understood what Dreadwing hadn’t been saying. It was one of the reasons he’d so quickly accepted the large bot as a new fixture in their lives. In his optics, this was Dreadwing’s chance at a life he should have had to begin with.

“That doesn’t change what you did, but it adds context. And given that the War destroyed Cybertron and decimated our people…” Which had been another thing Optimus had opted not to tell them. Dreadwing had had to share that particular tidbit. “Well, the War has to end someday, and if it ends in Autobot victory then we can’t afford to lock up every ‘Con. I don’t think there’s enough Cybertronians left for that.”

He realized he hadn’t yet gotten around to answering Dreadwing’s statement, and embarrassment flushed through him. “You made mistakes. That’s true. But context adds perspective. And you have a chance here to prove to anyone in the future who would want to hold your past against you that you can do better. Griffin Rock is your trial run. Heal, relearn how to live without War, and make amends while you’re here. Then, when everything comes to an end and the dust settles, it’ll be a lot harder for people to say that you never tried to make things right or that you’re unwilling to change.” he looked up to meet Dreadwing’s gaze. “Prove to yourself that you can be better than who you used to be, and when the time comes for you to face your mistakes, everyone will see that you have what it takes to make it right.”

Dreadwing was frozen, and Boulder found himself smiling at the hints of shock in his field and gaze. “I…had not considered those points.” the Seeker admitted after a long minute.

Boulder chuckled. “New perspective, remember? I just so happened to be able to provide it. That’s part of the benefit of letting yourself trust and rely on others.”

The flyer shot him an indecipherable look, and nodded. “Thank you for reminding me of that, young one. I have not been able to put such faith in another since I last saw my brother. It is good to be reminded that I do not have to handle my burdens alone.”

Boulder beamed, nodding. His somber mood was seemingly forgotten and he gestured to his painting. “Glad I could help! Now, if you don’t mind, I have sudden inspiration for this and I’d like to finish it.” he said, stepping towards the canvas.

Dreadwing let his hand drop, head tilting. “May I watch?” At Boulder’s nod, he settled on a nearby crate and watched the bulldozer work. It was oddly soothing, seeing the colors go down on the canvas, watching the patterns and shapes form into a familiar image. Into…a very familiar image.

After Boulder finished the sunset and feather, he had begun painting…the Rescue Force Headquarters. And Dreadwing picked up the longing and melancholy in the youngling’s EM field. The Seeker’s spark ached at the bulldozer’s visible grief, and he frowned. So Boulder hadn’t so easily shrugged off his earlier memories of home and his life on Cybertron. Dreadwing was not surprised to see him painting the Rescue Force HQ. From what the youngling had said, it would have been the first place he was truly free of the shackles that had threatened to bind him.

Dreadwing said nothing until Boulder finished and stepped back, and it seemed he hadn’t realized what he’d been painting until then, because when he took in the whole painting his only reaction was to let out a quiet, surprised “Oh.”

Dreadwing stepped closer, letting his own field nudge at Boulder’s, and upon finding no protest he let it curl around the youngling. Boulder’s vocalizer clicked and reset itself before he was able to speak. “I hadn’t realized…”

Dreadwing hummed softly. “You miss it.” he could tell in the aching and longing that all but swamped the bulldozer.

“I don’t know why. Like I told you, I didn’t have the happiest beginnings back on Cybertron. But I still miss it. All of it, not just the Rescue Force. Nyon, too.” he said in a whisper.

Dreadwing put a hand on his back, keeping his field soft and soothing. “It is only logical. It was your home. It shaped you and created the foundation for who you are. And I doubt all of your young life was horrible. You said you came from the better areas of Nyon.”

Boulder nodded. “Yeah.” he admitted. “The All Spark Day celebrations were always amazing. And the bots were great. We all had the same origins and the same troubles so we all just…came together. We were…like a community.” he said softly. “We all took care of each other and helped each other and even if the city wasn’t always the best, the neighborhood we lived in was actually alright, for Nyon anyway. I never starved, even if I didn’t always have the best fuel. My life wasn’t great, but…it wasn’t horrible either. I miss all the good things.”

Dreadwing bowed his head. He couldn’t fully relate. He had had no such struggles in Vos, at least not until the Senate had banned any from leaving the city, but he could understand the longing. “Cybertron is dead, but it’s children are not. And hope for our home is not gone either. Perhaps one day there will be a way to return, and even if not, we still live. Once this War ends, it will be possible to keep the life of Cybertron’s heart and culture alive, even if the planet itself cannot be repaired.” he said softly. “You did not get to know Cybertron’s death as the rest of us did, for we knew our home was dying with each day the War dragged on. We had time to come to terms with the loss. You were forced to be confronted with it in a single, harsh day. The rest of us lost Cybertron in pieces, and you lost it all at once. The loss is harder on you than it ever was on me, or any other Cybertronian involved in the War.”

He paused to let the youngling take in all he was saying, the hand on his back smoothing up and down his tightly clamped armor plating. His tone gentled. “I cannot give you back your home, and I know that reminding you of your new home here on Earth will not make the ache go away. So I will only say this: grieve as much as you want for what you lost. Mourn what you were not able to have and the things you will never get back. If you deny yourself that much, you hurt only yourself.”

Boulder was shaking faintly, his frame just a few degrees too warm from the overwhelming force of the grief was processor was buckling under, and his optics threatening to leak cooling fluid in response. He turned a wide, shining look on to the Seeker. His field probed at Dreadwing’s as if asking for comfort, and his vocalizer clicked and reset itself before he actually was able to speak. “…Blades said you give good hugs.” he said quietly, his field holding the softest undercurrent of hope.

Dreadwing only hummed, gaze softening. So that was Boulder’s preferred form of comfort. He nodded, then wrapped his arms around the shaking youngling and pulled him close to his chest.

As Boulder trembled and let himself finally mourn the loss of his home, he found only one thought on his mind.

‘He really does give good hugs.’

———————————————————————————————————

And here’s the next installment in the “of moments in life” AU! I hope everyone liked it! This was fun! I have so much inspiration for this AU you have no idea.

Boulder is the most well adjusted of all the Rescue Bots. That’s why I figured he’d be the best one to help Dreadwing with his own issues. But, even then, he’s still just a kid! A kid who woke up out of a very long nap to learn that his planet is dead and everything he’s ever known has been destroyed. He hid it well, but that shook him hard.

Dreadwing now has THREE children! All he needs now to complete the set is the fire truck! He also needs proper one-on-one bonding time with his helicopter child because their first real binding experience was with everyone watching. So there is that!

Until next time, friends!

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

[remmushound]

“Class is in session!” Young April O’Neil tapped her ruler against the whiteboard.

The minute April had learned that not one of the brothers, not even Donatello, knew how to write in cursive, she had jumped on the opportunity to teach them. Even if she was physically the same age as Raphael (ten at the time), mentally she scored higher than all but Donatello, but then again nobody could score higher than Donatello. Yet here she was, in the teachers spot with Donatello as her student.

“This is lame.” Leonardo groaned, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning so far back in his chair that it almost toppled over.

“No talking in class!” April warned.

“Why?” Leonardo smirked.

“Because I said so.”

Leonardo was silent a moment, but the minute April turned around to write on the whiteboard, his voice started up again.

“What if I have a question?”

“Then you raise your hand.” April answered promptly. Her marker touched the board, then Leonardo spoke again.

“What if I break my arm?”

“Then use your other arm.”

“What if I break both?”

“Oh I’m gonna break them if you don’t stop talking.”

“Understood.” This time, Leonardo really stopped talking.

April cleared her throat. “First off: The cursive alphabet!” She wrote both big and small letters on the board for each letter, “Same as the normal alphabet, but fancy~”

“What the heck happened with G?” Mikey gawked.

“We don’t talk about G.” April said, “Leo are you paying attention?”

“Yaaaawn!” Leonardo gagged.

April huffed and clutched her ruler almost hard enough to break it.

“Um…” Donnie’s eyes were even more squinted than usual and he raised a hand.

“Yes Donnie?”

“Can you write it bigger?”

April frowned. “Raph, how’s it for you?”

Raphael was at the desk next to Donatello and sat up proudly at being addressed. “I can see it just fine, Apes!”

“Me too!” Mikey piped.

“Yaaaaawn.” Leo sighed.

Donatello looked around at his brothers with a frown as he shrunk slightly into his shell to hide his embarrassment.

“That’s okay Don.” April said with a smile, “I can make it a little bit bigger for you.” She did just that, “How’s that?”

Don gave a shy smile. “Better…”

April didn't quite believe him, but didn't want to bring it up. “Hey Mike, do you mind switching seats with Donnie?”

“Nope!”

Mikey took a place in the back row beside Raph while Don took a closer place beside the indifferent Leo.

~~~

“Names!”

April scribbled each turtle's name in their signifying color and pointed to them. “Honestly, this is the most important cursive you’ll ever earn. So you can sign your name and stuff— and no Leo I’m not excluding you from learning it just because you’re tiny mutant turtles living in the sewer!” She tapped the board, “Copy this down on your papers as many times as you can!”

There was the unanimous sounds of chairs adjusting and pens clicking and touching to the paper— three of them. April smiled as she looked out over the ‘students’ but frowned once more when she got to Donnie. The year-younger turtle was squinting at the board and near tears trying to make it out. He made an attempt to copy something down a few times, only to scribble it out seconds later. Then, finally, he got up and walked over to the board instead.

“Uh… can I…?” His nose was practically pressed to the board so he could make out his name, supporting his paper against the wall to scribble a quick draft before returning to his desk and copying the rest of his attempts off of the first attempt.

~~~

When she announced for them to turn their papers in, Mikey was of course the first one in line, bouncing excitedly as he shoved his way to the front and held out his paper to April. April smiled and accepted it, yet Mikey lingered awaiting praise.

His work was surprisingly neat for someone so hyperactive, though big and riddled with far more loops than necessary. Legible, but far from perfection. She smiled down at Mikey and gave the tiny box turtle a pat on the head.

“Great work Mike! Try writing a little smaller next time so you can fit more on the paper!” She drew a smiley face on Mikey’s paper.

Mikey gave an excited squeal and snatched the paper, hugging it tightly to his plastron and churring softly before running off. Then came Raphael. His writing was also big and bold like Michelangelo’s, but without the foundation of neatness that the youngest brother held.

“Good job, Raph! Same thing as Mikey, try to write a liiiiittle smaller. I know it might be difficult since the paper’s tiny compared to you, but you’re doing great!” She gave Raphael a flaming smiley face, and Raphael was content.

Donatello was nervous— nothing unusual. He held his paper out to April and almost winced as if expecting rebuke. April let her eyes linger on the anxious softshell a moment before going down to his paper. His cursive was just as illegible as his print always was— the shape was there and she could see some familiarities in the loops to indicate where each letter was supposed to be, but the letters blended together even more than typical for cursive.

Still, she smiled at Donnie all the same. “See? You did great, Don! I knew you would.” She gave a purple smiley, but frowned as the ink dripped and made it look like the smiley was crying.

Donnie accepted the paper without talking and sulked off. Leonardo was last in line, unusual for someone always so eager to please, with a smug smile as he held out his paper to April.

“I know, I know Keep your praise to yourself. I didn't wanna do it but I pushed through it and mine is no doubt the best. That’s why I saved it for last.”

April narrowed her eyes and saw straight through Leo’s charade of confidence. The writing was big, though not quite as big as Raphael’s or Michelangelo’s. It was clear he had finished his work fast, the paper filled and whatever space left filled with tiny scribbles. At first she smiled when saw how neat the handwork was, a welcome improvement to the flipped letters that usually riddled his print writing, but then when she looked closer at the letters themselves, she noticed something else. Though the letters weren’t flipped, they were distorted— not the kind of distortion that a lazy hand would result in, but each letter was blurred together, some of them with multiple loops where there was only one or none when there was meant to be one. April looked up at Leonardo who concerned eyes, though his look of confidence never faltered.

“Uh. Good work Leo.” She said vaguely, giving him a smiley like she had to everyone else.

~~~~

“Are you sure about this…?” Donnie asked nervously.

“Trust me!” April beamed, taping the handles of the glasses to Donnie’s face

Donnie, eyes still closed, still tried to turn to face April’s voice. “Whenever Leo says that it usually ends up failing. Painfully.”

“Well I’m not Leo, so stop moving!” She snapped Donnie’s head back forward so she could finish her work. Once she was sure that they were on securely, she backed away and grinned. “Okay! Open your eyes!”

Donnie opened his eyes. His first reaction was to squint like he always did, but when his eyes were met with detail denied all his life, they shot wide and starstruck. His mouth dropped open, he sucked in a breath, and backed up against a wall as the world spun in its new light.

“Wha…”

April beamed and gave an excited bounce, clapping her hands together. Her face looked unusually empty without her glasses, but she didn't care. She could always get new ones, but Donnie…

“Whoa…” Donnie’s dichromatic eyes flicked to everything in the room in quick succession.

“Donnie are you okay?” Mikey rocked on his toes with his arms folded behind his shell.

“I… everything’s just… it’s like seeing life in HD!” Once the shock left, a smile spread across his face and he couldn’t stop it from claiming his usually shy or disinterested features.

“Woah! I wanna see life in HD!”

Mikey jumped up and snatched the glasses from off of Donnie’s face, shoving them on his own. His eyes and nose immediately scrunched up as he looked through the lenses.

“Ehh… this doesn’t look like HD…”

April laughed and leaned down to boop Mikey’s nose while he blinked away the irritation of the focused lenses. “That’s because your eyes already work, Mikey.”

“Raph’s turn!” Raph stole the glasses from Mikey’s nose, laughing as he put them on his own face. His reaction was similar to Mikey. “Ehhh…. Not for Raph.”

“What about you Leo?” Mikey asked, appealing to the older brother, “Don’t you wanna try them on?”

“What, and look like a four-eyed nerd? No thank you.” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Excuse me?!” April put her hand on her hip and dared Leonardo to repeat himself.

“Ah—“ Leo’s realization seemed to knock him off his confidence, “Not you April—you make them look cool—“

“Just shut up and wear these.”

April shoved the glasses onto Leonardo’s face, and the slider was immediately blinded by how… not blind he was. He let his mouth hang open a moment and sucked in a gasp, looking around with the much the same awe as Donatello had, before shaking his head and taking the glasses off of his face.

“See? Told ya! I don’t need em!”

Despite his words, there was a longing hurt in his eyes as he returned the glasses to Donatello and silently reserved himself so his twin could enjoy the full experience of being able to see a whole new world.

@brightlotusmoon

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #25: Silver Lining

Silver Lining – an advantage that comes from a difficult or unpleasant situation

The date had snuck up on him.

Dahkar rolled out of bed feeling grumpy and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He had no plans for the day, no diplomatic engagements that he would have to suffer through, no foes to deal with, no responsibilities he found boring. The day was his to do with as he pleased.

So why did the prospect of leaving his room seem so daunting, so pointless?

Something tugged at his mind, a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He looked over to the calendar on his wall, a simple one that Tataru insisted all of their rooms in the Rising Stones have.

Oh.

Oh.

It was the anniversary….of the day the man he loved died.

Shite.

He’d forgotten. With everything that had been going on, he’d somehow let himself forget that the worst day of his life was approaching.

He’d forgotten him.

No you haven’t

He groaned and flopped back first onto his bed. I’m really not in the mood for this, Fray.

Too bad. Whether you like it or not, I am a part of you, here when you need me. Right now, you need me.

He rubbed his temples. Can you not just let me be sad and lonely in peace?

Not if you are going to lie to yourself, no.

I’m not lying to myself. I haven’t thought about him in moons what with everything going on. I’ve forgotten him. I almost forgot the anniversary of the day he died. I claim to have loved him, and this is how I’m honoring his memory. I deserve this misery and you damn well know it

Are you done?

Oh will you just fuck off. You told me you didn’t think we’d ever talk like this again and here you are. lying to me.

I told you I didn’t know. I didn’t. I certainly didn’t think you’d tell lies to yourself thinking you needed to be miserable. As if that’s what he would want. As if ‘not thinking about someone constantly’ is the same as forgetting them. What a lode of shite, really. I thought we were smarter than this. Clearly you still need me.

Dahkar scoffed What the hells do you know about what he would have wanted?

Do you really need me to answer that? Or should I say ‘need us’?

Dahkar screamed in frustration, covering his face with his hands to muffle the sound.

Feel better?

No, but since you seem to have all of the answers, what do you suggest I do?

You’re being petulant, and you know it. My suggestions are still you knowing exactly what to do. But if hearing me say it will help you realize it, then fine. Get up, get dressed, go to his grave, leave some of those lilies, and tell him how much we love him and miss him. And then move forward. We both know he’d be quite cross with the idea of you holding yourself back from real happiness because of what happened to him. So accept it and let yourself love again already.

He sighed. For being my inner darkness, you’re weirdly romantic.

Do I need to drag us back to the Sea of Clouds so you can hear the moogle’s song again, or are you going to accept that because I remember it, you certainly do?

No, Gods no. Fine I’m going. And I’ll….think about the rest

That’s what you’ve already been doing.

Shut it.

A few hours later, Dahkar knelt at Haurchefant’s grave. While he still carried Nothung on his back, he’d eschewed the dark plate armor he normally wore as a Dark Knight, instead donning the mail of a House Fortemps Knight that he’d worn the Grand Melee with the Eorzean Alliance. It felt like a fitting tribute to the man he was here to speak to, even if it was so light he almost felt naked.

“Hey, Haurche. If you’re watching,I reckon you’re probably yelling at me. I’m sorry for letting myself be miserable with sadness. I know you don’t want me to do that. You’d probably tell me something like ‘You have so much love to give, let yourself do so!’. And you’re right. So I’m gonna try my best. There’s actually this girl in the Scions, she-“

The loud CRACK of a flintlock discharging interrupted his words and his side exploded in pain. He screamed and went down.

“Well well well, boys. Look what we got here. Another bleedin’ heretic comin’ to pay respects to his heretic kin.”

The voice was young, male, angry, but strangely somewhat refined. He rolled over to look at his attackers, trying not to cry out at the pain the act caused him. A group of elezen youths, four boys and a single girl, all well dressed too. The leader held a flintlocke, still smoking, pointed at him. “What…” he coughed. “What the hells are you doing? This is no heretic’s grave!”

“Oh it isn’t? Oh, well my mistake then. I thought this was the grave of that bastard Haurchefant Greystone, who brought outsiders into Ishgard that up and utterly destroyed the very foundations our great nation was built on! Now we have another bastard as our leader who let fucking dragons into the city and let the fucking commoners have a voice equal with their betters!” the leader spat, lowering his gun. His cohorts nodded or shouted agreements,

“Ah, I see.” Dahkar spat blood onto the snow, trying to get to his knees so he could at least defend himself. The shot was well placed, though, and he was struggling to overcome the pain of it. “And what might you plan to do if it was?”

“Well first, we’re gonna gut you and spill your blood over this place. Then we’re gonna dig that bastard up, shatter whatever bones he’ s got left in there and spread em around so the beasts can have em, and whatever’s left of you. Then we’ll shatter that stone and toss it in Witchdrop where it belongs. How’s that sound to you, heretic? Don’t answer, we don’t care.”

The group all drew a series of blades, knives and daggers, and slowly advanced on him. Dahkar tried in vain to get to his feet, or at least his knees, any position where he could try to draw his sword and defend himself, but the strain was getting to be too much, and he nearly blacked out. A splitting headache overtook him as he tried to block out the noise in his mind.

Noise that he belatedly realized was a booming voice

GIVE ME CONTROL. LET ME IN, DAHKAR. I CAN END THIS, GIVE ME CONTROL

“WILL YOU SHUT UP, FRAY?” he screamed. He seized the darkness within himself and pushed it out, as if trying to excise the voice from his head.

Miraculously, it worked. The yelling stopped. He sensed a growing pool of darkness nearby. Opening his eyes, he looked over. A pool of dark aether had gathered next to him. From it rose a shadowy form of a hyur, glad in black and blue, gold-trimmed armor. On his back was a Deathbringer made of darkness. The Shadow looked to him with glowing red eyes

“Neat trick” it said in his own voice.

The youths had began to back away, screaming threats or oaths. He used that time to reach into the Armory and summoned his plate armor. With a flash of light, it appeared on him, the damaged mail gone. The cuirass clamped down on the would, reducing the blood loss.

The shadow offered him a hand, and he took it, getting back to his feet and drawing Nothung.

“Don’t kill them.” he said to it.

“Mercy? They’d have shown you none.”

“They’re angry and stupid. Everyone should get one chance to move beyond that”

The shadow, Fray, laughed. Or Dahkar did. It was impossible to tell, and in the end it didn’t matter.

Both lept at the elezen youths, who screamed in terror.

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

[chyrstis]

WIP Saturday!

Tagged by @scarlettkat86 @shallow-gravy @nightwingshero @starsandskies @ma-sulevin @tommymillers @faithchel which I seriously appreciate, by the way! <3

Tagging: @cobb-vanthss @amistrio @hunnybadgerv @painterofhorizons @geronimo-11 @redroci @unlikelynick @jackalopestride @fadedjacket @vasiktomis @risenlucifer @tomexraider @consumedkings @adelaidedrubman @chazz-anova  @aceghosts @princess-underthemountain but no pressure intended at all, especially if you’ve already been tagged!

Things are alternately easing up and about to get that much busier, so I’m definitely trying to sneak in some writing time when possible, and was really happy about what I’ve been able to pull off this week.

First up, a little Hana and Sharky from the Trap fic, b/c I’m still chugging away at it, and ideally still want to post the first chapter soon, but until then? Here’s a little peek at a chapter further down the line. 

---

“Hey shorty, I-holy fuck!”

Sharky took one good look at her and reeled back, spooked to the point that she’d frozen on the spot. But before she could say anything, he shot forward, wrapping his arms around her tight as he crushed her to his chest with a vengeance. She melted into it, sagging against him as he held her, but she’d been fuzzy headed before, and when he went the extra mile and tightened it even more, a sharp gasp slipped out.

“Ow, ow, ow, Shark! Just, ease up a bit, bud?”

It took a few seconds for her words to register, Sharky clutching her to him as she felt him bury his face in her hair, but the minute they did, he shot back and held her at arm’s length.

“Aw, shit! Sorry, H, I just- you’d think you went through a neat grinder with the way you’re looking! Was hoping real, real hard most of what’s covering you’s Peggie-based and not yours either. ”

“It looks worse than it feels, hon.”

Judging from Sharky’s expression she was a walking horror show, not even thinking much about the amount of blood on her, and when she reached a hand up to touch part of it, her fingers came back red. Never mind the pain, seeing it made it real again, and her smile was a hair too wide when she turned it on him.

“Uh, actually, it pretty much feels like it looks? Think it’ll scar?”

“…Might be a pretty sweet one,” he said after a minute, giving her a weak smile. “And you know chicks go pretty wild over ‘em, right?”

Hana snorted. “Hell, at this rate I’ll be counting on it.”

His hands hadn’t left her shoulders for a second, but when he raised one up to touch her chin he immediately jerked it away at her wince.  It hadn’t hurt much, just stung for a second, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. And the plan mostly went off without a hitch, because I had him. I had John. That part worked. It’s just…” She mimed a gun going off by her face, and sighed. “Everything after that.”

“I’m popping three in that smirking fuckface the minute he shows up,” Sharky said, looking more serious than she’d ever seen him. He stepped back to reach into his pocket, and the fist full of shells he extracted he began loading into his shotgun. “Then three more on top of that.”

---

...And this is what I get after listening to Angry Johnny one too many times over the past week, b/c of all the things I planned on working on, Hana having to face off with John in his bunker wasn’t one of them. I’ve wanted to take a stab at it for a while, but 2K later, it’s finally happening, and at this rate I’m going to have the whole damn thing written before the Trap fic’s even released. :-/ 

So, John is unfortunately very...John here, and if she weren’t strapped to that damn chair, she’d definitely let him know what she thinks about all of this.

---

“We have time. And we have seven chances to get this right, and my dear, I want you to know that my aim is to do that very thing. To finally be able to find and place the very essence of what you’ve kept buried deep inside.”

He placed a hand on his chest, his fingers pulling the edges of his shirt down further when there was no need to. He’d never hidden the word carved there. Never tried, and she saw the buttons stress against his hold.

“To leave it out in the open for all to see,” he breathed.

Within a blink, his hands were on her.

“John, wait-”

The force he used would’ve ripped open any shirt she’d picked, and she jolted in her chair as she heard the buttons keeping it closed clatter to the floor.

Heard both them, and every heavy breath he kept on taking. In and out, all as his eyes burned a line across her chest, placing whatever mark he intended onto her.

He let the edges of her ruined flannel fall, and placed a single finger on her sternum. His attention locked onto it as he pressed down, and finally looked up.

“…Right here.”

Everything tensed. Every muscle in her as she shot forward in her seat and wished she could kick the ever-loving shit out of him.

“Motherfucker!”

He took one large step back, clearing her completely.

“Ah, wrath. Wrath, wrath, wrath,” he laughed. “We’ll get to you, don’t worry. But until then, let’s go over the others, shall we?”