#His image of Hunted is a tiny little bird | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rassicas · 1 year

Photo

Splatoon 3 artbook is coming! and they gave us hi res sample pages! so i translated them!

I’ve already preordered the book, and since I live in Japan I should be getting it very soon after release. mark my words I’m gonna go crazee translating it i need that Lore

In the meantime, some translations of the sample pages! take a look under the cut:

Page 44, IKIMONO (Living things)

yellow text: Among the living things in the Inkling world, a wide variety of species exist. There are creatures that can take on a humanoid form as well, called "Inklings" and "Octolings", the former being squids, and the latter being octopuses. white text in gray box: The old and the new mix to make the Splatland's youth culture The young people who grew up in Splatsville take pride in being born and raised in the Splatlands, and there is an extremely strong sense of solidarity in the community. They deeply cherish their old local culture, which is unsophisticated and simple, yet strong. At the same time, they like to make fun of urban areas such as Inkopolis for acting like they're "all that". On the other hand, many of them secretly yearn for that sophisticated, high-collar, Inkopolis culture. The current culture of chaos created by the youth with such a flip-flopping mentality is becoming increasingly global.

I’m going to translate these roughly. character select screen outfit, left: lines pointing to reflective goggles, a mask that blocks dust, and the cape. the cape is made from kelp, and is meant to block out sunlight. hero suit outfit, right: the “ultra light earpiece” is so light, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing it. The ink display is a digital screen. Boots are meant for rough terrain. Interestingly, agent 3 is holding a weapon called a “Hero Extinguisher.”

the gear on the left is called “hunting equipment”. The earpiece is based on an udon noodle. It’s small, but it has a deep sound (with bass i assume instead of sounding tinny?) Around the neck are cooling pads. The shirt is made from a seaweed fabric. apparently its wrapped around their upper body and kind of hurts to wear. you can see their underwear, but its the kind of underwear that’s supposed to be seen for Fashion. idk what its called but you guys know what im talking about. The ink tank is homemade. in the pouch of the backpack are snacks. to the right are very early concepts.

Page 62, Deep Cut concepts

It’s a lot of handwritten notes with a lot of pointing out what the drawing is, so I’m going to translate roughly.

bottom left is pointing out various things about frye’s head anatomy. small chin, forehead sticks out, thick neck, head curves like this and this etc. middle frye with the bit of green and red makeup is described as having a clown-like feel to it. tiny furthest right drawing is commenting on a specific nose shape concept as “bird-like.” she almost had the same nose as my main OCs what the

red arrows on the right: long arms, long thighs, squared shoulders are pretty. hand in the middle with black text: something like ‘if she has hands with ornamentation like this it makes her hands seem long’ bottom left: the little doodle of the face reads that her ‘mouth is kind of like this.’ the other text talks about how her eyebrows move asymmetrically, as having that kind of variety in the movement is key.

left: she’s saying something about sharks? apparently she was going to be associated with sharks with shiver being associated with eels instead. right: various sound effects. “looking around absentmindedly” “rocking back and forth” “dozing off.” on the bottom it shows her suddenly stiffening to attention.

left: in her left hand, it’s a sensu (japanese folding fan). in her right, its a harisen (the kind of folding fan used to smack people in slapstick routines) gonna be real here the text on the right is too cursivey i cant read it

shiver mask designs. neat stuff.

early design concept.

Page 198, Scorch Gorge

not a lot of text on this page, mostly images, have a look yourself. top right passage: A majestic canyon where the history of the Inkling world can be seen in the strata and rock formations. Many enjoy rock climbing here. There's a spawn point that was once used for ink battles that no-one has bothered to remove.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon artbook #splatoon translations

3K notes · View notes

tinycoded360 · 5 days

Text

Sterling Household-Mushrooms

Agnes couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth, a mixture of mischief and pride blooming in her chest. Today was the day she'd venture out alone and prove her mettle as a borrower. She was feeling extra bold and would venture out in the daytime. After all, her father always prattled about how oblivious their human was. It should be a piece of cake. She’d gather some goodies from the kitchen and return triumphant. After all, the best stuff would be out now since the human would be cooking his lunch soon. So, she would have to be quick.

With a deep breath, she squeezed through a crack in the wall, her heart drumming a lively beat.

She tiptoed past the colossal form of Sterling, who lounged in the living room like a benign mountain, utterly engrossed in the pages of a thick book. The cat, Whiskers, lay curled on his lap, a soft purring mass that seemed harmless—until one remembered its predatory instincts. Agnes marveled briefly at Sterling’s size; he could, without effort, crush her or ensnare her in his palm, transforming her from a daring adventurer into a helpless pet. A shiver danced down her spine at the thought, but she shook it off, bolstered by her mission.

Agnes's tiny heart thrummed like a bird's wings in her chest as she scaled the sheer cliff of the kitchen counter.

There - on the far counter sat the mushroom basket. Agnes swallowed hard and steeled herself. She raced across the expanse, hyperaware of her vulnerability. The open space seemed to stretch on forever. At last, she reached her prize.

Up close, the mushrooms towered over her, each cap the size of her head. She gave a giddy laugh. This would show them. She reached for a mushroom stem, picturing her family's faces when she -

A thunderous meow shattered the silence. Agnes whirled around. The giant's cat - Whiskers - stared hungrily at her from the floor, mere feet away. Agnes froze. This was not part of the plan. Whiskers crept closer, and Agnes's courage melted away. She dove into the mushroom basket, burrowing deep out of sight.

Whisker’s golden eyes fixated on the diminutive figure amid the mushrooms. A low, playful growl rumbled from the cat's throat as she crouched, her tail swishing back and forth with predatory excitement. To Whiskers, Agnes was nothing more than an enticing morsel—a wriggling snack to be chased, caught, and savored slowly in the warmth of her belly.

"Whatcha hunting there, Whiskers?" Sterling's voice boomed, a gentle rumble that sent waves of dread through Agnus's tiny frame. If he looked too closely if he decided to inspect...

Agnes squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to become invisible and insignificant. Whiskers' tail flicked inches from her sanctuary, and Sterling's footsteps approached like the drumming of an oncoming storm.

"Nothing to see here, just mushrooms," she willed him to think, her fear a tangible thing in the cramped darkness. "Move along, move along..."

"Curious little thing, aren't you?" Sterling murmured, lifting Whiskers into his arms and scratching behind her ears. The cat purred, content under his touch, but her gaze lingered on the container, now still atop the counter.

Sterling tipped the container, and the mushrooms cascaded into the gaping maw of the food processor. Agnes tumbled with them, her panicked mind flashing images of the spinning blades that would surely be her end. She tried to push upwards, to somehow alert this unknowing harbinger of death, but the weight of the mushrooms bore her down relentlessly.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Her voice shrills with panic.

Sterling reached for the power button, his finger hovering so close. But in that split second, something caught his eye—a flash of color that didn't belong among the earthy tones of the mushrooms. His hand halted, and he leaned closer, peering through the clear plastic.

Shock etched into his features as he realized what—or rather, who—he was about to blend. "Oh my god," he gasped, his voice a mixture of horror and disbelief.

Sterling's hand plunged into the food processor. His fingers, gentle despite their size, curled around Agnes's minute form. He lifted her out, the mushrooms falling away from her trembling body, and set her on the safety of the countertop.

Agnes, still reeling from the near-death experience, lay there quivering, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what had just occurred. Sterling towered above her, his expression of concern and anger at the tiny, mouse-sized girl before him.

Sterling's voice rumbled like distant thunder, breaking the silence that had befallen the kitchen since Agnes's rescue. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" he asked, his words heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.

Agnes, perched on the cold granite countertop, swiveled her head up to meet his gaze, her body trembling slightly as she registered the gravity in his tone. Sterling towered over her, a colossus clad in an apron, his expression etched with lines of genuine concern and frustration.

"Your recklessness could have ended...very badly," he continued, his voice softening but still laced with the urgency of his message. "I almost didn't see you. I almost..."

"Your parents, do they know where you are? What you're doing?" He paused, the gears turning behind his eyes. "I'm very upset by what happened," Sterling said firmly. "I have half a mind to keep you here until I can find your parents and explain what occurred."

At that, Agnes burst into tears. The thought of Sterling telling her parents and potentially exposing their entire family terrified her. They would have to move right away, and it would be all her fault.

"I—I didn't mean to," she stammered between sobs, her tiny voice barely a whisper amidst the kitchen's silence. "I just wanted to help prove I could do it too." The words tumbled out, marred by sniffles and fear.

She couldn't fathom why this giant, this human, would care about what happened to her. In her mind, borrowers were invisible, inconsequential to humans like Sterling.

Agnes shrunk back, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective cocoon.

Sterling's heart sank as he watched the tiny girl shrink away, her tiny shoulders quivering with each sob. The sternness in his voice had been meant to protect, not terrify. Crouching down, he diminished his towering form to meet her at eye level, trying to exude calm.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, "Let's start over. My name is Sterling, Sterling Silversmith. What's your name?" he asked kindly.

"A-Agnes," she replied between sobs.

"That's a lovely name," Sterling said.

Before more words could be exchanged, Whiskers leaped onto the counter, her tail twitching with interest at the sight of Agnes. A high-pitched scream tore from the borrower's lips as Sterling acted on instinct, scooping her up into the safety of his palm. The cat's curious meows filled the kitchen, pleading for the treat just out of reach.

"Shh, I've got you," Sterling soothed, his thumb brushing gently over her back while keeping her nestled within his curled fingers. "I'm sorry for scaring you again; it wasn't my intention. I just had to keep you safe from Whiskers."

Agnes, trembling, clutched his finger like a lifeline, her gaze locked onto the predator's eager eyes. There, she saw an insatiable hunger, one that understood her as nothing more than prey.

"Shh, it's okay, Agnes," he cooed, cradling her carefully while shielding her from the curious gaze of Whiskers. He ran his thumb, a giant warm pad, over her head, attempting to soothe her fears.

"Sorry, little one," Sterling murmured again, his voice laden with guilt. He held her until her tears subsided, each sob tapering off into shaky breaths.

"See? You're alright now," Sterling reassured, his voice a deep balm against the terror that had gripped her. He carefully packed her small bag with the mushrooms she'd bravely come to borrow. "You can go back to your family. I promise."

Her eyes widened, a glimmer of hope piercing the veil of her fear. He was letting her go? Relief fluttered within her chest, her breaths easing as she absorbed his words.

"Could... could I speak with your parents?" Sterling ventured, his tone gentle yet earnest. "I'd really like to understand more about you all."

"Nono, I can't!" Agnes blurted, her newfound calm dissolving. "They'll be so mad... We might have to move if they find out!"

Sterling frowned at her distress. "I wouldn't want that for you. But it's not my first time noticing your family around here. I saw your dad a few weeks ago and your siblings recently."

Agnes's gaze snapped up, wide-eyed and filled with a mingled sense of surprise and relief. A flush warmed her cheeks as she processed this revelation. "Nobody said anything," she stammered, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

"Perhaps they didn't want to cause any alarm or get into trouble," Sterling suggested with a wink.

Once safely on the floor, Agnes acted on a sudden impulse. She wrapped her arms around Sterling's thumb—a gesture so small yet filled with a magnitude of gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice steadying as she stepped back.

Sterling's lips curled into a warm, protective smile. He scooped Whiskers up, ensuring the feline's predatory interest in Agnes was thwarted. "Just think about it, okay?" he entreated. "I’d like to be friends, to talk with your family—not to harm anyone."

With Whiskers now safely cradled in Sterling's other arm, Agnes bolted, her tiny legs pumping furiously.

Agnes scurried back through the walls, her heart still racing from her close call. She couldn't believe the giant human had let her go with just a lecture. She clutched the bag of mushrooms closer.

As she neared the hidden entrance to her family's home, Agnes wondered if she should tell them about meeting the giant. Would they be angry? Proud? Afraid? Her father always said beans could never be trusted. But the giant had been so kind...

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing #the-borrowers-au #gentle giant #giant tiny #g/t writers #reckless borrower #tiny female #giant #Sterling finally gets a name for one of the kids #Only Cassia and Emma has managed not to be spotted #Cat #Sterling almost had a heartattack

15 notes · View notes

lazinesswrites · 3 months

Text

I read this amazing Cody-centric wing-fic by @meebles, so now I'm thinking about Clones with wings, and - because I'm me - specifically the Bad Batch with wings.

What would their wings look like? The regs' wings would all be identical/very similar, of course, with the individuality mostly showing in dyes and so on. But the Batch with their mutations will likely have different wings too.

I want Crosshair's wings to be similar to the ice vultures', for obvious thematic reasons, but also because vultures tend to hang around in high places, whether that's sitting in a tree somewhere or circling high up in the air, waiting and watching. Good sniper traits. I don't think we really get to see the vultures in the show, but I assume they're white/grey, to blend in against the snow and ice and white/grey skies. Good colors for Crosshair.

The rest will be under the cut because this got away from me a little (a lot).

For Tech, I'm thinking common kestrel wings. I don't know if kestrels have any particular behavioral traits that would fit Tech, I mostly just like their colors for him. I did read a little bit, though, and what stood out to me was that the kestrel has multiple hunting methods - it does the usual bird of prey thing, of circling around on an updraft over open land and diving for its prey, or sitting on a fence pole or in a tree or even a bush and jumping on a mouse or whatever that gets too close. The thing it does that's maybe less common is that it will also skim across fields, very close to the ground, to pounce on anything small enough for it to eat. And maybe I'm reaching a little here, but that seems to me like a very resourceful bird which is also a very competent flier, and I figure that does fit our Tech very nicely.

I do kind of want to pick vulture for Tech too, if just to match his twin, but. I like the kestrel better. I mean, just look at it:

For Wrecker... Maybe something like a white-tailed eagle? Because. Big. And good at fishing. On a more angsty note, I'm thinking whatever happened to give Wrecker his iconic scar/cost him his eye, it probably also damaged his left wing. Maybe not enough to ground him fully, but enough that flying/steering would be harder for him, which is at least part of the reason he's still scared of heights.

Hunter's wings would probably be pretty similar to the regs', maybe a tiny bit smaller. I'm thinking something like the New Zealand falcon, or kārearea. Bird of prey, dark brown, fairly simple coloring (though still very pretty). According to the NZ Department of Conservation, there are three ecological forms of the kārearea: A large, pale 'eastern' falcon; a smaller, darker 'Bush' falcon, and a 'southern' falcon that's somewhere inbetween in both size and color. Perhaps the regs' wings are more like the eastern/southern ones (left image, I think), while Hunter's are more like those of the bush falcon (right image)?

Disclaimer: I actually know fuck-all about these birds, only what I've just read - if I'm mistaken about the identity of these birds, I blame the sources, which should all be linked in the images, though tumblr is tumblr.

Echo doesn't get his own picture (sorry, Echo) because he's a reg, technically, so he has wings like the left one above. I... am not sure what happened to them in that explosion, or his time on Skako Minor. Probably not very good things. Maybe his wings are just heavily scarred/damaged, maybe they're gone completely. Maybe he's got prosthetics for one or both of them?

(I'm just now realizing that the Clones having wings would mean some things on that mission to Skako Minor - namely, the escape from the techno Union's facility - would turn out slightly different, since they don't need those flying reptiles to get away when they have their own wings. Though maybe they still do if at least one (Skywalker), and maybe two or three of the people on that team can't fly (Echo, Wrecker). I'm well aware them having wings would completely change the mission to Eriadu in the TBB s2 finale, what with them being able to just. fly over there. and away again. Even if they do use the sky-rail or whatever, for Wrecker and/or Echo's sake, Tech would still have his wings, so... All's good.)

Omega also doesn't get her own image (sorry, Omega) because while she's not a reg, exactly, she's an unaltered Clone, which means... Well. I'm not actually sure what that means. I suppose that depends on whether Fett had wings, or that's something the Kaminoan's added? I'm gonna go with the first one, because I like that better. The Kaminoans may have changed things about the wings, but Omega will still have wings, because Fett did too. But that also means she'll have wings identical, or at least very similar to the regs' (left img. above), though maybe she'll have lighter feathers, to match her lighter hair. Also, since she's still (physically) a child, she'll have wings that look more like the immature/juvenile falcons', which means... less spots and stripes? I think? I'm not sure.

I'm also not sure when this whole thing changed from 'idle musings' to 'full-blown headcanons' but it certainly happened. Let me just go back and add a read-more somewhere. Alright, that's done. I'm not really sure if I'm actually gonna... do anything with these headcanons. I do really like the concept of meebles' fic, though - showing different relationships through the grooming and preening of wings - so maybe I'll write something a la that at some point, just for the Batch instead of Cody. Maybe some hurt/comfort about what the Empire does to Crosshair's wings while he's a prisoner? And how he has to learn to trust people near him/his wings again, and how his brothers help him heal, both physically and mentally.

If I do ever write something about all this, I'll make sure to link back to meebles's fic as the inspiration - and in case you missed it up top, or just don't wanna scroll all the way back up again (that's fair, this got rather long), here it is again: and the stars, like a loved one by firelord_zutara on Ao3, also known as meebles here on tumblr. Go read it, you won't regret it.

#Star Wars #codywan fic rec #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #TBB headcanons #TBB wings au #Clones with wings au #TBB Crosshair #TBB Hunter #TBB Wrecker #TBB Tech #TBB Omega #Clone Trooper Echo #birds #birds of prey #to the people still waiting for me to answer their WIP Wednesday ask: I'm sorry; I promise I will get to them #words are just annoying atm #I say; having just written how many words about clones and birds and bird-clones? idk I'm not counting them #if there are any mistakes in here I'm sorry but its 1am and I'm very tired so I'm gonna go to bed now #enjoy?

14 notes · View notes

seirclys · 11 months

Text

SUOL-nim Season 4 Livestream recap!

Note: This will only be the English portions since I don't speak Korean or Japanese (ノAヽ)

Reminder: DO NOT SHARE IMAGES OR SCREENSHOTS OF SUOL-NIM'S STREAM. WE AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT.

Season 3's recap

Thank you to @eloise-writes-things, @leila-lirui, @bluebutterflyrose, and @karmablacks for helping supplement some of this information when I was outside or when I was sick ^^

This time she's streaming on Youtube instead of Twitch! However, the VOD will still not be saved afterward.

As speculated, the cover is Winter and Siyeon(our transmigrator FL), with the necklace Winter gave her in the caves :)

volume 6 will be out this summer(approximately)

Unfortunately, she doesn't know when the English translation will be licensed since it's between Gyeoeul-nim and the publisher,,

Her voice is so nice... she speaks Korean, English, and Japanese too!

Return of the pink underlayer for the magenta hair!

She talked a little about the Alice in Wonderland dress! The color was specified in the novel as "sky-blue", and SUOL-nim thought it would be fitting for Siyeon to wear such a dress while adventuring with our White Rabbit, Winter

Ahh I had to leave the house for a few hours so the stuff below are all my panicked notes. Some of these are out of order, sorryyy

SUOL-nim showed us the concept arts of the characters individually.

Fun fact, Siyeon and OG!Penelope's concept art has them wearing the same colored shoes, but Siyeon's shoes have low heels, almost like flats.

She says that out of all the characters, Callisto is the hardest to draw. This is especially since his golden hair has narrative importance and the aesthetic is hard to nail down.

The webtoon is mostly SUOL-nim's own work! She doesn't really speak to Gyeoeul-nim about work matters or help in adapting some scenes.

It takes her a week to finish a chapter, so she doesn't really have a "backlog" of progress. This is also why there's an extra week of break after four weeks.

One of the most memorable changes she made in the adaptation was changing the Empire's name from "Inca" to "Eorka". She reasoned that because "Inca" is the name of a real Empire, it would be confusing. Thus, she changed it.

The anagram of "Eorka" to "Korea" was completely accidental.

She has an Instagram for her SUOL account(like how she has a personal and a work Twitter) but has no plans on using it since her Twitter is overwhelming.

She doesn't have a favorite dress, but one of the ones she's especially attached to is the white Goddess dress since most of Penelope's wardrobe is dark.

She shows her folders occasionally, and we get little peeks of concept art for characters like Ivonne, the assassins, Penelope's male disguise, Cedrick, Emily's Hunting Competition dress, Winter's layered clothing, and minor characters, as well as the tiny bird monsters.

She also showed the dress concepts for Season 3!

In addition, we got to see a rendered concept of Penelope(think the promotional portrait) as well as a version of that style for Reynold and Penelope's faces in her folders.

There was also a WIP with Eckles and Penelope, perhaps a small illustration she scrapped, hasn't released yet, or just a concept.

We also got to see a silly doodle of Penelope, a redraw of a Crayon Shin-Chan frame(it's a popular kids manga/anime in East Asia).

The original was Shin-Chan trying to decide between a few identical outfits; the VADD version is the one where Penelope is surrounded by objects representing each ML.

The ointment from Reynold, the scroll from Callisto, Winter's mask, Eckles' collar, and Derrick's bird cage.

Her rendering is immaculate; Siyeon glows off the page.

The info after this is second-handed since I'm still sick and I fell asleep an hour before it ended ;-; but my throat is killing me and my ears were ringing

The Eckles Penelope art is the preliminary sketch for the physical Vol. 6(from my calculations!)

She moved to sketches around this time ^^

For the top row, SUOL-nim drew a Penelope, an Eckles getting dressed, and a sulky baby Reynold in a onesie. To the right of him is a doodle of him and Derrick in high chairs, with the Duke and a heavily pregnant Duchess watching over them.

On the bottom row, we have Emily in a noblewoman's dress and a fan with her hair pinned up(with feathers!), the head butler Pennel, and an overworked salaryman Cedrick on his phone.

Edit: He's chatting about Callisto with his feet on the table while thinking about strangling Callisto loll.

The stream was approximately 6 hours long!

Also, something she reiterated for a bit: Season 4 is planned to come out in August/September. The dates are tentative but she wants to get it out to us by that period.

It was nice seeing a lot of the discord and tumblr crew!!

Also, the stream tea: SUOL-nim requested that we translate our comments that weren't in Korean, English, or Japanese since she has to moderate the chat still and she doesn't want to feel left out of her own stream. Even if it's conversing amongst themselves, they should still translate.

A group of Arabic-speaking viewers actively ignored her and there were small fights in chat, and she even addressed this issue TWICE.

And in the end they still didn't do it, so... PLEASE RESPECT SUOL-nim's stream rules! At the end of the day, it's still HER stream! She has to moderate it! Don't make it unnecessarily difficult for streamers to stream!

This is basic chat etiquette.

#lysia's posts #lysia recaps!#villains are destined to die #vadd #death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #ditoeftv

53 notes · View notes

rightpastnowhere · 1 year

Note

MORE. FOR U

Ok ok ok we all collectively will not shut up about how Percy is endeared by Vex's ears, right? well UNO REVERSE CARD! His lil round human ears are so fucking cute to Vex. It's also very funny for her to parse out how sensitive they are vs half-elven or elven ears.

In modern AUs their taste in music seems very different at a glance but meshes SUPER well. Percy is rocking to MCR and anime intros and Fallout Boy and old rock'n'roll (that his dad and Julius loved), Vex is grinding to pop and country, and everyone is like 'surely not' until they pull up to give Pike a ride and are just blasting a Taylor Swift song together (she joins in obviously). Or on a train sharing earbuds and the poor folks the next seats over can hear Monster by Skillet from there and these two are mouthing along and sharing Dramatic Looks.

Trinket keeps bringing cubs home. He's a male bear, bears don't raise cubs in pairs (males don't participate at ALL), but he's a Ranger companion and lives as long as Vex does. And given he's a fit specimen he's probably the sire of a lot of cubs in the area (Vex and the Grey Hunt have got to watch out for inbreeding effects KJTRNHRKN). So every now and then he'll find a hurt or abandoned or sick cub and bring it back, and Vex nurses it back to health (and Dan too), and suddenly they Have Another Bear. Oh Dear. Sometimes Vex and Trinket make a conscious effort to train the cubs to live in the wild and release them a ways away once they're old enough, but the three bears we see in C3 is Only The Beginning.

The first time Percy tried really growing a beard, Vesper made Unhappy Faces when he'd give her kisses and in a fit he shaved it all off. He needed some talking-tos about it. His baby girl was SO upset and it make HIM upset OKAY -

It's advised that guests do not wander the halls of Castle Whitestone alone at night. They assume, naturally, that this is due to Ghosts or Restless Spirits - no the de Rolos are just. like that. Cass would rather everyone avoid the trauma of hearing them having a good time. Also the kids' darkvision means they have shining pupils if light hits them in the dark and someone fell down the stairs once so there's that too.

Percy fucking agonizes over blue now. Getting a gift to match Vex's feather takes up at least 3-12 hours of a given project. At this point he has custom paints mixed for it and will scour stalls and shops for gems of the right turquoise.

He also owns way more fur than he'd expect, because Vex is a ranger and can at least make a decent muffler or trim for mittens or ruff for his winter coat out of some of her more impressive catches. His favorite, though, is a tiny fur thing that's badly worn. Vex insists it's a bird. *it does not look like a bird,* it looks like a pointed rock with two bead eyes. It was the first thing she tried making him and it, well, it didn't come out as she'd expected. He still stims with it often, it practically lives in his pocket - like she was in Pandemonium, when VM were transformed into birds. She says she hates it, but his earnest adoration for this little silly thing she made really makes Vex so damn happy.

OH MY GOD SHE WOULD LOVE HIS EARS,,, HIS LIL ROUNDED EARS,,, SO SOFT N ROUND,,,,,,,, OMG

YOUR MUSIC TASTES FOR THEM ARE SO IN LINE WITH WHAT'S IN MY HEAD NGKJRNGK. vex imo has the most chaotic playlists because there's just one for all of her music. it switches from lizzo to mumford & sons without rhyme nor reason. and they WOULD be taylor swift stans with pike i LOVE THIS. AND GOD,, THE MENTAL IMAGE OF HER AND PERCY DRAMATICALLY LIP-SYNCING LIKE HUGE NERDS..... MY CROPS ARE WATERED. MY SKIN IS CLEAR

THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING NGKJRNKJGNR i simply think vex deserves an entire legion of bears who love her, and many of them on the castle grounds. only the best for the grand mistress of bears. (trinket mimicking vex's adopting behavior is SO CUTE I'M GONNA CRY)

percy upsets his baby One Time and suddenly he must change everything about himself. i love him so much i cannot stand it

NKGJNKJENG the de rolos fuck nasty and it is a burden upon those who think themselves to be fearless... my heart goes out to the unlucky few who dare. ALSO THE FUCKING. QUARTER ELVES. JUST LIKE A BUNCH OF CATS IN THE KITCHEN AT 2AM WHEN YOU WANT A SNACK. IS PERFECTION.

GERKGNERJN percy will do anything to maintain his wife's aesthetic

VEX CRAFTING HIM THINGS...... PERCY KEEPING HER FIRST LIL BAUBLE BECAUSE HE LOVES HER................ STIMMING WITH IT CAUSE IT'S SOFT................................ picturing vex finding out and endeavoring to acquire so many soft things, making him a bunch more knick-knacks once she's better at it, wearing soft clothes, just, oh my GOD she loves him SO MUCH

thank you again for this absolute unfathomable joy, i squeaked out loud at least 3 times, i am full of serotonin once more

#THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AS BURR WOULD SAY #oh my god you make me want to write so many little things for them #i'm crying. i LOVE THEM VERY MUCH #vex’ahlia #percival de rolo #perc’ahlia #fave #critical role #vox machina #blorbologist

52 notes · View notes

king-crane · 1 year

Text

SPIRALS.

Blood pooled at the edges. Seams were cut, frayed.

Professor Jonathan Ichabod Crane had hit a new low. He'd lost his battle -- his demons had won, and even they had been powerless against The Bat.

Chiroptophobia. Childhood trauma. Treatment ongoing.

The words of the orderlies were drowned out by the ringing in Crane's ears. Hallucinations. Delusions. Infrequent, usually, but Crane was beginning to panic, in so much as a constantly terrified man could panic any more than he usually did. It wouldn't leave him. The image, the god damned birds.

Ornithophobia. Childhood trauma. Treatment in final stages.

He tried to pick out Poe amongst the many birds spiraling birds -- but there were no corvus corax. They were scavengers, vultures, birds of prey. A shudder, and a throbbing in his head as he remembered the fierce sting of The Huntress's crossbow. He didn't know why she hadn't aimed for his throat. He hated it. The feeling of being hunted.

Scopophobia... extremely common. Unlikely.

Diokophobia. Result of lifestyle. Treatment ongoing.

Solitude. He was alone. He knew it, when he had screamed so hard that his throat started to bleed that they would have no choice but to leave him alone this time, but the sedatives didn't work. They never did.

Trypanophobia. Extremely common... but not present. Would have welcomed the sting of a needle if it meant relief.

Choked sobs left the Professor's mouth as he finally surveyed his surroundings. The blood was gone, somehow, replaced with bandages. When had he been taken to the hospice? When had they dressed his wounds? Time... time was moving too fast. Too quick. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, please God.

Chronophobia. Stupid. Fugate would be chiding you right now, insisting you keep your timepiece on you.

The diagnoses and recognitions weren't working. He couldn't even look at himself objectively anymore. Phobia. Cause. Treatment. Phobia. Cause. Treatment.

Phobia...

FORMIDOPHOBIA.

Crane screamed once more, and then devolved into a coughing fit. He knelt in the dirt as the gentle grains of wheat moved with the wind, patting his frame as if trying to reassure him. He knew what awaited him if he looked up, so he shut his eyes tight, praying for reprieve.

WHAT'S WRONG, JONNY? DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE ME?

The horrid... thing... spoke with her voice. Edda was his least favorite family member -- it only made sense that she would continue to haunt him. But her voice was joined by a chorus of others, victims and friends alike.

Please, please I can't...

LITTLE TOO LATE TO PLAY INNOCENT, TWIGGY.

His father. Professor Stanis. Don Salvatore. Horrible men. But their voices were filled with despair.

A horrifying compulsion forced Crane to... well, crane his neck upwards, and face the monstrosity that his psyche had created.

The thing was more terrible than he remembered, more awful than he could describe. It's orange eyes focused on him like the floodlights attached to Arkham's exterior. It's patchwork skin peeled away to show the thousands of carcasses stuffed inside. It's lopsided smile fixated on him, and thousands of bats began to swarm from that disgusting crevice.

I WILL GIVE YOU UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE.

T-to what?! To do what?!

THREE...

He got to his feet. His small, childish feet. He was as tiny and weak as back then and he stumbled as he turned.

TWO...

He knew he shouldn't have, but he looked back. Hoping to see something there besides that awful monstrosity. He blinked -- and it was still there.

ONE!

The head snapped off, and thousands of bats poured from the massive pumpkin head.

Crane took off running, but it wasn't long until he was falling. As the bats swarmed, he spiraled.

Phobia.

Cause.

Treatment.

Formidophobia. Hatred. None.

Another night in Arkham Asylum for Professor Jonathan Ichabod Crane.

#drabble #phobias tw #mental illness tw #hallucination tw #violence tw #just wanted to give you insight into his psyche #ooc #spirals

10 notes · View notes

mistblaze · 1 month

Text

MIST

[Image created with this]

Name: Mist, former Mistpaw

Alliances: Street cats, former ThunderClan

Family: Leopardfoot, Pinestar (parents) Nightkit, Tigerclaw (siblings)

Education: Whitestorm (mentor) Shadow (student)

Mist is a tabby like the whole Tigerkin, but the only silver-gray one with green eyes

She has much narrower stripes than her brother

she is, to be precise (and a nerd) a black mackarel tabby with medium white banding and silver

She has the most visivle SkyClan genes, having huge haunches and an aboreal hunting style

She also has the distinctive SkyClan paw pads, gray and firm, with sharp claws made to climb things

She was the stronger of the two after Nightkit died

That lead to Leopardfoot focussing on Tigerkit, and while Mist never suffered physical neglect, she grew up knowing that her mother didn´t love her like she loved Tiger

Tiger knew her was the golden boy and often blamed his sister for trouble

Mist Did Not like her brother, but she loved him as family

Things went south very, very fast when they were apprenticed.

Tiger was given to Thistleclaw, and we all know how that went. Mist was given to Whitestorm, his first apprentice

It was a match made in StarClan.

It´s said a mentor is your third parent. Mist will always say Whitestorm was her only parent

He encouraged her to focus on her strengh: being fast and jumping like a star-blessed hare

ThunderClan doesn´t hunt arboreal. Whitestorm didn´t care, his little ball of fog was born to be up there and soon started catching her own weight in birds and squirrels

Their favorite trick became for Whitestorm to chase a squirrel up a tree, right into Mist´s paws

She was an abyssmal fighter, the older apprentices and her brother, encouraged by Thistleclaw, not giving her the breathing room to find her paws

Then Redpaw, Frostpaw and Brindlepaw became apprentices, and Mist and Red hit it off as friends and sparring partners

There was one moment in a group brawl where Mistpaw kicked Brindlepaw off Redpaw and the two locked eyes

They had a very sweet, budding teenage romance. Sparrowpelt left Whitestorm in charge of both of them sometimes, and Spottedpaw came along too

They were trouble, and Spotty made it double

If things had gone differently, Mist sometimes thinks, they would have been unstoppable

Then, when everyone was just waiting for her and Tiger to become warriors, Whitestorm was in the healer´s den, and Bluefur took her on hunting patrol

They ran into Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw

To this day, both Mist and Whitestorm struggle with this day. Mist doesn´t regret it. Whitestorm wishes he could´ve been there with her

The siblings were cordial. Friendly. You wouldn´t be able to tell they are littermates if you didn´t know, not even by looks. Tigerpaw had grown massive, and Mistpaw was smaller, more slender, with muscles made for hunting rather than brawling.

Bluefur left to stalk a dove. And Thistleclaw spotted a lone, small kittypet at the border and encouraged Tigerpaw to kill it

Mist has never been able to tell if she got between Tiny and Tigerpaw, or if she tackled her brother first. She stood between them and told them that if ThunderClan was going to encourage the killing of a kit, a four moons old child, just because it tresspassed, then fuck ThunderClan anyways

That wasn´t as out of nowhere as Bluefur thought it was. ThunderClan was radicalizing, picking fights with River and Shadow. There was less and less space for a she-cat with little interest in battle, a love for WindClan´s tunnelbuns and a strange hunting method

Mistpaw felt an outsider, and she had enough

She grabs Tiny and runs for it

Mist thinks any group that only respects their fighters isn´t going to survive long

She´s quiet and has little reason to laugh, but loves her friends

She´s a good teacher, drawing a lot from Whitestorm´s example

She prefers sunny days, and hunting in trees rather than on the ground

Her favorite freshkill is duck

Her favorite food period is wild duck glazed in honey and spiced with juniper

She´s ace, and has no interest in raising her own kits

She still loves Tigerclaw as her brother, but she aknowledges that whatever connection they once had is long gone

Quotes: "If to be loved by a parent is to be nurtured, encouraged, comforted and supported unconditionally, then you are my father more than Leopardfoot is my mother, Whitestorm."

Updating this as the story progresses

#warrior cats #warrior cats oc

1 note · View note

solarwonux · 3 years

Text

59. “I’m still sore from last night.”

single dad!jungkook x f!reader

w.c: 2.3k

warnings: fluff, non-penetrative unprotected sex. Jungkook thinks too much lol.

note: hello, first and foremost, THANK YOU FOR 1K. I’m over the moon honestly, I found out while I was on my mini vacation and it just made it 10x better so thank you so much. Anyway, I hope you like this one, it was so much fun to write, let me know your thoughts. Send me a prompt or two if you’d like. hehe <3

sequel

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

The single ray of light peeked through the slit of Jungkook’s dark curtains, making his eyelids flutter open in discomfort. He sat up on his elbows, looking over at your splayed-out body occupying the usual empty spot next to him. Arm lying lazily around his midriff and leg wrapped around his waist. In a poor attempt to hold him hostage. He could easily slip out without waking you up, but this was a rare sight for him. You in his bed, hair messily fanning out against his dark pillows, and his sheets hanging off your naked body. Your skin glowing under the peeking sun rays of the morning sun, painting tiny sunspots all over your body.

It was a rare sight for him because you rarely stayed over, and he wanted to revel in the quiet and still moment as much as he could. As much as you allowed him to do so. Before you woke up panicking peeling your limbs away from his body in a frantic sleepy search for your clothes that occupied every inch of his one-bedroom loft.

He was outgrowing it in every sense of the word. Last week he had to replace the crib in the far with a twin-sized bed, leaving little room to comfortably move around it. It had been proven to him last night when you accidentally bumped your knee into the corner of his daughter’s bed while you helped him clean up his place, while she was away at her grandparents for the weekend.

It was why you had shamelessly decided to stay over. It was why he was able to wake up next to you. Why he was contemplating on waking you up so the two of you could hunt for apartments together. Why he had been turning the same sentences over in his head, looking for the right way to ask you to move in with him. To marry him. Would asking the two questions side by side be too overwhelming, or will knocking two birds with one stone be the right thing to do?

He didn’t know, this was all new to him. Haneul’s mother didn’t want her, didn’t love her and left her to him before disappearing without a trace. You were the first person he called when he arrived at the hospital to pick her up. Having his daughter in his arms, a daughter he had no idea he had until that morning, was terrifying and in the midst of his breakdown, he dialed your number. You were his best friend back then, now you were his girlfriend and the only mother Haneul had ever and will ever know. He wanted everything to be official but he didn’t know how or if he should.

Frustrated, he lays down again, running his hand down his torso until it reaches your hand. He walks his fingers up your arm in a ghostlike matter, while humming quietly, contemplating the ever-present questions that he always found himself swallowing. It was never the right time, but the right time never seemed to come, so maybe he should just blurt it out and then hide away.

“Good morning,” you croak, sleep still present in your voice. A smile creeps onto Jungkook’s face, his thoughts fleeting to hide in the back of his mind again. He turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

“Good morning my beautiful girlfriend.” He hums leaving a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose before burying his head in your neck. You smelled like green tea and white sage; the scent of your body lotion and him. It made him feel calm. Though if he were to ever express that thought out loud you would just say that it was the work of your stress-free body lotion. But no, you smelled, felt like home to him and it made him feel calm.

You twinkle your fingers down his bare back, the gnawing emptiness in the pit of your stomach returns. Your alone time with him was coming to an end and you hated it. “I have to get up, I have to go.” You whisper, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

Jungkook makes a disappointed sound, tightening his hold around you. “No five more minutes.” He whines kissing down your neck and lifts his head. A smug smile painting his beautiful features. “I can convince you to stay.” He quirks a brow, rolling his hips into yours.

“Babe.” You place a hand on his chest, your head hitting his pillow again, as the pleasure overtakes your body. “I-I can’t, I’m still sore from last night.” You breathe out as he grinds his half-hard cock against you.

He hums, chest swelling up in disgusting testosterone-filled pride. He knows he rocked your world a few times last night. Still remembers how he had you screaming louder than usual underneath him, enough to have his neighbors banging furiously against his wall. “We don’t have to go all the way, we can just stay like this.” He whispers, kissing your temple, grinding his hips against yours experimentally. It was slow and careful. He didn’t want to work himself up to full mast without your verbal agreement. Jungkook always respected your boundaries and he knew your body better than anyone you had allowed to touch you in the past. So, if you were to tell him no as much as he wanted you not to he would stop without a complaint ever leaving his lips.

You smile and push him down, straddling him. “Okay but relax, I could literally hear you thinking while I was still sleeping.” You roll your hips, your clit brushing against the tip of his fired-up cock.

He lets out a pleasure-filled sigh, resting his hands on your ass, “I got a lot to think about.” He winks before moving up his bed resting his back against the headboard of his bed, your chest now against his. “Keep going, I want to paint your pretty lips with my cum.” He mumbles kissing your cheek.

“For a dad, you’re always horny. I thought having a kid would kill your sexual prowess.” You sigh running your wet pussy over his cock harder, your lips fluttering around him, ready to take him in fully.

He laughs, bucking his hips against yours, a whimper falling out of your lips. “It did at first, remember?” He hisses when your clit brushes up against his angry head again. He wants to be inside you so badly, but he knows he’s already pushing it just with this, though, he can’t complain. When it comes to you, everything was euphoric.

You nod, looking down at him with hooded lust-filled eyes, resting your palms against his shoulders to use him as leverage to go faster. “Y-Yeah, you couldn’t get it up for the longest time, now I swear, f-fuck, it doesn’t stay down.” You rest your forehead against his.

Jungkook moves his hand between your bodies, his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow careful circles, making you jolt. “I can’t help it, you’re so sexy, everything you do is sexy.”

“Mmm, don’t stop please.” You arch your back, your hard nipples brushing against his. The bars decorating them still catch you off guard. They had been an on the whim decision back in college during a particularly stressful finals week. You had held his hand throughout the entire piercing process and wiped away his tears as he made you swear not to tell anyone he cried in pain and came in his pants all at the same time. You did and have kept his secret ever since. Now using the ladder against him during sex.

He rubbed your clit fast, his cock trapped between the wet lips of your pussy, quiet pants falling out of chapped lips. The pleasure was building fast against the pit of your stomach, “I’m close baby, are you?”

Jungkook hummed, grabbing hold of your hips and rolling them against him. The change of rhythm was much more intimate and arousing. There was no space between the two of you, your clit was brushing against the short course hairs against his mound, and it was driving you insane.

“Yes, baby, do you want me to pull away?”

“No, no want to feel you close Kook.” You threw your head back, pulling on his hair, letting your desperate need take over your body.

Jungkook moaned your name silently, moving your hips faster chasing both of your highs, “Gonna let me cum on you my sweet girl, gonna let me paint you with my cum. God, I wish I could fuck it into you after, but we can stop here, just let go please.” He bit down on your neck, making you arch your back.

“Oh my-, I’m cumming Jungkook f-fuck.” You whimpered, letting your orgasm take over, moving your pussy harder against his cock, riding out your high. You looked so beautiful and fucked out, the image burning brightly inside the corner of his brain that kept all the dirty versions of you. Your swollen clit rubs over him one last time before he’s cumming. Hot sputters of his sticky white essence coating your cunt and his abdomen, your eyes wide as you watch him spill himself all over you, the immorality of it all, enough to get you going again if you could.

“That was sexy.” Jungkook pants, making you roll your eyes. He leaves a delicate kiss against your collar bone before looking at you with soft doe pleading eyes. You never understood how he could have the dirtiest things spewing out of his mouth one second and the next he’s looking at you the same way Haneul does whenever she wants a chocolate bar before dinner. “Did I convince you to stay longer?”

“Yes, but I might consider it more if you tell me what’s been bothering you since yesterday.” You tilt your head and stand up. Jungkook blushes when he truly assesses the mess the two of you had made, making his cock twitch at the sight. “Join me in the shower?”

“Wait.” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you down on his lap again. “Not yet, wait a while please.”

“Jungkook as much as I wanted to be covered in your cum, it’s a little gross to just stay here cuddling.” You pout, running your hands through his hair pushing his dark bangs back.

“I know but,” he chews on his bottom lip, the questions from earlier return and he wonders if this is the right time. You sitting on his lap covered in his cum, or if he should wait until after the two of you have showered. This was truly driving him crazy and there was no way to hide from you because you knew him better than anyone else in this entire world.

“Babe, you're thinking again and loud. What’s wrong?” You run your index finger down the side of his, tracing the tiny minuscule freckles on his cheek connecting them.

“This is so hard, I don’t know how to just ask you to marry me and move in with me. It’s been driving me up the wall for like two weeks now. And like I don’t even have the ring yet, because it’s still being made, but they told me it would take only two weeks and it’s been a month because they’re backed up but that’s okay because they're short on staff. But I wish I had everything with me because I want everything to be perfect, you deserve perfect always and fuck, I-I just want you here forever by my side. By Haneul’s side because you make us complete and god, I don’t know how to ask you.”

There was a brief silence before you’re bending over laughing against his chest. Jungkook is left there sitting dazed and confused holding you as you laughed against him. Did he say something funny?

“Jungkook, I think you just asked me?” You lift your head, placing a hand against your chest trying to calm your nervous laughter and the pounding over your heart.

“Fuck,” he hits the palm of his hand with his forehead, his neck flushing red from embarrassment. “I didn’t want to ask you like that please, just forget about it.” He pleads sadly, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“I don’t want you to.” You say stubbornly wrapping your arms around his neck, “and I want to say yes I will move in and marry you, will you let me?” Your fingers play with the hair resting on the back of his neck making him shiver.

He’s looking at you wide-eyed and in shock, “are you sure? We can forget about it and I can ask you when we’re not covered in cum and I have everything. I’ll even write a speech.” He says fast, his heart beating hard against his chest, threatening to fall out. The only other time he’s felt this way was when he held Haneul in his arms for the first time ever.

You shake your head, pecking his lips softly, scrunching your nose, remembering that two of you still hadn’t brushed your teeth yet. “I don’t want a do-over, this was perfect, I mean I still want my ring so I can show it off, but this was perfect. It was us.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders falling forward, letting the tension leave his body. He was stressed out for no reason. “I love you so much,”

“I love you, now can we shower?”

“Yes, and then we can get breakfast and pick up Haneul together?”

“Sounds like a dream come true.”

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #bts #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts drabbles #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook drabbles #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader

2K notes · View notes

therealvinelle · 2 years

Text

The inevitable daemons AU

Received an ask, talked it over with the Muffin, now here comes the dreaded daemons AU that every fandom must have.

Look, guys, if I didn't make this post, someone else inevitably would.

This is a Cullens only edition, since tumblr doesn't allow enough images to do the Volturi.

And please forgive my nerding out over breeds.

***

Alice - Hummingbird

It has to be a bird, as she sees hte world from a unique perspective few others do. She's not on our level, with a bird daemon that's in a very literal sense.

Specifically, I see her as a hummingbird - beautiful, tiny, colorful, and energetic, some might even say erratic. Featured in many myhts and lore, just as Alice's gift is something quite mythic.

I can think of no daemon more fitting for Alice.

Bella - Mouse

Self-explanatory, really. Bella has the lowest self esteem possible, she views herself as plain Jane, uninteresting and certainly unworthy of Edward Cullen.

Specifically, I'm thinking a harvest mouse. They're the tiniest rodent you'll find in Europe, just the absolute most delicate little mouse you can find. Notably, they don't like to mate with strangers but prefer males they know and feel safe with.

Carlisle - Horse

For starters, the thought of Carlisle trying to navigate hospital hallways with a massive horse stomping behind him is hilarious. Being unnoticed just got that much harder.

More, the man is steady as a rock, headstrong, may seem a bit odd to those around him and sometimes do things that make no sense to others. The horse is a very kind and forgiving animal, not to mention intelligent. The modern equine is the result of thousands of years of selective breeding, as humans have historically depended on close cooperation with the horse.

I think the døla horse is the perfect breed for him, as they are very determined, calm, and resolute, not to mention insanely strong. It's one of the smarter horse breeds. They're very beautiful, and were bred to be helpers to humans.

Edward - Snake

Silent, graceful, beautiful, enchanting, and surrounded by myth and lore. The snake is heavily laden with symbolism, which I find appropriate for Edward who is such an introspective and brooding person that he would have to have an animal that was more than just an animal but carried with it strong connotations. A snake is more than a snake, and a snake daemon is a statement if anything ever was.

Edward would hate having a snake for a daemon so much, it would fuel his self-loathing and self-romanticizing.

I decided on the Asian Vine Snake, as it is regarded as one of the most beautiful snake species out there. It's venomous, a skilled predator, and includes rodents in its diet.

Emmett - Dog

Dogs are easy-going, love easily, energetic, fun, and easy to form relationships with. They can be intensely protective of their families. On the flip side, few things are more intimidating than a big, angry, dog.

Specifically, I'm thinking a Labrador Retriever for Emmett. It's a beloved family dog, very fun and loyal. It's a large and strong breed, and can be quite rambunctious.

Esme - Seahorse

Esme is such an odd woman, she has to have an odd daemon. And nothing says odd like her carrying around a beautiful bowl (I'm thinking she straight up gets into glass blowing so that her daemon can have the loveliest bowl in the world) with exquisitely crafted aquarium decor. For hunts she has to put it in a water bottle, though, that or she gets Carlisle to hold the little fella.

Seahorse because that way her daemon is a parent too.

Jasper - Dog

Starting out as an obedient and loyal dog, by the time Jasper claws his way out of hell and to Alice's side his daemon is a tired, beaten old thing that just wants to live in peace.

Golden Retriever because like the lab it's a large breed, and it is a calm, loyal, and kind breed.

Renesmée - Kiwi bird

A very unique and odd little creature, that it even exists is a bit of a surprise. It's nearly been run extinct, too. Flightless and weak, it can't fend for itself but depends on either the absence of predators or the protection of those stronger than itself.

Rosalie - Cat

Cats are famously reclusive, stick to the people they're comfortable with and may appear stand-offish or even hostile to strangers, who in turn may assume the cat dislikes them when the cat just doesn't care. They are no less loving and loyal to the ones they care for.

Specifically, I see Rosalie as a semi-long hair red-silver pedigree cat, preferably a Siberian or a Norwegian Forest cat. Long hair because she's high maintenance and luxurious like that, and as for the specific breed - well. The intelligent and all-american Maine Coon would in theory be more appropriate for Rosalie, but the Maine Coon has a too masculine and square face. The Norwegian Forest is just as fierce, only more refined features - the Norwegian Forest has his features aimed towards a triangular shape, as a contrast to the Maine Coon's square shape. The Norwegian Forest cat is notably a one-man cat, many (though not all) have One Person™ they'll consider Mother.

The Siberian is a very sociable cat, and makes the list of candidates mostly because they're so ridiculously beautiful whilst retaining that hint of wilderness. Still, a bit on the cute end, and I find the Norwegian Forst more elegant, hence me partial to that breed.

(To the left: a bluesilver Norwegian Forest Cat, to the right a redsilver (the color I was thinking) Siberian cat)

(And yes, I think it's appropriate to be this obsessive about appearance because Rosalie herself would be.)

#daemons au #twilight daemons au #cullens #the cullens #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #bella swan #rosalie hale #jasper hale #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #renesmée cullen #renesmee cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance

193 notes · View notes

zackcrazyvalentine · 2 years

Text

Random Twst Though I just had after seeing those skrunkly looking Easter colorful toy chicks....

[Yuu/MC is gender neutral & reader insert]

Imagine if NRC/Isle of Sages had a holiday that involved an egg hunt

Colorful little eggs hidden all over the land for students, locals, and visitors alike to search and keep. Some eggs have magical confetti (eco friendly!), others have small sweets, but by far the most sought after eggs is....

One that will hatch a colorful little chick

Depending on the color, is the fortune the finder of the egg will be blessed with

To lift the kids' spirits about not finding their colorful chick, NRC gifts out eggs that have those silly plastic pastel chicks to the children. This comes from the tradition of giving children the image of the soft bird embedded with magic so it changes color to their sought-after fortune once they open the shell

Now, imagine if the lucky person to find the hatchling's egg is none other than our beloved Deuce Spade

He's walking back to campus alongside the 1st year squad after they all had fun in the egg hunt and cracking confetti filled eggs on each other's heads (they're a mess of glitter and sparkles now)

Until one of the "sweet filled" eggs starts to shake and crack

"Eww!! A worm probably got in it due to rotten candy!" Ace gagged.

Jack's ears stood tall in attention, "No, it's something different." Fluffy tail wagging a couple times at the anticipation. Could it be that he was finally witnessing the birth of the legendary chick?

Sebek, too, stood straight and silent. Antique gold eyes staring pointedly at Spade's cupped hands.

"What do I do? What do I do?! WHAT DO I DO?!" Was the single thought repeating in Deuce's head as his hands trembled along with the egg.

A tiny little beak broke through, and a loud peep could be heard from inside the colorful egg. "Piyo, pi! Piyo!"

Everyone gasped

No way this was happening right before their eyes!

Grim's wide blue eyes shone with hunger, an animalistic instinct inside of him awakening after hearing the first peep.

Slowly, a feathered head of pastel blue emerged from the cracked hole in the shell

All eyes looked down at the cute little thing, muffled exclamations of awe trapped in the back of their throats.

Deuce puffed up in pride. "I'm a mother!"

The squad remained silent until Ace snorted loudly. Eventually, everyone shared a chuckle, even Deuce himself after realizing what he said.

But then...

"Gimme that!" Grim jumped on Spade's shoulder and, in a single bite, engulfed the poor chick into his mouth.

A collective yell of panic.

"Grim, you let go of that baby this instant!" [Name] ran after their furred friend.

"MY BABY!!!" Deuce cried, chasing after the monster as well.

"You disrespectful ball of fur, release the chicken from your maws!" Sebek was the next to tail the cat.

"Darn rascal, what d'ya think ya'r doin'?!" Epel went after them, procuring a broom out of nowhere.

Jack and Ace were left behind, stumped at what just happened.

"Guess blue isn't good fortune..." The redhead muttered, eliciting a snort from Jack.

The wolf shook his head. "Come on, we have to help the poor chick. Unleash Beast!"

And so, riding on top of Jack's wolf worm, Ace joined the chase for the blue bird.

~ At the end, the chick was safely recovered, and is now happily living in Heartslabyul under the care of a loving mother called Deuce Spade ~

#HDKEBDK #IDK WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT OKAY #enjoy!!#twisted wonderland #deuce spade #twst grim #ace trappola #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #gender neutral reader #gn reader #gender neutral mc

143 notes · View notes

liriostigre · 3 years

Note

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost: you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕#hope you're having good days <3 #💌

366 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Note

I always think of like, the reversal of what happened with the dimitrescu family in the game, like all three daughters die, lady D goes absolutely insane trying to kill ethan. But what if by some miracle or smth ethan had managed to kill lady d first? I think all three of the daughters would go absolutely apeshit hunting ethan down and ripping him to shreds because 'you killed our mama'

And I dunno I was thinking about this last night and decided someone else should suffer with me

I’ve thought of this, too!!

After they kill Ethan they stand around their mother’s broken body in silence, unsure on what to do or say anymore. What was there to do without their mother to guide them?

Ethan’s body is burned. The flames devour his flesh in their stead. None of them can bring themselves to feast upon him for what he’s done. It hurts too much.

They bury Alcina in the garden, bundling up in several layers so they can give her a proper funeral service, despite the harsh Romanian winter. They kneel in the snow-covered dirt, drinking from her veins one last time. Her blood had never tasted so stale before.

Ashes. It’s all ashes.

They hang her hat on the tree her grave sat beneath. Nobody says a word. Tears freeze to their faces. One-by-one, they leave.

There is nobody to greet them inside.

Mother Miranda, Moreau, Donna and Angie, even Heisenberg come to pay their respects. They all say the same thing, over and over again: I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a great mother. She loved you all dearly. None of it matters. Not any more. Who cares if she loved them or not if she is no longer there to give them that affection?

Time passes. Alcina’s death is hard on everyone. Daniela spends a lot of her days locked in Alcina’s bedroom, curled up in the blankets, crying. Cassandra vents her despair and anger on the maidens, practically living down in the dungeon, torturing and slaughtering. Bela, as the oldest, takes up the family business, but it’s so hard, so fucking hard because she doesn’t know how to do anything and it reminds her so much of her mom and she fears failure severely.

The sisters begin to grow distance, as they’re rarely around each other anymore, all too busy with their unhealthy coping mechanisms. They can’t depend on each other for comfort because they can’t even comfort themselves.

One day, six lonely months later, Bela goes out and visits her mother’s grave.

“Hi, Mama,” she says. “I brought you some things.”

She brandishes a bouquet of flowers to the grave, as if Alcina were actually standing there and looking grateful over the gift.

“They’re roses,” Bela tells the tomb. She swallowed thickly, biting back the lump welling up in her throat. “They reminded me of you.”

She tentatively sets the flowers down on the dirt.

“I—” The words catch in her throat. She scratches at her neck with one claw, trying to muster up the will to speak. “I was thinking about maybe trying different mixtures for the wine.” She pauses, took a breath, then goes on, forcing out a giggle alongside her sentence, “It’s probably gonna turn out surprise gross, though.” And then, much quieter, wringing her hands together, “I wish you were here to do it with me.”

Silence falls upon the girl and the grave. Bela’s hands are clasped tight and she brings them to her stomach, imagining what it would be like to find absolution in her claws. She would plunge and drag and drag and drag until there was nothing left of her but shredded flesh and blood, but that would not be enough, not for her. It would not give her her mother back. It would not give her the shouts and the laughs and the boisterous cries at all hours of the morning and night. That was not what Alcina would have done if it had been Bela that was murdered on that fateful day.

But she wasn’t as strong as Alcina.

Bela doesn’t really realize exactly how loud she is crying until her shaking breath hitches so high it sounds like a squeak. She blinks through the haze of tears and scrubs her eyes with her sleeve, but the merciless flow does not stop.

A little brown bird lands on a grave nearby and fluffs out its wet wings. A grazing deer is munching contently on some wild flowers. Some type of bug is buzzing in the grass somewhere from behind.

Looking around at this all, Bela is shocked by how the world keeps running and running while hers had stopped its run not so long ago.

The summer leaves are dancing around her, whisked from the towering oak trees by foggy gales and sent into a whirling axis in the sky. A humidly warm, but also bone-chillingly cold breeze is trying to offer a comfort that seems to be invisible and impalpable. There can’t be comfort. There can’t be reassurance. The pain is still too loud, the wound is still too raw: her heart and her soul aren’t ready to accept that there is a reason for what has happened; her mind is still trying to distinguish between reality and fantasy, between the soothing effect of a false illusion and the harsh truth of a world deprived by its most beautiful voice.

“Why?” She wonders this so often, but there is only pattering raindrops and whisking nature replying to her, and that lack of words is an absence that stings more than she can accept.

“Why?”

She has wondered for too long but still nothing has come up and maybe it will never be answered because sometimes life is like that, a storm in the middle of a summer day and its lingering residue following her for weeks and months. Maybe one day she’ll stop asking herself that but, for now, it’s just all she can think about, over and over again.

It doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense and it has been like that since she saw the sight, just a few flashes of images in a room, blood and gunfire and a collapsing body, that had stumbled down her life and shattered it. She can still see them behind her eyes, can still feel the way her own heart had stopped beating as a black void started to envelop her. She still feels like she’s down there, trapped in a nightmare that no one knows how to stop or break.

It doesn’t make sense.

There is regret in her body language. There is a baggage full of words that should have been said and things that she should have done. Maybe, if she had done them, nothing would have ever happened.

Bela wishes she could go back in time. She wishes there was a way for her to erase all those tiny mistakes she’s made, all those times she wanted to reach out but, instead, turned her head away because it still hurt. Her mother was—is still—the most important thing in her life and, yet, she let her slip away in fear of what she would say if she showed any signs of weakness. Her image is everything and yet, what is left now? There’s no image to defend, there’s nothing left because Alcina’s death has destroyed everything.

So she wishes. She wonders and wishes that there is a way for her to save just a few lives.

Her life.

There are still tears in her eyes. She wants to believe it’s because of the weather and the wind but it’s just a useless alibi. She lets them fall, not ashamed anymore because there is no one around to watch her. But she feels like a hypocrite, she feels like she doesn’t have the right to cry that loss because she could have done so much to prevent her mother’s absence.

To prevent her death.

She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many times people keep telling her that she’s done nothing to cause the incident. She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many people try to explain how, sometimes, she can’t save everyone. That bad things just happen to good people.

“I’m sorry.”

She knows it’s too late.

She knows that it’s useless because Alcina’s not there to hear those words.

Regrets don’t leave Bela, not even now that she’s standing in front of the consequences of her own ignorance.

It’s her fault.

She keeps telling herself it as if this admission of truth can absolve her sin. It’s her fault because she said she would protect her family but it was always so easy to forget about it: there isn’t ever the need to- she had always been the one that needed help the most in the family it seemed. She had always been the one fate had chosen to deal bad cards: her mental health, her perfectionism, those idiotic statements and those stupid decisions.

But then there was her mother. Her mother’s comforting words, gentle touches, light hearted jokes to make her smile—the way she would just…be there and make things better in ways that were difficult to explain to the world that had never seen her in private.

Why didn’t Bela do the same for her? Or for any of her family members?

“I’m sorry.”

Bela is sorry. She could have done more. She could have told her more.

She should have known better.

Bela should have known better, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to realize that her superhero might have been needing a hero herself and she was too oblivious or too busy or too afraid to be up to the task.

She depended on her mother and now she’s lost.

Alone.

#ask #you may call me the queen of resident evil angst #please and thank you #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #dimitrescu daughters #ethan winters

243 notes · View notes

wardenannie · 3 years

Text

Fictober Day 13: by the river

They had known what happiness was, once. Once-upon-a-time, in a different world. A world where titans ruled and humans cowed like mice beneath the eyes of a hungry, hunting cat.

They had been happy then. With both of their eyes in tact they had studied and jested and drank their days away in blissful ignorance of the world beyond Paradis. But now, holding their shattered heart in their arms, they struggled to recall what happiness even was.

The face of Levi Ackerman was a warzone. Lined with long, deep lacerations and beset with debris. Smeared with blood and ichor. One of his eyes drooped open while the other was shut tight. They wondered if he could see the horror written across their features, the fear, the grief.

“He’s dead,” Hange croaked, even as they felt his pulse in his wrist; shallow but present. Fluttering like the wings of a hapless little bird.

Hange’s throat was raw, heart thundering with pain and fear as they clutched Levi more tightly to their chest. They only had one chance at this, one chance to escape and potentially save the life of Levi Ackerman. Because the world still needed him. Paradis still needed him. Hange still needed him.

They loved him. With everything they had, they loved him.

“Hold on, smalls,” they exhaled into his ear as they clutched him tight. Then into the rushing white waters of the river they dove as a hailstorm of bullets peppered the water’s rushing surface.

Hange swam as best they could with their heart in their arms. They kicked and twisted and eventually gave into the current, allowing it to carry them away from the Yaegerists as their heads bobbed helplessly in and out of the white water, choking on its ice and silt.

“Hold on!” Hange choked, watching as the water washed the blood from Levi’s wounded visage. There would be no saving his eye. It was almost humorous how they matched now, mirror images of one another.

Eventually the bullets stopped. The river had carried them beyond the reach and sight of their enemy. They were safe... for the moment.

They washed ashore at a small, sandy bank deep within the protective arms of a forest. The trees loomed tall, their shadows foreboding as Hange dragged Levi’s war torn body into the mud.

“Please, please, please, please,” Hange rasped as they pressed their ear to the Captains chest, listening desperately for the sound of his precious heart beating. “Please.”

Nothing.

Silence.

Neither the rush of air into his lungs nor that steady, familiar drum beat that so often lulled the Commander to sleep. A sob wracked past Hange’s lips, shoulders shaking violently as grief threatened to swallow them whole. It’s fingers set into their chest, gripping and clawing and tearing them to tiny pieces as they cradled the body of they best friend turned lover.

Levi Ackerman was dead... but not if Hange Zoe could help it. Steeling themself, they squared their shoulders and wiped the tears from their eyes. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over.

Hange laid Levi flat on his back, head tilted to keep his airways open. Then they began chest compressions, twice per second, steady as they kept time in their head. Tears streamed over their cheeks, hot and stinging in their russet eyes. Desperation pooled viscous and acrid in their gut.

They couldn’t lose him. They wouldn’t. Not now. Not after everything they had endured. Not when their love was so new and precious. No. No. No.

They leaned over his body and sealed their mouths in a kiss of life. It tasted of salt and blood.

Levi Ackerman would live.

They would know happiness again.

#levihan #my writing #fictober

56 notes · View notes

redspiderling · 3 years

Text

MCU Breakdown: Black Widow, Part 1

I can’t believe this is happening 😭

First of all, congratulations to all of you who’ve been here all these years. We got it. We begged for years, and it’s finally here.

For once I wasn't dreading revisiting this film to write down what I got from it. I felt more like I might not do it justice. This film is so special to me, but here it is, the MCU Breakdown of Black Widow, part 1 (of who knows how many).

I remember back when I started running this blog and talking about a hypothetical Black Widow movie that had never been announced, always "yeah, we would be happy to do it, maybe, someday in the future", and arguing that it would be important for women and girls, no matter its content. I'm so glad we got it like this. So, so glad.

The rest under the cut.

Let's start with some technical details. The film has a lot of setups and callbacks, nothing is done in chance. For example, I love how the light, and the sounds we hear when we first, and last, see Natasha in the film, are the same. We greet her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family

and we leave her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family (I'm using the term family very liberally here in reference to the Avengers for the sake of the movie, bear with me, you know how I feel about those dudes).

It's signifying new beginnings, each time, not endings. Notice how, what we see is natural light, which makes this scene pop out, and look more real because the light is coming from the sun, and isn’t artificially made on VFX software. You will notice the stark differences in colours and lighting when the emotions and the atmosphere change in this film, because there is a visual language being employed here, the director has a story to say, and she uses all the tools she has to tell it. The light is exactly the same in those 2 scenes, because Cate wants us to make that connection, even if we make it unconsciously.

Natasha is placed in such a positive way, both at the start and the end of the film. There's this discussion about how "real" their little family was, but it was the characters that muddled up that image. The reality of their lives in Ohio is presented in a happy way, that had deep rivers under the surface, for sure. This wasn't accidental, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, if you take it the literal way, they were spies, and had to present themselves as normal. If you take it the allegorical way, any girl could fall victim to trafficking, and if you take it the character way, both Scarlett and Cate wanted to showcase that Natasha is human. They also wanted to give her something that wasn't always dripping with pain and sadness. They were both parts of her life, yes, but there was also joy, and light, and once upon a time she had been a kid, playing with her sister.

Also, and this has been mentioned before but it bears repeating: I love the actress they chose for young Natasha, and I love how they presented her character. She's allowed to be a young teenage girl. She's not sexualised. She's at that gangly stage between childhood and adulthood, and there's nothing sexual about it, no provocative clothing, no excessive makeup. She's a kid.

Plus, I know Cate said the actress already had her hair dyed blue and they just decided to let her have it, but I think it works well for Natasha's character. That small act of defiance, even that early on, against the system that wanted to break her. Also, the film gives us such great character moments, because they let the camera roll and don't rush through scenes, look at Natasha looking at Melina comforting Yelena. We can see the pain, the fear, where she knows that this isn't going to last, and wonders about what will become of them once their lives begin to unravel.

We also get to see the joy on her face, the wonder of discovering the world, how often do you get to see Marvel characters do this, just live in the moment?

Bioluminescence: the production and emission of light by a living organism. Or how Natasha is a bright light, that shines from within. Not my words, Cate Shortland's words. I felt it when I was watching this scene, but it was lovely to have it verified in one of her interviews. I wish I could meet her, and tell her that everything she wanted to put on screen came through, incandescent and crystal clear. Fireflies are a symbol for Natasha, as a bright light that shines from within, and never dies.

Small details that I love, the magnet on the fridge: Don't forget, above a picture of Natasha. LIKE WE EVER COULD, CATE.

We have another setup here, where the family gathers up to have dinner together. Even the sitting arrangement is the same as later on in the film.

Notice also how both young, and adult version of Natasha, communicate so well with Melina, just with their eyes. It doesn't necessary show a deep history between them, but it does show a bone deep level of understanding. Not just of their current circumstance, but of their future, and of what it will do to them. Melina knows what's coming and she's says it "I'm sorry", but they're both resigned to their fate, Melina because she doesn't see a way out, and Natasha because, well, here she's a kid, and therefore is powerless.

The dynamics between Yelena and Alexei is so different. Yelena is young and doesn't understand, so they're speaking about completely different things. "I don't have my shoes" is what she says, and it's heartbreaking in its innocence, as Alexei is loading his gun and reading himself for battle. We can still see that he's not indifferent to her, telling her she can have "fruit loops in the car". He's not a monster, he just doesn't have a choice (or at least, he thinks he doesn't).

Also, notice how the camera angles are employed here: Natasha and Melina look each other eye to eye, Yelena looks up to Alexei, Alexei looks down on her, there is an imbalance of power and understanding in the second set of images, and the camera tells us that.

Melina doesn't let Natasha take the photo album. For one thing, it's certain that Natasha wouldn't be able to keep it. For another, Melina wanted the memories, and probably didn't want anyone else to realise/think that they cared about their little family unit.

There's just a lot of thought that's been put in the details of the script, to show us their bond, their attempts to hide it, to show the characters' personality in everything around them (notice the plants that are ever present in Melina's home, in Ohio and later in Saint Petersburg). She might seem cold, she has been through a lot, but she cares. And that care has brought her pain. And we have to see that pain, because we get the quiet moments like this one, where she stands alone in an empty home knowing that part of her life is over, never to return.

The mission, is the last thing Melina asks about. The last thing Alexei mentions, the last thing either of them cares about. First, she refused to accept that they had completed the mission and were now hunted, then she accepted it and they loaded their family in the car, and then she asked about the leaked files.

Also, notice how that shot is framed. Both images silhouetted by the light because it’s the moment and the prop smack down in the middle of the frame that’s important, now what they’re going through, emotionally, they’re not themselves in that moment, they’re nameless, tools of the trade, expendable in front of that tiny floppy disk.

Yelena is singing while the rest are plunging in despair, but still humour her and play her song.

I found this shot a bit... Jarring. I get it that for American audiences this would show that they're actually leaving "home" behind, but for the rest of us... Eeeh, I'll give it a pass because it is an American production and this is just something to be expected. I mean, Yelena's song was American Pie. We get it, you still love America, just because you're making a film about Russian spies doesn't mean you're a commie Marvel, it's ok.

But in any case, the setup for the action scene here was excellent. Happy, familiar music playing, car is on the main road, car goes off the main road familiar music gets toned down and eventually completely lost in the darkness.

Yelena knows what to do, we see it, so that we know that this 6 year old girl who holds her stuffed animal and walks barefoot has practiced for this moment.

By the way, Natasha did take another item with her along with the photobooth pictures (it also looks like a photo album with Disney princesses on it), it didn't survive the trip. We are informed of this for a very specific reason: Melina didn’t ask Natasha not to take the photo album out of malice, or just because she wanted to keep it for herself. She knew it wouldn’t survive the trip in Natasha’s hands. We also get a close shot of the image strip (and we get it again, during the credits), because it will be important, later on.

Bet y'all also forgot you were watching a superhero movie until this happened? That wasn't accidental, they wanted us to see them as normal people, this is the moment when that ends.

Natasha saved her family, even though she was a terrified kid.

I know that they did the huge titles thing to connect this film to Civil War but... Listen, Civil War needed the huge titles because that script and the way that movie was directed was a complete disaster. We needed to know where the characters were each time with huge ass title because there was NO OTHER WAY TO TELL. Between complete lack of a timeline, and the fact that you couldn't even tell what time of the day it was due to the horrible lighting, you definitely couldn't tell what the location was because it was irrelevant to the plot like, 90% of the time. Not to mention the title cards in Civil War were usually followed by dimly lit grey corridors so, yeah, give us a title so we know at least where they are, generally.

This film. Didn't Need That. For the most part anyway, there are 2 locations where the titles worked. First one was Ohio, the other I'll reveal later.

But here. Guys, they're Russian spies escaping from the US on a small plane... Where else would they go if not to Cuba?!?! This is the Black Widow movie paying for the sins of Civil War, in a small way in this instance.

Yelena tells Melina that pain only makes you stronger, Natasha cries, and they setup my heartbreak for later.

Natasha protecting Yelena, terrified, and staring men down the barrel of her gun anyway. Such a badass and heartbreaking callback.

Notice how this scene makes us look at how men view this. There's an allegory here as well, but I'll address what's actually happening in the film:

Dreykov notices Natasha's natural instinct to protect herself and her sister, and all he sees is something he can use. A tool for violence, instead of sex, in this case. But the implication is there. Not a person, or a terrified girl, just an object to be used by men.

So glad that piece of shit got blown up and never mentioned again. Any man looking for exposition on Dreykov to feel the "loss" when the villain is gone: Fuck you. Go get some therapy.

Moving on from that piece of shit, difference between Melina and Alexei: Melina apologised. Alexei lied, but he also tried to give them hope. We can see the devastation, because the soldiers never thought of them as girls like he did, and didn't blink before drugging them and taking them away.

Yet another setup, of Natasha and Yelena, drugged and powerless as they are taken away. Because it wasn't enough that they were kids, they took away all their choices, and rendered them unconscious.

What can I possibly say about this credits scene.

It's very real, probably the realest minutes in the entire MCU, and it's merciless. They don't try to sugar-coat what's happening, and there are no jokes to diffuse the drama. These are girls being trafficked from all over the world. I don't know about you but I felt the switch from true parallel to real life traffic victims like this shot that looks like footage from Interpol

to Red Room victims as being a clear shift, and I was actually grateful for it. Because here I could put my back against the fact that the red room wasn't real, otherwise I would have broken down before the credit sequence even ended.

It was a stroke of genius to create an introduction to this entire world like that. We rarely see credit sequences anymore and it's a shame, because when they're well done they tell stories in and of themselves, and this is one of the best I've seen.

Even the villain is set up here. He's pointing at girls and saying "that one, and her", like he's picking pigs for slaughter. How much more setup than that do you need, to want to murder that man dead? Not any more, that was enough.

Nobody speak to me I’m crying.

Subtle, but there. Trafficking (and traffickers) exists because it IS being tolerated by governments around the world.

Unnecessary title aside, who else says Natasha looks at herself in the mirror hear and repeats "pain only makes you stronger", as she's being hunted away from yet another family.

Then she's saying it again because it bears repeating and Natasha has been through A Lot these past few years. I love how unfiltered our first image of her is. After all she's been through, we basically see her stripped of all her tricks in a moment where she’s alone with herself and her thoughts(something we later learn she tries not to do much), and she's just a woman having a tiny breakdown in a semi-public bathroom. Again, human.

This is where I will leave you for this first part. Hey, I got through the intro, I count that as a win given just how long this breakdown has already been. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, come yell at me in my inbox whenever, see you for the next one xo

#MCU Breakdown #Black Widow #Black Widow Spoilers #Natasha Romanoff #I'd like to think that all my followers have already seen it but just in case

99 notes · View notes

sanguineness-wings · 3 years

Text

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away.

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross.

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero.

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards.

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous.

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did.

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you.

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun.

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger.

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it.

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

#hawks #hawks bnha #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #echo writes

460 notes · View notes