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buttercuparry · 1 year

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A youtuber just started season 5 and i just kept thinking i wish they did the plot like in the books with Fake!Arya and all the lords gathering and Theon&Barbarey because I love the book plot so much except for Jeyne suffering like that. But how would you do the plot if you had the chance in the show? Just like Bran that isn’t in season five i had an idea of either Arya‘s plot in bravoos to be shown in the end of season 4 that she starts training.So then in season 5 we have Fake!Arya and then have real Arya back up in season 6 already training like Bran is and ending her plot there.Or have Sansa not be in season 5 but have her in s6, she is still posing as Alayne just how s4 ended , then they learn about Arya being in Winterfell and Jon trying to fight Ramsey so they save them with the Vale army right at the end!?! But then where does Rickon come in and then the succession gets weird. It’s Littlefinger power move to have Alayne be Sansa so then they can be saviors in the last moment if they show up like in the show. So then Sansa can have the north. But having her already be present in the plot like the show with no fake!arya and not have people willing to fight for her name or rickon since he is captured then it makes it easier for Jon to be King. How could they have adapted it with Fake!Arya in a more logical way? My other idea was both jon and sansa reunite in the last episode of season 6 after the battle. and choose Arya to be Queen even tho she isn’t present since they don’t trust each other and they fought for her name. But again rickon is also a problem and it’s not logical too.. How would you adapt it? Sorry for this long ass essay😭

I think there were talks about how GRRM wanted the show to have two more seasons as that would have better executed the endgame but still wouldn't have spoiled the books all together. There could have been both Jeyne and the Arya plot in a season or like you said they could have done it in alternate seasons.

There are a few things in play here, that made the perfect recipe for the disaster that GoT became. First and foremost: Grrm couldn't finish the book while the show was running. Even now we don't have a particular end in sight. So even if D&D truly were dedicated to their craft; there still would have been some struggle points.

But I think this is where you talk to the author. You follow his direction. Of course TV media can never encompass everything a book can; but you can be diligent in your compression and keep it a bit close to the source material. Like you said: we really don't know how to solve the northern plot. Where does Rickon come in? Bran is still alive, so what would that mean for Jon? LF is on a path to destroy the kingdom from the inside: he wants revenge against the world because the nobility thought that his birth made him too inferior to pursue the girl he was head over heels for. He wants the power that his birth denied him and he would do anything to get it. So here we have the Sansa dilemma. And then we have Arya. The Lyanna doppelganger. The one who has an wolf army, and maybe soon would be in possession of a crown. And of course the north has risen in her name. So you see how complex it is; people are rightfully suspecting a Stark succession crisis and maybe a struggle amongst various factions who would want their own preferred candidate to either be the kitn/qitn/lord of winterfell/lady of winterfell.

But the show never ever put this much thought into the material. And herein comes the second point. What D&D did, was that they chose only a few characters to focus on. They relegated other important povs to the role of a minor character. Like for example for Arya they forced her into what they think a "tomboy" should be like. Bran...they didn't even bother to understand who was who in his storyline. The Three Eyed Crow is not a magical designation to be bestowed onto the next poor chap every few generations. It was specifically a Brynden Rivers only thing and Bran was supposed to see that no...this was not him. That he won't just give up his life to rot in a cave. When he says that he is not dead, just broken like winterfell, the readers were meant to relate the strength of House Stark's ancient seat with Bran's own strength. Thereby cementing him as another legitimate heir who can very well carry on the Stark name. I know all the little details of the plot, all of the slow areas cannot be translated when we are watching something. But any little dialogue that relates Bran to Winterfell would have done wonders to Bran's character development. I mean they could give show!Sansa the lines that weren't meant for her and made show! Arya's Braavosi experience filled with more trauma than what she may experience in the books- so I don't see how sticking at least a smidge more to the books could have made it more of a headache 🤷🏽

D&D always played favourites. And because they did, by the end of it all GoT became more and more clownish because in asoiaf- each and every plot is interwoven. I honestly don't know what I would have done if I were the director. But dismissing the importance of magic, dismissing storylines, characters and adding in uneccesary violence just because the fans could figure out the ending can never be an option.

The Northern plot is connected to many, many storylines. When I said that D&d played favourites, I didn't mean to indicate that they did justice to these characters either. One of the main players in the northern plotline is Jon Snow. Jon Snow who haggles like a fishwife. Jon Snow who plots and plans and who is not the wet catman D&D made his show counterpart out to be. They took the line "you know nothing Jon Snow" too literally, not realizing that it is not meant to indicate Jon's naivete but an indication that the more Jon plays a part in politics and has to make dishonorable decisions- he understands what it truly means to kill the boy and be a man. He is not Ned Stark. Honour is a huge driving point in his storyline but he would be dishonourable if it means saving a kid from being burned alive. He would compromise an institution if it means that his sister would be safe. It is he who sends Stannis to the doors of the Northern Houses and rouses them for Ned Stark's daughter. We find here a reference to Ned Stark's legacy that is so so different from Tywin Lannister's. He may be mocked by the Lannister's, by LF. But the northern houses rising is a testament to the legacy that he built. Ned was not perfect, he failed his own nephew and was a hypocrite when it came to Robert; but there must have been something there that made even the mountain clans come down to fight for the daughter of their leige lord. And these values are intrinsically connected to Arya's own. The Northern plot itself is connected to Arya's own theme of a want for home. What makes the whole plot all the more rivetting and fascinating is the thought that this girl who believes that all is lost to her, while still almost subconsciously holding on to her identity- doesn't know that the North is marching to the rhythm of her name. She once fought for her father's men in Harrenhal, now we have her father's men fighting for her.

The Northern plot is important to both Jeyne and Theon. This ask is becoming an essay in itself so I am just going to add a few lines to this. Theon was a hostage of war. Naturally he would have a lot of resentment regarding this. This doubles when he is distinctly made to feel like he could never be a part of the Stark household. And in his revenge, in his lust for power and want of acknowledgement from Balon: he destroys the only home he has known. And it all goes to shit when he unknowingly brings in Ramsay Bolton.

Now after he is tortured, broken, degraded and almost reduced to less than a human being: Theon once again finds the strength in reclaiming his identity because of his want to save Jeyne. Not Sansa Stark, a lady or a princess of the north. But Jeyne Poole an unlucky girl from a minor house. He would gain nothing from saving her- no pardon, no glory. But he still braves the unthinkable. Because fuck Ramsay for breaking them like that. Fuck his sadistic glee at reducing human beings to nothing but broken lumps of flesh and blood.

And he gets this strength after he hears Bran, who reaches out to him through the heart tree.

So you see anon, how everything is somehow connected to everything else in asoiaf. You deliberately snip out one and you risk losing so, so much. And D&D did it again and again. Without consideration. Without thought. I am sorry for not being exactly able to answer, how one could have gone about the northern plot while adapting the series for television. But I hope I could give you at least something.

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 2 years

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Dont be shy write smut of the parents from turning red,mei's mom is fine as hell

I've been having a shitty week, so thank u for letting me do this-

"Now I trust her, really I do, but I mean! A slumber party? With a BOY? Even if it's Tyler! Even if he's. Well. Y'know. Am I doing the hand thing right? I don't know!"

Mei Mei was having a sleepover at her friend's Tyler's house. And despite how much of the leash she was loosening, she was still a worried mother. It was her first sleepover with a male friend, and she was worried something would happen to her 'delicate petals'. Even though Tyler constantly talked about how dreamy 'Z' was. Just a mother thing, he supposed. She ranted and raved, and he just listened as he was working in the kitchen. She was so upset, so worried, she wouldn't shut up.

Not that he ever minded. Her feelings were important, and he liked giving someone the spotlight. Especially his wife. Even as she sat there, in her nighttime robe, arms going this way and that as she scolded the air around her, he loved her. He plated the cake on the plate, added a dollop of freshly made whipped cream, and topped it off with a sliced, candied blood orange. Perfect. He walked over to her, silent as to not upset her.

"And another thing-that Priya! Her and her books with vampires! All that sucking euphemisms are just-"

He offered her the plate, cutting herself off immediately. She looked at the plate, then at him.

"I made your favorite."

"...Jin..."

He could tell she was touched. He let her grab the plate, before sitting down next to her, and gently putting his hand on her thigh.

"You will always worry about her. That won't change. But we need to trust her, so she can trust us. If something DOES happen, we'll know. Besides, Tyler has a type, and it's not Mei."

That brought a smile to her lips. That was what he liked to see. She helped herself to a bite of the cake, before resting her head on his shoulder.

"I still can't believe this was how we met. You remember?"

"I can't ever forget."

Cooking class. You'd think she'd ace it, being as disciplined as she was. Sure, rice and dumplings were fine, but her bane? Desserts. It was so awful, she growled as she threw yet another failed cake into the trash. You'd think spending so much time after school would perfect her craft. You'd be wrong.

"Ugh, that one tasted AWFUL! It was like licking ashes off a SPONGE!"

She just had to make one fucking dessert to pass this class. What If she failed? Oh if her mom saw she failed ANY class. She dug her fingers in her hair, feeling herself start to breathe oh so quickly. Oh no, she can't have an episode, not here, she didn't have the time to-

"I think it might be too much cinnamon."

She looked up from her counter towards the voice. He was a shorter, sort of 'tubby' boy. Pair that with his glasses, and he honestly looked like he needed protection against the more stupid boys in school. She studied him for a moment, raising a brow at him.

"What?"

"You said it tasted like ashes from a sponge. Might be too much cinnamon. And you might be...mixing too hard. I get decent grades in this class, can I uh...teach you?"

She probably shouldn't get advice from some rando. But at this point, she'd take anything. She nodded, scooting over her counter to make room for him.

"Thanks. If I fail this class, my mom is going to lose her MIND and she'd yell at me at-"

Before she could finish, he reached over to hold her hand. His hand was big, soft as dough. Without speaking another word, he started to mix dry ingredients into a bowl. He went slow, letting her follow rather easily. When he poured the coffee and chocolate, he smiled at her, offering a spoon in her direction. Instead of taking it from his hand, she leaned in, and licked it right off the spoon. His face was as red as a panda, and he cleared his throat.

"Is it...good?"

She nodded eagerly, licking the chocolate off her bottom lip.

"Very."

"...I'm Jin."

"Ming."

"You were so nervous around me."

"You were the prettiest girl I knew. So talented. But also...lonely."

His thumb gently rubbed at her leg as she kept eating, lost in thought.

"I was. I didn't have time for friends. But you had all the same classes with me, it was easy. Remember all the 'tutoring' you did for me?"

He felt red creep onto his face at that look in her eyes. Tutoring was really...hands on, if you caught his drift. He rubbed the back of his head, chuckling.

"You were uh...really good at your oral reports."

"JIN!!"

That got a real good laugh out of her. She swatted his shoulder. She swore under her breath as she got crumbs on him, clearly embarrassed.

"How DARE you make me laugh like that! You know I hate my laugh!"

"I like it."

She looked up at him, glanced at his hand, then back up at him. He couldn't resist her, not with a face like that. He leaned in, kissing her forehead. Didn't matter how long they'd been married, still getting to kiss her would be the highlight of his day, week, month, year even. She caught his lips before he pulled away, and he swore he melted on the spot. He loved cake, but it tasted even sweeter from her. She pulled away from him, and seeing her blush, as if it was their first kiss all over again, it only made him want her more. He took her empty plate, put it on the coffee table, and leaned In to kiss at her jawline. He'd understand if she didn't want to, but could you blame a guy for trying? She pushed at his chest weakly, clearly not really trying to push him away.

"Jin, stop it, you're embarrassing."

"Loving you isn't embarrassing. How long has it been, Ming?"

She thought about it, before wincing at the thought.

"Three years. At least."

It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to him (at least he hoped not) anymore, she was just so distracted by life, it hadn't crossed her mind. Sure, he missed her, but it wasn't an absolute need for him. He was a father, a husband, life just came at you like that. Her hand was still at his chest, and her fingers gently strummed at his shirt, clearly in thought.

"I'm...sorry. I know I've been preoccupied with Mei. It's bad enough I've been a bad mom, now I've been a bad wife-"

He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled, till she was right up against him. Jin loved to talk, but he realized pretty early on, that actions helped her more than words. He felt her grip onto his back, and take a shakey exhale. Perfection was a flaw in his wife, always had been. He sat there until she had her fill, and she looked up at him.

"I can't take back all I missed. But I can do something now. If you'll have me."

He nodded. He always would have her, no matter how busy and in the weeds she was. That's what love did to you. She motioned for him to get up, but he hesitated.

"Could...we do it here?"

She looked appalled at the notion, hand on her chest.

"On the COUCH? REALLY?"

He shrugged.

"I just...uh. Always wanted to."

She hesitated, and he was about to just follow her upstairs, before she just pushed him onto his back, and sat on his lap.

"Fine. Just. If there's a mess, YOU'RE cleaning it."

Fair enough. She laid on his stomach, wrapped her arms around his neck, and started to kiss at his cheek, and his neck. Her hand buried itself into his hair, gently combing through his scalp. He missed that. He missed his hair being played with, being messy. He put his hands on her thighs, and the soft fabric of her nightclothes felt REALLY good against his fingers. He was usually pretty respectful, but he couldn't resist bringing his hands up to cup her ass. Well, groping was more like it (what? He liked a nice butt, and his wife had it). It surprised her, given the little sound she made right into his ear.

"Jin!"

He could only chuckle. She wasn't really mad, she just didn't know how to respond to him being so...forward. She seemed to like it though, given the little pinpricks of her teeth against his collarbone. He started to slowly grind her against him, and to his delight, she moaned, right into his ear. It had been so long since he heard such a sweet sound like that from her. With a little bit of squirming, he pulled his cock out of his underwear, sort of just now realizing how hard he was.

"You're...REALLY excited, Jin."

She sat up, looking down at him. She pulled away from him, and he thought that she was put off. But when she knelt in front of him, little hands parting his thick thighs, he could tell that wasn't the case at all. He let out a shakey breath, just so damn nervous and excited, all at once. She hadn't blown him in...well, they're out if practice, to put it bluntly. He's always wanted it though, Ming always had such full, soft lips. They reminded him of a freshly bloomed flower. Her lips kissed his tip, cascading down his length. He wasn't huge, but he was 'fat'. He was...well, so so, if you asked any other woman.

But if you asked Ming, he was just fine. He could see it in her eyes as her peach colored lipstick smeared against him. Such sweet, plentiful, lovely kisses. He was embarrassed that he felt himself throb, and painfully. He put his hand on her head, and with a bit of prompting, pushed her head down. He felt himself slip down her throat, and he felt his head hang off the side of the couch. It was everything, it was absolute heaven.

"M-more Ming, please. That feels SO good, I can't-"

He didn't want to offend her, but he had to push her head off of him. He was so close, and he didn't want to wait for himself to recover for this.

"I know what you want, Jin."

She stated, wiping drool off her bottom lip. The intense look in her eyes, the lust in her voice.

"Then give it to me."

She sat up, peeled her underwear off and letting it fall to the floor. She sat on top of him again, and was about to push himself into her, before stopping.

"W-wait, should I go get a condom? Do we even have any ar-"

"I want another baby."

She looked at him, totally taken aback. He couldn't believe himself either. They stared at each other for a moment, and he was about to apologize, when she, absolutely red in the face, spoke.

"I want two."

He knew he had a big, star struck look in his eyes. Could you blame him? His beautiful, usually uptight and worried wife was on top of him, messy hair and flushed face and looking so absolutely adorable?

"How about three?"

"Why not four?"

"Fours bad luck, we should do five."

He couldn't help himself anymore. He couldn't be sweet anymore. Suddenly it was HER turn to be on her back, and he was on top of her. He held her in a tight embrace, and pushed himself inside of her. She was so wet for him, and just so perfectly tight. He started to thrust into her, throbbing cock absolutely thriving inside her tight walls.

"J-jin if you don't s-slow down, I'm going to-!"

"Go ahead. I won't stop. I love you, Ming. I won't ever want to stop."

He was a big fella, he was well aware. It was why the force of his movements made the couch slightly squeak, and made his wife run her nails down his back. She wasn't holding back ANY emotions, and it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen her do.

"Oh my GOD Jin, I LOVE you!"

He reached in between her legs, rubbing at her clit, and making her gasp. It didn't matter how long it had been. He could ALWAYS remember how to rub it, just right. It was just what she needed to finish, and watching her shake from it all, was just enough for him to finish. He poured himself into her, and he knew it seeped onto the couch below. He had never been happier at the idea of cleaning a mess. They sat there for a moment, and she was sweet enough to run her nails through his scalp, immediately making him drowsy.

"I...forgot what that felt like, Jin."

"I can tell. You never let me ruin your pretty hair."

"Ugh, I bet I look awful..."

He kissed her cheek, softly sighing. He was still inside of her, and he never wanted to leave.

"You look like you. Which is beautiful."

"Oh hush."

He met her eyes, and they looked as tranquil and peaceful as a koi pond.

"Ming?"

"Hmm?"

"We could...you know. Plan this sort of thing. Maybe once a week?"

She thought about it, biting into her knuckle in thought.

"I...oh what about Mei? I can't do it with her in the house."

"We could have her sleepover at one of her friend's house once a week. It'd be good for her, good for us. Unless of course, you DON'T like this."

He loved watching her face as he pushed himself into her. She missed it just as much as he did. She nodded quickly, biting her bottom lip.

"N-no, I do, I do. We uhm...could do Fridays. She could stay for the weekend, even."

"Someone is trusting so suddenly."

She didn't want to admit it, he could tell from the furious blush on her face. She cleared her throat, trying to keep her composure.

"Mei Mei is a...grown woman. She could handle it."

He kissed her forehead with a soft chuckle.

"We'll give her the news tomorrow when she comes home. For now, would you like me to make you a tea? And a towel?"

"Tea is fine. You can...uhm...clean the mess later."

He loved his wife, his daughter, and his life.

#asks #turning red #not transformers #lemon #JIN DESERVES IT #TUBBY HUBBY GETTING SUCKY WUCKY

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manndo · 3 years

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i see you [din djarin x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader (no descriptors, no y/n)

warning[s]: slight angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal (barley there & nothing really descriptive) and ridiculously canon divergent (see notes).

word count: 4.0k

prompt[s]: from this list, based off the prompt ‘overhearing they have feelings for you’

summary: you just wanted to tell the child a bedtime story, and apparently, you had something you needed to get off your chest. but you weren’t aware you had an audience besides the child.

author’s notes: alright, for the last day of 2020 (i’m still in 2020 over here, unfortunately), i’ve decided to take a leap of faith and post my first mandalorian fic! i started writing this before episode 13 of season 2, before we learned the child’s name and way before the separation (i am still recovering from the emotional strain of this ending). and obviously, i didn’t finish it until now -- almost two weeks after the last episode. so, as i mentioned in my warnings, this is canon divergent -- basically anything from episode 13 to 16 did not happen in this fic. so, this means that grogu is referred to as the child/the little one/the kid in this fic. in the future, i am hoping to write more canon friendly fics, but who knows?? the season finale was bittersweet and honestly?? i just want my dad/son duo back together. 😢but anyway! any and all mistakes are my own. please feel free to comment/like/reblog, whatever you see fit. enjoy! ❤️and goodbye 2020, hello 2021! 🍻

You were tinkering with a malfunctioning blaster down in the hull when you heard him. At first, the cry was soft, barely there — perhaps Mando had said or done something to irritated him while they sat in the cockpit together. However, after another few moments, the cries grew louder and longer. Carefully, you set the blaster aside, and wiped your hands on the cloth next to you before pushing yourself off from your seated position on Mando’s bunk. Within seconds, you were climbing the ladder and entering the cockpit to find Mando standing from his seat, holding the child away from him as the child wailed. Immediately, Mando lifted his head toward you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his modulated voice. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare he was giving you.

You sighed heavily, shaking your head, and took two steps forward to grab the child from Mando’s outstretched arms. Unfortunately, the child did not stop his crying. You tucked him against you. “Technically, yes. That’s what you hired me for, but you know this little one has his ways of sneaking around,” you muttered, reaching out to grab the little one’s tiny hand. Even through his wailing, the little one’s finger immediately wrapped around your thumb. You hummed soothingly and began to gently bounce him, keeping your eyes trained on him. “And, it wasn’t like you were complaining ten minutes ago when he was being a perfect little angel,” you mumbled, rubbing your thumb gently over the little one’s finger and looked up to Mando. Mando snorted, but said nothing as he sat himself back down in the pilot’s chair, and turned himself away from you. You knew he didn’t need to be there — the Crest was in hyperdrive and most likely on autopilot — but, you found he preferred it to other parts of the ship. Then again, when you’re always on guard like him, well, it made sense to be in the cockpit.

“He’s probably just tired, Mando,” you said, glancing away from him and back to the child, who was, thank the Maker, not wailing anymore. However, he was still crying, still taking in big breaths and looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. “Just needs a little nap. Ain’t that right, little one?” The child gave you a sniffle, and hung his head. “Come on,” you said quietly, giving the child’s finger a little squeeze, “let’s get you tucked in.”

You turned on your heel, and carefully made your way down to the hull once more, all the while whispering comforting words to the child in hopes to quell his cries. It seemed to work — for the most part. He still seemed upset, even if he wasn’t really crying anymore. More like, sniffles and whines. But, he was still restless against you. Even if he was overtired, it was clear he wasn’t too keen on actually being put down because the moment you had set him into the makeshift, hanging bed that Mando had crafted for him, he tried to pull himself out. “Ah, ah, little one, don’t you even think about it,” you reprimanded him softly, pushing him gently back down into the swinging bed. He let a small whine in disagreement, but didn’t try moving again.

“Maybe I should tell you a story,” you said, your voice low, calm. He blinked at you, his eyes still looking a little watery, and gave you another small whine. You began to rock the bed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve really told you any stories since I came on this ship,” you said, reaching up and running a finger over his ear, from base to tip. He made a small coo of happiness, and you smiled. “Granted, it hasn’t been that long since your dad hired me, has it?” You’d only been traveling with them for six months, give or take. You still sometimes had to, metaphorically, pinch yourself that this was your life now — galavanting around the galaxy with a Mandalorian and his charge.

You felt a small push against your finger, which had been resting on the tip of the child’s ear, followed by a small whine. You let out a short chuckle, and moved your finger, running it over his ear again. He leaned into the touch. “You know, the first time I saw you and your dad, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never met a Mandalorian before, but I knew of them, knew the stories of them. Who hadn’t?” You moved your hand from running to over his ear, to the top of his head. He cooed softy, eyes fluttering closed. “But, what surprised me the most was you, little one. Not because I had never seen creature like you. No, that wasn’t it. It was because you were with him. A Mandalorian and a child,” you whispered, noticing that the little one’s eyes were only half open now. You gave the top of his head a small scratch, and his eyes closed completely. “Even if you are older than both of us,” you added, a small chuckle escaping your lips as his eyes opened again, a bit slower than last time.

“It’s funny,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on him. You watched as he snuggled himself a little deeper into his bed. “I never would have thought that one minute, I’d be fixing a blaster your dad needed repaired, then the next being on his ship, taking care of you.” A brief pause. “You know, he saved me, little one?” You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed it. “Life hadn’t been easy when you two came around. Sure, I had a roof over my head and enough credits to keep me fed. But, it had been a lonely life.”

You took a deep breath. “My parents had been gone for a few years, and I had no siblings to seek comfort in. I worked for a nasty man, who liked to belittle me every chance he got, even if I was a better technician than he was. I had a few acquaintances, a few people I’d chat with every once in a while, maybe grab a drink with them at a cantina, but I didn’t have any real friends,” you paused. “Well, I did. At one point. But, things happen.” A heavy, dejected sigh escaped your lips. “People change. Life changes.” Absentmindedly, you ran your finger down the child’s cheek. His eyes were now half-open, the child hell bent on staying awake. Stubborn, like his father for sure. “But, now I’m here. And, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” You pursed your lips in thought. “Well, it would be nice to have a larger, more comfortable bed. But, then I wouldn’t have you, and I wouldn’t have your dad.” The little one cooed quietly, and you chuckled pulling your finger from his cheek.

You became silent then, let yourself just watch the little one. He was settling nicely into his bed, looking more relaxed, his eyes staying closed. It should have only been a few more moments, and he’d be asleep. Just a few more moments and he’d be resting peacefully, and you could go back to working on that blaster. Just a few more minutes.

“I love him, you know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. It was only when you heard the little one coo that you realized that you’d said that out loud. Your eyes widened as you took in the little one, his own eyes now open once more. He was looking at you, head titled slightly, big brown eyes focused on you. He blinked once, twice as if he was waiting for you to elaborate.

Fuck, you hadn’t planned to say that out loud. But you had — to the little one, no less. Sure, he couldn’t tell Mando what you’d said, so that was an advantage. But, Maker, what were you thinking?

You had only just admitted to yourself you were in love with the Mandalorian. You had spent weeks denying your feelings. After all, you hadn’t known each other long, there was no way you were actually in love with him. It had to be, you figured, because of your living situation — you two were in constant contact with each other, barely any room for privacy or time alone. He was the only person you could hold a full conversation with (not that you didn’t have conversations with the child, but it was very one-sided). So, maybe, it was just the situation. It had to be. But, as the days passed by, you realized that wasn’t the case. You had fallen for the Mandalorian. You were in love with him. You were in love with Mando.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and let your head fall into your hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that, little one,” you said, the words slightly mumbled against your palms. “Nobody was supposed to hear that. And, especially not your dad — not that I don’t want him to know, I do. But, we haven’t been together long — in the sense of me being on the ship, you know — and I fear it will make him distant again. He was so distant when I first came aboard, but now.” You let out another heavy sigh, and move your hands away from your face to glance up at the little one. He has pulled himself up to look over the edge of his makeshift bed, his tired eyes looking down at you. There is a sad look up on his face, his large eyes searching yours. “I don’t know exactly how he feels, little one. But, I’ve seen his heart. You’ve seen his heart.” You paused and took a breath. “It’s in the little things. The way he sits with you when he flies. How he tries to teach you things — even if they backfire in his face,” you said, and a smile crossed your lips. The child gave a small tired little giggle. “Making this bed for you,” you said softly, reaching up and running your fingers over the material. “Making your little pouch. All those things, and more, show me his heart, show us his heart.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead gently against the child’s. “He would do anything to keep you safe, little one. Anything. And that, makes him a good man.” The child let out a soft sound, and you pulled away from him, a soft smile on your lips.

There was a brief silence that settled between you. You let it hang in the air for a brief moment before speaking again. “Alright, come on, you need to go to sleep now. Apparently, trying to tell you a bedtime story is not the way I should go,” you said with a small chuckle. The child gave a small whine. “Don’t try and fight with me. We both know you’re tired. So come on, close those big, beautiful eyes,” you said, your voice dropping in volume. His eyes fluttered closed, and you reached out your fingers, letting it brush against his tiny hand. “There you go,” you muttered, continuing to brush his little hand with your finger in a soothing gesture. His eyes stayed closed, and his body seemed to relax into his bed. Another few moments, and his breathing had evened out, and you knew he was finally asleep. You let out a small sigh of relief. “Sleep well, little one,” you whispered, and with on final brush to his hand, you stood up from the bunk. You pressed the switch, shutting the bunks door with a small clink. You had barely turned away from the door when you heard a loud thunk, and found yourself coming face to face with Mando.

“Maker!” you yelped, practically jumping out of your skin, hand slapping against your chest. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you looked at Mando with wide eyes. “Mando,” you said, voice slightly out breath as you pressed your hand a little harder to your chest, physically and mentally willing your heart to slow down. “You can’t — fuck, you scared me. You’re lucky I closed the damn door before you did that. What if he’d woken up? I had a devil of a time getting him to sleep, you know,” you muttered, hand falling from your chest and back to your side.

“Did you now?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tinny voice. You furrowed your brow, as he took another step closer to you, his beskar helmet only a few inches away from your face. He titled his helmet, and you could swear, if he didn’t have it on, there would be a smirk on his face. You felt a twinge of panic fill your face — had he, had he heard you? You mentally shook your head of that thought. You were being paranoid.

“I did,” you huffed as you turned away from him, taking a step toward where you had left the malfunctioning blaster.

“Maybe if you hadn’t talked so much,” he muttered, and you felt your entire body freeze, “he might have fallen asleep faster.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Blood was rushing in your ears. Maker, he heard you. He heard you blabbing your feelings, you feelings for him, to the little one. The quick landing, the sarcasm you had heard— it all made sense. He had been there, above the two of you, listening, hearing every word you said. Your confession. You felt yourself begin to get warm with embarrassment, and you willed your body to move. You wanted to run, but where could you run? You were on a ship, in the middle of space — there was no where to go. Nowhere to hide.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breathe before you slowly turned back to face Mando. You didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was staring at you, but Maker, did you wish you could see them. Wish you could see his face. Maybe then you could tell what he was thinking. Did he feel something too? Or, was he disgusted at the thought of you having feelings? Was he about to dismiss your feelings, maybe even drop you off at the next inhabited planet, leaving you there. Leaving you alone, again. No Mando, no kid. You swallowed that fear, those thoughts. “Listen, Mando, I—”

“Close your eyes.”

You blinked in confusion. “W—what?

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then, close your eyes. And, promise me, you won’t open them.” You blinked, too stunned at his request to answer immediately. His gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, a barely there touched. “Promise me.” It should have been a demand, but it came out more as a desperate plea.

You looked down at the hand gently holding your wrist, then back at the beskar helmet in front of you. “Yea,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, “I promise. I promise,” you repeated. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you moved before you took a slow, deep breath and let your eyes fall closed.

You felt Mando let go of your wrist before you heard a clicking sound, followed by a soft hiss. It was followed by a loud clink of metal against the floor of the ship, near your feet, you thought. Then, there was a gloved hand on your cheek, the fabric rough against your skin. You felt the brush of his thumb over your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Mando, what are—”

The end of your question was gently swallowed by his lips.

Maker, you had not expected this. Immediately, you had wanted to open your eyes, because you weren’t sure this was real. Was he — was Mando really kissing you? But, he was kissing you. His soft lips were pressed against yours, not bruising, but not gentle either, and it didn’t take long before you felt his tongue swipe across the seam of your lips, seeking permission. You parted your lips with ease.

At the first slide of his tongue against yours, a small whimper escaped your lips, your hand darting out as you blindly grabbed at his shoulder. You fisted as much of the material of his undershirt in your hand while the other part pressed against the cool beskar, and tugged, pulling him flush against you. You felt, more than heard, him groan when your bodies met, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your jaw while his other arm wrapped around your middle, holding you against him. You could feel warmth spreading in your limbs, and an excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time filling your veins and culminating between your legs.

You would have kept kissing him, would have let yourself suffocate in his kisses, but a few seconds later, you felt him begin to pull away. Before his lips could leave yours completely, you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a quick nip. And, fuck, the sound that came out of his mouth. You felt another spike of arousal course through you, and you almost, almost opened your eyes. But, you promised you wouldn’t, and you knew what it meant if you did. So, you forced yourself to keep them closed as you tried to regain control of yourself, your hand still clutching his shoulder.

There’s a moment where the two of you stand there, your breath mingling with one another as you both tried to calm your racing hearts. But, it is brief, and before you know it, the hand that was resting on your cheek falls, and the arm around your waist loosens and you feel him step away. Immediately, you want to pull him back to you, bring his lips back to yours. But, you don’t. You’re frozen once more — in fear, in shock, in elation, you’re not quite sure.

You took a shuddering breath. “Mando—”

“Din,” you hear him say, and it sounds pure, smooth. It’s then you realize the helmet is still off. You can’t help the butterflies that form in your stomach at the sound of his unmodulated voice. His voice. It sounds like liquid gold to your ears. But then ,you hear the sounds you heard before he kissed you, the click and hiss, of the helmet falling back into place.

You wait a beat before you let your eyes flutter open, and you come face to face with the beskar helmet once more.

“Din Djarin,” he repeated, and reached out, brushing one of his gloved fingers down your cheek, over your jaw, and stopping at the nape of your neck. “My name is Din Djarin.”

His finger began to draw an absentminded pattern across your shoulder. You could tell by the tilt of his head that his eyes were focused on that finger. That finger that kept moving as the moments ticked by, never stopping, never making any sense against your skin. For the first time since you’d met him, you could tell he was nervous.

You knew he didn’t tell his name to anyone. You had asked when you’d met him what his name was. He had told you to call him Mando. You had thought it odd, but did not think it was your place to push him (you had only just met him, after all). So, you called him Mando, as did everyone else you had come in contact with. But, four months later, you decided to finally push the subject. He told you that he had not used his birth name since he was a child, since he was sworn into the Creed. There were only a few who knew name, and only due to an extenuating circumstance, he had said, making it clear he did not tell anyone. Nobody should have known his name — and from what you could tell, he had no plans of telling any one in the future.

But, here he was, standing in front of you, telling you his name. Willingly giving you this piece of information about himself. You knew he couldn’t show you his face — not yet, not now — but he could give you this. He could give you this part of himself. If the kiss wasn’t enough for you to know that he felt something for you, this sealed the deal. It wasn’t an outright “I love you”, but to you, it was something more, something deeper than that. This was him trusting you, him giving you a part of himself. It filled your heart with joy.

“Din,” you whispered, letting the name roll of your tongue, and filling the space around you. His finger had stopped its’ random movements, and his head tilted up, and you were face to face with the all too familiar beskar helmet. You smiled softly and wondered if he was smiling behind it too. You reached out, and let your fingertips dance over the cool metal. “Din Djarin,” you said, letting yourself try out his full name.

It was beautiful. It was him.

“It suits you,” you said, resting your palm against the side of his helmet. “I love it.”

Din let out a small, breathy, modulated chuckle. “You do?”

You nodded. “I do, cause it’s you.” You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet, your eyes fall closed. “And, I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. You wished you could have seen his face, but instead, you heard an intake of breath before you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, hand splayed over your hip. His gloved fingers pressed into your hip bone.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed and nodded, letting your free hand fall onto his chest, right over his heart. You couldn’t feel his heart under the beskar chest plate, but you imagined it was beating rapidly, just like yours. “I do.” Perhaps, it was too early to say such things, to declare that you loved him. Most people might think you were crazy, and maybe you were, but that didn’t matter. You loved him — you loved Din.

“Even without,” he paused, and you heard him take a breath. You let your eyes fuller open, and you pulled back a hair, just enough to be able to take him in. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about — even without seeing his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, making sure his he was paying attention to you. “I don’t need to see your face.”

You heard a small, disbelieving chuckle. “Don’t need to see my face, eh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You tilted your head in thought. “Well, I mean, do I want to see your face? Absolutely.” You moved your fingers across the cheek of his helmet, to the visor, letting it trace the T-shape. “I want to see the color of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The wrinkles and lines on your face. All of it.” You let your finger come to rest at the bottom of his helmet, just on the rim. You ran your finger over the smooth metal. “But, I know what that means for you, and I’m willing to wait for that. Your face is your face, and I’m sure it is a handsome face.” Another small chuckle escaped Din’s lips. “But, I don’t need to see it to know what I feel in my heart, Din.”

“You don’t?” He sounded surprised,

You shook your head. “I don’t. Because, I’ve seen you, Din Djarin,” you said, your voice filled with conviction as you looked at him straight on, right where his eyes would be behind that beskar helmet. “I’ve seen you.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #my writing

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toastybugguy · 3 years

Text

Okay but can we talk about how Reki’s internal conflict is absolutely perfect?

So, since Fullmetal Alchemist was filling the Sk8 void in my soul while I waited for new episodes, and now I’ve finished watching Fullmetal, it’s time to go on a rant about why I love Reki’s character.

I’ve always really related to Reki’s struggles. As an artist, you want to improve and progress. But I compare myself to others a lot, and even friends. I think it comes down to wanting my individuality, I want to succeed at something I’m passionate about because it makes me who I am, and I fear I’ll be passed up.

When Reki started seeing Langa’s growing talent, I think he felt the same. He cares so much for Langa, but he’s jealous, and it’s awful. You don’t want to be jealous of your friends, you know you should be supporting them and proud of them, but that only makes you feel guilty. It’s easy for jealousy to turn into resentment, and that can cause distance between friends if it gets serious enough.

But here’s the thing: Reki never resented Langa.

Even when he was hurt, he was just scared of being left behind. He wanted things to stay the same, he wanted the feelings to go away so that he could skate with Langa again. He was scared that his friend would get hurt, that he would be alone. And he was upset that his promise was broken again, and he was insecure about himself. He abandoned Langa not because he resented him, but because he felt like it would happen in the end anyway due to him being lesser than, at least in his mind. Reki left himself behind more than anything else.

His arc really hit hard for me because I could see myself in him (wuh oh sound the kinnie alarm). Reki’s character is so beautifully crafted, and even if some people see it as over dramatic and pointless, and I mean it is kinda over dramatic cause anime so I’ll give ya that lmao, I don’t think it’s unrealistic. It’s part of why I think the reconciliation scene will go well, because the real stem of jealousy is insecurity. What Reki needs is support and reassurance and I think he’ll get it :) Personally I would like Langa and Reki to keep their pins, but for Langa to refuse the beef with Adam outright. Cause after all, they just want to skate with each other!!

Anyways that’s all lol, thanks for listening to me gush abt my fave lmaoo <3

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 infinity #renga #reki kyan #reki #langa #langa hasegawa #sk8 episode 7 spoilers #sk8 renga #sk8 reki #sk8 langa #anime #plot #conflict #rant

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pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird · 3 years

Note

That person might not have said top ten but I would like to see the other five underrated animes 👀

(First post) I’LL KEEP ‘EM COMING, I LIVE FOR RECOMMENDING ANIME. I keep changing my mind on which ones to include because there’s so much good shit out there.

By the way, all of the recommendations in this list AND the last one are 26 episodes or less and tell a complete story. No cliffhangers, no “finish the manga to see the finale”, no “where’s the rest of it???” endings. That’s why, for now, Stars Align and Princess Jellyfish still get stuck with the honorable mentions even though what’s been made for both of them is incredible.

1. The Tatami Galaxy (Drama, Introspective)

The director behind Ping Pong the Animation and the original author behind Eccentric Family join forces to make Tatami Galaxy, which capitalizes on the best strengths of both shows. The protagonist is a lonely college student facing the prospect of graduating after having thoroughly wasted his college years. He bemoans how circumstances outside of his control, from conniving fake-friends to selfish and shallow extras, have conspired to ruin what should have been a “rose-colored campus life”, and wishes he could do it over again so he can get it right.

So he does, with the show using avant-garde animation and abstract storytelling to explore all of his threads of what-ifs. The plotlines seem separate but weave together and subtly build on each other, culminating to a finale that explores the meaning of relationships and who you are in the absence of outside forces that can define you. It’s heartfelt, funny, raunchy, and deep, and perfectly encapsulates the existential dread of being in college. I watched it for the first time when I was about to finish undergrad and it hit like an emotional freight train, then I rewatched it during quarantine and it hit like a truck. This is one of my top favorite anime of all time.

2. Re:Creators (Fantasy, action)

Most of the anime I’ve put on these lists get their spots for being deep, nuanced, and delicately crafted. This is not one of them. But, by god, is it one of the most over-the-top fun shows I’ve ever seen. Re:Creators is a rare reverse-isekai. Fictional characters from popular anime, games, and manga suddenly start turning up in the real world, instructed to “find your Creator and reshape the world you came from”. The soundtrack by Hiroyuki Sawano is bar-none one of the hypest things out there; seriously, just listen to Layers, the song for a character from a grimdark everyone-dies series begging her author to tell her why.

The characters in this show are so fun to watch bounce off each other, even if they’re not as “three dimensional” as others. Magical girls fight Stand users, mechs face down scifi-noir detectives, Lawful Good Paladins go toe-to-toe with Chaotic Evil light novel villains. But by including the artists who imagined these characters as characters themselves, it also has a lot to say about the creative process, the reasons people create, and the relationship between an artist and their work. Between the high-octane fight scenes, there’s a surprisingly human and genuine throughline.

3. Sora no Woto (Slice of life, music, post-apocalyptic)

This show is another of my favorite examples of worldbuilding done right. A young girl joins the army as a bugler because it’s one of the only ways she can learn to play music. The episode plots focus on how she and her tiny regiment of young women stationed at a small town in the middle of nowhere deal with day-to-day troubles, while the details of the world around them slowly fill and round out the picture of a broken society where people still just... live. They still create myths, they still have festivals, they still blow glass and tell ghost stories and make art. The plots seem inconsequential, until the world built into the background becomes too prominent to ignore. The background art and music is some of the most gorgeous I’ve seen. It’s part of a genre I’ve been calling “soft apocalypse” and it’s been one of my favorites for years.

BONUS MENTION: Girl’s Last Tour (Slice of life, post-apocalyptic)

Yes, I’m cheating, but listen. Girl’s Last Tour fits perfectly into the canon narrative provided by Sora no Woto, just set in the far future, a few apocalypses later. It’s got less of a main plot, because there’s almost nothing of society left, just two girls wandering together through an abandoned world. It’s soft, introspective, and bittersweet, showing how humanity is still humanity no matter how few people are left. Despite having nothing about their productions in common, it’s the perfect spiritual successor to Sora no Woto and they deserve to be recommended in the same spot.

4. Tamako Market (+ the movie) (Romance, slice-of-life)

This show is the platonic ideal of a soft, heartwarming, sweet-as-sugar, slice-of-life romance. It follows the daily life of Tamako, a high school girl who lives above a family-owned mochi shop in a shopping center, who is followed around by a talking bird trying to find a bride for his prince in a far-off land. But really the show isn’t about the bird. The show is about love in all its forms. The love that the other families in the shopping center have for Tamako, the love that she and her friends have for each other, the love they have for the activities they’re passionate about, the love you feel when someone makes you a cup of coffee, fated love, childhood crushes, family love.

Something about this show that also stands out is how gently and naturally it incorporates some of the best queer representation I’ve ever seen in anime. One of the shop owners is a kind and soft-spoken trans woman, who is never the butt of a joke, never questioned, never treated as different, loved all the same. One of Tamako’s friends is gay, and her crush on Tamako is treated with as much respect and care as every other moment in the show. This series never makes you flinch for fear of “representation” that turns sour. It’s the epitome of a feel-good show.

5. ACCA 13-Territory Inspection Department (Political, mystery, drama)

Yes, I keep saving my favorites for last on these lists. I can’t describe this show as anything but the perfectly written plot. As a rule, I don’t like political dramas, and this is one of my favorite anime of all time. It’s set in a fictional country, where 13 regions all exist relatively independently under one collective monarchical ruler, and follows Jean, an agent of the independent Inspection Department, which acts as a check and balance to each power. The series begins with Jean being assigned a full review of each territory while the powers-that-be field whispers of a coup. This show masters foreshadowing, intrigue, escalation, and mystery. The stakes build and overlap on scales from intensely personal to national. The pacing is amazing, keeping tension balanced with plot twists that answer more questions than they ask.

Plus, it’s got one of the most visually appealing and stylized openings out there. I realize that political drama isn’t exactly escapism right now, but believe me, this series is worth it.

#my posts #anime recommendations #acca 13 #tamako market #girls last tour #sora no woto #re creators #tatami galaxy #i literally spend HOURS on each of these lists #i love pointing people towards good anime #THERES GOOD SHIT OUT THERE #again if yall dont know about baccano by now just assume im always willing to tell you abt it #my asks #Anonymous

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thr-333 · 3 years

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 5

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Sweater~

Shoves romance to the side and shoves friendship in your face!!!

Ao3

First< Previous > Next

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“Marinette,” Adrien whines as she opens the curtain the second they get back, “Sleep,”

“Just a minute, I want to design Damian something,” Marinette takes up residence at the desk, throwing open her sketchbook, “I will be friends with him!”

“Wasn't he kind of a jerk to you?” Adrien flops onto the bed, Plagg rig after him, "I think we should go back to that point, maybe sleep on it,"

“You were a jerk too~” Marinette sing-songs finishing up a rough sketch of a sweater.

“I was trying to get the gum off your seat!” Adrien slams his hands down.

“Sure you were~”

“Mariiiiiii,” Adrien collapses back into the bed covers, muffling his whining.

“Come on you,” Marinette collects her sketchbook, “Come get material with me,”

“No, it’s time to sleep,”

“It’s midday,”

“Your point?”

"Ok, Plagg 2.0 should I get you some camembert while I'm out too?"

"I'm up!" Adrien sits bolt upright, "Never call me that again,"

Marinette ends up dragging Adrien out of the mansion he pouts as Alfred delivers them into the city she thanks him profusely.

“We were just in the city why didn’t you pick up fabric then?” Adrien walks by her side down the street.

“Because I’m stuck between 2 concepts and I need to see the fabric before going forward,” Marinette bounces along looking through the windows there are quite a few craft shops in the area which suits her just fine.

“Please don’t run off,” Adrien gently holds her sleeve, “Marinette this city…”

“It’s filled with a dark energy,” Marinette agrees, even in this nicer area had something ominous hanging over it, “It’s like it’s seeped into the city’s very bones,”

“And the Akuma aren’t helping things,” A child across the street starts crying and they both instinctively lookout.

“On the plus side at least hawkmoth doesn't send Akuma after every little thing,” Marinette forces herself to relax, moving on as the kids parents comfort them.

“On the downside, he sends them after emotions that are a lot worse,” Adrien follows along into a store as Marinette filters through the shelves.

“Maybe but we can handle this,” Marinette absent-mindedly raises her fist, meeting Adreins, “Do you think I should make something for everyone, you know as a thank you?”

“I haven't gotten them anything,” Adrien takes the armful of fabric Marinette passes him as she brings out her sketchbook to select old designs.

“I’ll handle the making,” Marinette ticks off a vest she thinks with be perfect for Bruce, “And you handle the finances,”

“I stole my father's credit card,” Adrien says with a grin, “He’ll probably find out where I am soon anyway so might as well start using it,”

“In that case,” Marinette pulls out a roll of incredibly expensive fabric, “We also need new phones,”

“And we should go out for lunch,”

“Get our hair done?” Marinette adds, looking at her half hacked off hair “I still need to fix mine from this,”

“I was thinking our room could use a chair?”

“And the bookshelf is looking a bit empty,”

“A nice expensive rug would really liven up the room,”

“Would it be completely inappropriate to get a motorcycle?”

“Yes,” Adrien agrees, “Let's do it,”

They stop to get new phones first, having destroyed their old ones when they ran away. Adrien finds the most expensive restaurant in town, but it's on the far end so they stop to get a motorcycle first.

“I didn’t know you could ride,” Adrien gestures for the waiter in their private room, “Yes can I please have the duck?”

“My Nona taught me,” Marinette sips at the most expensive drink she can legally buy, “I thought you hated duck?”

“Oh I do,” Adrien grins, which drops when his phone starts ringing, “How did he even get this number?”

Marinette looks over his shoulder to see Gabriel trying to call. Adrien purposefully hangs up rolling his eyes.

“We should go do our hair next,” Adrien leans over the table with a manic grin, ”I was thinking of dying it hot pink,”

“Love the concept,” Marinette cringes at the very thought, “But the execution is flawed, you need to dye it a color you actually like not one just to spite your father otherwise he's still just controlling your life, just in a different way,”

“You're right,” Adrien sighs leaning back examining his blonde locks, “What do you think?”

“A nice pastel or cherry blossom pink would look amazing,” Adrien perks up at the suggestion he can still keep the pink, “Actually I might do that too- oh wait! Will that affect our transformation?”

“Not unless you really want to deep down,” Tikki explains, her and Plagg gorging themselves on expensive cheese and treats.

“Well deep down I really don't want to give away our identities like this,”

“It’s a plan then,” Adrien smiles, “Now do you want to order anything else?”

“Thanks but I’m full,”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

---

“Looks great Nette,” Adrien gives her a side hug, the hairdresser shooing him away while he does the final touch-ups.

“Are you talking to me or yourself?” Marinette smiles at the new and improved shock of pink hair.

“Well obviously I look fabulous, but you look great too,” Marinette rolls her eyes at him looking back in the mirror. Instead of evening out her hair, they had made it look like her little episode was actually intentional giving it nice layers and even doing an undercut on the other side. Unlike Adrien, she didn't go all pink, instead the tips being white ombre up to pink and then her natural hair color.

“Thanks, you have to send a picture of your hair to Nino he's more invested in your teenage rebellion than you are, he’s probably also hurt you left him out of the running away part,”

“He has suggested, more than once, running away together,”

“Why what's wrong with Nino's family?”

“Nothing at all,” Adrien quickly covers, “I think he just really wanted me to run away, his mum offered to pack us lunches,”

“Well, maybe we could have used the turtle,” Marinette sighs, “But I could do that to Nino, you already had to leave Kagami behind, have you given her a call yet?”

“Oh um, about that-" Adrien points at her tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Never mention it again,”

“Adrien,” Marinette scowls, “Call your girlfriend,”

“She’ll kill me,” Adrien hides partly behind a seat looking meek, “Also you don't get to lecture me, you haven't called your parents,”

“That's different,” Marinette groans sinking into the seat, only to get told off for moving, “They’ll want me to come home, how am I supposed to explain that I can’t,”

“They’re your parents,” Adrien stresses, “I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to know your ok,”

“Maybe,” Marinette hums, the cloth being removed from her shoulders letting her get up, “I just feel so bad for putting them through this,”

“Maybe one day they’ll understand,” Adrien walks with her to the front to pay.

“Maybe,” Marinette looks down at the bill, “Wow this is a lot more expensive than the usual dye job,”

Made sense because they were in the higher income distinct of the city.

“Why Marinette,” Adrien grins swiping the card, “That's the point,”

Ten minutes later they were laughing as calls kept pouring in one after the other. They are only interrupted when they get the distinct feeling of an Akuma.

“Duty calls,” Adrien sighs putting his phone on silent.

“Seems so, at least we can call out skills multiple times," Marinette walks casually into an alley with him, “What are you up to?”

“About three,” Adrien shrugs transforming, “It takes about double the time for the transformation to drop now,”

“Same, wish I could say that gives us the edge but really it only keeps us from falling off the cliff,” Marinette also transforms, her new costume bringing a smile to her face.

“How eloquent my lady,” Marinette playfully pushes him, Chat catches himself catapulting over the building, she quickly follows behind.

The Akuma is standard, Marinette guesses the akumatized item is the wrist watch. The problem comes with their recurring thorn in her side.

“Ladybug-”

“Get out of the city,” She cuts Batman off, “Yeah, yeah let us handle this first,”

Marinette throws her yoyo out just in time to deflect an attack headed at Chat.

“Do you need any help?” Robin asks, Marinette smiles, partly at the aghast face Batman makes.

“Do you think you could tag-team it with me?” She asks formulating a plan, with the extra help she might not need the lucky charm, “Make your attacks big and draw his attention, grab the wristwatch if you can,”

“On it,” Robin gives her a nod jumping into the fray, Ladybug doesn't give batman a chance to object running after.

Robin does a good job they work in perfect sync falling back when the other moves to make an attack. When the Akuma focuses on them too much Chat swoops in and gets their attention giving them the chance to swipe at the wristwatch. It goes on she sees Robin get thrown back after another failed swipe at the wristwatch. Ladybug takes the chance to move forward grabbing for the wrist, she isn't watching out for the other arm, the impact hitting and sending her flying back.

“I got you,” Her momentum is stopped by a hand bracing at her back, saving her from crashing into the adjacent building.

“Thanks, Robin,” He helps steady her as she finds her footing again, “I’ll move in you follow me up,”

“No need,” He smirks brandishing the watch.

“You did it,” Ladybug beams, taking the watch and smashing it to the ground, “Great job!”

“Ah, thanks,” Ladybug doesn't pay attention to how Robin brushes, focusing on purifying the Akuma and fixing the damage.

“We made a pretty good team,” Ladybug turns to Robin when everything is settled, “Pound it,”

Robin meets her fist with some hesitance, which disappears when she smiles at him again.

“Ladybug!” Batman yells heading their way.

“Ops sorry,” Ladybug cringes, “Sorry! Cant stop gotta go, bye bye!”

They run from the scene faster than Batman can hope to catch them. They end up back at her newly brought bike stacked with fabric and protected by a bit of luck. Marinette races home to make everyone's gifts, knowing just who she wanted to start with.

---

“There you are!” Marinette exclaims, having spent the past half hour searching the manor for him.

“What do you want?” Damian snaps as if he wasn't just playing with the cat on the floor half a second ago.

“Nothing, I made something for you~” He continues to scowl but Marinette doesn't let it discourage her, “Here, I didn’t know your size so I made a baggier style, do you like it?”

Damian takes the sweater holding it up to where she put it on him looking down a little shocked. Marinette almost wants to laugh at the expressions trying to shift back from awe to disinterest, it’s cute. She smiles wondering what his face would look like if she made a matching one for the cat, and maybe Titus too.

“.... It’s well made,” Damian eventually allows, folding it over his arm, Marinette notices how his fingers linger on the soft fabric.

“Good to know,” She smiles, bidding him goodbye before the moment can be ruined. She bounces down the hall humming to herself.

“Someone's happy,” Tikki flies out of her bag.

“He liked it, why wouldn't I be happy?”

“Someones really happy,”

“Stop it Tikki,” Marinette giggles, making the kwami laugh in turn.

“Just like adrien~” Tikki sing songs floating down the hall ahead of her.

“Well then, keep Kagami far away from this one,”

“Don’t turn into a stuttering mess and we have a deal,” Tikki agrees.

“Please Tikki I’m not thirteen anymore,” Marinette brushes her off, ready to go make the others gifts, if she spent the whole time humming to herself Tikki wasn't going to explain why to Adrien.

---------

Taglist? nope don’t have one, horrible at keeping track of them sorry~

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml fic #ML #MLB #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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feeling-weirdy · 3 years

Text

**my scarletvision master list**

A giant list of all the drabbles I have written in chronological order for anyone who would like to read from start to finish. If people are interested in becoming notified whenever I post something, please follow my AO3.

Please feel free to send in prompts for anything you would like to see added to this list.

Age of Ultron to Civil War

A Thing Isn’t Beautiful Because... - prompt; “right before or after Vision saves Wanda”; Overwhelmed with emotions, Wanda is filled with grief by the loss of her brother. Vision tries to help her figure out a way to deal with the loss.

Uncertain, yet Intentional - prompt; The moment before his ‘I did intend to come in here’ line in episode 8 of WV

Silent Tears - prompt; Wanda really lets herself cry for the first time since Pietro’s death and Vision does his best to comfort her.

Unpleasant Dreams - prompt; Wanda has a nightmare and Vision goes in to check on her to see if she’s alright.

Do Better - prompt; Vision is unable to save everyone in a disaster which helps him learn a very hard lesson.

Never Again - prompt; Wanda POV; Vision and Wanda watch sitcoms and Wanda gets distracted

Bugging Out - prompt; “Holy fucking guacamole!”; A routine update goes awry.

Vis, We Talked About This - prompt; “Viz, we talked about this”; Vision tries to distract Wanda without seeming too pushy.

Your Electrifying Touch - Wanda POV; Unable to keep her thoughts contained, Wanda slips up but has to find a way to keep herself back on track.

An Unexpected Surprise - prompt; Vision comes home from a tough mission to find Wanda curled up in his bed.

Practice Makes Perfect - prompt; Vision and Wanda practice in an attempt to help get Wanda’s powers under control.

Dancing Out of Tune - prompt; Vision walks in on Wanda listening to Pietro’s favorite genre and throws him off guard.

Striking Thirteen - prompt; a moment where feelings develop; Wanda can’t seem to fall asleep and looks to Vision for help.

Happy Birthday...? - prompt; Vision gets a present from Wanda for his first "birthday"

Neverending Flow - prompt; Wanda gets a nosebleed

While No One is Watching - prompt; The gang starts dancing, but disappears once uncomfortableness starts to set in once the android and witch start to get close to one another.

Heart Over Duty - prompt; What else makes Vision cry?

Overrated - prompt; “I always thought Mr Darcy was overrated”; Vision’s feelings can no longer be kept to himself. A novel Wanda suggests causes him to blurt out his confession.

Freezing Circuits - prompt; “Vision tries ice cream”

An Accidental Moment - prompt; pre CW; While watching television together, Wanda initiates the next step in their relationship.

Civil War to Infinity War

Safe and Sound - prompt; songfic for Safe and Sound; After the destruction in Lagos, Wanda breaks down, leaving Vision to console her the best that he can.

Distraction - prompt; Wanda POV; Wanda is overwhelmed by the Accords and is desperate for something else to focus on. Vision is happy to oblige.

A Step Too Far - prompt; Vision offers pizza and an explanation for his actions in trying to keep Wanda safe inside the compound.

After the Storm - prompt; Vision arrives to see Wanda for the first time after the aftermath.

The Little Green Monster - prompt; Vision becomes jealous of someone flirting with Wanda.

A Spark of Light - prompt; “we could be like sparks of light”; Vision attempts to talk Wanda into extending their little walks to something more substantial.

Can I Change Your Mind? - Vision is unable to tell Wanda goodbye and tries to get her to stay with him.

Three’s a Crowd - prompt; “love triangle between Vis, Wanda and Clint”

Chicken Soup for the Soul - prompt; Wanda gets sick and Vision helps take care of her

And Life Will Always Be... - Wanda POV; Excited to meet up with Vision again, Wanda enters the hotel room hoping to get a head start but finds her plans are pushed to an instant halt.

Between the Lines - prompt; “that was an innuendo, wasn’t it?”; Vision struggles to understand why Wanda is acting so strangely.

Look My Way - Wanda POV; Tired of spending the afternoon alone, Wanda takes things into her own hands.

Cappuccino or Latte - prompt; “what’s the actual difference between a cappuccino and a latte?”; Vision attempts to make coffee despite his disadvantages.

Short and Sweet - Vision can no longer keep himself back from kissing Wanda.

All to Myself - prompt; Vision jealous of Wanda and Cap America’s friendship; The distance they have created has finally brought Vision to a breaking point.

Getting Caught - prompt; Wanda and Vision get caught coming home late

Not Ostentatious, but True - prompt; “my love isn’t ostentatious, but it doesn’t make it any less true”; Vision becomes jealous of how others profess their love and he does his best to explain himself.

Purrfectly Happy - prompt; The first time Vision ever sees a cat

By the River - prompt; UK shenanigans; Vision uses an anniversary as an excuse to create a new memory with something they had never tried before.

That One Thing - prompt; Vision and Wanda discuss their future.

To Grow Old In, V - Vision worries about whether or not his next move is too grand, but is determined to move to the next step regardless.

One Last Moment - prompt; “one last moment”; Vision and Wanda talk about their options should Wakanda fail to disconnect the Mind Stone.

Wandavision sitcom AU

Love Me Tender - Vision tries to make a special night for Wanda, hoping to make up for the Mr. Hart fiasco.

Support - prompt; Vision offers his assistance as Wanda struggles with her pregnancy.

Cravings - prompt; Wanda’s weird pregnancy cravings; Vision struggles in the kitchen while trying to keep up with her cravings.

Perfectly Molded - Wanda POV; prompt; Vision wearing gray sweatpants. That’s pretty much it.

Back to Bed - A pregnant Wanda is sick and Vision struggles to take care of her.

Prenatal Upset - prompt; A pregnant Wanda doesn’t feel sexy and Vision is more than happy to prove otherwise.

Melting in the Rain - prompt; Wanda goes into labor and is cool as a cucumber leaving Vision to panic alone.

Nerves of Steel - prompt; Vision gets so caught up in himself that he phases through a piece of furniture and doesn’t even notice

Painting for Mom - prompt; sweet dad!Vision moment; The boys craft gifts for Mother’s Day.

Yellow Brick Road - prompt; Vision and Wanda help the boys go Trick-or-Treating

The End of the Road - prompt; part 2 to Yellow Brick Road

Movie Night: Titanic - prompt; the family watching Titanic

Peace and Quiet Shattered - prompt; The twins attempt to make a little robot and are having trouble until Vision steps in and fixes it with ease.

Halloween Spooks - prompt; Vision getting scared by Halloween animatronics

Unable to Compute - prompt; Tommy and Billy do something stupid and Vision has a hard time understanding why

post Wandavision

A World Without Color - A series of prompts following White!Vision as he learns more about who he was so that he can move forward.

post Infinity War AU

Make it Real - A series of one-shots, and possible story, following the traumatic events of Infinity War in an alternate universe where Wanda and Vision are alive and traumatized.

Random AUs

Bidding for Attention - Tony has a bachelor auction and Hope Van Dyne bids on Vision to upset her dad for fun and then Hope and Vision hit it off and keep hanging out which makes Wanda realize her feelings for him have changed.

Pt 1

#scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #rini master list #my organizational side won

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todaydreambelieversfic · 3 years

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Author Spotlight: Heartsmadeofbooks Day 2

Author: @heartsmadeofbooks

Share one of your strengths.

I like to think I'm good at writing angst. At least it feels like I'm at my best when I'm writing it.

Share one of your weaknesses.

The language, probably. It's gotten better with time, but at first it was so difficult to write in English, as it's not my first language. I'm very lucky to have a wonderful beta who hasn't yet killed me when I make the silliest of mistakes over and over again. So shout out to Christine for that.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

There are two, I think, if not three. Syrup and Honey, because it was one of the first, when I felt like I was at the worst when trying to use the language to craft something decent; Quicksand, because it deals with some personal stuff at some points and it was really hard to get it out; and Hidden in the Deep, because that first chapter sat in my drafts FOREVER, and I hated it every time I went back to it, but I was determined to write that story even if it felt so different from anything I had written before.

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Flowers in the Window, I think. It was like going back home after a very, very long time away, and the whole story was written in a month and a half (probably because of quarantine, but also because I just wanted to do nothing but write all day every day) despite being a rather long and complicated story.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

I think it's a bit of both. For most of my life I wanted to be a writer, but I never fall in love with any of my original stuff. I think I still haven't found that one idea that makes everything fall into place, the way I feel about writing fanfiction. But hey, why can't writing fanfiction be my passion, as well?

Is there an episode or character or arc above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Most of my stories are AU, so I don't focus much on episodes, but I do love writing blangst. I'm so sorry, because Blaine Anderson is nothing but sunshine and rainbows and he certainly deserves all of the good things in the world, but there's something about seeing him broken that makes my inspiration flow like a damn river.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Don't stress about every word being perfect right away. Just make sure you pour it all on the page, and you can always come back and fix it later. It's really liberating.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Write about what you know. I'm sure it works perfectly for others, but in my case, it would make for extremely boring stories.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I'm pretty sure most people would say Syrup and Honey (and wouldn't that be a dream come true?), but I've always really loved Sitting, Waiting, Wishing. It would make for a great rom-com, I think.

What’s your process? Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? What are the perfect writing conditions for you?

I start with an idea and I make a doc with all the details and an outline of chapters and characters. Sometimes that initial doc has a fragment of a scene that will later be included in the story, if that scene was a big part of why I wanted to start writing the story in the first place. Then I write the story from start to finish. I can't do it out of order, I just make a mess of things and get constantly lost.

My perfect writing conditions include silence, preferably, but I can work with some music on, mostly instrumental or in some way related to the story. Otherwise, it's distracting. A cup of tea is always nice, if it's cold weather season, or even a glass of wine. If I plan a long writing session, I usually have a candle or flowers on my desk, too.

However, if I really, REALLY want to write and none of those things are available (not even the silence), I can write anywhere. I've written at work and on my phone in a crowded train, and in the middle of the night after waking up from a particularly inspiring dream.

***

Check out Heartsmadeofbooks’s Fics!

The Awakening - Kurt Hummel has put his perfect life together carefully, making sure all the pieces fit exactly how he wanted them to. But all it takes is one name from his past to make all his hard work go to waste - Blaine Anderson.

Flowers in the Window - This is the story of four men - Cooper and Blaine; Burt and Kurt. This is a story of heartbreak and loyalty, of pain and hope, of loneliness and family. This is the story of how, even when the sun stops shining, love finds a way to bloom.

Solid Gold - Ten years after breaking his engagement to Blaine, Kurt's life isn't the fairy tale he once hoped for. Forced to leave New York, he goes looking for a second chance, not expecting to find it in the town he always wanted to run away from, or with the man whose heart he shattered.

#author spotlight: heartsmadeofbooks

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seasaltmemories · 3 years

Text

Regret

Rating: T

Summary: When the nurse finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman. [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

The first time Anthiese remembered meeting her father was when she was eleven.

A year after the villa was attacked, Sir Mycen sent a letter to Novis declaring all of Desaix collaborators jailed or executed. Since heirs were now in a sudden short supply, her father had decided it best for her to join him at Zofia Castle.

She had only started to allow herself to view the priory as a home the prior month; nevertheless, Anthiese followed the dark-hair mercenary back to the capital without complaint. With both a decade and the fire under her belt now, she didn’t feel like a child anymore. And because eleven was the oldest she had ever been, she thought that meant she must be ready to be an adult now.

For all her poise, though, it didn’t make that first night in one of the castle’s guest-rooms any easier. It was furnished with the same silks and mahoganies of the royal villa, and no matter how much she tried to reason with herself that such similarities were only natural, she still found herself dreaming that she was choking on ash. That morning she woke up convinced she was buried in the villa’s rubble and scrubbed her cheeks near raw.

Her nurse had scolded her once the episode passed and spent the rest of the morning brushing powder on her face. If she couldn’t act like an adult, then maybe she could at least try to present herself like one.

She hated the process, feeling like a porcelain doll being painted and brushed to perfection. But if someone ever took the time to ask her what she wanted, she didn’t know if she would have protested in the slightest. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to explain at all what she expected from this journey. It was only the distance that memory provided that allowed her to give words to such a childish desire. That if she bore all her pain with grace and determination, somehow, someway she’d be rewarded.

And so, Earth Mother, she tried. She tried to hold her head high and approach the throne as if it was where she belonged.

The man who sat before had hair as red as hers. It shouldn’t have been all surprisingly, but Anthiese found herself clinging to detail all the same. She liked to think she had never needed him before in her life, but it was thrilling to imagine he might need her in return. So she went through whole ritual of curtsying and giving her most genuine respect.

When she lifted her head again, she found her father looking at her as if he was meeting a god. Trembling, he extended a swollen red hand.

“Liprica?” It was barely a murmur, but the stink of his wine-soaked breath still overwhelmed her. When he moved to cradle a curl of hers, she couldn’t help but recoil.

His eyes widened, as if coming out from a waking dream, and somehow she knew in that instant that he’d never look at her with that same reverence ever again.

It didn’t take long for him to dismiss Anthiese back to her chambers. Once there, the cool mask of maturity she had been weaving since she had received the missive fell apart. She found herself bawling like a newborn, kicking and screaming at any of the maids that tried to restrain her.

Then, like a flash of lightning, her nurse struck her across the cheek. The fear and pain that followed was so overwhelming, Anthiese went silent almost immediately.

“How dare you behave in such a selfish manner! What kind of daughter refuses her own father’s affections?!”

Something deep inside of her started to catalyze. She didn’t quite know what she was becoming, but she had the feeling she wasn’t quite Anthiese anymore.

“Who is Liprica?” It felt dangerous to ask, but the question fell from her lips before she could take it back.

The nurse furrowed her brow in pity. Surprisingly, she picked up the child and gathered her in her lap. In the last show of tenderness she could remember, the nurse recounted the story of the only woman the king had ever loved.

When she finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman.

When Celica awoke in Mila’s cell, she felt that same sense of transformation pull at her limbs. While her memory and vision came back to her slowly but surely, some third, indescribable part of her seemed to leak out onto the ground. Like a cocoon cracked open before it could hatch into a butterfly, if she was supposed to become someone else again, she had no clue anymore on how to get there.

She liked to think it was courage or bravery that compelled her to stand, but that felt too optimistic a conjecture to make. Picking up Falchion and climbing past the torn cell bars seemed more muscle memory than anything deliberate. She didn’t know what could possibly be fueling her at this point. With each breath she swallowed, she tasted the ash that still lingered in the air.

Earth Mother...

She didn’t know if it was a prayer or a curse. As much as Celica rather forget it, the memory of Mila’s grasp had been burned into her memory. No matter how many times she went back to try and construct a different version of events, Mila’s claws seemed to tear into her mind each time.

You didn’t take imprisonment gracefully either...

Celica’s mind drifted back towards the Rigelian maid she burned. She must have seemed just as monstrous and terrifying as Mila in that moment. Guilt swirled inside Celica’s stomach like a storm, but she tried to channel it into something positive. If there was hope for her, then perhaps Mila might calm with time.

Are you sure you’re so above reproach?

Celica bit her lip and pressed forward into the darkness of the tunnels. Perhaps this whole underground was her cocoon. She wouldn’t be able to see what she’d become until she left.

It was dawn when Alm reemerged from his grief. Not because the pain had subsided or because he had somehow overcome it, but rather because he was simple too exhausted to sob any longer. All his pity and empathy had been wrung out of him like washing rag.

From the distance, he saw Berkut lead a squadron of soldiers up towards the bastion. And despite how he knew Father meant to Berkut, meant to everyone, a strange possessiveness overtook him. He found himself moving towards the top end of the ramparts, blocking any view of Father’s body.

“Alm--” Berkut struggled to catch his breath, eyes wild and unfocused. “--there you are! Do you have any idea what’s been--”

“I know!” Despite himself, Alm’s voice came out harsher than he wanted. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just--”

As Alm struggled to find some words that might capture the last few hours, Berkut pushed past him. Alm couldn’t stop him before he managed to catch sight of the ugly scene.

“Uncle...” Those two syllables managed to break Alm’s heart all over again. There was a weakness to Berkut’s voice he hadn’t heard since the two of them were children. Alm leaned forward to comfort him; however before he could complete his embrace, Berkut gripped his forearms in a tight squeeze.

“Who did this!?” Berkut hissed.

Mila’s shadow hung heavy over the two men. This was a conversation that they had sworn to keep behind closed doors, but what were they supposed to do once everything had been blown open?

“It was her, wasn’t it? Never should have let her out of our sight!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Alm could feel what little control he had mustered start to fray. “He’s gone now! Nothing can change that! Not even a brand!”

Alm wondered what this must look to the outside world: Rigel’s two fine princes yelling like madman. All of Father’s hard work to crafting the perfect golden hero vanquished before he even had a grave to roll around in.

From that thought, the sorrow returned, stronger than ever before. However before the tears could return, Berkut dug his nails into his skin.

“Don’t you dare.” There was a dangerous calmness to his voice. “You don’t have the luxury of grief anymore. You have to be able to do what’s necessary for the country.”

He turned around to face the squadron. “Everyone kneel! You have the honor to bask in the presence of our sovereign emperor!” Berkut fell to his knees in front of Alm, and like dominoes, each following soldier did the same.

“All hail Albine Alm Rudolf II, may his reign be righteous and just!” The cry went out like a chorus, ringing across the ramparts. With each round, another further group repeated it, until the entire castle was shouting as one voice.

It took all of Alm’s willpower not to vomit.

When Berkut rose again, he was quick to issue orders about funeral and burial preparations. As the squadron dispersed Alm wanted nothing more than to fade into the wind--to let the one who truly wanted this responsibility take it. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, Berkut caught him off-guard with one final question.

“Do you have any idea if your wedding gift is still secure?”

Alm was puzzled for a moment. Wedding gift had been their code for Mila since his marriage was arranged. How could he go from recognizing her involvement to asking about her imprisonment?

Suddenly everything came together with terrifying clarity.

Where in the world was Anthiese?

Celica had trouble discerning how long she had been in the underground tunnels. There was no natural lighting to indicate if it was night or day. No people going about their daily routine. For all she knew she could have been unconscious for centuries, and spend another few running around in circles. The only way to prove herself wrong, would be if she kept pressing forward regardless.

On one hand the solitude was, all things considered, welcomed--she still felt too fuzzy to attempt any stealth maneuvers. On the other hand though, the further she ventured, the further she felt unmoored from the rest of the world. When she first descended down here, she had mostly followed the pain in her brand. Without its guide, she had no idea where to go.

After what felt like ages wandering in the darkness, Celica found a green feather lying at a crossroads. Immediately she ran up to it, as if it were a talisman that might save her soul. And while even under closer scrutiny, she couldn’t discern anything further about the feather, she noticed a fresh set of claw marks on the rightmost wall. Whether intentional or not, the Earth Mother had not completely abandoned her. And so despite all odds, Celica allowed herself to believe in the hope that she would not stay lost forever, that if she was meant to die, it wasn’t here.

For a moment, it seemed as if her hopes weren’t for nothing. In time her makeshift trail of plumage and scratches brought her to an room so warmly lit, it almost blinded her. Something about that orange glow tugged at Celica’s heart strings. The relief was so great, she almost believed she might be able to truly love Rigel. That she’d never need anything ever again, and she’d be good and obedient if it meant staving off the dread that seemed poised to swallow her whole. She couldn’t help but run to the light without looking back.

However as her vision adjusted, any comfort she had managed to dream up, evaporated in an instant.

From the slick marble tile and high-vaulted ceilings, she could tell that this once was a place of grand splendor. There was a strange nostalgia to the splintered benches and crumbling columns, but she found her gaze being drawn mostly to the broken slab at the far end of the hall. It was hard to say, but perhaps if she put all her attention to reconstructing what it could have been, then maybe the stench of death and decay would fade away. Things would go back to the way they were supposed to be, and she wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare anymore.

Celica didn’t realize she had continued wandering forward until she tripped and found herself on the cool floor. Blankly, she checked to see what had made her fall. She expected to find a loose stone or cracked board, but instead a limp, bruised arm laid sprawled across the path. When it twitched, she could help but shriek.

However rather than reach out and grab her, the arm did nothing but spasm weakly. Instead the true source of life came from the groan that echoed across the room. She followed the arm to find the source to be Jedah of all people, crushed under a pile of rubble.

“Anthiese...is that really you?” His words were slurred and difficult to make out. The only sign of life on his blood-crusted face was the slight tremor of his lip as he spoke.

Celica shivered. His choked voice made her blood run so cold, her tongue felt frozen in place. She tried her best to get away from the horrid sound, but in the process of trying to push herself up, Falchion clattered against the floor with a piercing ring.

“That sword!” He gasped. Quickly Celica picked it back up, a new possessiveness overwhelming her, but he seemed content to simply follow the light that bounced off the blade. “...that’s why he forsook us. You used our own tools to conquer us.”

“My intention has never been to conquer Rigel.” Celica spat.

“Look around you. Duma’s Faithful have been on death row for the longest time. This is just the noose finally tightening around our neck. Now your goddess can reign completely.”

Again Celica remembered the sensation of Mila’s claws on her chin. She wondered if she looked closely, how many other corpses she might find. She wondered if their bodies would carry the same wounds as her.

“Perhaps this is Duma’s last lesson...” Jedah mused. “In my arrogance, I thought I had tamed you thoroughly enough. Let that boy influence me too much. Now you shall be our undoing.”

Celica’s skin crawled. As much as her hatred for him hadn’t diminished in the slightest, she did not want to watch him die. Even as she tried to look away, she couldn’t stop from noticing all the blood stains that lined the walls. Just how many other corpses were hiding among this room? How much blood would stain her hands before Mila’s rampage ended?

“I didn’t want this.” Celica whispered--as if any of that mattered at this point.

When what remained of Jedah’s life began to fade away--she found herself closing her eyes and raising her face towards heaven. If it was a prayer, then she only prayed her drumming heartbeat would drown out his dying gasps.

When she heard a group of soldier shout for her arrest, she didn’t resist.

News of Anthiese didn’t get to him until late that night. After Berkut found him, he passed Alm off to Massena for a more formal coronation. Even if Rigel Castle hadn’t been in such a dismal state, succession had become a fraught topic since Father ascended to the throne. Up until now, every heir had been required to be blessed by the Duma Faithful before they could rule. In theory such a thing shouldn’t be necessary now that the Emperor also doubled as head of the Church, but wars had been fought over more insignificant details in the past. As a result, Alm spent most of his day signing documents and sending letters, certain Jedah would interrupt him at any moment. When sunset came and there was still no attempt of a coup, Massena finally bestowed Alm his crown and declared him emperor.

The only witnesses were General Zeke and his wife.

Alm was escorted back to his old chambers afterwards. In theory, they’d have a more public ceremony tomorrow, so it be better if he looked like he had at least gotten an hour or two of sleep. Still even his study had not escaped the day untouched. A pile of notes the height of his forearm laid on top his desk, all addressed to Emperor Albein Alm Rudolf II.

Despite the hour, he still felt the vast emptiness from the morning, somehow too exhausted for sleep. So he tried to do what he thought a chosen hero should do. He lit a candle and went to work.

Anthiese’ report was nestled in between a record of civilian deaths and an estimate charge for castle repairs. He’d be lying if he acted as if he hadn’t be thinking of her all day, but he forced himself to read the paper at the same detached pace as every other piece.

It claimed that the lost princess had been found in Duma Temple, next to Father Jedah’s wasting body. Considering the number of Duma Faithful found dead, she was currently being imprisoned on charges for mass murder. However most of the corpses had been found under rubble and other debris; the report argued it was unlikely she had been the only one responsible. The only piece of evidence she could have been involved was the sword she had been found with.

Alm read the last sentence over. Then he read it again and again, until the words started to blur before his eyes. He pushed the document away and took a deep breath. He tried to hope against hope.

He pulled out the charges for repairs. He read the first line of figures. Then he crumpled it into a ball and headed for the dungeons.

On his journey downwards, Alm couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he made this trip. If he had reported first to Father as expected, would he still be here today? As illogical as it sounded, he couldn’t stop from trying to pinpoint everything went wrong, when Father’s demise had been locked in place.

“Promise me you won’t let her lead you astray.”

That had been some of his last words. And yet despite everything, when Alm thought of Anthiese, he still imagined her flushed face and the sensation of her lips against his eyelids. He didn’t want to open his eyes, see what she must really think of him when not performing for his pleasure.

This time there was no forcing his way in. The minute the guard saw him, she immediately stepped aside and gave a deep bow. “Is this going to be a private interrogation?” She asked while handing him the keys. And maybe this was another mistake, another point of no return he was damning himself to, but he wanted the two of them to be honest for once, about Mila and everything in between.

“Yes,” He answered. And by the time the door slammed shut, she had all but disappeared down the hall.

A long time ago, Father had told him that the worst thing an Emperor could do, was appear anxious. Any physical tics or irregular breathing could turn into a terrible tell for enemies to exploit. Therefore, Alm took his time facing Anthiese, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the rise in his chest was barely noticeable.

When he finally looked up he found her curled up on the floor wearing a torn set of his shirt and trousers. Shackles chained her to the wall, only allowing a short range of movement, yet even that amount of freedom made him uneasy. He struggled to predict what might occur if she got her hands on him.

“Wake up,” Alm ordered.

He struggled to trust what might occur if he got his hands on her.

The only sign of life she showed was the singular cold eye that peeked out behind her curtain of hair. She looked less like the alluring temptress from the night before and more like a stray hound.

“Most of the time, the high judge is the one to lay out the case, but just this once, I’m going to give you the chance to explain yourself.” He tried to speak with Father’s commanding presence.

Anthiese tilted her head to the side. For a moment she just stared. Then a sickening giggle began to scratch its way out of her throat.

“How nice. Do I get to choose the method of execution as well?”

Alm’s eyes narrowed. “I’d stop the jokes if I were you. The high judge lost his wife this morning. He’s not likely to have much sympathy for you.”

Anthiese stopped giggling. “Do you have sympathy for me?”

His brand ached at her words, as if it was just now being etched into his skin. He wondered if perhaps it was something like an infected wound, slowly spreading to the rest of him.

“Don’t mock my mercy,” He took a step forward, ignoring the pain. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? What wielding that blade means?”

“I’m not an idiot.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I know you already know about the temple and how much blood they say is on my hands. What’s the use in asking for my story?”

“A man is supposed to think the best of his wife.” His words caught on something sharp inside of himself. “An orphaned king must be the loneliest creature in the world. If possible, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“That’s your problem,” Anthiese snapped. “You’ve forgotten Jedah’s warnings. How could a Zofian woman be anything but duplicitous and selfish? It doesn’t matter if you pamper her with flowers, you can’t change nature.” She leaned forward and bared her teeth. “You should have locked me up our wedding night.”

Alm could feel his blood hum through his body. It felt like an entire colony wasps was needling at his skin, wanting to burst clean from his body and swarm. Images of a manor in the woods he did not want to think about flooded his mind.

“Tell me you didn’t know you were doing.” He begged. For a moment he believed that was all they needed to return to the magic of their night together.

Anthiese pushed herself up so that they were eye level. “I rather watch the continent burn than become anything resembling my mother.”

He wished he could say he was blinded with rage. He wished his body had acted as a separate creature from him. but if anything, he felt more like himself than he had all day when he slammed his fist into her cheek.

Anthiese hit the floor hard, her chin catching on a loose stone. A slow stream of blood started to dribble down her neck as Alm gasped for breath. Carefully, she picked herself up, cradling her cheek.

“Thank you, Emperor Albein--” Her voice was cold and distant. “--for finally showing me your gentle, tender care.” The giggle returned louder than ever.

But despite all her best efforts, she could stop the tears that were streaming down her face.

A.N. Well, man was last chapter a bad cliffhanger to end on. I'm real sorry for the whole two year hiatus, definitely had a lot of personal projects to focus on. Good news though, this is now the WIP at the top of my "to finish" list. At the very least, I finally feel as confident as I'll ever be with this chapter, while there are still plenty of questions to answer, I thought it important to really get this personal reactions from the two of them, I wanted to show how grief and trauma can really consume ppl in the worst ways, how it can be defined by painful absences as much as vivid hauntings.

#celicalm #fe echoes #celica #alm #fire emblem echoes #my lame writing #otp: I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home #ships and deserts and swamps oh my #arranged marriage au #definitely mind the trigger warnings on this on guys

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let-me-luve-you · 3 years

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T-Shirt Quilts

Jared Padalecki x Reader

Summary: Every year the SPN crew does Secret Santa and this year you get your best friends name.

Warnings: Secret feelings, fluff, if there is angst you have to squint to see it i think

Word Count: 2,190

@spnchristmasbingo

MASTERLIST

SPN CHRISTMAS BINGO

You watched as Jessica, a PA, walked around carrying a basket with names on paper for the annual Secret Santa. You’ve been working on the set of Supernatural for a few months. You still didn’t know everyone so you were hoping you got someone you knew.

Secretly you hoped it was Jared. You’ve had a huge crush on him since you guest starred last year on two episodes. You stayed in touch between your days on set last season to when you started a full time role this season. It helped that you both live in Austin. Jared quickly became your best friend over the months, but you still harbored those feelings.

Jessica walked up to you and smiled at you. ”Once you draw, let me know who you got so I can write it down. And don’t worry, us PAs have different bowls. My name is in another one.”

You smiled at her and reached into the bowl. You picked up a piece of paper and opened it.

“I got myself?” You looked up at Jessica who was laughing.

“Put it back and draw again.” She said as her laughter died out. She held the bowl up to you once again. You put your hand back in the bowl and grabbed another paper.

You kept your face neutral as you read the name quietly to Jessica since the person you got was a few feet away. “Jared. I got Jared.” You smiled at Jessica as she smirked while writing his name down. Your heart was racing because you wanted to get him something special. More special than what you already have stored in your closet back in Austin.

Jared walked over to the both of you. Jessica smiled at him.

“Jared, have you drawn for the Secret Santa?” Jessica asked holding up the bowl. Jared shook his head. He reached into the bowl and smirked as he read the name. He turned to show Jessica and she smirked again as she was writing. “Well you guys have fun shooting your next scene. I’m off the rest of the day.”

“Bye Jessica. Merry Christmas.” Jared said. You smiled and hugged her as you wished her safe travels. Jared turned to look at you. “I have a few hours until I have to film again and I know for a fact you are here way to early since you are doing evening shoots. So would you like to accompany me to a movie and a nap in my trailer?” You laughed and nodded your head.

That weekend you were walking around shops trying to get an idea for Jared when you walked past a craft store. You walked in just to see what they had. As you walked further into the store, you saw all the quilt supplies hanging on a wall and laying on shelves. An older woman approached you.

“Hello dear, are you looking to make a quilt or are you looking to have one made?” She asked.

“Um… I’m not sure.” You replied honestly. “I don’t even know what pattern I would want.”

“Well let me just tell you more about what we do here so you can decide if you would like one. Holidays are coming up and it would be a lovely gift.” She led you towards the table that had a pamphlet on it. “We do patterns, we do quilt square patterns, and we do t-shirt quilts.”

“What are t-shirt quilts?” You asked genuinely confused.

“They are quilts made out of t-shirts. We cut the shirt into a square and then we put them together like a quilt square pattern. And if you don’t have enough t-shirts to fill a complete quilt, you can add some fabric.”

You thought about all the Always Keep Fighting shirts Jared had given you over the summer. A few from every campaign he had done. Plus you had other Supernatural shirts based off of Sam you could add. “I think you just helped me figure out my Christmas gift for a friend. How long does it take you to make the quilt?”

Normally it would take us a while, but with the holiday season, we would have it done in a week.” She replied happily that she might have made a sale.

“And what time do you close? I have some shirts I would like to turn into a quilt.” You said. “Do you do weighted quilts?”

“We do. It will cost you extra though.” She said. “And we close at nine tonight.”

You smiled at her. You told her you would be back in a bit. Just had to run home to grab the shirts. She smiled and said she would be here to help you when you got back.

You almost ran to your car to hurry. Jared was due to be at your apartment later that evening when you finished shopping. You didn’t want to risk him seeing you home and think it’s okay to come over. You ran into your room once you unlocked your apartment. Quickly opening your dresser, you grabbed one of each campaign. Then you went to the closet to grab the Supernatural shirt. You locked your apartment and rushed back to the shop.

“I’m back.” You said smiling. Linda, the kind lady that helped you earlier led you to the quilting room to design the front of the quilt. After aligning the shirts how you wanted them, she led you to the fabric section to select something for the back. You smiled when you saw a plaid design that just screamed Sam Winchester. “I really like this. It matches the person who is getting this.”

Linda smiled at you as she saw your eyes light up thinking about the quilt and the person it was going to. “This will be a big quilt. Probably around six feet.”

“That’s perfect. The guy I’m getting this for is 6’4.” You said with a laugh.

“I’m sure he will love it. I will give you a call when it is done.” Linda said. You smiled at her and left the store.

Two weeks later you were carrying your wrapped box into the building where the SPN Christmas party was being held. You discarded your present and walked towards Jensen.

“Hiya Jay!” You said. He turned and smiled at you. He wrapped you in a big hug.

“How’s my girl tonight?” He asked as he pulled away.

“I’m doing good. How are you? Ready to see the family?” You asked back.

“Better now that you're here.” You both laughed. “Of course I’m ready to see the family. It’s been a long week. Just glad I get to spend a few weeks with them without any interruptions.”

“I bet. I can’t wait to come see them on Christmas. I miss the little ones.” You said. You jumped as arms wrapped around you from behind.

You relaxed when you heard, “I miss them too. I’m spoiling them. Nearly all the presents under my tree are for them.” Jared said.

“Dang it Jared, I told you not to buy them anything.” Jensen said annoyed. But you noticed he wasn’t too annoyed based off the smile on his face.

“Okay guys. We have the presents to hand out, so please grab a seat.” You heard of the sound system, which stopped Jared from replying to Jensen.

Presents were being handed out by the PAs that did the drawings. Jessica handed you and Jared presents with a smirk before she turned to Jensen and handed him his.

Jared laughed as he felt how heavy his was. “Someone went all out this year. Or I got bricks. Not sure.” Jensen laughed in response.

You noticed Jared was side eyeing you as you were side eyeing him. You were nervous to see his reaction. When given the signal to open the gifts, you slowly opened yours as you also watched Jared. Jared ripped into the present. He pulled the quilt out and stood up to unfold it so he could observe the whole thing.

“Oh my gosh.” You heard him whisper. You looked up to see tears in his eyes. Jensen looked up when he heard his best friend.

“What is it?” Jensen asked. Jared turned the quilt so Jensen could see the Always Keep Fighting shirts lining the front. “Looks like there’s a note with it.”

Whenever anxiety gets the worst of you, remember to Always Keep Fighting. This is your fighting blanket. It is a 20 pound weighted quilt to help you calm down when you feel like you’re out of control. Thank you for being the best role model for people around you and the people around the world. You deserve the world Jared. AKF

Jared read the note out loud. Jensen smiled and started tearing up too. He knew the battles Jared had and he was touched by the person who gave Jared this gift.

You smiled at the two of the gushing over the quilt. You finally turned towards your gift and opened it. You pulled out a photo album. It had a picture of you, Jared, Jensen, Misha, and Alex on the cover. You flicked through the pictures. Some were cellphone pictures of you with the crew and cast, some were behind the scenes photos taken by the on set photographer, and some were from conventions. Each page had a quote on it and each quote related to the photos on those pages. You were amazed by the work someone put into your gift.

As you continued to look through the photos. Jensen and Jared smiled at you. Jared noticed your tears building and sat by you to look through the picture with you. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed his handwriting yet.

“This year we decided to let each other know their Secret Santa now instead of waiting a few days. So please go find your person.” Bob announced over the system.

You looked at Jared as he looked at you.

“Do you like it?” Jared asked.

“I love it. This gift is beautiful. Did you do this?” You asked him. He nodded his head. You smiled bigger. “I will cherish it forever. Thank you.”

“Did you see the last couple of pages?” You shook your head no and Jared flipped to the pages for you. You noticed the majority of them from your time during the summer with him. Some you didn’t recognize. You smiled as you thought these were pictures Jared snuck of you.

“You really are amazing Jared, thank you.” You said giving him a hug. Letting it go on longer than normal.

“Did you get me the quilt?” He asked. You nodded. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. What made you think to do that.”

“Was shopping around and Linda, the one who made it, gave me the idea.” You said. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it. I didn’t figure you would want a blanket for Christmas.”

“Are you kidding me? This is the best. I love it. I’m going to use it all the time. Why make it weighted though?”

“Weighted blankets are supposed to help when you feel anxious. It’s supposed to help make you feel grounded. Figure you would need that when things get overwhelming.” You said. Jared smiled at you.

Little to yours and Jared’s knowledge, you were being watched by everyone. They had set you guys up to get each other. Hoping you would both admit your feelings to one another.

“Y/N, can I tell you something.” You nodded at the taller man.”Seeing this blanket and seeing how much thought you put into it makes me have to tell you this today. I can’t hold it back anymore.”

“Okay. What is it?” You asked.

“I like you Y/N. I have since you guest starred.” He said nervously.

“Well I wish you would have said something sooner, because I feel the same.” You said back.

“Really?” You nodded. “Since you guest starred?” You nodded once again. “You could have said something too, you know.” You laughed and leaned towards him. Jared pushed a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in. His lips just hovering over yours. “Is this okay?” He asked.

“Yes.” You whispered so quietly, Jared wasn’t sure he heard you. He leaned forward and finally connected your lips in a soft kiss.

The room erupted in cheers. You both pulled away, remembering your surroundings.

“About time you two.” Jensen said. “If all we had to do was make you secret Santa partners, we should have done that a long time ago.”

“You guys planned this?” You asked.

Jensen nodded, “Yeah. I was the one that mentioned it because I was sick of hearing about your feelings for one another but neither of you telling each other.

Jared laughed as he pulled you closer, as everyone else went back to their conversations. Jensen silently watched his best friend and someone who is becoming like a sister to him.

“I’m kind of embarrassed.” You whispered to Jared.

“Don't be.” He said looking you in the eyes. He gently grabbed your chin and brought your lips to his. “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

#spn christmas bingo #spn christmas bingo 2020 #supernatural christmas bingo #supernatural christmas bingo 2020 #jared padalecki #jared x reader #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki rpf #secret santa #jared padalecki one shot #jared padalecki imagines #jared padalecki fanfic #jared padalecki fanfiction #spn rpf #supernatural rpf #spn christmas

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adventuresofclever · 3 years

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CleverMax: SDCC 2021 Masquerade Entry

Comic-Con@Home Masquerade Entry: Adventures of Clever Costume Title: CleverMax - Mr. Clever as a Borderlands boss Costume Description: Recreation of Mr. Clever from the Doctor Who episode Nightmare in Silver, written by Neil Gaiman, done in the style of the video game, Borderlands. Bio: They/He pronouns

Greetings all!

I realized that I never wrote about how I made my CleverMax mashup cosplay, so when SDCC posted about their At Home masquerade, I figured this was the perfect time to do so! Most of you know that I cosplay exclusively as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who, with the random mash up thrown in here and there. I’ve always wanted to be a Borderlands cosplayer, and the following is how I managed to combine the two together.

As always, enjoy the blog and if there are any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Let’s step into the TARDIS and jump back to October 20, 2009, when the first Borderlands game was released. It was my first foray into FPS (First person shooters) and I was hooked from day one. In 2012 they released Borderlands 2 which is, in my not so humble opinion, the best video game ever created. We got some of the most iconic charcters and storylines in that game. Including the best DLC ever, Bunkers and Badasses. And my second favorite villain of all time – Handsome Jack.

Jack’s sass, sarcasm and charm fits well with Mr. Clever’s personality. And in the pre sequel you get to play a version of him called the Dopplegnager. I mean, this pretty much wrote itself.

Handsome Jack from Borderlands 2 and Mr. Clever from Doctor Who

Borderlands cosplayers have aIways left me in a state of awe and admiration. The style of the game is so unique and seeing it recreated in person is nothing short of incredible. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be a Borderlands cosplayer. For the past eight years I have only ever cosplayed as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who. In the summer of 2019 I decided that was the perfect time to try to make this happen before NYCC.

When I initially decided to do this, it was going to be more of a mash up between Handsome Jack and Mr. Clever. I had planned on wearing Jack’s basic outfit, but in Clever’s colors with the a few add ons. Namely the bow tie and the cybernetics.

After much research and drafting, I decided against that. I ended up just turning Mr. Clever into a Borderlands boss. Same basic outfit as Mr. Clever/11th Doctor, but cel shaded and with weapons, cause Borderlands.

I made the accessories, chess set, and obviously the working cyberplanner piece itself for my Nightmare in Silver version of Clever, but I have never tackled anything this ambitious. An entire costume from scratch? Not something I thought I could do. Not knowing how to sew and being visually impaired were both challenges that I had to work around.

I started with looking around my house for various items that I thought I could use. I figured if I messed up, might as well mess up on something I hadn’t spent money on yet! I was going to toss a pair of my old paddock boots as they had some rips in the leather. Ripped leather? How very Pandora. They were the first thing I tackled.

Old paddock boots that I refurbished for the cosplay

This was my first time using leather paint and I have to say I am very pleased with the Angelus brand of leather paint. I have worn these in the rain and through puddles, and they have held up 100%.

After the boots were done, I started on the vest. I had an old black vest lying around the house that was sort of the shape and size I wanted. I don’t have a dress form, so I put it on myself, inside out, and used safety pins to make it the size I needed, then hand sewed around the safety pins. Not ideal, but it works.

I had a spare pair of black jeans, button down light blue shirt and a plain bow tie that I just ended up cel shading.

The only item that I really couldn’t figure out was the purple frock coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one to modify. So the coat was actually made by my friend Heather Long. I did alter the length after NYCC.

With the clothes themselves all set, for the most part anyay, it was time to paint. This was my first time trying to recreate the art style of Borderlands, often referred to as cel shading. I have a few “art of Borderlands” style books that I poured over before I sat down to attempt this.

Other than the accessories and anything leather, I used the same materials and techniques for each article of clothing. Instead of describing each seprate piece, I’ll just explain what I did to achieve the overall look.

When you look at a Borderlands character on screen, it can be a bit overwhelming. So many colors, and so many nuances of each color. I did my best to visually sift through all that, and try to establish what I thought was the base color.

Once the base color was determined, I just added blotches, blobs, shading, low lights, highlights and other variations of the base color itself throughout each piece. I recommend keeping your fabric wrinkled and using those wrinkle as guidlenes for where the lines and shading would fall naturally.

Once all of that dried, I then went over different sections of the fabric with white and black lines. To get that crisp, almost comic book looking outline of each piece I used black sharpie, and white fabric pens as well as white fabric paint.

When I sat down to do the coat, I wanted something a little different than just cel shading. During a second playthrough of Tales from the Borderlands, I noticed Rhys and other characters had interesting logos and designs on the back of their jackets. I ended up putting a chessboard pattern on the back as a homage to the chess game between the 11th Doctor and Mr. Clever in the episode.

Great shot of the chess board and my Judd Nelson pose

The materials that I used for all of the clothing items were craft paints that I had around the house. Any brand works, but I prefer Americana paints. I then added an additive that you use to make the paint water proof and used various sized brushes. Dry brushes are also very useful if you have them.

Black sharpies of different sizes and any fabric markers are also very helpful. Heat setting is required to make the paint waterpfoof, so if you mess up before you add sharpies, you can wash the clothes and start over.

A few tips if you decide to undertake cel shading clothing: Until now I hadn’t noticed that there aren’t many thing in Borderlands that are true black. Due to the art style most things that appear black are in reality shades of grey, with a grey base colr. This makes it easier to add the lines, shading, and what not. Looking back, I should have bought GREY clothes. It was a ton of work to make the pants look like they were a mixture of greys. And as a result of so many laers of paint, they are stiff, lost their stretch and feel an entire size smaller! So I would recommend grey fabric as a base for black clothing and buy a size larger.

The pants are so stiff that I think they will stand up on their own

This entire process was way more fun than I thought it would be and I’ve since become addicted to cel shading anything I can. I may or may not have started cel shading my guest room.

After the clothing was finished, I started on some accessories and props. The first being the easiet – a wee little cybermite that I cel shaded. My cosplay of Mr. Clever always has a cybermite on my lapel, so I took one of my older ones and repainted it.

You can’t have a Borderlands character without some sort of weapon, so I painted a nerf gun that looks similar to the one that Clara Oswald holds in the episode.

I have never had to carry a gun for my Mr. Clever cosplay before so weapon checks are sort of new to me. I didn’t want to go through that at NYCC so I came up with a clever, no pun intended, way around it.

I took a photo of each side of the gun. Went to Staples and had them printed on heavy cardstock. Then I cut around the guns, glued them together between a piece of cardboard then added some black electical tape around the edges. Viola. Instant weapons check approved gun that is lightweight, and also acts a fan when it gets hot. It was a huge hit at the con. A few security guards were like “ we have to check your…wait..is that flat?” And they proceeded to play with it. I highly recommend doing this!

Gun and its flat counterpart

I am holding the flat gun in this picture from NYCC

In the actual game, you can equip your characters with mods that give them certain abilities and bonuses. In the Pre-Sequel, you can play as a Dopplganger of Handsome Jack so I searched for some of his mods and found one in purple which seemed perfect. I made the mod with cardboard, covered it in craft foam, modge podge to set, and installed led lights. The first time I wore it I put it on my belt which didn’t work. It kept falling off. I eventually put it on my lapel and wore it like Jack does. Unfortunately, someone glomped on me at a con and broke it, so I recently had to remake it all over again.

No Borderlands costume would be complete without cel shading on yourself. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons. One, I’m visually impaired so doing line work like this was challenging. Two, I am highly allergic to so many materials and ingrediants that finding a make up brand that I could wear was a trial and error process that ended up with many break outs and rashes before I found the perfect combination.

I used mostly eye liner pencils and liquid eye liner to achieve the look. The Wet n Wild liquid eye liner lasts forever, and is actually difficult to remove, but that is not a bad thing as it stood up to the heat of a very crowded venue.

As for the cel shading itself, I relied on many refernce photos of various characters in the game. I started with the eyebrows first as that seemed to frame the face nicely and give me a nice mischvieous look. I then just outlined the bones of my face, adding some random lines here and there. It never looks the same way twice, but that’s ok. Playing with different angles, lines, shading etc is half the fun!

The only real challenge were my hands. The make up didn’t last that long on my hands so I had to touch it up throughout the con. I also eventually started to use band aids that I cel sahded to cover up a tattoo on my inner wrist.

Figuring what to do with my hair is an on going process that I still haven’t 100% mastered. I opted to not use a foam wig as I have over heating issues on a cool day let alone trying to wear one if it gets warmer. I have had adverse reactions to craft foam in the past, so I don’t want it touching my skin, and lastly, I think a wig AND a facial prosthetic would be too much for me. So I decided to just cel shade my hair.

This takes forever to do, and I’m still figuring out better techniques every time I wear it.

I have a really great brand of colored gel, called Mofajang which I apply with a baster brush that you would find in the kitchen gadgets aisle. I also use a clean mascara brush to add some finer lines here and there. Set with way more hair spray than I ever used in the 80’s and it becomes fairly waterproof.

I have learned that due to how hard the make up and hair color is to remove, I really need to wear this on the LAST day of a con. I made the mistake of wearing it on day one of Long Island Who one year, and spent hours scrubbing my skin and hair for the next day. Far better to just leave the con with a tad bit of left over cel shading. Which makes it very interesting when you stop at a roadside bathroom on the trip home.

With the entire costume done it was time to work on the actual cyberplanner appliance.

Next time I make a variation of Clever, I will make this FIRST. Making these pieces is the bane of my existence – I love wearing them, hate making them. It’s a long process.

I am allergic to latex, silocone, scuply, most clays, and so many other things that seem to be every cosplayers go-to. When I made my first cyber piece back in late 2013, I spent weeks trying to find a substance that would keep attached to my face all day without causing a rash. Like an alchemist in a fantasy novel, I submerged myself into creating the perfect concoction. It took 22 days to finish the final product.

I admit that I rushed a bit on the Borderlands one. As a result, it doesn’t quite fit as well as my others, and is a bit heavier than I expected. I only added two working lights, instead of the usual four, to hopefully balance the piece out. It lasted through two full days of a con, despite the heat of a crowded venue, but I did end up tweaking it a bit after. Even with the tweaks, it still doesn’t fit as well as I would like. It is too heavy and brings down the entire left side of my face, making it difficult to keep my eye open at times. I really need to sit down and force myself to make a new one.

There are a few more things that I would like to add to this costume eventually. Like a belt of grenades, and maybe another gun. But aside from that, I am incredibly pleased with how this costume turned out. It is by far, my favorite Clever variation that I have done.

I hope this post gives you the inspiration to go off and cel shade something, and possibly even play some Borderlands!

#doctorwho #misterclever #mrclever #nightmareinsilver #cosplay #borderlands cosplay #doctor who cosplay #comic-con #comic-conathome #comic-conathome2021 #comic-conathomemasquerêde #cyberplanner #borderlands

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writingfromasgard · 3 years

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A Professional Donation [3]

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Information swirled like shooting stars in Cora’s mind. The first meeting with Ivar Lothbrok held so many questions in her mind about what he needed. He stated outright he did not need a girlfriend type, not arm candy either. Her tongue wanted to say a wife type, someone irreplaceable. She hadn’t seen any signs of sexual desire from him either. Did that mean the menu was strictly platonic? Cora wouldn’t complain if that were the case. She shifted in her bed, turning on her left side. She reached for her phone, illuminating the screen to check the time. It burned 1:32 AM into her eyes. She placed it face down again and sat up, leaning against the headboard. She debated on going to her couch, where she seemed to sleep the best at.

“Fuck it.” She muttered to herself.

With a quick toss of her thick, heavy blanket to the other side of the bed, she slipped out of bed. The couch welcomed her, pulling her into the soft cushions. She grabbed the remote, pressing the buttons until Peacock TV loaded on the screen. She browsed through the available shows until she came across an old favorite, one she had watched over and over. Murder, She Wrote had become one of her favorites. She had seen most episodes ten times by now, but the cheesy effects and laughter never seemed to get old. Jessica Fletcher, a widow turned author, traveled around and stumbled into murders that needed solving. As the familiar theme song played, Cora settled into the couch.

This episode seemed to be about a wise-guy found dead in a locked room. Of course, Jessica met a friend who went to see her ex-husband, and he winded up dead. “I bet the ex-wife totally did it,” Cora mumbled, pulling down her throw blanket over her. She wormed her way into a comfortable laying position to watch the drama unfold on the screen. It was only after the bad guy, a detective who was recently transferred, that Cora started to feel the weight of sleep on her eyelids.

She groaned, trying to block out the bright sunlight that poured in from the window. Another scene of Jessica catching an utterly different cast played across the screen. “I can always rely on you, J.B.” Cora stretched and struggled to her feet. She switched on the Live TV and listened to the only other channel she enjoyed — the news. An essential part of her job was keeping up-to-date with events going on in the entire world. Without much thought, she tossed the remote onto the couch and took a step toward the kitchen. She turned back around and moved the remote to the coffee table — not trusting the couch to not suck the remote into the depths of a dimensional portal. She had lost too many remotes that way and had yet to find any of them in the couch.

Cora pulled open the fridge and went for a sickly looking green shake. She poured the contents into a glass, adding a straw. Setting down the drink on the coffee table, using a coaster to keep from damaging the wood. Making her way back into her bedroom, she moved her side table. The vent behind it came out quickly, and she scooped up the contents — her work phone, charger, and planner. She doubted she would need to charge her phone, but in the event she did, she wouldn't have to make a second trip back to the room.

She sat down on the couch, powering on her phone. As it loaded, she grabbed her shake and started trying to drink as much as possible. Pleased that her phone still held more than 50% battery, she let the text messages roll in on her phone while she watch the news review yesterday’s headlines, adding new details to stories she had already heard. Her mind jumped back to last night’s events again, analyzing the goodbye Ivar left her with.

“I hope to see you again, Cora.” He said, standing from the table. She could see his jaw strain in pain as he waited for her to stand. His hand held out, waiting for her to place hers in it. She did so immediately, letting him kiss the back of her hand. “Do we need to discuss the terms or… ?”

“You can send them to Yevette, Ivar. I don’t see any reason why we can’t do business.” Even in wincing, he managed a charming smile.

Conversation with Ivar drifted from the restaurant to his hobbies. He revealed little about himself unless she asked questions. His future plans were intense, to say the least. His mother wanted him to take over the company while his father sounded like he was placating him. Cora kept that opinion to herself, not wanting to upset him. She felt inadequate compared to him despite only being four days younger than him. She hadn’t even finished college, and her work was looked down upon by everyone in the world. He had been a perfect gentleman, mostly. There were times where he seemed… harsh. She supposed it could be chocked up to nerves.

Cora drank up the rest shake and heard the ding-ding-ding-ding of multiple messages flowing in. She picked them up and choked on the shake left in her mouth. Her eyes balked at the text messages she had received from Yevette.

Yevette: You must have had a good night. He sent the contract! Yevette: Cora, call me ASAP! Yevette: Are you up yet? It's IMPORTANT! Yevette: Do you still want to fill the other two spots?

She dialed the number immediately, hoping Yevette would not be too angry. It was only 7:30 AM, an hour later than the time she was usually up. The phone rang multiple times until Yevette, sounding out of breath, answered the phone. “Cora! CORA! You absolute darling.” The sugar was being laid on thick today, so that was a good sign.

“Yevette, I apologize. I stayed up doing research.” She lied, not wanting to admit to the truth.

“Don’t worry about that. I got the contract. Standard nondisclosure agreement; you can’t talk about what you do behind closed doors. If you do, you forfeit the remaining time in the contract. That isn’t what I’m so HAPPY about.” Cora could make out the sounds of clacking keyboards on Yevette’s end. “The parties agree to no more than two days a week as a standard meeting period… places to be chosen by either party at times acceptable to both parties… payment is due day-of meeting of an amount equal to the sum of 300 per hour needed. 300! PER HOUR!”

Cora’s mouth went dry. That was triple her average amount. The going rate per hour was 130 — if they wanted sex. “Did you contact him to see if it was a mistake? I mean, there is no way he would p—” Yevette cut her off with a hysterical laugh.

“Yes! I even told him your rates, and he demanded he pay 300 per hour except during calls. I don’t know what number you did on him, but he was adamant that all of the contract had been approved by him already. Cora, with these prices, you won’t need to take on the other clients if you don’t want to. I know we discussed that, but the contract came with a schedule as well. You are going to be with him a minimum of 3 hours each meeting.”

Cora’s mind felt frayed already. “Bu-H- I didn’t do anything but talk with him.” Yevette continued rattling off exciting sections of the contract to her. Had she made such an impression on Ivar that he was willing to go the extra mile? Or was this a sign of how urgently he wanted it to be her? Gods, she wished she could ask Bucky about him. He had to have some insight into Ivar given the recommendation, right? After an hour on the phone with Yevette, the contract was sent to Cora, but she signed it without looking over it — believing that whatever things she was adverse to were outweighed heavily by the number of perks included.

She was required to attend all events unless unable to due to personal reasons. Her favorite perk: vacations. He specifically put in that she was to participate in one vacation with him at a destination ‘that both parties agree upon.’ Instead of dawdling over the knight in shining armor, she’d managed to hook; she went to work on filling out her booklet with his events. The schedule began next week and included one public dinner, a gallery opening, and a home meal. Each had a different amount of hours: 3, 6, 5.

She could hardly see a downside yet but knew that it would come. The mask that hadn’t been crafted for him would wear her down just as the others had. It was only a matter of time. After she penciled in all of the times, she checked her phone for any other messages or missed calls.

A single text from Ivar’s number eluding to the one request she was wary of: Do you want to call tomorrow?

She had never had a client request a phone call with her. It had been in the contract. A phone call the length of 2 hours to be divided up when needed. The rate was lower than the in-person meetings, as expected. Perhaps it was only for appearance sakes. She typed out her reply, a carefully worded offer for a Friday call instead. She included a brief explanation — an appointment she had weeks before she’d considered any other clients.

She couldn’t provide too much detail as to the real purpose of the appointment. Her first long-term client had booked her for the entire night. A night like these meant she needed a day to separate who she was from the mask she wore for them: Miss Swoden, or Laila as she preferred to be called.

Laila’s needs were more complicated than Bucky’s. Stress relief, friendship, therapist, and even domme at times. Her appointments were few, but the length of them meant an excellent paycheck for Cora. That’s how she managed to live only on Bucky and Laila’s appointments. It was the lack of Bucky’s appointments that caused her to need another three clients.

Cora picked up her secondary phone and pressed the call button. She had hoped this would be a short call as a blaring “Breaking news!” flashed across the television screen. The phone continued to ring until the voicemail kicked in. As expected, Cora thought. Laila was never good at answering the phone or remembering to text back.

“Good Morning, Miss Swoden. I’m contacting you in regards to the meeting you had set up. It appears that we did not get your confirmation prior to today. Give me a call back when you are able.” With that, she hung up, and she plopped down on her couch.

The breaking news story was one of interest to her. An explosion that rocked the ports of Kattegat’s northern coast. She whistled to herself as an overview from a drone provided a live feed from above. Crumpled cargo containers laid open or crushed under one another with smoke pouring out from several different spots. “It is not yet known what caused the explosion or if anyone was harmed during it. Floki Vilgerdarson, the owner of this port, will be making a statement within the hour.”

Vilgerdarson? Cora squinted at the photo that popped up in the upper corner of the feed. “We are getting an update right now from KPD. It appears that there were multiple explosions that have damaged several areas of the docks. As you can see from the footage, we are now showing you the secondary blast site.” Cora grabbed her laptop off the coffee table, powering it on to search for Vilgerdarson.

The picture looked familiar to her. A news article that she read in the past, maybe? Before she even attempted to butcher the spelling of the name, her secondary phone rang. She picked it up, answering without looking at the ID. “This is Cora. How can I help you?” She winced at the cheery, customer service voice that came out.

“Cora! I’m sorry I missed your call. I wanted to confirm that we’re on tonight. Make sure you dress formally and bring a change of clothing — pajamas too!” Laila’s perky voice ripped Cora’s eyes away from the TV. “We have a guest dinner, followed by a relaxing massage tonight.” Stress relief was on the menu then.

“Thank you for giving me a call back so promptly. Do you have any requests? A specific color or look?” Cora asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. She had a few outfits in mind already. Laila enjoyed blues and purples; a flowing dark purple dress was her favorite because of the dip that revealed most of her back. Another lilac was much more modest, adhering loosely to Cora’s curves and stopping just short of her calves.

“Surprise me. You know what I like to see. The meeting is starting back up, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tonight. Kisses!” With a lip smack, the call ended, and Cora let out a light laugh. Laila could be the most interesting, lonely person Cora knows. Moving her attention back to the news, she watched as the drone hovered over a third blast site.

“Maybe someone was pissed their Wish item didn’t show up.” She joked, turning off the TV. She let her shoulders drop, relaxing in the silence in her place. A ding signaled a text message to her working phone, and she glanced down at the screen. Talk to you Friday. The curt reply made her wonder if he was upset, but she waved off the notion. She and Ivar hardly knew each other. It was likely he was busy with whatever up-and-coming businessmen did.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she let out an exhale to calm herself. Cora’s schedule for today was open aside from the dinner that would be at 6:00 PM. She would need to arrive early to make sure the outfit she chose was approved by Laila and bring an extra as a backup. Not to mention the need for pajamas — or lingerie if Laila wanted something.

She let her eyes close, a million thoughts rushing through her mind. “Surprise me, she says,” Cora muttered, leaving the comfort of her couch for the closet in her room. She dreaded the dinner party, knowing that she would be engaged in boring talks about mundane topics she held no real interest in. Her fingers roamed across her closet until she pulled out a palatinate purple dress followed by a pastel blue one.

She ran her fingers over the material before deciding to try them both on. She twirled in the mirror for each, putting back the pastel dress. Selecting another shade of blue, she repeated this several times until she had narrowed down her options to two: a patriarch colored dress that was floor length with a high neck and a Prussian blue that was cut below her knees with a Grecian neckline.

Cora favored the blue one, the neckline her favorite. She grabbed plain black heels that would match both and threw a pair of thigh-high hose on the bed. A pang of hunger drove straight through her by the time she was done. She grabbed her phone and saw two missed alarms for a shake. She sucked in a breath, making her way back to the kitchen. Taking note of the time, she realized she had a small window of time before she would need to get ready for Laila.

Her eyes drifted back to the TV, deciding she had time for three episodes of Murder, She Wrote.

-Taglist

@naaladareia @laketaj24 @daughterofthenight117 @equalstrashflavoredtrash

@whenimaunicorn @titty-teetee @ivarinleatherpants @generic-fangirl @sawendel @tephi101 @alicedopey @microsmacrosandneedles @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius

#ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfiction #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #slow burn series #ivars heathen army #ragnarssons #flokis here too #cora x ivar #ivar x cora #a professional donation #callgirl au #vikings #vikings fanfiction #very proud of myself

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otp-armada · 4 years

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"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because Clarke hasn't done anything that resembles romantic gestures toward Bellamy.

Conceding to march to her possible death in exchange for Roan sparing Bellamy's life. Obstinately fighting against Bellamy's stubborn wishes to remain outside the Ark while Praimfaya burns to the world to ashes. Shattering her soul by choosing 100 people to live and writing his name on the list, because he must survive. She can't have it any other way. Relinquishing 50 of those spots to Azgeda when Bellamy is captured and threatened, and Roan calls her bluff. Desperation driving her to the extreme to ensure the survival of the human race, yet unable to kill Bellamy to keep the bunker closed and the grounders from possibly killing Skaikru. Leaving the guaranteed safety of the fort to stay by Bellamy's side on the brink of global cataclysm. The bittersweet yet soft head and heart exchange she prompted. The hesitation in her last remark before imploring him to hurry.

4x13 ends six years and seven days post-Praimfaya with Clarke radioing Bellamy on the Ring. An activity she performs daily for six years. In any six years of my adult life, my only daily consistencies have been limited to breathing, eating, and sleeping. This girl is devoted enough to send her equivalent of love letters into the emptiness of space for 2,199 days. Season 5 opens with her trying to survive by herself in an apocalyptic wasteland. She spends her journey narrating to him her unvarnished struggles during the most traumatic experience of her young life to date. Her despondency. Her loneliness. Her agony. Her desperation. Her small victories. Her discovered treasures. Her determination. Her doubt. Her guilt. Her defeat. Her morbid self-reflection. Her relief and contentment. Her happiness. Her admission of missing him. She shares all of it with only him. Only he is permitted to know her to this depth. Not any of her other people on the Ring. Not any of her people in the bunker, a group including her mother. Not a spiritual communion to the great, big love of her life Lxa, situated on her throne in the high heavens and waiting for her trophy wife, for Clarke to stay connected to her dearly departed. Isn't that the sort of behavior that might occur by a bereft widow?

After finding an oasis to rest and call home, even after discovering a companion to build a life with, she continues with her radio calls. It doesn't matter that he never received her communications. The importance of the gesture- the intimacy of sharing her life and thoughts with him while he was gone- remains the same. The magnitude of her devotion to him made clearer through the absence of a single responding utterance.

She lovingly tells Madi stories of Bellamy as her hero. Gazing warmly, hopefully up at the stars as if she longs for her vision to cut through an endless pitch-black sky and find dark curls and freckled constellations from thousands of miles away.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because post-Praimfaya ended with an established B/E.

As Clarke looks up at the stars, questioning if she'll see Bellamy again, we transition to our first glimpse of Bellamy after six years, forlornly looking down on Earth to the very spot of green where he is unaware of who is yearning for him to return to her. Contrary to Clarke, who is covered in warm firelight when thinking of him, he is colored in cold, muted greys and blue, no speck of warm hue. (The rhyming scheme was unintentional, but hey, I'm going with it.) Behind him, his family is sparring, but he's distant from them. He's trapped within this tin can, his arms folded, his body taut, not facing the view on the other side of the glass, but still enraptured by the sight of his home below.

We see what changes to the characters and their dynamics have taken place until, at long last, we uproariously cheer as Bellamy & Co. find a way to return to Earth, the sole event we've been anticipating for eleven months, to the point we could feel it at our fingertips, jittery and tingly. Bellarke reunion!! He's going to know she's alive! Yes! Finally!! Break out the champagne! We're celebrating, dammit! It's going to be so damn emotional! Authors start crafting mental fanfics. People are bouncing off the walls like bright, errant fireworks, unable to sit still. I can't believe it's finally happening...what do you think it's going to be like? Will he run to her? Will he be stunned and speechless? Will they sob uncontrollably?!? They'll be clutching the life out of each other! Another Bellarke hug!! The very best hug!!! They're never going to let the other out of their sight again! He's going to meet Madi! Mom, dad, and adopted preteen make three!!! There's no way they're not getting together after this!! He just got her back after six years of thinking she was dead!! The reunion's not going to happen this episode, but maybe next week, when do you think? You mean we have to wait seven days before----

B e c h o.

We stood on the precipice of what we agonized and crawled through for eleven excruciating months, only for an anvil to drop, and our heads to be clubbed. Our bodies fell through the floor, descending lower and lower with immense haste, to take up residence in the seventh circle of hell.

Do you think the framing of these events wasn't intentional?

Do you think the powers that be behind the creation of that calamitous bombshell for our protagonist, intended for us to root for B/E?

By us, I'm not restricting the effect of the blow to Bellarke shippers. The entire audience, casual and fandom alike, shippers and non-shippers, was meant to await this reunion. We were all meant to feel devastated by this revelation.

If they didn't want to invoke in us feelings of support for B/E at their inception, how in the name of all things holy is a purported B/E endgame your conclusion?

"B/E doesn't make any sense," they say, "when last we saw them, she was his enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Do I think their pre-Praimfaya status as antagonists rendered it impossible for B/E to have a convincing love story or sexual relationship?

I think, if Jason were so inclined, we could have gotten flashback Ring rendezvous of secret trysts between Bellamy and a googly-eyed, blonde-wig-wearing broomstick designated Clarke 2.0. So no, I don't consider B/E a deviation inherently outside the realm of romantic possibility. Jason is an artist, and this show is his canvas. He can give life to almost any whim he'd like in his work of fiction. Not only that, but B/E is also hardly the first pairing in this series modeled by the enemies-to-lovers trope.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense, they'd say, "absent any concrete evidence alluding to a romantic relationship." "Seven years running, and not a trace of romantic love," they'd conclude.

Remind me, what was B/E's sublime prologue into coupling up again?

Furiously choking the life out of an enemy in a fit of rage two episodes before revealing her as his new girlfriend evidently can be considered by some an adequate precursor to a sensational romantic relationship. But endangering Earthkru's lives by risking the wrath of two societies in refusing to let Clarke die, pumping her heart for her to stay alive while begging her to fight so she can come back to him, cannot be.

Either this show is quite the oddity, or it’s fandom's periodic knee-jerk, ass-backwards, charming zeal at play.

The lack of rising development is all the more reason why B/E's grand unveiling demanded perfection. Instead, our first insight into their union is overshadowed by Clarke and the impending Bellarke reunion. B/E isn't central enough to the narrative to warrant focus that would put to rest any discord of illegitimacy. But you know which pair of the two is concentrated on for seven seasons now? Three guesses...

But don't despair. Fandom has decreed, by its own appraisal, the shorthand of kissing and sex has rectified the discrepancy of a complete absence of pertinent on-screen development.

"It's not ideal storytelling," they say, "to exclude B/E's development. But The 100 has historically been a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama. It has always evaded expanding on character dynamics to fans' satisfaction.”

The writers have done more to present Josephine and Gabriel as soulmates with less airtime than B/E ever had in total. They don't lack the skill or time to fortify B/E in anyone's mind as the central romance. Jason made a conscious choice not to. Why would he? Does he think the endgame love story of the show's deuteragonist doesn't merit attention to detail by the writing? Or does it seem more likely, it was never his intention for B/E to cross the finish line?

And, for a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama, they sure have an awful knack for finding the time to showcase Clarke's kicked puppy reactions to an embracing B/E. We've had three thus far. One for science, one for emphasis, and one to say, "Do you people get it now?"

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say, "if they wanted each other, they'd have gotten together by now."

A long time ago, someone stated, "Lovers are supposed to do that you know and if they don’t do that it means their relationship isn’t romantic if sexual intercourse isn’t added."

And to that, I posed the question, "Where exactly is it written that "if a pairing is not made canon by season [insert arbitrarily chosen number here], it will never be made canon, period?" Was I just absent from fandom class that day and skipped to the lesson on slow-burn ships?" We are going into the final season, and I stand by this question today as I did then. Bellarke could refrain from physical expressions of love and candid confessions to season 17, and their journey could continue to exemplify a love story. Because the absence of either one doesn't preclude two people from falling in love. Nor does the inclusion of either one necessitate two people falling in love.

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say. They say because Bellamy is her dearly beloved, but platonic, best friend.

Well, you've got me there. I'm stumped. How can it be possible for friendship and romantic love to behave as anything but mutually exclusive concepts? It's not as if friendship can be contorted to serve as a foundation for love.

The cornerstones of strong friendships include trust, care, support, devotion, and many other features of a similar nature. Love- deep and genuine love, that is- involves frequent kissing and passionate, vigorous sex. The wilder the display, the stronger the pairing. The dozens of couples, love interests, and sexual liaisons before B/E who have kissed and had sex before dying must not have first consulted the manual for proper protocol.

And the inverse? Once two people fall in love, they cannot fall back to say, a familial connection. No, no, no. Such a regression would be the work of a tragic, reprehensible flaw in the cogs of the universe. Speak nothing of it.

"It doesn't make sense for B/E to break up," they say, "when B/E has stayed together for two seasons sans any indication Bellamy loves Clarke more than Echo, enough to want to leave his loving girlfriend."

How many times has Bellamy tried and failed to honor his commitment to Echo? How many weak attempts are met with a corresponding scene of Bellamy shifting his attention to the girl he tells himself to get over?

Echo leaves for Shallow Valley, his focus immediately turns onto persuading Clarke not to leave his side. He symbolically chooses Echo in the fireside scene by touching her sword. Yet, he looks at his girlfriend for the first time since their separation with the most aloof expression unsuitable for the occasion. No hope to be found anywhere. They share a brief reunion hug, no time for intimacy. He is reunited with Clarke and casts a nervous glance at Echo when bombarded with Clarke's appreciative gaze. Still no time for intimacy between B/E before a decade-long nap, but time can be carved out for a warm, flirty Bellarke reconciliation, complete with intensive heart eyes. No inspired, emotionally wrought, double sunlit embraces for B/E. If Bellamy is going to look out of a window at his future home, he'll either be by himself or snuggling Clarke into his side. There's no place for Echo in the lock of his arms anymore, only room for flanking him in the way loyal lieutenants tend to do. His girlfriend glances over at him as their exploratory team roughly plummets to new territory, and he does the same at Clarke. B/E reconnects lakeside, him asking for a swim with her and leaning into her arms at a campfire. He sits by her side on a swing set, amidst talk of moving their people into an abandoned village. And it's all well and good for B/E, right? They're presenting the front of a happy, unified couple.

Until...Clarke walks away behind his sight, and he leaves Echo's side to seek Clarke's missing presence where the flirting and warm gazes and near confessions are kicked into overdrive. He calls Echo to hear his latest discovery, then proceeds to ignore the hell out of her, communicating exclusively to his co-leader. He stares wistfully at Clarke dancing with her new flavor of the night, cannot stop doing so even while excoriating Echo for her stoicism, expressing his frustration at her inability to fulfill his emotional needs.

He recommits to Echo, as Clarke is kidnapped and her body is stolen, with nary a transition, suggesting we are meant to link the two incidents together. For all his resolve to face the future with Echo, he spends the whole of the next episode with a wary eye on Clarke, to the point that he is the first to realize Clarke is not herself. In the ensuing arc ranging from 6x05 to 6x11, approximately half of the season, what was B/E, again? Was that a thing concurrently happening with Bellamy's Operation: Save My Clarke? Because I seem to be able to recall only Bellarke goodness. Oh, my mistake, there was the consoling hug which, oddly enough, did nothing to soothe him. As evidenced by his choice to grieve alone. No girlfriend he wanted close by for comfort, knowing clear as day she couldn't provide it if she tried. Not with who he just lost.

B/E gets another brief reunion hug, the majority of which is spent with him peering at Clarke. The show saw that hug and raised us an Austenesque-quality counterpart that would do Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy proud.

"B/E endgame is the only sensible outcome," they say, "they love each other so much."

I don't contend they don't love each other. But we are shown two people determined but incapable of snuffing their deep-rooted feelings out of noble propriety, and most importantly, out of needless fear of unrequited love. And another two people who sought- and failed- to keep grasping the wisps of a gentle relationship slipping out of their hands since they left their comfortable space bubble. For anyone in this conundrum to be happy, the only natural course of action is for the latter to call it quits. The writing has been on the wall for too long.

Maybe a single Bellarke scene plucked out of the lineup can be interpreted on its own as platonic buddies being platonic buddies. But when all those individual moments are woven together, what forms is an ornate tapestry with a pattern so vivid, any inane rhetoric involving a hint of the word "platonic" is little more than ludicrous anti drivel transparently cooked up by those wishing a different endgame.

I hope you've enjoyed my second long-winded rant, @sometimesrosy, @jeanie205, @travllingbunny. One born of a teaching moment in which I learn for the umpteenth time it's best to steer clear of Twitter.

#the 100 #bellarke #b/e #c/b/e #my post

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talesofafangirlwithadvr · 3 years

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October/November Picks

Long time no see! So...it’s been a little bit since I’ve posted a wrap up. I had all intentions of posting one after October, but then you know life gets ahead of you and before you know it it’s Thanksgiving. Not much has changed in my viewing habits for these past two months, so I thought I’d group them together for a mega wrap up. Hope you enjoy :)

Without further ado here come some spoilers.....

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SECRET SOCIETY OF SECOND BORN ROYALS

This Disney + original movie was one of my highly anticipated watches for the fall. I am disappointed to share that it was a let down. The concept was such a cool and creative one. Having the second born in a royal family not simply be the “spare” but be the protector...with superpowers! (In a very YA way, getting their powers at a specific age.) They just should have gone about the story in a better way. I wanted more time with them learning about the powers and to make the villain stronger. Overall the acting wasn’t bad (which is good for a Disney + original), but it was just lacking. The movie was LONG and yet much did not feel like it happened. It was cool seeing Casa Loma (the castle they filmed at) as I was just there two summers ago. Sadly, I will not be watching this movie again.

VIOLETTA SEASON 3

We all already know how pumped I was when season 3 of Violetta was released on Disney Plus in September. I couldn’t believe it after waiting so long for the second season. I really enjoyed the beginning of this season and knew we would be headed down a road where I would grow tired of the storylines.

We have hit that point.

Quick Violetta rant. Things I am done with:

Roxy and Fausta plot

Fran and Diego being a secret

Herman and Priscilla

Pablo not at the studio

Milton being evil

Ludmilla lying

Recently, my sister is catching up to where I am in the season, so this has pushed me to watch more. I am on episode 43 and some of the above venting has been solved, so that is super exciting. I am finding myself wanting to watch it more now, so fingers crossed it continues to get better.

JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS

Kenny Ortega has done it again! When I first heard the premise for this show and watched the trailer on Netflix I wasn’t too sure. Then both of my sisters watched it and they wouldn’t stop talking about it, so that was a sign that I needed to watch it. Since then, I have watched the show twice and can’t stop listening to the music. THIS. SHOW. :) I get the hype. It’s just so wholesome and feel good. The characters are well crafted and the episodes go way too fast. They are the kind of characters (and cast) that make you wish you were a part of the show. I can’t wait for the next season (because there better be one). Definitely add this one to your list if it’s not on their already.

THE OUTPOST

The Summer CW shows were pushed to the fall line up due to delays in filming of the originally planned shows. I hope this means that they’re getting a little more love this year. The Outpost deserves it, as it is currently in its third season. (I think it might have gotten a little more now that the 100 is over and the commercial aired during the 100′s last season. Maybe people heard Black-blood and decided to give it a go.) This season has seen a new threat and during the first eight episodes there’s been MANY twists and turns, making it hard for me to remember how this season started. There’s been a lot of unrest in the Outpost and changes in who is in charge. While there are some unnecessary plot-lines (like that Tobin had to be married), I’m really enjoying others. Like how important Janzo is, his relationship with Ren, more Munt and that TALON AND GARRETT FINALLY GOT TOGETHER!!! It makes me so happy and is what we deserve after these three seasons. I love how strong both of their characters are and how they are both Warriors. I hope the season ends strong.

PANDORA

Just like The Outpost, Pandora was originally a Summer CW show that is now airing its second season. I really enjoyed the first season (like more than I was expecting), so I went in with higher hopes for this new season. Unfortunately, I have been let down so far. With the first season, there were parts that left me confused and my biggest review of this show has always been how there were gaps or moments where I didn’t know how much time had gone by. Those kind of things I could overlook, but this season the overall plot just seems weaker. I think this in part because of so many new characters. I know a lot of the season 1 cast ended their characters’ plots away from the Academy, but I wasn’t expecting them not to be a part of this season’s story. That has been a difficult adjustment. I also feel like I only understand Jax’s story and not so much about the other government/rebellion points. It’s getting a little better, but I hope it gets to be more enjoyable.

THE SPANISH PRINCESS--SEASON 2

When I originally was creating this list I had just started this season, and felt completely different than I do right now. I just finished this season last week. Much like my above review on Pandora, The Spanish Princess wasn’t sucking me in. I had a few episodes gather on the DVR. Then once we hit episode 3 or 4 and more drama was starting/Henry was starting to show glimpses of the Henry VIII we all know, I was growing more interested. In season 2 of the Spanish Princess, we do not see a loving Catherine and Henry for long. Problems Catherine have in conceiving a boy (male heir) are one of the main focal points, as is Woolsey’s growing influence on the king. With several sub-plots this season, I specifically enjoyed learning more about Meg in Scotland (as a big Mary Queen of Scots/Reign fan, I liked seeing a portrayal of her grandmother) as well as Princess Mary Tudor (who I was unfamiliar with. I loved her and Charlie Brandon’s relationship and wish we could have gotten more.) Each week I watched this show, I found myself Googling a lot. That is always one of my favorite parts of watching a historical drama based on true events. I know right now it looks like the producers aren’t continuing with the Tudor line and might have a different part of history as their next show, but I wish they would. I’m feeling the call to watch the Tudors as it’s on Netflix and I haven’t seen it before. I want to learn more about his wives.

BLOWN AWAY

In a complete shift from a period piece, here is another Netflix show I thoroughly enjoyed watching last month. Do you find the act of glass blowing to be extremely interesting, but you would never dream of trying yourself? Or do you like competition game shows that are not like anything else you’ve watched before? Then Blown Away might be for you! It’s a very fast watch with only a handful of episodes that are about a half hour a piece. (I honestly wished they were a bit longer because it was SO GOOD!) Each contestant is a glass blower and they get to show off their skills by competing in a specific challenge. Each episode you see someone get eliminated until the final where the winner gets a residency at Corning Museum of Glass in upstate New York. This show came out in 2019 and I am hoping a second season comes out.

LIFE IN PIECES

This CBS comedy was one that I remember loving when it first came out. But I only remember watching the first season because then I couldn’t remember which day it was on. (It’s going to sound weird, but because I don’t watch a lot on this network I often forget it exists. We also only had a one room DVR at the time, so we couldn’t tape more than 2 things. Oh, the joys of multi-room DVR). After I finished my re-watch of Derry Girls in September, I was looking for another sitcom to re-watch. This was when I stumbled on the full series of Life in Pieces on Amazon video. (It’s free to watch with Prime.) I was so surprised to see there were 4 seasons! Since then I have been watching a good amount of episodes when I sit down to watch it. Now I’m about mid way in the second season. I highly recommend this show if you haven’t seen it before. It gives vibes of Modern Family. Very short episodes that include four storylines. The format is one that I haven’t seen done before in a sitcom.

SUPERMARKET SWEEP

The revival of the beloved game show from the early 90s is now hosted by Leslie Johns and is the best thing you should be watching on Sunday nights. If you know your grocery shopping list like the back of your hand then you are all set for this show. Leslie Johns is hilarious as are the cast of characters that are regulars in her supermarket. I think it would be a great TV show to be on and I’m not just saying that because I want one of the sweatshirts (although that would be great). If you want (another) feel-good watch, look no further! You catch up on demand.

RE-WATCHING

ANNE WITH AN E

It’s hard to believe that we only got the third season of Anne with an E at the beginning of this year (as this year feels like its been going on forever and when I watched the third season I was in a much less stressed place). Currently, I am teaching a class involving Little Women and Anne of Green Gables. The main focus is on how these stories get adapted in recent times and include such modern plots (and sub-plots). Naturally Anne with an E is perfect for this topic (and after watching season 3 at the start of the year) was one of my major reasons for choosing this topic. (The other being Greta Gerwig’s latest Little Women.) As I’ve been planning my schedule, I’ve re-watched this show. There is something so great about watching it from season 1 all the way through to season 3. You get to watch them grow up and it’s crazy to see how young they first were. Comparing it more to the novel has been a fun time, but also analyzing it more has been great and made me appreciate it even more. With all the stress of our current situation watching this show has made me escape and feel good. (Yes, I know I’ve used that word a lot in this wrap up, but it’s true.)

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Hopefully my next wrap up isn’t as delayed. Wishing everyone a happy holiday season!

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