#forcing myself to rely only on lines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soullumii · 5 months

Text

it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader

part 1, part 2

summary: everything finally comes to a head

warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut

tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.

______________________________________________________________

There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.

Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold.

You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.

While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.

You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is.

You’re meeting them there.

The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.

Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline.

It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house.

Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out.

“She's here!”

You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people.

You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.”

And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice soft.

“Hi,” you repeat.

It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you.

It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself.

You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come.

Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse.

Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that. Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.

You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him.

You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together.

Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie.

“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off.

“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest.

“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.”

“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.”

Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”

“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.”

“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.”

You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him.

“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her.

“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.”

“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing.

The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other.

His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.

“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment.

“Oh shut up.”

The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.

Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.

“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”

He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”

He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.

“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

Time feels like it’s stopped.

A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.

He clears his throat and you swallow hard.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

***

Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.

Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.

“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.

“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”

You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.

She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”

“The kids really need it.”

“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”

“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.

“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.

“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”

You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.

The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here.

A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.

“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.”

Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”

“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles.

Soon enough you’re at the door.

“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.

"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside.

A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.

From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.

“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.

“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.

You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible.

Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.

Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought.

“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.

“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."

You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.

“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.

Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”

He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“

“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.”

That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.

It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes.

You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing.

You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing.

“You should do it,” you say.

Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“

“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.

“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters.

“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind.

***

Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar.

“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down.

One, two, three, four…

Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.

Baby I’m-a want you

Baby I’m-a need you

You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about

His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.

He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.

Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without

your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction

Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’

Beside me…

Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.

It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…

Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring.

The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more.

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’

Beside me…

Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by.

Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry

He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.

You taught me why…

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Oh, it took so long to find you baby

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.

You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.

“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.

God, no! Why!

You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you.

“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”

“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”

“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t.

Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

Nothing. It was just a pretty song.

Was it for me?

Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.

Do those lyrics mean something to you?

Nothing.

Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies.

“You happened,” you spit.

He takes a surprised step back. “What?”

“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”

This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“

“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”

“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?”

“Yes!”

“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”

You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent.

Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.”

His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.

“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”

You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe.

“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."

“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

You swallow harshly. “I want more.”

“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”

“Please, kiss me, Joel.”

“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.

His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you.

God, you missed it so much. Missed him.

Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say.

He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”

“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again.

“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.

“You… really love me?”

“Did you not hear my speech earlier?”

“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”

He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says.

A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.”

When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.

All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down.

“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh.

“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“

“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt.

He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.

He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.”

“It was a stupid costume anyway.”

“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”

“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.”

“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck.

You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”

“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”

“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”

The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his.

You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded.

You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally.

Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing.

Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you.

You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”

He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.”

You grin. “I love you too.”

He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.”

It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should.

When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh.

Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders.

“Sit down,” he says.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together.

“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.

His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever.

He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen.

Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.

He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.”

“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most.

And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends.

Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth.

He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.

When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge.

“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip.

And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.

“God, Joel-“ you hiss.

He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine.

You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it.

God, you love him so much.

You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet.

“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring.

Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”

Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel.

“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you.

Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”

His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”

“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.”

“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.”

“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.”

You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest.

It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did.

“Yeah, I really do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #game joel miller #hbo joel miller #this is trouble

379 notes · View notes

amputeewomen · 3 months

Text

Magical amputee

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, where the hum of the city blended with the whispers of the unseen, lived two friends bound by a secret—the existence of magic. Ashley, a spirited urban explorer with an unquenchable thirst for adrenaline, had always been fascinated by the covert world of spells and enchantments her friend Mia, a modern-day mage, navigated with ease.

Mia, with her cool demeanor and an apartment cluttered with arcane books and technological gadgets, had long promised to introduce Ashley to the art of magic, a promise that had been postponed by the chaos of city life. It wasn't until one seemingly ordinary afternoon, in Mia's high-rise sanctuary, that the promise would be demanded in an unexpected way.

Eager to showcase a newly mastered spell, Mia inadvertently altered the course of their lives. With a few whispered incantations and a misplaced flick of her wrist, she cast a transmutation spell that, to their shock, left Ashley with only one leg. The other had vanished, spirited away by forces they could barely comprehend. The sophisticated aluminum forearm crutches that Ashley now had to rely on felt cold and unyielding—a far cry from the freedom she was accustomed to.

Anger bubbled within Ashley, a fiery contrast to the cool, steel touch of her new supports. "Mia," she said, her voice sharp as a blade, "you better make this right. Teach me magic, for real this time. I want to be able to fix this myself."

Mia, her confidence shaken, knew the weight of her responsibility. The spell wouldn't reverse for four weeks, a period that felt like a lifetime to Ashley. Mia agreed, her guilt fueling a newfound determination to fulfill her overdue promise.

And so, amidst the glow of neon lights and the endless thrum of city life, Ashley began her journey into the world of magic. It was no easy task; the arcane books were dense, filled with esoteric knowledge that twisted the tongue and boggled the mind. Mia guided her through ancient spells, teaching her the delicate balance between the mystical and the mundane.

With each passing day, Ashley's frustration turned to fascination. She learned to harness her inner energy, to manipulate the elements, and to understand the language of the universe. The crutches, once a symbol of her limitation, became a part of her learning, as she used them in her magical exercises, balancing and moving with a grace she hadn't known before.

Ashley's anger faded, replaced by a sense of empowerment and an appreciation for Mia's world. The accident had been a catalyst for growth, pushing her into realms she had only dreamed of. By the time the four weeks had passed and her leg returned as if by magic—because, of course, it was—Ashley had transformed. She was no longer just an adrenaline junkie urban explorer; she was a mage in her own right, a master of her own story.

As for Mia, she had learned the gravest lesson of all—the consequences of her actions in the tapestry of fate. But she had also gained a true equal, a partner in magic, and their bond had grown unbreakable.

Together, Ashley and Mia stepped into the future, a future where magic and the metropolitan were intertwined, and their adventures were just beginning.

As the moon crested over the skyline of the city, Ashley and Mia, now comrades in the mystical arts, ventured beyond the concrete jungle to a place where modern GPS maps faltered and the ley lines of the old world held sway. There, cloaked by the lush embrace of the wild, lay the ruins of an ancient magical civilization, whispered about in obscure tomes and hushed tones in the backrooms of esoteric bookshops.

The ruins, remnants of a bygone era where magic flowed as freely as water, were said to contain a pool—a sanctum of pure mana, unspoiled by time. With the night sky as their canopy, the pair navigated the underbrush until the ruins rose before them, bathed in the silver light of the moon. Vines clung to weathered stone, and the air was thick with the power that pulsed through the remnants of archaic spells.

The pool, nestled at the heart of the ruins, glimmered like a jewel in the night. It was said that the waters were infused with the essence of the earth's veins, capable of rejuvenating the magic within any who bathed in its depths.

With a shared glance, Ashley and Mia shed the trappings of the city and entered the waters. The pool embraced Ashley, its magic compensating for her temporary loss, allowing her to swim with a freedom that defied her condition. The water was not just a physical balm but a wellspring of arcane energy that soaked into their very beings, replenishing the mana that flowed through their veins.

As they swam, the boundaries between them, once defined by mentor and pupil, blurred into something more profound. Laughter echoed off the ancient stones, a sound as timeless as the magic that surrounded them. In the water, under the gaze of the constellations that had witnessed millennia pass, they found themselves drawn to each other by a force as natural and powerful as the ley lines beneath their feet.

The water seemed to recognize the burgeoning bond, glowing with a soft luminescence that reflected the light of their souls. And in that moment, Ashley considered the possibility of prolonging her magical ailment. The thought of remaining an amputee, if it meant continuing to explore the depths of this newfound connection with Mia, wasn't as daunting as it once might have been. The transformation had, after all, led her here—to magic, to Mia, to a love she hadn't anticipated.

Their time in the pool was both an eternity and a fleeting instant, a paradox befitting the mystique of the ruins. When they finally emerged, it was with a sense of renewal, both in magic and in heart. The crutches, which lay beside the pool, seemed less like a shackle and more like a bridge—a bridge that had carried Ashley to this point in her journey.

The ruins, once silent and waiting, now played host to the whispers of a new story, one that intertwined Ashley and Mia's destinies. As they left the sanctity of the pool and the embrace of the ancient stones, they carried with them the warmth of shared affection and the quiet promise of tomorrow's magic.

The city awaited their return, a canvas for their adventures, both arcane and intimate. But the ruins and the pool remained, a testament to their journey, ready to welcome them back whenever they sought the tranquility and power found in its waters. The magic of the place had woven itself into their tale, a thread of the old world in the tapestry of the new, binding them together in ways they were only just beginning to understand.

91 notes · View notes

anime-lover-forever-1127 · 8 months

Text

Reasons I Hate Hayley

So people have been about some reasons to hate Hayley, so I made this:

Attitude. She kept going around acting like she as better than the Mikelsons - she wasn't - she wasn't better physically, financially, or intellectually. And the whole werewolves are "noble" and "strong" creatures, is complete BS.

they literally trigger there curse by killing someone - so their standing on sand in that moral ground

without witch intervention - their only deadly to vampires on full moons.

Killing. Her hands are just as bloody as anyone elses on the show, and she acts like she's completely innocent. Ex. Davina asked her to kill ONE witch, and Hayley decided she wanted to create another expression triangle.

Mother. Everyone treats her as if she was this standard for motherhood, when

she tried to kill her kid

She put the kid in danger multiple times during her pregnancy running into danger like an idiot - like why don't you drink some bear and smoke some pot on top of that - it would honestly do less damage than running around like an idiot.

I've done the math of when Caroline opens the school and Hayley sends Hope to boarding school and she literally did it as SOON as it opened! Like yeah, I'm going to send my kid who likely has a mountain of trauma alone over state lines.

Characters - They literally made other characters appear weak just so she could appear "badass".

Mikael, no, she can't take on the 1000 year old vampire that made the rest of the originals go running.

No, her enemies - hundred of years old vampire don't respect her - she ain't all that.

And NO, she's not someone Klaus fears, the only way she scares is him is his frightening sudden urge to get checked for supernatural STDs!

"Female empowerment" - She was supposed to be this strong female character who took charge, but she had no strong female qualities.

She was physically weak

relied on the mikaelsons for power, wealth, and housing

demanding and spoiled

relied on the men around her for her position: Klaus, Elijah, even Jackson

Quick Note: Caroline > Hayley On the other hand we have Caroline. Miss Mystic Falls, 4.0 GPA, Headed tons of committees and was a strong leader. Had tremendous growth and was relatable as a character.

Hayley was a pancake flat character. She had no growth, stayed the same throughout the show, it was always: Me, myself, and I with her, and on occasion "Elijah, Klaus, Jackson" look at me (that's why I said pancake - she had a slight curve in her character with which man she was screaming at for the week).

Queen - she called herself a werewolf queen which I hated. Werewolfs don't/shouldn't have queens! There werewolves, it means wild, a force of nature, pack animal. It should have been Alpha, not Queen! So her going around calling herself Queen just triggered me.

Overall, Hayley was an annoying, childish character, that brought nothing to the plot yet the writers insisted on shoving her down our throats. She was a poorly executed Mary Sue, unnecessary, cringy, and just painful to watch on screen. I have read Harry Potter and would honestly rather be in detention with Umbridge than in a room with Hayley.

Reasons I Do Not Hate Hayley: Klaroline. She was never a threat to the ship, she was a druken one night stand, nothing more. Like she may have been the reason Klaus went to New Orleans - because she got knocked up, but she was never a threat to the ship herself.

Well, whoever made it to the end, thanks for reading. Honestly, this rant was more for me, I've been seeing way to much Hayley content on my youtube page my tumblr for some reasons and I really needed to went.

KLAROLINE FOR LIFE, BECAUSE I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!!!

#klaroline #klaus #anti hayley marshal #caroline forbes #elijah #jackson #mikael #rant #rants

100 notes · View notes

monstrifex-art · 1 year

Text

Malka Bat-Sheva - Original character & short story inspired by the Chainverse series by Maria Ying.

Killing a vampire with your hands is not a simple matter. There are several important steps to the process.

The first step is to understand that you are outmatched. A vampire kills and eats humans. That is its nature, its default state. Every fact of its physiology is bent toward this aim. It is stronger than you, faster than you, and possessing of a hunger that eclipses its fear of death. To match the lowest vampire, a human must train to be strong, to be fast, and to numb themselves to mortal fear. In this sport, hesitation will kill faster than recklessness.

Second, you must craft of yourself an effective weapon. Folklore suggests a dozen dozen anathemas that harm vampires, some of which even work. But there are only two weapons that harm vampires across all bloodlines: sunlight and human hope.

While sunlight can be weaponized by arcane means in hand-to-hand combat, it is a difficult and often fleeting resource to harness. Do so if you are able, but do not rely on it as your only weapon.

Hope is a more dependable asset. Vampires are creatures made of fear. The faith and courage of their prey harms them at a metaphysical level. To this end, religious symbology and artifacts of human belief can be instrumental. I have tattooed myself with the faith of my ancestors, as their religion runs most strongly in my blood. If your ancestry leans toward a particular creed, I suggest you do likewise.

The more eclectic reagents espoused by folklore can be effective against particular vampire bloodlines, often because of the properties granted them by human belief. I take a scattershot approach. I wrap my arms in bandages lined with smoked salt, purified silver wire, various cleansing herbs, and a mix of shredded holy texts. If you know the lineage of your target, you can tailor these ingredients to them. Do your research.

Third, one must force the vampire to remain in corporeal form. There is merit to emotional manipulation in pursuit of this goal– challenging a vampire to physical combat will often amuse them enough to humor your request. But it is an unreliable method best used only when other options are unavailable. In my experience, one is better off relying on magical means of trapping them in their body of meat and bone. Smoked salt disrupts the black mist, drawing them back to physicality. Coat your fists and shins with it. Certain charms and benedictions ward off intangible evils, forcing them to materialize in order to approach you. With these the key is to not only force them to start a fight, but to prevent them from escaping.

Fourth is to unmake them. Know that no human martial art is sufficient to prepare you. Martial arts are designed with defense in mind and honed through the use of sparring. In order to kill a vampire, you will have to perform actions that are impossible to practice without maiming your sparring partner. It is a sad reality that in order to kill vampires with your hands, you must first have killed humans.

Supernaturally augmented though they may be, a vampire still needs eyes to see. Tendons to move. A jaw with which to bite. Your goal is to deny them these resources.

It is not enough to strike your opponent or grapple them into submission. You must ruin them. You must tear muscle fibers, crack joints, snap bones with carefully placed force. Vampires feel pain less intensely than humans, but they will still be stunned if you mangle their flesh. Your attacks must rupture the machinery of their bodies, inflict enough damage that they are unable to tear out your throat and drink your lifeblood. No single martial art can prepare you. Study them all. Use the parts you find effective. Reduce your opponent to a husk of broken meat. Then the killing blow will be trivial.

Fifth, you must eat the vampire’s heart. Mere moments after ruining a vampire’s body, it will begin to repair itself. You must act quickly. Tear the heart from its rib cage and devour it. Take the power it would use to remake itself and channel it into your own flesh. This is the truest defeat of a vampire: to inflict on it what it was born to inflict on you. There is no sweeter triumph for humanity than to dominate the beast at its own game.

Consuming vampires will change you. The magic that strengthens them will fuel your body, but alter your flesh. You will not be human, not in the traditional sense. But you will remain human in the eyes of your prey.

And that is all that matters.

#art #oc art #vampire #monster

223 notes · View notes

snowthornes · 7 months

Text

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN | @shepherds-of-haven HEADSHOT ART | @yuuugay

✦ The Godless Brightburner

— Rend the world in winter's wrath.

The magic of Aetherai relies heavily on energy and emotions to increase the intensity of their spells. Without them, spells would be rendered weak or ineffectual, losing their force and impact; what should be great gusts of wind would become gentle puffs of air. - Notes by Thorne Briers, scribbled on a worn out journal.

On the battlefield, Thorne is akin to a howling blizzard.

The smooth and unfazed demeanor he typically affects is nowhere to be seen. His movements are swift, powerful, and brutally efficient: leaping and dodging with a jagged elegance reminiscent of an icicle broken from a frozen cave mouth. There's a flash of silver as he swiftly drags the bowstring all the way back to his cheek; a sliver of a second; then the silent scream of an arrow hurtling through the air, meeting its target with vicious accuracy.

There's a razor glint of claws and he abruptly rolls back, dodging a near-fatal blow. He springs back to his feet and responds with a barrage of howling magical energy — magic that twists into hurricanes of wind and frost, knife-like icicles that rend the flesh and freeze the limbs. The storm responds to his escalating vehemence, singing with approval as it cuts and dances and destroys, obediently following his every command.

Power and emotion flood his veins like water bursting out of a dam. His blood sings with an almost feral glee. Fury and longing, grief and defiance, silver-bright intelligence and dagger-sharp cunning, a mask always hiding, concealing, performing a one-man masquerade of hollowed music and elegant smiles, shattered faith and deadened hope, sunlight thawing a winter's chill, love and loss and laughter and hands reaching out—

Beneath the blood and dust that cling to his face, storm gray eyes blaze with a sharp, glacial, light.

✦ The Mage's Phantasms

— A thousand colors to a name.

Truth be told, I'm not sure how to feel. I came to Haven hoping to find employment and perhaps enter the merchant trade, but ended up landing in the lap of the Shepherds instead. This is my reality now. While I'm not too thrilled about it, I have no choice but to continue down this path I've inexplicably stepped on — though I have no interest in being a hero and sacrificing myself on the front lines. Perhaps I'll transfer to a non-combatant position in the future. I shall fade safely into the Order's background soon enough. Then, I can return to pursuing my previous ambitions. - Entry by Thorne Briers, scribbled in a worn out journal. Written after his inititation to the Shepherds. Miscellaneous trade and business notes are jotted down on the rest of the page. It's an entry that he often views with a look of both irony and nostalgia.

Notes on Shepherd Thorne Briers, ranging from the startlingly mundane to the undeniably vital. The author is unknown.

➸ Thorne stands at 5'11". He typically carries himself with an air of grace and elegance, mannerisms painstakingly absorbed from the aristocrats and merchants he used to watch from the distance as a child. His movements notably become more erratic and excitable when around those he wholeheartedly trusts — something that he had never found until joining the Shepherds. 🌠

➸ He can be overly apathetic to the plights of strangers. He's seen too much, done too much to be easily moved by compassion or emotion. Though he's capable of giving comfort and reassurance when the situation calls for it, he would rather use detached pragmatism to assess a situation rather than give in to 'pointless' emotions such as pity and distress. One could say that he almost recoils from genuinely emotional displays — though he hides it well.

Only those close to him know of this particular aspect of his nature, however. He usually keeps it well-concealed beneath a gleaming veneer of carefully chosen words and expressions, knowing that his true nature might work against him during missions. Whether or not this makes him insincere is up to the judgement of others. 🌠

➸ Avoids making grand promises or heroic declarations. While Thorne is quite adept at manipulating a situation to his favor, there is something quite odd about him: his aversion to making direct promises. Hope can be such a light, fragile thing, and it can be so easy to give; yet when it is promised to someone only to be taken away, it can break them. He can't. He wont. Thorne doesn't trust himself. He doesn't trust himself to be this so-called hero. He will meander, he will laugh, and he will tell you that he'll be back, in his own roundabout way — but he will never ask you to trust that he'll succeed. Not yet, anyway. 🌠

➸ Possesses a vehement aversion to religion itself. Contrary to what one might think, Thorne actually thinks it's very likely that gods do exist in some shape or form. He just has absolutely no interest in worshiping them; one could even say that he despises the thought of it. It's a stark contrast to his childhood, when he would worship and pray to the One-God with his parents. The very mention of faith and religion — especially that of the One-God — can have him inwardly recoiling as he bites back the scathing words threatening to spill from his lips.

Very, very few know about it, however. Only those he implicitly trusts have been allowed to catch glimpses of the cold vitriol that he holds towards the gods — and even they don't know just how deep it runs. (Yes, he didn't take the kithma revelation very well, and still has very mixed feelings about it. Despite that, he had to grudgingly admit that it made more sense than not.) 🌠

➸ He can be unexpectedly honest when it comes to those he holds dear. Though it clearly takes him some visible effort, Thorne won't shy away from telling a friend all the reasons why he holds them in high regard. If he plucks up the nerve, he'll bluntly tell them of how important they are to him — all while wearing the flat expression of a frog about to leap into boiling water. He'll immediately find an excuse to flee after saying his piece, face prickling with rare heat all the while. 🌠

➸ Loves accessorizing and embellishing his clothes! Before joining the Shepherds, Thorne would diligently set aside a part of his earnings to spend on his more fashionable pursuits. He especially liked embroidering delicate patterns and designs on his clothes, a hobby he continued even after joining the Order. He often tests the bounds of the Order's rules by embroidering subtle yet tasteful patterns onto his Shepherd's cloak, much to Blade's consternation. 🌠

➸ It's ridiculously easy to make him laugh when among friends, a fact that has surprised many — including Thorne himself. Even the saddest joke can coax a snort of laughter from him, though he tries to explain it away with something along the lines of, "the pathetic air of it makes it funny, why are you looking at me like that—". The recruits have long grown accustomed to seeing him doubled over with laughter during breakfast over something Chase had said, sometimes choking on his honeyed milk in the process. 🌠

➸ His moral compass has been slowly (and reluctantly) shifting after joining the Shepherds. Unfortunately, the environment Thorne was given at the Shepherds Order made it all too easy to foster compassion. For the first time, he has allies, confidantes, friends — people he can genuinely trust to watch his back. It was slow, and it was gradual, but the veneer of ice and stone he kept around his heart was softening.

The pivotal moment was in Chapter Five, when Thorne had to choose between following the mission or letting Nathe win. While Thorne could bluff that he'd only allowed Nathe to win because he'd figured that Briony would make for a powerful ally, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was a lie. In that moment, as he stared into Nathe's eyes, he'd simply wanted the elf to reunite with his family. 🌠

➸ He's actually incredibly emotional (and dramatic) despite the way he doggedly conducts himself with an apathetic pragmatism. Thorne can be indifferently cold when it comes to matters of compassion. Overly rational, even. But one could say that it was a steel born out of necessity; an iron will carved out of what was once a gentle heart in order to survive alone in a world teetering on the brink of madness.

To love is to be left; it is what he has learned in his years of wandering the world alone. To rely on faith is weakness. To believe in hope is foolishness. What was once laughter and camarederie will eventually bleed into farewells and betrayals.

To love is to be left. Never again. Never again. 🌠

➸ He is afraid. He is afraid of losing everything. The more he comes to care for the Shepherds (his comrades, friends, family, even), the more terrified he becomes of losing them. The more he grows to love them with all the fierceness and softness and everything in his heart, the more he becomes afraid of driving them away. He is no hero. He is no light. He is a charlatan, full of anger and grief and so much hate that he cannot speak into the world. Hope is a word that burns at his touch. When he looks into the mirror, all he can see is a scarred visage of disappointment — a liar masquerading as a hero. 🌠

✦ Afterword

First of all. If you've actually, somehow, managed to reach the end of this monstrously long post and are somehow reading this. Thank you. So much. So very much. Also I might be on the verge of proposing (🥺🥺🥺💍💍💍) Ahead is a little afterword about Thorne and the Godless Brightburner snippet.

Thorne is a heavily flawed character — and an incredibly emotional one at that. Despite how he usually conducts himself — pragmatic, cunning, calculating, and all that jazz — he feels his every emotion like a raging howl of sleet and storm.

He used to be a child who loved the world and everything in it. He was Westwood's beloved ray of sunshine, the mayor's precocious son. It was the... events of his thirteenth birthday and his experiences as a solitary Diminished that hardened him, that turned him into the reverse of what he once was.

A bleeding heart is a weakness: so Thorne closed his heart and turned the wound into a jagged scar. There were far too many people out there who would use a naive, wide-eyed Diminished for their own gain — he learned this very quickly. He rejected his compassion, despised his own emotions, and turned himself into someone so coldly pragmatic that the boy he once was became naught but another painful memory.

It's why he has so much mixed feelings for the Shepherds, especially in the first half of the story. By then, the only one he was concerned about was himself — or so he claimed. And, if he were to be honest, he didn't consider himself very worthy of living. He didn't even know why he fought so hard to survive; why he was willing to go so far. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was defiance. Or perhaps it was atonement: continuing his hazy existence in exchange for the home he had eradicated so long ago.

You could say that he's very similar to the embittered Hunters that Halek often criticizes. Those who were disillusioned by their banishment so subsequently refused to help with the demon problem. It's why doesn't really get along with the more... openly compassionate members of the order — at least not at first. All the "make the world a better place" and "protect the innocent" talk would only ever earn flatly unimpressed looks from him.

Over the course of the game, he starts to soften. Slowly, hesitantly, his view of the world starts to gentle. He becomes more open to helping others, more willing to express his true emotions instead of hiding them under a veneer of charming smiles and calculated words. He's still wary of promises and heroics, but a part of him is gradually entertaining the thought of a future soaked in sunlight rather than in shadow. Of a future where he could be happy.

Thorne's journey is one of change and new beginnings: of learning to trust others as you learn to trust yourself. He is flawed. He is frustrating. Sometimes even I want to throttle him. He shuns emotions while he drowns in them. He will conflict with the Shepherds in the order. And, yes, he has a massive case of Impostor Syndrome when it comes to his status as Hero of Haven. But he will change, and he will grow. And I'm very, very excited to see it. 🫡✨

Another thing! If the "Godless Brightburner" snippet felt familar to you, then you'd be spot on! That section was actually inspired by something from the SHOH alpha demo — it's one of my favorite passages from the game ever. I've put it just below, so beware of MINOR SPOILERS!!

(I'll be honest: this passage made me cry. Like, I was full on sniffling my heart out. I don't know why. I don't know how. But it felt so regretful. Like the hollow echo of something that once was. Vibrant and brilliant and ephemeral and gone.)

When I first read this passage, I was floored. Sniffling aside, it was just... brimming with so much life. "His essence poured into the ring". Lena had done just that. With one passage alone, the very essence of a man long gone had been given shape in strokes of heartbreaking color.

It stuck with me for a very long time — and still has. The world of SHOH has made me cry many, many, times (I will probably ramble about them in the future as well, I apologize in advance 😔) (also yes the Thurl chapter was a DOOZY) but this just... stuck. It's an incredibly beautiful peace of writing, and I never tire of it no matter how many times I reread it.

Therefore, I was inspired to do something similar for Thorne! His essence — what would it feel like? What song would it sing unto the world, if it could?

The Godless Brightburner is supposed to be about showing Thorne's very essence. The Mage's Phantasms, meanwhile, was only supposed to contain little bits and pieces about Thorne. But I think I got a bit carried away there. That section is nowhere near little. 🗿

Aaaand, that's all. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed making it!! The world of SHOH is so breathtakingly crafted, its characters so beautifully alive — I'm glad I got to give Thorne his own special place within its seams.

Thank you very much to Yuki @yuuugay for making Thorne's portrait!! I am very KSDHGJKLSDG about him and everytime I look at him I lose the ability to speech 🥺🥺🥺 You've made him so, so beautiful — thank you! You've made me so incredibly happy!

Lastly, thank you to @shepherds-of-haven for commissioning this template for us: I had a lot of fun wandering through Blest with Thorne! Exploring the world of SHOH was an experience, one with a ton of tears, dismayed yelps, and laughter. Thank you so, so much for sharing it with us. I'm looking forward to seeing how the rest of this journey unfolds together. 🥺💖

Have a very good day, and I hope you all have just as much (if not more) fun as I did on your own playthroughs and template-filling endeavors! Good luck, and thank you again!! 💖🫡💐✨

#shepherds of haven #shaking crying #i'm.... i'm done #it's finished #im in state of disbelief rn hold on #this became SO LONG #this project was so so fun to work on #i'm both happy and sad that it's finished #aaaaah #to anyone who clicks that read more link: thank you. i appreciate you very very much 🥹🥹🥹 also im sorry HSDHGHDSGDGH #shoh #oc: thorne #oc template #aspen's blorbos.txt

88 notes · View notes

negans-lucille-tblr · 3 months

Text

Update on my Website/Tumblr/Discord etc.

I recently made an announcement on my website at the beginning of the month regarding the future of my writing and I just wanted to share it here too.

Engagement has been really low for a while (maybe a couple of years or more), and while I've done everything I can to try and not let it bother me, or increase it with feedback forms etc, and I've tried to be honest with you all about how it makes me feel, when there's no change there comes a point when you're just too tired to fight anymore. I force myself to write content for you guys, and I have lost my passion for posting my writing which I never wanted.

The only reason my website/Tumblr are still active is because

A) I have prewritten content that's currently posting

and

B) I'm currently out of work and rely on the money my website provides me.

So all that being said, I just wanted to be completely honest with you and let you know that I've made the decision to shut down my website/Tumblr/Discord as soon as I've found work. This could be next month or several months down the line, it's unclear yet.

But I'll be sure to keep you updated and I promise I won't leave any stories incomplete when the time does come for me to shut it all down.

Bee x

#update #bee rambles #negans-lucille-tblr #lack of feedback and interaction is killing creators #if you don't want others to leave like me I suggest reblogging and commenting #there won't be any content left for you if things don't change #we've tried being nice but there comes a point where enough is enough #I wanna be clear that this is solely related to me posting my writing publicly #I'm leaving now while I still want to write at all

45 notes · View notes

tcookies777 · 1 month

Text

Where I am now

Many of you have left such kind comments and sent me messages out of concern for my wellbeing. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I also appreciate your patience as I understand it can be difficult to wait months for a chapter update on a long, tedious fic such as The Anatomy of Love. Your patience for this story is always sincerely appreciated.

I've been struggling for months to find the right words to say. To decide whether to express the ache in my heart or draw lines and stay silent. But while a part of me wishes to say little to nothing on the matter out of a sense of shame, the better part of me recognizes that conversations like the one I'm about to raise are something that needs to be discussed more. If only to raise awareness of the topic or help destigmatize it. If only to normalize issues like these. If only to just help someone else who might be going through a dark period in their life as well.

It's here that I'll give a final warning of the sensitive topics of this post. So feel free to turn away now if the topic of mental illness might be upsetting.

Trigger warning: suicide and mental illness

Ok, so here goes....

My sister committed suicide. I won't go into details of course, but it was not peaceful or quiet - it was violent, gruesome, and excruciatingly painful. So much so that the police thought it might've been a murder and harshly investigated us, making everything more difficult and traumatizing than it already was.

She had battled with depression for nearly 2 decades, deteriorating far beyond recognition. We had grown estranged over the years of my childhood because she pushed loved ones away, blaming them for the way she turned out but also still relying on them to survive. An awful cycle of codependency.

I myself have been battling with high-functioning depression for the past decade, which is one reason why I struggle to respond to people's messages. From readers, friends, and family alike. I, too, have an issue of pushing people away. Because I'm ashamed for them to see how broken my life is. Because I have seen the way people judge you for having a mental illness. I have witnessed friends, family, and even Healthcare workers gaze upon the mentally ill as if they are a sore sight.

To be honest, I understand both sides; it can also be frustrating to pool all your time, effort and resources into trying to help someone who does not want to be helped. It burns you out. That despite your efforts to fight for that person, they do not fight for themselves and you're forced to watch them deteriorate in a slow, agonizing process.

"At the beginning, you’ll do your best to shoulder all my burdens. At the beginning, you’ll be strong about it. But over time, you’ll come to regret it—you'll come to regret me, and the burden that I have become to you." — Kakashi, Chapter 30 of The Anatomy of Love

On the other side, it's hard to take that step to accept the help offered to you. It's hard to find the strength to meet your loved ones halfway and help them to help you when you hardly have the strength to even get out of bed. Yet, you also feel guilty because it feels as if you are just dragging down those around you.

These are the feelings Kakashi expresses to Sakura in Chapter 30, when he tries to explain the reasons why they cannot and should not pursue a relationship. Guilt and self-loathing are the feelings that have been eating me up inside for years, as they ate at my sister as well.

We were born from a loveless, violent marriage. So we didn't know how to love each other, though we did whether we wanted to or not. Likely it was the trauma that bonded us. But put together, my sister and I were oil and water. Loving someone who is your family but is practically a stranger to you is incredibly difficult and taxing.

Yet, I understood completely. You just don't know how to show love to someone when you were never given love.

But despite my estrangement from my sister, I still love her. Being a 1st generation American often means you have nothing but your family. When you have no house, no savings, no relatives to turn to - just your immediate family - it can be a toxic, tough love where you have only that person whether you like them or not. And in Asian culture, family is especially everything even when it's completely dysfunctional.

So why am I updating TAOL now?

It's mostly for myself. Because it's my own comfort fic that allows me to engage in therapeutic writing. It's a story of loneliness and love of all forms (romantic, sexual, familial, etc). More importantly, it's a story about finding family, finding love, and finding home. Something that I've yearned for all my life.

And it's a story of pursuing happiness even when you think you don't deserve it. It's a story that shows good coping mechanisms and bad coping mechanisms and their consequences. It's a story of picking yourself up by the bootstraps even when you just want to sit and wallow in despair. And it's also a story of embracing the love of those around you and taking their hands when they reach out to you and offer their support.

At its core, The Anatomy of Love is a story about fighting loneliness, self-hatred, guilt, and mental illness with love. With the love of friends and family. And with the love for yourself. Because while it's important to have a strong support system to love and look out for you, it is just as important to love yourself and really put in the effort to take care of yourself. And sometimes that means being ""selfish"" and prioritizing yourself over others.

Why am I saying all this?

I'll admit, I'm uncomfortable revealing the skeletons in my closet to strangers online where everyone can judge and share my secrets. I'm embarrassed to admit that TAOL's themes are projections of my own desires, and for people to know that I write about such things in fanfic because of the fact that I don't have them. But I'm just too insecure to talk to anyone 1 on 1. Not to mention that, unfortunately, it's not that simple to just go to therapy (especially when the healthcare system is broke here).

Most importantly, I hope that if there's anyone out there reading this and going through a shitty point in their lives as well... I hope you are able to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in this. We individually have our own demons to fight, but we're all fighting the same battle.

I wish I could say it gets better, but there's honestly no guarantee. So many times, I've had to stop myself from telling patients "things'll get better" because that's a promise that we're taught never to make. The truth is no one knows if things really do get better. Personally, I haven't been feeling better at all. For most of my life, people have been telling me it gets better and to just be patient, but every year it actually gets worse and worse. And just when you think things are starting to look up, it instead gets even more worse.

It's tiresome waiting years for things to get better when it seems it's nowhere in sight.

But I'm trying my best to take it day by day. I do my best to get out of bed, go to work, take a proper shower, feed myself. I do my best to love myself - mostly out of fear that what little family I have will one day disappear and I will have no one left to love me. No one but myself.

But sometimes my best does not feel enough. Sometimes I hate myself more days than others.

That's okay, I tell myself. I hate myself today, but I will love myself tomorrow. I will forgive myself eventually. I can be happy eventually. One day at a time.

Because on my better days, I realize that not every person can afford to wait for things to get better. You have to be the one to take the initiative - get off your ass and take that step forward and make things better yourself. All the people around you can offer you all the help that you need, but the most important thing is that YOU have to want to help yourself.

So that's all I am able to say for now. I do apologize if my thoughts are a bit discombobulated. I am still struggling to find my feet when it feels like I'm still drowning under pounding waves of darkness. If you've read this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read this.

Meanwhile, I hope you guys can continue to enjoy reading The Anatomy of Love. The chapter is not entirely to my satisfaction due to the last minute revisions I made, but I wanted a sprinkle of happiness in the moment. I think that's something we all need.

Also, thank you for the messages you have sent me and the comments you left. I'm truly sorry I do not have the courage or strength to respond, but please know I am forever grateful and touched that people would reach out to a stranger like me.

Hope to see you soon,

TCOOKIES

#a cookie speaks #the anatomy of love

41 notes · View notes

mrs-snape5984 · 1 month

Text

“Free me from this pain, I’ve been running from…”

“I'm tired and I'm free falling. Free me! I'm lost and I am calling you…” (“Free me” by Sia)

I’ve experienced some very rough hardships in my almost 40 years lasting existence in this world…but I’ve never given up on myself. I knew, that I’d have to fight my way back out of these horrible miseries, and I kept my faith to find the path to better times…to find the path, which will lead me upwards again.

I admit, these hardships left their marks, their scars on me. They formed my heart and my mindset…they made me the person, that I am today. I learned my lessons…and I kept going.

Since I’m living struggling with this goddamn bitch of a disease, called ME/CFS, my life has only one direction: It’s going downhill…and it’s getting faster! In these past 1,5 years, I’ve lost more and more of all the things, which made my life worth living for. I lost my ability to do my job as a pedagogue and social worker. I lost my freedom, since I’m stuck in my dark room day and night. I lost a lot of social contacts, since screen time is messing with my brain and each phone call costs me too much energy. I lost my capability to be an active mother for my three children…and this is the part, that hurts the most. Damn, I lost so much more…and I feel my heart shattering in pieces every fucking day!

Everything in my life is slowly falling apart and I’m losing my grip on reality…and on myself! The newest pain in the ass is probably my habit of passing out every few days. My whole system shuts down in the middle of a simple talk or something else and I’m falling into unconsciousness! I can’t remember the things, I’ve done before…I’m just blacked out for several hours. At first, my kids were afraid in these moments…especially when they couldn’t wake me up from this state! But now, they simply accept that “quirk” of mine as their new reality…and my motherly heart is aching for them. This shouldn’t be their reality! They shouldn’t have to live with a mother, who’s always in the dark…who’s always lying in bed! They’re children!! They shouldn’t have to whisper in my presence. I should be the person, they can rely on unconditionally!! Fuck…my heart is bleeding…and I’m sorry for my pathetic venting.

I need a way out of this hell…but since there isn’t any possibility for me right now, I’ll keep on clinging on Severus. My fantasies of him and my way of coping with my misery by writing stories about him and my - oh so self-inserted - OC Julia/Jules are the only thing, that keeps me mentally stable functioning. Well…at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I mean, I know how depressed my posts might seem.

My favourite artist for my darkest ideas is my friend @madfantasy. I told Mani about my wish to be freed from my darkness…to be cured from my disease. I need a saviour…a true hero…I need Severus! Since there aren’t any promising medical treatments, I’ll need a magical miracle to get rescued. And this is exactly, what Severus is trying for me. He conjures the demons inside my soul and forces them to leave my body. Severus is the only person, who’s brave enough to face the darkness within me. He’s my knight…and the love of my life. 21 years of my life, it was Severus, who kept me going…who inspired me with his resilience and his courage! A lot of those previous hardships could be endured by me, because I had something, I believed in. I had something, that gave me confidence and strength. I had Severus. So, please…don’t let me lose my hope and my faith in his support. And don’t let me lose my faith in myself.

Mani, my precious friend, I’m stunned by your ability to understand my ideas. Every time, I’m commissioning you for another project, your art helps me to soothe my troubled heart. It is as if you’re drawing my feelings!! I can sense my own emotions in every single line of your drawing. You don’t know, how grateful I am that I was allowed to meet you here. I love our conversations and our understanding for each other. Feel hugged, Mani! I’m sending you so much love! 🫂🫂 (fly fly) 🥹🖤 Thank you for everything.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

45 notes · View notes

thatonebirdwrites · 8 months

Text

Mercury Poisoning and LOK Book 3 and Disability Justice

I want to talk about disability representation and healing in Legend of Korra and its relation to disability justice.

(Note: Plot of Book 3 of LoK is about rebuilding the Air Nation and dealing with a villain that wants to destroy the Avatar. The villain, once he captures Korra, does this through poisoning to force her into Avatar state. Once there, if she dies, it ends the Avatar forever.)

I know Legend of Korra only calls the poison "metal" and doesn't ever identify it, but based on these facts:

silvery-grey

Is in liquid form at room temperature

Causes neurological symptoms

Causes inability to feel limbs

Causes inability to walk or loss of coordination and/or balance

Vision problems

Severe pain

This all fits with Mercury poisoning. Now mercury poisoning is a slow neurotoxin killer. It has to build up over time in order to kill someone, which is why Zaheer and his lackeys put a shit-ton of it into Korra. She had to have so much in her blood for it to work fast enough to actually take her down in the Avatar state. This also accelerated her symptoms.

And it's why she is in a wheelchair unable to move or feel her legs, why she has neurological issues afterward, and why it takes her so long to recover and learn how to walk and have coordination and balance again.

Mercury poisoning if left in the system for a long time can cause kidney and brain damage; however, lucky for Korra it's not in her system long enough. Barely an hour or so I think? It's hard to say about passing of time in that show, but Team Avatar and others got to her pretty fast. So that means it wasn't in there long enough for permanent brain and kidney damage.

However, she'd still need to be regularly checked for any neurological issues that might pop up overtime. This could include vision problems, nerve issues such as nerve pain or tenderness or numbness, tingling in her extremities, and others more specific to the brain or nervous system within her spine.

This doesn't mean she'd die at a young age. A person with these issues can live to a ripe old age as long as they continue to be monitored and given the care they need. Korra has that care with all the people who love her, and I'm positive Asami (her girlfriend) would make sure Korra has the best care in the world (considering Asami's wealth). So Korra could easily live to an old age with Asami.

She would still be able to do Avatar duties as well, even if she ends up with some neurological issues down the line. She just needs to adjust her approach to compensate and allow others to aid her in her duties (like Asami helping her and the brothers and Air Nation, etc). It's okay to rely on others.

This is all to say that Korra is disabled now, and that's okay. Disabled people like myself exist and we deserve love and care too. We deserve to THRIVE. There is nothing bad or evil about disability.

I know that our society tries to shove 'disability=bad' down our throat, but that's to justify the horrific treatment society does to us.

Anyone can become disabled at any time. Maybe that might instill fear into some people, but I can assure you that it doesn't have to be scary. If we build systems of care instead of systems of harm, we wouldn't have to fear becoming disabled because that system of care -- like the one Korra has at the end of the show -- would help us thrive to the best of our ability.

We deserve those systems of care. We deserve love. We deserve good healthcare, housing, food, and other necessities for free/low-cost.

We don't have to live in systems of exploitation that throw away our lives because the capitalist overlords deemed us non-productive and worthless. We can take their shitty ideology and throw it in the wastebin.

And instead build up communities of care and mutual aid. We see how Korra's PTSD and her symptoms improve once she is back in the circle of her community of care with Asami, Mako, (eventually Bolin), Tenzin, Jinora, Ikki, Meelo, Pema, Kya, Bumi, and even the Beifong family and Lin. All of them provide care and support. Through that community of care, Korra learns how to thrive again.

That is what we need to build up. That's why I love her arc.

I too went through that dark period of pain and isolation. I too ran from my PTSD, literally as in ran to a different state to escape it, which like Korra discovers, doesn't quite work out well. We can't escape it. We have to face it and choose to heal.

It is only when we choose to heal that we experience true character growth. We don't learn and grow because of suffering in or itself. That's a lie told to us by society to get us to stay in suffering, to not choose to heal, to not choose to tear down the exploitation that hurts us.

No, we learn and grow because of our choice to heal and build ourselves up in a healthier and more just and kinder and more loving way. Often, we make that choice because we have support to aid us in that healing, to give us what we need to follow-through. (And yes, sometimes we can't make the choice without having that community of care, because we need assistance in ways beyond what we can do for ourselves, and that's okay too!)

Growth and learning cannot happen until we choose them.

Korra choose to heal when she's with Toph, and in doing so, she reconnects with her community of care, who in turn helps her recover and helps her learn to thrive again. So no matter what the long-term repercussions of mercury poisoning is for Korra, she will have her community of care to help her get through that and continue to thrive.

That is what I wish all disabled people could have.

#korrasami #legend of korra #avatar korra #tlok #korra #the legend of korra #writing #disability #disabled #disability representation #mercury poisoning #Growth and learning happens when we choose them #Communities of Care

76 notes · View notes

illuminatedquill · 2 months

Text

Ghost Stories #03

Feat. Captain Rex + Kanan Jarrus/Sabine Wren + Ezra Bridger

Story Context: The aftermath of a successful heist stealing Imperial medical supplies for the Rebellion leaves Rex, Kanan, Sabine, and Ezra stranded in deep space without a working hyperdrive. As efforts to repair the damage get underway, Kanan and Rex reminisce over the past. Meanwhile, Sabine and Ezra, working together to fix the hyperdrive, contemplate the future.

The ship jolted violently as they decelerated from lightspeed. Kanan gripped the arms of his seat tightly, his stomach churning nervously. His recent blindness, an injury from his excursion to a Sith temple on the planet Malachor, prevented him from seeing their current situation properly.

As a Jedi, he was still adapting to his disability, relying more on the Force and his other senses to understand what was happening. Kanan turned his head to the side, where he knew Captain Rex, an old soldier and veteran of the Clone Wars, was sitting in the pilot's seat.

"Rex!" he shouted to be heard over the wailing alarms filling the cabin. "Talk to me!"

"I've got red showing up all over the board," Rex responded, his voice strained with tension. "Shields are still holding, hull's intact, weapons still good; we're not venting atmosphere either . . ."

Kanan heard something spark erratically behind him from one of the consoles. "What's the damage, then?"

A muffled curse: it was Sabine. "Double-check the panel notifications again for me, Ezra. I banged my head pretty hard when we came out of hyperspace."

Ezra replied, concern evident in his tone. "Are you sure you don't want me to look at your head instead? It sounds painful."

Kanan, worried, asked, "Sabine? You alright?"

"It's fine," she replied, exasperated. "I'll be okay, Ezra. Check the panel again and tell me what you see. I want to be sure."

Through the Force, he sensed Ezra's feelings of protectiveness towards Sabine war with his desire to finish the mission. In the end, the latter won - just barely, though. With a sense of reluctance, Ezra moved to Sabine and peered at the panel.

"You see it?" asked Sabine.

"Yeah," Ezra answered. "It's the hyperdrive. Looks it was damaged during the escape."

Beside him, Rex clicked off the alarms. "Well, not the worst problem to have in our current predicament."

Kanan took off his crash webbing and stood up from his seat. "True. But not by much."

The mission had been straight forward: infiltrate an Imperial outpost and steal Imperial medical supplies for the Rebellion. Rex had provided the intelligence, along with volunteering to see it through. Kanan had brought along Sabine and Ezra for back-up.

It had gone smoothly (a rarity in their line of work), until bad luck struck as they were lifting off; a random Imperial patrol appeared and flagged them immediately. From there, it had been a dogfight and chase through an asteroid field before Rex had finally locked in coordinates for a hyperspace route.

"Kanan?" prompted Rex. The Jedi felt Sabine and Ezra's eyes upon him too, waiting for him to announce their next course of action.

Okay, he thought. Time to look good for the kids.

Stroking at his beard, he turned to Rex. "Where exactly did you bring us, Rex?"

"Mid-Rim space, middle of nowhere," replied the old soldier. "It's an old hyperspace route used by pirates."

"Pirates," Kanan repeated. "What about the Empire? Anyone else know about this route?"

"Not that I know of. It's fairly remote."

"But there's still a chance we could still be discovered," Kanan said. "And without a working hyperdrive, we're sitting ducks."

"Agreed," Rex said. "We should get it up and running immediately."

Kanan turned towards Sabine, only to hear her already getting up from her seat. "Sounds like that's a job for me," she said cheerfully.

"I'm helping, too," volunteered Ezra. Sabine frowned at him.

"I can handle it myself, goober," she replied.

Ezra shook his head. "An extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt, Sabine. Besides, Kanan and Rex can keep an eye up out here just fine without me."

"How long to repair the hyperdrive?" asked Rex.

Sabine cocked her head, thinking. "An hour, maybe."

Rex whistled in amazement. "Impressive."

"Make it less," urged Kanan. "The longer we're out here, the more likely it is we get found."

Sabine gave him a two-fingered salute. "Yes, boss. Let's go, Ezra. You can hold the torchlight, I guess."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "So glad to be of help, my lady."

She grinned at him and they set off down the hallway at a brisk pace.

Waiting, despite his Jedi training, had never been one of Kanan's strong suits. He heaved a deep sigh and ran an impatient hand through his hair.

"Relax, man," came Rex's voice, sounding relaxed. "It's only been twenty minutes. You keep doing that, all your hair will fall out from the stress."

"That explains your whole look," replied Kanan, annoyed.

Rex raised an eyebrow at the Jedi.

He blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "Just feeling tense, lately. Too many close calls."

The old soldier nodded sympathetically. "I understand," he said. "But those kids are smart and capable. You have faith in them, yes?"

"Of course," Kanan answered automatically.

"Then let them do their job. We'll do ours." There was the sound of creaking leather as Rex leaned back in his pilot's chair.

He decided to follow suit, reaching out to the Force for calm. But something still nagged at him; a feeling that had nothing to do with the situation at hand.

No time like the present, he thought. He sat up in his chair again and turned to face Rex.

"I'm sorry about Ahsoka," he said quietly.

For a few moments, Rex was silent. Then, Kanan heard a deep, rumbling snore.

"Hey," said Kanan, feeling a vein pulse in his forehead. "Are you serious right now?"

Rex popped an eye open and let out a laugh. "You're so serious about it. Thought Jedi were supposed to be relaxed in any situation."

"We have our limits, you know," muttered Kanan grumpily. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, I did," Rex answered. "You don't need to apologize. It is what it is. She wanted to be there."

The old clone sighed. "Just wish I knew what she was thinking, going up against Vader like that. From what I've heard, he's not someone you fight. You either run - or die."

Kanan said, "I think I know why."

Rex turned to look at him, his expression serious. "Really. Tell me."

"Ezra heard some bits of their conversation," said Kanan. "Vader killed Anakin Skywalker."

The soldier's face turned sad. "Ah. That would do it, yes. She'd want justice for her master."

Kanan sat back down in his seat. Ahsoka seeking to avenge her master, Anakin Skywalker, was bringing up his own conflicted feelings about how his own master had died. Unlike Ahsoka, however, there was no single figure responsible for his master's death. The clones had done it, but they had been forced to by Emperor Palpatine. That drive to seek out the truth had given Ahsoka strength, even at the end.

He had none of that. Some days, he felt like he was pretending to be a Jedi.

"Ahsoka had purpose and incredible drive. I feel like I'm just muddling around in the dark sometimes. But even she was lost without her master. If she couldn't figure it out, what hope does someone like me have? To lead Sabine, Ezra, and others to a better future?"

"We're all just doing our best, Kanan," said Rex. "That's all we can give."

The Jedi shook his head. "It doesn't ever feel like it's enough."

"Your entire crew, I'm sure, would say differently," countered Rex. "The kids look up to you."

"I am a blind man," said Kanan bitterly. "And, somehow, they expect me to lead them onto a safer path."

"Yes," replied Rex, sounding irritated. "Even with your disability, they still don't see or think of you any less than what you were before. That says a lot about you as a person, Kanan. Stop listening to your doubts and start listening to their belief in you!"

Kanan went silent, astonished at the sheer force of will behind Rex's words. The old soldier was right - he needed to start looking past his doubts and see himself the way others did. Even now, they were all still depending on him to lead.

"Thanks," he said.

Rex shrugged. "Don't mention it. We all feel a little lost sometimes."

Kanan snorted. "That's an understatement. Been feeling this way since my master died during the war."

"Who was your master?"

The Jedi closed his eyes, remembering. "Master Depa Billaba. She was one of the best."

"General Billaba," said Rex thoughtfully. "General Skywalker talked about her sometimes. Always the highest praise."

Kanan smiled. "She was amazing."

Rex gave him a direct look. "I'm sure she'd be proud of you, Kanan. For all that you've accomplished."

He shrugged. "I hope so, too. But I don't want to die like she did."

"Oh?" Rex asked.

"I could feel her emotions, seconds before she died. The shock, the fear, the confusion - and then . . . she was gone." The emotional memories of that day still scarred him deeply; Kanan knew it was something he would carry with him to the grave.

"Then how would you like it to happen, if I might ask?"

"With peace and purpose," replied Kanan. "That's all I want anyone who witnesses it to feel and understand. No fear, no anger, no confusion."

"Peace and purpose," echoed Rex. "I like that."

Just then the vessel shuddered and there came the sound of a muffled explosion from somewhere near the engine bay.

Kanan let out a groan.

"You might not be getting your wish if those two aren't more careful," remarked Rex dryly.

The Jedi sat up in his seat and punched the intercom button. "Hey, you two," he said, injecting calm into his voice, "everything okay down there?"

Desperately waving his arms to clear the acrid smoke, Ezra stumbled towards a nearby console and found the speaker button.

"Yeah," Ezra gasped, suppressing a coughing fit. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sabine scrambling towards a corner to get some fresh air. "We're all good! How - how are you guys doing?"

Rex's voice came over the intercom before Kanan could reply. "We're doing fine. Are you sure everything's alright? The ship jolted just a bit, right now."

"Uh," said Ezra nervously. He looked at Sabine for guidance. She just waved him off, coughing into her arm.

"I'll call you back," he finished and cut the call.

Sabine crouched down, taking deep breaths. Ezra approached her cautiously, trying not to laugh at the scorch marks on her face and the messy hair sticking up in odd directions.

"So," he teased. "That seemed to go well."

She glared at him. "You want to do this? Be my guest."

Ezra grinned at her and held out his hand. After a moment, the glare faded and she grabbed it, hauling herself up. Together, they walked back to the engine bay; one of the vents was popped open, revealing the internal workings within. Sabine had been working feverishly inside it, making steady progress with the repair until she had accidentally overloaded one of the circuits.

Peering at it now, she made a disgusted noise. "Faulty wiring," she grumbled. "Typical cheap Imperial engineering."

"Fixable?" asked Ezra.

"Very," replied Sabine. "But it's going to take a few extra minutes. Need to bypass the old circuits and make new connections."

He nodded, pretending that made sense to him. "Better get at it, then."

"So helpful," said Sabine. "Just hand me the tools when I ask for them, goober."

Ezra handed her an electric torch and she resumed her work, leaning over the vent, eyes narrowed in concentration. He watched Sabine, admiring her skill and technique - not the first time he'd done so during their friendship, and it wouldn't be the last.

It never failed to amaze him how talented she was. There was very little Sabine Wren could not accomplish when she put her mind to it.

Ezra crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby bulkhead, basking in the sounds of her work. Despite the somewhat desperate circumstances, this was a relatively peaceful situation - at least, by their standards.

Sabine stuck an empty hand out of the vent. "Pass me the spanner."

Ezra complied. "Sabine," he said, suddenly feeling bold.

"Hmmm?"

"You ever think about the future? About what you'll do when this war ends?"

There was a heavy thunk from inside the vent, followed by a loud curse. Sabine pulled her head out, staring at Ezra with an incredulous expression.

"You want to have this conversation now? When I'm attempting to repair one of the most complicated pieces of machinery in the known galaxy?"

Ezra rubbed at the back of his head, feeling sheepish. "Things have been non-stop with us, lately. I think we should take the time to talk whenever we can, you know?"

Sabine's stare softened. "True," she admitted. "This is quiet as it gets with us, isn't it."

"Yeah," agreed Ezra. "And with the war against the Empire heating up, I don't think we'll get many more chances to just . . . talk."

Sabine nodded at the nearby control console. "Go to the control console and initiate the start-up sequence. I'm just about finished, I think."

Ezra did so. The hyperdrive computer began to run a diagnostics test, beginning to cycle through its programming. "Now, we wait," Sabine said. She sat down, her back against the wall. He walked back over to sit next to her, their shoulders touching gently.

They sat there together, just enjoying the gentle hum of machinery and each other's presence for a few precious minutes.

Then, Sabine said, "I suppose I'd go back home to my family. Help them with the situation on Mandalore."

Ezra glanced at her. "You don't talk about them often."

"There's a reason for that," Sabine said, heat creeping into her tone. She grimaced. "It's complicated, Ezra."

"But you still care about them," he pointed out. "You still want to go home and help them."

She looked down at her boots, scuffed with years of use. "Yeah. We didn't part on the best terms, but they're still family."

"That's good," Ezra said. "You have a goal."

"I guess," she replied. "What about you? I'm assuming you and Kanan are going to get started on rebuilding the Jedi Order?"

He frowned, rubbing at the back of his head. "Actually . . . no."

Sabine turned to him; her eyes were wide with surprise. "What?"

Ezra shrugged. "We talked about it once. Kanan isn't sure what's meant to happen next if we both survive this war. He says that if it's the will of the Force, it'll happen. Otherwise, we just follow our instincts and continue doing what we've always done."

"Which is what?"

He turned to her, his expression earnest. "Helping people, Sabine. Like Jedi always have done."

She smiled at him. "Such an Ezra response," she teased. "Should have expected it."

"Hey, I am who I am," he responded with a smile of his own.

Sabine's face became thoughtful. "So, what does that mean? Will you two be flying around the galaxy, putting out fires on different worlds?"

"I'm not sure," Ezra confessed. "I don't even know if we'll still be together at that point. I might want to go off by myself, see the galaxy on my own terms. Kanan says that Jedi did that after they were Knighted before taking on a padawan."

"Oh," said Sabine. She suddenly looked sad for a brief moment.

"What is it?" Ezra asked, concerned at the sudden change of mood.

"I just realized . . . we'll probably all separate, won't we? The Ghost crew. We'll all go our separate ways after the war's end."

"Ah," was all he said. He hadn't considered that. "It's a possibility. I can't say for sure."

She shook her head. "It was stupid to think we would all stay together forever."

"Not stupid," Ezra corrected. "It hasn't happened yet. It might not even happen, Sabine. Nothing's certain."

"I just . . . I can imagine Zeb leaving, Hera and Kanan going off on their own to start a family, but you - I don't know, I always thought you and I would stick together." The words came out in a rush, her voice quivering at the last bit.

He felt his heart twist at the melancholy in her voice. Ezra turned to face her fully, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Kanan told me how he decided to move forward with his life after the Clone Wars ended. Do you know how he did it, Sabine?"

She gazed back at him, her brown eyes curious. "How?"

Ezra smiled at her. "He chose someone to follow."

Understanding dawned on Sabine's face. "Hera."

He nodded. "Exactly." Reaching out, he took both of Sabine's hands gently into his own.

"I'll follow you, Sabine," he said. "When all of this is over. I promise."

She was silent, her eyes searching his. "You don't want to go home? To Lothal?"

"You are my home now," said Ezra. Sabine's eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"Along with everyone else on the Ghost," he added hastily, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks. She laughed.

"Thought you were going to go around and help people, like Jedi are supposed to do," she teased.

"Mandalorians are people, too. And I have a friend there who might need my help."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, will she?"

"She's stubborn about it," Ezra continued, ignoring the warning glare she was giving. "But, yeah, she usually does."

Before she could respond with a suitably sarcastic reply, the lights in the engine bay went out.

"Huh," said Ezra. "Is that a good sign?"

"Uh, maybe," whispered Sabine, her breath warm in his ear. "Give it a second."

Ezra jerked back in surprise at her close proximity. "Sorry," she said, embarrassed. "It's dark."

The lights flickered back on - and suddenly, they were face to face; noses mere inches apart. Sabine's mouth widened slightly, almost as if anticipating . . .

Ezra could feel his heart-beat thumping loudly away in his skull. She was so close to him. So close.

The intercom buzzed. Kanan's voice came through. "We're reading all green on the console up here. Good job, you two. Get back to your seats and let's all go home."

And, just like that, the moment - whatever it was - between them ended. "Back to work," said Ezra, trying not to sound disappointed.

"Seems that way," Sabine replied. "But, Ezra?"

"Yes?"

She winked at him. "Let's continue this talk, later. Okay?"

Ezra paused, feeling his heart begin to race again. "Sounds like a plan," he said, grinning. And they walked back together, their hands brushing so close - so close.

*Author's Note: I found Kanan and Rex's relationship during Rebels intriguing, considering where they started. Wish we could have seen more of them together, becoming friends and bonding over their past experiences in the Clone Wars. I feel like they would have had a lot of deep, introspective conversations and this story is an attempt to illustrate one that I would have liked to see.

And, as always, I have to include our favorite duo. To juxtapose Kanan and Rex's talk about the past, I wanted the kids to focus on the future. My personal view is that Sabine, of everyone in the Ghost, would have the hardest time acclimating to the idea of their family separating permanently. I do believe that if things had turned out differently in the Rebels series finale, Ezra and Sabine would have stuck together, even with the others going their own ways; he probably would have helped with her family regarding Mandalore, and she would have returned the favor by helping restore Lothal.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #captain rex #ezrabrine #sabezra fanfiction #ghost stories 03 #star wars rebels #star wars

25 notes · View notes

naffeclipse · 4 months

Note

*Arrives at Internet Explorer Speed*

Hey guys! Those new chapter of Lack of Light, am I right??!

FDKHKFGH Sorry I needed to make a silly entrance back in your inbox Naff XD

But aaaaaa I finally came back to read these and I'm here with a brand new comment!! For the two chapters I was missing no less! :D

So let's get to it!

Ok so first off I don't know if I'm just looking too much into it but I read this line: "You rely on your eyes to adjust to the darkness" from th first paragraph and it just felt significant to the rest of the chapter, you know? Very literal but metaphorical at the same time!

And oooh something I definitely have to praise in this is the amazing description of the anguish through all the physical sensations that the reader is going through. I think I've mentioned before that when I read reader inserts I don't truly put my real self in the story but rather try to imagine it through the main characters eyes, but wow did I feel this one. The way you detail all those physical effects that anxiety has on the body, beautifully described through images and comparisons, just made it seem so very real. I basically could almost feel them myself, just remembering times when I had definitely experienced something similar, even if the causes were different! I will always applaud your descriptions, Naff! Makes me want to take notes!

And AAAAAAA I gotta say that I absolutely love how just, hrrrr, I'm struggling to find the words to describe it, but I would say how there's a clear parallel between what both Reader and Eclipse are going through?

Because ok, first of all, is the matter of hiding right? Reader seems to be trying to hide (kind of like Eclipse does his true self), but through a mask instead of blindness. Even through previous encounters they have tried to present themselves a very specific way. The unshakable one. Unaffected by everything, at least in a way that goes beyond mild funny venting. And it feels like something they force themselves to do in their daily life, beyond the forest. It's just they're so used to doing it, that it became a part of how they perceive themselves and failing to do so feels to them like they're showing a part of themselves that is intolerable. And aaaaa then Eclipse also because clearly he must have enough experience having met other humans to know that even those that dared stay after learning of his presence ran away after seeing him. So both hide and hide while they wish for more and hate themselves for it, and might even think they don't deserve it.

(Sidenote: I love this description: "The mysterious being who exists in pure darkness, cast by the sun and the moon." Obviously because it references his name (be it a solar or lunar eclipse), but also because it reminds of his strange nature. Because an Eclipse is an event! A phenomenon that is not exactly a natural object, but something that can only be seen under the right conditions!)

And oooh speaking about Eclipse and hiding, I just love the contrast between Eclipse's darkness coming from being unseen vs the darkness born from emptiness. Because Reader so far hasn't been daring at all in pushing to see him, because they fear the latter. Eclipse's nature is intimidating, and it's often said that we fear not the darkness itself, but what we might find in it. But here it's the contrary! Both Reader and Eclipse fear that potential emptiness. They have found company in each other thanks to the darkness, but should something go wrong (pushing too much or scaring the other one away), they would find themselves staring into the void and nothing else.)

And that exactly leads into the doubts about what the other thinks once they've revealed themselves! And it's so interesting how they fear so intensely that the "flaw" they see in themselves, which are kinda opposite, is what will make the other regret meeting them. Like for Reader is that vulnerability, that inability to be perfect about everything that hits them in their daily life and dealing easily with it. They fear their "weakness" will disgust a great being as Eclipse. And for Eclipse is fearing that his form, great, strange, intimidating, monstrous, is what will leave him without his dear one. His very nature enough to drive them away. When in reality, it's likely those very things that made them initially appealing to the other! The Reader a precious little creature, that despite not having horns or sharp teeth lives their daily life bravely (enough to befriend a shadowy being). And Eclipse, a fascinating and fearsome creature, that despite it all demonstrates he's gentle and kind and capable of becoming that friend that provides the most comfort in Reader's life!

Ooooh I just adore how two very different beings, with way more differences than similarities, still have this experience in common. That fear and uncertainty about letting themselves be known, because past experience has thought them it's unwise, and yet they find relief from that terrible all-consuming anxiety when they let themselves trust that this time it will be different and that it is worth it, even if it is raw, to open up and let the right person in.

Now for Mothman Moon!

Just starting and the Reader is already turning the headlights on and off repeatedly jfhdsgkh Prime conditions for Mothman sightings! XD

Oooh I love how you build up the paranoia! Different situations, but it makes me think when it's late at night and for whatever reason you need to go out in a hallway of your home and you gotta reassure yourself that no, there's nothing lurking in the shadows of your home, be an adult and walk calmly jghdkfsj The feeling of being exposed and on edge is so very well achieved! But also all the little hints, like the raven falling quiet. And that instinctual feeling of being watched! Related to all this, I adore this line: "Your optimism slips in the slightest before you yank it back up by the throat and continue marching along." I felt that in my soul fkijhdfgkñjh

Aaaa I love how everything falls quiet at the flapping of wings! Everything knows to be quiet and freeze. And I love Reader is part of that everything. Like they are connected to the forest around them by virtue of not wanting to draw attention to themselves, something they share with all the creatures around.

And oooooo such a spooky sight when we finally get a glimpse of him!! Kinda gave me the urge to hold my breath as well as I read! Just the sight of the glowing red eyes coming from a shadow within the fog would paralyze anyone for sure! And then gjhfdkg poor Reader just shifts horror flavor from Creature-in-the-forest-that-could-kill-me to Stranger-Danger. Pick your poison and all that XD But man that instinct does seriously kick in when a stranger gives us bad vibes huh?

(As a sidenote, I love how you've given the different readers between chapters different responses to fear! Like the first chapter with Sun had Fight if I remember correctly, then the second chapter had Fawn, which I think it's trying to please to prevent from being harmed, even if the fear wasn't so much of Eclipse but of abandonment, and in this one we have Freeze! Which we see twice when Moon first appears and then when the car races towards them!)

Oh. My gosh??? The fact that Moon is just able to take on a car that's going full speed though?? Damn! And oooh he was not happy. He does not appreciate assholes/downright murderers in this area. (Btw I can't help but think that he did in fact break that second light slower on purpose to seem more menacing fjkhdaskjh)

Aaaa it's fascinating how he seems so perplexed by the Reader's response to everything that just happened! Like he doesn't quite understand the freeze response. It's something animals do as well, but I'm guessing if it doesn't work then most would ultimately run from the danger. It's probably the first instance of this he has encountered! And poor reader seems to just be very badly affected by it, physically as well as mentally judging by the lightheadedness.

(sidenote: "He looms, his wings flaring out beside him in magnificent flares of warnings and death." Me, helpless DCA simp, vivid image of the majestic view in my head: Um yes, hi, hello? 👉👈 GFÑLKDJHGÑLJ)

And aaaaa I loved the flight scene! I myself am pretty scared of heights so I likely would have screamed gkjhfdksj but! I love that we continue the theme of braving a bit of the fear to discover something wonderful! Despite my fear of heights I've always imagined how wonderful it would be to have wings and this scene just striked me as something terrifying yet beautiful because it really is an experience that Reader wouldn't get anywhere else! And despite the polarizing feelings of fear and safety just warring inside of them, the wonder was just so tangible as Moon carried them through the air!

And ooo I find it so interesting how he refers to multiple things as the "lights", which from his perspective must be the most notable characteristic of the stuff that emanates it! It's clear he's familiar with cars, and likely has witnessed what happens when one hits a living thing. And the light of the gas station tells him that it's a place humans go to. So he knows it's not just lights, but he still seems to perceive it as their most important characteristic. Aaaa I'm so curious about what the world looks like to him because of this!

And ough it's so sweet he keeps watch over them as they go trying to get the help they need. It seems to me he finds them really intriguing and the fact that he gave them his name could mean he hopes it will not be their last meeting!

And that's that!

Aaaaaa everytime I come back to your writing I keep being taken by surprise by how well you manage to make the reader immerse themselves in the story! Your descriptions are so vivid and your use of the language so *chef kiss*! Everytime I'm just dying to know what's the word that follows the previous one, what will happen, and when that tasty tension you build so well will reach it's snapping point! This little series was a delight to read and a very nice journey into what fear and darkness means to different people. And of course, meeting some very strange and fascinating creatures that make the unknown not as bad as it seemed <3

Thanks for this delicious chapters Naff! It's always a delight reading what you make!

(Sorry if something is phrased weirdly btw, it’s kinda late as I’m writing this fgkjhdsk)

AHHH CHAOTIK! HI, HELLO! WELCOME BACK!!! I'm so glad to see you in my inbox again!!

Oh, I am rattling you so hard right now! I live for your analysis and I especially love that you caught how much Eclipse and Y/N complement and contrast each other—the same fears but different reasons. They are dear ones, your honor!!!

And Moon! My Mothman!Moon! He's so much fun to write! I'm really glad you enjoy his spooky entrance and his descriptions!

Also, with the readers, that's so funny that it changes from Fight, Fawn, and Freeze! I meant for Mothman's Y/N to freeze but I also think it's neat to explore different responses to fear, so I'm happy that stood out!

(He did break the second car light slowly—he's so dramatic lol)

He does have a different view of the world due to lights—humans have lights. Humans drive with them, live with them, and are afraid without them. Lights are just as foreign as those humans! But he does have a particular interest in Y/N—they were almost hit by the lights themselves. It's now every time he sees that, but he was curious from how they froze to how they were terrified yet in awe of flying. He even finds them cute but doesn't expect to see them again! But Y/N has plans of venturing back to the words with the mothman hehe

Gah, thank you so much, Chaotik! I love how in-depth you go and reading your thoughts makes my day, babe! <3

#chaotikanvas #lack of light #compliments

35 notes · View notes

yuurei20 · 11 months

Text

Jamil Info Compilation part 2: Middle School Friend(s)

Jamil often references friends (or “a friend,” singular) from middle school.

He says that “Middle school was the first point in my life where I had some time and space to myself. I had friends I could talk with about anything. We’d study together, practice dancing, go out in town and get into trouble…it was also the first time I got into a really bad fight with a friend. We went days without talking, all because of the stupidest thing…”

In a voice line he says that his friend(s) would go to the local market all the time in middle school, because “some days I just didn’t want to go straight home after school.”

Jamil says that he’s largely fallen out of contact with his old classmates, but in his third birthday vignette he mentions going to markets with his middle school friend(s).

The Japanese language relies more heavily on context than English and thus doesn’t really have plurals. This can be confusing in situations like this where it seems like the number of Jamil’s friends is being kept vague on purpose:

Is Jamil saying he only has one middle school friend with whom he is really close, or are there multiple? We don’t actually know!

The add-on of たち (tachi) is one way to specify groups of people.

So “you” is “anata” but “you guys” is “anata-tachi,” but the word friend(s) is kind of unique. You can introduce one person as your tomo-dachi (friend) or a group of people are your tomo-dachi (friends), and it is the same word.

In this way, we never actually knew if Jamil has been talking about one or multiple people all this time…until Firelit Sky.

It’s for this reason that I think Twst was being vague on purpose: we were allowed to assume that Jamil has been talking about his middle school friend-group, but then Najma drops the bomb that Jamil has one, specific friend from middle school with whom he was particularly close.

With this revelation we can suddenly look back on every single time Jamil has ever referenced his middle school friend(s): who he studied with, danced with, got into trouble with, fought with, avoided his home with went to markets with…was that all the same, one person?

The English language forces you to specify via plurals, so in the NA-adaptation Jamil is always referencing a group…except for that one friend with whom he fought.

What is interesting is that in the original dialogue, Jamil is using the same, one word. NA took this one word and assigned it two different meanings, making it plural for things like “practice dancing” and “go out into town” but singular for “got into a really bad fight.”

Did Jamil study and fight with a group of friends, or just one? NA doesn’t seem to know, either, so they decided to split the difference and say he got along with a group of friends while only ever fighting with one, which is certainly one interpretation.

But in his original dialogue he could also be saying that he got along with a group and fought with a group, or got along with one person and fought with one person, or got along with one person and fought with a group. It is not specified.

It has intentionally been left open to interpretation (although Najma’s revelation is a big hint), but Jamil might have always been nostalgic, from the start, about his friendship with just one person.

No information yet on who they were.

#twstJamil #Jamilfacts #twstfacts #Jamil Viper #twisted wonderland

123 notes · View notes

toy-powerhouse · 1 month

Text

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Disappointments: A Brutally Honest Review of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is the most disappointing thing since my son… And, my other three sons, my four sons who also happen to be teenage mutant ninja turtles. You know what they say: life imitates art. Much like my dissatisfying sons, I really wanted to like the series when I stumbled across it, but there was so much lacking in its execution that prevented it from reaching its potential (Editor’s Note: okay, Red Letter Media-esque joke over). Before its release in 2018, there were very vocal Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fans who were skeptical about Rise of the TMNT and many of the changes the series made to established lore. Raphael is the fearless leader, instead of Leonardo; April is Black American as opposed to white like she is in most iterations; and the series is more comedic in tone, unlike other recent adaptations that have an even balance of comedy and drama. I welcomed all the changes to the TMNT formula, and I was eager to see it. Now that I’ve finally finished watching it, I’m left disappointed with it. Before we jump headfirst into why this series can be dissatisfying, I want to preface this to state that many fans treat this series with a certain level of reverence often to the extent of hyper analyzing it. Here, I’m going to give it that sort of treatment, but this time to analyze its shortcomings as a work of fiction.

Bad Comedy, Worse Drama

The major driving force of RotTMNT is its comedy (that acronym is unfortunately very apt). It’s arguably the most comedy-centric animated television series since the 1987 TMNT show. With comedy being the most important quality of the series, the biggest question then is: is it funny? Even ardent dissenters of the show say it’s somewhat funny. As for myself, I’m a person who can find humor even in media that I may otherwise dislike. I’m a simple kind of gal, if it’s funny, then I’ll laugh. With something like RotTMNT, that I did, initially, like, I’d sit patiently waiting for any of the slapstick or quips to make me laugh. Smiling politely at the screen, just waiting, only for me to not laugh or even chuckle before the end credits rolled. So, what’s the problem? Usually, there’s something off about the humor that stops it from being funny. The character’s expressions are too exaggerated or too subdued, sporadic insertion of weak meta or fourth-wall breaking humor, jokes running contrary to canon events or characterization, gags end too abruptly or continue for too long, poor timing of punchlines, poorly directed line deliveries or less than stellar audio mixing (e.g., characters’ speech being difficult to hear from speaking too quickly or quietly), and so on.

Something else that causes the humor to fall flat on its face, is the overreliance on subpar slapstick comedy with lots of pratfalls while mugging for the camera. Too much of Rise of the TMNT relies heavily on characters making goofy faces and acting buffoonish in place of carefully executed comedic scenarios or witty dialogue. There are many children’s cartoons that largely avoid resorting to overusing such low hanging fruit, so RotTMNT cannot be excused for its limited variety in comedic stylings in a bid to appeal to its young target demographic.

The character that best reflects all this bad comedy is arguably, and ironically, the funniest of the turtles: Donatello (no, why’d it have to be the overrated one). Jokes that tend to land often involve Donnie and his funniness seems to be confirmed in-universe when in Season 1, Episode 16, “Shadow of Evil,” Splinter refers to Donnie as being the “funny one.” Because much of the humor is flawed, many of the jokes or gags with Donnie at the center of them don’t stick their landing. Using Donnie, let’s briefly examine how something like inconsistent characterization can break a joke:

LEO: “And Donnie, where’s your . . . your thing, your – emotionless passion?"

DONNIE: "[Head down, speaks very quietly.] Here."

This joke doesn’t work because “emotionless passion” is not something that accurately describes Donnie. He’s a very emotional lad. Even in the context of this episode, he’s a very emotional lad. The very notion of Donatello being “emotionless” doesn’t make sense as it doesn’t align with his baseline characterization. Case in point:

Yup, baseline Donnie is totally emotionless. Look at all that no emotion.

As a result, what could have been a funny joke, is ruined by clashing with what’s been established about Donnie. Were Donnie a more reserved character, it could have been somewhat chuckle-worthy. As is, it's pretty unfunny. While this is only one example of how the humor is off, it’s still very indicative of this issue. Like, I could go on, but this review is getting long enough, and I get the feeling I’ll need to check on my own unfunny teenage mutant ninja turtle sons soon.

Anyway, the only thing worse than RotTMNT’s comedy is the drama. While the comedy of the series very occasionally has its merits, the dramatic cues virtually all fail. For dramatic points in any form of media to be developed successfully, they need time to be set up. In this series, finer plot points don’t get the opportunity to unfold properly and are mostly shoved into the finales. The rush to introduce new dramatic plot elements and quickly wrap them up really depreciates the value of moments that are meant to be heartfelt or intense. Premature cancellation aside, more could have been done to avoid this problem. If the first season had not wasted so much time with bad comedy, the series could have set up crucial stakes and important characters sooner rather than later. The season two finale is especially guilty of rushed, poorly set up melodrama with how they speedrun introducing a key character like Karai only to send her off before we as an audience really got to know her. Speaking of poor set ups, this segways perfectly into my next segment.

Overly Hyperactive Storytelling and Underbuilt Worldbuilding

A common complaint levied against RotTMNT by critics is how fast paced everything about it is, to the point of being downright incomprehensible at times. From the animation to line delivery, the show is HYPERACTIVE, caps locked and bolded for emphasis. This is especially true for fight and action scenes, where all sense of direction is easily lost by how quickly characters, props, and backgrounds move about. It can become grating having to rewind, pause, or even reduce the playback speed simply to understand what happens. Goodness, even my disappointing and rambunctious teenage mutant ninja turtle sons think this show needs to chill.

I’ve taken to referring to the series as being a “memory vampire.” I can watch an episode and almost immediately forget what I have just seen as if RotTMNT is feeding off my memories like a loathsome parasite. I can recall watching episodes from other TMNT adaptations that I saw nearly a decade ago, I remember even the smallest details with ease. But an episode of Rise of the TMNT that I saw last week: I got nothing. Because it’s so much of a whirlwind of pointless action and bad comedy where very little is usually accomplished. I’ve seen fans make light of how Rise of the TMNT is “ADHD the show,” and while true, it’s definitely not a good thing.

If that weren’t bad enough, we also must contend with careless worldbuilding. That issue of ill-advised worldbuilding being most apparent with the Yōkai and their world, the Hidden City. Possibly one of the greatest missed opportunities of this series is how underutilized and underdeveloped the Yōkai are. Despite their species namesake being lifted from yōkai, supernatural creatures from Japanese mythology and folklore, they lack any significant connection with that very specific lore. Most Yōkai we see in Rise of the TMNT, are generic monsters and anthropomorphized animal beings that don’t appear to have any direct relation to traditional yōkai myth. There’s Big Mama, who is a jorōgumo, a nefarious spider creature who often shapeshifts into a beautiful woman to lure in prey, and maybe Mayhem who could be the show’s take on a komainu or lion-dog, those lion-like dog statues positioned at the entrances of Japanese temples and shrines to act as protectors of hallowed ground.

Aside from Big Mama, Mayhem (maybe), and a few others (including one-offs like the dragon yōkai Boss Bruce and his posse and possibly Tummytello, that could be a take on the parasitic yōkai disease, oseichu), there isn’t much Japanese mythology that influences the portrayal of the Yōkai. As a casual yōkai enjoyer, it’s disappointing to see the crew behind the show not make full use of that rich history through explicit representation. Maybe there were concerns about mishandling Japanese culture, but then why invoke the yōkai name in the first place if cultural insensitivity was a concern? Maybe there are more explicit designs or references to Japanese lore that I’ve forgotten to mention, again this show is a “memory vampire,” but even if that were the case, there’s still too much plausible deniability to it all. Regardless, the Yōkai mostly being a hodgepodge of indeterminate ghoulies is distracting and fails to create a more cohesive, immersive world.

Various yōkai that don't seem to make appearances in RotTMNT. This is just a sample of what could have been.

Collective Characterization: Friendless Losers with Unearned Power (cool band name, idk)

This will be less of an in-depth character analysis as much as this segment is a general overview of how the series approaches two things: the turtles’ status as underdog superheroes and their social support network.

Besides disappointing, another word I would use to describe Rise of the TMNT is unearned. For much of the series, our protagonists tend to bumble about, causing almost as many problems as they resolve. In fact, just about every major problem the turtles encounter, is of their own making; from releasing the oozequitos that mutated the denizens of New York to unleashing the Shredder who has villainous ambitions of conquering the world, just about everything can be blamed on them. These aren’t heroes, they’re troublemaking buffoon clowns. These buffoon clowns ultimately get rewarded time and time again for blundering misdeeds that they fix at the eleventh hour. This especially becomes tiring when it’s all nestled in the series’ ad nauseam lesson: the turtles need to focus and take things seriously. Over and over again it’s the same lesson of “get your (pardon my French) merde together.” I’ve seen fans misguidedly try to spin this as the turtles being lovable cringefail, losers, which may have been the case had the series not tried to portray them very earnestly as the ultimate heroes, without a shred of irony or self-awareness. In that way, the show plays itself too safe and yet not safe enough. Instead of a cynical romp with mutant losers with even looser morals, or well-meaning mutants who try their damndest to achieve their noble goals, we get something awkwardly caught in between, unable to commit to either in a satisfying way.

Being the insufferable screw-ups that they are, it’s not surprising that the turtles lack a support network. Friends, allies, helpful acquaintances, or friendly neighbors; doesn’t matter, because these turtles ain’t really got ‘em. In actuality, the series is more about making fiends then friends as almost every character the turtles encounter becomes an antagonist. For a show that seems to pride itself in presenting more positive bonds between the characters, especially the turtles, it’s a little odd, isn’t it? In this regard, it’s hard not to compare Rise of the TMNT to other iterations, because it appears to be missing something inherent to many other adaptations. That something being the turtles desire to form connections with those outside their family unit and, seemingly against all odds, their ability to do so. A common theme throughout the franchise is their pining for meaningful relationships outside themselves and Splinter and how they manage to forge those relationships with other misfits. Rise of the TMNT has virtually no interest in engaging with this theme and, as a result, is left emptier for it.

While there are a handful of characters who do become allies, or even family members (e.g., the redeemed Baron Draxum), they’re largely kept at arm’s length with their loyalty to the turtles at times being, for lack of a better term, “dunked on.” For instance, in the season one finale, “End Game,” the following allies join April and Splinter to rescue the turds, I mean, turts: Bullhop (legit, forgot that dude existed), Frankenfoot (who deserves better than being a sentient punching bag), S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N (who, mind you, is basically Donnie’s son), and Todd Capybara (Splinter x Todd 5ever, fuck Draxum). Only for the quartet to be “humorously” captured immediately and never brought up again in the episode. RotTMNT is so strangely anti-friend/ally that the only relationships given any real weight are virtually all familial with April herself being upgraded from friend to honorary member of the Hamato clan by the end of the series.

The turtles lack a support system outside themselves and it’s not something they ever angst about or that poorly impacts them, despite how integral social deprivation tends to be for the turtles in other iterations. Even the Micheal Bay produced films portrayed that anxiety around being outcasts as worthy of attention, that the turtles are brutally aware of being misfits and that seeking acceptance from the outside world is important to them. This theme doesn’t need to be the focus of every adaptation. However, its absence in RotTMNT does strip from the characters an extra layer of depth and misses out on an opportunity to make them more relatable to members of the audience, especially those who’ve ever felt alienated.

The Cowabunga Conclusion: Let’s take a moment to enjoy our Hot Soup!

Not all of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is disappointing. There are good aspects of the series. The increased presence of female characters. Big Mama, Cassandra “Casey” Jones, and Sunita (Casey x April x Sunita = Caprisun, the best ship 5ever); I <3 these girls! Casey had the most satisfying, fully realized character arc of the series. The turtles get to be more emotionally vulnerable, which definitely is a welcome change. I love that Raph is a proud lover of plushies and other cute things, that’s so adorable. Mikey is explicitly artsy, and as an artist myself, I really appreciate that. It’s been confirmed by a show writer that Donnie is on the autism spectrum. Right on! Leo is gay (that’s not confirmed, I’m just being facetious). RotTMNT has brought a lot of good to the TMNT table. As a result, it breathed new life into the overall franchise and its fanbase. Post-RotTMNT, the wider TMNT fanbase has experienced a bit of a paradigm shift into becoming a more inclusive, safe space. Honestly, I’d say my return to the fandom was all thanks to RotTMNT and its rejuvenating effect on the franchise.

Nonetheless, the series itself is still a raging migraine. I’m only scratching the surface with this. I plan to explore other failings of this series more in-depth in other posts. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie… I’m coming for you… I got a bone to pick with how Draxum’s redemption was handled. The turtles’ deus ex machina mystic powers… Atrocious. The merchandise…

Sometimes a picture, of off-model action figures, is worth a thousand words.

I know I’m not the only one who thinks this series fumbled the ball big time. While executive meddling and lack of support from the network certainly contributed to RotTMNT’s downfall, a good deal of the show’s shortcomings cannot be blamed on those factors. Not the execs, not the airing scheduling, not the marketing, not the audience; the show itself is flawed and that in part led to its premature demise.

The series leaves me disappointed. Very disappointed. Like, Splinter is in “Insane in the Mama Train.”

RAPH: “Puppy dog eyes won’t cut it. [Splinter] isn’t mad, he’s disappointed. We need to make it up to him guys big time.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my teenage mutant ninja turtle sons. I got a text from the unfunniest one, and it seems like they’ve accidentally doomed the universe like the cringefail losers they are. Oh, well. If they fix their mistake in time, I might treat them to some pizza rolls. Cowabunga, dudes and dudettes! 🐢❤️💙🧡💜🥷

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt

20 notes · View notes