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I still have Hazbin Hotel brainworms, so here's a couple theories and mindless thoughts/questions:

I don't think Angel Dust will be redeemed anytime soon. I think his contract with Valentino will play into why he hasn't been gone to Heaven yet and that he won't be able to leave Hell until the contract is dissolved. I also think that once the contract ends and Angel leaves, the show will end bc Angel was their first guest and is therefore the most thematic one to end on.

If a sinner can be redeemed and become a winner, can the opposite also be true? Can a winner be corrupted into a sinner and fall to Hell? Is that what Sera is trying to protect the winners from or is there a bigger unknown threat?

Since sinners go to Heaven under special circumstance, what happens to the ones that don't redeem themselves before they died? We know that their demon form body dies and the darkness in their soul spreads around to the surrounding area, but what happens to the rest of it? Does it dissolve into nothing? Maybe reincarnate to reduce the amount of souls that need to be made at any given time?

I know it's coincidence but it's funny to me that the Radio Demon's name starts with A (like Audio or Auditory) and the TV Demon's name starts with V (like Video or Vision). Really clues you in on how their influence spreads through the Pride Ring. (through sound and images respectively)

Is Eve in Hell? Since she took the apple of knowledge willingly, she's probably there right? Will she be important later?

Will Adam and Eve's kids be in the story at all? Like, if they want to do a story arc about sibling feuds in the future (*side-eyes Angel's brother*) then having that story happen in parallel to whatever shit Cain and Abel (and maybe Seth) would be dealing with might be interesting.

Is Alastor's mother in heaven? I feel like if she was in Hell, she would've at least gotten a cameo at some point. Will she show up as a character that becomes Alastor's weakness later on?

If you really want to interpret Alastor and Vox's rivalry in a new way, you could see it as a fight in planned obsolescence. Vox's tech is mass-produced and made to be replaced by the next big model, meanwhile Alastor's radio in the "Old Crap" store still works just fine despite how long it's probably been in use and will most likely continue to work long after Vox's stuff eventually breaks.

I know this is just a silly pilot joke, but does Sir Pentious actually have a son that he's been looking for? Does he keep creating the egg boys as a replacement for a child he can't find? Is that why only one of them had a name? Or maybe he used to name all of them but they kept dying too easily so eventually he just stopped and Frank's the only named one left?

Are the egg boys sinners or demons? I think they're just demons right? Like the egg boys can be easily manipulated into doing bad things and ignorance is a sin, but they let Adam into heaven so why reject the eggs?

Space Disco (6/8/23)

I’ve recently tapped back into my old Tumblr account named faith-misery-blog, pretty edgy middle schooler. Regardless, I tapped back into this realm of life because I wanted to have a platform to share the journey into adulthood in blog format without having to buy a domain or start a legit blog. Since I believe my journey into adulthood (and I bet everyone says this) isn’t the same as others. God damn, how clique thinking that my life is anything special, but maybe (just maybe) it might be. Since I’m pursuing not only the normal adult life of getting a job in real estate, but also pursuing the entertainment and self care fields. I think it would be awesome to be able to document this journey here. Somewhat like a journal, but this will focus on the pursuit of career rather than how I’m doing emotionally and what hippie blond chick is making me change my whole perception life this time. Instead it will focus on the name, Space Disco, and probably wont disclose my real name, Frederick Neidermeiner (get it... cause that’s not my name). 

So I’ll start with explaining the term “Space Disco.” I came up with this name during my senior year of college while I was throwing experiences around campus. The inception of this was when I put together an event at our local music venue that featured three bands and one DJ. I wanted it to be special and different from the previous band/DJ events, hence why I called it Space Disco. I was hoping people would come in their best Space Disco outfits and I would give out tinfoil for people to make into hats. Neither of those dreams happened, instead I created posters for it that said Space Disco, went to the event, got pretty plastered and enjoyed my time watching these bands perform. Little did I know that these connections of booking these bands would yield benefits later on in the semester. However, we aren’t talking about the semester I had, we are talking about the transition into adulthood. Sometimes I get sidetracked. 

I created Space Disco as an event and a theme of an event and then realized it was pretty much the theme of my life and therefore I created SPACE DISCO. Everything that I did or created was and I guess still is Space Disco theme. I recently was looking into Trademarking the term but felt as though I should probably do some stuff with it before Trademarking it. As in, create clothes or throw more events or create a blog or whatever. 

I’ve been home for about four days and they have been pretty sweet. I’ve gotten my bearings, started working for an EDM boat cruise which I believe will give me a lot of connections and may even result in whatever my future needs. I also found a job working as an assistant to my buddy doing real estate. I enjoy that since I can do this mindless work during the week and then focus on my passions during the weekend. I also have come up with a million different creative ideas that I want to pursue and have been trying my best to truly conceptualize them. This takes time I realized, and I haven’t given myself the proper time to do that. I also realized that everything is about time, where do I allocate my time. Do I allocate it to writing a silly blog that will probably go no where, or do I allocate it to sleeping so tomorrow when I have to wake up and go to my real estate job for the first time and then fulfill the rider for the talent coming to the boat cruise on Saturday then go to my buddy’s show DJing at a dive bar, I’m not miserable. 

I allocate my time to sleep (if I’m even able to). 

See you soon beautiful people.

I live-blogged watching BvS and Justice League on FB earlier; here are my unedited thoughts. :P

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

I'm watching Batman V. Superman (because bad movie night I guess idk), and during the opening scene rehashing the Waynes' deaths (for what feels like the millionth time in cinematic history--seriously, y'all, we can be done with that for a while and definitely don't need a 5 minute slow-motion scene about it), when Thomas says Martha's name as they're dying, I burst out laughing because (i) I didn't remember that he said her name during this scene and (ii) is this supposed to be some kind of foreshadowing for the really dumb crux of the movie where Batman and Superman stop fighting because omg their moms have the same name? I literally can't stop laughing. This movie is such a joke. 🤣

Having the Robin costume in this film with absolutely no context is just stupidly pointless fanboy pandering. Anyone who actually gives a crap about Batman lore should realistically hate that.

Lex Luthor, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, bitching about not having power is definitely on brand, but I am just super *not* a fan of the quirky, kind-of-nerdy-and-awkward Lex Luthor this film decided to go with. The hardcore businessman Lex Luthor from the 90s and 00s will always be the Lithor I like best. Y'know, the one based at least in part on Donald Trump. That one.

This Jesse Eisenberg version is way too much of a Mary Sue. Businessman *and* scientist *and* awkward nerd? Yeah, Jesse Eisenberg played Mark Zuckerberg, but I'm not sure Lex Luthor should be Mark Zuckerberg.

Ugh, I totally forgot about the Darkseid-foreshadowing dream that's never going to go anywhere because, let's be real, DC is never going to do a live-action film with Darkseid (and it would be awful even if they did). Also, Batman using guns in that dream is a thing I'll never be cool with. I don't care what kind of world he thinks he's living in in that dream; Batman has established principles and pretty much only goes against them in alternate universes.

Jesus, I forgot about the whole Flash-from-the-future scene, too. DC wrote a lot of checks we're never going to be able to cash in this film. Promising an Injustice-esque Superman-is-evil kind of storyline that they're never going to do anything with...why would they do that?

So in the dream, Darkseid-related stuff is going on (which, in Justice League, does sort of happen with Steppenwolf) and Superman says "she was everything to me, and you took her away from me." Then future-Flash says that "Lois is the key". Are they implying Batman has premonitions? Are they giving him a superpower? 🤣

Oh, that's right, they blew up the U.S. Capitol in this movie. 🤣 These scenes that are supposed to be really serious and filled with tension just keep making me laugh.

Why did they decide Batman needed to make a kryptonite spear? I mean, other than plot reasons so they could use it later against Doomsday. Batman uses projectiles and his fists; he rarely uses swords or spears or whatever.

Why did they decide Doomsday had to be created using a mixture of Kryptonian and Luthor's DNA? In the comics, Doomsday is an experimental clone based on ancient Kryptonian DNA. Why (in my opinion) make Doomsday so much more pathetic by adding human DNA into the mix? Freaking weird decision.

"Mm." What a weird quirk to add to Luthor's character. "Mm" every other sentence. What's that all about?

Luthor manipulating Batman into fighting Superman is...so unbelievable. Luthor manipulating Superman to hate Batman, waaaaay more believable. But no, that's not what they went with. They went with Luthor manipulating Batman for two years into wanting to fight Superman. Superman just randomly came to hate Batman on his own and only got manipulated into fighting him at the end. They could have just gone with hey, Batman's suspicious of everyone and would naturally be suspicious of a superpowered alien, especially with the whole setup they did at the beginning that coincided with stuff from Man of Steel. But nope. Nope, they went with the dumber plot.

Doesn't Luthor have way too much info about all these heroes' secret identities? Are we just pretending secret identities don't matter anymore? That's too 90s or something?

Why does the kryptonite spear make an "omg I'm a glowy thing" sound? 🤣

And now we're at the stupid Martha part that makes no sense because if you were about to die, you wouldn't say "save [mom's name]"; you would just say "save my mom!" 🤣

Batman would totally save Superman's mom even if their moms didn't have the same name. It's just such a stupid, stupid plot point and lends itself to endless mockery. 🤣

I *do* like this fight scene where Batman is making his way through the goons to get to Martha. The choreography is really good. Reminds me a lot of the Arkham video games.

Man, this Doomsday just...doesn't really work on a fundamental level. What makes comic Doomsday so powerful and terrifying is (i) it's not just a mindless monster, but is actually intelligent and can plan and strategize; (ii) iwas created through such extreme experimentation that it was repeatedly destroyed and then remade again over and over and over to give it endurance and formidably; (iii) and it's pretty much unstoppable from all that experimentation and uncontrollable because of its intelligence.

Also, what's with this explody thing Doomsday does in this film? A monster can be terrifying without being able to blow up a bunch of stuff. I'm not sure what the point of explody Doomsday is other than lazy writing.

The military hit it once and came to the conclusion that not only does it get more powerful "every time we hit it," but also that it's unkillable? Okay. More lazy writing.

And we're back to one of my biggest issues with Man of Steel: Superman just not giving a shit about collateral damage. Even if the island they're on is uninhabited, that doesn't exactly mean he should just be fine with blowing a bunch of shit up in the course of this fight. Sheesh.

How did Lois know they needed the spear again? She had no reason to go underwater to try to get it. This whole "let's make Lois useless time and again so Superman can save her" thing is really annoying.

Superman's "death" scene carries so little weight if you know (like pretty much everyone should have known, let's be real) that he's not really dead. Like, sure, for the characters it means something because they don't know he'll be back, but for the audience? At least for me, it doesn't make me feel a whole lot.

So all the soldiers at Superman's funeral--do they know they're carrying an empty casket? Just curious.

The dirt rising off the casket at the end for a split second is soooooo dumb. For anyone naive enough to think he *is* really dead, just let them think it. Just let that be a thing. Come on. (Also considering that he doesn’t just come back on his own; it takes a charge from a Mother Box in Justice League for him to come back. That makes this end scene a lie, too.)

Ok, BvS is done. Need another drink and a snack, then I'll move on to Justice League. 😅

Justice League:

Haha, obvious Superman facial CGI right off the bat, omg, I forgot how horribly obvious it is. 🤣

Also forgot that we're starting off with parademons right away. Sheesh.

Do all of Snyder's films have to have gratuitous slow-motion scenes at the beginning? Ugh, dude.

Everyone just throwing Bruce Wayne's name around in relation to Batman all the time. Secret identities are dead, y'all. No superhero can have a real life, I guess.

Ugh, I forgot this film pushes Batman/Wonder Woman pretty hard. 🙄

"It's cool if I show a bunch of Amazons with their midriffs showing as long as they have visible ab muscles, right?" Idk, Snyder, is that how armor realistically works? 🙄 Also, is it necessary for them to have lipstick on? That doesn't even exist on Themyscira, ffs.

The multiple (as I remember; only one so far) innuendo-based jokes really bring this film down, imo. "Clark said you were the thirstier woman he'd ever met." Really? Ugh. 🙄

The plot of this film is so LOTR. Amazons, Atlanteans, and Men all get Mother Boxes, sort of like the various rings of power. There's plenty you can pull from comics, y'all. You don't need to pull from other stuff.

Flash as comic relief I'm okay with. I'm not sure how I feel about *this* Flash's comic relief. I'm not a huge fan of the writing.

Break time because Je'von wants to go out on the balcony lol. 😅

And we're back. So can Steppenwolf breathe underwater? Is that a thing? 

I guess it's supposed to be super funny that everyone disappears except the fastest one of them? Sigh. The writing in this film is just so awful.

Cyborg's CGI also isn't great. I really wanted more for Cyborg because he's awesome. Sigh.

Snyder must have loved being able to do stuff with Flash. All the slo-mo he could want.

I'm not a fan of neurotic Flash, afraid of pretty much everything. He can be funny in so many better ways, but instead let's just have him be afraid of everything and make sexual jokes every now and then. 🙄

"Let's keep having Cyborg wear sweatpants and a hoodie so we don't have to spend so much on CGI. It totally won't look ridiculous." 🤣

Batman making the argument to use technology he doesn't understand to try to bring Superman back from the dead is just so out of character it's not even funny. First of all, Superman didn't need technology to come back in the comics (whether or not his "resurrection" was silly is irrelevant). Secondly, Batman literally has an enemy (Ra's al Ghul) who resurrects himself on the regular, and Batman (i) knows it's a bad idea because it messes with Ra's's sanity and (b) would never consider using the Lazarus Pit even though he has a relative understanding of how it works. This film just literally disregards established character traits in favor of it's stupid-as-hell plot. Ugh.

Superman is vulnerable to magic, idiot writers. He shouldn't be able to fight Wonder Woman's lasso. Uuughhh. Have any of the writers of this movie ever actually read any Justice League comics? 🤦‍♀️

Well, those cops definitely know Superman's name now. Since you all keep saying it in front of them.

Superman hasn't even been gone for that long (seemingly; I mean, it's hard to tell, but S.T.A.R. Labs is still doing research on the Kryptonian ship in the same genersl area as in BvS, so idk), so all this talk about what he does or doesn't remember seems...weird.

Why not wait until you defeat Steppenwolf to let your mom know you're back, Superman? For all you know, you could die again. Wouldn't that just be harder on her after seeing you back?

Why was the lasso just sitting on the Batmobile instead of with Wonder Woman? Plot so that Aquaman could say some *super funny things*. 🙄 That's not even how the lasso works, you dumb writers. Someone has to direct another bound by it to speak the truth. Seriously, do some research. Ugh. It's not that hard.

"So your plan is dying? You really are out of your mind." "I'm not the one who brought a pitchfork." See, the writers prove that they can be actually funny if they try. *If* they try.

The "everyone trying their best to hold off the big bad until Goku gets there" vibe is super strong in this movie. 😑

Part of the reason the Justice League is a thing is because no one hero can do it alone. That means it all shouldn't be riding on Superman's shoulders. If you actually know how to write the Justice League, that is.

Don't know how I feel about everyone getting perks due to nepotism now that they know Bruce Wayne...must be nice to be buddies with the richest man in the world. 😒

The Flash vs Superman race at the end is more pandering. Ugh. It would be better if Flash was less pathetic as a character in this film. Super awkward is just not very funny, y'all. Write actual jokes instead.

Okay, that's over. What a trip. Both those movies are still pretty much garbage. 🤣 The question is, will I ever watch Man of Steel again? Probably not; I hated Man of Steel more than both those movies, actually. Wrote a 3-page rant about how awful it was after seeing it in theaters originally. $3 was still way too much money to spend on that crap. 😅

Oh, side note for the after credits scene: will they ever actually go anywhere with that? They might do an okay job with a Justice League vs. Legion of Doom (or Injustice Society or whatever villain team incarnation they would decide to go with) film. That might not suck.

Fresh Start (Part 3)

Fresh Start (Part 3)

Fandom: Marvel, MCU

Basic Summary: Everyone’s favorite ol’ AU where we forget Infinity War ever happened! Loki and Thor are living with the Avengers because why not. Reader is hired to work for Tony and Pepper, and she and her son soon meet Loki. Etc Etc Etc - Part 3, A few months into her new job, Reader and Loki wash dishes together 😛

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Single Mom Reader)

Warnings: nothing really, reader is a teeny bit thirsty...ya’ll know how that goes

A/n: I was struggling with tenses while writing this (like present, past, continuous - all that lovely grammar stuff). I plant go back and edit this and the other parts to make it all a consistent tense, but I’m too tired to do that now.  Please enjoy. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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

Tony had asked you to stay a little late tonight so he could take Pepper out for dinner. You were happy to comply. You had met them all at the tower and had the intention of returning to the house with the kids after afternoon naps, however Jonas was having such a blast in the ball pit that Tony recently had installed in the playroom that you lingered later into the evening. By the time he was too tired to keep playing, it was time to feed the baby again and late enough to feed Jonas too. So you put together a quick dinner and a bottle and fed the kids, but the full tummies also brought sleepy kids. You set them both up in the nursery and they instantly fell asleep. You knew you only had a couple hours max until the baby would wake up again and her parents would be back by then anyway, so you decided to wait it out. Taking the baby monitor with you after setting up all of Tony's requested security measures. You decided to not wander far, opting to do any dishes you had from dinner in the little kitchenette. Sometimes you felt a bit isolated in this part of the tower. If both Tony and Pepper were out then it could very easily be just the three of you on this floor. You could hear the commotion upstairs from time to time, but the Avengers didn't typically have any reason to come down and see you. It was usually you venturing up into their domain when looking for your employers. Thor and Natasha did occasionally visit. You guessed they just liked someone different to chat with from time to time. Which was nice. Loki also started to show up more frequently, especially in the last week. You would sometimes find him sitting out on the same balcony you spoke with him a while back. You found it odd since you knew there was also a similar balcony on the floor above. However, showing up was all he did. You had been pretty busy lately, keeping Jonas from getting into trouble while keeping up with a now six month old who was determined to crawl away every chance she got, even if she wasn't very good at it. You had tried to talk to him on a few occasions, but you always had to run off as soon as the conversation became interesting because of the kids. Still, he seemed much less standoffish despite barely getting to talk to you. Some days you even felt like he was waiting for you to show up. It seemed he was actually excited for the chance to talk to you, even if it rarely happened. You got the impression from Tony that Loki wasn't exactly approved to be around his daughter. So you refrained from simply inviting Loki to  join you in the playroom, settling instead for brief encounters when you were coming or going. You were drying dishes when you noticed a figure move past the door. You barely had a second to identify him, but he was hard to mistake. You popped your head out the doorway to catch him. "Hey." You call out behind him, dish towel still in hand. Loki turned on his heal, "Good evening Y/n" "Heading somewhere important?" You ask, noting another book in his hand. He shrugged a bit defeated, "Hardly ever these days unfortunately." "Well, I'm not doing anything exciting, but you could join me while I finish these dishes." You pause realizing how lame the invitation was. "Only if you want..." You add a bit shy. You expect him to continue to walk away. You wouldn't want to watch yourself dry dishes, so why would anyone else? But then he smirked at you and walked back towards the doorway you were standing in. He allows you to slip back into the kitchen before him and you go back to the sink. Instead of settling into one of the chairs by the little table, Loki sets his book down before joining you beside the sink. Effortlessly, he takes the towel out of your hand and offers to dry the bottle you were reaching for. You nod slightly, "You don't have to..." He laughed lightly, taking the bottle and drying it gently. "No problem, easy enough to do." You thank him softly before rinsing off the other bottle components. You both make quick work of the few remaining items together. Standing close together in a comfortable silence. While rinsing off the bottle brush your hand slips and you unintentionally turn the sprayer upwards creating an arc of water. An arc that hits Loki directly in the face. You drop the sprayer as soon as you can, letting it fall into the sink still spraying aimlessly. You turn the water off quickly and turn to watch the water drip down his face and neck, wetting the front of his shirt. "I am so sorry!" You urgently explain. Suddenly frantic to find another towel to help dry him off. Loki seemed to move in slow motion, not quite sure if what he thinks just happened really did. He blinked a few times in rapid succession. You found another towel and started to pat at his collar. He came to his senses in time to grab your wrist as you attempted to dry him off. You instantly stopped moving, looking from his hand to his face. "M-my hand slipped, I s-swear I didn't mean..." you stutter over your words as you try to apologize but can't quite find the right thing to say. His eyes are as gorgeous as ever, but so hard to read. You can't tell if you've just enraged a god and triggered your death or not. You nervously looked down to the floor in some attempt to hide your embarrassment.   His grip on your wrist tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice. This was it. You were definitely going to die here. Right now. Then a cold wet sensation hits your head like a tidal wave. In fact, it hits you almost exactly like a wave. Loki had picked up one of the bottles he'd just finished drying filling it with water still sitting at the bottom the sink and promptly dumped it all directly on your head. You gasp as the water starts to drip down your face. Shaking your head to clear the water from your eyes. When you dare to look up at Loki you see him grinning wide at you with a true Cheshire cat smile.The sight of him so amused eased your worry and amplified the silliness of what just occurred. You find your self laughing as you smile up at him. "That's not fair, I only got you on accident!" You said through your mirth. "Perhaps, but if I have be dripping wet, rest assured I won't be the only one." He spoke with the most carefree tone you'd ever heard from him. A sudden competitiveness over took you are you grabbed the nozzle again aiming it directly at him. He instantly took a more guarded stance, "Don't you dare!" He hissed. You, of course, didn't head this warning, pulling your hand away from him and flicking the water back on. You watched with glee as the water shot out again directly at Loki's astounded face. For a moment the water did the intended job, completely drenching his front. Loki was quick to respond however and held a hand up in between himself and the stream. The water stopped midstream, freezing from where it touched his fingertips. The ice radiated to the nozzle, making the whole thing frost up until you could feel the bitter cold under your grasp. You let go a bit in awe as the arc of ice shattered upon impact with the side of the sink. You glanced back to his hands to see his fingers weren't their typical alabaster color, instead a dark dusty blue that reached to his knuckles. He noticed your gaze and quickly shook his hand. Doing so caused the blue color to quickly fade back to normal. When you looked up at him in questioning, he averted your gaze. "I hope you realize you are no match for me in any sort of trivial challenge." Loki said, hoping to change your focus. You opted not to ask about his hands, deciding it was just another trick of his. Something nagged at your mind saying it wasn't that simple, but it was obvious he didn't want you to take notice, so you acted like you didn't. "You say that, yet you're significantly more soaked than I am. To me, it looks like I won." You responded with a grin. He chuckled softly, "You only won this round. Consider it first time luck. It won't happen again." "So we'll get to battle again, will we?" You smiled, raising an eyebrow at him "I have a feeling we will." He returned your smile and you felt at ease again. "You might want to change. You could...catch a cold if you stay this...wet." You commented. Realizing his shirt was beyond drenched. The simple black fabric was clinging to his his front in a way that showcased every smooth and taught muscle. You felt the warm blush flood your cheeks. Hoping he didn't notice your staring for had to be the hundredth time since you met him, you turned away from him and addressed the sink. You pushed all the ice into the sink and placed the bottles in the drying rack. Mindless tasks were best to keep your mind off your unexpected urge to help Loki out of his shirt. It had been quite a long time since you had any sort intimate contact with anyone and all of a sudden you were feeling a rush you hadn't had in months, years even. If Loki noticed the change in your demeanor, he didn't react to it. He walked over to the table by his book and picked it up gingerly. "I suppose you're right. Do you need to change yourself?" You asked nodding his head towards your wet shoulders and sleeves. "Oh, I didn't think to bring extra clothes for myself. I'll be fine until Tony gets back. I can always change at home." You shrug. "Nonsense, come on." Loki starts to walk off towards the door way and gestures for you to follow him. You start to do so tentatively, following as he makes his way to the elevator. Once the door opens he turns to see you standing a few steps back and tilts his head slightly at you. "I really should stay on this floor, for the kids ya know?" You said glancing back towards the doorway to the nursery. "I need to hear if either of them wake up." "Isn't that what the little communicator box is for?" He responds looking down at the monitor attached to your hip. You debated in your head a few moments. Tony never said you weren't allowed to leave this floor with out the kids, but you felt like it was a bit irresponsible to do so. Plus, what exactly was Loki inviting you to? If he was going to go change, was he going back to his room? Would he actually invite you into his room while he changed? Did he have a good enough relationship with any of the female avengers that he could ask them for a change of clothes for you? Or did he just happen to have women's clothing laying around his room? Would that mean... You shook you head to shake the thoughts. You were surprising yourself with how much your mind had slipped into the mindset of a teenage girl with a crush. It didn't matter as a cold chill ran down your arm causing you to decide a nice dry shirt would be best. "I have to make it quick. I really should be up here for the kids." You said quietly. "I do not expect changing your shirt will take you more than a minute." He smirked stepping into the elevator. You padded into the lift behind him. You felt like he could read your thoughts. He still hadn't made any open indication he knew what you were thinking, yet the way he looked over to you made you blush as if he had just whispered all your thoughts about him into your ear. Sure enough, Loki led you to a room that had to be his own. The whole room smelled like him and you felt that same odd comfort you felt around him while inside. It was both simple and elegant in decor. Everything except for a large chair in the corner and the bed seemed untouched and unused. He strolled in paying you no mind until he reached a closet embedded into the back wall. "Do you prefer sleeves?" He asked turning back to you. You were slow to respond as you were still taking in all the features of his room. You noted the golden color of his sheets and how you wouldn't have expected him to have such a warm colored sleeping area. Finally forcing yourself to think about the cool fall temperature outside you agreed, "Yes, sleeves would be great." He hummed to himself and flicked through a few items hanging. You noticed that the closet was fairly bare.  He had some leather pieces hanging to one side, obviously crafted beyond this world. The other side was comprised of dark neutral colored items. Mostly suits pieces and shirts that looked like they cost more than you paid in rent each month. He finally pulled out an olive green long sleeved tshirt that was so extremely dark you didn't even notice the color till he handed it to you. You felt both relief and panic at the fact he was offering you his own clothes. A twinge of excitement washed over you that it wasn't a left over garment from some mystery woman. Yet the idea of being trusted with his own clothes was daunting. Especially when the shirt he handed you was quite possibly the softest shirt you had ever touched in your whole life.   You muttered a shy 'thank you' and he walked back to the closet selecting another shirt, one seemingly identical to the one wet one he was currently wearing. "No need to be shy, I'll leave you to it." Loki said as he eyed your hesitation with that Cheshire cat grin back in place. He then walked into a conjoined room that you could only assume to be a bathroom. Once you heard the door click you figured you better get changed quickly.  You felt like you could still sense him in the room with you. You looked around a couple times, always ending with staring at the bathroom door. You determined he wasn't around, so you slugged out of your wet shirt and thanked the stars your bra was dry underneath. Once you were standing there in just your bra you had that feeling again. You glanced around expecting to see Loki's eyes on you but still nothing. You slipped his shirt on and all your nerves calmed instantly. It was indeed the softest shirt you'd every felt and it smelled even more like him than the room. Between the comfort of the dry material and it luxuriousness of the fabric you sighed happily to yourself. "I'm all set." You called out towards the bathroom. "Thanks again Loki, I really should get down stairs now." You weren't even finished talking when the door opened and he stepped out exactly as he was before your brief water battle. He stopped in his tracks, eyes going wide at the sight of you. You figured you looked silly, the shirt was obviously a little big on you and the sleeves reached to almost cover your fingers, but the way he looked at you made you feel really gorgeous. And there you went, blushing again. "That suits you." You said in a hoarse whisper before clearing his throat.  "Can I walk you back down stairs?" "Yea. Why not." At your consent, Loki offers you an arm like a true gentleman and escorts you back to the nursery. As soon as you make it down stairs you heard the signs of a baby waking up crackle through the monitor and accept that whatever moment you were starting to develop with Loki had to end for the night. "Duty calls" you shrug as a cry breaks out loud enough to hear not only through the monitor but also through the door ahead of you. "Till next time then." Loki said as he took your hand in his bringing it up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss across your knuckles. He smirks at you as he stands up straight again and begins walking back to the elevator. You stand there stupefied for a moment. Unsure if the cool tingling you feel lingering on your hand was just your nerves or something else entirely. Being around Loki was a roller coaster. Every time you spent time with him it was always thrilling, awe inspiring, and yet utterly confusing. The baby cries out again and you come to reality and quickly go to the nursery to check on the kids.

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

to be continued ❤

lovely tagged folks: @jessiejunebug

Disappearing Act || Bella’s Past part 4

Here is the final part to Bella’s past. Now I didn’t quite explain everything when it came to the ending, but I’m planning to go into more details in the next series.

WC: 4199

Trigger Warning: Blood, Major injury, Fire and Death

4 years later

14 years old

Run. That’s she could think about as she laid in a bare bone room save for a few nick knacks. The front door shut and that was her cue to bolt into a frenzy. She made a beeline for his backpack, grasping for whatever she could get her hands on.

Pack the books first, then you can get the water. If there’s no time there’s a stream nearby I can stop at, just make sure you grab the water bottle. One extra outfit is all I need right now, I can worry about dirty laundry when I’m far enough.

Warnings swarmed Ísabella’s mind, each one creating a new reminder amidst her frantic packing. She tried to keep her thoughts in the back of her head, attempting to stay on task, but one memory bubbles to the surface causing her to halt her movements.

How could something so innocent turn sour that quickly?

———————

3 years ago

11 years old

It started off like a normal day. The sun rose upon the horizon causing light to fill Izzy’s eyes. Her eyes squeezed shut trying to keep the fleeting moment of her dreams from escaping her mind, but alas it was too late. She blinked quickly, as the light temporarily blinded her. A hand can up to block the invading rays of sun as she sat up.

Has her eyes adjusted to the light she took a look around her surroundings. The circle of six sleeping bags only had 3 people occupying it, Izzy being one of the late sleepers. She took a glance at the three empty bags taking notice of the pack of boys. One more look revealed two of the missing bodies. Kole sat in a tree leaned against the trunk, a newspaper in hand. Aiden was below him, surrounded by several broken branches. The boy leap for a branch, but missing by several inches.

“C’mon Kole! That’s not fair! I wanna see what your reading!!”

Kole scoffed, “That’s strange. If I remember correctly, you already saw it this morning when you were poking around my stuff,” He never took his eyes off the paper, instead flipping to the next page.

“Didn’t West ever tell you that sharing is caring?”

“Oh believe me Aiden, he has. I just didn’t listen.”

By this point Izzy had made her way over to the base of the tree next to Aiden. Ignoring her younger brother’s protests she swung onto his shoulders she boosted herself up to a branch. From there she climbed up to the tree limb under Kole’s spot. Poking the bottom of his foot, she queried, “Can I see Kole?”

“Didn’t I make it clear I wasn’t going to let you read it?”

“Nope! You said to Aiden! I’m not Aiden Kole. Or did you forget that silly goose?” Instead of replying to her, Kole just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the paper. Izzy huffed clambering onto the same branch as her brother, “Please? I’m asking politely instead of snooping like Aiden!” She jutted put her button lip and batted her eyes.

Kole looked up from his paper to meet her eyes. He stared at her for a moment before sighing, “Fine. You can read one page,” Folding the newspaper he handed it over to her.

Her face broke into a cheeky grin, “Thanks Kole!” Almost immediately she faded into the shadows and reappear next to Aiden who was wrapped around the tree trunk trying to climb up, “Here you go!”

Aiden’s face immediately lit up as her ripped the paper from Izzy’s hand. He fared in awe at the front page, eyes skimming over the headline.

Above Kole wasn’t as amused. Jumping down from his perch he pounded over to the girl, “Izzy! What the hell!”

Before Izzy could respond and hand wrapped around his shoulder, “No need to get aggressive Kole. All she did was let Aiden read a paper. No harm no foul.” West shrugged, walking over towards the center of the sleeping bag circle. Kole followed in suit.

“It’s my stuff West! I get to decide who can touch it.”

Removing his bag from his back he started unpacking, “If I recall correctly I was the one that brought that back for you. Now hush up and help me make breakfast.” Kole let out a low growl before helping his brother unpack

Slowly the rest of the members began to awake. The sleeping bags were folded up and put away. Aiden sat with Kole’s newspaper while the rest of them were handed a can of beans. West stopped in front of Aiden before crouching down holding out the tin can, “As much as I appreciate you reading, you need to eat first little buddy.”

Ignoring West’s statement, Aiden pushed the front page into West face, “Look at this West! This superman just saved a bunch of kids from some evil guy! Isn’t that like what you do?”

West chuckled before removing the paper from Aiden’s grasp, folding it and placing it to the side, “I wouldn’t go that far Aid, now come on and eat your breakfast. We’ve got moving to do today.”

Aiden was unrelenting as he jabbered on, “But you saved us! That makes you a superhero right? My big brother’s a superhero! That’s so awesome!” Before West could get a word in Aiden gasped, “Can you teach me to be a superhero?! You taught us all how to read! Surely you can teach us how to kick evil butt! Right?”

By now Aiden had grasped the attention of the rest of the group. West’s smile fell and he placed a hand on Aiden’s shoulder, “I’m sorry bud, but I can’t. Reading and teaching you to fight crime are very different things. And even if I could I wouldn’t. Do you understand how dangerous that is?”

Aiden’s eyes darkened and his head dropped on his shoulders. Quickly West places one hand on his arm, holding out the can to Aiden, “But if it really interests you, I’m positive I can find some comic books next time we stumble across a bookstore.”

The corner of Aiden’s mouth twitched into a tiny smile as he took the can from West. The older boy smiled, ruffling Aiden’s hair before turning back around to his own meal.

Kole leaned against a tree, a new plan forming in his head.

———————

Back to present

She was running out of time. He’s be back soon and once he heard her she’d never escape. Closing the backpack, she threw it over her shoulder before absorbing herself into the shadow in the corner of the room.

She materialized outside of the decrepit house, the woods being her only shelter now. She wasted no time as she sprinted down the forest floor. If he can back early he’d be able to sense her, then chase her down like a hound. She wouldn’t get another chance. She had them all fooled that she’d fall in line. They trusted her, but if she was caught she’d never be left alone again, or worse.

She mapped out her route last week when they first arrived to the house. Just up ahead she’d run by a pond. There she’d be able to use the mud to mask her scent. After that she’d be able to confuse him enough to make a quick get away. Then she can focus on infusing moonbeams in her clothing to react with her invisibility.

Up ahead Ísbella could see a body of water quickly approaching. Immediately she jumped into the shallow water. She resurfaced, a quiet gasp in response to the chilly water. Taking globs of soggy dirt from the shore, she covered her arms, chest, face and even hair. She crawled out of the pond and turned her attention to her legs which soon match the rest of her body. Taking two big handfuls, she smudge them on the backpack just for good measure.

The sun was peeking out of the horizon by this point. Her powers would be weaker, meaning she needed to hurry and get as far away as possible. Her feet began to pound against the shore, taking her further into the forest.

———————

3 years ago

11 years old

“Get up. He’s gone and we’ll only have about two hours before he returns”

Kole’s harsh tone filled Izzy’s ears causing her to groan. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she sat up. The world around her was dark albeit the flashlight clutched in Kole’s hand. Begrudgingly she crawled out of her sleeping bag joining the rest of her siblings around Kole.

For the past 3 months Kole has been training the rest of the group to fight. Behind West’s back of course. Every morning before dawn West would scope around the surrounding area looking for any threats, abandoned building, and occasionally if they were close to a town he would go and “restock” their supplies. Today was one of those mornings.

The twilight air surrounded the group as they walked further into the forest. Each of the younger kids followed Kole like mindless ducklings, them not being fully aware yet. Their leader stopped unexpectedly, causing Aiden the slam into his back, the rest stumbling to a stop.

Kole didn’t flinch, his form never turning to face the rest, “Aiden, this was your idea. If you can’t even tell when I stop, how will you be able to fight?” His voice was low, quiet. It showed no anger but also lacked West’s calming tone.

“Well maybe if you didn’t wake us up at the crack of dawn I’d be more responsive.”

Kole growled turning back around to face Aiden, “If you don’t want West to find out-“

“Too late.”

There was another growl, but not from Kole. Instead West emerged from the tree cover behind his younger brother, “What have you all been hiding from me? The truth, not some garbage excuse.”

Kole stiffened, eyes wide, “I thought.. but… You went into town!”

“You should know better brother. You can hide things from me. Now I know to never jump to conclusions, so I’ll give you time to explain your side of the story,” West was struggling to contain his anger. His arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping against the ground in pace with Kole’s beating heart, “Well, I’m waiting.”

Kole’s mouth opened and closed, looking for words to paint him in the right, but his mind couldn’t think of an answer. Instead Izzy stepped forward, “We wanted to be superheroes…”

When his eyes landed on the poor girl, with her head down and shoulders slouched, they softened, but quickly returned stern. “Do you understand how dangerous that is? You could get yourselves killed!” The oldest member stormed over to Kole, “And you! You’re 15, you should know you can’t just make a team full of superheroes! Did you knit think about everyone’s well being? And what about yours! Did you even stop to think about what we went through, what you went through to get here! They’ll find you if they suspect your still alive!”

By this point, West’s golden eyes were glowing. His gaze was fixed on Kole’s, who stared back with just as much intensity, but then something broke as his eyes casted down, his ears following, “I’m.. you.. you’re right. I’m sorry.”

West took in a deep breath, his eyes returning to normal, “I wish I could tell you fine but it’s not Kole. You’re the second oldest in this group. I trusted you to keep everyone safe. And that includes you,” his arms wound themselves around his brother, bringing him into a bone crushing hug whispering, “I can’t lose you Kole. We’ve been through everything together.”

Once the hug was broken West turned his attention to the rest of the pack. They couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame written across their face. He sighed before stepping closer, “You all know I care about you. I just want you all to be safe.”

The children nodded. Head just now joining to meet his eyes. Their faces were downcasted, eyes glossy. Kole places a hand on his oldest brother’s shoulder, “West, you should know, they have been picking up combat skills fast for their age. And I’ve seen their powers get stronger each time they practice.”

Before he could continue, West cut him off, “What exactly are you implying brother?”

“That you just hear them out. They all have been enjoying this. We won’t go on any ‘missions’. Not yet at least, but maybe you can give us all a chance. We want to help people.”

“Just like you helped us!” Izzy was smiling now, her grinning bright like the rising sun peaking out of the horizon.

West was silent for a moment, contemplating his next words. His hands pulled at his cheeks, eyes sagging as he let out a sigh, “Okay okay! If you all can prove to me that you can do this without getting hurt, I’ll consider it!” The others gasped, grins taking over their features. Immediately they ran to hug the wolf boy, “But no promises okay?” He wrapped his arms around his pack, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

———————

Back to present

The sun beams beat down against Ísabella’s mud covered skin. We was starting to overheat, but she pushed herself to keep going. She was almost out of reach from her past. She just had to keep running. Her legs leaped over a fallen tree. Her feet slapped against the floor harder than expected. Her ankles rolled and her body went tumbling. She used all her strength to sit up, but down she stayed, her mind running a mile a minute, while her legs couldn’t respond.

Get up. They’ll find you. Get up. The sun is too hot. It’s making you weak. Get up. Keep running dammit.

She was able to pull herself forward an inch. It’s not enough. Further

She couldn’t comply to her minds demand. There was no one to help her this time.

What would he think of you now?

———————-

2 years ago

12 years old

“Weeeeesst!” Izzy clung to the older boy’s shoulder, her finger poking at his cheek, “Wesley! Listen to me!”

He chuckled before closing his book and setting it to the side, “Yes Bellarina?”

“You’ve been ignoring my question for weeks! I want an answer!”

“Oh have I? I seemed to forgotten. Remind me again.”

She huffed, hopping off his back, “When can we go on a mission?!” Her periwinkle hair swayed in the wind, her violet eyes holding a pout in them.

West face dropped. He turned to face Izzy, “Iz I told you that we would go on a mission when we are ready and-”

“We are ready! We’ve been training for the past year. What else do you want us to do?”

The rest of the pack had gathered around this point. Eyes trained on their leader and the smallest of the group.

The oldest fought back a grin, his smugness peeking through in the slightest, “You didn’t let me finish Izzy, but by all means continue. I can wait.” He leaned against the nearest tree, his arms resting behind his head.

Izzy’s eyes widened and she quickly muttered out, “Wait you’re hiding something! What is it! Are you letting us go on a mission?”

West let out a chuckle before pushing off the base of the tree, “You sure know how to ruin my dramatic moment Bellarina, but yes. Kole and I talked it over and we’ve decided you all are ready.”

Cheers erupted for the group, all of them high fiving and hugging, but it was short lived as Kole cut off their celebrations. “But before we can do that, you all need to think of codenames.”

And in the next few hours a team was born. Aidan took on the alias of Thermal. His counterpart Cora choose the name Frostbite. Aria became Whirlwind. Kole wanted to just be Coyote, but opted for Jackal after being called “basic”. West decided on Night Howler, which left little Izzy picking up the mantle of Disappearance.

———————-

Back to present

It was a silly thought that a bunch of orphan kids with abandonment issues could become a group of crime fighting superheroes, and West was aware of that, so he found a loophole for his pack’s dreams. The so called ‘crusade’ was less about putting criminals in prison and more directed towards helping the little guys. Each mission West deemed safe enough for his tiny group of heroes was tailored to protect kids like them.

Most missions were helping lost kids find their way home, which resulted in little confrontation, but occasionally the pack would get antsy, wanting to do more, and that’s when Kole’s ideas came into view. His type of missions consisted of searching for kids posted on milk cartons, or breaking kids out of abusive households.

As the group got older Kole’s missions got more out of hand, but each succeeding. Arrogance soon builded up against the group. They thought they were unstoppable, while West grew more cautious. It was long before Kole brought a new type of mission to the table. A takedown of a laboratory that used kids like lab rats. West vetoed immediately but the rest persisted, threatening to go with or without him. So West had no choice.

———————

6 months ago

14 years old

It was too easy to sneak into the laboratory. The pack thought they were sly, while West remained on edge. He knew this place and it was almost never this quiet. The hallways were deserted, test labs empty. West spoke up about his uneasiness, “Something isn’t right here. We need to turn back now.”

It was Aria who replied, “Are you kidding? There is no one hear! Perfect time to break the kids out!”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Why would a state of the art research lab be left unattended in the middle of broad daylight!” His golden eyes bore into the rest of his teams, but most just deflected it by moving further down the hallway, Kole leading them.

Izzy pulled at West’s arm, her mouth set into a slight frown, “Let’s just patrol around to make sure there isn't anyone here and then we can leave, okay?” He let out a sigh before nodding following Izzy to the rest of the group.

“Okay everyone, we’ll split into pairs, Whirlwind and Frostbite take the left wing, Thermal and I will take the right, Disappearance and Night Howler you guys take downstairs” Kole listed off commands, the others nodding along.

“And don't forget your walkie talkies!”

Kole groaned, walking to the right wing, “God West. Don’t call them that! It sounds so lame.”

Izzy and West ventured their way down stairs, passing a sign that read, “Authorized Personnel Only” and West’s stomach lurched. “Iz, something doesn’t feel right about this…”

“It’ll be fine West. We just need to take a quick look around then we can leave.”

When they reached the bottom a hall lined with doors greeted them, all as seemingly empty as the ones above. “I’ll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right?”

West shrugged in response, “Whatever gets us out of her quicker,” He made his way to the first door, his hand braced on the handle, “Ready?” Izzy nodded in response and together they tour open the first two doors, “Nothing but lab equipment in here. What about you Iz?”

“Same over here.”

They continued with this procedure down the hallway until they reached a single standing door. West’s suspicions remained, but it didn’t stop him from turning the doorknob and peeking into the room. At first glance it seemed like nothing was different than the last room. It was filled with old cobwebs and lab equipment. West took a step over the threshold and immediately a beeping sound started to ring out. His eyes widened at the set of electronic number that appeared amidst the junk. 1:00 1:59 1:58.

He rose his walkie talkie to his lips before he cried out, “There’s a bomb down stairs. Everybody out now!” The door slammed behind him as he gripped Izzy’s arm dragging her to the edge of the hall. Each step they took felt like an eternity, but time remained, each second fleeting from their grasp.

By the time the pair made it to the bottom of the steps Kole’s voice over the communicator echoed through them, “Aiden and I are out. We are still running further away. What’s your status?”

West didn’t reply, instead swiping an unresponsive Izzy’s legs out from under her and into his arms. He held her close as he ascended the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Her eyes filled with tears, the only sound processing was the beeping that rang out across the building. Mocking, teasing.

“Bellarina, It’s gonna be okay. We’re going to get out,” His goal was to calm her fears, like a big brother always should, but he sounded unsure himself. Holding back tears, he finally reached the top of the stairs. He held her closer as he sprinted to the exit.

“West? Where are you? Aria and Cora just joined us. West answer me!”

For every step he took, the opened door seemed two more steps further. His time was running out. Possibly only 10 seconds left, if he was counting right. In a last hope to save his little sister he threw her towards the exit with the last of his energy before collapsing to the ground. She fell to the ground with a thud, just shy of the door. West yelled, cried even for her to run, but she didn’t get the chance.

The beeping silenced, almost giving the two a saving grace, but in an instance the floor underneath the erupted. The ground shattered, the ceiling crumbling onto them. Then everything went dark.

Izzy gasped, her eyes flying open. She took in her surroundings, seeing nothing but fire, rubble and… red. That’s when she saw him. She wanted to run to him, but her foot was caught under a flaming beam of wood. Her panicked eyes searched the area for a shadow, finding one a few inches from him. Her eyes squeezed, blending into her shadow, soon appearing in front of her brother.

West was barely conscious, his eyes fluttering between a state between open and closed. Dirt and ash covered his face, scratches making him red. The rest of his body was crushed under pieces of rubble from the building and lab equipment. Izzy was quick to put all her energy into freeing from his imprisonment.

He chuckled weakly, “Hey look at that Iz… You s-shadow traveled. I-I’m so proud.”

Tears fell from her violet eyes, as she managed to rip the last piece of equipment off of him. Her arms pulled him close to her. Her arms entangled around his body. Both red and black blood mixed and she held her older brother closer to her, “I-I gotta get you out of here. The other m-might know we’re down-”

West’s head shook, his ears drooping down, “I-It’s no use I-Izzy…” His hand raised slowly, reaching her face. His thumb stroked her cheek, smearing red across it, “Let the others know I love them okay?”

“No no no no no. You’re o-okay! You’re going to be okay,” Her head spinned as she searched for any sign of hope. With none in sight she screeched out, “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP HIM!”

West cupped her cheek again, tearing her eyes back to his, “Isabella, I n-need you to l-listen okay?” She let out a dry sob, her voice cracking, “Don’t b-blame yourself… D-Don’t let anyone blame themselves.” He took in a shaky breath before continuing, “I loved being apart of this family, a-and I want you all to m-move on.”

Teardrops fell on to his chest, stinging the cuts, but he pushed aside as he grabbed Isabella’s hand. “You s-saved me! I should be able to save you!” Her voice was hoarse, but she continued to scream out for help. A squeeze from his hand made her stop.

“I-I love you B-Bellarina… Don’t f-forget that…”

His hand lost its grip, his head fell, now resting on her useless leg. For the next few moments she watched helplessly has he took in one last breath, his eyes closing with his exhale. She screamed, but this time there was no one to stop her.

————————

Present time

Bella took in a deep breath as she approached the edge of a cliff. It had been several hours since she collapsed and the moon had risen on the horizon, giving her strength to move on. The mud had rubbed off her skin, exposing her scars. Her leg had finally healed, but the burn marks never faded.

She looked out to see the buzzing city below her. She was finally free. Free from Kole’s control. Free from the scornful looks of Aiden and Cora. Free from Aria’s torment. Free to live a life West would want.

About Me

A little introduction to the blogger (aka me) and the kind of content that you can expect from this blog. Hope you enjoy! Now, lets get this started!

Who Are You?

My internet name is calliecatt93 (I know my Tumblr name has only one t, ignore that), but you can call me Callie~

How Long Have You Been On Tumblr?

It will be officially six years on September 6th. I actually created the account months earlier, but I honestly do not remember the day. But that was the date that I actually began to use the site, so I consider it the official anniversary date.

How Old Are You? What Do You Identify As? What Hogwarts House Are You In?

You can find all of that info in the blog’s description box on the left side of the page. 

How Did You Get Involved On Tumblr?

I had been browsing websites like Deviantart, Livejournal, and various forum sites for years. I stumbled upon Tumblr and it seemed like a fun place to talk about my fandoms. So I created the account, but ended up not using it. I think I honestly just forgot about it. At the time, I was huge into a kids show called WIld Kratts and discovered that there was a pretty good sized fandom for it on here. So I decided to try and get involved, which led me to using the blog mroe for various other kinds of things. It’s been an up and down road, but I’m very happy with my blog and I have overall really enjoyed my time here.

Current Fandoms?

The main ones right now are Red vs Blue, RWBY, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter, Miraculous Ladybug, Wild Kratts, and Disney. Previous major ones have included Sailor Moon and TMNT 2012. This list can shift at anytime, deending on whatever I get into. When it changes, I will update both this and the blog description. But to put it simply, my blog focuses on many fandoms, hence the term panafandom.

Are You Political?

I have political stances, yes. I will talk about/reblog political and social justice issues when I feel that it is necessary to get involved. WI try not to do it too much however because I do want my blog to be a safe space, including for myself. The main thing you need to know is that I hate President Trump. If you can at least respect that, all is good~

Blog Content?

The majority is reblogs of various fandoms and other topics. I also write reviews for shows as they are airing. It works in two phases. There are my Lightning Round Thoughts posts that is pretty much a liveblog in bullet point form about my thoughts as I watch a thing. The second phase is my longer, more concrete review where I go more in depth into what happened, my thoughts about it, and any speculation that I may have. I am also trying to review past seasons/movies as well. The blog is mainly a cartoon blog, as that is where my passion is.

Why Do You Like Cartoons?

I have loved cartoons since I was a young child. I still remember being a three year old and watching my Cinderella VHS tape. People used to tell me that one day, I would outgrow it and that it was for children. But I never did. TO me, animation is more than just some mindless genre that keeps your kids entertained for an hour. Animation is a form of art that allows one to go outside the bounds of reality and do whatever they want. Yeah they can be funny, but they can be adventurous, dramatic, heartbreaking, and even scary. Animation is a medium, not a genre. Many people work incredibly hard to create various animations and it always feels like Hollywood never gives those people the credit that they deserve. Cartoons have always been a major part of my life, from the classic Looney Tunes to the Cartoon Cartoons to newer web animations. It has brought me more comfort and taught me so much mroe than anything else in my life. It’s even inspired me to one day become a voice actress, who I believe are the most talented people in Hollywood. It’s just... incredibly important to em and the more people I can get to respect this medium, the better.

Anime?

Yes, I am a huge fan of anime. My first ever fandom, Sailor Moon, was an anime. I admit that I don’t watch as much as I used to, but I admire Japan for treating animation seriously. Imo, they are the masters of animation.

NSFW/Profanity Policy?

I curse. A lot. And that include the F word. I try not to use it too much, but yes I use naughty words. Blame Rooster Teeth. As far as NSFW goes, at most I reblog some bloody artwork and mild sexual stuff. VERY mild. Whenever I do, I try to give it the appropriate ‘nsfw’ tag. I do have a limit however and overall, I do NOT allow NSFW content on here.

Asks/Submissions/Messaging?

My ask box is always open and has Anon enabled. You are free to open my ask box up and send me any asks whenever you would like. I will do my best to answer them, but I also have the right to not answer them and delete them as I see fit. Submissions are the same deal. You are free to send me anything as long as it isn’t any kind of negative/NSFW content. Only wholeosme content here people. Messaging... here’s the thing with me. I only answer messages of people I have followed/who have followed me for an extensive period of time. This is due to me having a bad case of social anxiety. I get incredibly nervous about talking to new people, especially if I don’t know them. If I don’t respond, it is nothing at all personal and I will try. But if I don’t, it s likely because my nerves were too much. The best way to reach out to me/talk to me so that I feel more comfortable is to use my ask box. 

Why Do All Of Your Posts Have Typos?

I have a motor skill disability, and possibly dysgraphia. To put it simply, I have bad dexterity and I can’t write/type as well as most people. I do try to edit all my posts, but sometimes (aka all the time) I end up missing things that I don’t catch until WAAAAY later. I apologize in advance and I do try to fix the errors when I catch them. Please be patient with me in that area.

Other Interests?

Outside of animation/blogging, my main passion is singing. Along with voice acting, my ultimate goal is to become a singer. I also like to write and I am trying to create three original works and I have ideas for a fourth. Whether I’ll ever actually post them, IDK. I also like cuddling with my cats and looking at cute baby animal pictures. Something else that you will see on this blog frequently.

Goal As A Blogger?

As I said, I ultimately want this to be a safe space not just for others who find it, but for myself. This is one of the few places where I feel okay expressing myself, what I love, and my opinions about things. But mainly, I just want the blog to be a fun place for the people who stumble across it.Even fi it’s just to laugh at me and my silly opinions over cartoons, as long as someone is enjoying themselves son here. IDK how well I do with that, but I have fun doing it. In a way, I guess that’s what matters in the end.

Where Else Can I Find You?

Links to my Twitter and Archive Of Our Own profile are in the sidebar. I’m not on Twitter all that much, which I’m trying to do better with, but feel free to follow/message me! I also have a Discord, but I’m weary of giving that away unless I recognize you. Otherwise, here on Tumblr is where I mainly hang out.

Do You Ever Wonder Why We’re Here?

Well, it’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?

This page will be updated whenever either things change or when I think of something else to add. Thank you all for reading and I hope that this answered nay potential questions you may have for me. I hope that you all will enjoy the blog!

Life Story Part 62

When I left the alt. school, I took with me three books unintentionally from the school – which turned out being great for me, and it probably didn't hurt the school too much (in any case I went back and returned them a year later). The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter, The Painted Bird, and Native Son. In a way, I look back at these three books as having a very big impact on who I am, and I suppose it's in part because I think these books are fantastic and in part because books in general were replacing contact with other people. But a lot of my later insight was built off the ideas of the books I read for these years of my life They are hard to put into words. They effected my psychologically.

I was taken to go get my GED – so at least I would have that. I figured it would be easy enough. They in later years set up the tests a lot harder with mandatory classes you had to take for about four months, but when I got my GED it was definitely easy. I arrived early at the LCSC college, was taken down long confusing downstairs twisty college hallways. Most of the rooms were empty and silent. I wondered what schools did with all these empty rooms and facilities. I suppose they all serve a function and may not always  be empty, but they were that morning. I was put into the room they had mistakenly thought I was supposed to go to – and then twenty minutes in they realized I was not there for the courses. I was there to test out and I was in the wrong room. So I was lead into a room where I now had fifteen minutes to finish mathematics testing that I should have had all that other time I wasted in the other room for. Fortunately, I finished and passed it. Not with flying colors mind you, but it got finished. The rest of the tests were essentially basic grammar and being able to assess information that you read tests. I made a day of it, and I got out of there passing. Getting my GED wasn't ideal of course as opposed to a high school diploma, but given the circumstances, I still felt as though I had achieved something. I had at least – some filed away fact about the legitimacy of my basic abilities, and something to show for twelve years of getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to go to school five days a week.

I worried about fighting with my dad. We didn't fight, at least not that fall from what I remember, but I felt especially vulnerable given my new found set of circumstances that basically left me stranded with no future. I no longer had school to go to, or any friends to turn to. The idea of going out and becoming a musician on my own now felt a bit silly. I had to sort of face up to the fact that some of my younger teenage dreams didn't seem quite the same to me as they once had. It felt as though something had come and taken everything away from me. I felt very distant a lot of the time. I felt very alone. In a sense I enjoyed it. At best it had that pleasant tingly feeling of being in a quiet house that has been full of people for several days, and they just left, and now you are alone and you can hear the ticking of the clock and your own heartbeat and everything in the fridge is yours. I guess I was emotionally exhausted. I didn't know who I was really. I mean, I did know to an extent who I was, but I didn't at the same time. This was the first time I think I consciously realized that we can be more than one person when we are by ourselves, if we are with a significant other, coworkers, friends, a grocery store, in a position of authority, with our parents individually and together. I am particularly divided in this regard. There is no telling who I am actually. It can be a little frightening and confusing for me to this day. Identities are very fleeting, but seem very real and unshifting in the ever present moment.

Because of the fact that I was afraid of the emotional violence towards me from my father, I flirted with the idea of moving to my mom's. Allison and David would be left sure, but my mom worked a lot at the nursing home, these really long shifts that nurses sometimes work that are sixteen hours with a small break. I guess there are times when watching over the patients is relatively easy – like you can sit down and stuff, but still – who wants to be at work that long? My mother has/and does volunteer to take absurd amounts of hours whenever she can. She will go several months without a day off at these understaffed facilities. She didn't get paid all that well at the nursing homes she's worked at, but she worked so much that she managed to have money. And when she wasn't working, she was of course doting on her boyfriend Danny. She ended up getting this very cheap rundown apartment on the outskirts of town in some old buildings that were built in the seventies that occasionally got the cops called. It was for the most part quiet. I didn't mind the apartment or the occasional noises of the neighbors, in fact I rather welcomed the sound of people running water. I didn't feel so out of touch or alone. I don't know. The sound of people doing something in the next apartment has always given me this strange tingly sense of comfort.

I would be alone all the time in this apartment when I visited, sometimes for nights on end. There was no internet. We did have about forty channels of cable, most of them totally boring, but seeing as I was raised without television I found it really a step up for me to have it going. I sometimes would watch the History channel when there was history, or I would watch the travel channel or ghost hunting shows. I took a strange comfort in listening to insane religious infomercials in the middle of the night. I surely cannot be the only one that thinks there is something perfectly insane about television. Like, TV rapidly changes the dialogue or the premise for your thoughts. It subconsciously has recreated the thinking patterns of modern man – it's an altered image of our own creating that has taken the reigns and decided to recreate us. The media and it's effect fascinates me. I am not even per say going about that thought on the preconceived notion that television is bad and we should all be doing something else (though we probably should). I am just fascinated about the underlying psychology of it and how mindless it is. It made me feel extremely comfortable and unsettled and mysteriously empty at the same time. I like that madness and I do not.

It was a one bedroom and the bedroom was filled to the top with my mother's boxes – and it would never in my entire time with that place, ever be something you could call a proper bedroom, though people did manage to fit a mattress in there. My mother would sleep on the couch when she was home. She set up a bunk bed in the corner of the living room where I would generally sleep – and Allison and David when they came over. She always blasted the television so loud – and I found that rather frustrating to sleep through. On a good night she would turn it to old movies. So randomly in the night I would hear that old screamy noise from the intense moments of old movies. I would listen to Clark Gable or Bette Davis professing their love, or hear Shirley Temple hear once again that her parent had died and the innocent sobbing that came with that. I rather like old movies and could sleep any old time I wanted now, so it was okay for the most part. But she would also watch Lord of the Rings, and though I sort of like Lord of the Rings okay, it could get a little obnoxious. You would listen to Gimley's lines over and over. How many times did I wake up to Soromon and Gandalf the Grey having it out? She would set it on repeat. I would eventually sneak out of bed and try to turn it off, but as soon as I tried that she would wake up and be cantankerous about it.

I didn't exactly live at my mom's at this point, but I stayed there about half the week most of the time. My father had the internet while my mom did not. My mother didn't even know what the internet was fully, so I could not convince her to spend her money on it. I was mostly divided for this reason. I had to keep up with Sarah and I simply had to tend to my MySpace account. Just thinking of all those MySpace notifications gave me this strong incentive to never want to leave the computer. Having this time to myself though held a lot of value for me as well. It gave me sense of childlike peace I had almost forgot about for the years I had spent in school, living in delirious anger or despair about boys or longing for some big dream of the future. I had forgotten how to enjoy the small details. And in that I had lost my ability to really achieve anything since everything that ends up being big starts out being pretty small. I remember spending hours watching Bob Ross, just like I had when I had been four. I remember Jenni telling me that I was likely going to waste my time when I left school, and maybe she was more right than not, but I had to argue that I needed this time. Or I would listen to Neil Young, who was a new and permanent fixture of my musical existence. I would listen to Down By the River sometimes three or four times in a row. I connected with his guitar style very deeply.

I went to the nursing home with my mom on a couple of occasions. It was a very weird experience. Personal aspects about who my mother actually is to me aside, her working in the kind of jobs that she does really gave me this strong understanding of our society as a whole. Because she worked with the feeble, the mentally disabled, the unstable and the dysfunctional folks that we pay not to see. This is what we do in modern society. We hide it away. Just like we hide from death and decay in most everything we do. It's not something I particularly like to think about either, but we do it to the point of being dishonest with ourselves. We are afraid of it happening to us. I know that European sometimes saw the elderly differently. They were seen as examples of God cursing the wicked, or sometimes those with schizophrenia were seen to be possessed by God, or Lucifer himself. Nazi's would likely have done away with a society that cared for the unwanted and elderly by killing them in many cases had they won World War 2.

I got used to a lot of the elderly patients in the home. The atmosphere in the morning was very strange. These old people were unlike anything I was used to. It fascinated me that they all used to be highschoolers just like I had not long ago been. They had all had lives. And this was the end. One of them would be walking around the room. It would take him forty minutes to make one round. Some of them didn't move or blink anymore. They all seemed highly aware of me though. They all stared at me intently. Their eyes were gleaming with fascination. One old man named Olly who was senile would like his lips sadistically with this mad glint in his eyes as he looked at me. It was the most perverted look I have ever received – but I let it pass realizing his mind was gone. I am sure the teenage Olly would have been horrified by old man Olly's behavior towards women.

There was also an old man named Lou. He had had a stroke that had turned him from a fully functional elderly man who still chopped and brought in his own wood to a sort of vegetable. He would begin speaking randomly in this loud clear voice that was alarming in the quiet room, but it would soon fizzle out into the most insane gibberish I have ever heard. It was language and it was not at the same time. I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of it. It always degraded from gibberish into this weird buzzing noise that didn't sound even human. He would be silent then for five minutes before starting up again. I asked my mom about it, and she didn't seem as curious about what he was trying to say. Maybe I am more curious than most, and she had probably seen a lot of old folks come and go and she was pretty used to it.

Allison sometimes went too, but we always went on separate days. I don't know that the facility really wanted my mother's entire family coming in. Allison made friends with this old woman named Raquel. She didn't understand English, but it didn't particularly matter because she didn't understand very much. Her family did come and see her frequently which was good to see. She was a very sweet lady – though very far gone mentally. She would giggle and clap her hands in delight when Allison even used one or two Spanish words. It was also very easy to make her cry. She was afraid of spoons and nobody knew why. Getting her to eat was a challenge.

The old lady that latched onto me was this ninety five year old ex school teacher from I imagine the thirties through seventies named Jenny. It was amazing to look at her and know she had been around for so long. She had been born before world war one. She had been alive when pictures were black and white, and people danced to Al Bowlly and Glen Miller and stuff like that. I was told that she had been a very strict teacher in her day, and she had been a perfectionist. She first came up to me because she wanted me to straighten things in the room. She had lost most of her clarity and could no longer reason very well or speak very much, but she still knew when something was wrinkled or crooked. She was too old to fix these things herself and they must have constantly been eating at her that she no longer had control to do anything about it. So she came up to me and pointed to the corner of the table. The table cloth that was set up was slightly wrinkled. I went over and straightened it. She then started pointing to other tables, to random things in the room that were ever so slightly askew. If it was reasonable, I would attempt it. Occasionally she would point to someone's shirt, or to something hanging up on the ceiling and I would have to gesture that I couldn't do it.

The one thing I ever heard her say was she started calling this one other older woman who was there fat. It was a bit alarming. Jenny was of course too old to scold. The woman in question was this very obese woman who could no longer stand. She wasn't as old as the others were, but she had nobody to care for her and was eventually taken to this home which I imagine was very hard. Jenny would look at this other woman with this bitterness in her eyes, and she would sort of croak, FAT! And she would point at her as though she expected I might be able to do something about it or I would agree with her. I felt a little sheepish and embarrassed. It amused me though to realize that she had probably been that way her entire life. I imagine she had had this prejudice when she was a capable young school teacher. I stated earlier that identities are fleeting, but at the same time can really stick to our core perceptions of the world. It also was amusing to me, because I generally came in wearing a hoodie, and for that reason I could use my hands in my pockets to stretch the hoodie over my own belly. It seemed that in Jenny's mind, as long as there were no wrinkles in the clothing, and you couldn't see the fat, that therefore meant that there was no fat.

Lastly, there was this quiet mysterious woman who always sat in the corner. I never had any dealings with her directly. She was incredibly tiny. I guess she wasn't that old. She was in her early sixties, however, she had drank her mind away. She had once been a San Francisco hippie, well read with a liberal arts degree. But she couldn't put down the alcohol, and it took her mind away. What was really so shocking about her was that she had this flowing beautiful straight shiny hair without a single bit of gray in it. It looked honestly straight from an ad in a magazine. It would have been striking in a crowd of random people my age, let alone, on this vacant old lady in the nursing home. As far as I know, the only person who ever visited with woman was her ex husband, who would come in sometimes baring flowers.

Honestly, my mother was one of the nicer nurses. I never saw any mistreatment of the older folks who lived here, but there was an impatience in the eyes of most of the orderly. Allison eventually had to stop going because she got openly mad at one nurse who was aggressively and angrily trying to make Raquel eat from the spoon that she was afraid of. She started yelling at Raquel which made Raquel cry and throw herself on the ground. The woman was even angrier then, and she kept shouting at Raquel even though it was clear that Raquel didn't understand and had obviously not chosen this for herself. My mother came over and smoothed it over, but Allison ended up getting in this nurse's grill and it was unsaid after that, but my mom stopped bringing us.

I don't know why at this point my mom was dating Danny still. He was completely degrading. The situation was degrading. I didn't particularly care at this point, but it was degrading to watch. She would sometimes come home drunk, and it just seemed sad. She seemed uncertain if he even loved her or liked her at all. He would do the thing where he pushed her away and insinuate that they were no longer a couple, but then when she gave him space, he would call her up in the middle of the night accusing her of cheating on him. He was still cheating on her when he could get away with it. I sort of wanted to punch him in the face. He was still calling her stupid and gaslighting  her. And yet, their meaningless relationship went on and on. I remember once she came to pick Allison and David up on Friday after school to come to her house for the weekend. We went to the store to get our cheap ass dollar store food and cheap ass TV dinners and maybe some cheap ass dollar menu McDonald's (if we were lucky [gross]), and maybe a carton of cheap ass ice cream, and he drove by her house, noticed that the motorcycle helmet he bought her was no longer by her door and accused her of going out on a night ride with some other dude she didn't even know. He kept calling her and demanding she tell him the truth. I felt incensed enough to yell in the background while she was on the phone to confirm that yes, we were with her – it was Friday and that is what we all did on Fridays and in any case it was none of his business. He then accused all of us of being liars.

Soon after this, we were driving her car to go get Allison and David one night. It was getting to be winter  yet again and it got dark early. It was pitch black and probably not even eight pm yet. About four miles out of town with all of us in the car, the vehicle broke down in a very inconvenient place. There was nowhere we could legally park where we wouldn't get towed. We were not strong enough to push the car anywhere. My mother didn't have money to pay for someone to tow the vehicle. We were left in this conundrum. We had no one else to call except for Danny. He was amused and mean spirited about it over the phone. He seemed to want to use this as an opportunity to berate my mother on how worthless and stupid she was, which of course pissed me off, but furthermore was not helpful in any way. In an attempt to maybe bypass having to pay a towing company, my mother decided to push the car into gulch on the side of the road. It wasn't that deep, and she figured it would be cheaper to pay to have it towed out of that one area than it would to pay the money it would take to bring it all the way to the place where they take cars, which was quite a ways away. When Danny came to pick us up, he called my mother stupid for having done this. She then began talking in her pathetic baby talk voice, saying she had made a stupid mistake, and she should have not done that. Which Danny then told her was also a stupid idea. Basically, nothing she could have done was right. She apologized for calling him to have us pick us up, which he then humbly told us all was not a problem since he was 'a nice guy'. But then he just continued to berate her about any of the options. It got to the point where she was cornered and no matter which option she chose, she was stupid for it. He had never been quite so open about his psychological abuse around me before this. I had tried to hold my tongue initially. We all just wanted to get home, come what may – but it was getting to the point where I definitely couldn't listen to this anymore, and I was confused in a very technical way of what he was even trying to say logically. So I was like '..So, like, she couldn't just turn the car back on and continue driving. She had few options given the situation. She had those two options pretty much. There were not any better ones. What is it you think she should have done? I don't know what you are trying to say and I don't appreciate how many times you have called her stupid.' He got really annoyed then and sort of backed off. He low key accused us all of 'ganging up on him'. After this, I don't know that I ever had any personal contact with Danny at all, though my mother continued to see him for a time.

My mother ended up having a bunch of legal troubles for her driving. She had driven for years without insurance.  She didn't drive horribly, but she wasn't always a decent driver either. It started one night while driving back to Lewiston and there was this sting operation in Lewiston that night, about a month after my mother's vehicle had ended up getting towed regardless. We actually got pulled over for going two miles over the speed limit. It was more or less some excuse to pull everyone over. People were getting pulled over left and right and searched. There were a bunch of state police driving about. She not only didn't have proof of insurance on her, but she also didn't have her license on her at the time. My mother seems to not understand cops very well. She started telling the cop about how she was divorced and had to find work that she could barely feed us with on the weekends, and how she worked in nursing homes and had two older daughters and grandchildren and on and on.

The cop looked at her blankly and  bored, with no interest in her life story. I was a bit embarrassed for her actually since he wasn't going to let her off on the basis of anything related to her life as it was. He stated that he would have thrown her in jail if she hadn't had me, David and Allison with her. He wrote her up heavily. He then demanded that I get out of the car to be searched. I don't know that I would have minded on the account that I had nothing on me – though, on looking back. I don't trust that he might have slipped something on me. It would have been highly unlikely, but you never know. Fortunately for me, my mother started getting mad and telling him he was not allowed to search me. I was her daughter and he needed to leave me alone. He was caught off guard, his attitude softened and he complied. So we had to take a taxi home. Which ended up being really awful, because when we were nearly at the apartment, she realized she had left the apartment key and her wallet in her car that she needed to pay the taxi, so we ended up driving all the way back to the car. It costed sixty or seventy dollars.

She ended up driving anyway, and getting pulled over three times. The cop who kept pulling her over liked her car, and wanted her to sell it to him and kept asking every time, so she stood out like a sore thumb when she was commuting. Her fines were enormous. Then she got a  DUI from her drives home from the bar. Which I actually did understand since driving drunk is legitimately awful and dangerous. She eventually started walking home or getting rides which was good I guess. She tried to fight the DUI given she wasn't that high over the legal limit. In her fantastical silly vision of the world, she took this fighting back against her DUI as some kind of courtroom drama where she was going to change history by proving to the courts that the cops were corrupt for collecting money from DUI's and she was innocent and not even drunk. Which didn't work out. All told, I believe she was pulled over in one year period about ten times. Eventually, she got her license back and was insured. But it was a time consuming costly ordeal to say the least. I was in the car with her about six times when it happened, so I started wondering if I was bad luck.

When we weren't getting pulled over, or she was not working, we would sometimes drive up these strange roads that paralleled the Washington side of the Snake River till the sun would go down. In this really hard to describe way, my mother and I have some core similarities even though we function and express ourselves differently. It's not in how we talk (I don't see a lot of my behaviors being all that similar to hers), but I think in an inner self kind of way – like that part of us that exists before there are words to describe it. Like, I can tell that when she looks into the distance at a sunset, she gets that same sparkly delusional romanticism about life that I do. She has the same needs to express herself and live on a certain vibration that is hard for people to understand, feels suppressed by the world – much like I do. And I feel this wasn't something she raised me to be. We didn't do much talking growing up. Like, there is some kind of inner delusional traits that are similar enough to mention. It must be genetic. So even though I know there are elements to my mother that make her a truly awful person – I can't help but feel that kinship. I know what it's like to be one of our kind.

During these mini road trips, she would always want to listen to this Eagles Greatest Hits tape on the tape deck of the van she was driving (she avoided driving her white Camaro now at all costs). I would sing along even though I have never  been quite sure how to feel about the Eagles. On one hand, there is something incredibly cheesy about them. On the other hand, I associate them with a certain love I have for the area I grew up and all the good times I have had with my mother. I hate the culture as well as all the limitations of growing up where I did, but there is a certain love I have for the mountains and greenery of northern Idaho and the dry eastern Washington deserts, the dingy gas stations, the quiet streets at night, the rivers. The sky looks different somehow in every area you are in. I don't know why. Both of us were terrible singers, but it almost made it even funner and I will admit that I never tried to sing well in these situations. One time, skip to years later, we were singing You're So Vain by Carly Simon which was on the radio and for some reason I had a tape recorder in the car with us, and we decided to tape record ourselves singing, just the two of us. So we drove around just singing our hearts out, and we eventually ended up in some strange dead end part of Clarkston. We stopped at an empty church parking lot to listen back to our singing, and though we knew it was going to be bad, neither of us even imagined just how much worse it was than even our lowest of expectation. We both shrieked, and decided to never tell anyone what we had created. This is the first time I have ever mentioned it to anyone as a matter of fact.

I still spent a good deal of time at my father's however. Allison and I would share a bed to stay warm in the winter nights, and we would often talk till midnight or later. I ended up finding The Kink's album, The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society, and I adored that album, and grew over time to absolutely fucking adore The Kinks as well. It's unnecessary to make this some kind of contest since they are both decent, but The Kinks were so much better than what they ever got credit for. They were theatrical, experimental, I felt that they stayed decent a lot longer than any of the solo Beatles did – or the Rolling Stones. This isn't to say that the Rolling Stones and the Beatles don't deserve their due, but – had the Kinks not been banned from America for inciting a riot I feel like they would be remember with a lot more clarity for much more than just 'You Really Got Me'.

I would space off a lot and a part of me felt like I was almost living a double life. One side of me was here in the present, eating saltines, feeling poor, dirty, futureless, postmodern without prospects, lost and defining myself only by the past and if I let myself think about it – which I did everything I could not to – completely and totally unlovable and pointless in a very fundamental way where every breath I took seemed totally wasted. But there was this other version of me that lived in the 60's. I liked listening to older music, to Bob Dylan and others. I would reminisce about Woodstock when I most certainly was never there in any fashion. I would imagine a world where the late 70's, 80's, 90's and 00's had never happened at all. I tried to experience what living in that new reality of the 60's must have been like. I suppose I grasped the spirit of it to a certain extent. Though in reality obviously, I was never there, and I was/am very much a person from the age I was born in, whether I like it or no.

Winter was very cold that year I remember. My sister's friend's grandfather Harvey, who was mentally challenged and lived at the end of town found this cattle dog outside his house that winter. She was starving and sick. She seemed to have been dropped off by someone to die. Her leg was broken. Harvey had a problem with animals in the town swarming his home since he left food out frequently for some of the cats, and I believe he was afraid of dealing with this poor dog, so he ignored her and refused to feed her – probably taking on a false sense of harshness he gathered from the truckers down at the diner downtown who often bragged of taking unwanted kittens, putting them in a bag, tying that back to a brick and throwing that bag into the icy river. Harvey I suppose really just didn't know how to feel, or what to do in a number of different situations, this being a tragic example. My father didn't like the idea of that poor docile dog dying out there at the end of town, so he volunteered to take her in, and for a time we had a pet dog.

She was a very sweet girl. She was a little skittish, and you could tell that she was afraid of men, who had likely abused her. She never tired of being pet. Her leg was really messed up. It looked as though it had been broken, and had grown wrong, and wasn't very usable. She had a swollen bump on her chest that didn't look good. We tried to wash her, but she just wasn't well enough for a lot of that. And she smelled too bad to be in the house with us. We set up a bed for her in the back room. We gave her an electric blanket to lay in. I named her Pegasus. She didn't resemble the flying elegant mythological horse in any way – in a great many ways, she was the bitter opposite of mythology. A suffering old dog. I tried to pet her and visit her as often as I could. At some point though she stopped getting up. She stopped eating food. Obviously, dogs are natural gluttons so this gave us the strong indication that something was very wrong with her. She began to smell worse and worse. I pet her anyway. It sort of broke my heart. Someone had known she was sick and had decided to dump her to die alone. She was too old to be anyone's exciting new pet. She also didn't smell too good. But she needed to be cared about just as much as any social creature.

Obviously, we had to take her to the animal shelter eventually. I knew it was the right thing to do. She obviously had cancer. She was old, and her leg being broken as it was would be a major challenge. Her body was shutting down, hence the smell. And still, she was so sweet. I sat in the back seat with her, and pet her the entire trip to the animal shelter. She looked lovingly up to me for much of the time, with this glazed over look. I truly believed that dogs feel love. She cared more about being given affection than she cared about food or even her own freedom. When we got to the animal shelter she couldn't walk and this woman who worked at the pound had to grab her and carry her in. I pet her one last time. She looked scared, though I could tell that the people at the animal shelter felt badly for her, since she was such a sweetheart. Honestly, I am fairly confident they put her down. As I waited for my father to make some kind of of final contribution to her welfare, maybe giving the shelter a few weeks worth of food money, I sat in the area with all the caged up cats. There were so many of them. Some of them hissed at me, many looked at my inquisitive and bored. This one cat in particular was yowling for me desperately. Purring and cherishing every spare second of attention and contact that could be had. I felt so bad for all these animals. I know there are a lot of differences between human being's cognitive awareness and animals, but it was easy to tell all of these animals felt abandoned. I imagine many of them never found homes. I also imagine it would be very hard to work in one of these places, being put into a situation where the most financial and humane thing to do would be to put them all down. It really irks me to no end when people get animals and don't take care of them. I hate it when people don't get their cats neutered and spayed. Ignoring all the animals in the wild we ignore as they go extinct, or the slaughterhouses or whathaveyou, we aren't even good to our own pets. Between abandoned pet dogs and cats that people simple , puppy mills, and so on, we bring these creatures into the world that they cannot survive or thrive in on their own, and they suffer. Call me crazy, but I honestly believe in some wild reforms in pet ownership.

That Christmas was probably the best Christmas I ever had. I had professed that all I wanted for Christmas was paints, canvases and brushes. For whatever reason, possibly guilt from the years my father had primarily bought gifts for girlfriends, he spent close to three or four hundred dollars on Christmas just for me. We went to Michael's and he bought me brushes, every color of high quality acrylic paint I would ever need, several different sizes of canvases. He also bought me some art books, for inspiration. They were these strange little books that presented different kinds of Art. One was simply called The Art Book, and the other was 20th Century Art Book. There was a House book, a Face book (of photographed people). It was from these two little books that I would flip through and study for hours that I got some grasp of what it meant to fill a canvas with pure expression. It was to date I think, easily my favorite Christmas besides a few I experienced as a child because I believed in Santa and all that.

We had a perfect Christmas dinner, and my father had thought to get me Blue Velvet. He didn't know very much about David Lynch, but he knew enough to know that David Lynch was something I would really like. And he was correct. He didn't want Allison and David watching Blue Velvet, so he made them close their eyes when Dennis Hopper's character was being a disgusting pervert. Call me weird, but as long as you have good communication with your children, and given they are eight or older, I am not that strict about what children watch. Obviously not just pure out of context snuff films or porn for the most part. Though I am not apposed to strong violence or sex within context of the story. And i imagine it is possible to put context into what you are watching. For instance, you could show when Saddam Hussein was being hung in context to showing what capital punishment looks like. If you want to eat meat, you should watch the full reality of what the animal goes through. It’s painful, but life was never meant to be jolly.

Raising children into being aware adults, I think it's important for them to grasp complex concepts, moral dilemmas and realities of our depravity and fragility mentally and physically. Media can be a great way to show children this stuff - if put into context - i cannot stress enough. Obviously if your child shows strong levels of delusional behavior than perhaps it's not a good idea. If you child suffers from severe anxiety as well perhaps take baby steps. I mean, it’s individual with each case, but more or less i think you should always present the challenge as best you can.I think earlier than eight a child is more or less in strictly monkey-see monkey-do mode, and it's not useful or desirable to confuse them about what is appropriate when they are still learning how to engage with the world as an individual in a fundamental fashion. My father was trying to be decent by telling Allison and David to shut their eyes, but what I thought was funny was the fact that the disturbing Frank Booth scenes were even worse if you close your eyes and simply listen to his lines. God what a fucked up character.

PART 61 - https://tinyurl.com/ybm99k8o

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Warning depressed overindulgent rant about kids cartoon incoming

I’m cross-posting that’s from spacebattles. You know I really need to start posting some positive s*** about Steven Universe. There’s a reason why it keeps getting my attention. I really love the setup, there are wonderful events, I love that its Aim so well. It’s managed to assemble a number of things as well as had a way of interacting with fans that encourages creativity and a community that produces so much that can be loved and expresses Joy. 

I guess I’m just a natural Grump and I can only talk about things when I’m pissed off or think I’m being smart by dissecting it. Which in my mind means needlessly ranting about every silly little thing that I observe about a work or feel about a work or I feel about the people that I’m watching the work alongside. I understand if this is not the kind of thing that you like. I can also understand if you want to be defensive of the show. Just respect the fact that I’m a person who has watched the show for a bit or just a person at all. But I do want to have some sort of discussion. It is why I am posting this out loud. It’s just with the ramp up for more speculation and another interview I just feel like we’ve been at this dance so many damn times and we’re just being jerked around here. Which of course is the purpose of any work of art. At least serial media. You constantly give just enough so that people feel inclined to come back for more. But I guess well read the rant

Whiteeyes, post: 36894166, member: 314250

No mo, it felt much much worse. See Lost had no answers when it was written. It was created to pile up mysteries for a season or so and then get cancled like Twin Peams and every ither wekrd mystery show so they never had to answer any. It became too popular to cancel and they had to scramble to invent answers. SU has had dorwshadowing and setup as warly as season 1. It knows what it is doing.

 .... I personally think that Steven Universe's character development and pacing is hampered by the fact that it wants to make everything a f****** mystery. This was a characteristic of Lost in a way that it got ridiculous. To the point where things like what's on Jack's tattoo or who is married or who was not or who had a terminal illness that they had known publicly forever and so on and so forth.  

  I think Steven Universe suffers from the same problem. Basic character development, interaction, or what-have-you tends to be put in a mystery box just so that that way we can create drama and then have it emerge later to create a resolution without progress. 

The problem is that while mystery is their main tool in this endeavor to set up interest it's not the only way in which they do this and then be annoying. Now some of this is the fans frothing themselves up.

 relevant example, when we see a title and then flip out about major speculation for a major plot point and then get disappointed when it's basically not so. 

 However I think this is in a part with all of their setup plot developments. As an example the return of Marty.  

  I actually want to be very fair-minded here. The Sour Cream situation identity and everything about him was very carefully set up over the course of a year and it actually made sense for once that he was a relatively new char in Stevens life. He's apparently older, runs with a different crowd, all that stuff. 

Marty comes back for one episode 

Not only do they run the most cliched plot imaginable about a deadbeat father and artsy dreamer son and the man who doesn’t get their passion but they do this basically to setup a virtue signal and reconcile sour cream and yellowtail in perhaps the worst way imaginable. In the first episode they actually share a scene.

But they don't share a scene in anyway proceeding to their actual reconciliation. All of that is cut aside just so that we can get to our cute little happy ending. This kind of ran things into the ground for me in some ways. Everybody defends moves of aborted long-term plot like this by saying that Steven Universe is more about people and characters and it is not about big plot twists and Sci-Fi Action. 

That might be true but they're doing that character and living the life stuff in a bad way as well. By not having the family reconcile but by having Yellowtail basically come around and agree because Sour Cream suddenly has a villain for Yellowtail to prove immediately better than.

  For a show that's often praised for its diversity and lack of stock archetypes this was too cliche    You see this time and again with long setup plot points whether it's the eventual return and revelation of the backstory of lapis Lazuli, the face off with the cluster, and others- That isn't to say all long-term plot points have fallen on their face but a lot of them have and it seems as if what succeeds or what gets the necessary follow-up is arbitrary and random

This isn't the usual complaint of "this is filler! where is the plot?" This happens whether it's character Focus-interaction that often feels as if it's taking forever to happen or gets bogged down in Mindless drama such as the entire relationship between Sadie and Lars to the point that Lars doesn't feel as if he has a real character until these last 7 or so episodes. 

He was basically the Grump. A cartoon stock archetype, a television stock archetype, a place talk archetype. 

You didn't have to think about why he was grumpy because there was no reason other than to make him and grumpy.  And remember this is the longest term character that's been on the show (was in the pilot) and he had a ridiculously thin characterization.

 All of this would still be bad even if he didn't have a plot line that made me cringe 

mackon, post: 36912103, member: 9256

Sure there are a lot of scenarios where the Zoo could be where it is and Pinks holdings only cover the solar system but just looking at what we have seen so far it looks like Pink administrated space covers more -shrug- How the Gempire is governed is sure to be more complex than X diamond runs this area and Y diamond runs that area anyway.

 And this just all ties it together. We get all of this stuff that's supposed to matter then push it all to the side and then come up with confrontation that's in many ways not satisfying because there's no build-up or it's just confusing or inevitably leads to more stupid questions that aren't even asked in the show.    I guess what makes this so frustrating is that the show has great set up. it does set up very well. But every time, or at least many times, when it's time for the payoff for those Domino's to go it always goes off like a bad fart. 

All of these are pointing to the same issue. . .

For some people this is the climax of The Cluster. For others It's the Return of Marty. For others it's The Search For Answers.  Some others feel disappointed because they think that there hasn't been enough queer text in the show. Others feel like characters are often push the Wayside and not given enough time to interact with the world shaking plot.  All of these are pointing to the same issue, broadly speaking. Crewniverse throws something in the air but they don't follow through. Or they passport or just suddenly resolve something with another IOU. 

The weird part is when they do this with a plot point they say that it's about the people. But Fusion Cuisine (wryyyyy) I think keeps hurting me because it's the episode that proves they don't respect people and character interaction.   

 Character interaction has to have consequences. Those consequences can be negative.  It can be positive but it has to arise and seem to follow from each other. Subtle or flagrant but the consequences of character interaction, if having dramatic focus, have to be observable and meaningful. Instead, all too often, we see artificial ways in order to create drama and then arbitrarily end or ignore it. For some people this is Stevens disturbing naivete childish behavior when he supposed to be a mid teenager. The lack of follow-up questions or the way that plot points will conveniently go off screen for months at a time only to then pop up in order to keep up interest and tease us and then come off with a lack of resolution despite lots of build up to no change or wasted opportunity.  

I think one thing that's bothering me is the reintroduction of there being some mystery to the death of Pink Diamond and Rose Quartz's crime against her. We've been here. already.  we know what the answer is supposed to be. And yet apparently there's a new mystery. 

Only I bet this new mystery is going to end up just as dissatisfying as “What is Lapis’s backstory?” or “How are we going to find Malachite?” or “How are we going to resolve The Cluster?” or “How will Beach City recover and her people deal with overwhelming change and trauma of an unnatural disaster?”

This shows up in other ways such as the not taking care of the Rubies when they have a ship. Or the fact that Homeworld keeps taking its sweet damn time in order to take care of the Crystal Gems and Earth even when it keeps on being a hostile instigator in the lives of the gems.    

And I think Fusion Cuisine is emblematic of this fault with regards to character stories and showing that statement about character over grand plots as a poor excuse. They will create a situation that literally doesn't require any crisis which won’t be treated or result as one. The family just needed basic common sense or respect, even between strangers, and then they won't follow through on the natural consequences of the family’s disrespectful lies or dangerous actions. 

And underlying this is a sense of- I don't know-  condescension or virtue signaling? On one level the Crewmiverse really do follow through on the implication that yes Steven has a queer family. On the other it feels as if they've set up the Maheshwarens as strawman that they've spent the rest of their appearance just being someone in order to goof with. I still claim this due to the fact that Dr. Maheshwaren is treated as if she's overprotective or crazy because controls her daughter media consumption; when connie lied to her (twice) regarding her experiences and activities with STeven and his family.  She lies about taking dangerous lessons from a person who partook in an assault of her daughter and has expressed bigoted opinions of her race -as in the human race- for months. This disobedience, to make Connie a fighter, is Justified because the story made Dr. Maheshwaren too damn stupid to notice not only does her daughter not wear her glasses anymore but that the three limbed candy colored being with no heartbeat is a gem Fusion and Connie saves her from it.   So the resolution is Connie NEEDS to be a sword fighter for the growing dangers of the Cluster.

 only we remove that as a valid point 

 For a show that keeps purporting being about togetherness, the cast herding and other things kind of put that as a lie. And Fusion Cuisine is an exemplary of this. It exists for a lot of reasons, but the number one thing it ends up doing is helping justify this sense of distance between humanity and the gems and completely ignoring ways in which they can come together and be understood.  Or conflict and come to resolution and understanding. So the character conflicts and development feel artificial or low stakes or superfluous and the plot and combat and Magic feels as if its always being sandbagged for these meaningless character beats.

 I think the show is going to lose me.    And I don't think there's any big thing that it can do now to convince me. It's spent so much of the goodwill and belief from its initial run and set up.  It has undermined all of it set up when it's actually gotten anywhere. I no longer trust the show to turn out to be well. At least in a way that I think will be satisfying for when they pull another “wait until you see the payoff for this” move AGAIN. And I suspect it's going to keep misfiring in ways while implying that it's so damn clever. 

There's just something incredibly artificial about Lars being captured with Steven and effectively telling all of his emotional issues that I feel like they have not been appropriately Illustrated despite multiple character Focus episodes.    And given the track record on how long it takes to actually engage with plot points or how they can be unsatisfying-ly resolved and then put out the way until they are unsatisfying-ly resolved is also bothersome. 

I was kind of okay with the end of The Cluster but I also understand how that could frustrate some. But one way that I can agree it was bad is we effectively spend all this time setting up the end of the world and the resolution of The Cluster basically put it out of mind and hasn't been Revisited or had any further effect.  The only lasting consequence has been the Turning of Peridot.[and according to some that’s been flattened to irrelevance too] 

So that meant that The Cluster basically existed so that that way we would have something in order for Peridot to oppose to justify her becoming a good person. Which reminds me of how they handled Marty and Sour Cream and Yellowtail and so I'm really really uncomfortable about them trying to go “oh, we're going to be all about character don't be all about the magical Destiny b*******.” only characters remain thin and ignorant and nothing but potential fodder

  Maybe I'm just in a really nasty mood[edit- looking back I was]. But I will say this; I think after this much time the show has set up its relationship with the audience and I think it's made me distrustful and doubtful of its reliability. I don't want any more promotional material. I don't want any more interviews covering for stuff not in the show. I don't want any more teases. I want an actual story executed on the screen in a satisfying manner.    And honestly I think what with the relative Circle walking season 4 and the reintroduction of more complications about mysteries about Rose and more drama about Steven feeling sad and more “Steven is going to have to introduce Humanity to this alien-person” as his own life seems as divorced from Human Experience as possible. 

The artifice of the show is coming out. It's much like how some can't take Game of Thrones seriously anymore. It makes sense to kill off the characters that they have killed off but there's no more emotional investment and we’re getting more and more sense that all of this is a bunch of Sensational nonsense.

[Femslash February]: Flowers

i feel like i’m just going to accept the fact that i’m going to be perpetually a day behind on these things. 

also this took forever to write im off my game today xD

Day 9: Flowers (Alyanette)

Words: 2200

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

[Previous: On Wheels] [Next: Sunlight]

One of the first things Alya learned about Marinette was that she doodled flowers when she was bored. 

They started off as small, blossoming roses in the corners of her notebooks that weren’t any larger than the tip of her pinky. If you left her to it for long enough, she’d wrap vines, leaves, ladybugs, caterpillars, bees, birds, clouds, and more flowers all around the margins of her book. Sometimes, she’d sneak her colored felt pens and highlighters to school and add in whorls of colors and outlandish patterns until her entire notebook page was covered with fields and gardens and windowsills dripping in plants. She’d always take a picture of it on her phone -- to turn it into an embroidery, or a screen print for a t-shirt, or a design for a book cover -- and pout pitifully for Alya to send her copies of her notes. 

It blended seamlessly into the normality that was Marinette -- the color pink, pigtails, the smell of bread, pinpricks on fingertips, different nail polish everyday, humming music under her breath, and doodling flowers in class. 

One day, Alya’s hand was right next to Marinette’s notebook, and Marinette continued the doodle from the edge of the page onto the back of Alya’s hand. Alya raised a brow when she started, but shrugged when Marinette asked if it bothered her. As far as idiosyncracies went, Marinette’s were all rather harmless. Besides, it was rather nice to take notes with one hand and feel the light brush of Marinette’s pen sketching away against her other. 

It always took three washes in the shower to get all the pen out, and her mother kept worrying her with folk knowledge about skin cancer and ink poisoning, but Alya didn’t like showing up to school the next day with the sketches still on her arm. It almost felt like her duty to give Marinette a blank canvas everyday, to encourage her darling little habits that were secretly the highlight of Alya’s day. 

“Why flowers?” she asked Marinette as she added yellows and oranges to the sunflowers she was drawing along the vein inside of her wrist. 

Marinette tapped the end of her pen against Alya’s nose. “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.”

“How flattering,” Alya joked. “Do you sweet talk all of your notebooks like this too?”

“Of course,” Marinette chuckled, extending her horizon down Alya’s arm so she could add another row of flowers. “Nah, they’re just easy to draw. Mindless enough that I can half pay attention to the lesson.”

“You could just pay attention to the lesson and doodle later,” she teased. 

But Marinette gripped Alya’s arm and held it still as sketched. “Noooo, physics is so boring. Besides, you and Adrien are better at explaining it. And god forbid I want my art advertised.”

“To who? My family?”

“Yes. Their approval is very important to me.”

“I actually think my mom loves sunflowers, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Look at that! I’m psychic too! Sometimes I surprise even myself.”

Marinette started taking pictures of Alya’s arms as well, and she’d send them to her at the end of every class. Alya just sort of kept them in their own little album in her phone and flipped through them when she was waiting for the bus or laying in bed at night trying to fall asleep. Sometimes, they were incredibly simple -- like a long chain of tulips wrapping around her wrist. Sometimes, during long periods, Marinette would manage to create abstract drawings filled with rings of daisies with hearts in the middle, swirling clouds that circled fields of violets, and shining suns with beams turning into longer vines of leaves and flower buds that left Alya reeling from the detail of it all. On the weekends, when she knew she wasn’t going to see Marinette the next day, she’d avoid washing it off just so she could trace all the lines and patterns with her fingertips and marvel at the talent. 

It almost seemed like something Alya could force meaning into if she really wanted to. Like those moments where you realize you’re the exception, and your heart wants to add sentimentality where it doesn’t necessarily belong. But it was such a mundane habit the two of them shared, that it seemed silly and self-indulgent to even hope for something like that. Even selfish to demand more of something that was already special and perfect. 

Adrien laughed when she moved to sit next to him in class one day to work on the literature project they partnered up to complete. “Daffodils today, huh?”

“Sometimes I have to look them up online,” Alya said. “She drew amaryllises the other day. I didn’t even know that’s what they were called.”

He gestured for her arm. “Can I see? I was watching while she was drawing on you today, she was concentrating so hard.”

“Yeah, she added butterflies to this one and started getting all crazy with the wings and the lines and stuff,” Alya mused. “It’s pretty with all the red and purple added in, but it’s going to take forever to wash off.”

“Well, that’s Marinette. Putting 110% into everything.” Adrien turned her wrist to the left and squinted at one of the designs. “Huh. I didn’t know she writes things, too.”

Alya frowned. “She doesn’t write anything. Not that I know of anyway...”

Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe I’m just seeing things. Thought for sure that looked like an ‘M’.”

“Where?”

“Right here. Above the bone in your wrist. Next to the tree with the red leaves.”

Alya checked where Adrien was pointing, and sure enough, there did look to be something that resembled an ‘M’ resting just underneath a flower petal that was lying right next to a great tree that took up half of Alya’s arm. “Huh. You’re right. Does look like a letter.”

“Could be just an accident.”

“I dunno,” Alya squinted. “Hard to accidentally draw an ‘M’. Plus, it’s just under the flower lying there out of nowhere.”

Adrien tapped his pen against his lips. “Maybe it’s just her signature, you know? Doesn’t she monogram ‘M’s on everything?”

Alya hummed. “Yeah, she does. But, what, she’s signing my arms now?”

“She did say she wanted you to show off her art,” Adrien chuckled. 

“Well, damn, good to know I’m her new canvas,” she said, pretending to sound annoyed. “I thought she was kidding about that.”

“Marinette doesn’t strike me as much of a kidder,” Adrien said. “I mean you definitely know her more than I do, but it always seems like she’s got a reason for doing something you know?”

Alya ran her thumb across the letter. “Yeah....that’s true.”

She pointed it out to Marinette as a joke the next morning. Marinette contained her smile by biting her lip, dipped her head so that her bangs covered her face, and muttered, “Yeah, that’s me. Signing everything...”

“Guess you’re serious about me advertising your art, huh?”

“Yeah...” Marinette said absently. “I never kid.”

Alya spent the entire walk back to her house from school looking for Marinette’s initial on her arm, wondering where she’d hidden it that day. Except, Alya never found an ‘M’. Instead, she found an ‘E’ written along the vine wrapping around her thumb. The day after that, it was what she was sure was a ‘J’. Then, another ‘E’. 

Was it a message? A word she was trying to spell out? MEJE hardly meant anything, unless she’d caught Marinette in the middle of a word or a sentence. Maybe it was a joke she was trying to spell out, or some silly message that she wanted to sneakily place into her art. Like that time Marinette sent her ten texts that were just pictures that was supposed to say “Please help me I am very hungry and very sad.”

“Maybe it’s in another language?” Nino offers when Alya shows him the ‘T’ on her sleeve of buttercups that Marinette drew on her arm during maths. “Doesn’t she know Chinese?”

“Barely,” Alya smirked. “Plus, wouldn’t she just use characters and not letters?”

“I guess so.” Nino laughed and twisted Alya’s arm around to stare at the design that was looping around all of her fingers today. “Must be something really important. She’s putting a lot of work into these doodles. You might as well get one of these tattooed.”

“Watch it be a meme she found on the Internet the other day. If it is, I’ll kill her.”

An ‘A’ and an ‘I’ came next, and then another ‘M’ before the letters started to repeat. Alya waited until she was home and typed in all the letters she’d gotten so far: MEJETAIMEJ. 

It seemed like nonsense to her at first, and Alya blamed the late hour for making her miss what was so obviously right in front of her face the entire time. But she blinked at the letters right in the middle of the jumble and felt her chest tighten a little. 

JETAIME. 

Je t’aime. 

She had to rewrite all the letters four times over to make sure she didn’t miss one, to make sure they were all in the right order, to make sure that she wasn’t just projecting her feelings onto something as innocuous as silly little messages left in the doodles that Marinette left on her arms. But Alya wasn’t wrong, and that may have been the most confusing and frustrating part of all of this. It didn’t make any sense. They told each other they loved each other all the time. They were best friends, of course they loved each other. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it was just a cute little message from a friend that she wasn’t meant to read into. Maybe. 

Or maybe there was a reason Marinette wasn’t just telling her. Because it was heavier than it had been before. So heavy that Marinette couldn’t bear to say it with a new meaning -- a meaning that could very well add a different filter to everything. 

Alya waited for more days -- waited for the ‘E,’ ‘T,’ ‘A,’ and ‘I’ -- until it was Saturday and they were lying down on Marinette’s bed, limbs tangled together, watching a movie on the laptop balanced on Alya’s stomach. Her right arm was held up while Marinette started drawing roses on her wrists again. 

Alya cleared her throat and lowered the volume on the movie. “It’s an ‘M’ today again. Isn’t it?”

Marinette’s pen stilled for only half a second before she continued shading in a petal. “So you figured it out?”

“Pretty sure,” Alya muttered. She was hyper aware of the feeling of Marinette’s head pressed up against her temple and Marinette’s nose that was tucked against her neck. She swallowed and tried to make her voice sound stronger than her resolve felt. “I...I love you too.”

“But do you?” Marinette muttered, keeping her eyes on her pen and on Alya’s arm. “I mean, really honestly. Do you? Because....i-if you don’t, it’s fine. I just...sometimes I feel like I have all these things I want to tell you and I don’t know how to say them. So I just...picked the best thing that fit. But if you don’t....I mean, I don’t have to -- ”

“You’re rambling, babe,” Alya interrupted gently. 

Marinette laughed against her skin. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this sort of thing. And I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Nothing you do could freak me out, Mari. You don’t have to worry about that” Alya assured. “I’m not freaked out.”

“So then....what are you?”

Things with Marinette always felt so natural, like one thing bled seamlessly into the next. Nothing felt jarring and nothing felt strange enough to need a period of time to settle and adjust. Things just were, and no matter what came up the two of them molded into it perfectly without ever needing to explain or defend. Alya wondered if this was exactly what was happening now. Because Alya had always loved Marinette, always loved her with all her heart. She traced back along the past year to see if that love turned into a love, if that comfort turned into a need, if those changes were even the sorts of things you could track and notice. But there was never a sharp jolt or jump to indicate a change. Alya wouldn’t be surprised if one morning she woke up, got dressed for school, saw Marinette stumbling into class with only seconds to spare before the bell and realized ah! There it was. There were all the small letters left behind like clues forming together into something beautiful that Alya could treasure deeply. 

It took no work. Smooth. Effortless. Everything always easy. 

What are you?

Alya shut her eyes and pressed a small, short kiss on Marinette’s lips, smiling at the gasp that jumped up from Marinette’s throat and past Alya’s lips. They pushed back against hers as Marinette kissed her back, and for such a brief moment the whole world stilled and everything felt perfect and righted. 

“I’m happy.” 

Brave and Merida in a Trumped up world

It's a little surprising to me that the Disney fandom went absolutely apeshit over the "Disneyfication" of Merida in their merchandise - something Brenda Chapman even spoke out against, calling it a cheap ploy to sell merchandise - yet there hasn't been any commentary on other Brave spin-offs.

Merida's a Disney/Pixar heroine who, in Chapman’s own words, was created to be a different kind of Princess. Now, I don’t think it makes me a good feminist to sit here and pit Disney Princess against Disney Princess; I think popular perception of the “Disney Princess” is a different beast altogether when compared with the actual source material, which has both positive and negative aspects. But when it comes to Merida the writers intentionally set out from the start to try something new. She has a fuller, rounded figure, a nuanced relationship with her mother, and romance plays no part in her story. You could argue there’s evidence of a romantic interest, but that’s not the same thing as a romantic subplot, and it’s not overt enough that you can say with any certainty. The writers admit the original idea was to have Merida walk off into the sunset with Young MacGuffin, the suitor who briefly catches her attention early in the film, but that epilogue thankfully only exists in the artbook and deleted scenes.

And let me be clear, there's nothing wrong with Merida having a romantic interest. In fact, I came to love that Merida is subtly shown to be a little interested in Young MacGuffin. 

I was watching Mulan the other night with a @pale-silver-comb​ (who is 100% responsible for my newfound love of Disney- well, that and the fact I need bright happy escapist animation as the rest of my time is spent neck deep in miserable politics). We were cackling over the scene where Mulan ogles a shirtless Shang and later wound up ranting over how rare it is to see women checking out guys in films. When women do make their attraction known, they tend to run the risk of being framed or labelled as shameless, or worse, sluts. On the flipside, how often do we see guys ogling girls in media? Yeah, exactly. It's a shitty myth that women don't own their sexuality in the same ways men do. That's one of the things I love about Mulan and Merida as heroines - they're not "strong female characters" (god I hate that term, can we please kill it?) just because they kick large hairy man arse. They're great characters because they are so relatable. They're funny, they're giant dorks, they stuff their gobs, they check guys out, they can be crass, proud, and make mistakes. These are all things women do, but aren't shown to do nearly as often as men are in mainstream media.

I’m glad the Brave epilogue with Merida and Young MacGuffin didn't make the final cut, because the story wasn't about Merida finding romance - it was about Merida's relationship with her mother, and the two of them confronting their pride, opening their minds to new ways of thinking, and admitting their mistakes. The epilogue had no place in Brave’s narrative. To have included it would have harmed the message of the story by adding romance for the sake of romance, rather than for any narrative purpose. But at the same time I don't want to downplay Merida showing even a subtle interest because yay women owning their own sexuality. One of the things that has driven me crazy since I was a kid myself is the patronising infantilization of girls. A crush is normal, you can pretty much get them at any age, it does not mean you’re not enjoying your childhood to the fullest. Fuck that noise. I had massive crushes from the age of 4 and still managed to climb trees, get into fights and battle Captain Hook and Shredder on my T-Rex with imaginary best friend Gollum at my side (what? fuck you we had a bond). That Merida might have had a bit of a crush on Young MacGuffin reinforces for me the fact she’s a character who doesn't want to get married because she doesn’t bloody want to, not because the suitors are conveniently horrible people she vehemently dislikes. I actually find that even more inspiring. So yes, Brave is a great film with a pretty amazing heroine.

Which is why it pisses me off when spin-off writers take something so progressive and shaft it.

This isn't a ship shaming post at all - fandom is a ship & let ship space, ship Merida with her bow for all I care, it's all good. This critique is aimed at crappy spin-offs and I’m taking Once Upon a Time as an example. Now, OUAT isn’t all bad. Sometimes it takes Disney canon and transforms it into something really interesting, progressive and original. Or, well, it used to. Recent seasons not so much. The actress who plays Merida is the only good thing about OUAT's Brave arc. The rest is unbearably lazy (HA! pun.) writing. The gravest injustice has to be King Fergus, who looks like he's wearing a wig knitted from a highland cow's pubes.

Don't get me started on his accent. I’m scottish. No Scotsman sounds like that. Not unless they’re squeedging out an enormous post-curry-hangover shit. I love Fergus, but honestly I was relieved OUAT!Fergus was bumped off before my ears could go on strike.

The suitors are also sexist pigs. Dingwall and MacGuffin don't even say anything, they just play the lazy mindless followers/minions to MacIntosh who’s probably the most unlikeable aspect of the arc. Really says something about OUAT when the original animation, aimed at a younger audience, portrays its characters as more nuanced. In Brave, Young MacIntosh is all bluff- he’s a show off, a sore loser and generally a bit of a prick, but there are also glimpses of genuine empathy. He's also the suitor Merida is openly put off by in the film. So yeah, in Brave, Young MacIntosh is a bit of a lanky fucktrumpet, but he's not anywhere close to being the scabby sexist cockwomble he is in OUAT. This would be fine if it had some sort of clever narrative purpose, but who am I kidding, it’s OUAT. OUAT!MacIntosh is a proper dickhead and there’s no reason for Merida to like any of the suitors, because unlike in Brave, they’re all fucking assholes. And yet the OUAT arc still ends with Merida giving him the smitten googley eyes. Because romance or something. cool.

Another Brave novelisation published by Disney Random House ends with Merida confirming to the reader that yes, she did eventually marry. Well thank fuck for that! My frail girlish heart couldn't possibly entertain the idea of Merida never marrying. Thank you book, you've reassured conservative parents everywhere.

In addition to that bollocks is.. probably one of the worst offenders. I recently picked up a couple of the Merida chapter books by Sudipta Bardham-Quallen, again published by Disney Random House. They're for wee kids, but I wanted to see more of @gurihiru​​ 's lovely art which I’m fully smitten with. The writing isn’t great, but the stories involve challenging enough themes for very young readers. To the author's credit there's a bit of an effort made to retain a Scottish feel to them and there’s a nice focus on female friendships as Merida encounters new characters. It’s a bit cutesy-poo BFFs!!, the kind of thing I hated as a kid, but hey, we need more female friendship stories. The new characters are even quite likeable, so thumbs up there.

Then I picked up the second book, The Fire Falls (also written by Sudipta Bardham-Quallen), and cringed. Basically bad Merida and Young MacIntosh fanfic involving some classic tropes like: 'I'm not jealous, I’m just better than all those shameless slags flirting with him' and 'arg he's such an asshole but i'm inexplicably attracted to him though there's nothing to show in the story why I should be!' and my favourite - ‘He’s a bad guy but I can change him!’

Here's my main issue: why is it when a female character shows or says she’s not interested in a guy's advances this all too often becomes a springboard for their romance? Why do these stories have such an obsession with positioning the sexist hyper-masculine asshole as the romantic lead? (I'm sure that couldn’t have any dire implications for the worl-oh fuck). And in Brave's case, when the source material and original epilogue show Merida taking an interest in the big fat guy, why don’t any of the spin-offs build on that? Young MacGuffin also happens to be the only one in the entire film to vocally stand up for Merida’s rights. That’s pretty cool! So why don’t spin-offs celebrate that? The cynic in me says we all know the answer - much like Merida had to be “sexed up” to sell Disney merchandise, the fat suitor had to be swapped out for the skinny. 

Really, in a film that revolves around Merida's frustration that people aren't listening to her, it sort of amazes me that these spin-offs don't realise they AREN'T LISTENING TO HER.

And yeah, obviously I know it seems really silly picking on kids books and OUAT, neither of which are ever going to win awards for great progressive writing, but considering America just elected a vile celebrity as President and populism is on the rise, maybe it’s time we all said screw that academic snobbery and paid more attention to popular media. This stuff is common, these tropes are common, and it’s consumed mostly by young kids who internalise these crappy messages.

I make a big deal of it because these coded messages have a profound effect on us as we grow. These messages tell us to ignore a girl's decision and choice: that when she says 'I'm not interested' what we hear is 'I am'; that the most "attractive" and most "masculine" guy will always be the “natural” choice; that being fat or shy or awkward are inherently negative qualities and will always be overlooked by the loud wanker distracting everyone by waving his tiny hands around.

I'm now a published historian and I plan on publishing children's books in the near future; I work part-time in a bookshop, so I talk to kids about the stories they read, the stories they want to read, and their frustrations with the stories they HAVE read, all the time; I studied child psychology as part of my degree in Social Anthropology: this is why it matters to me and why I know all too well how much these coded messages affect us. I know it from my own experiences as a half-Moroccan kid with a dead father, growing up in a classroom of white kids who all came from middle-class households with two parents. This was all brought back to me when I rediscovered some of my old journals and stories I had written for class where I portrayed myself as being blonde/white and talked as if my dad was still alive, because I desperately wanted to be *normal*. I never got to encounter a character like Merida growing up, and I wish to god I had.

Children's authors and publishing houses have an enormous responsibility to make their readers feel included and heard. They also have a responsibility to challenge toxic ideas - not reinforce them. We have to keep pushing boundaries, not limit them.