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jacscorner · 3 months

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The Reboot of Sharkboy & Lavagirl

So, who here remembers The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl?

...Yeah, I figured there'd be a lot of people. This movie came on almost every other week on Disney Channel some moons ago.

I loved the movie as a kid. While it hasn't aged the best, it still holds a very special place in my cold heart. One thing always lingered in the back of my mind: why isn't this a cartoon? Biased on my half, but I feel animation is better for trying to show an alien world, completely unlike anything we have on Earth. Because live action movies like this, as impressive as they may, will always be limited by budget and the effects of today - or, in this case, yesteryear. And if they're bad, they can really ruin the immersion. SB&LG are no different from this; as impressive as they were for the time, it was purely for the innate spectacle and not necessarily because they were good.

But, this movie still has a place in my heart, so let's push those critical thoughts aside. Cause i really wanna get into my thoughts on a Sharkboy and Lavagirl reboot.

SB & LG Designs

Since these are supposed to be characters dreamed up by a kid, I intentionally made their designs simplified. Cause while I can draw their suits NOW, I certainly couldn't when I was a kid watching that movie. Which, like, I hate how superheroes when made in live action have the most over the top and complicated uniforms to draw. It's such a high bar for fanart and it makes them un-fun to draw. If Japanese shows can make cool heroes that are manageable to draw, then so should we in the west!

For Sharkboy, I gave a wet suit and some clothes on top, to sort of give a pulp-y feel to his suit. I also gave him a pair of oxygen tanks; since Sharkboy apparently can't breathe underwater, but hold his breath for a long time, I thought it'd make sense for him to have something for those deep DEEP dives, or maybe he could give them to someone drowning who'd need it more.

Meanwhile, I wanted Lavagirl to look more like a classic superhero in terms of design. I do regret a little bit not making her suit more pink and instead red, but I don't hate it. I never like it when elemental heroes have suits that's just their element slapped onto them. Makes me feel it's just their body, and that's a strange school of thought to have.

How The Reboot Would Work

I'd imagine this show would be the 22-24 minute format. The show would begin with a segment of Max in the real world. We'd have a short scene that shows Max in live action and something, good or bad, happen to him. Then, the camera would fall onto Max's dream journal, with the book flipping open and pages furling. We then transition to Planet Drool, with the episode title flashing on screen and the cartoon segment takes over.

I think this would better show the distinction between the real world, Max's world, and the dream world - specifically, Planet Drool. Since Max is basically the God of this world, his emotional state and feelings effect Planet Drool. When he's sad, it's cloud and gloomy. When happy, the birds are singing and flowers are blooming.

Naturally, the various friends and allies Sharkboy & Lavagirl run into on Planet Drool are inspired by the people Max meets. Bullies and jerks in the real world play the role of villains on Planet Drool and their punishments in the real world and comeuppance in the dream world correlate. On the reverse, Max's friends are allies for Sharkboy & Lavagirl, and brief flashes of Max maintaining or straining their friendship will reflect on SB & LG and their relationships.

For example: an episode could start with Max in bed; he's got a Summer Cold and is sick. His mother brought him a bowl of sick and told him to stay in bed and rest, and to remember to take his medicine. She then leaves the room as Max just lies down in bed.

And then the dream journal flips open and the pages furl and we zoom in on Planet Zoom and it's a frozen wasteland. Blizzards are blowing, the waters are freezing. Even Lavagirl is shivering as she sits on the beach, waiting for Sharkboy, who breaks out of the ice. It's too cold for even his shark friends to come out and they think they need to do something to warm the planet before another ice age hits them.

Probably needs a few drafts, but you get the point.

Sharkboy - Deep Sea Mystery

Sharkboy, real name Finn Mako (cause this is Sharkboy and Lavagirl, subtlety does not exist) was found in a small cave along the coast of Sharktooth Bay. He was found at around age 5 by Dr. Marlon Mako; clearly human, but obviously mutated, with shark-like teeth, sharpened claws, pointed ears, and superhuman senses - not to mention that he saw the boy talking to the Sharks that inhabited the cave. Dr. Mako adopted the boy and built his lab in that cave, where he studies marine life and also builds various technologies for the benefits of Planet Drool. Sharkboy grew up with his new adopted father, never too far from his shark friends. Dr. Mako still doesn't fully understand why Sharkboy mutated like this and is searching for the origin of his odd superhuman abilities and where he came from. Sharkboy does not care; he's happy to have his father, and his Shark Friends.

Sharkboy mostly has all the same abilities he had in the original movie; enhanced physical capabilities, underwater adaptability - for the most part, shark-like teeth, and a super capable swimmer. Sharkboy is also super smart and supplies the team with the various tech and gadgets they use throughout the show - all usually shark themed, cause of course they are. Of course, just because he's smart doesn't mean he's passive or a thinker. His first solution is still primarily to smash it - he's a cocky hothead. It was his father's idea for him to carry that oxygen tank in case of emergencies and if not for the fact he loves his dad and doesn't want him to worry, he'd never bring it with him.

And just like in the movie, Sharkboy can be overstimulated and go into a frenzy where he's stronger, faster, but more feral and less cognitive. This can be good AND bad since he's rarely in control of himself. Sharkboy also has a strong distaste for most human food - whether he can or can't eat it, I don't know, but but he at the very least won't eat most sweets willingly.

Lavagirl - Princess of Heat

Lavagirl, real name Pyrrha Redsword is the daughter of the Lava Lord, Ignis Redsword. Lavagirl hails from the largest volcano on Planet Drool, found at the equator of the planet: Mt. Habanero. We'll get into it later, but yes, Lavagirl is the youngest daughter of this Lave Lord, who controls the thermal heating of Planet Drool. A sheltered princess most her life, Lavagirl grew up listening to stories of Planet Drool's heroes. But that many of them were gone now, apparently having been lost after a 'Great War' - which, in the real world, would be Max losing his grandfather, who would be introduced into the story and would have been the one helping him build Tobor (wink wink).

Inspired by these stories, Lavagirl would make her own suit and decide to become a superhero and would leave her volcano home in search of adventure. She's eager to be a superhero and tries to do things 'by the book' and try to do her best to help people. She holds the majority of the team's emotional intelligence, being more socially capable than Sharkboy - though sometimes, a bit too formal. And at times, maybe a little too naive, as her eagerness to help and her lack of experience with people leads to her being taken advantage of.

Like Sharkboy, Lavagirl's powers are the same as they were in the movie. She can manipulate lava and magma, spew it from her hands, and her hair can light up in flames. She can also melt into lava and reform at will. These are all natural abilities of the inhabitants of her volcano home; in this reboot, Lavagirl knows exactly what she is: a Geofolk, or Geoperson. They all can live in extreme heat and have naturally hot to the touch bodies, as well as hair that can light up with fire as a tie to her emotions. They can eat lava rocks, but they can also eat normal food without issue. Lavagirl has older siblings in this reboot; two older sisters and an older brother, though they're not important right now...

Planet Drool

Planet Drool is a reflection of Earth through the warped and twisted lens of a child - one who has a love of superheroes, robots, and escapes to his fantasies while his planets are having marriage problems and he has to deal with homework, bullies, and the world being big and scary. The two planets, Drool and Earth, have no relation to each other outside of Max; SB & LG do not know of Max's existence, though Max is referenced in a religious sense, as a 'Dreamer'; someone with the power to make thoughts into matter, who can create anything, but also destroy it in an instant. Anyone on Earth can be a Dreamer - in fact, maybe we'll explore the 'Dreams' of others, as they may influence Planet Drool.

For now, though, let's focus.

The natural world of Planet Drool is ruled by a respective Elemental Lord - a King, Queen, or something. Lavagirl's father is the Lava Lord and control's the planet's natural heating. The Ice Princess - yes, she is in this reboot - controls the cooling of the planet and is acting in palce of her missing father, the Ice King. Mr. Electric is the (former) planetary electrician, so on and so forth.

Planet Drool once had lots of heroes acting as its guardian, but after The Great War, many of them had either perished or retired. One of them, the Mighty Tobor, is left as a rusting giant robot in the Dream Graveyard, where all of Max's discarded dreams end up - in context of Planet Drool, it's a massive junkyard of broken machines or magical artifacts that don't work. There, Tobor lies, still technically functional, but seemingly beyond repair, a relic of the Era of Heroes that protected Planet Drool and acts as SB & LG's mentor.

As a planet made up of the dreams of a kid, Planet Drool has various locations that don't make sense. The Land of Milk & Cookies, where deserts are made to appease giants, swamps where the sun never seem to shine and is home to frog-like dragons, desert landscapes where the sand is like water and you need to sail it by ship; the planet's landscape is in constant flux. It twists and turns at the discretion of the planet's Dreamer (AKA, Max and his slowly growing collection of friends). The most important thing about Planet Drool is that it's a mismatch of different ideas that might not really work or go together, but that's kind of the point. Cause it's a dream and dreams don't always make sense.

#JAC Art #JAC Text #Fanfic Bible #The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl #Sharkboy #Lavagirl #Sharkboy and Lavagirl #Planet Drool

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 1 year

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hiiii I was wondering if you do matchups for Mystic Messenger, My Hero Academia, and Obey Me???? (Sorry if I get any of this stuff wrong, I saw your rules and stuff, it's my first time requesting anything lol)

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Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bi (But more leading towards men)

Zodiac/MBTI: Aries/INTJ-T

Appearance: I have greenish-blue eyes (my family thinks I have cat eyes since they are so dilated all the time), I'm pretty pale, have a few freckles on my nose, and I have curly brown hair that stops at my shoulders.

Personality: For the positive ones first; I am smart, creative, funny (depending on the day), kind, generous, and pretty organized.

For the not-so-positive ones; I am pretty stubborn, I hate when people are right and I'm wrong, I am really quiet, I am terrible at making friends, and I am pretty emotional.

Likes and Dislikes:

Likes; Cats, snakes, anime, manga, Disney, fanfiction, Pedro Pascal, red, black, gray, outer space, singing, stuffed animals, video games, comics, and sweaters

Dislikes; Bugs, spiders (depending on the day), crowds, loud noises, and more but I can't think right now, lol

Hobbies: Reading, writing, singing, drawing, painting, playing video games, making lists, watching YouTube, collecting rocks, collecting Pop figures, and collecting manga/comics

Any Extra Information: I have autism, am 23 years old, and have a fear of heights and horses

I hope this is all good, and I hope you have a really awesome day/night!!! 💚

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! I hope you like your matchups!

In Mystic Messenger, I match you with...

You and 707 are a great pair! You both like cats, anime, manga, spacce, video games, comics, and collecting a wide variety of different things. And you both hate spiders.

Yeah, 707's not dealing with those. He's calling Vanderwood and telling him there's an intruder in the house. Vanderwood is so tired...

Likes that you're stubborn. He wants to be able to banter with someone, not have them just agree with him all the time.

YouTube fanatic. Whatever you're watching, he's watching. Could spend hours watching a video about how dolphins communicate and then immediately watch a half hour video about replacing different car parts.

Karaoke nights are a must! He loves singing as well, regardless of if he can hold a tune. He loves listening to you sing as well. You'll sometimes catch him watching you with the softest smile on his face.

In My Hero Academia, I match you with...

Denki really needs someone who can balance out his chaos! Having someone who's organised and smart is a good thing for him.

Also dislikes spiders. He's screaming and running out of the room. If you ask him to get rid of it, be prepared for him to boot up his quirk.

Loves playing video games and watching YouTube with you. They're some of his favourite pastimes anyway so having someone he cares about with him is even better.

Imagine karaoke with Class A1! Denki's doing duets with you and hitting every wrong note imaginable.

Denki will collect rocks for you to add to your collection. He's out and sees a nice rock, he's picking it up and putting it in his pocket, along with the three other rocks he's already picked up that day.

In Obey Me, I match you with...

Satan loves talking to you. He like that there's another smart person in the house (he blatantly refuses to believe Lucifer falls into that category).

He also enjoys reading with you. He'd love to do book swaps where he reads your favourites and you read his and then you talk about what you liked best.

Takes care of spiders if you ask him to. His room is pretty cluttered so there are lots of places they might pop out from. When that happens, he's catching it in a cup and throwing it out the window. What happens to the spider after is up to fate.

Admires your collections. He only collects books but when he's out and about, if he sees something that would fit in one of your collections, he'll get it for you.

Tries to help you avoid big crowds to the best of his ability. If he sees you're uncomfortable, he'll move you to a quieter place and stay with you so you feel supported.

#writing #fanfic #matchup #matchup request #request #mystic messenger #707 #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #my hero academia #denki kaminari #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #satan

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thehollowprince · 3 years

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Queerbaiting vs. Fan Service

For whatever reason, I decided to take a stroll through The Falcon and The Winter Soldier tags after the second episode, and I was slightly distressed (and mostly annoyed) with how many people were labeling the interactions between Sam and Bucky as queerbaiting. You can imagine my confusion.

Now, as a gay man, nothing would please me more to see a relationship between two men in a big budget action franchise, even if it is just the MCU. Ignoring the reality that this is Disney and that they'll probably never have a gay or bisexual main character in anything, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier is not the place to draw that line in the sand.

I've been on this app for about eight years now, and I can't tell you the number of times I've seen people make and reblog posts about the desire to see more men be friends with one another, to not fall victim to the toxic masculinity. How many times have you opened opened this app and seen posts about "let men cry" or "let men be intimate with each other without making it weird"? And yet, every time, almost as if on a timer, the moment two guys (either in a show or actual people) look at each other for longer than .05 seconds, a ship is born.

Now, there's nothing inherently wrong with shipping. Especially when you factor in the fact that same sex romances are severely lacking in modern media. I myself am attracted to the idea of SamBucky, because they have foundation there that if the producers decided, could be used to build a relationship off of. I did the same with Steve and Bucky in the MCU. Like I said, there's nothing wrong with shipping, but some people take it too far. In this instance, I've been seeing too many people claim "queerbaiting" because Sam rescued Bucky from falling to his death under a moving truck or because of the therapy scene where they had to face each other and get real close.

That is not queerbaiting.

For starters, it's been two episodes. The show isn't even halfway over. Not that I expect Disney to actually do something like that, but it's precisely this need to jump the gun and declare something that makes the problem worse within the fandom. And more to the point, I'm not entirely sure many of you know what the term queerbaiting actually means.

Queerbaiting is when a show or movie or whatever, sets up a relationship between two people of the same sex, has everything point in the direction of them becoming a romantic pairing, only to, at the last second, have one or both of them enter into a heterosexual relationship or be killed off.

A great example of this, and the first that pops into my mind, is The Magicians, specifically Queliot. Now, anyone who followed me, especially when the show as airing, knows I'm not the biggest fan of that ship, but in the fourth season of the show, they spent a great deal of time setting up Quentin and Eliot finding their way to each other, only for the production to kill off Quentin in the finale of the season. One could even argue that having Quentin chose Alice for a reconciliatory relationship after they did everything to set up Quentin and Eliot is another form of queerbaiting, eschewing the same-sex romance in favor of a heterosexual one.

Now, circling back to The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, what we have here is not a case of queerbaiting. Production of the show, and the MCU in general, more than likely scour Twitter and Instagram and whatever else and see the fandom reaction to certain ships/pairings, and specifically make scenes or scenarios where those two characters have to interact. That is called fan service, an entirely different animal.

A great example of fan service would be Teen Wolf. As anyone who has been following me knows, I've been talking about this topic a lot recently, thanks to one particularly persistent anon. If you've ever interacted with the Teen Wolf fandom, you know that the big ship that dominated it was Sterek, despite it being something that wasn't based at all in canon. Jeff Davis, after seeing how fans reacted to the few interactions of Derek and Stiles in season one, gave the fandom a more in season two, such as the pool scene, or when they were both paralyzed by Kanima venom in the sheriff's station, the dream sequence at the end of season three, or the ride to Mexico in season four. Hell, even the comedic sequence in the final season of Stiles "rescuing" Derek from the FBI to make it back to Beacon Hills for the final showdown was fan service. What it wasn't, was queerbaiting, because Sterek wasn't something that the show set up. It was something that the fandom set up, which more power to them, but with that being established, people still got mad because the show didn't go the way they (the fandom) decided it should have gone.

This same thing happened with Stucky. The idea of Bucky and Steve was appealing. If either one of them had been a woman in the MCU then their relationship would have very easily been interpreted in canon as romantic, but as it stands, that's not the case. They were just two very close friends.

Brining it back to my original point, we have Sambucky, and no matter how much fandom kicks and screams and demands, it won't happen in the show. It's alright to ship them, because I do see the appeal, but at the end of the day, too many people are getting upset about something that fandom made up and that canon doesn't deliver on, despite the two being unaffiliated. You want to ship Sam and Bucky, I fully support you in that endeavor. I myself like the idea of it, and often tag posts as such, but calling it queerbaiting in an attempt to shame people for not supporting it is misleading.

Bottom line: queerbaiting is a very specific thing and there are actual shows out there that are perpetrators of it. Please try and actually understand what queerbaiting is before you simply throw the term out at every inconvenience.

#queerbaiting #fan service #sambucky #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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donutloverxo · 4 years

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Before you

*not my gif*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this was requested by the lovely @whimsicalrogers thanks for all the icons, lock screen and dividers you made me! Thanks for the beta and all your advice @stargazingfangirl18. I hope I do you all proud🤭

Summary - Yours and Steve's relationship was perfect, until it wasn't. Will he be able to convince you to give him another chance?

Warnings - smut (m/f), jealousy, angst, dom/sub undertones.

Pairing - Steve Roger x reader

Word count - 4552

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

As someone who grew up watching an unhealthy amount of Disney movies and romcoms, you couldn’t help but dream, that someday your prince charming would come riding in on a white horse to whisk you away from your boring mundane life.

Someone you could love and hold forever, who’d do the same for you. Someone who’d always be there for you, to pick you up when you fall, to make you laugh when all you want to do is cry. Someone who’d be your everything and treat you as if you’re the most special person in the whole world.

But adulthood killed all those dreams all too easily. You learned the hard way that people didn’t really belong to each other. They barely even listened to when another person was talking.

You thought you came close a couple of times, but you never did find your special person. Everyone walks on their paths alone. And maybe it was better that way. You weren’t sure if you could ever completely open up and give yourself to someone else.

That was until Steve came along. He was someone as lost as you and even lonelier. Finding himself in a world he no longer recognised and among people he couldn’t really trust. It didn’t take that long for him to trust you.

You had put on Snow White which was Steve’s favorite from back in his day. You couldn’t help but insert yourself in the fairy-tale. After all Steve did always call you his princess.

“Steve?” You mumbled into his chest laying on top of him as the end credits played.

“Yes, sugar?” He replied running his hands through your hair before drawing small soothing patterns on your back.

He only had to move his nose an inch to smell your hair and get a whiff of your soft soothing scent. Who knew something so simple could be so blissful.

As much as he loved taking you out on the town and courting you to show you a good time and do all the things he never thought he could, he also loved spending these quiet evenings in with you. Where it was just him and you, the rest of the world just seemed to disappear. He wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Never mind,” You shook your head. ‘It’s soon. You’ll scare him off.’ That incessant annoying voice in your head said.

“Hey,” He propped your chin up to make you look at him. His heart melted at your glossy eyes. So vulnerable and sensitive. Maybe it was what drew him to you. Your ability to be so sweet and wear your heart on your sleeve. Something he never could do. “What is it?” He asked lowly caressing your cheek. Not wanting to push you too much but he couldn’t really help himself when you looked so sad either.

“Do you think...” You whispered and licked your lips “We’ll be together forever. Like them.” You picked at the threads on his shirt too scared to look at him.

He smiled down at you. Getting up to sit straight and adjust you properly in his lap. “I know we will sweetheart.” He said confidently as if it was a fact.

You looked up at him still holding onto his shirt, as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a second “And do you think you’ll always love me?” You wanted to know.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Where is this even coming from?” He frowned “I know... I don’t always do a good job of showing you I love you. This is new to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend.” And like the dork that he was he couldn’t help the goofy grin he made every time he referred to you as his girl “But I’ll do better,” He promised and pressed a long lingering kiss on your forehead to seal it. He cleared his throat to ask “What do you think I should do better?”

“No. You’re amazing, Steve, you don’t need to change.” You said giving his plump pink lips a quick peck “It’s just scary. How much I love you and how it can all go away if I’m not careful. People break up everyday and over the stupidest of things or over nothing. I don’t want that to be us.” You sighed unloading all your anxieties.

He nodded taking your words in “I understand. I’m scared of losing you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He paused looking for the best words “What we can do is maybe talk about such things?” He slowly suggested rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You happily tucked your head in the crook of his neck, hugging him close to you. Falling for his sweet words and him. Convinced that nothing would come between you both.

***

He got down on one knee not long after to pop the big question with an even bigger diamond to really show you how committed he was.

You were on cloud nine. You felt nothing could ever bring you down that you only had happier times to look forward to.

Until one fateful day, you didn’t realise it then but it was probably when everything started going to hell, Sharon Carter got back from her year long mission in Europe.

You were only an accountant working for the Avengers. Being so close to Steve did give you some influence, which you were ashamed of liking a bit too much, but no one was ever really scared of you. You heard chatter about her and your Steve. And how now he would surely ditch his ‘normal and plain fiancé'. They never tried that hard to hide it from you. They probably thought you weren’t here for the long haul.

“Hey Angie” You nervously called for your desk mate. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Steve and Agent Carter?”

“Oh you mean Staron?” She grinned before frowning, “Oh I’m sorry! That’s just what people call them. Not me though! You know how hard I ship you two.” She squeezed your shoulder in order to console you.

“Yeah but why? I mean did they use to date or something...” You trailed off knowing that it was something you should be asking your fiancé not your co-worker.

You had tried a couple of times but you were too afraid to come off as jealous or controlling. That was the last thing you wanted to be. You expected him to give you enough space to be your own person, so it’d only be fair for you to do the same.

“I don’t really know.” She stroked her chin as if in thought “You’ll just have to ask Captain Rogers. Nothing was ever confirmed they were just rumors. Even I’ll admit they would make gorgeous blonde babies. But girl! You don’t have anything to worry about! You’re the one who has the ring.” She tried her best to assure you but the seeds of doubt and fear had taken roots in your mind.

Steve assured you that there was never anything between them. They flirted with the idea of dating for a while before she went away, he doubted there’d ever be anything between them. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Not when he’s so madly in love with you.

He was so convincing and charming.

The things that set him apart from everyone else, which you loved about him, were his honesty and loyalty. He blamed his Ma and 1920s raising but you didn’t care. He was perfect in your eyes. He didn’t need to fit in. Those things made him Steve Rogers. Your Steve.

***

You had never been more ashamed than when you went through Steve’s things to get some sort of clue. You went through his sketches to find if he was secretly harboring any kind of feelings about her. You only found sketches mostly consisting of you and the Avengers, some of Bucky and his mom.

You sighed in relief, but then, at the bottom of his drawer you found a sketch of Sharon drawn with charcoal pencil. You couldn’t help but cry tears of frustration and pain, tearing the sketch up and flushing it so he wouldn’t find out. You knew you made a grave mistake, even as you started snooping you knew nothing good would come out of it, yet you couldn’t help yourself. In the end you only upset yourself.

Steve got back from work shortly after with your favorite take out, he kissed you hello. He knew something was up but you simply lied and chalked it up to pms or something.

He was ever so understanding. Giving you a nice massage and drawing you a bath. You decided then, that you wouldn’t look for anything anymore. If Steve was being unfaithful you didn’t want to know. You’d rather live in this beautiful peaceful bubble of ignorance.

***

The next few months were tough. All your wedding planning had taken a backseat as Steve had started to look for his friend Bucky, who also happened to be the winter soldier, with Sam and Sharon.

You didn’t really have an answer when your mother pestered you about going wedding shopping. You didn’t know how to tell her that you doubted if there would be a wedding at all. It would break her heart. Especially after she had come to love Steve as much as you did.

You never complained. How could you? The whole world needed him much more than you ever could. And he didn’t seem to need you anymore.

He never had to have time for you anymore. Late nights at the offices, long missions with Sharon.

One rare night he was home for dinner, you were too busy sulking in your self pity to actually enjoy his company after he’d deprived you of it for so long.

You chose to give him the silent treatment, not speaking more than two words to him. He noticed. Of course he did, Captain America, always so perceptive and smart.

He tried to pry answers out of you for a while before his phone started ringing and he excused himself to go pick it up.

“Why do you always go into the other room to take your calls?” You asked when he got back placing his phone down on the table. Playing with your food not having the strength to look him in the eye and confront him.

He visibly stiffened at the underlying accusation in your question. He had grown annoyed of having the same discussion with you again and again. But he decided to bite his tongue. It was his job to make you feel secure in your relationship.

“It’s confidential information, doll. You know that.” He sighed.

You hummed “But you can tell me who you were speaking to right?” You finally looked up and you wished you hadn’t. He clearly wasn’t happy, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his jaw clenched, how you hated confrontation. Not that you ever thought you’d be confronting your Steve.

“It was Sharon.” He spit.

“Of course.” You scoffed going back to staring at your food as he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? I know you aren’t exactly fond of her but I’m not going to lie just to make you happy. Because that’s not who I am! I don’t lie.” He ranted holding up his phone “Why don’t you go through it? Maybe that will make you happy.”

You shook your head rejecting his offer. Even though you were tempted to, you knew Steve was smart. He was Captain America for gods sake. He’d know how to cover his tracks. If he didn’t want you to find something, you probably wouldn’t.

So you finished your dinner, angrily stuffing the food in your mouth while sneering at him and then left him to do the dishes.

You put yours and Steve's laundry in the washer. Even though you were salty with him you still did your half of the chores. Checking his pockets for any receipts or bills. But then you saw what looked like a shinning golden thread. You pulled at it to find that it was a long blonde hair. Which was clearly not yours.

You thought of going to Steve with it. But if you had to hear another one of his lame excuses you’d probably drown yourself.

So, for the first time, you simply went to bed angry with him. When he tried to talk to you, you retorted with a snarky or hurtful comment or didn’t speak at all. You knew just how crazy that would drive him.

***

You groaned for the fifteenth time in the past hour, your leg impatiently shaking under the table. He was an hour late. He was someone who took pride in always being punctual and sharp, clearly you weren’t important enough for him to consider your feelings. You decided to pick up your phone and call him.

“Where are you?!” You hissed as soon as he picked up. Too angry to even bother to say hello.

“I’m at work. I’m so sorry, doll, I won’t be able to make it. Something important came up.” He apologized. His voice laced with guilt. Which would’ve been enough to convince you maybe a month or so ago, but at this point he had missed far too many dinners and dates.

“Right. Of course. More important than me obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know that’s not true – "

“You didn’t even bother calling me” You screamed into your phone.

“I did call.” He sighed “You didn’t pick up and I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Yeah I didn’t pick up! I was cooking a meal for our anniversary! You know what? I don’t care because you clearly don’t either.” You said hanging up without giving him a chance to speak.

You had packed some of the leftovers up for Steve but you decided to dump them all in the bin. He didn’t deserve your cooking.

You haphazardly threw the tupperware in the sink. Torn between punching a wall and hugging a pillow to cry out all your frustrations. You chose to rigorously scrub and wash the dishes.

Having spent some of your excess energy you sat in front of your dresser, putting some petroleum jelly on your palms to sooth the burn.

You sighed at the sight of your sparkly diamond. You couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. It reminded you of a happier and simpler time. The last thing you wanted was a complicated or dramatic relationship.

As you slid the ring off your finger placing it in your jewellery box, you couldn’t help but ponder on whether it was just as much of your fault as well.

You started packing your clothes into a small bag. Maybe you could spend a few nights at your mothers house until you can clear your head.

***

Steve hastily opened your apartment door with his keys. “Honey, I’m home.” He called out for you.

He rubbed his face, a nervous pit forming in his stomach. He knew he had been prioritising his work over you for weeks now, he didn’t know the extent of it until you told him off on the phone and then didn’t pick up any of his calls. He asked Sam to cover for him for the night as he made his way back home.

His enhanced hearing picked up on movements in the bedroom, he followed the sounds of your rustling, tossing his jacket on the couch.

His worst fears came true as he looked at you carelessly stuffing your clothes in a cabin bag. You spared him a glance before zipping the bag up.

He took a deep breath, he had to say the right words before he fucks up the situation more than he already has. “Sweetheart –“

“Steve, I’m leaving. I think we should take a break,” Your voice cracking a bit but you tried to be resilient and strong, you sighed as you saw the heartbroken look on his face as his jaw dropped “it’s hard for me too but it’s just not working anymore.”

“Is it hard for you?” He spit. “Everyone has problems, I just need one more chance.”

“I won’t let you break my heart again.” You swallowed as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, you wiped them with the back of your hand. “I’ll always love you but I’m tired of being disappointed and suspicious and jealous. It’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be.”

“Wh – what do you mean suspicious?” He asked as his brows furrowed.

“I think you know what I mean. I know I’m not like a model or a kickass spy or unique. But I still want to be special to someone. I’m so...simple. I thought that was enough for you and us.”

“What are you even talking about?” He lost his composure and calm as his eyes watered, blurring his vision, he held onto your forearms, needing your touch the most right now, as if you won't leave if he held on tight enough. “I’m not special either.”

To which you scoffed. “That’s debatable.”

“It’s true. Captain America is special. He’s the superhero. I’m just Steve.”

“I know that’s what you think,” You said shaking his hands off of you and staring at the floor, not bearing to look at him “But it’s not the reality. Captain America is a part of you. And I think... maybe Captain America deserves someone extraordinary like Agent 13.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in his stern Captain voice, clenching his fists having had about enough of this.

You stiffened as a shiver ran down your spine at his tone. He had never spoken to you like that. He reserved that tone for his teammates and subordinates, and more often than not Tony. But not you. You were his precious baby.

You felt as if you were compelled to look up at him, he wasn’t crying anymore but his jaw had hardened, his face and neck flushed red. “Sharon. I mean,” You took a deep breath “I know there’s nothing between you two... probably.” you whispered as he raised a brow at you.

“But your work and duty will always come first and I know it is a good thing. But it’s not what I want. I thought I could handle it, the whole world needing you more than me and coming before me,” You spoke so lowly but you knew he could hear you, “but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will. A break will put things into perspective for both of us.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He growled as you rolled your eyes. “How could you think those things? I need you more than anything else.” His anger was fuelled as you scoffed again, as if he was lying. “Don’t you dare hink that there’s anything past or present that I’d put before you. You’re the only thing that matters. I promise.”

“You may believe that, but your words only carry so much weight when they’re not followed up by actions. I know you’re not the cheating type,” You rambled pulling on your hair and sighing, it was all so overwhelming “I don’t know what to believe. When I go days without speaking to you – what else am I supposed to believe?”

He hesitantly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, relieved that you didn’t stop him or push him away again, “Just give me one chance to prove myself. I know I’ll never be worthy of you but I don’t want us to give up so easily. Not without putting up a fight.” He gritted pulling your chin up as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And you know how good I am at putting up a fight. I’ll always fight for you,” He smiled pulling your chin up to look at your pretty face.

“Okay,” You sniffled. “You’re always so good with words.” You smiled shaking your head.

He hummed at that. “I got you to go out with me, didn’t I?”

“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work?” you wanted to know.

He shushed you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his face in the crook of your neck. He craved your warmth and comfort especially after almost losing you. “I’ll never take you for granted again.” He nuzzled your neck before kissing it. “We can go venue hunting tomorrow. For the wedding.”

You smiled in his hold “Well I don’t know about that. Maybe the wedding planning can wait for a while.”

He hummed as he rested his chin on top of your head. He had his work cut out for him if he intended to keep you. He made a mental note of calling Tony first thing in the morning. “I hate it when we fight.” He said rocking you in his arms “But I like the making up part.”

You playfully smacked his chest. You just knew he was cheekily grinning. “I agree.” You giggled.

You hadn’t fought a whole lot throughout your relationship, but the make up sex was always amazing.

You gulped nervously as he captured your lips in a bruising and breath taking kiss. Letting you know just how much he loved you. You hummed as his hands caressed the soft skin of your ass, squeezing it lightly before he pulled you up.

You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. You trailed kisses down his jaw as he carried you to your bed. Giving him a nip or two here and there, smiling against his throat as you felt the vibrations of his moans.

He gently dropped you on your comfortable mattress, you giggled as you bounced.

Steve hovered above you, he was so large, he was the only thing you could look at. Your shaky hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he pulled your night shirt up, groaning at the sight of your soft nipples, hardening so easily at his touch. He pulled one in his mouth as he thoroughly sucked on it.

“Oh, Steve.” You moaned as his hand came up to pay some attention to your other breast, fondling it in his hand before tugging your stiff peak with his fingers. You gasped as he bit you. “Oh I’ll definitely feel that tomorrow,” You sighed pulling your shirt over your head as he made his way down your body, settling between your legs.

He looked at you as you bit your lip, your breasts laid flat as you chest heaved with anticipation. He let out a guttural sound as he saw and smelled just how aroused and wet you were for him. He licked a firm stripe up your warm folds before capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, harshly sucking on it as he worked you up with his fingers to get you ready for him.

The moans and mewls from your mouth and the squelching of his fingers were something akin to a symphony to his ears. He cooed as you thrashed wildly when he pulled away. “Steve!” You whined.

“Just a minute baby. You remember what we talked about? Patience.” He said as he quickly got rid of his clothes. His throbbing erection ached to be inside you. But he couldn’t help but tease his sweet girl a bit as he stroked himself above you, much to your displeasure.

He chuckled as you kicked your legs. “Patience,” He reminded you again as he bent to suck a bruise on your breast. He pulled away with a pop, pleased with the way your skin bruised under his assault, “So you’ll always remember how much I love you.” He murmured in your neck as he slowly entered your channel.

He stayed inside you just like that for a few minutes, it was comfortable like a warm hug, it felt like home because you were his home. No matter how many times he made love to you, he could never get used to how wet and tight you felt.

He sucked a few more love bites on your neck he knew you’d give him hell for later but in the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rocked his hips, slowly and tortuously pulling out of you before pushing back in till he bottomed out, searching for your special spot, he knew he found it when you threw your head back and started blabbering nonsense.

Your hips matched his pace, trying their best to keep up with his super strength and agility. He propped himself up on his elbows, he needed to see you, see your face twist in pleasure as he did such sinful things to you. Except they rarely ever felt sinful to him. It felt as if he was expressing his love for you by pleasing you and worshipping you.

“How could you ever think I don’t care about you?” He asked not really expecting an answer, what with you being so preoccupied and your mind too far gone to listen to him, as he drove his hips up harshly.

You shook your head muttering apologises and chanting his name as he felt you clench around him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as your orgasm hit you in waves of pleasure.

“I need you to say it.” He demanded. His thrusts lost any sense of rhythm simply pounding into you with abandon as he chased his release. “Say that you know that I love you.” He rasped as his hips stuttered. “Say. It.” He punctuated with a few more thrusts before he emptied inside you, panting into the crook of your neck.

“I know you love me Steve.” You mumbled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

You felt him shake his head as he pecked your lips. “That’s not possible.”

“Yes it is!” You huffed incredulously.

“Agree to disagree.” He stated not really in the mood to fight with you anymore as you smacked his bicep, scoffing at him before muttering a ‘whatever’ under your breath. He pulled you on top of him still connected to your heat as he felt his spend spill out of you. “Can we stay like this for a bit?” He asked somewhat shyly.

You hummed, “Yes of course.” You sleepily mumbled against his soft and warm chest.

He listened to your breathing and steady heartbeat as you slipped into a dreamless slumber.

He couldn’t sleep. He only ever slept a couple of hours every night and now after everything that perspired, he was scared he’d fall asleep and you’d be gone when he wakes up.

There was no way in hell he’d ever let you. He’d give up the shield if he had to. He was as stupidly stubborn as you if not more. He was sure he’d fix everything as he kissed the top of your head and covered the pair of you with the comforter. So you’d feel as warm and comfortable as him.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Idk how Sharon comes off in this but no Sharon hate please! I don't have an opinion on her but I believe in girls supporting girls. Thank you😘😘

#reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader

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merakiclosed · 3 years

Text

Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Disney!au/Fantasy!au , Strangers to lovers!au, Tangled!au (2010) 》Word count: 7k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self.

The sky looked like a fresh blend of colours brushed onto a canvas. Pomegranate pink and papaya orange teased each other, daring to touch but not completely mixing. You’re tempted to close the shutters and go to bed, tiredness pulling at your being. But you were defiant, what good would tomorrow bring? It would be like any other day; clean up, read, paint, sing, cook.

Pascal sleeps on your shoulder when you look down, unconsciously he matches with the sun, his normal green scales changing golden. Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren’t allowed out of the tower. It was mother’s number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Your bare feet echo in the empty room as you descend to your bedroom. Along the staircase you run your hands along the carvings that were like a tale of a story that was long forgotten, remembering the day you spent on the hard work. Were you 15 at the time? Maybe, the days are all forged together.

Carefully, you set Pascal down on one of the pillows as you flop down beside him, trying to not wake him up. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Your hand moves along the wall, almost like your mind is directing it without you. You never think too much whilst painting, it’s where you see the reflection of your own imagination and mind. Every colour is bold and painted with precise lines, curved yet defined. Small dots of gold contrast with the deep blue of the background, representing the floating lights. The same ones that you know will appear tomorrow night, on your birthday. You could only hope and wish that this year, your mother allows you to go see them.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar echo of shoes on the stairwell causing you to shove the paint palette down and draw the curtains to hide the painting. Quickly, you get down from the fireplace, getting ready to greet her as the chain and lock sound heavy against the door.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you’re moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down.

As soon as she is sat down you put a pillow on the floor to sit on, singing the song as fast as you can. Your hair reached the bottom of your bum, thick and tangled from having a busy day, though you don’t wince or groan when she pulls at a knot, too excited and nervous to ask a question. Behind your closed eyes, you briefly see the glow of your hair along with a Zapp at how fast the magic worked.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn’t care less.

“Mother, I was thinking about what I want for my birthday. Wou- would I b-be able to go outside. To see the floating lights?” Your once confident voice trails off with uncertainty, “They only appear on my birthday and I need to know what they are” you plead, moving to show her the painting you did today, behind the closed curtains. But your grip quickly loosens when you hear her next words.

“Y/n. You want to go outside? You know why we stay in the tower, trust me mother knows best.” She says firmly, standing up towering over you. Her eyes are as dark as her hair as she looks unimpressed, “there are many bad guys out there, diseases that can wipe you out. You know what they do to bright things in the world. They eat them up.”

“You don’t ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she’s gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you’re a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother’s voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don’t talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she’s gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn’t had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that’s mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn’t threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“I don’t want your hair, I want to get out of here. Now, give me my satchel.” You were shocked by his firm and deep voice as he hardened his gaze on you. Neither of you said anything, his ice-cold stare not wavering as you came up with an idea.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you’ll get your satchel.”

“That’s it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn’t have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.”

“Well let’s get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother’s permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

Feet firmly planted, you look up to the sky that is bright but soft all at once, it looks bigger from down here, reminding you how small you are in a big world. Looking back, you see the plants that have grown thick on the tower, stone of grey peeking out as rigid pieces crumble to the floor. The grass is soft on your feet as you timidly take a step forward, the bottom of your dress soaking up the morning dew as you bend down to pick out a flower. The petals are vibrant and proud as you softly brush your finger along the soft texture. Your hair flows behind you in the grass, but you don’t care. Pascal takes in a big, deep breath of the fresh air, peering over at the young man. He doesn’t trust him.

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can’t think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

Now fully in the forest, you take it all in. Trees that you once looked over, towered over you causing you to smile like a kid in the candy store, they were bigger than you imagined. You gasped at the sight of a bunny, running over to it, the motion causing it to squeak and hop away. Subconsciously you frown with a pout prominent on your face, you only wanted to pet it, the fur looked so soft! JK looks over at you, cocking his head to the side. How strange and innocent you were, shrugging it off he walks off, wanting to get this over and done with.

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn’t sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

As she lays on the cold, hardwood floor, she thinks about all of the possibilities of what could have happened. She can’t lay around all day, she has to do something. Standing up, she pulls her black cloak over her head as her blood-red dress dances against the door, her boots crushing the debris. She will do whatever it takes to get her back.

You walked until it was dark, the atmosphere between you both was awkward for the full day, asking him questions but only getting either one-word responses or gestures of yes or no. Goosebumps appear on your arms from the evening chill as crickets start to sing in the swaying grass.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist’s hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you’ve practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you’ve seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn’t much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you’re sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

The fire crackles as soon as he has light it, you watch him silently as he tears a bit of his shirt off to stop the bleeding of a scrape on his arm. Maybe, you can get him to talk if you become closer. Wordlessly, you scoot over to him and reach out softly to stop him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows wondering what you were doing. Winding some hair around the cut, he hisses as your small hands press harder onto his forearm, with a cautious gaze you look up at him, “Please don’t be scared.” The vulnerability in your voice is evident as he looks at you skeptically.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”

Jungkook watches you as if you were crazy, but confusion knocks into him once he feels a tingle in his arm, looking as your hair starts to glow. Staring at your face, the light illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed firmly, he observes the silent features on your face that draws him closer to you, you look so young, yet so worn out. Watching as delicate lips sing the song.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

Opening your eyes, he’s taken out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Meekly, you look up at him as you unwrap your hair from his arm, the cut no longer there. You wait anxiously at what he will do next. You haven’t shown anyone other than your mother that.

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that’s why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn’t happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you’re a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do it. He’s not a good person and you don’t deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

You gaze up into his deep, marble eyes where you could see tales - most likely fascinating, secrets and stories that he’s held up in his head for years. He was far more interesting than you, that’s for sure.

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

“I ran, I didn’t plan the journey to the tower, I just ended up there.” He says with a humourless laugh, thinking about how he had run away from the guards at the palace, then proceeding to ditch the two others. His eyes unconsciously flicking to the satchel around your shoulder. Was all of this worth it?

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you’re fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you’re thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you’re asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn’t far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world. Pascal looks in wonder, as he hides in the pocket of your dress, he’s never seen something like this in his life. If he thought your paintings were colourful, this was on a whole other level as they whizzed past him.

Purple seemed to be the main colour as it is splashed onto every bit of material you see, as you get closer you see a group of young girls that paint a mural on the floor, a star in the middle of purple paint. A picture of, who you presume are the king and queen with a young daughter in their arms, was in front of the painting.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn’t question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Your hair feels lighter and is easier to manage as you walk past the stalls. Briefly, you smell something sweet as you get closer to a particular one, your face lighting up at the sweetness. You pause your steps, taking a closer look at what it was.

Jungkook turns around to find that you’re not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“Do you want one?” He asks softly, nodding towards the sweet treat. You nod enthusiastically, causing another chuckle to rise from his throat as he hands the man behind the glass some money. You whisper a thank you as you take it from him, “what is this called?”

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the center of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to, giving the last of it to pascal.

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook’s hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

Smiling and giggling you look up to find him mirroring your expression. His laugh is beautiful as you finally get to see him enjoy himself, maybe he has realised that he can also be carefree. Your feet pad against the stone floor, you know you’ll have to make up an excuse as to why your feet are battered and bruised when you get home, but right now you don’t care.

But you’re soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it’s all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook’s grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. In your pocket, you barely realise that Pascal is shaking, clinging onto your dress for dear life. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn’t get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

A sigh of relief from him as you smile up towards him, “that was an adventure” you laugh. The adrenaline that pumped through you was certainly a new experience, though your feet are paying the price as you look down at them. Jungkook copies you and looks at how red and bruised your feet are making him grimace. He opens his pouch in his pocket and hands you some coins and points to one of the stalls, “I’ll stay here, are you alright buying your own shoes?”

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You’ve only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Briefly, you look down to Pascal who nods at you, a small smile on his face. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they’re pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you.

Unknown to both of you Pascal notices the looks he gives you and tilts his head, maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought.

As the sun descends and an ashen moon rises into the darkness he walks you along the beach, where a river lies in front of the castle. A small rowing boat sits upon the pale yellow of the sand, still against the calm waves. Jungkook unwinds the rope from the wooden pole and throws it into the boat. Holding out a hand he helps you get in as he pushes it off into the ocean, jumping in after, making the boat rock. You yelp and hold on to the side, crouching into a ball as you can feel it rock beneath you. You hear him laugh as he sits down, not bothered by the sway of the waves. He grabs the paddles and starts to row, you watch as his face contorts into concentration, his tongue bulges against his cheek, his once injured hand gripping the paddle with a tough grip, veins run along his forearm. A foreign feeling surges through you as you watch him, butterflies invading your stomach.

Soon enough you’re in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. Swiftly, Pascal crawls to the side of the boat and seats himself on the wood, waiting for the lights to warm up the sky. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?”

“The lanterns?” You nod.

“The daughter of the King and Queen was taken on this day and was never seen again. They hope by sending these lanterns off that she will find her way back.” He sighs, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. You know that he is hiding something as he avoids your eyes, looking out in the water. Before you can say anything a singular light floats up into the sky followed by thousands more. Gasping, you jump to the edge of the boat, trying to get a closer look, ignoring the tilt of the boat in your excitement. Lanterns illuminated like stars against the inky black night, the water merged the reflection of those in the sky, an autumn orange. Inside each lantern holds a small candle, lit with a prayer, calling out for the lost daughter. The pale silk hand-painted with the same star you saw earlier.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkook’s. The world feels like it’s shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn’t due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge beforehand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold.

Struggling to get out of your mother’s grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. He took you from me, we can’t have that can we?” her patronising voice sings in your ear. One of the men punches him in the gut, as the other kicks his back legs causing him to fall to his knees, the wood digging into his skin from the impact. “And these lovely boys helped me, aren’t they sweet,” she says, grabbing your chin and harshly tugging it to make you look at them. An uppercut to head and he spits out blood, “Mother. Stop.” your voice is filled with panic, watching helplessly as they repeatedly punch him and kick him. Your mind goes wild, why isn’t he fighting back? Pascal watches on with wide eyes, knowing that he can’t do anything, feeling useless.

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn’t know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn’t want the crown. He didn’t want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn’t have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their faces as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

Her grip on you disappears and you throw yourself to the floor, “Jungkook.” You frantically try and stop the blood, but too much has already been lost, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” you whisper, pushing down on one his wounds causing him to wince.

“Y/n.” you ignore him, grabbing your hair in your hands to wrap around him, before pale hands grip yours, “I can’t let you do this.” A single tear makes its way down his face, his hands are cold against yours signifying that you don’t have much time left.

“Please, please let me do this or you’ll die.” you softly caress his cheek, moving some hair out of his face, “If I let you do this, you’ll die.” he whispers, eyes blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. His breathing is heavy as he wheezes. Gently, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into him as your body shakes, “I love you.” With all of the energy that he can muster he snatches the knife from the floor before grabbing your hair and cutting it in one swipe. Jagged lines of hair fall to the ground, as you gaze at him with wide eyes.

A piercing screech comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you.

Jungkook’s grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Pascal climbs on top of him, eyes sad as he watches the both of you, beneath him he can feel Jungkook’s breathing slowing down. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiraled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting, like a firework, into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning.

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they’re learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that’s been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

Gasping, you see Jungkook getting up and holding his head in his hands, his body feeling sore. Throwing yourself at him once again, you swallow thickly holding back another sob. Gradually, he lifts himself up whilst keeping his arms around you, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“J-Jungkook. I-”

“It’s fine, I know,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he manoeuvres your body to sit in his lap. “Y-you know what I am?” you sniffle, looking up at him, watching as he nods. “There was no way that you weren’t the missing princess. A girl that was kept in a tower, magical powers and the fact you looked identical to the picture painted on the wall in the middle of the village? I put it together fairly fast”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

The balcony stood over the village, the open porch in front of you was held with detailed pillars, painted in a brilliant white. The architecture fitting perfectly with the village buildings, get standing out in the most ostentatiously way as the castle stood the tallest. Guards surrounded the both of you, causing Jungkook to be on his toes. If this all goes wrong you’ll both be jailed for life. The white stone of the castle glistened in the summer sun as you both wait anxiously.

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook’s hand tighter. Two people; a man and women step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she storks your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

“This is Jungkook. He helped me get here.” You say as you turn around to face him. Your dad walks towards him, boot heavy on the ground as he embraces him, “thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks from Jungkook’s shoulder before turning blue, when all of the attention is on him from his celebration of joy, making you all laugh and coo at him. The princess of the tower was finally free.

Please comment and reblog, tell me what you think!! It took me around 2 weeks to write this and I’m sorry if the ending isn’t as good :(( But I still hope you enjoyed

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intergalactic-padawan · 3 years

Text

My works

(CURRENTLY ON HIATUS)

Hey there!

I'm just another Ezra Bridger stan, trying my best to give the people the content i'd like to see. If you have any ideas as well, please don't be shy and share them! It may take a while but i'll try not to leave anyone without an answer.

(I DON'T WRITE +18)

I'll add my works as I go, and the asks are always open!

* → author's favourite

1. Letters from Ezra to his "Princess" from Earth.

1st letter - 2nd letter - 3d letter - 4th letter

They follow a chronological order and reference current events such as the pandemic (i wrote them as a way to escape the panic of being stuck inside)

2. The rebels find out about you and Ezra*

A small list of contextualized reactions on finding out you and Ezra have been a thing for a while.

3. Headcannons/imagines

→ taken care of - based on the "Of grumpiness and candy stashes" story, some ideas on what it would be like to have ezra as your boyfriend while you’re on your period.

→ cuddles with ezra headcannons *- headcannons of your bonding experience with Ezra through your cuddling

→ sharing your music with Ezra - you're a musician in the rebellion, and Ezra absolutely loves that about you

→ we know that he looooves you* - inspired by that "In the heights" scene and audio that's so popular on tik tok.

4. Small stories

→ Dos oruguitas - Inspired by that masterpiece that was Disney's Encanto, a songfic about being a pair of oruguitas in the big, big galaxy.

→ We'll survive together - After a mission gone terribly wrong, Ezra is right there to encourage you to keep fighting

→ Stressed out - Work hasn't been very encouraging lately. Thankfully, Ezra has just the right idea to cheer you up.

→After the Chimaera - Ezra doesn't get to go through with his plan to defeat Thrawn, and the excitement of the events draws some confessions out of you. (gn reader!)

→ Of grumpiness and candy stashes - You may hate yourself and others during that time of month, but Ezra knows how to take care of you (inspires the "taken care of" imagine)

→ Under the Lothal night sky *- Ezra takes you stargazing after the battle for Lothal, and you think of a hpeful future together.

→ Relics - Very focused on some self-insert-shifting more than a ship, but he's there, he's teasing, so we're good.

→ I'm home now *- you've been waiting for a long, long time, and fianlly get to see him again.

→ nightmares - You've been having nightmares every night, so you give in to the voice at the back of your head and go check on Ezra.

you can check out the edit on tik tok here!

→ inquisitor* - you wake up hurt after the events on Malachor, and still can't understand how Ezra Bridger thought helping out an inquisitor was a good idea.

→ Never rescue me again - you've been captuted and questioned by the Empire, and Ezra has to rescue you.

Here's if you want to JOIN THE TAG LIST

any links not working or works i've forgotten to add? please let me know!

#ezra bridger headcannons #ezra bridger masterlist #ezra bridger x you #ezra bridger x reader headcannons

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100hearteyes · 3 years

Photo

Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

#that moodboard is way too serious for this lol #clexa #clexa au #clexa fic #clexa fanfiction #clexa fanfic #calmap #my fics #mine

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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One Year Anniversary: Top 12 Ducktales Episodes!

Happy anniversary all you happy people! Yes it was one year ago today I started reviewing animation and it��s been a ride to be sure. I’d always WANTED to be a reviewer: I love going on and on about stuff I love, really digging into it and picking it apart... but I could never get started. I tried youtube but I didn’t have the money for the equipment nor a proper shooting space to record, so my efforts.. were not great. And while I TRIED text reviews, my own looming pile of self hatred meant every attempt I made was shot down when it got hard as me not being good enough.

But one year ago I finally got past that. I’d already been reviewing a bit, doing invididual issues of comics... but got way in over my head trying to do the current line of X-Men comics as it came out, and wisely bowed out of that. But that left a gap: I had nothing to cover week to week and with a demanding new job, I drifted into just doing in charcter chats, little fan fictions script styles. Not bad work, I should do some more at some point and I even got a comissoin once in a while, but nothing I could really live on and not what I wanted to do with my life.

Enter Ducktales. I’d always WANTED to review the show.. and when the double premire happened, I decided fuck it, and put up my thoughts. And then decided.. hey maybe I can do this every week.. and slowly.. my work evolved, getting better and better, getting more and more likes. I picked up Amphibia when that came by week to week.

And eventually.. this went from a hobby, if one I was passionate about to a career. Not a largely paying one, as only one person was really intrested in paying me for it, friend of the blog and our fincial backer @weirdkev27, but .. it’s money and i’m now making about 30 dollars a month due to a comination of comissions and patreon. Other contributers are always welcome mind you, my patreon is here if your curious and comissions are 5 dollars an episode, but i’ts just nice to have money coming in. To have gone from simply WANTING to review things and make a living off it.. to simply doing it.

And it’s been one hell of a year.. and not just because 2020 felt like hell or 2021 began with a full on insurrection. I feel like i’ve acomplished a lot in the year i’ve been doing this: I finished what I started with Ducktales season 3, getting better and better as I went. And I didn’t stop there with ducks: I started covering what brought me to Ducks in the first place, the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, and while that retrospective has slid a bit on the schedule, I intend to get it back on track this month. I reviewed a bunch of Darkwing Duck episodes leading up to the Just Us Justice Ducks.. chronologically anyway. The actual airing order reads like someone took 50 issues of a comic, made it rain with them, then just started reading whatever ones they picked up randomly. I also covered some of Duck Master Carl Barks work with the classics Night on Bear Mountain, A Christmas for Shacktown and Back to the Klondike, with more to come.

And the Duck didn’t stop at just reviews I did on my own: Kev comissioned two MASSIVE retrospectives from me: My first for him was Ride of the Three Caballleros where in just a few short months I covered the boys entire televisied careers together from the movie, to house of mouse, to mickey and the roadster racers, to ducktales (again) and finishing with the wonderful Legend of the Three Caballeros. It has probably the worst Daisy imaginable, but otherwise is really excellent and i’m glad I finally watched it. I also covered Don Rosa’s two stories with the boys as part of it. It was a fun ride and I enjoyed every minute of it... okay most of them again Three Cabs Daisy is the worst. And once that finished Kev started up another idea: Shadow Into Light: a look at Lena’s character arc from start to finish that has gone on to be my most popular series on this blog, and that finishes next week. And there’s more to come as after that there’s a short breather with a look at Lilo and Stitch’s crossover episodes.. folllowed by me looking at all three of season 2′s ducktales arcs. And I fully intend to have covered every episode of the series by this time next year, so stay tuned.

Outside of ducks though I didn’t slow down. I restarted my Tom Lucitor retrospective, covering what i feel to be one of Star Vs’ two best characters, tied with eclipsa, and my personal faviorite as he redeemeed himself, found love and I bitched a lot about the horrible directions the series took and probabably will more as that’s still not done yet. I did what I always wanted to do and started looks at some of my faviorite comics ever, starting with Life and Times and adding in New X-Men and Scott PIlgrim. I also threw in the awesome comic Blacksad. I did pride month for the first time and not only came out publicly, but also did two whole arcs i’m proud of with The Saluna episodes of Loud house and the rednid episodes of OK KO, and generally just had myself a good old fashioned time as an out bi man reviewing childrens cartoons.

I started Season 2 of amphibia with it’s lows of an endlesss road trip and highs of adding Marcy to the cast and giving us more of the silky voiced keith david. And finally Patreon wise Kev’s taken me on a hell o fa journey: In addition to the restrospectives i’ve covered some additional darkwing duck, and a simpsons homage to the duck comics... but also got a bit weird and obscure with detours like the lost animnaics sucessor Histeria, the apocalyptic comedy where Santa dosen’t know how doors work Whoops! and the adventures of Santa’s bratty teen daughter jingle belle. In short.. it’s been a long year but damn has it been fun and there’s more to come. I’d like to thank all of you for reading, thank my Patreons Kev and Emma for supporting me, and thank my family for doing the same. So with that out of the way, I figured the best way to celebrate was to do something i’ve been wanting to do for a long time, something honoring the show that gave me this calling in the first place. And with Season 3 sadly being the last, and enough weeks having passed for me to digest it between the finale and today, I could think of nothing better than my top 12 episodes of Ducktales.

Ducktales is one of the best cartoons of the 2010′s. Brilliantly taking EVERYTHING that had come before, the comics, the original cartoon and every bit of duck media period to craft a masterful, unique and wonderful reboot. It was funny, it was insane, and it had damn good character arcs. By the end every member of the main cast along with major supporting cast members like Fenton, Drake and especially Lena, had changed and signifigantly at that. The show was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more and I miss it terribly, hoping DIsney will do a revivial movie at some point. For now though, Frank and Matt’s run on ducktales, as they called it and I do too since i’m a massive comic book nerd, it’s time to look back on my favorite tales of ducks. So grab your sharks, your number one dimes and your friendship cakes with clear gay undertones and join me under the cut as I celebrate one of my faviorite shows and my anniversary in the best way possible.

12. House of the Lucky Gander!

So as i’ve gone on about before and no doubt will again, Donald kinda got the short end of the stick in season 1. While Frank and Matt had good story intentions, keeping Donald away from adventure since he had no interest in it, in practice it meant a beloved Disney Icon who they and disney HEAVILY promoted as part of the series and whose being here this go round was a big draw for fans of the comics.... was only in a quarter of the season and only got TWO plots centered around him in 23 episodes, with only one being the main plot of the episode. The PIlot and Finale both centered around the family more as a whole if your curious how I counted those so while he got plenty of focus in both, it’s still not a day in the limelight sort of thing.

But unusually for Donald, he lucked out as his one big starring role for Season 1 was both one of my faviorites and one of Season 1′s most inventive outings. A lot of the episodes enegy comes from a one two punch of a great guest star and one of the series best settings. The guest star is of course everyone’s faviorite overly lucky himbo Gladstone Gander. The show adapted the prick perfectly: The original Gladstone from the comics.. was the worst asshole imaginable, utterly insufferable. And for a villian, and Donald’s rival, that’s all well and good.. but his super luck meant he RARELY , if ever, suffered any consequences for being just...

The 87 series simply made him nicer, while Going Quackers simply removed his luck. No adaptation really got how to make this fucker work.. until this one. Here Frank split the diffrence: Gladstone is still smug.. but he’s no longer actively malicious. While he is an insensitive prick to Donald in this one, unlike the comics he’s not constantly bragging about his luck or how great he is or actively BAITING Donald to fight with him or trying to ruin his relationship or a million other reasons he sucks and I hate him.

This version by contrast... is generous. He’s not the most empathetic, because he doesn’t get how life works, but he does share the riches of the casnio with everyone and in a cameo appearance in “Treasure of the Found Lamp” gladly offers his nephews some diamonds. He’s got a nice surface level charm to him that makes you understand why people like him.. but it’s also clear ther’es nothing UNDER that of value, making you equally understand why Scrooge and Donald hate him. Gladstone in this reboot is a perfect example of why we need reboots or new adaptations in the first place: Because sometimes the original got something wrong or something can be done much better by the new writers.

He’s perfectly paired with the setting: The House of Lucky Fortune, a mystical casino with an East Asian astatic based in the country of Macaw and provides two great plots. Donald’s really highlights his character: His understandable jealousy at gladstone earning the boys love through nothing while he struggles to make a living for them, and how he feels like a looser and like Gladstone is simply showing that off instead of just not knowing what empathy is. Having Louie be the one to bond with Gladstone was also just pitch pefefct, as is showing some depth for the boy by having himr ealize his hero is an asshole and be the one to help donald in the end.

The other plot is just pure joy though and is where the setting REALLY shines: Scrooge and the rest of the kids try to leave.. but can’t find the exit. This is where the creative part comes in: The Casino simply morphs to keep people trapped, and caters to them, giving them whatever they want to keep them trapped. In the cases of the kids it’s all hilarious and adorably in character: Huey becomes entranced by a fancy water show, in one of his best bits of the season, Dewey gets a pet tiger who sadly did not come home with him and Webby gets to live the dream we’ve all had of stuffing her face directly in a choclate fountain. Scrooge’s escape is likewise clever: He simply prepares to get a room.. then books it as the check in desk is ALWAYS near the front.

We then find out Gladston’es trapped get the whole mystical contest with absolutely gorgeous animation, i’ll talk about it in full some time but this episode is just a treat to watch, has a great arc for donald and had some memorable gags. I can’t help but smile when I watch it.

11. The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee! As I mentioned before i’m a superhero nerd so naturally Fenton was one of my faviorite parts of the show. Frank and Matt were just damn good at crafting superhero stories, and like gladstone improved fenton turning him from an awkward donald stand in to an awkward peter parker-esque science nerd who just wants to be a good person and the best hero he can be. He got into science not just because he thinks it’s neat, but because he honestly wants to help people and you can’t help but foot for him whenever he pops up. Lin Manuel Miranda is a large reason for that, bringing his incomparable a-game to the character. While we sadly didn’t get a ton of gizmoduck focused episodes, the fatct we got AS MANY as we did and that Lin didn’t drop out for a minute even with his busy schedule was a miracle and I’m acknowledging that.

As for why this one, I feel it builds brilliantly on the previous Fentoncentric episode Who Is Gizmoduck?! which just BARELY didn’t make this list and uses the fact we haven’t seen fenton in a while as both a plot point and to move some things forward without having to spend screentime they clearly didn’t have. By having Fenton be just burnt out on superheroics it finds a way to both explain where he’s been, he’s been busy with his new job, and give us an interesting angle to the old “superhero is tired of the life” thing. He never once complains about saving people or stuff... it’s just like any job it gets tiring after a while. As someone who has his dream job but has struggled with it from time to time, I vastly relate.

Though while I love my boy and Lin is game as always, the episodes real MVP is my other boy Huey. The episode has moved Huey up from being simply Fenton’s fanboy to being his best friend, and adorable as hell relationship. The two clearly respect and appricate each other and Huey is looking out for his buddy the whole episode. His love of love is also just really cute. Added in the mix is Webby, who in one of my faviorite gags of the series, finds out Fenton is Gizmoduck because Huey is incredibly and insanely blatant with his unecessary coverup. But she of course is game to help while Fenton is trying to play it casual. We also just get a waterfall of great gags as everyone overdoes it wingmanning for fenton: Huey sets up an itallian bistro and tries to purposfully create a lady and the tramp situation, and sings opera (With Manny on acordian), the wonderfully 80′s suit from Fenton’s dad his mom gives him to wear, and Launchpad, who gives us a tremendous list of his exes, and plays my favorite song of the series: It’s a Date, a micheal mcdonnel riff.

This episode also wisely ups Mark’s Beaks game as Fenton’s arch enemy, still keeping him hilaroius, with the guy acting like a bored teenager and guzzling so much nanite jucie he turns into a hulk, as well as said hulk mode leading to a ton of great gags from kidnapping the children (”I got your kids.. are they your kids? I don’t know how this family works), to “take that coach dad” to eating a pie with tins and all and wondering about said tins. But he’s an actual threat now, taking on fenton in one hell of a fight, and having an utterly transcendent scene where he hacks his way past gyro’s security while dancing.. and dabbing because of course he does. It’s a fun, well done character piece that’s mostly here for i’ts laugh but Fenton’s struggle with Gizmo overtaking his life, and finding out someone he truly hit it off iwth only wanted him for that.. it’s really good stuff and Lin’s delivery after Fenton finds out, the pure pain and betryal in his voice, is just excellent. Also that opera scene is poetry.

10. Quack Pack!

One of the episodes that started my career naturally landed here. Not for that reason though: Quack Pack is a fun riff on sitcoms, specifically the tgif ones of the 90′s that Disney Afternoon Kids no doubt also watched, the kinds Disney Channel still makes today, and most importanly the kind the Disney Afternoon itself made like Goof Troop and well... Quack Pack.

Riffs on sitcoms are nothing new and the last year has been FULL of them. 2020 gave us this episode, Beef House and the wonderful “The Perfect House” episode of Close Enough, and this year gave us WandaVision, my second favorite MCU project so far, right behind Black Panther, which used the sitcom deconstruction to create one hell of a character study.

So you’d think with a year having passed and this concept happening as an entire mini series would dull this one.. but no. it’s still damn funny, having fun at the cliches while, again like WandaVision, having one of the main cast be responsible by accident but go along with it. The episode pivots from glorious affectionate parody of cheesy sitcoms, to that plus horrifying “Humans”, and a character piece for Donald. This brings Donald’s hatred and fed up ness with adventure to a head revealing his fondest wish is just to have a normal life and not loose anyone again.

It takes one of his best friends to snap him out of it. Look Goofy is my second faviorite of the sensational seven, an episode with him was already an easy sell for me.. but the episode uses him really well. First for laughs as he’s gentically dispositioned to be a perfect sitcom neighbor.. but also for heart. With his family preoccupied and a bit hurt, i’ts Goofy who cuts to the heart of the issue, pointing out NO ONE is normal and even his normal domestic life raising Max, who we see go to prom with roxanne eeeeee, has all sorts of chaos. Normal is what you make of it and pining for some ideal that will never happen was just tearing donald apart piece by piece and by letting go of that.. he finally begins to grow as a person throughout the season. It’s also a great thematic tie in to the season’s overall plot with Bradford and what Makes donald, despite also disliking the chaos his family gets into, different. Donald accepted it and grew as a person.. Bradford clung to his hate and it ate him alive. Or turned him into a non-sapient kind of vulture. Before I close this part out Jaleel White is also excellent and I wish eh’d get back into voice acting. He’s so freaking good at it. Seriously man i’d love to see him and ben in a sonic property together as a mythology gag. Same with Jims cummings and carey. Just think about it whoever owns the sonic movies.. think about it.

9. The Last Adventure!

Look I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming. But it had to be on here. The Last Adventure is not perfect: The lack of a build up episode like the previous two finales had really hurt this one: even at about 70 minutes, it still feels rushed in places and Huey, one of hte main characters of the season, dosen’t feel like he has a full payoff to his character like Dewey and Louie got.

But despite those flaws.. this episode is just a damn good ending. Almost everyone gets a big moment paying off their character arc, everyone in the party that comes to rescue webby and huey, along with the two themselves, gets a moment to show off, and everything comes together to give us one last epic sendoff. There’s just moment stacked on moment stacked on moment from Launchpads heroic second wind and donning of the gizmoduck armor, to Webby’s tearful confrontation with Beakley, to Huey using the greatest adventure of all line to foil bradford in one of the most deligfhully nuts moments of the series, I could go on for days with just how triumphant this finale felt. While it left a lot of doors open.. that feels like part of the design. It’s the end of the fight with FOWL.. but our heroes will never stop adventuring, never stop going and never stop being in our hearts and the curtain call at the end is now my faviorite bit of end credits ever, perfectly giving the main cast and friends one last chance to take a bow in their own unique ways. I will always miss this show but I will never be disapointed by the note it went out on.

8. The 87 Cent Solution!

Look some episodes are show stoppers, some are heartfelt tearjerkers, some are all this and more.. and some episodes are just clever and hilarious. The 87 Solution is the second funniest episode of Ducktales with me and my go to episode when watching the show. It’s just pure fun and with a clever premise: Scrooge notices 87 cents have gone missing, and already coming down with a cold, goes mad with paranoia as the kids slowly don face masks, something that has become even eeerier given everything, one by one realizing he needs to stop.

While David Tennant is an EXCELLENT dramatic actor, his comedy timing is really something that shoudln’t be ignored and i’ts on full display here as his performance gets more and more deranged, to thep oint he thinks an 8th dimensional imp is repsonsible. He nicely balances the disturbing side of Scrooge’s paranoia, his distancing from his family, with plenty of great gags about it too, the standout being when he offers 2 million dollars to whoever took the money like he’s publicly appeasing kidnappers. It’s fucking brilliant.

But while David is awesome as ever what really, truly makes the episode is my boy, one of my faviorite characters on the show if not my single faviriote FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Keith Ferguson is ALWAYS a dream as the character but this is his best performance by far. Part of this is the addition of Zan Owlson, Kev who I mentioned earlier’s faviorite Ducktales character. She’s not only throughly likeable in her own right, but provides the one thing Flinty was missing; a straight man.. or woman in this case. Scrooge wasn’t TERRIBLE in the roll, but can easily step away from his shit or foil it. Owlson has to put up with Glomgold’s nonsense while desperatly trying to stop him from undoing all her hard work with sheer force of jackass. The two jut play off each other brilliantly, Glomgold not getting sh’es not his employee but his equal and Owlson constnatly snarking at him.

And of course both things hit their peak in the climax with the family staging a fake funeral (Though no one told donald it was fake), and we get the funniest scene in the entire fucking show as Glomgold burts in in a white suit, money shades and full dance number to “All I Do Is Win’, which when first watching this I was convinced the song was somehow accidnetly on in the background but nope. They got it after using it in the test phase and the scene is better for it. Glomgold twerking on Scrooge’s casket, trying to get on it to dance, and having to be placated like ac hild is the icing on this very rich cake

And the reveal scene is also gold as Glomgold gets into a YEARLONG staring contest with a baby, fails to steal more than the 87 cents and, in my faviorite touch, put on an imp costume just to make scrooge seem crazier... then keeps the damn thing on the rest of the time for no explicable reason. The episode is the show at it’s comedic peak while giving Glomgold a chance to be a genuine threat and that’s Glomgood.

7. Let’s Get Dangerous!

Frank’s Rebooted Version of Darkwing Duck is probably his greatest achivment with the show. While this show is a team effort, something I slowly realized as I reviewed the show, it’s very clear from the way he talks, how well he knows the show and how much effort was put into porting Darkwing into the reboot that this was his baby. While redefining ducktales for the 2010′s was clearly a huge dream of his... doing the same for the master of suprise was an even bigger goal. And as a huge fan of superheroes i’ve seen my fair share of half assed takes on laired and complex characters. The XCU alone is one giant grab bag of missed opportunities for me.

So i’ts no exageration when I tell you Frank.. nailed it. In one of the most brilliant moves i’ve seen for a superhero work Frank worked his love of the show into the reboot.. by having Darkwing have been a show, one Launchpad loved.. and so did Drake, who was inspried by the show to become an inspriation himself and while his attempt to do that through a zack snydery reboot failed, Launchpad encouraged him to do it for real. Drake was still himself, but the meta aspect and the toning down of some of darkwing’s more obnoxious traits that didn’t work in a universe that, while patently rediciulous still took it’s characters seriously, he made a BETTER version of the character.

This is where all that comes to it’s peak, and hoppefully convinced Disney to let Frank , and possibly matt, run the reboot. And no, even if Point Grey is producing that dosen’t stop that: Thanks to Invincible i’ve now realized that Seth and his friend Evan producing the show dosen’t mean it’ll be RAN by them, nor unrelated to this. It just means their helping make it and if anything given how lush and gorgeous invincible’s animation is, it’s a VERY good sign their helping out with it if it’s true.

But wether this versoin continues or not, Frank gave it his best shot. Part of his diffrent angle is having Drake as a rookie here and as such here we see him truly struggle: he’s had his origin, he ahs the cape, he has the gadgets (in a brilliant turn thanks to fenton, who he actually likes... but is so far the ONLY person to not get he’s Gizmoduck), and the city.. but no crime to fight and no real idea how to go about his lifelong dream. The events of the episode slowly shape him: WHile he already had the spirit for darkwing, never giving up, looking good in a cape etc, this episode gives him the heart the same way it gave his original it: With Gosalyn. Dimantopolis and Beatriz just play off each other perfectly, as the two go from neimies to slowly bonding as Drake realizes this kid needs him and that he needs to fight for more than just filing the ohle inside, and goes to hell and back to help her get her grandpa back, with one of the best moments of the episode to me being when Launchpad helps her realize how hard he’s been working at it, an exausted drake refusing to acccept that he can’t get her grandpa back because he promised. He grows from simply trying to live the dream.. to surpassing the original. We also see more from Launchpad, who grows into his new family and helps push his boyfriend and newa dopted daughter in the right directions. The episode really evolves these characters from the simple disney afternoon versions, who while awesome were made into fully fleshed out characters. Gosalyn still has her edge but now has a hard lesson to learn about doing the right thing, forced to give up someone she loves for the greater good but finding a new family in the process.

Part of what makes the episode work though as while it is funcitonally one big darkwing duck reboot pilot that’s awesome, heartrending and a joy to watch... it’s still a ducktales episode in parts without either part hurting each other. Huey plays a vital role, figuring the ramrod is too good to be true.. and discovering just how it is, then when captured, slowly unravling why Bradford’s there and being at least in part responsible for outing him as a FOWL agent. While this is largely Drakes story the rest of the cast is still vital to it: Scrooge trusting in huey, Louie serving as his logical counter and Dewey meanwhile bonding with team darkwing and helping Gosalyn, knowing exactly where she’s been and providing a nice foil. The episode is just one long and impressive love letter to the original show while creating it’s own thing and that’s really this reboot in a nutshell. It also has some of the best fights of the series, with the first fight between darkwing and bulba, where our hero, unlike his original counterpart, easily troucnes bulba using his speed and skill, is the standout.

6. Woo-Ooo!

I covered this one recently so I won’t go on for too long.. but I will say I hold this one up as the gold standard for first episodes. In one hour, hell even in jus the first half we get a sense of the whole cast, the tone of the show, and the world we’ve been thrust into. It gets all the table setting out of the way by weaving it into a compelling story of Scrooge getting back in the game, finding a reason to get back to what he does best in those he loves most and setting up the season long arc effortlessly in the process. The worst I can say about the episode is it sets the bar a bit high for Season 1 and a lot of the first half really struggled to reach these heights. This episode is a masterwork and the perfect showcase for what the series would be at it’s height.

5. Moonvasion!

Speaking of Golden Standards, Moonvasion is one of the best season finale’s i’ve seen. it’s not THE best.. but that’s a really high bar to clear and that spots currently taken in my heart by “The Crossroads of Destiny” from Avatar the Last Airbender. But while not the best of it’s kind, it’s sitll the best the series put out and is an utterly satisfying epic that ties up season 2.

While I love the Last Adventure, it had a LOT to tie up and was really hampered by having to do all of that with no direct lead in. Moonvasion by contrast hits the ground running with the Moonlanders arriving on earth and all hell breaking loose, and the episode itself breaking into two stellar plots. Scrooge leading an army of every ally he has against the invaders, and Della seemingly going for reinforcements.. but really just trying to keep the kids safe from it, to their anger once they find out.

Both sides end up going badly: Scrooge looses most of his army as Lunaris was one step ahead of him and is left iwth Beakly and Launchpad, while Della ends up marooned.. and finds Donald. The reunion between the two is the highlight of the special, as the two argue as you’d expect (And Dewey cutting in seemingly to stop it.. only to rant at Donald for costing him “ten years of turbo” is the best gag of the episode), before embracing.

Our heroes naturally find ways to bounce back though. Louie, capping off his growth for the season, convinces his mom they can’t just hide.. and in the second best scene of the episode sings the lullabye she wrote.. one Donald sung them every night

And no sooner than Della gets her step back and realizes that dangerous or not she and her newly reunited family have to get back in there, do the cousins show up on Fethry’s giant shrimp/girlfriend Mitzi, and our heroes head back.

Scrooge’s plot hits i’ts peak though as he’s forced to accept the help of an unlikely and unwelcome ally: Glomgold, who turns out to be exactly what they need: While his plan is as stupid, short sighted and insane as you’d expect, complete with forcing Scrooge to dress up as santa just to piss him off and dressing his sharks in parkas (”I call them sharkas”), the sheer lonacy throws Lunaris off as he dosen’t know how to deal with this and Glomgold not only gets the better of him but gets his company back as part of his scheme. “You were prepared for our best but not our dumbest!” “And i’m the dumbest theirs ever been! Muahahahaha! Wait...”

And of course our other heroes arrive just in time to save things.. and the episode still manages to pull off what many works struggle to, something tha’ts very hard to: a SECOND climax. Lunaris decides to just say fuck it and blow up the earth and i’ts up to our core family to kick his ass in space. Epic space battles, Della’s girlfriend meeting the family and more insues and an emotoinal, action packed and fully satisfying finale is had by all... and it’s all topped with one of the best sequel hooks i’ve ever seen as FOWL makes themselves known to us.. and prepares to strike.

4. How Santa Stole Christmas! This one will also be short as i’ve talked about this one.. a lottttt. The initial review, my best christmas specials list and my best of 2020 list. I stand by all of that: this is a unique and wonderful christmas special, i’ll be watching it every year, and i’ts full of charm, humor and gay subtext. In short it’s this series but on christmas footing.

3. Last Crash of the Sunchaser!

Another one I covered very recently, this episode is a master piece of suspense, slowly building tension as our heroes get closer and closer to the truth about Della.. and to death, the simple but deadly stakes making this an absolute nailbiter from start to finish. This is some of the series best pacing bar none... but what seals it is the ending: the masterful flashback finally explaning whatever happened to Della duck, our heroes lashing out at each other.. all cumilating in the best Scene of the show. I said it might be in the review but no I can confirm: Scrooge bitterly ruminating over things while we find out just how much he’s lost... ending with him tearfully and angrily sitting once again alone in one hell of a powerful shot echoing Scrooge’s first apperance. Damn fine stuff.

2. Escape from The Impossbin Only one episode not only matches Last Crash in mounting tension and atmosphere but suprasses it. With FOWL and Bradford’s true nature now out in the wind, this episode uses that to create tension and rattles it’s two most unshakable characters: SCrooge’s normal boundless confidence is shot, not sure he can win this time against an opponent who knows him as well as he knows himself while Beakly slowly unravels, pitting Webby against the boys.. and pitting herself against Webby when Webby sees her terroizing them is only dividing them. Both plots start out funny enough but slowly escalate in tension and stakes until by the end your on the edge of your seat. The Beakly plot is the standout of the two, giving Bentina the starring role she badly needed, having gotten even better in light of the finale. Everyone is at the top of their game and everything builds up to one hell of a twist ending and one hell of a badass boast from our heroes: Their down.. but their far from out and this is far from over.

1. Nightmare On Kimotor Hill!

I”ll be reviewing this episode in full later this week as part of my Lena retrospective, but I stand by putting it up top. This episode is ducktales in it’s purest form and focuses on it’s best original character as Lena grapples with her self hatred and her past. That core helps anchor an amazing concept: going into the Kid’s dreams and finding out their greatest desires. The results.. are all gloriously rediclous and are easily the best gags of hte series as a whole: Dewey’s high school musical santa claus is going ot high school nonsense from getting a’s in Dewology to running away from the abstract concept of a love intrest, to not getting the sybolism of himself crying a moon made of his own tears. Louie quite literally becoming garfield, and my faviorite scene of the show: Huey, wanting to be the tall older brother..g iving himself horrifcly long leg. While everyone else is just understandably baffled, what makes the scene is the banter between Dewey and Huey, with Schwartz and Pudi at their best as Dewey first freaks out and then asks what the hell man, while Huey defends his weird decision (”I”m not good at imagination stuff okay!”), and then tries to get a jar of pickles. Each dream is just so oddly and wonderfully specific to each kid and each one of the triplests dreams, as well as violets being color coded down tot he backgrounds is a very nice touch. The visuals here are just peak ducktales, using the setting for all it’s worth and the climax is utterly emotoinal and heartbreaking... and Lena’s break from her abuser, finally realizing she has the power now is not only a wonderful metaphor... but also just so damn cathartic. And that’s why this one’s the best to me personally: it just packs so much into 20 minutes: some of the series best and most creative jokes, a gripping emtoinal arc, and so much more. It’s just that damn good and tha’ts why it’s the best... that and starting Huelet for me. Seriously that LIbrary scene is so fucking cute.

Thank you all for reading. If you liked this artcle, join my patreon and help me get to my stretch goal for monthly darkwing duck reviews, a review of super ducktales and more after! Until the next rainbow... it’s been a pleasure.

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 3 years

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A Disasterous Loaf-Life

“Bread”

@weweregoddesses

Pairings: Romantic Dukexiety

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, Sexual Innuendos, Phallic Shaped Bread Creatures, some angst but not too much, Pretty Brief Heated Makeout, mentions of a parasite that affects humans, Implied Sexual Activities Post Fic End (no actual sex tho),

Summary: Two Pining Dumbasses Make Bread.

(This is so long I just got super carried away)

“Remus, is there a reason you’ve kneaded your dough into the shape of an ass?”

Virgil watched with a fond sigh as the man next to him proudly stood over the booty bread he’d lovingly crafted over the last ten minutes.

“Not really,”, Remus cackled, raising his hands, “Except for this!”, and with that, he brought down his hands in a flurry of obscene slaps to the fake rear. Virgil maintained his composure for all of a minute before he had to physically restrain his snickering.

God dammit, this fucking guy! Thirteen years and Remus was still the one person who could make him laugh like the world wasn’t watching.

“Well, when you’re finishing pulverising your Glutenous Maximus, are you gonna finally tell me what you’re actually shaping your loaf into this time?”, Virgil snarked affectionately.

Remus rolled his eyes; his emo dork was spending far too much time with Patton lately.

“Same as the last time we did this, duuuh.”, he retorted, as if that were common knowledge.

Virgil’s eyes widened, “.... You’re not serious.”

“As serious as Naegleria Fowleri.”

“.. as what?!”

“Y’know, that fucked up brain eating amoeba that they found in that one Disney water park-”

“NEVERMIND!”, Virgil hastily shook the thought away as he tended to his own dough, “Don’t tell me, I’ll have nightmares for weeks...”

The hoodie clad mad looked Remus up and down as he folded his own purple dyed dough, “.... Are you really going to attempt the Cocktopus again? Seriously?”

Remus shrugged, already forming the eight ‘tentacles’ in stunningly graphic detail, “Why not? You’re making purple bread again, why don’t I do the same?”

Well, he had him there. Really, Virgil had gone to make his bread purple without even thinking about it. Perhaps just being next to Remus after all this time had subconsciously brought him back to that same summer day they’d spent in the kitchen side by side making bread together. Virgil could hear his mother’s old junkbox of a radio blaring Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love while he and Remus slung flour at each other and danced about in their socks trying not to slip.

Being back in the same house - now passed down to him - making bread once again with Remus brought back so many memories and emotions. Most of them good, though as he looked over to the man he still loved absolutely going to town on his bread sculpting, Virgil couldn’t help but remember how much guilt he still harboured; he’d never expected Remus to kiss him out of the blue back then, but Virgil also hadn’t expected to silently run off to his room to calm down, only to find Remus had left.

Not just his home, but his life. Virgil hadn’t wanted to face Remus, unsure of how to handle his feelings, but seeing the moving sign on the Duke family’s front lawn that next week as he watched the moving van leave just that little bit too quickly for Virgil to say goodbye had plagued his mind more often than he cared to admit.

A gross, gooey wetness on his cheek hauled him back to the present, only to realise Remus had finished a surprisingly glorious cocktopus and had slathered some of the egg wash on his cheek.

“Earth to Tickle-Me-Emo, you good??”

Virgil would’ve socked him in the arm if Remus’ concerned smile didn’t send his heart racing too hard to consider it. He wiped the mixture off his cheek, only mumbling back at Remus as he formed his purple mix into little loafs, “I’m fine, just stop covering my face in slimy shit.”

“..... Okay, now I know something’s up. You never leave me room for innuendos like that.”

Not even waiting to clean the residual flour off of his hand, Remus softly reached out and Virgil anxiously awaited the touch on his cheek.

But it never came.

He watched as Remus seemed to course correct and he used his thumb to draw a line down his forehead, whispering, “Simbaaaaa-”

“Okay, fuck ooooff!”, Virgil had snorted, fondly swatting at Remus.

“Come on, Virge! You looked like you were gonna blow a blood vessel, how could I not diffuse the tension a little?”, Remus snickered, though the silence that followed wasn’t so comfortable somehow. Virgil struggled to place it until he noticed Remus’ expression falter. He didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong before Remus spoke up,

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

A cold jolt shuddered along Virgil’s spine, rattling each vertebrae as it went.

“What’re you-”

“Why’d you invite me over, Virge?”

Truthfully, Virgil knew exactly why he had invited Remus from the outset; he wanted to see him again, drown in his presence, hopefully find out that he was single and still just as in love with Virgil after all these years as he was with Remus. But once Remus was there, single and right in front of him, he’d panicked - what else was new? - and resorted to turning their meeting into a catching up between old friends.

But people who are just friends don’t dream about being held by their friend at night, don’t fantasize about a future together, don’t lay awake at night regretting not having just taken the chance to be more when they had it.

They also don’t stare at their friend’s gorgeous toned body every chance they get, but that felt a little too pathetic to admit on top of everything else.

Virgil wasn’t aware of how quiet he’d been until Remus spoke again, “Here I am, thinking maybe you might want me back in your life for good, maybe even like me back if I was lucky....”, Remus paused forlornly, an expression that didn’t suit him in the slightest, “But even now you’re still anxious around me. Which, I mean, I get it. Why would you like me back after I just kissed you out of the blue like that-”

“But why would you want me-?!”

His voice wasn’t meant to come out so high pitched and whiny, but Virgil was more focused on trying to process what Remus had just said. Remus liked him still. After all this time. And yet, Virgil’s brain was still trying to ruin it.

“Remus, you… look at you!”, he gestured to all of him, “You’re still a fucking weirdo but you’re stupidly hot!”

Virgil kicked himself mentally, his hands raking through his hair and nails scraping his scalp, “Ugh, no! I mean! Fuck, Remus, I’ve been in love with you all this time! I haven’t even LOOKED at another guy in these last thirteen years, because whenever I even think about finding someone to settle down with, the only goddamn thing I can think about is how much I only want you-!”

The clattering of a knocked over kitchen table was the only warning Virgil got. Then all he could focus on was Remus’ arms wrapping around him, his breath cool against his neck.

“Then why’d you never tell me, you asshole?!”, Remus murmured against him.

Virgil wondered if he imagined the soft noise of relief Remus let out as Virgil hugged him.

“Because I’m the worst-”

“No.”, Remus cut him off, pulling back a little to give him an unimpressed look.

“No-?”

“No. Try again.”

Ah. It’d been years since Remus took this approach with him.

“,... Because I’m stupid-”

“Try agaaain.”, Remus droned, prodding one of the little purple loafs Virgil had lovingly been shaping from a circular loaf into a spider before all of this began.

“Dude, don’t poke my spiders-”

“Or what?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the quirk of a grin, “Don’t you dare-”

Remus narrowed his gaze, grinning as he plunged a finger into another spider loaf. Virgil tried to stop him all the while Remus cackled and kept dotting them with holes. Finally, Virgil conceded,

“Fine! I was scared, okay-?!”

The silence hung heavier than both men anticipated. Virgil would’ve found Remus stopping dead with his finger shoved into the spider loaf’s ass hilarious if he wasn’t too busy shaking with nerves.

“I was scared.”, he repeated, quietly dropping onto one of the chairs around the table, “I liked you so much back then too, but emotions are the fucking worst when you’re a kid and I was still trying to work shit out.”

The scooting of a chair let Virgil know Remus had sat down too.

“My anxiety just got worse the longer I couldn’t see you, but every time I thought about facing you, I just kept thinking “well, he deserves better anyway-!””

Sick of hearing Virgil self deprecating further, Remus all but hauled Virgil into his lap, their faces inches from touching, eye contact unbreaking.

“Virge,”, Remus purred barely above a whisper, “I mean this in the nicest way possible..”

The way their lips brushed over each other send shockwaves along Virgil’s spine, “But shut the fuck up.”

The scrawnier man didn’t need to be told twice. The second Remus’ lips pressed against his own, Virgil had no intention of breaking the contact until he needed air. Not that he’d mind suffocation if it was Remus’ lips doing the smothering. His left hand threaded itself in Remus’ hair while the right held onto his firm bicep. Fucking hell, Remus had never been this solid when they were kids. Since when did real, unphotoshopped people have muscles like these-!?

All of a sudden, Virgil couldn’t care less as Remus’ hands caressed his hips, earning a gasp Remus was more than willing to use to deepen their kiss. He got no complaints from Virgil who reciprocated the intensity of their kiss with no hesitation. It’d already cost him thirteen years with the man he loved, Virgil wasn’t about to hold himself back anymore.

…. Okay maybe he should have held back a little.

A surge of panic jolted him free of the makeout headspace when he felt himself tipping back. Right, they were on one of the kitchen chairs. A chair meant to only support one person. Thankfully, Remus noticed and leant back. Instead of Virgil toppling to the floor, he wound up on top of Remus on the floor, hissing as his knees made contact with the tiles.

“Fucking hell-! Oh shit, Remus, you okay-?!”

Remus groaned and scrunched his eyes at the pain. Virgil immediately feared that Remus had done himself a serious injury, however the man he was using as a seat cracked an eye open and sighed theatrically,

“Well, at least I’m gonna die with a raging boner.”

Virgil sighed. He was fine.

“Come on, let’s get these dumb loaves in the oven and then you can be horny all you want-“

Remus didn’t waste a second. He barely gave Virgil a second to get off of him before he was up on his feet. A gasp made Virgil take a break from dusting flour off of himself.

“MY COCKTOPUS!!! IT’S DEAD!!!!”

Well, that’s not a phrase you hear everyday. Sure enough, when Virgil followed Remus’ gaze, the poor phallic sea demon he’d constructed had deflated somewhat; it’s many ‘’tentacles’’ had fallen over and flattened while the head of the beast was beginning to sag. Virgil was about to tell Remus to leave it be when he noted how genuinely upset Remus was.

Sighing, Virgil rolled his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows once more, “Alright, you can fix it, and THEN we’re making up for lost time..”

------

... I have no excuses for this one, the idea came and I ran with it.

Special thanks to the ever wonderful and talented @accidental-sanders for helping flesh out this whole thing with me <3 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil #remus #this is so fucking dumb #and i LOVE it #please do read the tags #and shoutout to my always wonderful partner for helping me nail down the plot #and for screeching COCKTOPUS in all caps #I know you love these boyfs so #I hope this lives up to what you hoped it'd be like #my fics

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vod-ika · 4 years

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Clones; A Sociologic Rant

I’m pretty sure I could base a whole sociologic thesis off of this show I have so many thoughts this is LONG.

So the fascinating thing about clones is that over and over it’s emphasised in show that they are considered property/cannon fodder/disposable, and at the same time it’s shown that they understand that claim, and still go so far out of their way to control some kind of their own independence.

I occasionally have a hard time separating show and fanfiction (fuck canon it’s my world now) but even in show, the allusions to modern militaries, the decorating of armor, the personalisations such as accents, names, and specific groups (Domino Squad) all point to an entirely unmitigated, completely developed culture inside the Republic. So this is basically a list of things I’ve seen, wondered about, or headcanoned in TCW.

- I would just LOVE to sit down with Filoni or Lucas and a sociologist and just Talk about how, if this army was real, what all would the Kaminoan’s have programmed in their heads (mental stability, coping mechanisms, stamina, self-preservation instinct, etc,) and how would it work in real-time, on and off the battlefield. What kind of programming went on in those eight to ten developmental years that ensured that loyalty was innate, the knowledge of property was omnipresent, and that they believed they weren’t allowed to own anything? What did they do to them to make sure that they would never want to form an uprising???

- “We are only as good as our weakest link” is repeated in team events endlessly, something that can extend to both skill and health. How deeply engrained are checkups, both mental and physical? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that day in and day out clones, regardless of rank, are able to listen to and watch brothers die and Not have that affect them.

- Were they programmed with “protect the Jedi” in mind, or was it just, “bam. here is your CO, they outrank you so you have to respect/protect them?”, and then one of them jumped off a building with no armor and their captain had a heart attack? With the whole “Jedi were peacekeepers now they’re generals” thing I feel like the Senate just took two pieces of a puzzle that don’t actually go together but fit anyways and shoved them together and now they’re just kinda staring at each other like “the fuk u doin here”

- HEALTH. IS SO. IMPORTANT. When you know that any injury severe enough or illness overlooked long enough could result in you being swiftly and carelessly replaced by someone who looks Exactly like you, how much more of an emphasis is put on health, bodily wellbeing, and injury prevention? Clones are human, and while they’re very highly trained, strong humans, they’re still human and skin is skin. (Applying real logic to a cartoon) Seeing clones in things like explosions that they potentially survive, but lose a limb or two always made me sad because, to The Republic/The GAR/ Kamino, what good is a crippled clone? To Kaminoans, their life’s purpose is over and you might as well treat them as a lame horse. Fuck Kamino.

- I just realised something. When most modern soldiers deploy, they deploy with the intent to eventually be replaced because they have served their time wherever they are, and are being replaced by a new wave of soldiers. Clones deploy with the intent to die and be replaced until the battle is won.

- When Marines or Infantrymen or Sailors ship out, they always have duffel bags or those gigantic green laundry bag stuffed with clothes and personal items. Now, we know that clones collect personal items, and assumedly have multiple pairs of blacks (or no sweat glands) but I have yet to see any kind of carrying devices other than crates and small backpacks like for small Hutt babies or explosives. Do they have to leave everything behind when they’re op-hopping to their next planet? Are there barracks left behind that hold the ghosts of personal blankets and magazine clippings? Or is there a mountain of green laundry bags just off-camera?

- Naming culture, good god. So, you’re fresh out of boot, and you’ve got your number still. You’re like, “dope. I’m CT-1234. I’m a GAR mortarman. Go time.” Then, some dickhead is like, nah you’re called Sparkles now lets go prank Gogo and Jazz. Naming is WILD, and I’m mostly drawing from fanfiction for this. Either you’re named for some major or heroic or kickass reason like Tracer or Wolffe or Fireball, or you’re named for the most mundane thing like your number ends with 22, so you’re Twos or there are checkers on your armor so now you’re Check. either way it is a personal choice that Specifically defies the number they were assigned at decanting. Even Dogma had one for fucks sake.

- Painting armor. You know that time had to be taken to sit quietly and detail on that eel, or those lines, or that decal. Did it do anything to better the Republic? Did it win any battles or save any precious Jedi? No, but it happened anyways. People like to discuss why we play video games; there’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit, only benefit to the one playing. There’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit to painting armor, only benefit to the one painting. Fuck Kamino.

- Vocal inflections! The places they’re deployed affecting their speech patterns! I personally have a wild mashup of regional American accents because of the time I’ve spent traipsing, so how does being deployed planet after planet affect clone speech patterns??? Who rolls their r’s and who doesn’t? Are there transfers from other battalions whose accents are indiscernible because of where they were last deployed? Or ones who just have a whole additional vocabulary of local language? I’m three states away and the Louisiana accent blows my mind. Imagine that, but a whole fucking star system away???

- LINGO. Military lingo, planetary lingo (see above), sign language etc. give me different forms of communication outside Basic, used in both the formal and informal settings. (name calling in ASL/BSL during a briefing, talking about shinies in front of their faces in a language they don’t yet understand, talking about Jedi in front of their faces in a language they don’t understand.) Clones are told all that they are is property but damn if that property isn’t going to be able to talk shit about you to your face.

- To add on... Mando’a???? Is it innate? Is it learned? Did Jango Fett personally sit every clone ever down and teach them how to say Cat and Dog and Yes and No? Does every clone know it, or only those who sought it out? Literally it’s the most impersonal personal thing. “You, a thing who was made for combat, who looks exactly like millions of others, know one language of BILLIONS in the galaxy, purely because the man whose hair we based your genetic makeup off of knows it.” like WHAT

- HELMETS. BEING. SO. VERY. PERSONAL. Everything you see, speak, hear, smell is filtered through that bucket on your head. Are HUDs customisable? Is wearing or touching someone else’s bucket a no-no? Who’s watching telenovelas on guard duty?

- Speaking OF helmets: When your waking hours are constantly covered by your bucket, how do bodily “tells” betray what your face can’t? People acclimate. How common is it to be able to read your brother’s emotions like a fucking book based purely on how squared his hip is in parade rest, or which shoulder is higher than the other at attention?

- Or even just armor. Dude, that is literally the only thing between their skin and certain death by laser bolt. You ever talked to an athlete? And how picky they are about what cleats they wear or what goggles they use, or what percentage Gatorade their water is? We’re incorrigible. Imagine that, but the choice made results in how mobile you are, or how much laser to the shoulder you can stand.

- Time is so fucking short and they all must know that. I think I’ve used the line, “the average lifespan of a clone is measured in months, not years,” and boy does that fucking hit. How do you handle life when you were made to be snuffed out by it?

To conclude, I have many thoughts about the minute details of a working army that is comprised of identical people created, raised, and sent off to die for a war they didn’t start. Sounds a little ridiculous when you say it out loud, but between the show itself, fanart, and fucking fanfiction, it’s a little hard not to attribute human nuances to the show that exemplified my childhood. I’m an adult and it is my very highly specifically adult choice to psychoanalyse this show, and you can bet I’ll throw hands with Disney at any time.

“When my creator cares not how I face death, only that it is for them, how do I use the time death allows me? Cruel is my maker to have given me eyes to see and ears to hear the world, but denied me the chance to explore it. I can only hope that those who follow see what I could not, and that eventually a painting of all the world will be born through the eyes of the many.”

#clones #clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw:cw #sw:tcw #clone troopers #clone headcanons #I am YELLING #There is so much I could dissect #captain rex #commander cody #ikawrites

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday!

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger.

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear.

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?”

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime.

Unless this is hell.

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.”

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?”

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin.

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?”

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.”

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!”

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?”

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment.

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town.

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice space for Cube Entertainment.

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream.

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over.

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name.

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung.

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies.

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home.

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things.

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor.

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods.

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible.

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week.

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks.

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair.

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now.

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident?

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it.

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance.

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call.

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?”

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent.

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?”

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.”

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone.

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.”

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic.

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world.

Your world.

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?”

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.”

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?”

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?”

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!”

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!”

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.”

A pause. “That does sound like me.”

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.”

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you.

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?”

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.”

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!”

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week.

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin.

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him.

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.”

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.”

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted.

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.”

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper.

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer.

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind.

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind.

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.”

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird.

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.”

“Thanks, I hope so too.”

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless.

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that.

Like someone in love.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fluff #goldenclosetnet #thekpopnetwork #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Bea - JJ Maybank

Request: not really.

A/N: a continuation of Creedence. Also, having read @ijustreallylovethem‘s Day One, Done and Celebrating Baby Pogue’s Birthday, I just wanna write JJ interacting with children. Think there’ll be one more part after this if people want it.

Summary: JJ helps you babysit your niece for the afternoon.

Creedence Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

///

A dull thud sounded from the living room and you peeked around the corner, afraid to leave the grilled cheese you were cooking for too long, as you inspected what the noise was. There on the carpeted floor JJ laid sprawled on his back, Bea on top of him, and her miniature trampoline sitting near his legs.

“I got you!” Bea shouted triumphantly as she sat up, patting JJ’s stomach with her tiny hands.

“You got me.” He agreed, over dramatic groan making your niece giggle. He laid there for a second, unmoving and then he grabbed her sides, making her shriek in surprise as he sat up quickly, tilting her back so she was laying in his lap, and proceeded to blow raspberries onto her stomach.

Bea had watched Elmo in Grouchland enough times that she was obsessed with raspberries. She blew them all the time and it drove your sister nuts. JJ, on the other hand, always egged on her antics, just like he was doing now. She giggled and pushed her hands against his face and hair until he stopped suddenly. You’d stepped back into the kitchen and JJ had heard the loose floorboard in the doorway creak as you walked over it.

He put Bea down and stood up, holding his finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet as he walked into the kitchen. You were at the refrigerator, back turned to the pair of troublemakers, when JJ grabbed you around the waist and pulled you into him.

“JJ, stop,” you laughed when he pressed his mouth to your bare shoulder and blew a raspberry, Bea cheering him on. “Both of you are the worst.”

Your best friend rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you pressed against him, and turned the two of you around to face Bea, who was watching happily from the doorway. She liked JJ almost as much as you did and after he helped babysit, she’d talk about him for days.

“Can you believe it Bea?” JJ asked, eyes meeting the four-year-old's, “she said we’re the worst.”

“Because you are,” you said, turning your head to the side to see him. He was closer than you expected, noses almost touching as he looked at you. He smiled and you could feel the nest of butterflies that always erupted when he was around beginning to flutter.

“JJ!” Bea called, drawing his attention away. He let go of you, slipping away to pick Bea up. She squealed when he lifted her above his head and then rested her on his hip.

“Ask her what’s for lunch,” JJ whispered, loud enough that you could hear.

Bea nodded at him, “What’s for lunch?”

“Yeah, what’s for lunch?” JJ echoed.

“Grilled cheese and soup.” You replied, “for a rainy day.”

After lunch Bea insisted that JJ be the one to put her down for a nap when you told her that she needed some sleep. You cleaned up lunch and picked up a couple of the toys that JJ and Bea had left in the living room while he put Bea to bed. When he came back out of her room you were sitting on the couch, clicking through the Disney app.

“She is officially asleep.” JJ announced, stepping onto the mini trampoline and bouncing up and down, “did the voices and everything.” Bea always insisted that voices accompany her story time and apparently, surprisingly, JJ did the best voices.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help that part of that giddy feeling you got whenever JJ was around came from him helping you babysit. It wasn’t exactly healthy, since he was only your best friend, but you couldn’t help imagining, every time he was over helping with Bea, what it would be like if she was your kid. Ten years from now, the two of you living in a little house on the cut, far more than friends, with a Bea of your own.

“What?” JJ asked, hopping off the trampoline and coming over to sit next to you on the couch.

“What?” You repeated.

“You’re looking at me funny.” He replied, raising his eyebrow as he looked at you suspiciously.

“I am not.” You said, rolling your eyes as you tried to play off what you were sure were your ‘heart eyes’ as Sarah called them.

“Okay.” JJ said, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms behind his head.

“Do you wanna watch something or not?” You asked.

“Alright, alright,” He conceded, dropping one arm around your shoulders and grabbing the remote with the other. “But not Moana again cause Pope made fun of me the other day when I was singing one of the songs.”

“Why would we watch Moana together?” You asked, taking the remote back.

“Cause it’s a dope movie. And the part with the grandma always makes me cry.” JJ replied, grabbing at the remote.

“I love you.”

“What?” JJ asked, sitting up a little straighter, caught off guard.

“What? Nothing,” you held the remote away from him, clicking on a movie, “have you ever seen The Great Mouse Detective?”

“No, but don’t change the subject.” He said, taking the remote and pausing the show. “You said you loved me.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, trying to play it cool, “you’re my best friend of course I love you.”

“Yeah okay.”

“That’s what it is!” You replied, glaring at him.

“You love me,” he sang, grinning.

“No!”

“You love me...you think I’m super sexy hot and you wanna mack on me.”

“I do not Jay!”

“Just admit it, you love me.”

“You are so full of yourself.” You replied, reaching for the remote, “just let me turn on a movie.”

“Fine,” JJ let you take the remote back, relaxing again as you started the movie, “but I know the truth.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to deflect from the situation. You didn’t want him to think that his teasing wasn’t just teasing and he was actually right.

taglist: @jolomez @timotaychalabae @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @jjsthumbring @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days

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kaminobiwan · 4 years

Text

stargazing

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Existential musings under the stars. Real Disney Princess moment here, folks. (Obi is the princess obviously)

a/n: The prompt demanded it be given to Padawan!Obi. I simply complied. Also, I sprinkled some of my astronomy knowledge in there, bc uni. Thank you AST 104.

This was part of my 175 follower celebration (still open), requested by the ever lovely @highcouncil! Please, for the love of all that is holy, do your Obi-Wan Kenobi-loving hearts a favor and read her amazing work. You’ll thank yourselves for it.

“That one’s the Burning Snake.”

Obi-Wan points to an ambiguous spot in the sky, his too-big robes flapping across his face. He shakes his arm, readjusting the folds, and gestures again.

“Sorry — that one.”

He hears you toss a snort over your shoulder, your back to his as you lean on each other to stay upright. Both of your necks are craned towards the constellations that dapple the ink-black backdrop blanketing Coruscant, and the night is soundless with the exception of your voices.

“Are you sure you’re remembering these right? I’m pretty sure you were reading that starmap upside-down earlier.”

“Was not,” he exclaims, though there is some truth to each of your statements. He’d quickly corrected the map before too long, and he was sure of his memorization after spending so much time in the archives. Positive.

You shift against him, seemingly placated, and he relaxes too, careful not to tug on the Padawan braid behind your ear. It’s predictably still sore after Quinlan had tangled your braids together in a practical joke only three hours ago, the two of you too engrossed in your readings to notice that the Force was being manipulated against you. It had taken fourteen minutes and half a jar of flounut butter to unravel the knots that had formed in the fray.

You gesture towards a star in the distance, and Obi-Wan follows your lead. “What’s that one, then?”

His answer comes immediately. “The Eye of the Pirate. At least make it a challenge for me.”

Your noise of lofty glee jolts him from his position, and he nearly falls flat on his back as you maneuver your body above him so that you’re face to face. Though from his point of view, you’re upside-down. “It was a trick question. The Eye of the Pirate is only visible from Corellia.”

He frowns, his hands moving to cushion his head. “No, it’s not. We can see it from here, too.”

You make an unpleasant face at him, but he thinks it’s rather cute from this angle. As soon as the thought passes through his brain, though, it’s gone. He shuffles away to hide his face from you, but you’re too close to escape.

“You’re wrong. Not every red star is the Eye of the Pirate, Obi!”

Truthfully — and it’s not just because he doesn’t want to admit he might be incorrect — he’s not sure if the star is in fact the one he claims it to be, or whether he’d mixed up Coruscant with Corellia in his studying. But he’s desperate to get out of your line of sight — even though it’s late into the evening, the moonlight pouring into the Temple garden illuminates the entirety of the landscape, and no doubt his embarrassment along with it.

Ever since you’d started to call him Obi, it was hard to handle being in close proximity to you. The physical reaction his blushing upper body always displayed was definitely not something Qui-Gon would be pleased by.

“Okay, maybe it’s not!” He retorts, and you tumble down next to him with a laugh. He blinks some of your hair out of his eyes, but doesn’t ask you to move away from the spot you’ve placed your head, snug into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Much better.

“Enough with the quizzing, anyway.” Your murmur brings him back to the stars, and he has to remind himself not to turn his head to look at you. “Let’s just take it all in.”

“But you love quizzes.”

“Yes, when the real thing isn’t right there in front of us,” you tease, and Obi-Wan clamps his mouth shut once more. “It’s called stargazing. Not star-analyzing.”

“There is such a thing as — ”

“Shh!”

He fidgets in the grass, unsure of what to do in the silence next to you. As he connects the dots between the clusters of stars across the dark expanse, his memory supplies endless cascades of information and astronomic facts, filling his mental capacity to the point that —

“Obi-Wan.”

Your voice is hushed, as if you’ve just woken up from slumber, but he hears the slight command in your words. “Yes?”

“I can hear your thoughts from here.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

You lean up on your outside elbow, tilting towards him and tucking your hair behind your neck before it can prick the skin of his forehead. “Aren’t you the prodigy of meditation among your crèchemates? What’s wrong?”

Instead of meeting your eyes, Obi-Wan shrugs, and feigns a stretch. “Just having trouble, I guess.”

“You guess.” You echo, unconvinced, but lay back down regardless. “You’re worried about something.”

“I’m not worried, I’m restless. It doesn’t seem right to be stargazing if we’re not going to at least study them. We both have upcoming assignments, might I remind you.”

As if you could have forgotten. Your mission to Halcyon was all you’d been talking about the past week. Still, you’d gushed more over your excitement at hearing his stories than chronicling your own. Obi-Wan had promised to tell you all about the planet of Naboo upon his return to the Temple.

“You’re fretting over the trade dispute? I’m sure you’ll be able to handle the Federation representatives. Though I’ve read that Neimoidian workers regularly compete amongst themselves, and the winning team gets to eat the other — !” You catch the look he sends you out of the corner of your eye, and he allows himself a half-smile as you bashfully fall silent. “Sorry. Probably not what you want to hear right now.”

The apology wasn’t necessary. You both know it. But sometimes, he appreciates that you’d rather it still be said.

“I’m just…feeling unprepared. Luminara and Shaak Ti both faced the trials at my age, and I thought I’d be ready. But I can’t even tell if Qui-Gon thinks I am or not.” You’ve stilled beside him, but he feels you latching on to every word. “I don’t know.”

“You are ready,” you say simply.

“Yes, and if I am, then what?” He asks, to no one in particular. He knows the stars have as much a probability of knowing the future as you do. Maybe more, judging by how often Qui-Gon called to them in exasperation. “Everything changes. I can’t help but feel as though nothing will be the same, soon.”

You’re quiet for a moment, but then he hears what sounds like a chuckle from you. He raises a confused eyebrow, but doesn’t shift his body.

“Obi, of course everything will change. Nothing can stop that,” you say, reaching your fingers out and upwards. “Even the stars can’t prevent themselves from growing and dissipating. Eventually, they’ll all turn into nebulas, or supernovas, or black holes in violent implosions.” You trace an imaginary line across the air, drawing your own constellation, joining together specks that Obi-Wan imagines must be hundreds of parsecs apart. His eyes follow the pattern as you go. “You’re not a star.”

He blinks. “I’m not?”

Immediately, he wants to palm his face, because obviously he’s not a star, no matter how luminous Master Yoda professes him to be, but he just hadn’t known what you meant and now he’s gone and made himself sound like an idiot. But you continue, unfazed, as if you’d predicted he’d respond in kind.

“You’re not,” you repeat, and lower your hand down to your stomach. “You can choose what you become. You’re not born with a predestined fate. You have control.” Obi-Wan feels his body sink further into the ground, and some voice in the back of his head has the agency to surmise that you sound much wiser beyond your years right now. “What matters most is whether you take that control, or give it back to the universe.”

And now, he’s silent, because how in the name of the Force is he supposed to respond to that?

But you bound up again, high-spirited and bubbly and not nearly as prophetic as you had been a second earlier, and conclude, “At least, that’s what Master Koon says.”

He groans as you release a peal of laughter, and slumps further into the dirt. “Did you seriously just recite one of his lessons to me?”

“No! I made it much more interesting,” you clutch a hand to your chest in mock displeasure, and Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “I mean, I ad-libbed along the way, but I still meant what I said. I don’t think it’ll do you any good to worry.” As you speak, he lets his eyes unfocus towards the stars, white and yellow and blue diamonds alike blurring together in a disjointed mosaic. The tip of your nose rims the edge of his vision, and he exhales slowly with what feels like relief, though he isn’t completely sure. But you seem to be more at peace, too, and your voice even drops to a solemn resonance. “What you ask for tends to come and find you. Serenity, wisdom, trouble…”

“I’ve definitely heard him say that,” Obi-Wan muses, and he knows you’re hiding a grin next to him.

“It’s true,” you reply.

You both lay in the garden for several long moments more, until the voices of your masters can be heard calling your names.

Neither of you get up, despite it. A smile of his own creeps up his cheeks, and Obi-Wan knows you’re thinking exactly the same thing he is.

“Pretend we’re asleep so they’ll have to carry us back to the dorms?”

“Master Koon might break another arm, but yep. Worth it.”

“Worth it,” he agrees, and closes his eyes.

#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x you #star wars imagines #YES THEY’RE STUDY BUDDIES AGAIN WHAT ABOUT IT #AND YEAH HE’S IN HIS 20S BUT WE ALL LIKE BEING CARRIED BACK TO BED DON’T WE #and yes plo koon is your master bc he is dad™#obi has high functioning anxiety and feels like he must be doing some thing productive at all times 25/8 #tbh i never thought i’d write padawan obi but after this i must return to him he is a soft boi #also he is so damn fine in that gif like whew he’s beautiful #anyways that’s my thoughts #this was so cute to write 🥺#made myself soft LOL #i love you all xxx #hope you like it #rini reaches 175!

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izzyfandoms · 4 years

Text

The Colour In Your Eyes

SHIPS: Patmile

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Patton Sanders

WARNING: Nothing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile was always daydreaming about colours.

He’d read as much as he could about them, memorised every little description he could find and asked anyone he knew who could see them to tell him the colours of everything around him.

He knew of the warmth of red – the way it was like sun on your skin, anger and love and everything hot and burning. He knew of the coolness of blue – like sky and water, all that was wet and cool and calm. He knew of the life of green: vegetables and vegetation and the way you could practically taste the colour on your tongue when you ate your greens.

He knew exactly how every colour felt, had a basic idea of what each of them looked like, but he had never seen one.

His vision was grey, just like everyone else who had a soulmate but had never met them. Some people were born with the colours in their eyes, but Emile was not one of them.

He was glad he had a soulmate, and he was so, so excited to meet them, but he was just as excited to finally get to see the colours: to watch all his favourite cartoons the way they were meant to be watched, to see life the way it was always meant to be seen. He couldn’t wait for the moment the world turned bright and vibrant.

So, it was strange that the moment that colours first filled his vision, he almost didn’t notice them.

He was lost in a pair of soft, grey eyes.

The prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

But then, he noticed the pink at the corners of the whites of the eyes – a colour he’d never seen, but one he’d researched and knew the name of. The cheeks were pink, too, as were the parted lips, and the hair was light and curly and a colour that Emile assumed was blond. There was freckles across the bridge of his nose, and Emile suddenly realised that he’d leant in much closer the moment he realised that he could finally see the colours.

It was okay, though, because the other man had leant in just as much, too, so close that it would’ve only taken a slight movement for their noses to bump and their glasses to collide.

(In the past, when Emile had imagined meeting his soulmate, he’d always thought that he’d spend minutes, possibly even hours, looking around at his surroundings and taking in all of the colours. But, right now, all he could do was stare at the other man. There was nothing else he wanted to look at.)

“Wow,” the other man breathed, finally snapping Emile out of his daze and prompting him to take a step back, out of his soulmate’s space. “You’re my soulmate.”

He sounded so, so happy, which was a mood reflected exactly in Emile’s heart, and Emile couldn’t help but let out a delighted laugh and beam at him. He opened his mouth to speak, and what he’d meant to say was ‘they’re so pretty,’ referring to the colours that had blossomed in front of him, but something else came out instead.

“You’re so pretty,” he said softly, and then his eyes widened and his hand flew up to cover his mouth when he realised what he’d just said.

His soulmate blinked at him, startled, before he brought his hand up to his mouth and giggled.

Emile’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside, as that laugh was now his new favourite sound.

“Gosh, you’re just- wow,” Emile’s soulmate smiled sweetly, before he held his hand out for Emile to shake. “I’m Patton,” he introduced himself. “Patton Sanders. You?”

Emile took Patton’s hand without hesitation, shaking it. “Emile Picani.”

“Emile...” Patton repeated slowly, like he was savouring the name. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“So, Emile,” Patton said, smiling. “Are you doing anything today?”

“Nope, it’s my day off.”

“Great! Can I take you out, then?”

“I’d love that,” Emile said genuinely, with a soft smile that matched Patton’s exactly.

“Oh, wonderful!” Patton beamed, but when he opened his mouth to continue talking, likely about the date, he suddenly cut himself off with widened eyes when he finally took his eyes off of Emile’s face. “Oh my gosh, look at all the colours!”

That prompted Emile to do the same thing, and he was no less astonished and amazed when he took in all of the colours around them. The world had never been more vibrant, and it had never been more beautiful.

The first thing Emile looked at was the sky. The fluffy white clouds were the same as they’d always been, but this time against a backdrop of a colour he knew was named ‘blue,’ inside of grey. It was the exact same colour of the polo-shirt Patton wore, under his grey and white cat hoodie. The bricks of the nearby buildings were a warm dark colour he assumed was red. The grass and the bushes in the park across the road were a colour he knew was green. The flowers in the windows of the shop they were stood in front of were all kinds of colours, and now far more pretty than Emile had ever found them before.

He looked down at himself, and found he really liked the colour of his tie – which his brother had called pink: like red, but lighter.

“Those flowers are gorgeous!” Patton said, sounding just as breathless and amazed as Emile felt as he admire the flowers that Emile had just looked at.

Emile straightened up. “I’m going to buy you a bouquet,” he announced.

Patton turned back to him. “Aww, really?”

“Yup! Come on.”

Emile hesitated for a moment, before he held his hand out to Patton. Patton took it immediately, and Emile found that his hand was warm and soft and he never wanted to let go of it again. Emile squeezed his hand, and Patton squeezed his back.

As they pushed the store door open and stepped inside, Patton spoke up again.

“Do you like puns?” He asked.

“Of course, I like puns! Who doesn’t?”

“How about dad jokes?”

“They’re the best kind!”

“Wow, you really are my soulmate, huh?” Patton joked, and Emile laughed.

“Do you like cartoons?” Emile asked.

Patton nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

“Disney?”

“Yup! I’ve got all of their songs stuck in my head, like, all the time.”

Emile beamed. “Oh my gosh, we have got to have a movie marathon some time.”

“I’ll bring the popcorn!”

“It’s a date!”

They stopped in front of the flowers, and Emile found that they were all much prettier and more vibrant up close. They weren’t as gorgeous as Patton, of course, but Emile got the feeling that that was pretty much impossible.

“Which ones are your favourite?” He asked Patton, gesturing with his free hand.

Patton hummed, looking them over. “Gosh, I really don’t know! They’re just all so gorgeous, you know? Who knew that colours were so beautiful!”

“Yeah,” Emile nodded in agreement. “Ooh, how about these ones? They’re the most colourful.”

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Patton agreed. “But, dang, you know, I really wish I knew the names of all these colours. They’re all so pretty!”

Emile picked up the bouquet with his free hand, looking it over. He then pointed awkwardly at one of the flowers with the hand still in Patton’s. It likely would’ve been easier to point if he let go of Patton’s hand, but he definitely didn’t want to do that.

“I think this one is blue,” he said. “It matches the sky – same as your polo-shirt.”

Patton looked down at his shirt as if he hadn’t noticed it. “Oh, you’re right. I think this is my favourite, it’s so pretty!” He then looked back up at Emile, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile. “And it’s the same colour as your eyes.”

Emile smiled back. “Yeah, my brother told me that.”

“Oh, you have a brother?”

“Yup! His name is Remy, he’s three years older than me and he’s gotta be the coolest person I’ve ever met. He met his soulmate, Logan, when they were twelve, so he’s been telling me about colours for a while.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. I have a brother, too. His name’s Virgil and he doesn’t have a soulmate so he’s always been able to see them. He’s my roommate, and he keeps telling me that the colours of my socks always clash, but I think I prefer them that way.”

Emile looked down at their feet, and saw that Patton’s socks were two different colours, one that he recognised as a dark blue, and the other that he didn’t know the name of, though it was bright and looked like the opposite of blue, so he assumed it was orange. The blue one had many differently-sized white spots across it, and the orange was covered with dark and light grey cat faces.

He loved them.

Emile smiled at him again. “I like them.”

Patton beamed. “And are those foxes on your socks? Where did you get them?”

“I’ll have to ask Remy, he got these for my birthday,” Emile said, before gesturing with the bouquet he still held. “So, these flowers, do you like them?”

“Oh, yes, they’re perfect.”

As the pair made their way to the checkout for Emile to pay for the flowers, Patton squeezed Emile’s hand to catch his attention.

“Hey, what do you call a girl with a frog on her head?”

“What?”

“Lily!”

Emile laughed, and Patton gave him the fondest look imaginable, seeming incredibly pleased with himself and his pun.

“Okay, okay,” Emile said. “Why did the woman not like camping?”

“Why?”

“Because she found it too in-tents!” Emile laughed at his own joke. “Get it, ‘cos you camp in tents?”

Patton giggled. “Ooh, what do you call it when two flowers start falling in love?”

“I don’t know, what do you call it?”

“A budding romance!”

“Aww, that one’s cute.”

The cashier gave them an amused look as they handed her the flowers and she scanned them.

“First date?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “How’d you guess?”

“You guys just have the look,” she said, as Emile handed her the money.

“Yeah, uh...” Patton gave Emile a fond look, squeezing his hand. “We’re actually soulmates. We just met.”

She smiled at them as she handed Emile the flowers. “Aww, that’s sweet. Well, I hope you have a nice date.”

“Thank you,” Emile smiled at her.

The couple walked away, and the moment they stepped out of the shop, they stopped. Emile turned to Patton, and made a show of dramatically handing him the bouquet. Patton giggled, taking them happily.

“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Oh, they’re just flowers,” Emile responded. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Well, I can’t wait.”

Patton held the flowers up to his nose, taking a deep breath and then sighing happily.

(Emile had been smiling so much he could already feel his face start to ache. But it was impossible to stop: it was impossible to keep his immeasurable joy from bubbling up. He and Patton had only just met, but he was already excited to spend the rest of his life with him. That voice was already his favourite sound, and that smile was already his favourite sight.)

“So,” Patton squeezed his hand, and Emile automatically squeezed back. “How about ice cream?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay! There’s a place just a few streets away, I go there basically every week. The ice cream’s just so good!”

Emile nodded, and Patton immediately began walking in the direction of the ice cream place, gently tugging Emile along. Emile went along with no complaint, and he already knew he would follow that man anywhere, to the ends of the earth.

When Patton glanced back over his shoulder to smile at him, he caught another glimpse of those pretty grey eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

Emile had been daydreaming about colours since he was old enough to daydream, but never had he once considered that his favourite colour would end up being grey.

#me #writing #patmile #momile #sanders sides #cartoon therapy #emile picani #patton sanders #fluff #human au

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full-of-roman-angst-trash · 4 years

Text

A Prince’s Room

Part 2

Concept by @yeet-ceit

TW: Unsympathetic Sides (Except for Roman), Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Cursing, Arguing, Injury? (Roman gets slapped). If I missed any, pleased tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1807

Roman wants to be perfect. No, he needs to be perfect. And part of being perfect is being a good friend. Roman loves the other sides. He loves them more than anything in the world. Even more than Disney and musical theater. His friends are the main reason why his still holding on. He doesn’t want to lose them. He can’t lose them. He won’t survive if he does.

So, to make sure he doesn’t he takes notes. He writes down ways to make sure he’s constantly improving. Any bad habits that the others point out or flaws he writes down and tries to fix.

The lists went on and on. Hung up on the walls of his room to make sure he always remembers. And as time goes on, more and more is added to the list. Every small addition getting him one step closer to perfection.

Remember to keep your voice level normal. Don’t talk too loudly.

Stop being so dramatic, you're taking too much attention away from the others.

Don’t be too confident, it comes off as cocky and no one like someone that’s too cocky.

Don’t rant about your interest for too long it gets annoying and boring.

Don’t be selfish, no one likes a selfish person.

....................

The chart came along a few months later.

Roman had already been taking notes on how to please his friends however he decided to reorganize his notes into a chart. Each side had their own section containing list of what they liked, disliked, what cheered them up, and what upsets them.

Logan

Likes: Crofters, astrology, coffee, books, teaching, silence, human anatomy, schedules, deadlines, Thomas being productive, debating, constellations, being listened to, law, learning, classical music, poetry, Sherlock.

Dislikes: Being ignored, unnecessary emotions, sweets, dumb people, someone being too loud, childish movies, games, being behind schedule, illogical decisions, jokes, unrealistic dreams.

What makes him happy?: Stargazing, writing, meeting deadlines, winning debates, telling random facts, rapping, his onesie, reading, being left alone, being called cool, teaching.

What upsets him?: Being treated as a joke, being teased, being reminded of his mistakes, making mistakes, being ignored or overlooked, losing a debate, feeling dumb.

Patton

Likes: Cookies, drawing, cure animals, compliments, happy songs, seeing his friends happy, t.v shows, helping others, singing, dancing, playing dress up, stuffed animals, gifts, holidays, baking, sweets.

Dislikes: Screaming, loud noises, getting stuff thrown at him, blood, weapons, violence, seeing his friends injured, sad movies and stories.

What makes him happy?: Cuddles, movie nights, being showered with affection, cookies, drawing, karaoke nights, talking about his emotions, playing games with his friends, helping others, his onesie.

What upsets him?: Seeing an animal die, seeing people in pain, being forced to grow up, seeing his friends in hurt, not being able to help someone, disappointing someone, letting Thomas down, letting his emotions control him.

Virgil

Likes: Candles, alternative music, spiders, his hoodie, Tim Burton films, My Chemical Romance, headphones, fidget cubes, staying up late, drama shows, bats, knives, collecting pins.

Dislikes: The ocean, sudden loud noises, cheesy pop music, people that are too optimistic (except for Patton), someone being mean to his friends,

What makes him happy?: Doing makeup, painting his nails, listening to music, Patton’s baking, playing with his pet spider, meditating, watching murder myterious, watching Disney and Tim Burton movies.

What upsets him?: Being put on the spot, being called evil, being treated like an innocent kid, being called a darkside, being called a disorder rejection, talk about serious topics such as suicide and self harm.

Remus

Likes: Gore, blood, mud, fighting, collecting weapons, deodorant, musicals, inappropriate jokes, Fleischer Studios, pranks, dancing, mythical creatures, things that glow in the dark, random t.v shows, horror movie, slime, candy, octopus, skirts, crop tops.

Dislikes: Cheesy love songs, rules, normal food aside from fast food, birds, learning, shaving, reading, romance movies/shows, backstabbers, lying, shaving cream, showers, losing fights.

What makes him happy?: Dissecting stuff, fighting, pranking others, dancing, singing, coming up with outfit ideas, punching stuff, playing with slime, reenacting horror movies, inappropriate jokes, hanging out in his trash can, being pet, Shrek, eating deodorant, someone doing his makeup.

What upsets him?: Being abandoned or left behind, being told he isn’t good enough, being compared to me, seeing Janus upset, seeing Virgil upset, being told to shave.

Janus

Like: Snakes, philosophy, Greek mythology, sewing, horror movies, mystery books, murder documentaries, self care, sleeping, warm baths, weighted blankets, debating, law.

Dislikes: The cold, when someone takes his hat, dumb comedy movies, eagles, action movies, unnecessary violence or gore, close minded people, liars, sharing secrets, being vulnerable.

What makes hims happy?: Massages, weighted blankets, cuddling, hanging out with Remus, acting, having debates, seeing Remus and Virgil playfully argue, watching murder mysteries, singing.

What upsets him?: Being called evil, being ignored, seeing Remus or Virgil upset, Thomas not taking care of himself, being replaced, being left behind, people not understanding him, someone making fun of his scales, taking off his gloves.

....................

“Come on pussy! Let’s just march into his room, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Language!” Patton quickly scolds Remus.

“What if he’s in there and he screams at us for barging in?! What if he gets really mad and chooses to get physical!? What if we see something we don’t want to!? What if he’s asleep and he get mad that we woke him up!? What if-”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupts the panicking side, “Your anxiety is causing you to catastrophize. Please, take a deep breath and try to filter out your cognitive distortion.”

The anxious side nods and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Now, I would like to add that I personally believe that Remus’ plan isn’t the worst idea ever and is currently the best one we have.” The logical side states.

“Well, while I love to agree with Remus, he is wrong in this instance,”

Remus smirks widely, “Awe! Thanks Jany~ You’re too generous~”

The deceitful side rolls his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” Virgil stands up, looking rather done with everything.

The rest of the sides stand up as well and begin to make their way to the prince’s room.

Once they make it to his door, Remus immediately just breaks the door down and lets himself in.

“Surprise!”

They walk in, greeted only by silence.

“He isn’t here?” Patton mumbles to himself.

“Doesn’t look like it. Let’s not go then.”

The other sides nod and start making their way out. Well, everyone except for Logan.

The logical side instead gets distracted by a paper stabled to the wall. He walks over to it and reads it to himself. Once he’s done reading his looks around the room and notices all the papers on the wall. As well, as the lack of theater and Disney merchandise.

“Wait, doesn't Roman’s room look,” He pauses to search for the right words, “Wrong?”

The other sides stop walking and looks around.

“Now that you mention it,” Remus mumbles, “His room has changed a lot since I last saw it...”

The other start reading through the endless papers of tips to improve himself and advice.

Suddenly Patton stops in front of a chart titled “Duties”

He slowly goes over it and buy the time he is done he is fuming with rage.

“What the hell!? Guys come look at this!”

The others go over, slightly amused and concerned.

Each of them take turns analyzing the chart.

Roman had spend his day at the Imagination. After the whole wedding accident, he’s been stuck in a very toxic place and well he thought a small guest might help. So, he left early in the morning and began his guest. He hadn’t meant to stay there for as long as he did but he lost track of time.

“Kiddo, we have a lot to talk about,” Patton mumbles in a passive aggressive tone.

....................

As the tired side starts approaching his room, he notices that all the either sides are gathered outside his room. Once he’s a bit closer, Virgil is the first to notice him. To his shock though, Virgil rushes to him and slaps him

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

Roman stands there shocked for a few minutes before looking at Patton, expecting to hear him scold Virgil. Instead however, Patton just look away from him.

“ANSWER ME!”

“I-...” Roman bites his lip to hold back the tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t understand... W-what did I do....?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!?”

The prince-like-side flinches and looks down.

Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, "Let me handle this.”

For some reason, Roman thought that Remus would be on his side. He thought that if anyone understood what he was trying to do, it would be his brother. Or that his brother would at least explain what happened and let him tell his part of the story.

So, he looked up with a hopeful expression.

“Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you think we were such a hassle then why did you stay friends with us!?”

Any hope that Roman had immediately leaves his body, “I-I... I never said that! Where is this coming?!”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, ROMAN!” Remus summons his morning star, “WE SAW THE FUCKING CHART! SO, WHAT!? WE’RE NOTHING MORE THAN “DUTIES” TO YOU!?”

The usual confident side is now frozen in shock. They weren’t supposed to see that chart. They weren’t supposed to see his room at all. If Roman was being honest, he could understand why they took the chart the wrong way. The name of it wasn’t exactly the best but it was all he could think of while actually making it. Now though, he wished he would have pushed himself to think of a better name.

“N-No! You got it all wrong!” He is now crying, flinching away from his brother, “I was just trying to make you guys happy!”

Remus scoffs and puts his weapon away. He walks away from Roman and returns to Janus’ side.

“Whatever, Roman.”

His knees give out and he falls to the floor in defeat.

“I would greatly appreciate if you keep your distance from Patton and I from now on. If you fail to do so, I can’t exactly guarantee that I will be nice. Goodbye Roman.”

“Fucking pussy.” Remus throws out.

And just like that Logan sinks down with a crying Patton.

“And I thought I was the snake,” Janus adds, looking at him in pure disgust.

Then, they’re gone.

For a few seconds Virgil stares at the broken prince in front of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

He looks away from him and sinks down with a scoff leaving the weeping prince on the floor.

Alone.

....................

#my writing #unsympathetic light sides #unsympathetic dark sides #unsympathetic virgil #unsympathetic deceit #unsympathetic logan #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic remus #unsympathetic sides #tw perfectionism #perfectionism tw #tw cursing #cursing tw #tw arguing #arguing tw #tw self doubt #self doubt tw #tw slapping #slapping tw

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