Tumgik
#EXCEPT for the star wars pun day
theographos · 4 months
Text
Why Aliens feels off in Tales of Arcadia
Tumblr media
Don't get me wrong, I really like Aja, Krel and Varvatos. I even think that 3Below was quite good, even if i'm not a sci-fi fan at all (i even managed to fall asleep in front of every Star Wars ever, and not with any other movie). But good doesn't mean good in terms of storytelling. Because after all 3Below is set in the Tales of Arcadia franchise, and let's just say they don't 100% fit in it.
So why is that ?
Tumblr media
1. Trollhunters is based on a book, and the book doesn't contain any aliens.
Well from what I have researched the book doesn't contain any trace of wizards too. I will also add that I haven't read the original book, I just made some researches about its content on the internet.
For those who don't know, Trollhunters : Tales of Arcadia is a loose adaptation of a book written by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus, called Trollhunters. It's an adaptation similar to How to Train Your Dragon : The characters are present, the surnatural/fantasy aspect of the book is also present but everything else is changed. I even saw that Steve dies in the book, so glad they didn't take that route.
And i'm not part of the people who screams and cry everytime there is any changes from a book to a movie, To be deeply honest with you all I studied Cinema and English litterature in highschool and my final projet for those two subjects was to talk about how some changes in book adaptations are a good idea.
But it just shows that writer did not have any basic material for it. They had to create it all from scraps, and I feel like the first season of Trollhunters was already out when they thought of aliens, so they decided to connect it howerver they could. Which leads us to our second point.
2. Aliens don't really have any deep connections with humans, trolls or wizards.
Wizards and trolls fought against Gumm gumms, wizards have created many magical relics that Trolls uses, and as we saw with Hisirdoux wizards have an habit of dealing with trolls species. The interactions are already present, they have a deep history between them, shares problems and common knowledge.
Aliens apparently shook hands long time ago on Earth and were gone for the rest of the time, so except an old memory forgotten by almost everyone, they don't really have a pre existing history tying them to the different races in the story.
Trolls and wizards are based on things we already know off. I mean we have countless myths and legends about them already, but there is a bit more to that.
Horseshoe are items to uncover if someone is a changeling, trolls love to eat socks, which ties into the forever myth of "why am I always missing a sock", you think that racoons made your trashcan fall but it could have been gobelins, is that a black cat or just a small dragon etc. You really have the aspect that you interact with the "underworld" on a day to day basis without being actually aware of, and that goes deeper than just "oh this random person is just a troll in disguise".
Aliens don't really have that, like no one except the army used alien technology before 3Below, and still it was in secret so we can't really copy that to our everyday life as easily as the previous examples that I made.
Earth is about Trolls, humans, demi-gods and wizards. And it also happened to have aliens once in a while, but nothing much about it. And that leads us to our last point.
3. The plot has no space for Aliens.
Since the whole story is about earth and the fate of earth, we don't really have space for Aliens in the plot (no puns intended). We can literally see that with the 3Below plot : gumm gumms are something completly unrelated to the plot, it just happens in the back while the main plot is happening. 3Below is more of a spin-off or a "What If?" kind of show than a continuation of the main plot.
3Below is an interlude, an easter egg for the fans. You barely see the main cast, the main cast barely acknowledge the presence of the trio in their own show.
See I wouldn't be criticizing it if it was considered as such in the franchise. A side-story that doesn't impact the plot, but for fan service it will appear in the final movie so that everyone has their conclusion.
But it's not the case, it is seen as an important part of the story by the studio. It has never been advertised as something else than an active part of Tales of Arcadia.
If they truly wanted something about aliens, it should have been as a side story, a spin off.
But as a major part of the franchise, it doesn't deserve its spot and you can feel it.
Tumblr media
43 notes · View notes
berlynn-wohl · 4 months
Text
okay here we go, aziracrow honeymoon at disneyland
Crowley after exiting Mr. Toad's Wild Ride: "Alright, I have some notes."
In New Orleans Square, Aziraphale remarks, "You know, I've actually never been to New Orleans. Is this anything like the real Bourbon Street?" Crowley replies, "Sort of...? Except it doesn't smell like sweat and piss and there's no one staggering around in a toga asking if I want to see his cock and balls."
Aziraphale sees the bride and groom mouse-ear hats and considers purchasing them. He lingers at a stand where they are being sold. The hat for the bride is white, and the hat for the groom is black. Aziraphale dithers over this dichotomy of gender and color, because he wants Crowley to be happy with the hat he will wear, and he understands that Crowley of course prefers black apparel but also that he has a complex relationship with gender presentation. Aziraphale is not sure either hat will work for Crowley. At last he turns around to ask Crowley directly. Crowley is not there. He left ten minutes ago and went to California Adventure so he could order booze.
They get stuck in the darkest segment of Pirates of the Caribbean. They're in the back row of the boat so Crowley starts getting fresh to pass the time. Aziraphale begins to get suspicious the third time this happens on a ride.
Crowley anticipates some bafflement on Aziraphale's part, because many of the parks' rides and attractions are based on recent manufactured, profit-seeking pseudoculture which he assumes Aziraphale is not familiar with. When they're in line for Star Tours, Crowley begins explaining the basic premise of Star Wars, but Aziraphale interrupts him: A: That's not necessary, my dear, I haven't seen the films but I have read their novelizations. C: ...Why have you done that? A: Oh, I read everything by Alan Dean Foster. (He never elaborates on this.)
Aziraphale actually recognizes quite a lot of things in the park, such as the William Tell Overture on the Silly Symphony Swings. These moments delight him to no end, and make up for his occasional bewilderment.
But Aziraphale's favorite thing about Disneyland is of course the food. Every imaginable confection in novel shapes and colors! Food that is designed to be comically large or small! Perfectly ordinary traditional Earth foods that purport to be from a faraway galaxy! Foods whose names are delightful puns! Aziraphale waits in line for beignets with the same frenetic anticipation that other visitors wait in line to ride the roller coasters.
They catch people staring sometimes, and they wonder if it's judgmental gawping because they are usually holding hands. It becomes clear that actually people are just trying to figure out if they're cosplaying when someone comes up to them and says, "...Are you act one Alexander Hamilton and ginger Bono?"
While they are visiting the park, the janitorial staff have an easier day, because somehow, some way, no other visitors spill their popcorn, no one drops their ice cream, and no one urps after riding Space Mountain.
38 notes · View notes
magic-hcs · 2 years
Note
How would the boys feel with a secret admirer? And maybe once the secret admirer reveals themselves 👀
It went accidentally out of hand so I’m going to split them up in multiple parts, please bear with me anon! 🙏🏻
Sky: US Sans
Syrup: US Papyrus
If you like what you read, please consider dropping a comment.
Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨✨
Tumblr media
✨✨
All the boys except a few would like having a secret admirer in general. But none would like it if the secret admirer takes it too far by -for example - stalking or a love letter written especially passionately about confessing their undying love.
Sans: He’s very chill in general, really liking the surprise ketchup bottles around his hotdog stand - he knows it isn’t one he possibly misplaced because there’s a ribbon and note tied to it - or the few wild flowers he sometimes finds carefully placed inside his mailbox. He likes to place those wild flowers in the pages of a book. (I don’t know what you call this)
Sans thinks it’s cute, plus it doesn’t harm anyone, so he’s fine with it. But after a while Sans is getting curious who this secret admirer of his could possibly be. So at first he tries to catch you in the act, but if you move in the early mornings, then Sans will never catch you.
Plan A failed, time for plan B.
Which is just him sticking sticky notes on the exact places where you leave your gifts. At first his sticky notes only consisted of puns, so after a while of engulfing you in sticky note and ketchup and flower puns you finally replied with a pun of your own.
And I tell you, Sans’ already wide grin became even wider when he read it.
Cue one sided punning war from Sans until you playfully beg for mercy, which he grants - only because you’ve doodled a white surrender flag at the corner of the note. It is then that the two of you start having conversations through the sticky notes and after a month or more Sans has found himself with a crush.
You reveal yourself by placing a note on Sans’s hotdog stand with the words ‘behind you ;P’ written on it. Sans at first thought it was just a prank planned by you. But he goes along anyway, chuckling to himself the whole time. “welp, guess it’s me who should turn around and greet a new pal.” He says as he turns to look behind him, finding you smiling right behind him.
And I swear my dude was barely able to refrain the heart eyes from appearing right then and there.
✨✨
Papyrus: Oh this boy adores it. If you regularly send him positive encouraging letters he’ll jump from his bed and sprint down the stairs every morning to see if and what his secret admirer wrote to him that day. And if he finds a note directed to him in his mailbox, Papyrus will let out a squeal of excitement. Before snatching it from the box and sprinting back inside as if avoiding being caught doing something he shouldn’t. Once back in his room he’ll clutch the letter to his chest, feeling the inside of his chest erupt with fluttering butterflies. Papyrus keeps all his notes in a box inside his closet. The place where he keeps all his treasures and objects that give him comfort.
He is so very excited and happy when you reveal yourself to him. He feels very appreciated by the notes you wrote him, it helped him real well when he had a bad day.
I would say that he wouldn’t immediately want to date you, since he doesn’t know you yet. But he would love to start out as friends!
✨✨
Sky: Oh he’s ecstatic. He loves it a lot and it’s the highlight of his day. The first day you left him a note Sky was feeling quite blue, so when he saw the letter directed to him he gasps and delicately yet quickly grabs the letter, rushing into the house to read it immediately.
Not long after there comes a squeal from within the house. Sky is clutching the note to his chest, a slight blush on his face and stars in his eyesockets.
Syru’s head came peeking past his bedroom door asking what got Sky so excited.
Since then, Sky has been gathering every note, flower and nicknacks his secret admirer has been giving him. He treasures them dearly, but after a while he secretly wants more, he wants to know who his secret admirer is. So he starts to wake up even earlier or staying up later to try to catch you in the act. But unlike Sans, Sky does manage to catch you.
And oh boy, he can’t contain himself. It doesn’t matter if you’re bigger or smaller than him - this boy is stronk, and he could always use gravity magic to aid him - Sky will hoist you in the air and twirl you around. He’s happy he finally gets to meet you.
Like Papyrus, he wants to be friends first to get to know you before considering a relationship.
✨✨
Syrup: you approach him via messages online instead of notes and stuff. Syrup is a bit more skeptical about it. He doesn’t go outside all that much like Sky, nor does he have much of a social media precedence except for his coding job. So at first he’s thinking it’s a prank or something. Asking you how you know him and what you want from him, just being very careful and keeping his guard up.
Once you message him back saying that he had once done a coding job for you and that you’ve been admiring him and his work, Syrup finds himself slowly easing up a bit. Especially when you hurry to say that you’ll stop and leave him alone if you were bothering him. Which he does appreciate. Syrup answers by saying he’ll need some time to think about it, which is a decision you respect.
He gives you the answer on a rainy day; he’s been having a rough allround day and looking through your previous messages really helped him through it. Syrup allows you to keep messaging him on the condition you reveal yourself. That night you either video call him or arrange a meeting. It’s the start of a budding friendship. And maybe even more…
✨✨
Tumblr media
✨✨
Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction!
126 notes · View notes
paperback-rascal · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Another day another screenshot re-draw but also a crossover! Initially I wanted to make this a crossover with The Bad Batch, however couldn’t find the right combination. Then one day the puzzle pieces fell to the right places as I talked with @kalm5​ about Star Wars stuff and we came to conclusion that R2 is, basically a droid equivalent of the best-est of boys AKA a dog.
So if R2 is a dog then Anakin is like... his owner? or rather handler if we take into account TCW’s war setting... Thus the idea was born to crossover The Clone Wars cartoon with another vintage, black & white Polish TV series:
Przygody Psa Cywila (“The adventures of Civvie the dog”?) is a 7 episodes long mini series (30 minutes per episode) targeted at teens. It’s about militia sergeant Walczak, who after loosing his previous working dog, rescued and trained a puppy, he later named Civvie - which is a glorious pun, because it creates a juxtaposition of a “civilian" working in obviously militarized setting - Militia forces (At the time the TV series was made - 1971 - Poland was under a communist regime and didn’t have Police forces per se but a Militia forces that acted as a Police).
Each episode is a self-contained story - first two are dedicated to Civvie’s origin as a working dog, the rest is the “typical” adventures of the duo - rescuing missing kids, dealing with smugglers, chasing run-away prisoners, etc.
Unfortunately the series is not nearly as popular as Four tank-men and a dog, so you might find all episodes on-line, but not with English subtitles (at least I didn’t find such a version).
That a shame, you should feel robbed, because it’s one of my favorite mini-series!
Sergeant Walczak is a street-smart, polite and very experienced dog handler - considered one of the best by his colleagues at work. He has a very unique way of handling dogs - basically treating them almost like human beings. He talk to dogs as if they had had a deeper understanding of what’s going on... and Civvie seems to be above average when it comes to his intelligence: during downpour at the training facility all the dogs were ordered to sit... and sat in the rain totally miserable except Civvie who decided to be both law-abiding and dry - as the dog decided to sit under a small table, when ordered to fetch a stick across the body of water, Civvie didn’t swim for it like the rest of dogs but used a nearby bridge to cross and so on and on.
One they completed the training course at the dog training facility Walczak and Civvie became very tight-knitted - when in one episode Civvie goes missing, Walczak uses everything in his power to find his missing buddy. He basically ends-up in handcuffs and thrown to the jail due to his search for his beloved dog.
If that’s not Anakin’s and R2′s relationship (but translated to officer-working dog relationship) in a nutshell I don’t know what it.
There are also other characters that could have, in some way of the other, SW equivalents, like:
One character in the show just whispers Mace Windu to me. Lieutenant Zubek (who appears in first 2 episodes) is stickler for rules. He is pretty high-up at the dog training facility. Zubek is not really at knives with the sergeant as a person - but rather takes umbrage with Walczak’s rule-bending methods and tries to expose his lack of care to their higher-up (think Candace from Phineas and Ferb but militia setting in ‘70. Poland under communist regime) we only know as “Colonel”.
Colonel is a laid-back head of the dog training facility. He takes everything in stride and is not really bothered by, what in Zubek’s mind are Walczak’s misdemeanors. He understands Walczak’s good-natured way of handling dogs and tries to keep in check Zubek’s law-abiding, narrow mindset. So yeah, he is basically Yoda-esque character, but more... down-to-earth and humorous?
There is, of course, a lot more to The Adventures of Civvie the dog but for now I guess it’s enough of my explanations! It’s already way too long as it is!
===
STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney
Przygody psa Cywila (c) Krzysztof Szmagier/TVP
88 notes · View notes
themelodicenigma · 1 year
Note
I think we've talked about this before but you know how lots of fans are frustrated with the way Kingdom Hearts portrays light vs dark? The complaint's usually something along the lines of, light & dark should both be portrayed as neutral and there should be a perfect balance between them, but KH portrays light as generally good and darkness as generally bad with some exceptions. I'm generally fine with that? I understand the frustrations with the inconsistencies and mixed messages, though.
I think KH works best when it talks about light shining brightest in the darkness, 'cause that's something that can work whether you're talking about light and dark in the most literal, neutral sense, or whether you're talking about light as a metaphor for good shining brightest and being most appreciated in the midst of bad things. Know what I'm saying?
Absolutely, and I agree for the most part, but I can see what they're saying too. Mostly in the sense that, we could use a bit more of the side of showing how the nature of light and how people utilize it can also come across as corrupted. But, not too much.
Some people just got to remember what path KH chooses for Light and Darkness. It's kind of traditional.
Traditional, I would say, is split into where Light = good and Darkness = bad is either absolute, OR, is a more "mostly, but not always", scenario. I think media does a fair share of that in this day and age to say it's both pretty common.
I think being fine with the imbalanced concept of Light and Darkness—this being the idea of Light naturally leaning towards good, while Darkness leans towards bad, but neither are absolute incapable of either good/bad in a black and white way (pun intended)—is okay, and it does make sense if you want to get into a conversation about the nature of these two things for certain media. But, as long as the "Light is mostly positively but can be corrupted, while Darkness is mostly corrupted, but can be used positively" is consistent in emphasizing this to be the case, then it's fine.
I'm definitely not saying it has to be limited to this, as I also think it's fine to portray Light and Darkness as complete neutral forces/elements that don't have any "morality properties" on the nature of living beings (e.g. just like other elements like Ice, Fire, Wind, Earth, etc)—but you could still argue that even in these cases, Light and Darkness still do have elemental properties that can be perceived as good or bad—for example, Light Magic is often used for healing, while Dark Magic is often depicted as destructive. It standing as "good or bad" is indirect, but still kind of there, especially if you throw in how characters are represented in using Light or Dark Magic.
With that being said, KH has it's world, and it's way of how elements, forces, and themes are handled. There IS Light and Dark abilities that seem like they could be neutral (Fire vs Dark Fire), but in KH, it does go beyond that as a concept. The way KH handles this is fine for the most part, mostly because at the end of the day, we have Riku and BBS. lol
We get the symbolic nature of Darkness as an element and force that can be used for good through basically any game featuring Riku, but I think where Nomura introduces the "Light can be corrupted" is in BBS, where it "coincidentally" is reminiscent of Star Wars—story and character parallels, heck even because Eraqus and Xehanort as characters are like the Jedi and Sith. Eraqus was Mark Hamill [Luke Skywalker] for crying out loud XD. And while Xehanort turned out to be more complex, he was straight up acting like Palpatine in BBS.
In Star Wars, it's a very common fan understanding of how it's written where the Jedi's way of thinking is, well, not that great in how it doesn't account for complexities of situations or human nature. Even if it is the light side, the doctrines of the Jedi often come across as "blind" to other important things in life, for sacrifices of what they think is needed to preserve the good.
Eraqus was a lot like the Jedi-counsel (again, I think Nomura did this on purpose, maybe there's even an interview about it), to the point to where he even tries to kill Ven, for the "light" and the "good". And we even have Aqua having some doubts about Eraqus' teaching on her journey, though there could've been more of that too.
I think people just wanted more of what BBS introduced, for that look at the people using Light as a corrupted thing. I mean, Xehanort talks about the "false light" to MoM, I believe too. But at the end of the day, if it's not really a rule in the KH world that Light and Darkness have no inherent properties of how it affects people, it's impact on the world, and are just completely neutral, then of course we won't get Light being "bad" as much as Darkness. KH sets different ideals for it's world in how Light and Dark inherently work.
Nothing wrong with that.
13 notes · View notes
juniaships · 1 year
Note
Do have more information of your TFA or transformers Ocs cause I’m curious 👀👀
The lore behind them is they're a girl's spinoff of transformers like how She-Ra was to He-Man.
Imani: Pink main, uses sky based ability and was a college student. I ship her "G1" counterpart with the G1 Bumblebee
Nicole: police officer turned private eye, blue themed character and uses ground based vehicles
Alisha: Computer scientist armed with hi-Tech and has musical themed gadgets
Regina: Criminal with a soft spot for animals, is Imani's evil counterpart with similar gadgets but with electrical "storm" motifs. Sometimes she has a redemption and becomes an animal activist
Jewelia: Jewellery maker with the power to create crystals her name is an obvious pun on jewels and Julia. She's artistic, bubbly and the 'kid appeal' character
Queen Saline: Queen of atlantis and guardian of a powerful Pearl. Has three guards name Kaskade, Twirlpool, and Aquaria
Captain Nauti-Gal: Pirate and sworn enemy of Queen Saline she is a secondary antagonist. Charismatic but also really greedy and violent. Has a talking parrot named Back-Talk bc ofc he likes to talk shit to her.
Stellatrix: Space Princess from Athenia (same planet from Transformers) with a bright preppy personality. Deep down she feels insecure over her role as future guardian. She comes to Earth every now and then
Morbita: A very evil space wizard who tries to steal all the stars for herself. Attempts to steal the Earth's sun at one point nearly causing an ice age. She's also a major villain in bayverse
Haumea: Native Hawaiian surfer with ocean themed craft, very passionate about politics.
Connie Irving: Another villain one of those seedy capitalist pigs who try to take advantage of the heroes' popularity for her own gains and even teamed up with villains for money. Awful.
Lady Belladonna: Eccentric rich lady who is the team's benefactor. Is hella thirsty for Perceptor, vain, and somewhat of a potty mouth
Then we have continuity exclusive like
Veena Micel: my self insert who works as Sumdac. Prickly, quiet, afraid to trust others but has a secret weird girl side.
Butterflix is Malina Mariposa's codename. In Beast Wars she was merely a human scientist on board the ship with the Maximals when they crashed. She gets her own power-up Butterfly Armor. In tfa she gets turned into a techno-organic.
Solace: based on G1!Stellatrix except her origins are she comes from a family of Megatronus worshippers. She was sent to spy on Sam but befriending my OCs she has a change of heart and rejects her cultist clan. She later becomes part of NEST as an ambassador between humanity and Cybertronian refugees. Her name is a pun on Solus Prime.
Orchidstrator and Draguna: two Predacons who are simply vibing during the beast wars. The former is a violinist and ex ninja, Draguna is based on a sea dragon and lounges around in her pond all day.
8 notes · View notes
peelingitwithpeels · 2 years
Text
Random hcs that popped in my head pt. 2
◦ Gretchen and co. decided the best way to get to Bo is to make his room completely messy while interviewing him so when he went back he freaks out because at home his dad emphasized on cleanliness and the mess will revert Bo into a panic mode
◦ Whenever Henry makes friends Seth makes a point of trying to steal them and at some point Henry just stopped having people beside Paige over
◦ Josh is lactose intolerant and loves ice cream ( yes he eats it despite it being dairy he doesn’t care)
◦ Kirin needs glasses but refuses to wear them and Henry can tell he needs glasses and keeps hinting to him to go get glasses
◦ Scotty and Bo are both huge Marvel nerds and Scotty always gets excited when a character makes a cameo
◦ Post island, Scotty FaceTimed Ivan to scream in excitement over the announcement of Black Panther 2 and they agree to go see it in theaters together
◦ Raf gives Josh a ride from school all the time and Josh makes a point to show him a magic trick every once in awhile
◦ Kirin and Ivan have weekly sleepovers where Ivan “forces” Kirin to wear a face mask with him and watch Horror movies
◦ Henry’s mom surprised Henry with tickets to see Frank Ocean and Henry invited Ivan who instantly said yes
◦ The first birthday Henry has without Seth, all the boys surprise him at his doorstep ( Henry almost immediately slam the door out of shock)
◦ Bo has a guilty pleasure for Rom coms and his favorite one is “About Time” and on the island him and Martha bond over their shared love for romance movies
◦ Josh comes over Raf’s house all the time post island and Raf’s parents are so use to him that they make a plate for him for dinner
◦ Paige is taller than Henry and is the only person he allows to touch his hair
◦ Raf gets back into soccer and mentions it ONCE to Kirin and Kirin blows his phone up with every cheesy sport pun alive god forbid the day he tells him he won a game; he will get a literal long ass voice memo of excitement
◦ The boys copied Kirin’s music video for Kirin’s birthday and sent it to him ( Kirin watches the video all the time)
◦ Josh mentioned that he likes star wars and Henry almost immediately adopted him as a brother ( they go to comic cons together )
◦ Out of all the boys, Henry and Josh are the only ones who likes Pineapple on their pizza
◦ Kirin adopts a pitbull and names her Buttercup( whenever everyone visit they tell him they’re only there for Buttercup and Ivan makes it a point to post her so much on his instagram that people assume it’s his dog)
◦ Raf has the WORST taste in men and he would send Ivan pictures of boys he thought were cute and it went like “thoughts??” “And prayers Raf I don’t know what you want from me” Raf got his revenge when Ivan sent him a photo of a boy he thought was cute “thoughts??” “And prayers Ivan I don’t know what you want from me 😞”
◦ Bo was given the aux and played “Mr. Brightside” and everyone in the car was shocked except for Scotty (for the rest of the song him and Henry would be shouting the lyrics)
14 notes · View notes
heiyodream · 2 years
Text
ghost.
There was a ghost in Morgan's house. He lived everywhere; in the never cleaned, messy corner of his dad's lab, in an empty bedroom with blue and red sheets that no one living had ever had, in the yellow Gatorade that was always on the fridge door even though no one wanted it, in the tiny, palm-sized, spider-shaped drone on a living room bookshelf, and in a hidden photo in a kitchen cabinet. His father had far less gray hair in the photo, and there was a boy there with him, frozen forever in a boyish, awkward smile.
That was the ghost. Her big brother.
Not with blood. But his dad talked about the boy as her big brother all the time, even though he was Parker, not Stark or even Potts, even though he didn't share any genetic material with her, then so be he. Peter Parker was Morgan's big brother, Spider-Man, before his death in 2018, like half of the world's population, and his father held Peter before he disappeared into ashes.
Morgan's dad didn't talk about Peter willingly, except with her mom. There were a lot of things he only talked to her about. To Morgan, he mentioned Peter in the middle of casual conversation, a few comments here and there as if Peter didn't matter. That he had got over a dozen shirts with tacky science puns, always wore shoes where the sole was about to break, loved chemistry more than anything but maybe puppies, and hated mayonnaise. That he worshipped peppermint ice cream even though he couldn't eat it because his genetic mutation caused him to be allergic. That he was crazy with Star Wars and that when he died, he left Morgan's dad with the last two and a half films of the series yet to be seen together.
It hurt her dad, talked about Peter more. Morgan's childhood was always quiet at the lake house, but he was no stranger to sadness. There were Sad Days, with a capital S and D, as her mom called them. When his dad wasn't out of the lab, and even if he were, he would feel distant. This happened more often when Morgan was a child; Peter's death had just occurred and was still fresh in his father's memory.
It was a long journey for his father to make a cover for Peter's death. The messy corner of the lab was finally cleaned up moments before Morgan entered high school; old web-shooters and bundles of chemical notes tucked into a cardboard box in a cupboard. His father only bought the blue Gatorade, which the three of them liked. The spider drone remained, like the photo that was never moved. But the empty bedroom next to Morgan would never be occupied, and his father never ceased to miss Peter.
Morgan had her dad's eyes, her mom's freckles. Peter also has the same brown eyes like her. Her mom said Peter's eyes were actually a shade or two lighter than Morgan's, but it was hard to tell the exact hue difference with just a photo.
They looked alike, Morgan and Peter. Same eyes, same dark brown curls, same dimpled smiles, same button-shaped nose, same big ears.
Sometimes her dad looked at Morgan, as if through her, as if he saw someone else, and Morgan wondered if he was seeing Peter and not her.
4 notes · View notes
7r0773r · 9 months
Text
The Late Americans by Brandon Taylor
Tumblr media
Gerard was studying something useless, something like medieval poetry and form, and his wife was looking after their children. Sometimes, [Seamus] saw them down at the corner of St. Mary’s for the weekly food bank. It was the height of foolishness, academia.  You sank down and down in debt, in desperation, in hunger,  so that you could feel a little special, a little brilliant in your small, dark corner of the universe, knowing something that no one else knew. Art was worth many things, but was it worth putting your whole family on the brink of extinction? Seamus didn’t understand Gerard’s calculus. He loved poetry, but he couldn’t always square it with the essentials of life. (pp. 16-17)
***
Taking his bike across the bridge. The wind was stronger then, slicing up his face. He looked up. The stars, he thought, had been watching him his whole life. They’d seen the whole thing go on and on. Him and the rest of all the people who had ever lived and ever would.
It was like living in a museum exhibit or a dollhouse. It was so easy to imagine the hands of some enormous and indifferent God prying the house open and squinting at them as they went about their lives on their circuits like little automatons in an exhibit called The Late Americans. A God with a Gorgon’s head peering down in judgment. (p. 49)
***
In his apartment, [Seamus] reheated some of the bisque he'd carried home from the hospice and sat at his desk. A stack of discarded poems gazed back at him with inert judgment—his compost heap, he called it. Among the dashed, hurried fragments, quatrains and couplets torn from the ends of other failed things, there was a crown of sonnets about Alsatian nuns during the Thirty Years' War.
He had once read a historical account of a group of children who had been stuffed into barrels and floated down a river in order to avoid the Catholic authorities. Except that someone had made a horrible mistake, the children's barrels had been battered by rocks, and the children had all died horrible deaths. A group of nuns had gathered by the riverside at night and waded deep into the water in order to extract the children, or what there was of them that could still be found. It was fable-like, the idea of a group of holy sisters shedding their habits and wading in their white vestments into cold water to seek drowned children. For days after reading the story he had walked around feeling heavy with it, like he was the one who'd gone swimming with all his clothes on.
The poems had come out decently at first, or so he had thought. The lines glinted like cold stars, harsh and distant and perfect. But after he had completed them, each sonnet the story of a sister and a child, seeker and the lost, a call and a response or, rather, a silence, he found that he hated them. He had rushed through in the excitement of creation, in the blurry exhilaration of putting words down. Worse still, he had come up to the very edge of his technical ability, and had resorted in his more desperate moments to puns, to cheap tricks, to dodges of sentiment. There was a falseness to the poems, further illuminated by the stricture of the form itself. There was nowhere to hide in a sonnet, which was something that before had been the very point.
It used to seem to him that you could write about the past as a way of understanding the present. But now, his classmates wrote only about the present and its urgency. The very act of comprehension or contextualization was centered on the self, but the self as abstracted via badly understood Marxist ideology. The self in contemporary poetry was really some debased, abject manifestation of a system of wrongs and historical atrocities, shorn of their historical contexts or any real rigorous understanding. Their poems were complaints of hurts done and occluded. No one wanted to read his poems about Catholicism or Alsatian nuns or the apocalypse of the Thirty Years' War. They wanted to know how he fit in. Poetry was just a matching game, the poems simply cards. (pp. 50-51)
***
"As for myself, I'm starting to think I should just go to law school," Ivan said.
"Don't you have an interview for a bank in New York?" Timo asked. Goran just looked bored, like he'd heard this all before. People in graduate school were always talking about going to law school, except for the people in law school, who talked about going into real estate. Painters, dancers, poets, and even scientists dreamed at their desks of the law, of a codified system that ran through all their lives and kept them from bilious harm. What they wanted was something that made sense and made money and could convert their temporary suffering into something more stable and right. (p. 155)
***
It was like in the practice room. The sound of their voices was a solid thing moving among them and through them. Goran and Ivan's voices bled together until it was one unbroken stream of speech. It was unbearable to think that this was all humanity had to contain their feelings. These mean kernels of sound. It was cruel. Timo's mouth filled with an acidic heat. He tried to breathe through his nose. He tried to be present. He tried to be there.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—what stupid little words.
Goran and Ivan were laughing. They leaned against each other and kept saying no. They rubbed each other's arms, kissed each other's necks. They held each other tight. Ivan tickled Goran, who writhed and jerked, and they jostled the table.
Timo swept the water carafe to the ground with the back of his hand, and it broke open with a loud, wet crash. Glass gleamed in the shadow under the table, caught by the white streetlights. Goran looked at him as if from at a great distance. Ivan's eyes grew wide.
But at least they had stopped. (pp. 156-57)
***
It was a lie that Timo had not loved piano enough. He had loved it very much, but in a way that was difficult to describe. It was apophatic—he could only describe it through its negation. He only understood how much he loved the piano after he had given it up. Even that decision in hindsight seemed arbitrary, a whim. An act of petulance. But he had loved it, and he still did. Every day, he felt like a struck tuning fork, vibrating all the time. Except that it wasn't pitch he was tuned to but something else, some horrible frequency cutting through the universe. Loss, he thought. It was loss. (p. 157)
***
It was true, Goran had been a prodigy, of minor but robust gift. You could tell he'd gone to conservatory from a young age. It was in the way he played. Like obeying a set of rules even as he broke them. He had a terrifying sense of pitch. But Timo had been a prodigy, too. Or maybe everyone was a prodigy if they worked hard enough and long enough and became, at a young age, competent at a thing. Perhaps what people misjudged for prodigious talent was really just unexpected competence. (pp. 163-64)
***
“You aren't poor,” Goran said. "Why is everyone always acting so terribly pious about money. You grew up in a suburban monstrosity just like me."
Timo drummed his fingers on the table. Not just like Goran. There had been money, yes. More than some people. More than most people, in fact—but running out all the time. Running down and down, through a sieve, into some black hole. It was one thing to have money and to know there would be money tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. It was another to have money and watch it shrink and vanish day over day, knowing that it would end sometime soon. And it was yet another thing not ever having enough. The whole world was just a series of nested shell games involving dwindling sums of money, everyone a little worse off than the person next to them, until you got to the very bottom, where some people had nothing at all.
He had not understood that at first. Even having come through it, he hadn't really understood it. He had understood only his own private deprivation. And that what felt secure to him was what felt secure to everyone. That his values were the real values. But now he saw how dumb that was.
The white men on the television were always talking about it, weren't they? The great vanished American middle class. That's what his parents belonged to. They'd had money, and then the bedrock on which that money had rested was eroded by tariffs and taxes and the outsourcing of capital and labor abroad. The giving way of agriculture and industry, the crumbling infrastructure of midcentury American fortunes destroyed in the hypercharged realities of the neoliberal/neocon nineties. Reagan, Bush, Clinton, now Obama: It was all gone now. All used up. Or at least reconfigured and locked behind ever more severe sets of restrictions. You needed money to access the money, and what they were left with, the hundreds and thousands of families that had once had enough money to ensure the next generation's comfort—what they were left with was nothing, just the bitter memory of the houses they used to own. Tracts of land that used to belong to so-and-so up the family tree. And to say nothing of the whole black thing. Generations of beige upper-crust blacks marrying beige upper-crust blacks, all those women in their pearls and the men in their Harry Winston watches. All that time spent signifying that they came down from a long line of free folks, ten, twelve generations out of slavery, free of that ancestral taint of bondage. Forget the whole respectability politics of it all. That nascent but very present idea that if they'd really been worth something, them slaves wouldn't have been caught in the first place. All that wrong-headed nonsense handed down along with the money, which shrunk over time. But Goran didn't know about any of that. His family was white. Goran's family still had money. Timo's family did not. So, no, not just like Goran at all.
"Music is all wrapped up in that other stuff for me," Timo said. "You know that. It's best to let it lie."
"Excuses!" Goran said, smiling. He was amused by this. "That's just an excuse not to try! But I won't twist your arm. Think about it." 
Timo smiled back. "Okay. Yeah. I'll think about it."
They went on smiling at each other, each knowing that it was a lie and that they had come to the end of something. Timo had fallen out of love with Goran in that moment. And Goran could see it. But they couldn't bring themselves to say it. To acknowledge it. So they went on smiling, and then they were laughing at their table in the corner, while it rained and grew cold and the café grew loud and then warm and then empty, and the whole world, the whole procession of its events marched on without a single notice or care that there in their tiny, obscure particle of the galaxy, two people's hearts were breaking over and over again. (pp. 165-67)
***
"Maybe you're just not a poet,” Stafford said. He flicked ashes through the window. Seamus turned to look at him.
"That's kind of a fucked-up thing to say, no?"
"I just mean. We get so hung up on these labels, like poet, painter, dancer, grad student—it's all because we're godless faggots and our world has no central organizing theme anymore."
“That almost scans," Seamus said.
"Almost? Fuck you." Stafford grinned. "No, I'm serious. It's very Marxist. Total collapse of values. All that remains is labor and capital."
Stafford with his compact body and platinum-blond hair. His strong neck and shoulders, turning nonchalantly to flick ashes out the window. There was a trapezoid of light on his shoulder, some bright fragment torn from a greater plane.
"Maybe so. But poetry," Seamus said. He lay on his back and put his hands behind his head. "Poetry. That's worth staking your life on. My life, anyway."
Stafford drew on the cigarette and watched him. The angle of light changed. The trapezoid faded. They were in a different attitude then.
"Well, Stafford said, joining Seamus on the floor again. "If it's worth it to you. Just blow up whatever's in your way."
Seamus took the cigarette from him and drew on it himself. He could taste Stafford in the filter. Stafford watched him, waiting for him to exhale. He held his breath. (pp. 178-79)
***
[Seamus] tried to write a poem that was all of it, and yet bore no sign of any of it. Because that was a true poem. Something that had no sign of what had made it. That was what mattered to him. The invisibility of the thing that had gone into it. It was not cowardice. It was not fear. It was intention. It was purpose. It was the thing he wanted most. To hide. To see but be unseen. (pp. 181-82)
***
It was strange in a way. [Seamus] had forgotten, in the span of time it took to walk back to his apartment, that submitting the poem to seminar meant that other people would read it. They would know. This had been a part of the plan, but in his writing, he had lost sight of it. He wanted to make himself small. He wanted to make himself tiny and invisible. He shivered. The poem was too much about him. It was too much about Bert and the woods and his parents and his grandparents and too much about how it hurt not to be wanted in the way you wanted to be wanted. Too much about the things he had balled up and discarded. It was base and crass and there was too much of his flesh and bone in it. He hated the poem, but hated more that he had liked the poem. How it had outmaneuvered him. You were supposed to be in control of your poetry. Its workings. But he couldn't control anything. And he hated that. (p. 183)
0 notes
Text
Holy ****... I've only gone and done a sequel!
A long time ago, in a lifetime very different to that which I have now, I wrote a novel. An actual, proper-ish novel (this is open to debate obviously, given the reception it received.) in which I sent a character I had created on a road trip into her past and that of her family. It was a violent, unpleasant and politically insensitive story, based on corrupt politics, vampires and murder for hire. I entitled this novel 'Leticia, Sunset Hunter' and was genuinely proud of what I had written.
Tumblr media
My partner and I desperately tried to find a publisher or an agent to release the novel, but being the weird neuro-atypical freak that I am, I was barely able to believe in myself, let alone the power of my words. So after three hundred letters, with only one positive reply who never write back again, I called it a day and retreated into my shell, like a sad little snail, scared of the big wide world. The rejection felt like a cricket bat to the stomach, I had been judged harshly by the world of publishing and I did not take that judgement well.
Time went by and I remembered the words of my dear friend and mentor Mr Smith... “Have you looked into modern electronic publishing?” As an early adopter of the Apple Mac, Mr Smith was way ahead of me in terms of modern gadgets. He had iPods before anyone else had ePods! (sorry for the poor alphabetical pun!). He read his morning paper on the first generation iPad and knowing him, he was probably on first name terms with Steve Jobs. Sadly both of these men are now dead and in truth I greatly loved one of them and miss him to this day.
My first attempt at publishing was with a book of short stories. This was also my first attempt at editing a piece of my writing and I was abysmal at it. The short stories contained spelling mistakes, missed letters, lost words, changes in font and variable font size. It was a beautiful disaster, but I still loved it. This went up on Amazon Kindle and I sold at least three to well meaning friends, who let me down gently as to the quality of what they had paid for. As you would expect for such a service, Amazon took seventy percent of the profit and I received a few pence for each copy sold, which after a few months added up to the grand total of fifty three... Pence.
So releasing Leticia on Kindle was probably my best bet. I worked for months, preparing the story, working on the edits and slowly going insane. My therapist helped me deal with the feelings of failure with some kind words. “By publishing on Kindle, you are staying true to the purity of your own voice.” So publish her I did and the feelings of shame and self doubt grew like a tumour in my belly. Leticia was far from perfect and in truth I would write a very different book now, but I have to be true to the purity of my voice. The me of then who wrote Leticia, was desperate to be loved. So when I recently edited Leticia, I made sure that I was kind to the me of then and all I changed was the formatting mistakes and a couple of blindingly awful spelling or grammatical errors. I also gave Leticia a new cover, ready to be joined by her sequel, David.
When people have pets, they give them cute, lovable names (except for poor black kittens who often end up being named after something demonic), my cat for example has an adorable name. He is a sixteen year old ginger tabby called Jasper Doodahs and as I write this, he is curled up fast asleep between my ankles. Naming books is just as difficult as naming pets, if not more so. I can only imagine how many modern pets have been named Grogu or other Star Wars names, I know of at least one Ahsoka, who is a beautiful little silver tabby queen. The problem with books is that you cannot use names from films, it gets very confusing if you do and can be problematic when Lawyers are called in to ask you to stop. So I use human names for my books and here I present David : Dark Walker.
Tumblr media
What is David about? Well, it picks up hours after the end of Leticia, with David on his way to meet Rosalind, Leticia's mother, when a woman from his long forgotten past reaches out to him. From there we have yet more travel, through this world and into others with violent and unpleasant outcomes and then right at the end, we lead into a final sequel. I wish that I could tell you more about the sequel, but as we speak, the plan is in its most basic form and nothing has been written other than a few introductory lines of text.
Tumblr media
David is finally available now and is book two in the Vampyrican trilogy. At just over one hundred and twenty thousand words, you get around ten thousand words for roughly each pound you spend on my book. I started writing David in 2017 and since then we have had Brexit, a global pandemic, financial collapse, war in Europe and an awful lot of unnecessary deaths caused by the piss poor performance of politicians globally. None of this appears in David, well none of the real stuff anyway, but there is plenty of technocratic theocracy and maybe hints of cyber punk, with maybe a lot of love for and influence from my favourite movie of all time, Bladerunner.
What this means is that with my greater experience of being a writer now, I asked someone else to pass their eye across my final manuscript and they corrected a number of irritating mistakes for me. I still do not have the money to be able to pay an editor what they are worth to professionally work on my book, but this is hopefully a better step forwards with the reading experience for my readers. So I implore you, go and read my new novel, buy it on Kindle and/or paperback. If you live local to me, I can even sign a paperback for you. What I can tell you, should you wish to read my Vampyrican trilogy, you will be getting the purity of my voice, albeit a voice that has changed and matured over the years. I still love Leticia, but David is better and who knows, the final in the series might well be better again, when she lands on your kindle reader or bookshelf. Actually, there is a hint, book three has a girl's name and she is a character all of her own.
1 note · View note
secretmellowblog · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Happy star wars pun day!!! Here’s Luke Skywhiskers
105 notes · View notes
my-apollo-gies · 2 years
Text
obsessed with piper w plaits
then they become princess leia buns on may 4th
7 notes · View notes
frroggy · 6 years
Text
I would love to be Luke Skywalkers friend
2 notes · View notes
edasnest · 3 years
Note
Might you have any Raeda headcanons you'd be willing to share?
Oh shit I didn’t see that you sent this to me until now oh man.
But you better believe I’ve got some Raeda headcanons >:D
[Spoilers for Eda’s Requiem and Knock Knock Knockin on Hooty’s Door! Also a little bit of a character study regarding those eps lol]
Raine is constantly in awe of Eda. Eda’s desire to learn every kind of magic and buck tradition and societal norms sometimes leaves them breathless. When they were young, Raine always admired Eda for the clever pranks she’d pull using different kinds of magic despite being in the potions track. They also admired Eda’s boldness when it came to standing up for herself and her sister.
Eda found Raine to be interesting considering they were in the bard track despite their stage fright, but once Eda watched them perform and saw how they’d lose themself in the music was, no pun intended, magical. They had a fierce grip on Eda’s heart and she didn’t know why; she was fascinated by Raine and made it her goal to be best friends with this oddly shy bard (which she achieved pretty quickly).
After Eda’s curse caused her to unintentionally disable her dad, she was terrified of what it would mean if she was caught off guard like that again. So she started putting up walls. No stressful situations, no hard conversations, no sudden bright lights or loud sounds that she wasn’t the cause of. If she could be in control of her surroundings, she could control the Owl Beast. The elixir she’d discovered that could keep the curse’s side effects at bay helped maintain her sanity and her chill demeanor, but Raine was able to tell she was always slightly on edge. Raine knew about the curse; after Eda had transformed on the Grudgby field the first time everyone had been talking about it, but they didn’t know the extent of it. Everyone just said she’d turned into a monster and then fled; but what kind of monster?? But every time Raine tried to get more information about it, Eda would brush it off and change the subject. It broke their heart watching Eda brush off something that was clearly bothering her, and eventually it all came to a head. She was lying more and more often to Raine and they just couldn’t take it anymore. What happened to their best friend??? Why would she lie to them????? It was maddening and all the frustration and aching in their heart became too much. They needed to focus on something other than Eda. They weren’t nearly as bold as Eda, even after all these years, so they joined the Bard Coven in order to start teaching and building a career for themself. They’d happily welcome Eda back if she’d just tell them what was going on. But it never happened. Burying themself into their work and then, eventually, into the BAtTs helped keep the heartache at bay, but only sometimes.
Eda and Raine caught glimpses of each other as the years passed. They’d spot one another in the market or Raine would see a flash of unmistakable ginger hair dashing around a corner; sometimes they’d hear Eda yelling at some Coven guards and quietly hope she’d make her escape. Eda would occasionally see posters advertising a performance starring Raine; she’d either buy a ticket or sneak in just to listen to them play again. She could never stay for very long though because listening to them play made her heart hurt so much she’d be at risk of turning into the Owl Beast. Raine grabbed one of Eda’s wanted posters and keeps it hidden under some other paperwork in their desk, pulling it out sometimes and going over every detail of the artist’s rendition of her. One day, a new wanted poster came out - this one with a weird skull dog now part of the image and the bounty having increased significantly. Raine would always smirk whenever they saw the new version, although they were alarmed the first time they saw her drawn with all-grey hair. When had that happened? They weren’t that old yet, right??
The day Eda saved the BAtTs and figured out Raine’s secret was maybe the best day Raine had had in years. Their best friend was talking to them again, helping them with their plot. Raine didn’t bother pushing Eda about the last 20 years; their last conversation proved enough that Eda didn’t like it when people pried. But Eda had become not just older, but so much more kind and open. To a degree that sort of shocked Raine. When they asked Eda if she had nothing to lose and Eda took their hand, it was like they’d gone back in time. As if they were both 20 again and daydreaming about a world they’d create for themselves where covens weren’t there to shackle witches down and stage fright didn’t exist; where Eda’s curse never happened and they could stay there on that hill forever.
Eda of course was warring with her own emotions during all of this; she was under the impression that everyone in her life was leaving her again. And not because she was pushing them away this time, but of their own volition. She got her big sister back only for her to go back home to their parents after just a few weeks. She overheard King talk about leaving to find his dad and her apprentice - the first person to ever break down all of Eda’s defenses and show her how to love again - was constantly working on ways to go back to her own home. Eda would be left with Hooty and Owlbert and absolutely nobody else and that hurt so much more than she cared to admit. So when Raine showed up in the town square with their BAtT mask on, using their magic to turn some coven guards into bumbling fools, Eda was a little shell-shocked. The first person to leave her of their own volition was right there in front of her and needed help. So she helped them. And when she became invested in their plots to free wild witches, she felt like she was a teenager again, plotting out pranks with Raine in her secret shortcuts room at Hexside, blushing at every interaction they had because even after all this time, Raine was still Raine. Her Rainstorm. It was like she was starting over, like the last 20 years had faded away, except they hadn’t. Because Luz and King were competing in a race that she needed to be there for. Her past and her present were all different types of painful but finding Raine like this again gave her so much hope! Until she realized she wouldn’t see the end of that race, not if it meant stopping Belos. And she was ready for that, ready for the pain to just stop already, but Raine wouldn’t let her.
Losing Raine again was so much worse the second time. But what they said stayed with her and Eda needed to get back to King and Luz. So when she got back and discovered they’d lost, of course her first thought was to help them. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d just lost. And when King announced that he wasn’t leaving at all, he was legally changing his name? She was “stuck” with him forever? That was too much and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone wasn’t leaving her. In fact he was legally binding himself to her. No one was leaving, at least not any time soon. Eda definitely still cried more that night after King and Luz had gone to bed.
In the future, Eda and Raine agree to start from scratch: Eda explains the curse to them in detail, all the things she’s learned about it over the years and specifically with Luz and King and Hooty’s help. She explains that Lilith was the one that gave it to her to begin with and why (Raine is appalled like???? Raine specifically worked with Lilith in that last year before they had been made head of the Bard Coven?? And Lilith showed maybe irritation at best at the mention of Eda, so like?? What the fuck???). Eda also explains how she’s come to accept the curse as something that’s part of her and the history the Owl Beast has that she got a glimpse of which is super intriguing to Raine. Also Harpy Eda was a thing which was maybe the most surprising part of it all.
Raine in the meantime tells Eda about their time working their way up the ranks of the Bard Coven, how they met each of the BAtTs and recruited them, the façade they had to maintain to stay on track to become the head of the Bard Coven (something that greatly impressed Eda given Raine’s history with being an awkward actor).
Eda introduces Raine to Luz and King to which both of them start shooting rapidfire questions at them and overwhelm them pretty quickly. Eda has to shoo the two away before Raine just bursts out laughing, saying something about how they’re definitely Eda’s kids (all of them blush while Raine is laughing). Luz is just as fascinated with Raine’s Bard magic as Eda was when they first met and the similarities between the two are striking. Raine tells Eda as much later on and Eda begins gushing about what a great apprentice Luz is and everything she’s done during her time on the Boiling Isles.
They fall easily back into dating once they reconnect properly and everything’s calmed down a little - Raine will still be humming a piece they’re working on and suddenly grab Eda and begin dancing to the tune, Eda laughing the whole time and making their heart soar. Eda will still play with Raine’s earring when they’re cuddled up together just chatting. Raine will start asking Eda again for her opinion on musical pieces they’re working on and Eda will make suggestions along with some jokes or snide commentary. They both still love watching the clouds overhead on their hill, sometimes playing music, sometimes just holding hands.
Raine loves watching Eda interact with Luz and King. They love watching how easily Eda loves them and how much she’s changed since they first broke up. Once they’re alone together, in a moment total admiration for how far they’ve come, Raine tells Eda they love her. Eda immediately kisses them and starts crying, repeating Raine’s words back to them and mumbling about how she’ll never let Raine leave ever again.
A canon Non-binary love interest to a main character that uses They/Them pronouns??? In my kids cartoon???? It’s more likely than you think.
Anyways I fucking love Raine and I love how much Eda and Raine love each other and I can’t wait to see what ends up happening with Them™️
138 notes · View notes
biconicfinn · 3 years
Text
Sam/T'Challa Headcanons
just some general headcanons for my faves <3
i dont remember much of the mcu timelines anymore but whatever have this post okay thank you
i'm thinking maybe they get together post-ca:cw, t'challa helps shelter steve, bucky, sam, clint, scott, and wanda in wakanda for a while so they can recover
obvs bucky goes into cryo and then i'm thinking maybe clint takes wanda under his wing and goes on the run, maybe scott joins them too idk i didn't spend too much time thinking about it
so it's just steve, sam, and cryo bucky
steve spends most of his time talking to bucky and moping and being generally Emo but eventually starts going stir-crazy so he turns his usual captain america suit into the nomad one, and heads off to go be a vigilante fugitive
meanwhile sam decides to stay in wakanda; he hasn't had a chance to just be in a long, long time, not since captain america first knocked on his door asking for a safe place. he stays in a small little apartment in the capital city, kinda near the palace so people can still keep an eye on him
over several weeks sam establishes a routine: wake up, go for a run around the neighbourhood (cutting through the public gardens at the palace), come back home and work out, shower, eat breakfast, go out on a patrol with the border tribe around the area, explore the city and practice xhosa along the way, check in with sarah, lunch, check in with steve and bucky, read, sleep, repeat.
he finds a purpose in the help he gives his neighbours, helping the older lady next door with errands at the market, telling the kids stories about what it feels like to fly with your own wings, joining the border tribe on their patrols around the city
occasionally he runs into the generous (and gorgeous) king who gracefully allows him to stay in wakanda in peace while running through the palace gardens
t'challa rises with the sun and often runs in the morning to get at least some form of training in; crucial on days where he's stuck in meetings
sometimes the two run into each other—once literally, and okoye never lets t'challa hear the end of how he was so very flustered by sam wilson taking off his shirt to cool off and the sight of him all hot and sweaty and half-naked made him freeze and run right into said man—and sam has to come to terms with the fact that getting lapped by superhuman attractive men (though he personally prefers t'challa over steve) is just his life now
typically sam opens their conversation with a cat pun that makes t'challa fight back a smile and respond with something so dry and deadpan, couched in the characteristic diplomatic quality he uses it takes sam a minute to reply and react
but when sam does understand, t'challa is met with a charming half-smirk half-smile that makes his heart trip and he relies on all his diplomatic training to remain neutral or at the most amused at sam's comments
the conversations grow slowly, from casual one-liners and sarcastic quips to sam's stories of riley and sarah and his community back in delacroix, and t'challa's anecdotes about growing up in wakanda
soon enough, what starts off as a brief conversation during a part of their respective runs becomes a standing daily routine run together, the two becoming fast friends, admiring one another's loyalty, dedication, honesty, and determination
of course, because sam and t'challa are sam and t'challa, the platonic friendship with a side of appreciative attraction slowly becomes a crush
and it's not just the funny stories and misadventures they share with one another, but the sleepless nights and trauma and grief and healing too
sam couldn't sleep one night and went for a walk in the gardens he ran into an equally sleepless t'challa and so began yet another routine for them; to sit in the gardens at a clearing where the stars were bright and plentiful and visible, so vast that sam felt an ache in his bones to be up there, to be in the skies along the stars, and he realised that if there was anyone he wanted to be up there with him, it was the man sitting next to him in quiet contemplation, shoulders slumped slightly, expression handsomely brooding; the man behind the mantles of king and black panther
t'challa found himself wandering towards the gardens on those nights he couldn't sleep, when the weight of the crown and his legacy and the nation weighed so heavily on him that he felt he would crumble under it, he sought out the clearing in the garden, and more importantly, the man with his soul in the skies, his heart wherever he could help people
some nights were quiet for the most part, a brief check-in with one another before just simply taking comfort in one another's company. others were filled with conversation, those deep talks you only feel safe having in the dead of night, when the only thing awake and alive is nature, when every word is just that much more honest and real
losing parents and partners, the responsibilities of leadership, recovery and healing; just some of the things the two talk about when they can be just them, no titles or nationalities or protocol there to censor them
over morning runs and late-night conversations, sharing music and food and language and culture, and impromptu excursions to the city or beyond they grow close and find that their feelings are getting more and more difficult to ignore, both wanting more than just a friendship
it's not during a morning run or nighttime confession that they admit their feelings, but over a shared lunch together
they're eating a simple picnic lunch near the warrior falls where t'challa will soon undergo the first part of his coronation ritual and offer the people of wakanda to send a representative to fight him in ritual combat for the throne
the view of the falls is spectacular, and sam's wide-eyed face of awe and wonder, bright smile shining with all the warmth of the sun makes t'challa feel like he could take on the entire country in ritual combat and come out the other side victorious if sam continues to smile at him like that and if they had more time then they would probably go for a swim, but they don't so here they are, alone at the falls, the rush of water and the sounds of the river fauna their only company
they're laying on a blanket on the grass, watching the clouds, and sam feels just as at peace on the ground with t'challa next to him then he's ever felt with his wings in the skies
during a discussion about the coronation where t'challa answers the questions sam asks him. the subject turns to his duties as king, and sam asks about whether t'challa is expected to marry a woman in order to produce heirs for the throne. he knows wakanda doesn't discriminate against people for sexuality or gender identity, but the duties of a king are to ensure the legacy of the royal bloodline is preserved isn't it?
t'challa laughs, and says that while the royal bloodline is important, there is no restriction on who the king (or queen) marries, as long as they would be able to connect with the people, serve and help the people of wakanda the way any good ruler should
"so what i'm hearing is all's fair in love and war"
"i guess you could say that"
"so if gender and sexuality don't matter; does nationality?"
"perhaps in the past yes, but i feel wakanda is changing, and that it will not be such a concern moving forward"
"even if the king were to be with, say, a fugitive american ex-pararescue-slash-ex-avenger?"
t'challa turns to face sam, heart caught in his throat as he processes just what sam said, takes in the hopeful and tentative look in his eyes masked by a slightly wavering tone of jest and hunour, as he shifts to mirror him.
the moment stretches out for what feels like an eternity before t'challa can respond
"for you, my falcon, i think we can make an exception"
their lips meet, the two smiling too much for the kiss to be anything other than as sweet and warm as honey and sunshine, and sam wraps his arms around t'challa, bringing the king on top of him, and two exchange soft kisses and softer words until t'challa gets called away, promising to meet later not just for their near-nightly rendezvous, but for dinner in t'challa's private quarters
okay so that's all for now! i kinda hate how this turned out but whatever it's done!! taglist under the cut! if anyone didn't want to be added i'm sorry just let me know and i'll delete!
@sambuckies @thewondrouspickle @tchalcons @like-butterflies-and-glitter @shadowyenthusiaststudentus @vodka-infused-unicorn @cassleia @finger-lickin-fuckboy @twisterss
57 notes · View notes
powercloud · 3 years
Text
At The End of The Day
pairing: tsukishima kei × reader
wc: 2.4k
genre: fluff, pining!tsukki
warnings: timeskip tsukishima, ooc tsukishima maybe(?) He's just so in love with you okay :(
Tumblr media
The night was getting colder, the sky already a pretty shade of black, and the moon hung over their heads with a smile. Tsukishima took this as a good sign as if the moon smiling is a green light to pursue his plan. He looks over to you, your eyes distant and looking straight ahead, you were bracing yourself under the blazer he lent you. The view was astonishing. Under you and him the city was busy, flashes of light twinkling brightly, almost nearly outshining the bright stars above. The breeze was noisy as well, blowing your and his hair. But the warmness of Tsukishima’s heart was enough not to completely freeze him over, he was more worried about you though. But after a few stolen, glances he figured you were all right. The rooftop was your favorite, you've gotten used to it.
It's been silent between the two of you. You always fill in the quiet with your antics and puns and dumb realizations, but Tsukki supposes that’s why he was oddly fond of you after a week of knowing you first year in high school.
It’s been years since he concluded he was in love with you. Specifically three, but if he ever mentions the exact number he feels like a hopeless idiot. If he told you about that, would you call him so? He’d never know unless he confesses.
Tsukishima tightens his grip on the metal railings, his knuckles turning white. He bites his lower lip, nearly making it bleed. He’s nervous, he’s scared but he’s willing to push through it. All for you.
Tsukishima steals yet another yearning glance at you, this time his head snaps forward when you caught him red-handed cheeks turn a bit red before he sniffs and got a hold of himself. You laugh gently at his uncharacteristic expression.
“Something bothering you?” you ask, taking one or two steps closer to him. Any more he’d explode.
“Nothing,” Tsukishima lies. And you know this because you always have this certain facial expression where you’re unsure of his answer; one well-defined eyebrow rise, the bridge of your nose scrunched slightly, and your lips on a pout. You always were adorable when you were sure he was lying.
“Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Sometimes Tsukki wishes you knew how close he held you in regard, how he won’t get upset if you push him further into questioning. Hell, he’d tell you the truth right away.
But you turn away, leaving him be and respecting his privacy, eyes back forward and thoughts miles away.
Tsukishima follows where you were looking, and he wonders what you were thinking. The future? The past? The inevitable fall of humanity and the universe?
Him?
Tsukishima would very much like to know if you’d thought of him. He won’t hesitate to tell you he’s thinking of you, too. Most days you never go away from his mind. He wants you to think of him right now as he’s thinking of you, too. But Tsukishima thinks that’s not the case. You never look so troubled when you were thinking of a person unless you worried.
Tsukishima nudges your elbow with his, and finally, he looks at you straight in the eyes, flushing lightly as always. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, his mouth in a straight line, seemingly uncaring.
“Nothing, just—” you sigh deeply, shoulders falling. Tsukki holds his breath, maybe it would be you that confesses? He always thought you liked him back. Tsukki waits as your gaze flutter from the city below then finally to his honeysuckle eyes. “I don’t know if I’d rather wake up in the middle of a war or the middle of a zombie apocalypse.”
He mentally slapped himself for assuming you’d be the first to say something sentimental.
Of course, he thought to himself disappointingly. On a daily, you weren’t even worried about important things like school or true love. You were thinking of choices you’d likely choose in a situation that would never happen, like the zombie apocalypse you mentioned.
You don’t think of me much, do you?
Tsukishima tries to hide his disdain. “I thought you said you had a plan when the zombies come.”
“Yeah, but I mean, like at the beginning of every zombie apocalypse movie, y’know. Like when they start growing in rapid numbers, and the panic rising out of people, the raging undead and their unquenchable thirst for human blood. As in the part where they just start flooding in.” you were very dramatic in using hand gestures. “I don’t know what I would do if that suddenly happened.
“That would never happen,” said Tsukki and you frown, and he smirks, always enjoying irking you. “Neil D. Tyson already said so.”
“Thank God. But still—if it could, what would you rather wake up in the middle of, Tsukki?” you ask him, leaning closer again and his heart palpates. “War or the apocalypse?”
He pretends he’s thinking hard, then he just shrugs nonchalantly, then you whine and tell him how he’s such a killjoy. If he were honest and cheesy, whatever situation he’d suddenly wake up to, Tsukishima wouldn’t hesitate to protect you in either one.
“Women can’t fight in a war, pick war,” Tsukki said, and he smirks again as you scoff and roll your eyes.
“You know how much I’m brave.” Oh, he knows alright. You were intensely afraid of heights, yet look where your favorite spot in the whole world is. “I wouldn’t think twice to enlist,” you said, chest puffed out. “’sides, it’s the 21st century, Tsukki, equality is much softer now. It's indulged..”
“And?” Tsukki encourages you to go on as it looked like you wanted to add something.
“War is worse than hell. I’m fine laying down my life for what’s right, but I’m not ok with children dying or starving, or widows crying over their dead husbands or wives, or old people going cripple. I don’t like seeing good people get hurt.”
God, you were always such a fucking wholehearted, good, kind, courageous, generous person. He loves you so fucking much it hurts to think you’d sacrifice your life for the people you don’t even know.
“Always such a martyr, aren’t you?” you punch Tsukishima on his shoulder. He only laughs at your feeble attempt to hurt him. When you push yourself away to frown again, Tsukki softens. “If you think those kinds of people don’t deserve to die you need to know that you don’t deserve it, too. Fuck dying for the country. Wars are bullshit.” Tsukki had to cut out the part where he’d say he’d want you to hide with him. Later, he tells himself, it's too early.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said.
“I have never been.”
“Shut up, jackass.”
“You first, dumbass.”
After a few petty insults are thrown at each other you both settle down with Tsukishima letting you win. He doesn’t care if you call him a salty bitch, as long as he gets to see you grin triumphantly after.
Then it was silent again. The wind was stronger this time. One blow and you gripped Tsukishima’s blazer and winced as you took the cold bite. Tsukishima wanted to wrap his arms around you to keep you warm, uncaring of the fact he was cold, too. Very. He had nothing else on besides his thick sweater, apparently not thick enough. Tsukishima wanted to lead you downstairs, back to the party which he’s sure has died down by now. It was nearly 2 in the morning.
But before you two could go he wanted to say something first. Confess before another perfect moment like this slips from his fingers. He looks at you, and you’re so gorgeous. Your hair is a perfect mess behind your head. Your cheeks are flushed, and you kept wetting your lips as the cold had dried them. The city lights shadowed perfectly on the half bottom of your face, the stars mirrored in your eyes. You were serene, too. Seemingly enjoying this time. This time with him.
It was either now or never.
“I love you,” he told you. Except he told the wind instead as another harsh blow blew on the rooftop. You and him wince simultaneously, but both for very different reasons. You hadn’t heard him, that was obvious, because you hadn’t as much reacted any differently. Tsukishima knows you weren’t pretending to not hear him either. Unlike him, you weren’t mean. You would even acknowledge the ignored person who tried to relay a message across a group with a curt nod, and an inviting smile—you listened, as Tsukishima was the reason for that person being reluctant in talking.
Tsukishima frowns, his heart falling. Above him, the smiling moon disappears behind a gray cloud, a red light. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night after all. Maybe no night was the night. But it would be stupid of him to give up after one try. Tsukishima would never forgive himself for letting you go so easily. He knows at the end of the day it’d always be you he loves. He knows he’ll follow his heart to you even though it would break sometimes.
Jesus, he thought. Love is frightening.
Tumblr media
A few months later was another perfect moment to tell you Tsukishima’s true feelings. He had just come home from his night shift from the museum, coffee in his hands yet he was still tired and exhausted, but when he saw you sitting down in front of his apartment door, waiting, he smiles to himself.
Once you sensed him, you looked up from the floor you were sitting on, eyes huge and jade. Most people compare eyes to oceans or galaxies. Not your eyes though, they reminded Tsukishima of his favorite thing. Glancing down and his tiny plastic toy dinosaur, and then sliding further down to your green eyes. Tsukishima realized that’s probably why he felt so awake when he was with you. You were like a loud inspiring roar in the morning.
You had plans, you told him. There was a spot in the park, though you suppose it wasn’t even part of the park anymore. There was a forest, more natural than man-made, just beside the park. And when you were bored one day, you ventured through it and found the most amazing spot to view the sky. There were no outside noises, not another human has found it, you prided yourself in that. There were lots of pests and insects though, which was why you brought with you two huge blankets.
So there you two were, beneath the galaxy, feeling small and vulnerable to alien sight. But it was utterly beautiful.
The two of you lie on top of a small hill covered in grass and pretty flowers, there were trees around but it was a clearing where you and he were at. Looking up it was as if the sky was moving and the stars were burning bright. He held your hand shamelessly. And he thanked every God listening when you didn’t pull away, instead you wrapped it firmly as if you’d be taken by a UFO and he’d be your only grip to this Earth.
“Did you see that, Tsukki?” you asked, flabbergasted. You had to let go of his hand to prop yourself up and point to the violet sky. “I think I saw an alien ship!”
“They’re coming to get you,” Tsukishima said. Leaning on his elbow to snicker at you. “Their long-lost family.”
You punch him on his shoulders and he laughs. It’s been years but Tsukishima knows his saltiness isn’t going anywhere.
You lie down again, Tsukishima does the same but this time he can’t hold your hand, not when it's clasped with your other hand and laying on top of your stomach. He hides the fact he’s a tad bitter about that.
“Did you know,” you began, Tsukishima turns to you, intently listening because the stars have never captured him like the way it captured you anyway. What he felt about you, you felt in the infinite universe. Tsukishima’s fine being a close second. “Most people forget dinosaurs have ears because dinosaur ears don’t have bones.”
Tsukishima glares at you incredulously. First of all, how dare you question his lengthy knowledge about dinosaurs. Second, he knows for a fact that’s not true and that you stole it off a kid’s show you watch every fall.
“And that’s a rock fact!” you said, proud and overjoyed. But of what? You didn’t get to fool him successfully.
“No, it’s not, you idiot.” Tsukishima went his way to flick your forehead harshly. When he pulls his hand away you nearly bit off a finger.
Feral bitch, Tsukishima thought affectionately.
“Ok, fine, how about—” you trail off, a finger tapping on your chin, eyes darting from one dead star to another. “Most books on witchcraft tell you witches work naked.” Tsukishima knows which show you got this from off, too. “And that’s because most books on witchcraft are written by men.”
"Now, that I won’t deny.”
The two of you laughed lightly before looking back up again, heart alight. This time, Tsukishima stares at the stars, trying to find reason why you were so smitten with it as he was with you. He tries to find something in between the spaces of dead stars and see if there’s something like that in him, too. So that maybe you can love him as much as you loved the infinitesimal. He doesn’t find anything, unfortunately, he’s distracted by your harmonious humming.
“Tsukki,” his heart skips a beat. You say his name so magically it's hypnotic. He didn’t think he’d fall in love further just by the way you say his name.
“Yeah, y/n?” he cringes at how soft he sounded.
He looks at you, glazes over your direction to see you already looking at him. And his body is on fire. There was something different with you, with the way you look back at him. Something entirely different.
Finally, Tsukishima thought, staring deeper into your glossy eyes, you’re looking at me like I’m something you love, like I put the stars in your sky.
“I love you.”
And the moon in him explodes.
“I love you, too.”
And it’s the end of the day. You’re still and always will be the one that he wants
105 notes · View notes