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atarathegreat · 5 months

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Wearing Their Glasses

ft: Rindou Haitani, Kazushi Yamagishi, Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji

Rindou never minded that you knew about his past, he felt that it brought the both of you closer, if anything. He understood that he was hard to readand hard to get along with, and maybe if you knew about his childhood and all the gang bullshit then you could work around who he was now. And for the most part you did. You rarely asked him questions since you knew he would answer them all no matter what mood he was in. He'd been honest about how many men he'd killed, how many hits he'd ordered, even let you go to work with him on days he felt would be calm. But this was crossing a line. "What the hell are you doing with those?" Rindou froze in his spot on the couch as you walked in, a pair of circular glasses perched on your nose. You looked cute in his old glasses, he'd give you that, but he also preferred that part of him stay hidden. Contacts kept him from looking like a nerd and he couldn't bear the idea that you might think he was cute in glasses. Especially those dorky ass wire rims. You smiled and poked them higher on the bridge of your nose, "Found them in the closet. Are they yours?" Of course they were his, and he knew that you were aware of that from the grin that curled your lips upward. The same grin he was glaring at as he slammed into you for another time, your soft giggles making him harder as he tried to forget how you teased him over the glasses. "Rinny, you look so cute." Another soft moan, another gentle touch that moved the glasses back to his nose. Why did he agree to put them on? He knew you would compliment him, and he knew he was a whiney bitch for your praise. Each panted breath and your words of so cute and can't believe you stopped wearin' glasses was sending his brain deeper into the fog. Rindou reached around you, his hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass to lift you with him as he kept burying his cock deeper and deeper. A blush dusted your cheeks, you were always so red by the time Rindou was done with you, and he wouldn't be done anytime soon if you didn't stop calling him cute.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Each day was the same. Come in, handle business, leave. Kazushi wasn't anymore complicated than that. He didn't stay over, didn't pick up extra work and he never, never left his work unfinished. If someone else was dumb enough to slack off that was their fault and not Kazushi's problem to fix. Handling things had been made a little harder by the fact that he had left home in a rush that morning and forgotten his glasses, which also meant the drive home was a little slower than usual as well. Kazushi's vision wasn't impaired too badly, but he did like to see what the street signs said before he blew past them. Getting to his destination safely was something you had always jumped his ass for. "Bikes are dangerous, Kazushi!" And you'd throw your arms in the air, "If you don't slow down you could crash, or lose control and the end up smashed under some car tires!" You were a bit on the dramatic side to him. But, this was also the man who'd been riding bikes since he was in middle school, be it he was a passenger or the driver. "Babe, can you grab my glasses?" He called as he stacked his shoes by the door, "I left them this morning." The very last thing he expected, if it could even be on his list, was you trotting around the corner with what he wanted sat on your pretty face. "I wore them a bit today." Had you always looked at him with such big eyes? Kazushi didn't care to try and answer that question, not when your cries were so perfect from him folding you in half. Your breasts bounced in tandem with each of his thrusts as he fucked himself into you roughly. Kazushi chuckled as his glasses slipped down your nose, so he fixed them for you, "Keep these on, pretty girl, and keep those eyes open."

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

"You must be really blind if you need glasses to study." You were making fun of him again as he glared at you over his glasses. The way you laughed was enough to make him take them off. Baji just wanted to get his work done the right way, that's the only reason you were there, to help him since he couldn't grasp the math. He knew he'd made a mistake going to college, especially once you managed to wrap him around your pinky finger so tightly he couldn't breathe. "I'm kidding, Baj!" You whined as he threw the glasses across his bed, only succeeding in making them fall between the wall and bed to hit the floor, "You didn't have to do all that." He cursed at the work in front of him. Baji really didn't want to do any of the fucking work, and he'd risk failing the class again if it wasn't for Chifuyu helping pay for the damn classes. "C'mere." When had you crawled onto his bed? You were bent on all fours with your hand stretched to reach for the lenses. The sight of your ass wiggling in the air as you struggled to grab what you were reaching for made his cock ache. And it certainly didn't help when you dropped them on your face and sat across from him. "Get over here." Baji tied his hair back, kicking the table to the side. "The math-" "Can fuckin' wait. I said come here." He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the sight of you riding him naked, but now he at least knew that it was ten times better when you had his glasses on. "So fuckin' gorgeous f'me." His hands dug into your hips as he made you grind on him, "Don't let those come off your nose, not even for a single fuckin' second." Baji was aware of the fact his voice alone was driving you crazy, he didn't have to reach down and pinch at your clit, but he wanted to watch those pretty eyes roll back into your empty head as his cock bullied your insides.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Hanma didn't care to be subtle about what he wanted from you, even in public. You knew you were in for it if he was slipping the arms of his glasses over your ears, his slender fingers being extra careful as he tucked a strand of hair with them. Had you not worn that dress he liked oh-so much, you probably would've been fine. But no. You had to tempt him, had to want his attention that was undivided with everything Tokyo Manji was doing. "Look at you," He drawled, sounding more bored than anything as he lazily pumped only the head of his cock into your sex, "greedy little thing you are. So busy worrying about my dick and not enough about me." You had already fallen apart from his tip alone, your muscles clenching around him each time he moved into you in an attempt to make him want more. He did, and you knew he did from just how hard he was, how swollen he felt moving through your folds. A loud yelp sounded from you as he slapped your clit, "Open eyes, sweetheart, keep sucking me in and I might give you what you want."

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #kazushi yamagishi #kazushi yamagishi x reader #kazushi yamagishi smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke smut #hanma shuji #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji smut

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year

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Chapter 105.5 Thoughts: Control, Manipulation and Partnership

Or, how Chuuya is actually the most qualified character to land a victory over Dostoevsky.

I just want to preface this with: I think Chuuya has woken from the brainwashing. We can't see his eyes, he's holding his hat again, and look at the progression of his face and expression from the last few chapters with him (these are in order btw from left to right).

I'm not completely sure how he did this, but I chalk a lot of it up to sheer stubborn determination on Chuuya's part, mostly because it's funny and he was clearly fighting back before Dazai's speech. However, I find it likely the speech did contain some kind of code - others have pointed out how "Goodbye!" might be a reference to the original author's last unfinished book and we know skk's codenames for things generally are based off their real counterparts' works so, maybe he'd already broken out of it, maybe there was something in there that gave him the final push - who knows at this point honestly? Either way, it means Chuuya had the capacity to break out of the vampire curse on his own and that's incredibly funny to me for many reasons but mostly:

Fyodor: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's ability can't overcome flooding."

Dazai: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's personality can't overcome brainwashing."

But really, this highlights something interesting here, both in what Chuuya's role is ultimately intended to be in this arc, and in the way Fyodor and Dazai manipulate and value others in very different ways.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: we already know that Fyodor is an excellent long-term planner, while Dazai is effectively able to counter him because Dazai shifts into thinking like his opponent. They're foil characters for a reason; they're both highly intelligent, manipulative, and willing to play the long game for the sake of winning against their opponent.

Thing is, I also stand by the idea that personality-wise, they're not similar at all - and that has serious implications for the people they are connected with. The build-up to the prison escape arc really highlights this. Some examples:

Chapter 46: Fyodor believes that all people are sinful and foolish and that his goal is to remove sin. Dazai believes that all people are sinful and foolish but asks what's so wrong with that.

Chapter 64: They decide to have a "super-happy chit-chat" about their problems. Dazai's solution to Fyodor's issue with his lazy subordinates is to get them to think lazing around is a bad thing so they will put in effort of their own. Fyodor's solution to Dazai being unable to woo the waitress is to isolate her from her job, house and family so that she can only rely on Dazai.

Chapter 77: Fyodor believes god is perfection and harmony, and thus that the people capable of change are the superior ones with most control. Dazai believes god is the accidental and illogical and believes it is the ordinary people who fight and live in that uncertainty who create the greatest change.

So, what's happening here? Fyodor's manipulation is shown to be very exacting and direct. He leaves no room for error and regards people on a hierarchy - God above all, himself as a servant of God's will, and the sinful and foolish humans he has little regard for. Dazai's manipulation involves manipulation of the situation, and is often indirect. It involves people coming to the conclusion he intends for them to on their own. And from his later dialogue with Sigma, we see he doesn't regard the world in that same kind of hierarchy.

Now, look at the way Fyodor picks an item and Dazai picks a person when starting the game. Look at the way Fyodor refers to Chuuya respectfully but brainwashes him entirely and mocks Dazai for not being worthy of "using" his ability. Look at the way Dazai is a complete ass to Chuuya but ultimately lets him make his own choices (begging people to take note of that moment in Stormbringer where Dazai cuts himself off to correct his referring to Corruption as Arahabaki's true power to Chuuya's true power).

So, the actual strength Dazai has over Dostoevsky then, is not really his strength at all, it's the strength of others and their choice and willpower to act in the way they believe is best. It's the only means of getting a leg up on Dostoevsky, otherwise they will continue to go around and around in circles forever.

And Chuuya is the best candidate for finally throwing Fyodor off his game.

Firstly, let's just establish something: no matter how mad he is at Dazai, he's not going to side with Fyodor, not willingly. Fyodor threatened the Mafia in the Cannibalism arc by attacking Mori, first of all. I doubt he's forgiven him for that. Secondly, Fyodor embodies everything Chuuya can't stand about Dazai, at the very least, younger Dazai - the manipulation, the lack of consideration and connection with others, the callousness and lack of regard for life.

Well, perhaps he's not quite as irritating. +1 point for Dostoevsky I guess?

But lastly, it is more advantageous for Chuuya at this point to help fight against Fyodor, especially since most of the Mafia has been vampirized by his organization. Helping the Agency stop the terrorist plot will help the Mafia by extension by undoing that. And we know from Stormbringer that no matter how much Chuuya is personally hurt, he considers taking out the threat to his people a higher priority. Always.

(You could make the argument that he was told whatever Teruko told Atsushi and decided to join, but not only do I find this wildly out of character, but if that was the case then there would've been no reason to brainwash him.)

That said, I don't think this was preemptive "Dazai's master plan #3057", and in fact, I stand by the idea that Dazai had no idea Chuuya was going to be in the prison. It is very, very important to me that for the rest of this arc, no matter what Chuuya does, that his actions are his own. Not Fyodor's, not Dazai's, but his. And not just because I hate that he's being controlled right now and that freedom of choice has always been important for Chuuya.

But because it makes narrative sense.

The vampires are a bit silly, yes, but they represent the way Fyodor and Fukuchi think - humanity will commit atrocities. They cannot be trusted to make their own decisions. They want to make a world that is free by... mind-controlling people so their plans work without a hitch. In short, they choose, on behalf of others, to sacrifice human autonomy for peace. So, if we are going to turn this arc around, we need to have characters breaking out of that control and thinking for themselves, in spite of the uncertainty of the outcome.

We already see this with Atsushi in the last chapter! He finally takes initiative and makes that choice to leave the room when he doesn't exactly know what the right thing to do is. And this is also why I don't think Teruko is wholly convinced by the DoA either - she lets him go. She gives him the freedom to choose what he does with that information.

Another one of the focus characters here is Sigma. Sigma is a guy who has no past, whose humanity is questioned, who keeps being used by organizations for his valuable ability, who has no home but desperately wants one... oh wait. Remind you of anyone's younger self? This could go one of two ways: Chuuya fails to assert his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from that failure, or, Chuuya succeeds in asserting his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from his success.

I think it, by necessity, has to be the latter. Sigma's at a tipping point right now, and I think seeing someone try to assert their freedom only to fail would damage him greatly. And I think it's a waste of Chuuya's character honestly.

Chuuya needs to assert his autonomy in this arc. Not just for thematic reasons but because I can think of no one else who can effectively break the "super-genius stalemate".

I keep hearing "Dazai knows Chuuya" in response to Fyodor calling their bond shallow, and that is absolutely true! But Chuuya also knows Dazai. Incredibly well. Odasaku knew Dazai's soul, but Chuuya knows Dazai's mind, knows his strategies and ways of thinking without even needing words. What's more, Chuuya has thrown off Dazai before and done what he didn't expect him to.

Which is nifty, because Dazai and Fyodor think a lot alike. Chuuya is in a unique position to thwart Dostoevsky because he may actually be able to predict him to a degree. Chuuya can absolutely land a victory against him, and it's excellent because it would be completely unexpected to Fyodor, who apparently thinks Chuuya's strength lies only in what his ability has to offer and not much else.

But listen. This also can't be skk's plan. I need Chuuya to sideline both of them. Both for the sweet, sweet catharsis of putting those two idiot geniuses in their places and also because I need Dazai to have screwed up. He wasn't wrong about people making their own choices in uncertainty. People need to assert their autonomy to create change. Dazai can't be wrong in this regard.

But with going ahead with the trap to drown Fyodor despite also having to drown Chuuya when he promised not to let him get killed... this needs to have been a mistake, otherwise the value of Dazai's emotional speech to him is diminished.

I want Dazai to try to laugh it off. I want him to say he always knew Chuuya would escape and then for Chuuya to deck him because "no, the fuck you didn't".

I really think Dazai hoped Chuuya would make it. Do remember that Chuuya was one of the first reasons young Dazai decided to try giving life a chance. The fact that he flashbacked to all his key memories with Chuuya says a lot. But his survival was no guarantee and it seemed very unlikely.

So, Chuuya is faced with the fact that Dazai nearly sacrificed him to kill Dostoevsky and save his new Agency friends.

And I hope he finally gets mad. I hope he finally expresses hurt on his own behalf for once. I hope they are forced to break their status quo that they have carefully maintained by not talking about anything ever. I hope they are pushed to uncomfortable places and that it is Chuuya who finally spurs this development.

Let Chuuya break the stalemate between Dazai and Dostoevsky. Let him shatter the status quo that him and Dazai have kept going for year after year.

Autonomous action in the face of uncertainty is necessary for change.

#am i assigning too much narrative importance in the main manga to chuuya? perhaps #will i stop? no #unfortunately this meta doesn't include gogol which is an oversight because he absolutely has to play a role as well #i'm just not quite sure what yet. same as chuuya i suppose #either gogol asserts his autonomy or he... fails. yeah. either he gets dostoevsky killed or... he fails.#i just don't know where he fits in with everyone else is the thing #listen though. it is significant that gogol decided not to play his dying role in the doa's plan though.#gogol is the free spirit of the doa and yet he's closer to sigma and bram in terms of how he is more controlled than controller #anyways sorry this is so long. just my two cents on the matter #bsd #bsd spoilers #bsd chapter 105.5 #bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #bsd dazai #bsd sigma #bsd meta #i don't even know if this makes sense anymore. here.#storyrambles

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ellieswifie · 8 months

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︿︿ ੈ[ 🕷️ ] ༉‧₊˚✧

warnings: spider-woman!ellie, 18+ mdni, cursing, amazing spiderman references, kissing, pet names (bug girl)(i’m not sorry), pre-smut but no real smut (i know, but i’m still not sorry), just being in love with spider-woman!ellie

authors note: after seeing @cottoncandytomu amazing spiderwoman!ellie post, i immediately fell in love with spider-woman!ellie and needed to write some hcs. this post is entirely just for funzies and all inspiration goes to @cottoncandytomu. also, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing when it comes to hc's so bear with me. hope you enjoy!

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

sfw

spider-woman!ellie who would one hundred percent tell you she's spider-woman before she tells anyone else. she'd be super scared and nervous while she starts talking, but you had secretly known the entire time.

"i've been wanting to get something huge off my chest..." she'd start pacing around the room in her grey sweats and jacket, covering her red and blue suit. you know exactly what she's been wanting to tell you, but you wanted to her her say it. well until she started taking forever to get the words out her mouth. "i don't want you to think i'm crazy but... i'm-" "spider-woman." you'd finished as her eyes grew wide. "i've known for quite a while now."

spider-woman!ellie who wouldn't care that you've known all through your entire friendship. she's more than happy she didn't have to go through the suffering of explaining the entire thing. and if anything it made your "friendship" stronger.

spider-woman!ellie who would hate just calling you her friend. she'd want to swing around the city while you held onto her waist tightly. but with her and her intense bad guy fights, she couldn't risk losing you to any future villains, so she had to protect her feels from you.

spider-woman!ellie who would totally where her worn-down chucks while she was fighting crime. you'd catch her about to leave during a crime scene and just shake your head, staring at her shoes that are bearly hanging on.

she only wears them all the time because you would draw little spiderwebs and heart spiders all over the shoes. it makes her smile like crazy.

spider-woman!ellie who would be cocky as fuck while fighting villains but when it's just you and her out of her suit, she is the quietest and most reversed person ever. one moment she'd be like "got you now!" "what am I too fast for you?" to then a smiling mess in front of you.

spider-woman!ellie who would do just about anything to protect you. if you tried helping her track down a villain, she'd immediately turn down any ideas you brought up that included you being involved. you'd constantly ask why you can't help her and she'd end up confessing her love-sick feelings for you.

"ellie come on," you'd say for just about the tenth time. ellie was sitting in a chair across the room, refilling her web cartridges waiting for a villain call. "i can take full care of myself."

"no i can't risk you getting yourself hurt for me." ellie would mutter, not meeting your eyes. you'd roll your eyes at her response, as she turned away from you in the rolling chair. "why is it that you don't trust me? why is it that you constantly feel the need to protect me-"

"because i love you and every person i love in my life dies for me! and i don't want to lose the last person i care about to some silly villain chase. so no, you're not coming." she'd confess, as you stared blankly into her eyes. her watch would ding, making her tear her mask on, and swing out of your room, leaving the conversation completely unfinished.

spider-woman!ellie who wouldn't talk about the conversation for days. it would be on her mind for hours, but she couldn't risk breaking her friendship with you for her feelings. she'd stop swinging to your house before and after every fight making you want to just crawl into your own skin.

nsfw

spider-woman!ellie who would finally grow the balls to finally talk to you after a huge fight that had her body tattooed in cuts. regardless of whether you guys were on speaking terms or not, she'd only want you to numb the pain and make her scars go away. you'd be scared shitless as she stumbles towards your window, ripping her mask off. you wouldn't even bring up the confession, you two had a week or two ago. you'd help her limp towards your bed, while she struggles out of the suit.

the air would be thick as you roam around your bathroom, trying to keep quiet. ellie would be lying in only her sports bra, watching you walk back into the room, carrying a first aid kit and a chocolate bar.

your eyes would linger on her exposed skin while you settled yourself on the end of the bed, handing her the bar. "here..." you'd mutter. "it'll ease the pain."

spider-woman!ellie who would think she didn't need the damn chocolate bar. she just needed you. she only needed you ever.

spider-woman!ellie who would whine and struggle out of your grasp as you run a wet towel along her stomach. your nose would scrunch at the pain you know your causing her, so you remove the towel, looking into her eyes. ellie's breathing would be heavy as you reposition yourself, sitting on her thigh.

you wouldn't stop looking at her eyes as you place the towel back on her wounded scar. she'd gunt at the instant contact, but her eyes wounded leave yours. "shhh." you'd hush her, looking back down at her exposed skin. "i know it hurts but just focus on me.."

spider-woman!ellie who would read the entire thing wrong. her eyes would meet down to look at you dressed in only a tank top and short pajama shorts. it was as if suddenly all the pain she'd been feeling vanished in seconds. her eyes remained on your face when you looked back up at her.

your hand removed from her bleeding wound and rested on her thigh while you guys held eye contact. you could feel your words cloud up in your throat when ellie leaned closer to your face.

spider-woman!ellie who would raise her hand to remove a strain of loose hair out your face, while her face moved closer to yours. your hands would trail up her body, stopping to rest on her chest. "your hands are so soft..." ellie muttered, closing her eyes at your light touch.

you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, before turning back on your serious face when ellie opened her eyes, lips not too far from yours.

spider-woman!ellie who would jump from under you when two light knocks come from your locked bedroom door. you both turned toward the door before you'd climb off her thigh to open the door, where ellie wasn't in the frame.

"dad! hey is everything alright?" you'd say, looking back at ellie for a quick second before looking back at your dad. "yeah just thought i heard talking." he'd mutter, making the hairs on your skin shoot up. "anyways, your mother and i are headed to bed, you should probably do the same. good night."

you'd simply just nod your head, shut the door, and turn back to ellie, who is now standing by your bed. your eyebrows were drawn together as ellie stood there, the top half of her suit still unzipped.

spider-woman!ellie who would now feel embarrassed for showing up here at such an inappropriate time. she'd begin getting her mask and shoes back on and you'd stand across the room just watching her.

"what are you doing? you can't just go swing back outside. you're still bleeding." you'd say stepping back towards her.

"i shouldn't even came-" ellie stutters, but when you move to place a hand on her face, she immediately shuts up. you both fall silent just staring at each other.

spider-woman!ellie who would mutter a quick "fuck it" before smashing her lips against yours, making you let out a soft moan.

spider-woman!ellie who would smirk at the soft sounds you're making from her touch. she'd nudge you two back towards the bed, but yelp when you fall against her injured chest. you gasped and removed your lips quickly, lifting off her slightly. ellies head fell back onto the mattress laughing slightly, making you cover your mouth with your hand.

"oh my god, are you okay?!" you inquired, trying to lean off her, but ellie would wrap her hands around your hips, trapping you in place.

"i’m fine," she’d smile, looking at your face red with embarrassment. you'd hid your face into her neck, smiling. "but maybe we should take things a little slow, yeah?"

spider-woman!ellie who would clearly doesn't know what taking things slow means and no surprise to you, you don't either.

spider-woman!ellie who would swing by your house after every villain fight just to make out with you for hours after your first kiss. her suit would be unzipped, exposing her hard nipples poking out of her sports bra, while you remained fully clothed, rolling your hips slowly on her thigh.

you’d be in this position for what felt like forever before you’d try to take things to the next level, but ellie would quickly stop and make some silly excuse. "let’s wait til i take you out on a date." or "do you hear that?"

spider-woman!ellie who would insist on taking you swinging for your first date. you wanted to just go out to dinner and hang out back at your house, but when she convinces you to sing around the city then have a nice dinner on a high up building planned by non other than ellie williams, you can’t help but forget all about the boring dinner.

you guys chat for hours about anything, just enjoying each other’s presence before she’d swing you around once more.

spider-woman!ellie who would have her phone in her hands texting you mid battle. regardless of how much she could put herself in danger, she makes she to answer all your texts and calls.

"hey babe where are you right now?" you’d say then hear sirens and gun shots in the background. "ellie are you-" "nowhere babe! what’s up?”

spider-woman!ellie who would love doing the spiderman kiss with you regardless of where you were. you’d be walking down the street and shed pop out of nowhere upside down, tearing her mask up just above her mouth, ready for her kiss.

"you seriously need to stop popping up on me." you’d smile, stepping closer to her lips. ellie’s nose would scrunch in the cutest way before pressing her lips to yours. "i just miss you all the time."

spider-woman!ellie who would crawl into your arms just always wanting to feel you close because it tells her you are safe. she'd lay in your arms telling you about her day and the past bad guys she'd fought, while you rub her hair and tell her how much you love her.

spider-woman!ellie who would love the pet names. the moment you call her bug girl, she'll be crawling at your skin wanting you all to herself.

"careful bug girl.." you mumbled, as ellie's hands met the waistband of your sweats. her eyebrows raised at the pet name turning her on even more than the hot wet spot building in her boxers.

"what did you just call me?" she'd smirk, dipping her hands quicker down past your underwear. "bug girl." you replied, gasping when ellie's fingers found your core. "say that again." little did you know you'd be moaning the nickname the rest of the night.

spider-woman!ellie who would forever do anything that makes you happy and do whatever you want.

sigh. we all need a spider-woman!ellie.

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saltysplayt00ns · 6 months

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Home. PG 820 - Oh boy here we go

I don't think audience realize how serious the latest page is of Home comic without the dopamine clouding them about more puppies/kittens. I will update on this when this now added plot if shown more through the public viewing. So we got a " golden lioness" WRONG despite the Wiki stating the lion was actually golden we have instead ANOTHER black colored character with Pixie dust. No it's not speculated or perceived, it is stated that the Lioness IS golden. So either Kique forgot, wanted to do an april fools joke in the middle of October or he really is just lazy that he can't even look up a simple Google search of " Golden Lions/Lionesses"

So We got an entity that only aids the Feline kind and not Canids, This means the deity will not associate with other dogs' prayers of any kind but will for the Felidae kind. It is the reason why they’ve received the bow & arrows. To protect their people from said canines, and from the track record I would not be surprised if she is vengeful and possibly judgmental of them.

This character already is an OP character ( OP = overpowering ), one with no flaws or buffers to compete with her powers except she will ghost canids. She can easily destroy the canines by giving the cats the upper and, and be the top of the food chain, she can easily kill a canine if a feline prays for it, cause havoc and whatnot...you see what I am getting here?? heck she can do it without the people's prayers cause she literally just did it twice. The reason why I stated this?? This is because, on the Latest Home page, Feaf is now bearing a Hybrid from fornicating with Rhovanion instead of aiding Ronja and the tribe. Her having kids isn’t wrong?? But it is unnecessary and irrelevant to the story ( I will get to that in a bit ), it's the fact the Deity did it WITHOUT CONSENT.

Everyone with a brain knows what consent is, even kids, elders, writers, etc. learned to ask something for permission of approval or business with contracts, which is a form of consent. An agreement upon something to happen or commence, The lioness is already trying to ‘ bless’ the pregnancy without even talking to them in a dream or privately to the Taiga.

We have seen Horror media content and writing of this trope and people forcing others to child bear without their knowledge or even up to know about it. That is nightmare fuel. Whose to say The lioness just gives other inter-species couples children without their whereabouts, and not solely on a Male dog with a female cat but a MALE cat and female dog can end up in the same fate cause there is a cat in the mix to bless their spouse to bear. Like seriously people instead of them working their differences and hurdles, they easily got the situation handled in under 1-3 pages like every conflict kique tries to put in his comic. -----

Now on the pregnancy aspect, Feaf becoming pregnant is very irrelevant to the plot of Home. Now Home doesn’t really have a plot after Rogio was saved, it's just broken pieces stitched together and being overinflated with unfinished, reoccurring, and new plot lines. Feaf should NOT be having children for;

1. Feaf and Rhov are two different species.

2. Feaf and Rhovanion barely got the time to get to know each other and grow but now we have this osmosis litter on the way.

3. Rhov and Feaf have not shown them to be good parents to rear as we didn’t have screen time for them to show it. At least Kainen and Raela from Asmundr proved to be good parental figures and individuals. Rhovanion so far had lied, stayed complacent despite having free reign to search for his family, and tried to get one of the guild members in trouble and/or fired for sneaking off and is very inconsiderate more so forgotten what his tasks were. Feaf has so far been gaslighted 3 times when Rhov stated time and time again that he was leaving to find his family and mate, is also forgetful and inconsiderate of her tasks and if given is willing to do anything Rhovanion asks or initiates to her.

4. There are 4 wars happening in Home so far; Southspear x The Capitol, Ranach x Meteor, Ranach x The Capitol, and Rohgir.

5. The deity is being rather inconsiderate and unfair, since Raimo and Zaharia were already an interspecies couple who lost their Son. If the golden lioness was that powerful they should have revived Zilas or led to a spirit that can do it. Rogio did it for Kargo despite his body being burned…. Why not Zilas???

6. Kique is only doing this to have a reason for Rhovanion and Feaf to stay in one spot instead of going to Ronja or Jahla. It's also obviouse he doesn't know what to do with Feaf or Rhov except be parents, when they could...oh - I don't know, GO AND SAVE RONJA FROM THE RAID WITH ASMUNDR!!!!

7. The author is out of ideas and boredom while also trying to bring more audiences. ------

If you stated “ WelL FEaf GrAB tHe FeATher sO ShE CoNSenTEd “ if that’s the case it is STILL wrong for the spirit basically deceive Feaf to grab the feather and not know the consequences, again they did not disclose that to Feaf. Rhov and Feaf probably didn’t even know what it meant and Rhovanion is not one to dabble on cultural deity knowledge.

If Feaf did know about it, then it’s scummy on her cause she just hid something important that Rhov should definitely know about. Kids and pregnancy should not be a tool/leverage to keep someone from leaving you. " MaYbE thEy WAntEd iT” WHERE IS IT!!!, WHERE’S THE PROOF!?. You can’t have this left field and expect people to accept it and not be confused. No where has Feaf nor Rhov had discussed nor thought about having kids. THEY BOTH AGREED TO JOIN THE GUILD. which states they can not have mates nor children ( although the guild rules are just bluntly stupid ) so they already knew from start of that and didn't express concerns...especially Rhov who is the one to question stuff. At this point the deities and spirits in Home are a parody and NOT taking seriously of moral, consequences and the dangers. The characters are literally heavily plot armored and the beings are second thought of a joke in worldbuilding.

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flamerunn3r · 4 months

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Sorry this is unfinished but I need to post these now just bc idfk when i'm gonna actually finish the rest realistically. Idk it will happen eventually. For now heres the great p5u ramblings post detailing my thoughts designs

This is my own personal interpretations but is also somewhat speculative in nature. I'm mostly trying to deal in already established characterizations and epilogue set ups but there might be stuff I've missed or forgotten (i also haven't played dancing yet sorry if there's something in there I hadn't accounted for). This is kind of like if I took the creative reigns on the story where I'd continue for it. Only the investigation team for now (and 2 boss characters I have an idea for) but maybe I'll do the shadow ops at some point. Only 4 characters for now but I'll reblog with additions when I finish the rest or if I edit any of these

Yu Narukami

He's currently attending school as a journalism student in the city or just starting out as one. Enthusiastic about his field but still tries to find the time to keep up with his friends and visit Inaba on his holidays. I felt journalism made alot of sense for him with the themes of persona 4. I liked the sport jacket and turtleneck but wanted soemthing different so the scarf was chosen to keep the same kind of silhouette. I made the collar on the winter coat large and I feel like Narukami's large uniform collar is a key part of his design. and I wanted to call back to that in his casual outfit. The summer outfit I mostly kept close to his summer outfit from p4. I'm kind of unsure on it though I might come back to it. I mostly wanted to keep his outfits smart and simple. For his meta verse outfit I really wanted to go all out with the bancho (kingpin) stuff and other delinquent tropes. I lengthened the uniform coat a little because I wanted it to look like a tokko-fuku. Alot of smaller detail inspiration was taken from Izanagi. The lenses in the mask are supposed to mimic glasses. I'd imagine he'd take off the mask the same way he throws off his glasses in myriad truths.

Teddie

I can't imagine him leaving Inaba and the TV world behind. Still staying in town and working largely the same job. He's got his own place now albeit small (still a step up from the closet though). At some point the IT asked Mitsuru to pull some strings so he actually has a legal personhood now. The animal hoodie is something that came to me spontaneously but I knew I needed to include it. I really that his normal outfit in 4 keeps the white and red of the bear costume in the outfit so I tried to keep the colour scheme here too. Most of his later outfits are less flashy and more casual so I tried to continue that trend. I didn't want to lose the rose from the corsage completely so I included a rose pattern in the second shirt. Alot of his outfits feature light blue so I wanted that in at least one outfit. I considered making the hoodie light blue initially. I don't think he'd have a metaverse outfit he'd just use the bear costume.

Naoto Shirogane

I'm under the assumption Naoto is still presenting masculinely to the general public as of p5 but I may be mistaken in this. If I'm wrong I'd still probably largely keep the outfits similar to this. Naoto's still working as a detective and I don't think that's ever really going to change. One thing that a hypothetical p5u would have to address is what Naoto and the shadow ops would have been doing during the events of persona 5 and I unfortunately do not have any ideas for what that would be at the moment.

I feel alot of the appeal of Naoto's design is the kind of boy detective fashion. I went at this design with the intention of kind of refining that into something a little more adult while still keeping in a similar vein. I did have to ditch the pageboy hat unfortunately as I felt it made them look too young. These outfits were kind of design as pseudo work clothes which is why I tried to make them a bit more formal then the other characters. Something I consider notable about Naoto's design but deliberately avoided here was the rolled up pant legs. It's very obvious in 4 it's done because Naoto is short but I feel like Naoto would start getting that either custom made or tailored to fit. I was initially going to forgo the blazer on the summer outfit but the design felt empty without it. Naoto having a noir detective themed metaverse outfit is an idea I'd had for years but I tried to incorporate design elements that were princely. I alot of the inspiration was from Sam Spade specifically. Deliberately made similarities to Akechi's white crow design. The band around the hat is supposed to invoke the similar one on the old page boy hat.

Yukiko Amagi

Still working at her families in but is taking online courses during the off seasons. She's mostly happy where she is but is keeping her options open. Occasionally makes visits to other ryokans out of town for ideas for her families own inn, as well as an opportunity to for her to sight see.

The headband was included in her design in p4 as a like retro design thing but I find it too important of a marker of her design to remove it. I understand the why they went with the hairstyle they did for her golden epilogue but I feel it just ends up making her look way older then she is. I thought her having her hair up would be a nice change since she does it so rarely and settled on a ponytail. Tried changing the bangs but the ones she already had just felt right. I wanted her clothes to carry this kind of air of sophistication so I tried to keep them relatively simple and sleek. She's wearing pants in the winter outfit but I chose the longer coat to keep a similar skirt silhouette. The choker was largely inspired by the scarf she has in her winter outfit. Despite being a different colour the cardigan was also chosen to tie back somewhat to the sweater she wears with her school uniform.

In some side material it's mentioned that Yukiko has an interest in western fashion and aesthetics (part of what made the castle manifest the way it did) and I wanted to lean on that in some way for her metaverse design. I ended up going with a masquerade ball theme. I tried to keep the dress to something simple and easy to move in. The gloves and boots take inspiration from her persona in terms of design and size. I wanted to incorporate elements from her work kimono as well hence the ribbon around the torso and flower patterning. Probably the most unsure of this one of the metaverse designs so far. Especially the colours (considered making the reds pinks initially). Might revisit this one.

Ok that's all I have for now I'll probably do Rise's next 👍👍👍

#sorry these are of wildly varying quality i did them at completely disconnected times #i guess feel free to critique my ideas if you want but be nice pleaseeeeee #persona 4 #fine this can go in the main tags #also this took like 3 days to type up. i just proofread it but if theres something that makes no sense then oops my bad #ul

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scifrey · 1 year

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Cling Fast: Prologue

Read below, or read the updated/edited version over on AO3.

by Loysark

The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon and Gaimanverse)

Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus)

Unfinished

PG-13 (for now)

Unbeta'd

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he's not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series "Elizabethan Manor," they're overjoyed to find a professor of domestic history who, according to their meticulous research, is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they're filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Picks up a few hours after the end of Episode 6.

Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing. New to this fandom, new to this ship, and this is the first fanfic I've written in over a year. I am just coming back from a creative burnout so bad that I ended up leaving my literary agent. I haven't written anything that isn't loosely connected drabbles in literally years. So, I don't know what's going to happen with this fic. It may get written, it may fizzle. I have the idea plotted out, but I'm trying to approach it cautiously, with my eyes averted, in case it spooks and bolts.

That's why I'm posting this here instead of AO3, I guess. I want to see if it's something that resonates with people, and me, before I commit to posting it there.

"One hundred years, then?" Hob's Stranger asks, hours later, when Hob's talked himself hoarse and his business partner is flipping chairs onto tables to mop. Hob's marking has been jammed unceremoniously into his briefcase and completely forgotten, and there are three empty pint glasses at his elbow. The wine glass in front of his Stranger is still full.

"2089 or 2122?" Hob asks, through disappointment like broken glass on his tongue. Hob's stomach sinks when his Stranger rises from his chair.

Hob's Stranger seems to mull this over. "'89," he says at length. "I believe it is customary for friends to meet more frequently than a century."

"Then why wait even that long?" Hob asks, both startled and completely unsurprised with how desperate he sounds. "Or is that some sort of… of supernatural law? That the terms of our bargain have to be adhered to and we can't… I don't know," he confesses helplessly. "Renegotiate?"

Helpless.

Yes, that's how he feels.

Helpless and desperate for his Stranger to stay, to not abandon him again, to not leave Hob wondering if he may miss another meeting on a whim. If his Stranger was getting tired of playing with his little mortal toy and Hob would be left to eternity with no friend, no through-line, no continuity, no foundation—

Unavoidably detained, what does that even mean? Hob thinks viciously, brain spinning in circles between despair and hurt, elation and greed. Is it an excuse? Did he even want to—

His Stranger frowns, a fearsome, dark expression that Hob's never seen on the man's face before. Hob flinches when his Stranger makes an abrupt flicking motion at Hob's shoulders, as if shooing off a housefly. All at once Hob's breathing eases, the panic and surging loneliness retreating.

"What?" Hob asks weakly, when he realizes that… that somehow that single gesture from his Stranger has banished decades worth of crushing loneliness and anxiety. Hob had grown so used to bearing the ever-grinding worry that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be without it.

"A waking nightmare," his Stranger says. "And a bold one, too, to cling to you so persistently in the face of its king's displeasure."

King.

Well.

Hob had always figured that his Stranger had to be some sort of nobility. It was in the way he dressed at the peak of fashion each century, the softness of his skin and hands, the cleanliness of his hair, the way he spoke and held himself as if he'd never been denied anything his entire life. And the giant ruby of course, which, Hob had noticed a few hours ago, was nowhere to be seen this time around.

But a King.

"My friend," Hob whispers, mindful of the staff closing the New Inn around them. He swallows hard enough that his throat clicks. "Forgive my boldness, but… what are you? Who are you?"

"It… it is not important," his Stranger hedges, hesitating for the first time since Hob's known him.

That's unusual.

That's a crack Hob can get his fingers into.

"It is, though," Hob says, rising to his own feet. He dares to reach out, to pinch the fabric of his Stranger's coat cuff between his fingers in an old-fashioned, petitioning plea. The way you would kiss a queen's hem, or a king's ring, Hob pinches the cuff and hopes his Stranger understands. "It is to me. You are important to me."

"Hob," his Stranger says, but it's not a rebuke or a dismissal. It sounds awed, and humbled. Mercury shimmers along his bottom lashes, mouth pulled tight, a display of emotion that Hob never thought to garner from his Stranger, and not one he's sure he knows how to read, just yet.

What has him so upset?

"When you didn't come, I waited," Hob whispers, daring to press closer, so the words are little more than a puff of air between them. "I waited hours. Days. I returned every day for weeks. Where were you?"

"Rest assured, I did not want to miss our appointment."

"Then why?" The Stranger hesitates again. "Please. Please, if you're really my friend, please don't…" Hob trails off, not sure what he's really trying to say here. Don't shut me out. Don't treat me like a servant who only needs to do as he's told. Don't run away from me all the time. "Please don't go without telling me how to reach you, at least. I couldn't bare it if you…"

Without his meaning it, Hob's grip on his Stranger's cuff slips, and his fingers brush the cool, smooth back of his Stranger's hand. The Stranger hisses as if he's been burned.

"Sorry, sorry," Hob says, jerking his hand away. "I'm—"

"That is the first kind touch I've had in…" his Stranger's eyes drop to where their hands meet. Slowly, he reaches out with one shaking finger to stroke it along Hob's knuckles.

Understanding and rage flash through Hob like a lightning strike. The little hints that his Stranger probably hadn't realized he was even dropping come together, all at once, into a horrible picture.

You can be hurt. Or captured.

Hob seizes his Stranger's hand in his own, enraged further when his Stranger gasps, cheeks flushing pink and lips parting in a soft 'oh' that might have sounded lewd if it wasn't so obviously overwhelmed.

"Who did this to you?" Hob growls, low and dangerous. "Where are they now? I'm going to kill them for—"

The Stranger jerks his head up so fast that one of the quicksilver tears shakes free and rolls down his gaunt cheek.

"Hob," his Stranger chokes, and Hob is sure he would have said more, maybe even leaned closer, except that Dennis at the bar shouts:

"Fuck's sake, Gadlen. Take your booty call upstairs. I wanna close!"

"Sorry!" Hob calls back, leaning to the side and modulating his volume so he doesn't shout in his Stranger's ear. "Sorry Dennis, right. We're going."

Hob tugs on his Stranger's hand, and is absurdly grateful when the man allows himself to be led toward the back of the bar. Hob snags his briefcase from the banquette as they pass, and heads straight for the door marked "Staff Only." He punches in the keycode and within a few quick moments, he's gently pulling his stranger over the threshold and into his flat.

"You live above the pub?" his Stranger asks, looking around with curiosity as Hob toes off his shoes and drops his briefcase by the door. The Stranger has neither released his hand, nor wiped the moisture from his own face. When Hob looks down to see if his Stranger has taken his boots off, Hob is startled to be met with a pair of bare, moon-pale and delicately arched bare feet.

Okay.

Well.

Hob knew he wasn't human.

Apparently that includes vanishing clothing at will. Which probably means making it, too. Which definitely explains why his Stranger has always been in the pits of fashion.

Absolutely 100% not a Vampire, Hob adds to his mental List Of Things I Know About The Stranger. It's a very short list.

"Live above it, own it, built it," Hob says, pulling his Stranger gently into the living room and toward the sofa. "When I heard they were going to tear down the White Horse, I did some financial juggling, dug up a few treasure caches, and bought it. The building, the land… I mean, really, the whole area. I own most of this side of the river, all the green bits at least. I couldn't stand the thought of losing all the parks and the trees and… I wanted to save the White Horse itself, but the… well, the restoration is tricky. Time-consuming and costly. Cheaper to knock it down and start over but…" he shrugs as he encourages his Stranger to sit. "I'm not into bulldozing the past because it's cost efficient. Is it okay if I let go of your hand?"

His Stranger looks down at their entwined fingers and blinks as if he hadn't realized he was still holding onto Hob. "My apologies," he says softly, and lets go.

"Don't apologize," Hob says, even as he retrieves his arm. Touch starved, his brain screams, adding it to the list of sins that his Stranger's… captors must have perpetrated. "I'm making tea. Do you drink tea?"

"I could… I could drink tea, yes," his Stranger ventures, as if he's unsure if he actually can.

"I'll be right back."

You can still be hurt. Or captured, his Stranger in his memory says again, and Hob waits until he's turned away and headed to the kitchen before he lets his face transform into a scowl.

Behind him on the sofa, the real-life Stranger makes a wounded little noise, as if he'd heard the memory.

As he fills and sets the kettle to boil, Hob tries to dissipate the frisson of tenseness hanging between them with nonsense.

"The National Trust is both amazing and a huge pain in my arse," he laughs, but it sounds strained even to him. "It's half the reason I'm a history professor now. I wanted to preserve the White Horse right, you know? I spent so much time in historical architecture lectures, buried up to my eyebrows in library books and research grants and… well, when it came time to establish this identity I thought, why not? Fudged up an undergrad degree in Medieval History, breezed into University of York for a Masters and spent it focussing on the lives of the common folk, you know, hearth and home kind of archeology. Wattle-and-daub construction, wooden nails and cooking fires, sellswords and home remedies, the beautiful mundanity of the everyday. And now here I am. Professor Bob Gadlen, with a PhD in my own bloody life."

The kettle whistles and Hob leaps to pull it off the hob when his Stranger flinches at the sound.

I'm going to stab them through the earhole, Hob snarls to himself. When he tells me who they are, I'm going to—

"Justice has already been delivered, Hob Gadling," his Stranger says softly, as Hob pours the water into a teapot. There's not a lot of modern conveniences that Hob eschews—humanity invented new and exciting things all the time for a reason, and that reason is usually that it's better—but he has never managed to get on board with tea bags. Looseleaf all the way. "And revenge has been, as they say, dished out."

Hob sets up a tray with two mugs, some biscuits, and the teapot under its hand-knitted cozy from the 50s. He's done this so often over the last few hundred years that muscle memory takes over, even as his brain stutters to a fizzy halt as he registers what his Stranger has said.

And what it means.

"Oh," Hob says, setting down the tea tray on his coffee table. He drops into his armchair beside the sofa with a thud. "Uh. Can you... Can you read my mind?"

"Only your daydreams," his Stranger confesses. "And only those on the surface of your thoughts. You dream of doing violence to people who, I assure you, are already dead."

"My daydreams. And my waking nightmares," Hob echoes, feeling like his brain is slogging through molasses. There's a… there's a confession in there, somewhere. A truth that his Stranger is trusting him with, if he could only work it out.

And then he remembers, suddenly, what he had been daydreaming about in 1789 when he'd caught sight of his Stranger's extremely shapely calves in his silk hose, and Dear Lord above. Hob has a sudden and humiliating urge to be swallowed up by the ground. A glance at his Stranger makes it very clear, by the smug little microexpression around his eyes, that his Stranger also remembers Hob's fantasies from that particular evening.

Hell.

"You're a King," Hob says slowly, pouring out a measure of tea for each of them to hide his blush.

"Yes."

Hob dollops milk into his own, and invites his Stranger to doctor his own to his liking with the sugar and milk he'd left on the tray. His Stranger only holds the mug between elegant pale hands, and simply inhales the steam instead.

"A King of… Dreams and Nightmares?" Hob ventures.

"Yes," his Stranger says.

"So you're a, a what… a god?" Hob asks, feeling both giddy and foolish to be saying it out loud. But then, he's been alive for six hundred and seventy-two years. That's a long time. He knows for certain that while his Stranger is not the Devil by his own admission, there are more things that walk the earth than are dreamt of in anyone's philosophies.

Hob scowls at himself for letting Shaxbeard's drivel cross his mind, and hides his pout in his mug.

"No," his Stranger says slowly. "And yes." He pauses.

Hob leans back, and lets his Stranger work through what he's trying to say. His Stranger sips his tea and seems to find it lacking, because he pauses to dump four cubes of sugar into it.

Sweet tooth, Hob files away, right under the entry on the list that says God.

"I am a being beyond gods," his Stranger goes on once he's tasted his tea again and found it satisfactory. "I am older. I am more powerful. I am… simply more. I have existed since the moment the first sentient being closed its eyes and sought its rest, and I will continue to exist until the final one slips away to the Sunless Lands in its sleep. And yet, the version of myself that you see before you was once worshiped as a god."

"That explains a lot," Hob says, redirecting the buzzing adrenaline from his lingering, now futile rage into sarcasm.

The Stranger blinks again, as if unused to being teased. Being a… whatever he is, he probably is.

"Endless," his Stranger corrects. "I am Dream of the Endless. I am…" he gestures in an elegant arc with his free hand. "Limitless. Everywhere. Unchanging and ever present. I am every Dream of every creature, across all of space and time. I am both master of all dreams, and I am the dreams themselves."

"Bit like a TARDIS," Hob says, trying to wrap his head around what his Stranger, Dream of the Endless, is saying.

Dream blinks, head tilting like a corvid, a far-away look in his pale eyes as if he's shuffling through a mental rolodex. His lips curl up into, what is for him, a very wide, expressive grin when he seems to hit on the right entry. His face brightens with mirth.

"Yes, Hob Gadling. I am indeed bigger on the inside."

Hob laughs, if maybe only to contain the slow creep of existential horror. He has some sort of cosmic entity sitting on his squashed, unhygienic sofa that he hasn't cleaned properly since the day he moved in thirty years ago. Yeah. Hob's totally fine.

What's the bigger leap of understanding, anyway? Illiterate peasant sellsword in 1389 to university professor who taught the last two years through Zoom in 2022, or normal boring human with a bit of an Immortality thing to God's teeth there is a celestial creature in my apartment, and he is my friend.

"But that is the… the whole of me," Dream goes on, seemingly amused by Hob's quiet panic. "And the facet that sits before you, this particular anthropomorphic personification, is the one born of a worship and naming on this world, several eras ago."

"Oookaaay…" Hob says slowly, not entirely sure what Dream is getting at.

"Humans create gods," Dream says, filching a biscuit and crunching on it delicately. "Not the other way around."

Even spilling crumbs across his black teeshirt like stardust looks deliberate and elegant when he does it. Hob shoves down a new daydream, as far as it will go. If Dream catches it, he doesn't let on.

"Didn't God create mankind and all the world in seven days, though?" Hob asks, dragging his treacherous brain back on topic.

"In one story," Dream allows. "And in others, Zeus sculpted humanity from clay, and sundered the pieces to create soulmates. In yet another, Skywoman fell through a hole she dug through the world, and landed upon the back of a turtle. There are as many origin stories as there are gods, and there are as many gods as there are humans to imagine them. This—" Deam gestures to himself, and only then seems to see the crumbs on his shirt. He whisks them away with a flick of his wrist. "This embodiment was thought into being by what you would call the Bronze age cultures of the Mediterranean. To them, I was the God of Sleep. I have other names, but the most appropriate and widely remembered in this day and age is Morpheus."

"Morpheus," replies flatly.

"Yes," the creature on the sofa says, preening. "I desire that you call me that, Hob Gadling."

"Not Dream of the Endless?"

"Dream of the Endless is… Dream belongs to all sentient beings, of all kinds, on every planet and plane of existence. That creature has as many names, and faces, and physical embodiments as there are species to sleep. But here, the man who sits before you, whose form and face you know—"

Thank god he said 'know' and not 'desire', Hob thinks frantically.

"--this is Morpheus."

"The God of Sleep," Hob repeats, because is bears repeating.

"And you built me a temple."

"I… what?" Morpheus flicks a look around the room. "The New Inn? No, I built it for you so you could find me." Hob clocks what he just said. Then he thinks about the libations, the singing on karaoke night, the offerings and toasts, the way everyone totters away to pass out after last call. "Fuck me, I built the god of sleep a temple."

"If that unsettles you, you may alternately call me The Prince of Stories. The Shaper of Forms. The King of Nightmares. The Sandman. The—"

"Okay, okay!" Hob laughs. "I ask for one name and I get a hundred. Careful what you wish for, eh?" Hob scratches his fingers through his stubble and heaves a sigh as Morpheus helps himself to another biscuit, munching peevishly. "So if I'm understanding this right, Dream is… is like a diamond. And Morpheus is just one facet. And there are hundreds of facets of you."

"Millions of millions," Morpheus agrees.

"And it's Morpheus I have my agreement with? And my… friendship?"

"Yes, Hob Gadling," Morpheus says fondly. "Though I can assure you that the whole of all I am considers you a friend, not just this facet."

Something in his posture that changes then, something that relaxes a little. Relief, that's what it is. Did he think Hob would be scared of him?

Overwhelmed, maybe. Confused, a little. Intrigued, definitely. Attracted to? Hob's mind shies away from that one. But scared? Never. Except for when he was worried he may have condemned his soul to Hell, Hob has never been frightened of Morpheus. And even that fear was of purgatory itself, not of the man-shaped thing that may end up dragging him there.

"Then it's Morpheus I'd like to… see more of," Hob decides on, tripping over confessing something maybe a little bit too intense for just now, and sidestepping it as politically as possible. "More than once a century. If that's okay."

"Why?"

Hob blanches. "Are you not allowed to? Or… or do you not want to?" Hob asks, wondering if he's completely misunderstood the point of Morpheus' confession.

"I did not say I was opposed to it," Morpheus says gently. "I simply wonder why my company is that which you would… choose."

Hob wonders, in turn, who it was that made Morpheus feel like his company was a burden, as he clearly thinks it is. He carefully does not daydream of doing them any violence. He wants to, though.

"Listen, I…" Hob says, and stops to lick his lips, wet his throat with tea, and choose his words carefully. "Before I explain, I want to make it clear that I don't regret, or rue, or am bitter about this… this gift you've given me."

"My sister gave you," Morpheus corrects him gently.

"Sister?" Hob asks, derailed. "It wasn't you who… made me like this?"

"You and I have but an agreement to meet every hundred years. No more, no less," Morpheus explains. "My sister is the one who granted your request to never die, and traded a boon with our father to ensure you that you and I could keep our appointments."

"Uh. And who is this sister of yours I need to thank, then?" Hob asks.

"The woman who accompanied me at the White Horse that first night, do you recall her?" Hob nods. "She is Death."

"Death," Hob warbles, heart kicking in his chest. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. Makes sense. Death. I called her stupid to her face."

"She thought it charming."

"Fuck. And… your father?"

"Time."

"Time," Hob squeaks. The mug in his hand trembles and Hob sets it down before he sloshes on himself.

Morpheus frowns. "My sister did not think that the terms of the agreement between you and I would be fair if you continued to age, but did not die."

"No, no, makes sense," Hob says, heaving in a breath and trying not to freak out at the idea that Death and Time know who he is, and granted him his greatest wish simply because he was a loudmouth braggart in the right pub, on the right night.

"But you were speaking of the terms of our friendship," Morpheus prompts him.

It's a kindness, and Morpheus must know it, to be distracted from the existential crisis that is creeping up on Hob. Maybe Morpheus can see the waking nightmare hovering behind him, who knows.

"Yes, as I was saying, I don't regret being, uh, like this," Hob starts again, pointing at his own heart. "But it gets… well, it's hard. Maybe you know what I mean, being you know, Endless. Maybe you don't notice the passage of time, or maybe mortal lives are so fleeting that you don't care—"

"I care. And I notice."

Hob swallows hard again, and plows on, because if he stops to unpack the utter misery with which Morpheus just said that, he thinks he's going to have to get up right now, race out into the early morning dawn, and dig up whoever did this to his friend and kill them all over again.

"Right. Okay. Yes, you care, so you understand that… you have to let go. Do you know what I mean? You have to walk away. You have to… let things, let people, slip through your fingers. It doesn't matter how tightly you hang on to someone or something, change is inevitable. Time… ah, your father… has its… his way with us all. Except me. And you."

Morpheus watches him carefully, intensely, and Hob can't read what that expression means, hasn't seen it before. But if it was on a human, he'd call it intense and focussed affection.

"And I love life. I love humanity. I love the weird shit we come up with, and the ways we change, and grow, and at the same time stay exactly the same. I love people. I love love. But it can be…" he spreads his arms wide, clutching at the empty air, wishing he was better at putting thoughts into poetry. Then maybe he could explain himself better to the Prince of Stories.

Oh, so that's why that bitchy little twink Shaxbeard—no, focus, Gadling. Not right now.

Morpheus smirks at Hob's line of thought, but otherwise doesn't interrupt.

"The point of what I'm saying is that…" Hob takes a deep breath and plunges in. "You're my anchor. And you pull me through the years, and I follow along the tow line and… no, no, that sounds like you're dragging me down." Hob scrubs a hand through his hair, the beer and the adrenaline and the late hour catching up with him. He feels giddy and tongue-tied and stupid. "Maybe, you're a kite, then? And our meetings is the string, and when it's wound around my wrist, when I know what direction my life is being pulled by you and the wind, then it… it's full. It's taught. It's exciting. But when that string was… was slack… when you didn't come, when I thought I'd driven you away, I… I couldn't… there was no direction, and there was no point, and I—" Hob laughs flatly, false. "I had to build myself a fan, I guess. An Inn to fill the sail of the kite, and just hope that my breeze would come back and—"

And he doesn't talk about the years in the middle. The years between when he bought the White Horse, and before he threw himself into his schooling. The years when the misery of being forced to shut down the one place he needed more than air and food and water, because it tied him to his Stranger, the years when the White Horse continued to deteriorate and there was nothing he could do, except maybe sleep until 2089 and hope. The years when he put anything and everything down his throat, into his veins, up his nose just so that he didn't have to feel it, the wretched passage of time, the despair, the isolation and loneliness, the—

Morpheus' hand on his knee brings Hob back to himself. He huffs and wipes the moisture away from the corner of his eyes.

"What I'm saying is… I lost who I am, without you," he says slowly, covering that moon-pale hand with his own sun-browned and sword-calloused one. "And I'm not saying that you have to spend time with me. But I thought I ruined everything. And learning that instead you were captured and suffering, and I had no way of knowing and no way of helping, that's just so much worse. I need you, Morpheus. And more than that, I like you. These last few decades were awful without you, and I… I don't want to force you to spend time with me to keep me sane, that's not what I'm saying. I don't want to drown you in order to keep my own head above water."

Mixing metaphors again, Gadling. Get to the point.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I want to spend time with you. More than once a century. I want to be your friend, and I want to know when you're hurt, or in trouble. I want to be there for you, the way that you're there for me. I want to be the solution to your loneliness, the kind that only people like you and me know. The people who go on, and on, and on, when everything around you is always changing or withering away. Because you are the solution to mine. You're…" Hob decides that six hundred and seventy-two is too old to speak in euphemisms. "You're all that I get to keep. So, please. Can I keep you?"

"I too find that I thrive when I am seen," Morpheus says, summing up Hob's rambling with eloquence and sincerity. "And I am more than satisfied with your explanation. I find that I… share your sentiments. So yes, I shall give you a way to contact me, and a way to know if I am in distress. And I will be happy to meet with you more often."

"Once a week too much?" Hob asks, sniffling with pent up emotion and swift relief. "God's bones, I sound like such a clingy bastard. I guess I am. I won't be ashamed of it."

"If that is the case, then I find I am one as well. Will every Tuesday evening be acceptable?"

Hob didn't teach Tuesday afternoons, but Morpheous probably already knew that. "More than."

"Excellent. It is done."

Hob huffs out a weak laugh, flopping back into his chair and feeling like he's just gone a hundred rounds with a heavyweight champ. Or sold his soul to Morpheus all over again. Morpheus releases his hand and pours them both more tea, though when Hob takes a drink, he finds it's become a sweet, cool wine, the kind he'd once had in Greece, centuries ago.

After they sip for a few moments, Hob screws up his courage, and asks, "And was it Morpheus who was… 'unavoidably detained'," Hob says, putting the finger-quotes around the phrase.

Morpheus goes silent for long enough that Hob worries again that he's offended his friend again.

"We don't have to talk about it," Hob assures him. He reaches out his hand for Morpheus, offering support and understanding, just as his friend had offered it to Hob. He is relieved and flattered when Morpheus takes it again, without a moment's doubt.

"I… do not think I could bring myself to speak of this again, if I were not to unburden myself now. You have confessed so much this evening, and I feel I must honor your truth with my own, no matter how… infuriatingly painful and humiliating the confession may be. I was, as you surmised, captured."

"How can someone capture a… a concept?" Hob asks softly. "A literal, actual force of nature?"

"How indeed," Morpheus says, rueful and bitter. "While most magic is insubstantial nonsense," Morpheus begins slowly. He lifts his free hand and spreads his fingers wide, and on his palm a whirlwind of golden sand swirls into the shape of a small glass cage, with a tiny, prone man trapped inside. Hob's heart clenches when he realizes what he's looking at. "There are some immutable laws of existence that can be harnessed and twisted to entrap even one such as I. But it was not Dream of the Endless that Rodrick Burgess sought to enslave, nor even Morpheus the God of Sleep, but Death her very self…"

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runwayrunway · 11 months

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Hello, folks. This is your captain speaking.

Today is going to be slightly unusual. I know it's a little difficult to firmly define 'usual' for a blog with two posts, but I had plans and they were not this. I normally like to write posts well in advance, because last-minute post-writing is sometimes a very bad idea. (Especially when you are dyslexic and will absolutely miss typos.)

However, once in a while something happens which forces my hand. Let me put it this way: if you were a meteorologist and you saw a tornado forming, would you go sound the alarm right away or would you wait until an unspecified future date to inform the small town of Frangible Plains, Nebraska that they're imminently going to be torn apart by an EF4?

This is all to say, on the 14th of June, two days ago as of writing, a new airline livery was unveiled. And I can't just not talk about it, can I? Especially when the airline in question has already been requested. But writing this review sent me on a whirlwind of frantic typing that ended up spanning multiple posts.

My mission here is not to jumpscare people, confuse them, or string them along, so I just wanted to clarify upfront: there will be three main-series posts going up today, plus one post that isn't a review but which bears mentioning anyway. I'll be scheduling the main posts an hour apart from each other, beginning at 21:00 universal time, during which time I will be at work, so any questions or comments will be answered somewhat later.

Due to the sheer size of the rabbit hole which has now consumed me, I'll also be doing posts tomorrow and on Sunday. This isn't normal, and you shouldn't expect this, but I cannot leave this topic unfinished and I also can't clog up my blog with one specific airline for a week and a half. Some of you may already have an idea of what airline this is, based on context and timing. Others will know soon enough.

Thank you for your understanding. Let's blue this.

#off-duty #runwayrunway blueses it

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angelsandarsenic · 3 months

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Not about a current story but you should share a draft you like/abandoned story

YAY ok ok!

Remember the necromancy au??? This one

I started writing a whole story for it and was going to be three whole books, centered around Tommy and Phil. (I'll add what I have in my drafts in the reblog of this)

First off, some world building: the supernatural like the undead and necromancers as well as creatures like unicorns, fae, some witchcraft and spells, wards etc., but it's all pretty hidden/rare to come across, and a lot of it depends on how much you believe (not that that stops them from existing). The government has a Supernatural Police Force that enforces supernatural law, but also, specifically hunts down necromancers and anything related to the undead. Highly illegal. Anything in that category--necromancers especially--are considered taboo, subversions of nature and incredibly dangerous. Unfortunately, necromancy is an ability you're born with, it doesn't work well to try and force it. Anyway, the world is about 60/40 split for belief, of course with tons of people on an "unsure" scale in between.

Tommy is in denial.

After the death of his mother, he's just gotten settled in a new town and is simply doing his best as an 18 year old all on his own. A lot of people have a hard time believing that his last name is actually "Innit", not to mention he doesn't have a driver's licence or much work history, but Puffy and Niki make sure he gets a good job in their shop. Unfortunately, he unwittingly closes up one night without the wards in place on the shop and some...visitors get in. It's not his fault, Tommy never learned anything about this supernatural crap, but now Puffy is calling "exterminators" and whispers of ghost sightings and necromancers on the run are going around. Blonde haired, blue eyed necromancers, supposedly from Tommy's home town.

Tommy panics, but in self fulfilling prophecy, he only acts more suspicious and finds himself literally running from the SPF, when he meets Philza and realizes that this is the necromancer they're looking for.

Philza wants absolutely nothing to do with this; the last thing he needs is a kid. Things were going well in this town, he doesn't understand what suddenly went wrong! Now he has to leave again, but whatever, that's routine by now. Thankfully, Tommy seems just as eager to stay away from him as Phil is and he escapes successfully.

...until Tommy somehow ends up backed into a corner with him once again, in the new town, and he can't just leave a kid to fend for himself against the SPF, so they make a temporary truce.

From there it's not hard for Phil to figure out that Tommy is a necromancer, he isn't exactly great at hiding it. Those powers are dangerous left unchecked, so Phil can't just not teach him. It's only until he's good enough to go off on his own, Phil promises himself. Even if Tommy is weirdly endearing, despite getting into trouble and bringing home a random stranger who, thank the gods, doesn't seem phased by death magic. Even if he rather painfully reminds Phil of the kid he left behind all those years ago.

Necromancy adventures ensue; found family with an ancient undead warrior, Some Guy, and a couple ghostly other friends. At last, it all comes to a head when their backstories collide, the long-lost father-son realization it's been skirting around for some time is officially revealed and once again, the SPF are hot on their tails and Phil can't let go this time.

But yeah, that never got very far. I still adore it, I just know I'm never gonna finish it. Thank you so much for asking! I love sharing my drafts and abandoned stories. If you want to hear more, I made the Library of Alexandria (Angel's lost/unfinished works) on Ao3 for everything that I couldn't bear to let collect dust in my drafts ☆

#angel writes #necromancy au #philza #tommyinnit #sleepy bois inc #mcyt #ao3 author #Q and A

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popculturebuffet · 2 months

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Thomas and Friends Retrospective: The Magic Railroad: The Workprint Cut (Comissioned by Lachie V)

Previously on this blog:

Also I may or may not have reviewed a bunch of Thomas the Tank Entine, cumilating in a look at the disasterous theatrical cut which you can find my barely coherent thoughts on that barely coherent film here. We haven't gotten the results back from the lab yet.

The Theatrical cut is so legendarily wonky I just.. coudln't leave it at that and feel like I gave the film a good shake. So I took on the arduous task of watching an unfinished workprint that I erronously said last time was on the blu ray. While the blu ray has some scenes from this version, the full workprint was leaked seperately and god bless those who did as it gives us something of a look at what this film was supposed to be. So join me under the cut as I see what this film WAS and if what it was was any good.. or at least comprehensible. After the nightmare of that last review i'll settle for "Makes sense from point a to b" that's the state we're entering this review at people. You've been warned.

The workprint of the Magic Railroad is interesting. This is the first workprint i've ever seen and thus the first i've ever covered on this blog. For those unaware, as I was before I googled it, a work print is an unfinished version of a film, with effects, adr and the soundtrack largely missing. So it was fascinating to see just how many pieces of the film, even things as simple as a line that LOOKED on screen are put into place after the fact. Film Editors don't get enough credit.. plenty of blame when it's earned but not enough credit and this made me respect them all the more.

That said watching a prototype of a finished film i'd seen.. was a lot. It seems easy, the effects just aren't there right? Well it's not just visual effects: it's SOUND effects. The only sounds are either ADR from the various crew member and anything on camera. And said ADR is not from the actors yet but various voices i'd never heard before and also Britt Alcroft. It's fair and I don't blame the cut for it, this wasn't MEANT to be viewed by anyone but editors. It's just hard on my autisim: whlie i'm functional and can handle sensory changes normally in a film, having there be no sound where their clearly should be in a lot of places... was just weird. I KNOW why it's not there, and usually my mind fills in the gaps but for some reason here it just felt extra off when an explosion or heavy digging happened with no sound. It's just this freaky effect and it took some time to get through it as a result, not helped by me only realizing what was really throwing me off towards the end of the film.

I can't recommend this cut as a film.. because it's not finished nor was it intended to be a finished product. It's not really something for bad movie night like it's theatrical cousin. As an interesting artifact of this film and Thomas as a whole though, I am delighted it exists as it fills in a LOT of the gaps and is complete enough I can judge what aspects were cut by their own merits.

Let's start with the big one, the most infamous and curious of the bunch: PT Boomer, played by Doug Lennox who realizes exactly what kind of film he's in and hams it up accordingly. Boomer is one of the films big bads... and was almost entirely cut from the theatrical cut, with only one brief scene that was redubbed, a scene so plot important and load bearing I forgot it even happened.

PT Boomer is all about

Wanting to make profit off things. That's.. about what we get. Seriously we have two seperate scenes where one of the kids asks Billy then Stacey about boomer.. and they just say essentially "He's greedy and wants to buy everything" without ever clarifying who he is, what he does for his BUISNESS, or what his goals are beyond "profit off a magical lady train he broke in the past." I am so sad he got cut as while he woudln't of made the film much better, he is so bad it's good glorious: even in this his plans literally boil down to

KIDNAP MAGIC LADY TRAIN FOR REVENGE

?????

PROFIT

It's still not much above Disel's plan that just replaces kidnap with kill and profit with "become train king". It is funny though and gives this guy a leg up.

The most we get is his backstory with Burnett, Lily's grandpa who gets fleshed out considerably in this version. In the original his backstory was just "diesel nearly killed this train I found and my wife never got to ride her" which is prettty damn thin and even before the workprint cut I could tell something was missing.

The actual backstory is still as thin as a sheet of paper covered in bacon grease, but it's at least.. something: He swored to take her on a ride but before he could Boomer, who had also wanted to bang Lily's grandma but lost out to burnett because well evil I guess, found her and threatned burnett if he didn't let him drive the train. He ended up driving too fast, making this a dramatic version of that trampoline scene from community.

youtube

I've tried not to use youtube videos as the thumbnail takes up the link but it really is just this exact moment but with trains and a dead wife.

We also get a minutes long montage of Burnett dancing with his wife. it adds nothing to the plot and is one of the cuts i can absolutely see why it happened. We also get a scene of Stone and Lily having dinner where he says I don't like trains.

Another change as a result is that the big cave scene with Patch.. is towards the end. In the thetrical cut we get 80 gallons of train expoision while the workprint at least plays it as a mystery: a whistle is heard in the mountain and instead of finding out what it is seconds after we hear it, it's played up the whole film. IT's a much better fit and I question why this was changed at all.

That also goes for Boomer. I went back and checked and. .he's not really IN the movie that much. He shows up, meances a bit, hams it up and leaves. He spends most of the film either trying ot find stone, buy shining time for some reason, which makes mr conductor's visions of an apocalypse make far more sense, and the rest trying to dig his way to the hidden railway then blow everything the fuck up when that dosen't work out. Keeping him in.. really wasn't going to hurt the film and I don't really buy reports "he scared children". The evil brother of the attention all gamers guy isn't going to be in any child's nightmares.

Cutting boomer also makes the non lily or coked out conductor characters feel more suplerfous as it turns out the original cut had way mroe for them to do. Not a lot, but still more. Patch has a horse.. which WAS in the theatrical cut but I did not notice. Probably because he's also lacking his sweet cowboy hat... it's like taking away knuckles cowboy hat from the sonic ova: you take away the source of his powers. Billy likewise gets a scene with boomer and a scene getting a warning. He still dosen't DO much but I feel bad for clowning on his actor last time: Russel Means is actually a wonderful billy replacement. He's not as good as Tom Jackson is in the role, but he's still pretty neat but in the theatrical cut he's there for all of two seconds and seemed a lot stiffer. That was really the editing's fault not him as he has billy's laidback charm and wise nature down pat. Stacey also gets an extra scene, though she still got PLENTy in the theatrical. Cutting this plot was unfair to the actors involved and their screentime and especially douchey to Doug Lennox, who put in a great performance. .that got cut entirely.

To my shock though the mass cuts... really aren't responsible for the film being pretty hard to parse. The workprint cut IS legible at least as a few confusing bits are explained: instead of wanting to kill all trains disel wants to conquer them, and he's unaware Lady is connected to the magic, meaning he GENUINELY dosen't realize he dies if he destroys her. So instead of stupid his plan comes off as dangerous and just the right amount of sinister for a preschool film instead of

We also get clarifcation on the "My Universe" thing. The narration for the work print still referes to it as mr. conductor's universe.. but they actually explain what the hell they were saying with that: The various mr conductors built this universe. Granted

Unlike the theatrical though, I can at least accept that answer: the mr conductors do have godlike powers and it makes Mr Conductor speaking with authority on his power loss possibly killing him less ass pully: it makes sense they'd pass this shit down through generations and makes sense Mr C Junior wouldn't know it as he's a fuckwit.

It makes the film less maddening.. but it dosen't change the fact this new lore is just kinda jammed in there, a square train in a round station house. The lore still dosen't make a ton of since even for a film for small children, and again thei rparents and possibly older siblings still have to watch it with them so why punch down. All punching down did was get parents to cave and go take their kids to see X-Men or Pokemon 2000 instead, both much better movies. Especailly pokmeon 2000. Fuck I really need to cover both of those don't I.

It also dosen't explain simple shit like "Why does lady tie the two universes together" and "after being in a coma for so long why is magic just fading now". It's still at the end of the day an overcomplicated mess that creates it's own weird lore never to be used again that no one vibed with because even for the stupid train children show it was baffling instead of fairy tale style like they were going for.

The other scenes cut are far more understandable: that dance scene I mentiond went on to long and we get a brief prologue of Lily in the big city and the reason behind the fire escape line. It's.. nothing we honestly needed mostly Mara wilson wistfully starring outside a train.. which is adorable but dosen't really move the plot along.

So that leads us to the final cut and the final change worth talking about between versions: the voice actors. Like with boomer the executives tried overcorrecting to test audience complaints. They dont' like one of the villians? Cut him out entirely. They don't like the voices for some of the characters? replace the bitches! Yeah originally Thomas was voiced by John Bellis, Percy and James by Thomas UK narrator Micheal Angellis, Splatter and Dodge by Patrick Breen, and Disel 10 by Keith Scott.

Unlike with removing boomer I get most of these edits: Unlike boomer I completely buy that D10 scared children as Keith Scott's voice for him is terrifying.. though the terror is undrecut by the adr version of him sounding like Lumpy Space Princess. It's a great voice and I feel bad for Scott.. but it is a bit too scary> Granted they coudl've just.. worked with him to find another voice as they had before (He tried a russian voice before this that was apparently even creepier), so it's shitty they fired him and everyone here instead of simply recasting them or giving them something else.

LIkewise I love MIcheal Angellis and having him voice cameo was a good idea.. but they shoudl've had him do Henry instead. His voice works when he's narrating every character.. but I get why having an old gentleman voice for Percy and James, both younger engines dosen't quite work. Granted unlike with D10, where his replacement got the tone better, making Percy and James small children dosen't fix the problem. Their youthful not 8. Stupid Train Children is not that literal a term.

Thomas on the other hand.. was fine: he sounded youthful, had a nice plesant voice and I honestly prefer it over the final cut voice with Eddie Glenn. Glenn isn't bad.. but Bellis just got the character better. Splatter and Dodge are also way better and the film does a far better job conveying thier reluctant minon status and making them humorous foils to dissel.

So all in all the Work Print version is a better film.. but only by comparision. It has some good stuff that was cuts and the edits done were mostly moronic but it's still a film that alternates between boring and WHAT THE FUCK. it just explains more, which helps with the latter

The Magic Railroad in either film is a film that tried to cram way too much shit in. It tried so hard to escalate thomas to save the world level shit when that just .. dosen't scale with either Thomas and Friends or Shining Time Station. Both are about small scale problems in small slice of lifey places: a cozy british isle and a whimsical train station. Their biggest issues are dickheads like Disel and god emperor or schemer. You could've had thomas go on a treasure hunt to save the rail way or shining time or both. Maybe Schemer is trying to buy the failing railway. I mean if their going to go with the skeezy buisness douche cliche at least make it the guy you already have who would defintely do that if he could. Give him Boomer as a boss if you want. It keeps the tension, the two worlds element and mr c going back and forth as he could've taken Mara Wilson to shining time to go on the hunt to save the station. Give her an attachment to it. Make Burnett stone a conductor. You don't have to throw everything out, but simply lowering the stakes would've made this a more coherent film. I"m not sure how GOOD it woudl've been bu tit would've been a better Thomas Movie, a better shining time movie and something people would've actually wanted to see.

Instead it's a mess that changed Thomas as a whole, with Britt's failures here leading to her stepping down and eventually the company being purchased by HIT. But more on that another time for now we can put this train to bed. These reviews have been exausting as I don't want to be negative but these films, both cuts, are hot garbage. one just makes more sense. Hopefully if the proposed thomas film goes through they get it right... until then all we're left is a mess of what could've been and alec baldwin on cocaine.

Next Time: Turns out there is one as we have a new plan. I'll be covering season 6 sometime later this year, season 7, then teaking a break while Lachey figures out the rest of the schedule and I cover venture bros seasons 4b- the end. Thanks for reading

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #thomas and the magic railroad #mara wilson #peter fonda #alec baldwin #mattel #britt alcroftt #childrens media #the 2000s #Youtube

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echodrops · 1 year

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Hi! I started reading Home and a Half in 2018, and after all these years it never really left my mind. It’s a beautiful work, and I remember waiting and checking for an update for so long until life got in the way. I haven’t been in the fandom for years, though Voltron has a special place in my heart. Recently I started writing again and stalking my old works and bookmarks and came across the fic. I wondered if it was going to be continued? I can’t check the time stamps of your other posts explaining the situation so I’m not sure if there’s any recent updates in 2023. I’m sure me and others would love to know. I hope all is well! ¨̮

Thank you for your kind, kind words about the fic. I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it and thought of it again after years!

As for the question of whether the fic will be updated again, the answer is yes? Probably?

Unfortunately, I also left the Voltron fandom years ago, honestly before season six of the show even dropped (because of how awful the writing became), and the thought of dedicating hours upon hours to writing what would inevitably be 150k+ more words for a fandom I'm not even in anymore is kind of exhausting. I have such a tiny, itty-bitty amount of free time to enjoy my hobbies; I'd really much rather spend time writing fic for fandoms I'm currently actively part of...

However, that said, HaaH was and remains a labor of love for me, one that has very little to do with the events of the show as they ultimately unfolded, to the point that I'm almost inclined to view the entire cast of characters in the fic as original characters, for how little bearing the official canon of the series has on the fic. I'm also extremely loath to leave things unfinished, especially something that so many readers enjoyed.

So, all told... My intention is to continue working on and eventually updating Home and a Half. Since 2017, my life has been one unending parade of crazy, and I don't have the time or energy to really continue the fic right now, but it is still my intention to do so in the future!

I'm sorry I can't give a more definitive answer than that, but I hope one day soon I'll have better news!

#Home and a Half #HaaH VLD #voltron fanfic #echo answers asks

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lunarisdog · 1 year

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" Now , I know you're not fond of this day as you don't care to acknowledge it , but . . . " Micah places a small box on the table before Warlock , offering him a small smile , their gaze soft , eyes ever bright . " I wanted to get something nice for you at least — we don't have to celebrate the day if you don't want to . I can understand . . . but either you want to open the box or keep it aside , whenever you're ready to open it , I will always be here to see you with the gift in hand . " They dip their head to Warlock , planning to leave him alone in his home for the rest of the day . " I am happy that we got to meet , Warlock , " says Micah , gentle , genuine . " And you may not be , but know I am just as grateful that you exist . " That he is still alive , trying to live in the universe that does not care for him , in the world where there are people like Micah themself who does care for him , always .

Warlock frowns at Micah who is giving him the gift . In steel silence , he analyses the small object with a pretty wrapping and lovely bow . An amused snort leaves Warlock at the thought that they had put so much effort in this gift , though genuine curiosity begins to form deep in him the longer he question what Micah got for him , co-existing with the warm fondness that he would rarely feel for anything in the world since the darkest day of his husband's passing . He appears disinterested wearing his black shades , looking at anywhere but Micah , yet he is listening to them closely , as much as he can , even as he can also hear the cries and screams from his past . He fights against it , not wanting his memories to spill over the present — what should be a special moment for just him and Micah , only .

" Micah , " he says , strangely soft , as to stop them from leaving the room . Gently , slowly , he holds onto his . . . gift with great carefulness , almost like he will ruin it just by a touch alone . His expression twists . Uncertainty forms within him , then self - shame . He doesn't deserve this gift . Anything from Micah Xenowake . " Truly , you didn't need to do this for me . . . I swear to fucking God if you got me something shit expensive . . . " Warlock thinks he hears a laughter and it soothes his soul knowing it comes from Micah . Nothing of the haunting horrors near him . Chuckling along , a grin reaches his face and he tears the wrappings apart — his Awareness flickers and Warlock gasps , his hands shaky , the tearing unfinished . He can't look at Micah , but his reaction is more than enough to tell them he is . . .

Warlock collects himself and opens his gift , taking out the necklace with a star locket that bears a music box inside . He tears up — I am happy that we got to meet . . . and you may not be , but know I am just as grateful that you exist — and pulls Micah into an embrace , silently sobbing against the crook of their neck . There is nothing about him that would deserve this gift — anything from Micah . Even when he always tried so much to place a distance between them and himself , they have only ever come back to him , like they are a ghost or tale , a memory or a dream , his own dead soulstar — his grip on Micah tightens more , telling them to stay in his broken home and bruised heart that have been looking for a reason to live . " Thank you , Micah " he whispers , aching , falling and falling and falling —

" Thank you so much for being kind to me when the universe hasn't been . "

#ANTIGODEUS #|#happy fucking birthday to me #thank you so much for this prompt darling xoxo #they can certainly celebrate warlock's birthday together after this :) <3

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factorialsotherfandoms · 5 months

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TW: imprisonment, injury

Cellbit wakes to a blindfold, and chains around his wrists. On instinct he throws his weight forwards, only to find his ankles also chained, and nothing giving way. The chains are very short, pinning him against a cold, uneven wall.

He tries again, there's a crack in one of his wrists, and maybe he should stop that.

It might be broken, he isn't sure, but the pain is sharp and the cuffs leave no room for him to check. Not that it likely matters; he can't use it anyway.

His arms are chained too close and too high to reach his face, so the blindfold is staying on...

So, what else?

Panic is not an option; it's not the first time, and it's unlikely to be the last.

What does he know? He needs to focus, take measure, work it out.

The wall at his back is uneven. Cheap, concrete bricks. Large, too. The sort of big grey ones you use to build quickly with the intent to paint over, or to use in hidden places, but these are not painted. He doesn't think. With a little twisting he can rub a thumb against it - correct, unpainted. Just bare concrete bricks. Like a shitty, cheap basement.

His thumb also catches the edge of a metal plate, probably where the chain is attached. It's sharp, unfinished - iron joins iron as his thumb bleeds.

Bleeding thumb.

Cellbit concentrates on that a second, before trying something else.

What can he smell? Blood, iron, dust and damp. It's cold - it smells colder than it feels, somehow.

Anything else? He doesn't think so.

Listening, listening... There's a water pipe nearby, he can hear that. Someone elsewhere seems to be running a tap. Probably a hot one? He thinks he can hear a boiler too, though it's a little indistinct. He cannot hear redstone, or screaming, and he cannot smell rotten flesh, so at least the chance of torture is minimal.

Can he remember how he got here?

After a few moments of consideration Cellbit realises no, he cannot. Last he remembers is that he had been working in one of the Order offices. There's definitely a lump on his head and a splitting headache, though, so he thinks he can guess.

What else, what else...

He remembers a voice which said "good morning" and then "follow me".

A door opens, a door shuts. The doors are heavy, metal. The walls shake when they slam.

Footsteps are even, calm, purposeful - his captor, then.

Sure enough, sure enough, the footsteps stop at his door. Again something heavy opens.

This time, it does not close.

"Good morning," says a very familiar, robotic voice. "You have committed an illegal act."

Cellbit cannot help it - he laughs. An illegal act? That's all the stupid bear has to say to him? There's the sound of pen on paper, but blindfolded as he is he cannot read - not even take the book given the chains holding his hands fast.

The pen noises end, and Cellbit gets himself under control.

"Please read the book."

"How?" he asks, laughter creeping up again. "How do you want me to read, Cucurucho? I cannot even see!"

Up above, there is the sound of more footsteps. Three, maybe four, pairs. Faster, uneven, in short bursts and rapid. They're quiet, too - people sneaking.

There's a gunshot and a yell and Cellbit hides them both in manic laughter.

"Now."

Insistence does not change the fact Cellbit cannot see.

"How?" Cellbit asks.

"Why?" Cucurucho responds.

"Why what?"

"You have committed and illegal act. Why?"

"Maybe because you kidnapped me and my friends, trapped us on this island, and now make a habit of torturing us and murdering the children you gave us?" he replies, still not sure /which/ act he's being accused of.

"Why?"

Cellbit goes to answer, and hears another door slam open, and then shut. The quick footsteps are louder now - only two pairs this time, rapid movement towards the cell.

Upstairs, the other two pairs keep darting around.

Somewhere, an alarm goes off.

"What are you doing?"

The sound of stabbing, the jangle of keys, and then light footsteps are running while heavy ones chase and a gun keeps firing.

The other member of the pair slips into the cell, quieter.

They say nothing, but the keys jangle slightly.

One in each ankle, one in each hand.

The cuffs give way. Cellbit should remove the blindfold, but he cradles the broken wrist instead.

"Can you run?" a voice whispers.

Cellbit tries to walk, and stumbles, head spinning. He didn't realise he could see some light through the blindfold until his vision truly blacks out for a moment.

An arm catches him, guides him safely to sit.

"Shit, okay," a pause, a splash of a potion - it helps the sting, but not the wounds. "The others are running distraction, so we need to be quick. Can I carry you?"

Carefully he nods; Cellbit doesn't like the idea, but he doesn't have a better one.

One arm under his legs, and one behind his back, he's scooped up. No sooner is he safe in a friend's arms than he reaches up and tears the blindfold off.

Light hurts. He shuts his eyes. But at least this time, the darkness is his choice.

Cold turns to warm, damp turns to chemical, and then - finally - to fresh air.

He's out, now, and in the arms of someone he can't quite pinpoint but who must be a friend. His head wound smarts, his broken wrist hurts, he breathes deep and smells a flower field and with the sensation of a warp lets himself drift away.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp cellbit #roier got spotted so has to run distraction #i know who grabs him but eh i'll not tag and let you decide #passing out at the end was probably the wrong move for him #but he's definitely had more torture than he realises poor guy #mkay time to go watch decked out deep dives and wrap presents #then see if I can finish the 15th this afternoon...#or if despite prep time I'm cramming it again

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snifflesthemouse · 2 years

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It's been a crazy day...

If you live in the United States, you know why today is a crazy day. But this isn't going to be about that. Even though I really want to talk about it.

THIS POST will have to deal with the rumors flying regarding the potential for a second Oprah Interview.

Do you ever wonder why people like Amber Heard just can't help themselves? Let me fill you in. Of course if you're new here, I strongly suggest you take a look see around the blog and get familiar with my credentials. I speak with the authority of my own experience alone. I am also infamous for admitting when I am wrong, though. (If I get time to see the corrections). Assume everything I say is speculative opinions only. Unless I have proof to show you, it's my own opinion, kay?

One would argue that doing a second Oprah interview would be unwise for all parties involved. Many criticized O for not pushing or questioning any answers given by the couple. I, on the other hand, have had time to digest everything. I feel that, in a way, Oprah always meant to allow them the peace of saying anything they wanted.

For O, she was the one who got the cash from CBS and iTV for the interview. As you most all know, finding a legal version of that interview is difficult. Every other interview O did after the duo is easily found. Not that one.

Maybe it's because O is waiting for the right number amount before selling streaming rights. Maybe this was really an overt operation. Maybe O's loyalty lies with the real Royals, not the runaways.

Think about it for a moment. The O video was the first big interview the duo sat down for after leaving the UK and royal duties. Oprah's notoriety as a talkshow host is massive in the US. She, in a way, is the closest version of royalty the US has. Even our elected officials don't survive the distractions of American idiotism anymore. Only those billionaire names and faces that have taken up air space for generations really hold that esteem here.

But anyone like O could only get to where she is by being wiser than everyone else in the room. Meaning she wasn't being played when the duo spilled their "truth". She could've been playing them instead.

If I were a narcissist billionaire wanting to cement or refresh my place in American pop culture, an interview with a controversial person would do the trick (i.e. Amber Heard, H&M, etc.). The narc is going to want to get everything out of the con as possible. Some will give up when they know they're caught. Others will lean in more. My ex was the latter.

My ex would lean in even harder. He would argue that real victims would never stop crying. It didn't matter if they cried wolf or bear. They never stop crying because even one glance in their direction is enough to keep going. It's an addiction in its own rite. People get addicted to openly bullshitting others because they know nothing will ever be done. If there is any hope out there that just one person believes the bullshit, the narc will fight tooth and nail until there are two believers. This is how we got to where we are today in many areas of society, but back to O.

She would know the real royalty is where the real value lies. She was still salty about not getting that Diana interview way back. For a lot of Americans, Harry is the closest thing to Diana they can get. Weird, I know. But still. The second son of Diana, Princess of Wales is way better than nothing. Even if the wife comes, too. BUT AGAIN... This could've been an opportune moment for a person like Oprah.

She would've seen the benefit in letting them ramble on and say anything they want. Especially if what they were saying could - and would- eventually be proven as a lie. O wasn't the liar in the interview. She was just a "safe space"... remember?

It could be entirely possible that O was really doing the BRF a big solid by allowing them to get their own nonsense out there. If there is a second interview, it would only be to finish the job left unfinished. Or just a big cash grab.

I wholeheartedly believe that O would only do a part two of an interview with strict stipulations. That would include cross examination most likely. O doesn't like being made a fool.

Narcs recognize narcs, and they will work together in tandem if it means everyone benefits. O gets her money either way. She's not the one lying.

It would be easy to think she allowed them enough water in the swimming pool to drown themselves. Otherwise, she risked her entire career for two fibbers and their truths.

OH A SIDE NOTE... How someone feels through something is one thing. Lying about things that can be proven to be lies is just lying. I am not debating her mental health issues while in the royal fam. Truth is, narcs love themselves too much to ever commit suicide. See The Thing About Pam.

Anyway... if the interview is going on, I doubt Netflix will get the rights to it. O would go bigger. I suspect they'll either be fired or have already been here in the last couple of days. It would justify the chin uppers coming from Nacho Man.

IDK... I think Gayle King would take the second one. She is owed that much for peddling for the Sunshines...

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ohhalefire · 1 year

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I posted 4,878 times in 2022

That's 2,979 more posts than 2021!

64 posts created (1%)

4,814 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@clotpolesonly

@princessrhcenyra

@greyhavenisback

@usergrantaire

@arthurpendragonns

I tagged 4,878 of my posts in 2022

#teen wolf - 1,560 posts

#otp: interspecies idiots - 738 posts

#marvel - 381 posts

#i could give queue all that i have - 352 posts

#disney - 293 posts

#text post - 247 posts

#stranger things - 243 posts

#lord of the rings - 137 posts

#merlin - 125 posts

#doctor who - 122 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#her having to hide her condition is just one of 578392753892 examples of people having to hide disability in the entertainment industry

My Top Posts in 2022:

Derek Hale for the headcanons :)

[ from this post ]

hooooooo friend do i have some headcanons for you~

Headcanon A: realistic

Okay, so, hear me out: if we're following general rules of story structure and character development arcs (which I recognize JD never really did, but this is a theoretical, mental exercise anyway in which we wave a magic wand and have all the cast members and creative control we want, so bear with me), if we had more canon Derek content, he'd have eventually become an Alpha again.

Aside from the obvious need for sterek and him learning that his love doesn't necessarily equal pain, any other of Derek's personal arcs are pretty complete (for better or for worse). By the end of the show, he hates himself less, learns to trust people, etc. The one little loose end that isn't tied up before he leaves? It's that speech he gave - the "they get to be a name on our deadpool" speech.

That's... that's Alpha as fuck. It's out of left field. And we never explored that.

So Derek was raised in a house where his older sister was essentially groomed to be the perfect Alpha from childhood. He was literally born to be her beta, and not given the Alpha education she was. When he becomes an Alpha in canon, it's for a lot of reasons, sure (power, protecting Beacon Hills from the coming Alpha pack, etc) but it’s also out of necessity, and with an attitude of "I'm the best option out of all these other, very bad options". Of course this self-hating loner would be terrible at it: he learned from a young age to trust nobody and tell nobody anything, and we know from watching Scott that a good Alpha must trust their Pack implicitly.

But he's learned to trust Scott and the Pack by the end of the show. He learned how to be a good Alpha by being a good beta.

And yet, he's still a loner. He comes and goes. He can't commit to staying with the people he cares about - can't commit to letting them stay close at all, even geographically. This is clear in the finale episode, when Scott says something about how some people are not always there, but come when they're needed, which implies that Derek would continue to come and go even once Monroe is dealt with.

If you're writing a story arc for a character... isn't that incomplete? Isn't the finale of that arc coming to a time when he can actually keep people close, and stay that way?

There's a concept in storytelling called 'the lie the character believes', and it is supposed to keep the character in question from becoming the person they were meant to be - the person they, ideally, end up being at the end of the story (if that's the type of arc they get, and not a spiral-into-darkness type arc). The lie Derek believes is that he can't stick around anyone or get too close, or people will get hurt. That's clear. But if nothing about his life palpably changes when he eventually unlearns this lie in a theoretical future plot for him, then there is no point to finishing this unfinished story at all. Therefore, he needs have a profound change to his life to reward him for learning this - ie, becoming an Alpha again. (Yes, him just having a fulfilling relationship is also a profound change he could have to his life, but if that's the only change, then it doesn't address that Alpha-AF speech that was the unfinished thread that started all this in the first place.)

How would this work in a possible future arc? Welp, I do have LOTS of opinions about it, but I am kind of writing a really massive fic featuring this very plot, so stay tuned, I guess~

Again, obviously, TW has a long history of NOT following story structure, of dropping arcs, etc. This is just a headcanon about where I personally would go if I were handed this story and told "finish it" with no limitations. :P

(Also, of course, the other unfinished thing is that he's nailed his heart shut in a box and won't let anyone touch it, and Stiles can open it right back up~)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Derek actually really likes halloween. It's his favourite time of year.

He would never admit to liking pretty much anything - he has a grumpy sourwolf reputation to uphold, after all - but it's the only time of year when he can flash his eyes and his fangs in public and not be afraid of the repercussions. It's like Werewolf Pride month for him: a safe(r) time to go outside as the person he really is, without hiding it.

But don't get me wrong - he wouldn't be caught dead in a costume. Unless Stiles twisted his arm :)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

When everyone forgets Stiles, so does Derek. And briefly, that turns him into an omega.

He's forgotten Peter, too, and while that means that he forgets he had any living family save Cora (because it means he forgets he and Malia are cousins), that doesn't affect him the way forgetting Stiles does.

He's in South America, as far away from home as he can be without an ocean in the way... and yet suddenly he barely remembers what home even means. He struggles to keep his connection to Scott - barely remembers why it was even there, though he knows he would have died for that kid at one point - and tries to bond to the Alpha that Cora's with instead to try to make up for it, but it doesn't work. He is unmoored, untethered, adrift.

And then he takes to floating in pools.

Again, I might write a canon-compliant fic about how I think he actually helped pull Stiles back into reality remotely by floating in said pools to remember him, so I won't go farther, but yeah

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

I am a very fix-the-canon type of person, so most of my thoughts on TW are canon-compliant, but I do have this to offer:

Derek has read a whole bunch of Star Wars novelizations because Stiles won't stop going on about the movies. He won't watch the films... but some of those books are pretty good. :P

35 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

okay sterek fic readers, reblog and drop in the tags what sterek fic/fics you've read that have made you cry. i don't wanna know why, or what you like about them, or even whether or not it's a fave fic, i just want a list of sterek fics that bring people to tears

61 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

When Derek dies, he wakes up in Bardo.

He’s still leaning up against that little ruined wall he died on - maybe it came here with his consciousness or something - but there’s no doubt that this is the place Scott described back when he first activated the Nemeton. Bright white fluorescent lights buzz overhead in a vast, low-ceilinged room, both endless and claustrophobic. The whole place is white; impossibly, there are no shadows.

Derek tries to sit up, but his body seems to creak. There’s no pain anymore - not when death is so close, is already here, has already come--

Jesus, he’s freaking dead--

--but every atom of his body is screaming against the movement anyway, like his muscles have been replaced with cotton balls and his bones are made of lead.

_________________________________________

Or, how Derek finally learned to transform into the wolf... and why it took him being kinda dead to do it.

89 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

omg friends i put "stiles stilinski and derek hale kissing" through a bunch of art AIs and they did NOT DISAPPOINT

See the full post

124 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey love i am a constant satellite of your blazing sun my love i obey your law of gravity

283 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr #text post #long post #personal

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