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#just a bunch of projection which again the show is at fault for too
somelazyassartist · 1 year
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#i know I've been venting a lot recently and I'm really sorry but i am. so stressed out with my job right now#for multiple reasons and it sucks so bad#and it just got worse a bit and so I'm conflicted with what I'm supposed to do#because i WANTED to give myself a later deadline so i can take the Etsy stuff slower#because you know!! already stressed about that and tons of other stuff!!#but now i feel like i have to push my deadline up even further than it was before because of some stupid bullshit#pardon my language. it's not anybody's fault. it was two cases of website malfunctions.#I'm not ranting about the people working at either place because they weren't in control of it I'm just kinda mad about the issues itself#cuz i made a bunch of stuff for the Shoppes right?? but it turns out!#there was an issue in the system which meant they couldn't sell anything and nobody thought to tell me until i asked why my stuff wasn't up#and so that's like. 3 cloaks‚ 8 hats‚ and 4 plushies that i could've sold on Etsy a month ago that just never were up for sale#and today at Joann's i had a few issues with mechanical based issues too!#so i went there to get more supplies because if the shop isn't selling i need more stock to sell online to make up for it right?#so i put in half my order for pick-up and was going to get the rest while i was there because i had coupons for both#soooo. the other things i was going to get there were said to be on sale. and then i find out there#that the website hadn't updated right and the sale was cancelled early. so i paid way more than i thought i was going to#and! since the website wasn't updating right! the order i put in for pick up didn't show up in their system until too late in the day!#so i have to go BACK to pick up the half of my order i already paid for and didn't get today#and again since the website didn't update some of the things that it said were in stock sold out in this store so i have to get them online#which is another bit of money I'll have to spend to finish the projects i got fabric for today#i know worrying and stressing isn't going to do me any good#i know that i should probably just sleep this off (if I'm able to) and sort things out tomorrow when I'm feeling better#but it's just kinda upsetting already having a lot of other personal issues i don't want to talk about publicly to deal with#and then having issues with my job and only way of making money on top of it#i know it's a small stupid thing to be upset about#but it's like a needle in a haystack but if the haystack was also all needles#sure i can fix that problem-needle but i hurt myself on every other little problem-needle i have to dig through#it's just so many little things and it all just has been wearing me down. and i know it'll be fine eventually but it still sucks right now#vent#again I'm sorry for venting so much i just kinda have to get this one thing I'm comfortable talking about off my chest
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turtle-paced · 1 year
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Revisiting Chapters: Cersei VII, AFFC
Nobody can say this chapter isn’t memorable.
The story so far…
Cersei’s working on isolating and conquering her enemies, most of all the Tyrells. Sometimes other problems pop up too. It’s probably the Tyrells’ fault again.
This chapter contains discussion of rape and a rape scene.
Whoever Wins…
The narrative picks up as news of what’s been happening in the Ironborn subplot hits King’s Landing. Specifically, a thousand ships have rocked up and started wreaking havoc on the Shield Islands. Margaery’s saying as much. 
Well. Cersei knows what’s serious business.
Must, she thought. She dares say “must” to me. She itched to slap the Tyrell girl across the face.
Cersei’s counsellors immediately start saying that the thousand-ship count cannot possibly be correct. That’s just too many ships!
The reason for the general unpolished look of everyone here is explained as Cersei narrates how everyone was woken up in the middle of the night by Margaery’s messengers. Margaery’s described as looking “as though she had just come from some man’s embrace” which is some great projection there from Cersei. More worryingly to her, Cersei’s feeling as though the walls are closing in on her.
My enemies are everywhere, and my friends are useless.
Who appointed these friends to the Small Council, you ask? Let’s not dwell on technicalities.
Anyway, back to the thousand ships. Aurane Waters points out that even if there are only half as many ships, that’s still a lot of ships, and the fleet he’s constructing isn’t ready yet. And even if it was, he reckons that the Iron Fleet still has ships to match most of those the Iron Throne and they have way better sailors than anything the Iron Throne can match. Can’t just stick a bunch of randoms on a boat and expect them to be able to sail it, after all. Cersei’s takeaway from this is that Robert should have killed more Ironborn.
That was what her father would have done, but Robert never had the stomach that a king requires if he hopes to keep peace in the realm.
Maybe Tywin would have killed more Ironborn, and maybe Robert’s approach to the Ironborn was fatally flawed (I suspect it was flawed more in terms of follow-up after the decisive defeat of the Ironborn in the Greyjoy Rebellion), but that doesn’t do much about the thousand or so ships currently menacing the Reach.
The details here are concerning. Aside from just a thousand ships. The sheer scope indicates that this is an invasion, not a raid. The fact that the Ironborn set up replacement lords for the ones they killed indicates that this is an invasion, not a raid. They had the capacity to avoid the coasts, heading for the open sea, before swooping back in. It’s bad news. It’s really bad news. 
The other thing that rapidly becomes apparent here is the extent to which Margaery is on the ball. They’re her messengers. Willas sent news to her. And we can see why. She’s across the major noble casualties and their significance, the Ironborn response, the tactics Willas reported to her,  what Willas plans to do in response, and the action she needs from the Crown. Margaery might be young and relatively inexperienced, but this entire scene shows that her competence isn’t limited to just political imagery. Margaery could actually be a very good queen in her own right.
By contrast, Cersei needs a drink. Her alcoholism progresses. On a political level, it’s not much better. She also blames Willas (with a delightful frisson of ableism), because he’s a Tyrell and clearly incompetent. She immediately attributes this to Stannis.
Pycelle frowned. “What would Lord Stannis gain by…”
While Orton Merryweather tells Cersei that she’s so clever, Pycelle has more questions. Specifically, he notes that cooperating with the Ironborn would hamstring Stannis’s efforts with the Northerners. Cersei rebuts this by saying that clearly Stannis has thrown in the towel on winning over the North and changing his tactics to recruiting enemies of the North, but if that’s so…what are the Ironborn doing raiding the Reach, while still maintaining their halfassed Northern actions? There’s no way to slice it so this makes sense.
When Margaery says that they must recall Mace Tyrell and lift the siege of Storm’s End, it gets worse:
“I have no doubt that Lord Stannis would be pleased by that. Have you been listening, my lady? If he can draw our eyes away from Dragonstone and Storm’s End to these rocks…”
This is where Margaery’s composure breaks slightly.
“Rocks?” gasped Margaery. “Did Your Grace say rocks?”
Loras can’t restrain his sarcasm as he manages a slightly fuller explanation, being that taking the Shield Islands gives the Ironborn a base to menace the Oldtown, the Arbor, and even Highgarden.
Cersei’s response is to tell Loras that this sounds like a you problem. She further suggests that maybe Willas could ferry any troops he raises across to the Shield Islands with skiffs and barges and fishing boats. If you think this is a stupid idea, well.
“And when the longships of the ironborn descend upon our ragtag fleet as it is making its way across this ‘little stretch of water,’ what would Your Grace have us do then?”
Drown, thought Cersei.
So does Cersei. An intentionally stupid idea intended to get as many people of the Reach killed as possible. Alternatively, the Tyrells can spend big on sellsails. With a thousand (or five hundred) ships bearing down on Cersei’s realm, four strategically important islands captured, Cersei’s aim here is to get some of her only allies killed. Without a plan for, you know, repelling the invasion of her shores.
Now, both Tyrell siblings present are utterly appalled, because they wanted Cersei to command Paxter Redwyne to send his ships to do something about the Iron Fleet, even if that means breaking the siege of Dragonstone. As well they might be appalled. As Cersei flatly denies this request and brings the audience to an end, Pycelle too seems like he was stunned into silence, as Cersei mentions him snapping back to attentiveness. 
Appalled or not, Loras now takes unreasonable action in order to appease someone who has proved to be unreasonable. He takes a step towards Cersei - the nerve of him! Cersei is ready to yell for Osmund Kettleblack to defend her from Loras’s vicious walking - but everyone can relax, it’s a false alarm. Loras is, in fact, begging on bended knee to mount a suicidal assault on Dragonstone. He swears that Dragonstone will be Cersei’s within two weeks. And if that siege is ended, then Cersei can freely do something about the massive invasion force bearing down on one of the realm’s breadbaskets as they head into winter.
No one had given Cersei such a lovely gift since Sansa Stark had run to her to divulge Lord Eddard’s plans.
Successfully tricking an eleven year old might not objectively be the flex Cersei thinks it is, but it is however about the right level of flex for the clownery Cersei’s currently indulging in. Hooray! Cersei has successfully rid herself of one of Tommen’s very few competent bodyguards, arranged for allied forces to cut themselves down on a castle they don’t need to fall right this instant, further alienated her political allies and advisors, and ignored a full scale invasion. 
Pycelle’s not getting it though. As Cersei monologues to herself about how clever she is to have arranged to blow up her own side, to the point of full blown cartoon villain laughter once she’s out of Tyrell earshot, he’s trying to keep pace with her.
“Your Grace?” Grand Maester Pycelle blinked, his mouth sagging open. “Why…why would you laugh?”
For good measure, Cersei also tosses in the fact that Pycelle got the stunned mullet act on when she notified him of her not at all going to end in disaster arrangement with the High Septon. Imagine that. She’s thinking about replacing Pycelle, too, because someone whose response to Cersei’s decisions in this opening scene was ‘huh - what - why???’ is clearly not keeping up with Cersei and her cunning plans.
Side Projects
Cersei’s night is still not over. Qyburn’s talking replacements for Loras. He has one in mind. It may or may not be zombie Gregor Clegane.
“What he lacks in gallantry he will give you tenfold in devotion. He will protect your son, kill your enemies, and keep your secrets, and no living man will be able to withstand him.”
Sold! Cersei’s already ordered the plate from the armourer. They’re another over-cautious fool who’s saying things like “but physics! Human anatomy! They don’t work like that!”
After reporting in to Taena Merryweather, Cersei’s not quite ready to go back to sleep when guardsmen knock on Cersei’s door again. Cersei tries to say that it’s freaking late here and she needs to sleep, but the guard says that Falyse is “not in a good way.” So Cersei gets dressed and goes to meet with Falyse Stokeworth.
Sure enough, Falyse is indeed not in a good way. She’s crying, bruised, and her dress is torn, and the only thing she can say until Cersei gets a flagon of wine in her is “he killed him.” It turns out that this refers to Bronn, who killed Falyse’s husband Balman. Balman had the genius idea of challenging Bronn to single combat.
“He said it would be s-s-simple. The lance is a knight’s weapon, he said, and Bronn was no true knight.”
Classism here has done Balman in. Cersei immediately spots that Bronn’s not a knight, no, but someone who is very good at killing other people in a range of circumstances. Knights included. Bronn simply killed Balman’s horse (the poor horse!) and let the horse crush Balman. He then forced Balman to confess before finishing him off, hitting Falyse across the face, and ordering her to leave Stokeworth. Falyse’s guards told her that she should do as Lord Stokeworth said. So now Falyse is here, asking for Cersei’s help to retake Stokeworth. Cersei is less than pleased with the blithering idiots she called upon to quietly assassinate Bronn. 
Who asked these particular blithering idiots to quietly assassinate Bronn, you ask? Let’s not dwell on those technicalities either.
The upshot of all this is that Cersei’s lost Stokeworth. She can’t send people to retake it, because she can’t risk fighting right outside King’s Landing under the circumstances. Instead she just has to take the L and work on damage control. Damage control here meaning that she just hands Falyse over to Qyburn. Truly, there are no other ways Cersei could obtain Falyse’s silence.
Alone again, Cersei repeats the sentiment that she’s surrounded by idiots. Even Jaime. She needs another drink to cope.
Thus fortified, Cersei’s narration heads back into self-justification. Bronn’s no more than an annoyance (then why assassinate him? Just because he pissed Cersei off? Sure, that’s reasonable) and she’ll swat him like a fly when she only has the chance. A bit of revenge fantasy, and then she decides she’s done thinking about Stokeworth.
So that’s definitely fixed then. 
Taena had drifted back to sleep by the time the queen returned to the bedchamber, her head spinning. Too much wine and too little sleep, she told herself. It was not every night that she was awakened twice with such desperate tidings. At least I could awaken. Robert would have been too drunk to rise, let alone rule. It would have fallen to Jon Arryn to deal with all of this. It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert.
And thus ends a successful night of ruling for Cersei. But she’s not done with being king yet.
The King’s Rights
This chapter takes place in the course of a single night, and Cersei wants nothing more than to go back to bed. So we do learn a bit about Cersei’s sleeping habits and preferenes. She outright says that she doesn’t like sleeping alone, but on the flip side, she also hates other women just that much. 
None [of Cersei’s bedmaids] had pleased her, and few lasted very long. Little sneaks, the lot of them. Vapid, weepy creatures, always telling tales and trying to worm their way between me and Jaime.
Chalk another one up for Cersei referring to women as non-humans. In this case, ‘creatures’. Anyway. Cersei hates her bedroom, because Robert would occasionally visit her in it, and notes that in terms of temperature Taena’s much the same as Robert with the bonus of no rape! Isn’t that nice. There is, however, another side to this:
Of late, [Taena] had shared the queen’s bed more often than Lord Merryweather’s. Orton did not seem to mind…or if he did, he knew better than to say so.
Not Cersei’s bed, the queen’s bed. The use of rank reminds the reader of the power differential. Cersei wants Taena there for her own comfort, and so Taena goes. In this case, it’s also a reminder of when and how a woman can overrule a man. 
On the political intrigue front, the narrative also recounts just what Cersei tells Taena about what was said in that council. Oh, sure, Cersei tells Taena not to betray her trust, with a reminder that she can and will hand Taena over to Qyburn. Taena responds with a not suspicious at all declaration that the only reward for her service she wants is Cersei’s affection. “It pleases me to please you,” Taena says.
This is when Cersei starts thinking about Taena’s body. Note that a good chunk of this description is all in reference to Cersei’s own body - Taena’s breasts are larger than Cersei’s, Taena herself is younger than Cersei. It’s a sexual description, but remarkably free of attraction. What Cersei’s wondering is this:
She wondered what it would feel like to suckle on those breasts, to lay the Myrish woman on her back and push her legs apart and use her like a man would use her, the way Robert would use her when the drink was in him…
This prompts Cersei to think back to her sexual relationship with Robert, by which I mean his repeated rapes of her. She doesn’t use the word rape, but it’s nevertheless clear that this was what it was. Cersei did everything she could do avoid penetrative sex with Robert, instead trying to bring him to orgasm in other ways, knowing he’d fall asleep soon afterwards. She thinks of herself as helpless during the instances of penetrative sex, and what she recalls is that afterwards she was sore and that she’d only been aroused by him the one time in the course of their fifteen-year marriage.
Cersei raised this with Robert, and his response shows the depths of his moral cowardice:
“It was not me, my lady,” he said, in a sulky sullen tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. “It was the wine. I drink too much wine.” To wash down his admission, he reached for his horn of ale.
[…]
He did remember what he did to her at night, she was convinced of that. She could see it in his eyes. He only pretended to forget; it was easier to do that than to face his shame. Deep down, Robert Baratheon was a coward.
Cersei is dead right about that much.
There’s a brief interruption while Cersei deals with her second late-night meeting. When she comes back she picks up where she left off - thinking about rape. Then committing it, outright re-enacting what Robert did to her. She starts by pinching and twisting Taena’s breasts, something Cersei recounted that Robert did to her, and when Taena protests, Cersei says that it was the wine. So she continues hurting Taena,
“I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.”
This is rape. The point in what Cersei’s doing was to rape Taena. She deliberately did not ask before initiating sexual content. She deliberately ignored Taena’s stated discomfort. She deliberately invoked her status as queen while continuing to touch Taena. While Taena might have been expecting Cersei to make sexual advances on her at some point, and while she might be aroused, neither of those things is consent to this scene. This was entirely Cersei’s point. She negated the possibility that Taena might consent, because she doesn’t want Taena’s consent.
Earlier in the chapter, Cersei thought ‘Ser Loras lusts for glory as real men lust for women.’ Which is classic toxic masculinity, complete with the homophobia inherent to that toxic masculinity. So here we see Cersei trying to be that ‘real man’ in raping Taena, as she herself was raped.
She gets no sexual pleasure from it, nor any peace. Cersei continues comparing herself to Robert, searching for whatever pleasure he got in violating her, hoping to understand why. All she finds is further contempt for Robert. The sex scene in the present is mixed with Cersei’s memories of the past - specifically in how Cersei cleaned up afterwards, imagining it as “eating Robert’s heirs.” Not even the most violent of Cersei’s fantasies can do anything for her sexually in this situation.
In the end, Cersei thinks that sex had only ever been good for her with Jaime (whose absence is understated but noticeable throughout the chapter, depriving Cersei of both the political and sexual partner she imagined). She does not allow Taena to touch her, rolls over, and goes back to sleep denying that this had ever happened.
Drunkenly raping her bedmate and deliberately forgetting/not-forgetting that it happened. Truly Cersei is a far better king than Robert.
Chapter Function
As far as who’s going where in places we don’t have PoVs but do have armed conflict, in this chapter we see the Ironborn advance Euron’s plans while the sieges of Storm’s End and Dragonstone are progressed. Narratively progressed, if not otherwise. We also get a major jump in Bronn’s subplot/running joke at Cersei’s expense, and further progress on Qyburn’s experiments.
Dealing with all these issues means that this is a hugely important chapter in depicting Cersei as a ruler. Her myopia, preconceived notions (fitting the facts to her theories, rather than allowing a theory to arise from facts), paranoia, cruelty, self-satisfaction and self-delusion combine here to create a freaking disaster. Several freaking disasters. Aside from, you know, an invasion, Cersei’s actions here continue her vendetta against the Tyrells, seriously compromising a coalition she needs in order to rule. And also loses her Stokeworth.
But most dramatically, we see how Cersei’s past affects her present. As much as she hates Robert, she also emulates him and seeks to exceed him specifically. Deliberately, in the case of her rape of Taena, in a search to understand her own trauma. Less deliberately in the case of the alcoholism. Other chapters in AFFC show how Cersei’s internalised the very worst of her father, reproducing all his flaws with very few of Tywin’s already-few virtues. This chapter shows how Cersei’s done the exact same with Robert.
There are few chapters in AFFC that show this comprehensively just how unfit Cersei is to rule, on every conceiveable level. This chapter hits just about every possible reason. It’s not without sympathy for her as a person, but it doesn’t change the fundamental point the narrative’s out to demonstrate. Cersei’s a terrible king and she shows no signs of ever getting any better. She cannot imagine how to be any better. She’s actively trying to be worse.
Miscellany
Just keeping track of what Cersei calls other people - note that she calls Margaery “my lady”. Margaery is the queen.
Of late, Cersei heard soft sounds, even in her own apartments. Mice in the walls, she would tell herself, no more than that.
I don’t know what’s going on with this, but there are a few possible explanations. One, paranoia. Two, they really are out to get her. Specifically Varys is out to get her, with his comprehensive knowledge of the Red Keep and desire to stoke Cersei’s paranoia as high as it will go.
Qyburn’s phrasing that the puppeteers Cersei gave to his custody are “quite used up” is fucking chilling.
Clothing Porn
None.
Food Porn
Bread, cheese, meat pie, and apples make a simple pre-torture meal for Falyse Stokeworth.
Next Three Chapters
Catelyn VI, ASoS - Bran II, ASoS - Tyrion V, ACoK
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heliads · 2 years
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Oh, thank you! I would like some Newt from Maze runner x reader? (Y/n) was being experimented on and got some cool powers with herself like the Scarlet Witch, she’s a prototype made by those scientists from the WCKD a bioweapon but someone was able to get her out before those scientists could harm her.
The guy who helped her escape taught her how to control it and even learn some self-defense. But sadly she got captured again, and she was thrown into the maze. She never felt safe around a bunch of strangers, then there is this one guy who managed to befriend her and it was Newt.
She trusted Newt the most, even though she wasn’t a runner. She would always be there to greet him, she liked him. Everyone could tell, and sometimes they teased her for it.
They never knew about her powers until Newt was going to kill himself but he got saved by (y/n) resulting his leg being limp? (Y/n) never left Newt’s side as she was always there for him and care for him.
this is making me think of marvel x tmr crossovers which would literally be so much fun
masterlist
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In all this time, you never really thought they’d put you in the Maze. This realization comes, of course, just a little too late; they’re already strapping you down to activate the Swipe, so your moment of contemplation is on the heels of the very action itself. Still, you weren’t wrong to doubt that this would happen. WICKED would never have put you in the Maze normally, but you forced their hand. If you think about it, this is all your fault.
Then again, was it? Was it your fault that you were kidnapped at a young age, taken away from your family for the sole reason that you were immune to a virus that nobody could understand? You did not ask for the experiments, the isolation, the dread of what would happen to you. No one in this world is innocent, but you at least didn’t deserve the fate that was forced upon you.
In truth, nobody deserves what you went through. Most of WICKED’s test subjects at least got to live facsimiles of normal, human lives while they were waiting for the Maze to be constructed. You know they did, you’ve been able to hear about the others while you were strapped into an operating room, waiting for your next procedure.
You, on the other hand? You were an entirely different project. WICKED never told you what they envisioned when they created you, but everybody knows the outcome. You can control objects with your mind, thanks to an excess of electromagnetic waves circulating your entire being. If you try hard enough, you can even manipulate other people, although that takes considerably more focus.
WICKED didn’t intend to make a superhero, however, they wanted a bioweapon. They can send you into rival enterprises and have you come out unscathed, bearing whatever technology or equipment they were missing. You’ve been allowed out on several such missions, and although you’re not entirely sure how many people you’ve killed whilst doing so, the number can’t be all that low.
You haven’t been on a mission in a long time, though. That’s because you escaped the last time around. They sent you out with a trainer they trusted to watch your back and take you down if necessary. Turns out your so-called controller was actually an agent of the Right Arm, and the second you left the borders of the WICKED complex he took down the other guards and told you that you were never going back.
It sounded perfect to you. WICKED had been holding back on their more invasive experiments, but you could tell they were frothing at the mouth at the thought of having a new, more exciting lab rat. They’d already taken their share of blood, skin, and bone marrow samples, now they wanted to cut you open and see what happened.
Luckily, your agent of the Right Arm got you out in time. He also taught you how to control your abilities instead of simply using them for destruction, the way WICKED showed you. Thanks to him, you can throw a mean punch without even having to tap at your powers, although you could use those in a heartbeat if you so desired.
You were supposed to be safe after that. No more WICKED, no more experiments, no more life locked away in the white tiled cells. However, if you thought WICKED would give up one of its prize possessions so quickly, you haven’t learned a single thing from your time in captivity.
They launched a reconquest attempt soon enough, pinning you and your agent between a rock and a horde of Cranks, so to speak. The two of you were out getting more fuel, and while you were on transit, WICKED Bergs trapped you in the air. Your agent tried to escape, but even his best flying wasn’t enough to outgun a half dozen other ships all trying to knock you down.
The last time you saw your agent, he was shot down by WICKED’s men. You had used your abilities to take out two or three of their Bergs, but it wasn’t enough. The attempt left you exhausted, and WICKED was able to administer a sedative while you were distracted in trying to save your friend.
Now, you’re back in the lion’s den, more alone than ever thanks to the ghost lurking in your memories. The man who’d saved you was a genuinely good person, and what did his heroics bring him except death?
As a punishment, you won’t be sent back to the labs, far from it. You can still picture the sadistic gleam in Janson’s eyes when he announced that you would be brought up to the Maze to live out the rest of your days with the rest of the boys. They’re quite far away from finding an exit to the seemingly never ending stone corridors, and both you and Janson know it.
This is a death sentence, and a torturous one at that. Sure, living even another day in the WICKED complex would have brought about constant agony and inhumane experimentation, but at least then you still had your memories. In installing the Swipe, WICKED is robbing you of your only experience with freedom.
You can feel the Swipe taking hold, and snap your eyes shut, holding on to the memories for as long as you can. The air had been oppressively hot out there during the day, thanks to the solar flares, but when night fell it was almost cool. WICKED built this complex in the less damaged north, and you’d even seen a few flecks of snow dusting the occasional scorched evergreen.
If you tune out the sounds of the machinery hissing and whirring beside you, you can almost pretend that you’re back out there, still free and flying to safety. The wind dusts your cheeks, bringing the scent of fresh air you’ll never breathe again. Ground beneath your feet had never felt so good. You swear you can hear the voice of your agent, explaining natural phenomena that lab rats like you weren’t familiar with, how he had an answer for everything.
This time, you don’t have to fight to keep your eyes closed, the Swipe is doing that for you. As the last of your memories fall away like so many flakes of snow, you bid a final goodbye to the only person to ever try to save you. Even when you won’t remember him, he would have wanted you to be happy. Maybe you’ll find someone who also wants you to be free up there in the Glade.
. . . 
It takes a while to wake up, perhaps because you feel as if you’re fighting yourself along with the crushing weight of unconsciousness. It’s like your mind is screaming at you to remember something that made you different, something that you cannot forget lest you lose yourself completely.
Your eyes open slowly, and you find yourself in a metal box rattling upwards at an incredible velocity. It tilts you about like a carnival ride, and the heavy darkness lit only by brief flashes of light makes you dizzy. The room rocks suddenly to the side, the contents along with you sliding along the ground. You fling out an arm to steady yourself, and then it happens.
Just as you extend your arm, a bolt of something shoots out of it. It’s not air, but some kind of force. Whatever it is, it slams a few nearby boxes against the far wall. You don’t know a whole lot about what’s going on, but you do know that things like this aren’t supposed to happen. You try again, but the same situation repeats itself. Whatever it means, you have some sort of abilities.
Using this strange power is starting to make your head ache like an invisible axe cleaving you in two. You claw at your temples, and just as the migraine reaches its worst, a memory flashes across your mind. You think it’s a memory, at least, you don’t have a whole lot of them to compare to this experience, but regardless, you believe you see a man from your past.
He’s across a snowy field, blood leaking from his mouth even as he forces a smile. He’s telling you to do something, to get away from here. Just as he finishes the sentence, a bullet slams into his heart and he falls without another word. You remember screaming, and then nothing. The memory vanishes back into the deep.
You don’t know what any of this means, and your panic only grows when the metal box comes to a sudden, jerking start. The ceiling is dragged off, and piercingly bright sunlight pours into the box, drowning you in brilliance. You shade your eyes with a hand, careful not to trigger the abilities anymore.
You can hear murmurs above you, likely by the same people that pulled the ceiling away. Seconds later, someone jumps into the metal box. His face is hard and angular, telling you of past fights that had better go unanswered by upstarts such as yourself.
The boy stares at you in shock. “I’ll be damned,” he says slowly, “it’s a girl. The Greenie’s a girl,” he shouts up to the crowd you can just now see gathered around the hole that had once been the ceiling of the box.
The boy seems stunned, but no more so than you. “What do you mean, I’m a girl?” You ask, careful to keep distance between the two of you. You don’t know who he is, but you want nothing to do with him unless you know for a fact that you can trust him.
The boy seems surprised by your reaction. “Well, we don’t get girls around here.” He frowns at you as if this lack of girls is somehow your fault. Perhaps it is, you would have no way of telling.
A voice yells something down from above. “Stop being such a git, Gally, and get her out of there.”
The boy– Gally– waves a hand at the shouter, but tosses a rope your way. The other end appears secured up with the other boys on the ground above, but that doesn’t make escape from this metal box any safer.
“Just climb up,” he says irritably, “we’ll explain everything once we get out of the Box. You aren’t the first Greenie we’ve had here, even if you are the first girl.”
You nod mechanically, and decide that getting away from this boy is worth the risk of traveling up there. You climb onto the rope, and halfway through the ascent, hands start to pull you up and out. You stand blinking in the sunshine, and your stomach drops the second you notice the massive stone walls blocking in the rest of this grassy clearing.
“That’s the Maze,” says a quiet voice from behind you, “it’s best if you stay away from there. Nothing good is beyond the Glade, trust me.”
You turn around to see a blond boy looking at you, his arms folded across his chest. You recognize the sound of his words as the boy who’d shouted at Gally earlier.
“What is this place?” You ask cautiously, “and why am I the only girl here?”
The boy shrugs his shoulders. “No one knows. Right now, you’re in the Glade. You just came out of the Box, new boys show up there once a month.”
“Except when they’re not boys,” you hazard, and the blond boy nods.
“Exactly. I’m Newt, by the way. You won’t remember your name at first,” he says hastily. Evidently panic over missing names is common, as the second your face starts to twist with surprise Newt hurries to calm you down again.
So, you nod, and try not to freak out any more than you already have. “Alright. I have no name and I’m in the middle of a massive maze.” And you have strange abilities that no one else seems to talk about. Life makes perfect sense.
Newt chuckles. “Well, when you say it like that, things sound pretty crazy.”
Somehow, you find it within yourself to smile back at him. “Do they usually not sound crazy?”
Newt grimaces. “We try to pretend otherwise. Don’t worry about the whole ‘only girl’ thing, though. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
You don’t need any of your missing memories to guess otherwise. Judging by the way the other boys are staring at you like a pack of wolves noticing fresh prey, you’re not going to blend in as easily as Newt claims.
Despite Newt’s optimism, your fears are confirmed. Even weeks afterwards, you still feel uneasy around the others. Alby is a good guy, as is Minho, but Newt remains the only one that you truly trust.
Even then, Newt’s friendship can’t protect you from the nightmares. At first, you thought the bad dreams were just that, dreams, but they feel far too real for you to doubt them now. In fact, you think they might be memories.
They only come in flashes, often repeating themselves, but even out of order you’re starting to put a picture together. You didn’t always have these abilities, someone gave them to you. A group of someones, doctors who didn’t seem to care that you were screaming at them to stop hurting you. You were locked up in their labs for quite some time, and then somebody saved you.
That somebody was the man you’d seen when you had that memory hit you in the box, the man in the snowy field. He had died just like you’d seen, and out of revenge, the doctors dumped you in the Maze. You can’t recall anything else, no matter how much you try to peruse your useless mind for something actually helpful, like a way out.
You suppose that you should be grateful for the dreams, as most of these boys are stuck without a single scrap of a memory. You even remembered your name far faster than the rest, isn’t that a good thing? Yet you still dread closing your eyes every night. The memories get darker with every sleep, and soon enough you force yourself to stay awake longer and longer, anything to push off that inevitable nightmare of your past.
You’re not the only one who looks like they could use a decent night’s rest, though. Newt, too, looks like a wreck, but no one seems to recognize this except you. Sure, he smiles when he needs to, and laughs good-naturedly when the other boys tease him about the fact that you clearly like him best, but the second everyone’s attention is off of him, Newt’s happy demeanor sinks like a stone.
You wish you could see him more, both to treasure his company and to check in on him, but Newt’s gone most days due to his job as a Runner. You wonder if that’s what’s making him so unhappy, that day in and day out he’s reminded of how futile a chance the Gladers have of actually making it out of here alive, but you never get the chance to ask him.
Meanwhile, you’re distracted by the mystery of your abilities. You still have no idea why you are the way that you are, and judging by the few memories you’ve been able to recover, none of the doctors really did either. You’re able to sneak out to the Deadheads for an hour or so every day before people find you, and you use that time to practice your gifts, honing them until you have complete control.
It occurs to you that you’re readying yourself for something, some test of your abilities that must surely come. You don’t know what that day will bring, nor when it will be, but at least you can do your best to be ready.
You don’t think the others are catching on to the fact that something’s wrong with you, but then again, their eyes never seem to go far past the surface. Newt is the only one who’s looked at you as more than a pretty thing, but he’s hardly aware of anything these days, too lost in a sinkhole of his own desolate thoughts.
It’s getting harder and harder to keep this secret, though. You trust Newt more than anything, and it hurts to keep lying to him about what you’re doing out in the Deadheads. Eventually, you reach the conclusion that you’re going to have to tell him, and it had better be today, before you talk yourself out of it.
You wait for Newt to come back from his daily run in the Maze, and soon enough he appears, jogging out of the Doors with his familiar brisk pace. He heads straight to the Map Room as tradition demands, and spends about ten minutes in there cataloging his every twist and turn.
The second you see him emerge from the Map Room, you start to walk towards him, keen on having this conversation before you can talk yourself out of it. However, Newt doesn’t see you at all. In fact, he hardly seems aware of anything but the ground a few feet in front of him. He looks more troubled than you’ve ever seen him, and something tells you that this isn’t right, not in the slightest.
You follow him quietly, but you don’t think Newt would be aware of your presence even if you were stomping around as loudly as an elephant. Most everyone is inside getting dinner, which means that nobody watches except you as Newt heads back inside the Maze.
The sight makes you stop short. There’s no reason Newt should be entering the Maze once more, especially when the Doors will close so soon. It’s against the rules for anyone but Runners to go past the Doors, but you know unconsciously that something terrible will happen if you let Newt go alone. So, with one final glance around you to make sure no one can see you, you slip inside the Maze for the first time and follow Newt. 
You’ve never had a chance to enter the Maze before, because despite the fact that you’re stranger than even Alby could imagine, you don’t break rules as obvious as that one. You’re stunned by how impossibly tall the walls seem inside here, the dismal gray stone stretching up to brush against the sky. 
Thick green ivy pours down the sides, giving the impression that the Maze has been here forever and will likely be here forever, too, remaining long after the Gladers either escape or die here within its walls.
A scuffling sound around the corner makes you startle, and you remember that you’re not here to gawk at the Maze but see what’s going on with your friends. You walk to the next corridor, and your heart leaps into your throat as you realize what’s about to happen.
Newt has climbed as far as he can up one of the stone walls, and he’s staring down at the ground now with a desolate expression that makes you shudder. His jaw is set, shoulders determined. Your mind fails to grasp that Newt is about to jump until the very second he pushes himself off of the wall.
You scream in horror, but Newt can’t hear you, the wind whistling too loudly around his ears. He falls fast, a marionette with its strings cut. A thousand images flash through your mind at once, Newt broken and bloody on the ground, never to get up again.
You throw your arms out before you know what you’re doing. Newt is falling headfirst, but with your abilities, he starts to turn, angling his legs towards the ground instead. His eyes flash with shock and confusion, but before he can figure out what’s going on, he’s taking a crash landing.
It will haunt you for months and even years afterwards, wondering if you could have done a better job of saving him. It took everything you had to make sure Newt didn’t die, and he did survive, but he wasn’t totally undamaged. One of his legs buckled wrong as he landed, and the sound of snapping bone echoed through the stone corridors.
You race to him, heedless of the cracks and fissures of the stone ground beneath your feet. Newt is unconscious, but he’s alive. That’s what matters. You throw one of his arms over your shoulders and use the force of your abilities to balance his weight long enough for you to carry his limp body out of the Maze. No one sees you exit the Doors, but they start to notice once you get further into the Glade.
Alby finds you first, and you watch as his face twists with grief as he takes in the sight of his friend. You lock eyes, and you realize that Alby has been just as aware of Newt’s struggles over the past few days. Both of you blame yourselves for this.
Alby calls for Jeff and Clint to get a bed ready in the Med-Jack hut, then helps you carry Newt the rest of the way there. Once Newt is safe, you’re practically tripping over yourself to get out of there. Something about the room, the enclosed sterile setting with that eerie scent of blood, is tripping up a thousand memories at once. You’re only aware of the desperate need to get out before it’s too late, and then you’re blinking in the dusk air outside the hut.
Newt doesn’t wake up until the next day, and doesn’t receive clearance to leave the Med-Jacks’ care until a week later. You don’t dare visit him the entire time, too afraid that he’d hate you for not giving him the one chance of escape from this place. Also, Newt had to know that you didn’t slow his fall through purely human means, and you don’t know that you’re ready to have that conversation yet.
Ready or not, it will be coming for you. You’re aimlessly wandering the Deadheads in search of a quiet place to practice your powers when a quiet voice echoes out of the woods from behind you.
“How long have you been able to do that?”
You snap your hand shut, causing a nearby stack of lumber to abruptly drop to the ground. When you turn around, Newt is standing there before you, a brace of bandages around his leg the only sign that something had happened.
When you remain silent, Newt indicates the lumber again. “How did you save me, Y/N? Be honest.”
You owe him your honesty, if not more, so you answer. “I have these abilities. I don’t know how to describe them, they're just there within me. I can control things.”
“People?” Newt asks, voice icy.
You nod once. “I think. I don’t remember how much control I had over them before I was sent up in the Box, but maybe.” You shoot him a cautious look. “Do you hate me for using them on you?”
Newt stares at you calmly. “You were trying to save my life, not hurt me. It’s not your fault that I made the choices I did. I was sick of this place, and in a moment of panic, I took the easiest way out. That wasn’t fair to you, nor Alby, nor any of my friends. Still, I did it.”
“You’re not alone, Newt, not like you think. You have us. I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but–”
Newt cuts you off. “But it is. One of these days, I’m going to thank you for saving me.”
If he can’t do it today, he doesn’t hold it against you. You can read that from his expression, as open as a book. Neither of you know where the story ends, but you can at least keep reading.
“Will you tell the others about what I can do?” You ask.
Newt seems glad to change the subject. “Not yet. I can understand why you’d want to keep that a secret, although it’ll probably get out eventually. It doesn’t make you a monster, though. Not to me.”
You laugh under your breath, the sound bitter and dark. “That would make one of us.”
Newt looks surprised by this. “Why would you think of yourself as a monster? What have you done with your gifts except save me?”
It’s your turn to be taken aback. “It’s not natural, what I can do. No one else has these abilities.”
Newt shakes his head firmly. “That doesn’t make you a monster. I have a feeling that’s just the Creators talking. You’re not a monster, Y/N, not to me. You have never been a monster.”
You smile quietly at him. “Nor have you been a monster to me.”
Newt seems to teeter on the edge of two vastly different worlds, and then at last he lays down his guard and takes your hand. “That seems fair to me.”
And it is. Regardless of what your futures will bring you, horror or peace, you can at least start them together. The two of you have much living to get to, and you intend to spend the next few lifetimes by Newt’s side.
requested by @oyasumimosura, i hope you enjoy!
tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100
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sequinsmile-x · 1 year
Note
Could I request a protective Hotch fic? He sees someone bothering/attacking Emily and intervenes, or notices a bruise and wants to know what happened....
This IMMEDIATELY inspired me, and you even got a banner , so here you go ❤️
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New Ways to be Awed Each Minute
He had always known she was beautiful
-x-
Words: 3.8k
Warnings: Smut, 18+
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
He had always thought she was beautiful.
It was one of the first things he noticed about her, and it had fueled some of the initial distrust of her, the annoyance he felt in her presence. Aaron knew even at the time that it hadn’t been fair. It wasn’t her fault he found her attractive, something that made him feel uneasy as his marriage crumbled around him, but it was easier to project that onto her than look inward. To see the gulf that had grown between him and his wife, to acknowledge that it was already over, even though it would take Haley several more months to serve him with papers.
By the time she did, he already trusted Emily just as much as the rest of the team, if not more. Everything he learnt about her, her kindness, her empathy, her wilfulness that often morphed into self-sacrifice in a way that made his breath catch every time, made her all the more beautiful to him. He was enraptured by her, and as time went on he realised he had been since the moment they met. His life unknowingly changed by the smile he now knew wasn’t her real one, but the one she put on for show, and a confident squeeze of his hand as she shook it.
She’d become his best friend somewhere along the way. The way she’d cared for him after Foyet was something he’d never forget, forever cementing her as someone he would trust with not just his life, but his son’s. She’d helped after Haley died, holding him and Jack together in a way he knows he would have been lost without.
Aaron had hoped they were edging towards more, hoping that he wasn’t reading too much into the way she sometimes looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Then Doyle happened, tearing through their lives with the same efficiency that he’d impaled her with, leaving destruction in his wake. Deciding to fake Emily’s death was one of the hardest things he’d had to do. There were days when he’d wished he had the ignorance that the team did, the knowledge that she was alive no comfort to him when he didn’t know if they’d ever get her back.
He learnt that standing over a grave he knew was empty was no different to standing over one that he knew wasn’t.
That was when he realised he was in love with her. The same feeling threatened to choke him as he stared at a stone with her name etched into it as it did when he stood over Haley’s grave.
When she came back things were different, she was different. Her promise to come to him when she was struggling became the thing that started to bring them back to each other. They became each other’s solid ground again, and everyone knew it.
Which was why the team always sent Emily to his office to convince him to join them for drinks. It’s how he found himself standing with the team in a bar not too far from work, all of them giddy that they had a few well-earned days off ahead of them.
“Look’s like Em’s made a friend,” Derek says, an amused tinge to his voice
Aaron scans the bar to find her and sees she’s standing by the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. A man is standing next to her, his hand on her arm as he leans in to talk over the loud music around them. The man is tall, handsome. The type he knew Emily would go for. He feels a surge of jealousy before he analyses the situation a little more closely. The man’s hand is a little tight around her wrist, given away by his white knuckles, and the way the material of her shirt bunches around his fingers. Emily is smiling at the man but isn’t her real one, it isn’t the one that Aaron would set the world on fire just to have thrown in his direction. There’s a tension in her frame, and her eyes flit across to the team, where they’d been standing all evening, and they meet his before she looks back at the man in front of her.
“I don’t think that guys a friend,” JJ says, clearly having spotted the same thing Aaron had, and she steps forward as if she’s going to intervene.
“I’ve got this JJ,” he says, stopping her in place with a quick smile as he takes a swig of his beer before placing the bottle down.
He makes it across the dancefloor in seconds, using his height and size to his advantage as he walks through the crowd. He doesn’t miss the relief on her face when he approaches, his face stern as he stands next to her.
“Everything ok over here, Em?” He asks her, but his eyes are fixed on the man who lets go of her arm but doesn’t make a move to leave.
“Yeah,” she replies, stepping back to lean into his side as if it was something they did every day, “I’m fine, honey.”
Despite how he’s momentarily paralysed by the scent of her, the warmth of her against him, he picks up on what she’s trying to do. He wraps his arm around her, his hand on her shoulder as he pulls her in impossibly closer.
“Glad to hear it,” he says, still glaring at the other man who simply rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering something Aaron is glad he doesn’t hear under his breath. As soon as they are alone he disentangles himself from Emily, turning so he is standing in front of her.
She watches as he switches from Hotch to Aaron, the anger he’d put on show for the man who’d accosted her outside the bathroom melting away into concern. She smiles at him, pretending she doesn’t feel the loss of his arm around her.
“Thanks for that, that guy wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she says, feeling the tension radiating off of him.
“Are you ok?” He asks, looking over his shoulder for the man that had walked away, “Did you get his name? I’m sure Garica could find-”
Emily chuckles and places her hand on his arm, squeezing his bare skin from where he’d rolled his sleeves up, and he pauses, looking back at her.
“Aaron, I’m fine. It’s just a creep in a bar, it happens.”
Aaron frowns, fury that this was something she was so used to she was dismissing it rolling through his chest.
“That doesn’t make it ok, Emily,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together, “It shouldn’t just be something that happens.”
Emily beams at him, and she squeezes his arm again before letting go and looping her arm through his, leading him back towards where the team were standing.
“I agree, but we aren’t going to fix all of society's problems tonight,” she quips, smiling up at him, “Now, let me buy my hero a drink.”
___
He insists on walking her to her door.
Emily playfully rolls her eyes at him as they exit the elevator on her floor, “I think I’m good from here, Aaron. I don’t think that creep knows where I live.”
“I’m just being cautious,” he says, smiling at her in a way that never fails to make her stomach flip, “You never know who might be lingering around a corner.”
She chuckles as she roots through her bag for her keys, “Well, I doubt Mrs Rooney who lives next door is going to try and grab me,” she sticks her key in the door and unlocks it, turning back to look at him as she does, “You may as well come in for a drink since you’ve come all the way up here.”
Aaron agrees with a nod, not wanting to leave her company any time soon, and follows her into the apartment. He stands aside as she closes the door and locks it before heading towards her kitchen.
“Beer? Scotch?” She asks, and he follows her, shrugging in response.
“Your choice.”
She smiles, “Scotch it is, Dave got me a really nice bottle and I’ve been waiting for a reason to open it,” she says, moving around her kitchen as she gets two glasses out, reaching for the bottle in question. He laughs and shakes his head.
“Someone should tell him that there are gifts other than…” his quip about their friend's gift-giving skills trails off as her arm stretches for the bottle of scotch. Her shirt sleeve shifts, revealing a bruise on her arm, fingerprints left behind where he had seen the man from earlier grasping her, “Em.”
“What?” She asks, and she follows his line of sight, putting the bottle back down as she pulls her sleeve further back to inspect the damage. She groans in irritation as she presses her fingers into the marks, relieved that so far they didn’t seem to hurt. “Son of a bitch,” she complains, as if it was a mere annoyance more than anything else, “I didn’t think he’d been quite that rough.”
Aaron rounds her kitchen counter and gently cups her elbow, bringing her arm closer to inspect it.
“Are you ok?” He asks, careful to not touch the bruise itself, “I knew I should have tried to get his-”
“Aaron,” she says, placing her hand over his on her arm, “It’s just a bruise, it’s fine.”
“It’s assault,” he replies, more venom in his voice than he means to. He sees a flash of something across her face, and he sighs, closing his eyes to centre himself, to remind himself it wasn’t her he was angry at. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” she replies, brushing off his unnecessary apology. She hates the look in his eyes, the over-the-top reaction to the injury she hadn’t even realised she’d endured. She offers him a smile, a small twitch at the corner of her lips. “I’m fine, I promise,” she says, squeezing his hand, “We both know I’ve survived worse.”
She immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say, his jaw tense as he lets go of her, and she sighs.
“Aaron-”
“You should never have had to survive worse,” he says, so quietly she almost misses it. “I should have…”
He drifts off, unable to put into words what he’d been feeling for months. He’d replayed her actions in the lead-up to her showdown with Doyle over and over in his head, desperately looking for things he could have spotted. As if the hindsight alone would have been enough to save her.
“You should have…what?” She asks, taking a step closer to him, a kind smile on her face that he’s sure he doesn’t deserve, “Seen what I was trained to keep hidden from you?”
He sighs, closing his eyes as he looks down at the kitchen counter, and he shakes his head at himself.
“I should have looked after you, realised something was wrong when you pulled back from me.”
“I didn't need you to look after me then.”
He looks up at her, surprised to find her even closer than she had been before. Emily was always careful with her words. She’d been taught from just about as early as she could talk how to reveal only what she wanted to. She never said anything she didn’t mean.
“Do you need me to now?” He asks, and he swears the air leaves the room, both of them staring at each other as if they were searching for answers in each other’s faces that they had been seeking for years.
“No,” she answers quietly, taking in a slow breath as she sees his body sag, his eyes closing again, “But I want you to.”
She sees the second her words register, his head snapping back up so quickly she’s sure it must hurt his neck. They stare at each other, the sound of their breathing the only noise in her apartment.
“Em…” he trails off, sure if he moves even a fraction, if he breathes a little too loudly, he’d snap out of this moment. Maybe wake up in his bed, this whole night a strange creation of his subconscious.
Emily smiles as she closes the final gap between them, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb skating over his lower lip. Her smile widens as she feels his breath skip over her skin, her eyes meet his and she can still see the question in them, the uncertainty, so she makes the decision for them both, and leans forward.
When their lips meet, it feels new but somehow familiar. Like everything they had done, everything they had been through, had led to this moment. A tender kiss in her kitchen, her sleeve still rolled up from where he’d been inspecting the small bruise that had been the final push they needed
It takes Aaron a moment to respond, but when he does he’s fierce. His hands grasp her hips as he pulls her closer, turning them so she’s pressed between him and her kitchen counter. She sighs, opening her mouth to lick along the seam of his lips, her hands moving as they meet at the back of his head. Her fingers trail through his hair as she holds him in place.
He kisses her back just as enthusiastically, making sure to remember as much about this as he could. The feel of her, the taste of her.
She moans as he licks into her mouth and it seems to reset his brain, making him pull back from her, his forehead resting against hers as she chases his lips.
“Em…”
“I think,” she says, breathlessly, licking her lower lip as she seeks out the taste of him still lingering on her skin, “I think we both know we want this,” she says, one of her hands slinking down his neck, grasping at the collar of his shirt, “And I think we both know this isn’t just a one-time thing.”
He closes his eyes, hope catching fire in his chest as he nods against her, his forehead gently knocking against hers.
“I’ve wanted this…you…for a long time,” he admits, his voice hoarse. She doesn’t know if it’s the barely restrained arousal she can see in his eyes or giving something so personal away that has him almost falling to pieces against her, but either way, it makes her smile.
“I want you too,” she replies, kissing him quickly, her smile widening at the feel of him holding her even tighter. She can feel him pressing into her thigh, and she heaves out a breath, and she cups his face again, “Please, Aaron.”
He doesn’t need asking again, surging forward and putting everything into the way he kisses her, leaving her moaning and breathless as she’s pressed between him and the counter.
“Bedroom,” he mumbles against her lips, and she nods, turning them and leading him down the hall of her apartment.
He’s behind her, his arms wrapped around her, one hand cupping her breast through her shirt as he kisses her neck, his lips trailing down to her collarbone.
She turns to face him the second they are in her room, making sure she flicks the light on so she can see all of him. For a moment they just look at each other, both taking in how everything was about to change.
He leans in to kiss her again, knowing he could never get bored of it. His hands drift from her hips and up under her shirt, making her gasp as his hands skim her waist, his palms scalding hot. He pulls her shirt up, only disconnecting his lips from hers to pull it off.
He had always thought she was beautiful, but he realises she was more than he could have ever imagined. Her pale skin over her peaks and valleys mesmerising to him in a way he knew he could, and later would stare at for hours. He takes a small step back to take her in, his eyes honing in on the scar above her left breast, just visible over the top of the cup of her bra.
He remembered reading her file after she was sent away, and could still taste the bitter anger as he realised Doyle had branded her. He hadn’t been able to picture it, his brain not allowing him to do so, but now he’s looking at it all he can think of is that it’s beautiful. Not because Doyle had taken any particular care, or because of the skin grafts she’d clearly had to try and cover it. But because it was made of her. The slight thickness of her skin there proof that she had survived.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she says, and he looks back at her face, a slight smile paired with a flush to her cheeks that he knew was everything to do with him, “and I’m used to it, I don’t even really notice it.”
She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it slip down her arms and down to the floor. He feels breathless for a moment, taken aback by her, before he steps forward, crowding her against her bed. He kisses her quickly before moving down her neck and chest, stopping to make a point of kissing her scar, sucking a mark next to it that makes her breath catch in a way that could be a laugh or a moan.
He pays attention to both of her breasts, making her throw her head back, her eyes closed as he licks at her skin. Then he kneels in front of her, kissing the scar beneath her ribcage. She grasps his head, her fingers tight in his hair at the strange sensation, her skin still partially numb.
“Aaron.”
He manoeuvres them so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her elbows as he carefully takes off her shoes before moving onto her pants and underwear, pulling them down her legs as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift.
She briefly thinks about the fact she’s now completely naked, and he’s still fully clothed, but her attempt to point that out is lost as he runs his hands back up her legs, his palms pushing at the inside of her thighs.
He takes her apart, expertly using his fingers and his tongue, his comments about how good she tastes lost against her thigh. It’s like he has a manual, or has studied her so intently over the years he doesn’t need to be directed. She’s still breathless, every single one of her nerves tingling, when he leans over her, kissing her cheek, her nose and then finally her lips.
“You ok?” Aaron asks, kissing her neck and she nods, laughing as she lifts her arm to cup the back of his neck, the collar of his shirt brushing against her skin. She kisses him, tasting herself on him, and she pulls back as she nods.
“I’m more than ok,” she kisses him again, biting at his bottom lip, “please take off your clothes.”
Aaron is sure he’s never moved faster, standing up and shedding his suit jacket, for once not caring about where it fell, wrinkles in the material the last thing on his mind. He shucks off his shirt, and his shoes, socks and pants soon follow. Emily laughs at him from her position on the bed when he almost trips on his pants, and he raises an eyebrow at her, a fake glare on his face as he makes it back to the bed, kissing her laugh away as he joins her.
She encourages him backwards so he’s sitting up against the headboard, and she settles over his lap, reaching between them and gently squeezing him, taking pleasure in the punched out groan she gets in return.
“Em.”
She rests her forehead against his as she sinks down on him, matching moans escaping them both. They pause for a moment, Emily taking a second to adjust, before she nods, leaning forward and kissing him.
They move in tandem, finding their rhythm quickly. Giving and taking as much as they can, hands grasping at skin in a way they both know will leave bruises they’ll find in the morning. His hands find her waist, holding her in place as she tips over the edge, her nerves shot.
He’s not far behind, and he has to lean forward, his face pressed into her skin as he tries to muffle his words, knowing he cannot stop them from escaping as he follows her over the precipice.
“Love you,” He chokes out, “Fuck I love you.”
He’s breathless against her, and for a moment thinks she hasn’t heard him, that his attempts to muffle his confession had been successful. But then she kisses his forehead, her fingers running skating over the scars on his torso, lingering over the thickest one at the top of his chest.
“I love you too,” she says quietly, “I have for a long time.”
He pulls back to look at her, tucking some of her now messy hair behind her ear. He isn’t sure what to say, his words lost somewhere between their confession and the fact she was still in his lap, that he was still inside of her.
“What do we do now?” He manages, and she laughs, her head resting on his shoulder as her body shakes with it.
“Well,” she says, sitting back up properly to look at him, “I think we should do that again, and then maybe shower, and then sleep…so we can do this again in the morning,” she says, kissing his jawline. She bites her lip, unsure why she feels so nervous now, after all that happened that night, “And then we do whatever comes next together.”
“I like the sound of that.” He smiles at her and nods, she kisses him once more before she rolls off of him, sitting next to him before snuggling into his side, as he pulls the covers over them. Her smile somehow gets wider when he puts his arm around her. She looks at her arm, the bruise left behind by the man at the bar and she chuckles. “What’s funny, sweetheart?”
The term of endearment makes warmth spread through her chest, but she pushes past it, linking their fingers together as she turns her head to kiss his shoulder.
“We really should let Pen find out who that guy was,” she says mindlessly, “I wonder if she could get the bar’s CCTV.”
Aaron looks down at her, worry making him freeze, “Why? Do you want to press charges?”
“Oh, no,” she replies, waving off his concern, “I want to send him a thank you card.”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head at her, the sound bright and beautiful as it surrounds them.
-x-
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marvel-ousmondays · 1 month
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The Avengers (Avengers Assemble)
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So it took me a week to finish watching The Avengers.
It wasn't the movie's fault. It's a great film, especially if you are into the action-packed, fighting scenes. The dynamic between characters is great, and it has one of (if not my absolute) favorite quotes of the series.
But it is 2 hours and 23 minutes long and I had a weird week in terms of work, plus I wasn't actually feeling like watching a bunch of fight scenes. So it took a hot minute. Also, I had just finished season 2 of Loki not that long ago and going back to really bad Loki was a bit hard. He has few if any redeemable qualities in this one.
I'm not going to attempt a standard review given my less than standard watching procedure. I'm just going to call out things I liked.
Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow will forever be flipping incredible. In the Battle of New York where she's jumping on the flying Chitari and such- epic. But also her clear care for Barton and her emotional manipulation of both the criminals at the beginning and Loki later on- chef's kiss. I'm so glad she's the one to close the portal.
(Quick side note/small spoiler- there's a fan theory going around that her "feelings" for Banner in Ultron are all fake, just a method of control. I call bullshit. She is clearly fascinated by him throughout this film. If anyone's feelings are fake, it'd be Banner's, but Mark Ruffalo is too genuine for us to ever know.)
Erik Selvig and Barton both under Loki's control and then when they come out of it did incredible jobs. I particularly like the writing of Selvig under Loki's control- the science fascination unbridled, versus any actual desire for power. I think this hits the Tesseract's power and Loki's manipulation abilities dead on- they don't project what Loki would assume others would want onto them- they magnify the worst parts of anyone's desires and abilities. Barton is a master strategist and Selvig wants to understand every aspect of the cosmos. Generally these are traits they've put to good use. But under Loki, they're manipulated into awful acts.
Samuel L. Jackson's line "I recognize the council has made a decision, but as it is a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it" could be emblazoned on my tombstone and I'd be happy. The delivery was pitch perfect and always makes me laugh, while also being deadly serious.
Coulson- Clark Gregg's best role by far and the small amount of fanboying here just humanized his normally very stoic disposition so well. So glad they did opt to bring him back and in style.
I'm a huge Mark Ruffalo fan, both as an actor and just as a human being. It was incredibly difficult to come in after Edward Norton to fill this role but he nailed it. The moment when he tells about how he tried to commit suicide and the Hulk spat the bullet back out breaks my heart every time. There's obviously a lot of parable here about learning how to channel your anger. I personally think anger has gotten a bad rap, especially among women and activists. Righteous anger, as Starfire might say (yes, I know, I'm daring to mix DC and Marvel again, fight me later), is a powerful motivator. Anger can fuel us to change that which needs changing, but it has to be directed. Hulk shows that well enough. But I also appreciate the slow realization by Banner throughout the film that the Hulk is less crazed, destructive monster and more protector. We're not *there* just yet by the end, there's still some concern, but he's beginning that process of acceptance and understanding.
Captain America is mostly well written here, particularly in demonstrating he doesn't just follow the U.S. or orders blindly any more. He still sees himself as a soldier, but when Tony and Bruce alert him to the smell of fish in the air, he goes looking for answers. This is key character development for him as there was a time where he would have considered himself more bound to higher-ranking officials. However, I would wager Marvel regrets the one "God" comment they made in there as it doesn't really fit him overall.
Stark and Thor perform well, I just don't have a lot of commentary for either. Their rivalry is solid, though the idea that Thor would leave his brother unattended, even in remote mountains, seems unlikely.
I will also argue for more women sooner but that ship has sailed. I had forgotten about Thanos in the post- credits scene, so that was a good addition.
Note for me
Directed by: Joss Whedon
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mekatrio · 4 months
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too sick to draw or do anything else which means its the perfect time to watch mca and be a little autistic nitpicky bitch about it. planning to do a post like this per episode, this one's for episode One. well episode one part one bc nothing in my life is easy and i keep forgetting theres a fucking image limit for posts 🙄
- I HATE THIS FUCKING ANIME ok i needed to get that off my chest...... groaned so loudly at the first four seconds fucking... Church Bells and POLES?!?!? POLES?!?!!! i hate shaft's enviromental choices ok moving on
- how the fuck did i not realize that ayano's VA is rena ryuugu lmfao its all i can hear nowadays
- right theyre on a fucking clock... for some reason.... also honestly i dont like ayano's voice that much. like the voice is fine but i dont think it fits ayano's character
- also this clock sucks i wish it was like more More you know more gears more machinery like ep12 insanity ok wait. are shinaya 3d models here lmfao.. maybe?
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- i like this line. saur mysterious
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- hahaha.... the Kaien Panzermast
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now that i think abt it i have no idea why its called kaien panzermast. like i what its referring to (the song siren thing thats telling kids to go tf home) but what the hell is a Kaien Panzermast?
- this scenery is near meaningless to kagepro literally just a whole bunch of nothing when i say i hate shaft's choices for this anime..... like what is any of this shit. also orange??!? orange of all colors..... god damn man
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like yes ok its the evening BUT THIS IS KAGEROU PROJECT. GIVE ME MY RED AND BLUE!
-- this part is cool tho. a bit too heavy handed in the symbolism but i appreciate the gesture
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- lol at this:
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BECAUSE SHE DIDNT! not until 2017 lmfao. this makes me suspect that the revelations from mr2 were initially supposed to be in the anime. but in the end for whatever reason it couldnt fit itself there, so the only revelation we got was The First Tragedy Exists. and no elaboration.... now that i think of it, iirc me and many fans were pretty thrown off from this opening back when it first aired cuz this was like, the first time we've seen ayano act like this. wait. let me check my timeline
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ok nvm lol. second time. first time shes ever like this is in the manga:
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but anyways back in 2013/2014 before the LTM episode, there was like no context whatsoever for Why Is Ayano Like That. so that was a doozy
- damn can u imagine working on some songs writing a novel and getting these amazing voice actors to voice ur characters... ohhh i wouldnt know how to act
-HJEKHJSKDFHASJKDFH THIS LOOKS CHEAP AS HELL HELP ME
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i mean thats um. one way to show a timeline getting thrown away... I Guess. ignoring the fact that Mary Has Long Hair (which she shouldnt), its a cool visual idea but the execution is um... hfjkssjk
- hehe
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headphone actor mv on the left and mca countdown thingy on the right. holy shit they are near identical damn, i just thought they were similar but no, its practically identical. thats so cool T_T if only the rest of this anime was this cool.... whatever onwards i go
- shintaro's stupid futuristic high-rise apartment... i loathe thee
- the fuck is this
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- first instance of shaft's trademark of putting random shit on the screen and im already annoyed its gonna be bad for me for the rest of this rewatch if i can even last that long. i know i will at least til ep 10 (11???) cuz i need to see baby mekatrio
- no aku benci lmfao shaft hates to animate so much they threw this story into the future so they could just conveniently project things onto shintaro's cyberwall hahaha..... i fucking hate this anime
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- looks like shintaro was drawn by 4 different artists in these various shots that only span like 5 seconds
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- damn in the anime its not even ene's fault that shintaro spilled the soda lmfao. thats all on him this time
- also shinene's voices are srsly perfect
- XX you say...... 🤨
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- storyboarding sucks shit they went from flashback to not a flashback to flashback again my fucking god dude. the only reason i can make sense of any of it is cuz im rewinding every little thing
- literally no reason to add 'roomie' to this translation but it made me laugh so I GUESS
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maybe i should hunt for the official crunchyroll subs. but im too lazy
- lmfao
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text from Mekakucity Talkers 24, translated by x0401x. only difference from tht and the screenshot is that shintaro still has hair lol
- hm. i wish it made a bigger deal of shintaro leaving the house. yeah he threw a fit but i wish the actual stepping outside aspect was more dramatic yknow. like how Children Record emphasized it
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- WHY IS THIS CITY SO EMPTY
- also curiously this episode is missing this sentence from shintaro abt someone rebuilding the city bit by bit which is in the novels and the manga, which is meant to foreshadow saeru's influence. but then again the first 17 manga chapters are taken nearly word-by-word from the novels so maybe thats all it is 🤷
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- also it took like 6 minutes for shintaro to leave the house... theres other things being done ofc, establishing shinene's dynamics, quick exposition of how ene ended up with shintaro to begin with, and spilling soda onto the computer and leaving the house. but i feel like it wouldve been better if the anime stuck to what the novels + mr1 does, where ene blares a loud fucking alarm. that quickly establishes shinene's dynamic and easily leads to a So You Must Be Wondering How I Got Here type of thing, and then knock over the soda leave the house bam easy. instead the anime really took its time with like..... idk making shinaro look ikemen. yeahhh not the best choice, especially considered how rushed the last few episodes are gonna be. ok back to watching the anime
- also aku benci x2 like its only futuristic when its convenient which is soo fucking Lazy. theres literally no reason for this story to be set in the future. like all this city scenery is based off actual modern day Kashiwa its just... ugh. barely any care put into this anime at all
- this anime is cool sometimes
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- reused this pencil texture from the start of the episode... wonder how many times ill be seeing that
- the fucking comedic timing of these terrorists lmfao. and right theyre clowns... for some reason....
- also dude ill still never understand why only their thumbs are the only parts ziplocked like what. also isnt that harder to animate... THIS STUPID ANIME
- this is a completely fair reaction to having kano shuuya speak to you for the first time
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- no the fuck he isnt he hasnt thought of shit my god.
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that comic person on here was not lying shaft really fucked up the order of events here bigtime. kano only speaks to shintaro after shintaro's done brooding.... also seto doing fuckall lol. ik he'll say smth in like 2 seconds but i do find it funny that we've seen him for like the past minute and he hasnt said shit
- ok but its cool that kano's hand just doesnt obey the ziplock.... very clever of the artists to just make him put his hands behind his head and other gestures to indicate that theres something up with him
- why are his eyes red.
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estro-boi · 7 months
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cw suicide (not mine, I'm just venting), cw abuse
in 2017 i moved in with a girl because nobody would rent to her on her own. we were good friends and i knew full well that we wouldn't be by the time i moved out. given that she would be homeless otherwise, i did it. she made multiple suicide attempts during this period, each of which is seared into my memory. the first time she went into my room and stole all my benzos trying to overdose (thankfully benzos alone are pretty hard to die from unless you fall down the stairs or something). it was like 4am. she then demanded that i give her more (there were no more, she didn't believe me) or she'd leave and kill herself and it would be my fault. the second time she texted me the note while i was at work and i had to spend 45 minutes on public transport terrified that there was a corpse waiting for me at the end. when i got there someone had called an ambulance so my home was full of paramedics and cops. the bathtub was full of blood and she needed to get a ton of stitches at the hospital. i couldn't bring myself to put my arm in the tub and drain it so until she came home i couldn't go for a piss without seeing it and thinking about what i very nearly came back to. the third time she spent maybe a fortnight telling me she was going to kill herself on her birthday and if i told anyone or tried to stop her then she'd do it earlier. she'd sit in her room blasting the same incredibly depressing song over and over for two straight weeks while i just sat in bed hearing it through the wall and crying and not knowing what to do. one time she left a note and took some rope and disappeared in the middle of the night and i was searching through the woods in pitch darkness for over an hour trying to find her, again terrified that i'd get there too late. there were a bunch more incidents like this.
this was 18 months of my life, 18 months of constant hypervigilance for any kind of slight change in tone or behaviour that might indicate something was about to happen again. being the only other person around, her anger and frustration would get projected onto me, manifesting as constant emotional manipulation and abuse. any problems i had were a personal insult because i hadn't gone through what she'd been through. anything i did, literally as far as buying food for her dog because he'd run out, would turn into hours-long struggle sessions where every aspect of my character was torn to shreds. accusations that i was some kind of predator who'd only moved in because i was trying to fuck her came up a lot.
i got deeper into pills, i was getting shitfaced every night, i wasn't socialising, i was barely sleeping. by the end i was literally just staring at the walls silently because i was scared to do anything else. i couldn't leave because she had no means of supporting herself and the added stress might have been the final straw that killed her. even after she told me to leave, i kept paying rent for months because she couldn't afford it. she spent those months texting me more abuse, telling me on one occasion that I should kill myself.
there's no real point to this, i just need to vent it somewhere. it's been 5 years since i moved out and im still paralysed with anxiety whenever i do anything. i can't go to shows anymore, i can't meet people, im silent all the time because im scared to make noise. i freak out if im doing anything and i can hear someone talking because im afraid that i'll seem like im ignoring them, which was a massive flashpoint in that house. i barely leave the house to do anything. i feel like i haven't relaxed in years, im constantly on edge now because i had to be back then as a matter of life and death.
i never got any closure in any of this. i think about this girl every single day when some horrible memory or other bubbles up in my brain. i can close my eyes right now and see the bathtub where she slashed her wrists. i can see her at my bedroom door yelling at me to give her drugs that i didn't have. i don't know if she's alive. i can't talk to anybody about it. i tried to help my friend and it ruined my life.
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mlobsters · 7 months
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supernatural s8e12 as time goes by (w. adam glass)
now that i'm totally bummed out with all the john talk, cain and abel bloodline, etc etc... you better not be making this a rehabbing john winchester episode :p
DEAN Yeah, right. Seriously? Dudes time-travelling through motel-room closets? That's what we've come to?
uh huh
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DEAN Yeah, well, either way, Dad hated the son of a bitch. SAM And Dad made up for that how? By being father of the year?
haha, louder for the people in the back!!
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DEAN Look, Dad had his issues, okay, but he was always there for us.
EXCUSE ME. dean, no, we know better than this. he was literally, canonically, very often NOT THERE FOR YOU. as kids, as adults. oh my god. haha whisper yelling at dean through the screen.
a) the only reason i know the name abaddon is from the book abaddon's gate by james sa corey, which the series it's in got turned into an excellent show that's one of my favorites as well, the expanse. so, learn something new every day, didn't know it was a angel/demon/bible/pit thing
b) i have forgotten after reading the abaddon wiki article. oh right, men of letters, this is funny. i'm well familiar loosely with them, the bunker, etc via fic. but just set dressing. had no idea the backstory
ay this cheesy rousing music while henry waxes poetic about the glory that is the men of letters and their family legacy. cannot
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he went on a little face journey here that was like flirty appreciative, to a little surprised and sadconcerned? haha i could project thoughts all over that, wonder what that was about
oh oh john got traumatized by his father abandoning him which was actually a demon's, a knight of hell specifically, fault. the rehabilitation :P
HENRY John was a legacy. I was supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters. DEAN Well, he learned things a little differently. HENRY How? DEAN The hard way. Surviving a lonely childhood, a stinking war... only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon... and later killed by one himself. That man got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad.
he did good in the world. and he neglected and traumatized his children. it's hard for me to go macro when the results of the micro are splashing around the pool of their trauma daily in front of my face. i know dean is feeling defensive and protective and etc etc.
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the mismatch of the outside of the motel and the downright fancy inside is weird. this whole thing is kinda weird. don't be weird, time traveling grandpa
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same, dean, same.
i think a lot of what kills the production value in the newer seasons is how evenly and boringly lit so much of it is. yeah the first seasons were often too dark, but at least they used shadows to their full effect. it was interesting! look at the lighting in the this random scene in a motel in s1e4 phantom traveler
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and the slow pan with the exposed leg lol different universe. anyway i scrubbed through literally e1-4 to find that damned scene. desaturated grainy deliciousness. so much more atmosphere
DEAN Listen, I understand that this is not your idea of a happy ending, okay, and that – that you're disappointed that me and Sam are mouth-breathing hunters. But you know what? We stopped the Apocalypse.
there you go, tell him! y'all did some shit and without the resources or education availed to him
DEAN (on phone) Sammy? ABADDON (on phone) No. Much sexier. Try again. DEAN (on phone) Abaddon. ABADDON (on phone) Good boy. Now listen up – I want to make a good, old-fashioned horse trade. Henry and the key for your brother. Or he dies. Am I clear?
the makeup/fake tan on jackles is just so sad and distracting
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DEAN Henry, you need to understand something. When my dad died, I couldn't save him… no matter how bad I wanted to. I never want that to happen to Sam… ever. If there's a chance that I can save him, I'm gonna do it. He's my brother. He's the only family I got.
ps we've both died a bunch and i have personally resurrected him before sooo
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i'm sorry dude but this is just a lot
SAM I get it now. DEAN Hmm? SAM What Cupid said about heaven busting ass to get Mom and Dad together. The Winchesters and the Campbells – the brains and the brawn. DEAN Well, I'm glad you see it. All I see in our family tree is a whole lot of dead.
mmmk. the whole thing feels very.. tacked on. like they just introduced this whole chunk of magic users wholecloth and wedged it in with a very flimsy excuse as to why it was nonexistent prior to this
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SAM You think it would have made a difference? DEAN What? SAM Dad. If he'd had his own father around. DEAN What, in how he raised us? Sammy, he did the best he could. SAM I know that. I – I do. They all did.
sometimes the best you can do is recognize that you don't have the means to raise these kids and maybe someone else in the family would be better suited and willing. like hey. bobby perhaps. blargh. gets my parenting hackles up. and like i've said before, they can feel what they wanna feel and it's good if they're at peace with it, but don't try to sell me on john being a good dad, actually :p
my tolerance for bad plot shit is high, i am a fan of teen wolf (and the killing s2 i'm looking at you) after all. but it is still a bummer
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brothersgrim · 10 months
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FRUIT HEADCANON ASKS
@asteraex​ asked:
🍐- Taker
🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart?  
Oh, he’s a smart guy. He's had to be. He was fourteen when he stopped receiving any kind of formal education, mostly because he was dead. Also because he was a slave. That didn’t help. 
But he’s smart. 
Like, let’s just look at all the things he, canonically, knows how to do. First off, he’s a carpenter. Yes, he makes coffins and caskets, but there were other projects in the workshop WWE gave him, including wagon wheels and furniture. Given that that’s HIS workshop, those are also HIS projects, so it stands to reason he just makes all sorts of things. I like to think he handles most of the carpentry/repair jobs in the Valley. (This actually has historical basis, too. Most carpenters were also undertakers back in the day, and vice versa. That was the case in my home town, anyway.) He’s also a blacksmith. A lot of people forget this one, but he is - he works a forge in some of the late 90s promos. He makes most of the hardware for the caskets and his other projects himself. He also repairs his own tools. 
Speaking of repairs, he fixes bikes. He has a wide collection of them, and he’ll repair them, or even sometimes build them from scratch, on his own. It’s his favourite hobby, outside of working out and fighting, and he considers it almost a form of meditation. His bikes are his babies. 
He can also draw, and, from the brief glimpses of his work we see, he’s a pretty talented artist. We mostly just see the blueprints he makes, but the anatomy is clean, the lines are crisp, and it seems to have a slightly cartoon-y style, which is oddly cute to me. I dunno. 
Anyway, he's also a practising mortician. He does the whole embalming, dressing, and clean up process on his own, especially when Paul's not around. That requires a lot of knowledge of human anatomy, chemistry, and colour theory, among a lot of other things. It takes a LOT.
He’s canonically at least bilingual, speaking both English and Ancient Gaelige. (The second is mostly in his Ministry Era, but he does speak it on multiple occasions - including the chants in the Ministry theme song.) 
He’s a great fighter, which requires strategy, problem-solving, and a knack for quick thinking. If you can’t make plans, you can’t fight, simple as. If your opponent can outthink you, you’re going to lose. And he’s a damn good fighter. 
He’s also pretty people-smart, which surprises a lot of those who know him. There are a few examples of this. First off, again, he’s a funeral director. He has to know how to talk to grieving families, and if he does a bad job of that, the home goes under. Second, he’s really good at handling Kane. Yes, he loves his brother, but there’s more to it than just that. The way he talks to Kane - and I know I’ve said this before - is actually exactly how therapists recommend talking to people in abusive relationships. It’s not your fault, it’s okay, you’re safe, I’ll be here for you no matter what, you don’t have to choose between us, so on and so forth. When Kane messes up the Last Ride in their match against Kai and Tai, instead of getting mad at him, Taker pauses the match, shows him how to do it properly, and makes a point of expressing pride and approval when Kane gets it right, because he knows that’s what his little brother needs. Even outside of Kane, the other guys in the locker room have a tendency to listen to and respect Taker, and even go to him for advice. This is most obvious during the American Badass era, and even more so during the Invasion era. Vince, Chris Jericho, and a bunch of other guys say that they need Taker in meetings for anyone to take them seriously. This even extends to other eras - in the mid 2010s, Team Smackdown can’t agree to work together, so, after Edge and Jerry Lawler fail to get them to play nice, they call in Taker to make people behave. 
It works. 
Yes, he threatens to murder them, but it works. He deals with different people different ways. 
The last example I can give of this is how he deals with Shawn during the feud with Triple H that lead up to the infamous cage match. This is a brutal thing that mostly involves Hunter gaslighting the fuck out of Shawn to pit him against Taker. Interestingly, Taker in this feud mostly retaliates by trying to build Shawn back up. Hunter convinces Shawn that Taker is shit-talking Shawn behind his back. This drives Shawn to yell at Taker, retaliate to how he thinks Taker is talking about him, and Taker doesn’t yell back. You can tell he’s annoyed by the whole thing, but he keeps it pretty reeled in, all things considered, and tells Shawn that Shawn should know him well enough by now to know he would never talk behind anyone’s back - but Hunter would. This culminates later in a face-off between Hunter and Taker, with Shawn standing by. Hunter was trying to get in Shawn’s head again, Taker comes out, and gives one of my favourite lines of his  - “Remember when I said that Shawn was better than you? … He is.” And leaves at that. It’s great on both ends, because he knows that’s what Hunter hates most, he knows Hunter’s insecure as hell behind the front he puts on, and more than that, he also knows it’s what Shawn needs to hear - and saying it in front of Shawn means Hunter can’t say it didn’t happen. 
He’s a manipulative bastard when he wants to be, that deadman. 
But, yeah. All this to say, he’s clearly demonstrated high intelligence in a number of different areas. As for where he learned it all, in most fields, he’s largely self-taught. Mortuary sciences, carpentry, smithing, he started to learn that from his parents, yeah, but he was twelve when they died. He got a lot of hands-on experience, he watched them his entire life, but again, he was twelve. He only had so much time, and there was only so much his parents would let him do at that age. Motorcycle repair, that’s self-taught. The Gaelige, he started learning that from his mother, picked it up later from some residents of the Yard (and the Morrigan, who is only there sometimes and doesn’t fully count). The fight smarts, that’s self-taught. It had to be. You either learn to fight, or you wake up in the crypt again. And his people smarts, I think it’s a mix of self-taught and learned. Some of what he’s working with, you can’t be taught, you have to just be the right person for it. Some of the kinder aspects, again, he learned from watching his parents. He learned from watching them with each other, with him and Kane, with the grieving families the home served before the fire. Some of it is, again, just who he is under all the emotional armour. The mean stuff… Well, that’s the same way. Except he learned it from Paul. He learned it from Paul, and Ted, and even Vince to some degree, and the people they dealt with. 
He learned a lot from them. 
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josiebelladonna · 9 months
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damn.
how’s everyone doing?
okay. these few days have been… interesting to say in the least.
first off, the house: the backstory, in case you don’t know, is that the property taxes here had defaulted about five years ago. to make a long convoluted complicated 95% of it i can’t talk about due to legality story short, they defaulted… and turns out, it wasn’t even our fault. someone dropped the ball somewhere, it totally wasn’t even our doing or our responsibility for that matter. but my mom and i looked at each other, we looked at what was due, and my mom bit the bullet and pretty much used all of her savings to cover it—by the skin of our teeth, too, like the company got the check today. she’s only got about 200 dollars left in her savings account after that, but luckily for us, it’s only a once-a-year thing (meaning we don’t have to think about this again for a full year), and we’ve been through difficult times before (read: we know how to pinch pennies in our sleep) and it’s only for about a month, which is when her job starts with a new assignment.
second, my mental health. it tanked the other day, and there were a couple of things that triggered it: number one was the fact that i kept getting asked about money over on instagram. people asking me about commissions and “dealing” and what have you—i think most of them were ai generated, but who the fuck knows. it’s a deep wound that only those who grew up poor will understand—compounded with the fact that i have a very dysfunctional, very unsupportive, borderline abusive family; on its own, it’s enough to push my buttons. plus—say what you want. every artist goes through this. i’m following a bunch of artists on instagram, good artists, too, some of these people are excellent… but i couldn’t help but compare myself to them. it’s also kind of… clique-y, i’d say? kind of like how tumblr is now, but it’s actually worse because you have art involved, something that should unite all of us. tumblr… as obnoxious as this place is now, i do see where it’s coming from. but within the art community? that just doesn’t seem right to me. when you take an art class, you’re going in there to rest your soul. tap into yourself and learn some techniques while you’re at it. nobody is picasso out the gate, so you hone your own skill and your own style all the while, so it’s like a leveling of the playing field (and no, showing the biggest piece of shit to the teacher doesn’t count). but this is uncomfortable. and it’s exhausting, too, like how the hell can you people be posting to your story several times every hour? i post three to mine in one sitting and i feel like i’m overloading everyone. and, i was getting comments from people who were following me years ago asking me, “you’re still drawing?” like they were shocked that i’m still doing this. i saw that as a bad sign, like… you know when you, a fan of something or someone, doesn’t seem to realize that the thing you’re fan of is still going, that’s usually a sign of things gone wrong. and i had accidentally rehashed some old wounds that are kinda “same ol’” status at this point: my sexuality, my appearance, my body, my not feeling good enough. so… i woke up one morning, looked at my art, and just started crying. all of that pushed me over the edge and it genuinely made me want to quit. i thought for sure i was finished. i had to get away. i have to be alone for a while.
(so, if i seem a.w.o.l. over on instagram, you know what happened: i just deleted the app from my tablet, i didn’t delete my account)
third, i looked at my art and i wondered if i just needed a makeover for it. i have a new little project going right now made by some of the techniques i’ve seen on instagram. i won’t reveal it until it’s done, though. it’s kind of abstract, kind of odd, kind of… well, you’ll see it. as for the “deleted all my art files from my computer” tidbit, it didn’t delete the backup files, so i clicked on those and salvaged every single one, every single one. i’ll admit, it was weirdly freeing to have all that free space on my thumb drive.  and as for neptune’s spear… i was thinking of posting it today or tuesday, but… eh. i think she can wait a while.
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caseyscartwright · 2 years
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Rewatching the scene in 4x07 where Johnny says he never had a good role model growing up and how he put all that crap in Robby’s life and how he can never fix it... I wonder what the writers were thinking when they wrote that?? And he’s saying all that stuff to Miguel, showing once again that Johnny is using him as his do-over, which is unfair on so many levels to both Robby and Miguel (by the way, I’m not denying that Johnny loves Miguel and sees him as a son, but it’s pretty damn obvious that he ended up projecting all of his failures with Robby onto Miguel and that’s why we ended up with a scene like the one in 4x08. Children aren’t interchangeable objects, and Johnny will never be good for Miguel until he fixes things with Robby first).
It clearly shows that Johnny had no intention whatsoever to talk to Robby and that the whole thing is somehow Robby’s fault for being “too angry” at his dad and that he just needed to “understand why Johnny abandoned him” (let’s not forget that terrible interview where the showrunner compares Robby’s dynamic with Kenny with Johnny’s non-existent relationship with his own son). What kind of message is this??
The worst part is that I never had a problem with Johnny and Robby reconciling; all I wanted was for Johnny to be held accountable for his deadbeat-ness and to show that he cares about Robby... but other than a few small moments every 100 years, he never does. He left his son with a man who abused him through his childhood/adolescence and who tried to murder him twice and didn’t do anything about it. So why should I, as an audience member, believe Johnny loves Robby?? Because of biology?? He can be nice to the daughter of a man he barely likes but checking on Robby is just too difficult of a task, apparently.
Robby is training with two abusers?? Meh, not Johnny’s problem. Miguel is training with Daniel?? Kill Bill sirens. Robby is missing?? Johnny is too busy getting drunk and beating up random men in the middle of the street. Miguel ran away to go to Mexico?? Johnny is more than ready to drop everything to go find him. That’s how the showrunners wrote these dynamics and it’s all very sick and twisted. I’m not saying Johnny shouldn’t go find Miguel, but his lack of concern for Robby makes him look like a giant asshole.
I can’t even get my hopes up about the Robby/Johnny scenes we might get next season, because nothing guarantees me that Johnny won’t drop Robby again once he gets Miguel back.
Now THAT being said, I don’t understand why people say Robby should have gone to Daniel at the end. Daniel pretty much ignored Robby the entire season and like Johnny, left him with a man who tried to murder him. And both times Daniel talked to Robby, he ended up sounding incredibly self-righteous and more concerned about Robby’s role in the fight than his actual well-being... which is why I can’t stand takes insisting that Robby “betrayed” Daniel by teaching a bunch of teenagers how to block a punch.
Both Johnny and Daniel failed Robby in every way possible.
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superman86to99 · 1 year
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Superman: The Man of Steel #32 (April 1994)
Bizarro's World, Part 4! In which Bizarro's horniness for Lois Lane proves to be his undoing. Superman is taking Bizarro's inert body back to Metropolis for studying (as seen last issue) when a simple glimpse of Lois makes him spring back into life and rush her for a hug.
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After pulling Bizarro away from Lois, Superman loses track of him thanks to his newly "enhanced" powers -- his telescopic vision and super hearing are so powerful that whenever he tries to use them, he just sees everything, everywhere, all at once™. Meanwhile, Bizarro sees a couple reconciling when the guy gives the girl a ring, so he naturally reasons that he can make Lois stop shunning him by giving her the biggest ring he can find. He ends up stealing a giant plastic ring display from a jewelry store and offering it to Lois. She’s flattered by the romantic gesture, but ultimately turns him down.
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Bizarro doesn't take Lois' rejection well and ends up fighting Superman again. During the fight, Superman accidentally punches him through a bridge with his super-super-strength, causing a bunch of cars to fall to their doom. Bizarro actually helps Superman save the cars, but he's so clumsy at being a superhero that he almost crushes some of the drivers to death when he “gently” puts them down. Bizarro doesn't appreciate this long-haired ruffian criticizing his rescue efforts (especially since it was his fault the bridge broke) and of course they end up punching each other once more.
Luckily, the nerds at Project Cadmus have figured out they can trap Bizarro if they can simply get him to stand between two giant pillars producing some sort of energy field. Now they just need a way to lure him there, and pretty soon they manage to find the perfect bait: Lois Lane in a tight outfit.
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By now, Lois has grown fond of the big doofus and feels bad for using his love for her to trap him -- especially since he appears to be dying, like all the other clones in Metropolis. Before Cadmus can even try to cure him, though, Lex Luthor Jr. shows up with a court document saying Bizarro is LexCorp property and takes him away to continue his experiments (and see if he can use him to cure himself).
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TO BE CONCLUDED!
Plotline-Watch:
Been a while since we’ve seen Lex Jr. in his Lex-Men armor (which he debuted in the Supergirl and Team Luthor special). In this case, the armor is a convenient way to hide the fact that not only is Lex bald again due to the Clone Plague, but he even lost his beloved red beard in the few hours or so since we last saw him in Action #697.
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Speaking of mysterious facial hair, that's supposed to be Cadmus' Director Westfield being served the document by armored Lex up there, but since when does he have a mustache?! Was that supposed to be a different character but the script changed? Is Westfield going incognito because he knows the Underworlders have a hit on him? Either way, I demand a Baldy Award for pointing this out.
And speaking of the Underworlders, Professor Hamilton is able to determine that the Clone Plague is based on “environmental” factors (probably that big flood from a while back) and not Cadmus-created germ warfare by studying his sewer mutant pals. That's pretty much all the same to them, though, since Westfield was the one who flooded their tunnels and presumably got them sick, so it’s all Cadmus’ fault anyway. Lex, too, now blames Westfield for his disease, so all the pieces are in place for a big war in Metropolis. Should have probably kept your mouth shut, Hambone.
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I do like that Hamilton uses his old isolation chamber (from the Bald Jimmy Olsen/Husque storyline) to study the Underworlders.
Another deep cut: this issue features the return of the cabbie with the S-shield logo on his fade cut, first seen in Action $6,50/#650 and then again during “Funeral for a Friend.” The logo is barely visible this time, but it's clearly the same guy... unless that’s just a popular style in Metropolis?
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On the other hand, as a continuity nerd it has always bugged me that Lucy Lane shows up multiple times in this issue and not once does she comment on the fact that the monster harassing her sister looks just like the one who sacrificed himself to restore her vision back when she was blind. Then again... she WAS blind, so maybe she simply never found out what the original Bizarro looked like? Maybe it was Arnold Schwarzenegger or something in her mind.
Patreon-Watch:
Half of this post was first seen last week by our patrons Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, and Bol at patreon.com/Superman86to99! Shout out to all of them!
And shout out to the great Don Sparrow, who has lots more to say about this issue after the jump...
Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):
We open with the cover, where Jon Bogdanove makes the Bizarro/Frankenstein connection explicit with a very Frankenstein’s Monster-looking Bizarro, complete with lightning.  I can’t place the exact pose (maybe the scene where he’s chained up?) but it definitely has a Boris Karloff feel, at any rate.
Inside, we’re in for a sketchier issue than some.  As we’ve noted covering these books, Bogdanove can at times be one of the strongest artists on the roster ("Panic in the Sky" and the "Doomsday!" storyline come to mind) but there are times where his looser, cartoony style becomes perhaps excessively broad and fluid.  This is one of the latter, where we get very little in terms of backgrounds throughout, and the figure work seems rushed at times.  I will say, all through the issue, Bizarro looks appropriately deteriorated and pained, giving him a more tragic feel in this installment than the previous chapters, which mined the comedy a little more deliberately.
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Page 5 has a nicely drawn cape, as Superman catches a train car with some effort, it’s a great detail the way the cape twists and folds under his arm.
There’s some quality cartooning on page 14, as the child-like Bizarro adopts the posture of a small child who has messed up, after he dumps a pickup truck on top of a sedan.
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Guardian in flight always looks great, and it’s nice to see the jet-wings from the Doomsday fight used again.  The monster movie reference seems to switch from Frankenstein to King Kong a little later in the story, as on page 16, Lois adopts a Fay Wray pose in order to lure Bizarro to her.  I am unable to resist pointing out how great Lois looks in her insulated suit, so, predictably, I must mention it.
The splash of Bizarro getting jolted by the containment field is frightening, and Bogdanove and Janke do a great job of a familiar pieta pose (which also recalls the way Lois cradled Superman as he was dying in the Doomsday storyline).
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Not much for a “B” storyline here, other than the odd cutaway to Lex Jr. and Happersen—the rest of the story is all devoted to the slugfest, and with all the action, felt like a quick read to me. [Max: That’s Dr. Packard, not Dr. Happersen, Don! Unless he got reconstructive surgery after Bizarro fried his face and ended up looking just like Packard?]
STRAY OBSERVATIONS:
I think this is the second time that a “Konica-Minolta” camera has instead been called a “Mignola” in these pages, no doubt after Mike Mignola (who would absolutely kill a Bizarro story, come to think of it). [Max: Yep, there was another shout out during the “Spilled Blood” storyline. Co-sign on Bizarro Mignola. I’m shocked that’s never happened!]
As we noted in previous issues, they play a little loose with Bizarro’s level of intelligence.  Despite being only a few days old, he seems to  have a comedic understanding of not only spelling, but economics, as he  presents a “vizza” (which we later learn is a crumpled license plate) to pay for the novelty decorative ring from the jewelry store.
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As always, the Simonson and Bogdanove book seems to have the more  ethnically diverse Metropolis, as the S & S Diamond Exchange appears to be run by Orthodox Jews, in a nod, perhaps, to the real-world  diamantaires of New York City’s 47th Street.
Professor Hamilton hanging out with the Underworlders further confuses him with Charlie in my mind, at least at first glance—that’s not a great looking coat Ham is sporting.
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Whenever I see a taxi with a crumpled front, I can’t help but think of the throwaway gag from the early portion of Superman II, when the cabbie smashes into Clark Kent (more or less directly in front of Lois Lane).  I wonder if that’s the reference here?
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cdevroe · 8 months
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Reducing my personal hosting complexity
Have you ever put off a task because you felt like it would take you far too long so you just procrastinate and simply never get it done? I do this all the time. And, for the most part, when I do finally get around to getting the task completed I find out that my fear was unfounded and I was able to get it done much more quickly than I thought.
For at least 5 years my personal website has been hosted on a droplet on Digital Ocean (referral link, which gives you $200 in credits). It had worked fairly well so when it came time to find hosting for The Watercolor Gallery (the site is currently under massive construction) shortly thereafter I fired up a new droplet for it too. And later when I needed a place to host Unmark I, again, reached for a new droplet and fired it up.
At the time I didn't think that I should (or even could) host all of these sites on a single droplet. For many years though I've been planning to do exactly that - consolidate my droplets, reduce complexity, and reduce my hosting costs. Every time I would think about moving all the content, databases, files, SSL certificates, DNS, etc. I would feel overwhelmed and put it off.
This year, however, my websites are getting far less complex. I no longer have databases to worry about for any of my sites. I no longer need to keep multiple server applications up-to-date. Or patch a bunch of security holes or worry about poorly written plugins taking my site offline. So I thought "this is the best time for me to make this move".
Digital Ocean makes this far too easy. When I spun up a droplet for CCBUILT (which, I haven't announced here formally on my blog yet, but I plan to) I did so with the plan to move all of my personal websites to it. It is a simple droplet with just what I need and nothing I don't. Last night, I moved this site and The Watercolor Gallery to it. My other static websites for Stripe Transfer, Stupid, and my wife's as yet unstarted rustic + lace are all free "apps" on Digital Ocean and so they do not require a droplet. I was then able to delete my droplets, backups, and snapshots from my previous setups.
The hosting for my personal projects is far less complex today than it was just a few days ago and I couldn't be happier.
A note about Stripe Transfer: I'm thinking of moving this to my main droplet. I have ideas for a slightly more robust website for this project.
A note about Unmark: Unmark continues to be hosted on its own droplet. I do not know for how long though. I haven't worked much on this project in the last several years. It is showing its age. I'm thinking about turning it over to someone else. If you're interested in taking over this project please let me know.
A note about The Watercolor Gallery: I had been putting off moving it to static for far too long. The database was crashing every few days for reasons I could never figure out. I do not think it was WordPress' fault at all. It was likely a plugin or a memory issue on my droplet or something. But the log files - to my eye - didn't reveal the issue. So I gave up. This move will force me to move more quickly and get that site back online as a static site. So expect to see that soon.
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Title : Perishing Little Flame on Winding Road (Chapter 2)
Fandom: King of Fighters
Characters : Kyo Kusanagi, Kyo-1, Kyo-2, Kusanagi, Iori Yagami
Summary:
<…>…This imitation frowns and says in sad tone while starring at this Kusanagi ‘‘Hey, big bro, it’s your fault that we are given a life, which we didn’t asked for. How about it’s time to take some responsibility for your actions? So, let’s see who is really a freak and deserve to die or live…’’…<…> One day clones meets their archetype by an accident. How this encounter end? Read and find out.
AO3 Link
After awhile these clones stopped walking and from what this Kusanagi could tell is that they were far away from the city. First of all, it was so quiet that you could hear how the wind rustled tree leaves, secondly, when clones stopped walking, the banging noise of metal. Probably one of these replicas been knocking into the door and while doing that, asked ‘‘Oi, we’re back! Just open already, ‘cos our hands are full at the moment.’’. From what this blindfolded brunette assumed, someone slightly opened these high-pitched squeaking door. Now the person behind it, who sounded similar, replies ‘‘There is a lot of ‘me’ around in these days, so, which one are you?’’.
However, this doppelganger in blue face-palms, murmuring ‘‘Not again…that stupid nerd.’’ and now says aloud ‘‘Who who…Just open the door so that I could kick your smart-ass! It’s us - Mero and Hoki.’’ now the iron was wide open. It seems that the clone in purple uniform suspiciously rises his eye-brows as he stares at one certain type on Hoki's shoulder. He began to scold these two "What are you up this time? Did you forgot what happened last time when you brought half-dead bro?...You perfectly know that Shiro is too sensitive and seeing someone dying on him makes him depressed! So, hide him in bushes or somewhere else before Shiro notices him. Besides, do you have idea how hard is return him back to normal? So, drop this clone, will you?".
Even so, Hoki gives a mockingly smile and sarcastically replies "Yes, mo~oom! However, don't you think that one of our eldest is an absolute wimp? So, the more you tolerate his behaviour and encourage him to read these stupid poems, the more likely he turn out more and more sensitive to these things, which even humans forget to care or try to understand! Besides, he can't run from harsh reality all the time." now this clone in purple gives indifferent look and back-fires "Well, as far as I know, he has more brain-cells more than you. That's for sure. And instead of picking his finger from nose or ass and puts into mouth like certain someone, he spends his time in much better way.".
Of course, it took awhile for this replica in brown uniform to digest fellow clone’s insult while blue one was trying his best to hold his laugh by loudly snorting. However then, he gives not so smart look on his face and indignantly yells at this fellow "Oi, you know what? Fuck you!", this clone in purple just silently shows his middle finger and he started slowly close the door. Nevertheless, Kyo’s presence was ignored and for now he wasn’t really glad to learn that these clones are just bunch of noisy rascals. However, that one replica got his attention and he wanted to know more about this Shiro. So, for now pretending to be a defenseless victim seemed to be a better option and he listened further how his lookalikes talking.
However, on very last second Mero stretches his leg in the gap between door and door-frame, demanding ‘‘Hold it! Maybe Hoki is not the radiator of intelligence, but he has the point.’’ now he puts his hands into pants’ pockets and trust his chest forward, continuing "To think off, Big Bro once told that Shiro actually is the one who was putted under the most fucked up trials than the rest of us just because he wasn't afraid to show more humane feelings when Doctor encouraged him...Yeah, Shiro was keep craving to understand about such a petite and useless things as empathy, caring and being cared, *sigh* and, of course, to learn about the original and other philosophical mess…’’.
Now he shakes his head before continuing ‘‘That's just mess up no matter how you look at it! From what Big Bro mentioned, even if you chop his leg or arm, he wouldn’t complain or show any emotion, but once you insult or hurt his precious Kyo, which he never met tho, or any of us, he may be even scarier and more dangerous than ‘Nagi ever will be. Plus, he is the one, who insist giving a proper burial to anyone whom he knew…Hell, none of us surely will ever go to all this waste of time, but heck, I saw that once, but after putting a grave stone, he just stands and starts to cry. Surely, I don’t get him. He perfectly understands that no one aside himself would never care about him and if he dies, no one even notice. Stupid Shiro…’’.
It seems that replica in purple was convinced by Mero’s words and he softens his gaze and sighs. He opens the door and let his brothers in. Of course, the doppelganger in blue gives a smug look and now cheerfully says ‘‘See? I’m not just the most handsome lad, but also so smart as most of the time, Sakura-kun. It's such a burden to carry it by myself~’’ and now this fellow clone addresses these two in serious tone ‘‘Don’t test your luck. It’s only your fault that you’ll get into trouble for bringing this corpse.’’. However, finally this Kusanagi tries to lift his head and startled this clone yet he still disapproves his bros’ finding.
Once everyone were inside the storage, Hoki carefully bends down and now makes sure that Kyo leans against the wall. After brushing this brunette's hair with his fingertips, this fellow clone smiles and gently slaps his cheek "Hey, wake up, princess, we're finally here.". However, now the clone from the furthest left corner addresses him "Oi, you two, did you brought something tasty? 'Cos I'm hungry~". This time Mero, who stands near Kyo, turns his head "Close enough, but nope!We brought something better. So, you can't eat this one, 'cos we don't do that to the first things we see, right? This lil fella is either a good actor, either a real thing this time. Maybe even if Big Bro spare him, we could play with him later.", but it seems that couple of clones weren’t so excited anymore. Now Mero scratches his head and looks around. It seems that someone was missing and he asks everyone around ‘‘Speaking of which, it’s more quiet than usual. Hmm…Has anyone seen Shiro? ’’.
However, couple of clones just shrugged shoulders or murmured that don’t have any clue. All of sudden one of these replicas loudly sighs and this clone in blue turn his gaze to see which one of them was. Apparently, it was so-called Sakura, who was leaning near the door. While he was crossed his arms, he speaks up in grumpy tone ‘‘He just went to get some fresh air. So, leave him alone for once, will you? Either you, either that idiot keep bothering him. It’s ain’t funny, you know. Besides, not everyone is like a Big Bro and Shiro is not an exception. For example, Hoki may have strength, but he lacks of brain while you are one of most agile ones, but you can’t use flames. So, even Shiro is the weakest one, but I bet he has his own strength too.’’.
Even so, Mero just rolls his eyes and mockingly replies ‘‘And you’re such a bore as usual! So, you don’t want to look quickly inside what we got for Big Bro? Just come here, mmmkay?’’. It can’t be helped that his curiosity took over control and now getting closer to this duo and their new finding. After Sakura was close enough, this clone in blue gives orders to Hoki ‘‘Hold him from behind, ‘cos we’re not sure what he might be up to.’’ and this fellow doppelganger delightfully smiles ‘‘Sure thing.’’. He makes sure that his arms were around the original and now stands up together with Kyo.
However, Mero gave a questioning look when this fellow clone began to smile like an idiot and chuckles in deeper tone. Now this clone in blue asked ‘‘What’s the matter? Are you freaking stupid?’’, but this fellow replica delightfully replies ‘‘Look at him. How come he is so slim?’’. He just receives another orders from Mero ‘‘Let me see. Just hold his arms.’’ and Hoki gladly listens again. Surely, even if this Kusanagi was blindfolded, he closes his eyes as hard as he could do once this clone lays his hands on the sides of Kyo’s chest and sliding down to his hips.
Of course, he was ashamed being touched like this and it didn’t helped that he could feel how the swarm of clones clones observed him with a such a innocent childish curiosity and awe. Even so, he wanted to disappear at same spot. Mero just smiles and says ‘‘Yeah, unlike us, he is sure different. Maybe having a holiday trip to NESTS and living comfy life before and after that made him lazy. He can’t even fight-back. So, he wouldn’t survive even a day, if he live like us! What a weakling...’’.
However, Mero only frowns and addresses his archetype ‘‘What a hell is wrong with you? Stop acting like I’m doing something wrong! Hell, like you never been checked like this. Jeez, what a hopeless moron…And don’t you dare to kick me, got it?’’, after short pause, he was back to normal and now continues ‘‘Let’s see if you are really the original.’’. Once he masterly slides his hand under this Kusanagi’s shirt, he lifts it until his belly was visible. Now this clone gladly declares ‘‘So, you are.’’ and releases Kyo’s shirt. After this replica in blue places his hands on his hips, he whines ‘‘That’s too bad~ Why we are not based on Big Bro, but this thing?’’.
For the first time in awhile Hoki speaks up and asks this clone in blue ‘‘So, what we gonna do with him? Should we just beat a crap out of him already?’’, but Sakura just calmly addresses this replica ‘‘Don’t you think that it would be still such a pleasant treatment for him? How about we make him plead to be killed first? Yeah, let’s show him what happens when you mess with us!’’ while he fixes his gloves.
However, all of sudden someone aggressively from outside banged the iron door, then for good couple seconds it was quiet. Clone in purple just straightens his back and freezes in same spot, he just told in small, barely hearable voice ‘‘Oh, shit…Big Bro is back.’’. Once again loud banging, but this time everyone on this building heard how this beast growls ‘‘KNOCK KNOCK! OPEN UP ALREADY!’’. After several knocking, the door has flied across the room until it crashed into the wall, making clones instinctively back-off.
Now the mysterious figure stands still while being surrounded by the moonlight. This shadow opened his eyes, which glows in cold crimson red, even Kyo doesn’t need to see that this creature was neither a human being, neither a clone, he could sense it even from a far. But aside being afraid, something felt so familiar about this creature and he didn’t like this at all. Plus, he could swear that this creature was smiling, because he could sense his primal fear. Hell, even Hakkesshus and Orochi compared to him were like a fluffy kittens.
Once he took step inside and revealing his face, he announces ‘‘IT’S KUSANAGI!~’’ and from this moment Kyo knew, he was screwed for sure.
----------------------------
Chapter 1 Link
Chapter 3 Link
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zongzhii · 1 year
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I mald about my webtoon for God knows how long (IlluEden 3-2 post update notes)
I realize I never actually made a post about IlluEden at all, which is a shame because it's my favorite beloved-yet-often-forgotten oc project that I genuinely want to complete!
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Obligatory plug first:
So Ep 3-2 released a while ago, which was an interesting event because E3-1 released in... October. Unfortunately I ran out of my buffer once I realized that at the speed of my planned weekly or biweekly upload schedule, I'd be uploading like 5 panels per ep and story immersion would get ruined :(
As a result, I ended up reworking basically the entire script so far in order to have longer, more substantial episodes, which also combined with my low priority for the comic to mean that almost half a year in, these two have only. Just. Met.
YES IT'S MY FAULT YES I BIT OFF MORE THAN I COULD CHEW YES I SHOULD HAVE SIMPLIFIED MY STYLE MORE
But I look at some of my panels and I'm like "ZAMNNNNNNN" because these blorbos are taking over my existence
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like just...kmmdjdmishfjdksnsb
My babies;;;; my precious;;;;; I can't wait to inflict pain and suffering upon you both;;;;
Anyways there's a few details I always want to write in that often get cut out for redundancy, but sometimes they're cute little tidbits so I'd like to share them too.
This time, I'll just share a bunch of stuff from the beginning up to the most recent chap.
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Originally, I was going to show Astra falling down a cliff, giving him these injuries. For his sake, I changed it. Also because I wanted the focus to be the shooting star (I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now)
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Despite him being literally clad in pure white, Lucifer's design changed like a good 3 times in the past 3 episodes. It's going to change again, these aren't his normal clothes. And it'll also keep changing because I guess he's my fashionista for some reason.
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Astra, on the other hand, has kept this design since its inception. Well, minor detail change but for the most part, he has like one outfit.
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On the topic of Astra, I wasn't expecting the two protagonists to turn out so antagonistic towards each other! Or well... antagonistic is a bad word, probably. Lucifer may be (from what I hope I've shown) quite sympathetic l, but I think even he has limits for how much groaning and grumbling he can take. As a result, 3-2 managed to have a bit more cheerful vibe than I expected, as a light comedic mood comes from the contrast of Lucifer's and Astra's demeanors.
Of course, this contrast may not all be lighthearted. As much as Astra is an edgy emo boi, perhaps that stems from his roots or insecurities. And as much as Lucifer tries to distract from his situation, he evidently knows the true gravity of being an "ex-" archangel.
But will it be addressed in the next episode? Or will I derail the story and turn it into fantasy romcom between high schoolers trapped in another world? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. I only guide the story, it weaves its path by itself.
That's the end of my rambling on 3-2, I'll see y'all at EP4-1!
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zafirosreverie · 3 years
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Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader)
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Here it is! first part of the TxS au! Let’s get this party started!
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"And who exactly was the villain then, Miss Y/L/N?" You gnashed your teeth when your teacher looked at you behind the frame of her glasses, with her piercing, stupidly beautiful blue eyes and a raised eyebrow.
You flinched a bit from her gaze, but you refused to back down, you never had and you weren't going to start now, no matter how hot your cheeks got or how close this damn woman stood to you.
Agatha Harkness, Westview’s University history professor, terror of the first years and your crush since the first class you had with her. Her blue eyes had captivated you from the first moment, as had her slightly wavy hair and mocking smile. Her sarcastic and dry sense of humor was also something you loved, plus she was incredibly smart and not afraid to show it. Beautiful, smart and taught your favorite subject. Yup, you were completely under her spell.
But you hated it when she argued with you in front of the whole class, especially for things like this. It always made you feel so small and helpless, even if you didn’t show it on the outside.
She had asked your class for an essay on Greek myths, and you had chosen Medusa’s. Miss Harkness had said that you should express your views, with clear and concise arguments, which took you most of the week to investigate. But it seemed that you had not been clear enough.
Either that, or your teacher really hated you and enjoyed challenging you in front of your classmates, expecting you to break up and argue with her, so she could send you to detention. Well, you wouldn't let her win that easy.
You forced a smile and looked up. She was right in front of your chair, looking down at you as she waited for your answer.
"Athena and Poseidon" you said confidently "They are the villains"
"Interesting posture" she smiled, but it was a smile that reminded you of the cheshire cat "Although that doesn't take away the blame for the lives she took, does it?"
"It wasn't her fault either," you said, frowning.
"Oh it wasn’t?" she asked. You suppressed a gasp when she rested her hands on your table and leaned forward. You could feel her minty breath on your face "And whose fault was it, Miss Y/L/N?" she asked.
"Men’s" you gulped "Those who went to look for her"
"Explain" she ordered. Her eyes never once left your face.
"They went looking for her. They tried to kill her, what was she supposed to do? Let herself be killed? Besides, it wasn't her fault that Athena turned her into that, she didn't ask to turn people to stone" you said, crossing your arms and leaning toward back in your seat.
Anyone would think that your gesture was one of challenge, considering that your face was neutral and your eyebrow was raised slightly. But inside you were screaming and having a panic attack.
Agatha smirked in her head at your attitude. She wouldn't tell anyone even if she was under torture, but she loved having these little discussions with you. You were the only student brave enough to argue with her, and you were brilliant in the way you did.
On the other hand, you were also incredibly cute and she would lie if she said that she didn't like to make you blush, your eyes lit up a bit and the red on your cheeks really contrasted beautifully with your skin. She knew it was wrong, that as a teacher she shouldn't find any of her students attractive. But she couldn't help it, there was something about you that just fascinated her.
Most of her fellow teachers had already noticed the strange dynamic she had with you, but they took it as a simple student/teacher rivalry, stemming from the fact that you seemed like a history prodigy, which presented a vast battlefield for Agatha, it was no secret that the woman was competitive, after all.
The only one who seemed a little suspicious of what was really going on was Wanda, the literature teacher. She had been one of the best students in the university and had returned as a teacher 5 years ago and because their subjects shared a field of investigation, she and Agatha ended up spending more and more time together, until they became good friends. 
It was fun having someone to judge and gossip about both the staff and the student body. But that also meant having to endure the teasing of the younger woman every time you walked by Agatha.
Of course, she had scolded Wanda for even suggesting that she was attracted to you, a student, and the redhead had apologized, saying that she was only joking, but she wasn't sure how long it would be before her friend became suspicious again. Not that the history teacher was that subtle with the way she looked at you.
Still, Agatha Harkness had certain principles, and she knew that she couldn't flirt with you as long as you were her student, so she was content to make you blush and nervous when she was around you.
“She broke Athena’s rules” she said, almost growling.
“Poseidon raped her. That wasn't her fault” you growled back. You cursed yourself for being so passionate about this. Your classmates probably thought you were an idiot for fighting a teacher.
"You seem quite determined to defend the monster," she accused, frowning. She pushed herself off your bench and turned to the rest of the class, letting you breathe for a second. "Not many people would pay attention to Medusa, a hideous and dangerous creature. But she seems to have won Miss Y/L/N’s heart" she said, making your classmates laugh and you blushed again.
"It must be the eyes" you mumbled without thinking.
Your teacher looked at you for a moment before smirking. Fortunately, it seemed like she didn't have time to keep arguing with you. Blessed heavens for that. You heard the ring bell and sighed in relief, starting to pack your things.
“Remember that the project is due for next monday” Ms Harkness said and you hear some groans from your classmates. You chuckled as you left the classroom.
“It’s not fair” you heard your friend Nick saying beside you “She didn’t give us enough time!”
“What do you mean?” you asked “I finished it three days ago”
“But you don’t count!” he frowned “you’re good at history! I can’t even remember my sister’s birthday!”
“Nick, you don’t have a sister” you rolled your eyes fondly
“And? I wouldn’t remember her birthday anyway”
You laughed and playfully punched his shoulder. You and Nick have been friends since your first day here and you were thankful for that. He was the only one who knew about your crush on Ms Harkness, which was a blessing but also a nightmare. He loved to embarrass you.
“So, what was that Y/N?” He asked suddenly
“What?” you frowned
“The whole Medusa’s thing”
“Well, she wasn’t a monster and-”
“No no, don’t give me a history lesson, I already had enough of that. I was talking about you and ‘Ms magical eyes’ almost kissing” he smirked as you coughed and almost tripped. 
“What?!” you hissed “The hell you’re talking about?!”
“Oh c’mon Y/N!!” Nick laughed “She was practically lying over you!”
“That’s not true” you crossed your arms
“It is” he crossed his arms too “Y/N,I love you, but you can be so blind sometimes”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, a little offended
“Y/N, we all could feel the sexual tension between you two” he laughed and left you frozen in the hall. 
_____________
“No” Agatha frowned and crossed her arms
“Please” Wanda begged
“No, I’m not going to babysit a bunch of spoiled kids” the older woman said
“Okay, first of all, they’re college students, not from the kindergarden” the redhead frowned “and this could be an amazing opportunity!”
“For what? I already know about the Salem trials, love, I’m more than capable of teach my students about it without having to taking them there”
“But it would be more fun for them” Wanda argued
“I teach history, buttercup, it’s not supposed to be fun for them” the brunette smirked while the other woman rolled her eyes.
“We both know you don’t actually think that. You love your class and want them to love it too” 
When the other woman shrugged and started reading again, totally ignoring her, Wanda knew it was time for plan B. She kneeled in front of Agatha and gave her puppy eyes.
“Pleaaaase” she cried “I need another teacher if I want permission to do the trip”
“Then ask Monica” Agatha said, not looking up from her book
“She has a game next week with the basketball team” Wanda said “Besides, as the history teacher, your class is the most similar to mine, it just makes sense if we both go”
“I’m not going Maximoff, period”
Wanda sighed and stood. “Fine.Thanks for nothing, Harkness” she pouted and left the teacher’s room. 
Agatha rolled her eyes, she knew the other woman would get over it in a few hours.
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“I just say that witches are cool” you said as you and Nick walked through the hall
“They are Y/N, but visiting an old town isn’t exactly my idea for a good summer trip” he said and you rolled your eyes “Why don’t you go to Disneyland instead?” he joked
“Because I hate gigantic amusement parks” you said “And I really want to visit Salem, it was my dream since i was 9 and i read about witches from the first time. But you know I don't have enough money to do both trips. So, Salem it is for me”
Nick sighed “Alright, you do you, history girl” he joked “But try not to get cursed while you’re there, i don’t want my best friend to be a frog” 
You laughed and he put an arm around your shoulders. None of you noticed the brunette teacher walking out of the teacher’s room and who totally heard your conversation. 
_____________
Wanda jumped when her office door opened with a slam. She looked at a frowning Agatha, who had her arms crossed and let out a sigh.
“Alright, you win” the brunette said “We’re going to Salem”
The redhead smiled and quickly stood up to run to her friend and hug her tightly.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said.
“But!” Agatha said, gently pushing the younger woman to lock eyes with her “I pick the class we’re taking with us”
“Deal!”
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