#their entire character motivation is just

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 34: Anything

You're left behind in Jackson when Joel goes on overnight patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-33 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 9.2k

A/N: We are heading into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

September, 2013

The gunshot made you jump. 

It was distant but sharp, the crack jarring against the quiet of your cabin. Marisa’s head shot up from her book, a frown on her face in the flickering firelight. 

“Was that…” 

“Shhh,” you sat up from where you’d been lying against her, held a hand out to her, ear perked and listening. Another crack, a little louder this time. You set your book down and went to the front window, drawing the curtains and pinning them shut so no light from the fire would slip through. 

“What…” 

“Stay here,” you said, your heart pounding as you got your rifle off the wall. 

“You’re not going out there!” She shot up, her eyes wide. 

“Not gonna sit here and wait for whoever that is to show up at our door,” you replied, grabbing a flashlight, too. 

“Well, I’m going with you,” she said, going to get her gun, too. 

“No,” you said, grabbing a saddle bag with ammunition and turning to face her. 

“Yes, I am,” she narrowed her eyes at you but there was a tremble of fear in her voice, her rifle clutched tightly in her hand. 

“No,” you said quietly, reaching out and gently taking her face in your hand. “You’re not. You’re staying here to look after Savannah…” 

“But what if something happens to you?” Her eyes searched yours, wide and frantic. “You’re her mom, not me. I can’t be that for her like that, just… stay here, we’ll figure it out if they find us just…” 

“Not lettin’ them that close to the two of you, baby,” you said, brushing your thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. You kissed her gently. Her eyes were wet. “I’ll be back soon. But… if I’m not, take care of Savannah for me.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, going to jump on Nike, not bothering with a saddle. You were too afraid to take the time, you had to protect the people who had become your home. You couldn’t lose them, you couldn’t let anyone take them away, you had to make sure they were safe. 

There was another gunshot and you followed the sound, your heart racing, eventually finding a man with two infected nearly ripping him apart. You shot them quickly, the man’s fearful gasps loud in the night. 

“Fuck,” he panted as you turned on the flashlight, shining it around the nearby forest. You caught a glimpse of another infected on the ground about 20 feet away before turning the light on him. He was limp on the ground, his eyes wide. “I think I’m bit, I think… I think they got me.” 

You knelt beside him and looked at his exposed skin. There was a vicious bite on his hand, the flesh already looking sick and wrong and so like Justin’s bite all those years ago. 

You sighed. 

“Yeah, you are. I can make it quick for you, if you’d like. Can’t let you leave here, though. You can wait ’til you turn, if you’d rather.” 

He blinked a few times, staring up at the dark canopy of trees as moonlight filtered through the leaves. 

“Just do it,” he said, turning his eyes to you, cocking his head slightly. “Is it just you out here?” 

“Kind of,” you said. “Got my girlfriend, my daughter. No one else, though.” 

He looked back to the sky and nodded. 

“That’s good,” he said. “It’s hard, being alone. Been alone for a few months now, wife got bit back in June. Should’ve just ended it then, don’t know why I waited this long.” 

You nodded slowly. You understood that. You stood up again, rifle in your hand. The man’s eyes were still wide, looking up at the trees. 

“Here OK?” You asked. “Might be able to get you somewhere you can see the sky…” 

“No point,” he said, still staring up. “Just do it.” 

His eyes refocused, looking at you. 

“And thank you. Know it’s not easy.” 

You aimed the gun at his head and he went back to looking at the trees. 

“I’m sorry it’s endin’ like this,” you said. “Hope you get to be with your wife again.” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.” 

You took a deep breath, pulled the trigger and he was gone. 

You stayed for a little while after, waiting to see if there were any clickers that would come for the noise you’d been making but none showed up. You realized you didn’t even know the man’s name. You were the last person he spoke to and you didn’t know his name. 

You cleaned the blood off your hands as best you could and made your way back home, Nike moving slowly through the trees and you didn’t rush her. When you opened the door, Marisa damn near knocked you down, you barely catching her as she threw herself at you. 

“You’re OK,” her voice was thick and wet and she clung to you for a moment before pulling back to look in your eyes. “I was so scared, I heard more gunshots, I didn’t know…” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said gently, kissing her, her lips plush and soft on yours. “Didn’t mean to scare you…” 

You got cleaned up and took her to bed and made her come on your fingers before she had to swallow the desperate sounds of your orgasm to keep from waking the baby. You held her close after, telling her what happened in the forest, that you’d go bury the body in the morning and do a check for infected, that she was safe here with you. 

“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” she said quietly, toying with your fingers, her breath warm on your skin as she lay her head on your chest.

You scoffed. 

“Don’t feel very brave. I was scared shitless the whole time, thought my damn heart was going to beat out of my chest.” 

“Oh baby,” she whispered, adjusting so her face was over yours, the light of the moon making her dark skin glow. “That’s what makes you brave, that you’re scared and you do it anyway. You don’t let the fear own you. That’s why you’re going to make it through all this, I just know it.” 

You hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing, just wanting her close again. She rested her head on your chest again and you gave her a squeeze, focusing on how she felt against you as she fell asleep. 

It didn’t really matter if it was bravery or not, you supposed. If it kept the people you loved most alive, you could push past the fear. Life wouldn’t matter without them, you would do anything if it meant it would protect them. 

Anything. 

May, 2028

“No way.” 

You cleaned the last of the gunk out from Shimmer’s back left hoof and set the pick down. 

“Bambi,” Ellie drew out your hame, whining it. “Please? I swear, I’ll owe you forever…” 

“I am not coming out to your dad for you,” you grabbed the file. “Absolutely not.” 

“But…” 

“Ellie,” you looked up to her as she perched on a stall in the barn. “No. That’s not something you just do for someone else. If you want Joel to know you’re gay you need to be the one to tell him, I can’t do that for you.” 

“But why not!” She pouted. “You already know and you get it and you can help him get it and…” 

“I’ll help you do it,” you cut her off. “I can be there when you tell him, I can intervene if he reacts badly - which he won’t - but I’m not doing it for you.” 

“That’s bullshit,” she huffed. “I don’t want to tell him…” 

“Then don’t,” you shrugged, finishing filing the hoof down and getting the next horseshoe ready to go on. “Live the rest of your life in the closet if that’s what you want to do.” 

“But that’s not what I want.” 

“Then tell him,” you shrugged again. “Those are your options, kiddo, hate to break it to you.” 

“You know, straight people don’t have to come out,” she kicked at the stall post. “This is dumb.” 

“That I can agree with,” you said. “But, unfortunately, that’s not the way the world works. If you want to be out, you need to come out. It sucks but that’s the way of things.” 

Ellie sighed and crossed her arms, leaning her head on the post at her back. 

“Do you really think I should?” She asked. 

You shrugged. 

“I think you have a father who loves you more than life itself,” you said. “And I think he’s also a man who has proven that he really does not care what a person’s sexuality is, given that he’s married to me. I think you should do what feels right but you should know that Joel is going to love you to pieces regardless.” 

She sighed again. 

“You’re right…” 

“Usually am.” 

She glared at you before going back to staring straight ahead. 

“I just don’t know why I’m so freaked out about it.” 

You shrugged.

“It’s a big deal. You’re telling him ‘hey this person you think I am? I’m actually different than that.’ It’s hard.” 

She considered you for a moment. 

“Did you come out to your parents?” She asked. 

You laughed. 

“No, I did not,” you said. “Never had the chance. I would have eventually, I think. But I was about your age when the world ended and it felt a lot safer to hide it from my parents when I was that age. I lived far away and they weren’t as… open to other ideas as Joel is.” 

Ellie scoffed. 

“I mean it,” you said. “They had a hard enough time handling the fact that I wanted to get thrown off horses for a living. They’d have had a hell of a time understanding why I was bringing a girl home for dinner. You know Joel ain’t that way. All he cares about is that you’re safe and happy. Everything else don’t really matter.” 

You finished shoeing Shimmer and set her hoof down. She twitched her tail and chuffed in response. 

“Can you at least tell Joel you gave me…” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “The talk?” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that I can do,” you said. “I’ll tell him I told you everything you need to know. Which is be smart about who you take your clothes off with and if a man ever tries anything, cut his dick off.” 

She barked a laugh. 

“Yeah, that I can handle,” she said. “I can’t believe he thought someone needed to talk to me about sex…” 

You were less surprised about that fact than Ellie, but then, you had the full context. 

You’d been watching Savvy and Kyle from what you hoped was a respectful distance, giving her the chance to fall for a boy in the way you always wanted her to be able to. But there was the other part of that, too. You knew what teenagers were like and, while Savvy knew about sex, you’d never given her the sex talk in the context of her being around boys. She had questions about seeing animals mating when she was a girl and you’d answered them and explained that humans worked much the same way. She’d scrunched her face in disgust and you laughed a little, not bothering to tell her that, one day, that was going to be damn near all she was interested in doing. 

But that had come with the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it would be years - if not decades - before she even had the opportunity to find someone she wanted to do that with. You figured you’d update things as she got older or when there was a person she was interested in. 

Now, the time had come. You just weren’t sure how ready you were for that. You’d gone to Joel for advice about it, feeling like you were flying particularly blind in this arena. 

“Shit, baby, been a long time since I’ve had that conversation,” he said as he traced abstract little patterns over your bare skin. “Tryin’ to even remember how I brought it up with Sarah now… My face was burnin’ up the whole time, that much I know.” 

“There were perks to being hermits,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. “Didn’t have to worry about my kid getting knocked up as a teenager for one.” 

“Mmm,” Joel hummed in agreement. “Least she has boys to flirt with now.” 

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” you muttered but smiled against his skin all the same. 

“I can talk to her with you if you think it’ll help,” he said. 

“Let me give it a shot on my own,” you sighed. “See if she will actually listen to me. If she doesn’t, I’ll call in the reinforcements.” 

Savvy had, mercifully, been at least open to the conversation. 

“I already know this stuff, Mom,” she’d rolled her eyes, arms crossed as she sat on the couch.

“You know the biology of it,” you said. “But it’s… different. You’re older now, there are going to be feelings you have that you want to act on…” 

“Ugh!” She buried her face in the arm of the couch. “Please don’t!” 

“You’re young,” you said. “Too young to really understand the risks. Do you feel like you’re ready to raise a child?” 

“No!” She pulled her head up. “Obviously not!” 

“Then you shouldn’t be having sex right now,” you shrugged. “That’s the risk. Not to mention that there are a lot of emotions that come up when you do that with someone, it can complicate relationships and you’re too young to figure that out on your own…” 

“I’m not a baby,” she practically scowled at you. “I can handle emotions!” 

“I’m not saying you can’t,” you said gently. “I’m saying that adult relationships are complicated for adults and, as grown up as you might think you are, you’re still a kid. I understand that you might want to feel close with someone and, honestly, there’s not much I can do to stop you. But I want you to understand what you’re risking if you go that route and I want you to not let anyone pressure you into it, even if it’s someone you care about. OK?” 

“Alright, jeez!” She groaned. “Can we stop talking now? Please?” 

After that conversation, though, Joel became worried about how much time Ellie was spending with Jesse. 

“Never really thought about what she did or didn’t learn in the QZ,” Joel said gruffly that night when it was just the two of you. “What if she don’t know how to keep herself safe?” 

“I don’t think you have much to worry about,” you said, trying to avoid telling Joel exactly why he didn’t need to worry. 

“Would you be OK talkin’ with her for me?” He’d winced as he asked it. “Feel like you’re her mom, think she’d be a little more… receptive to it coming from another woman.” 

You’d said yes more to buy time than anything else. 

You weren’t thrilled about the idea of lying to your husband but you could tap dance around the truth of it well enough. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

“While you’re trying to decide whether or not you want to tell your dad,” you said, getting up to lead Shimmer to her stall. “Think I’m going to call in that favor you owe me…” 

“What favor?” She demanded. “You’re not telling him for me!” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But I’m also not telling him that I didn’t give you the talk and he needs to do it himself…” 

“Jesus…” 

“So,” you continued. “Can I ask you to keep a closer eye on Savvy while Joel is out on patrol the next few days? She’s still… more comfortable talking with him than with me. Want to make sure she’s doin’ OK…” 

“Of course I will,” she said, relaxing a little. “You know, I still think…” 

“Ellie.” 

“I’m just saying!” She said. “I know she’s doing her best to move past shit, she really is, but it would be a lot easier if she knew what she was actually moving past, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“She’s getting there,” you said, giving Shimmer a scratch. “You don’t understand this yet but it’s hard when you know you can’t protect your child from everything. I can protect her from this.” 

“Whatever you say,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the mess hall. As far as Joel knows, you’ve talked to me, right?” 

“Right,” you said. “Feel free to act all awkward and lay it on real thick…” 

“Alright, bye,” she rolled her eyes and stalked off and you laughed, watching her leave. 

It was good to see Ellie acting like she normally did. You knew she was worried about Joel going out on a longer patrol, too.

You were trying not to panic about it. It was time. Consciously, you knew that. He was ready for it, his body as healed as it would ever be. He still had a bit of a limp - one you knew he tried to disguise when he thought you were watching - but he was fully capable. You’d seen it on patrol with him the two times you’d gone, the second one thankfully far less eventful than the first. 

He’d since gone out just him and Tommy, never going too far from Jackson. It still made you nervous, even though he always came back whole and well. You always clung to him when he got back and he let you, holding you against him, a hand running soothingly up and down your spine as he did. 

But this was his first overnight patrol. He was going to be gone for a few days on a route that had been calm lately, you knew you didn’t have much reason to worry. That didn’t make it much easier. 

“What’s got those wheels turnin’?” 

Joel’s voice made you jump as you brushed Shimmer down in her stall. He was leaning against the entrance to the stable, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you, his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows. 

“Who said they were?” You asked, giving the horse a final brush before leaving the stall and walking up to your husband, your own arms crossed over your chest. He smiled and quirked his jaw, shaking his head ever so slightly. “What brings you here, cowboy?” 

“Tryin’ to get my wife all to myself for a bit,” he said. “Think I can entice you away from the mess hall for the evening?” 

“I dunno,” you stepped closer. “What’d you have in mind?” 

He shrugged. 

“Just have to see.” 

You laughed, dropping your arms and the pretense. 

“Lead the way.” 

He draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in to kiss your temple before walking slowly back to your house. When you stopped to think about it, it still struck you as funny that it was your house and that you thought of it that way and not as Joel’s place. But you did, it was the place you’d made your life together, feeling more like you belonged here than you had almost anywhere else you had ever lived. 

When you got in the door, there was a small bouquet of wildflowers in a glass in the middle of the kitchen table, a table that was set for dinner for two. You looked at him, brows raised in surprise. 

“What’s this?” 

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face. 

“Wanted a night in with my girl. Might have talked my way into a steak or two. Think you take yours… medium rare, right?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I do.” 

“Well,” he pulled you in for a long, deep kiss. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and when you’re done, there’ll be a medium-rare steak waitin’ here for ya.” 

“Think I can be convinced,” you smiled against his mouth before kissing him again. “Feel like you’re butterin’ me up or something here…” 

“Just tryin’ to make sure you remember why you’re married to me while I’m gone,” he said. “Try to keep you from getting too fed up with my shit…” You laughed and he smiled. “Go on so I can get this going, you’re too distracting standing this close.” 

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, going to shower and, instead of putting on jeans or sweats after, finding one of the dresses in your closet, one that Joel had never seen you in. You got your wet hair out of the way and went downstairs again, strangely aware of how the dress hugged your curves. 

Joel’s back was to you when you came in but the plates were on the table, steak and green beans and a pile of fresh potato chips on each one. 

“Are you kidding me?” You gaped at them. “You realize we’re already married, right? You don’t have to try this hard.” 

“Like tryin’ hard for you,” he turned around, glasses in hand, and his mouth fell open, blinking a few times in surprise. “Hot damn, baby…” 

“Shocking, know,” you smirked. 

“I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen?” He asked, setting a glass down at your place. “Now, let me feed you before I change my mind and try to pull that dress off right here in the kitchen.” 

Joel really did grill a mean steak. He’d even made the two of you whiskey cocktails with a recipe he’d gotten from Julie and, by the time dinner was done, you were pleasantly tipsy and full. 

“Where did you get the flowers?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over the tiny white blooms. 

“Might have gone outside for a bit,” he winced a little. You raised your eyebrows. “Not far, the kids in town sneak out that way all the time…” 

“Wait, what?” You gaped at him, practically jumping out of your seat. 

“Not Savvy and not Ellie,” he said quickly and you settled. “Made sure they know better. But lot of the other kids do. S’pretty out that way, have to take you sometime. Still owe you a trip to the lake. But, in the mean time…” he got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. “I’ve got someplace to take you tonight.” 

He led you to the living room, a nest of pillows and blankets and sleeping bags set up in front of the TV. 

“Just one second…” he turned the TV on, the opening sepia toned shot from Titanic on the screen. 

“Joel!” You gasped. “Where’d you even get this?” 

“Asked around,” he smiled. “Would’ve gone and hunted it down just to see you get all excited though.” 

You elbowed him lightly in the side and he laughed as the two of you settled into the pile on the floor, you in Joel’s arms with your head on his chest as his fingers trailed up and down the bare skin of your arm. 

The movie was just as good as the last time you’d seen it with Joel. Better, really, because you got to watch it pressed completely against his broad, strong body. But you could only really pay attention so long, twisting in his hold so you were looking at him and not the screen. 

“Know it ain’t exactly a date like before,” he said softly. “But… I do OK?” 

“Oh you blew past OK a while ago,” you laughed a little and he smiled. “This was… thank you, Joel.” 

“Course, baby,” he trailed his fingers over the outline of your face. “Gonna miss you when I’m out there.” 

“You could just not go,” you said. “Don’t think anyone’s holdin’ a gun to your head about it…” 

He laughed once, softly. 

“I know,” he said. “But… I do appreciate you lettin’ me go. I know it ain’t easy for you. Don’t blame you for it. But I’m feeling a lot more like myself since I’ve been patrollin’ again. I feel useful. I missed it. Thank you for letting me find that again.” 

Your eyes searched his. You couldn’t really argue that with him, not when he was being so damn open and honest about it. 

“Just need you to come home to me,” you said quietly. “You can have and do whatever you want, long as you come home.” 

“Long as you’re here to come home to?” He said. “I’m comin’ home. Every time.” 

He kissed you, gentle at first but deepening, until he was shoving your skirt around your waist and pulling your underwear down your legs. He sank into you, slow and firm, his breaths heavy and hot on your skin. You sank your fingers into is skin, holding him close and tight and the worries you had about clutching onto him too hard were far away. 

Joel kept his pace, his body so large and strong on top of and inside of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his eyes locked on your own and you focused on how close he was to you, how you knew he was safe and whole like this. How you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, that he would do everything to come back home to you. Your body got tight and needy, the heat inside you pulling into the center of you and burning hotter and brighter with every desperate stroke. 

“You’re gettin’ close baby,” he pressed his mouth into your throat, nipping at the tender flesh there before soothing it with a brush of his tongue and a kiss. “Want you to come for me. Love makin’ you feel good, fuckin’ live for it…” 

“Promise it’s not the last time,” your voice was tight, too, the intensity of your orgasm crashing into the fear that you couldn’t seem to shake. 

“Promise,” he pulled back from you enough to look in your eyes again, his large hand coming to cradle the crown of your head. “Nothing’s keepin’ me from you, baby, nothin’, it’s OK, it’ll be OK, promise it will…” 

Your back arched, last ounces of tension gripping you for a moment before releasing in a forceful, desperate wave. 

“Fuck, there you are,” Joel panted, fucking you through it, never easing, chasing his own orgasm through yours. “Feel so good, so goddamn good, fuck, that’s it, keep comin’ for me, know you can…” 

As your own orgasm started to ease, his took hold, pressing himself deep inside and emptying himself into you there. 

Joel pulled himself from your fucked out body with a groan and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you tightly to him as you gasped short, shaky breaths. 

“You’re OK,” he said gently, still breathing heavy himself. “I’ve got you, s’alright…” 

You buried your face in his neck and fought to catch your breath, focusing on his scent and the feel of him against your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” you said eventually. “I thought I was stronger than this but ever since… I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to never seeing you again and I just…” 

“I know,” he said gently, pulling away from you enough that you could see his face. “I know how you’re feeling. I feel it, too. But I need you to know that I mean it when I say I’m comin’ back. I am, baby.” 

You just nodded and focused on the feeling of him tracing the outline of your face in the dim light of the TV, his body close beside your own. He pressed a soft kiss into your lips, holding you closer as he did and staying close after he pulled away, so close that his nose brushed yours. You stayed like that, not bothering to turn to watch the movie let alone put in the second tape when the first one ended. Instead, you just memorized how he felt against you, how his eyes looked into your own, how his fingers found their familiar paths along your skin. 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you were still entangled with him in the morning, his forehead against yours, his breaths easy and deep in sleep. You ran your fingers through his graying curls and his face tensed a little in his sleep before he adjusted, sliding down your body to bury his face against your chest. You just stroked his hair and held him there, the early morning light becoming pink with the sun. 

When you couldn’t avoid it any longer, you woke him reluctantly and the two of you made your way to the stables, your body tucked against his. He gave you a squeeze before separating from you, the two of you working together to get the horses ready to head out on patrol. You walked with the patrol to the front gate, Joel leading his horse by the reins instead of riding him so he could hold your hand on the way. 

“Be safe,” you said quietly as he faced you, every other horse on the other side of the wall now. 

“Promise,” he said gently, his large hand going to the back of your neck and holding you at just the right angle to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Take care of yourself and our girls. Gimme somethin’ to come home to, OK?” 

You smiled a little. Like something was going to happen in Jackson. 

“Promise.” 

You watched the patrol leave until they were out of sight, trying to calm the thudding of your heart as you headed for the stable to get started on all the work for the day. 

You’d purposely set yourself up for a busy few days with Joel gone. If you were occupied, your mind couldn’t wander. So you focused on training horses. 

It was the hardest part of your job but also the part you liked the most. You had to concentrate on it otherwise you’d get thrown. The horse could always tell when you were distracted, if you gave them an inch they would take a mile at this stage. 

You were finally thinking about finishing up for the day, the sun low in the sky and your back sore after getting nearly thrown off a horse more times than you cared to count when Ellie and Savvy wandered into the stable, giggling to each other as they made their way over to you. 

You took a moment to fully appreciate what they were to each other. You’d always felt bad for Savvy, having just you in the world, no one closer to her own age to bond with. Now, she and Ellie were attached at the hip, sharing the kind of bond you’d always longed to have with the sister who had never materialized, no matter how much you begged your parents for one. Both of them meant so much to you, the whole of the future wrapped up in them. You had survived a lot to get to this point, horrors you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, but you’d do it all again to see these two girls find sisterhood in each other. Conspiratorial whispers and knowing laughs and deep love was everything you wanted for your daughter and she had found it here. 

“Terrified to know what this is about,” you half smiled as they walked over.. 

“Why does it have to be about something?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “What if we just wanted to come say hi.” 

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two stop by to just say hi,” you said. “So that would be highly suspect. What do you want?” 

“Can we go spend the night at Dina’s?” Savvy asked, the words all spilling out of her at once. “I promise we’ll behave and…” 

“Dina’s?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Ellie. 

“Yeah, my friend Dina’s,” she gave you a firm look as she said it. 

“And what will you be doing at Dina’s?” You asked, turning your attention back to Savvy. 

“Just hanging out with some friends,” she said. 

“Any boys?” You asked. 

“No,” Ellie said quickly. “Mostly some of the girls who just finished up school and the girls who are about Savvy’s age, nothing crazy…” 

“Please Mom?” Savvy interrupted her. “It’s going to be so fun and I haven’t done anything like this before but I’ve read about it and it sounds so cool and I really want to go and…” 

“And Dina’s sister will be there?” You asked Ellie, who perked up at the question. 

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “And she doesn’t let Dina get away with shit…” 

“You do realize that you’re 18 and I can’t do a damn thing to stop you, right?” You said to Ellie. “Adults don’t need to ask their moms for permission.” 

“I know,” Ellie said. “But so is Dina. And it’ll be more fun if Savvy can go. I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise.” 

You looked between them, Savvy looking more happy and open with you than she had in months, so like how she used to look at you when asking for something when she was small. Her eyes were so wide and hopeful and you couldn’t say no, not when she was looking at you like that. 

“Alright,” you sighed. Savvy squealed. “But you have to behave. Savvy, no drinking. If there are boys, you come home. No doin’ stupid shit like climbing buildings…” 

“Oh that was like one time!” Ellie protested but you silenced her with a look. 

“And I expect everything to stay PG,” you finished. 

Ellie frowned. 

“What the fuck does PG mean?” 

You shook your head a little, some things still surprising you about how different the world was, even after all these years. 

“It’s a saying from before,” you said. “Means make sure whatever you do, it’s family friendly. That means if you say you and Dina are friends, you act like friends.” 

“We are friends,” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Oh sure,” Savvy drew out the last word, laughing. “I always want to kiss my friends…” 

Ellie elbowed her and she laughed harder before quieting down. 

“We won’t cause any trouble,” Ellie said. “Promise.” 

“You two have fun,” you said. “And come by the stable in the morning so I know you’re still alive.” 

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes, nudging a giddy Savvy toward the door. 

“Thank you, Mom!” Savvy called, giving you a wave as Ellie urged her outside. 

You just laughed and watched until you couldn’t see them anymore before taking your time getting everything set for the night. Your house would be empty overnight for the first time since you’d gotten married. You hadn’t slept without Joel beside you in months, you weren’t in a rush to get home and feel his absence there. But, after a while, you couldn’t stall anymore. You made your way to the mess hall, already mostly empty, but found Maria there with William next to her. She smiled and waved you over and you joined them, sitting across the table as William crashed a carved moose and deer into each other, complete with sound effects. 

“See you’re putting off being home, too,” she said, putting one hand in the middle of William’s back. 

“Yeah, well,” you sighed. “That’s a damn big house for one person.” 

She smiled tightly, knowingly.

“It’s always hard, thinking about them out there like that,” she said. “But this one feels harder.” 

“Yeah,” you said, laughing once, darkly. “It really does.” 

“Hey Aunt Bambi,” William looked up from his toys, his brown eyes reminding you of Joel’s. There was so much of the Miller men in his face it made your heart ache. “Did you know that moose are the biggest deer sp…sp…” he frowned and looked up at his mom. 

“Species,” Maria finished for him before looking over at you. “He’s been obsessed with that carving ever since Joel gave it to him for Christmas so we’ve been learning about moose…” 

“Well, moose are pretty cool,” you said knowingly. 

“I want to see one,” he said. “Mommy says I can’t ride it but I bet I could ride it.” 

You tried really hard not to laugh, William’s springy curls bouncing as he looked down at the carving in his chubby hand. 

“I don’t think ridin’ it would be a good idea,” you said. “They’re big, could be very dangerous. But they are neat to see.” 

“They’re not dangerous,” he frowned. “I bet we would be friends, just because they are big doesn’t mean they’re dangerous…” 

“OK let’s I’d rather not think about you riding a moose,” Maria rolled her eyes. “We can start with seeing one from afar once you’re older.” 

He just sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world were on his small shoulders, and went back to playing with the carvings. 

“I remember when Savvy was that age,” you smiled a little. “She was all about horses, though…” 

“Wonder where she got that from,” Maria smiled back. 

The three of you were the last to leave the mess hall, the clean up team heading to the kitchens  before you started heading out. 

“You’re welcome to come over if you don’t want to be at home,” Maria said, carrying William as he started to fall asleep on her shoulder. “Our door is always open…” 

“Thanks but I need to bite the bullet,” you sighed. “If Joel’s going out on longer patrols again, I need to get used to spending some nights home alone.” 

“Well, the offer still stands,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind my kid babbling to you about moose, apparently.” 

You laughed a little. 

“He can babble to me about whatever he wants,” you said. 

You parted ways and walked around Jackson for a few minutes before heading for the barn where the dogs were kenneled overnight, leaving a note on the log and taking Gatling from her designated place. She trailed behind you home, happy to be under your control again, and you fell asleep with her curled up against your stomach. 

It was a relief to start the next day. You were halfway through your days with Joel outside, not sure if he was safe, too far away for you to see our touch. You could do one more night. You brought Gatling back to her kennel before heading to the stables and getting to work.

The girls came by in the late morning, both looking exhausted but otherwise OK. 

“We’re going to go home and take a nap,” Ellie said, talking for Savvy who was staring straight ahead, looking dazed. “But we’ll be in the mess hall at lunch…” 

“Go sleep before you fall over,” you smiled and shook your head. “Fill me in on everything later.” 

Ellie steered Savvy out of the stable and you laughed a little. Savvy had friends, friends she was staying up all night with. It was everything you wanted for her, watching her grow up both beautiful and sad, thinking she would never have friends like this. 

The girls beat you to the mess hall, their backs to the door you came in, their heads together, talking conspiratorially. 

“She can’t know,” Ellie said quietly. “She’d freak out…” 

“We can handle it,” Savvy said, quiet but sharp. 

“Handle what?” You asked, making both of them jump, their eyes going wide. They looked at each other quickly and you frowned. “Girls. Handle what.” 

“Nothing,” Ellie said quickly. Savvy was looking at you with a strange expression on her face. “Just… there’s a girl we know, this guy is being a dick. I think we can handle it without talking to her because I think if she knew it’d just be extra shitty.” 

You frowned. 

“Not gonna go pick a fight, are you? Because…” 

“No,” she said. “Not picking a fight.” 

“OK,” you said, still uncertain. “But I think…” 

“Actually, Bambi, if it’s OK, we’re just going to head out,” Ellie said, cutting you off. “We got here early and I need to go bug Jesse about something.” 

“Alright,” you frowned, looking between the two of them. “Are y’all sure everything is OK? Because…” 

“It’s fine,” Ellie said before you could finish. “Right, Savvy?” 

“Yeah,” she said, still looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Part of it like she didn’t know you at all. “It’s OK.” 

“Alright,” you didn’t really believe either of them. “Look, if this boy is a serious problem…” 

“Nothing like that,” Ellie cut you off again. “C’mon, Savvy.” 

She got up and took Savvy’s hand, pulling her to her feet, too. 

“Where can I find you two later,” you said. “Because…” 

“We’ll be home,” Ellie said. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” 

She started pulling Savvy along behind her but Savvy just stayed where she was, her feet planted, eyes locked on you. 

“Are you sure you’re OK?” You asked, brows knitting together. “If there’s anything you want to talk about…” 

Savvy threw her arms around your waist, catching you totally by surprise, burying her face in your shoulder. You slowly, cautiously, put your arms around her, too, just holding her for a moment. It was so foreign yet familiar, so long since she’d latched onto you like this but holding her one of the only things it felt like you’d been made to do. 

“You can always talk to me,” you said softly, running your hand over the back of her mass of curls and pressing a kiss to her temple. “About anything, I’m always here for you.” 

“I know,” she said, stepping back and looking at you again. “I love you, Mom.” 

You just stared at her for a moment, heart feeling like it was cracking open. 

“I love you, too,” you said, your hands still on her shoulders. “More than anything.” 

“C’mon Savvy,” Ellie said, taking her arm and tugging her away. “See ya, Bambi.” 

You watched them go and debated following them before deciding to give Savvy some space. But, by the time you finished having lunch, you’d thought better of it. You were heading to see if they’d actually gone home but Olivia stopped you as you went past the stables, needing help with the horse you’d been working with the day before. It was hours before you could make it back to the house, bypassing your front door and heading straight for the back yard, knocking on Ellie’s door instead. 

“One sec!” Ellie called and you heard her scramble for the door, breathless when she opened it. “Hey Bambi, what’s up?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, not asking for permission and just stepping inside. Savvy was sitting crosslegged in the middle of her bed looking a little more like herself. Or, at least, the self you’d come to recognize her as lately, a little angry with her mouth set in a firm line. “Wanted to see what you girls were up to tonight, make sure everything was OK.” 

“We’re fine,” Savvy said, sounding less angry than she looked. “Just pretty tired.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Get that stuff figured out with your friend earlier?” You asked, looking between them. 

“Think so,” Ellie said. “We can handle it. Right?” 

“Right,” Savvy said, giving her a firm nod. 

You looked between them, hoping one of them would elaborate. Neither did. 

“Alright, look,” you said. “Both of you are actin’ real weird. I need you to tell me what it is you’re schemin’ up because, while I understand that you want to take care of your friend, you can’t just go around causing problems here in town over something like a break up…” 

“We’re not causing any problems in town,” Ellie said reassuringly. “I promise, we’re not going to go beat up some kid in Jackson or anything like that, I swear.” 

You looked to Savvy. 

“She’s right,” she said. “We really aren’t.” 

You clenched your jaw for a moment. Something felt… off. They were telling the truth but you were uneasy. Something was up. 

“We’re actually still really tired,” Ellie said after a minute. “So, if it’s OK with you, we’re just going to call it a night…” 

“You swear you’re not going to go beat up some boy?” You asked, looking between them. 

“Promise,” Ellie said. “The Jackson boys are safe from us.” 

You sighed, hoping to get Joel’s help getting more out of them when he was back the next night. 

“Alright. You two actually get some damn sleep, OK?” 

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes and you smiled a little. At least that seemed like Ellie. 

You went back to the house, sitting at the window to the backyard with a cup of tea for a bit, until the lights went off in their little house. Something still pulled at you but you went and settled on the couch, putting on an old VHS tape that had been in Joel’s house, whoever had lived here before’s recording of some episodes of Seinfeld. You didn’t fast forward through the commercials, marveling at how far away the world that sold things like Oreos seemed. You’d only been about Savvy’s age when this had been recorded. Your relationship with your mother had been fraught, too. As hard as it was to have the only reason you’d fought so hard to survive be distant, she’d done more with you today than you would have with your own mother at that age. You sighed. Maybe you were through the worst of it. Maybe this was just what it was like parenting a teenager, strange distance interspersed with shocking moments of vulnerability. 

You dozed off halfway through the third episode and the pounding on your front door made you sit bolt upright, shocking awake with a gasp. 

The sound was relentless, a fist slamming into wood instead of rapping against it. You scrambled off the couch and pulled the door open without bothering to see who was on the other side of it, your heart in your throat. What if it was Maria? What if something had happened to Joel?

But standing on your porch was Kyle, the boy Savvy had been spending time with, his shock of red hair slick with sweat, his freckled skin blotchy and red. There was a gash on his cheek.

“Mrs. Miller,” he panted, looking at you with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, they let me go, they let me go to come find you…” 

“Slow down, kid,” you said gently, heart still pounding. You put your hands on his shoulders and guided him inside. “Take a deep breath, what’s goin’ on, is everyone OK?” 

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes still wild and frantic. “No, they’re not OK. He’s got them, he’s got them, I tried to stop him but I couldn’t, there were too many and…” 

“Who’s got who?” You frowned. “Need you to slow down, you’re not making any…” 

“Savvy and Ellie,” he said. Your heart stopped. “He’s got them.” 

***

“Swear to God this is the longest damn patrol I’ve ever been on,” Joel said, happy he could actually recognize some of what was around them now. 

“And we’re even gettin’ back a few hours early,” Tommy gave him a cocky smile. “At least it was an easy one.” 

“Jesus, don’t know if I’d call it easy with how my damn leg is feelin’,” Joel said. “Swear all I’m doin’ tonight is soaking in the damn bath…” 

“See how your wife feels about that,” Tommy teased and Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other…” 

“Fuck off,” Joel said, smiling all the same. 

“S’what I thought,” Tommy said. 

It had been an easy few days, all things considered. They’d picked off a few stray infected but no signs of a larger group. No immediate signs of raiders, either, the territory they covered broad and quiet. They’d made good time coming back, closing in on Jackson around noon instead of that evening. It was one of those times that Joel was glad that you worked in the stables, happy he’d have an excuse to go right to you the second he was in the gate. He didn’t care that he knew that he smelled, days of sweat and dirt stuck on his skin and clothes. You wouldn’t mind. You’d damn near tackle him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body into his and he’d forget for a moment just how bad his damn leg was hurting after spending two and a half days on a horse. 

But Joel knew something was off the second the gate opened, guards whispering low to each other as Joel and Tommy dismounted. 

“Who died?” Tommy frowned, looking around. 

“Maria’s on her way up,” Jason, one of the guards, said. “She knows what’s going on…” 

Joel frowned at Tommy, who’s face had fallen, skin going pale. 

“I’m sure s’all fine,” Joel said, limping more than usual as he went to stand beside his brother, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s Jackson, what could happen?” 

Maria appeared then, walking quickly and talking seriously with Warren. 

“Oh Jesus,” Tommy said softly. “This is bad…” 

“Think we lost someone?” Joel asked, voice low. 

“Feels like we’re about to go to fuckin’ war,” Tommy said, matching Joel’s tone. 

“Good to see you two back and in one piece,” Maria said, Joel’s stomach lurching at her tone. She was talking like a member of the council not like his sister-in-law. “Jason, take the horses to get settled. I need to talk to Joel and Tommy.” 

Joel’s heart beat a little faster. She said it like she needed to talk to him, like Tommy was there to make sure he didn’t fly off the handle. She put her hand in the middle of Joel’s back and guided him to the Tipsy Bison, the bar empty this early in the day. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Tommy asked the second they were in the door. “Is William OK? Why’s everyone actin’ like someone fuckin’ died?”

“William is fine, he’s with the neighbors,” Maria said gently before turning her attention to Joel. “I need you to stay calm…” 

“Why,” he demanded. “Maria…” 

“We don’t know everything,” she cut him off. “We’ve only known about it for maybe two hours, we’re still coming up with a plan and…” 

“Known about what,” Joel demanded. “What’s goin’ on?” 

Maria took a deep breath and looked him dead in his eyes. 

“Bambi, Ellie and Savvy are gone.” 

Time slowed. His heart dropped and there was a high pitched whine ringing in his head. 

That didn’t make sense. This was Jackson. Things were safe here, everything was supposed to be safe here, that’s why he’d stayed here, risked everything to bring Ellie back here, done everything to keep you here when you’d tried to leave before and something had taken you from him anyway. 

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Tommy’s voice snapped him back into his head. “Where’d they go? What happened?” 

“This is everything we know,” Maria held a folded piece of paper out to Joel, his name in your handwriting on one half of it like you were addressing a letter. “We’re doing everything we can…” 

Joel unfolded the page with trembling hands, the crinkle of the paper almost sharp in his ears. 

Joel, 

I know I promised to be here to come home to but Cody has our girls and I’m going to get them back. He told me to come alone or they die and I can’t risk them. Please don’t come after me, not until we know they’re safe. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you but if I don’t, protect them and take care of yourself. They need you. 

If I never see you again, I want you to know that loving you was worth surviving for. Getting to be your wife and taking care of our girls with you was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

Be safe. 

I love you. 

You signed your name, your real name, like you had the tape you gave him for Christmas but there was one notable difference: your last name was Miller. 

Joel’s fist got tight around the paper. He’d lost you and his girls. He’d let the man who had hurt you live and now that had all three of you, doing who knows what to you. 

“They were here yesterday,” Maria’s voice sounded far away. “It must have happened overnight. When Bambi didn’t show up at the stables today, Olivia sent someone to check on her around 10 a.m. and they found the note…” 

Joel wasn’t listening, turning and stalking for the door, taking mental stock of the supplies he still had on him. How much ammunition? He was pretty sure he had a good count of how many rounds he’d fired on patrol but now he was less certain. 

“Joel!” Maria’s voice was sharp, making him stop, one hand on the door, the sunlight pouring through the glass of it oddly bright. How could anything be bright right now, at a moment like this? “What are you doing? You can’t just…” 

He looked back over his shoulder, his brother and sister-in-law, the pair of them standing and watching him with cautious looks on their faces. 

Joel hoped they wouldn’t try to stop him. He loved them both, they were family, but if he had to choose from you and the girls or his brother, his brother would lose every single time. He wouldn’t hesitate to go through them. 

Joel had felt like he’d been meant to do very little in his life. Before, he’d worked a job that let him pay his bills and watched college football for a school he’d never had a shot at getting into. Since, he’d done plenty to get by and distract himself from the emptiness of his existence, none of it feeling like it was worth a damn thing. The one different, constant piece had been how he felt about the people his world revolved around. Sarah, Ellie, you, Savvy. The four of you were his calling. The four of you were why he was here at all. He’d survived the loss of Sarah by the skin of his teeth. In so many ways, he never really recovered. He wouldn’t have recovered at all if it weren’t for Ellie. 

He wasn’t doing that again. He wouldn’t survive it again. This was life and death, not just for the three of you but for himself, too. 

Joel met his brother’s gaze.

“That monster’s got my wife, my daughters,” Joel said, voice dark and firm. “I’m gonna hunt him, I’m gonna hurt him and I’m gonna bring them back.” 

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I know, more angst. I don't know why I'm like this either. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask box or my DMs. I'll still love you.

Thanks for putting up with me and all my shit and for continuing to read this story. It really does mean so, so much to me.

I love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can I ask why you don’t like Vil much? If you haven’t answered that already?

For me, I also didn’t like him at first but loving Rook has turned me into a Vil lover 😭.

[Referencing this tier list!]

A significant part of it is no fault of Vil's own, it's just... I have a very strong aversion to celebrity characters. This dislike scales up the more famous that celebrity character is + how much attention is brought to their status, and well... Y'all know perfectly well how famous Vil is 🤡 This is why I also dislike his father to some degree, though it's to a lesser extent because I at least appreciate Eric being involved in his son’s life + find Eric to be friendly.

Celebrity characters tend to make me feel deeply uncomfortable chiefly because their careers put them in a position where they're ripe for parasocialism (which is when one party, ie their fans, extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, ie the object of their affection, is completely unaware of the other's existence). Parasocialism in of itself is not a negative thing by default; it can, in fact, be a powerful motivator to improve oneself or can significantly lift one's mood. Some sectors entirely rely on parasocialism to function (such as the "influencing" industry).

Where it starts to get iffy for me is when we veer into the most parasocial of fans who will take extreme actions to support and/or hate on an individual. These are your stalkers, your sasaeng fans, etc. While I'm aware that these are the vocal minority of a celebrity's fanbases, the kinds of things these extremely parasocial fans pull off deeply unnerves me. Like Vil, the celebrities involved are by no means at fault—but they’re always “tainted” in my mind by the association due to the sheer magnitude of what their most crazed fans do in their name 💀 So when I think of that celebrity… I also think of the insane stuff they have to deal with from their fans and that stresses me out.

I find the whole “celebrity worship” culture in of itself very odd. It’s difficult for me to form an attachment to a real person that doesn’t or cannot reciprocate. By extension, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around activities like following the celebrity’s life closely, supporting any and all projects due to their involvement alone, and collecting merch/signatures. Thinking of Vil’s fans doing this… (or, as seen in the Tapis Rouge event, getting emotional/shrieking for him, begging for a glance, fainting, etc.) it invokes those feelings of discomfort again.

Finally (regarding the celebrity thing), Vil and other famous people tend to be in the spotlight. I don’t really like this sort of a presentation; it calls too much attention to them. This runs counter to the types of characters I tend to gun for: the schemers who operate from the shadows, typically appearing innocuous or humble at first glance. These characters stay out of the spotlight and prefer it that way, as it allows them more freedoms to enact their plots. Celebrities’ positions don’t really allow for that. Even if their off-camera persona is completely different than their on-camera one, the attention they’re showered with never seems to fade.

I also find Vil’s entire presence way too intense (even when he’s lined up next to arguably much more physically imposing students like the 180 cm+ squad or any muscular character). This is why I can tolerate Neige but dislike Vil; Neige comes off as innocent and approachable—so much so that I don’t even register him as an idol or a celebrity in my mind. He’s just a cute boy-next-door type inviting me to dance and sing with him and his friends!

Vil’s hair, makeup, tall heels, the need for perfection, his sternness. It’s a LOT to take in. I can admire the confidence and the tenacity with which Vil pursues beauty, but at the same time… it can come off as super overwhelming. I don’t think I could comfortably breathe in the same space as him without feeling like I’ve offended his sensibilities 😅 Sometimes I get a little anxious just reading him scolding others; it feels like he’s reaching through the screen and scolding me too. I get the overwhelming vibes even through the things Vil creates or commissions; the composition and choreography of Absolutely Beautiful was so oppressive and centered on winning that I disassociated from my own school’s team 💀

Some other minor, miscellaneous gripes I have with Vil:

I don’t generally have a problem with Vil’s leadership or how he guides/teaches others. (His behavior is very similar to what I’ve experienced within my own culture’s upbringing.) However, I do not approve of all of his methods and I do think he does “too much” at times + oversteps, making me feel uneasy.

His tastes don’t really match mine! It’s a little too “glam”, especially the ensembles with heavy smoky eyes.

What’s with him dying the ends of his hair that color… It makes me think of him dunking his head in grape Kool-aid as a dye 😭/j

There we are ^^ I hope that explanation was sufficient!! I tried to explain my… admittedly complex feelings behind my dislike of Vil as neatly as I could. Nothing against the guy, how he is written, or his fans (both in-universe and irl), of course!! This is just my opinion.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Vil Schoenheit #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question

[mostlygayrage]

OBSCURA: Trailer Analysis

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

In the trailer/video that goes with Chapter One of OBSCURA (Here. Watch it on your own, sub to Rotten Raccons) is PACKED with details and all sorts of information. Let's start with the first thing we see when the video starts.

Cirrus:

This is a snippet of Cirrus' CG in game with some things added. The text in the top left is what we're interested in. "18. presbyter//ecclesia lunaris" What does the number mean? Well if we take it in terms of Major Arcana for Tarot cards. the moon in number 18.(XVIII) Fitting for the lunar priest, but the deeper meaning also fits. Usually meaning hidden danger or enemies, deception to darker forces at play. Then we have the Latin. If we take the dashes and an indication of a break, then the translation is roughly "Preist// height of the moon" But if we take it as one sentence it translates to "Priest of the Lunar Church" Keir:

Again, staring with the number. 20 (XX) is Judgement. I find this fascinating. With obvious associations to justice, scales, balance etc it;s an interesting connection that I wouldn't have originally thought of to Keir but it fits well. The card itself means reflection, reckoning and awakening. Usually taking a look at oneself to see where an imbalance lies so you can fix it and move forwards while reversed can mean a lack of self-awareness, doubt and self-loathing. (yikes) The latin here is interesting too. Instead of having the dashes like everyone else, he had the latin next to the number and then a separate, less visible one at the bottom center of the screen. "Cavilator Fur" translates to "Scornful thief" and the dimmer, less noticeable word is "Cultelluss" or "knife" and it's pointing to where his dagger in on his belt.

Oleander:

The Number 11 (XI) is Justice. Meaning cause and effect, clarity and truth and the reverse meaning opposite. Oleander is a character who knows the effects of his actions. They are measures and precise. He is aware of the cause and effect. And in his neutral and good endings we see him bring his own form of 'justice' or balance. When Lord Valentine tried to have him killed, he simply returned the favor personally, and succeded. "Nerii//periculosum scurra" when translated as a sentence means "A dangerous clown". This obviously references the way Vesper calls him a clown when they first meet and telling us directly that he is dangerous. Francesco:

The Wheel of Fortune is what is assigned to Francesco, meaning change, cycles and inevitable fate, greater forces as play that are pushing towards and ultimate and unavoidable end. This theme goes along with theming that he is running out of time. THere is a reason for him coming to the underground, for rushing Vesper and the tailor so he can experience as much as he can. There is something pushing him forwards.

"Francisium//innocentes nobiles" At a first glance it looks like a latin version of his name, and "innocent nobiles." The second part is correct but the whole phrase means "The innocent nobles of France" which is FACINATING to say the least. The connection to France is interesting to me and brings my mind to the French revolution. Another detail I think is interesting is that his secondary outfit we see him in, the jewelry that is around his neck is right where a beheading would happen and once I saw it I couldn't unsee it.

Thats the first portion. Later in the video we get some images that flash across the screen with more latin and numbers. The numbers correspond with the numbers we were given previously. Again, in the order of how they appear in the video: Cirrus: Snake Skeleton

Latin first. "Obsequium// ducit as caelum" means "compliance leads to heaven" This connects to his entire theme. To get the best end with Cirrus, you don't question him. You don't question his motives or hesitate, you just comply. The imagery of a snake skeleton is interesting too. The obvious imagery and symbolism with snakes, deceit, lies, danger. But also connections to the story of Adam and Eve. The snake that tempts Eve, causing her fall from grace.

Keir: Scales

The Latin here is obscured a bit but it says "Fatum// vestrum vel extaneus" meaning "Your fate is at stake". This one leaves me wondering quite a bit. It says 'your' as if it's talking to the player, to us. To Vesper. This could tie into how Vesper is roped into Mouse Hole, how they are forced to get a noose around their neck like the rest of those living in Mouse Hole. They have to perform well in the heist that happens otherwise they risk death that comes a lot sooner than would be caused by fractum anima. They also risk the lives of Keir and those in Mouse Hole.

The imagery here is super interesting too. Scales are usually associated with justice which happens to be Oleander's tarot card. Scales, are obviously associated with balance, with equilibrium, and fair deals. While we mostly see one side of the scale it seems to be balanced. And in combination with the Latin, I think it's referring to the delicate balance that is Keir's life. A balance of his line of work being risky but lucrative, but if it's too much of a risk, he not only risks his life but all the others in Mouse Hole.

Oleander: Human Skull

"Pantiantur// sicut habes" roughly translates to "Let them suffer as you have" which, WOW. OKAY. Again, Oleander delivers his own form of justice to Lord Valentine by delivering the same thing Valentine tried to do to Oleander, but more personal. Let them suffer as you have. It brings to mind the "eye for an eye" metaphor. An eye for an eye and the world goes blind. But Justice is blind is she not? The skull imagery is interesting as well. This is all painting Oleander as a very dangerous man. Charming and witty, with a flair for the dramatic, yes, but dangerous all the same. A man who can kill. In the neutral ending he says, "For now you are safe with me. If you want to stay like that, you need to follow my lead." If he doesn't have the same attachment to you as he does in the good ending, you are an asset to him and he doesn't spare you the same kindness.

Francesco: Hour Glass

"Tempus//decurrit" means "time is running out". His is the shortest and simplest of the secondary ones. He is running out of time. He rushes you at the tailor to get an outfit made because he can't afford to wait. He wants to get as much as he can, done in the time he has left. No time to waste. The hourglass is the same message. Time is running out. It makes me wonder what is causing his time to run out. Here's the thing, Vesper's time is also running out with Fractum Anima, and interesting connection and it would be interesting if he also had it or something similar but I don't think that's the case with the other things we have seen. With the other things, the "innocent nobles of France" bit and the Wheel of Fortune, It feels like it's alluding to an execution to something similar. But that's purely speculation. That's it! That's what I have! (Thanks to Atlas on discord for great resources and helping me connect the dots with the numbers and tarot!!)

#OBSCURA #rotten raccoons #obscura vn #obscura analysis

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

I assume you mean the Coruscant Guard and not the GAR as a whole. We do see Fox during the Fives arc responding directly to an order from Palpatine, but he's also IN PALPATINE'S OFFICE already because they're playing bodyguard in the moment. The GAR would be subordinate to Palpatine obviously, because he is the Chancellor of the Republic. Everybody is subordinate to Palpatine, that's kind-of how it works, it's just that most of the other clones seem to sort-of report more directly to a Jedi General or a civilian officer of some kind before they report to Palpatine.

So whether the CG reports directly to Palpatine or not is sort-of up to speculation as far as I can tell. It's possible that a reference book might have something more to say about it, but what we're shown in TCW isn't conclusive. There's never any indication that the CG have a Jedi General of any kind, so they presumably have to report to SOMEONE and most people just assume that this is Palpatine. It's just as possible though that there IS someone else they report more directly to normally, like Mas Amedda maybe or someone like Tarkin perhaps. The CG just aren't explored enough to really give any sort-of definitive answer as to who they report to directly. Palpatine is the ultimate authority so his orders would supersede anybody else's no matter who they came from.

As for Fox's personality, I have basically the same answer. He really isn't explored enough as a character to really say he has a "murderous" personality. He's in all of a few minor scenes across the entire show and he's always working and he never even has his helmet off, so figuring out his personality is a little difficult. Most of what people know his personality to be comes out of fanon, not canon. The closest I can think of to something he says that might give a hint as to his personality is when he tells Ahsoka that he understands why she'd kill Letta Turmond but that he still has to arrest her for doing it. It's not murderous by my interpretation, but it does show that he has empathy and is willing to treat Ahsoka with kindness despite what his duty requires him to do. He does help chase her down after she escapes from her cell and a bunch of his men seem to have died at her hand, but there doesn't seem to be anything particularly personal or vindictive about it, it just means he doesn't have the time or motivation to offer her the same empathy he did earlier.

So sure, he seems focused on work and pretty professional, but we also only ever get shown him WHILE WORKING, we never see him in any kind of downtime. And the one line that seems to showcase a little extra personality is actually intentionally empathetic towards someone he should see as a criminal. He doesn't have to extend that empathy to Ahsoka in the moment, but he does, and that seems to go forgotten quite a lot.

#star wars #clone troopers #coruscant guard #commander fox

[sleepygaymerdisease]

Does anyone else think about how Shinji said this twice...

The first time was somewhat innocent, because he didnt believe in the idea of fate. He refused the idea outright because it was just too bleak. He wanted to think that there was a way for everyone to live, so why believe in something like destiny or predetermination?

And yet... He likely said this out loud to comfort Tezuka, to motivate him, to keep him from giving into despair. Shinji does not believe in fate, but the person he is dragging out of the battle field does, and he wants Tezuka to borrow his own feelings of determination and passion for just a moment, so they can both live to see the next day.

But what Shinji doesnt understand is that Tezuka did this sacrifice precisely because of Shinji's passion. Shinji has nothing to offer to this man because Tezuka has already made the choice to purposely refuse the benefits of Shinji's savior complex. He make his choice the moment that he walked out the door of Atori, and purposely distanced himself so Shinji wouldn't try to die for someone else. Tezuka explains that he changed fate for Shinji to live. Tezuka explains that he took this man's place so that Shinji can fight in this war, so that Shinji can find an end to the violence. Tezuka wants him to continue where he would fail, where he would have blamed himself for the death of another friend and never gotten back up.

Shinji wishes there was another option, that he could have somehow seen this coming and stopped Tezuka and figured out a way to live too... But what can he really do? Tezuka's last words left such an impact on him, and while Shinji originally didn't believe in fate, he could not help but lean into the idea after Tezuka's death. He tends to weigh other people's ideas more than his own in his head, so when Tezuka dies because he followed his principles to the end like this... He just can't deny it as much as before. Denying that fate exists would be spitting on the face of his friend's choice, right?

So the idea sits with him. The idea that fate was already changed... He's not sure if he can believe it, but he can't not believe it, either. There had to have been another way that things have gone, right? That's what he wants to think, but he cannot deny the weight of Tezuka's ultimate choice. He has to learn to accept this, somehow, but it's hard for him, it's hard to remember which thoughts are his own and which thoughts are borrowed from his memories of Tezuka. Shinji slowly becomes burdened by the idea of fate. Believing in Tezuka's last hope is the only way for him to continue, it's the only way for him to cope.

And that's when the narrative throws a fucking curveball. This character, wrattled with grief, finally trying to move on from that horrible moment of senseless violence, is forcibly dragged backwards. Six months. Six entire months happening all over again right before his eyes. Shinji gets an impossible second chance to fix what never should have happened. He knows who is going to die and he has the time to prevent it. He can change it.

But he discovers that he cannot change himself. He watches everything in horror as it happens all over again because he cannot break out of his own skin. He can't change his habits, he can't think different thoughts or change his actions, he can't seem to remember the details of that future that has not happened yet. His future self, and his future grief, is buried deep inside of him. He tries to claw his way out in any way he can, but he is trapped in the prison that is himself. He can only catch the smallest glimpses of clarity through the bars of his cell, and by then it is often too late.

When Shinji finally gets back here, to this moment, he must have repeated these words. He cannot change his thoughts, after all. So he says it and it means the same thing as before; he wants to comfort Tezuka and lend him his own determination and will to live. But there is now an additional meaning to it, isn't there? There is now a layer of despair. A part of Shinji is so, so desperate for things to change. A part of him knows that Tezuka diverted fate for his sake, and isn't that diversion a part of fate now too? Can't we change that too? Do not die when fate tells you to die. Don't do this, don't leave me again.

#i wrote this in some tags a while back but im crazy and needed to elaborate and make my own post so hi whats up im normal about tv #anis gaymer moments #kamen rider #kamen rider ryuki #kamen rider ryuki spoilers #ryuki spoilers #tezushin #long post #<- SORRY JUS TREALIZED HOW LONG THE WALL OF TEXT IS

[blorbologist]

🖤💚

for the unpopular opinions asks

:DD Thank you! You get Percy rambles because that's where the brain goes past midnight <3

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

Very, very quietly: my yearly reminder to everyone that Percy knew what he was doing when he invented Gun. The entire character concept, per Taliesin, is 'what the fuck could motivate someone to make something this awful'. He did not invent Gun to free Whitestone, he did not invent Gun to rid the world of terrible evil, he invented Gun because he was a terrified and hurt and furious teenager who did not care what consequences there were to his actions so long as he maybe, possibly, might be able to kill some of the people responsible for his family's deaths. Once it does hit him that he will have to live with the consequences, that others will live with this same pain because of the havoc firearms can sow, he definitely feels awful! And wants to undo it as best he can! But it remains that he was a deeply selfish character.

And still is! No Mercy Percy is a fun meme and all, but he really leans into a lot of needless cruelty when he's scrambling for control. Which pops up again even after the Briarwoods arc is all done with - he is absolutely furious at Scanlan and some of what he mildly brings up to Vex is horrifying shit to say you'd do to a friend.

Anyways he's perfectly in character in C3 and I will die on this hill. And get raised as an undead by Delilah because PERCY WAS FUCKING RIGHT ABOUT THE WHOLE THING -

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

OK, so I know we (by we I mean me) all love to point at Percy and go 'this man is autistic please let him infodump about the Feywild/clocks/engineering stupid dragon traps'. But there is a really good reason why everyone was shocked by his backstory reveal in C1, and why he's got so few lines in the first two episodes of TLOVM, and that's because he's pretty fucking quiet. And it's something I didn't fully appreciate until recently, so it's really understandable how often it trips people up!

The main thing is that while Lord de Rolo is usually a man of few words, those words are fucking bangers. While a lot of Vax's famous lines tend to be part of a long Shakespearian ramble (which I love), Percy, as a Taliesin character, is a master of the one-liner. Which tends to get over-represented in our memory compared to how often he says very little at all!

Percy often gets wordy when he has a space to do so (a debate with Keyleth, a bit of Whitestone lore Taliesin wants to yell about, nerding out with Tary who is importantly nerding out right back)... and when he's talking to Vex. God he will not shut up when he's one-on-one with Vex. In his conversations with other characters (Vax and Keyleth namely) he usually keeps his input short unless he's doing some arguing. But with Vex? Just won't stop.

So while I do think infodumping can be compliant with canon Percy, he needs to either be doing it in tandem with someone else (he and Keyleth or Tary being little weirdos), he has to have a solid excuse to indulge in it and feel justified, or he and Vex are alone. (Cass can probably get him to infodump, but given her nature as an NPC there isn't much textual evidence alas.)

Ask me about my unpopular opinions!

#ask game #holds up the de blorbo..... he

[ice-feast]

This episode has revealed that, yup, Jace is part of the Conspiracy of the season - but I don't think he's the mastermind behind it all. What would Jace gain from all this? His entire character is being chill. Why would he suddenly want responsibility? He intentionally teaches the subject with the least information to teach!

I don't think he's the mastermind.

I think it's Arianwen Abernant.

Ragh didn't just see Jace talking to Kalina. Arianwen was there too.

Everyone, including the Intrepid Heroes, is taking it for granted that Arianwen is still being chased around the Forest of the Nightmare King by a van with hands. But does the Forest of the Nightmare King still even exist? The forest of Sylvaire does, but Cassandra is no longer the Nightmare King. Her forest has become that soft twilit woods Kristen has visited a few times (and now contains a manticore). Even if Arianwen was meant to remain trapped in there (chased by a van with hands), Arianwen's punishment was hardly Cassandra's first priority. Getting new followers and not dying again was very much Cassandra's preoccupation. Arianwen could have escaped.

It's been a while since I watched Sophomore Year, but weren't the Abernants sent to Solace partially to separate Arianwen from her research into the Nameless Goddess? She could have learnt then that the Nameless Goddess had a forgotten wife. Anything the Bad Kids discovered could also have been discovered by Arianwen, an adult woman who didn't have the distractions of school and being a teenager taking her from her research.

What's more, wasn't Arianwen's motivation for helping the Nightmare King having him use his power for vengeance on Falinel? Falinel stripped the Abernants of their position and imprisoned Aelwyn. Arianwen cannot conceive of any of her actions being wrong. ("I was very warm and loving," she tells Adaine, the child she neglected and abandoned, without any trace of doubt. She also killed that guy to get into the Nightmare Forest, so we know she'll kill to achieve her goals, but tbh I find that less revealing than her reaction to Adaine's recounting of the abuse she's suffered.)

And now it's worse! She has no position of power, she has no magic, both her daughters turned on her, and one of those daughters punched Arianwen's husband to death. Isn't that unfair? Isn't that an injustice? Doesn't that make you angry?

If you fail to use one forgotten god in your revenge plot, you can always try again...

#dropout #dimension twenty #fantasy high #fhjy spoilers #my wife also pointed out that arianwen could have set this plan in motion before the bad kids went on spring break #as a contingency plan #also. isn't kipperlily the exact kind of daughter arianwen would think she deserves? #type a. high grades. obedient. cunning. messed up. #arianwen broke into arthur's office before she could have told kipperlily how to do it #or found the info on eugenia shadows while she was stealing the crown of the nightmare king #i have my red string my conspiracy board reads arianwen abernant #let adaine punch her other shitty parent c'mon brennan it'd be wicked #or let aelwyn kill her that's also sexy

[teambyler]

Stranger Things 5 speculation based on the episode titles and what we know from D&D

Vanishing of Holly Wheeler?

I already shared that I think Episode 2 is Holly Wheeler: "IF this information is accurate, I'm guessing the missing Wheeler is Holly. They have a new actress to play her. I think they're returning to s1 themes and the horror of a child being in danger is one thing they might get back to. The 1st episode would give them time to make her a character we care about. (And probably stabilize the situation at the end of s4.) It would also consume the entire Wheeler family into getting Holly back. Karen will be beside herself. Nancy will be tough and take charge. Will will have to unearth his memories of the Upside Down, and possibly use his connection, to help MIKE and NANCY get back their little sister. One possible road to BYLER is Will having to reexperience his trauma and possibly sacrifice himself to help his best friend."

Camazotz

I see a LOT of interest in episode 6 title "Escape from Camazotz"... I think for ANY speculation we HAVE to go to where our D&D nerds would go, which is the Dungeons & Dragons sourcebooks in the 80s. Camazotz was published in Deities & Demigods for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (1980). It is the "bat god," so we're probably going to see it tied to the demobats.

We learn from Deities & Demigods that the Aztec and Mayan gods have "inscrutable motives"... which is ON BRAND for the Cthulhu inspirations of Stranger Things. These gods come from a "parallel universe." Clerics "are the elite of the populace," and are able to cast "commune or gate spells" to connect the planes together. ("Will the Wise" has been the cleric of the party... perhaps he is a cleric?)

Also, these gods "unusual nature makes it impossible for them to travel on any planes but the ones that they have worshipers on." Maybe Vecna needed to have a host on the "Right Side Up", to take form here, which is very consistent with the s2 and s3 plotlines.

The clerics perform human sacrifices... maybe another theme in s5??

But perhaps JUST as important, the adventure D&D module Hidden Shrine of Tomoachan (1980) involved an ancient temple dedicated to Camazotz. Odds are that our heroes will be trying to escape from a "temple" within the Upside Down. According to the Wikipedia article about this adventure, it is "full of tricks and traps".

As a "tournament module," meaning for competition purposes, and it was EXPECTED that heroes died in it because it was so deadly. The goal "is to get out of the ruins before time runs out." The lower levels (where the heroes begin) have a poisonous gas that slowly kill them. Also it is very unstable, spells will cause a collapse. If El were caught in it, it might be dangerous to use her powers.

This adventure debuted the gibbering mouther, a very distinct D&D monster that is VERY reminiscent of the s3 Flayer and would be VERY on-theme for Stranger Things:

The Sorcerer

Also, Episode 5 is titled "The Sorcerer." Sorcerer was not a class yet in D&D in the late 1980s. (The idea that Sorcerers have innate arcane power versus Wizards who study magic, was not invented yet until 2000.) Sorcerer was one of the many titles that Magic Users had (next to Wizard). Sorcerers had less power than Wizards. They were 9th level, while Wizards were 11th level:

It is already established that El is "the Wizard." Maybe there's another person with powers in season 5 which are less developed? If so, the most logical choice would be Will. It's confirmed that this season will focus on him. Although he's a "cleric" in their D&D game, maaaaybe he finds out he has new abilities. There was a reason Vecna didn't kill in season 1, and who has had "truesight" since.

That's what I can find for now! There's a lot of interesting traps and puzzles, with illustrations, from the adventure. But it's hard to predict what else (if anything) they might borrow from it! The aspect of escaping, and the poison gas and the timer, are probably what we can most rely on!

P.S. I mainly blog about Byler, but I thought my D&D knowledge would be useful for this one. If interested, follow and read my blog! I have so much to say!

#stranger things #D&D #st5 #st5 speculation #camazotz #escape from camazotz #sorcerer #vanishing of holly wheeler #byler

[physalian]

Exposition 2: Naming New Characters

This post is brought to you by one of the worst line deliveries in the history of Supernatural: Sam’s reveal of Ruby 2.0 in “Lazarus Rising”. Also a companion post to not playing The Pronoun Game.

—

Introducing new characters to a scene and figuring out the precise moment to announce their name without sounding clunky can be very tricky. So let’s break it down into three scenarios:

Name is known by the narrator to be given in narration

Name is either known by the narrator, to be given in dialogue, or known by another character

Name is not known to anyone in the scene but the new character

Scenario 1: Name via narration

Personally I don’t have any problem whatsoever with: “This is character, they do X.” It’s quick, inoffensive, and doesn’t need to get convoluted and over complicated.

Now, if this is meant to be a reveal to the audience, you’ll have to play the Pronoun Game for a bit until you pull the trigger (so long as it is motivated and reflects back on the characters and isn’t just because the author is bad at suspense), but I’d recommend reworking the scene so your narrator discovers this information with the reader for the lowest risk of confusing your audience.

Generally I think if you introduce a new character into a scene via epithet, then in the next paragraph have the narrator use their name, I think the audience is smart enough to pick up on: “new entity has arrived on stage = unfamiliar name must belong to them” so you can even skip the exposition tag entirely.

The cook returned from the dining room, freshly traumatized by a wild Karen. Tyler took a breath, steadied themselves, and resumed their station.

Scenario 2: Name via other character, or dialogue

This is the aforementioned Supernatural blunder. There doesn’t appear to be a clip for this specific scene on YouTube so the moment in question:

Ruby: [Walks in through the back door] “Getting pretty slick there, Sam. Better all the time.” Sam: [Sighs, and contemplates all his life choices that led to this moment] “What the hell’s going on around here, Ruby?” [Pause for dramatic effect and damn-near looks into the camera]

Ruby’s “Sam” is delivered seamlessly and is flavored with some dry wit, in character for Ruby.

Sam, on the other hand, not only pauses before saying her name, but emphasizes her name in a completely unnatural way. I didn't do it justice here explaining how clunky this is, just trust me.

Nothing sounds or reads quite so juvenile like awkwardly tacking on a new character’s name to dialogue when no real person would talk like that. The line serves purely as exposition and it’s glaringly obvious and uncreative?

How to fix? As I said in my other exposition post: Make it motivated. Have the name reveal come with either inflection, tonality, or dual purpose so it’s not just exposition.

Meaning:

Have speaker be trying to get the person’s attention, and call their name

Have the speaker admonish the person, using their name

If this is a happy reunion, have the speaker excitedly exclaim the name

If this is a bad reunion, have the speaker mutter, growl, whisper, or grumble the name

If this is a surprise reunion, have them speak the name like a question

Have the speaker use a nickname the new character doesn’t like, prompting a correction to their real name

Have the speaker blank, prompting the new character to supply it, while offended that they forgot

Have the known character introduce the new character after a few exchanges that isolate the narrator, prompting an explanation a la “Sorry, this is X, they’ve been my friend for years.”

Scenario 3: Name via new character

Very similar to above with the same advice: Make it motivated and double as clueing us in on something either about the new character, or about the characters’ relationship with the scene, or how they see themselves, or how they expect this meeting to go.

If they’re bold, sassy, or snarky, they introduce themselves like they expect their audience to be impressed

Or, if they expect that name to already be known, and are surprised or irritated that they must introduce themselves

Straight up, have someone ask them who they are if they’re not supposed to be there

Or have someone ask them in a social faux pas, blurting out the question and then being embarrassed by doing so

Have the asker be rude, demanding an introduction where it might otherwise not be appropriate

Have them introduce themselves with uncertainty, if they’re shy or unsure about where they’re supposed to be

You get the idea? Whatever it be, make it be in character, and you’ll pull double-duty (as most exposition should) both naming your character and immediately establishing a relationship between your characters.

Scenario 4: When plot demands you must wait

Bonus! This happens when asking for a name would ruin the pacing and be wildly out of place in whatever’s happening (like mid-fight scene), or the narrator is unable to ask for plot reasons.

In which case, this still can pull double-duty by having your narrator come up with their own way of identifying the person: maybe they come up with a cute or insulting nickname, or a unique feature stands out that they’re jealous they don’t have, or there’s an identifiable piece of clothing or uniform to call them by their profession (works well for a group of distinct unknowns), or they’re acting in a suspicious fashion and can be labeled with a derogatory adjective.

At which point, narrator can either sleuth out their name themselves or it falls into one of the previous three scenarios.

Point being, once again, you are establishing a relationship between these two characters as soon as they’re on page together. Your exposition is pulling double-duty.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character development #exposition #naming characters

[transmutationisms]

Care to share some Janice thesopranos takes?

well im only up to season 3 but when she was first introduced i thought she was an interesting character with obvious ulterior motives much like every single man around her and then over time it became clear to me that the writers or at least some of them were actually intending for me to view her as ceaselessly uniquely and unrepentently self-centred rude petulant greedy etc. like i watched the episode with livia's funeral last night and it's insane the entire engine of this show is that we are invested in tony's psychology and his relationship with his mother is a huge part of that and yet! janice having been mistreated and disfavoured is constantly played as like her trying to steal tony's moment or drag up petty bullshit or make everything about herself when no one else cares. honestly very irritating to me justice 4 janice i think "wronged daughter who's out for her inheritance" could have been so much more interesting if they gave her half the consideration they do every single man in tonys orbit. also for like half a season they were really leaning on her doing orientalism but they never really had anything of substance to say about or with that, it was basically just supposed to make us think she's cringe. which she is but cant we do something more interesting with that. like we get so much about how the male characters view their own ethnic identity and how it informs their sense of belonging in the world again "italian american staking personal identity on shallow idea of The East" is certainly a concept to explore but in this writers room it is just an addition to their list of reasons janice sucks

#sopranos

[utilitycaster]

💙💜

Which character is not as hot as everyone else seems to think?

We've talked about this in DMs anyway but OTOHAN. She's physically attractive I suppose, although that's 100% from official art and absolutely not from initial description (perhaps that's just me, but Matt described her as having eyes like a bird of prey, and somehow the image of her in my head has always been. does anyone remember the weird turkey pictures of Ole Golly in Harriet the Spy (the book). Is this too weird a pull? Did I make it up because I can't seem to find an online image? Unclear.) But point being before the official art came out I was not imagining her as attractive, even. And then there's personality. Like, yeah, you can say someone is hot based on just a physical image without knowing them; this is how celebrity works. But when you've only one got one singular physical image and it doesn't really match your mind's eye which isn't terribly attractive, anyway and then there's no personality but...I can't even say zealotry because we literally don't know anything about her motivations other than raw murder. I can't even enjoy the inherent eroticism of the sword. Anyway. If you want hot middle age women villains why not og Delilah before she became a loser, or Raishan's human form, or Ripley, or Avantika, or Vess deRogna, or Liliana. If you just want hot middle age women with a propensity for violence why not Deanna with Jerry the Goat. If you are specifically interested in the "milf" archetype (Otohan is not a mother, so this is rather telling) then might I suggest Veth, who is not middle-aged yet but she is a mother and she is super good at violence. All of these women have hopes and dreams and personalities and aren't a blank dull slate to project upon, as I personally am entirely unattracted to the latter. Anyway hopefully this also fulfills one obligation to either @playerkingsley or @whirlingbadger who asked about "mischaracterized"; Otohan is a polarizing figure with many who agree with the above as well but she is also wildly mischaracterized as hot and interesting when she is at best depicted as attractive and deathly (and deadly) boring. She bored everyone to death; the sword just got in front of her.

Which character is way hotter than everyone else seems to think?

Eshteross. I fear we moved on too soon when he died. Everyone in Bells Hells wanted a slice of this hot old orc man when he was doing his sword practice, and also he was community-minded and loyal and devoted. More generally you know that post that's like "hobbits have it all figured out, farmers market high as shit, why are people horny for elves"? This is true but also might I suggests orcs. Elves are overrated. Why are people's fantasy lithe hairlessness. This is a very narrow beauty ideal and I reject it. We, as a fandom, and dare I say, a society, need to be hornier for orcs.

I'm going to go watch candela and the inbox remains closed and will for much of the rest of the day but there are two more asks that have the exact same two hearts and I will be providing two more separate answers as well as another mischaracterization answer, and possibly making an eye appointment although I'm inclined to think the hearts just look super alike on my computer.

#cr tag #unpopular opinions ask meme

[yuurivoice]

Not to tell you how to do your job or anything, and I don't think it's the audience's place to give suggestions when this is YOUR profession, it's just a small idea that occured to me.

But maybe in the upcoming Auron audio you could add a little note on the screen saying that new Auron content is coming soon, and then like do the same with future compilation videos, since they tend to do so well!! Like to let people know that if they like the characters, this is not where the story ends at all and they should stick around. I say this mainly cause I remember you once talked about how the major numbers on the Finn compilation didn't translate to a major increase in subscribers. Really hope this didn't come off as rude, I just think maybe if people think the compilations are the ENTIRE story it might not occur to them to subscribe!

It also might yield no results at all, idk. I just remember I didn't subscribe until multipleeee videos had been recommended to me over MONTHS, mainly because I had no idea that there was a story to be followed.

I've written like three different responses to this but as I yap on I get new conclusions and ideas. This is v3 of my answer lmfao.

Preface: People don't pay attention to shit and unless you are clever or use a hammer, they do not care. They want the content. ESPECIALLY if they aren't familiar with you. This makes any deliberate Calls to Action run the risk of annoyance rather than making a meaningful impact on conversions.

Bonus note: If a video is scheduled to premiere, there's nothing I can add to it at this point without doing a whole reupload, giving Thoo a bunch of extra work, and all that shit. So that wasn't ever an option anyway.

My approach in this current iteration of how I do things is that rather than slob on somebody's knob begging for a sub, they're encouraged to either watch more videos or go to the homepage. My working hypothesis is that you're actually MORE likely to get a curious viewer to drop by your homepage before they subscribe, because they want to see what else is available.

The most recent changes I made to the channel homepage should make it abundantly clear that there are multiple stories, characters, and styles of content to jump into. Making sure that the homepage is great has probably made a massive difference in that regard, without impacting the videos themselves.

Playlists are horribly underutilized in this niche in particular, and on lots of YouTube channels really. So I made sure to try and nail that down. Still need to get the channel trailer locked in but tbh I don't know how effective those really are in 2024.

All of that being said, a ~15 second welcome intro at the start that explains what the compilation is and invites viewers to sub/explore the playlists would probably be the easiest way to accomplish that without intruding on the listening/viewing experience in a way that feels desperate or pander-y. That in conjunction with the end screen prompt would probably be the easiest way to do it.

I don't feel like that immediately turns massive hit videos into untapped wells of subscribers that I missed out on, it could help contextualize things a little more and who knows, maybe it WOULD be a big deal. Hard to say!

The context for me not immediately being like OH IT'S A SLAM DUNK HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THIS is because I run a very lucrative business converting viewers to patrons and I have very minimal in-video notes about hearing the spicy bits on Patreon. People often figure things out for themselves if they're motivated enough, and you run the risk of chasing them off if you come across like a desperate ass hoe. lmfao

I appreciate the ask, but also can assure you that I've spent several hours mulling over these very specific issues and I've considered just about every angle. If I had included every little detail and wrinkle of information I was cooking up in the various iterations of this answer it would be a mile long. So trust me. I've thought about it in great detail, have worked with people on it, workshopped things and much more!

Y'all got me yappin' up a storm on here lately. lmfao

[tobiasdrake]

Does Perfect Cell have Agency?

Cell is... difficult to get a read on, as a character. The extreme jankiness of the Android arc left us with an oddball of a villain whose level of wickedness doesn't seem in line with the scope of his motives.

Cell is a weird character for me because he just seems... unfinished but also overly symbolic moreso than a literal person.

What does PIccolo actually want? He wants to kill everyone because he's mindlessly evil. After he reincarnates, the question "What does Piccolo actually want?" becomes a major facet of his journey.

What does Frieza actually want? He wants to kill planets and sell them for profit because he's a real estate speculator, and also to be immortal and untouchable. This extreme want coupled with the callousness with which he pursues it is what fuels his unbelievable cruelty and heartlessness, and makes him the most evil person in the Dragon Ball universe.

What does Majin Buu want? Again, this question becomes a major facet of his journey and opens up new sides to him, because Buu himself doesn't know the answer to that.

Which. Brings us to. What does Cell want?

He likes to spook. He wants to have fun. He's a spooker looking for a good time.

Cell's primary goal is to a) become really strong, and then b) prove his mettle by testing himself against the greatest fighters in the world. He's a tournament arc villain presented with the gravitas and stakes of an epic adventure villain.

It's wild because everybody here wants to get really strong and then prove their mettle by fighting Goku. That's what this whole social dynamic is about. That is literally the main goal that everyone in this group pursues. Well, except Trunks and Gohan.

In a sense, Cell's just... one of the guys. Like. He's a rotten dirty bastard to be sure. But it's not like that's a barrier for entry into this group.

"I WILL KILL AS MANY PEOPLE AS I HAVE TO AS LONG AS YOU ARE ONE OF THEM!" ~TFS

So his goal is to get strong and fight strong guys. But. Like. Who's isn't?

And he's a cruel, sadistic monster. But. Like. We're fine with that. Vegeta's our bestie and Piccolo joined this crew way before he reformed too.

This guy could legit just be hosting the Tenkaichi Budokai. (And he DOES.) In terms of overarching character, nothing about him reads "Epic villain that must be stopped at all costs". So Toriyama really had to ratchet up the moment-by-moment horror to make him fit.

What Cell wants is not that big a deal. Get strong, fight strong guys, and also he's an asshole about it. So he's given a vile mechanism for attaining the strength he needs. In his base state, Cell can drink people to gain their power for himself.

He's basically Piccolo if Piccolo were born a parasitic vampire instead of a flesh-and-blood Namekian? It's weird. His whole introduction where he walks out and explains his entire character so Toriyama's pal will get off his back about the Twins is weird.

"Hi there, Piccolo. Did you know that I'm an evil bio-android from the future who wants to absorb the Twins to become really powerful? Also I eat people and I have the genetic makeup of five of the most powerful warriors in the universe, as well as having all of their techniques and abilities. I think that about covers everything. Toodles!"

So we have a character whose primary goal is to defeat the two characters who, up until this point, were billed as the antagonists and are currently seeking to kill Goku as we speak. Like. That's Trunks. Cell is Trunks again. So to make it read as sinister and bad, the means for him to achieve Trunks's goal requires him to kill people in visceral and horrifying ways, and also he's a jerk about it.

This is far from the worst thing a Dragon Ball character, even the ones on the protagonist side, has ever done. But it's so viscerally horrifying that it feels like the worst thing they've ever done.

Then again, that guy was part of the 1% so maybe it's deserved.

Truly, Cell is a champion of the underclass. He's literally eating the rich. What's not to like?

I jest. Point is, Cell is a villain of vibes more than anything. In practical terms, Vegeta gleefully slaughtered entire planets and Majin Buu exterminated 80% of the world's population for fun. In fact, Buu even single-targets people and turns them into food to chomp down on too, so he and Cell have a lot in common.

To be perfectly honest, Buu feels like a second draft of Cell with more time and thought put into his character.

So, logically, eating a bunch of people isn't that big of a deal relative to some of the other shit that people we're hanging out with have done. Hell, we spend a portion of this arc helping to power up Vegeta to stop Mr. City Devourer over here.

"Hey best buddy, you're a remorseless monster who's slaughtered billions of people and is only chill now because you're stranded on Earth with no better options. Want to come with me so we can make you a hundred times deadlier and fight this guy who wants to eat the Androids that destroyed the world in the future?"

And then Cell's over here like.

"All done eating people. Thanks y'all." Like a parasitic version of the Genki-Dama. Uh. Cool. Glad we could help. Let's go Dragon Balls them all back to life and then I guess we're done here?

It's the vibe. Cell's wickedness is a vibe. It's in the means he needs to undergo to achieve the ends of becoming strong. It's in the sadistic personality he shares with 4/5 of his genetic makeup (two of whom are in the protag party). And it's in his long-term plans for what to do after the tournament when he runs out of strong guys to fight.

It's like they ran out of ideas for why we even need to fight this guy once he ate the Androids and completed our mission of defeating them and thwarting Trunks's future. So Cell's like, "By the way if we don't defeat me in an epic climax, I'm going to aimlessly wander the globe killing humans individually forever, I guess."

No real ambitions of any kind beyond "Get strong, fight strong guys". He just. Is a dick.

This is sandwiched between vanquishing the CEO of Galactic Genocide Incorporated and fighting a god-killing abomination who made the heavens themselves run red with blood. Cell wants to get strong and fight strong guys, and he'll become Jason Voorhees if we don't deliver. That's it. That's the entire plot. It's so weird. He's the ultimate despicable monster villain up to this point but it doesn't really feel like he should be.

Cell isn't really a character, so much as he is an idea. Specifically, he is a summary of Goku's entire journey up to this point, all rolled up into this one asshole. He is Goku, and also the major villains Goku has fought.

He is the Tenkaichi Budokai.

He's a limit-breaking Super Saiyan who becomes stronger through Namekian Fusion of others like him and also regenerates and gets Zenkai boosts.

He is the concept of everything that Dragon Ball has ever been.

Hey remember when Piccolo-Daimao blew up that one district during a live broadcast? Do you remember? Cell is Playing the Hits, The Character. But with purpose and intent.

This is why it's hard for me to get a read on Cell. Because who he is isn't so different from much of the cast but what he needs to be is something else: He is the complete assessment of the journey Goku's undertaken over the course of his life, presented all at once for Gohan to surpass.

The physical embodiment of what Gohan must overcome to be his father's successor.

His character, his motives, his ambitions, his desires, it all takes a backseat to the simple utilitarian purpose of providing a symbolic nemesis to mark Gohan's ascension. Hastily assembled once Toriyama decided that was going to be the real actual plot for realsies no takebacks this time.

It's hard for me to assess Cell because I feel too strongly that he needed a second draft.

Which. Like. Apparently Toriyama agreed.

As a character and as a story, Majin Buu is hit or miss but he hits most of the same beats as Cell and really does feel like Toriyama trying to take a mulligan on this entire villain concept.

Mileage may vary on whether he pulled it off.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #cell

[hananono]

ok some thoughts about the hnk ending now that ive sat with it a little

i think ultimately i am satisfied with phos' ending. theyre among people who are happy just having them around, who have no expectations or ulterior motives—just pure, unconditional friendship. no one's ever offered that to them before. and yes, one day theyll break away entirely, and one day brother will shut down, but thats ok. it doesn't need to last forever. the cycle doesn't have to repeat. the process that lead to all of the pain they were put through isnt going to be renewed.

however, where i feel like things are lacking is in regards to the side characters—pretty much every interpersonal conflict with the gems was never really resolved? like on one hand i think the ambiguity is kind of okay, since i don't think we were ever supposed to see them becoming lunarians as a unanimously happy thing (like, padparadscha is still emotionally distant from rutile, the diamonds are estranged more or less for good, and i think these were left unresolved on purpose)—but on the other hand i feel like a lot of it was just dropped, and there were some things that really should have played out on the page (i am thinking especially of welegato, ghost, and aechmea here). and while i feel like phos agreeing to pray and make them all disappear made sense from an in character perspective, it felt a bit lacking in... vindication? im not sure if thats the right word for it, but emotionally, i felt unsatisfied. aechmea just getting everything he wanted in the end felt kind of lame since he was very much set up as a villain, or at the very least a shithead. i wonder if certain plans ichikawa may have had were changed on the fly, resulting in some of these threads feeling like they were sped through or dropped entirely.

i think one of houseki no kuni's major themes is breaking cycles—and chapter 108 definitely feels like it satisfies this theme, giving us the hope that somewhere out there, these little rocks will do better than the gems, the lunarians, and humanity did. and i think with the direction the manga ended up taking, im not upset with this ending. but i also do kind of wish things had gone a bit differently in regards to a lot of the side characters' arcs, and i think if those had been given the same attention they were given in the early manga, what we could have gotten would have been really amazing. i don't have a super satisfying conclusion to this post either, unfortunately. but i enjoyed the ride regardless.

#tantrum hole #houseki no kuni #hnk spoilers #i hopped on the manga roughly during the night raid arc and i have not once regretted it #even if im kind of ambivalent about this ending overall

[cassioppenny]

the current champion of kanto loki. is definitely not an ancient shapeshifting trickster god/ancestor of all mortal life cat thing that decides to ruin the lives of a group of children because they were bored

#milesverse #here's the little shit who's definitely not mew #their entire character motivation is just #im bored i need to ruin someone's life to not be bored #he gave volo immortality just because she thought it would be funny to see what happened #they have a truck that she definitely did not just take from some random guy and claim as his own #they mysteriously disappeared after red became champion #well he came back just so she could manipulate green into catching mewtwo and giving them to her but other than that they leave lol #they're zygarde's parent (because zygarde is based on loki's (norse mythology) kids) so serena is technically their daughter by proxy? #who knows they're too busy blowing shit up with mewtwo post xy to give a shit #(he gets her ass beat by blue and green + kalos gang)