#(( Context is 3 starting his work as an agent ))

[calder]

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Some more Optimus and Bumblebee thoughts <3

I've been working on an entirely different post about Megsy and Bee recently (it's gotten loooong), but I've been struck by some ideas for these two in the meantime. Part 3 of my ✨Adult✨ Bee and OP Found Family bc hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh brain rot. 1 & 2 bc you're not getting context here.

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Father and Son. Best friends. Partners in Crime. Two peas in a pod. If lost please return to Optimus I am Optimus. If lost in jail please return to Optimus I am Optimus not posting bail again... I get us into trouble I make it worse get us out of trouble.

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Imagine, I m a g i n e, the first time Bumblebee protected Optimus. Like real protect, like "Optimus will die if I don't fight here" protect. Imagine. We all know that Optimus is a real force to be reckoned with, do not fuck with him when he's angry. But hell hath seen no fury like a short kind man's wrath (the short is relative but you get it).

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Optimus has anxiety, Bumblebee has depression. Somehow they both help cure the other, just by existing.

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Take the norm and flip it like a waterbottle. Bumblebee is the one to adopt Optimus. Is Optimus older than him? Irrelevant and useless information, Bumblebee is a father now.

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Rando: Why is Bumblebee standing on your shoulders?

OP: He likes to be tall.

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(I've had age swap stuff on the mind as of late, so enjoy.)

Older Bee is like an old cowboy, he's confident, sassy, not afraid of death (bc ~depression~), a wicked good shot, could drink bots twice his size under the table (make him 10 feet tall or 30 feet tall, either way it's funny), and could charm your socks clean off. Imagine a cowboy stereotype. That's older Bee.

Orion Pax, as we all know, is a tightly wound ball of Fight or Flight Anxiety. You don't know if he's gonna break into a dead sprint or flatten you with a right hook. Either way, please don't stress him out, he doesn't want to go to jail again, he has work tomorrow.

When you put the two together, somehow Orion has less anxiety. No one understands it. Bee is an agent of chaos, he gets into fist fights bc they're fun, he cheats in every card game he plays (that go fish game was wild), but for some reason Orion just relaxes around him. And he's done a lot more breaking and entering, which normally would be concerning but Bee's got his back if things go south, it's fine. Bumblebee actually starts putting effort into existing again (depression is a bitch) and starts doing things other than drinking. It's fun, he hasn't had this much fun in years. And he can absolutely vibe with being a dad. Yes, his son is already an adult; that just means he missed out on the hard shit and got to skip right to the fun bit.

My brain won't word for some reason, just take every scenario I've already laid out and swap it to this.

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I was reading Prey by Yatzstar (Banger Babee and Dadimus one, by the way, short and sweet), and I thought, "What if: this, but big" and now we're here. Go give some love to the fic first; I'm just remixing the end, not plagiarizing. (Italics are copied from fic directly, I needed a starting point.)

For several long moments, there was silence.

Then in the darkness, something stirred. Twin points of blue appeared, blinking against the dust, and headlights flickered on to reveal an enormous crimson mech. And draped across his lap was a smaller yellow mech.

Optimus massaged his throat, his voice box aching. A sparking noise drags his attention downward. The yellow mech lets out a noise of pain as the wound in his side sparked again. Optimus's optics narrow in concern.

"I'm good, big-bot," Bumblebee says through gritted denta, "wire just slipped."

Optimus lets his servo hover above Bumblebee's side, waiting for permission. Bumblebee shifts to allow the larger bot access to his injury. Two exposed wires were nearly touching, electricity arcing between them. Optimus pinches one and gently pulls it away from the other, and Bumblebee sighs in relief. Optimus lets the wire go when he's sure it won't slip back.

The building around them shifts slightly and dust falls from the ceiling.

"Absolutely horrific noises, by the way, you should make them more often."

Optimus looks down at Bumblebee with a raised optic ridge. "My voice box would cease functioning if I did that more than once."

"Probably, but if it got reactions like that, I think it's worth it."

Optimus rolls his optics at Bumblebee's smirk, a small smile creeping onto his faceplate. "I believe we will be here a while, just until the coast is clear."

"You can tell me how you made those noises while we wait!"

"I am not telling you that."

"Aw, come on, it'd be funny!"

(Holy shit, I kept it short, it's a fucking miracle. And it's properly formated? What demon possessed me)

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Optimus's chaos is much subtler than Bee's. Quiet one-liners, dead pan responses, (Hey Optimus, you wanna see something funny? No?) And Yes, he does in fact do this stuff on purpose. he's not just a stoick monolith, he likes having fun. Does Bumblebee encourage it? Yes absolutely why wouldn't he. It fucking hysterical. The best one they've done so far is gaslight several people that Optimus knew while he was Orion into thinking they are actually related. Yes he is my son, yes your math is correct he was born when I worked at Iacon. What do you mean you don't remember him he was 100% there you must be misremembering, I would get that checked out. They usually do this to Megatron for some reason.

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I can not be asked to elaborate. Y'all are smart, figure it out yourself.

(the cheat, btw)

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One day, random fucking day in the week, Optimus was looking through some old photos. Photos of him and Megatron. Why? Couldn't fucking tell you, maybe he wanted to make himself feel bad, who fucking knows. But he was looking, and he was in his feelings. He wasn't crying, he had done his crying years ago, but he was feeling bad. and he just keeps looking at himself in these photos; how happy he was, how unaware of the shit that was about to go down, and just- hurts inside. Later that night, he's in a bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He thinks about the old photos of him and how little he's changed. Barely anything has changed, he's still got the same haircut, the same style of clothes, the same everything. This needs to change. But not yet (the anxiety is ~spiking~).

Eventually, Optimus is in a drug store staring at the hair dye. He is considering just stealing it at this point because buying it feels like admitting something, and Optimus is Not Readytm to admit shit. He is very normal about his feelings, don't you know. And he can't decide which colour to get. He is having a C r i s i s. Eventually he syces himself up and just gets a red and a blue dye. He then proceeds to shove the dye under his bathroom sink and refuses to think about it. For several weeks. He's so normal guys, I promise-

Bumblebee dyes his hair bright fucking yellow. What, did you think his highlighter yellow hair colour was natural? Get real, he works hard to keep it this obnoxiously bright. He has to touch up the colour every once in a while, and every time, he offers to do anyone's hair as well if they bring their own dye. He's been doing it himself for years. One night, after getting back from a long mission. It's kind of late, most of the base is in their rooms probably sleeping, and Bee is winding down by touching up his roots. Optimus nervously approaches with his red and blue dye in hand. Bumblebee notices his approach and pauses. Bee waits for Optimus to say something (he doesn't). They stand there staring at each other in awkward silence. Bumblebee asks if Optimus wants to dye his hair. Thank god Bumblebee is a mind reader.

Bumblebee channels his inner hairdresser and begins bleaching Optimus's hair. Yes, he is doing the voice. Optimus doesn't say anything the entire time, he just looks at his lap. Bumblebee doesn't ask why Optimus wants to dye his hair, because Bee is a homie, and homies don't need to ask; they just know. Homies also know how to deal with you when you go non-verbal; Bumblebee grabs the boxes and uses them to ask how Optimus wants the colours to be. Optimus gives a thumbs up to red on top and blue around the sides. Ooh, good choice, honey, now I hope you don't care about this shirt too much. Optimus walks out of the bathroom with a brand new head of hair and some black towels to put on his pillows ("If you don't take the towels, you will wake up with beautiful new lilac pillowcases in the morning. And don't wear light colours for like a week. Now go sleep, it's past your bedtime.") Optimus says a quiet thank you and scurries away, triumphant in his month-and-a-half long quest.

The next morning is uneventful. There are a few double takes when people notice their leader's new plumage and a few compliments here and there, but no one asks why. When Optimus looks at his reflection, he can't help but smile a bit. Bumblebee manages to snatch a few selfies with him, saying they are "Primary Colour Duo" now.

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A bunch of shitty things I made in powerpoint bc I'm unstoppable

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.

[stellar-collective]

I saw your Phoenix and Reginald Father and Child bonding in the whiteboard and I wanted to know. If you had any more thoughts about them. They make me soft

(context: i sketched out Reginald teaching Phoenix how to swing dance)

i’ve actually posted a bunch of headcanons for them before here, but here’s some more because i start taking psychic damage whenever i think about them too long <3

Reginald has a couch in his office. Phoenix has probably slept more hours on that thing than anywhere else in their whole life

although he gives them a lot of snacks, Phoenix likes to steal Reginald’s food whenever they have the chance. he is fully aware and lets them get away with it

they spar sometimes to keep their skills sharp. it’s a surprisingly even match since Reginald has experience and size on them but Phoenix is one heck of a scrapper

Phoenix will randomly bonk him with their head as a display of affection. he treats it normally with either a pat on the shoulder or a simple “hello, Agent”

their hugs are more of tackles most of the time

neither of them like working without the other there. even if they’re just doing paperwork in silence two continents away from each other, it’s somehow easier with the other on the earpiece.

(one angst one for flavor…) Phoenix’s most reoccurring nightmare has nothing to do with any of their deaths or near-deaths. it’s just Reginald turning on them.

Phoenix got sick of people asking them why they don’t talk on missions/how they got their scars/why they’re so small/etc. and started making up stupid answers. Reginald backs them up every time no hesitation no questions asked.

they’re the kind of close where once they start laughing all it takes is looking at each other to get them going again. like they’re trying to concentrate on an important briefing and keep looking at each other and bursting into stifled giggles

if they had cellphones the meme sending would be nonstop

[medusaesque]

Lt. Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, and talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise he'll stand in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world (here's a good compilation by @junawer) but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, attempting to protect Harry from it. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind.

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

The key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to each the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. If he isn't with you, Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Volta do mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets-

It makes sense, seeing how the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it.

His Black jacket is a bit more complicated-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim.... The connections to Seol is intriguing here, considering how Kim tries to distant himself from it. I'm also not sure what 'sitting down for volta' would mean in this context, would love to hear some of you guys' thoughts.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea and fulfill the role he has to play in the world, the thing Harry thought about a million times-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right now, convincing Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again. Keeping the two of them together. Your real work is down here, both of you-

Kim was right, each of them has a role to play in the world, but it's not a minor one. Him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they could keep her on this earth, stop the end of the world.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

What are , your Head Cannon , for Drakken and Shego and , Kim and Ron :

Got lots of headcanons so I give 3 random ones for each: Ron - In Pre-K, Ron received a very colorful and glittery friendship bracelt from Kim. He wore it all the time but eventually got bullied for it by other kids. One day Kim noticed that he didn't wear it and thought it was because of the bullies, she decided to not mention it. The real reason why Ron didn't wear it is because the braceltclip broke off, causing the beads to fall everywhere. He spent an entire afternoon trying to find back all of the beads and repair the bracelet, but with his parents being to busy, he placed the beads in a little bag and kept it in his treasurebox underneath his bed, where it still remains till this day. - Ron is smart but it highly depends on what the context is. If you ask him to solve an equation, he'll be having a hard time. But the moment you ask him the same equation but make it sound like it has to do with "figuring out how many coupons I need for Bueno Nacho" or so... he'll solve it within moments. - Ron takes care of his nails and hands, especially since he's into cooking. He doesn't want anything underneath his nails nor does he want food to stick to him while preparing stuff. Hygene is no 1 priority when it comes to preparing food; eating food, however, is a whole different story. Kim - After the Zombie Mayhem tournament, Kim secretely continues to play the video game. She doesn't want to admit it but it was more fun than she expected it to be. She secretely trains in order to surprise Ron with a match someday. - Kim and Ron decided to dress up as Miriam and Jonathan for Halloween Trick or Treating and later on Kim reused the costume for her presentation on Miriam in college. - Kim has become less worried about brands over the years, especially after realising how dumb it was after people wore her mission outfit for a few days, only to jump onto the next best thing. She still is into looking into the latest fashion but thrifts it and tries to make it her own. Together with Monique they started upcycling clothes. Monique has her own business now. Drakken - After Graduation part 2. Drakken started working on improving the quality of the world rather than trying to take it over: Being praised for being a beloved saviour has better gloating perks than being a failing villain that has to hop from lair to lair. Though he does miss the thrill of villainy every now and then. So he sometimes does petty crimes like shoplifting a screwdriver from Planettool or anonymously blaming a fellow scientist for causing a chemical fire that resulted in a three months shutdown..., ...some tax evasion. - Drakken's scar was a result of eyebrow trimming - Drakken has a distaste for okra and bellpeppers and will pick those out of a dish no matter who prepared it. Shego - After Graduation part 2. Shego got tasked to train some of Global Justice's newest agents. She enjoyed it and eventually became an independent hitwoman for a while. After that she just decided retiring early is nice (especially with the money Drakken was making for both of them with his new job). She now does whatever... pretty much what she's always been doing. But also meets up with Kim and rekindled their sisterly bond in stop team go. - Shego is a horrible cook and either relies on someone else cooking for her or having take out/going to a restaurant. However after retiring early, she decided to try and get into cooking... a bit... the kitchen burned down. - Shego hates to admit it but the Snowman Hank song became an earworm. She hummed it once and noticed Drakken smiling widely from the corner of her eye.. or was that just her imagination? She doesn't dare to ask...

Hope it all makes sense. Still recovering from a cold so my typing isn't the most coherend at the moment :')

EDIT: I WISH TUMBLR WOULD STOP SCREWING UP THE COLORS IN THIS POST

[saltyyuuri]

🪻 Behind the mirror🪻

Iso x fem!Reader

Part 1

words: 3600

Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

A-N: hey, guess what? Omega Earth version of 🪻in another life 🪻? I think so! I remember being asked to do it and I feel like doing it now. I strongly suggest reading in another life first to get the context of this fic. I also needed to take a few breaks while writing this, so it took longer than expect haha, suffer and Enjoy :)

Warnings: foul language, violence, talk of nsfw (chapters with NSFW will have proper warning)

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You ignore Iso once again-his sloppy attempt at trying to ask you on a boba run making you sigh and roll your eyes. You were busy- more than busy at the moment, currently treating yet another one of your agents that had gotten pretty injured during a fight, using your healing ability to soothe the injury.

"Iso, I'm busy." You said almost immediately as he asked, your hands currently resting on Raze's arm, soothing a gunshot wound she had received while trying to heal it up with your own radiant power. Raze snickered at the scene, the one that had been seen a couple of times. Where he just chooses probably the worst time to come and ask you to hang out to which you almost automatically reject him.

"well I mean after you're done-" Iso starts to say, to which you just gave him a look that meant no. By the time you would be done healing up everyone's wounds along with Sage and Skye, you would probably be exhausted and in absolutely no mood to have to walk to the nearby boba shop and back. He finally took the hint, sighed and left.

"Damn chica, you're always here to take him down a peg aren't ya?" Raze said in her usual energetic voice, smirking as she spoke. While she spoke she accidentally moved and one of your fingers slipped onto the wound, making her wince. "Sit still please-" you started to say as you readjusted your grip on her to continue on using your healing ability. "And it's not my fault he keeps asking me that in the worst time possible. Every single time. Just annoying-" you mumbled out as you continued working on her.

Raze snickered, smirking just a bit wider. "Well if you put aside his timing-" she started to say, her tone becoming a bit more teasing. "No. If he can't understand I'm busy, I don't expect much more from him. It's basic common sense." You said a bit more firmly this time, finishing up healing her wounds before getting up with a sigh. "You're patched up. You can go back to bombing or whatever-" you huffed out.

Raze didn't take your dismissive tone to heart and just laughed, thanking you before leaving. You sat back down at the office chair nearby, letting out a heavy sigh as you could already feel some fatigue creeping on from using your power. These days you just spent more time at protocol taking care of the wounded rather than actually doing missions and it was starting to bore you and drain you.

And even if you did want to go on the field, if someone else got injured and no one was there to heal them, then the person could be out of commission just a bit too long for valorant legion's liking. Missions were getting harder and they were getting rougher. And now wasn't the time to buckle.

Sage knocked at the door softly, pushing it open before walking in. "Oh dear... You look absolutely exhausted." She said softly as she headed your way, one of her hands coming to rest onto your shoulder gently. You just let out another sigh, leaning back in the chair a bit more. "That's nearly putting it lightly." You mumbled out. Sage pulled a bit of a face but didn't really comment on it.

Instead, she took a few steps to go behind you and place both her hands on your shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles as she slowly started to relieve some tension. You relaxed a little bit, the small gesture at least taking some weight off the physical strain. "Thanks..." You mumbled out softly, your eyes shutting while her hands worked magic.

"you're overdue for a break. You've been taking on most of the healing duties and it's starting to show-" Sage said with a hint of concern in her voice, her hands still working on the muscles of your shoulders as she spoke. "And as lovely as that sounds, we both know if I take a break now Brimstone is going to bite my head off. I can't afford to take time off- Legion is getting run over by Kingdom Corp-and we still can't settle things with alpha earth. I'm just trying to pick up the cracks-" you said, your head drooping forward a bit.

Sage let out another small sigh- the reality of your situation over here wasn't the same as alpha Earth. Legion was constantly in a threat, and you were starting to suffer the consequences of trying to pick up the cracks. "I can talk to brimstone. If he pushes you until the brink of exhaustion you're not going to be of any help. You need time to rest- and... he needs time to restratagize anyways." Sage said softly.

"he's as hard-headed as a mule. Telling him to take a step back to rethink his plans is the same as talking to a fucking brick wall." You said, frustration starting to peek through in your voice as you spoke. Sage hummed, but then a small smile appeared on her face. "Maybe he won't listen to you. But I know who he can listen to. I can figure that part out on my own, but you? I'm going to get you a mandatory medical leave. You need time off desperately. You're probably the only one in the team right now that's been working day and night for weeks straight." She said softly, clearly nowhere close to wanting to budge off of her opinion on your own health.

"Right. I'll believe Brimstone will actually listen when pigs can fly." You mumbled out; Sage was starting to remove her hands from your shoulders, going back to stand beside you instead. "In that case, I will ask Skye if she can make a flying pig sculpture come to life." Sage said in amusement, a smile on her face as she joked. It was enough to crack a smile on your end, the idea of Skye actually making a flying pig was somewhat amusing.

"that's until she loses control over it and then there's just going to be a random flying pig made of wood and foliage flying around the world causing havoc. You'd have the pope himself pointing at it like it was some divine intervention." You snorted, and the more you thought about the ridiculous idea the less you focused on the exhaustion work had brought on to you. Sage laughed softly along to your statement. "True, people will take the smallest things as a divine intervention sign. Well in that case-it wouldn't really be that small..." She chuckled out softly once more.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity. "Gosh... I can't believe you're getting me to talk about the possibility of having a flying pig around. It's so damn ridiculous-" you said softly as You shook your head. "Well it's working to get your mind off things. But... You should return to your living quarters. You need rest." Sage said as her face went back to being a little more serious. She was right after all, you were pretty exhausted.

And you didn't fight it, listening to her and slowly getting up from your office chair and stretching. You just grabbed a nearby duffel bag and got ready to leave your office. "Oh, and one more thing-" Sage said, her tone still light as she spoke. "Iso has been meaning to ask us all out for boba. Would you be interested to join?" She asked-and for some reason just rehearing the same demand that you've been refusing because of how he was always choosing the worst time to ask just irked some irritation in you.

"no-when will he understand no means no God damn it-" your voice raised a bit as you said that before you bit your tongue and took a deep breath. "I don't want to go to Boba with him." Is all you corrected yourself to say. Sage frowned but didn't push the subject, she can understand there was something underlying with the answer but chose not to push it further as you looked exhausted and the subject seemed irritating. "Very well, now go rest, please." She added softly before you left towards your living quarters.

Sage watched as you left and let out a small sigh. She knew Iso was just trying to reach out, to hang out with you in a context that wasn't a mission. The only times the two of you would be together was during missions, and Iso for some reason seemed hooked on to you. Like a puppy, just wanting some attention - any at all. She could tell there was probably something more but she didn't want to pry; but what she wanted to do was to get you to maybe agree to hang out with him outside of work contexts just one time.

Iso, on the other hand just sighed; deciding to sign up for the next mission that would leave the next day. His constant rejections from the past couple of weeks we're starting to get to him-he knew you would have said no anyways. You always say no. He was just... Tired of not being acknowledged. He didn't usually put this much effort into trying to get people to pay attention to him, to trying to get to know someone-and of course he had to choose the person that refused outright.

He sent a quick message to Sage to cancel off the Boba trip for the next day, saying that he had a last minute Mission assignment instead. He didn't want to admit he was the one to ask for it, and he hoped that maybe you would tag along-you were his favorite duo after all and he did try asking to have you as an official duo-only to be refused by Brimstone himself. They needed you back at base. So the next mission he would be on, he was going to be solo on icebox.

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"Sage-why did you tag along?" Iso asked in confusion, he had assumed he would be solo for the mission, but instead one of the other healers of the team decided to come along and join him. "See it as a way to make up for the Boba trip you last minute canceled. And next time you tell me that you get assigned to a mission, at least be honest and say you're the one who asked." Sage said with a small Huff as she got into the aircraft-settling in as she would be ready for the takeoff towards ice box.

Iso felt his cheeks tint pink in embarrassment, getting caught red-handed that he was the one that purposely asked to go on a mission rather than get last minute assigned. "I... Just wanted to get my mind off things." He mumbled out as he also sat down in the aircraft, waiting for the departure. "I'm going to take a guess that "things" is actually named "(Y/N)"?" She asked what an almost deadpan expression. Iso cleared his throat and just looked away.

Sage sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The aircraft started to rise into the air and gain altitude, taking off to the destination they were supposed to go. "Iso... Why can't you just be clear with her?" She finally asked, a serious face showing while her tone was still gentle. "Because anytime I try talking to her I get flat out refused." He said, shaking his head a bit. "That's odd, she's not usually one to flat out refuse-" Sage said as a frown formed on her face.

"maybe not to you. But anytime I ask her it's always no. And that she does not have time." He sighs, looking out the window of the aircraft, watching the scenery underneath the change. Sage hummed, as of trying to think at the same time of just a way to work things out. But nothing came to her mind and she didn't want to over stress on to that problem since it wasn't hers-and as much as she wanted to give a hand, there was also a mission they had to focus on.

And so the rest of the flight was in silence, the two landing in Site icebox soon enough. There was a pretty bad blizzard going on, but nothing they couldn't handle. The two of them started setting up, taking a specific route to go and take watch over the site. Sage went one side while Iso went the other-there was suspicion that protocol, the alpha Earth version of valorant legion, would be visiting the site today. They were just there to make sure nothing would happen.

Iso noticed that his part was pretty clear, B site having relatively no activity, he was currently standing behind the large yellow container box, leaning against it while his gun was still in hand. His thoughts started to wander- (Y/n) slowly taking them over. He was trying to understand why all he got from her was rejection and not even a glance in his direction. He felt like he was doing everything he could, making the efforts and all-and yet he would always be waved off and dismissed.

It was somewhat irritating, maybe a bit hurtful- even if he was trying to hide it. He felt a bit rejected, the girl he usually loved being in a duo in for missions didn't even want to spare a glance his way. Despite all the times he made sure her safety was priority, covering for her and taking the risks of getting himself injured to make sure she would be fine-all of that just going unnoticed.

"the site is clear. I'm going to radio it in." He heard a voice, sounding much like his own-and that brought him back to reality. He didn't get a clear view on the site and he didn't know exactly how many people were there, and just spur of the moment he didn't really think before acting- "NO DISTRACTIONS-" He practically yelled out as his hands moved, the radiant energy forming symmetrical little lilac shards in his hands before he essentially threw it forward- then getting thrown in his pocket dimension along with whoever he pulled in here.

While the shields were still up he equipped his gun in hand and held it up-at the ready to shoot. When The shield's dropped, the shards dematerializing and fading into The domain itself, his body reacted first and the gun pointed immediately in the direction of the person who was stuck with him. But before his finger pulled the trigger; his mind registered exactly who was in here.

(Y/n). But not his. He froze-standing there for a few seconds with the gun aimed towards her head but not pulling the trigger. She also wasn't pulling the trigger despite having a golden opportunity to do so. For a few seconds there was just silence. "I can't do this." He said, finally lowering his gun. His mind was screaming at him that what he was doing was wrong, that this was the wrong choice.

But the familiarity of the face in front of him, the twinge his stomach-he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger even if he tried. "I don't want to hurt you. I know-... I know you're not my (Y/n), but I don't.... I cant." He finally mumbled out, his mind a complete mess as he spoke, at war with the principles he was supposed to follow and the situation he was facing.

"Why-? If you don't mind me Asking of course-" (Y/n) said, and the question made him pause for just a short second, looking for just a reasonable answer. Something that didn't sound completely ridiculous or out of the blue. This wasn't his world's (Y/n). He was trying to drill it in his mind despite the familiarity and the feelings just lingering around.

"well, ... You're not my (Y/n)... I just saying it wouldn't be weird-" he started to say with a small sigh. Maybe just saying it out loud even if it wasn't the right person could help? Maybe get some weight off of his chest and maybe just letting him have some sort of Peace of mind-hoping it could offer maybe a balm to his soul. "I love (Y/n)... And I don't want to hurt her. And I know you're not her but I just-... I don't want to."

The words came out a bit easier than he would have expected, thinking maybe he would have been embarrassed to say it or just feel stupid for even admitting something like that even if it wasn't exactly the right person. But he could see the surprise on the girl's face in front of him, as if this was the last thing she was expecting to hear.

"that's... news. My Iso barely even acknowledges me outside of missions." The girl paused for just a second and that statement alone surprised him. His mirror self didn't care-? He just.... He gave her the same treatment he was getting. "I... I also have feelings for my Iso. But... He seems to have eyes elsewhere." She said, looking away as she looked a bit awkward but also somewhat relieved to say it.

"My (Y/n) is the same- she barely even notices me outside of missions, she's usually hanging out with someone else-..." Iso said, his words trailing off in realization. The two of you were living the same experience but just roles reversed; well he was fighting to get the attention he wanted, she was also doing the same thing on alpha Earth. His guard was completely let down at the moment, any thoughts about this version of (Y/n) being essentially the enemy completely gone with the wind.

"Let me guess, Sage?" She said, her face not changing as she spoke. He however was a bit surprised, his eyes widening a bit at the guess. "Is that who your Iso is always hanging out with too?" The girl paused for a second before finally answering. "Yep. Don't get me wrong I'm not mad at her-I respect her and appreciate her too much anyways. I guess it's just... unfair in a way. She doesn't even try and he is essentially wrapped around her finger. Actually, it's a pretty much everyone on the team is like that." She said, having a small smile on her face while while she seems to not want to talk bad about Sage.

There was a moment of silence again, and his thoughts were just running. The situation was exactly mirrored; his (Y/n) really only hung out around Sage and maybe a couple of other people but that was about it. And she would never give him any of her time, always claiming to be too busy and shutting him down as fast as she could. He was just lost in thought, even a small feeling of sadness creeping in.

"Can I... Hug you?" The alpha Earth version of (Y/n) asked, which momentarily surprised him. He wasn't expecting that question and even though once again his mind was trying to remind him not to be friendly to the enemy-his body reacted like it's had a mind of its own, taking the couple of steps it needed to get to the girl before wrapping his arms tightly around her.

It was as if he was just trying to imagine it was his worlds (Y/n), trying to imagine this would be what it would feel like if he could finally get through to her. "I needed that." He finally said softly, pulling away from the embrace. His logic was trying to catch up and tell him to stop what he was doing, that this wasn't right. But another thing was calling and that was how much energy he had left from holding the domain up for so long.

"...well... We'll have to leave this place soon; I can only control its time flow so much-" he finally said despite not wanting things to end right away. For once he felt a glimpse of what could be-and he didn't want to let it go just yet. "Um... I don't know if your Iso explain to you how our ultimates work...?"

The look on her face pretty much confirmed what he thought-she had no idea. "Not really, he kind of briefly mentions it but he doesn't explain anything." She said briefly. He paused for a moment-she had no idea one of them had to die to get out of here alive. If none of them was killed on time then the two would die. He refused to hurt her-that also meant she would have to see something she probably didn't want to see. I'll look up guilt crossed his face. "Well to leave this place alive one of us has to die." He briefly said, choosing to make his wording short.

"I'll take the shot. My sage isn't too far by. I just... Well I guess I'm sorry for what you're about to see-" he finally said, looking away because he didn't want to see the face she was going to pull. He took out his gun, taking off the safety and loading the bullets. He felt the cold medal against his dome. "Wait, wait, what are you going to do-? Wait hold on!!" That's all he heard before the shot went off-his vision immediately going to black, the last thing he felt was just the shattering of his own domain under his feet.

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[jesterday00]

May I ask about the angsty LB AU stuff please please pleaseeee :3

You absolutely can and I love that you did because I wanted to share it but I didn’t want to just. Post it lol

Spoiler cut, major Azran Legacy spoilers :3

So the first thing that was making me tear up was thinking of how Hershel and Theo would have to deal with Nora and Fiona’s deaths. Obviously they would both take it incredibly hard, because they loved both of them very deeply.

For context, in Layton Brothers, the girls are killed via house fire set by Targent agents. Because of this, Hershel also loses most of his belongings, the majority of his photos with his family, etc. He ends up moving in with Theo for several months if not a year or more.

Neither of them sleep much after the event. Hershel is at his lowest, and does genuinely fall ill because of his severe insomnia.

The second one, which I started working on tonight, was inspired by “As The World Caves In” because I am. Cursed with suffering inflicted by myself lol

Putting my boys in the last scene of Azran Legacy, how they both would’ve reacted as Hershel enacted his plan to leave. At this moment, Theo did NOT know about Hershel leaving. He receives a letter several days later, from Hershel, letting him know that he is indeed alive but will be gone for an undetermined length of time.

Roland and Lucille also received a letter, but it was more along the lines of “I am taking an extended vacation and won’t be able to write for some time, I love you all” and does not at all explain where he went.

Hershel hated leaving like this as well, but he’d planned this in advance.

Anyway. *Clutching my chest* I’m fine, I’m totally not causing myself anguish with a story that I control :,)

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 5 Eng Sub

VS THE START OF A ROMANCE and VS HELPING

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translation notes:

About “naresome”

As tends to happen when translating Japanese, this is one of those words that don’t exist in English. Its literal translation is “the start of a romance.” So, while we’ve chosen to translate it as “get together,” it would be more accurate to give a more extensive explanation. It is a noun that specifically refers to the moment that love begins. So when we’re talking about “naresome” we’re talking about the thing or situation that triggered the romantic relationship or romantic feelings.–Snow

about casting Tominaga Yuya as a guy who gets busy when it rains

I think this is another tokusatsu Easter egg. Tominaga Yuya, who plays Jouji in the “Vs. The Start of a Relationship” chapter, was also on Avataro Sentai DonBrothers, a Super Sentai series that ran from 2022 to 2023. His character, Sonoi, was the agent of a culture from another plane of existence whose members feed off of the brainwaves of human beings. At first, he and his associates Sonoza and Sononi were enemies of the DonBrothers, but they eventually joined forces with the Sentai. A big reason this happened was that Sonoi had a special connection to the leader of the DonBrothers, Momoi Tarou. Their relationship reads as pretty darned queer to a lot of viewers, myself included.

Momoi Tarou and Sonoi bonding, before they found out they were nemeses

Many JBL fans know Higuchi Kouhei from My Personal Weatherman/Taikan Yoho, in which he played the titular meteorologist, Segasaki. Part of the premise of that series is that at the start of the story, Higuchi’s character only has sex with his partner on sunny days. Jouji, Tominaga’s Zettai BL character, does the opposite: he and his “sex friend” only do it on rainy days. 

Basically, the writers of Zettai BL 3 have made Higuchi’s toku boyfriend’s story into a reverse Taikan Yoho situation. What are the odds that’s just a coincidence?–Towel

Also, he gets his own “Zettai BL” title card moment (and he’s the only one out of the secondary cast who get to have that).–Snow

That’s right!

I’m going to put this in context a little because I’ve given a lot of thought (probably too much) to who’s been featured in the opening credits of the different Zettai BL seasons. For every season of the show so far, Inukai Atsuhiro has had four other actors perform with him in the opening theme dance number. (All of whom also get a crack at some of those title card moments.) For two seasons, three of the four spots were taken up by Yutaro (Ayato), Shiono Akihisa (Toujou), and Itou Asahi (Kikuchi). The fourth spot was taken up by different actors in the first two seasons. It was the guy who played the attractive dude from the goukon in the first season, and it was Izuka Kenta, who played Kikuchi’s ex Igarashi, in the second. 

This time around, I had hoped that Sekoguchi Ryo would take the fourth spot, because he’s my blorbo and of course I wanted to see him in a retro dance number (boy was that wish ever granted!). But I hadn’t expected Shiono not to appear this time. Maybe there were specific reasons for this, like a scheduling conflict or an injury. It’s not like Shiono appears less in season 3 than he did in the others, so that’s not the reason. It’s hard to say. But in that context, it seems even more significant that they gave a spot to Tominaga Yuya. We don’t know the reasons for this. But it’s possible they featured him more heavily in this way because of his tokusatsu backstory and the inside joke it allowed them to make.–Towel

about “pudding relationship” and “prince and princess”

This part was tricky to translate. As you might have noticed by this point, Mob likes to make puns. In Japanese, pudding is written as “purin” and it is used to refer to pudding as well as custard. Mob goes on to follow with “prince and princess”, which in Japanese are pronounced as “purinsu” and “purinsesu”. In here, there’s wordplay with these similar sounding words and the image of the ToujouAyato couple.–Snow  

about “cuteness overload”

Japanese is a language that uses a lot of onomatopoeia. There’s 4 types, iirc: animal sounds, object sounds (like rain, creaking and the like), things that don’t make noise (smiles, stares, silence, etc), verbs turned onomatopoeia (I unfortunately cannot remember this properly but it was something like that). In this case, Mob says “Kyun ga tomaranai” (which literally means “the kyun can’t be stopped”). “Kyun” is an onomatopoeic word to refer to a “momentary tightening of one's chest caused by powerful feelings,” usually tied to a romantic context but not exclusively. Taking this into account, we thought “cuteness overload” might be the closest expression in English.–Snow

It’s worth noting that Mob is also saying “kyun” right after the “cuteness overload” line. I really thought at first that he was saying “cute,” since it sounds so similar, it would make a lot of sense contextually, and English loan words are so common in Japanese. But no, it was “kyun.” There was no way we could get across the meaning of “kyun” in one or two syllables of English, so we went with “adorbs,” which is just another word for “cute,” but at least it has a cutesy pronunciation that steps it up a notch.–Towel

about bouhan buzzers (16:06)

The translation note shown onscreen during this scene reads: “a bouhan buzzer is a security gadget carried by Japanese schoolchildren.” We did our best to summarize the meaning of this term briefly, so that it would be readable in the amount of time it was possible for us to keep that caption onscreen. But here’s a longer explanation for those who might be curious. 

It took a while for me to understand what these things were. At first I pictured something like a hand buzzer–the kind that people used to use to prank people. But it’s nothing like that. They’re sometimes referred to as “personal security alarms.” They’re little doodads that you can clip onto a backpack or carry in your pocket, and if you activate them (the most common mechanism for which seems to be pulling some kind of tab or string), they make some form of alarm-type sound. I found a video, below, that shows someone activating two different types of buzzers, showing the sound they make. 

These two make the same sort of beeping/chirping noises you’d associate with an alarm protecting a car or the entrance to a building–not really a “buzzing” sound, or anything that resembles the sound Mr. Cheerleader makes in this scene. But maybe there are other types that are more buzz-like, or sound more like the sound our buddy is imitating. 

According to some things I read when I looked these up, children often play with their bouhan buzzers, making it somewhat less likely that people will be on alert when they hear them go off. I don’t think I could have resisted setting off a gadget like this if I’d had one as a child. They seem to be available with all sorts of characters on them and in all sorts of colors and shapes, which is cool but might make them seem even more toy-like. 

From what I’ve seen, these things are most commonly used by children, but adults sometimes use them too. If you look for them for sale online, there are more adult-looking versions available (say, a rose-gold blob instead of something with cute characters on it–though of course, adults might want those too). One listing I saw advertised that they’re useful for kids, women, and the elderly.–Towel

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[thecomicsnexus]

TMNT: 40TH ANNIVERSARY COMICS CELEBRATION

July 2024

By Kevin Eastman, Edgar Alan Poe, Jim Lawson, Tristan Jones, Gary Carlson, Chris Allan, Erik Burnham, Lloyd Goldfine, Ciro Nieli, Andy Suriano, Tom Waltz, Ronda Pattison , Tom Napolitano, Steve Lavigne, Paul Harmon, Frank Fosco, Adam Guzowski, Sarah Myer, Luis Antonio Delgado, Shawn Lee, Khary Randolph, Emilio Lopez, Michael Dialynas, Pablo Tunica, Freddie E. Williams II, David Petersen, Ken Mitchroney, Aaron Hazouri, Dan Duncan, Sophie Campbell, Jodi Nishijima, Stan Sakai, and Emi Fujii.

Come and enjoy stories that will remind you of the 40 years of turtle history.

SCORE: 10 *

* Assuming you are familiar with these iterations.

This is a strange read, and curiously, there are three or four highlights for me, and they are not exactly the ones you would imagine.

Spoilers after the break...

The first story by Kevin Eastman is in the Mirage section of the book but... well... I'll leave at that... I wouldn't call it the Mirage we knew.

There is a story by Lawson and Lavigne with the Rat King that... it's fun. But, you know... I wouldn't even try to fit it in canon... the amount of continuity physics you need to bend to place this story is not worth the time. Just enjoy as a new story by these two iconic Mirage artists.

This other story by Tristan H. Jones and Paul Harmon requires more analysis. I'll revisit it on my gang wars video and try to give it more context... but unfortunately... it's just too vague. All I can say for sure is that it happens in the future of that incomplete saga, but the narrator just takes too many artistic choices to be taken at face value.

Also... I believe this is the first official (frontal) appearance of Agent Bishop (unless I got the character wrong, but Jones already tried to introduce him in this saga). I think he is still holding on to it, and I really hope he gets to tell his story. I wouldn't mind a mini-series... just saying!

The Volume 3 story was... not for me. The dialogue alone felt tired.

The Archie adventure was short, eventful, and funny... and it looks amazing too!

In just four pages a new character was introduced and... a new love story was implied! And it's not just a gratuitous cameo... this is a funny sequence.

The Saturday Morning Adventures (the de facto 87 story) looks amazing as usual, but I didn't find the story that interesting. However, it started a theme that would run across most of the stories in this special after this one: Master Splinter.

The 2003 story is a... loose canon?

Hun is Slash, and Shredder is back... so make of that what you want. All I'm going to say is that this felt a lot like watching the beginning of a 2003 episode, with the narration setting the tone.

The 2012 story was one of the least interesting in the previews, but I have to say... it was probably one of the best. It brought back a villain and it technically serves as an excuse to continue the series?

But to me the best thing about the story is the art. I am surprised Ciro Nieli didn't do more comic book work for the Turtles all these years. In fact, if they somehow decided to continue the 2012 universe in 2D in this style... I'm all in. Well, who am I kidding... I would be in anyway... but this looks amazing.

Andy Suriano did probably the most interesting story in the book. Now, I am not sure if his style doesn't translate well to static panels or what the problem is with the comic format... but it doesn't matter... this small story brought in a lot of things that ended on the editing floor after the show's second season was reduced to a few more episodes. There was a rumor about a female turtle, and not only it is here in all its glory, but there is also a brother?

And come on... it's so Lou Jitsu to die with a cliffhanger.

There are two IDW stories. One is another Splinter story, but the other one is perhaps one of the best in this book.

The Ronda Pattison story takes place just before the Armageddon game, and it shows the five turtles in full sibling dynamic (even Jennika). It was refreshing to see these turtles having fun for a change.

There are no stories by the new team, but... well... that's just starting.

[makeila04]

Disclaimer: I've been thinking about this, and maybe it's just insight. Anyway, it's just an opinion and a way to organize my ideas and perhaps understand this better in the future.

I notice that many people want to see characters through their own modern agendas and values, which, well, you can do; it's your freedom. Especially when it comes to a character like Adler, who is mysterious, dry, and difficult to read. There's no clear answer, so everyone projects their ideas onto him. Again, I don't think it's wrong (and whether it is or not doesn't matter).

But realistically, Activision would never outright say that any of its characters are sexist or racist because it would be outrageous. So they leave a lot of things up to interpretation. Therefore, there will never be a definitive answer.

Does he treat women differently? It depends on how you look at it. Is he traditional? In some ways, yes, but in others, he's more pragmatic than ideological. Does he resent minorities? It doesn't seem like it, but it's not like the game focuses or will focus on that, because it's irrelevant to any Call of Duty.

Adler is a man of his time, yes, but he's also a CIA agent who works with anyone as long as it serves him. Russell Adler is, above all, pragmatic and professional.What bothers me is that many of the people who ask aren't really looking for an answer, they're looking for validation.

Besides, there's a pattern in all these questions they ask me: they want me to confirm or deny a suspicion they already have. 1- Some want you to confirm that Adler is a misogynist. Because they need to see him as the "bad guy" who treats women differently or is more closed-minded. 2- Others want you to confirm that Adler is NOT a misogynist. Because they admire him and want to see him as a fair and modern guy. 3- Some just want to understand him better. Because the game doesn't give enough context about how he sees the world, and you're one of the people who has analyzed his character the most. I honestly love the third type of questions, and they're the ones I answer the most, or because they're repetitive. But I do get questions of the first and second types. They ask, but they're not really looking for an answer; they're looking for validation. They want you to confirm what they already think, and if I don't, they ignore me or keep insisting.

The problem is that I really try to analyze. I seek to understand the context, their generation, their environment, and how that influences their personality. But there are people who don't want an analysis; they want me to prove them right. The problem is… I don't have it and probably never will, and if anyone is looking for validation in my opinions or hypotheses, I recommend they look elsewhere.Adler, Weaver, Woods, Hudson, Mason, etc. are men of their time, practical-minded and unattached to ideologies. There's no clear evidence of misogyny, racism, or whatever, in the game, just their dry, work-focused demeanor because we always see them working, because that's what these games are always about: wars.

I repeat, we always see him working, and Adler is VERY professional and, above all, pragmatic, but he was born in 1937, in San Diego, California, USA!! I have to remind you that he and other white people did NOT go to the same places, schools, they couldn't use the same bathrooms, white people and black people, and they couldn't ride in the same train cars either!?!?!?! Adler was only 30 years old in the late 60s… And things were just starting to change from 1990 onwards… and in 1991 he was already 54 years old. I don't see his mentality changing that much… And I repeat, this is Activision, they're looking to sell, so they're never going to tell us that Adler openly hates Marshall or Sims for being black, or Weaver for being Soviet, when Adler joined the army at 18 and went to Vietnam in his 20s…

The historical and social context in which Adler, or any of his contemporaries, grew up cannot be ignored.

A man like Russell, born in 1937 in the United States, especially in an environment like San Diego, was inevitably raised in a society with strong racial and cultural segregations.

While Adler is a pragmatist at work and doesn't seem to overtly express prejudices in what we see in the games, that doesn't mean he doesn't harbor them on a deeper or more unconscious level. It's also important to remember that he spent his entire life in militarized environments, and the US military of his time had a culture that not only reflected the nation's social prejudices, but in many cases reinforced them.The fact that we don't see Adler openly expressing contempt or discrimination on screen doesn't mean there isn't some of that in his psyche. Activision simply wouldn't show it because it wouldn't sell well today. But considering his age, background, and the time he grew up in, it stands to reason that even if he doesn't openly hate someone because of their race or nationality, he might still have certain deep-rooted biases or prejudices.

There's also the issue of anti-Sovietism. Adler literally joined the army at the height of the Cold War and spent his life fighting both Soviets and communists. His contempt for the Russians is probably as strong as Mason's at the beginning of Black Ops 1. With Weaver, there may be some pragmatism and professional respect, but I doubt that will completely erase their negative perception of him for being Soviet.

In fact, recall that in Black Ops 1, with Mason and Woods, we hear many soldiers distrust Weaver for being Soviet, while they frown upon Mason, Woods, and Hudson for associating with Greg…precisely because he is Soviet. This is proof that the Cold War profoundly shaped the mindset of Adler and the American soldiers of his generation. In Black Ops 1, it's made clear that even within the CIA and the military, distrust of the Soviets was visceral, to the point that even Weaver, who was on their side, was still viewed with suspicion simply because of his origins. This reinforces the idea that Adler is not a "modern man" in terms of mindset. He's neither politically correct nor progressive. His upbringing and life experience made him extremely pragmatic, nationalistic, and distrustful of anything that didn't fit his worldview. If this is how Weaver, a loyal CIA agent, was treated, how would Adler treat someone he considered "outside" his inner circle? He wouldn't say it out loud because he's a professional, but the suspicion would always be there. Now, was Adler someone who openly hated minorities? Probably not in the sense of going out to lynch someone or joining the Ku Klux Klan, but it would be naive to think he didn't have deep-rooted racial prejudices. Most likely, like many men of his time, he suffered from pragmatic and structural racism: 1- Not immediately respecting a Black man unless he proved exceptionally competent. 2- Assuming Latinos and Asians were inferior in terms of skill or intelligence. 3- Considering Russians not just as enemies, but as fundamentally untrustworthy. This wouldn't make him a monster by the standards of his time; he'd simply be an average man of his generation, the Silent Generation.For example, in the CIA, Adler joined the Army at 18, meaning he spent most of his adult life in a hypermasculine, hierarchical, and deeply conservative environment. The U.S. Army wasn't racially integrated until 1948, when Truman signed Executive Order 9981. However, the integration wasn't instantaneous or welcomed by all. White soldiers, especially those from the South, didn't want to fight alongside Black men. When Adler joined the army in the 1950s, there was still strong resistance to this integration. It wasn't unusual for Black troops to be treated as inferiors, assigned to less prestigious duties, and forced to endure daily humiliation. Did Adler learn to see Black people as equals? Probably not. What he did learn was to work with them if they were useful.

This is where pragmatism and professionalism comes in. For Adler, efficiency and results trump any ideology. If a Black man or a Russian is capable, then he can work with them. But that doesn't mean he sees them as personal equals or invites them into his home for whiskey. For Adler, loyalty is more important than race, but that doesn't mean his upbringing and times haven't shaped him. Just because he works with Sims or Marshall doesn't mean he doesn't harbor certain prejudices deep down. He simply ignores them because they are competent soldiers. But if Sims did something to challenge that, Adler would probably think, "Of course, they're all the same in the end." I wouldn't say it out loud, but that bias would be there.

The same applies to Grigori Weaver. Although Weaver is more American, by 1991, Adler will never stop seeing him as Russian. And for a man who lived through the Cold War fighting against the USSR, that's a problem. The Russians are the enemy, and Adler has killed too many to easily make exceptions. Could his mindset have changed over the years?The answer is: unlikely. Adler was born in 1937 and was 54 years old in 1991. By the standards of his generation, he was already an elderly man. And while some people change over time, beliefs formed in youth are incredibly difficult to eradicate. If Adler were a young man in the 1990s, we might think he would have evolved his view of the world. But by 1991, the world had already changed, and he was already a fifty-something war veteran with scars both physical and mental. Why would he change his worldview at this point? More importantly, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who cares about political correctness or adapting.He's not a man who adapts to new trends. He lives in a world of covert operations, assassinations, and dirty wars. For him, everything still works by the same old rules: force, strategy, and manipulation. So if anyone expected Adler to be completely free of racial or anti-Soviet prejudices in 1991, they'd be delusional. He most likely hides them better, rationalizes them, or masks them with pragmatism. But in his mind, racial and national hierarchies still exist. Russell Adler is neither a saint nor a secret progressive. He's a product of his time, shaped by a world where racial discrimination and anti-communist paranoia were the norm. Activision will never admit this because it would be a public relations disaster, but if you analyze the context in which he lived, it's illogical to think of him as a man without biases or prejudices. And most importantly, he had no reason to change his mind. By the time times changed in the 1990s, Adler was already at a stage in his life where cultural shifts didn't matter to him. For him, the world continued to operate the same way it always had: with power, loyalty, and death. Activision gives us a watered-down, marketable version of Adler. But if we analyze it honestly, he's a man of the Cold War, not of the modern era. And I personally hate judging the mentality of the past with modern mentality and values, because that's something I was always taught in history not to do, because it violates the historical context of why people acted one way before and another way now. Continuing with the historical context to better understand what I'm talking about: Russell Adler was born in 1937, in San Diego, California, a place and time where racial segregation and anti-communist paranoia weren't extreme ideologies, but rather the common sense of American society. To understand his mindset, one must look not only at the history of his country, but also at the generation to which he belongs: the Silent Generation (1928-1945). Unlike the Baby Boomers, who grew up in times of social change and revolution, the Silent Generation was raised to respect authority, order, and hierarchies. Growing up during the Great Depression and World War II, they learned that the world is harsh, that rules must be followed to survive, and that questioning the system is not an option. In the mindset of this generation, extreme individualism and self-construction were alien ideas; what mattered was stability, duty, and tradition. This means that Adler not only grew up in a segregated United States but was also raised with deeply conservative and authoritarian values, probably. For him, the world has fixed structures, and those who try to change them are a problem. Adler grew up in a society where Black, Latino, Asian, and Native Americans were second-class citizens. He didn't need to be a white supremacist to believe white people were on top; the world simply told him that's the way things were. This doesn't mean Adler actively hated other races, but it does mean that their respect didn't come by default.

And this is where his pragmatism comes in. The Silent Generation is known for its "duty first, feelings second" mentality, and Adler isn't going to refuse to work with someone just because of their race or nationality… as long as that person is useful.He would never say this out loud, because Adler isn't stupid. But deep down, the idea of ​​white superiority was ingrained as a silent certainty. Adler enlisted in the army at 18, right in the 1950s, a time when the US military was just beginning its racial integration following Truman's 1948 order. But just because a law says something doesn't mean the culture changes overnight. Black soldiers were still treated as inferiors, assigned to less prestigious duties, and southern whites openly refused to fight alongside them. Adler grew up within this military structure, where Black people could be soldiers, yes, but always with a suspicion of their abilities. The same goes for the Russians. In Black Ops 1, American soldiers despise Weaver simply because he's Soviet, even though he's working for the CIA. If this was true of Weaver, how would Adler view the Soviets in general? As the absolute enemy. He can work with them if necessary, but his instinct is distrust and hostility. Let's remember that in Black Ops Cold War we literally infiltrated a Soviet headquarters and Adler doesn't trust Dimitri Belikov, but he knows that he doesn't.

He has no choice. And not to mention that he kills Bell at the end of the game for being a loose end; he was just an asset, someone valuable for his Russian, just like Weaver. Except Greg is still alive because he lasted longer.

And let's not forget that Adler wasn't just a soldier, but a CIA agent specializing in assassinations and covert operations. His job wasn't to be open-minded or question the morality of his actions. His mission was to do whatever was necessary for the security of the United States. He literally kills and silences people.

The Silents are an extremely rigid generation. They were raised with the idea that the world works in a specific way and that trying to change it is either futile or dangerous. When we arrive at Black Ops 6 in 1991, Adler is 54 years old. For young people in the 90s, the world was already changing: 1- Racism was no longer socially accepted in the same way. 2- The USSR was collapsing. 3- New generations were beginning to see things differently. But for Adler, none of this mattered. For him, the world still operates under the same old rules: power, loyalty, and betrayal. Just because the world changes doesn't mean he has. Older people don't usually change deeply held beliefs formed in their youth, much less someone as stubborn as Adler. Activision will never show us this side of him because it would be scandalous, but if we analyze it logically, it's impossible for Adler not to have structural prejudices. Not because he's a monster (although he is), but because he's a man of his time, and his time was different. Russell Adler isn't a hero of modern times. He's a man shaped by the Cold War, segregation, nationalism, and a mindset where loyalty and competition were more important than anything else.Was he an open racist? No. Did he have deep-rooted prejudices? Absolutely. It's a mistake to analyze Adler, Woods, Mason, Hudson, Weaver, or whoever else with a 21st-century mindset. He's a product of his time and his generation, and his world was never ours. Finally, my biggest question: Why would Activision never show these things? Well, because it's NOT in their interest (they're a company, they just want to sell and reach the widest possible audience), and because this is never what Call of Duty was about.

If there's one thing the major video game companies AVOID AT ALL COSTS, it's admitting that their main characters have political or social positions that would be considered problematic today. In the case of Call of Duty, where the protagonists are war-hardened soldiers, it's obvious that the vast majority—especially those born between the 1930s and 1950s—have a conservative, sexist, and nationalist mindset. Not because they're villains, but because that was the norm of their time and environment. But Activision would never say this openly. 1- Because they can't alienate their modern audience Call of Duty is one of the best-selling franchises in the world. Its audience isn't just older people who grew up in the 80s and 90s, but also teenagers and young adults living in an era where sexism, racism, and extreme ideologies are sensitive topics. If Activision were to confirm that characters like Adler, Woods, or Hudson were misogynistic, sexist, or reactionary, there would immediately be controversy on social media, in the media, and in communities. Nowadays, big companies are afraid of damaging their image and losing sales. They prefer to keep their characters neutral or ambiguous in terms of politics and values, so anyone can interpret them however they want. If they said Adler was sexist, they would lose the interest of many young or progressive gamers. If they said Adler was a feminist or progressive, they would lose other gamers who see him as a "tough, classic hero." Activision's Solution: Don't confirm anything and let the public make their own interpretations. What a coincidence, that's what we're doing here. 2- Because the military and the CIA are the "good guys" in their narrative Activision has a close relationship with the US military and other government agencies. The image Call of Duty projects is patriotic and pro-military, because that sells well in the US and other markets. Admitting that its most iconic characters were openly sexist, racist, or misogynistic would put the military in a bad light. For example: - If they said Hudson treated women in the CIA with contempt, or that Woods disrespected female soldiers, the military's image would suffer. - If they confirmed that Mason was politically right-wing or an extreme nationalist, they would create unnecessary controversy. Personally, I think that if someone still thinks the CIA is good, it's either because they're American (even so, many Yankees hate the CIA) or because they're simply ignorant. We have the famous Condor Plan in America, the MK-ultra disaster, and in general the impunity with which they've always operated. Activision is not going to shoot itself in the foot with the narrative. This is still pro-American propaganda in a way, except we always knew that from the start (personally, it doesn't bother me). But we also can't ignore the real facts, or at least I can't, because, as I say, I like to do extensive analysis. Activision's Solution: - Show the characters as "professional" and neutral. - Have them work with women and minorities to give the impression they were men ahead of their time. 3- Because their characters should be "cool" to everyone. Call of Duty protagonists aren't super-deep characters with complex development. They're power fantasies. Most players don't want to control a character with controversial ideologies. They want tough, mysterious, and combat-efficient guys. Otherwise, you'll end up like Concord… and Activision wants to avoid the same thing with its golden goose.

Example: - If they said Woods has sexist attitudes because he grew up in the 40s and served in Vietnam, many fans would stop seeing him as "the cool, tough guy" and start criticizing him. (Although in Black Ops 2 he literally calls a woman "fucking nurse" at the end of the game, but hey, he'll be 95 by 2025.) - If they confirmed that Adler had an ultra-conservative view on the role of women in society, he would lose some of his appeal for many players. Activision's Solution: - Ignore the issue entirely. - If a woman appears, have the protagonists simply respect her (e.g., Park, Dumas). - Don't delve into their political or social opinions.4- Because avoiding controversy = more sales.Video game companies don't have ideologies; they just want to make money, and I can tell you that's literally what I study. If Activision confirmed that its characters have reactionary, conservative, or sexist values, they would get in trouble with the press, players, and social media.

Example of how people would react: - If they said Adler is a misogynist: "Are you seriously glorifying a character who mistreats women? How disgusting."

- If they said Adler is a feminist: "They blew it. Now they want to make it seem like Cold War tough guys were woke. How ridiculous." If neither option works for them, it's easier to just say nothing.

Activision's solution: - Leave everything up to the player's interpretation. - If asked, say generic phrases like: "Adler respects competition regardless of gender." - Avoid any in-game dialogue that makes it sound too extreme in any direction. 5- Most importantly: Because the story of Call of Duty isn't about morality, it's about action. If Call of Duty were an RPG series with deep moral decisions, then they would have to explore machismo, racism, and classism within the military. But Call of Duty is a series of shooters and military missions. Its story isn't designed to question the morals of its characters, but to make the missions feel epic. In Cold War, Adler kidnaps and manipulates Bell in a way that, in any other game, would make him look like a villain. But the game doesn't condemn them or present them as "bad guys," because the point isn't to analyze their ethics, but to show shocking scenes. If this happens with torture, why would they explore the machismo or conservatism of the characters? They wouldn't, because that's not the focus of the game. Keep the story focused on the action and the war, not on the characters' morals. Don't make the player question their actions too much. Avoid dialogue that shows extreme positions. Keep only conversations that provide context. Conclusion: Call of Duty is a military fantasy, not a social analysis Adler, Woods, Mason, Hudson, and Weaver were raised in deeply conservative, nationalist, and sexist environments. If they existed in real life, it's logical to think they would have the prejudices of their time.

But Activision will never openly admit it because:- They can't risk alienating their modern audience. - They don't want the military or the CIA to look bad. - Their characters must remain "cool" and appealing. - Avoiding controversy always means more sales. Call of Duty is a shooter, not an exploration of morality. In short, the Call of Duty characters were probably sexist, conservative, and prejudiced, but the game will never show it because it's not convenient. They prefer to keep them ambiguous and functional, so that each player can interpret them as they wish.

Disclaimer: He estado pensando en esto y tal vez solo sea perspicacia. Como sea es solo una opinión y una forma de acomodarme las ideas y quizas entender esto mejor en un futuro.

Noto que muchos quieren ver a los personajes a través de sus propias agendas y valores modernos, lo cual, pues, puedes hacerlo, es tu libertad. 

Especialmente cuando se trata de un personaje como Adler, que es misterioso, seco y difícil de leer. No hay una respuesta clara, así que todo el mundo proyecta sus ideas en él, repito, no creo que esté mal (y si lo es o no tampoco importa).

Pero siendo realistas, Activision nunca diría abiertamente que ninguno de sus personajes es machista o racista porque sería un escándalo. Así que dejan muchas cosas a la interpretación. Ergo, nunca habrá respuesta definitiva.

¿Trata diferente a las mujeres? Depende de cómo lo mires. ¿Es tradicional? En algunos aspectos sí, pero en otros es más pragmático que ideológico. ¿Le molestan las minorías? No parece, pero tampoco es que el juego se enfoque o se vaya a enfocar en eso, porque es irrelevante para cualquier call of duty.

Adler es un hombre de su época, sí, pero también es un agente de la CIA que trabaja con quien sea mientras le sirva. Russell Adler es ante todo pragmatico y profesional.

Si me molesta que muchos de los que preguntan, en realidad no buscan una respuesta, buscan validación.

Además, hay un patrón en todas esas preguntas que me hacen: quieren que confirme o niegue una sospecha que ya tienen.

Algunos quieren que confirmes que Adler es misógino. Porque necesitan verlo como el "hombre malo" que trata diferente a las mujeres o que tiene una mentalidad más cerrada.

Otros quieren que confirmes que Adler NO es misógino. Porque lo admiran y quieren verlo como un tipo justo y moderno.

Algunos solo buscan entenderlo mejor. Porque el juego no da suficiente contexto sobre cómo ve el mundo, y tú eres una de las personas que más ha analizado su personaje.

Honestamente amo las preguntas del tercer tipo y son las que más respondo o porque se repiten, pero si me llegan preguntas más del primer y segundo tipo. Preguntan, pero en realidad no buscan una respuesta, buscan validación. Quieren que les confirmes lo que ya piensan, y si no lo hago, ignoran o siguen insistiendo.

El problema es que yo realmente intento analizar. Busco entender el contexto, su generación, su entorno y cómo eso influye en su personalidad. Pero hay gente que no quiere un análisis, quiere que les de la razón. El problema es que…no la tengo y probablemente jamás la tendré y si alguien busca validación en mis opiniones o hipótesis le recomiendo buscarlo en otro lado.

Adler, Weaver, Woods, Hudson, Mason, etc. son hombres de su época, con mentalidad práctica y sin apego a ideologías. No hay evidencia clara de misoginia, racismo o lo que quieran, en el juego, solo su actitud seca y centrada en el trabajo porque los vemos trabajando siempre, porque siempre se tratan de eso estos juegos, guerras.

Repito, siempre lo vemos trabajando y Adler es MUY profesional y por sobre todo pragmático, pero nació en 1937, en San Diego, California, ESTADOS UNIDOSS!! tengo que recordarles que él y los demás blancos NO iban a los mismos lugares, escuelas, no podían utilizar los mismos baños los blancos que los negros y tampoco podían ir en los mismos vagones!?!?!?! Adler recién tiene 30 años para finales de los 60s... Y apenas cuando las cosas iban cambiando fue 1990 en adelante... y él en 1991 ya tiene 54 años. No lo veo cambiando tanto la mentalidad... Y repito, esto es Activision, buscan vender, asi que nunca nos van a decir que Adler odia abiertamente a Marshall o Sims por ser negros o a Weaver por ser sovietico cuando Adler se metió al ejercito con 18 años y fue a Vietnam en sus 20s…

El contexto histórico y social en el que Adler, o cualquier otro de sus compañeros coetaneos, creció no puede ignorarse.

Un hombre blanco, como Russell, nacido en 1937 en Estados Unidos, especialmente en un entorno como el de San Diego, inevitablemente fue criado en una sociedad con fuertes segregaciones raciales y culturales.

Si bien Adler es un pragmático en el trabajo y no parece expresar prejuicios de forma abierta en lo que vemos en los juegos, eso no significa que no los tenga en un nivel más profundo o inconsciente. También hay que recordar que pasó toda su vida en ambientes militarizados, y el ejército estadounidense de su época tenía una cultura que no solo reflejaba los prejuicios sociales de la nación, sino que en muchos casos los reforzaba.

El hecho de que no veamos a Adler expresando abiertamente desprecio o discriminación en pantalla no significa que no haya algo de eso en su psique. Simplemente, Activision no lo mostraría porque no es algo que vendería bien en la actualidad. Pero considerando su edad, formación y el tiempo en el que creció, lo más lógico sería que, incluso si no odia abiertamente a alguien por su raza o nacionalidad, sí tenga ciertos sesgos o prejuicios profundamente arraigados.

También está el tema del antisovietismo. Adler literalmente se enlistó en el ejército cuando la Guerra Fría estaba en su apogeo y pasó su vida luchando contra soviéticos y comunistas. Su desprecio por los rusos probablemente es tan fuerte como el que Mason tenía al inicio de Black Ops 1. Con Weaver puede haber algo de pragmatismo y respeto profesional, pero dudo que eso elimine por completo su percepción negativa hacia él por ser soviético.

De hecho, recordemos que en Black ops 1, con Mason y Woods, escuchamos a muchos soldados desconfiar de Weaver por ser sovietico, mientras miran mal a Mason, Woods y Hudson por relacionarse con Greg...justamente por ser sovietico. 

Es una prueba de que la Guerra Fría moldeó profundamente la mentalidad de Adler y los soldados estadounidenses de su generación. En Black Ops 1, se deja claro que incluso dentro de la CIA y el ejército, la desconfianza hacia los soviéticos era visceral, al punto de que incluso Weaver, que estaba de su lado, seguía siendo visto con recelo solo por su origen.

Esto refuerza la idea de que Adler no es un "hombre moderno" en términos de mentalidad. No es políticamente correcto ni progresista. Su formación y su experiencia de vida lo hicieron extremadamente pragmático, nacionalista y desconfiado de todo lo que no encajara en su visión del mundo.

Si así trataban a Weaver, que era un agente leal a la CIA, ¿cómo trataría Adler a alguien que él considere "externo" a su círculo de confianza? No lo diría en voz alta porque es un profesional, pero la sospecha siempre estaría ahí.

Ahora bien, ¿era Adler alguien que odiaba abiertamente a las minorías? Probablemente no en el sentido de salir a linchar a alguien o afiliarse al Ku Klux Klan, pero sería ingenuo pensar que no tenía prejuicios raciales arraigados. Lo más probable es que, como muchos hombres de su época, tuviera un racismo de tipo pragmático y estructural:

No respetar de entrada a un hombre negro a menos que demostrara ser excepcionalmente competente.

Asumir que los latinos y asiáticos eran inferiores en términos de habilidades o inteligencia.

Considerar a los rusos no solo como enemigos, sino como seres fundamentalmente indignos de confianza.

Esto no lo haría un monstruo según los estándares de su tiempo; simplemente sería un hombre promedio de su generación, la generación silenciosa.

Por ejemplo en la CIA, cuando Adler se unió al ejército a los 18 años, lo que significa que pasó la mayor parte de su vida adulta en un entorno hipermasculino, jerárquico y profundamente conservador. El ejército de EE.UU. no fue integrado racialmente hasta 1948, cuando Truman firmó la orden ejecutiva 9981. Sin embargo, la integración no fue instantánea ni bien recibida por todos. Los soldados blancos, especialmente los que venían del sur, no querían pelear al lado de negros.

Cuando Adler llegó al ejército en los años 50, todavía existía una fuerte resistencia a esta integración. No era inusual que las tropas negras fueran tratadas como inferiores, asignadas a tareas de menor prestigio y obligadas a soportar humillaciones diarias. ¿Aprendió Adler a ver a los negros como iguales? Probablemente no. Lo que sí aprendió fue a trabajar con ellos si eran útiles.

Aquí es donde entra el pragmatismo. Para Adler, la eficiencia y los resultados están por encima de cualquier ideología. Si un hombre negro o un ruso es capaz, entonces puede trabajar con él. Pero eso no significa que los vea como iguales en términos personales o que los invite a su casa a beber whisky. Para Adler, la lealtad es más importante que la raza, pero eso no significa que su crianza y su época no lo hayan marcado.

El hecho de que trabaje con Sims o Marshall no significa que en su fuero interno no tenga ciertos prejuicios. Simplemente los ignora porque son soldados competentes. Pero si Sims hiciera algo que lo pusiera en duda, Adler probablemente pensaría: “Claro, al final todos son iguales”. No lo diría en voz alta, pero ese sesgo estaría ahí.

Lo mismo aplica a Grigori Weaver. Aunque Weaver es más estadounidense, para 1991, Adler nunca va a dejar de verlo como ruso. Y para un hombre que vivió la Guerra Fría peleando contra la URSS, eso es un problema. Los rusos son el enemigo, y Adler ha matado a demasiados como para hacer excepciones con facilidad.

¿Podría haber cambiado su mentalidad con los años?

La respuesta es: poco probable. Adler nació en 1937 y tenía 54 años en 1991. Para los estándares de su generación, ya era un hombre mayor. Y aunque algunas personas cambian con el tiempo, las creencias formadas en la juventud son increíblemente difíciles de erradicar.

Si Adler fuera un hombre joven en los 90s, quizás podríamos pensar que habría evolucionado su forma de ver el mundo. Pero en 1991, el mundo ya había cambiado, y él ya era un veterano de guerra cincuentón con cicatrices tanto físicas como mentales. ¿Por qué cambiaría su visión del mundo a esas alturas?

Más importante aún, no parece el tipo de hombre que se preocupe por lo políticamente correcto o por adaptarse a las nuevas tendencias. Él vive en un mundo de operaciones encubiertas, asesinatos y guerra sucia. Para él, todo sigue funcionando bajo las mismas reglas de siempre: fuerza, estrategia y manipulación.

Así que si alguien esperara que en 1991 Adler estuviera completamente libre de prejuicios raciales o antisoviéticos, se estaría engañando. Lo más probable es que los oculte mejor, que los racionalice o que los enmascare con pragmatismo. Pero en su mente, las jerarquías raciales y nacionales siguen existiendo.

Russell Adler no es un santo ni un progresista secreto. Es un producto de su época, moldeado por un mundo donde la discriminación racial y la paranoia anticomunista eran la norma. Activision nunca va a admitir esto porque sería un desastre de relaciones públicas, pero si analizamos el contexto en el que vivió, es ilógico pensar que sea un hombre sin sesgos o prejuicios.

Y lo más importante: no tenía razones para cambiar su mentalidad. Para cuando los tiempos cambiaron en los 90s, Adler ya estaba en una etapa de su vida donde los cambios culturales lo tenían sin cuidado. Para él, el mundo seguía funcionando igual que siempre: con poder, lealtad y muerte.

Activision nos da una versión diluida y vendible de Adler. Pero si lo analizamos con honestidad, él es un hombre de la Guerra Fría, no de la era moderna. Y personalmente odio que se juzgue la mentalidad del pasado con mentalidad y valores modernos, porque es algo que en historia siempre me enseñaron que NO se debe hacer, porque es atropellar el contexto histórico del por qué se actuaba de una forma antes y ahora de otra.

Continuando con el contexto historico para comprender mejor a lo que me refiero:

Russell Adler nació en 1937, en San Diego, California, un lugar y una época donde la segregación racial y la paranoia anticomunista no eran ideologías extremas, sino el sentido común de la sociedad estadounidense blanca. Para comprender su mentalidad, no solo hay que mirar la historia de su país, sino también la generación a la que pertenece: la Silent Generation (1928-1945).

A diferencia de los Baby Boomers, que crecieron en tiempos de cambio y revolución social, la Silent Generation fue criada para respetar la autoridad, el orden y las jerarquías. Fueron niños durante la Gran Depresión y la Segunda Guerra Mundial, y aprendieron que el mundo es duro, que hay que seguir las reglas para sobrevivir y que cuestionar el sistema no es una opción. En la mentalidad de esta generación, el individualismo extremo y la autoconstrucción eran ideas ajenas; lo importante era la estabilidad, el deber y la tradición.

Esto significa que Adler no solo creció en un EE.UU. segregado, sino que también fue criado bajo valores profundamente conservadores y autoritarios. Para él, el mundo tiene estructuras fijas, y quienes intentan cambiarlas son un problema.

Adler creció en una sociedad donde los negros, latinos, asiáticos y nativos americanos eran ciudadanos de segunda clase. No necesitaba ser un supremacista blanco para creer que los blancos estaban en la cima; simplemente, el mundo le decía que así eran las cosas.

Esto no significa que Adler odiara activamente a otras razas, pero sí que su respeto no venía por defecto.

Un hombre negro tenía que demostrar ser excepcionalmente competente para ganar su confianza.

Los latinos y asiáticos eran vistos como inferiores en términos de habilidades o inteligencia.

Los rusos no eran solo enemigos políticos, sino seres fundamentalmente indignos de confianza.

Y aquí es donde entra su pragmatismo. La Silent Generation es conocida por su mentalidad de “el deber primero, los sentimientos después”, y Adler no va a rechazar trabajar con alguien solo por su raza o nacionalidad… siempre y cuando esa persona sea útil.

Nunca lo diría en voz alta, porque Adler no es estúpido. Pero en su fuero interno, la idea de la superioridad blanca estaba instalada como una certeza silenciosa.

Adler se enlistó en el ejército a los 18 años, justo en los años 50, una época donde el ejército estadounidense apenas estaba comenzando su integración racial tras la orden de Truman en 1948. Pero que una ley diga algo no significa que la cultura cambie de la noche a la mañana.

Los soldados negros seguían siendo tratados como inferiores, asignados a tareas de menor prestigio, y los blancos del sur abiertamente se negaban a pelear junto a ellos.

Adler creció dentro de esta estructura militar, donde los negros podían ser soldados, sí, pero siempre con una sospecha sobre sus capacidades. Lo mismo con los rusos. En Black Ops 1, los soldados estadounidenses desprecian a Weaver simplemente porque es soviético, aunque esté trabajando para la CIA.

Si esto pasaba con Weaver, ¿cómo vería Adler a los soviéticos en general? Como el enemigo absoluto. Puede trabajar con ellos si es necesario, pero su instinto es la desconfianza y la hostilidad. Recordemos que en Black ops cold war literalmente nos infiltramos en una sede soviética y Adler no confía en Dimitri Belikov, pero sabe que no le queda de otra. Y ni mencionar que mata a Bell al final del juego por ser un cabo suelto, era solo un activo, alguien valioso por su ruso, así como Weaver. Solo que Greg sigue vivo porque duró más tiempo.

Y no olvidemos que Adler no solo fue un soldado, sino un agente de la CIA especializado en asesinatos y operaciones encubiertas. Su trabajo no era ser abierto de mente ni cuestionar la moralidad de sus actos. Su misión era hacer lo que se necesitara para la seguridad de EE.UU. Literalmente se dedica a asesinar y silenciar personas.

Los Silent son una generación extremadamente rígida. Fueron criados en la idea de que el mundo funciona de una forma específica y que tratar de cambiarlo es inútil o peligroso.

Cuando llegamos a Black Ops 6 en 1991, Adler tiene 54 años. Para la gente joven de los 90, el mundo ya estaba cambiando:

El racismo ya no era socialmente aceptado de la misma manera.

La URSS estaba colapsando.

Las nuevas generaciones comenzaban a ver las cosas de otro modo.

Pero para Adler, nada de esto importaba. Para él, el mundo sigue funcionando bajo las mismas reglas de siempre: poder, lealtad y traición.

El hecho de que el mundo cambie no significa que él haya cambiado. Las personas mayores no suelen modificar creencias profundas formadas en su juventud, y mucho menos alguien tan testarudo como Adler.

Activision nunca va a mostrarnos esta faceta de él porque sería un escándalo, pero si lo analizamos con lógica, es imposible que Adler no tenga prejuicios estructurales. No porque sea un monstruo (aunque lo es), sino porque es un hombre de su tiempo, y su tiempo era otro.

Russell Adler no es un héroe de los tiempos actuales. Es un hombre moldeado por la Guerra Fría, la segregación, el nacionalismo y una mentalidad donde la lealtad y la competencia eran más importantes que cualquier otra cosa.

¿Era un racista abierto? No. ¿Tenía prejuicios profundamente arraigados? Absolutamente.

Es un error analizar a Adler, Woods, Mason, Hudson, Weaver o quien sea, con una mentalidad del siglo XXI. Él es un producto de su tiempo y de su generación, y su mundo nunca fue el nuestro.

Finalmente mi mayor pregunta, ¿Por qué Activision jamás mostraría estas cosas? pues, porque NO les conviene (son una empresa, solo buscan vender y abarcar el mayor público posible) y porque call of duty jamás se trató de esto.

Si hay algo que las grandes compañías de videojuegos EVITAN A TODA COSTA, es admitir que sus personajes principales tienen posturas políticas o sociales que hoy serían consideradas problemáticas.

En el caso de Call of Duty, donde los protagonistas son soldados endurecidos por la guerra, es obvio que la gran mayoría—especialmente los nacidos entre los 30s y 50s—tienen una mentalidad conservadora, machista y nacionalista. No porque sean villanos, sino porque esa era la norma de su época y de su entorno.

Pero Activision jamás lo diría abiertamente.

1- Porque no pueden alienar a su público moderno

Call of Duty es una de las franquicias más vendidas del mundo. Su audiencia no es solo gente mayor que creció en los 80s y 90s, sino también adolescentes y adultos jóvenes que viven en una época donde el machismo, el racismo e ideologías extremas son temas sensibles.

Si Activision confirmara que personajes como Adler, Woods o Hudson eran misóginos, machistas o reaccionarios, inmediatamente habría polémicas en redes sociales, medios y comunidades.

Hoy en día, las grandes compañías tienen miedo de dañar su imagen y perder ventas. Prefieren mantener a sus personajes neutrales o ambiguos en cuanto a política y valores, para que cualquiera pueda interpretarlos como quiera.

Si dijeran que Adler es sexista, perderían el interés de muchos jugadores jóvenes o progresistas.

Si dijeran que Adler es feminista o progre, perderían a otros jugadores que lo ven como un "héroe rudo y clásico".

Solución de Activision: No confirmar nada y dejar que el público haga sus propias interpretaciones. Que qué casualidad, es lo que nosotros hacemos aquí.

2- Porque el ejército y la CIA son los "buenos" en su narrativa

Activision tiene una relación cercana con el ejército estadounidense y otras agencias gubernamentales. La imagen que Call of Duty proyecta es patriótica y pro-militar, porque eso vende bien en EE.UU. y otros mercados.

Admitir que sus personajes más icónicos eran abiertamente machistas, racistas o misóginos haría que el ejército quedara mal parado.

Por ejemplo:

Si dijeran que Hudson trataba con desprecio a las mujeres en la CIA, o que Woods no respetaba a las soldados, la imagen del ejército se vería afectada.

Si confirmaran que Mason era políticamente de ultraderecha o un nacionalista extremo, crearían controversias innecesarias.

Personalmente creo que si alguien aún piensa que la CIA es buena es porque o es estadounidense (aun así, muchos yankees odian a la CIA) o porque simplemente es ignorante. 

Tenemos el famoso Plan Cóndor en América, el desastre del MK-ultra, y en general la impunidad con la que operan desde siempre. Activision no se va a pegar un tiro en el pie con la narrativa. Esto sigue siendo propaganda pro-estadounidense de alguna manera, solo que eso siempre lo supimos desde el primer momento (personalmente no me molesta.) pero tampoco podemos ignorar los hechos reales, o al menos yo no, porque como digo, me gusta realizar análisis extensos.

Solución de Activision:

Mostrar a los personajes como "profesionales" y neutrales.

Hacer que trabajen con mujeres y minorías para dar la impresión de que eran hombres adelantados a su tiempo.

3- Porque sus personajes deben ser "cool" para todo el mundo.

Los protagonistas de Call of Duty no son personajes súper profundos con desarrollo complejo. Son fantasías de poder.

La mayoría de los jugadores no quieren controlar a un personaje con ideologías polémicas. Quieren manejar a tipos rudos, misteriosos y eficientes en combate.

Sino, te pasa como a Concord… y Activision quiere evitar lo mismo con su gallina de los huevos de oro.

Ejemplo:

Si dijeran que Woods tiene actitudes machistas porque creció en los 40s y sirvió en Vietnam, muchos fans dejarían de verlo como "el tipo rudo y cool" y empezarían a criticarlo. (Aunque en Black Ops 2 literalmente le dice al final del juego “puta enfermera” a una mujer, pero bueno, tiene 95 años para 2025 el nono)

Si confirmaran que Adler tenía una visión ultra-conservadora sobre el rol de la mujer en la sociedad, perdería parte de su atractivo para muchos jugadores.

Solución de Activision:

Ignorar el tema por completo.

Si aparece una mujer, hacer que los protagonistas simplemente la respeten sin más (ej. Park, Dumas).

No profundizar en sus opiniones políticas o sociales.

4- Porque evitar la controversia = más ventas

Las compañías de videojuegos no tienen ideologías, solo buscan ganar dinero, y se los digo yo que es literalmente lo que estudio.

Si Activision confirmara que sus personajes tienen valores reaccionarios, conservadores o machistas, se meterían en problemas con la prensa, los jugadores y las redes sociales.

📌 Ejemplo de cómo reaccionaría la gente:

Si dijeran que Adler es misógino: "¿En serio están glorificando a un personaje que trata mal a las mujeres? Qué asco."

Si dijeran que Adler es feminista: "Lo arruinaron. Ahora quieren hacer ver que los tipos rudos de la Guerra Fría eran woke. Qué ridículo."

Si ninguna opción los beneficia, es más fácil simplemente no decir nada.

Solución de Activision:

Dejar todo a la interpretación del jugador.

Si se les pregunta, decir frases genéricas como: "Adler respeta la competencia sin importar el género."

Evitar cualquier diálogo en el juego que lo haga sonar demasiado extremo en cualquier dirección.

5- Lo mas importante: Porque la historia de Call of Duty no es sobre moralidad, sino sobre acción.

Si Call of Duty fuera una saga de RPGs con decisiones morales profundas, entonces tendrían que explorar el machismo, el racismo y el clasismo dentro del ejército.

Pero Call of Duty es una saga de disparos y misiones militares. Su historia no está diseñada para cuestionar la moral de sus personajes, sino para hacer que las misiones se sientan épicas. 

En Cold War, Adler secuestra y manipula a Bell de una forma que, en cualquier otro juego, lo haría ver como un villano. Pero el juego no los condena ni los presenta como "malos", porque el punto no es analizar su ética, sino mostrar escenas impactantes.

Si esto pasa con la tortura, ¿por qué explorarían el machismo o el conservadurismo de los personajes? No lo harían, porque ese no es el enfoque del juego.

Mantener la historia centrada en la acción y la guerra, no en la moral de los personajes.

No hacer que el jugador cuestione demasiado sus acciones.

Evitar diálogos que muestren posturas extremas. Mantener solo las conversaciones que dan contexto.

Conclusión: Call of Duty es una fantasía militar, no un análisis social

Adler, Woods, Mason, Hudson y Weaver fueron criados en entornos profundamente conservadores, nacionalistas y machistas. Si existieran en la vida real, es lógico pensar que tendrían prejuicios de su época.

Pero Activision jamás va a admitirlo abiertamente, porque:

No pueden arriesgarse a alienar a su público moderno.

No quieren que el ejército o la CIA se vean mal.

Sus personajes deben seguir siendo "cool" y atractivos.

Evitar la controversia siempre significa más ventas.

Call of Duty es un shooter, no una exploración de la moralidad.

En resumen, los personajes de Call of Duty probablemente eran machistas, conservadores y prejuiciosos, pero el juego nunca lo va a mostrar porque no conviene. Prefieren mantenerlos ambiguos y funcionales, para que cada jugador los interprete como quiera.

[hyperfixated-homo]

OW Perks and how they contribute to world building

Building a world off of a shooter game means integrating a lot of information about your main characters through game mechanics. As someone who is both into the gaming and fandom side of Overwatch, I’ve always found it really interesting how the game’s development of it’s characters has carried over to their fandom interpretations. Obviously, voice lines, skins and cinematics are the big things, but character abilities are a super big part of it too. So, being as obsessive over this silly game as I am, I spent a few hours combing through the character perks, and wrote a long ass ramble about how I think it could influence the world building of Overwatch. Like a normal person. <3

First and foremost; this is absolutely not meant to be some sort of study on what could be canon to the Overwatch universe. It’s already been established that the game isn’t “canon”. These are just self indulgent rambles, mostly.

If you want the full list of each character’s perks, here’s my post on that: https://www.tumblr.com/hyperfixated-homo/775376445686071296/all-of-the-new-ovw-perks

If you have any thoughts, please lmk! It’s been a while since I’ve made a long, in depth analysis like this and I’m sure I have definitely missed some things.

So if I was more insane, I would probably make a detailed exploration of how every perk impacts each hero and what it means for them as a character, but that’s. That’s 168 perks. And 43 characters. That’s a lot of things. A few too many. And most of them would just be analyses of where they got their tech from and how that tech works, which isn’t all that interesting to me. Unless it’s about my favourite characters, or something I’m specifically intrigued by,,,,,

Anyways. There are a lot of things to talk about so I’m going to start with how I personally like to view the implementation of perks within the canon (fanon, whatever) universe, which is basically as choices made by characters in the context of the battle. It opens a whole new world of how we can imagine them participating in actual in world battles.

For example- I was watching Flats try the new Doomfist perks, and he mentioned that it was like being able to choose between DPS Doomfist and Tank Doomfist. This sort of thing is a decision that I can imagine him making in canon going in to a fight- should he be focusing on tanking damage so that other Talon agents can finish the mission, or should he leave them be and finish it himself? And that sort of thing applies to any character. Hanzo going for a hit and having to consider if he should focus on stealth (using sonic arrows) or killing his target by any means necessary (using scatter arrows). While yes, these choices are made by us playing the game, they also probably need to be made by the characters themselves. They can’t do everything all at once.

I feel like the introduction of perks could be really interesting in this sense because before they existed, it was sort of up to fans to explore how characters would deal with equipping themselves for what is- essentially- their job. This opens up so many more doors for the active choices the heroes themselves need to make.

Moving on from that, the abilities themselves are fascinating. Some of them I find interesting in general- mostly ones that have a healing element to them. I’ve mentioned at some point that I think it’s interesting that Genji has a perk where he can heal during his Deflect, and I’m really interested in that- how can he do it? My first thought is that it’s connected to the Iris somehow- maybe that spending enough time following Zenyatta’s teachings, he learns how to harness it just the slightest bit. But really, the possibilities are endless. It could be that he’s repairing his mechanical components, sort of like Bastion’s self heal. Maybe it’s something chemical within his body- a sort of biotic injection that gives him an extra boost. There’s a lot of potential ideas here! How many times have we explored how Soldier could use biotic fields- now that can apply to any hero with new self heal perks.

Along that line of thought, the heroes that have gotten new lifesteal abilities (healing while damaging enemies) are also super super interesting. Any character with new lifesteal perks could have so many potential ideas for why they do it. To name them; Hazard, Genji, Junker Queen, and Reaper all have perks that include lifesteal. And for each character, you can come up with entirely new reasons why. Genji’s specifically is a result of his dragonblade- is the dragon literally sucking the life out of his enemies and giving it back to Genji? I have no idea!!! But it’s a cool concept, right?

In that sense I’m very impressed by the specificity of each character’s perks. They work so well with their already existing traits in the Overwatch universe. All of them feel like they could naturally work with the existing ideas of each person’s abilities. It’s a super natural transition, if for the lore moreso than the game itself.

Okay now I’m just going to speedrun some of the more interesting abilities that I’ve found that I just wanted to bring up.

Sigma and Zenyatta can fly/float respectively. First of all, goddamn awesome. Secondly, very interesting how neither really fly- maybe both of them can, but neither want to. After all, Sigma does fly during his ult? So why wouldn’t he do it on the regular? He’s already floating, why not go the extra step? ¯\(ツ)/¯

I’ve already written a lot about it but Soldier’s new stim pack?? So much potential there. Is it a drug? If so who made it? Where did he get it? How does it affect him in comparison to a normal, non super-soldiered person? Does it have long term affects?

Some characters (Hanzo, Freja, ect) have perks where they get increased firing speed if they get hits/kills. I like to imagine that it’s related to adrenaline. Could use that for some interesting character analysis :) (Especially considering how Hanzo’s specific ability is called “Dragon’s Fury”… could connect that to his own bloodlust as a result of being connected to the dragons. Or something. Hmm)

A lot (I think literally all) of Junkrat’s stuff is related to his weaponry. I like to think that it’s because he’s constantly modifying it to fit his own needs- sort of clunkily, but it works, and it’s fun :)

There’s a lot to be said about characters that are initially more on the pacifism side (Zenyatta, Mei, ect) having perks which allow them to do more damage. There are definitely ways to explore character conflicts using their new abilities. This is sort of less about perks and more about them as characters though- I don’t think they’d be happy to use any of their abilities to do harm

Reaper has his soul orbs back!! We can bring back him eating the souls of the dead. Was that ever a thing? Idk. I want it to be. Imagine- Reaper pulling a death blossom in the middle of enemy lines, then collecting their souls in front of whichever of their comrades still live, slowly gaining power… filling the room with more smoke… laughing maniacally all the while… yknow?

Roadhog’s “take a breather” has two perks that he can choose between to upgrade it- either making him faster when he uses it or healing allies. This sort of thing can very easily fit in to how he learns to integrate himself with Overwatch or another group, learning how to share his heals instead of hogging it (no pun intended)

I’m never going to shut up about Sombra being able to heal with hack. There are. So many concepts you can do with that. Especially with how much more of a sympathetic character she’s been portrayed as lately- there could be any number of situations where she had to learn how to do that. Why would she? How could she? Does it work better for certain heroes than others?

Torb can give his allies repairs during battles. Imagine the shenaniganery. Imagine Torbjorn hanging off Reinhardt’s arms or something, trying to fix his rocket booster, while they’re both yelling at each other and everyone else is trying to murder them. I’d animate it if I didn’t suck at it <3

Venture being able to see things while underground is?? So fun?? They’re very bug to me. I like to think it’s like a specified sensor. A sixth sense if you will. Because it’s not like they can actually see, but maybe they can feel the vibrations or something? I don’t know!!

That’s most of the thoughts I wanted to get out, but honestly there’s so much more to explore here. These are just the ones that immediately jumped out at me- I’m sure that just playing with the perks themselves will bring up more ideas. If this is slightly incoherent I apologise lmao. If I come up with anything else, maybe I’ll write something about it

[wallofchynax]

PROVE THY LEGACY: CHAPTER ONE

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON AO3

Synopsis: It's the Attitude Era and Kiran Smith has been training her whole life to be a star and prove that women aren't just pretty faces. Immediately, she faces push back and is forced to job. She finds an ally in Chyna who trains her, eventually inviting her into Degeneration X where Kiran finds her place. However, the excess of the Attitude Era begins to slowly poison everything Kiran has worked so hard for…

Ships: Shawn Michaels/OC, Stephanie McMahon/Triple H

SOME CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE WE START:

1) This teeters on the line of being RPF. Mainly because it takes so much inspiration from real life events. Most of the portrayals of these stars is based off of their TV appearences but there are a few timess real life events are mentioned. Just want that to be crystal clear before getting into it. In a similar note, this isn't historically accurate with the things that happen in kayfabe and out of kayfabe. Treat this like an alternative universe. Like things happen in this fic that don't make sense timeline wise. Go with it xxx

2) Vince McMahon is featured in this story but due to him being...a piece of trash, i've decided to have a boss man character in this called "The Boss" but it should be obvious that it's Vince McMahon. Dw. He's barely featured but company politics are important within the context of this story.

3) This is a very dark retelling of the Attitude Era. My special interest is WWE but I have a particular obsession with the Attitude Era and the years surrounding it. Company politics, attitudes towards women and drugs/alcohol play a HUGE part in this story. Please do not read if you aren't okay with any of this.

The room reeked of cigarette smoke, leather, and authority. It wasn’t particularly large, but it didn’t need to be. The walls were lined with gold-framed photographs—monuments to the legends who had shaped the industry, built their careers from the ground up, and adorned the covers of every major sports magazine. Each image was a reminder of the hierarchy in this business, a silent warning that only the chosen few made it to the top. 

Kiran’s face had never graced any such magazine. Maybe a local one—perhaps her small-town wrestling promotion had featured her once or twice—but nothing on this scale. There, skill had been enough. Here, it was different. It wasn’t just about being a talented athlete. It was about being the total package, about playing the game right. It was about knowing when to bite back and when to grit your teeth and take it. 

Survival was something Kiran had been taught from an early age. She had always known she was different, even when no one talked about it. Her body was different. Stronger. Faster. Her testosterone levels were higher than most women’s, something she had spent her life keeping quiet about. People didn’t understand. They didn’t want to understand. The world was built on categories, and she didn’t fit neatly into any of them. She had learned to hide it, to make herself digestible, to avoid the questions, the judgment. But in the ring, none of that mattered. In the ring, she was just Kiran—a fighter. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected from this place. A grander office? A marble fountain? Walls dripping with gold? After all, this company had the resources for such extravagance. Instead, she found herself in a confined, stifling space saturated with arrogance and old money. The power wasn’t in the room itself—it was in the man seated behind the desk. 

And now, she sat directly across from him. 

Their eyes met as the Boss leaned back, a thick cigar resting between his fingers. He studied her intently, the way one might assess an investment. 

Her agent had given her strict instructions: Sit still, don’t argue, agree with everything he says, and you’ll be fine. Show no weakness. Easier said than done. She straightened her spine, clasping her hands together to keep from fidgeting. 

“So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “you’re the new girl.” 

“Yes, sir,” she replied evenly, betraying none of the nerves simmering beneath her composed exterior. 

He snorted, taking a slow drag from his cigar before exhaling a thick plume of smoke. Kiran resisted the urge to grimace as it enveloped her. 

“Sir?” He smirked. “How polite.” 

She bit her tongue. This wasn’t a game she intended to play. But she knew better than to make an enemy this early. 

His gaze raked over her, scrutinizing, appraising. Then, with a knowing smirk, he gestured to a framed photograph on the wall behind him—a striking image of a particular female wrestler. Kiran recognized her instantly. Sunny. A household name. The most celebrated and glamorous woman in the company. A wrestling icon. A symbol of everything this company wanted in its female stars. 

“Do you know who she is?” he asked. It wasn’t a trick question. 

“Of course,” Kiran answered cautiously, wary of his angle. “I know who Sunny is.” 

A cold sensation settled in her chest. She already knew where this conversation was headed. She understood this industry. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart girl. You get it. That’s why you’re sitting here and not some nobody still wrestling in high school gyms.” He stubbed out his cigar in the crystal ashtray before leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “So, tell me—why should I put you on TV? What do you have that, say, Sunny or Sable doesn’t?” 

Kiran’s jaw tightened. This was the moment. The test. 

“Because I can out-wrestle both of them,” Kiran said, her tone measured. It wasn’t arrogance—it was fact. She was an athlete, not a supermodel. She wasn’t conventionally delicate, but she wasn’t unattractive either. Years of training had sculpted her body into one built for combat. “I’m not just a pretty face. I can, and I will, redefine women’s wrestling.” 

The Boss raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That so? What makes you think anyone cares about that? I want stars who put assess in seats, not someone concerned with their legacy.” 

Kiran swallowed her frustration. “I can do that too. I just need the opportunity.” 

He smirked. “You want to be here? You need to give people something to talk about. What’s your gimmick?” 

She knew what she wanted, but she also knew what he wanted. He was looking for the next Sunny—someone to grace magazine covers, to pose for Playboy, to be the next hot bombshell. 

That would never be her. 

Kiran lifted her chin. “I told you—I can outfight every woman on your roster.” 

His smirk widened, but there was no warmth behind it. He rose from his chair, rounding the desk, his presence looming over her like a predator assessing prey. 

“I don’t think you understand,” he said smoothly. “I’m not looking for the best fighter. I need stars.” 

Her fingers curled into her palms. 

“So, here’s the deal,” he continued, his voice too casual for her liking. “You play the game. You do what’s asked of you, and maybe—just maybe—you might get somewhere.” 

She knew what he meant. Play the game. Be marketable. Be sexy. Be what the company expected of its women—or get out. 

A beat passed before Kiran finally spoke. “Fine.” 

She rose from her seat and turned to go. He watched her with amusement, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. But Kiran didn’t hear it over the rage simmering beneath her skin. 

Play the game? Fine. She would play the game. But she was playing to win—and she would not roll over so easily. 

As she exited the office, she exhaled slowly, forcing her pulse to steady. The hallway outside was lined with posters of past champions, all men, all larger than life. The air outside the office felt no less suffocating. 

She almost felt like screaming as she left the room. She looked around, eyes darting between people. Some were watching her; they knew that look very well. Some backstage crew and some were stars who have likely had the same chat multiple times. However, nobody said anything. Kiran squared up her shoulders, but her eyes darted to someone else. Someone who was practically unavoidable and standing close by. A wall of muscle, unmoving. Kiran’s eyes trailed to meet the face of the towering figure. Broad shoulders, jet black hair, a chiselled jaw. The woman who watched her leave the Bosses room was intimidating but Kiran knew her immediately. 

The Ninth Wonder of the World. Chyna.  

She stood there with her arms crossed observing her with a look that was entirely unreadable. Kiran swallowed. Chyna wasn’t just any woman’s wrestler. She was a force of nature. She faced off against male wrestlers and won matches against them. She was a trailblazer in that respect and Kiran would have killed to have that reputation. 

For the longest moment, Chyna said nothing until she did. 

“You look pissed,” 

Kiran scoffed, shaking her head looking back at the door she had just came from, “Not the welcome I was expecting,” 

Chyna tilted her head, giving Kiran a once look over, “Welcome to the big leagues. You’re not going to get welcomed in with flowers anymore.” 

Kiran didn’t know what to say to that. Was it so bad that she wasn’t happy about what she was just told? Kiran thought that Chyna should have known exactly what that was like. From what she knew about her; Chyna didn’t exactly fit the mold of what a woman’s wrestler was. She wasn’t exactly another Sunny and yet, Chyna worked hard to become someone who people respected even people were critical of her looks.  

Kiran sharply exhaled through her nose and just as she was about to pass Chyna, the more seasoned wrestler spoke again. 

“It’s good to be pissed off by the way,” Chyna spoke up, slow and deliberate. 

Kiran stopped in her tracks. Those words sat between them like a challenge. It wasn’t mocking and it was not sarcastic. It was genuine. Like a fact or a statement. This caused Kiran to turn around and look at her again. Chyna had no wasted moments. No excess energy. Everything about her was controlled and measured. Someone who didn’t reveal their cards too early. 

Even so, there was something in her expression that told Kiran that she understood. She had been in that office once too. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiran asked. 

Chyna shrugged. “Means you’re not stupid.” 

Kiran let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t feel smart right now.” 

Chyna met her gaze with unwavering certainty. “You’re here, aren’t you?” 

It took Kiran a second to process what she meant. She hadn’t walked away. She hadn’t folded. She was still standing. 

A slow, knowing smile crept onto Kiran’s face. “Damn right I am.” 

Chyna gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible, but Kiran caught it. 

“Welcome to the company,” Chyna said, before walking past her, disappearing down the hall. 

- 

Kiran pushed open the door to the women’s locker room, stepping into the thick scent of hairspray, perfume, and leather. The air inside was different from the hallways—less suffocating than the office, but still heavy with unspoken rules, silent hierarchies, and the unshakable knowledge that this was not just a place to change, but a battlefield of its own. Conversations hummed in the background, casual but watchful. As she stepped further inside, the chatter slowed, a few pairs of eyes flickering toward the new arrival, assessing her as though she were an intruder in their territory. 

Sunny was the first to acknowledge her, though not in a way that made Kiran feel particularly welcome. Sitting on the bench, mirror in hand, Sunny adjusted her golden locks with idle care, tilting her head just enough to catch sight of Kiran’s reflection. She didn’t even bother to turn around. 

“Well, well,” Sunny murmured, still focused on herself. “Look what the cat dragged in.” 

Kiran ignored her, setting her bag down on an empty section of the bench. She had no interest in engaging. She had spent the entire day being compared to Sunny, and the last thing she wanted was to play into whatever game she was setting up. Maybe it was petty, but she didn’t care. 

Unfortunately for her, Sunny thrived on being acknowledged. 

“You’re new, huh?” Sunny finally turned, arching a brow as she draped one leg over the other with an air of practiced ease. “I’ve heard about you. The big, bad, new girl.” 

Kiran rolled her shoulders back but remained silent, continuing to unpack her bag. She wasn’t going to bite. Not for this. 

Sable, leaning against the row of lockers, let out a small chuckle. She wasn’t directly involved, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she observed the interaction. Meanwhile, Jacqueline, who had been lacing up her boots, flicked her gaze toward Kiran. Unlike Sable, there was no amusement in her expression—just quiet observation. 

If Sunny was expecting her to cower, she was going to be disappointed. Kiran remained silent, fixing the tape around her wrist. 

Sunny, undeterred, pressed on. “So, what’s your deal? You some kind of fighter?” She studied Kiran, eyes scanning her up and down. “I heard you think you can take down the whole women’s division. Think you’re here to change the game?” 

Kiran exhaled through her nose, finally looking up at Sunny. Standing straight, she met her gaze head-on. “I’m here to wrestle.” 

Sunny let out a slow, mocking laugh. “Well, honey, wrestling is just one part of the business. The real skill? Knowing how to make people care.” 

“I’ll make them care in the ring,” Kiran shot back, her tone even, but firm. 

Sable smirked, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, she’s got some fire in her. This should be interesting.” 

Sunny leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to feel personal. “You might think you’re different, but trust me, this place will break you in.” 

Kiran didn’t flinch, but there was something in the way Sunny said it—something too knowing—that made her stomach twist. Like she had seen this play out before. Maybe even lived it. 

Jacqueline, up until now content to listen, finally spoke up. “You done, Sunny?” 

Sunny turned toward her, feigning surprise. “Oh, come on, Jackie. I’m just getting to know our new friend.” 

Jacqueline tied the last lace on her boot with an exaggerated tug. “Yeah, well, she’s heard enough.” 

Sable, who had initially been entertained, now looked mildly bored. “Alright, Sunny, you’ve had your fun.” 

Sunny sighed dramatically, stretching her arms above her head. “Fine, fine. Just trying to be welcoming.” 

She grabbed her mirror and sauntered toward the lockers, but not before throwing Kiran one last smirk. “Don’t take it personal, tough girl. It’s just business.” 

Kiran exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Jacqueline gave her a nod, a quiet sign of support before returning to her own routine. Sable was already flipping through a magazine, disinterested, as though none of it had ever happened. 

Kiran sat down, adjusting her wrist tape with deliberate focus. She had expected challenges coming in, but she was beginning to realize that her biggest fights might not be in the ring. They might be right here, outside of it, in the places where no one was watching. 

- 

The arena lights beamed down into the ring, illuminating the squared circle as the crowd buzzed with anticipation. Kiran stood in the corner, rolling her shoulders, stretching her neck side to side. The energy in the air was thick, electrifying, but it wasn’t for her—not in the way she had imagined. This was her debut match, yet it wasn’t about her. There would be no moment of triumph, no showcase of her abilities. She wasn’t here to impress the crowd, to prove herself, or to dominate. She was here for one reason only—to make the other woman look good. 

She stole a glance at her opponent, a woman who had already been positioned as a future star. The company had plans for her, and tonight, Kiran’s job was to help cement those plans. She was here to take the hits, to stumble, to react as though every move against her carried a devastating impact. If she wanted to be someone in this company, she had to play the game. And tonight, playing the game meant losing. 

The bell rang. 

Before Kiran could even think about making a move, she was yanked into a tight headlock. Her opponent applied pressure, wrenching it hard, forcing Kiran to stumble toward the center of the ring. The force behind the hold was firm but controlled—a silent reminder that she was here to follow, not lead. Her instincts screamed at her to counter, to shift the weight and reverse the hold, but she fought the urge. That wasn’t her role tonight. 

She let herself be thrown into the ropes, rebounding straight into a stiff clothesline that sent her crashing to the mat. The crowd roared—not for her, but for her opponent, the woman standing tall over her fallen body. Kiran grit her teeth, rolling onto her side as another stomp connected with her shoulder, then another. Each impact reverberated through her, though the pain was secondary. She had endured worse in training. Still, she had to make it look good. That was the job. 

She felt fingers twist into her hair, yanking her back to her feet. The next move was coming, and she already knew what it was. A suplex. She braced herself as she was lifted, her back arching before she was slammed into the mat. The ring shuddered beneath her, the sound echoing throughout the arena. 

More cheers. More excitement. 

Not for her. 

Kiran sold the move, letting her body stay limp just a second longer than necessary. She heard the announcers playing up her opponent’s dominance, pushing the narrative forward. She was nothing more than a stepping stone in someone else’s rise. And she had to swallow that. 

The match reached its inevitable conclusion. The finisher—a move Kiran could have countered with ease if this had been a real fight. But this wasn’t a real fight. This was business. She took the move clean, let herself be covered for the three-count, and listened as the referee’s hand hit the mat. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

It was over. 

Her opponent’s music blared through the arena as she celebrated, raising her arms in victory. The crowd cheered for her. Kiran lay there for an extra beat, staring at the ceiling, willing herself not to let frustration take over. Then, she rolled out of the ring, landing on unsteady legs before making her way up the ramp. 

No music. No spotlight. Just another anonymous wrestler who had done her job. 

Backstage, the energy was different—muted, almost indifferent. Kiran felt numb as she made her way through the corridors, heading toward the women’s locker room. She wasn’t sure how she felt. It wasn’t like she had expected to win, but something about the whole experience left her unsettled. She was used to real fights, real struggles. But this… this was something else. 

As she entered the locker room, she was met with an unexpected sight. 

Chyna. 

The Ninth Wonder of the World was sitting on one of the benches, arms crossed, watching the small television mounted on the wall. The match had just finished playing on the screen, Kiran’s final moments in the ring frozen in place before the feed cut away. Chyna’s gaze shifted from the screen to Kiran, her expression unreadable. 

“Not bad,” Chyna said after a moment. 

Kiran blinked, caught off guard. “Not bad?” she repeated, disbelief creeping into her voice. “I didn’t really do anything.” 

Chyna smirked slightly. “You sold really well.” 

Kiran wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment, but before she could respond, Chyna continued. 

“I was about to go train for a bit,” she said. “Come with me.” 

Kiran hesitated, unsure if she had heard correctly. “What?” 

Chyna arched an eyebrow. “You’re pissed off,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You want to be better at this game… so train with me.” 

Train with Chyna? The Chyna? 

Kiran’s hesitation vanished. She straightened, determination setting in. 

“Hell yeah.” 

- 

The gym was quieter than expected. No blaring music, no yelling—just the rhythmic sound of weights clanking and the occasional grunt from a distant corner. The space smelled like sweat and steel, the kind of place where real work happened. The maintenance that was needed in this sport. The raw physical grind that separated those who made it from those who didn’t. 

Chyna led her inside without a word and headed toward the ring set up in the back. She moved with purpose, her broad frame and sheer presence making it clear that she didn’t waste time. Kiran followed, adjusting the wraps around her hands as she steadied her breath. This was different from that match. This wasn’t about selling. This was training. 

“You ever trained with someone like me?” Chyna asked, stepping onto the apron and ducking between the ropes. 

Kiran smirked, climbing in after her. “Never trained with anyone like you, ever.” 

Chyna chuckled, motioning for Kiran to meet her in the center. “Good. Then you’re in for something new.” 

Kiran barely had time to register what was happening before Chyna lunged, locking her in a clinch and testing her balance. Kiran planted her feet, instinct kicking in as she tried to shift her weight, but Chyna was stronger, faster. In seconds, Kiran was on the mat, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Lesson one,” Chyna said, offering her hand. “You don’t just need strength. You need control.” 

Kiran took the offered hand, letting Chyna pull her back up. The moment her feet were steady, she went for a lock-up again, but this time, she shifted her stance and braced herself properly. Chyna nodded approvingly as they engaged, this time Kiran holding her ground a lot longer. They worked through drills, holds, reversals, and bumps repeatedly. Kiran’s brow dripped with sweat, her muscles ached, but she didn’t stop. Every time she hit the mat, she got up faster. Every counter Chyna threw at her, Kiran adjusted to. It was much better than the fight she had in the ring, and it stirred a hunger in her that she hadn’t felt before. 

For a week after shows, Kiran found herself in the gym with Chyna, going through the drills, improving her footwork, and refining her technique. The soreness in her muscles never seemed to fade, but she welcomed it and even liked being pushed hard. In her mind, it meant she was doing something right. Chyna pushed her beyond her limits, forcing her to react quickly, absorb more punishment, and refine her endurance. 

By the end of one particularly gruelling session, Kiran collapsed onto the mat, chest heaving. Chyna wasn’t far behind, sitting on the apron and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her face. For the first time, there was no rush to move onto the next drill as they just sat there, catching their breath. 

“You aren’t bad, Kiran,” Chyna finally said. “You learn fast.” 

Kiran scoffed, still staring up at the ceiling. “Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like I’m getting my ass handed to me every night.” 

Chyna chuckled. “That’s how you get better.” 

Kiran didn’t sit up quite yet, but she turned her head towards Chyna with a small smile. “How did you do it?” 

“What? Train?” Chyna rubbed the towel over the back of her neck. 

“No,” Kiran said. “Be taken seriously.” 

The question sat between them for a long moment before Chyna finally answered. “I didn’t wait for anyone to take me seriously. I just did the work, and I didn’t let anyone tell me I didn’t belong.” She glanced at Kiran. “You waiting for someone to tell you that you belong here?” 

Kiran thought about it for a second before answering. “No. I’m just going to prove I do.” 

Chyna nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s a good answer.” 

They sat in comfortable silence, exhaustion settling into their bones, but it was the kind of exhaustion that felt earned. Kiran wiped the sweat from her forehead and stretched out her legs in front of her, finally allowing herself to breathe. 

Chyna, still leaning against the ropes, shifted slightly and looked over at Kiran with a different kind of expression—one that hinted she had been thinking about something. 

“You know,” she started, her tone casual, “you should come hang out with us.” 

Kiran raised an eyebrow. This made her sit up (with much wincing). “Us?” 

Chyna smiled a little. “You know. D-Generation X. I think you might fit in with us.” 

Of course. Kiran had heard of DX. Everyone knew DX. She knew that they were incredibly popular, over with the fans. She had seen the promos and merchandise sales. The hype surrounding them. But Kiran saw herself beyond that. It was entertainment, not fighting. 

“You serious?” Kiran raised an eyebrow. “They’re just a bunch of jackasses who run around making dick jokes.” 

“And?” Chyna replied, shrugging. “Think about it. Talent won’t get you anywhere on its own. You’ll need exposure and the crowd behind you. Being part of DX will get you that.” 

Kiran didn’t respond immediately. She looked away for a moment, contemplating. Chyna wasn’t wrong, but being part of DX? Kiran had always seen herself as a lone wolf, fighting her own battles. Could she really fit into a group that thrived on chaos? 

“I’m not telling you to change who you are,” Chyna, sensing Kiran’s doubt, spoke up again. “What I’m telling you is that it will make everyone notice you. With DX, you will be on TV every week, you’ll get mic time, you’ll get angles, and more than that, you’ll have people watching your back.” 

People watching your back? The beauty of being in a faction, for the most part, was the security of having friends keeping you accountable and advocating for you. So far, Chyna had been the only person looking out for her. 

“You don’t have to answer now. Just... think about it, okay?” 

Kiran nodded. “Yeah... I will.” 

- 

At her hotel room, she sat down on the edge of her hotel bed staring at the wall as Chyna’s words still rattled around in her mind.  

You should come hang out with us. 

She had told Chyna she’d think about it and she certainly was true to her word and had been thinking about it – probably more than she should have. It made sense on paper. Degeneration X were the most popular group in the company right now. Their merchandise was flying off the shelves and every week, they were the ones people spoke about. If she joined them, she wouldn’t have to fight just to get noticed. She wouldn’t just another new  talent struggling for a break. 

But DX wasn’t exactly her style. They were loud, brash and thrived on chaos. Kiran had spent her whole life trying to be taken seriously. Would joining a faction that prided itself on immaturity really be the right move? 

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. She wasn’t going to figure this out by sitting in her room. She needed to get out, clear her mind and if there was one thing that would be able to help with that, it would be a drink. 

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from rowdy patrons. It wasn’t fancy but it was the kind of atmosphere that made people let loose. That was exactly what she needed. She weaved through the crowd, heading towards the bar already planning on ordering something strong when a familar voice called out. 

“Hey! Kiran!” 

She turned toward the sound, her stomach tightening slightly when she spotted Chyna sitting with a group of men. And it wasn’t just any group of men.  

Degeneration X. Chyna smirked and waved her over. Kiran hesitated, her fingers flexing at her side. She wanted to think about this decision, weight her options. Now, it looked as if she wasn’t going to get the luxury of time.  

Her feet felt heavy, and she must have not moved for a few seconds before one of them whistled at her, who she recognised as being XPac. 

“Come over, sweetheart,” He yelled over at her which made Kiran wince, “We don’t bite,” 

Well, she had no choice now. 

She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and walked toward their table, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. As she got closer, the group’s energy became more palpable – boisterous, full of inside jokes and barely contained chaos.  

Hunter leaned back in his seat, drink in hand exuding confidence as he looked Kiran and down, “So, you’re the one Chyna’s been toughening up?” 

Kiran crossed her arms, tilting her head, “Hardly toughening up, more like fine tuning,” 

A few of them let out approving laughs, Hunter included, “She has attitude. I like her already,�� 

Next to Hunter, and directly across from Kiran, sat Shawn Michaels who was resting his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his hand as he studied her in a way that made Kiran feel scrutinized. 

“You don’t look like the kind of chick to roll with DX,” Shawn mused, “What’s your deal?” 

Kiran met his gaze evenly, “Trying to figure that out myself,” 

Shawn grinned, seemingly entertained by her answered before Road Dogg interrupted, his drink swinging in a way that Kiran nearly got hit by foamy beer debris. 

“Hey! Are we here to talk about business or are we here to party?” He said, raising his drink, “If she’s gonna hang with us, she’s gonna have to keep up,” 

Kiran’s eyes observed the group and immediately, she started understanding the dynamics of the group. Hunter was clearly the glue that held them together, his leadership effortless. Shawn carried an undeniable charm, reckless and magnetic. X-Pac had an energy that was both mischievous and cocky. Road Dogg and Billy Gunn were the loudest, the duos personalities filled up the space. Chyna sat there with quiet amusement. She knew how this was going to end.  

Kiran could feel it – the weight of their eyes and the silent challenge was in the air. She wasn’t just here to hang out. The guys wanted to see if she could keep up with the big leagues. 

Well, it’s as they say, when in Rome, do what the Romans do.  

- 

Time blurred as rounds were passed around. Kiran found herself caught between the group’s antics—Road Dogg’s loud storytelling, X-Pac’s relentless teasing, and Billy Gunn’s half-sloshed attempts at flirting with anyone in his vicinity. The bar had become their playground, and the more she watched them, the more she understood why they were such a phenomenon. They were unapologetically themselves, larger-than-life in a way that drew people in. Even Shawn, who had been quietly studying her earlier, loosened up, throwing an arm around Hunter as they laughed at some inside joke Kiran wasn’t privy to. 

Kiran was lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Shawn’s attention was back on her, a quiet interest in his eyes. 

“So,” He said, catching her attention again, “Still think we’re just a bunch of jackasses making dick jokes?” 

Kiran chuckled, looking at Chyna who just shrugged at her as if to say that she didn’t tell them that she said that “Nothing tonight has told me otherwise,” 

Although she had to admit, she was having fun. Even if she wasn’t directly getting involved in the action, they seem to be taking to her in a way that suggested that they accepted her as their own. Eventually, she had found herself getting up to go the bathroom when all the drinks were coming in again, and she hadn’t notice Chyna had followed her too. When she left the cubicle, Chyna was there, leaning against a wall. 

“Well?” 

Kiran was surprised but shrugged it off, washing her hands, “They are something alright,” 

Chyna laughed, “Yeah, but they stick together. We look out for each other...something you will need if you want to stay in this business...” 

Once Kiran had dried her hands, they walked outside the bathroom only for her gaze towards the group of males. Hunter was egging XPac into taking another shot and Shawn had his head thrown back in laughter. They were chaotic but...they were a unit. 

Kiran didn’t move for a minute as she watched them.  

Chyna nudged her arm, “You still thinking about it?” 

Kiran nodded, “Yeah,” 

“Good,” Chyna said, “Because I think they see you fitting in with them. Come on, let’s get back to them,” 

Kiran didn’t have an answer to that—not yet. But as she watched DX continue to hold court over the bar, something inside her shifted. 

Maybe, just maybe, she could see herself in this picture after all. 

[olldtimerbuckley]

Hi Buckley! Hope you’re having a good day!

I don’t know how this works but here I go.

 4

A

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ “we’re gonna need to talk about some things after this, aren’t we?”

I was thinking of (young adult) Ellie working at Joel’s furniture company, she’s his apprentice, and oddly they’re good friends, but lately they are secretly pining for the each other hard. One day Joel has to pick up some light work stuff from a far storage, and takes Ellie with him for help. But oh no! they ended up trapped inside because the lock malfunctioned, and in the meantime they wait for Tommy to release them, they also release some spicy tension…

Ps. I picked thigh because Joel is enamored with Ellie’s.

Yeah I think that’s all :D thank you!

I know this has been in my inbox forever and took so many liberties with this prompt, but it's already shaping up to be the lightest, tropiest, most unserious thing I've ever written. I'll post it to AO3 after I polish it up (I wrote half of it in a fever-induced haze) and have a little more written. Early estimate is 3 chapters.

@jammingjoellie I hope you like it so far!!!

Head Over Hardwood Part 1

Minors & Antis DNI

Joel x Ellie

Warnings: Age gap, inappropriate workplace romance, no smut (yet) just a lot of UST

Length: 4.9k

“God fucking shitdick. Where the hell is it?”

Joel smiles as he watches Ellie from his workbench, something he's been doing a lot lately. Smiling, of course. Not watching her. Because shamelessly leering at his nineteen-year-old shop apprentice would be extremely inappropriate, and while he might, occasionally, skirt the bounds of their workplace relationship, he's not fool enough to believe she's seriously interested in him.

What they do isn't even flirting, it's just… teasing. Harmless teasing.

So, there Joel sits with his chin resting on his fist, watching (not leering) as Ellie aggressively pats herself down like an overzealous TSA agent, a constant current of profanities pouring out of her carmine mouth. When she bends at the waist and shoves her hands into the lower pockets of her work pants, he snaps his gaze away from her so fast his neck cracks.

The last thing he needs right now is to get caught staring at the cute little curve of her ass. Still, the image of her bent over burns behind his retinas.

Holy Hell.

As if seeing her sucking on that creamsicle earlier wasn't enough to whittle down his self-control. The length of it disappearing past her lips before her cheeks hollowed, her tongue working around the stick and lapping at her sticky fingers, the sloppy, suckling noises she made…

His cock starts thickening in his jeans.

That's just fuckin’ great. Fifty-six years old and he's poppin’ a woody at work.

Joel shifts in his seat, his tired eyes darting over to the bathroom door. As unprofessional as it is, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of himself at work since this spitfire of a girl slammed into his life like a wrecking ball whose sole purpose was to test his patience and raise his blood pressure.

A soft snarl draws his attention back to Ellie. Or rather, down to Ellie; crawling around on her hands and knees, her face is almost pressed to the floor.

I guess it's time to act like an adult. One of us has to.

Joel sneakily adjusts himself before standing and leaning back against the table, both hands gripping the edge. “Are you lookin’ for somethin’?” he asks, trying to keep the amusement he feels bubbling in his chest from reaching his voice.

Huffing and puffing, Ellie shoots a glare up at him, her eyebrows pinched tight in aggravation. “My favorite drafting pencil. I swear I just fucking had it,” she mutters, slumping back onto her knees.

As he takes a few strides closer, she lifts her chin to keep holding his gaze, her lips parting and neck arching until he's standing directly in front of her. God, her open mouth is almost level with his crotch. If he was in this position with any other beautiful woman, in any other context, the things he would do…

Joel swallows down his filthy thoughts and clears his suddenly dry throat. Focus. “What's it look like?”

Flailing her hands around, Ellie launches into an animated description, “It's light blue stainless steel with a white foam grippy thing that's perfectly molded to my fingers. The label is too worn down to make out, but it looks–”

“Kind of like this?” he interrupts her tirade, plucking a pencil that bears a striking resemblance to the one she’s yapping about out from behind her ear and holding it in front of her face.

She blinks. Her eyes widen. Then the pink coloring her cheeks darkens, steadily creeping over her nose and up to her hairline. “No?” she squeaks, wincing at the sound of her own voice.

Joel clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Riiight.”

Letting out a drawn-out sigh, Ellie rises to her feet, brushing off the sawdust shavings peppering her thighs on the way up. When she grabs the pencil, her warm fingertips brush over his knuckles. The contact is featherlight, but it lingers on his skin, tingling up his arm like a pulse of electricity.

“Thanks, man,” she says softly, moving a piece of hair behind her ear. Her mossy green eyes are downcast at her hands as she fiddles with the pencil, rolling it back and forth between her fidgety fingers. “It's, uh, been a long day.”

“You're damn right about that.” Joel crosses his arms. “The sales floor closed an hour ago. What the hell are you still doin’ here?”

“I thought I'd take those measurements Tommy brought in and start drawing up the blueprints for that job on Sugar Hill Drive,” Ellie explains briskly. Turning away from him on her Converse heel, she prances over to her desk and begins leafing through various work orders and number sheets.

May is the tail end of Spring – and tax season – meaning Against The Grain’s normally steady trickle of business is booming with bored housewives redesigning their kitchens and equally bored husbands commissioning custom billiard tables for their man caves. Joel would rather work on his own projects and sell them in the showroom, but scheduled jobs keep the lights on. Plus, this year he has a lovely mentee to offload some of his more boring work onto.

Although, she appears to be just as enthused as he is at the prospect.

Even from clear across the room, he can see Ellie's supple lips curl into a frown. “Jesus, is there anything on the docket besides French country cabinets?” she grouses, separating the sheet she needs from the rest.

“Let's see…” He snags the discarded papers from her desk – making sure to avoid knocking over her growing collection of succulents – and wets his thumb before flicking through them. “That hipster bar in Austin put in a custom order for a live edge bar top. Maria says we should upcharge ‘em since they're commercial and don't know their asses from a hole in the ground.”

That wrings a smile out of her. “I knew I liked that woman,” she sighs wistfully. Folding one leg underneath her, Ellie plops into her chair, her favorite pencil gripped safely in hand.

“Let me grab you a calculator–”

“Pfft,” she scoffs. “I don't need a calculator.”

Joel lets out a low whistle. “Well, aren't you a regular Albert Einstein.”

Her neck rolls along with her eyes as she skewers him with a sardonic sideways glance. “Why yes, I have tits and I can do math,” she states snappishly. “Stop the presses!”

“Woah, now. You know that's not what I meant.” He casually hitches his thumbs into the band of his jeans and cocks his knee to the side, shifting his weight onto one leg. “I'm perfectly aware that pretty girls like you can do math.”

Ellie tuts at him chidingly, but she's still wearing that crooked grin of hers. “Careful there, buddy. I could report you to our nonexistent HR department for that kind of talk.”

“Report me? You're the one who was just talking about your…” Warmth crawls up from his collar, heating his face. He makes an awkward gesture to his torso. Please don't make me say it.

She grins like a cat that's got a mouse by its tail. “My what?” she asks coyly.

Looking past her, he stares out of the window he keeps cracked to balance out the varnish fumes and heavy scent of sawdust floating around their workspace. Outside rolling gray clouds are piling one over the other, prematurely canceling out the sun.

“Well?” she presses impatiently.

“... tits,” Joel finally hisses the obscenity through gritted teeth.

Slapping a hand flat on the desk, Ellie throws her head back and barks out a laugh that's closer to a cackle. “Dude! I can't believe you just said that!” Her voice is distorted by several more maniacal giggles. Any embarrassment he feels is quickly overwhelmed by the look of sheer glee she's aiming at him.

The traitorous smile that tugs at his lips pulls at dormant muscles. “You said it first!” he retorts defensively. Good God, could he sound any more childish?

This girl.

This fucking girl.

“Yeah but you're you,” she counters glibly, like the meaning behind her cryptic words is somehow obvious. Then she smirks, twirling her pencil around idly. “Besides, I'm just stating a fact. I objectively have tits.”

“And you're objectively pretty too,” Joel volleys back in a low drawl without missing a beat.

The twirling stops. “That's not… I-I don't–” Ellie sputters for a witty comeback before landing on a flustered, “Shut up.” Bowing her head to excuse herself from their conversation, the tips of her hair dust over her bare shoulder where one sleeve of the open flannel shirt she's wearing has slipped down her arm.

His flannel shirt.

The one he gave her on one of Texas’s rare cold nights last winter, wordlessly tucking it around her little body after catching her shivering. He hasn't asked for it back, and she hasn't offered. Not that he minds; it looks better hanging off of her small frame anyway.

Quietly, Joel studies the seashell curve of her spine that is almost guaranteed to put a crick in her neck. The chaotic contortion of her body, twisted like a pretzel with one slim leg dangling like a fishing line, contrasts with the still lake of her face; smooth as a windowpane, only her fox-like eyes move, following the rapid strokes of her pencil across the page. Watching her work is mesmerizing. He could stare at her, uninterrupted, for hours.

As if on cue, a harsh cough from behind his back reminds Joel that they're, unfortunately, not alone. In the doorway, Tommy stands with his hands on his hips, and judging by his raised eyebrows and knowing smile, he's been there for a good while.

Joel can feel his own smile wilt as he lumbers over to his smug-as-shit-looking little brother. By the time he's within spitting distance, his face is creased with its usual scowl. He drops his voice to a low growl, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to feel like I need a post-sex cigarette.” Tommy elbows Joel in the arm affably and adds, “I mean, Good Lord.”

“Don't start,” Joel warns. “We're just… friends.” He can taste the dishonesty of the word as it leaves his mouth.

But what’s the alternative? There’s not a singular term in the English language to accurately define the odd, flirtatious, and sometimes combative relationship between him and the decades-younger woman whom he spends at least five days a week with. And even when not basking in the vibrant warmth of her presence, most of his waking (and sleeping) hours are consumed by thoughts of how soft her skin would feel under his fingers. What her lips would taste like. The kinds of noises she’d make if he—

“Friends?” Tommy snorts. “Man, you bring her to every family dinner.”

“I couldn't let her keep livin’ on takeout and pizza,” Joel protests feebly. He still remembers the moan she made around her first bite of meatloaf, like it was the first decent meal she'd had in her entire life. “And your wife is the one who started invitin’ her in the first place.”

Tommy's expression is incredulous. “Last week you drove twenty minutes to her apartment in the middle of the night to fix her water heater.”

“Her super is a real dirtbag,” Joel says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how long it would have taken him to get to it.”

“Brother,” Tommy grabs his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes with his are-you-actually-this-fucking-dense stare. It's a look Joel is well-acquainted with because he's usually the one giving it. “You cosigned a loan on her car. Are you really tellin’ me that's just some good ‘ole southern hospitality?”

He's got a point… not that Joel's ready to surrender it. “As her employer, I think it's important that she has reliable transportation.”

Tommy shakes his head slowly. “You know, as much as you bust my balls for bein’ pussy-whipped, at least I'm gettin’ some.”

Smacking his hand off his shoulder, Joel makes a throaty noise of disgust. “Gross.”

While it's true that he's not getting that, he is getting something; her smile, her gratitude, her time. Plus, he genuinely likes doing things for Ellie. Likes making her life easier, even in small, arbitrary ways. It's been so long since he's felt useful to anyone outside of his job. 

“Seriously, why the hell haven't you asked her out yet?” Tommy asks, bringing the count of how many times they’ve had this exact conversation up from a million to a million and one. “You've been pining over her for months now. It's not cute anymore. If anything, it's getting sad.”

Joel takes a deep breath and tries to pretend that the pity in Tommy’s eyes doesn’t sting. “Besides the thirty-seven years worth of reasons between us that say it's a bad idea, there's also the legal and ethical concerns on account of me bein’ her boss and teacher. She'd feel like she has to say yes just to keep her job.” He looks over at her and feels a staggering, confusing mix of want and loss lodge itself in his throat. “I can't …” His voice is thick. “I won't put her in that position. It ain't fair.”

It also ain't true.

Joel's seen her working alongside Tommy's crew on construction sites enough times to know that she doesn't take shit from anybody – and he means anybody. He's watched all fiery five and a half feet of her come toe to toe with a man twice her age and size before stepping in to prevent the situation from turning ugly. Then subsequently having to deal with her snarking at him all the way home about how “she can handle herself and doesn't need some prehistoric cowboy coming to her rescue like a white fucking knight…”

It was frighteningly adorable and he'd spent the better part of her tongue-lashing trying to stave off a smile. Not that he'd ever admit that to her, of course. He does (at least slightly) value his life.

All of this is to say that Ellie is perfectly capable of standing her ground and saying no. A no he could handle. A no would almost be a relief. If he's honest, what he's really afraid of — terrified of — is that she'd say yes. That she'd pry open the door to his empty, misanthropic existence and make herself at home in his heart, giving him something new to lose. He can't take another loss. Not after—

Even the hint of her name in his mind tightens the knot of grief in his throat, choking off his air supply.

Just as Tommy opens his mouth to call out Joel on his bullshit, Maria pops up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Hello, you,” she says softly, pressing up on her toes to graze his cheek with a kiss before turning her icy blue gaze on Joel. “Joel,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Maria,” he greets her warmly, uncharacteristically grateful for his sister-in-law's timely interruption.

Maria wedges herself between the two men and into the crowded doorway. “Hey, Els!” she shouts.

Without pausing from her draft, Ellie bites back a belligerent, “What!?”

Over the sounds of Tommy and Joel’s muffled snickers, Maria heaves out a loud, exhausted exhale. “I see you've picked up Joel’s good manners,” she says curtly, but her smile remains bright and intact.

Finally breaking from her work, Ellie spins in her chair with a flourish and nods at Joel, her eyes light with amusement. “Don’t give this guy all the credit. I like to believe I came out of the womb with this sunshiney attitude,” she declares, matching Maria’s wry sarcasm.

“Cute,” Maria deadpans. “Well, now that I have your attention: will you be attending Teddy's birthday party tomorrow?”

“Depends…” Ellie crosses her legs and shoots Maria a look full of suspicion above her steepled fingers. “Will there be cake?” she asks the question in a slow and serious tone, arching her scarred eyebrow.

Maria hums an affirmative. “Chocolate cupcakes with ganache frosting.”

“I don't know what the hell ganache is, but it sounds delicious.” Ellie claps her hands together. “I'll be there.”

“Fantastic. We'll see you then.” Maria tucks her hand through the crook of Tommy’s arm.

“Make sure you guys head out soon! There's a storm rollin’ in and this guy needs his beauty sleep,” Tommy adds, pinching Joel's cheek and ignoring his attempts to swat away his hand.

Ellie treats them to a winning smile. “I'll make sure to tuck him in nice and gentle tonight,” she purrs, giving Joel a cheeky wink before whipping back around and leaving his heart beating a quick staccato rhythm against his ribs.

Teasing, he reminds himself. It’s just teasing.

Linked arm in arm, the couple begins to leave, giving Tommy one last chance to mouth “Make a move already” to Joel behind Ellie’s turned back. In retaliation, Joel snaps a lacquer-stained rag at Tommy's departing backside. As their indistinct chatter about birthday plans for their son fades into the distance, Joel picks up on the gentle pitter-patter of rainfall.

On his way to shut the window, he clicks on Ellie's desk lamp to give her eyes a break from the encroaching darkness. Once closed, it's just him, Ellie, and the warm glow of light flooding her corner of the room. The soft sounds of her tuneless humming blends with the howling of the wind. It feels like they're the only two people left in the whole world. It’s a thought that should be alarming, but all he feels is peace.

After making sure all the windows are secure, Joel returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs. “Don't worry, it's decaf,” he says as he places the cup of tea that's mostly a cream and sugar concoction on her desk.

Truth to be told, this has become his favorite part of the day: when they linger just a little too long, hovering just a little too close.

Tilting back in her chair, Ellie props her feet up on the desk and grabs her mug, clutching it with both hands. She sends him a bemused little smile. “So, what are your big Friday night plans? Is it JAG reruns? Or M*A*S*H reruns?” she asks, her voice teasing and sweet. Her raised legs are almost close enough to brush his waist, and Joel thinks about how easy it would be to close his hand around her ankle and pull her closer. To pluck that cup out of her hands, lean down, and kiss her.

Instead, he grips his mug tighter. “I actually might switch it up and watch a movie tonight.” He takes a sip of his coffee and savors the bitterness on his tongue before swallowing. “What about you?”

“Ohhhh. I have some big, big plans.” She ticks off each one with a slender finger, “First, I'm going to microwave Ramen, then I'm going to crawl into bed and scroll on my phone until I pass out, and then I'm going to wake up with the imprint of it on my face.”

Joel frowns. “I thought Fridays were designated game nights with you and your friends.”

Ellie's lips part in surprise, like she didn't expect him to have her schedule memorized. Like where she is and who she's with isn't constantly on his mind when they're apart. After a quick recovery, she clears her throat. “Jesse's band has an out of town gig tomorrow. They're staying at a motel this weekend — leaving me all on my lonesome,” she emphasizes the last part with a sigh, dramatically tossing her hand over her forehead.

His frown deepens at the thought of her going home to an empty apartment. “You didn't go with them? I thought you went to every show.”

“And miss out on your nephew's birthday party? I could never.” She nudges him in the side with her shoe and smiles. “I'm the only one who can keep up with the little guy.”

“Shit, that reminds me; I need to take his present out of the storage unit and put it in my trunk.” A one-of-a-kind piece of craftsmanship, Joel had carefully carved the children's rocking horse from wood ash to resemble a dragon. Then, unsatisfied with his vision to simply stain it, Ellie had painted finer details along the face, tail, and saddle. “I'll only be gone a minute.”

Ellie jumps to her feet. “I'll go with you!”

“Are you sure? It's lookin’ a little…” Joel trails off, grimacing at the window. Rain is pelting like bullets against the glass, but she's already brushing past him and skipping towards the backdoor, unbothered.

“Dude, don't be such a pussy. It's just a little drizzle,” she says dismissively. As she goes to leave, a gust of wind catches on the storm door, slamming it wide open and drenching them both in cool air and unrelenting rain.

A bolt of lightning fractures the apocalyptic-looking sky.

“Just a little drizzle my ass,” he mumbles under his breath. “Get to the unit. I'll deal with this. The garage code is–”

“Your birthday!” Ellie cuts him off as she jogs ahead, having to yell above the thundering rain. “Yeah, I got it.”

The door is rolled halfway up by the time Joel makes it to the small steel building. A small hand shoots out and grabs the sleeve of his shirt. “Get the hell in here!” Ellie whisper-yells urgently. His head narrowly misses smacking against the corrugated metal as she pulls him inside. Without wasting another second, she flicks the lightswitch and hits the garage door button in two hasty motions.

“God, I'm fucking soaked,” Ellie groans. It shouldn't, but the strained, breathy sound of her voice goes straight to his cock. He turns to look at her, only making the growing situation in his jeans worse; her high neck, rain-soaked tank top is suctioned to her skin, revealing every slick curve.

Suddenly enthralled by the dimly lit maze of junk and back stock, Joel starts making his way to the back where he stashed Teddy's gift. He can feel her following him, her squeaky feet shuffling close behind. “How did you know the passcode was my birthday?” he asks curiously.

“Uh, because it's your password to literally everything,” she answers flatly. “You're not nearly as mysterious as you think you are.”

Joel ignores her comment as he comes to a standstill in front of a lumpy package. “Ah, here it is."

Saddling up next to him, Ellie crosses her arms and stares down blankly at the nondescript brown wrapping paper and messily tied twine string. Then she glances up at him. Then back down. This occurs four more times. Finally she fixes him with a hard look and asks him outright, “Are you kidding me?”

He lifts his hands defensively. “Hey, it's what's on the inside that counts.”

“Joel,” she breathes his name, and even with her voice’s patronizing inflection of annoyance, the way she says his name makes his knees a little weak. He wouldn’t mind her moaning it. “This is for a five-year-old’s birthday party. I expected better from a man who's so detail-oriented.”

Joel can't keep the stupid grin off his face. “Was that a compliment from the Ellie Williams?” He smacks his lips. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

“Well you are a master of your craft, Mr. Miller,” Ellie simpers, batting her eyelashes up at him coquettishly.

He nods. “Keep talkin’. I'd like to hear more of this.”

“And ceaselessly humble, too.” Her buttery smile softens the sarcastic dig, and Joel notices the faded freckles on her lips for the first time.

Only then does he realize just how close their faces are.

Have they ever been this close before? They must have been. He's guided her hands, adjusted her grip, and positioned her shoulders during the early days of her training. But he's always gone out of his way not to actually look at her this closely – only from a safe distance – because he's worried that once he starts, he won't be able to look away. That the plumpness of her lips and vivid green of her eyes will pull him in like a slow tide until he's stranded in the middle of an ocean, drowning in the beauty of her face.

Now that he's here, it's nothing like drowning. There's no struggle. No panic. He's simply falling, falling, falling.

Seconds pass. Her lips part, but she doesn't say anything. Wait, is she leaning in? Is she–

BOOM. An unearthly loud crack of thunder sends them leaping away from each other.

“I'm going to take a look through the Christmas stuff Maria stores in the back!” Ellie blurts loudly, speed-walking away from him, her spine stiff as a board. “There has to be a big red bow or something sparkly to spice up your shitty wrapping job.”

Worried he's made her uncomfortable, Joel hangs back at the end of an aisle of storage racks and runs a hand through his hair, mentally chastising himself for letting his self-control slip so easily. All she did was smile at him for Christsakes. Maybe Tommy’s right. Maybe he should just ask her out. No matter what the answer is, at least it would put an end to this unbearable tension.

The very familiar sound of Ellie cursing disrupts his thoughts. When he follows it, he finds her reaching for a bin on a top shelf labeled “Christmas” in sharpie on an old piece of tape, her body fully extended as she bounces unsteadily on her toes.

A pair of Dickie's has no business sclupting a pair of thighs like that, he thinks as he approaches her from behind.

“Here, I can—”

“I almost have it,” she mutters, her fingers scrabbling to pull the box closer to the edge.

Joel snorts. “Clearly.” Instead of waiting for her to bring the box down on her head, he tries to bypass her and take it down himself.

The cheeky little brat shoulder-checks him out of the way. “I said, I almost have it!” Ellie insists stubbornly.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“You're gonna knock over the whole damn shelf!”

“No, I'm not–hey!” Ellie exclaims as he circles her hips with his hands, thumbs resting above the swell of her ass. If he looks, it's only for safety reasons before bending his knees and boosting her up to compensate for her lack of height. “Did you… did you just lift me up off the floor?” Thankfully she sounds more awed than indignant.

“Yeah,” Joel grunts, his forearms straining, “and you're getting heavier by the second, so if you could hurry–”

Just then the light cuts out and Ellie jerks in his arms, throwing him off balance. After a few failed attempts to regain his footing, Joel loses his grip on her and they both go down onto the cold concrete floor. It's too dark to see, but he can feel her elbow dig into his ribcage, her skull knock against his superplexus, and her ass land snugly against his groin.

For several disorienting moments they lay there in an awkward tangle of splayed limbs heavy breathing.

“I think the power went out,” Ellie states.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, kid.”

Joel can practically hear her eye roll in the pitch black silence.

“Are you okay?” he asks, the playfulness in his voice replaced with genuine concern. His body may have cushioned her fall, but it was still a hard landing.

She wiggles against him, and he inhales sharply through his nose. Christ, she smells like strawberries and cream, and he wants to bury his nose in her hair and taste her throat. “Yeah,” she answers. “You?”

“Yeah. But could you…” Get off of me before you can feel my hard-on stabbing you in the back. Being pinned beneath her on the ground is a dangerous, exciting position to be in, and if she doesn't move away soon, she's definitely going to notice.

“Oh, right.” Her hand presses into his kidney as they begin the uncomfortable process of disentangling their bodies. “I think Mission Make Joel's Wrapping Job Look Less Pathetic might be a failure.”

“Ya think?” he quips.

She sighs. “I'll borrow some crafting ribbon from Dina tomorrow. Just please tell me you have your phone so we can get the fuck out of here without killing ourselves in this death trap. I left mine charging inside.”

Joel extracts his phone from his back pocket. Luckily unharmed by the fall, the battery sits at a concerningly low 17%, filling him with a new sense of urgency. After swiping down and turning on the flashlight (a handy trick Ellie taught him), he holds it up to see her already turning the corner, feeling her way with her hand.

The bright light shines over her shadowy figure as she nails the garage button with her tiny fist. It clicks. Then… nothing. She hits it again. Still nothing. After grabbing onto the door itself and giving it a couple of rough tugs, she finally huffs defeatedly and turns to him. “Damn thing won't open. You have the keys though, right?”

The screen in his hand flashes with a warning: “battery power 15%”.

“Right!?” Ellie repeats, louder. Panicked.

Joel's stomach sinks. This. This is the throat closing, lungs filling, drowning sensation he was expecting earlier. He shoves his hands into his pockets to confirm what he already knows: they're empty.

Shit.

[whetstonefires]

I will happily take your headcanons for Tim Drake, please and thank you, for the ask game :)

Headcanon 1:  Realistic

So you know how Tim is canonically dating Bernard Dowd now? And DC is not making that half as funny as it should be, in that og Bernard was an insufferable, supercilious, absurd person.

Well, Tim was also friends with Bernard during the period where he was dating Stephanie, and on that basis rejecting this other school friend, Darla; neither of them entirely believed in His Girlfriend Stephanie Who Goes To Another School.

Bernard, being blond and pushy and arrogant-in-an-insecure-way, is also the person most like Stephanie Tim has ever been interested in. The two of them constitute the closest he's gotten to having a discernible canonical Type.

By rights, while he is dating Bernard, this should lead to a Bernard-and-Stephanie encounter where they take enormous delight in antagonizing one another violently and embarrassing Tim to tears.

DC may at any time decide to actually do this, but probably won't.

Headcanon 2: May or not be realistic, is definitely funny (at least to me)

Tim was the first Robin to get his own book and as such has a huge number of one-off supporting cast who showed up once and never again, and whom no one else in the hero business knows about. Because they exist only for that one issue/storyline of Robin.

So whenever Tim is shown to have unspecified agents and intelligence resources that are his specifically rather than shared Bat resource, I mentally populate that network with single issue characters from the Robin minis and ongoing from the 90s and naughts as much as possible. Even though he almost definitely lost contact with all of them, if I'm being serious.

Headcanon 3: Evil and heart-breaking why would you do this

This is hard for Tim because there was a period where the thing to do with him was angstpoppet. What is there that hasn't been done to death.

Okay so you know how it's reasonably common for people in the DCU to communicate with the dead somehow? And at least as common for monsters and psychic to fake it. Plus sometimes you just hallucinate. (Cass had some meaningful near-death-experience ghostly encounters with Steph that got retconned into hallucinations lmao.)

I think that if Tim had a bit with the ghosts of his parents where they were nice to him, and forgiving, and said all the right things, he would straight up not believe it. Which would work out great if it was a trick, and be a signature Cool Robin Move. But he wouldn't believe in them if they were real, either.

And the thing is the actual ghosts of his parents might actually manage to be affirming! They were self-absorbed and absent in life, but in the context of a ghostly visitation they'd be making an effort, and Jack at least got enough appearances to show that he could do okay at the parenting thing when applying himself and not getting hung up on his own authority, and neither of them died mad at Tim.

But the better they did, the less Tim would believe it was really them, and that's equal parts because of their actual parenting failures and because after his dad died (to a supervillain who'd learned Tim's secret identity, right after they reconciled) he had such a guilt complex about them that he wouldn't believe their ghosts would be kind to him, because he doesn't feel he deserves it.

This is not shocking but it's at least upsetting and I haven't seen it done.

If they got distracted from him to start fighting each other he'd reconsider.

Headcanon 4: Doesn't align with canon (or maybe even reality) but I do what I want

So actually this connects to the last one a bit, and I am going to bring a hilarious amount of canon into this 'doesn't align with canon' entry but the thing is that building castles from small details is the kind of headcanoning i enjoy:

The canonical context for Tim's infamous Kon-cloning breakdown is that one of the other clones from the same lab got re-cloned, and his ghost moved into the new body for Reasons. So he was alive again. Just like that.

Raven (who can do spirit medium stuff sometimes) told him Kon's soul was not available to do this and he didn't even have any of Kon's cells but was starting over from the parent stock, so what he was actually doing was failing to make Kon a lot of little non-twin brothers, but the fact that resurrection via this method had literally just happened feels like something people should know.

Also in the second Titans of Tomorrow story, the superguy the evil future team had was strongly implied to be a clone Tim made, so apparently his getting something alive and healthy that looked about right wasn't out of the question.

Anyway I think the best thing for him to have done next if he had successfully made a clone and then realized 1) Raven was right, Kon was not moving in there 2) that's a whole baby, is to have shown up on Anita Fite's doorstep with the clone like 'you're the only teen parent i know who's not beefing it, help.'

(Anita's parents got killed and then immediately magically reincarnated as babies, whom she adopted on the spot because like. They didn't have actual parents. Possibly the weirdest way a teen hero has ever been retired.)

There's no way he would have done this but he should. This is how you avoid your bad future as gun batman, Tim, get Empress to teach you to feed a baby a bottle.

[raining-octopus]

my Splatoon oc lineup :)

lore dump under the cut

Captain/Three (she/they) — 21. Captain of the NNSS. Responsible and competent. Quiet and takes a while to warm up to new people, rarely saying a word in the meantime. Mostly focused on their duties for the NNSS, but does turf in their spare time, with a strong competitive drive.

A country kid who grew up with uncaring and neglectful parents, and had few other friends. Left home at 14 to move to Inkopolis, pretty much immediately encountering then-Captain Cuttlefish and joining the NSS as the first Agent 3, quickly taking the moniker 'Three' as their own preferred name. She came to see Cuttlefish as her own grandfather figure, and Callie and Marie as family by extension. An honorary 3rd Squid Sister. A surprisingly good singer. Callie’s been trying to convince her to feature on a Squid Sister’s track for years.

After Octo Expansion, grew close to Eight, ultimately started to date. Became Captain of the NNSS and travelled to Splatlands at the call of Cuttlefish. Post-Return of the Mammalians, splits their time between Four and Eight's apartment in Inkopolis and the apartment Callie impulse-bought in Splatsville.

Refuses to admit they still get nightmares about their partial sanitization in the Deep Sea Metro, which only got worse after Mr Grizz almost destroyed the world in Alterna.

Almost exclusively uses their hero shot, but she does have minor levels of experience with the standard roller and charger models. Never felt the need to try out anything else.

Agent 4 ‘Four’/Summer (any, mainly she/her) — 19. Bubbly, energetic and free spirited… but a little bit of a pushover. Professional turfer, to the point she’s considered a minor celebrity in the competitive sphere. Prefers shooters and dualies and competes with an aggressive style, but will sometimes pick slosher in training matches. Prefers the nickname Four when with the NNSS, but still goes by Summer in professional contexts. Has a long-standing side gig at Grizzco.

Completely disconnected from any sort of music or pop sphere, to the point that she didn't realise Callie and Marie were popular until they preformed live at the annual Grand Final and all of her teammates started screaming. They also thought Pearl and Marina were just the rotation Newscasters until Eight started blasting Off the Hook's music whenever Four entered a room after she found out.

Recently scored a security job for Off the Hook's world tour, which completely baffed her competitive team and friends, who didn't think she could even remember the bands name, let alone manage to get a job as there had of security, no matter how temporary. In reality, it was a last-minute favour to Eight as part of

Currently shares an apartment with Eight in Inkopolis, having done so since they first met five years ago.

Agent 8/Eight (she/her) — 21. Sweet and kind, but rather shy. Off the Hook are her idols and main inspiration, with the Squid Sisters at a close second. Loves organising and had a passion for the fine details of weaponry that almost rivals Sheldon. He offered her an assistant job at Ammo Knights five years ago, and Eight's been working there ever since. Currently dating Three.

Planned to run away from Octavian society with childhood friend Prism, but happened to be the day Octavio escaped from his snow globe. Prism stayed behind, allowing Eight to get away. Octo Expansion ensues. Post Octo Expansion, was introduced to Four by the Squid Sisters and they quickly struck a fast friendship, moving in together as roommates.

Regained some memories as she collected mem cakes, but still had many missing gaps, remembering mostly feelings over specific events. Didn’t remember Prism at all until Side Order, as she regained the rest of her memories in her numerous trips up the spire. Even after regaining all her memories, still much rather prefers to be called Eight.

Agent 3 ‘Neo’/Prism (they/them) — 16. Tech savvy Splatlandian scrapper. Laid-back, resourceful and a bit standoffish. Also Octavio’s adopted kid, ran away to the Splatlands around events of Splatoon 2. Met Little Buddy along the way, lifelong friends ever since. Became an agent after recognising Cuttlefish when he was peeking out the manhole in Splatsville. Mains their trusty tri-stringer, but likes to use the hero shot too and is at least decent with most other weapon types.

Somehow seems to know everyone: Met Three briefly right before the Splatoon 1 boss fight, met Four right as they were running away during Splatoon 2. Childhood friends with Eight. Also friends with Marina Ida. As well as being close friends with Deep Cut, as they introduced Prism to the Splatlands and have been helping them out ever since; they see Prism as an honorary 4th member. Knows Harmony of Chirpy Chips through the latter’s Hotlantis job. Between her and Deep Cut, Prism has enough musical connections to have almost completely filled their autograph book by the time the events of Splat 3 roll around. Reconnecting with the Squid Sisters and Off the Hook fills out the rest. (The rest of the NNSS is quite frankly, baffled, especially when they figure out Prism’s lacking social skills)

Has a sort-of-side-gig in music, under the name DJ Octoprism, but mostly uses it to upload old undiscovered tracks and ambient jingles. (aka my lore explanation for Alterna tracks ending up on the Lobby Jukebox — Prism hacked it) None of Prism’s friends have any idea, and Prism would very much like it to stay that way.

bonus sketches: