#wanna hack a clone to bits with me

[half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk]

Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 19 AND 20 😳

straight into it again batchers 🤟

The Bad Batch 1x15

Crosshair coming to visit Hunter how sweet 💕

Echo teaching Omega to stay focused while being stressed 🥺

every time I see Rampart I wanna smash his face in a little bit more

Omega with her secret base 🥷

her wet droopy hair 🥺

Tech looks like Korkie rn he's a ginger in the light

Echo checking in on Omega 😭

Crosshair you need to listen to Hunter he's right

Hunter: "we didn't have a choice" Crosshair: "and I did?" 😭😭😭😭😭

Omega: "experimental unit 99 began right here" Wrecker: "is that true?" Tech: "how could I possibly know that?" 💀

where are all the other clones "reassigned and transferred offworld" ??? op what does this mean

"guess you were wrong about that" lmao Wrecker

Crosshair listen here you sassy little-

siblings always know when you're lying 🤭

Crosshairs whole speech in the training room....

"I'm going to give you what you never gave me ...a chance" 😭😭😭

"we're not like the regs, we never have been" - this line sounds the most like a reg Crosshair has sounded was this on purpose ??

Crosshair cutting the binders with Hunter's knife AJDJSKAJFL

Tech spotting the discs and silently telling Wrecker !!! I'm jumping over my couches

BDIWOANSHWUAALLDNFIWIANFJEK WHEN CROSSHAIR SHOOTS ALL THE OTHER SOLDIERS WHEN HE- WHEN I- I'VE GONE INSANE-

Crosshair never wanted to kill them he wanted them back 😭😭😭😭😭

THEIR FACES THE MUSIC THE ENTIRE SCENE THEYRE WORKING TOGETHER IVE SURPASSED INSANITY

Tarkin 🤢🤢

Crosshair's holding his head 👀 Chips still there !!

them fighting about the chip 😭 Tech scan his brain pls

Omega hugging Hunter 🤲🥺😭🥰

the completely empty rooms I can't

the regs who open fire 👀 Slip???

I can't deal with watching tipoca city fall 😭

I can't deal with them watching it fall 😭😭😭

THE OUTRO-

The bad batch 1x16

the silence after the blast knocks them down

Crosshair woke up as they slid and I think Echo was out 🥺

that poor reg with the status report I wanna hug him so bad 💔

oop they were all out not just Echo

Tech: *can't hack the door* Wrecker: "I can" kinfe knife knife knife knife

Tech is pulling the door with his fingers 🥺

Wrecker gently catching Omega and passing her to Echo who just holds her for a bit 🥺🤲🥰💔😭💕

then Crosshair just slides into Hunters foot lmaooo

I don't think Crosshair knew what the empire was planning ?? he just wakes up and blames the boys for it ??

them all stopping to look at the water filling up in the baby clone room with all the empty tubes 😭

Omega catching AZI 🥺

DID CROSSHAIR JUST CATCH ECHO 👀

the last time they're all in their room together 💔

lmao Echo with the smell 💀

SHE just saved your ass Crosshair settle down

sibling squabbles turning into heartfelt convos 🥲 Wrecker missed Crosshair so much

theres always a bigger fish

they're all just sitting together to catch their breath 🤲

all back in the lab together 🥲

mhm Crosshair she's your BIG sister show her some respect

CROSSHAIR THIS IS NOT OMEGAS FAULT YOU BUTTHEAD

you sound an awful lot like a clone with an inhibitor chip rn buddy 👀

also sounds like Saw Gerrera which is never a good sign

"all you'll ever be to them is a number" ~ Hunter, then Crosshair's head immediately starts hurting hmmmm 🤔

I think it's still in there and its starting to stop working similar to Tup... possibly bc he got a little fried on that side of his head...

ptsd for Echo being in that tube 🥲💔

Omega doing the blasting instead of Wrecker !!

They're hugging in the tubes I know it

Omega's worried voice 🥺

"I'm going after AZI" 😭

CROSSHAIR 💕💕💕💕

Hunter's nervous hands tapping waiting for Omega to come up 🥺🥲

then him picking her up out of the water and his "I've gotcha" 😭😭😭😭😭

Crosshair handing over his rifle while the other three are ready to shoot him 🥲

Hunter holding Omega's hand- I'm gone y'all

Crosshair refusing to look at them while they're looking at him 💔

the sun shining on kamino after all of that, like the calm *after* the storm... which is unsettling bc it's usually the calm before the storm

Hunter picking Omega up again 🤲 he's so gentle

them all just staring at where their home used to be 💔😭

Wrecker holding AZI like a baby 🥺

they all look so dad (I tried to type sad but both works)

Hunter's soft smile telling Omega it's time to go 🥰

Hunter watching Omega and Crosshair talking

"you're still their brother, Crosshair. You're my brother too." star wars wants me to never stop crying as if I'm not already dehydrated enough

not thinking about how that was the last thing he heard for how many weeks??

FKN TANTISS

all the clone commandos everywhere 👀 the rest of delta squad when

WE DID IT !!! WE FINISHED SEASON 1 💕

Now I'm going to speed watch s2 in the next 2 days omg my emotions won't survive lmao

thanks everyone who's followed along and interacted so far I love seeing love for tbb so seeing people enjoying my responses makes me super happy 💕 I hope tbb3 is good to us 🙏

[macksting]

Murderbot: System Collapse (and Susan Pompoms)

This is not exactly spoiler territory but I'm still putting it below a cut. (It might qualify as spoilers for El Goonish Shive, but I kinda feel the same about that in this case too.)

Bharadwaj says even good change is stressful.

A relatively recent page of El Goonish Shive has a character facing this head-on. Unfortunately for Susan, she wants to be rational about things, even though she knows she sometimes isn't, and seems to consider it a bit of a weakness. She's harder on herself than she is on others. Big Mood. We have to deal with our own bullshit 24/7; at least when we sleep or are alone we aren't around someone else's that often, and even then it's a different angle on the subject and, in my experiences, compassion is easier.

[ID: El Goonish Shive page. Susan and Sarah are standing talking on the roof of the high school. Susan is facing away, distraught and trying to hide her expression as she has lost her composure. Sarah suggests, pursuant to a page omitted, "It, um. Maybe you're upset by change?" Susan, still facing away, incredulously asks, "By good change? Not the store closing, but... quitting a job I don't want? Being done with this school? Not having to deal with that terrible locker anymore?" Sarah, concerned but calm, continues her supposition: "Well, I mean... You've worked there for years, and you've been here for years. It's what's normal for you, and... there is stuff you like about both places, right? Like, you started your movie review show with Elliot because of your job, and... you have friends here. You met Catalina here. Got to know Elliot and Tedd here." Susan half-smiles, her expression still bearing the strain of the strong emotions she's navigating, and asks, "And what's there to like about a locker with a sticky door?" Sarah smiles and replies, "You share it with me?" Susan, the sardonic half-smile gone, turns to face her more fully, and with a haunting expression as she comes to terms with it, pauses and says, "I want to hang out more." /end ID] So, y'know, right now I'm a mess. One little line messes me up so much. okay from here on I'm just fangirling to clarify shit. If you don't wanna hear me ramble about these fandoms in the abstract, adios. If you're a Murderbot fan wondering what this is about, El Goonish Shive is a webcomic that's been going since 2002, is unapologetically queer, has both accidentally and deliberately given earnest and deeply compassionate portrayals of queerness and neurodivergence, and also is just interesting, clever, and has a really big cry button moment as early as 2003. Susan in particular doesn't use the label asexual; Dan Shive considers her sexuality representative of his own, and is personally uncomfortable committing to restrictive labels such as that, though he knows how important they can be as well. She is beloved by asexual fans, okay frankly she's beloved by all fans because she's a complex, fascinating character whose political and philosophical views are her own, and excuse me I'm a mess again. She's not even my favorite fucking character. If you're an El Goonish Shive fan, I am crying over a construct made of cloned human tissues and robotic parts who is bitter, sardonic, and spent the first few books in a deep depression it was not aware of, has developed into a badass punk, and has an unsophisticated but very personal perspective on oppression, slavery, and artificial consciousness under a corporate dystopian rule. It calls itself "Murderbot" because of an incident it cannot remember that led to it hacking its governor module so that it might never be forced to kill again. It will kill, it's occasionally even Plan A, but it's a choice, not an order. ("As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure." - Book 1: All Systems Red.) It is asexual ("Things. :p"), prolly aromantic, prolly agender, and wonderful.

Then she added, “You know, you can stay here in the crew area if you want. Would you like that?” They all looked at me, most of them smiling. One disadvantage in wearing the armor is that I get used to opaquing the faceplate. I’m out of practice at controlling my expression. Right now I’m pretty sure it was somewhere in the region of stunned horror, or maybe appalled horror.

My favorite installment takes place after the fourth novella, but the first novella is absolutely sufficient as a standalone work of fiction, with a satisfying beginning, middle and end, comes in a glorious audiobook format narrated by Kevin R. Free, and makes me cry a lot. The early "humor me" level cry button for me is when everyone confronts it, and it turns to face a corner to avoid their deeply stressful eye contact. I have heard that fan responses to All Systems Red led the author Martha Wells to seek out an autism diagnosis; compare Dan Shive's "It would explain a lot."

[j2zara]

I have a potential fix-it i wanna posit, which is basically. Make him a bard?

In a way that i know is taking a leaf from off-broadway hadestown orpheus, sorry for being such a hack. (broadway orpheus is earnest to a fault, I feel like his fault is getting lost in his own inner life and his work and his hopes and dreams that he misses whats going on in the moment, but off-broadway he comes across as a lot more aimless and laid back a bit of a flirt?). Anyway. I think if he's a bard, i can have a place for him to put his whims, if that makes sense?

B/c in the reincarnation (this has sorta shifted with drafting and therefore has been kind obfuscated in a way that i don't like and i kinda wanna return back to the distinction), its important to me that each of the clones has a different relationship to their past life.

To me, Blue is the most spiritual of the clones, so he actually has pseudo-spiritual connection to his past life in the form of like, actual visions and glimpses into the past that he interprets as spiritually significant or a past life (he's right!). Like, prophetic dreams, but of the past. When Ellie finds him, his response is to believe her almost instantly b/c he's like, well, i always knew i had a past life and i always felt like there was someone watching out for me. His connection is probably the strongest, in a strange way.

Ellie, meanwhile, has her "Eleanor, find chidi" moment. A lot of her belief and connection to her past life is evidence based, rather than having a genuine throughline of consciousness. either its breadcrumbed from a past life or its just stuff she discovered on her own.

J3's connection operates on the most subconscious level, his instincts and impulses informing his character and decisions. His pull toward Ellie, for instance, is basically just that, a feeling, guided by his subconscious. This is what sets them apart. Ellie is trying to find the right guy by essentially solving a mystery, J3 doesn't need that and wants to be with her simply b/c it feels right and familiar—which must be significant when his instincts the rest of the time are telling him to run.

Anyway. The bard thing. I think giving him a sort of artistic outlet for his subconscious could be helpful. It's very, Orpheus accidentally reinventing the song of hades and persephone's love story through an act of divine recall. I think J3 would be a good bard, since a bard uses charisma as a support class, plus he is kind of an eclectic artistic person (when he's not. y'know. suppressing his own identity). plus being an artist is seen as this like. non serious thing, so he could be working on an song or an album or something. We could even do the J3 is subconsciously writing the ballad of LJ3 thing but its unfinished b/c he has self doubts or something. its corny but idc i'm on the cob :')

More Untitled Xianxia LJ3 project musings:

The problem is that J3 is too... motivationless? Like being aimless is a big part of his core character and i do think a character being aimless can be the Point of a story, i enjoy literary fiction or coming of age fiction where the character is just kinda meandering through life. But coupled with a romance, i worry that makes him feel like a bit of a prop.

A big pet peeve of mine in romance books is when the male love interest feels like he exists for his interest to completely revolve around the FMC, he completely lacks an inner world or principles or drive beyond Liking The Main Girl. It always feels very indulgent and 2 dimensional, and i like indulgent but i don't like 2 dimensional

The problem is that J3 really doesn't have a motivation or principles (Ty Lee comes to mind as a similar character, her driving motivation almost always comes down to self preservation, she will survive first and foremost even at the expense of her selfhood, her identity, autonomy, most if not all morals), but that's not b/c he's lacking an inner world. He actually does have a very convoluted inner world when you get to know him, but rather he is intentionally running away from his own personhood so he keeps all that under the hood. He's kinda just hanging around chasing his impulses, which is the POINT.

but i do worry that when Ellie comes along and for the first time ever his impulse is like. I like it here and maybe i wanna stick around instead of cut and run, that's gonna feel really flaccid b/c he's basically just a prop.

Like. Characters being aimless is all well and good but i feel like its gonna feel very lifeless in comparison to Ellie, who may not always be right or good but she definitely always wants, she's always very driven.

[echos-newlegs]

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

[lovelyirony]

Title: I wish i could forget you

Tony Stark was not supposed to be in the car when Howard and Maria Stark attended a Christmas holiday party for another company. In fact, Hydra had wanted him to stay home. 

Unfortunately, Tony had ticked off Howard a bit too much, and so here he was in a tuxedo that was a bit too big, uncomfortably shiny shoes, and a temper that was close to blowing. 

Thank god they were almost home. 

When a car crashes, one almost can’t believe it. Tony can see the outside blurring, and he can hear glass crunching, and he hears things that he really doesn’t want to hear. He is fairly sure that Maria screamed. 

A metal arm. 

Huh. 

Well, not the most typical. He also doesn’t think that the man knows he’s here. 

Howard and Maria Stark are killed. Tony feels like shit because he couldn’t do anything. His forehead is bleeding and he didn’t want to move out of fear for himself, which seems selfish, but also maybe a survival instinct? 

God, his bow-tie is still constricting air flow. 

Once the man turns, Tony realizes that he wasn’t the target. They probably had no idea he was in the car, whoever “they” were. 

He gets out of the car. The car door creaks, and the man whips around. 

His eyes widen. 

“You--what?” 

The voice is surprisingly American. 

Surprisingly? He’s not sure why it’s surprising, it’s not like an American can’t kill just look at history, but still, Kind of surprising. 

"What, wasn’t supposed to be here?” Tony rasps out. He realizes now that he’s basically sent himself a death sentence as the man surges forward. 

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes are piercing. Also very, very familiar with some photographs that Peggy has on her mantle and her desk. 

James “Bucky” Barnes. Son of a bitch. 

“What are you doing alive?” Tony asks. “I thought you were lost in a ravine in Europe somewhere.” 

“What--huh?” 

“Ravine. In Europe. You know who you are, right? Is this some kind of sick...what did they do to you?” 

“I do not know what you are talking about.” 

His eyes get cold again. 

“Who are you?” 

“I am the Asset.” 

It is now that Tony realizes that every single shitty sci-fi book is probably right, and his disdain of “wacky science” and “magic” have all been for nothing, because here is Bucky Barnes, who apparently has no idea who he is. 

Then Tony gets knocked on his ass. His body slams against the icy road, and Barnes is rushing towards a motorcycle. 

And he’s alone. He can’t breathe, all the wind knocked out of his chest. He thinks he broke a couple of ribs. 

- 

No one believes him. At all. SHIELD brushes it aside. 

“There’s no way Barnes could be alive. You were probably just seeing things,” they tell him. “Would you like us to find you a therapist?” 

“No,” Tony says, and they ask why. He laughs, sipping on his water. “SHIELD has so much loyalty to itself, I’m afraid I’d be compromised.” 

“Therapists aren’t supposed to divulge any information,” Nick Fury adds carefully. “And we’re a secret-keeping bunch. Nothing goes out that comes in.” 

“Unless, of course, it’s necessary,” Tony drawls, staring at Fury. God, the leather outfit...that’s weird. “Then I’m out in the open, Nicky. And what fun is that unless I get to show off an outfit in full-coverage?” 

“...I’ll have an agent escort you home. We’ll have guards overnight.” 

“Don’t bother.” 

“And why is that? Think you can handle it by yourself?” 

“Fury, my family has made a career out of thinking a lot of things. You’re not being as detrimental as you think.” 

He finger-waves, grinning and winking at agents on the way out. 

- 

Now comes paranoia. This is welcome, actually, because it’s allowing him to work up new security measures and hack into various security cameras around the world to see if he can find Barnes. 

It’s like he’s a ghost. And fuck, maybe Fury was right. Tony doesn’t like that, but that may be it. 

Merry fucking Christmas. 

- 

Years go by, and Tony keeps a tiny ear to any news about mysterious deaths that can’t be explained. A man that glows in lamp-light, has no identity. He’s not sure if it could be Barnes. God knows he’s no longer seventeen, and Barnes--it if it was Barnes--would be way older. He should’ve been an old man in 1991, but he wasn’t. 

It kind of reminds him of the conspiracy theory that Walt Disney was kept cryogenically frozen, which is just ridiculous, because as far as he’s concerned, you’d need a bit more to you than just regular skin and bones. 

And this is where it hits him. 

Barnes was experimented on when he was captured by Hydra. Peggy told him that Rogers told her that he was repeating his dog tag number over and over, as if someone was trying to take him over. 

Yeah, you’d need a bit more. 

Like a fucking super soldier serum. 

- 

This then delves into Tony realizing that if Barnes is flash-frozen, then...well, could Rogers have survived? He always thought his dad was crazy, but a broken clock is right twice a week or however the hell that saying goes. He never used it, he wasn’t a broken clock. 

(He was broken, but he’s not going to compare himself to a clock. Perhaps  Model-T.) 

- 

They find Rogers. Tony realizes Howard did his math completely wrong for years, and probably never let anyone look at it because he was a World Super Genius. And a Colossal Dick. 

Steve Rogers is one tough cookie to crack. Tony chips off some of the ice and puts it in a glass of scotch. 

“Do you really think that’s the most appropriate thing to do?” Phil Coulson asks. 

He’s shocked, but mainly because Tony has seen his Cap collection, and that man has so many limited edition cards and lunchboxes that it’s a bit crazy. But at least he knows how to decorate with it and not have it look like an absolute nutjob swept into his house and did it all in red-white-and-blue. 

“Phil, my darling, when have I ever done anything the appropriate way?” Tony asks. He stares at the face that’s emerging out of the ice. “Besides, what else are you going to do with this ice, hm? Besides melt it all off?” 

Steve is a miracle. Every scientist on earth wants to poke and prod at him. 

Tony breaks him out of SHIELD in a week, because he swears to shit if one more scientist asks to take blood samples “to see how going under Arctic temperatures affects the bloodstream” (and also take DNA for cloning) he’s going to lose it. 

Fury yells at him for two hours. 

Steve flips Fury off from the couch, where he’s been channel-surfing for the better part of three hours. 

“You’ve already corrupted him,” Fury scowls. “Rogers, we need to talk--” 

“He’s retired,” Tony says. 

(Steve is not, technically. Hasn’t said anything. But Tony is putting him on mandatory retirement for at least a year.) 

“What’s...what the ever-loving fuck is that?” Steve asks. 

An infomercial. For an automated chair. Mostly used for old people. 

Tony grins. 

“You wanna see how fast I can launch you out of one?” 

“I’m going to say yes. Professionally.” 

Ten miles an hour, and Steve goes flying across the room into a pile of pillows. 

It’s not the end-all solution. God knows Steve calls him “Howard” and asks where a lot of nasty food is, and sometimes can’t tell the difference between what his brain is seeing and what is actually there. 

But Tony gets him help. And Steve goes to art school. 

It’s all very funny, actually. Steve rants about “modern art” and how “if he could kill any concept it would be abstract expressionism, what the fuck.” 

Tony buys and then donates a Rothko in his honor. 

Steve fumes, but finds it hilarious. 

Then, there’s the attack on New York. 

Norse god of mischief decides to end New York, blah blah blah. 

Captain America reappears, everyone loses their shit, and Tony almost dies. 

Then he gets four other roomies besides Steve, and he has to make a chore chart. Ugh. 

- 

Barnes reappears in France. Tony gets a fairly good image, and Natasha stills. 

“You know about Winter Soldier?” 

“Barnes? Yeah.” 

“You know who he is?” 

“James Barnes. At least, I think. He tried to kill me, wasn’t very successful at it.” 

Steve overhears. 

This leads to a chain of events that ends in Steve not coming to family dinner because he’d rather sit in his room and listen to Green Day or Glenn Miller or whatever the hell gets him even more upset. 

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry. But up until this picture? I was only about sixty percent sure I wasn’t full of beans.” 

“Why is that the phrase you use?” 

“What, full of beans? Bruce says I have to work on my cursing. Apparently, children are impressionable. Who knew?” 

It’s not a total success. Steve still doesn’t like that Tony didn’t outright tell him, but Tony isn’t going to tell Steve that he has the mental stability of a single cashew. 

So begins the hunt for Barnes. Which actually isn’t too bad. 

He’s in DC. Not for any political clean-up, unfortunately. He’s trying to kill Fury. Tony doesn’t know why, at least until he looks up Pierce, who’s technically, mostly retired from SHIELD. 

And yet still uses most resources that technically? He needs more than one authorization from multiple people. 

God, people are getting bad at covering their tracks. Used to be harder to catch and see if someone was doing dirty deals. 

(Okay, not like he can talk because Obie was...well, no use in discussing that now. He needs to focus.) 

Nat and Steve are bad at lying. This kind of surprises him, because Steve is usually a successful liar. He’s convinced Clint that it’s not him who keeps eating his peanut-butter-fudge ice cream, but Thor. 

And Natasha used to be Natalie Rushman. Then again, Tony was poisoned during that one, so that might just be on him. 

-

Helicarriers go in the water. 

Tony’s working on making sure most of the information doesn’t reach the general public, although he can’t stop it all. 

Barnes falls off the face of the earth, and Steve wants to go on another treasure hunt. 

“Let him come to us, or figure himself out.” 

“This isn’t a college kid going backpacking in Europe for a year,” Nat snaps. “He’s...you know who he is, who he was, and what he can do.” 

“Counterpoint: we don’t know if he secretly really wanted to see traditional decoration of Ukrainian Easter eggs,” Tony says. “God knows that I want to learn more about that.” 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

"Only on federally mandated holidays,” Tony says with a shrug. “But let him be. Steve, it’s one thing that he didn’t kill you. It’s another thing that he hauled you up from the Potomac. I’m not sure I would’ve done that because who goes up alone to a helicarrier?” 

“Historically nobody,” Natasha says. “Most people don’t have any helicarriers.” 

“God, this situation sucks,” Tony says. “What if. We potentially. Ignore all of it and have spinach and artichoke dip? Hm?” 

“With toasted bread?” 

“I’m not an animal, Steve.” 

“Your penchant for four a.m. coffee while you don’t realize you’re singing songs from the seventies says otherwise,” he responds. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t the punishment of you getting the aux taken away for a week,” Tony taunts. 

“Oh, come on!” Steve whines. 

“Nope, just you having to listen to more of Bruce’s questionable tastes.” 

“Fuck.” 

- 

Barnes comes stateside. The only reason Tony knows this is because Jarvis says that he may have spotted Barnes, but he’s not sure. 

“J, you’re the most advanced system in the world, not to mention my son, and you like to hack into the Pentagon for funsies.” 

“All of that could not have prepared me for this.” 

Barnes is wearing a neon green tank top that is advertising Coco Beach in Florida. 

“Can I laugh? Or is that sad?” 

“Multitask, Sir.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

Barnes is not in New York. Tony has to near-about put an electric fence around the whole state so that Steve doesn’t go on a road trip. 

Hell, Tony doesn’t even trust him to go to coffee alone, but that’s a bit much. 

“We have to wait,” Tony says. 

Sam Wilson is a godsend. Also the funniest man Tony knows. 

He is also emotionally healthy and very perceptive, so he has been noticing that Tony is nervous. 

Because how do you face the man who killed your parents? Technically? 

“Are you talking to your therapist?” Sam asks. “Just thinking you should.” 

“Sam, we’re working on my issues from 2007. Believe it or not, it will be taking a full year.” 

“I don’t like that I can never tell if you’re serious.” 

“I know you remember the tabloids from 2007, I wrote a mesh vest. Clearly, I need so much help.” 

Sam snorts. 

“Maybe. Hey, I’ll catch you later. Clint and I are gonna go try and find some questionable shirts to crop.” 

“Did his little protege convince you? Bishop, right?” 

“Kate, yeah. She’s convinced our public image will go viral or something. Good luck with helping Steve and Nat with your super-soldier hunt.” 

“Thanks. Let me know if you find a shirt with my face on it. I want it.” 

Sam snorts. 

“Will do.” 

- 

Bucky Barnes comes to New York in early May. The springtime is slowly but surely fading off, sun approaching more and more. Tony is enjoying coffee on a veranda, and then suddenly his waiter is nowhere to be found and he’s not entirely sure if his visitor takes credit or debit. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Maybe. Depends on if you’re gonna kill me or not.” 

“I think Steve would be a bit broken up about it.” 

“Do you care what he thinks?” 

“On this situation? Yes. When it comes to culinary choices? No.” 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. Tony’s trying extremely hard not to remember shattered glass and a motorcycle on ice. 

“Can we, uh, table this conversation? For later. Espresso and all that, plus the added bonus of our shared history, so...” 

“Shared history?” 

“You don’t remember?” Tony asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Ah. Then this is truly a comedy of errors. Maybe. Um. Listen, I, uh...I gotta go. You need to talk to Nat or Steve or hell, maybe even Thor. Is Thor a good option?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Barnes, I can’t exactly face you right now.” 

And then he jumps off a balcony. 

A fucking balcony. 

Jesus H. Christ, his therapist is gonna be so excited for their next session. 

The suit wraps itself around him, and he can finally breathe, and he’s thinking about calling Pepper and see if she would like to schedule him a vacation for maybe anywhere but New York and Iowa. 

“Why not Iowa?” Pepper asks. “They have good antique stores. I’ve gotten quite a few good finds for clothes.” 

“I can do shopping retail literally anywhere else, absolutely not.” 

“Spoilsport. Steve know you’re leaving?” 

“I didn’t even really tell Steve what happened with my parents.” 

“Oh, your therapist called. She sounded concerned, but also intrigued.” 

“It’s because Sally almost became an employee of NASA and still has a soft spot for aerodynamics.” 

“What exactly did you do when faced with Barnes?” 

“Check the front tabloid page tomorrow, just tell everyone I’m out of town.” 

“Got it. And Tony?” 

Her voice is soft. 

“Yes, dear?” 

He can feel her rolling her eyes. Affectionately, of course, but rolling all the same. 

“Be safe, and come back. You know Rhodey and I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” 

- 

A week is spent in Malibu. He really is thinking about selling this place. But for now, it suffices. 

Steve texts him. 

bucky’s back. holy shit 

be back in a week. radio silence. 

got it. no more messages from me. thor tells me to tell you that he broke the sink 

:(((( 

And that’s it. He’s sitting in the house for a week, has already called Sally once and explained how his suit works, and then listened to her talk about how “his reliance on the suit to help him escape unfavorable situations is not exactly the healthiest but also none of my clients have had to face someone who is of weird standing.” 

It’s no secret that Tony doesn’t like Howard Stark. Who would’ve liked that sorry excuse for a father, a man who was so cold-hearted the Arctic looked like a tropical paradise? 

Maria was...Maria was different. 

She wasn’t a good mother. No, she was never a good mother. But she tried, and she didn’t deserve her fate. 

And then there was the question of Bucky Barnes. Who wasn’t Bucky when he was there, but still so damn recognizable. 

It’s kind of like when there’s a movie about a famous person, and another person plays them. Like Tom Hanks, essentially. Bucky played whoever the fuck they get Tom Hanks to play and it’s similar: you see the resemblance, but it’s not it. 

So yeah. 

There’s also the little tidbit that things get complicated when you involve personal feelings and rationality, and really? Tony misses New York. A lot. And he’s not going to let someone else overtake his life just because he’s uncomfortable. 

So he flies back to New York. 

- 

He’s in a bad way, Barnes is. 

“He remembered you,” Steve says. “What he did.” 

“Ah, there’s that.” 

“He doesn’t have to be here,” Natasha says. “I have a couple of SHIELD safe houses to choose from.” 

“None would be adequate to house something like me,” comes the response. 

Barnes looks remarkably shitty, as if he hasn’t slept in eighty years. And maybe he hasn’t. 

“Jail would be more fitting.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“You are literally the most dramatic person ever, and Bruce threatened to take over the government because Thor ate the last croissant. Put those on the grocery list, Steve

“We’re not gonna throw you in jail,” he continues on. “Not because you happened to be used as a goddamned Swiss army knife. I have issues, sure, but I’m not going to be going all Hannibal Lecter or whatever.” 

“Who the hell is that?” 

“Cannibal. I realized that that’s a terrible comparison, please forgive me.” 

“Why a cannibal?” 

“Couldn’t think of anything else but Anthony Hopkins, the actor. My mistake. Point is, we’re gonna have to go through some channels, and I’m introducing you to BARF, as well as a new person who’s gonna rock your world.” 

“I’m pretty much well-acquainted with vomit.” 

“No, not that,” Tony says. “Although we can cover that through my 2005 edition of partying if we really wanna dig up some old magazine interviews. No, I’m introducing you to something that’s going to change your life.” 

-

After that, Tony doesn’t have much to do with Bucky’s life. 

He serves as a permanent guilt trip, nothing says “well, shit” much like being a permanent guilt trip. 

Sally tells him that they should talk it out. Do all that “and how do you feel?” questioning that makes his skin crawl and his eyes ascend to the ceiling. 

I mean yeah, they share a living space. Tony has seen Bucky laugh and smile with Sam, talk with Bruce about a really interesting article about regeneration of plant cells or whatever, and Bucky enjoys videochatting with Wakandan royalty. 

(It also helps that Shuri is blunt as ever, but so blisteringly smart. He’s reading her paper on regeneration of nanotechnology, and it just...it’s the Pieta of research, that paper.) 

But he never speaks to Bucky. Well, he does. But it’s more along the lines of “hey Barnes” and “how are you?” which aren’t exactly the Most Thought Provoking Statements Ever Made. 

Summer comes swiftly, and about near with a vengeance. Tony’s dealing with a heat wave and trying to figure out if going outside is even worth it, and then he and Bucky are alone in the kitchen. 

Tony was debating getting a couple of popsicles from the freezer. Bucky is considering sabotaging Clint’s smoothie that was supposed to be special for tonight, but that he’ll most likely forget. 

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Um, can we talk?” 

Shit. 

He’s been avoiding this, officially, for a month. Potentially more if you’re going to count a few choice events that have been brought up by his psyche. 

“Sure thing, buttercup. What are we talking about. Economy, world crises, the great debate on financial advice?” 

“Isn’t the third thing just the economy?” 

“We can break it down over coffee.” 

“Mm, maybe another time. No, I’m talking about us. About how I--I kind of ruined your life.” 

Tony blinks. 

“You didn’t ruin my life. If my life was ruined you’d be hit with so many lawsuits that I could make the rest of your life look like the third circle of Hell, or wherever it is that people go nowadays in Dante’s eyes. No, you didn’t ruin my life.” 

“I still killed your parents.” 

“If you hadn’t, someone else would’ve. Believe me, there were about fifteen others in line. Sometimes, myself included.” 

“You can’t not take me seriously,” Bucky stresses. “I still did a terrible thing. I just want to make sure you know that you’re being too kind.” 

“I most certainly am not,” Tony says. “Being too kind would have me feeding you grapes.” 

Bucky’s face blanks. 

“Don’t. I...I don’t wanna take advantage of your hospitality. I don’t want to remind you of what happened.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t wanted,” Tony says. “Believe me. And if you want to leave, you’re free to leave. I don’t want to make you feel like you need to stay here.” 

“I...I want to make it up to you.” 

“Then use BARF and review it,” Tony says. “I’m serious. I need user feedback, and you’re the best candidate for it. Also, please try to convince Steve to wear neon yellow. I just want to see if he’ll do it.” 

- 

Steve wears neon yellow. Tony laughs so hard he cries. 

Bucky smiles. 

It’s a nice smile, really. It’s wide and happy and wow. That’s all worth it. 

And then BARF. Bucky just gives user feedback, nothing else. Tony doesn’t want to know anything else, but they start talking more. 

Tony finds out that Bucky’s been doing crosswords to catch up on current events, and he’s bought taped recordings of World Series games. 

He loves antique stores. He visits them and brings home little trinkets that he remembers in his own house, or what he remembered. He watched old commercials from the fifties and sixties, laughed as he remembered the Sears catalogs that would come in the mail. 

“Me an’ my sisters would beg my mom for new clothes from the catalog, and she never would. Always sewed our pants and skirts so damn well, I probably could’ve used them for the next ten years.”  

Tony laughs. 

“Well, I can’t promise I can sew. But I could give you some armor that could last you twenty years, if you want. Steve told me you’re thinking about doing some distance missions.” 

“Just observation, no armor required.” 

“Sometimes it’s the simple missions that get the worst hits,” Tony says. “Believe me, I know how it goes. So, do you want some armor?” 

Bucky smiles. 

“Sure.” 

“I’ll need feedback.” 

“I’ll give it all I’ve got.” 

- 

Bucky is a goddamned dream to design for. He knows exactly what he needs, what areas are most likely to be pierced, and also has a flair for the dramatic: he requests an Iron Man helmet be embroidered on the back. 

“You’re really just trying to be sweet on me, aren’t you?” Tony teases. 

“My master plan to gain your fortune,” Bucky teases right back. “I’ll waste it all on champagne pools and the worst-looking but most expensive shoes I can find.” 

Tony laughs. 

“Sugar, that’d be incredible if you could spend all of my money on that. I’d commend you.” 

Bucky smiles, and it shouldn’t be as nice of a smile as it is, but here Tony is with his opinions and his concerning thought that maybe he wants to see more of Bucky. 

- 

In the morning, there begins a routine. Tony is always up at eight o’clock. It’s a rare lull in Avenger-morning-routines: Nat, Steve, and Bruce are all done, and Thor and Clint won’t be in until ten o’clock at the earliest. 

(What can he say? Thor’s a god and Clint...well. He needs a lot of beauty sleep.) 

Tony makes coffee, and Bucky makes them both breakfast. Says that officially, it’s to test and make sure that his prosthetic is still performing under optimal conditions. 

(They both know that’s not it.) 

Tony always says he pours too much water, makes enough for two cups. 

- 

Steve calls them out on it. 

“You two are being weird,” he says. “And not like Thor and Bruce trying to reenact that one show about ghosts and unsolved things.” 

“That’s their form of courtship, don’t be fucking rude,” Clint remarks. Natasha snorts. 

“What, us being weird?” Tony asks, pouring a bit more coffee into Bucky’s mug. He always uses too much creamer and then won’t finish his coffee unless there’s more. “Why do you say that?” 

“It’s because you both do couple shit,” Bruce says, breezing into the kitchen. “Also, Steve, lovely to see that you have volunteered to be the next guest on Avengers: Unsolved. We’re planning on using you as a guilt-trip in order to access files about aliens.” 

“Truth will be found!” Thor adds. “But also, yes. Bucky, I thought you were taking him on a date to the art museum on Saturday.” 

Bucky turns red. So does Tony. It really is quite inconvenient. 

“I mean, we could go on a date there,” Tony says. “If you’re okay with that.” 

“You’re doing this in public?” Natasha asks, eyebrows raised. “Hm. Would not have called that.” 

“You owe me fifteen dollars,” Bucky says. “Not you Tony, quit looking at me like that. Yes, it will be a date on Saturday, I’ll wear a nice shirt. Nat said that I couldn’t do anything that surprised her.” 

“Technically, Tony surprised me.” 

“I thought dates were mutual events, hm? Fifteen dollars. I’ll use it to buy the best bouquet in New York.” 

“The best bouquet costs over a thousand dollars,” Thor answers. 

“Not questioning how you know that, but I’m scared of you,” Bucky says. “Then I will get the best fifteen-dollar-bouquet in New York.” 

Tony snorts, smiling. 

“I guess I’ll spray a bit of my perfume on my pillow then, soldier.” 

“I’ll pick you up at noon sharp,” Bucky says, grinning. He finishes his coffee. “We’ll make fun of Steve’s art exhibit together.” 

[the-enamorando-deity]

could you do a romantic x reader oneshot on Mick Rory 😍 from Dc's Legends of Tomorrow he's my favorite character (Where he falls in love with the newest member of the team (who's skilled in martial arts, skilled with hacking into computers, and loves to design clothes) after meeting and befriending her new teammates: Sara, Ray, Nate, Zari, Charlie, and John Constantine. The reader was aware that rory has a crush on her when he flirts with her a bit, the team didn't know that the reader had a genetic power called: Replication (that allows her to clone herself), rory was hoping to ask the reader out and also steal her first kiss after easedropping on the reader and sara telling her that she never had her first kiss)!

(The reader's a vegetarian, loves to read and it's always been her dream to be a fashion designer, she doesn't drink: wine, beer, liquor, or, alcohol of any kind. her favorite flowers are blue orchids, and her favorite color is blue. she lived in Lynchburg, va before joining the legends)!

okie dokie it took a few days but i have it, i tried to fit everything you asked for in and i hope it’s okay!

mick rory x reader, no warnings apply

Prompts: mick rory in love with reader, reader is: martial arts/fashion design/hacking trained, rory flirts w reader, she has replication and nobody knew, she tells ava and sara she’s never had her first kiss and rory overhears and wants to ask her out, reader is vego and bookaholic, doesn’t drink, likes blue and blue orchids, lived in lynchburg virgina.

Blue

You were two months into your most recent career, and every day you considered yourself grateful. Your whole life, you wanted nothing more than to be part of a team or a family, and accomplish something wonderful. You had wanted to be a fashion designer since you were young, but your attempts hadn’t yet reached the heights you craved.

You wanted it all, and little did you know it was possible to have everything at the same time. You had been helping Gideon write period accurate designs into her program, adding your own details and revelling in the compliments you received. They were kind people, more so than anyone you had met in your other careers. 

And yet, you still had secrets that you tried your best to hide from the team. You were brought on with several recommendations, and the reasons why was only a resume. Accomplishments you had worked harder than anything to achieve lay on a few pieces of paper, but you knew there were still things to be done, and to see.

Time travel seemed a good way to do and see it all, but you weren’t expecting them all to be so accommodating. Although you first thought of some of the crew a little more rigid, you made friends with them all quickly, but tried to stay out of the way of the more quiet one they had warned you about.

They called him grumpy or rigid, a criminal even, but he barely spoke to you, only a few grumbles or glances. Still, he seemed nice enough, once tossing you a blue coat when the ship’s AC was broken. You had insisted you help Zari fix it, and she finally gave in, only the pair of you working together finally fixing it. 

You tried to give him the jacket back, but he looked away and mumbled “Keep it”. You wondered if he’d overheard your favourite colour was blue, or maybe it was just coincidence.

Seated in the kitchen, you were reading as Ava and Sara entered. Joking around with each other, they greeted you with matching mile wide grins. Sara started playing with the food fabricator as Ava joined you at the table.

‘Hey, Y/N, wanna weigh in on a discussion Sara and I are having?’

You lowered your book, morbidly curious. ‘That depends, do I get kicked off the ship if I side with the wrong captain?’

Sara turned to shrug, ‘I won’t, but Ava might. We’ll decide later.’

You were now concerned more than curious, but figured why not, surely it was a reasonable discussion. 

‘So, Aves and I were watching tv and making out, you know, like people do,’ Sara started, ignoring the embarrassed sigh from Ava, ‘and suddenly, I hear this noise-’

You grimaced, and Sara stopped, waiting for you to say what was hanging on your tongue. ‘I can’t weigh in.’

‘Why not?’ Ava asked, absentmindedly rubbing Sara’s shoulder.

Wishing more than anything you could have what they did, you glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. ‘I haven’t… kissed anyone.’

‘What, in like a while, or…?’ Sara started, shutting up as your cheeks grew red. ‘Oh…’

Maybe you should have checked the hallways before saying something so loudly, as they weren’t exactly empty. Mick had overheard, and quickly disappeared before he could be spotted eavesdropping.

The following weeks, Mick seemed to speak more per day than he had your entire time on the ship. After a mission to Assam in the 1800s, you returned to your room to find a blue orchid taped to the door, one that you had mentioned in passing about being your favourite to Zari and Nate.

You looked for the culprit in the halls, but whoever it was seemed to be long gone. It made your heart buzz, and you quickly hid in your room as your powers began to override you. Replication, your doctor had called it, and you couldn’t think of a more fitting name.

Your body quickly split in half, followed by three more splits. You tried to calm yourself and rejoin, but each part of you was as excited and energetic as the last. Bursting from your room, all but your original form spread out across the ship ins search of stimulation.

One ran to the gym, practising the martial arts skills you’d been gaining since childhood, and another for the library, to study up on all the monstrous and mysterious missions you’d missed in the years the Legends had run prior to your addition. You couldn’t keep track of where they had all gone, but you collapsed in exhaustion, only hoping no one saw more than one of you together.

Mick mumbled over and over to himself as he paced the halls, stopping short as he saw you run from the laundry down the hall, frowning and starting to head after you. Quick footsteps sounded behind him, making him turn, only to see you again, but running from the library to the kitchen.

He growled and spun around to follow you again, when another you appeared to the side and vanished before his eyes. ‘Y/N, I don’t like tricks,’ he hissed, but you weren’t there to calm his anger.

Mick appeared at your door, pounding hard with the side of his fist. Some of your replicants had returned to the host body, but you were still down one, and answering your door right now was something you didn’t know if you had the strength to do. And yet, you did it anyway.

‘Hi, Mick,’ you smiled, exhaustion plainly clear on your face. ‘How can I help you? Did your typewriter ribbon get caught again?’

He growled a response, and you smiled kindly at him, but your eyes widened at the sight of yourself standing behind him.

‘Gotta go!’ you grinned, quickly shutting your door and barricading it with your body. A soft knock sounded then, and you hoped it was yourself.

Opening it, you swallowed heavily as Mick still stood there. He seemed to have a strange look on his face, and your eyes trailed down to see his hand tightly holding a clump of blue orchids.

‘You’re from Virginia, yeah?’ he queried, forcing a smile as you nodded curiously. ‘I had a mission to break at least ten laws there, maybe you can help.’

Positive that wasn’t what he came there for, you gestured to the flowers. ‘You brought me flowers to ask if I wanna help you break laws?’

He tightened his fist around the flowers and finally blurted the true reason he was there, and the air immediately softened. ‘I uh… wanted to take you to dinner.’

‘Dinner?’

‘That’s what I said. You don’t have to drink, I know you don’t do that,’ he said, not even remotely tripping on his words, and his grumble was reduced to only a light grizzle.

You were stumped to say the least, and only when your last replicant returned to your body did you realise that the whole time you had been onboard the WaveRider, Mick had been flirting with you. He was asking you out, and you were about to say yes, until you realised he had just seen your powers.

‘Mick, wait, I can explain-’

‘No need, I’m caught up,’ he muttered, holding out the flowers. ‘So, dinner or breaking the law?’

taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

[starryviolentine]

Camp Paya (A Pre-Apocalypse Story): Chapter 5/?

Part three of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

Chapter 1 (here)     Chapter 2 (here)     Chapter 3 (here)     Chapter 4 (here)

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that when Minerva claims not one, but two additional seats at their lunch table, it means that someone other than Minerva’s sister will be joining them as well. Being around too many strangers makes Violet uneasy, so the extra spot does make her a teensy bit nervous, but she puts on a brave face and tries to convince herself that everything’s going to be fine. It’s only one more person. And, surely, a group of four can’t possibly be any worse than a group of three, right?

Wrong.

The entire universe must have something against Violet specifically because, out of all the hundred-plus kids at camp this summer that Minerva’s sister could have become friends with, it turns out to be Brody. The sight of the auburn-haired girl bouncing over to their table comes as such an unexpected shock that it renders Violet frozen in her seat, unable to do anything other than gawk like a complete idiot. Brody, who looks just as surprised to see Violet, comes to a clumsy halt next to Minerva, mouth falling open ever so slightly. For a few seconds that last an eternity, the quarreling friends stare at each other in silence.

But then—and it happens so quickly that if Violet blinked, she would’ve missed it—Brody gives her the tiniest smile and a hesitant wave. Letting out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, Violet starts to relax. Brody doesn’t seem to be mad anymore. Maybe something good will come from this lunch arrangement after all. Violet’s fingers subconsciously move to the blue lizard keychain near her pocket as the gears in her head start whirring. 

Hey, Brody, so I know you like arts and crafts and stuff, and, well, yesterday, Minerva showed me how me how to make these really cool little lizard things and I thought maybe you’d like them, too, so I made—

Another Minerva arrives at the table, dropping her heavy bag onto the bench and letting out a weary sigh. The loud thump breaks Violet from her thoughts and causes her to look up. “Thanks for saving us a spot. Joey knocked a whole stack of goopy paint palettes off the counter right as the bell rang and it took forever to clean up.” 

“Did you guys finish the banner?” Minerva asks.

“Almost! I think we’ll be done by tomorrow,” answers the other Minerva.

Wait, what? 

Violet does a double-take and looks back and forth between the red-headed doppelgangers, clearly having trouble processing all of this. Brody, picking up on her friend’s complete and utter confusion, covers her mouth with her hands to stifle her giggles. 

The Minerva to Violet’s right, who also seems to find her reaction highly amusing, gestures towards her clone with a shake of her thumb. “Violet, this is my sister, Sophie.”

Sophie. Not Minerva. Sister. Sophie... and Minerva… Sophie and Minerva. Sisters... Twin sisters. Feeling somewhat dazed, Violet blinks at Not Minerva across the table. “Sophie…?”

Giggling, Sophie nods and waves. But then, as though she’s just had some sort of huge revelation, she gasps and points. “Wait, Violet? You’re Violet? As in…” She turns to Brody, who fervently nods her head up and down. “Yeah, Brody’s told me about you!”

“Oh yeah! Here.” Unclipping one of the lizards from her shorts, Minerva slides it over to her sister. “That’ll be five bucks.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Sophie takes the trinket and smiles. “Thanks.”

A window of opportunity has arrived and Violet knows that she needs to take it. If she presents her gift right now, after Minerva, it won’t seem so out of the blue... and it will be less embarrassing since she won’t be the only one. All she has to do is go for it. Violet’s heart starts to flutter in her chest, but she’s not chickening out or anything. She just... needs a minute to prepare. 

“Oh, Minnie, that’s so cute!” Brody gushes, as expected. But Violet hadn’t been expecting what happens next. Standing up right where she is, Brody proudly shows off a lanyard keychain—one made out of glittery magenta and indigo plastic lacing woven in a checkerboard pattern—attached to the zipper of her fanny pack. “Look what Sophie made me yesterday!”

The tiny sliver of confidence Violet had in her own keychain drops to the very pit of her stomach and shatters into a million jagged shards. She’s too late. There’s no way she can give hers to Brody now without it seeming like a stupid, copycat afterthought. 

“I really wanna learn how to make those beaded ones, though,” Brody says, once again looking at Sophie’s red lizard longingly. 

“I can teach you. It’s really easy,” offers Minerva, wearing a self-assured smile. “I taught Violet how to make one this morning. Show them the one you made, Violet!”

Even though the only thing Violet wants to do right now is disappear, everyone turns to look at her expectantly. Minerva and Sophie, and Brody, with her stupid blue eyes the same stupid shade of blue as the beads on her stupid lizard. It’s all so stupid. The fact that Violet thought that maybe Brody had been just as bored and miserable as she was yesterday, or that maybe Brody missed her is now, in retrospect, laughable and just sad. No. Apparently, Brody had been doing arts and crafts with her new friend, merry as can be.

Then it hits her. Violet realizes that her best friend is going to be just fine at camp, with or without her. Brody doesn’t need her to have fun. Not like Violet needs Brody. And that’s the stupidest part of all. A raw, volatile mixture of rage and self-loathing overcomes Violet. Breath growing ragged, she grips her lizard keychain in her fist, yanking so hard that the string snaps and all the hard work she put into making is wasted in an instant. Blue beads clatter to the floor as everything starts to come undone. 

Everything.

The pressure from the three pairs of eyes on her weighs so heavily on Violet that she feels as though she’s suffocating. And there’s only one way to escape. 

Violet runs. 

With blurry vision and a heaving chest, Violet eventually finds herself bursting through the doors of Cabin Four, pacing the floors for a moment before letting out a strangled scream. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror and she storms over, glaring icily at the girl staring back at her. Stupid. Ripping the offending purple cap from her head, Violet flings it across the room and takes a good look at herself. Messy hair. Strands in her face. Blotchy skin around her eyes. Nose so red she could give Rudolph a run for his money. Violet resists the urge to smash something hard into the glass. 

Windswept blonde locks partially obscure her vision and she angrily swats them away, but the unkempt strands keep falling back into her line of sight, sending Violet into an irrational fit of rage. As the girl huffs and claws at her hair, desperately trying to get it out of the way, as though to spite her, her fingers repeatedly get caught in the tangles and it pinches her scalp. The same sensation as when she’s in a rush to get ready in the morning and brushes her hair a bit too roughly, yanking the bristles through the knots in order to get out the door as quickly as possible.

Of course, somebody always chastises her and tells her that she has to be more gentle. That her hair is so pretty and long and perfect for a ballerina bun, and if she brushes it too hard, she might get split ends. The joke’s on Brody, though, because Violet already has split ends. And guess what? She doesn’t give a damn! 

Something shiny and metal inside the nearby pencil cup catches Violet’s eyes and, before she knows it, she grabs in her right hand, holding a fistful of hair in the other. This will show Brody! Maybe next time she’ll stop and think before giving any more unsolicited advice. The scissors are duller than Violet expected, so it takes a bit of effort for her to hack all the way through, but the sheer satisfaction she feels after that final snip! is like nothing she’s ever felt before. Violet can hardly believe how liberating this feels. It’s incredible! It’s—

Immediately dropping the scissors, Violet stumbles a few steps away from the mirror as the reality of what she’s done slowly sinks in. Carefully unclenching her fist to inspect the damage, Violet watches in horror as several blonde strands float to the floor. The sight of the sad, lifeless bundle of hair in her palm makes her feel queasy. Her heart lodges itself deep in her throat and she panics, eyes darting from her hand to the pathetic girl in the mirror. Nearly half a foot of hair is missing from one side of her head, and it’s nothing at all like the time she got a wad of bubblegum stuck in her hair and her grandmother had to cut it out for her. Violet was seven, and she was terrified that she was going to end up with an enormous bald spot and that everyone at school would make fun of her. But Grandma had been really careful with the scissors, and in the end it wasn’t noticeable at all.   

But this time, it’s extremely noticeable. 

She’s ugly. Ruined.

Breathing as jagged and uneven as her new haircut, Violet attempts to flee the cabin, hoping to disappear into the woods, perhaps to never return again. Just when she figures that she’s already hit rock bottom and things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Violet slams into somebody in the doorway. Ouch. She really needs to stop doing that. 

“What in the ever-living fuck, V?” 

Of course it would be Therissa. Of course. The one person besides Brody that Violet had been hoping wouldn’t see her like this. 

The teenager gives an annoyed grunt, about to go off into a rant about Violet not watching where she’s going, but she quickly picks up on the fact that something isn’t right. Her roomie looks like she’s gone on a round trip to hell and back and it’s only noon. And where did that hay come from? Violet doesn’t seem like the type to willingly hang out by the stables, but— 

“Wait, is that hair?” More confused than ever, Therissa tries to piece everything together. Yeah, it’s definitely hair. Human hair. Making the connection, the teen looks up and immediately notices Violet’s new haircut. Oh, shit. Not wanting the situation to escalate, Therissa suppresses her shock and the billion questions that follow and tries to be as calm as possible. “Huh, I didn’t know that ‘beauty salon’ was on the list of camp activities this year.” As she steps a bit closer to Violet, Therissa makes sure to keep herself right in the middle of the doorway, turning her body into a barricade to keep the younger girl from running away. This is a delicate situation, and Therissa knows that she needs to handle it with caution. Once completely inside the cabin, she quietly pulls the door closed behind them. “I do like the direction you were going. Very bold. But it doesn’t look finished, know what I mean?” 

Violet keeps quiet and won’t meet Therissa’s eyes, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s actively looking for an alternate escape route. Holding her breath, the older girl takes a chance and gently reaches out to touch her roommate’s hair on the freshly cut side. Thankfully, Violet lets her. Combing her fingers through it a couple of times, Therissa gives a low hum. “I think I might be able to help you straighten things out a bit, if that’s cool with you?”

Walking further inside the cabin, Therissa comes across the scene of the crime. On the floor near the vanity are an old pair of scissors and even more of Violet’s hair. The older girl sits Violet in the wooden chair in front of the mirror and momentarily leaves to grab her hairbrush, picking up the scissors on the way back. After spending a minute detangling Violet’s hair and brushing it out for her, Therissa looks in the mirror with her roommate. “You do understand I’m gonna have to cut it, like, here, right?” 

Violet looks at the hand that Therissa’s using to mark exactly how many inches of hair she’s about to chop off and nods in defeat. She lets out a shaky sigh and speaks for the first time since the mess hall. “Just… don’t make it shorter than you have to. Please.”

Therissa giving her a thumbs-up in the mirror reflection is the last thing Violet sees before she squeezes her eyes shut. There’s no way she’s watching this. She doesn’t want to see anything until it’s all over. 

Probably not even then.

[ittybitty-enby]

i wanna talk about what i think the prototypes and clones in hlvrai are. 

why? 

because i can.

-BUBBY’S “PROTOTYPES” sooo let’s first talk about what Bubby IS. “Bubby”s is Black Mesa’s project of creating life! not in a frankenstien-esk way but like creating life from growing them inside tubes and shit. I wouldn’t go into detail because, even though I love some science every once and awhile, I am not an expert! but I’m sure every reader gets the jist.  Black Mesa didn’t get Bubby right the first time, or the next time, or the next, or the one after that, etc. and they terminated the first thousand failed results because either they were so badly disfigured and/or mutated that they had to put them out of their misery or the scientists just fucked up real bad and the subject died right then and there. Then a real fucked up Subject got loose in the facility.  This Subject isn’t as disfigured the many others before it, but it’s properties it gained from it’s failed tests led to the creation of a hive-mind society living in the deepest depths of Black Mesa. The Subject has the ability to asexually reproduce, similar to mitosis but they have to tear chunks of their flesh/muscle out of their bodies to create more of themselves. The chunks of flesh expand, more muscle and bone forming from the piece of the progenitor. All Prototypes are created with clothes on, but the difference between the og Subject and the following Prototypes is that the clothes are connected to the Prototypes whilst The Subject stole the clothes to wear.  Prototypes travel in groups, similar to some predators like Wolves and Lions. They are not territorial but different groups fight to death sometimes, Why? For fun. The Subject was created long before Bubby’s existence, so it’s dead. Prototypes can die just as easily as they are created, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. 

-COOMER CLONES Dr. Harold P. Coomer is not human. He never was. disregarding the fact that is in a video game.  Coomer has mentioned his Super-body parts and organs before, leading us to the conclusion that Harold is a cyborg! and so are his clones! Coomer Clones are all apart of a hive-mind like ai system created by Black Mesa to help with the lack of staff and actual scientists. Ever Coomer clone has the same programming as every other clone! Same personality but set with different tasks. They are mere robots to use as tools to set forth more tests and experiments. The difference between Dr. Harold Coomer and the other clones is that his programming started to glitch within the events of HLVRAI and he gains sentience. his TRUE sentience comes when he realizes this is all a game. Whenever someone kills a Coomer Clone, Dr. Coomer sometimes says: “My power GROWS, Gordon!” this means that with every Clone down, he is one step closer to gain access to the Coomer Clone hive-mind. When the last clone is killed, Harold reaches his full potential and to show this, he hacks into his own programming and allows himself to use the “FORBIDDEN SCIENCE.” Every time Dr. Coomer cuts himself off mid-sentence, it’s him actually glitching out and struggling to stay in control. Gordon sleeping/the gaming being turned off doesn’t help him ease the pain.  The Coomer Clone ambush scene isn’t actually Dr. Harold Coomer doing these things. It’s the Coomer Hive-mind trying to take back control and end their journey, corrupting Harold. The Hive-Mind programming can access all Coomer Clone thoughts and memories, and even consciousnesses can be transferred from one Coomer Clone to the other. This is how Harold reappears after the attack, bloodied because he inhabited a dead Coomer clone body. this is also why he knows that the clones tried to wear Gordon as a puppet. Why did they want to try and do that? Maybe to get out of Black Mesa? Dunno. 

-BUBBY CLONES (my own idea!) Other than the Prototypes, there are other Bubbys out there! i got the idea from @/batz post, and i talked about it a bit in this post.  I think different Bubbys would exist in Black Mesa, since there must be more projects to perfect a Bubby. They don’t have to scientists but they sure as hell can exist! Different test tube water with different properties would be used to give the successful subjects personality and abilities!  They all act and talk different but their appearances all stay the same. Why? because Black Mesa didn’t want to waste money trying to make different faces.  “We already have an old man face why can’t we use that?” There are no limitations to the Bubbys! They’re their own person! Let them live! except don’t get out of hand with this concept. Don’t make a freak Bubby. You know what I mean.  I guess you could call these Bubby-sonas? I have no idea but they’re based off of Bubly flavors!  If you ever want to create your own Bubby, go ahead! I don’t mind! Just please credit me for the concept and @. me! I’d love to see what you guys come up with!

If you have read this all then i owe you my life. *mwah*

[otogetranslations]

Announcing of Dropping DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE;BLOOD

To sum things up:

Someone leaked the Diabolik Lovers Limited V Edition patch, posting it publicly despite all our warnings and requests. Thus we are following through with our original policy.

We’re stopping every projects related to Diabolik Lovers, including further support for Limited V Edition, and there won’t be a patch for More;Blood.

Collar x Malice Unlimited will still be released, but privately. After all, you guys will get the English version of it from Aksys for the switch next year!

I (the leader of otogetranslations) will still be helping other translators with their projects: Brothers Conflict, Hakuoki SSL. How the patch is gonna be distributed is up to their respective leaders (coquettishcat for Hakuoki SSL, and PassionandBrilliance for Brothers Conflict).

No more Black Wolves Saga. This project I (Reishiki) started by asking permission to use existing translation from orlandoblue @tumblr, Siberia (twitter.com/bakemeatz). The patch of Black Wolves Saga Bloody Nightmare is to be completed soon. But it’s no more.

Read on if you wanted to know what really happened:

As you all know, we released DIABOLIK LOVERS LIMITED V EDITION fan translation patch this August 16th, 2019 for homebrew enabled/hacked Playstation vita, and only for people that have proof or purchasing the game.

There are over 50 people who showed us the proof of purchasing the game and they received the patch for free. All we asked was for you to actually buy the game before you can play it with a hacked playstation vita.

Our 30-people team worked on the patch for 10 months. We only used outsource translation for 8/277 total scripts. Our in-house hacker did the romhacking process, our in-house proofreaders proofed the translation, our recruited translators worked on the translation. Everything was done by us and it’s our team effort. So we have the right to decide how we’re gonna distribute it.

However, on August 20th, 2019. Rojaaalice on reddit r/vitapiracy posted a thread, asking the patch to be given to them for free (without purchasing the game). A lot of people who frequent this subreddit accused us of being Gatekeepers, while all we’re doing is asking for proof of purchasing the game (not the patch, the patch is 100% free). Is buying the game you play wrong? Is asking for a proof of purchasing something you play gatekeeping, when we could have chosen to not share the patch at all in the first place?

I don’t think so.

But, this person, SilicaAndPina (https://twitter.com/SiliCart) is not happy with how we distribute our patch. He said that we should keep the vita hacking scene free, we can’t ask for people to buy anything to be able to get the PATCH that we worked on. He doesn’t play otome games in general, and he doesn’t even know what otome games is.

He started to trick me into giving the patch to him, by making a fake proof of purchase with a cloned gmail account. I noticed the proof was fake and didn’t give it to him. Then he got mad and sent this (WARNING: GORE IMAGE) to me. He stated that he will leak the patch eventually.

He attempted to acquire the patch once again with a different fake proof this time. I also noticed this and we trolled him by sending him a FAKE patch. We left the prologue in English and put ridiculous/crack fanfiction in other parts. He thought it was real and distributed it, declared he has won over us.

He thought he tricked us but no, we weren’t being tricked by his half-assed effort. 

Today, August 22nd, there is someone from the DiaLover Fandom that received the real patch sent it over to him. I’m sorry to say that the patch would be leaked eventually, one way or another, because if someone really wants to leak it, they could buy the physical copy, take a photo with it and send it to us. Then they can sell the game to get the money back. 

So, we lost.

But to the one that sent the patch to him, lost to the malice of this world, and not to him. 

I had envisioned this would happen when I first started the project. So I’m not surprised. I had a small ray of hope this wouldn’t happen so soon, but I was wrong. 

As we’ve stated before, we will cease every project translation related to DIABOLIK LOVERS.

No more patches of DIABOLIK LOVERS will be made from us, at least when I’m the leader of that project (as well as the leader of otogetranslations): Reishiki.

I’m proud to say our patch was enjoyed and praised by people that bought the game and received the patch.

I (Reishiki) will still be supporting other translators if they need it, but I won’t start any new project from now on (in which could be AMNESIA LATER/CROWD/WORLD, VARIABLE BARRICADE - these games I completed extracting the texts with our inhouse hacker’s help, and I planned to announce we would start one of these projects soon. But… I’m sorry to say that it’s no more. At least it won’t be made available to the public.)

Thank you everyone for your support.

These are our team members opinions:

JokerTrap-Ran: I think I just lost faith in the community as a whole again, coming back after 4 years. I hope you’re happy! This was really demoralising and I hope ya’ll had fun putting us down like that. I’m not one for drama and honestly I’d very much like to stay out of it considering the bad medicine bashing that happened on otome reddit about 3 years ago. I’ll continue releasing translations for blog’s followers but that’s it. I’m whimsical, and most of my followers know it. I pick things and I drop it all the same. 

Khikari: For those who thinks that what we have committed is blasphemy and should be shut down for this, great, please take the time to learn Japanese yourself. Or learn to care about other people with emotions for once in you life. Demoralising people who were willing to work endless hours for free with just one condition sure is satisfying, isn’t it? It really hurt all of us. For those who genuinely cared and are saddened by this post, I am sorry and I wish the best for you all. I know that the few doesn’t represent all but this is a massive motivation killer, and I don’t need this drama in my life. From now on, private translations all the way! Also, Silica, attacking an idea is fine, but attacking people with malicious intent is stepping out of line. Enjoy being a rock specimen.

LoliChan195: I hope you are happy with what you have done! We only wanted to bring this out for people that had difficulties playing the game, and also help support Rejet by having more people buy their games. Its people like you that cause all these game companies to go bankrupt! (Also SiliCar, you sick fuck. Who sends pictures like that!? XD you’re probably just some edgy 12yr old XD Besides, who says WE WILL NOT FORGIVE XD what a dumbass! And is it that hard to search on google about the game? Why would we make it so it specifically needs to be the limited edition?!?! ) Seriously, the people who attacked us for putting the rule out are just as bad, like can’t you just wait and buy the game? Or even if u just pirate it, read online translations. Its not that hard! 

Hermy: Nothing much to say, except, ya’ll could have totes pirated the game and played it along the translations available on the net. Welp, I hope you don’t dislike that idea too much because that’s what ya’ll gonna need to do if ya’ll wanna play the sequels.

PS: the MB translations available on the net are riddled with errors, but by all means have fun with them :)

Anon: Oh yes, silica? Perhaps you should just lead on with your true intentions next time instead of trying to honey your words and do some "re-con"  for dots, yeah? 

Marzi: I'm a bit numb to this situation at this point, but it is disheartening to know Silica was so intent on distributing our translations that he didn't stop even when we threatened to cease all translations. It wasn't like he was ever going to play the game - he just felt so personally offended by the fact that we were "gatekeeping" for some reason - which, in my opinion, is a bit of an immature reason to ruin a translation group. You can't argue that we're "unrightfully holding something when we don't have the intellectual rights," when you're bypassing all copyright laws as well in wanting to post it PUBLICALLY. But what's done is done - whoever manages to get a copy of this, I hope you enjoy it. Please know so much effort and passion went into these translations, and that we loved working on this project every bit of the way. If the game leaves you antsy for More Blood well LOL you know who prevented that from happening.

Sonic-nancy-fan: I never knew someone could have such an illogical mindset. Silica/PSSDude made the original base repatch program, and we used one that someone had edited and added to (which Silica was fine with). But, because he made the original one, that means he feels like HE can getekeep all uses of variations of it. This would be like saying people can’t use paper to make a paper airplane because the original creator of paper said no, or you can’t print manga because Gutenberg said no. Also, who in the world thinks they can take a moral high-ground by telling us to promote piracy? Patches are already a sort of grey area, so we were trying to take the most legal method available while still making a patch. I know in modern society, piracy is very common, but I can’t imagine your average person would call us in the wrong for trying to hinder piracy. God forbid we try to get people to buy Diabolik Lovers. I can’t say I’m shocked as I expected it to get leaked sometime. I’m just saddened at certain people’s general hate and unyielding desire to leak it. So, I don’t blame the community as a whole, nor do I feel any malice toward the community (we had a lot of people buy the game and get excited). I’m just mad at very specific spiteful people. Also, if I ever hear someone say “the scene” as much as Silica, I’m going to go nuts. It sounds like something the “cool guy” in an 80’s show would say.

[corpse--diem]

101 Uses for Duct Tape | Marley & Erin

Summary: Marley fixes Erin’s door and Erin takes a well deserved nap. Duct tape isn’t the only thing that does some bonding here.  When: Early last week (5/4) Featuring: @detectivedreameater

This was the fourth person Marley found herself “concerned” over after hearing-- or seeing- they’d been attacked by a mime clone. Keeping up appearances was getting hard, and Marley couldn’t help but think about how much easier things were just a few months ago. But, this was her lot now, and she was making real progress with Nadia and Erin. So, whiskey bottle in hand, she made her way to the Nicholas’ funeral home, arm in sling, still giving a dull throb despite the bottle of ibuprofen she’d downed before heading over. The place always had had that creepy suburban vibe to it, the kind that only a funeral home in a renovated house could have. Not that Marley ever minded. She’d always been drawn to that, after all, being what she was. Being who she was. With a disgruntled sigh at the thought, she made sure her sunglasses were firmly on her face before giving a hearty knock at the back door. “It’s just me!” she called through it, “No evil mimes around, promise.”

Marley’s offer had been unexpected but god, was Erin ever thankful for it. She hadn’t been joking about how little sleep she’d gotten, and while the home was filled with people throughout the day, the quiet and the night made every shadow come to life. If she stared at them too long, she swore she could see the glimmer of eyes and bright teeth staring back at her. Baseball bat in hand, she made the mistake of settling onto the couch, just for a second, she told herself while she waited for Marley. She’d just nodded off when the banging at the back door jolted her wide fucking awake. “Thanks for the disclaimer. I was worried my murderous mime friend was suddenly going to be polite about hacking me into pieces,” she greeted the woman, noting the sunglasses immediately. Hard to forget the nightmares that laid behind them. She was too tired, deep in her soul kind of tired, to delve into that one right this sec. Gestured in with the baseball bat for her to come in. “Whiskey?” She offered as she led her towards the door upstairs that needed repaired. “Or should I just assume that’s not something I even need to ask when you come over?”

“A bat,” Marley noted, not moving for a second, “you work in a funeral home and the one weapon you choose is a bat?” Shrugging, she stepped in, standing still for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before holding the bottle she’d brought out. “If you could just always have a glass ready for me when I get here, you might actually become my number favorite person.” She followed Erin up the stairs, coming upon the door that had been shredded in what must’ve been quite the struggle. “Wow, you really did a number on this door, didn’t you?” she shuffled her bag which had all her tools in it and set it on the floor. “I’d say you owe me big time after this, but with all the shit going on, I’ll let it slide,” she looked over at Erin, careful to avoid eye contact, despite knowing full well nothing would happen without her wanting it to, “just this once, of course.” She plopped onto the floor, rubbing her wounded shoulder a second before digging through her bag. “You have that duct tape I asked about?”

“Is there a designated weapon of choice for funeral directors I wasn’t aware of?” Erin raised her brow at the criticism. Marley wasn’t wrong, though. Up until a few months ago the most she ever felt the need to carry on her was mace and thankfully she’d never had to use it. “What the hell happened to you?” She asked, awake enough to finally notice Marley’s arm was in a sling as she took the whiskey. Though she had a feeling the word ‘mime’ was going to pop into the conversation here. Seemed to be the trend of the week, unwelcome or not. “Would your favorite person forget the whiskey glasses or duct tape? I think not.” She smirked, grabbing the duct tape she had set on the table near the door. “Think fast!” Erin grinned as she flicked her wrist like she was going to chuck it at the one-armed woman, but handed it off to her instead with a smirk. “Kidding. Sorry. I get a little ornery when I don’t sleep for three days,” she laughed, but disappeared momentarily to grab the glass she’d already put aside. She settled onto the floor in the hallway as she poured, watching her do her thing. “If you need any help, I can totally try too. Or just hand you stuff as you go,” she said, taking a sip as she set a glass down where Marley was working.

“I dunno, just figured you have weird tools around, like a knife, or a bone saw,” Marley said dismissively from the floor, looking up at Erin. When she feigned throwing the tape, Marley didn’t even move or flinch, just gave her a flat stare. “Cute,” was all she said, before taking the duct tape and pulling on it to get a strip started. “Listen, I’m a sleep demon and even I need sleep, so maybe you should get on that whole sleep thing. I hear humans go crazy if they don’t get enough sleep.” She took the drink gratefully, taking a long swig. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know what happened. It looks like you went through enough mime bullshit here, you don’t need to hear about mine.” Struggled, for a moment, as she tried to use her foot to hold the duct tape roll still and pull off a long strip, before giving up and holding it out to Erin. “Pull.”

“You don’t sleep? Like, ever?” Erin questioned, raising a brow. “God, that must be nice. I don’t sleep much as it is considering I’m on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. But eventually I collapse, as we humans do,” she nodded, taking another long sip, feeling the liquid warm her chest. “Besides, I promised you tacos. You’re gonna get tacos, sleep be damned,” she insisted. Watched with mild amusement as Marley struggled with tape before crawling over to help her out. “God, so bossy,” she teased but pulled on command anyway. “Do you even eat tacos? Or anything in general?” She asked, ripping off the tape before she could struggle with that too. “And you can totally talk about your mime bullshit if you want. Especially if it was as traumatizing for you as it was for me.”

“I sleep,” Marley corrected, “I don’t have to sleep as much as you, but I sleep.” A beat. “Sometimes.” Though she wasn’t sure if that was entirely a species quirk or more of just a ‘Marley’ quirk. Either way, it didn’t matter. “You did. And I’m excited to eat them, even if I don’t need to eat human food, either.” Erin was the second person to make Marley food, and to do so excitedly and willingly, and the thought was a tad sobering. So she took another long sip, almost emptying the glass, before getting back to work. She stuck the piece Erin had pulled off on the door and motioned for her to make a few more strips, the same size. “Traumatizing? No. I’m a detective, I don’t get traumatized by this shit. Or anything. I eat fear, remember? Kinda hard to scare fear itself.” Besides, she didn’t need to talk about it, or anything. Ever. This was just another thing that had happened and soon, it would be over, and she could go back to not having to pretend to worry about people getting killed.

“It’s the thought that counts?” Erin offered weakly, shrugging. “They’ll be tasty, if not nourishing. So there’s that.” She didn’t miss the extra long sip Marley took from her glass after she answered that. Wasn’t sure what it meant but it was certainly noted. Ripping a few more pieces of duct tape off with only a little bit of a struggle, she eyed her warily. “Uh-huh. And is that ‘You can’t scare fear’ schtick what you say to everyone when they ask if you’re alright?” She questioned further, handing off the pieces of tape. When her hands were free again, she slumped back onto the ground, topping off both of their drinks. Narrowed her eyes at Marley as she watched her again. “You’re really not about to duct tape my door together right now, right? Even I can do that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Marley said idly, “thought that counts.” She smoothed down the duct tape so that there were as few lumps as possible before digging back into her pack and pulling out the little bucket of plaster she’d whipped up. She glanced back at Erin, watching her refill their drinks, before looking up at her. “Yup,” she said evenly, before pointedly picking up her glass and taking another long drink. Turning back to the door, she pried the bucket open and grabbed her plaster trowel, dipping it in. “No, dumbass. I just needed a layer to put the plaster on,” she teased, though partially aware of the fact that her sarcastic voice sounded very much like her regular voice. “It needs a base. And I’m not saying it’s going to be the most fantastic looking thing, but it’ll patch up the hole and all you’ll need to do is sand and paint.” She paused. “Although, if you wanna keep questioning my methods, I’d be more than happy to just leave it like this.”

Erin took that single ‘yup’ for what it was. Didn’t want to talk about it. Fair, she supposed. She didn’t know Marley all too well to be diving into those thoughts. But, then again, she had forced Erin to tap into her deepest, darkest nightmare of her own. “Indulge me,” she challenged, crossing her legs and settling against the closest wall, the hint of a smile still lingering on her lips. “It’s only fair, right?” Furrowed her brows at the dumbass comment, nodding along as she then continued to explain the process. Right. “See, this is why you build doors and I fill caskets. Please don’t leave. I’m obviously helpless,” she teased in return, smirking wider behind another sip.

“Obviously,” Marley repeated, rolling her eyes as she continued to cover the door with the wood plaster. She really, really wanted to ignore the prodding question, but if she did, she knew Erin would never drop it. Glancing back at her as she worked hunched over the door, Marley paused for a moment. “That whiskey must be giving you some unfound courage,” she said before looking away again. “Nothing to tell. My mime self clone whatever tried to kill my date, so I killed it. Then, on a completely separate occasion, someone else’s extremely angry and strong mime self decided my arm shouldn’t be in its socket. We killed it, end of story.” Stopped, sitting back a moment to face Erin and take another sip of her drink. “Indulged?”

It was hard to hide the smirk on her lips when Erin felt Marley starting to cave, and remained smugly quiet through the entirety of her story. “See? Was that so hard?” She tilted her head at Marley, nudging her slightly with her foot. As terrified as Erin had originally been of the nightmare machine on their first visit, she could tell something changed. She wouldn’t be here, fixing her door and keeping her company otherwise. It was… not the worst? Her smile took a softer turn when her gaze dropped to the sling again. “Sorry about your arm though,” she said more seriously. Not one, but two run-ins with these things? She wouldn’t wish that on anyone. “Guess I made out pretty lucky, all things considering?” She shrugged, pulling up her pant leg. The slice her mime-self made was shallow but long, enough to sting like a bitch every time she walked on it.

Marley didn’t like the smug way Erin was looking at her. It made her feel...exposed, and she frowned, furrowing her brow. “I think I might die,” she said in a monotone, before prodding the plaster to see if it was drying properly. It was, of course it was. She looked back at Erin over her shoulder, her arm giving a dull thud as if in response to her pity. “It’s fine, just a minor fracture. The worst part is the desk duty. Sarge won’t let me or Jane in the field until we’re healed up, which is just ridiculous. It’s obviously fine,” she said plainly, setting her tool down and turning to sit against the wall. “Door’s done, by the way. Easy fix. Just needs to dry, then you can sand and paint it in the morning.”

“Guess you’ve come to the right place,” Erin raised her brows at Marley with a smirk that didn’t want to quit. She knew that wasn’t because of the alcohol and sleep-deprivation. This whole thing was weirdly relaxing, watching the woman work. General, friendly(ish) bullshitting over whiskey. Marley was amusing in her own deadpan way. She could appreciate that. “Ah, shit,” Erin cringed, physically recoiling at the words ‘desk duty’. “I’d go absolutely nuts. No wonder you were so willing to come fix my door,” she smirked over at her, gently rising to her feet to get a better look at her craftsmanship. “Oh wow, that’s pretty damn good,” she said with a laugh, only a little bit surprised. Paint and sand. Sure. She’d get right on that tomorrow. Better yet, she’d get Rio on that. Smiling over at her, she gave Marley’s good arm a gentle nudge. “So, uh--is Jane the girl from the date where you earned that baby? Or the one before that? Tell me all about it over some hard earned tacos.”

“Yeah, I’m getting pretty stir crazy,” Marley answered honestly, “can’t even have a good lay with this stupid thing on cause it hurts too much.” Grumbled a little, draining her glass a second time. “I only do good work.” Marley glanced over at Erin, she couldn’t help but give a little smirk at her relentless teasing. She was taking Marley’s deadpan sarcasm well, too “Oh, no. No, no,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t do dates, or dating. I’m a between the sheets only kinda gal.” She stood up, then, holding her good hand out for Erin. “Now, let’s get tacos. I believe I’ve earned them. And more whiskey. Always more whiskey.”

Erin almost spat out the last of her whiskey. So Marley was going to be willingly honest about that? “Yeah. What a bummer,” she nodded in agreement. “At least you know who you are and what you’re about?” She offered, taking Marley’s hand and waited a good moment before she was steady to lead them towards the kitchen. Thank god she planned ahead and cooked before she dipped into the Johnnie Walker and it sat on the stove, keeping warm. “Seriously, eat up. I didn’t know how much--uh, you guys ate, so I may have overcompensated a bit.” She shrugged naively, then made her own plate. Looked at the single, sad chair at her breakfast nook and froze for a second. Forgot she’d gotten rid of the full dinner set when she moved back in an effort to create more space. Glancing between it and Marley, she played it off with a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t date either, if that wasn’t obvious.” She led her towards the living room, taking a seat and hollered back. “Don’t forget the whiskey!”

“Hey, it is a bummer. It’s one of my favorite extracurriculars. And you’re not allowed to judge me for that,” Marley said with a huff, following her towards the kitchen. She picked up a plate and made some herself a taco. She wondered just how many normal people ate, but two seemed like a good number. She didn’t really get full or hungry in the way real people did. “Thanks,” she said, watching Erin’s gaze free on the single chair in her kitchen. “Yeah, seems so. Guess we have that in common, too,” she said, grabbing the whiskey and following her out to the living room instead. “So you’re not a dating gal or a laying gal? Then what do you do with other people? Please don’t tell me you only eat tacos with them.”

Erin shook her head as she munched on her taco. “No judgment! You do you, and whoever you wanna… do.” She gestured vaguely at Marley, smirking as she leaned forward to refill her cup. She shrugged, narrowing her eyes. “I mean, I do things--and people. I’m not a prude. I just work. Like, a lot. I’m on call basically every minute of the day. Makes it hard to really, uh, you know. Do that stuff.” She stuffed another mouthful between her lips, sinking further into the comfort of the couch. “Honestly, I don’t know how you have the time.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marley said, giving a nod and raising her glass to Erin’s thought before taking a hearty sip. “I’m a detective, my job is my life and my life is my job. So I gotta get my fun in while I can.” She took a bite of the tacos and decided they were actually pretty good, especially for human food. It reminded her of Jane’s cooking. She smiled a little. “I don’t sleep all that much,” she answered truthfully, finding it oddly easy to talk to Erin. “Quirk of being not human, I guess.”

Between the food and the whiskey, and the comfort of the couch, it was getting harder and harder to keep up appearances. “Fair,” Erin nodded, washing the taco down with more whiskey. “I have fun. I just--” She paused, trying to think of a legitimate activity she’d done that would constitute as fun. To Marley, anyway. She rested her head against the back of the couch, glancing out the dark window in deep thought. “I just can’t remember what,” she finally finished her thought with a laugh, and drowned the rest of those thoughts with more whiskey. Oh, right. “I drink?” She glanced over, the lull of sleep coming on hard and fast as the booze and food settled in.

“Sure,” Marley replied with a shrug, though there was a grin on her face. “If you can’t even remember what you do for fun, then maybe you need to get out and do more fun things.” She shook her head, drowning her next chuckle in whiskey. “Once all of this is over, let me take you out and show you how to have fun, okay? Just one night. And I won’t even flirt with you, promise.” She looked over at Erin, knew that look. The droopy eyes, the slumped body. Was she drunk already? “Unless you want me to. Your call.”

“I have fun,” Erin interjected weakly but the effort behind it was waning. “But I’ll take you up on that offer. I’m always down for more fun.” She took one last bite out of her taco before setting the plate down, along with her drink. The exhaustion was creeping in harder and faster than she could fight it now. “I have a feeling--” Her words muddled into a yawn and she closed her eyes once her head hit the back of the couch again. “You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from flirting either way,” she smiled, but within seconds, she lost her fight and slipped into the sleep her body had been begging for days for, head rolling onto Marley’s shoulder.

Marley was lucky enough to see the inevitable coming and had managed to grab the whiskey bottle before Erin’s head hit her shoulder and she was out. Sighing, she half rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you have lots of fun,” she said, despite Erin being sound asleep on her. Unscrewed the lid from the whiskey bottle and took a big swig, settling back into the couch. It would be easy enough to push her over onto the other side of the couch and let her lay down, but Marley didn’t mind it all too much right now. Not since she had a bottle of whiskey to finish. Still, she seemed to be doing this a lot lately-- offering to help people for nothing in return. Staying just to help someone feel better. Maybe it was supposed to make her feel better, too, but so far, it just made her feel weird. She wasn’t supposed to need people. In fact, she didn’t need people. But, she reminded herself, there was no harm in this, was there? Being amicable with the person who helped her cover her tracks was, after all, a good idea. After a moment, she held the bottle up, looked down at Erin and said, “I’ll drink to that.”

[shadowofthelamp]

I Think We Might Be Related

Summary: Johnny gets a call from a kid who claims he might be his nephew. He decides to see for himself.

(Rated teen just for a few brief gore mentions and language, pretty in line with the comics)

Based off my theory that Membrane is either Johnny C’s brother or that Johnny’s plasma donation was used to help stabilize and differentiate the Dib clone.

Wordcount: 2600

Read on ao3

Reblogs/replies/tags/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing what people think!

The phone rang. In most houses, that’s not a very unusual occurrence. Number 777 was not most houses.

The owner of 777, (or rather, the occupant- if there was a landlord, they’d either been dismembered or made otherwise defunct a long time ago) was currently laid out on the couch, watching an old-timey show about cowboys when the loud ring rattled his eardrums. He sat up, long limbs running into each other like spaghetti in a pot before his hand curled around the phone and he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you…” There was a shuffling of papers. “Johnny C?” The voice sounded young.

“Is this the library- did you get my submission? Your voice is high-pitched, are you an intern? Selling your hours and youth for no pay is only killing your soul on the inside, you know. Although the library does provide the public with comic books, so I guess-”

“No, I’m not with the library. I live a little further in the city, and… I think we might be related? You might be my uncle, or something like that.” The kid’s voice quirked up the same way Johnny’s heart started doing a kickline with his lungs.

“You think?” Uncle. Uncle implied a sister or a brother. A family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of family, other than turning around the soaked marshmellow of his brain that revealed jackshit about who he was.

“Yeah, it’s a… really long story, but the short version is that I was rummaging around with my DNA, and your name was one of the few on file. The others were all dead ends.”

“In your DNA?” Okay, this kid was definitely fucking with him. Served him right for even thinking about hoping for a clue. “Right, and I’m the muffin man, running off and leaving his kids in a place called dreary lane. Seriously, who does that?”

“I promise this isn’t a prank, don’t hang up! Are you still living in 684 South?”

“No.” Was that his old address? It sparked recognition that then died smoking like a match in a tray of water. It was probably a good sign, though, unless this kid was a stalker.  “777 Offmain.”

“Okay. Can I… meet you at some point? I just want to get to know you. As a person. Like me. Okay, wow, this is coming out weird. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer.”

At that, Johnny cracked up. He ruffled a hand through his hair- he liked how the longer spikes flopped over his eyes. Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to hack it all off, not feel the grease and salt the congealed when he didn’t move long enough that his body made itself disgusting again, but then he just stuck a beanie on it and forgot all about it until the urge passed. He’d cut part of it off once and it had just sat in the kitchen for a… week? Time was funny.

“Well, we can’t both be, can we?”

“I’ll... man, my self-preservation instincts have really started going down the toilet since I started following an alien with an arsenal strapped to his back, but can I stop by tomorrow at around three?”

“Happy Friends is on at three. Make it four.”

“Alright! Sounds good. Gosh, this is exciting, I’ve never met any real family besides Dad- okay, that was oversharing. Oversharing’s bad, especially to strangers.”

“If we’re family, we’re not strangers.” Johnny’s grip on the phone tightened, and he could see the tendons and veins on the back. Hmm. Maybe he could pick up sculpting, see if he was ever any good at that. The human body was properly horrifying in mere existence.

“See you then- should I call you Johnny or what?”

“Johnny is fine for now, but if we really are related, I’ll go with Nny. So, how are we related anyways?”

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’ll click when we meet.”

“So, what’s your name, anyways?”

“Dib.” And with that, the line went dead and Johnny went to see if he could make anything good enough to hang up on the wall out of fingerpaints.

If his leg bounced and his chest felt vise-like, he blamed the coffee patches and the 30 hours of no sleep.

______________

Dib knocked on the door at 4:10. Johnny pulled it open, staring down at him.

“Geez, you got a water balloon pumped up inside your head or something?” He had really big glasses, the kind that said when he didn’t have them on he probably couldn’t see half a foot in front of his face without tripping over something. His skin was the same shade as Johnny’s, he was pretty sure, but he had some faint freckles. Duh, he was a kid, he probably had to go outside to go to school and stuff.

“Well, that could have been a better start.” The kid had a briefcase- what kind of kid had a briefcase? No kid that should have existed, kids should be dragging around teddy bears like Squee or grimy dolls filled with teething marks. Oh wait, he was holding out his non-briefcase hand. “I’m Dib. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but now I’m not so sure about that.” He craned his head. “Oh, wow. Your house is a mess but I’ve been in our living room when Gaz is on one of her marathons and this is only moderate compared to that. Did you try and paint your own walls?”

“Gaz? That’s a fun name. Who's she?”

“My- you know what? I’m not volunteering any more information until I get a little more on you besides your name and height. Looks like weight changed. Wow, you’re a stick.” Dib rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a wrapper with a big grinning mascot on it and handing it to Johnny. It was a chocolate protein bar. “You can have that one, I’ve got dozens.”

Johnny tore open the wrapper, stuffing half of it in his mouth. Damn, it was good, actually. Who would want a protein bar that tasted like sawdust when you could make it sweet? “So, is there any magical connection? I like the coat, though.”

Dib beamed. “Really? Everyone says it’s too much, but I say that there’s nothing like twirling around in a good coat and feeling the wind snap on the fabric when you run.”

“Oh, that is a good feeling. One of the best. Shame I can never keep mine, they always end up tossed to the void whenever something happens or I get particularly dramatic. It always feels excellent in the moment, but then you’re left with cold shoulders and regret for the strawberry grandma candy you left behind in the back pocket.”

“You know, I think I see the resemblance.” Dib said. “I’ve got your cheekbones, and nose. Maybe you’re my uncle? Do you know Professor Membrane?”

“That guy on tv? He’s kind of fun.” Johnny watched it when it was on sometimes.

“That’s my dad. I take it he’s not your brother if that was your reaction, though.”

“Dab-”

“Dib.”

“Dib. My head’s been shot to shit, both literally and figuratively. There’s scars on the back I don’t remember getting there. I had some serious garbage claw me up, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a brother from the easter bunny unless it slapped some chocolate eggs up my ass.” He ripped another portion of the bar off with his teeth.

Dib sagged a little. “Oh… Dad’s always been really tight-lipped about any other family. I hoped-”

Johnny swallowed the chunk of chocolate protein bar. “Look, I haven’t got the answers for any existential crisis you may be having. I’ve been through quite a few of my own, if we’re being honest. But I have some chips that are going stale and a TV that has colors that make your eyes bleed that tickles pretty feelings up your skull. I also haven’t left the house in five days. If you have anything interesting to say, we can talk about it over some cartoons.”

Dib perked up again at that. “You… want to listen to me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got loads! I love the paranormal, and some parts of math but not all of them, and also no one ever listens to me about the alien that goes to my school-”

“Alien? I’m curious, tell me more.”

Dib made a squeaking noise so strange Johnny wasn’t sure he hadn’t just had his organs spontaneously combust.  “Hey? Kid? Kid, I don’t wanna clean up another corpse already, I’m running out of trash bags.”

“You really- wait, another one?”

Johnny grabbed the knife in his belt- he’d nicked himself with it a dozen times but it was nice and convenient and he liked that. “Just a joke. I mean, kids like jokes, right? How old are you, nine?”

“I’m twelve!” Dib tugged at the bottom of his shirt. “Anyways, so there’s this alien named Zim, he is the biggest pain in my butt, and I don’t know if you remember when gravity stopped working for a bit a couple of weeks ago and everything started freaking out and going screwy, but that was him-”

“Oh, huh. I was wondering why I made footprints on the ceiling. I figured the squirrels did it.” Johnny said. “Do I have to worry about him destroying the world? Because I’m pretty sure earth is the only planet with slushie machines and it would be just criminal if the universe lost those. Shame you have to deal with people to use them, but everything has a price.”

“Apparently, aliens have slushie machines too, I’ve asked.” Dib said. “Well, I stole a couple of Zim’s files, and he orders alien versions of them with his shipments of food. But that’s not what matters, he’s trying to take over the- wait, you actually believe me?”

Geez, kid, slushies always mattered. “Sure. I got abducted on a Tuesday once. Stuck a couple of needles in me, but tossed me back down hard enough to fuck up my spine when I managed to eviscerate one. Wish I’d brought a camera, those guts looked delightful- and it was so clean! No blood, they had robot insides!”

Dib took half a step back. “Uh-”

“And it was blue, can you believe that? Like one of those crabs! The horsey ones- hey, maybe those were aliens too.”

Dib blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. A friend of mine has a theory like that anyways. So… what do you do?”

Johnny stared at him. “Whatever I want. I go to the movies, I eat stuff, I kill people.”

Dib’s mouth twitched before he started laughing. “Pffft, you’ve got such a straight face!”

“Just so you know, if you hear any screaming, don’t worry, they’re all restrained.”

“Right, right.” Dib settled down on the couch. “Oh, nice, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

Johnny settled down next to him. He knew how to talk to Squee- poor kid barely said a word most of the time. He really needed to help him be more confident. Maybe he could get him a hampster. Pets made people more responsible, right?

Then again, Nailbunny hanging on the wall said otherwise. Although that could just be him.

But this Dib kid, he didn’t really seem at all phased. Which was weird- weren’t you supposed to be nervous around strangers? Especially ones that had houses like his, with blood splattered on the walls and a noose tucked in the corner. Maybe that big head’s meaty brain was stuffed with stuff from the aliens instead of common sense, or just figured that the new weird skinny guy was just joking. Squee had first seen him with blood splattered all over. He hugged his legs to his chest, watching the kid pull out a laptop that looked real fancy. Maybe he was rich. Oh, right, if his dad was on tv he probably was.

“Anyway this is Zim- and this is a couple sketches I’ve made of him without his disguise. I’ve seen it, but the pictures keep getting destroyed because the universe really hates me.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.” Johnny said. “If there is anything looking over the Earth, it always picks a couple people to just dump dookie on, just for shits and giggles. It’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dib mumbled. “This is his little robot in a dog costume.”

“That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, not so much when he’s also got lasers attached to him.” Dib said. “He’s not as bad a Zim, though, mostly he’s just kind of dumb.”

Dib started rambling on about routines and habits and skin texture, and Johnny kind of checked out, preferring to run his eyes over Dib’s face. He was little, for a twelve year old- but then again, it wasn’t like Johnny spent a lot of time around twelve year olds. Or anyone. Dib's glasses slid down and he adjusted them twice in a few minutes without a pause. Listening to him was almost like putting on the radio in the background to distract from the car crashes outside and the nothingless and everythingness of being a human being. His voice was kind of whiny, but the crescendos in it with the tides of how emotional he got were almost like music.

“And then he started raving about how cloning is far superior to filthy human breeding, and that’s when I started getting curious about checking out the rest of my family.” Dib was breathing hard. He had a look on his face like he wasn’t used to being allowed to talk for that long. Frankly, Johnny agreed with the alien kid that the way people reproduced was utterly repulsive, but they’d come back around to why he’d let Dib in in the first place.

“Well, verdict?”

“Huh?”

Johnny held out his arms, one leg slipping off the couch while the other loosened so his heel rested on the edge of the couch cushion and his toe pointed up at the ceiling. “On me.”

“Well. You’re kind of weird, but I guess my whole family is like that.” Dib said. “And you actually do listen to me, which is a really nice change of pace.”

“It can get boring around here, and you’re not nearly as irritating as some other people can be. At least you ramble on about fun stuff.” Johnny shrugged just as there was a shriek from the stairs. Dib’s head whipped around.

“What was that?”

“A ghost, probably. Or I need to add more electricity to the guy from the church picnic...”

Dib set a hand on his forehead. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” He patted at his pocket, then seemed satisfied by whatever was inside. “Want me to exorcise it for you?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Alright, suit yourself but the offer is open.” Dib said. “You said you had TV?”

Johnny grabbed the remote. “What kind of idiot wouldn’t?”

Dib left about an hour later after laughing at the hokey acting on some soap opera, and Johnny realized he was in good enough of a mood that he whistled over the begging when he he slid his favorite knife through a man’s chest cavity and carved him open, collecting the viscera in a bucket.

He’d give the wall monster some organ meat to go with the coating, he decided. Give it a treat. And maybe he’d invite Dib over again sometime.

[theoryfan205]

This'll be my only she ra spoiler post so I can yell all my thoughts at once so if I've missed a spoiler tag please tell me immediately and I will add it. I'd add a read more but I'm on mobile so I cannot, to the post!

Am I the only one who wants to see what the real prince peekablue looks like? I'm guessing that double trouble was guessing with his appearance when they transformed into him since he hasn't been seen in years, is he dead? Guessing from the vague description of how long he's been missing I'd assume he's either dead or old, and how is he a seer anyway? Family magic? Or is like how entrapta has magic hair? Is it just because etheria is full of magic and so are it's residents?

I absolutely love how casual double trouble is when offhandedly mentioning half of the crowd is chipped while everyone else is surprised and shocked, also I want to see who's ship mermista burnt down, and speaking of what double trouble said

I feel a bit worried about horde primes relationship with catra, more specifically how he views her. As we've seen he did try to reach out to her via the chip after she escaped with Adora and double trouble said that he was angry because "she ra showed up and stole his little kitten away" was he angry because somebody broke away from his chip and because she ra was officially back or for some other reason? It just makes me worried.

As for horde prime I honestly wish he and entrapta had interacted more, she managed to decode and hack his stuff when she would of been considered a "lowly etherian" to him, that's gotta be something impressive worth noting, plus she kind of rivals horde primes whole thing of perfection as she fully believes that imperfection is beautiful and I'd really like to see more of them interacting

And I absolutely love wrong hordak, that name felt a little wrong to me though so I've given him the nickname hordac, it's like hordak but wrong, see what I'm getting at here? Anyway hordac/wrong hordak is baby and I want him to be the new leader of the clones if they're still going for a leader thing/staying together thing, I doubt hordak would be too happy about this other clone who's basically called wrong him so I wanna see those two interact

I'm really happy we found out what Grayskull was kinda, a rebellion! But that does make me wonder why she ra's activation phrase is "for the honour of Grayskull" when the sword was made by the non traitorous first ones, did the rebels choose that name because she ra was on their side? If so what was Grayskull before the rebels?

This is all I can think of so far so I'm leaving this post like this, and again if I missed a spoiler tag please tell me immediately so I can fix it

[mikiruma]

okay i'm snapping what the hell is saints row about. who's the dude with the giant titties you keep thirsting over and who's the mcdonalds emo. i need some answers bc i don't know shit.

ill edit this w a readmore bc it got Very wordy and im on mobile but i promise you. this series is a mess, i live for it, i could go ON abt it for days but this response was long enough fhwkfhejhfnd

1) so basically the premise in most of the games is like. you are a member (leader as of sr2) of a street gang (the third street saints!) and though the story is tweaked slightly for each installment, the overall goal is the same- control different neighborhoods in your city, squash the other gangs, be badass. i *call* it a grand theft auto clone but tbh i havent played gta, the gameplay's similar enough though. the first two games are more uhh... grounded? than the later 3? the plotlines are darker, deaths & events are more fucked up in a heavier/moral sense, etc etc. but the last 3 are way more silly i think. the entire series is kinda packed with crude/sexual humour and essentially responding to a punch with a flamethrower, but it goes over the top in the newer games which is.. why i always liked em lol.

but its just funny in general to think of the plot progression. oh i witness a gang war so im recruited in a gang whose current leader... wants to end gang violence. oh that leader tried to kill me and arrested/killed everyone else so i am going to go apeshit on this city until i find him and kill him back. oh somehow we are international celebrities and do crime as publicity stunts, i am gonna ask mayor burt reynolds to help us with this zombie invasion. oh now i am president of the united states, time to get the earth blown up by an alien warlord and do it with whats left of my gang every survivor plus an ai in a ball.

ive seen Some Shit abt the general timeline but tbh ive always tried to piece it together like. ok these games take place in/around whatever year they were released. besides sr4 which would be... 2019 if my math is correct? i just felt like mentioning that bc i am not touching any canon timeline

OH ALSO the main reason i even got into the series. i literally bought sr3 because of the character customization. the body mods could.... use a lot of work imo but what you can do for your protags face is BANANAS... and changing voice pitch in sr4 was fun too bc male 1 was ok for my boss but having it just a teensy bit higher REALLY made it

tldr; i cant help you there i am just along for this ride

2) im assuming you mean johnny gat not bc theres any competition but like. theres so many dudes like that in this game

his role is actually pretty consistent in that he stays a lieutenant, and hes one of the rare characters (besides. the protag i think?) who's been in every single game. he's the designated badass of the saints and is really good at coming up with plans that involve lots of guns or blowing stuff up. if i typed everything i liked abt him right now this post would be a mile long but trust me he is an excellent man, even tho he might be the scariest motherfucker ever and i probably would be afraid of him irl, he fully deserves that. hes loyal to the saints and his boss which i absolutely respect. still bitter abt sr3 "killing" him bc cmon. he cannot die. does that count in the spoiler? its the literal first mission after u customize your character so i dont think so// whatever ive been posting untagged spoilers for the other games bc theyve been out for a decade

3) IM STILL LOSING MY MIND OVER THAT SJSDHADDHSI mcdonalds emo.... thats his legal name now....

but seriously matt miller is like. one of my fav characters from sr3. he's the leader of one of the rival gangs, the deckers, and they specialize in hacking & money laundering and stuff like that. matt specifically is 16 in his debut game which is really funny to learn bc imagine being a ballsy ass kid repeatedly nae naeing the us government because you can.

anyway i like him bc instead of killing the other gang leaders like usual, u just fight him in a vr world and ur both sick ass dragons and he decides "actually i dont wanna go brain dead. ill give u either weapons or car discounts" then he fucks off back to england. then it lets him come back for sr4 and yall are friends now :D yes yall tried to kill each other but whats past is past. i would be his friend irl honestly hes great. also im still firm on the autistic matt train bc of how often he shares his love for nyte blayde & im WEAK over the boss eventually getting into it as well

[suckonthesefanfics]

Handsome Jack gets fucked, chapter two and two.

Jack power-walked out of his office, passing by the desk-jockeys and boarding the elevator to a floor where he could get ahold of his best scientist, Naki-whats-his-name. Perhaps he could get to the bottom of this whole affair if he figured out who in his inner-circle might’ve hacked his DM’s in order to expose his tiny dick energy.

Nakayooma would surely be a good enforcer for vetting out some of the likely candidates. If Jack remembered right, it was this guy who was currently in charge of some discrete projects like project toned-body-double. That project was an effort to create an exact clone of himself just in case of the super unlikely scenario where Jack would be assassinated or a similar national disaster.

The criminally-attractive CEO took the elevator down and pushed some kid with a stack of papers out of his way, sending documents cascading all around as the four-eyed accountant collapsed.

“Yeah, you’re gonna wanna pick those up.” Jack ordered, not bothering to turn around.

He entered Nikiplumas lab, becoming exposed to a small squeal of joy  as he did so. Nukacola emerged from behind a computer in the corner and approached his boss with careful but excitable shuffling steps.

“Jack! Great to see you! I’ve made so much progress on the AI!” The thin man screeched.

Jack didn’t really like interacting with this guy because of his extremely obvious and frightening obsession with him. But hey, could he really blame Nagasaki for falling balding head over heels for a complete dreamboat? No, it was just a symptom of living life as a complete winner.

“Listen, Negasonic, I need you to do one thing for me while i’m on leave for a bit. Keep a close eye on your R&D leaders, kay? Report back anything suspicious, anything at all. Think you can handle that for a couple days?”

Nipplesack blinked.

“Uh, Yeah! Jack I-”

“Oh that was more of a rhetorical question. You have to handle it because if I end up having to sic Wilhelm on someone that I find out even twitched an eyebrow weird at the mention of me, I’ll have make room for two in the airlock. Alright?”

Jack said, slapping a firm hand on neckwad’s shoulder. NerpleJinx swallowed hard and opened his mouth to respond only to be interrupted once more.

“Cool, glad to know I can count on you. And ah, I can’t really talk, gotta go. Life as a powerful CEO is a little demanding.” Jack finished as he released Nutsplash and turned on his heel to get the hell out of dodge before Nakayama found the will to speak once more.

[applecherry108]

first of all hooooooooolyyyy shiitttt

FUCK tungle. it took like 30 tries to log in on desktop. admittedly, i was using the wrong password at first, BUT, even when i remembered the right one it kept giving me shit. This is what i get for being L337 i guess... -_-

anyways, im only on desktop so i can add a readmore to say:

i just,,,,,hate voltron. okay? It sucked. it fucking sucked. i watched the first season and it was like, okay yeah, this has potential. and then s2 was like, okay yeah not as good but maybe s3 will pick up...

s3 didn’t pick up. it was just one long death spiral by the same idiots who fucked up the atla sequel. i hate their writing, i hate their story plots, i hate how they butcher any good ideas they have, and i especially hate their inability to have good character AND plot development happen at the same time.

I got swept up in storm of klance and that’s about it. i have soft spots for other ships but at the end of the day i don’t care. i just don.t fucking,,, care???

the fandom is a mess, the crew was a mess, everything was a fucking mess from the get go.

Like who tf is this show written for?? it has to be for like, 8-10 year olds. It has to be. Everything is just so....stupid. Nothing is ever properly explained, motivations never really given, everyone is just a 2 dimensional cardboard cutout of a trope. And that pisses me off so much bc like??? other shows aimed at young kids can still have great world building. they can have good world building and characters and overall story and still be cheesy and a lil dumb. cheesy and a lil dumb is completely fine!! but voltron is just so...godammn... BORING!! it’s like i WANT to like the characters but its just so goddamn hard when everybody is so fucking flat. by all rights, i should want to marry allura. shes everything i loved when i was little, from her color pallet to her princesshood to her white fucking hair!! i should LOVE allura but i don’t!! i kind of hate her. why?? i don’t know!! shes so...boring! and flat! and fucking PASSIVE! everything in this show lands so fucking flat holy shit.

pidge at matts “grave”? yikes, that was second hand hard to watch for like.... “oooh this is so serious!” but the buildup wasnt there...it was kind of funny tbh... and HELLA awkward...

don’t get me started on lance and hunk. bolin was my favorite look character for the first few episodes and then he got knocked to Comic Relief and had maybe two (2) importantish moments. he/they may be part of the main cast but they’re not main characters. they feel like background props to the Actual Main characters.

which brings me to keith.

FUCK keith.

that’s my reaction after every! new! season!! is just,, FUCK keith. god the show functioned SO WELL without him. he’s just so...idk. i also don’t care. what was his character arc anyway? it SHOULD have been about learning to love and trust others but we only get that in lip service and speed run character development (i hate the quantum abyss...so much... like yeah, who cares about SHOWING our characters mature, let’s just tell that it happened in afucking montage.) if keith were a properly developed character he shouldve remained PASSIONATE and idk, run support?? that boy SHOULD have piloted red, end of story. period. keith doesn’t need to lead he needs to learn to TRUST others and that insludes trusting other WITH HIS LIFE. i won’t rant about how we should have had black paladin lance, but keith should have never ever been black paladin. even after he “matures” he still sucks at. he’s this awful,,little,, Shiro 2.0. and I hate it. i ahte it and i hate shiro just a little bit. even though he was arguably the most likeable character, he shouldve stayed dead. or missing. or whatever. he didn’t need to come back and they didnt need to make keith a little offbrand clone of him. i ESPECIALLY hate that they aged keith up 2 years for no goddamn reason other than to make him the Adult (tm). keith’s dedication to others was gre4at, but it should have, and im failing for this word here so forgive me, climaxed? cresscendo’d? whatever. /resulted/ in him playing support. not leader. lone wolf keith doesn’t need how to lead his pack, he needed to learn to HELP his pack. to be a TEAM PLAYER. he didn’t want the responsibility of leading bc guess what?? some people hate leading!! there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be support! keith’s entire arc is a huge mess of missed opportunities and a grand illustration that he is lm’s and jds’ favorite, just like fucking mako.

i won’t rant about mako, but just know i fucking hate him and the special treatment he gets, and good LORD does keith take over mako. keith isn’t space zuko he’s space mako and it fucking SHOWS.

okay, i’m losing steam here, but like.... so apple, why tf where u voltron 24/7 if you hated it so much? because homestuck was over and i needed a new hyperfixation. and i really had to force it for vld tbh. and at the end of the day, it wasn’t so much about the show itself as the potential of klance (or sheith, up until s3). between the interviews, the coding, the fucking EVERYTHING--it really felt like it could be canon. i knew in my heart it was queer baiting but i had HOPE dammit. hope that this could be killer representation, hope that these characters would delvelopment into something incredible. again, there was so much POTENTIAL. and all of it was wasted. everything really came to a head during the fucking game show episode. it was like lm and lds giving everyone who likes lance the middle finger, really driving home that “no no, he IS just stupid. he’s the comic releif. there’s nothing deeper about him and no one will stand up for him bc they all think of him as such.” and that just....broke my heart. we were so...SO close to lance actually mattering but nope! bolin’d again! and what was his purpose in s8? why to be an accessory to allura of course!

i’ve seen a lot of people really divorce themselves from canon and live solely for fanon, esp fanon klance but like.... i can’t. i just can’t. it’s so fucking hard to work with these cardboard characters. you can only draw so much depth onto them, you know? until the very last moments they had potential, but then it all got snuffed out. but who cares about canon? why bother with it? because! we don’t have a solid consistent fanon version of them! no one sat down and delivered the ten commandments of “here’s what we agree k and l are actually like” it’s stupid and it sucks because everyone has their own little differences and its so so tiring to basically be interacting with minutely different ocs all the goddamn time. canon matters bc it gives everyone the same base to work with. like a cooking showing with the same basket ingredients, but now it’s like.... ya’ll don’t wanna use the mandatory ingredients (and why would you? those canon ingredients are like, a century egg and spoiled sardines, they’re awful.)

okay, and im at work and just came back to this and dont remember my train of thought so like... what really threw all this into sharp clarity was the recent steven universe episodes. they were so...GOOD. so fucking good. so much plot and foreshadowing coming to a head. it was such a wonderfully satisfying payoff that it made me remember what a GOOD show is like, how vld is so very very /bad/. the difference is fucking striking. where one is an intricately woven tale with excellent character development and clear story AND character arcs, that can progress AT THE SAME TIME, one is a hacked together flaming dumpster firing that constantly falls flat and doesn’t know where its going or why. and it s so BORING! like fight scenes can be amazing! they can be well coreographed and tense! and we as the audience can be anxious about the outcome! and vld just wasn’t that! it was boring repetetive action in the least exciting way. and where su set up a lot of potential, holy shit they DELIVERED on that potential. not just for rep, but for characters! for story! for plain ol simple character interactions! and then, again, two dimensional cardboard cutouts.

and now with this difference in good vs bad show so very clearly highlighted for me, i just.... i can’t, anymore, with vld. it sucks. it sucked and i can’t pretend or force a fixation with it that just isn’t there, and truthfully, probably never was. maybe that’s why i’ve been struggling to finish my fic, struggling ever since i posted the last chapter, ever since s7, which, again, that game show was really the nail in the coffin as far as holding onto any hope that this tire fire would ever pick up. like a physically feel ill trying to finishing this stupid fic bc i don’t care so hard. i don’t care and i just... really want to be over it. im sick of seeing it everywhere, im sick of the drama, of the Discourse. like all fandoms have their issues, but hold fuck does vld fandom have a massive Purity problem. like, god, let people ship whatever. who cares. die mad about it.

like homestuck, idk if i’ll ever fully ween myself off vld but i want to move on. i want to enjoy Other Things without having this lackluster weight on my shoulders. and more than anything, i want to stop feeling like im obligated to like the same shit as i did two years ago, or last year, or hell, last week! feel free to unfollow, but yeah i just.... really needed to let this out in a proper post and not in the misc tags somewhere.

[tumblunni]

Miscellaneous thoughts for the 'dark pokemon' game

* it could be cool as an actual hack of firered or something, but it seems that would require more coding knowledge than using apps like rpgmaker. Also there's that kit to make pokemon games in rpgmaker but it only worked for the really old rpgmakers and now its got copyright claimed by nintendo so its not really an option. Itd be easier to make this game in the latest rpgmaker cos its not really an outright pokemon fangame but more of a general mons genre thing that could have different gameplay if i wanted it to.

* or would it work better as an actual pokemon prequel thing? Like 'kanto was actually all dark like this back in ye ancient times' and have a bunch of prehistoric/caveman/400AD/whatever time period forms of pokemon or something? But thatd give me less creative freedom with the idea, yeah

* Not sure if your mons should talk or not? One of the initial inspirations i had for this was the underrated gem Swordcraft Story where your four starter monsters are more like a choice of sidekick! They dont actually fight, they just provide a huge different set of dialogue commenting on everythibg that happens, and its fab! But then the game kinda woukdnt have the collectable aspect and i feel that the long journeys between towns would get boring if theres no incentive to battle enemies. And long journeys between towns is kinda a big plot point and thematic aspect of this idea.

* Also i kinda wanna do Cute Pet Game Gameplay as a fun way of stepping away from the pure pokemon formula. And that'd perhaps be a bit weird if your pet can talk? I dunno? Well maybe itd be more like those baby raising games. But i had a separate idea for literally a monster baby raising game so itd be good to not overlap, lol. Wish i knew how to actually do touchscreen petting type stuff in rpgmaker, i mean its on pc so theoretically you should be able to do an equivalent with the mouse? Maybe try and cheat my way into it with my minimal programming knowledge by basically making a "map" where all the tiles are pieces of this one image of a monster, and then you walk over it to select where to pet...? I dunno lol! Anyway bonding with your mons is VITALLY IMPORTANT TO THE EVERYTHING so i need to DEEPLY THINK ABOUT IT. deeply deeply contemplate huggin some babbu

* maybe the game's title could be something like dark walk/journey/stroll/whatever's a good synonym? Cos the whole 'monster tamers are cursed and must walk the earth forever in search of somewhere to belong'

* i'm not sure how to handle the beginning? Cos of the whole aspect of starting off looking like a cliche poke-clone and then slowly revealing the deep dark lore during the tutorial segments. So we'd sorta have to skip/abridge the day of our hero leaving their village, in order to not spoil it. And have a flashback later on at the most dramatic moment! But that means itd be awkward to give you the selection of starter monster? So i dunno maybe do like kingdom hearts and have a surreal dreamworld opening segment? The protagonist is having a nightmare about that day they had to leave their family behind, and everything can be just as vague and confusing as the plot needs it to be. You cpuld be some sort of vague faceless shadow until you decide your gender, and etc? (Protagonist: wait why did i dream i couldnt remember i was a dude)

* oh and maybe you can choose a custom gemstone for your monster summoning pendant thing! Cos if its gonna be one singular thing instead of consumeable pokeballs, itd kinda suck if you had no choice which one thing youre stuck with for the whole game. Or maybe it could change but itd be more like it evolves as well as the monsters? Start off with one design and it has multiple final forms depending on your moral choices during your playthrough. Oh, or if you choose it at the beginning, maybe it somehow affects your starter mon? Like the simplest idea would just be that each starter mon has its own pendant to live in. But what if the pendant choices were elements and then the starter mon is like a vessel to imbue with it? Like you get three designs that are..i dunno, attack defense and speed? And they each have a fire water or grass form, for a total of 9 unique mon options! That way i could keep it limited to three personalities to write, if i go with the idea of the mons being able to talk. But still have a lot more free choice! Oh or maybe its not even 3 elements but 9 elements? Like the three options change depending on the base mon. Attack mon can be fire, electric or darkness but defense mon can be something entirely else. Or maybe have overlap so there's at least two choices for each element but nobody has the same entire three elements? Im bad at math tho so i cant figure outhow to arrange that to make it work...how many elements wpuld i need...?

* maybe you could choose your rival's gender as well as the protagonist? Thatd be neat if they also looked different in every playthrough. I mean the variety of starters would encourage replays so we wanna have some other stuff that changes too. And if you could choose rival gender then it wouldnt be limited to the "always the opposite gend so thus heterosexuality" sort of thing. Oh and maybe what if other characters had potential smaller changes? Like your family members having similar skin and hair colours, or you have a single parent but whether theyre a mum or a dad depends on what you picked? Or if i cpuld figure out some other more gameplayish things that i could give replay value to? Like maybe you actually have a choice of what town to go to at each point in the story, and you cant revisit the other one without replaying that chapter? And your team options would be wildly different depending on which journey you took, so itd be a nicely large difference! Tho maybe make it so that most mons are still all available on each playthru, its just that some would appear early if you made a certain choice but be at the very end of the game if you chose differently. Oh and maybe the champion would be different depending on your choices!!! Like if you complete certain sidequests you might have just added a new candidate to the potential final boss roster! Itll be whoever's your bestest bestie by the end! Tho i mean with this different setting there isnt really a league or a champion so id just have to think of some other climactic ending thing, lol.