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connorhasaknife · 2 years

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big theorypost for episode 3 of hunter the parenting

there was a lot in this episode! goddamn, not even just for d either. i have a lot of stuff for d, kitten and potential foreshadowing from pyotr. specifically pyotr, there's some cool stuff there that i've been thinking about. schizoposting commence BIG D more fuel to the idea that the credits sword/d's sword is a title being manifested in the fact that he clearly summons it and desummons it in the episode, and the fact that he does nothing which lines up with the legend thing

also lol get shat on idiot

where did his sword go? where did it go. it was flung in this direction. where is it. where is it dont have much else for d this episode other than that nothing contradicts the theory. it isnt less plausible, but it does only get a little bit more plausible unless ive missed things. there'll probably be shit next episode there is also the fact that he doesn't seem to know how to use an icepack- or, alternatively, he was a beast-like changeling that finds chewing on it comforting? it would line up with how he deformed last episode, but i've been considering a d fairie custodes characters (krakus, potentially waamudes and custodisi) changeling thing which might work. We'll See! KITTEN

byeah kitten is a werecat check THIS shit out

he's punched by a vampire who just committed diablerie and he's like, completely fine, which would make sense if he's a werecat considering how massively powerful shapechangers are in wod.

here's kitten with clear back hair. you may say connor those are blur lines you do animation you should know this WRONG idiot, the next few frames confirm it isn't as he uh

he's either a bastet or the worlds most dedicated catboy.

also, his 'hissing' is translated, which would make SENSE considering that bastet have a language that sounds like animal noises but is, like.. speech. i say bastet but i mean every shapechanger ever. now that we've clarified that kitten is a bastet, what does this mean? wouldn't he be hunted by the team? WRONG

before i ramble about what this means, i first need to clarify something. bastet come in tribes- most tribes are built around big cats, like lions and tigers. kitten clearly isn't one of those. even in this more catlike form, he's still very small compared to what you would expect from a bastet of any other tribe. he also lives in europe, alongside a fae.

the ceilician are a commonly thought extinct tribe of bastet. commonly found in europe, they allign themselves closely with the fae- they are smaller and weaker than most other tribes of bastet, but are exceptionally fast, intelligent and skilled with blades. due to their close proximity with fae and fae-aligned creatures, most ceilicians are skilled with some form of magic. they're also unusually skilled with computers... mmmmyeaaah but im sure it means nothing the more i theorise about this the more i feel like i'm losing iiit aaaaaaaaaaaa PYOTR

firstly; pyotr put kitten in the Shovelhead Hole to turn him. like almost certain about this, he even implies he's going to kill kitten (by turning him). pyotr horny moment

in the eyecatcher its explained how the sabbat crew got embraced. pyotr, the nosferatu and scrungly meow meow, got embraced during a deep sea mining operation. a nosferatu being embraced. underwater the concept of antediluvians is a muddled one, particularly in old world of darkness where everything has been retconned and where original books are hard to come across. what IS concrete though is the relationships that certain bloodlines (hah) have with their antediluvians. it's always absolutely awful, like completely without fail. for example, the malkavians were driven mad and are essentially waiting for malkav to eat their consciousness and assume control of their bodies. the nosferatu have a particularly bad relationship- to make a long story short (let me know if you want me to explain the lore in another post lmfao) the nosferatu antediluvian wants to kill every single nosferatu for being ugly and ruining his reputation. he's enlisted a group of nosferatu to hunt down and kill every remaining member of the clan. he can't do this himself, because he's sleeping like every other antediluvian. he's currently sleeping at the bottom of the pacific ocean, according to the gehenna (vampire apocalypse) sourcebook.. where, uh pyotr was embraced, apparently? why was a nosferatu EMBRACED down there??? of all things he should have died, what the fuck was the sabbat doing too? something fishy is going on here. maybe he was recruited to kill off a group of nosferatu, but that makes.. less sense? i don't know. something's going on there but i dont know what because i'm stupid.

also he ended up dying because he diablerised everyone, lol. eat shit enjoy the extra souls in hell pissboy

yeah thats it for now. let me know if anyone has anything else to add. loving how the werecat theory actually ends up helping the d fairie theory. if any of the ogre poppenang staff is stalking the tag ily so much babygirl please canonise my theory <3 tysm

#hunter: the parenting #htp #h:tp #hunter the parenting #alfabusa #theories

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

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Lemon and Ginger and All That

@hannahs-creations very kindly provided a random four word prompt to make into a drabble. Thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took a hot minute to write <u<;;

I hope you enjoy this little scene ^u^ Feedback is appreciated!

Prompt: vitality, manage, fluster and gleefully

Words: 1768

Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (Briefly), and Mella

Chaotic didn’t cover the state of the 6pm Café. Freddy’s promotion idea went over so well last fortnight, people were practically lining up to see what they’d do to the menu this time. The apple and elder-flower brew did not disappoint. Perfectly refreshing in the warming days of early spring, with a gentle aroma that transported you to the countryside, apple picking with your gran. Light, crumbly, pastries and tiny finger sandwiches sold almost as quickly as they were prepared. Every time a happy customer left, two more would arrive. That may be a little dramatic. It certainly felt like facing the hydra of the food industry at least. Marcos and Freddy were run off their feet greeting customers, taking orders, brewing tea, selling dry blends, answering questions, transporting food, and trying to squeeze in spot cleans. Uncle Antonio hopped between the register and the kitchen, saving Leroy from the flood of demands.

What terrible timing for Whitney to have to skip out. Although she complained about it, she lived for the busy days like today. She loved to get lost in the hustle, while still managing to find a sense of order and co-ordinating the boys. Marcos had never seen anyone more determined not to take a sick day. When the first thing Whitney did that morning was bolt to the bathroom to re-evaluate dinner, it was clear there was no avoiding it. Regardless of how it went down, the result was the same. Whitney was stuck at home while the boys played the service edition of the floor is lava. (Or would that be the customers?)

Marcos’ mind was a blur of orders and customers, but he didn’t let himself lose track of time. As soon as the hour ticked over, he tagged out. Of course, he checked that Freddy and Uncle Antonio could manage without him first. Not wasting a second more of his lunch break, he slipped into the backroom, tore off his uniform, replacing it with a change of clothes he’d prepared earlier, and was gone.

The walk to their house was made significantly faster by running. Marcos was at the painted off-white door in record time. The plan to catch his breath while he fiddled with his pockets looking for his key met a hitch when he couldn’t locate it. Briefly panicking that he’d left it at the café, Marcos tried to calculate how long it would take to run back to get it, would that take too long? It didn’t fall out while he was running did it?? He’d have to go and find it before someone else did. Should he just risk waking Whitney and asking her to let him in? Ah but she won’t get better if she’s no- wait a minute. There it is. False alarm. Fishing the key out of the depths of its fabric prison, Marcos let himself in as quietly as possible. If he was careful, he should be able to avoid the creaky floorboards.

“I cab ‘ear ‘ou.”

Never mind. He followed Whitney’s raspy croak to the living room, still mindful to tread lightly. She was huddled on the couch, cocooned with blankets and half draped over the arm of the chair. Mella, taking the role of mother hen, sprawled over Whitney’s tracksuit clad legs, incubating her just in case folding herself into cotton origami wasn’t enough. Fever was obvious, painted over Whitney’s sweaty face, interrupted occasionally by loose strands of hair. She hadn’t even bothered to tie it back. Even in illness, she was an over-achiever.

“Were you asleep?” He tired to keep his voice soft despite its gravelly texture. Judging by the way the radio was on, but turned down to its lowest possible volume, she probably had a headache. He wondered briefly if she was resenting her rabbit hearing at the moment.

Whitney shook her head, waving his worries off. “I was ju- uh- aacho!” Another balled up tissue in the over-stuffed bin. “I was jus’ dyin’g apparendly. No, I was listenig do the mid-day stories. Whab are ‘ou doin’g ‘ere?” Mella whined and wiggled closer to Whitney’s flushed face. She was supposed to be resting!

Marcos shrugged. “I got you some tea. Give me a second, I’ll make it for you. It’s called, uh, ‘Vitalitea’ and it’s got lemon and ginger and all that. Should hopefully make you feel better.” It couldn’t make her any worse at least. Red eyes and streaming nose, it was almost painful to see her so far from her bubbly self.

Whitney had always been good at reading people. Just because she was unwell didn’t mean she couldn’t see the crease setting into Marcos’ forehead. He was always so busy worrying about others. The demand he not pity her fell away to the realisation of what he’d said.

“You cabe back jusd ‘o bake tea?”

“No. I’ll get you some lunch too.” He wandered off to the kitchen to get started, entirely missing the touched shock he left her in. According to his calculations, he was still on track even after stalling to get into the house. The majority of making food was just waiting for the tea to brew. It took next to no time to make a sandwich or boil water. While the tea was brewing, he grabbed a brush and a hair tie, returning to the sick bunny.

Seeing her face a tiny bit more flushed made his stomach twist. Was it really okay for her to stay here alone?

“Can you sit up? I’ll put your hair up since I’m here.”

Whitney sighed dramatically but wiggled her way to a sitting(ish) position, much to Mella’s disapproval. “Leab me here to die. I’b not lon’g for thid worlb.”

“Nah, I think we’ll save ya Cottontail. You know Freddy and me’ll be lost without ya at the café.” He chuckled, combing the brush through her long, long, hair. She tried not to think about how his breath tickled her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

“I tolb ‘ou nod do call be that.” She huffed. Her mock anger easy to see through. It she’d really wanted him to stop, he would have done so immediately. “You’re righbt tho. You do neeb me. Who else can stob Fred’dy frob gleefully bestering beople on dates?”

“He’s not even here and you’re picking on ‘im?”

“I’b allobed to. It’s by twind given righbt.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Marcos’ hands worked quickly, twisting the strands into a roughly uniform braid. Whitney may have preferred a bun, but that just wasn’t in his skill set yet. As he worked, his own auburn curls wiggled loose. The ponytail must’ve come undone on his way over. He probably should just cut the shaggy mane, but he liked the feeling of it brushing his skin.

Whitney released her arm from the blanket burrito to playfully tug a strand. “You’re kinba a bess. Whab did ‘ou do, rub the whole bay?”

“Yup.”

His steady gaze caught her off guard. “Waib, really?” Whitney’s pink cheeks shifted much closer to a shade of red, causing Marcos’ brow to furrow. It didn’t help that she only seemed to heat up more when he pressed his hand to her forehead. She must’ve been really unwell, even her usually pale rabbit ears were tinted rose.

“Hold on. I think your tea should be ready.” He vanished back into the kitchen, retying his hair as he went.

The butterflies in Whitney’s brain were certainly just sickness making her dizzy. Nothing else. Mella stared at her. Judgementally. It wasn’t her fault her dumb heart was fluttering. Her pop rock pulse was obviously not her buzzing with giddiness. Of course she didn’t have a crush on Marcos. It didn’t matter how thoughtful he was, or how he made her feel special and appreciated with no ulterior motive. His gentle presence was just a part of him being Marcos. Falling for that would just be… well, it would be… Okay. She couldn’t lie to herself. Frog toes. It wasn’t the plague she’d managed to contract that made her face glow when he touched her. His concerned expression flashed across her mind. The tiny tilt of his scruffy eyebrows, the amber that almost glowed against the dark lines that always seemed to line his eyes, the way he looked at her. Oh dear, she melted into a goopy mess. Stars Above, she had Feelings for the scraggly hare. She had to compose herself. Pondering whether he felt something for her too would have to wait until he was gone. Working herself into a fluster was less than ideal. Upon the realisation, Mella smiled at her, in the way dogs do. If Whitney didn’t know better, she’d think Mella could read her mind. Why was she being so cocky? As if she figured it out first! Whitney’s mental rambling was interrupted by Marcos bringing in her lunch.

“Here. I put honey in the tea. It’s s’posed to be good for sore throats? Mum used to do that for me, honey and milk I mean. Should help you too.” His ears twitched self-consciously. Sure it was common knowledge that honey was a good soother, but he still felt the need to explain himself. Maybe because Whitney almost always preferred not to sweeten her teas and he hadn’t forgotten that. Whitney smiled, still too pink for his liking, thanked him and took a sip, evaporating his worries.

“There’s some medicine if you need it, and a bottle of water for later, y’know, so you don’t have to get up again… I’ve gotta head now or I’ll be late back. You gonna be okay?”

“I’b a big girl, I’ll be okay.” She took another sip. “Than’gs fo’ this. I abbreciate ib.”

“Not a problem. Just focus on betting better.”

“Oh byeah, before you go, there’s somb faze wibes in by roob. Take theb with you to geb rib ob the sweat. You brobably smbell.” To make certain she wasn’t being overly sincere, she poked her tongue at him.

“’course I do. I’m healthy so I can still breathe through my nose.” Marcos grabbed the wipes and darted out of the door before he had to face her faux fury.

It took a sprint, but he made it back to the café with just enough time to clean up and get re-dressed. He was tired as anything and had forgotten about his own lunch in the process of it all, but still found a spring in his step for the rest of the day. It was nice to think he might’ve made her feel a little better.

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@inkovert and @snobbysnekboi

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