#and replicating people’s voices or likeness? TERRIBLE

[titsthedamnseason]

i’m truly making the most out of my one last day with ai fortnight before we get the real thing and i never think about it again

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You Part 2

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: I'm so happy so many people seem to like this so far! I hope you all enjoy this part 2! Now I'm gonna get back to working on my inbox. I'm loving the requests I'm seeing come in so feel free to keep sending them in! ❤️ And as I said in the preview I tend to write Alastor from more of a demisexual lenses since it's on the ace spectrum and I also largely consider myself demisexual if that helps to know for this.

Link to part 1 is right HERE.

Alastor is a planner. Always has been and likely always will be. He has different plans and scenarios for almost every occasion, and has backup plans for most any issue he could ever encounter. Suffice to say, it made him a terrible person to try and out maneuver. But it was especially difficult when you weren't even aware of the game of chess he was playing.

So he does what he does best, plan. It's easier to focus on the goal of ensnaring you instead of really analyzing his own complicated feelings. He starts small, not wanting to throw you off too harshly. It had to be subtle. He starts doing things that wouldn't…necessarily be odd, considering his personality, but they're still things he hasn't really done before. 

Such as pulling your chair out for you when you go to sit down. It's not too odd. A gentlemanly thing to do. But he can tell from the look on your face that you're struggling to remember if this is a new behavior or if he's always done it and you just never noticed.

He went out of his way to accompany you when possible, more so than usual. Especially if it was into a less desirable part of town. But still, nothing changes. It honestly vexes him because he doesn't even quite know how he fell for you, so he couldn't even attempt to replicate it to make you fall for him in turn. 

Perhaps subtle was the wrong way to go? Perhaps he should be a little more…forward? 

He again starts small, not wanting to startle you, but it seems it does regardless. In hindsight him reaching for you first instead of the other way around was certainly something novel and new, so it made sense it surprised you the first few times he placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked, a gesture of affection, protection, and possession all at once.

He would almost wonder if he was doing something wrong if he hadn't seen that delightful little dusting of pink across your cheeks each time he does it.

It's then he realizes that due to his….general nature and lack of romantic relationships, that you're likely trying to justify all of his actions as extremely friendly rather than the subtle flirtations he meant them to be.

Which annoyed him until a hint of mischief crossed his face with a realization. If you thought he was just being extraordinarily friendly…he could perhaps be even…more bold without fully showing you his hand yet.

Yes, he could certainly have fun with that.

He's thinking later on that day about how he could torment you with his affections when he passes by the library and sees you struggling, quite poorly, to reach a book. 

His grin grows imperceptibly wider as he silently approaches behind you. He weighs his options on how he should go about it and eventually decides to lean over, until his lips are almost flush to your ear.

“Do you need any help mon cœur?” He almost purrs in your ear and he has to admit there is a certain thrill and exhilaration unlike what he's used to feeling, when you jump from how close his voice is. 

“A-Alastor! I…I didn't realize you were there.” You managed to squeak out as you felt his claws rest on the crook of your waist. The proximity, touch, and whispered voice is clearly a lot for you since he can see your blush has even spread to the tips of your ears. 

How cute. He wonders what other parts of you can so plainly show your feelings because of him? Ah but he's losing focus now.

“Oh, my apologies. How rude of me not to greet you! Hello there.” He hasn't moved his mouth an inch, his voice brushing against you like velvet as he speaks. As soon as he does actually greet you, one of his hands captures yours and brings it to his lips, and he's  able to hear the slight hitch in your breath as he does so. It's certainly a sound he's quickly become a fan of, that he wants to hear over and over again. He once again allows his mind to wander for just a moment on other ways he could have you make that sound for him. But then he's focused once more, his hand dropping yours and snatching the book you appeared to be reaching for with ease before leaning back down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what you needed mon cœur?” He continues to drawl sweetly in your ear as he repeats the pet name that still manages to make you flush and fidget nervously despite not knowing what the hell he was even saying. He noticed the pet names seemed to make you feel some type of way when they were French, even though he's called you darling and dear and various other things in English more than a few times. But no matter. He doesn't really care about the reasoning behind it, just excited he has another tool in his arsenal to ensure you turn your gaze to him instead of some pathetic sinner that thought they had a chance with you. He can feel his ears flatten slightly in agitation at the mere thought, but thankfully you're unable to see in your current position so he gives nothing away.

He sees he isn't the only one to get lost in his thoughts, since you haven't responded yet, and he's oh so curious to know what is going on in that head of yours. But another time. For now he was making such progress, he feels.

His chuckle in your ear is dark and low, but warm like honey before his voice rings out again, laced with amused curiosity.

“Mon cœur?”

You snap to attention at that, as if just remembering he was even there.

“Y-Yep! That's the book! Thank you!” 

The little stutter was cute, he admits. Especially when he knows he caused it. But he thinks this is enough for now, to help lead your mind down less…platonic roads. The idea was to have you approach him, to maintain that illusion of control. Like you thought of it, and approached him and he'll pretend to entertain the idea before giving it a shot.

But it's fine you were taking a while to grow the courage. He was a very patient man, and the way he was clearly driving you up the wall with his back and forth actions was certainly entertaining enough in the meantime.

“Glad to be of service!” His normal radio host cadence was back again as he pulled away, his touch leaving you entirely, and he's sure it leaves a cold spot in his absence that he's sure you notice, since he can feel the same sharp contrast of the lack of warmth on him from where you're no longer touching.

He seems so cheerful and carefree that it almost makes you wonder if you had hallucinated this whole interaction. But by the time you spin around to talk to him, he's already gone. But even from the shadows he can see the way your flushed face and wide eyes search the room for him, hand over your heart as if you could will your heartbeat to slow. He's certain you must be feeling a sense of whiplash from the drastic change in demeanor and he watches as you lean back against the shelves, holding the book and shaking your head a moment.

“I feel like I'm going crazy…” He watched you mutter and it only made him smile more. So his actions were effective after all. You were just trying very hard to be respectful and polite to him since you knew his nature so well…an endearing gesture that just made him want to sink his claws even deeper into you. 

Knowing his actions affect you just emboldens him further. When you share coffee the next morning with him and the two of you chat, tucked away in whatever room seemed to strike your fancy that day, he notices you seem to be avoiding his eyes, your head tilted down.

He tuts a moment, putting his coffee down and using one claw to tilt your head upward to face him, using his other hand to brush your hair away from your face to stop obscuring his attempts to look at you.

“There we are. Much better.” He smiles brightly at you, even as he sees the crimson rush to your cheeks. He lets his hands linger a little longer than needed before he releases you and picks his coffee cup back up again, as if what he's done wasn't abnormal in the slightest.

“A-Alastor…?” He hears you ask tentatively, and he thinks his patience is finally going to pay off.

“Yes mon cœur?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in an innocent manner that is a laughable contrast to what you know of the radio demon's legacy and reputation.

“I..” He leans forward slightly, eager for your expected confession, his eyes drifting down to your throat as he watches you swallow thickly from nerves.

“...I…n-nevermind. I…forgot what I was going to say.” You eventually give up and his shoulders slump just the slightest bit in disappointment although his smile doesn't falter, although it is strained.

“...No worries. When it comes back to you, I've always got an open ear available for you.” He assures you, although inside he sighs. How can he make you crack? He wants to make you crack before he does, to maintain that illusion of control and so you don't realize the power you possess of how much he could give you if you only asked. He's thinking again, a peaceful quiet settled over the both of you as you each are lost in thought over your individual predicaments.

Perhaps…he could distract you from your date, maybe even ensure you miss it anyway, and perhaps see him in a less…platonic way at the same time. He could simply…take the place of this undeserving date of yours. 

“...You know…I had heard there was a new jazz club that had opened up recently, and I know no one else here has enough taste to appreciate the music appropriately so I wouldn't want to take any of them.” He uses his free hand to wave off the notion before you can even suggest it. 

“Perhaps I could take you with me? Perhaps I can show you how well I bet we could cut a rug together? It's been quite some time since I've gotten to enjoy a dance with a worthy partner.” He says, putting particular emphasis on the last word, eyes partially closing as he makes sure to look at you with a more seductive gaze to further entice you.

You always respond to his compliments so well, a nervous fidget, perhaps a bite of your lip as you think of how to respond, and of course that cute little blush he was quite fond of by now.

“That…” You swallow again, opening your mouth a moment as if searching for words before you continue speaking.

“That sounds…lovely. Just…let me know when to be ready.”

This time his grin is more reminiscent of a spider watching a fly heading right into its web as he gives you all the details needed of when and where.

When the time officially comes, he's delighted that you show up in the lobby at the appropriate time for a few reasons. It meant you were going to go, was the most obvious reason. But the second reason was that unless this idiot wanted to take you dancing on a Sunday night…you probably broke your date with them to be with him. A fact that certainly makes his ego puff up as he takes your hand and kisses it, a routine that feels almost natural now.

“My…I'll be the envy of everyone there with this beauty on my arm…” He chuckles, smiling wider when he sees that tell tale blush spread down to your neck as you stumble over a ‘thank you’. He offers his arm to you, which you politely take as if he were escorting you anywhere normally. Him initiating contact, even if it was small, was also beginning to feel more natural to you both, even if it was small touches.

He can tell by the way you act that you can sense this is different from other friendly outings you two had been on. Good. He was beginning to doubt his abilities to charm for a little bit there. Perish the thought.

There are also, admittedly, things that he has begun to notice are different as the night goes on as well. Had he always been able to feel how warm your hands were or had he just never noticed? It's easier to notice now as he twirls you around to the lovely jazz band playing up on stage, hand never letting yours go entirely as the two of you dance.

He's also glad to see those pesky nerves of yours finally seemed to be wearing off and you were relaxing with him again, like you had before he began attempting to quietly pursue you. Your smile and laugh were far more carefree and jovial as he dips you, arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you from falling before he tugs you back up to continue.

With you relaxing, he finds himself mirroring that demeanor and he's overall less anxious and tense, and much less focused on ensnaring you. Now he was just…having fun. No planning. No ulterior motives. Just having a good time. It's actually quite nice to enjoy the feeling in the moment.

There are a few brief moments where you tense, for instance when his face comes just a little too close to yours, and he can tell you're clearly wondering if he'll close the gap or if you're just imagining things that aren't there. Or when he gives a particularly sultry gaze and accompanying grin as he pulls his lovely dancing partner closer when the distance between you two becomes greater than he wants.

But overall it's an absolutely lovely night and once you've both had your fill you step off the dance floor, Alastor taking a moment to check the time and grinning deviously to himself. It was far too late to meet with up with whoever your date had been, and his ego is admittedly fluffed knowing he was the one able to distract you so thoroughly, as it should be.

As the two of you sit down at one of the tables in the corner, each grabbing a drink from the bar first, you're still laughing with absolute glee over the wonderful night so far.

He enjoys picking your brain as he sips his rye, head resting gently on his free hand as he nods and agrees and puts in his own two cents on this new jazz club. It feels delightfully normal and cozy. While he does quite enjoy flustering you and watching you flounder…he had missed these easygoing conversations he couldn't really seem to have with others. You had been walking on eggshells around him this week, and he didn't realize how terribly he missed this type of interaction with you until now.

It's only after awhile he pretends to check the clock and feigns shock before turning back to you.

“Oh dear! I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. I hope you didn't have any other plans I might have ruined.” His chuckle is easygoing, thinking he knows the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway. He wants to hear you say you chose him, instead of him just silently knowing.

But you just shake your head, grin still plastered across your face before you take a sip of your cocktail.

“Nope! This was my only plan tonight and I couldn't imagine anything better!” Another delighted laugh from you as confusion crosses his own face immediately.

He cocks his head to the side a little bit, trying to determine if you're lying or not. Although he has never known you to lie to him before…

“Really? It's not nice to lie to me. I thought we were close. No prior commitments to anyone broken to be here with me tonight? No silly little paramour trying to steal away your attention?” He puts emphasis on the word, putting his drink down and using that hand to gently grab your chin and tilt your head up to look him in the eye so he could analyze your expression more acutely. He doesn't mean to say the word ‘paramour’ with such disdain, it simply creeps out into his voice.

But now you just look confused as well as you look up at him.

“No…? I mean. I told Husk about this place and mentioned wanting to go this weekend to check it out. But I didn't say I had anyone in mind to go with me. If anything I was going to ask you, knowing this is your kind of place.” You answer carefully, unsure what the correct answer is supposed to be, and he freezes, hand on your chin tightening almost imperceptibly as the gears begin to turn in his mind.

There's a soft flare of radio static interference that sounds from him that makes others nearby give him more room than they had previously.

You, however, are unafraid. You've become too close to him to really fear he would do anything bad to you. Right now you're mostly just concerned for him and this odd behavior.

His hand drops away from your face, as he takes another sip of his rye, taking that time to collect himself and think of his next course of action.

He should have known better than to trust one singular source of information without double checking…damnit. He had been so wrapped up in his stupid newfound jealousy that he hadn't even stopped to ask Husk if he was absolutely positive that's what you said. He thinks the idiot must have misheard you, and he foolishly accepted it at face value.

But the wheels are turning in your head now too, mouth falling slightly agape as your eyes widen, an outlandish possibility entering your mind that claws at your curiosity so desperately you can't stop yourself from blurting it out.

“...Alastor…Were you trying to stop me from going on what you thought was a date?” You ask, and the excited anticipation in your voice could not be mistaken even though you did try to hide it.

“Of course not.” Is what comes out of his mouth immediately as he pulls away defensively, his ears flattening slightly, two things you pick up on. He's unaware how hard your heart is beating right now as you try to summon the courage to speak your next thought, part of you still thinking it so impossible you shouldn't even bother asking.

“...Are you…jealous over the idea of someone dating me?” You inquire curiously, quirking your head to the side and snaking one hand across the table and taking his hesitantly, unsure if you're crossing some invisible line. You're unsure if you're just firing a shot in the dark and he'll laugh at the notion. But somehow the atmosphere feels far too heavy for him to joke about something like this. It's felt heavy like this all week and you wanted to know why.

But the question just has him put his drink down a little more harshly than he meant to. But he doesn't pull his other hand from yours, the touch a little soothing to him as he deals with his scattered thoughts.

“No.” He says concretely while looking you in the eye, as if daring you to suggest otherwise.

But you still aren't convinced…not with how he had been acting this past week, and this new knowledge. Perhaps…you could try and be a little bold? Perhaps test the waters yourself?

“...That's a shame. I wouldn't have minded if you were.” You state quietly, his ears almost straining to pick up the sound of your voice over the music. Your gaze is pointedly looking away,  unsure you would have had the courage to say the words if you had been looking directly at him.

You startle and look back at him, specifically at his hand holding yours because his grip has become noticeably tighter. He's moving closer again, to the shorter distance he had been before he pulled away and you swallow thickly, wondering if you had made a mistake.

His voice is low, and you can oddly see conflict present in his eyes, as if he was warring over what decision to make.

“...and if I say I am?” His voice is heated and almost husky as he speaks, looking you directly in the eye again as he leans even closer now, his face mere inches from yours now.

You're struck speechless by this admission, not even dreaming of that response actually being a reality, and your voice is stuck in your throat as you scramble for a response. Your breath hitches slightly as all you can do is stare at him a moment trying to process this as he waits for your answer, unreadable in this moment.

Your other hand is shaking as you bring it up to rest on his cheek, watching him close his eyes a moment before opening them again as he leans into the touch. It gives you the courage to speak that thought that feels almost too silly to put out into the world.

“...I…I would say you have no reason to be.” You're leaning just the smallest bit forward, as if to silently give permission but not wanting to take that first step yourself and cross his boundaries without permission. 

It just made him adore you more.

He bridges the distance, eyes closing as the hand not holding yours is placed on the back of your neck to push you closer, to silently assure you this was no accident.

He can feel your hand gripping his tightly now in response and he can't help but grin into the kiss as you begin to reciprocate once the shock has worn off, lips moving against his with an eager hunger before eventually parting. There's something almost tender in the way he grips your neck, that makes you melt into the kiss with him with ease.

He has to admit he's definitely a fan of this look of yours. Wide eyed, breathing a bit hard with a flushed face and slightly parted mouth as you gazed at him. He wants to see it again.

“...Good. I'm not the type of person who does well with jealousy I've discovered.” His voice is chipper and normal, as if he hadn't just taken your breath away for a moment. Just the whiplash of going from one side of him to the other has you laughing as you lean back, the hand that was once on his face now covering your own.

“...I'll keep that in mind.” You grin, spreading your fingers just enough to peek out at him. 

Further discussions could wait until tomorrow of course, of boundaries and labels and everything that comes with it. But for now this is enough. His cards are on the table yes, but yours are laid bare for him to see as well. So he relaxes again into his seat, leaning back but not taking his hand back from yours before looking at the dance floor again.

“...Do you feel like dancing again mon cœur?” He asks, already tugging your hand up to bring you with him. He's eager to dance with you again without having to pretend his intimate and more romantic touches were accidental this time. He hears you giggle before taking another sip of your cocktail and then you're tugging him down to be eye level with you. 

“I'd love that, mon amour.” You teasingly breathe into his ear, and you're rewarded by this time getting to see his breath hitch instead of it always being you. You may still not know what he's been calling you, but everyone knows that term of endearment, and there's an almost sinful sense of pride that you were able to pull that type of reaction from him, and now you're even more eager to dance with him again, to find out what else you can see that no one else has before.

You think you understand all the teasing touches he gave you that left you wanting all this week, probably trying to test the waters and bait you into confessing yourself, you can likely guess now. If this is how he felt seeing you react all those times you couldn't blame him.

Perhaps it's only fair to begin to repay him for those tormenting whispers and touches, you think as you two step onto the dance floor, your hand placing itself on his chest before slowly gliding up further and then over his collarbone to rest gingerly on his shoulder for support, your fingers digging in slightly to the flesh of his back. It's hard to tell in this dimly lit lounge but you swear there's a tinge of red to his face, and it just further strengthens the hunger you feel when he growls softly and leans over to whisper to you.

“Tread carefully my dear. I have every intention of approaching this courtship as a gentleman. Do not make that impossible for me to remember…”

Taglist: @zzzykiek @alastorthirsty @sirens-and-moonflowers

[dustykneed]

everyone knows that if you bring your best friend along on a date with your bf, either your best friend of your bf will end up being third wheeled-- unless you're jim t kirk and you manage to third wheel for your first officer (who is in fact your boyfriend) and your cmo best friend.

no i have not watched bread and circuses yet but i feel in my heart that this applies. and also objectively the bread and circuses outfits are so insanely mind-blowingly attractive?? i needed an excuse to draw them in tight-fitting shirts and i regret nothing 😎

you just know that whenever the pre-mcspirk triumvirate hangs out whoever did the inviting will inevitably end up being the third wheel. like jim invites spock over to play chess and brings bones along to spectate and commentate and IMMEDIATELY spones joins forces to beat his ass (bickering and sassing each other all the while. and by the end bones is basically halfway on spock's lap smug as hell with spock leaning back a little just to accommodate him, a hand ghosting his waist to keep him from losing his balance.) And they beat jim's ass so soundly it would almost be embarrassing if he hadn't been preoccupied with committing the way spock and bones fit so well together to memory.

or spock will ask jim and bones over for dinner, and somehow while he's turned his back for a minute replicating their meals mckirk will have gotten into a playful argument about the worst terran movie and spock watches this eventually escalate into a mock tussle on the couch (and then onto the floor, where jim solidly pins bones (who is voicing his complaints very loudly) to the carpet and sort of pets at him until he goes pliant and giggly. and spock keeps watching because he can't bring himself to look away from how jim's biceps and triceps flex with the exertion of keeping a flailing bones still, and the way bones' shirt has rucked up with his wriggling and is now exposing his midriff in a decidedly... agreeable manner. And now their dinner is getting cold but spock is very much not. the opposite, in fact.

for bones though, generally he has the opposite problem-- whenever he tries to corner jim for a physical, it's guaranteed that spock will show up with him and stand next to his bed and all but hold jim's hand in front of the entire medbay and (with infuriating accuracy and highly amusing, transparent urgency) hand bones the instruments he needs before he even reaches for them, hovering by jim's side all the while. and jim is also TERRIBLE about not physically attaching himself to spock and actually letting bones do his goddamn job when spock gets hurt. if he wasn't so fond of them both, he swears he would've kicked them out of his medbay ages ago. Too bad they've both wormed their way solidly into his heart.

...

prompt fill for @mcspirkevents' mcspirk month day 26 "expectations vs reality" (i know this isn't spicy but by god spirk's mouths are actually touching and given my track record of not being able to draw people kissing properly it might as well be, lol) 🩵💙💛

[withleeknow]

letters i didn't send to you.

pairing: ot8 x reader (ot8 in the sense that there's no name mentioned so you can imagine whoever you want. imagine the whole kpop industry if you want lol) genre/warnings: established relationship, long distance relationship au?, angst, fluff if you squint. unedited bc i am insane word count: 0.7k note: trying something new here! dunno how people are gonna like it but i don't feel terrible about it 🤷‍♀️ a product of my emo hours and i needed an outlet and i thought oh hey why not just project this into a fic lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

3:29am, i've been dreaming about you for years. stars and moons and cotton candy clouds on fire at sundown. the whole universe resides in your eyes, it's almost unfair. sleepless nights because you're not here; restless days because i can't wait for you to be back. the clock stops ticking when you're not with me. the magnetic pull gets stronger during the witching hour somehow. i've always been drawn to you, even before i knew who you were. you're the only home i'd leave all my haunts for. it's summer solstice in most parts of the world but not in our bedroom, not when the only way i can have you is through a phone screen on your pillow. your voice is trying to lull me to sleep. it doesn't come close to replicating one tenth of your warmth. to love is to endure.

-

i'm halfway through the day, and you must be dreaming of where you belong, by my side on a bed that's far too big when i'm the only occupant. or at least, i hope you're dreaming of me too. 1:19pm, i'm six hours ahead but days and weeks and months and years behind, still stuck in that airport where you left me for the first time. some days, my eyes get misty at lunch when i think about your alarm going off and your irritated groan as you roll over to make your phone stop screaming. other days, i don't have an appetite at all, not with you on my mind and the reminder that there's still oceans between us. when are you coming home? i know when you're coming home, and yet i ask anyway, as if it'll shorten the distance and make the time pass more quickly. to love is to wait.

-

saturday morning, but i can't stay in bed past 7:12am. missing you a lot tonight, was what you had sent while i was asleep. that's a little cruel for a good morning text, don't you think? it's not your fault. i blame it on the oceans, on the time, on the distance. the coffee is still brewing, just enough for one steaming mug but it would've been nice if i got to make two. can we go back to new york? we always say we would, but can we do it now? i'll meet you halfway if you let me. there's nothing that ties me to this place. you're always on the move. my home is always on the move. we were happy on that trip, right? my fondest memories of you. skylines and the high line. to love is to risk it all, and i would risk it all for you. take me home, will you? let's go back to new york.

-

the clock reads 8:18am, but the date is all wrong. you should be landing any minute now, but not for another two days. two more days until you're home, ten days that i get to be in your arms. and yet, all i can think about is your departure, about coming back to an empty apartment after you're gone again. i think about you leaving before you even return. the drive back after i've sent you off, it never hurts less no matter how many times we go through it. i can already picture the scene, it's almost routine at this point. your sparkling eyes when they find me in the crowded airport, your relieved sigh when i run to you, your hands clutching me so tightly like you don't want to let go either. it's always this damn airport. we should stop meeting like this. when the buzzing of my phone snaps me out of it, i know who's on the other end of the notification. a photo of your new polaroid camera, then a promise to make more memories to keep with us when you come back to me.

to love is to willingly weather this with you a million times and more. even if it hurts. maybe especially if it hurts. you're the reason i keep going. you're the reason why the sun rises in the morning. let's talk about new york when you're here.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 02.07.2024]

[ballad-of-the-lamb]

I've been bingeing your art in this blog for, like, the last hour. Sooo much good stuff!

Can we hear more about notable members of the Cult? Cheese Parm's s/o and such

cult info below cut b/c i'm gonna be typing a lot;

Everyone listed here are basically the main runners/cast when it comes to plot relevance in the story in itself. there are plenty of cast & characters that aren't- but they wont pop up for anything other than background characters perhaps staring on in horror at god antics or one another's antics.

we'll start from the top;

GALLOWS [ girlyed cheese ]

the most recent member of the cult to be saved specifically by the lamb themself from sacrifice within Darkwood.

a lot of cult conflict will begin with the uninitiated, the unknowing. and the influence of the twin gods will be seen on her in real time as the story progresses.

she is generally a very generic playful-but-tricky fox character, but there's a lot she hides; much like the rest of the cult members. her past is not happily talked about, or seldom is.

she was a native to Darkwood. She is chaotic because of it.

she was meant to be burned at the stake.

EKPYROSIS [ asbestos ]

This word derives from a Greek word for a great fire. It represents a belief held by some scholars of Stoicism, that says that the universe has no beginning or end, and instead is destroyed and remade in a great conflagration in a cyclic manner. Just as life & death ever are.

Her name stands out among the rest of the cult because it was the name that the Lamb bestowed upon her upon being given the title of disciple. Just as Narinder took Baal & Aym to learn from him, the Lamb took her.

Her previous name is not known to anyone mind the Lamb themself, Narinder, and cheese parm.

She is more inclined to using and being influenced by the eldritch artifacts & relics the Lamb or Narinder tend to return with.

She leaves an uneasy and terrible 'uncanny valley' feeling tenfold within her vicinity, which makes her hard to be around. It is not just being outright creepy- but it's a lot more akin to literally feeling reality dip and bow around you into something not quite right.

She does not move like a normal person. The way she walks, runs, jumps- it's all too impossible to replicate without someone shattering every bone in their body.

When she speaks, her voice is delayed from her mouth. And it doesn't always line up perfectly.

most notably; cheese parm hates her. for good reason.

OTHERA [ bong water ]

An average cult member on the surface. They are a caretaker, they are matronly, they work as the local therapist. Generally just likes taking care of people.

When the Lamb, Disciples, & Narinder aren't around to listen to confessionals in the booth they are typically who does.

It's an unspoken rule to not make them angry or let them get to '1' when they start counting down from 5.

He is typically known for the reason morale is good. A good shoulder to rely on.

He is the third oldest member of the cult, resurrected multiple times over to serve his purpose, next to cheese parm & his sister. they are also the only one that asbestos seems to actively fear besides cheese parm.

EUNOMIA [ they/theminem ]

Eunomia was a minor goddess of law and legislation, whose name means "Good Laws", and is specifically a goddess of order according to good governance.

The second disciple. Known for learning the use of the Lamb's personally created curses specifically, though does know the ones Narinder passed on. They do not deem themselves worthy enough to use those.

Generally a very angry & spiteful person for a multitude of reasons. It mostly comes down to 'bearer of the curse' and the curse being knowledge.

They are the only one really permitted to 'backtalk' due to how much they actually do know their place.

they are very heavily disciplined under the rule of self-flagellation, and know the tenants and rites better than anyone else in the cult. even the head ritualist.

as said on paper. cheese parm's s/o. the significantly scarier one. they have not had a reason to be scary in a good couple hundred years! don't make them start now.

has 2 adopted kids w/ cheese parm they raise.

PANKRATIAST [ cheese parm ]

The Pankration is a sport of unarmed combat that featured in the ancient Olympic Games in Greece. This specific association fits as he's specifically an unarmed fighter first and foremost.

While not a disciple, is considered one generally in 'importance' to the higher ups of the cult. While he is no more important than Gallows, Othera, Minced Meat, or any other average member- he has the veteran's respect.

Was given a name by the Lamb, and since he does not speak, it's not like he can correct anyone otherwise.

well. doesn't talk. only ever communicates in vague grunts and noises that voice displeasure or a neutral 'ok'

Generally considered stoic, he does not feel strongly about most things.

The village executioner. The head missionary. Bartender. Does all the jobs no one else wants to do, and even others when no one else does it.

Smells of gore & wet dog constantly.

Knows. Remembers. Knows why death is broken, knows how it broke, will not tell Lamb or Narinder. He is a Witness.

Knows all the weaponry the Lamb uses & can use it just as effectively on a physical level.

The first of the flock. Will be there even when there is no more flock to have. As it will ever be, pinkie promised back in the Silk Cradle back where he was first found.

ILONA [ taco bell qsdea ]

a specialist in alchemy, cooking, & plants. Tends to the farms, gardens, & warding stones.

The first of the cult members Narinder warmed up to directly after descension. They brought him food every day, they gave him supplies, and other than the Lamb- they were the first to not be terrified of him.

They are very blind and often need a guide when they are not allowed to use their clicks and noises to find the way.

They are immune to Gallows' tricks and run off of the 'fae logic' of most things.

Their name means 'joy'. A name they decided on after speaking to Narinder for a time.

The first cult members recruited directly after Narinder's descension.

Immune to the horrors Somehow. There is something hiding behind those big ol eyes

Can fly. They have wings attached to their arms, and for it, require special clothes.

will be involved a lot in narinder plots

MINCED MEAT [ childbirth gambino ]

head cook but kind of as a threat. the lamb put them there for a reason. they are pretty mid.

constantly paranoid and in a state of fear or unease. Does not sleep because of it, and instead compulsively cooks almost all day and night.

most random screeches or noises in the cult come from this little guy

absolutely scared shitless of the Lamb.

The first Dissenter since the Lamb's ascension. They were made an example of. Now they will never. They have seen god's wrath, and would rather die.

narinder likes to bully this thing by hissing at him in the night

attached to beansnesed'd bsbisebies hip when in the chapel or out and about.

the prime example of 'the lamb is not a good person.'

ALOPE [ deep dish pizza ]

cheese parm's little sister. and borderline clone. she copies everything he's done up until adulthood when she started to become her own person. though it's been hundreds, if not thousands of years, she's still trying to figure out who she is.

made a pinkie promise to the lamb, just like cheese parm, to always be there. and she has!

ripped as fuck. like, more than cheese parm. huge. absolute beast thing.

the lamb prevented a fated death in her, the first time he ever did so, and for it her title is technically 'Saint Alope' within the cult for being the act of a miracle.

like her brother, never speaks vocally, never shows her face. gets across feelings through vague grunts. uses sign language where cheese parm does not.

the fastest in the cult. rivals narinder in base speed without using necklaces or unnatural abilities.

uses two ritual dirks or daggers at any given point, throwing knives, things of that sort. protects the village next to cheese parm, and you'll never hear her coming. totally, absolutely silent.

[bubble-leaves]

Ok so headcanons but hassian.

You got it!

Hassian . . .

- absolutely cannot stand you when he first meets you; you seem to be like every other invasive human that reemerged

- acts coldly toward you, but secretly starts respecting you once you start engaging in Majiri traditions and bringing him gifts

- eventually starts opening up to you after you somehow weasel your way into his daily life

- pretends he's always annoyed by you, but only because you both adapted a dynamic where you're constantly bubbly and he's less than enthused; he clearly loves your attention either way

- can't get his mind off you when he's romanced

- is hesitant to be romantic with you at first, considering his cruel break-up with Tamala in the past. But you gradually let him know that you are nothing like her as you two continue bonding

- wants to learn more about your interests as much as he wants to share his

- wants to learn more about your culture; he secretly takes notes of whatever you can remember about your land and people

- writes secretly in general; little recordings of funny things you say or adorable things you do, a journal to rant about you in, and yes, meaningful poetry about you

- is completely head over heels if you're a proven hunter

- secretly talks with Tau about how crazy you make him feel; Tau doesn't say much (lol)

- values traditional Majiri romance, but also is curious about how humans court someone they admire; he'll ask and try to replicate any of the rituals, if he can

- is characteristically blunt when you explain pieces of your culture; he'll openly express his distaste for certain differences, although he tries to remain respectful

- is obsessed with your touch. Like, severely.

- feels his heart rate spike dramatically if you touch so much as his arm

- isn't reclusive when it comes to reciprocating physical affection; he'll just want your permission, first

- always makes a point to compliment you; it helps him come out of his shell a little and, hey, you look so precious when you light up and thank him

- smiles and laughs at any joke you make, no matter how stupid it is

- LOVES making you laugh; he's not much of a funny guy, so if he just so happens to say something that makes you laugh, he deeply blushes at the sound and chuckles with you

- as the relationship progresses, he feels terribly alone if he doesn't sleep next to you

- appreciates how you treat Tau as your own and likes to hear you talk to him, even if it's in a ridiculous high-pitched voice

- can cook, but mostly prepares proteins, so you'll have to cook the side dishes

- loves when you read to him, especially if it's one of the romance novels he's read a million times; hearing the stories told in your voice makes his heart rush all over again

- sleeps the best when he's on his back, holding you close with one arm and Tau in the other

- will sometimes not let you get up if you're spooning in the early morning; he will sleepily yet playfully tell you that you're not going anywhere until the sun comes up

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Poison Ivy (New Adventures)

Following an absence from Gotham City, Poison Ivy returned looking quite different.  Her skin had turned a greenish shade of pale and her physique was more slim and nymphlike.  Pamela Isley had used plant-golems as surrogates for herself in the past and it is possible that the Poison Ivy who reemerged in Gotham was actually just another of these floral golems.  Conversely it is also possible that continued exposure to plant-based mutagens had transformed Isley, making her more of a dryad-like being.  

Whatever the case, Poison Ivy was up to her old tricks.  She created a series of plant-based replicants each of whom exuded invisible spores that made them incredibly desirable.  Each of these golems were designed specifically for an individual victim, all people who were wealthy and influential throughout Gotham and its surrounding boroughs.  Bruce Wayne was among these targets and he found himself having fallen head over heels in love with a young woman named Susan.  The spore-based pheromones Susan emitted made Bruce feel a sense of peace and contentment that he had never in his life experienced.  She was the perfect woman: strong, accepting, beautiful and compatible in every way.  

It was only after his marriage to Susan and decision to forsake his life as Batman that Bruce finally discovered the terrible truth of who (or rather what) Susan actually was.  A heartbroken Bruce resumed his guise as Batman and brought down Ivy’s schemes, destroying the various plant golems who were planning on killing their new spouses and leaving ivy in control of their fortunes and influence.  Ivy herself seemed to perish, but she would resurface soon thereafter.  

Hiding out with her partner, Harley Quinn, the two were visited by the escaped super villainess known as Live Wire.  The three of them went on a destructive crime spree that was ultimately stopped by the combined efforts of Batgirl and Supergirl.             

Some time later, Poison Ivy teamed up with The Floronic Man as part of a diabolical scheme to transform all life on earth into plant-based creatures similar to the Swamp Thing.  Although Batman and Nightwing fought hard to put an end to this plot they could not prevail and the day was actually saved when Harley Quinn pleaded with Ivy to stop.  Ivy and Harley’s love for each other turned the tide and Ivy chose not to go through with the plan.   

Actresses Diane Pershing and Paget Brewster each provided the voice for Poison Ivy, with the villainess first appearing in the ninth episode of the first season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘Pretty Poison.’

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Who has been screwed over by the fandom more?

Propaganda below the cut

Six:

Six was born into a world that is desperate to kill her and every other child, and she has spent her every second in survival mode. If she makes the wrong choice or hesitates for even a second, there's a good chance she'll be killed. She has to make terrible choices, she has to hurt people, or she will be hurt, even if that means betraying her friends or literally eating a guy to not starve. To the fandom though, she's an irredeemable monster! Not the countless people hunting her down at every second, she's clearly the worst person in existence. She hurt a character the fans like (she could've died if she didn't) so she should suffer apparently

Amane Momose:

Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

----

TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

[dross-the-fish]

The Creature stood, towering over him at a greater height than any man, living or undead, Watson had previously encountered. He was a fearsome looking brute, hulking and draped in furs with a tangled curtain of ink-black hair obscuring his face. The great head perched on top of his broad shoulders was angled in a watchful tilt, like a bird of prey glowering down at a mouse. It did not help that his yellow eyes were unblinking and so piercing they seemed almost to glow. A gap in his ratty furs exposed a translucent patch of skin on the Creature’s chest that showed the occasional twitch of his red-brown muscles and pulsing veins beneath, the only visible proof of life from a body that was otherwise inhumanly still. The monstrosity spoke: “Why do you entice me to abandon my solitude? If you have come to hunt me trickery is ill-advised. I’ll wager I am more cunning than you have anticipated and ten-fold as strong. Begone or I will bury you among those other enemies that have tried their hand at my destruction and failed!” His voice boomed across the quiet tundra like thunder and Watson, though not a cowardly man by any means, could not help himself but to take a retreating step back from the force of it. Seeing the older man falter Quincey tensed and raised his rifle but before he could take aim Watson caught his eye and shook his head, gesturing for him to hold his fire. He squared his shoulders and moved closer to the Frankenstein monster.

“We don’t mean any harm!” He held up his hands to the creature in a pacifying gesture, “We were hoping that you could help us,” he came to a halt only a few paces away. Close enough to the Creature that the party could not safely shoot without the risk of hitting Watson in the crossfire. The gesture was not lost on the monster and his black lips lifted in a bemused and half-mad smile, “What is this tactic then? Be wary! If you come closer you will be within arm’s reach and your fellows shan’t save you if I wish to set my hand upon your throat.” Rather than frighten him the creature’s warnings emboldened Watson to step closer. He came to rest a foot away and gazed cooly into the being’s eyes, “I suspect, that if you truly wanted to kill me you would have already tried to do so. You’ve been watching us for days, you could have picked us off any time you wanted but you didn’t. You must have realized from the start that we were following you but you haven’t tried to confront us until now,” he may not have had Holmes’s powers of deduction but Watson had learned how to observe the mannerisms people over the years and, undead or not, the pattern of the Creature’s behavior was not that of a beast or monster. It was the cautious and measured reaction of a man. Watson had seen it many times over the years, in criminals who were fearful of the punishment of the law yet weary of hiding. He recognized well the ravages of isolation and guilt on the Creature’s face and he was wagering that if he could just show the Creature that there was no threat, the party could gain their ally. The monster hesitated; his face contorted, on the cusp of violence or tears, Watson was uncertain which, but caution had already been discarded and he was unwilling to waste his opening, “I think, and if I am mistaken, we will leave you in peace, but perhaps you're tired of living in exile here in this frozen wasteland. Would you at least be willing to sit and hear out our proposal?” he asked, “Surely you cannot decline a polite invitation to a warm fire and a cup of hot tea!”

The Creature threw back his terrible head and let out a harsh, barking, laugh that rattled in hideous peals from his sewn throat, “Shall we be civil then? Do you invite me to break bread with you at your merry campfire and you’ll speak to me as though I am human? As though I am not a damned and miserable wretch? I know you have my maker’s journal and no doubt you want me to decipher the secrets within. Let me dash your hopes. If you wish to replicate the process of my animation it is lost. Victor burnt those pages to ash and his secrets died with him,” at the name of his creator the laughter cut off with an anguished sob, matted locks of hair clinging to cheeks wet with more than melted snow, “Do not offer me comforts, there is no greater cruelty you can do me now than to instill in me false hopes and give empty kindness. Leave this barren rock and leave me to my purgatory where I can no longer harm mankind, nor it harm me.” As the monster began to turn away Watson reached forward and laid a firm hand on his arm, “I will not!” he insisted, “Even if you cannot help us, I see no reason you should stay here. You may not be doing any harm but you’re not atoning either. You’ve been here for 100 years and you’ve done nothing with that time except haunt this blasted rock like a ghost and scare away ships! I insist that you sit with us, hear us out, and if you still feel like you want to spend the rest of your days rotting away here at the north pole then so be it. We won’t force you to come with us!” The Creature growled in warning but Watson was resolute and he pushed on “I want you to think on it, you may not be doing evil here but what good are you bringing into the world?”

the Creature froze, shocked at his boldness, “Do you believe it? After reading the journal, do you believe goodness is still in my capacity?” his voice had taken a desperate edge and Watson knew his instincts had been correct. “Yes,” he said insistently, holding the Creature’s gaze, “I have seen the most unrepentant monsters pull themselves from the brink and lead good, honest lives. I’ve seen men do the right thing even as the world was against them and we’re offering you a chance to do the same. You likely won’t get another, so I’ll ask you again,” he tightened his grip on the creature’s arm, “Will you sit and hear us out?”

[miracles-and-butterflies]

OOH! Addams family au? (It can have two versions; you can choose whichever one you like the most.)

First version:

Like say, alma's side of the family were distant relatives of the Addams? But regardless, the cooky gene is prominent in every relative.

So, let's say Pedro met Alma at a graveyard after a pet or relative died. They started visiting each other more often there and their love blossomed from there.

Pedro knew very well how the town saw her family; crazy, creepy, and a threat. But Pedro never saw her as any- well...he knew for sure she was all three of those things, but he also knew she had a heart of gold too (even though she never liked to admit it).

They both got married and the triplets came about. She and the rest of her family all lived in one house (like an early Casita before the Miracle).

The triplets grew up and got their gifts (Maybe gifts were already common in Alma's family and maybe she just didn't get one? Her family still loved her though). Julieta: poisonous food (but her family doesn't mind the poison). Bruno: foreseeing deaths and terrible fates. Pepa: Only storms, lightening, and rain.

So, they just end up like a combination of Wednesday and Pugsley. Alma and Pedro are purely Gomez and Morticia in the purest form.

Second version:

Pedro and Alma get married, have the triplets, and things seem fine for a little while. Until the other villagers decide that Alma's family weren't people anymore and decided to burn their house down.

One thing led to another, and Alma (with the babies) were the only ones to make it out alive. A miracle happened and a forest formed around her to protect her and her babies.

A new house came about, and things got started from there. Oh yeah, that day was the first and last time Alma Madrigal cried.

The triplets grew up never knowing about the outside world, until two boys came along. Those boys were Felix and Agustin, both were orphans who ran away from an orphanage at 16 and 17 years old.

They somehow made it to their house and Alma begrudgingly let them stay. A good way to give her kids someone to torture and "play" with. And that's how the grandkids came about, but both girls and both boys were above age of course.

(Also: Maybe the forest is an entity like Casita? It creates a labyrinth of pathways and dead ends just in case someone with ill intentions gets too close to the house. The forest saw that both boys needed help and decided to let them through.)

Isabela: Can only create poisonous plants

Isabela: super strength

Mirabel: Doesn't have a gift but practices witchcraft like Alma

Dolores: Can hear from afar. You can say she went insane from hearing voices for so long.

Camilo: Shapeshifting

Antonio: Can talk to only dead animals

All children know there's an outside world but don't think it's best to go out there. Alma told the stories of the scary human beings who kill you for being slightly different.

Whatcha think?

There’s a lot of Adams family AUs with the Madrigals. I don’t really have anything new to offer up to the plate.

The only thing I would change is have Mirabel be completely normal (same as canon, doesn’t practice witchcraft or wear dark clothes or enjoys gloomy subjects, etc), just to replicate the odd one out feeling.

And I’d rework how Agustín and Félix find them. As them coming in as teenagers and joining the family whilst they were still minors, only to later get married and have children does seem weird; pseudo incest, to be honest. Have them come separately, when they are not minors and don’t have them live alongside the family before starting relationships.

A suggestion: Félix could be studying weather patterns that leads him to the house and meeting Pepa. Perhaps Agustín was chased and injured by a wild animal, rescued by Julieta.

[khepiari]

Thoughts on One Piece Live Action Trailer from a biased fangirl

First of all let me be clear, I am deaf, dumb and blind to One Piece Live Action complains; that are mean and hateful for the sake of hating. I grew up with censored One Piece episodes and terrible dubs.

I am immune.

My instant reaction after watching the trailer

A) I like it.

B) I am drooling after that 3 seconds of Taz, and brooding Mackneyu. But I am excited for Inaki, he is Luffy; the energy, goofiness and the voice!

C) Emily is like the bestest!

D) Not enough Jacob!

I am hyped none the less!

Was it a perfect trailer?

Absolutely not.

Was it a good trailer?

Yes!

It is fun, goofy and it captured the spirit of One Piece— promise of an epic ADVENTURE.

Yes, Some things in trailer bothered me, like a lot, but if I can read 1086 chapters of a manga for last ten years and watch 1066 episodes for last eighteen years, I can patiently wait to judge all 8 episodes.

Things we the diehard fans need to remember!

Anime and Manga scenes and actions can’t be replicated entirely! And we fans will only complain if its frame by frame copy-adaptation; because that’s not how it works.

Please remember it is the same story told on a different medium! People will take liberties with it.

And the CGI work is still not over; so even before you crib about it: STOP!

We really need to control our innate distrust for adaptation. Yes Hollywood has terrible track record.

Trust in Goda!

But I am choosing to trust Odachii! He green lit the adaptation in 2017! It is 2023, if he didn’t approve we wouldn’t have witnessed a single poster of the Live-in adaptation! No one is more protective of One Piece than Odachii!

Luffy has his scar!

Yes, some changes can bother us, like initially I thought Luffy didn’t have his scar, but after zooming on Inaki’s face on HD screen; I found the scar!

But Sanji’s Eyebrows: sssssh!

Sanji’s missing eyebrows is a point of contention for many, but again things that don’t serve narrative with an active purpose can go; you have to understand things get changed; Sanji’s perv gag is getting dropped too. I can’t wait to meet the Sanji of my dreams!

Merry Go looks terrifying!

I agree, I love it. But I think Merry needs exorcism too! Merry Looks scared as hell! This is Merry’s true face that has been terrorised by Luffy’s recklessness!

Wrong shoes UmU

Similarly Luffy’s flip-flops, as long as that wild child is wearing something on his feet, its fine. I mean look at the shoes he is wearing; it’s ridiculous!

Usopp’s Nose

Don’t drag Usopp’s nose into this. All of us would’ve hated a prosthetic nose on Jacob! You know it! You don’t want him to look like a copy of a copy of Pinocchio!

Nami’s Hair!

It looks okay, you all are nitpicking now! I swear, it looks alright.

Buggy-sama looks scary, duh he is a clown!

People complaining that Buggy-sama looks scary, in East Blue! Buggy-sama after his debut Was Scary! Have you ever seen a funny looking Clown ever? All clowns look scary!

I literally lured and convinced my horror addict sister to watch One Piece, because of this horrific looking Buggy-sama! I lied through my teeth that Buggy-Sama is the final boss of One Piece! Now she will watch the live action!

Yellow filter! Do you want DCU dark screen?

And the complaint about yellow filter! Look, I would take a Yellow screen over a DC black screen any day! Many wanted the GOT and LOTR cinematic treatment, I understand, but it’s not the same story elements, our protagonist is a rubber-man; our universe is colourful, set on the sea, what we can hope and aspire for is Pirates of the Caribbean treatment for the Fishmen CGI.

And remember, Luffy yelling Gum-Gum Pistol is the English translation of Gomu-Gomu no pistol! You can’t expect Inaki to yell Gomu-Gomu no pistol, while his entire angry fight speech is in English. That would be weird. And many didn’t like the pistol reveal because of how it looked. In every version of realism— stretched human skin will look weird!

Some things look great in manga art and anime frames but translate poorly in realism; I think we had already learned it the hard way! The cosplayish cinematography worked for Gintama Live Action but didn’t go well with Fullmetal Alchemist. Again the grim-gray thematic elements worked for Bleach Live In!

I think this version of One Piece is working well so far. And it was just teaser! We have 6 arcs to see!

Yes, be skeptical, but of Netflix, not cast and crew and creators!

I have told this before, I have faith in the cast and the crew and the creators. My trust issues lies with Netflix. I would’ve been happier if it was Prime who was producing it or even HBO, as they seem more committed to a project.

Netflix has terrible track record of cancellation.

And One Piece is a long time commitment, I don’t think Netflix has the bandwidth or the brains or the money to produce 31+ Arcs! We know none of the canon arcs can be dropped. So their only way out is to build up the hype of the finale arc from second season itself. And do enough bread crumbing and introduce certain supernovas, warlords, yonkos, gorosei, races and other important figures early into the story instead of keeping them for surprise element, which can help them plan for long time. Not only that they have to give us glimpses into the various crimes and atrocities and political happenings across the Grandline parallel to Strawhats journey so that the emotional build up happens gradually— expecting viewers to care about an island and its characters all of a sudden when the Crew arrives to a new island will be tricky. It is much better to constantly tell the viewers of things happening simultaneously so that when Luffy arrives to beat Croc’s or later Doffy’s ass— audience already hates them. They don’t even have to reveal the face of the villains, but build up the lore well.

Will stupid Netflix do it?

I don’t think so!

Stop the bloody hateful comments

Stop hating on the cast! I don’t think we have any right to bully or be mean or outright hateful to the actors! Time and again they have proved how much they love One Piece. Being mean doesn’t make you the cool or smarter person you think you are.

After watching/reading a series that always emphasized on doing the right thing and fighting against bullies, you all haven’t learned anything.

Don’t like it? Don’t watch it!

Is the Live Action stealing away from your years of rich One Piece experience?

No!

The manga is here, the anime is here, the games are here, the musicals are here, so are the ice-skating shows!

No adaptation is hurting the other!

This is just another medium to tell the story, now to non-manga readers/non-anime watching people!

I don’t play One Piece games, nor do I like how some game designs are, do I go an shit talk about it?

Nope.

I love the Sandman comic books, I was not happy with changes made in the live action adaptation, did I go demand receipts for changes made to the story?

No!

Because I know it’s impossible to please everyone, how hard it is to ignore something that bothers you?

If you bully the cast! I will curse you!

If you bully Inaki, Emily, Mackenyu, Taz and Jacob; I hope your toe cuticles itch all the time and your ear buzzes whenever you try to sleep!

And look how the cast cares about the story! Look at them! How dare you try to bully them!

If you follow Artur - The Library Of Ohara’s page on Twitter you will see how much effort has gone into detailing. From Luffy’s attire to Baratie’s lighting.

The series is made of love and respect for the source material. If they are diverting or changing something— remember Odachii agreed to it!

I mean look at them! They are precious!

Starving man never looked so fine. 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠. One Piece Live Action serving Zoro to us in all his glory. And before Dudebros even start Sanji vs Zoro.

They were never cast for you, they were cast for women and queer fans. They are not representative of your imagined cis-het male idea of hyper masculinity!

They are for us!

Woman tired of her dumbass captain! This girl is going to kick ass and steal your money! She ate her role! And she will rule the screen!

We must protect Usopp! Look at this baby! Look at him! He is the bravest person in the entire world!

This the Sanji I am shamelessly looking forward to! Never will he beat babygirl allegations! And he is such a walking disaster bi energy already! And he is not limited by his perv gag!

The perfect man is here!

Look at him! How he shines like the sun! Look at his silly shoes in the trailer! This silly silly silly boy!

Hey that’s my favourite idiot. Look at him, heading to some dumbassery with the confidence exhibited by the baby from Baby’s Day Out film.

Damnnnn it! Why can’t I upload more than 10 pictures from the app? Finally, from the web version I could uploaad it all!

Anyway, practice love not hate! Peace out!

Image source: from twitter by Artur- Library of Ohara

[maidcafe]

Not having enough women and minorities in tech because it's an exclusive, guarded misogynistic environment that's gatekept by, mainly white, cishet men which is the reason AI is on the rise. The terrifying implications of what this technology can do means they don't care about the exploitations it will create, the misinformation that it will spread, the jobs within various industries that will be lost. Things like fuckass OpenAI/Sora AI will create irreparable damage to our society . This, without a doubt, shows the lack of morality within the tech industry for money. These tech bros have no morals and do not consider how bad this technology they're creating actually is. The use of AI for images, photos, videos, audio of people even with a simple photo, replicating someone's voice, using their likeness without consent. AI is a consent issue. It is not a technological miracle, it creates a reality of harm for women, lgbt+ people, minorities. The logistical, legal, ethical, sociological implications of how terrible this tech is not being questioned within the disgusting, circlejerk world of silicon valley. AI IS A CONSENT ISSUE.

[stillsolo]

SENSES & OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.

MUSE: han ‘jonash e.’ solo although i normally like to separate my headcanons by verses (modern/sw), i think i’ll just go with sw for consistency this time.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

more often than not, the smell of burnt exhaust fumes and the distinct, somewhat pungent aroma of engine oil clings to han like a second skin.  if he’s been elbows-deep in some serious repairs or upgrades for the ’falcon, there’s the lingering tang of sweat mingling in.  han is a very practical man, loads more rugged than he is refined, so he isn’t big on fancy or fragrant scents.  when he’s scrubbed clean and free of grease and sweat, he smells of fresh linen or the no-nonsense scent of utilitarian detergent.  if his clothes have gone through the sonic, he’s devoid of any scent altogether. on the rare occasion han bothers with any fragrance, it’s likely a simple cologne—nothing too overpowering or difficult to come by.  i can easily see him stumbling upon a cologne in his late teens and sticking with that same scent over the years.  something subtle, like sweet corellian / kashyyykian sandalwood, sounds about right.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

han’s hands are rough and weathered, thickened by layers of calluses and scar tissue.  his nails are dense, mostly blunted by frequent clipping, though sometimes sharpened by chipped corners and, depending on if he’s been working on repairs, darkened by engine grease stains. 

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

han spends the majority of his time traveling through space.  because the ’falcon isn’t a luxury starship—though i’m sure han would fight me on that—food comes in only so many options.  han is the type of guy to enjoy hearty meals, mainly traditional corellian cuisine, the sort of stuff dewlanna would make for him before she died.  however, the space-fairing life doesn’t provide such a thing, not unless you have some kinda ultra-expensive, fancy food synth / replicator—which he doesn’t lol.  he hates the taste of artificial crap, so he keeps ample stock of your standard pre-packaged and dehydrated food rations onboard the ’falcon.  it’s nothing fancy, just portioned rations designed to provide the necessary nutrients for a human and wookiee to survive, as well as some extras for emergencies.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

he isn’t terrible, nor is he a natural-born singer.  han probably never sings unless encouraged while drunk as hell, or it’s for his children.  since this is a boring answer imo, i’ll briefly mention the au in which he grew up with two sisters instead, because it features a snippet about singing i wrote in 2016 that still stands: as a child, han grew up in an incredibly traditional corellian household and learned to play the drums.  during family gatherings, they would sing old corellian legends.  han was ushered up to sing often.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICS?  

i’ve had to elaborate on han’s past pretty much every time i’ve plotted with someone new this year, so i’m just gonna skim over his background real quick.  don’t worry, it’s relevant to the question!

born on corellia, han solo’s early years were marked by abandonment, hardship, and virtually no recollection of how he survived.  garrus shrike, a pirate and certified shitty bastard, scooped han up off the streets and raised him to be a pickpocket, skilled con artist, and professional swoop racer etc.  throughout his childhood and well into his teens, han was emotionally manipulated, physically / emotionally abused, and nearly beaten to death by shrike on multiple occasions. in such dire circumstances, solo had to master social engineering very early on, not only to aid in shrike’s shitty schemes to scam people of credits, but also as a means to survive.  he learned how to talk sweet and take hits on the chin without flinching.  doesn’t mean he’s tolerant of when it happens, but it goes to show he’s a better sport than you would think.  to be frank, if not rather depressing, han’s ability to control himself and his emotions, including his ‘nervous tics’, hinges on both his age and the era in which you encounter him, as these factors shape the extent of his trauma. TLDR ANSWER: while not explicitly labeled as nervous tics, han’s repertoire of behaviors in tense situations falls within a distinct pattern: the flippant wave of a dismissive hand, a frantic scrubbing at his face to evade eye contact, a sudden urge to get up and pace the room, or strained laughter that punctuates an awkward silence.  rare is the accidental stammer, but it’s a good sign he’s really slipped into a dither.  the abrupt shift to dark looks, marked by crooked grins, could be a fight-or-flight response. eventually, it devolves: his jaw clenches, his chin juts forward in defiance; his fingers twitch near the grip of his blaster, and he resorts to issuing unexpected ultimatums to steer the situation back in his favor—or to circumvent it altogether.

this might seem strange, but with han, nervous tics often twine with anger.  at least, that’s the impression many might get at first glance. given his entire upbringing and the years he spent under the tyrannical thumb of an emotionally and physically abusive parental figure, han has a serious problem with authority and control. for him, the boundary between nervousness and anger is razor-thin. losing control is akin to pulling the rug out from under him.  whether triggered by positive or negative stimuli, han doesn’t handle that well, not even as an adult, as losing control equates to vulnerability, and in the harsh world han has come to know, that’s what gets you killed.  love and violence are instinctive reactions to vulnerability, and for han, violence often wins out. that is until someone lovely comes by to soften his heart, of course. p:

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE/WEAR?

decked out in your usual spacer’s gear, but with han’s personal touch! han prefers at least two layers crafted from thin yet durable materials, ensuring versatility in varying weather conditions while remaining lightweight and flexible, should he ever need to book a hasty retreat ( trial and error, trial and error ).  although han didn’t exactly enjoy his time as an imperial lieutenant, he is deeply prideful of his achievements and corellian heritage, which is why you won’t ever see him running with trousers that don’t feature a corellian blood-stripe running up the sides.  a gunbelt is also a necessity; he never sets foot off the ’falcon without one strapped to his waist, blaster and all.  and last but certainly not least, a sturdy pair of boots!

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW MUCH? HOW SO?

bit of a broad question, ain’t it? don’t even know where to begin.  han is a multifaceted person.  he has layers—like an onion.  distinguishing between platonic and romantic affection is a task in itself, and han isn’t one to readily display any form of affection. generally speaking, han is a prickly thing.  he’s got a huge soft side, and he’s actually quite compassionate and understanding, but showing that side of himself must be done on his own terms, or he’d sooner eat his whole hand than allow others to see that.  yes, he’s quite the self-sabotaging little gremlin.  he is your definition of awkwardly affectionate until he’s learned to lower his guard, which has its own set of hurdles…

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?

bold of you to assume han sleeps at all. han is a man of perpetual motion, his thoughts racing ahead to the next task even as he tackles the present one.  whether it’s contemplating the aftermath of his current endeavor, anticipating chewie’s return with a vital component, or planning out his next ship upgrade, han’s life as a smuggler has kept him on the go.  in a galaxy like star wars, danger lurks around every corner, especially in his chosen profession.   old habits die hard. when he sleeps, it’s anywhere and with one eye open.  he might say it casually, but it’s an ingrained rule he lives by: sleep with one eye open.  one eye open, ’n a loaded blaster at your side.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

omg lmao have you met this man? han’s great at hollerin’ from the top of his lungs, lemme tell ya.  when han’s got something to say, he’ll make sure every man, woman, enby / alien in the building hears him loud and clear lmao but in all seriousness, it depends.  is there an imperative need for him to keep his volume under control? is he engaged in a contentious exchange? or does someone else want him to keep his voice down? y’know, he might just start yelling if it’s the latter. 

tagged by: @kingofthewebxxx thank you for thinking of me!! xo

tagging: @techniiciian, @sgterso @misfittcd ( luke! ), @alootus, @debelltio, @tapalslegacy @vibraea @devoutgun @duelfated (luke!), and you if you wanna do this! thanks for reading this hot mess!!

[yo-yo-yeonkai]

TO MY ANGEL, ARE YOU WATCHING? - HUENING KAI - SFW

Kai x reader

Genre: angst

Warning list: big ANGST! major character death, mentions of depression, if you squint your eyes ideas of suicide, mention of : hospital, blood, sickness, not proof read!

Word count: 1,080

Summary: Kai can’t be with you anymore, those chances had long passed, but can he see you and read those letters you send him?

Authors note: This was inspired by a piece I read recently by @mazeinthemoon called [6:27pm], which I highly recommend!!!

Dear Kai,

I’m not sure if you still look down on me, I haven’t felt your presence in so long, it’s been a bit lonely without you here. The house feels empty now, and it’s not like you ever left your room anyway. You stayed burrowed up in there, so I’d have to come join you if I wanted attention. I hope you knew I loved you, it’s too late to tell you now.

I regret it, not telling you whilst you were here, but I’m sure you already knew. The way you’d text me and tell me to come to your room, only for it to be lit up with fairy lights, a fort made in the middle and once we entered the cosiest bed for us to watch movies on. You brought all my favourite snacks, you let me pick the movies, I think you even tried to hold my hand. I’m sorry I got nervous and pulled away, I should’ve just let you hold it whilst you could. Was that a date? To me it was…

I have a new confession now Kai. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time. I did get better since you left, I promise. I’m not sick anymore, but, today I feel it. I feel the way it used to feel.

I don’t feel excited, suddenly everything I’ve ever loved feels bland. As if I took a picture and put a horribly monochrome filter on. My hobbies, are a dull grey, no longer a sparking silver. It doesn’t light up my days, nor does it make me feel like I’m living.

My voice can’t even raise in tone, I’ve tried, it just stays at a continuous monotone. No more inflections as I get excited, no more shouting as I get angry, no, I’m not even sure I felt anything but bland today. Even my emotions are mono, is this even real right now? My face doesn’t lift in a smile, doesn’t frown with disappointment, I have held a straight face for longer than I’d like. I wish you were here to make me smile… you’d probably make that dumb Pokémon noise you always replicated, I’d always whine but you knew I loved it, that’s why it always came flying out of your mouth the second I had a bad day.

Isn’t it weird that people are alive. Like, I’m living my life and you aren’t, you were stolen from me, ripped away too soon, it’s just not fair. Don’t you think? Sometimes I wish it had been the other way around, but I know that’s not possible.

I’ve been better for awhile, I’ve taken care of myself, even tried to go further than just being alive, I tried to LIVE, but I’m not great at that. Ever since i made that mistake at work, my life has consumed me, everything felt overwhelming. Like I was drowning in all the endless pain I left behind me. It came back for me when I least expected it. Can you protect me from it Kai? Can you be my angel?

Who am I kidding… I don’t want you to spend your afterlife worrying about me as well, do what you want to do, live the best you can up there. I’d cry if you thought about me the way I thought about you. In fact, I hope you forgot about me, it would hurt, but I could take it if I knew you were happy.

I used to say that health was a lie… that’s because i get sick with a click of my fingers. Now I mean that both mentally and physically. Our friends must think I chuck myself down the stairs each morning with how much physical pain I come to school with.

“What’s wrong today?”

How did they know I was in pain? Oh yes, that’s right, I’m always in pain. Can I catch a break please…

“I have a terrible pain in my stomach”

Do you remember that I actually had that pain for months and it got so bad sometimes that I missed days and days of school. You took me to the doctors because I hate them, they took my blood, but there was nothing wrong with me that they could find. So I was on medication for awhile, but it didn’t help so I got taken off it. The pain comes back sometimes. The worst bit is when my lecturers ask why I wasn’t in, and I have to explain it’s been the same pain since last month. They must think I’m a liar, I see it in their eyes. You told me I was being dramatic, but I know I wasn’t…

But when you fell sick I suddenly realised that anything I went through was just a silly bug, a little thing that would go away. You… you were suffering, true pain, true agony. I wish I could’ve done something, even ease your pain, but I couldn’t. You wouldn’t even let me stay in the hospital with you like I had wanted to. You told me “Go home, keep it warm so when I get back I won’t be cold”. You died that evening, when I was making your bed, trying to convince myself you’d be home soon. It was a lie I told myself, I knew you wouldn’t be coming home, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

Do you know what it’s like to have your heart ripped from your chest? I imagine you felt a similar pain as your life was coming to an end, that’s how I felt when the nurse called me. She had plunged her hand into my heart and tugged it out with ease, as if my heart knew it was about to be crushed. I wish you were here to make that stupid noise once again… maybe then I’d stop feeling sick, but you aren’t.

I promise this feeling won’t continue, I’ll stay strong Kai, I know you’d want me to. I’ll even go on a walk tomorrow, and try walk it off. You always told me I should get out more. But you aren’t one to talk are you….

Perhaps I should stop sending you these letters, but how can I… when I can’t let go of you. The second I stop, is the second you truly die, because you’ll be a forgotten star, and you could never be that to me.

,Forever the dumbass roommate that fell in love with you…

[ohbo-ohno]

How do you write fanfiction without going ooc?

Personally I think you're the best cod writer, I'm considering writing some fan fiction but I'm scared the characters arent in character

"best cod writer"??? when i haven't posted in like a month?? oh babe we are getting MARRIED ilysm thank you <3

im actually like fucking terrible at giving advice (i am not a well spoken person lmao) but i can talk At you for a bit about this!!!

grasping a character's voice is actually like. deeply difficult, and it's maaaaybe the thing i struggle with most when writing (or at least one of the things lmao). especially bc literally every single writer has a different voice for every character, so you have to find what works best for your story and your style. your ghost shouldn't look/sound exactly like someone else's ghost, because he's yours, yk?

that also being said - things that are ooc to me aren't necessarily ooc to someone else. the ghost in my mind would never let you call him a cheesy pet name like "sisi", but that doesn't mean that someone else's ghost wouldn't, yk? and to them, they're in character! so you've kinda got to decide what you think being in character is, if that makes any sense

i read a looooot of fanfiction before i started writing my own cod stuff. i've only watched the full campaign once, but i've read what's probably dozens of fics lmao - my ghost and soap are an amalgamation of the things i enjoyed most in other people's fics. think about the things that you love the most in your favorite fics, and see if you can replicate that tone/vibe

i also think that getting a character's Voice is a lot more than just dialogue. i write in either second person or third person limited, but for the sake of this i'll talk a bit about third person limited

if i'm writing smth like i'll eat you whole, im technically writing from johnny's perspective, right? so i don't write his internal monologue in his accent, but i do use certain adjective he would - like instead of describing ghost as "broad" or "hulking", i said he's "a big motherfucker" bc that's how i think johnny would talk. this doesn't matter nearly as much with second person, but letting johnny's voice float into the internal monologue helps keep me in the right headspace for the fic. it's easier for me to maintain his voice if i never really let it go, yknow what i mean?

also i know this sounds sooo stupid but i think a big part of writing in character is literally just thinking "can i see them saying this? would a person like this do this?"

like. okay. ghost is a 6'4 special forces lieutenant who is willing to do literally anything if it means completing his mission. he's a big man with an even bigger reputation. can you see him begging for your forgiveness at the slightest argument? can you see him stuttering on a first date?

and soap is an incredibly accomplished sergeant who's set records in the military, he's a demolitions expert and a skilled sniper with a hell of a temper. can you see him giggling? can you see him crying when his girlfriend is mad at him?

sometimes making sure you're not writing ooc is as simple as "They Would Not Fucking Say That", and as unhelpful as it is, that's literally just based on vibes

is any of that coherent at all?? i genuinely don't know. hope i didn't make things worse! ily!

(also just as general writing advice - practice!!! don't post everything you write!! i cannot tell you how many things i've written will never see the light of day, but all my little failures in writing have given me a better grasp on the characters, yk? you have to do badly and recognize what's bad before you can be super happy with your writing. write something and then focus on exactly what feels off to you, and change only that. idk. maybe im spouting bullshit)

[badoggie]

Reader X chamber! (Valorant)

M-rating for heavy themes

Summary: Angel has been experiencing a new terrible phobia...

But Chamber won't let the paranoia consume her, he forces her to face her fears and prove to her once and for all that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Everytime an enemy entered your sights you never hesitated. What looked like a friendly face, and a pull of the trigger. A copy of your friend, people who felt like family, and the pull of a trigger. Your own face on a copy, and the pull of a trigger.

Even if they had his face, you never hesitated.

All the fighting had started to inspire a new fear in you, what would stop you from killing someone you cared for?

It would be easy, you were already used to it.

It would be over in the blink of an eye. You could pull the trigger and put an end to someone who was identical to your enemy.

What's stopping you from-

“Mon ange, you got them all…”

A delicately accented voice manages to slip past the anxious catastrophizing. He whispers to you, the noise of all the fighting finally silenced. It only continues to exist inside your head.

You swallow, your hand tense, the tendons on your palm feeling stuck around the pistol on your hand. You look beyond it and see the slightly concerned face of Chamber, your sights trained on him.

He sees your eyes slowly come back into focus, a gentle smile slowly forms on his face and he reads your expression. His hands aren't raised, his shoulders aren't tense, he knows you would never do anything to hurt him or any of your friends.

He slowly starts to walk towards you, and your eyes widen, you quickly force your gun arm down and away from him, “I- Sorry, Vin.” You press a palm to your forehead, “Everything just happens so fast.” You let out a halfhearted chuckle, burying your real fears down as far as you can.

“Think nothing of it.” He says sincerely, “You did well. Thank you once again for watching my back, mon ange.” he carefully takes the pistol from your hand, and you're truly grateful to be rid of it.

You try to smile in return, but your forced carefree expression quickly sputters out back into a worried frown.

Chamber scans your face, you're not yourself. You haven't been recently, and it's easy for him to notice. Once you were someone he would often go to for conversation and company, and you still were, nothing would ever change that. But the woman he knew had been changed in some imperceivable way. You were still strong, you were still caring, but there was something else now, a deep seeded worry that he couldn't pinpoint. He didn't know how to help you yet, but he knew he wanted to find the problem, and correct it.

“Come, let us return to base. You deserve a respite, Ange.”

You follow Chamber, and as you're slowly surrounded by the rest of your friends you're distracted enough to forget your fears.

Chamber doesn't join in any of the conversation, comfortable enough to sit and watch in silence.

Once back at HQ, there's the usual gathering of a few agents around a table, Chamber watches over you, keeping track of how many comments you make, how many jokes you start, counting their frequency until he can see the calm take the place of the worry. He wonders to himself how he can capture whatever it is that coaxes back your old self and how he can replicate it.

Chamber leans onto his hand, his eyes still studying you, and you finally notice. Your laughs had been less genuine and more like brief moments of relief until the anxious quiet static settles back in your mind. You look over at Chamber, and it's quiet. You lock eyes, he doesn't look away, not perturbed in the slightest by the eye contact. He looks at you with fondness in his eyes but it's lost on you. You start to see his face, in front of the barrel of a gun, and the hand holding it is yours, always yours. And you don't feel any hesitation when you pull the trigger.

You flinch, as though a real barrel flash had blinded you, “Excuse me, guys.” You quickly push yourself up, and walk out of the noisy room. You exit as calmly as you can, you don't want to worry the others, and neither do they notice, but Chamber looks surprised as he watches you up and leave.

He clears his throat, and fixes his tie, leaving the table quietly without a word, something not uncommon for him so no one bats an eye.

The group continues talking, no one really notices the sudden departure of either of you. Only Jett and Sage think to themselves that something might be up, and they exchange quick glances, but they leave it alone for now.

Chamber follows you silently, a dark thought comes up that maybe he is the cause of whatever has been bothering you lately. He's never had you run from him like that. And what would he do if he were the cause? His thoughts swim desperately, he doesn't see what he could do other than to be away from you.

You finally stop your aimless pacing and find yourself in a quiet area outside HQ. Alone there's no reason to fear the intrusive thoughts of hurting someone else, but is that really how you want to live?

“Ange?”

“Vin?” You turn around to see Chamber, his eyes full of concern. You sigh, slightly disappointed and irritated at how easily he manages to catch you at your most vulnerable moments. He seems to be the one that is always there, always noticing when something is amiss.

You don't say anything, preoccupied with mentally beating yourself up at how you couldn't conceal your emotions well enough.

“Mon ange, I must admit I am tired of seeing you like this.” He says, walking towards you, “Just say what the problem is, just name it and I will do my best to make it right.” he says, frustration brimming in his words, he tries not to be angry, but it's starting to wear on him to see you suffering and seemingly adamant about keeping everyone else out of it. You're a team, and you had been the one to finally make Chamber see that.

“I can't, Vin. Just-” you sigh, “Its nothing, let me handle it. I can handle it.”

Chamber shakes his head, annoyance welling up inside of him, he tries to swallow it down.

He's reminded of when he first joined Valorant. He was the picture of arrogance but he at least had the skills to match. When on the battlefield he tried not to be distracted by his teammates and was more concerned with his marksmanship and kills, with wanting to prove to himself and his team that he was no less than a boon to everyone nearest to him.

And he received much praise, but not from you. And that irritated him. The only thing you had offered to him was suggestions on how he could better serve the team. He always brushed it off. You barely knew him! How could you possibly tell him what to do? He was a master at his craft, more than adept behind any weapon and you were coaching him? It was laughable, and laugh he did at most of your suggestions.

Until one day the humor of the situation was destroyed for him, a friend of yours was wounded from a position that Chamber should have been watching had he cared to listen to you, to fight not just for flashy offenses but to fight smart, to think like the enemy and defend against their rotations and advances.

And you criticized him harshly for it.

Chamber had looked to Brimstone that day, thinking he would correct you for being out of line, but he never did, he allowed you to show Chamber a piece of your mind.

You were right after all.

You had humbled him, something not many had managed to do, and it caused him to think deeper about his role by your side and as a member of a team. He had made sure to watch over you and the people you cared for more often after that. And having watched you for so long, you quickly became someone close to him, despite the bad first impression. But he didn't know that had endeared him to you all the more.

You had changed him for the better, made him a team player and a good friend and now you were asking him to ignore all of that and just leave you to fend for yourself? You don't get to take someone and force them to see that there's more at stake and then just ask them to abandon someone they care for.

“You really think I would leave you now? Ignore all I've seen and leave you exposed? Ange, I thought you knew me well.” He shakes his head, “You could ask almost anything of me, but this, I will not do.” He said confidently, holding a scolding finger up to you.

You shook your head, your face sad as you turned away from him. Suddenly you see the memory of how you acted earlier that day. Like you weren't in control of yourself, and you had leveled your pistol at Chamber. You felt like there was another person inside you, someone who could at any time decide they wanted to ruin your life and kill those who mattered to you most.

You feel hands tentatively grasp your shoulders, and the panic spikes, “Don't! Don't come near me.” you say, your voice straining.

“Ange, talk to me!” Chamber finally yells, his patience thinning.

You groan, your fingers anxiously running through your hair, “I- It’s you, Vin.” you finally say.

“Me?” He asks, his brows knitted together in confusions. And for a brief moment his heart sinks, a pit opening in his stomach that his fears may be true.

“It's you I'm most afraid of hurting.”

Chamber eyes you curiously, “Hurt me? Why would you ever hurt me? Mon ange, what could you possibly mean?”

“I…I don't know. I just- I have this…fear that if I could pull the trigger so easily on a copy…what would stop me from hurting any of you?”

“Darling, this would never happen. You could never do such a thing.”

“Why not? It's possible, there's nothing stopping me. What if I just snap from all the fighting and I just…” your eyes start to sting, tears welling up in your eyes, “I pointed a gun at you today.”

“I understand your fear,” Chamber says, his voice calm and soothing, he slowly moves in closer, trying not to spook you, “But I trust you, I know you, you are not so weak as to be violent on a whim like you fear.”

“I don't know…I feel like I don't know myself, how far I might go.” you clutch at yourself, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I've seen the ferociousness you possess, mon ange. I cannot see how in any universe you would do something you didn't completely believe in.”

“I don't know if I can hold a gun again, Vin.” Your voice trembles.

You showed Chamber who he could really be.

“I will show you, you can.” Chamber responds.

Chamber suddenly pulls out a golden playing card, flipping it between his fingers with a flourish, your eyes following it. You barely notice when he drags a finger across his tattooed arm and summons up a pistol.

You shiver at the sight of it, “Don't. I can't. Not with you.”

“Would you prefer a different victim?” He smiles.

“Don't joke about this, Vincent.”

“Take the gun, hold it in your hand.”

“No, not doing that.”

“Take the gun, mon ange.”

You swallow, your head shaking stiffly before he shoves the gun in your hand, and you start to struggle against it, trying to pry your hand away.

He whispers, “Don't panic.” he adjusts your hand over the gun until you're holding it properly, eventually his eyes lock with yours, “Breathe, mon ange.”

His voice and his nearness are the only things keeping you grounded, you're scared of hurting him, but listening to him talk you through your anxiety keeps you from breaking.

“Breathe,” he continues, “Trust yourself, Angel.”

You swallow, your eyes anxiously scanning Chamber’s face, trying to understand the confidence he has in you. Your fingers feel tense around the handle of the gun, and all you can do is watch on in worry.

Then, when you thought he was done testing you, he angles the gun against his chest,the barrel pressing firmly against his heart as his hand holds your grip on the gun.

You feel like you might scream. You watch your hand be moved, you wait in horror for what feels like hours for a tragedy to unfold.

He gives you a small smile, “Nothing to fear.” He soothes, “Put your finger on the trigger.”

“Vincent, no.” You say harshly, nearly reaching your limit, “I'll kill you.” you whimper.

“You won't, darling.” He nudges your finger with his, “You'll see.”

“Don't. Vincent.”

“Just do it.”

“I can't lose you.”

“You won't, my love.”

Your finger ghosts over the trigger, leaning against the pulley. Your hand shakes with the death grip you have on the handle of the gun, your terrified eyes locked on Chamber’s somehow very calm ones.

Your body is screaming at you to pull the trigger, your mind reels at the feeling. It's so wrong, so intrusive, and your eyes clench shut.

There's silence for a second.

“Ange, look at me. Look at how I am still here.”

You open your eyes, your finger resting against the trigger. Your mind begging you not to pull it. And you don't. You don't and you never ever will, as long as Chamber is in front of it.

Your breathing starts to come out in harsh puffs, as if you had been holding your breath.

“Vincent?”

“I am still here, mon ange.” he whispers, his free hand snaking behind your ear, caressing your face as he slowly brings his face closer to yours. He places a tender kiss on your cheek, but doesn't move right away.

Your nose turns towards him, brushing his cheek. Chamber glances at your lips, then at you, before you take the chance to kiss his lips.

Chamber takes a deep breath, his free hand pulling you closer. The gun still digging in his chest, as you kiss him. Even with this distraction, there's no other you to take over and do the unthinkable.

Chamber deepens the kiss with a tilt of his head, his tongue swirling against yours as you press against him. Chamber's fingers tangle with your gun hand, slowly slipping the gun out of your hands and disappearing it. Once it's gone he finally wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

You stay like that for a while. Chamber coaxing shivering breaths from your body with his hands and lips. You feel closer to him, his scent and feel intoxicating. And you feel swept away by the moment, kissing him deeply you cling to him, finally feeling in control, you relish it.

Eventually you reluctantly pull away, you look at Chamber as you catch your breath, a look of genuine surprise on your face. But he meets you with a knowing gleam in his eyes, he never had any doubt, how could you hurt him when you know the way he feels about you.

“You see? If anyone sent me to the afterlife, it could never be you, mon ange. You like me too much.” Chamber smiles.

Your breathing has finally returned to normal, and you look down at your gun hand, they no longer feel treacherous, untrustworthy. They just feel like a part of you.

“Don't do that again, Vin.” You reply, half relieved, half still upset at this little stunt, and you lay a play punch on his chest.

“I needed to show you what you're capable of, angel. Reason would not be enough.”

You nod, “Maybe you're right. Thank you.”

“You've done more for me than I can count, mon ange, no need to thank me.”

“You're right, we're not even close to being even.”

“There she is.” Chamber smiles a bright smile before escorting you to your room.