#he meant to put that shit on main and let it be everyone's problem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

henrywintersdearestgirl · 4 months

Note

what about makeup sex with henry after a big fight hehe

love u

Merry Christmas, my dearest doves! Love you xx <3

I hope you will like my present:)

Odium

It was already bad timing for them to fight. It was the end of the semester, summer was right around the curb.

All the members of the greek class were together in Francis’ estate, it was easier if anyone had troubles with all of their work. But, that also meant that everyone was on fire, and not in a good way.

The twins were mainly calm and minding their own business, Francis just drank the second he felt an ounce of stress and dragged Richard with him to be a borderline alcoholic. Bunny was the main problem, he was irritating the shit out of everyone, especially Henry and Y/N.

It was obvious that Bunny had a thing for Y/N, it was an ignored open secret for everyone.

But one night, Bunny had drank a bit too much, unfortunately for Henry. Henry was trying to do his work in the library, but Bunny had different plans for him. He plopped down onto the armchair in front of Henry and made himself comfortable.

He just kept on talking, talking and talking. After an hour of his constant yapping, which Henry ignored of course, there was a bit of silence. Until there wasn’t…

Y/N went to sleep hours ago, but she just couldn’t get comfortable, and she felt like she was just not warm enough. She needed Henry’s big and warm body to fall asleep, so she made her way down to the library.

She had heard his distant voice, it made her stop in her tracks. Bunny was talking, and about her. His tone was fuming, and she could just see his angered red face, he must have drunk a whole bottle. She never heard his slurring this much, he wasn’t in his right mind, he will probably forget everything in the morning.

She stayed at the corner and just listened, what a mistake.

“Do you know what I don’t understand, Henry?” He huffed like a small child “You have her all to yourself, and you can’t even fucking cherish it, you fucking bastard!” He was hitting the arm of the chair in frustration “You just show her around, I bet you don’t even love her.” Her heart ached at the words of Bunny, but more at Henry’s silence. She didn’t need to hear her name to know that she was the topic.

“But let me tell you, old chap, if she was mine… Man, how I would love her. And not just her, but that body…” she clenched her fist and jaw, her heart dropped. “I would grab her hair and have those lips around my cock. I would knead and suck those tits all fucking night.” She could hear him creeping closer to Henry “And of course, I would fuck her sweet pu—“

She had turned on her heels and ran back to her room, she heard enough. And it angered her that Henry couldn’t stand up for her. Did he really just wanted to show her off? Without actually loving her? She knew she was beautiful, beautiful like the sun on a cold winter day. But, no, Henry loved her, he showed her multiple times and he really cherished her. Then why didn’t he fucking say something?

She needed space, she knew he would come looking for her. So, she took her bag out and threw in whatever clothing of hers she could find, she even put in a shirt of Henry’s. She may have been angry at him but he was the love of her life. She creeped into Francis’s room, and woke him up lightly, he looked confused and scared that something bad had happened.

“Y-Y/N? What is it? Is something wrong?” He sat up in bed, the moon rested on his pale freckled chest.

“No, no. I just—I have to leave, I must go home. Can I take your car?” He immediately understood that it was something to do with Henry. So, he nodded and gave her the keys. “Please, don’t say anything to Henry…”

“Of course not, my sweet.” He hugged her gently, and felt her shed a few tears on his neck, so he just let her stay like that for a couple of minutes, stroking her hair until she pulled away.

She shed many tears while driving back to her place, and when she plopped down on her bed, she cried even more.

She doesn’t remember when she had fallen asleep, but she woke up with Henry kneeling beside the bed, smoothing her hair softly. The second she recognized the familiar touch she melted into it. Then, she remembered the whole reason she fell asleep alone in her own bed, so she pulled away.

His brows furrowed as he looked at her in confusion.

“Why did you leave, my doe? What’s wrong? Do tell.”

The tears began to stream. “I heard you… In the library.” She sensed that he tensed up “I heard how Bunny was talking about me, but I didn’t hear you saying anything.” She barely whispered out, the knot in her throat nearly choking her words down.

She finally looked him in the eye, she was surprised to see the slight smile on his face. Why was he smiling?

He chuckled warmly and held her teary face in both of his big hands. “Oh, my girl. I wish you hadn’t left so early, otherwise you could have seen the bruise on Edmund’s cheek.” He sat up beside her on the bed and hugged her deeply, she immediately wrapped herself around his much bigger frame “I would never let anyone talk like that about my lovely baby. She is only for me, no one else can touch her like I do. And he was right in certain parts.” His kisses migrated down to her jaw.

“W-what?” He was hitching closer to her sweetest spot.

“I do love to show you off.” He sucked at her neck and she felt the warmth in her tummy. “I love how everyone envies me, because I have the most beautiful girl to myself.” His lips wandered to her cleavage, his hands slipped under her thin nightgown, slowly pushing it over her head. As he talked, he gently pushed her down on her back. “Mine to love, to hold, to kiss…” he slowly kissed down her body, stopping at her chest to give some attention to her perky breasts, which he got rewarded for with breathy moans. He kneeled down on the floor, pulling her hips to the edge of her bed. His arms wrapped around her soft thighs, which he kissed all over, and he bit the lower part of her tummy. “All mine to pleasure, to worship, to fuck.” He dived in and ate her out as if his life depended on it, he needed to make it up for her.

She loved when he ate her out, he was so good at it, but she needed him now, she needed him bad. She was already horny when she went down to the library, so she was eager to get him inside her. Henry and her were probably the least stressed out of the whole greek class, they fucked all of their stress away. She grabbed his hair and pulled him up from her heat, which Henry replied to with a whine, nobody likes to be pulled away from a good and warm cunt.

“I-I need you, Henry, I want you inside.” She pushed his shirt off of his muscular chest after pulling him down to her naked body.

He stood up from the ground and undressed quickly, his member was already standing hard and proudly against his stomach.

He laid down beside her. “Come one, doe, use me as you’d like.” She was hypnotised by him, she crawled on top of him and grinded down on his firm dick. He groaned when he felt her wet folds wrapping around him, he easily could have cummed just from her grinding. “Put me inside, dearest, let me feel you completely.”

That did it, she positioned him at her entrance, and sunk down on him. She fell down on him and began riding him while embracing him.

This was his heaven, being inside his girl, while being in her welcoming arms. His hands were caressing the back of her head. She straightened her back and gave him a sight for sore eyes. He felt himself pulse within her from the show she gave him, her soft hips moving precisely, her beautiful round tits bouncing from her moves, her hair messy from his touch. She radiated sex from her, and she was his sex goddess.

After a while, her moving got uncoordinated, so he sat up and fucked up into her. He pounded right up into her sweet spot, she moaned loudly and she fisted his hair from the pleasure. His mouth latched on one of her breasts and he began sucking and licking on her nipple.

“I’m close, just, oh! Don’t stop!” His fingers started rubbing her clit, and he felt her clenching around him.

“Go on, give it to me!” She came on him and that pushed him over the edge. His thick cum flooded her cunt.

“Oh, I love the feeling of you filling me up. Mm, so warm.” She nuzzled her face into his neck, and he caressed her skin all over.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth. “I would never let anyone speak bad about you, my love.”

Her eyes closed slowly, the sex tiring her out. “I know, I should have stayed a bit longer, m’sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed her lovingly “I understand, the next time someone dares to put a bad word next to your name, I will punch them that second.”

She laughed loudly, causing to laugh too. “How did you get even with punching him?”

“He was so drunk, so Richard just convinced him that he tripped and fell down the stairs. He even acts like his ribs are broken and he is whining all day, he even whined for Camilla to put ice on his arms.”

So, he made up with her. He took her out for breakfast, and just gave her love all day.

52 notes · View notes

justanotherfanwriter · 9 months

Text

and they were ROOMmates

Cht list: (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n: this one took me awhile, but hopefully, you can see Soul's other points of stress!

fyi I put this story on ao3 (as requested), so don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos (if you want lol). I’ll continue to update on tumblr as well!

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The bus jolted Soul awake. Its brakes squealed as it came to a halt, and his head bounced against the bus window. He hissed in pain and scrambled for the package the sudden stop had knocked off his lap. When the package was back in its proper place, he rubbed at his head, poking around the still-tender flesh.

“Shit,” He cursed, flinching away from his hand when it grazed against the goose egg that was beginning to form. The woman caddy corner to him, cradling a sleeping toddler, glared, which he returned, though he hardly believed she could tell. He was moving around Death City incognito with oversized sunglasses, a baseball cap, and his hoodie with the hood up.

It was a cakewalk going to the post office as an oddly dressed stranger compared to going as the Last Death Scythe. He couldn’t make it two blocks down the street without being stopped if it weren’t for the sunglasses, never mind the setting sun.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the bus. Even for a weapon, it wasn’t a bright idea, but as Maka had guessed, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. Being a weapon obsessive over protecting his meister was easier said than mentally done. He sighed and gently placed his head back against the window, relying on the bus to keep him jostled awake.

There was some shifting as the group from the back of the bus got off, and a new group got on. He watched the departing group’s reflections as they walked past. Each was sporting DWMA memorabilia, but he couldn’t recognize any of their faces, so he assumed they were a few years younger than him. Of course, that didn’t mean they didn’t know him, and because of that likely possibility, he was glad they hadn’t seen through his poorly-made disguise.

When things settled back down on the bus, he turned his attention out the window and blankly stared past his reflection. They were near the school but closer to the airport. He didn’t come to this side of the city as often as he once had and was only there now because Maka had accidentally sent her package to their old PO box. The ride from the DWMA clinic where Maka was staying to their old post office wasn’t a bad commute, but because it was in the opposite direction of their new apartment, he still had fifteen or twenty-ish minutes until he made it home.

He let out a deep breath, temporarily fogging the window. Mentally, he counted how many stop he had left until he got off, and then couldn’t stop himself from counting down how many stops were left between here and their old apartment.

DWMA’s independent student-living complexes weren’t glorious by any means, but it hadn’t been bad. Like sure, the air-conditioning busted on the days it was most inconvenient, and there was a minor bug problem, but when he thought of his childhood home, he didn’t think of the estate in Maine, but the two-bedroom, one bathroom mold-infested hellscape he had lived in with Maka.

He missed that apartment.

A lot.

They had moved out of their old apartment the moment he turned eighteen and could legally sign a lease off of DWMA property. They had left for no other reason besides the fact he had become too famous to stay there, especially with the amount of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed underclassmen wandering around this part of Death City that wanted nothing more than to meet the great, stupendous Last Death Scythe in all his freaky albino glory.

It wasn’t just the underclassmen, though, that wasn’t fair to the underclassmen—sorry, underclassmen—because the upperclassmen would sneak by too, but they, at least, tried being cool about it. Still, some piece of shit had ruined it for everyone and leaked their apartment address to the general public, completely destroying the low-key vibe. They tried their best to stay in the apartment, but after Maka had thrown away the third pile of used underwear from a “NO RETURN” sender, she had declared it was time they thought about moving out.

“Unless,” She had paused drying the dishes, looking at him almost shyly, “I mean, unless you want to live by yourself. We’re graduating soon, after all. There’s no reason we have to stay roommates. I can—” an uncomfortable look had crossed her face, and she swallowed past her discomfort, “—move back in with my papa, you know until I’m old enough to sign a lease somewhere.”

He could clearly remember the way he had stared at her, taking in the brave look on her face and considering, for the first time since they had moved in together, living alone. He had almost laughed at her. Maybe when he was thirteen, and she was twelve, yelling at him about leaving the toilet seat up, he had longingly thought about his own apartment without any roommates breathing down his neck, but now, he couldn’t imagine a life without Maka’s daily lectures.

And besides, he had asked, “Is that, like, even possible? Do I even make that much money now?”

Clear annoyance had pulsed through her features as she gritted out for the umpteenth time, “Soul, please, you have to start paying attention to your finances.”

“But then, what would you bitch about?” He had asked her through a toothy smile, “You know, besides the laundry, and the cleaning, and the cooking, and the—”

“—I’m not helping you anymore!” She had snapped, throwing the dish towel at his head, “Your money! Your checkbook! Your problem!”

She had stomped away to the sound of his cackling, and neither of them brought up the idea of living apart again. They had simply moved to another apartment together. Maka, of course, had taken care of everything, and he, of course, bitched about the thousands of cumbersome books he had to move while she stood around, clipboard in hand, nagging him and all the other poor suckers she had roped into helping them move.

Their new apartment complex was farther away from the school and, thus, the main part of the bustling city. They lived closer to the outskirts where the townies lived, where Death Children, like Maka, were raised. The people there wouldn’t have given two shits if he were the Death Lord himself. Death Children had seen plenty of Death Scythes come and go that Soul didn’t bother with the shitty disguises he wore everywhere else if he wanted a normal outing. In fact, the only person who seemed to care about them at all was Mrs. Ranger from across the hall, who hated Blair (human form) with a passion but loved Blair (cat form) like no other.

He readjusted his baseball cap down his eyes and nestled further into his seat, groaning at the thought of Blair. She had probably caused more trouble than she was worth while they were gone, and now, he’d have to deal with it. Alone. Just uncool.

“Hey, hey—” Someone belched, and Soul dragged his gaze away from the window to look back toward the bus aisle.

“Yes?” He bit back actual tears as the drunk guy, who was supposed to be sitting four seats behind him, leered down at him. Why couldn’t anyone leave him alone?

“’ Ey, do I, uh, I know you, right?” The man asked around another burp.

And, Lord Death, how many times would he be asked that today while he was just trying to exist in fucking peace?

“No. You don’t,” Soul lied, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose.

“Are you—are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, man.” He turned to look back out the window, but the guy persisted.

“Nah,” He said, sitting down, “I know youse. Uh, shit—” Another burp, paired with a hiccup, “—got a package, huh?”

“I do.” He glowered at his reflection, flipping the package label down so it wouldn’t give him away.

The drunk hiccupped, blinking rapidly as he stared at him. He pursed his lips in thought before his face lit up in recognition. Obnoxiously, he snapped his fingers and then jabbed one in Soul’s face, “Youse look exactly like that guy!”

“I don’t know you,” Soul repeated, knocking the drunk’s hand away just like he had knocked away Marc’s not even two hours before. Seriously, did manners mean nothing anymore?

Unbothered, the guy continued smiling. He looked five seconds away from passing out or throwing up, and Soul didn’t want to be involved either way. “Yeah, but youse—” the drunk man yawned and shook his head to keep himself awake, “—youse look like that guy, ya know, he, uh, he’s that, um, guy!”

“Nope.” Soul shook his head, tempted to jump out of the moving bus just to get away, but with rush hour traffic in Death City, his odds of survival didn’t look good.

Seconds ticked by without a peep from the drunk, and for a beautiful, wonderous second Soul thought maybe the interrogation was over. He chanced a quick look at the drunk just in time to watch the man slump forward as he passed out. In that instant, the bus hit a bump, and the guy’s head lulled to the side, landing on Soul’s shoulder. A snore erupted from the man and a wave of bad breath and booze crashed over him. He pulled a face and followed his gut reaction, shoving the man away.

Unfortunately, this woke him up.

The drunk shot up with a clap, evidently proud of himself, and bellowed, “The Last Death Scythe! That’s who!”

Soul froze for half a second, then shook his head, “Never heard of ‘im.”

“You don’t know who that is!” Some rando behind them cried, sticking his head between the seats. His eyes were rimmed red, and he smelt like weed. It pissed Soul off, but mostly out of jealousy. “You a tourist or sumthin’?”

“No.” He seethed, slouching further down his seat.

“You’re not a tourist, and you ain’t ever heard of the Last fucking Scythe?” The high man was flabbergasted, hitting the drunk man on the shoulder, “I don’t believe it! Do you believe it?”

“I do’not fuckin’ believe it!” The drunk man agreed enthusiastically, jolting up and confused but happy to be included. Out of the corner of Soul’s eye, he watched the lady with the toddler shoot the three of them a dirty look, and again, he glared back. Obviously, she also had an issue with him.

“Well, do.” He sneered, returning his attention to the men, but they both ignored him; the high guy was sputtering his continued disbelief, and the drunk man was wiping drool from his mouth.

“Don’t he look like him? The Last Death Scythe?” The drunk man slurred, asking the high man, who, in turn, said to Soul, “You don’t gotta be embarrassed about being a tourist. I know all the good spots, ya know. I run a little tour business; a bit of a side hustle, you understand. I can give you a discount, and show you around. For just a small fee, I can have you running around this City like an authentic Death Child. We’ll check out the school!”

“I’m not—” Soul paused and gave the guy a dry look, “—the school? You’re leading with the school? Everyone knows the school. That can’t be your first suggestion.”

“What’s wrong with the school?” The high man gave him a dirty look.

“You can’t just say you know all the good spots and name the one spot everyone knows!”

“What would you know? You ain’t fuckin’ from here!” The man bristled, and the drunk man followed suit, acting as a useless echo, “Yeah, you ain’t fuckin’ from here!”

“I live here. I work here.”

“And what do you do?” The high man leaned forward.

Soul gritted his teeth, “What does it matter?

They went back and forth like this, their argument getting progressively more aggressive the nearer they got to Soul’s stop. He let out an annoyed groan, rubbing a hand down his face as he, again, shoved the drunk guy’s sleeping head off his shoulder.

“Listen, buddy,” He addressed the high guy for the umpteenth time, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. I’m not a tourist. I’m not interested in your tour program. I’m just trying to get home, so get off my dick about it.”

“If you ain’t a tourist, you shouldn’t have a problem confirming where you work.” The high guy countered.

“Fine!” Soul rolled his eyes, pushing the drunk guy away again, “I’m an agent working for DWMA.”

The high man fell quiet, and for one foolish moment, Soul believed he’d stay silent, but as soon as he had thought it, the man began laughing loud enough to wake up both the sleeping toddler and the drunk man. While the drunk man snorted awake and started laughing as if he had been cognitive throughout the whole conversation and not drooling down Soul’s shirt, the toddler began to scream, just like Soul wanted to.

“But you don’t know the Last Scythe,” the high man (impressively) cackled over the screaming, “fuck off, kid. Just admit it, you’re a tourist.”

“Excuse me,” The lady with the now-not-sleeping toddler snapped, “could you three stop with the cursing? There are children on board.”

“Lady,” Soul snapped back, already pissed off and matching her energy, “you’re the one who brought a kid on a public bus, okay. We’re not the problem here.”

“Can you believe this kid?” The high man asked the lady, “A tourist thinks he knows more than us!”

“I’m not a tourist!”

“You’re certainly acting like one! So loud and rude! This whole ride!” The lady turned her nose up into the air, and Soul gasped, affronted and offended.

“Does it really sound like I want any of this conversation to be happening?” His voice was a touch bit hysterical, “How is this my fault? I was just sitting here. This is so stup—I-I am not a tourist! I work for DWMA. I went to the school! I don’t need advice!”

“Then you’re a liar.” The lady sneered, “And that’s worse than a tourist.”

“And now I’m a liar.” He threw his hands up in disbelief, “How am I suddenly a liar?”

“You work for DWMA and don’t know who the Last Death Scythe is? He saved the world! You should do better to know your superiors.” The woman tsked, and he covered his face with his hands, muffling something akin to a high-pitched scream. More people on the bus were chiming in now, accusing him of lying, causing a scene, and thievery, for some fuck up reason, and slowly the world around him began to spiral out of control.

Like the concerts he performed when he was a child, all the attention quickly became suffocating, and the noise amplified in his head, a constant drumming beat behind his eyes. His lungs began to constrict, his vision started to tunnel, and just as he began to panic about spiraling into madness—with Marc and Kid’s bullets still on his mind—to his relief, he felt the bus decelerating as it came to its next stop.

“Fine! Fine! You wanna know why I don’t know him?” In one fluid motion, he shot up and threw off his cap and sunglasses, “Because I am him! See,” He motioned to his face, “not a fucking tourist!”

He gathered his duffel bag and package before jumping over the drunk guy. Heat continued to prickle the back of his neck, and he hardly paid attention to the group’s faces as he yelled, “I’m not a liar! So, fuck you, fuck you,” He flicked off the high guy and the drunk guy, then the lady, “fuck you,” and after tucking Maka’s package underneath his arm, he double flicked off the crying toddler, “and double fuck you!”

He turned down the aisle before anyone could say anything else.

“Fucking bus,” He grumbled, bounding off the steps and pushing through the crowd.

“Holy shit, is that the Last Scythe?” He overheard one person say, and there were a few other shouts of recognition as he elbowed his way to a more secluded side street. Once there, his actions caught up with him, and he immediately regretted tossing his glasses and hat to the side. Hunkering into the hood of his hoodie, he walked the remaining few blocks to safer territory with his head down.

He cringed at his supreme idiocy as he thought about the baby he double-flipped off and kicked a can against an ally wall

“That’s gonna bite me in the ass,” he predicted out loud, sucking his teeth. Karma never not bit him in the ass.

Given the substantial detour he had been forced to take, he got back to their apartment way later than expected. The heat of the day had lingered well into the evening, and by the time he bounded up the eight flights of stairs to his apartment—because, of course, the elevator was out—with all their shit still cradled in his arms, he had sweat pouring down his temples. Fucking Nevada, right?

He was hot, sweaty, tired, and felt guilty about everything under the sun, and all he wanted was to make it without another bad thing happening, but just as he had predicted, karma, of course, came walking around the corner.

“Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me,” Soul chanted under his breath, breaking into an awkward half-run-half-walk toward his and Maka’s apartment door.

“Soul!”

He froze, glaring at his doorknob like it had murdered his family before plastering on a fake, toothy grin.

“Hi, Mrs. Ranger,” He gritted out through his teeth, “how are you?”

Mrs. Ranger wasn’t a tiny, frail old woman. The seventy-something had a spunk in her that wouldn’t die. She wore bright red-rimmed glasses that enlarged her eyes to a comical degree, always wore a shawl or scarf in the same uppity fashion, and, worst of all, was the biggest busy-body he had ever met, and one of his best friends was Liz Thompson.

“Not well!” She snapped at him.

Go figure, he thought as he said, “That’s too bad.”

“Your wretched cat-sitter was back again!”

That checked out too. Fucking Blair.

“That does happen when we leave,” He remarked, fumbling with his door keys as he balanced Maka’s package and their duffle bag in his other arm.

“I don’t know why you two insist on hiring her. I’d be more than happy to watch Blair for you while you’re gone instead of having that—that—” Mrs. Ranger’s cheeks tinted red with anger, “floozy coming around, making noise, talking to my Jeffery. I had half a mind to call the police on her, Soul, half a mind. Now, I respect Maka and you more than that, but still something has to be done,” She continued to screech. “Someone has to do something! So, I’ve talked to the Board. I’ve done it. I’ve had enough! Something must be done. Must be!”

He swallowed a broken sigh. Jeffery Ranger was quite the opposite of his wife. Mr. Ranger hated Blair (cat form) but loved Blair (human form). He and Maka had told Blair hundreds of times to avoid their older neighbors, but each Ranger was a horrible enabler to the side of Blair they preferred. Mrs. Ranger left out treats and toys, and warm milk. Mr. Ranger—well, quite frankly, Soul did not want to know what Mr. Ranger got up to with Blair in her human form, but at least he didn’t kick her while she was in her cat form, which Soul was sure Mrs. Ranger would do one day while Blair was in her human form.

Gah.

“Mrs. Ranger, Blair’s a—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” The woman cried, cutting him off like she always did when they tried to explain what Blair was. “I think it’s admirable that you want to help that poor girl. She needs all the help she can get, but there are certain standards we abide by in this building.”

She thrust an envelope into his crowded hands, “You’re being summoned by the Board. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but her type is truly not welcomed here any longer.”

He gawked at the red slip, “B-but, wait, we—we pay the pet fee!”

“And we all love Blair,” Mrs. Ranger announced as she crossed the hall, “but the cat sitter has to go.”

With a dramatic flourish, she yanked open and slammed her door shut, making him flinch.

“Jeffery!” He heard her scream, “Jeffery! I’ve done it! It’s over, Jeffery, it. Is. Over.”

“For fuck sake,” He spoke under his breath, staring at the incriminating red-letter envelope. He didn’t know whether he was annoyed or offended on his and Maka’s or Blair’s behalf. Death City was progressive, but sex workers still got the shit end of the stick. Of course, they had repeatedly warned Blair not to mess with the Rangers, but still.

“For fuck sake,” He growled again, crumpling the envelope before turning to their door. Just another damn problem to solve!

He ignored the happy little ‘Welcome!’ sign and started fumbling with his keys again. After dropping them twice, he threw open the door. When he was finally inside, he let out a puff of air, closing the door with his back and leaning against it. The pleasant thrum of their air conditioning met him like a caress, and he sighed again, relaxing further, pushing “out there” farther and farther away from the forefront of his mind.

He dropped their duffel bag unceremoniously off his shoulder and onto the floor, stepping into the living room before pausing. A flash of guilt filled him as he looked back at the limp bag, which had probably endured more hardship this past weekend than all of them combined, and yet, here he was, tossing it to the side like it had done nothing for them at all.

He groaned and shuffled back to the bag, berating himself for personifying a thing, but hey, he was a part inanimate object on his mother’s side; for all he knew, he could have just tossed his cousin.

“Oy-vey,” He muttered to himself, scooping up the bag and laying it down more carefully than necessary onto the couch along with the package and the letter. “Soul, for fuck sake, you’re losing it.” He stepped away from the sofa and continued to talk to himself, “Sides, I’d be more related to a butter knife than a bag anyway.”

Fathers hide your daughters, he snorted; a Death Scythe and a comedian.

He stood straight, cracking his back before calling, “Blair! You little shit! Are you home?” When he got no answer, he scowled, “Blair, get out here now. You can’t hide! You’re in deep shit!”

He pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the package, and sent it to Maka.

Got the package, he texted her and debated mentioning Mrs. Ranger and the Board summons. Before he could decide, she texted back, You’re the best <3 I owe you

Something warm flooded his guts, and he bit the inside of his cheek before responding, duh. Wha’s in this thing anyway its heavy as hell?

She didn’t text back immediately, so he picked up the duffle bag and walked through the apartment, checking each room and all of Blair’s hiding spots.

“Blair!” He called, looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in his closet, curled up on one of Maka’s pillows, or in the bathtub. After circling the living room and the bedrooms, he dropped the duffle bag on top of the laundry machine and went to the kitchen. There on the counter was a handwritten note.

His phone buzzed.

Don’t worry about it, Maka answered him.

He groaned and rolled his eyes, Maka fr. It better not be more books. We don’t have any more room. The PANTRY has books in it.

I said don’t worry about it, didn’t I?

Your ridiculous.

And *you’re worrying about something I literally said not to worry about.

He shook his head and shoved his phone back in his pocket, turning to the mysterious letter on the counter. Purple glittery ink, screaming of Blair, stared back at him.

Kitten, the letter began,

Mama’s with her other kitten! Blair switched shifts with Lay-Lay, so she could make sure Maka-baby has all the extra purrs she needs to feel better! But don’t worry~ Mama left you something yummy in the fridge! <3 <3 <3 Blair will see you soon! Sleep tight!

Love,

Bu-tan, nya~

P.S.xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooooooxxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxxxxxxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooooooxxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Soul quickly flipped through the next three pages of Blair’s note, which were all filled with the same sequence of X’s and O’s, so he tossed the rest of the packet to the side and stared at the fridge with deep suspicion. Anything could have been in that box; if it was like last time, he wasn’t looking forward to it.

He pulled out his phone and shot a warning text to Maka, FYI Blair Incoming.

Her response back was almost immediate, She’s already here.

As evidence, a photo quickly followed suit, depicting Blair cuddling Kid. He snorted, Better him than me.

Next, he cropped the picture so it was just Kid’s face. His eyes were wide and embarrassed, shit, is that the Gay Panic Liz is always talking about???

Maka sent three laughing emojis, shut up it still hurts to laugh. You should have seen how fast he booked it out of here.

What’d Black*Star do?

Oblivious, as always.

shame.

Truly.

He placed his phone down, squared his shoulders, and turned to the fridge. He took a deep breath and counted to three before yanking the door open. He jumped backward, ready for anything to pop out, but what awaited him were four dead mice lined up in a row right in front of the milk, all in various states of decay.

“Better than last time,” He mumbled, reaching for the plastic gloves Maka kept on the counter as he recalled the (very much still alive) python Blair had once dragged home. Still, the fridge would need to be wiped down. He glanced at the clock and tried to figure out how much time he had until Spirit bludgeoned down the door.

“Better safe than sorry,” He shrugged, letting the fridge close and making a mental note to come back later.

He circled back to the laundry room, dumped their dirty clothes in the wash, and pulled out her toiletries. He took those and the package to her room and looked around for another overnight bag, or at least something cleaner than the duffle. He found what he was looking for stored in her closet, and while there, pulled out two days’ worth of comfortable clothing, stuff he knew she could sleep and walk around in without feeling “silly in public.”

He folded the oversized shirts and shorts, and then, popped into her attached bathroom. He had let Maka have the primary suite, and he used the bathroom in the hall. The separate bathrooms were meant to minimize their morning arguments, but it didn’t appear to matter because there was the pile of his headbands that she was hoarding next to her sink. He rolled his eyes and tossed two in, along with her hair bonnets. He skipped over her books, found an extra charger, and packed her a box of her favorite tea and a few protein bars to tide her over until he could locate some real food.

Next, he stopped in his room to grab a sweater from his dresser. He almost tossed it in the bag, but thought twice and held onto it, debating if it was a good idea. It was only a regular black sweater with the school emblem on the chest pocket. While Maka always insisted she didn’t steal his clothes, he had caught her one too many times to believe it and knew she liked this one. Most everyone at DWMA had some variation of the same article of clothing, so if someone saw her wearing it, they likely wouldn’t think anything of it. But what if they did think it was his? What would they think of him giving it to her? Was it odd or desperate? Did it prove some disloyalty to Kid?

He huffed, shaking his head, and stuffed the sweater into the bag—other people be damned. Maka liked wearing his sweaters because she liked wearing sweaters, nothing more to it. It meant nothing at all. Not to her. Not to him. Not to anyone.

And if wearing his sweater brought her some comfort, or made her feel safe, or—

“Stop.” He commanded himself, zipping up the bag.

He couldn’t think of much else to pack but tucked in her headphones just in case and tossed the bag onto the couch. The very moment his ass touched the sofa, there was a knock at the door.

He groaned as he stood up.

Spirit Incoming, came Maka’s warning text.

Already here.

The knocking increased in volume the longer he took to get to the door, and his mood soured even more.

Ugh. Stall him, please, Maka responded.

“Hello, Spirit.” He deadpanned, opening the door. Spirit didn’t stop knocking until it was completely open, and when he did stop, he glared at him. They were now the same height, so if Spirit’s glare was ever intimidating, it was now completely lost on Soul.

Spirit stuck out a hand, “What took so long? You know Maka’s waiting! Give me her things!”

Soul turned away from Spirit’s outstretched hands, letting the door fall wide open, “Her shit’s in here, old man. Calm down.”

“Old man!” Spirit sneered, stepping into their apartment after him.

“I was just getting all her stuff together,” He sighed, ignoring the way Spirit was practically breathing down his neck, “it’s right here on the—”

He reached for her bag, but Spirit snatched it up before his fingertips could even graze its handles. Soul felt a vein pop in his forehead, but he gritted his teeth and bared it. Spirit was Spirt, and their relationship had always been strained.

But, hey, it took two to tango.

“I’ll take that!” Spirit announced, clutching the bag to his chest, “I need to see if you actually packed useful things—” He unzipped the bag and began to root around it while he lectured, “—my daughter’s very particular, and she only gets the best, especially when she’s hurt. You know, she shouldn’t have even gotten hurt in the first place! What a useless weapon you are, by the way. You’re supposed to protect her! If she just let her papa take care of her, this wouldn’t have—”

Spirit stopped short. Slowly, he raised a garment from the bag, revealing one of Maka’s compression shorts. Soul’s eyes rolled to the back of his head before Spirit could even say anything.

Here it comes, he thought; here comes the drama.

“What, Spirit?” He sighed, crossing his arms and leveling the older man with a look, “It wasn’t like I was going to let her go without underwear.”

“You went through my daughter’s delicates?” Spirit asked through gritted teeth, letting his voice fall into a whisper at the mere mention of her “delicates.”

“No.” He disagreed, “I went into her dresser and pulled out underwear.”

“Who gave you permission to do that?”

“Maka.”

“No.”

“Oh brother,” He muttered, then said, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We live together. We do laundry together.” He rubbed at his face, exhausted, “Anyway, sorry, but Maka’s boy underwear doesn’t do anything for me, Spirit, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Admittedly, he added that last part to piss off Spirit, but it was true. It wasn’t like he was rooting around in Maka’s underwear draw for fun. If Maka even had sexier underwear, he wasn’t privy to it.

“This isn’t boy underwear!” Spirit shook the compression shorts in his face, “You’re saying this doesn’t do it for you? What kind of guy are you, huh! My Maka isn’t good enough for you? I don’t believe your lies. Where’s Blair! She should have packed her underwear. I know she’s not working tonight!”

“Are you keeping tabs on our cat?” He drawled, but the accusation didn’t faze the pervert.

“Blair!” Spirit called out, turning in circles, still flapping Maka’s underwear around, “Blair! Where are you!”

Soul massaged the bridge of his nose, “She switched her shifts, Spirit. She wanted to make sure she had time to see Maka. I think she’s planning on staying the—” He paused and cursed, “—shit, hang on, I forgot Mak’s sleeping mask.”

“You forgot!” Spirit chided, “See! This is exactly what I’m talking about. She needs someone more dependable.”

“You’re the expert,” He mumbled under his breath, slipping down the hall to her room.

Spirit followed after him, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” He sighed, nudging her door open. Spirit didn’t follow him inside. He stopped at the threshold of her room, going still and quiet, as Soul rooted around her bed in search of her sleeping mask.

The sudden change in Spirit’s behavior wasn’t as odd as one would believe. Of course, it had nothing to do with any sudden appreciation for personal space, but instead, everything to do with the constant fragile state of his and Maka’s relationship.

Soul stole a look at Spirit’s reflection in Maka’s mirror, and he seemed to be taking in the entirety of her bedroom in an awe-like state. It was likely the first time in years Spirit had seen the inside of his daughter’s room, filled to the brim with potted plants, books, and hundreds of to-do lists, calendars, and agendas. It was cluttered, but it was Maka’s, so at the same time, it was all very organized.

This was the deepest Spirit had ever gotten in either of their apartments. Usually, Maka didn’t let him get any further than the living room or the kitchen. Soul was fine with this rule, but Spirit didn’t listen to him.

Out of some strange pity for Spirit—even if he didn’t deserve it—Soul took his time finding the sleeping mask, purposefully letting him soak it all up. It wasn’t like he was a bad dad; he was just, well, Spirit—too desperate for her attention and prone to fucking up. Embarrassingly, they had this common whether Spirit knew it or not.

So, Soul gave him those extra few seconds before tossing over the mask, “Here it is.”

Spirit caught it without looking, his eyes tracing the collage of pictures she had stuck in the frame of her mirror. On top, partially hidden by a picture of him, Maka, and Crona, but still visible if you knew what you were looking at, was a baby picture of her and Spirit.

“About time,” Spirit ripped his gaze away from the picture, “you’ve held me up for so long, I bet she’s wondering where I’m at.”

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes, ushering him down the hall, “tell her I’ll stop by tomorrow. If she needs anything, she knows to text me.”

“No need,” Spirit squared his jaw, “I can get her anything she needs.”

“Right-o, pops,” He mock saluted him, opening the door, “best of luck to ya.”

Spirit glared, “Keep it.”

He slammed the door shut on the heels of Spirit’s feet and flopped face-first onto the couch with a loud groan. When his body registered he was practically suffocating himself, he turned his head to the side and stared blankly at their tv.

With another sigh, he pulled his phone out and quickly texted Maka, Spirit Incoming.

Dammit Soul. You couldn’t keep him with you any longer? She replied five minutes later.

Mak, I love you, but not that much.

BOOOOOO!

He snorted and rolled off the couch, the silence of the empty apartment suddenly too much to bear, and crawled his way to his turntable.

After the week he had, he needed at least a month of musical therapy to unwind. He plugged in his headphones and started flipping through his vinyl. All of his regulars were there and accounted for and guaranteed to make him feel better, but why feel better when you could wallow and feel worse?

There was certainly nothing like being self-destructive to end an already shitty week.

He hopped up and made his way into his bedroom. Carefully hidden in the back of his closet, behind the mountain of clothes Blair seemingly nested in, was a box he didn’t break out often. Tonight, though, he yanked it out of its hiding spot and peeled back the flaps to reveal the variety of keepsakes he had taken with him when he first set out for DWMA.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for since it was still right on top, just as he had left it before their work trip. The record cover was a sleek black, and on the front, in embellished font, was his mother’s first name. His father had composed this record as a twenty-fifth-anniversary present. There were twenty-five tracks—a two-record album to hold it all—and each song marked a year of their marriage. His father’s recording studio had only released a limited number of copies the same year Soul had left for DWMA, and despite it having been his father’s passion project for as long as he could remember, Soul hadn’t heard a single note of it.

Of course, he had known about the release. It hadn’t been any secret. The music world had been buzzing for it, and despite what other people thought, he still kept tabs on his family.

What could he say? He was a masochist.

He had counted down the days before the album’s release, and then, on the day of release, he locked himself in his bedroom, cried his eyes out, and stress-ate two large pizzas by himself. He hadn’t gotten his hands on a copy of the record; he hadn’t wanted to, but the night before he and Maka were set to leave for their mission, Liz and Kilik had dragged him to the record store for a blow-out sale.

He had found the album in the used section and couldn’t help feeling insulted. Objectively, Soul knew it was a good album; his father didn’t compose bad albums. His father’s limited-edition vinyl didn’t go for cheap, to say the least, so why anyone would want to resell it was beyond him.

He had tried to ignore the record, purposefully picking up more albums than he could reasonably afford. Still, after he eyed some old guy examining his father’s music, he returned to the resell section, snatching up the vinyl before someone else could. Liz or Kilik hadn’t known any better, which wasn’t unexpected; he didn’t talk about his parents.

“Hey, what’s that, Soul?” Liz had asked, “Jazz?”

“Yeah,” He had shrugged, placing it carefully in his bag, “just replacing an old one that got ruined in the move.”

Kilik had tsked, “I told Black*Star not to fuck with those boxes. He just doesn’t get it, man.”

He felt bad letting Black*Star take the blame for a split second but figured the guy owed him one or two.

“Eh, it’s whatever,” He had shrugged again, “you two hungry?”

He had gotten home that night without looking at the album. He had shoved it directly into his keepsake box, hoping Maka or Blair wouldn’t notice anything wrong with him. He suspected Maka knew something was up by the way she kept staring at him, but he refused to acknowledge her stray looks.

Despite buying the record, he had never actually planned on listening to it. He had only wanted to save it from that store and the old man, but Spirit had triggered something within him like he often did. How much Spirit cared about Maka despite her thinking otherwise made Soul think about his father, and he wondered if he hadn’t left for DWMA what their relationship would have been like now.

“The piano ain’t got no wrong notes,” His father had always told him, quoting Thelonious Monk, who would have been his name’s sake—and in some ways still was—if not for his father putting his foot down.

He could remember the conversation he and his father had about his name perfectly because it was during one of those rare instances his father had the time to help him with his piano scales. Soul had never expected his father to seek him out, but there he had been in all his musical glory, choosing to help him get out of some piano-related punishment his mother had ordered, instead of using his precious little free time to do something more productive.

“I suggested Monk to go with Wes, but she’d only agree to Monk if your real name was Thelonious, and I wasn’t going to do that to ya, kid.” His father had explained one night, “Which was a shame; it was hard enough getting her to agree to Wes. You know what your mom thinks of jazz.”

He had rolled his eyes because, of course, he knew. His mother’s heart had and always would belong to the classics for reasons beyond him. If everything had gone his mother’s way, his name would have been some horrendous mash-up of Mozart, Bach, and Beethoven.

“Aw,” His father had winked and laughed, stretching his fingers across their grand piano, “she means well, you know that. You were a stubborn kid. You hardly kicked or moved when she was first pregnant with you, so she thought you were a goner. Completely gave up on names, no matter what I said. But the first time you heard jazz—” his father had run his fingers across the keys in a fast flourish, “—boom! It was like you had finally found your soul! She cried for weeks. You should have seen her.” His had father laughed again. It had sounded warm and fond. “I said, I told her, babydoll, it’s like they always say—”

“—ya gotta have soul, Soul,” Soul snorted, finishing his father’s lamest joke as he gently placed the record on the turntable.

He turned it off before it reached his birthday. He wanted to hurt, but not that much.

#soul eater #soul x maka #long fic #my writing #longer a/n on ao3 #plz forgive editing issues lol i was tired

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clay-cuttlefish · 7 months

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All of Vic's cartoon appearances.

DC Showcase: Blue Beetle

A 60s-styled short using the Charlton incarnations of Vic and Ted, plus Captain Atom and Nightshade.

I'm on board with Vic being an objectivist for the sake of a janky throwback. There is no Rorschach energy here, this is entirely a parody of Ditko.

The comedy's not super inspired but hey, it's 15 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome. Look at these losers go.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold - Mystery in Space!

Vic is so shaped. Just a little guy.

Most of these teasers are meant to show off who the guest hero is and what they do, but not Vic. He's just chilling. Zero explanation of what his deal is other than "guy who is Around."

BatB - The Knights of Tomorrow!

Of all the heroes who have been on BatB, Vic is probably the least qualified to go to Apokolips. Why did he agree to this.

Unsurprisingly he falls in lava. Sad. Well there are other heroes.

BatB - Darkseid Descending!

And then he singlehandedly saves the world from Darkseid while most of the Justice League International blows up. King.

I love BatB's commitment to weird little dudes. It plays fast and loose with characterization (it's a kids show that's mostly about Batman and does it with everyone, I'm not gonna nitpick it) but it's got a lot of interesting randos.

I think this is the only time Jaime and Vic appear together? Actually appear, not just as nonspeaking cameos in a big event.

Scooby-Doo! & Batman: The Brave and the Bold

I watched this while babysitting and I had a great time. It's a kids movie, but hey, I have Scooby-Doo nostalgia and a soft spot for campy Batman, this does both very well.

Vic shows up, is annoying on purpose, and gets his shit rocked and his identity stolen. Extremely Vic behaviour.

Justice League Unlimited - Fearful Symmetry

I know this is a beloved portrayal. Jeffery Combs' performance is well regarded for a reason. It's the biggest adaptation Vic's ever had. It acknowledges his comic connections to other characters. I get it. I just do not enjoy him as the baseless conspiracy theorist and it drives me up the wall that it's the best he's got.

Like I'm sorry but he would not fucking say any of this. He's annoying and bad at superheroics for many other reasons but he is extremely aware of the real roots of corruption, he's not going to be repeating antisemitic conspiracy shit. Even when he genuinely sucks he sucks in very specific ways.

JLU - Double Date

Points for being partly based on Cry for Blood.

It makes me so sad that I don't like this take on Vic and Helena's relationship. I wish I did.

JLU - Question Authority

I do actually like Vic getting deeply upset by the thought that the bad future is predestined and trying to throw himself under the bus for it. That feels fitting to me even if the details aren't.

There's a version of this story that lives in my brain where Vic is more of his stubborn, no-nuance early reporter self, and he breaks into the secret government facility to try and leak everything to the world only to get his ass kicked instantly by Captain Atom.

JLU - Grudge Match

This is the world's dumbest nitpick but Vic fucks. It's the one part of being in a relationship he doesn't suck at. I have no real problems with this sequence, it's funny and does the conspiracy bit better than his main appearances, but I discovered while rewatching that this is a thing I have opinions about and where else am I going to put these extremely stupid thoughts.

JLU - Destroyer

It's just rude that Vic is in the suitup montage but has his mask on the whole time. Let him transform.

I liked his JLU episodes a hell of a lot less this time through than when I first watched them. It's generally a good show, but knowing that this version of Vic is the most accessible one is incredibly frustrating, and the overall strength means that I'm annoyed about missed potential. BatB was never going to be the serious showcase of his nuance or whatever, but JLU could have been an incredible adaptation, and it just isn't for him. Sorry JLU fans.

#clayposts #clayreads #the question #vic sage

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pandorafallz · 6 months

Text

Vampire AU | New problems, old Stories

Quaritch stared at the fence. His hands were on his hips and a disgruntled expression on his face that hadn’t lifted since the alarms had been cut off and this had been their next problem; the fucking fence.

The deserting women that had legged it after locking in the brig guard and the two love birds from the maintenance that also flew the coop in the chaos. He was waiting on the inventory reports but…he was very pissed off that they had left with a bang.

Literally.

The outer fence had been taken out by a mine explosive attached to its main support, not including a small fire that had caught the trees but it seemed fate had been kind that it hadn’t gotten out of control before they had turned on the waterworks and put it out. What was left was a huge space of burnt metal and debris and he had put two armed amp suits to keep it protected as the manufacturing rig in the factory got to work and built them a new one which had to wait until morning for the machines to wake up—safety measures forced them from overuse so night time gave them the time for them to cool down. This was still becoming a long ass day within the first few hours of it.

How did someone get their hands on explosives to do this?

Major Kung, he knew very well with her years of service to the RDA. She had run the mining operations with an iron fist before her deceit came to light. It made more sense where she could have gone her hands on mining explosives. Except given Kung had been in the cell at the time, it made it hard for her to set it up at the fence as well.

In all honesty, he was surprised that the other one would follow her mother's footsteps and aid her escape. He knew very little of Bree Kung given she was only qualified for her excellent xenolinguist skills and fast learning, also the matter being she was the youngest person on this base. No combat training of any kind, despite her mother’s long history of veteran lifestyle. How did she get her hands on bombs when she wasn’t cleared for anything less than a dumbbell?

In total, four more female staff went within the night.

This meant he was gonna have to do a lot of checking into their medical and personal files for any potential reports that were removed before he was notified, which he hated to have to do but it was something he had to set as a precaution for all those bailing now with so much shit suddenly passing him by.

“Sir,” Wainfleet called, coming up beside him. “Samson’s come back; they followed the sidewinder for about five miles before the tracks vanished into Omatikaya territory and…it looks like any further trails looked to have washed away from the rainfall this morning before daybreak.”

“So…no leads.”

“No, sir.”

Quaritch let out a heavy exhale, wondering for a moment how long Selfridge was gonna rant and rave about this before he nodded. He could probably hold off on visiting the guy by checking in with the other departments. The MineOps certainly needed tending to given no doubt everyone knew Kung and that she had bailed on them. He should stomp down any rumours and get order properly re-established before anyone thought it was a good idea to follow after friends.

Yes, that was the next best thing and certainly would take up time before he’d get inventory reports and personal files and Selfridge would probably have to wait in his lectures for him to do his job.

So Quaritch did just that, taking a trip to the mine with Lyle. At first, it wasn’t overly fruitful, but he talked to Captain Hale who had temporally taken over the head of MineOps since Kung was arrested who had given them a tour around and talked with various staff.

Captain Hale looked very at home in her new place, though she lacked the cold steel of command that Kung had, there was an…edge to her that set him alert as she talked through complaints the Miners had, not that Quaritch paid it too much attention as he strained his eyes across the whole pit; the machines that were toiling away at the earth and soil for its rich veins of ore of each of their paychecks.

“...I’m just surprised that Kung didn’t try to bash Selfridge’s face sooner.”

He refocused back to the Captain in surprise. “What?”

Hale looked at him, an eyebrow arching behind her mask very innocently. “Sir?”

“What did you say Kung would do?” Quaritch said, because…he had a growing sinking feeling this was a matter that was beyond simple daughter bailing mother out of trouble. What was problem common knowledge here? Would that bite them in the ass later? “I knew Kung was entirely loyal to the RDA before she backstabbed us. Why would she want to hurt him?”

Hale blinked at him for a moment then hesitantly looked about. “Let’s go to my office. That’ll be…easier. We found some things of interest, since you’re here already I didn’t have to send it to you.”

She led the way from the mine side and to a stack of moveable, shack modules set off to the side to overlook. Once inside the airlock, they all took off their masks before Hale headed towards her desk.

“Sorry, it’s…a bit of a mess. Still organising stuff.”

Quaritch eyed the office; noting how pristine the place was and how orderly things were displayed; the walls were covered with pictures and stuck-up pieces of paper of reports and general schedules. Clearly, they weren’t seeing the same thing but he opted not to question it as Hale went to her monitor.

“It was a huge surprise when you arrested Kung two weeks ago,” Hale was saying, “Kung is many things, some wouldn’t speak of her fondly but she’s also paranoid and smart. Enough to leave paper trails on shit she thinks is important in her absence to back up necessary claims. Purchases, orders, signed contracts…. Hell, even tool specifications. Including the safety check tools that were recalled and repurposed.”

“I thought I had everything from Kung?”

“Only what was local servers on Hell’s Gate and what’s sent to your systems at the time. Mine Ops has connections to Hell’s Gate but a different server. Kung had a personal memory drive in the server for everything hidden in the MineOps operation console.” From the woman’s desk drawer, she pulled out a large case and flipped it open. Inside were three long, green thin memory cards. Easy to miss, he realised if put into a computer system.

“How did you….” Lyle lent forwards. “How’d you find that shit?!”

Hale shrugged, “Wasn’t in the server specs. We double-checked before removing them. Shen helped route it out for me to what they were and that they weren’t dangerous like viruses. Nope, just extra memory.”

Quaritch reached forward, taking one of the memory slides. He’d get the rest of the servers checked for extra shit like this. Shen was a wild card to call to aid but she was brilliant and inheritably scrappy. This wasn’t in her job description but…Hale had long since outranked Shen so she was perfectly in the right to get the woman’s help.

“Do you know what’s on them?”

“A little. The typical records that I mentioned but…she also seemed to have complied scientific papers for Pandoran medical remedies for Earth Diseases or illnesses, her contract, Bree and Raina’s contract and… medical experimental requests. Every reason for her betray the RDA is on that, no doubt.”

“A little, huh?” Lyle poised.

Hale just flashed the guy a very pearly grin. “I have a good memory.”

Quaritch sighed heavily but put the chip back in and took the case. “I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

Hale shook her head. “Our production has slowed since Kung’s gone. Stress is building and we’re running out of tools we need to check the mine walls. I’ve requested to Selfridge last week for funds for replacements but I haven’t heard back. It’s making my men nervous.”

“We’re not messenger birds, Captain.” Lyle spoke heading back towards the airlock, “We have the system for a reason.”

Hale’s lips pursed though her eyes narrowed at the guy for a moment then slid to Quaritch. “It’s a matter of security, Coronel. No checks are being made and if one wall fails then we lose good men who happen to be in the fall way. There’s been a lot of…accidents in the last couple of years. My men aren’t forgetting that. ”

Quaritch just signed but added it to his To-do list that was ever going. “I’ll look into it.” At least nudge Selfridge into it; he didn’t want Hale to get on his ass as well. He always had one red-head on his ass about shit he couldn’t care less about and he certainly didn’t need another.

Grace once again set herself up in the smallest lab as the lunch called others away and left her with only a few and allowed herself to continue to work rather than join the others and waste food without question. Her thirst was burning softly at the back of her throat as a reminder she’d need to feed within the next day or so if she didn’t tonight. She was in no particular mood to get welcomed into someone's bunk or sneak into someone's bunk when they were asleep either so she’d wait for now.

The only two scientist with her was Molly and Choi who were also busy and giving each other goo-goo eyes that Grace wasn’t particularly fond of witnessing but she had no reason to send them away yet. They were still working after all.

“..So, a new sample would be better to get. Cryo storage isn’t perfect. There’s mild decay in the cells.” Molly complained to Choi, allowing the Xenobotanist to take a peek.

His lips pursed a little. “You’re not wrong but we’re only seeing this in more detail given our eyes are better. The human ones can’t see the dead cells that well; even through a microscope. I doubt it’ll interfere with the results.”

“Maybe it’s cold damage?” Grace suggested, not looking up as she picked up her pipette. “Not all plants are adapted to cold, even for preservation.”

Molly considered her words, though seemed to direct her next sentence to Choi rather than reply back. “That’ll be a good test to run still. Getting new samples tomorrow, and do a comparative test. Masterson and his team are the closest ones in their link shack to more. We can ask them to collect and we can swing around to pick it up tomorrow.”

“I’ll drop him an email.” Choi said, “Though Grace, can you authorise my holiday? I’ve emailed you some days next week I want to book off for personal reasons.”

Grace spared him a look. “Holiday?”

Choi nodded and adjusted his lab coat as he left Molly to her microscope. “It’ll be…officially four years since I turned. Kinda like a birthday…” He stared. “I want to celebrate.”

Grace set her pipette down into the holder and then leant towards her monitor to check. “You’re not exactly able to eat cake…” She wondered, “What’s there to celebrate? I’m sure most of our turnings were traumatic and non-consenting.” No one really…talked about how they came to be unless you were there to be witness to it. Grace didn’t ask and it felt awkward too. Her own turning was brutal and…she had no intention to celebrate that. Everyone knew what happened. But, each to their own. If he wanted to celebrate it, it was his business.

Choi hummed, and he returned to his station. “Did I ever tell you how I turned?”

“Maze got bored?” Grace suggested idly; she knew who sired who in this weird undead living situation they were all in. Maze in question chuckled under her breath in the link room but couldn’t retort back as she wasn’t alone.

“No.” Choi chuckled, “She overindulged one evening. Accident. Remember when the cooks got a fresh stock of garlic in that year; almost everyone was eating garlic meals for weeks in one form or another.”

Grace winced sympathetically. The garlic meals were the worst in the Mess; the viable blood was servery shortened until the human bodies processed it all out. They couldn’t eat well, if at all on those people. She must have been starving to drink too much.

“I didn’t eat garlic, so I was in the all-clear. Kamath and Walker had already fed from me the day before before Maze got too temped.” He shook his head fondly. “My body hadn’t replenished fast enough in that time, she took too much than normal as well.”

“Ouch,” Grace said, finding the email buried under the mass of other emails and notifications on what passed through her department. She swiped the request form onto her datapad and signed with a stylus.

“It wasn’t fun but… well it’s something that happened to me and…there’s no point in hating the event. Its part of what I am now. Why not make something of it?” Choi shrugged.

“You do you, Daniel.” Grace said, “But I’d rather not celebrate my turning for many, many reasons.” It was the worst and last day of her life. Why remember it in a good light?

“Fair. Maybe you could celebrate something else? You first human prey? Finding your shtick? First human to sleep with?” His suggestions sounded more like a joke though unit made her wrinkle her nose.

“Three ‘No’s and I haven’t slept with a human since I turned.” Grace pointed out and it wasn’t for the obvious reasons that the others would think. A dull throb rose at the side of her temple at the reminder; skirting her away from thinking about it. Nope. “And first prey? Really?”

“Hey, we all had our firsts.” Molly pointed out, drawn away from her work to talk. “I mean, there’s something to remember; you’re finding trust with your own body and instincts; building confidence…making sure we don’t end up killing anyone by accident.”

That was something, she supposed. She knew her first almost went sideward given she had underestimated her own strength with the man. Blood bags were one thing but…fresh and from someone alive…was a whole new area. Quite the learning curve and she had long since had to abandon self-consciousness that she had started off with into this new life.

“Who was your first?” Choi asked Grace curiously. “I wasn’t about for it.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Why does it matter?” She turned her attention back to her monitor.

“Doctor Patel.”

Grace turned and glowered sharply at Molly who looked very intently through her microscope and doing her best to ignore her withering look.

“My first was Alejandra Castro, MineOps gal.” Choi announced with fondness and without prompt, “freshly showered from a gym visit; very good diet… also very easy to convince her to let me into her bunk. She was very horny. Not surprisingly, she was a week away from her period. That aside, she’s very sexually active.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “We all know that.” The woman’s habits hadn’t changed.

“Who was yours, Mol?” Maze had decided to join in with the lab and came to lean against one of the benches. “Mine was Deke Harrison, a guy from SecOps. He repairs the AMP suits and has a habit of jogging around the base alone before bed. Very…fit.”

“Also very gay. You’ll never have a chance of bedding him.” Molly pointed out with a sly grin reflecting off her monitor.

“I know, he turned me down once and told me.” Maze sighed wistfully. “He’s still a good snack. So, Mol?”

Molly didn’t turn their way through Grace eyed the woman with a suspicious look at her non-answer after all of this stupid, personal talk. “Molly?”

“I’d rather not…talk about my first.”

“You literally outed Grace’s here.” Maze snorted, less than impressed. “If you’re gonna out that information, you’ve really got to share your own shit here as well.”

Molly wrinkled her nose.

Grace’s eyes narrowed a little, watching how Molly didn’t seem to meet her eye as she tried to get back to work now. But the fact the woman was staying quiet said that she was worried or self-conscious about her first. Molly had been a vampire at least a year before she had been turned so the window of option was still vast. If it was someone not known or personal, she would have said something. Then Grace had a sinking feeling given…how the woman was refusing to look at her.

“Me? I was your first?” She groaned. “I thought Shen’s attack on me was my first bite.”

Molly flashed her an apologetic look. “I—yes, you were my first but in my defence…you were very easy.”

Choi snorted in the back of his throat, turning around to his bench.

Grace just gave her a very unimpressed look but...in all honesty, Grace could be mad about it but…the reality was that…someone had to be their first prey. Unavoidable. However, she didn’t like being called –“Easy? Easy?”

“You were alone, in the lab late at night.” Molly pointed out as if it was a simple observation. “Plus, your back was to the door.”

“How many people fed from me when I was human?”

“A few, as we said, you were a very easy target.”

Grace inhaled deeply, leaning away from her bench. “Ugh.” She tried to think of when this could have happened; a lot had happened that year. A few…painful things –one that she didn’t want to think about. “When?”

Molly chewed on her lip. “So… you know when you fell asleep at the lab that February and broke your arm falling off the counter…”

Grace stared, a little unimpressed. It had been a difficult break to deal with when she had come to that night; one simple snap but there had been also a lot of micro-fractures around it that had been weird. The same arm Shen broke the night she lost her life. She hadn’t questioned the incident; she had felt awful and weak but she put that to the injury and exhaustion. She had spent most of that night in medical and drugged up to the land of the Dinosaurs. Didn’t question why Dr Solis had given her more supplements and an injection—probably Erythropoietin to up her red blood count and to cover their asses on what was drunk away.

“You broke my arm.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “I kept feeling the twinges of pain through my avatar for most of that time as I healed. It was really weird.”

“Sorry.”

“Why don’t I remember it now? Surely as a vampire, I should recall all your tampering.”

“When you turn, your memory isn’t restored…and we can’t suppress other vampire memories or resurface them.” Choi said, “Probably for the best.”

Grace scoffed. “I want my memory.” She at least deserved to know when she was one of her group’s Happy Meals here. She had…long since thought her attack from Shen was the only time she was bitten but…perhaps she had thought too innocently. Vampires had been here for a long time. “How can I get it back? Surely there are ways to do that?”

“The telepaths might help better than us.” Maze suggested, “Hale will be around after dinner. Kamath has double shift with dozers.”

“Alright.” She’ll bother Hale about it. Kamath was more experienced but Hale was a fast learner with the art of the mind.

Telepathy, while Grace had that, it wasn’t something she ventured into more than she had to with her meals. She knew it was secondary in nature after her telekinesis in terms of their Vampiric abilities but it wasn’t her primary. She knew she should venture into her other gifts a lot more. She could hold a vapour form for a short period of time and a bat form but never more than that. Paz morphed a lot when Spider was doing tummy time in her quarters to entertain him and she had a lot of forms mastered. Hearing the baby giggle and try and grab what his mother was shaped as was pleasant music to her ears. She was also ninety-seven per cent sure Molly and Choi had literally fucked around in non-human forms as well for the fun of it.

Grace spared a glance at the clock and then peeled off her gloves. “I’ve…got to go. Meeting with Quaritch and Selfridge.”

Shen happily checked through her monitor as she flicked through the data and made sure it all mirrored Martin Duncan’s own coding. Everyone’s method of coding was unique; small tricks and tells and subtly that, if she was a human, she could have easily missed in making to pass off as someone else’s. She made this to even convince Duncan he had done it himself.

It was worth the extra bucks to do this and it was easier getting the blame on someone else than having a loose end with a question mark. With a final look, she closed the programs and terminated her monitor’s connection with the server to scrub it offline.

“Ugh.” The door opened behind her though Shen didn’t turn as Angela came in and flopped onto her bed. “Humans.”

“I dread to ask,” Shen said, turning the screen off once she was done to turn her attention to the British blonde who lay about across the covers, arms and legs spread.

“I hate doing fucking nothing while our food escapes out into the wild,” Angela grumbled. “You were right, Midori has the best blood….I miss that already and it’s been a week!”

Shen snorted a little, running her fingers through her locks of dark hair. “Free range meals?” Shen suggested. “I mean… it’s just a longer trip out, just make sure you’re not caught.” The thought of…going out and actually…hunting down these humans sounded more thrilling than seducing them into a private area and going for some flesh. She liked the idea of the chase and the sweet victory on her lips at the first bite.

It was one of the few things she…enjoyed. Hell, even when she got Augustine a few years back, it was a thrill to remember, even if her impulse control and rationale were elsewhere; she retained the memory despite that frenzy. She wasn’t…really that sorry for it; only sorry for getting caught so publically but Midori’s blood had been far too tempting. It wasn’t her fault she metabolised blood far quicker than the others. Something about seeing Augustine run flicked a switch in her predator brain and… if it hadn’t been for the fact the woman had been so close to hitting the fire alarm, she knew her hunting self certainly would have let Augustine run for longer; let her think she was getting away then to get her at the last second when she got to her bunk, grab her and drag her back then just…sink her teeth in.

That would have been glorious.

It was a want she desired again but Mansk’s stupid rules kept them far too restrained, even with their mutual wellbeing in mind which was annoying sane. She liked living on the edge; it was safe to know the shelf and the fall and teetering on it was what made her feel alive. Sure, it got her turned but that didn’t change much.

Angela snorted a little. “I suppose. Finding them won’t take too long.”

“No, you two, keep to the ones in Hell’s Gate” Mansk’s voice echoed in dry annoyance somewhere in the amour bay.

Shen scoffed a little, slinking off her chair though she rolled her eyes. She could continue to live with what she wanted and fantasise about her ways of hunting. She eyed her girlfriend thoughtfully before a sly smile crawled onto her lips as an idea sprung to mind.

Angela eyed her expression, rolling her head to face her. “What? You wanna fuck now? My break ends in five minutes. I got a shift with dozer escorting with Fike and Kamath. Aren’t you also skiving off?”. That was not a ‘no’ between them, just a ‘sure if you’re quick.’

“Not...now. I’ve got a few ideas for tonight.” Shen said, licking her lips. “You might…enjoy it.”

Angela tilted her head curiously, “I damn well hope so if you’re looking at me like that. I do like your attention after all.”

The meeting was…boring as Grace expected. Most of which she knew in overhearing but they didn’t know that. Grace had ignored the plate that was offered for when meetings went over meals as per usual though Selfridge’s anxious nibbling from his plate grated on her nerves a lot.

“Any word from your blue teams?” Selfridge finally asked when he got to her. “You have two link shacks operating, not including the ones that left us.”

“No, nothing.” Grace said, “I suspect we’re being watched when we’re taking samples but I can’t prove that just yet. They’re experts at hiding their footsteps and presence. It’s possibly they’re assessing us and what we’re doing but haven’t decided if we’re worth making contact with.”

Selfridge let out a frustrated huff. “Then make a better effort. You need to find ways to force an interaction.”

“I can’t force the Na’vi to cooperate.” Grace fired back sharply. “That has never worked in the past and certainly not any time soon. They need to see us work and respect the land but that’s hardly going to happen overnight.”

“It’s been a month. Since you’ve upped your expeditions. More than that, even.” Selfridge huffed indignantly.

“They’re not monitoring us every visit, Parker. Having my teams out there has helped in our research but it’s going to take time for the people to make contact with us. Their last contact with us, officially was when the RDA gunned through my school and killed some of their kids. You think they’re gonna jump to meet us?”

“It’s been two years. They’ll get over it.” Selfridge said, waving it off. “But we’re here to make progress. So be creative here that doesn’t wind us burying our men and that they’re out of that tree by the time we get to it.”

“Maybe we should try a new angle?” Quaritch suggested, “Site 26’s still available.”

Grace’s head snapped towards him sharply. “What?”

“That’s one angle but that’s hardly going to help,” Selfridge said, not that convinced either.

“It might. We don’t know what they’re thinking and that worries me. If they’re not trying contact because the science groups are coming to and from Hell’s Gate, then another approach must be considered. If Augustine sets up at Site 26, she’ll be surrounded by forest and easier to approach at any time of the day. I doubt they’ll miss the fact you’ll be living there after a few trips out.”

“I am not agreeing to move out just yet, thank you very much.” Sure, there was a lot of what she wanted at Hell’s Gate but the feeding situation was what was keeping her from jumping on board with this idea. “I’m Head of SciOps and the Avatar Program, I have a lot of shit to organise before I can leave Hell’s Gate for long periods of time, even if I do decide to go.” She had the power to decide, even if these two jerks were for her going.

“How long would it take to organise?”

“A month.” She gambled, over-inflating the timeline for the sake of it. Selfridge didn’t need to know the real-time. “Getting new working systems in place and getting people to take on new responsibilities takes time and an adjustment period. That’s if I decide.”

“A month.” Selfridge scoffed, “That’s too long!”

“What? It’s not like your dozers are gonna be any closer to Hometree. It’s been a month and it’s barely a fifth there.” She pointed out. “Now, I don’t plan on leaving so let’s move on. I’m sure MinOps has some riveting information in their progress and gossip about little Kung pulling a mission impossible?”

Selfridge’s face flushed angrily.

Quaritch’s steps were easy to follow behind her when they had finally left. Grace tried to lose him, which was poor given she couldn’t use her speed to do so with the number of people around and active cameras and the fact he sounded like a man on a mission didn’t help.

He finally caught up to her as she tried to duck towards the Ladies’ restroom.

“Augustine.”

“What?” She turned with a dark look.

“We both know you love Site 26 and would jump ship at a moment’s notice to get away from Selfridge and his bullshit,” Quaritch said knowingly. “Why are you stalling?”

Grace raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“I know you heard me correctly. Why not? You could be there tomorrow and be happy. You’ll no doubt take Norm and another researcher with you.” He said, “You’ve never missed an opportunity to jump to the mountains before.”

Grace’s jaw clenched. “It’s not that easy. The last time I went to site 26, do you know what happened?”

Quaritch’s hardened expression fell, softening up. “That was over a year ago, Grace.”

“So was what? All three of us could have died, Miles. It took three hours for your idiots to roll up and pick us that rogue mountain after the crash.” Grace knew this was a dirty tick to pull; using that horrible day as an excuse but…if it bought her time to think up some other alternative options, she’d use it. “I’ll know when I’m ready to take that trip and that’s not any time soon.” She made to move around him but she barely held back the gasp as she felt his hand grab her wrist, the metal ring he had on felt like it was burning into her wrist before she yanked her hand free, her other hand coming to pull down her sleeve.

Fuckin’ sliver.

“You can have Trudy Chacón as your pilot. She knows the mountains better than anyone. Even Socorro. She won’t crash.”

“Thanks but…I need time.”

She didn’t wait, moving on and quickly before she spared a look down to her wrist; a light and irritated discolouration band looked to be cropping up over the affected skin.

Fuck. Good to know Quaritch had silver on him.

Ass.

Jake was at Hometree with most of his camp, aside from N’deh who had elected to stay behind. Nadine was at the fire, practicing Na’vi with the cooks again in going over what they were making. Morgan was at the weavers with some more kids making slings or just weaving shit—Jake couldn’t tell from his angle. Kim was hunting with Neytiri and Jerome was with him carving new arrow shafts while Jake made wooden beads.

He kept himself parked in plain sight of the spiral for the new arrivals and when they came, he made sure to wave.

The neck brace woman was in her avatar and the oldest woman of the group was not present with the group. Zeke and Ruby were the only ones from their camp also arriving with Tsu’tey.

Tsu’tey went off to find the chief and the group seemed to give pause as he was noticed before the avatar snorted first and broke the awkward tension.

“Sully, of course, you’re here.” She said, her hands on her hips, “Though…no Avatar?”

“I use it every other visit here, trying to balance its use every day.” Jake explained, “That said, welcome, nice to see a few more human faces around. Eytukan will direct you to places but a good portion of kids speak English, even if the adults don’t but enough that you two can get a message across.”

“Kendra?” Jerome set down his tools, rising from the ring with a wide grin on his face which exposed his naturally long canines.

“Rome?! Holy fuck!” The Japanese woman moved around the avatar with vigour, “You blended straight in! I didn’t even recognise you!”

Jerome grinned down, crouching down to accept the hug she offered. “Still tiny, I see.”

“You’re still weird looking.” Kendra prodded back and leant away. “You’re making it work, I suppose.” She reached up to tug the man’s loincloth a little to make a point.

Jerome just snorted, “I suppose. Kim’s out hunting right now so she’ll be back around noon but she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’ll look forward to it. I heard what happened to ya, sorry man.” Kendra carried on, her hands coming to her hips. “Also, congrats on the baby.”

Jerome nodded his thanks, “Thank you.”

“Babies. Plural.” Ruby pointed out, from the side.

Kendra gawked at that. “Oh, good luck.”

“Children are a gift.” Jerome reasoned.

“Hm, yeah. The real gift being woken six times at night for food or a change.” Harper added in, a little sarcastically.

Just then, Eytukan arrived to get involved and began directing the six new faces to other areas. Jerome returned to the bead-making and Jake got back to it.

Zane was put to making beads with him. Jake’s smaller hands made it far easier for the man to copy than it was a Na’vi though both remained supervised so he wasn’t teaching him the incorrect methods. Jake learned the names of everyone at the camps when they began to talk.

Ashley Sloan was the avatar driver, Eliza Drennek was a surgeon who was at the camp and currently looking after Ashley’s human body in the link bed, Mingxia Wu was a Valkyrie pilot then the ones he already knew, like Ruby Carr, Zeke Hodge, Trinity Harper, and Kendra Midori.

Jake found himself fascinated a little as Zane spoke about his life on Earth, how he wound up coming to Pandora and even what his parents did as well.

“You see… my parents run a few of the wildlife reservations.” He was saying, “Africa took less of a brunt of the polluted air but…high levels of sun that scorched the land. Large areas of our roofs were developed to use as Solar fields to use the space to retain our family’s job maintaining the parks. Using the Sun’s power and less smog, my family’s expenses were cut straight down to afford things more comfortably. When Pandoran plants finally reached the Earth side. They made sure to purchase some of them and hired some of the scientists to put the plants to reviving the land.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “It worked?”

“From what I last heard in my last family transition there’s…signs of new growth but it’s slow going; the plant had to have some adaption to survive our atmosphere.”

“You are using our plants to…fix yours?” The voice of Ten’nel, the main bead maker asked as he eyed Zane curiously. “How come it got so bad to require from Ewya’s child?”

“We have to. That’s…why there are scientists so interested in your world. Your plants have grown and thieved in what Humans would think as…unsuitable in terms of high carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, both are poisonous to us and don’t exist in high concentrations in an atmosphere..” Zane spoke, “Our…plants don’t know how to adapt, and we changed our world faster than nature could keep up. Plants died, and as a result, the soil became…laden with minerals that can’t support growth. Your…plants can absorb these minerals, and toxins and breathe new life back into the soils, and your plants can clean our air, and filter out the toxins. Earth has suffered greatly and in most because of humans, but….it’s on the basis of how our culture formed around a concept called capitalism and mass population growth and demand of food and shelter that humans demanded more from our planet than it was able to support naturally.”

“Humans built areas to produce things like clothes and food in mass and quickly,” Jake added in, “Like… making beads, machines would make thousands of beads a day to be traded for supplies and it’s cheaper and faster and no waiting time. Instant demand met and trade. Humans use a concept called Money. A trade of goods and services for this Money. Humans on Pandora are here for service, in return when they get back they get money. Money is used for food, shelter and entertainment. Now, these built areas are called factories; they create but there’s waste that comes of their creation. Like these wood chips.” He nodded down to their laps where they were they were covered.

These chips, Jake had seen would be put to use; going into the fire when it needed a little more of a kick into life. Bones fragments would be turned into paint, or ground into bone meal and stone would returned to the soil or ground further to help sand down wood with a brush. They had little waste.

“The waste from the machines are not like wood chips.” Zane pointed out dryly, “It…depends on what’s being made. But to generalise on a global scale, machines produce waste that can’t be reused; be it unsafe minerals or toxic smoke. Humans didn’t know where to put the waste so the smoke was left to rise, water waste was returned to the water, and earth waste was put into water and to the soil. Out of the way and life continues on. Humans thrive, make more babies, more demand on food and supplies and so, more factories are built to support them, and more waste is put into the world. It builds up and up and…well we’re depending on another world plants to fix the problems that are still ongoing because we need those factories to survive”

“That sounds….awful. Did your Earth mother not teach you methods of how to look after your world?” Ten’nel asked, a little horrified like a few of the others.

“There’s no Earth version of Eywa.” Jerome piped up, ears pinning back sadly. “No connection, no mother and so, no teaching. Humans had to figure stuff out on their own. No one to tell them not to mine, no one to tell them not to set stone upon stone, or to create the turning wheel. Earth is harsh, even when our world was filled with plant life and thriving animals.”

“Well, Earth has had at least five mass-extinction level events, humans didn’t survive that by praying to the ground for help that’ll never come. You’ll sooner be dead.” Jake pointed out. “Survival of the fittest and natural selection and all.”

“You all sound like you’re having a horrifying conversation.” Ashley’s voice called as she passed them towards the spiral “You do realise Na’vi don’t have a concept of extinction.”

“Ugh,” Jake wrinkled his nose. Yep, that was on him for that bit. Of course, this world didn’t have that. “Right…”

Zane just chuckled at him. “Maybe that conversation is for another day.”

“Yeah,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hey, at least we explain why humans are the way that we are. A little.”

Zane hummed, though not fully convinced but thankfully they got back to a less intense discussion and allowed the group that had listened to fully digest their sudden wave of information without being subjected to listening to more earth horrors. Ten’nel looked…uncomfortable but not horrified or disgusted though he didn’t seem to ask for more.

Jake watched as Kim arrived and Harper and Kendra immediately went to her; to hug and to coo over her pregnant belly a little. Kendra though more refrained but was still happy for her nonetheless. Jake finished up with the beads faster than Zane so he was set to help Mo’at as the new guys filled the positions he would have been going to, like the weavers.

Inside, he was surprised to see Ashely’s avatar dormant on the mat as he was set down. Mo’at was examining her with interest as well, though less vigorously as she had with his Dreamwalker a few days ago.

“She unlinked?” Jake asked, settling his legs out onto the mat.

“Indeed. She said she needed to tend to her sky person form for a few hours given her injuries. The healer at her camp has strict rules while she is still healing and one that I find myself agreeing with given the nature of her wounds.” Mo’at replied. “Her Dreamwalker does not exhaust but her mind does. Apparently, she was stubborn enough to come before she was healed to do so.”

Jake snorted a little. “She looks like someone who wanted to know what she was getting into first than wait around and see. Grace said drivers have to go through link sessions to prepare the mind for long-hauls in the link. Though I’m surprised she’s putting her human body through the wringer than just come here human.”

“She informed me that cannot wear a smaller mask for long periods of time because it doesn’t protect her eyes. Our air can irritate your eyes with long exposure, does it not?” Mo’at asked, tilting her head at him.

“Hm, yeah. It stings.” He supposed that made sense. “As long as she’s okay and you’re good with the arrangement…”

“Indeed. She said she’d have the healer with her come down and speak to me next time they come here.” Mo’at said, setting the avatar to rest more comfortably on her back and hands on her stomach. “I look forward to that. I haven’t examined a sky person’s form properly, so it would be nice to understand our differences with an expert on functions. The Dreamwalkers have been enlightening, yet they are too like Na’vi and only seem to hold a part of Sky-people in them.”

“You were never shown a sky person’s body?” Jake raised an eyebrow at that. “Didn’t Grace show you diagrams? Pictures?”

Mo’at shook her head. “As I have mentioned before, my error with my interactions with Grace was never asking such questions back. The children at the school may have seen pictures but their parents never wanted them to bring the education to them so directly. Most need not worry.”

Ah, so leave school at the school and or leave it at the doorstep at Hometree. It was familiar in families that didn’t approve of other’s opinions or education. Kids might like it but…kids lived in their own way of logic. Still, it seemed weird to not want to spread the culture around as much but…maybe that was one of the reasons why the adults were less open to change.

“Maybe they’ll change their minds, they’ve got humans coming and going every other day. But… it sounds like you and the doc could get along with your shared interest.”

“Indeed.” Mo’at agreed, “For now, I want to test my stronger medicines on your skin. Your skin looks and feels to be thinner than ours. We’ll find out swiftly what works for you and what doesn’t.”

“You didn’t ask the others?” Jake asked, his hand coming to roll up his sleeve.

“It’s their first day here, Jakesully.”

As Jake worked with Mo’at, he talked through what he had spoken to the bead makers about and then some. A Tsahìk’s perspective would seem useful to understand human history. They found that human skin did absorb a lot quickly but he had only a mild reaction to a select few ingredients which made him a little groggy. Mo’at grumbled a little on how to edit the receipt to make it safer with fewer side effects.

While his body cleared that out, he was allowed to return down to the others after Ashely linked back with her avatar. He was uncertain about having a new person lift him down but he held his tongue as he clambered into his chair.

It was the soft patter outside that pulled his attention, He sighed deeply at the sight of rain then he wheeled slowly towards Ruby, Harper and Kendra who were trying to learn how to clean, part and spin a cotton-like puff ball into thread with a few of the weaver kids.

“If it rains like this into the night, we’ll probably have to wait till morning to return,” Jake said as he got close enough.

“Like…spend the night?”

“It’s unsafe to travel in heavy rain. Mud, potential for thunder strikes and flooding so… yep.”

“Oh fuck, I don’t think my Exo-mask has a big battery for another twelve hours!” Ruby gasped, her hand coming to her filter in alarm, checking it over as if it was in an immediate risk of shutting down.

“Relax,” Kendra spoke, patting the bag pack she was leaning against. “I got spares.”

“Oh, thank god!” Ruby relaxed a little.

“Thank me, more like it. I’m a little paranoid so I also got a few spare masks, filter sheets and a med kit with me.”

“Little paranoid?” Harper asked with a smirk. “I'm pretty sure I saw you put in your laptop as well.”

“And now we can watch a film before bed so you are welcome,” Kendra answered back nonchalantly, pulling a face as she lost the thread.

“Oh, what films you got?” Jake asked out of curiosity, “I mean, I got a load of films but if you got stuff that I haven’t and vice versa, we could mutually download copies?” He pushed himself around a large root.

“I favoured TV series over films. A few Marvel Series and films, Star trek, Star Wars, Walking Dead, The Home Alone film series, Buffy, Interview with a Vampire, Merlin—“

“Wait, was the last one?” Jake asked before he could stop himself.

“Merlin.”

“Before that?”

“Oh, Interview with a Vampire.” Kendra said bluntly, “bit bloody but a good watch. I got the book version downloaded. Did you want a copy?”

Jake met Morgan’s eye across the ring who had been passing with a basket of nut-shells though he looked a little uncomfortable; rolling his head to his shoulder a little a motion not unmissed by Harper who frowned in confusion.

“No…it’s…just threw me off.” Jake said, “I’ll…look into it later. I should really get back to work.” He was sure he’d get around to telling the new guys about vampires. Tomorrow before they left, once they knew he wasn’t just a nutcase. He’d need someone to help back him up on this.

Tsu’tey was serious enough….if he was willing to be there.

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #grace augustine #avatar the way of water #jake sully #mo'at #neytiri #avatar rda #norm spellman #miles quaritch #parker selfridge #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #tsu'tey #eytukan #vampire au #vampire #vampire grace

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ashiemochi · 2 years

Text

pussidon - ACT I | i

✠ Pussidon ↳ sounds like trouble ↳↳ can we eat it?

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, angst, gore, smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

✠ -> next

February 25th, 2011. Eastern Slavic Republic, Holigrad.

Civil wars were never fun – let’s get that out of the way. Not to mention, bioweapons were involved in this specific one – specifically, Lickers. You’d guess they’d stop getting elements from the demise of Raccoon City, but no.

Raccoon City was just the start.

Needing the best of the best in this objective, FOS operator – Ingrid Hunnigan – watched over the DSO agent – Leon Kennedy – through her screen map as he made his way through the roughed-up alleyway. Just outside of it were the military, soldiers and tanks passing on by. From what she can see, they were shooting the rebels just as the rebels were shooting back.

You know, like it’s some civil war – which it was.

Problem was – the U.S government was pulling out to discuss some new policy in regards to the civil war – which meant even Leon was supposed to be on his flight back by now.

Hunnigan rang his device, deeply hoping he’d cooperate but knowing his inclination to help others and his understandable loathing towards bioweapons, she knew he’d put up a fight.

“Moving into position.”

Not even a hi or anything – gotcha.

“Copy.” Hunnigan responded as she zoomed in on his figure from above, “I’ve got a clear view of you from the sky.”

She could see him looking up as if right at her.

“Great.” Leon praised nonchalantly but sarcastically, “Maybe you can help me find a clear route to the CIA drop-off.”

Before Hunnigan could open her mouth, her eyes widened behind her specs when her screen brightened up from some explosion. The call hadn’t dropped off, meaning Leon was still more than okay at a safe distance.

Hunnigan was in charge of being his support on his mission – as usual – and she had the responsibility to keep him safe for both himself and the government.

Oh, and his girlfriend back home – that’s one of the main reasons why she needed him to return.

Leon peeked at the aftermath of the rocket from the tank and then back at Hunnigan, “Looks like they’re doing some serious renovations down here.”

Here goes nothing.

“Listen to me carefully, Leon. Your mission has been aborted,” Hunnigan started, voice firm as she informed him, “The U.S is going to pull out of the country.”

“What? I just got here.” Leon’s brows furrowed in shock, frustration oozing through his tone, “After taking me off furlough and sending me to this god-forsaken place? What the hell?!”

Hunnigan sighed through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment before she continued, “Washington and the government there have decided to go their separate ways so everyone has to leave – not just the embassy staff. All American citizens have been ordered to evacuate the country.”

I think I worded it perfectly – there’s no way he’d refus–

“I don’t give a damn about the politics.” Leon snapped, crushing that small proud voice in her head.

Why am I not surprised?

“We’ve got confirmation that BOWs are being used in this war. If we don’t stop them now, the same shit will happen everywhere else –” Then he narrowed down his eyes at her, challenging, “Do you really wanna see that?”

“This is a war and things are different.” Hunnigan countered, “No one can do anything without backup from the American government. Not even you.”

Leon's sharp eyes widened for a split moment before the corner of his lip irked up, a glint appearing in his blues, “Well then, I guess my only option is to lose my American citizenship for a while.”

Hunnigan shot forward, “Leon!”

Then the call was dropped, leaving a popup on her screen showing just how long the call had lasted; a minute and twenty-five seconds. Hunnigan stared in surprise at being hung up on then leaned back against her seat with a huff.

“Unbelievable…” Hunnigan muttered, shaking her head as she glanced at the wall adorned with clocks of all the different timezones.

It was to keep some sort of respect for all the other agents from numerous countries and not end up calling them in the middle of the night – yet that never seemed to stop the government. Given it was currently close to nighttime in Washington, most agents were out considering it was Friday.

Hunnigan removed her glasses to rub the sore spot on the upper part of her nose bridge, I’m missing out on my show for a man with a brick wall for a brain.

“He didn’t listen?” One of her coworkers came in with two cups of coffee, setting the foam cup on her desk.

“What gave it away?” Hunnigan mumbled, taking the offered hot drink into her hand as she slipped off her headset to set it on the table.

The woman laughed, patting the operator’s back, “That’s Kennedy for ya’. I feel bad for whoever’s going to end up with that stud.”

Hunnigan forced a chuckle, watching as the woman turned around the corner back to her desk. She looked back at her screen as a thought weaselled its way into her head and she opened the lid for the sweet vanilla aroma to take over her senses. A pleased sigh was released from her lips, glancing down at the ground cinnamon on top of the creamy foam.

Cinnamon Dolce Latte.

The idea made itself clear in her head and Hunnigan perked up. If she couldn’t get him back, then she knew someone who would.

Setting the cup aside after closing the lid back on, Hunnigan put the headset on and scrolled through the contacts on her screen. Finding the soldier she needed, she pressed ‘call’ and heard it ring.

“I hope she isn’t doing something too important.”

✠✠

February 25th, 2011. Kennedy’s Residence, Washington DC.

An Animal Crossing tune rang from a phone on the art table, instantly catching the artist’s attention. A small pout settled on her plum lips, hating that her art session was interrupted. She tried to ignore it but the call only continued. Sighing out exasperatedly, the hand on her hip slumped down in defeat. The brush clinked lightly when she set it into its cup and made her way to the art desk behind her.

It was a video call.

Anxiously, the girl fixed her appearance up through the window walls. She wasn’t wearing anything extravagant; her usual chaotically painted short-sleeved beige shirt and a pair of shorts. She had thin white fancy gloves on specifically made for painting to protect her skin from the powerful chemicals. Her hair was up messily, letting her bangs and sneaky strands fall down to frame her face.

It’s just Hunnigan – relax.

Finally picking up the call, she smiled as she pushed her glasses up higher, “Hi, Innie – I thought you were out.”

“I should be but Leon’s being Leon.” Hunnigan exhaled tiredly, flashing her a smile, “What are you up to this weekend?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” The Han girl shrugged, flipping the camera to show her the piece she was working on, “Enjoying the last few days of my week off – the BSAA’s ruthless.”

Hunnigan hummed, impressed with the use of colours, “That looks lovely.”

So Ah blinked at the trailing tone, furrowing her brows as she twisted her phone back to her and she gave her a suspicious look, “Why do I feel like this call isn’t just you checking up on me?”

Hunnigan pressed her lips into a thin line, “Okay, I hate to cut your vacation short but I need you to call Leon and convince him to abort the mission. It’s too dangerous.”

“He’s a big man, Hunnigan. I’m sure he can handle it.” So Ah gave her a knowing look, setting the phone perched up against the brush’s cup before taking out her previous brush and then she stilled, looking back at the woman on the phone.

“... How dangerous are we talking about?”

✠✠

You know how you’re supposed to run away from a ravaging and destructive creature?

Leon was chasing the licker.

It can’t be that dangerous, right?

It wasn’t like the agent was going to get knocked out and kidnapped.

… RIGHT?

✠✠

“So Ah, you don’t understand – we were asked to retreat. The US government is pulling out.” Hunnigan pressed on, knowing it wasn’t too hard to convince her.

“And you assumed Leon would listen?” So Ah asked, resuming her brush strokes on the canvas with a subtle in-love smile.

Hunnigan tilted her head to the side in silent agreement, “Okay – I believe he told you about the BOWs' involvement, right?”

“Mhm.” So Ah hummed, pointing the end of the brush at her phone briefly before dipping the brush into the oil paint, “Which explains why he’s stubborn to leave the mission unfinished.”

Keyboard tapping sounds came from Hunnigan’s end followed by a chime coming from her laptop. So Ah glanced behind her then at Hunnigan with a puzzled look.

“I just sent you a footage of the bioweapon that was sighted in the capital of the Eastern Slav Republic.”

Begrudgingly, the brush clinked when it was set down and she took her phone with her on the way to her art desk once again. Tapping the file, she clicked on the video she had received. It was taking a while and she frowned at the sight of destroyed buildings and people being crushed beneath them.

Then a muscley creature skittered on by, raising tiny hairs down her spine. The horror straightened her up as she stared speechlessly as even more of those bioweapons ran past the screen, some leaping with their massive sharp claws.

“What… The hell is that?” So Ah whispered in shock.

Hunnigan frowned deeply, “They’re called lickers – they’re a bioweapon made to hunt. They’re completely blind but have a heightened sense of hearing and –”

“Can you prepare a flight for me?” So Ah interrupted, closing her laptop and started closing all her paint bottles, setting them in their designated spots. She turned off the lights in her art room and started making her way down the hallway.

“Right away. It should be good to go by the time you’re here.” Hunnigan looked so utterly relieved, writing in for one of their pilots, “I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” So Ah gave her a small smile, “Leon’s just being Leon – right?”

Hunnigan actually laughed a little, “Yeah.”

✠

“Leon should be in the capital’s market street. The orders are strict to abort the mission completely, even for us FOS operators – so I might not be able to keep in contact as much.”

Holigrad was in ruins. The stores were crashed, windows and glasses shattered and scattered all over the streets similar to the giant boulders of debris. Chills ran down her spine, the cold air usually smelled fresh this late – but the scent of bullets and ashes only made her nostrils sting.

“It looks so bad, Innie…” So Ah whispered to her device, looking down at Hunnigan worryingly. She was growing antsy.

“I know. Try to avoid the military as much as you can. Stay safe, So Ah.”

The call ended, leaving the soldier alone with her anxious thoughts. Another shiver ran down her spine and she internally cussed, wishing she brought a jacket along with her.

A long-sleeved black fitted shirt wasn’t doing much, despite being a turtleneck. It was tucked into her olive-coloured circle skirt with the tactical belt keeping everything tugged in. She also sported her usual thigh highs and combat boots. The weapons she was provided with by the DSO were a powerful handgun and a semi-auto sniper rifle as that was what she was most comfortable with.

Her birthday was yesterday, having entered her early thirties – thirty-one to be specific. She fully expected it would be filled with hard work and positivity despite her new line of work. It was all to clear her family’s name. The need to meet someone who doesn’t know jack shit about the Hans was immense – at least she won’t be judged by her family status.

Leon was able to spend the entire day and night with her, spoiling her with anything she had ever wanted. Even though she tried to convince him that she just wants some time with him, Leon still took her around the city. Guess that was why she was a thousand miles away from home – she was going to try and convince him again.

His gift to her was quality time, brand new paint, and a handcrafted tactical combat dagger. The handle was black with the texture being easier to hold and not slip. Along the side of it was a line of a beautiful deep green marble engraved into the handle, not to mention Han So Ah etched into it.

The blade was professionally made and she truly wondered just how much it cost him to get it done.

Oh, yeah, and mindblowing sex when they got home.

Said dagger stayed hidden in its cover under her skirt, tucked into the belt around her thigh.

“EVERYONE, EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. THE OPERATION BEGINS AT 2000 HOURS.”

With haste feet, So Ah made her way down the road with her pistol in hand. The sound of heavy footsteps followed by a low rumble of a military tank urged her to dip down the road leading to a somewhat of an underground parking lot. It seemed like a better idea to go through the city underground.

“Too dark…” She whispered to herself, taking out her flashlight and keeping it up under her pistol as she observed the parking garage from her position.

She wasn’t going to lie – it looked fucking terrifying.

“You got this, Soo…”

In her mother tongue, the little pep talk seemed to calm her down a bit but hushed commotion echoed inside. Instantly, the image of those lickers appeared in her head, making her freeze on her spot again.

Nope, I’m gonna die tonight.

Yeah, she did try calling Leon, thinking he’d pick up when it’s her but his device was shut off. Hunnigan was currently no help because of her orders. So Ah whined a bit, hating the anxiety rushing through her veins.

Her missions were team-based, meaning she was recruited with other trained soldiers. She never had a solo mission before. Not like Leon.

“What are you doing here?”

Wait, was that –

“If they attack the capital, it’ll make my job a lot easier. That’s all.”

Hold your fucking horses, there’s no way that’s –

Without even thinking about it, So Ah ran towards the source of the familiar voices. She halted when she saw her loving – stubborn as shit – boyfriend of four years and the mercenary in red. They were aiming at one another but there was clearly no intention in actually pulling the trigger.

“Leon!” So Ah uttered, lowering her aim when they looked at her and Leon’s eyes widened when he saw her.

“So Ah?” Leon asked, dropping his aim and he furrowed his brows at her, “What are you doing here?”

Her breathings were on the heavy side from the relief and she glanced at Ada, finding her coy smile widening.

“Well, well, wherever Leon goes, a Han is always nearby, hm?” Ada commented, earning a side look from the agent.

It clicked in Leon’s head when he picked up on his girlfriend’s subtle lost but relieved look. He shook his head in disbelief, eyes lowering in expected disappointment.

“She really contacted you to get me to fall back, huh?” Leon scoffed, raising a brow at his lover.

So Ah pressed her lips in a thin line momentarily, “... Maybe.”

A faint laugh came from Ada, arm dropping in amusement as she gave Leon a knowing look, “That’s all the proof you need to put a ring on that finger.”

“Huh?” So Ah hummed, confused as hell as Leon only looked as if he was caught red-handed, “What does that mean?”

“Oh, you’re always the naive one, aren’t you?” Ada teased, flashing her a quick wink, “Suits you.”

Then she raised her Hookshot up high, pulling the trigger and the hook flew through the massive opening above. The hook clung onto one of the broken pipes and she released the trigger, allowing her body to be pulled up.

“Quick word of warning, this town will be purged soon!”

That was a quick word of warning.

Slowly, So Ah made her way towards Leon and stood next to him as she kept her eyes up to where the mercenary had just left. Not wanting to jump to conclusions and embarrass herself, she chose not to mention the ring.

“She’s one confusing woman.” So Ah commented instead, earning a huff from Leon.

“Uhuh.”

She watched him as he rechecked his rifle, feeling like she did something wrong.

Leon had grown so much in the past six years – the “job” sucking the life out of him with each mission yet he never seemed to stop. He still accepted any mission that included BOWs, having vowed to scrub the virus off the face of the Earth.

She somehow knew there was no need to convince him otherwise.

“So,” Leon broke the silence once he was done, turning to face her with an expected look, “Are you really going to be trying to take me back?”

“If I said yeah, would you?” So Ah returned the question.

“Not really.” Leon shook his head with a huff, a thin smile on his lips before it dropped as he held her arm gently.

His voice dropped to a murmur, trying to convince her and his hand trailed down to hers, “Buttercup, you’ve seen the files – you know how bad this is.”

Like Hunnigan had mentioned, So Ah doesn’t really need much convincing when it came to Leon. She clearly should’ve thought this through and not sent his own lover to pick him up. Despite his hand being gloved completely, she could still feel the tickling surges of love emitting through them.

Hunnigan was going to resent her for this.

Defeatedly, she released a sigh, unknowingly receiving a glad glint from her man.

“... At least let me come with you.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut

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wejusthereforthefanart · 1 year

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Here Me Out “Hello Puppets” Fans...

If the puppets reflect certain parts of Owen Gubberson, like his obsession and need for control, let’s expand on that.

- Nick has a crush on Riley because Owen has a crush on Rachel Breadstone. She’s the one who left a voicemail in Midnight Show about pulling the plug on Mortimer’s Handeemen after seeing he purchased a book for half a million dollars with the studio budget. The two of them seemed to be on nearly constant bad terms with one another, much like Nick and Riley.

- Daisy’s “Danger Mode” is based on Owen’s own anger management issues. He might not have been very violent in the games, but he did act out in an immature fashion when people said or did things he didn’t like. I.e. Hanging up the phone during a voicemail multiple times, not showing remorse when he almost caused bodily harm in the studio via falling lights, and muttering to himself when other people are talking. It could be that he gave Daisy the ability to go ape-shit because he’s not able to indulge in destructive urges, or else he’d be like his father. Speaking of...

- The relationships between Mortimer and Riley and Mortimer and Nick are very interesting, because Nick suffers when Riley messes up as shown in the security logs. Nick might be the closest representation of Owen himself, a tragic artist caught in the line of fire between family members, but Riley was intended to be Nick’s sister. She even insists on demoting Owen from “father” to “lab rat”, while putting Mortimer on a pedestal most of the time. She’s supposedly his favorite, too, so I’m wondering if Owen had a sister or sister-figure in his childhood.

- Something I’m a bit confused by is Mortimer’s role in the Handeemen television show. We know Nick taught the arts, Riley taught science with some math, Daisy is geared towards home economics (by what extent, we aren’t sure) but Mortimer doesn’t really have a specific education subject assigned to him. It could be literature, as he was in charge of the book that brought them to life, or history. My main theory, though, is that he was meant to teach kids MORALS, kind of like Dragon Tales, where a kid has a problem that needs to be solved by the end of the episode and he’s the wise old wizard with the answer. That didn’t really fit my Dragon Tales comparison, but if you know, you know. I’m wondering if Owen made Mortimer with the intention of teaching young children lessons that fathers are expected to share, but because he didn’t have that opportunity, he wanted to offer kids a father figure that would never let them down. Until Owen fucked it up for everyone with that spell.

#hello puppets #mortimer handee #riley ruckus #nick nack #daisy danger #owen gubberson #theory #Headcanon

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felicitythekittycat · 1 year

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When I got these messages out of nowhere, I immediately panicked. I had an idea of who sent the messages but I had no idea what they would actually do, and my mind went to the worst possibilities. At the time, I was terrified and acted irrationally. I completely snapped and reacted by making a post to try to appease them. I tried to explain every bad thing I had experienced in the last few years in terms of it being my fault, even if I was just an observer, or had been taken advantage of in one case. I stayed vague because I didn't know what this person wanted from me, and tried to keep it brief instead of going into all the details, and my habit of self-blame implied far worse things than what actually happened. Not that I'm saying I'm completely innocent. Far from it. But my irrational and panicked response caused more harm than good and I need to set the record straight.

the roleplay group that ended August 2021 I mentioned, I may have technically been the oldest but the age range when the group started was only 15-18. We were in the pandemic and trying to escape from reality. I fell into the same destructive attention-seeking patterns as before and I beat myself up for not being a "responsible adult" even though we're only 1-3 years apart. I was a shit friend again. I'm so sorry, Asriel.

And to clarify the biggest issue: In October 2021, I joined another RP community. I fell into the same selfish patterns again, having written a character who was very pitiable and self-loathing. I met someone and we became friends! We had started writing character lore and group events. He wanted to include hypnosis which seemed innocent enough, but it started to make me uncomfortable. I kept thinking I was reading too much into his odd requests but when his character tried to force mine to "say something submissive" I put my foot down IMMEDIATELY and it went no further. That was as far as it went, it was never explicit at any point, and I found out later he was getting off the hypnosis itself as a fetish. I felt violated. I STILL feel violated, and ashamed. I let myself get manipulated by a kid 5 years younger than me into roleplay that he got off to, but who the fuck would believe the adult in that scenario? That's the truth of what I vague-posted before, and the main reason I felt the need to explain myself once I calmed down from the initial panic of those anonymous threats. I have also now cut contact completely.

With regards to the sender of the anonymous message:

In 2019, I tried to introduce a friend to friends in a large community, but things went poorly to an explosive degree. Instead of defending her, I joined in making fun of her reaction and continued to the point of slander. If she did something I didn't like I’d complain to someone else about every little thing she did to upset me instead of saying it to her face so we could fix it. This spiraled out of control.

I had this conflicting thought process of not wanting to bother people with my problems and wanting validation from everyone, which meant I’d act vague about what was wrong and then get upset over these problems not being magically resolved. I was a very passive-aggressive, sometimes outright aggressive person. I was also loud and attention-seeking, too focused on what I was feeling to acknowledge how I hurt other people with my actions.

Looking back on these conversations, I don’t know what my mindset was at the time. I would fight her heavily over her agreeing to set boundaries for me. I would panic and just start screaming at the smallest sign of conflict. I complained to people over conversations that were ultimately civil, or at the very least snarky remarks that she had already apologized for. I’d get frustrated over the most stupid stuff.

As we started to talk more, a joke ship between our characters emerged. I loved the idea at the time and drew fanart because it made me feel special and validated. I would use this to get closer with her and get her attention, throwing fits if I didn't get it. At some point I talked to a friend about it and realized how "problematic" the ship was because of not only the age difference between my character and her version of Dust Sans, but also how abusive the yandere trope as a whole was. I flipped and became resentful, but instead of being straightforward I started slandering it. I used the phrase ‘pedo-ship’ to describe it due to the age difference between Dust and my character. I was referring to the ship, not the creator, but I should have been more careful with my words, especially given her past. I was careless and cruel with how I talked about her.

In March of 2020 things came to a head. We cut contact for our mutual well-being, as we kept hurting each other. I lashed out, yelling more and more about everything and escalating things further. This all stopped in August of 2020, in response to a potential lawsuit. I didn’t know what the lawsuit was about at the time, other than knowing it was related to the awful things I said about her. I just stopped talking about the situation then and there. We hadn't had contact since, until now. In that post, I stated I hadn’t changed and used the above incidents as example. Again, I made that post and those claims in a state of panic, reverting to the state I was in when I last talked to the sender. Nothing can actually fix what I did, and the trauma I inflicted won’t magically be resolved with an ‘I’m sorry’. However, the approach I took to this situation ultimately only made things worse, and it’s best if I’m more honest with my past actions beyond saying ‘it’s all my fault’ with no explanation.

Despite bumps in the road, I’ve gotten better at addressing interpersonal issues as they come up instead of bottling it up. I still think low of myself, but I’ve become better at recognizing those behaviors and my own faults. I’ve resolved not to take out my self-hatred and aggression onto my friends anymore, and I have come to better terms with my past actions, as shitty as they were. I still have a lot I need to work on with a professional therapist. I went to therapy for a little over a year, until it seemed like I was no longer benefitting from it. Then I stopped going. I’m not sure if it was me needing to grow more or if the therapist wasn't a good fit, but I am seeking seeking help again so I can improve myself and stop making the same mistakes.

I'm sticking to my inactivity. I'll come back eventually, but for now, it’s best if I stay off of social media and focus on myself. My 'confession' post reflected my feelings at the time but not an accurate depiction of what actually happened, and did more harm than good. I just wanted to correct that before I move on. Personal growth isn’t something I want to flaunt and say “see? I’m better now!” It’s something that needs to be shown and consistently worked on. And I will continue to do that.

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theunstablejester · 1 year

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Hi again! Yes, I would love to hear your thoughts on Hades 2 situation and discuss them with you

So, my main problem with Hades is that, if you look closely, you can see how much the development hell it went through shines. Not only is the voice acting messy, with Zagreus being abysmal and everyone else being poorly directed to the point of many actors repeating previous acting delivery, but you can see that this was meant to be a budget game. Also, the reusage of Pyre's sound effects and how the artstyle of Hades is incredibly similar to Pyre's in opposition of how it was when it was Minos or how the other games do not look similar.

If you have played Transistor you will notice that Hades is... an "evolution" (lateral exploration if I need to be specific) of the ideas presented in Transistor and this is where a flaw is presented for me. Transistor presented itself as not a rogue-like but if you played it you will notice the similarities, even more with how the campaign repeats onto itself. So, what is my issue? Transistor twisted the genres it belongs to. Transistor did something new and this is what brings me to Pyre and Bastion cuz they also did the same! Those two games also presented new concepts and twisted their genres, now this is my issue with Hades. How many things does it do that truly and honestly separates itself to other of its genre, even more when you put it next to it's other siblings.

Now, I like playing Hades. It is an enjoyable mechanical cohesive game... but the story is trash, it is trash without the fact that you have played Pyre, Transistor and/or Bastion and it is even more trashy if you have played them.

So, Bastion, Transistor and Pyre were all build form zero story wise, everything is original. The characters are original, the world is original, the story is original... everything on those games is original, they made worlds and stories that captivated one... Hades on the other hand? See, I have issues with the whole Olympic shit cuz... they made stuff like Bastion, they made stories like that!

And the story... man, the story... so, the story is told splendidly well, you get farther in the story if you reach Persephone which makes every encounter more emotional and it feels earned but then you think about it... Zagreus rejected his family for what? He rejected Nyx as his mother, he rejected Thanatos, Charon and Hypnos as his brothers... for what, exactly? The story begins to crumble little by little here but let me start with my main ire... Hades himself. Hades has been nothing but abusive to Zagreus and he never actually finds into himself to be better to him, he only finds it in himself when Persephone does and what does this entail? Zagreus just wanting his family back? Persephone and Hades, somehow, still being in love with each other? For what? I seriously ask... for what? Zagreus wanted out, he wanted to find his place outside of the Underworld but... he found his place on the system he rejected... the system that pushed him out is completed when he goes back to it and fixes his blood family... and the song says so, it's in the blood... and you might now why this angers me... after playing Bastion and Pyre, why would they write this? Why would they write this type of: "Man, you have to forgive your shitty blood family. They are your family and not the people that fucking raised you."

And... I was fine with Hades, I was fine with Supergiant Games selling out. Pyre had flopped, so... they made a mass appeal game. They made rogue like, when they were THAT popular, they basically introduced indie structure of modification of difficulty to a lot of people that had not experienced it, Greek mythology sells un opposition of making your original works, they just slapped some hot looking characters the names of mythology and made a story that would pull the strings of people that would not analyze properly the themes that were presented... it made money, the money that they had lost making their most original game in Pyre... and for what? So they can make a sequel with the same unispired design?

See, this is where my anger comes from. Hades is whatever but Hades 2? Hades 2 is my nightmare, it is Supergiant Games doing what they had never done... a sequel to their most successful game... instead of making a new game, with new mechanics, a new world and original story... we have this and it scares me to see that after s trilogy of groundbreaking games we have the safest option ever... after they had the money of reputation to do whatever...

#prototypelq #Asks

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waheelawhisperer · 2 years

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Another interesting bit about Raven: despite having no direct connections with Adam whatsoever (belying some V5-vintage theories), they sport *unnervingly* similar aesthetics, weapons & disregard for expendable subordinates. I mean, Raven actually cared a little about Vernal but still put her in a red herring position expressly intended as Maiden-hunter bait, while Adam didn't even fucking twitch at news of mass WF casualties *or* Yang blasting one of his dudes right outside the cafeteria.

Yeah, there are a lot of parallels between them, so much so that a lot of people thought that they were supposed to be associated somehow and get mad that they weren't, but I actually think those similarities aren't meant to imply an in-universe connection and are actually supposed to tie them together in the minds of the viewers as shitty, abusive, yet nonetheless deeply important figures to Yang and Blake who serve as mentors and protectors in some (limited) capacity and ultimately reveal that they aren't the people that Yang and Blake hope, want, believe, and desperately need them to be. They both shatter the pedestals they stand upon, one by losing sight of what they're fighting for (in Blake's mind, we all know Adam stopped giving a shit about anything resembling true Faunus equality in favor of making everything about forcing the world to hurt the way he did long before Blake figured it out) and the other by failing her family repeatedly and failing her daughter in particular by doing the exact opposite of what a mother should at every opportunity.

This is a really interesting contrast to me because it highlights a big difference between Blake and Yang. Blake has always been presented as a big picture person - she wants to stop discrimination against all Faunus, everywhere. She wants to make the whole world better for everyone. Yang, on the other hand is all about the immediate - who can I help right here, who can I help right now? She's the only member of the main four who didn't have some grand reason for becoming a Huntress, the only one of the four who wanted to help evacuate Mantle instead of launch Amity. Yang wants to help the people in front of her. She wants to solve the problem in front of her and worry about the bigger picture later. Her connection to the big, sweeping plotline isn't some goal like restoring her family's legacy or making things better for marginalized people across the world, it's protecting her friends and family. It's because the people she loves are also involved, and she'll be damned if she'll let them fight alone. That's why it's so painful for her when she realizes Raven will leave her to fight alone, that Raven will let Yang paint a target on her own back because she's too scared and weak and pathetic to protect her own daughter.

Didn't talk about this enough in my initial Raven post, but she is really... not a good person. While my coomer brain will forgive her for anything because she's a hot samurai goth MILF in thigh-highs, the fact that she regularly raids and plunders villages and then leaves them for the Grimm really shouldn't be overlooked (Qrow does not overlook this at all and it's a source of major conflict between them, shoutouts to Qrow), nor should the fact that she does so using powers that Ozpin originally gave to the Maidens in order to protect the world and the innocent, as a direct response to the kindness and wisdom of the original Maidens. In terms of everything but power, Raven is the exact opposite of what Ozpin wanted the Maidens to be and represent.

Gotta say I love the way Adam and Raven are both so... selfish. They just view their respective organizations and the people in them as things, tools they can use to protect themselves or accomplish their own goals. The difference between them, really, is that Raven cares. She expresses regret and remorse. She just lacks the strength of character to place someone else above herself. Adam, on the other hand, couldn't care less. His men die serving Cinder's goals? Oh well, they're acceptable casualties because it lets him hurt the humans. Adam writes off every loss without a care in order to get closer to his big goal of lashing out at the world and wiping out humanity, Raven regrets the things she does and tries so hard to justify them to herself and others.

I cannot wait to see Raven's return to the series. I want to see what made her leave Team STRQ and why. I want to see how and why Taiyang fell in love with her, and what made her love him enough to marry and have a child with him. I want to see the person Taiyang talks up to his daughter even after all these years. I want to see how she becomes that person again, and I have faith that she will. One of RWBY's big themes is the idea that even if you've failed in the past, even if you've made mistakes, you can still start making the right choices now. Not every character takes that opportunity (see: Adam's refusal to let go of Blake, Ironwood's insistence on bombing Mantle and raising Atlas no matter how little sense it makes, etc.), but enough do that I feel comfortable considering it a theme, and I think Raven is primed to add to it at some point.

Honestly, I'm just hoping she shows up at some point and then someone just clotheslines her for being a shithead.

#rwby #analysis #raven branwen #adam taurus #yang xiao long #blake belladonna

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binalakai · 7 months

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🍅🧅🍏🥑 wahoo fruit party!!

How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL. oh god. okay. okay Hue Man on Earth is a story that is. REALLY hard for me to share, despite how much I do try to talk about it publicly (or at least update my toyhouse as much as possible when i feel like doing that), there's always that sense of. people either boiling my characters down to Tropes/who's the Bad one and who's the Good One. whos the character thats meant to be a personal attack on someone (none of them are) n whos the character that is meant to be relatable (none of them are PURPOSELY written to be that way) n it just. really goddamn sucks sometimes. i could talk about specifics with my main trio specifically, over the course of time that i've had Hue, Magni, and Clyde, theyve all been weirdly misunderstood in their own way that i have gotten to the point of having to reevaluate those folks n look inward into seeing if that perception of themselves can be weaved into the plot. but honestly i think ill catch myself in a bad mood atm if i think about it too hard. tldr on that; i try to microdose my story when sharing it to others, n even then i get really nervous about the idea that my story wont be valued/understood as a whole, which is partially of my own doing as well bc i do have a tendency to Put a Lot into characters once i get super attached to them. ..so nowadays im too burned out to do that :"P once i make that pitch bible, it probably still wont fix that, but its still a project im committing to nonetheless! 🧅 [ONION] What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows of this information? Hue) hard to answer with a creature like him. objectively, he doesnt cry. its not needed for him to release emotion the same way it does for Earth-things. but he does it anyway, or at least the equivalent (letting go of parts of his body in droplets from his eyes, just for them to crawl back to his body) it's less about "am i sad right now and do i have to cry" and more like "is crying appropriate for this situation.". after his Human arc in arc 5, its something he actually stops doing as a whole because experiencing the feeling of crying in a human body like. Actually Fucks him up REAL bad NJWKEFNAJKWFNAKWEF Magni) the "sillier" or "unrelated to themselves" the issue is, the more theyll have a tendency to genuinely cry over it. they cry when they know no one else is there to mourn over the problem they're crying about, which is why they'll have a very Stone Flat Face when Witnessing the horrors, but will have an absolute meltdown over dropping their favorite cup Clyde) Honestly that motherfucker will cry over. like....anything? Honestly? to the point where it can be unpredictable. Clyde's emotions are based less on the Cause of Crying and more about the intensity of its emotions. any time it gets overwhelmed, it will cry, and its been labeled a crybaby inuniverse because of that 🍏 [GREEN APPLE] How do they differ from the norm and how are they punished for it? answering this all together, and honestly without having to like. explain the whole plot of HMoE in one setting. Hue seen as different from the norm not because he's an alien but because he's technically an illegal immigrant, Magni and Clyde are autistic PoC that also Do Not Fit Well into their hometown whatsoever. may i need to say anything else. 🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

Hue) trying to be seen as a good person, even if it means doing the most heinous shit possible (as long as he's able to hide it/insist on good intentions) Magni) trying to be seen as the Right Person, even if it means twisting things in their favor SPECIFICALLY to be right (though will admit to it redhanded if theyre caught, more out of being impressed if anything) Clyde) trying to be seen as the Truthful Person, even if it means ruining everyone's day/life about it (it''ll try to seem like it doesnt care about being "bad", but it very much actually eats away at it. every single damn day)

#hue man on earth #HI .FINALLY GETTING TO THIS.

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vacantgodling · 9 months

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VIOLENCE ASK GAME 🔥 let's go, i'm going to shoot your ask right back at you and say: answer any and all questions you want/haven't already been asked about Overwatch. >:)

so i started answering this and my phone deleted my answers bc it’s opposed to violence but TOO BAD y’all will receive these steaming hot takes i mean cakes!

1. the character everyone gets wrong

already answered but HEAVILY AGREE with ur answer of genji. like it’s exhausting to see people look at him and go yes, he must be the playboy to hanzo’s stick in the mud that’s it :) nothing else :) like. if we’re talking about the it never happened or pre-slice and dice sure i can see that but ??? after the fact??? makes no sense. he’s a very humble and changed man. he is very aware of not only himself and his faults but he’s understanding to others. he also gets angry tho and i feel like a lot of people mistake his newfound patience for lack of anger and it’s like no i think he does get angry but i think he’s in better control of how he expresses it now. long story short even tho genji is not my Main Boy i will fight toe to toe over people’s shit interpretations of him because can y’all get ur heads out of ur asses for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES—

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

i can’t even answer this bc hanzo is my fave and that man gives as good as he gets— *shot*

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr + 4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

tldr around the time brig came out a very popular yeehan writer, in their annoyance about people disliking the fact that she was another white character, stated that it was blanket misogyny to dislike any overwatch female character for any reason at this point. i do agree that there can be a problem in fandom spaces where women and femme characters are hated for essentially the sin of being women but the way they were putting it and talking about literally any reason that you dislike a female character in overwatch or in general probably meant you were a misogynist. and just. it’s so stupid that people think that the Act Itself of disliking a female character means that person hates All Women. like that’s a wild take to me and i dislike this take in general. call out misogynistic behavior, yes, but people are allowed to dislike female characters lmao???? stop putting them on pedestals just bc they are women lmao. anyway i wanted to block this person anyway bc they acted like (to me) that they were the god of all yeehan takes and discourse etc etc and their condescending attitude and way people would suck their dick basically annoyed me so this was kind of the last straw.

5. worst discord server and why

yeehan main server bc it’s got too many people and so it falls into the usual fandom habit of if you don’t suck up to mods or aren’t friends with the Big Names (like the person i was talking about prev asks) you will fall by the wayside and no one will care about you and personally i hate that most of all :)

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

phar////mercy & gen////cy are tied for me and the common denominator is i hate mercy and these fans are so up her fucking ass about how she can do no wrong that i just want to die. the weird white savior thing going on with gen////cy and the annoying knight in shining armor for delicate flower white woman going on in phar////mercy is exhausting.

i may be a mercy main bc i like her playstyle but every day i MOURN the black man mercy design we could’ve had but didn’t.

we could’ve had this fucking HUNK but NOOOOOO

and UGH another bad take i saw was when the ovw art book came out (which i have sigh) and everyone was like BRO THE CONCEPT MERCY THO— i saw so many people saying that ugh well we already have baptiste we don’t need ANOTHER black healer and i’m like…. but inchresting how y’all don’t say that about having 3 white healers 🤨 I DIGRESS THO.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

this is difficult bc most characters i dislike i already had a reason for disliking them, fandom just increased my rage 💀

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

gremlin dva my beloathed. stick in the mud hanzo my BELOATHED.

9. worst part of canon

already answered but the fact that we had to fight for so fucking long to get a black woman in overwatch. like bro y’all ain’t Shit. y’all added a fucking HAMSTER before a black woman and it SHOWS how little y’all care about black women im TIREDTTTT

10. worst part of fanon

already answered however u reminded me of how much dainty male wife hanzo that used to exist and i legitimately blocked that shit from my memory and now i’m retraumatized. so thanks. lmao. :)

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

i think just phar///mercy i can’t take it LMAO. but honestly not many only bc i do not engage with ovw fandom anymore

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

dva’s boyfriend (to me) daehyun and jack’s ex vincent. idk how much they count bc they aren’t really involved as much as, say emily is, side character wise but i think daehyun and dva’s relationship is extremely sweet and i’m so normal about them (i’m not they’re literally my otp for dva and i swear i’m the only one who ships it LMAO) and idk i’m a sucker for bittersweet exes so vincent holds a special place in my heart and lowkey ship him with jack more than the only other 76 ship worth mentioning. i don’t really have a reason for why anyone should like these characters like they deadass have like no content but EYE care them.

13. worst blorboficiation

worst character to blorbo: it’s a tie between moira and junkrat i hate both of them. but huge unpopular opinion i dislike all the junkers (yes including the fucking hamster). just lore wise i feel like we glossed over the entire part where they hate omnics for just existing etc etc (same thing with zarya but i don’t see as many people simp over her which is unsurprising) and like sure i can be looking too into it but the entire omnic side of overwatch’s shit feels too close to racism to me and i’m lowkey protective over just the concept of omnics in general. that being said i just can’t in good faith like any of the junkers+zarya for their open hostility about them and tbh the game just glossed over the outright hostility junkrat used to have towards zen he had some gnarly fucking lines that made me real uncomfortable tbh. and like the casual omnic-ism in the game does bother me too. reaper had some shit lines as well, zarya obvs etc. and like idk i’m black and sensitive and it rubbed me in a type of way. but this could also just be poor handling of a topic they aren’t equipped to handle the ramifications thereof so yknow. not expecting much but it bothers me how we just decided not to address it at all. i mean hell, torb’s isms were addressed with the bastion comic and their friendship so… idk why we can’t do the same with the rest of them or why they’re acting like that part of their character didn’t exist? and like i don’t mind when characters like jack or mercy for instance have lines towards zenyatta that are more about him being a monk or whatnot but the lines towards him being an omnic and not addressing it is just… eugh. BUT i’ve rambled enough about this moving on.

worst case of character that has been massacred by being blorboified: dva. dear god. please be normal about asian women for ONE minute challenge (impossible)

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

hanzo and cole bonding over being on random parts of base and drinking as a form of bonding and tbh y’all are so correct for this.

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

my favorite is the cole and hanzo clothes swap Or putting any of the characters in everyday wear it’s really nice.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

kinda similar to what you said but cole being a bumbling himbo southern hick. like i’m sorry where the Fuck in his backstory did y’all get ANY of that are y’all okay.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

visual kei hanzo. i’m SO BITTER that they gave kiriko a visual kei skin i’m SO BITTER.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

bapweaver like they are literally perfect????? hello??????? did you miss the “us healing gentleman should stick together” line or?????? the mspec x mspec relationship??????? the fact that both of them are so goddamn handsome i’m frothing i Need to see them fuck or maybe be sandwiched between that ????? just me???? ok.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

mei. hear me out: she has a lot of mannerisms that remind me of my ex so i hated her out of principle also people who main her along with rein mains make me want to eat glass. however she’s grown on me a little so idk if this is healing or if overwatch has infected my brain.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

the reaper / moira storyline sorry it bores me 😬 like i’d rather focus on rebuilding overwatch and the underground vigilantes part. moira turning reaps into a bunch of cells doesn’t really intrigue me sorry. and tbh all of talon in general bores me like i feel like aside from reaps they all are just the “evil bc we wanna be” shit. like evil scientist? been there done that. the world must evolve through conflict is a new angle but it’s just a repacked i want power trip. like idk. i feel like talon’s goals are vague at best and stupid at worst.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

kiriko and whatever is going on with her shit like she is a boring fucking character and like ashe added unnecessary excess information that does not solve any of the problems into one of my fave characters backstories and i’m annoyed by it.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

the propensity for hanzo to be the main character but i’m extremely biased 🤷🏽‍♂️

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

symmpharah actually. i started claiming to ship it bc i disliked phar///mercy and wanted to be like LOOK THERE ARE OTHER GOOD SHIPS!!!! but then when i thought about it i was like no wait actually that’s such a good idea. pharah and symm strike me as both autizzy (i think pharah is lower support needs/audhd while symm is autistic) and i think they compliment each other really well. their desire for rules and order and their own ideas of justice which i think pharah can help symm shape like zen has as well. they can talk about their special interests to each other (pharah: basketball, symm: architecture) and actually appreciate it. they’re also, and most importantly to me, EQUALS. their relationship feels like both of them contributing to it instead of just a hopeless crush/white knight/i would do everything for you nonsense. and i��m partial to the melanin x melanin they’re both so fucking pretty like power couple vibes STRONG.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

diversity 💀💀 y’all mfs are so ANNOYING about it lmao. but this is not unusual for games 🙄

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

anytime people ask for better from the devs you get hundreds of people jumping down your throat about how you’re a piece of shit for asking and it’s like ??? lmao??

#about renjamin #ren hot cakes

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