clarabeca

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[taskforce420]

tap out. simon 'ghost' riley

it didn't take a genius to know that simon riley, had been through hell. no family, close to no friends outside of his line of work. he was the shell of a man, a living ghost if you will; but people knew he was not one to be taunted or made fun of. sure he was a broken man, but he'd never take disrespect.

it did take a genius to know that you, had been through hell. no family, close to no friends outside of your line of work. you were quiet, always kept to yourself, never caused much trouble, unless you were on the field getting your hands dirty- bloody even. no one knew about your past, your story. but you liked it that way.

so, here you and ghost stood. arms behind your back, standing at ease, looking straight ahead.

as of right now, a common army tradition was ongoing, 'tap out' it was called, where the soldiers stood at ease as they waited for their loved ones to tap them out, letting them move, talk, interact with their family etc.

your gaze slowly shifted from the ground, to the families crying tears of happiness as they saw their son or daughter again after months or years of them being gone. mothers held their sons close to them, fathers cheered and praised their daughters for their accomplishments.

and you? well, you stood there, wishing to yourself, that maybe seeing your mother and father pass away was all a dream and that you'd see them walking over to you any minute, with wide smiles and excited cheers.

and ghost? well, he didn't care about the fact that no one was there to see him, to congratulate him; he cared that you, his closet friend since the beginning of training, was stood there. alone.

he didn't understand why, but he could probably guess. nonetheless, he watched as you uncomfortably shifted your weight from one foot to the other. he noticed you didn't want to be there, didn't want to have to listen to the laughs and 'hellos' of mothers and fathers.

ghost could relate, he let out a deep sigh; letting his arms drop to his side, he moved from his spot. he knew full well that he was breaking rules but as of now, he didn't care. not one bit. he walked over to you, eyes meeting with yours almost instantly.

"come on, luv." he said, as comforting as he possibly could. he raised his hand to your shoulder, officially tapping you out. he could see the hurt in your eyes.

"thanks, si" he nodded as you thanked him, he felt horrible knowing your pain.

you let your hands come to your sides, subconsciously, you started to fidget. your rough fingertips played with the hem of your t-shirt. "its not fair that they make us do this.." you said softly, head hanging low, watching your feet as you both walked back into the base, knowing you had nothing better to do.

"mhm" is all ghost said as he looked down at you, clearly seeing your defeated mood. "i wouldn't dwell on it, sweetheart. i know what your thinking" you nodded, not really bothered to speak. you appreciated ghost walking with you though, keeping you company.

"your family is here now, us, me...soap, gaz, price. the whole force, your brothers, your sisters" ghost spoke. you knew he was right, you got along incredibly well with the members of Task Force 141, there were many years full of core memories with the lot of them.

like the time when you and soap got bored one night so you snuck out of the base and found yourselves at a water bank, completely soaked from jumping in. you both laughed uncontrollably as you splashed one another.

or even when you and price sat in his office, having a deep conversation about previous missions, his past, life in general. you two agreed that you had bonded, ending the night with a simple hug.

or that time when you and gaz decided to go a nearby bar, its safe to say that you both got absolutely hammered from the mixed alcohol in your system. you laughed with one another as you stumbled back to base, holding onto one another. laughing even harder as price and soap caught you in your drunken state.

or...or even the time with ghost.

when you two lay on his dishevelled bed, your back to his chest, his arm lazily thrown around your waist, holding you against him for comfort. his hand traced the scars on your waist, your hips, your legs. you stared out the window, smiling to yourself. nothing serious had happened...you both just adored the company of one another, which is why you found yourself falling asleep to the feeling his breaths on your shoulder, and his hand caressing your skin. "you okay?" he had asked you, moving to lie on his back. you had turned to face him. smiling when you saw him already looking at you, his arm rest behind his head. "mhm, always" you had softly spoke.

you smiled to yourself as you finally walked into the base, simon still by your side. "yeah..you're right" you said looking up at the large man. he happened to look down at you, you swear you could see him smile beneath his mask.

"i know..."

lemme know if you guys would like a pt. 2 :)

[metalhoops]

The Five Times Eddie Wondered Who His Soulmate Was  and the One Time He Didn’t Have To

1. 

The worst thing about knowing your soulmate was in trouble was understanding there was nothing you could do about it. 

As a whole, Eddie thought the concept of soulmates was bullshit. He thought all that fate and destiny crap was a scam to sell the idea of monogamy or co-dependence. If people were too busy fretting over when they’d meet ‘their person’, they’d forget that actual shit was going on in the world. Who had the time to care about systemic oppression when they were busy trying to work out if the cute girl across the corridor was their one true love? 

That being said, sometimes Eddie got curious about who they were. Not many people found their soulmates. It wasn’t as obvious as you’d think. When they were in pain, you would feel it. Two people could live across the world from one another, feeling each scraped knee and broken wrist but never meet. Hell, you could live across the street from someone and unless you were there to watch them get hurt and feel the same old pang of shared pain, you’d never know. 

It wasn’t like Eddie had never felt his soulmate before that day. They’d twisted an ankle when Eddie was twelve and sprained a wrist when he was fourteen, but he’d felt no pain from them so strong as when he was sitting in detention during his junior year. 

He was counting down the minutes left until he could get out of the high school, hell hole when a sharp and sudden pain flooded his jaw. He gritted his teeth and cradled it with his palm, feeling as though the wind was knocked out of his body. Eddie knew what being punched in the face felt like, and that was it. Just when the ache started to fade, another thud of pain to his cheek made his vision swim. From there, Eddie held his breath, waiting for the pain to end. He rested his head on his desk and felt his heart in his throat as the blows kept coming. 

He missed Mrs Click telling him to go home, too busy gripping the desk for dear life, his fingernails digging into the poorly carved desk graffiti, slicing a line through ‘RB 4 TT.’ He was elated when the pain finally stopped. 

Eddie kept his head down the whole walk home, trying to tell himself soulmates were bullshit, and that he didn’t care about his, but his thoughts kept returning to visions of them. He hoped they were okay. 

Eddie never wanted to know who his soulmate was until that moment. They’d had a hell of a day and Eddie wanted to be there with them, tell them he knew what it was like. He wanted to hold their head in his lap and tell them everything was going to be okay, that if it were up to him, no one would hurt them like that again, but he couldn’t. For all he knew, they could be a hundred miles away. 

2.

The next time it happened, Eddie was at home alone in the trailer. Uncle Wayne was working a night shift, and he was watching a horror movie marathon on the T.V. It was shaping up to be a good night, with him curled up on the couch watching a schlocky creature feature when he felt all the air knocked out of his lungs. 

For a moment, he was worried something horrible was happening to him. When Jeff had appendicitis, he’d reported the same kind of pain. Eddie rolled up the hem of his shirt, watching a black-blue bruise bloom and fade in the span of a second. Sometimes, if the pain was great enough, you’d get what they called an ‘echo’ of the injury. It only lasted a moment, invisible ink fading on pale paper. 

The pain had been so strong that Eddie hadn’t been able to tell if it was theirs or his. From there, it got worse. He felt a sharp pang crash over his head, then another series of blows to the face. It was always the goddamn face.

When it was over, Eddie was left feeling lightheaded. The sensation faded quickly, but he knew his other half would be stuck with the ache for the rest of the night, if not longer. 

There was a lot of conjecture when it came to soulmates. It was hard to conduct scientific studies on something based entirely on sensation, and any research that had been done was less than ethical. All the same, for the rest of the night, Eddie curled his arms around himself, holding his body in the hopes his person could feel it, that he could give them some comfort. 

“I hope you’re okay,” he whispered, burrowing his face into the crook of his elbow. 

Back at school, Eddie floated through the halls feeling less than himself as thoughts of his person swirled. The school was abuzz with rumours of a fight between Billy Hargrove and the former king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. Eddie couldn’t care less about some pissing contest for the highest rung on the social ladder, as he still felt the echoed ache of his soulmate’s pain throughout the day. 

He ditched gym, opting to hide beneath the bleachers and smoke. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one with the idea. When he arrived, he found the overthrown king sitting cross-legged, cradling his still-bruised jaw. Eddie wasn’t a fan of the jocks, but they were the biggest contributor to his wallet, so he tried to play civil with them. Plus, Eddie wasn’t one to kick someone when they were down, and boy was Steve down. He sat beside the man, examined his face, and thought for a fleeting second. Maybe he was the one, but that was crazy talk. The Freak and the King. In what world? 

“You look like you’ve had better days,” Eddie noted. 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve replied. Eddie had a pit in his stomach. 

The two lapsed into silence, hiding out until the bell sounded for the end of gym. Eddie gave the boy a half-hearted salute as he stood.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie spoke before he left.

“You okay?”

Steve gave Eddie the ghost of a smile, all charm drowned out by Steve’s two black eyes. 

“I will be.” 

3.

Eddie had been worried about his soulmate before, but he’d never thought he’d lose them until the summer vacation after his failed attempt at senior year. He and the rest of Corroded Coffin had just finished their set at The Hideout. Eddie and the boys were carrying their instruments back to the van when the feeling hit. 

He fell to the asphalt. The whole scene sounded all the more dramatic as the hi-hat he’d been holding fell with him. He really wished his soulmate would learn to keep their head down and stay out of trouble because this was getting ridiculous. He got ready to hunker down and wait it out, having gotten morbidly used to their annual beatings. Only this time the pain didn’t stop. 

He was hit with wave after wave of agony. This time, it wasn’t just the face. He felt blows to his jaw, his stomach, and his side. He also felt a sharp spike of pain in his hand, as though someone was trying to peel his nails from his skin.

He could hear his friends around him, desperately trying to get something coherent out of Eddie, trying to work out if it was soulmate bullshit or if the guy was having an aneurysm. By the way he was acting, either seemed possible. When the pain subsided, Eddie felt foggy, like he was going through the worst goddamn high of his life. The neon signs of The Hideout and the street lamps danced before his eyes. Hundreds of little halos clouded his vision. He couldn’t think straight. 

He managed to prop himself up against the wheel of the van and pulled his knees to his chest. He knotted his hands in his long hair and tugged, trying to remind himself what his own pain felt like, though stopped when he realised he’d also be hurting them. That was the last thing they needed. 

“You okay?” He heard Gareth ask when the world came swimming back into focus. Eddie shook his head. Far from it.  

“Are they okay? Are they... alive?” Eddie hadn’t let himself entertain that idea until it was brought up. 

He felt the last flush of colour drain from his face. He could still feel them, but there was something wrong with the connection. Maybe he was dying. Eddie couldn’t help but think of his soulmate as ‘he’. He just knew. 

Eddie kept trying to tell himself he didn’t care about them, but the fact that he could die without Eddie ever having met him made his heart ache. People thought the reason you felt your person’s pain was to protect them, to know when something was wrong. Eddie had done a bang-up job at that. 

“For now, but it’s weird. I don’t... I don’t know how much longer-,” Eddie didn’t let himself finish. 

The rest of the band suddenly took on a sombre mood. Jeff and Grant finished packing up the van while Gareth offered to drive. The boys stayed at Eddie’s trailer for the rest of the night, holding their breaths and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Eventually, Eddie dropped off to sleep and when he awoke hours later, he was relieved to realise he hurt all over. He was still alive, still waiting for Eddie to find him and god did Eddie want to. 

His uncle came home at the crack of dawn and let out an elongated sigh of relief at seeing Eddie and his band of merry men curled up together on the living room carpet. Wayne greeted Eddie with a tight hug that still hurt like hell.

“I was worried something happened to you,” His uncle stated in his gravelled tone.

“Why would something have happened to me?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

“The mall burnt down last night. I was worried you were close by.” 

Eddie shook his head and let his uncle hold him as his mind ticked away. He wondered if it was possible his soulmate was in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t sure he believed in coincidence.   

4.

Eddie started seeing spots during his lunchtime speech. By the end of his rant, the room had started to tilt. He felt unsure on his feet as he clambered from the top of the jock table to scamper back to the hellfire group. He must look worse for wear because he noticed one of his new recruits watching him.

“Eddie, you good?” Dustin questioned, sounding further away than he should. The lights in the cafeteria were too bright and his head was killing him. 

He felt close to throwing up and wondered where the pain had come from before realising the familiar distance from the sensation. It wasn’t his pain. Eddie didn’t want Henderson to butt into his love life any more than he already did, so he gave the kid a tight-lipped smile that more closely resembled a grimace. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this sensation from his soulmate, but they were growing more frequent.  

Again, sweetheart? Eddie thought, knowing it was the second migraine that week. 

“Migraine,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth. He could feel his band members' eyes on him. They knew exactly who the ache belonged to. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin passed him a cool glass of water and barked orders at Mike, getting the kid to remove the ugly Hawaiian over shirt, before throwing it over Eddie’s head, blocking out the light. It wasn’t Eddie’s pain, so it didn’t help but he could appreciate the sentiment. 

“Did they teach you first aid at science camp, Henderson?” Eddie guessed offhandedly. 

“Nah. Steve gets migraines all the time. Helps to know how to deal with them.”

Eddie would never understand how a kid like Dustin came to know Steve Harrington, let alone worship the ground the guy walked on. Usually, Dustin had such good taste.  

“Eddie’s soulmate gets them too,” Gareth spoke unhelpfully. 

Even without looking, Eddie knew he was shooting him a shit-eating grin, knowing the rest of the afternoon Henderson would ask him about his soulmate. Just because the kid found Suzie, he thought the whole world deserved to find their one true love. Instead, Dustin came out with the most bullshit statement Eddie had ever heard. 

“Maybe Steve’s your soulmate.” 

Yeah, right. On what planet would that happen? 

5.

With everything that had happened to Eddie in the past few days, he hadn’t had time to think about his soulmate. He’d watched Chrissy die before his eyes, learnt the existence of another dimension and was walking through said dimension after witnessing Steve Harrington take a bite out of a demon bat’s tail. It’d been a weird ass day.  

He wished he’d been like Robin and Nancy, able to jump in and rescue Steve on a whim, but as Steve disappeared beneath the black water of Lover’s Lake, he’d felt his throat close and his lungs ache for air. It wasn’t a good time for a panic attack. Nevertheless, he’d managed to get his ass in gear and follow the rest of the group down into Watergate. 

He’d dropped back to walk with Steve and found himself complimenting the man. Steve was nothing like he imagined. He was not only kind, but as Dustin had put it, a total badass. 

Once the adrenaline faded, Eddie found himself lifting the hem of his shirt, examining his side. He felt a dull throb of pain. It’d be his luck to bleed out without noticing, but he found there was nothing there. 

“You good?” Steve asked.

Eddie couldn’t help but let his gaze settle on Steve’s bleeding side. He held his breath. He thought about pushing his hand against Steve’s wound, hurting him more just to check, but Eddie couldn’t hurt Steve. Not now. Especially if he was who Eddie thought he might be. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?” Eddie asked, gesturing to Steve’s side. The boy nodded.

“I’m fine, just a scratch. Can hardly feel a thing.” 

If Steve was his soulmate, he was full of shit. If Steve was his soulmate when everything blew over, they had a few things to talk about.

+1

Something was very wrong. Vecna was going down in a blaze of flame when Steve’s body started to ache. He felt the familiar sting of interdimensional bat fangs digging into dermis flesh. Robin and Nancy were cheering, wrapping their arms around Steve, whooping, hollering and panting while Steve was busy feeling like he was being torn apart. 

He was pulling away from the girls and turning on his heels before he had the chance to explain, running from the Creel House to the trailer park as fast as his feet could carry him. There was only one person this pain could belong to. 

Steve had spent his whole life searching for his soulmate, desperate to know who they were, and he’d been under his nose the whole time. The fact that Steve’s soulmate was a boy hadn’t surprised him as much as it should. That’d been a crisis bubbling away in the background of his brain since he’d gone to his first swim meet. He’d seen a boy in tight swim trunks, with tan skin and felt the familiar heart-pounding, crush he’d experienced on pretty girls he’d passed in the school hallways. 

By the time he got to Eddie, he’d hardly been able to fight through the pain surging through their connection. Dustin was wailing, holding Eddie in the wake of a bat graveyard. He looked up in alarm at Steve’s figure, noticing his pale skin and sweat-slicked brow. 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s weak voice came from Dustin’s lap. 

Steve was busy removing his clothes, trying to stop the bleeding. Dustin didn’t need to show him where the man was hurt, he could feel it. 

“I really must have got some brownie points in the end,” Eddie murmured. 

Both boys hissed as Steve shoved his shirt into a wound at Eddie’s side. That was when Dustin appeared to catch on, his eyes swelling wide as they darted between the two boys. 

“What’re you talking about, Munson?” Steve asked, trying to keep the guy talking. 

“Must’ve got into heaven after all,” He hummed, his deep brown eyes gazing beyond Steve at the distant red sky. 

“Hey. No. None of that. You aren’t in heaven because you’re not dying,” Steve hissed, using what little strength he had left to lift Eddie’s body. 

“Gotta be in heaven, if you’re here,” Eddie spoke, giving Steve a lopsided grin. Steve felt Eddie’s pain beginning to fade and panicked, not ready to let things end before they’d even had the chance to begin. 

He hoisted Eddie up through the portal and waited to do the same with Dustin. It wasn’t long before the distant sound of sirens once more surrounded the Munson trailer and Steve found himself passing out from the pain as red-blue lights swallowed the world whole. 

Eddie woke in pain, his whole body humming with a familiar dull ache that was unarguably his. It took time for him to make sense of the scene. He was in the hospital. Steve was slumped over at the far edge of the room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his head thrown back and his mouth agape. Eddie’s eyes trailed to his bedside, where he met Dustin’s. 

“Holy shit, you’re awake,” the boy gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 

Eddie cringed as he felt a rush of pain swarm through his body. He must have gasped, because Steve sprung to life, waking with a start as his eyes trailed from Dustin to Eddie. Steve’s eyes were a storm of quiet conflict, punctuated by deep purple bruises. 

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, standing to hover beside the bed, unsure of what to do next. 

He was surprised Steve was there at all. He wouldn’t say the two were close. Though Steve had probably found some way of twisting Eddie getting hurt into some fault of his, ever the damn hero. 

“Thought I was a goner for a second there,” Eddie admitted, trying to shake some of the strange tension from the room.

“If Steve hadn’t gotten there in time, you would’ve been,” Dustin spoke. Eddie watched as the boy’s hands trembled. He leaned over, fighting through the pain to ruffle the kid’s hair. Steve’s shoulders hunched over, doubling into himself. 

“I’ll get the nurse. Your uncle left for his nightshift, but he should be back in a few,” Dustin muttered as he made a beeline for the exit. It seemed strange the boy was extracting himself from the scene.

Henderson called over his shoulder. “I told you so.” 

And just like that, Eddie knew. 

He looked up at Steve with wide-eyed alarm, only to find his look mirrored.

“How’d you know we were in trouble?” Eddie asked, though thought he knew the answer. 

“After we killed Vecna, I felt... I could feel you. I knew you were hurt,” Steve explained. 

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie pushed.

“Thought it was too much of a coincidence that it felt like my soulmate was getting eaten alive by giant bats. I’d call it an educated guess.” 

Eddie gritted his teeth and nodded. Surely, as far as soulmates went, he hadn’t been what Steve imagined. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, surprising Eddie. 

“For what?”

“Not being the person you wanted me to be, I guess,” Steve spoke so candidly, it made pain and panic swell in his throat. How could Steve think Eddie was disappointed that he was his soulmate?

“I’m not disappointed, Stevie. Why would I be disappointed?” 

“You had to have known,” Steve reasoned. 

Eddie didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it sounded like Steve had been overthinking every second of it. 

“You give me more credit than I deserve. I didn’t know it was you, sweetheart. Cross my heart,” Eddie admitted, surprised at how quickly the term of endearment he’d used for his soulmate slipped off his tongue when talking to Steve. 

He hadn’t worked out shit. He’d had hunches, as though his heart knew, but the logical part of his brain kept overriding it. In what world were he and Steve perfect for each other?

Eddie threw caution to the wind as he saw the genuine look of affection and excitement painting its way across Steve’s face. He looked hopeful. Eddie cringed, sitting up and trying to lean closer to Steve.

“Come here before I hurt the both of us,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve shuffled closer to Eddie’s bed, crouching down, so the two were at eye level. Eddie wanted to kiss the boy so damn bad, and Steve was sending him all the signs that he should, but there was something he had to do first. He took Steve’s face between his hands, running a thumb over the purple bruises beneath his eyes.

“No more playing hero, okay?” 

Steve nudged his face into the palm of Eddie’s hand and nodded, letting out a weak chuckle. 

“I think I can agree to that.” 

Eddie crushed their lips together and despite the pain, it felt like everything was right in the world. 

[tommykinard6]

Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

[jinhyun]

hii, i was wondering if for the "what are we?" prompts if you could please do some sort of combination of "what do you want us to be?" and "i was hoping we could be more than just friends" with felix? that would be so awesome! thank you <3

“What are we?”

The way you said those words made Felix's heart ache. It was hardly a whisper, for your voice betrayed you and cracked as you stared down to the cold pavement.

This wasn't how either of you expected this night to go. It was supposed to be a fun time; a house party with loud music, lots of people and many drinks to intoxicate your system. You and him were supposed to have a blast and get rid of all the stress you had been feeling lately.

Instead, you found yourselves sitting down on the sidewalk after you had run out one second and he followed you the next one.

Felix sat in silence next to you, concernedly staring into your miserable expression as your eyes remained focused on the ground and wouldn't dare to look back at him — the only sign of you acknowledging his presence right next to you being how you hugged the jacket he had placed over your shoulders a minute ago.

He didn't exactly get what happened. He had been talking to a friend of his he ran into, and then he saw you rushedly crossing the front door. He ran after you before he could even process it, only to be even more confused when he found you sitting down on the sidewalk, looking as if your heart had just been broken.

Still, even with such a look on your face, the words that had so weakly abandoned your lips caught him completely off guard.

He didn't know if he had heard it right. He didn't know what you wanted him to answer, nor did he know what to answer without compromising your entire friendship, which is why he ended up uncomfortably shifting in his place and clearing his throat before his eyes fixed on the house across the road.

“What do you want us to be?” He replied, voice nearly as weak as yours.

“That's not fair” you recriminated.

“What's not fair?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm asking you what we are,” your eyes finally fixed on his, and he could see how hurt you actually were. “I want you to answer, not to leave me with the responsibility of choosing”.

“So I'm supposed to choose?” He asked; not mad, but troubled as hell. “I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N”.

“Just, whatever you want us to be”.

“I'm in the same place as you here” his voice trembled. “I don't think my feelings for you could be any stronger, but we're… you're my best friend. I love you so much, Y/N, I don't want us to… risk it all and then lose you, I don't know”.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. Neither of you had ever said it before, but you hadn't bothered to hide it either. Therefore, it didn't come out as much of a surprise when he confessed it like that.

Both of you were well aware of your mutual feelings, but neither of you dared to actually act up on them, in fear of it meaning to lose one another in the future. You were in love with each other dearly, but you treasured your friendship more.

Up until that night, at least, for things had just changed on your end.

“I love you, too” you confessed back, feeling him take a shaky breath. “And I used to think the same, that I didn't want to risk it all and then lose you”.

“Then?”

“Then…” you sighed, resting your palms on the pavement as you leaned back. “Then I saw the way Yumin looked at you, and how much you laughed with her and how happy you looked back then… and I realised that I was okay with not risking it all and being just friends til the end of times because it didn't cross my mind that at some point you'd be with someone else”.

“I'm not with Yumin,” he shut that idea of yours down immediately. “I just ran into her back there and we were catching up, we're not—”

“It doesn't matter,” you gave him another weak smile, as they seemed to be the only ones you had left. “You will fall for someone else at some point anyway, whether it's her or not, and I don't think I'll be able to just stand there and keep being your friend”.

“Y/N…”

“I really won't be able to stand it, Lix” your eyes watered. “The mere thought of you and her hurt like hell, what's it gonna be like when you actually do fall for someone else an—”

Your words were cut off by his mouth pressing lightly on yours. Just like that, the fate of your friendship had been settled.

It was the sweetest way you had ever been told to shut up, and you could only sit there and return the kiss after a couple of seconds, when you managed to snap out of it and realised you were in fact not dreaming.

It was delicate, soft, and didn't last long; only enough to stop you from talking nonsense and to let you know just how truly and deeply he felt for you.

“There isn't anyone else,” he whispered once he faintly pulled away. “There won't ever be someone else”.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead on his and letting his breathing mix up with yours as you took in his words.

You loved him. He loved you. No matter how scared you were of a future without him if things didn't end up working out, you were sure that being so deeply in love with each other and not being together hurt just as much.

It almost seemed stupid not to give in to your feelings now.

“I think I want us to be more than friends…” you murmured, finally opening your eyes to meet his beaming chocolate ones.

Felix smiled, lightly nodding his head as he leaned in once more. “Good,” he pecked your lips. “Because I don't think I can keep myself from kissing you anymore”.

[miss-dollette]

I was thinking in random hcs? Maybe your thoughts about the character? something general? Nothing like nsfw stuff, 'cause it’s all what this fandom have lol

Sure, how 'bout some relationship headcanons! And some character headcanons. Basically, what I believe he would be like in a relationship. At least, the more positive side of being with him. He's a goofy guy, and people take him wayyy too seriously.

Eats food like he's in a competitive eating contest. Consumes enough to feed a small village—your grocery bill might just fund a lunar mission. Don't throw a fit, though; Mr. Riley's mission is to ensure your wallet stays plump at all times. He's a provider through and through.

Transforms into a human fortress at the mere hint of trouble. If someone dares hurt you, Mr. Riley becomes Mr. Ghost in the fraction of a second. And trust me, taking a hit from him is like receiving a love tap from a freight train, minus the love.

Navigates family gatherings like a penguin on roller skates. His military background remains a classified mystery, and his family tales are as fictional as a unicorn on vacation. American relatives? They're convinced he's the next NFL sensation, begging him to join their backyard football league. Spoiler alert: he's more of a brick wall than wide receiver.

Master of the unexpected headlock, coupled with a smirk that screams, "You wouldn't be able to get outta this if you tried your best." Yes, he's a bit of an asshole, but he's your asshole.

Enormous nerd alert. Chuckles at his own jokes. No, he's not ashamed of that.

His humor is on a level of sophistication that revolves around fart and poop jokes. He's not afraid to assert his dominance with a fart, maintaining eye contact for that extra level of charm. Try throwing a pillow his way, and he'll throw it back with the force of a thousand sun's (may have broken your glasses once).

He's British—like, sipping-tea-in-the-rain-with-the-Queen British. The epitome of Brit-ness in a world filled with brits. Probably has a secret stash of crumpets somewhere.

Experienced a growth spurt at eleven that defied the laws of gravity. Shot up from 5'1" to a towering 6'4" by the time he graduated.

His taste buds are stuck in the bland era. Thinks anything spicier than salt is equivalent to summoning fire-breathing dragons. Pepper in his food? Cue him giving you vicious side eye. Introduce any other spice, and he'll act like you're conducting a culinary assassination. Consider yourself warned—he takes his seasoning very seriously. But he'll still eat your food, with a side of milk, of course.

Love Language: Fluent in acts of service and physical touch. To unlock level 10, you'll need a lot of patience, kindness, and understanding. Once you get there, anything you request, he'll do—no complaints, just a casual acceptance of his fate, like a loyal sidekick in a superhero movie.

His commitment is so strong; he'd probably agree to build a rocket to the moon if you asked. He'd do whatever it takes to make sure you get what you want.

Always keeping a hand on the nape of your neck in crowds—part protective gesture, part GPS system. It's his way of ensuring you don't accidentally take yourself off a cliff.

I have so many more ideas.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 18

Summary: Cooper comforts you after the two of you leave Vault 3. There isn't anything he can do to take your memories of that place away, but he sure as hell could try.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Not many? Hurt/Comfort. Cooper does his best. Drug use and sexual assault are mentioned. Lots of cuddles and crying.

Masterlist

You don't remember how you got out of the Vault, and you don't care to recall how either. You lay in bed in your room at the Atomic Wrangler for three days, recovering from the copious amount of chems that the fiends have shoved into your system. Julie Farkus had told Cooper that she was lucky to be alive and that most women didn't have someone that could save them like he had for you.

Cooper had grit his teeth, lips pulled in a nasty sneer, and told the good doctor that it'd almost been too late, but he was just glad that Julie could help him. Today was the first time that you felt up to more than just sleeping, and the ghoul made sure to be by your side. You sat up, back pressed against the wall, and played with the plate of food in your lap.

"You gonna eat, smoothskin?" He asks and shifts his weight in the stool beside your bed. Cooper's been here for the better part of those three days, only leaving for necessary reasons and never for long. The bounty hunter is dressed down, only his jeans and button-up and boots, and you finally look at him.

You clear your throat, lips pulled in a harsh frown. "Yeah, I will."

Cooper doesn't like the tone you use and sits forward, elbows on his knees, and he stares you down, "Do I need to feed you?"

You scoff at the vauge threat and pierce a piece of steak before popping the morsel in your mouth and slowly chew it. You eye Cooper then swallow, "Happy?"

The ghoul narrows his amber eyes, "Not yet."

He watches your lips purse and look away from him, shoulders slumping and hands going limp. He doesn't expect to see tears growing in your eyes or to watch the way you fold into yourself, lips trembling as a broken apology spills from between your lips.

Cooper rises and takes the plate away from you, setting it to the side so that he can crawl into the bed with you. He sits against the headboard and pulls you back so that you rest between his legs against his chest. You don't bother fighting against him and simply cry a little harder when his hands rub soothing motions across your back.

"Wanna talk about it yet?" Cooper offers quietly. You've not said shit to him about your time in Vault 3. He understood the big picture when he'd arrived down there. His smoothskin had been treated worse than a fucking dog, drugged up and left to wallow in your own filth.

You shake your head. You don't understand how Cooper even wants to touch you right now. You feel disgusting, and the phantom feel of the fiends' hands still haunt you at every second of the day. You want another shower, but hot water was a precious commodity.

"Stop apologizing," Cooper rumbles after a moment, and you snap your mouth shut, unaware that you'd just said everything out loud. His arms tighten around you, and you bask in the strength of the hard planes of his body.

"Nothing those bastards did to you could make me love you any less."

His words only make you sob harder, but you can't help but feel relief at them. Your ghoul loved you and had taken on an entire vault of chem addled cannibals to save you. He had come out on top and dragged your sorry body all the way back to Freeside, snarling and demanding help from the followers.

"Thank you," you say, and press yourself as close to Cooper as you can. You never want to let go, and you never want to see the inside of a vault ever again.

"You're mine, Darlin', "Cooper rumbles and tightens his hold on you, "And nothin' will ever stop me from comin' for you."

*sorry if this one is a little lackluster. I had some trouble with it. ❤️*

[adoreeenina]

I wanna be yours - Ch. 1

Relationships: Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet

WC: 2.9k

Series Summary: ~~~ 𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝕋𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕁𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪.

It’s been a year since the destruction of our home. The ongoing war has been hard on my family, especially on my father. My father gotten worse… cold, stricter, becoming less kind, especially to Neteyam, Lo’ak, and me. He became more like a Drill Sargent than a father. My father made us move to the hidden caves in the Hallelujah Mountains.

Within a year, the sky people expanded, their sizes tripled. My father had orchestrated many raids to destroy their machinery’s to keep them at bay from exploiting our home anymore than they already done. But no matter what my father has done to keep them away, they always bounce back. I’ve seen many ships constantly landing, bringing more people onto our home and more supplies to rebuild on what we broke.

Today my father prepares us for another attack. The supplies train was coming through the train rails not far. My father’s plan was to damage their railway system and take their supplies as our own.

“Do you have to go” Spider walks behind you as you readied your bow and arrow onto Rawm’s saddle.

“Don’t you worry about me. No matter what they throw at me, I always come back, you know that” Spider walks closer to you as he eyes the scars on your body, it went through so much from protecting Spider and your siblings.

Despite what you tell him, he still feels guilty, and it didn’t help that Neytiri blames him.

“That’s what I’m worried about” Spider softly says as he pats Rawm’s neck. Rawm chirps loving the attention.

You finally turn to look down at Spider. You knew Spider is worried about you. How could he not? You were always getting yourself into trouble and coming back with blood on you. You’re worse than Lo’ak, at least that’s what Jake says.

“Spider” you gently place your hand on his shoulder, making him look up at you.

“I promise you. I’ll come back in one piece” you promise with an encouraging smile. Spider couldn’t help but smile back with a nod.

“Y/n, let’s go” Jake calls for you. You sigh as you turn to check you have everything. You do.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back” with that, you bend a knee, placing your foot on Rawm’s harness, pulling yourself up onto his saddle, making Tsaheylu. The bond.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you” you smirk down at Spider as you lower your Rider’s Mask. With a loud yip, Rawm allows himself fall off the ledge.

Ikran’s screech and roars all around you as Rawm fly’s behind Jake and Neytiri. Many of the warriors hooting and ululating, including your mother.

Following close behind, squinting your eyes through the Rider’s mask, you could mask out the fast moving train.

“Ground team, go” you hear Jake speak through the comm.

Hundreds of warriors on direhorses come flooding through the forest, letting out loud war cries. Some carrying bow and arrows while others are armed with heavy artillery.

An explosion went off on the railway, perfectly timed. Part of the track has blown up, the train screeches as it nails its breaks, an attempt to stop, but the destruction was far to close.

The train couldn’t stop in time, colliding to the broken rail railroad, breaking it into pieces and parts of it falling on its side. The two gunships halted a turn. You knew you had to work fast, before they would call for backup to arrive.

Guiding Rawm to one of the gunships with a loud cry. You dove underneath the ship to its left side, readying your bow, you aim to the soldiers chest, killing him. Rawm flys above ship, quickly aiming your bow and arrow, you shoot an arrow, letting it break through the glass and to the pilot, killing him instantly. You let out a holler as you watch the gunship crash down with an explosion.

With that, many the Na’vi below got to work exploiting the scattered RDA cargo. You watched from above for any more incoming airships.

“Let’s go. Two minutes, people. Let’s go.” You hear Jake.

“Bro, we have got to get down there” you hear Lo’ak. You turn to see your two idiot younger brothers, riding close behind you. A mischievous glint in eye, a look that you knew well.

“No way!” Neteyam calls back.

“Dad will skin you alive” you warn.

“Come on. Don’t be wusses” Lo’ak challenges. with that, Lo’ak guides his Ikran to the ground.

“Lo’ak! Get back here, you… Argh!” Neteyam grunts, watching our younger brother

“Damn it, Lo’ak” you yell after your brother. You turn to Neteyam before he could follow your idiot brother.

“Neteyam, go with mom. I’ll get Lo’ak” you tell him. Neteyam hesitates before glancing down at Lo’ak.

“But-“

“Go!” Neteyam hisses under his breath before listening to you and leaves to the other way. You rather take the blame than let Neteyam take the fall for it.

“Taking the whole case! We’re taking mags, the RPGs, the stingers”

You follow close behind Lo’ak as you both land. You hop off of Rawm as you disconnect the bond.

“Y/n, let’s go. Come on!” Lo’ak calls for you before running towards the the rest of the people.

“Lo’ak!” you hiss as you quickly run close behind him.

“Move! Take that!” You hear Tarsem as he hands out RPGs. Lo’ak runs in line, waiting his turn to grab a gun.

“Tarsem don’t-“ before you could stop him, he already handed Lo’ak a gun. Damn it.

“Take these weapons. Here, boy. Go!” Lo’ak excitedly let out a war cry as he walks away with a gun in his hands.

“Lo’ak!” You were getting tired of calling for him. You started sounding like a fucking parrot, the animal you’ve seen on one of the movies Spider has shown you.

You cut off Lo’ak’s ululating as you grab him by his arm, pulling him towards you.

“You don’t even know how to use it” you nod your head towards the gun, visibly irritated.

Lo’ak looks at you with a smirk as he held up the gun, loading the chamber.

“Dad taught me”

You sigh feeling irritated as you watch Lo’ak pick the gun up to look through the scope.

“Stop that! That is not a toy” you hiss. Lo’ak is really testing your patience, you really want to smack him upside the head.

Not far from where you’re at, you hear a spotter hollers out, a signal.

“Gunships inbound! Fall back!” You hear Jake yell.

You look up seeing two more gunships aiming. Shooting.

“Lo’ak, Go!” You push him in front you, running towards your Ikran’s.

“Y/n, come on!” Lo’ak calls for you.

“I’m right behind you! Go! Hurry!”

You look behind and see one of the gunships aiming at you.

“Lo’ak!” You push Lo’ak, just when they shot at you, setting an explosion off. The impact threw you off. You fall with a grunt. Feeling lightheaded from the impact, you reach to touch your head, feeling blood. Shit.

Jake runs through the debris and broken parts of the train, looking for you and Lo’ak. No matter how bad the relationship between you and him. You’re still his daughter.

“Lo’ak, where are you?” Jake calls out, his eyes squints as he tries to see through the smoke.

“Y/n!” He calls out for you. Jake hears coughing and a dark figure and quickly runs towards it. Seeing it’s Lo’ak, he reaches for him.

“Easy, easy, you okay?” Jake softly tries to comfort him. Lo’ak is still in shock but none the less nods

“Yeah”

“Where’s your sister?” Jake hurriedly ask.

“That way” Lo’ak points at a direction.

“Where is she? Where?” Jake follows the direction on where he pointed.

“Get outta here! Go on!” Jake demands, climbs on top of the destroyed gunship seeing a trail of blood.

“Y/n!” Jake calls. He looks . His heart beating rapidly.

“Shit” you cough out.

“Oh no” Jake whispers, he follows the trail and jumps down from the ship. He sees a dead Na’vi on the laying face down. “Oh, no, no, no” he leans down to check the body, seeing it’s not you.

“Oh god” Jake breathes. He hears your coughing. He notices your body not far. He runs and jumps over a rock, kneeling down over you.

You’re laying on your stomach, Jake gently moves you on your back. You groan, the pain going from 0 to 100. You hiss feeling a burning sensation on your back.

“Y/n” Jake says softly.

“Dad?” You cough out, seeing Jake holding you.

Jake grabs you by your shoulder to sit you up and looks over your shoulder, seeing multiple burns and cuts on your back. You hiss from the movement as Jake lays you back down.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Jake growls as you cough. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Dad, can we not-“ you reply weakly.

Jake stands up as he pulls you by your arm and puts your body over his shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call ‘em in. From a distance” Jake growled angrily at you. “Does any of this sound familiar? Get in here!” Jake tells Lo’ak, who was standing by his Ikran, away from our father wrath. Jake is once again acting like a Drill Sargent rather than a father.

You glare at the ground as Jake berates you. He’s pissed. You never cared of his constant piss show. You did what you had to do, and that’s to protect your brother, and you did. You’ll take pride to it, despite what they’ll tell you. You won’t feel guilty or small by your fathers anger.

You turn to your left feeling someone’s hands on you, seeing Kiri. She looks at your back with a grim look. She gently reaches to touch your back, you grab her hand to pull her away.

“Jesus. I let you three geniuses fly a mission and you disobey a direct orders” Jake scolds you. You once again push Kiri’s hands away when you felt her touch a tender wound.

“Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?” Jake says with a softer tone.

“My sister is wounded” Kiri points out, unamused by Jake’s behavior towards you. This isn’t new, Kiri is familiar with how Jake treats you, and she hates it.

“It’s fine, Kiri” you reassure her.

“Baby girl, please. Tuk, go with her. Go.” Jake demands softly. Tuk and Kiri leaves with huff sigh.

“Dad” you call. Jake turns and gives you a hard look. You look back with a glare. Out of all your siblings, you’re the only one who’s not afraid to fight back.

“I’m not going to apologize for this. I’ll admit I went against orders and I’ll take full responsibility for that but-“ Jake cuts you off before you can’t continue, making you clench your jaw.

“Yeah, you do. That’s right. ‘Cause you’re the oldest. You gotta act like it” Jake scolds. Your upper lips twitch with a small snarl you let out towards Jake. Jake glares, challenging you.

“Ma’Jake” Neytiri softly calls. Jake reluctantly turns away from you to look at Neytiri. “Your daughter is actually bleeding”

“I am fine, mother” you turn to glare at Jake. “Not like you care” with out being dismissed by him, you roughly bump your shoulder against his.

“Hey! We’re not done talking!” Jake yells after you, but you ignore him as you went to see Mo’at, your grandmother. Neytiri gives Jake a look as she follows close behind you, not before looking at Lo’ak with a knowing look.

“Neteyam, go with them” Jake dismisses his oldest son. Neteyam gives Lo’ak a look before following you.

Jake sighs before looking at Lo’ak, placing his hands on his military vest.

“You do understand that you almost got your sister killed” Jake lowly says.

“Yes sir” Lo’ak nods.

“You’re grounded. No flying for a month” Jake says. Lo’ak looks down, feeling disappointed. He sometimes wish he had the courage to fight back like you did. Lo’ak Unwilling accepts the punishment, not wanting to anger him.

“Now, see to the Ikran. All of em” Jake demands.

“Yes sir” Lo’ak nods.

“And get that crap off your face” Jake demands before leaving.

“Ow. Ow!” You wince as Mo’at works on your back. Spreading the mixed herbs over your wounds.

“Aww, want a kiss on the boo-boo?” Spider teases.

“Shut up” you playfully place your fingers into a bowl with mixed herbs and flick your fingers at him.

“Hey!” Spider laughs.

“Enough!” Mo’at scolds you. A few feet away from you, Kiri is doing another batch of mixed herbs, tasting it with a hum of approval.

Since the arrival of the sky people, your grandmother been teaching Kiri as well but you’re still to be the next Tsáhik and wed to Tarsem. Your grandmother says it’s for the best, but you think bullshit. You know your grandmother is against your father’s mistreatment of you, she assumed if she lays off responsibilities, it’ll give you a break. It somewhat did.

“Give her this” Kiri instructed as she hands the cup to Tuk.

“Okay”

“I would use yalna bark” Kiri mentions to you and your grandmother.

“Here drink” Tuk instructs you. You nodded softly, gratefully smiling at her before taking a sip.

“Ugh” you stick your tongue out, gelling revolted by the taste. Spider laughs at your reaction.

“Oh, you would? And who is Tsahik?” Mo’at says.

“You are, grand… move!” Kiri begins to speak before pushing Lo’ak and Neteyam out of her way. “You are, grandmother. But yalna bark is better.” Kiri argues softly.

“Ow, ow! Ow.” You wince, feeling your grandmother spread more on your back.

“She’s right, grandmother. It stings less” you mention with a wince. Kiri sighs, she hates seeing you in pain, hates seeing you always coming home with a new wound.

“My sister is a mighty warrior!” Neteyam snickers, making fun of your pain.

“Screw you” you curse at Neteyam.

“No cursing” your grandmother chastises before lightly hits your head.

“Ow”

Neytiri looks into the tent, with a disdain look on her face. This is one of many times you’ve been in the healing tent, and she hated every single one. She felt lost, she hated seeing you in so much pain, and the worst part is… you won’t even come to her for comfort like you used to. Since that argument about Spider, she had lost you. And she no one else to blame but herself, for letting her distaste of Spider her the best of her.

Neytiri glance over her shoulder, seeing Jake solely focusing on his guns, it angers Neytiri. You got hurt. Yes, you were okay, but you and your siblings are in the tent. He hardly gave glances at the tent from where he’s sitting.

“What?” Jake sighs, feeling Neytiri’s glare.

“Neteyam and Lo’ak try to live up to you. Y/n despises you” Neytiri starts. She finally turns to look at Jake. “It is very hard on them”

“I know” Jake doesn’t bother making eye contact with Neytiri.

“No. I don’t think you do…” Neytiri moves closer and knelt down close to him. “You are very hard on them. On Y/n”

“I’m their father. It’s my job.” Jake says, finally turning to look at Neytiri with a hard stare.

“This is not a squad. It is a family” Neytiri says softly/sternly. “We almost lost our daughter today”

Jake sighs, he looks away before making eye contact with Neytiri. He finally places the gun down. It’s been hard on for the last of couple years, more since the sky people arrived. He almost lost you, and he didn’t know how he would’ve felt losing you. It’s one thing acting like strangers but another when he almost lost you.

“I thought I lost them. I thought I lost Y/n” Jake whispers. His eyes big, watery and filled with so much pain. Neytiri sighs softly before reaching out for Jake’s hand

“Hey” Spider softly calls you.

You’re in your own Kelku once your grandmother finished on your wounds. You were carving an arrow when you heard Spider’s light footsteps enter.

“Hey” you smile as you place your arrow and hunting knife besides you.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to check on you” you notice how Spider fidgets with his hands. You have a feelings on what’s really bothering him. You sigh as you stood up.

“Spider… I’m fine” you tell him softly, you place your hand on his dreads.

“But you could’ve…” Spider couldn’t finish his sentence, he couldn’t bare the thought of losing you.

“Look at me” you kneel down, you grab the bottoms of his mask and gently pick his head up. Spider’s eyes were red and watery.

“Oh Spider” you pull him into your chest, hugging him. Spider instantly wraps his arms around your midsection, hugging tightly. Spider couldn’t hold back his sobs. You gently shush him.

“I promised I would be back. Didn’t I?” You try to lighten the mood, you try to pull away to look at him but Spider resists, not wanting to let you go.

“Spider. You are my heart, my soul, my world, my best friend, and my everything” you promise softly.

“I love you, Y/n” Spider muffled voice say. You softly smile as you lean down and peck his hair.

“I love you brother”

Previous | Next

[plantanarchy]

Many of my blue hydrangeas turned out purple but I've overheard many people say "I love the purple" so. It's fine.

Changing the color of hydrangea blooms has to happen before they've started forming buds so you can't know if you've done it right until the sepals start to color.

Blue happens when pH is low and aluminum ions are available to be taken up by the plant to bind with pigments, creating blue. If pH is too high or other phosphorous too high, aluminum ends up as aluminum hydroxide or aluminum phosphate which isn't available to the plant, and flowers end up pink.

Purple means some of the aluminum was available to my supposed to be blue hydrangeas and some wasn't. I watered them by hand with a watering can since January with only with a low phosphorous fertilizer specifically meant for blueing hydrangea and every other watering with a plain water sulfuric acid solution through our injection.

Our water's default pH from the well is around 8, sometimes higher, so it's difficult to drop below 6 and every pH meter we have is broken so... No cabiliration has been done on the injector for several years and there was no pH testing of the Hydrangea's soil or the acid solution through the hose done this year.

But my big hunch about our trouble with blurple hydrangeas that happens yearly is just that transplanting forced hydrangeas in January into large pots without bottom heat to encourage root growth means their root systems are never the greatest and they can't take up much aluminum without the healthy roots to do so. The solution to that would be growing them on a heated bench in a warmer house or transplanting into 6.5"-7" pots rather than 8".

God, sorry for the horticulture chemistry word vomit. I haven't studied chemistry since my sophomore year of high school and I actually nearly flunked that class because that was the year I got brain damage falling off a horse.

[nadg-ttrpg]

Controversial opinion (?)

The magnus archive role playing game (TMARPG) is a good TTRPG. But it's not a good Magnus Archive TTRPG, it's a good TTRPG that happens to be set in a Magnus Archive universe. Hear me out. It's published by Monte Cook Games, using their Cypher System. The Cypher is a good system, used in hits like Numenera or The strange, but it's not adapted to play a Magnus Archive game. They tried really hard to make it work, and they made very interesting changes to the base system. From the health tracking making you more fragile to the eponymous Cyphers being more like abilities than magic objects like in other games. And honestly, yeah, it works! It's a great investigation game, cthulhu style, allowing you to play a crew of archival assistants or a similar group, trying to survive unspeakable horrors and maybe stop rituals. But. BUT.

Magnus Archives, the podcast, isn't just about the investigation. It's an office comedy, and a tragedy, and - most important to me - a reflection on morality, mortality and humanity. It's a podcast that, to quote a tumblr post I saw once, "spend the first 100 episodes showing you irredeemable inhuman monsters... and the 100 next asking you to change your mind on them by showing the protagonist is becoming one". It's a story talking of powers beyond human understanding, but mostly of the humans stuck with them. Asking how far you'll go for a taste of power, how far you'll go to survive, how far you'll go to protect the ones you love. Showing times and times again that getting the power you crave will divorce you from humanity, and that this pull is hard to resist. And that to stay somewhat human, you need anchors, friends, connections. And frankly, there is nothing in the TMARPG to encourage this kind of story. I agree, this is mostly a me problem. My standard is that when I play a licensed RPG I want the original story to be possible with the rules as written. Maybe this is too much to ask. I genuinely don't know. But it's the rule by which I judge a game. When I play an Alien TTRPG, I want the monster horror and the PC betrayals to be encouraged by the rules. When I play a Lord of the Ring TTRPG I want mechanics for travel, honor and temptation. When I play a My Little Pony TTRPG, I want the game to help me with the magic and the friendship. And when I play TMARPG, I'd like the rules to encourage the same themes as the podcast. I could do this freestyle with the rules as is, GM my way out of this, request the help of the players with their backstory and character arcs. Or I could turn to an other TTRPG. Enter Unknown Armies (UA), an occult game about broken people conspiring to fix a broken world - sounds familiar? It wasn't made with TMA in mind, it was published before the podcast even existed. It also have it's flaws, I heard it described as "taking itself too seriously" many times. But despite this, UA drinks at the same source than TMA.

They both embrace a Jungian philosophy gosh that sounds so pedantic, the idea that the collective unconscious of the humanity create archetypes, powers, Fears. They both feature relationships as both something that needs to be cared for and link to humanity. They both have heavy use of trauma and mental breakdown, depicted as realistically as possible. Actually, UA link them directly to your stats. Witnessed violence? You can react either by being hardened and unfazed by it, or traumatised and deeply troubled by it. This will make it either easier for you to fight, or to dodge. I love it. They both have a supernatural system where you can only get those powers by acting in ways that make you an outcast, be it by being an arsonist, someone living their life through a camera lens tape recorder anyone?, or even someone fascinated by the flesh and blood. They both have weird artifacts. They both have ways to become avatars. And you can actually have a power imbalance betwen the PCs! You can have an avatar and an "antechrist's plus one" is the same party. They are made for each other. TLDR: Unknown Armies is a better Magnus Archive TTRPG than The Magnus Archives Role Playing Game. TMARPG is a good TTRPG, but not a game that actually uses the themes of the podcast. If you want to play an investigation team cthulhu-style, by all mean, play TMARPG. If you want to play a tragedy about inhumanity and power, play Unknown Armies. The Magnus Archives is a podcast written by Jonathan Sims and distributed under a CC NC-SA-BY 4.0 license. Thanks for listening.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Prisoner 505.

König x reader.

You're in a prison, why? War crimes, that's all König knew about you, you will be the new addition to KorTac, he's the one who will pick you up and take you to your new "home" what surprises will you bring to him? Will you be enemies, friends, lovers?

Warning: I'm trying to write this for a gn reader, but idk. Mentions of violence, spelling and grammatical errors.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.2

König wasn't ok with this mission, Why him? Someone else could do this, he hates every second of this, he left the car, walking to that giant black door, a prison, not any prison, this one is particularly a secret prison, not everyone knows about this place, it's a place that works with one purpose, First, take any dangerous people there to rot or let private contractors buy some of the prisoners, for what? Whatever they want, depending on every prisoner's record.

Yours, it doesn't say much about you. König observed the file on his hand once more while he remembered the conversation with O'Conor and the rest.

«Why me? Do I look like a fuckin babysitter? I'm not a fuckin' driver» «You're the best for this you will keep this new guy to line, I read was undisciplined»

Prisoner 505.

Name: (y/n) Age: unknown date of birth: unknown

Codename: Buitre 6-1

reasons for imprisonment:

War crimes (not specified), murders, torture, undisciplined, deserter (prisoner left his position after committing the aforementioned crimes, was captured and executed).

This prisoner was reported as 'killed in action' before the corresponding authorities, therefore, it does not exist in the system anymore, No more information available.

König sighed and walked Inside, the "waiting room" looked really fancy, he walked directly to the man sitting at the central desk, the man was fat but very well dressed.

- I came to pick a package...

The man looked up at him carefree, extending his hand to receive the file König had in hand.

- Ah... The 505, lemme check if they already finished.

The man took the phone, pressed some numbers and Called someone else.

«Did you finish? Someone came for his package... Ahh fuck, well that's Terrible, yeah... Pretty fucked up, I'll take him downstairs then, yeah... See you.»

He hung up the phone and smiled at könig, his smile is not kind, actually it is some darkness in it.

- Unfortunately, our prisoner is in his daily discipline session. You can wait here or we can go downstairs so you can see what you're buying, Sir.

König couldn't be more angry, waiting? Hell no, that was not an option.

- Downstairs, I don't have the entire day to wait for you.

- Follow me please.

Both walked to the elevator in silence, König was curious about that Discipline routine they're giving you.

- what's that shit about discipline session?

- Oh, you will see Sir. The prisoner is always getting in trouble, so we take drastic measures. This morning the 505 sent the prisoner 296 to the nursery, he has a broken jaw and lost one of his eyes.

How many levels does this place have? Floor 99. That's where you were. König didn't say more, that was enough information for him at the moment, finally, they arrived, he could hear some people laughing, the noise of water running and some insults.

«We're having too much fun as always (Y/n) but unfortunately we don't have much time anymore» «Fuck you, you and I know that I would kill you easily if I wasn't hanging and tie up here» «Shut up»

The man punishing you, was opening a Fire hose drenching you, while another was hitting you with a rope and other instruments on a table. There you were, half naked, wet, hurt, but the anger in your eyes doesn't let any sign of pain appear on your face. You looked at the two new people who appeared in the room, the tallest man was looking at you, What a pervert, you thought.

- Do You... Like what you're looking at, Big boy?

You laughed until the water and another hit silent you. König wasn't actually looking at your body, he was looking at the way you were being punished, lost in thoughts. The fat guard who came with König was laughing at you.

- As you can see, Sir, it's very... Enthusiast, a troublemaker.

- Ja... Anyway, I have to go... So, if you can finish now, that would be great.

- Of course. Put it down, dress up, and let us know when it's ready.

That was all, König and the guard left the room, you got dressed, tied up again and kicked out of your cell. You didn't have stuff or something, it was only your prisoner uniform, all black, you started to walk behind König and the guard, you noticed König's hunting knife on his belt, you approached them quietly, König didn't feel when you took his knife, he only heard a body falling on the floor, he turned himself quickly just to see the fat guard on the floor, chocking with his own blood, you were admiring your work and smiling at him.

«i warned you, Frank, the last thing you would see before you die it would be me» you whispered to him. Then you looked at König, cleaned his knife with your shirt and gave it to him, König took it and also took you by the arm, not hard but firm enough to show some authority.

- What have you done, huh? You can't be killing people every time you want, when you're under my watch you will obey me, Do you understand?

You looked at him with deer sad eyes and nodded In silence. Why did you look at him with those eyes? Thank God, König had the mask on, you couldn't see how he blushed just for that, he let your arm go and both ran to the elevator and left before someone saw the dead body. Once you were out, König just pointed at the car, you stopped and thought about it, you were finally free, you could run away and leave König there.

That's what you tried to do, König simply sighed annoyed, you were definitely a pain in his ass, you lost him, or... At least that's what you thought, you stopped to take some air, clearly you weren't in good shape. König hand around your neck took you by surprise.

- Listen, Püppchen (doll), you're free because of me, you're out of that place because a fuckin idiot in KorTac bought you, so don't make it more difficult, this is your only chance, will you work for us or I can take you back to rot in that fuckin' black hole. Hmm? What will you decide, Schatz?.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Throughout the Trainee, I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop—for some big reveal about an ultimate problem at the company or for someone to be fired who had gone too far—but the show is too mature, it has to much compassion towards all of its characters (and towards people’s humanity in general) to do that.

I saw so many instances of mistakes happening, some more obvious, some subtle, some key to the plot, some seemingly background fodder, some addressed by the characters explicitly, and some that the characters or the show just seemed to observe without commenting on. Some of these mistakes didn’t amount to anything, like the broken hard drive, and some of them caused real physical harm to people in the show, like the cosmetic mix-up during testing. I presumed there was a kind of accumulation happening. I thought that the mistakes were adding up to something, a bigger conclusion about this work environment, or a commentary on work environments and society at large. The Trainee, however, refuses to construct a larger theory about work and life’s problems. It refuses to condemn anyone or any one thing to that extent. Each mistake is its own problem. And each person is capable of contributing to it and finding a way to move past it.

You see, what Jane says here is the core theme of the show:

(GIF by @ryansjane )

Don’t assume; ask questions; talk it out with the recognition that everyone is coming to the table with different backgrounds, skills, areas of knowledge, flaws, fears, and hopes. They will not be perfect, and neither do you have to be. The Trainee wants its characters and its audience to find the courage, like Ryan and Jane, Ba Mhee and Tae, or the lovely moments between Pah and all his coworkers this week, to speak up with curiosity and openness.

Then, the next step it shows so wonderfully is how you can appreciate what complexities you contributed to the situation. You can acknowledge and apologize for your role once you understand it—not because you are wrong or right, but because acknowledgement and sorries are ways to show other people that you didn’t find a way to help avoid the problem either that time. It’s important to note, as I see some discourse rising up about who apologizes in the conversations during the show, that Thai and Broader Asian cultures in general have a VERY different culture around apologies, humility, and shame so that those feelings and their related gestures are used to build connection and positive feelings, compared to negative shame in Western culture; book rec if your interested in that topic and more—Between Us: How Cultures Create Emotions.

The show doesn’t have some moral argument to say about a systemic HR issue at this office. It also doesn’t depict its office as devoid of deeply troubling systemic issues like sexual harassment. Its recommendation to address the issues, though, is not through stricter enforcement of rules or the perfecting of one’s behavior. It’s to communicate when the time is right on with self-respect and compassion.

There is just so much love and care in every element of the Trainee, and I already know it’s gonna be a comfort show to return to again and again in the future because it’s intricately produced tone and its story just release the tangled knots of perfectionism in me without discouraging me from my desire to grow and improve. You can just tell it’s done by people who love their jobs and their work environment. How rare to see a workplace in media be simultaneously so realistic in its depiction and still so positive about the overall experience 🌻

[birdmitosis]

alright kit one voice of the paranoid pretty please with cherry on top 🥺

[ask game here]

(Thank you for re-sending this ask, IDK why Tumblr hated my last attempt so much-- 🥺💕)

HELL YEAH MY #1 BLORBINA!!!!!

First impression

Haha, okay, that vocal delivery is great and I love that paranoia of the "what if He hears us?" followed by "shit!" Paranoid characters can be really hit-or-miss, though, and this particular shtick could get old really fast; I hope it doesn't.

Impression now

My favorite darling who I love and adore, my most beloved of current blorbos, the reason my STP hyperfixation is so so strong, bird of my heart 💖

Favorite moment

This is such a hard call! I'm especially torn between two moments: Of course the initial "Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves." is amazing and holds a special place in my heart because it's the moment I knew I absolutely adored her. But also, despite loving absolutely everything about both the Wraith and the Moment of Clarity and the transitions into both of them… "Oh right, yeah, fuck this guy. Don't trust Him." all by itself makes me love freeing the Nightmare in her Chapter II just as much. (Not that there aren't other great lines in that path, like the delivery of "I thought you needed me to run the autonomic nervous system?" which is just hysterical to me! But that line… It just won me over even more.)

As an honorable mention, let me pour one out for the cut Paranoid moment in Apotheosis:

I carry this moment, and Paranoid's thoughts about listening to others' lies having value, in my heart forever. It's just such an interesting touch and I'm incredibly sad it's gone!

Idea for a story

I have so many unbaked, half-formed idea snippets and NO details to go with them:

Paranoid running into trouble when her overpreening habits leave her without the ability to fly in a key situation, when she'd been able to (with increasing difficulty) up to that point since getting out of the Construct.

The world outside the Construct being some post- or mid-apocalypse survival horror situation and somehow Paranoid's body winds up warping in ways that remind her unpleasantly of Nightmare, primarily a bunch of eyes beginning to open up all over her body, especially her wings.

Either post-Construct or a mundane AU, bird-people or human or just human-looking, where Paranoid figures out she's trans (and slowly gains in confidence) due to drag.

Something that explores the idea of the beta voices actually turning into some of the current voices (Doubting becoming Skeptic, Flinching becoming Cheated, Meek becoming Paranoid, and Obsessed becoming either Stubborn or both Hunted and Stubborn -- and Smitten splitting off from the beta's Hero too actually!). I actually do really like the idea of the beta voices being their own individual people out there somewhere, but Paranoid reverting to Meek for a while under some circumstance could be fun to play with! And only Hero, Broken, Cold, and Contrarian would even possibly remember Meek…

Unpopular opinion

Paranoid really is not helpless and I think some people forget that sometimes! She's also got wonky morals. I'd argue that the voices you can get in other voices' Chapter IIIs often says something about them; while getting Paranoid in Apotheosis is more her going "That's Enough" and getting Skeptic in both Eye of the Needle and Den is kind of the same, the way Cold and Opportunist both show up in Wraith-from-Nightmare feels more… simpatico with how Paranoid operates? Paranoid can be fucking ruthless and also seize any opportunity she spots, especially if she doesn't trust a person (and the only people she trusts are the Long Quiet and the other voices).

She is also totally willing to abandon or murder a woman and the only one she seems to feel at all bad about at any point to any degree is the Wounded Wild. She's also also super dedicated to coming out unharmed and surviving, but she will do things like advise slitting our own throat when she thinks it's a good idea, and she is prone to panic but also remarkably self-aware about it and knows her own paranoid tendencies aren't always good, and both of those things can be easy to forget but I love them!

Finally, I want to note that people sometimes seem to forget that she doesn't actually get along as badly with Opportunist as you'd think she might! Maybe it's because when you get Opportunist in Wraith, it's specifically via doing exactly what Paranoid is advising (or would advise) you to do in that situation. Cheated and even Hero are more snippy with and disparaging of Opportunist -- even Smitten is to some degree -- and Paranoid is more snippy with Hero and Broken, and Skeptic is the one who seems most disparaging of her. The dynamics being different from what you might think fascinates me, really, and I'm curious about how both new and old dynamics might end up looking in the Pristine Cut.

Favorite relationship

I MEAN…

Much like last time, romantically speaking I love her dynamic with Cold. But platonically, I'm fascinated by her dynamics with Broken, Opportunist, and the Narrator, love her dynamic with Hero, and would be interested to see more (or any) of her dynamic with Hunted, Skeptic, and/or Smitten in the Pristine Cut.

Among the vessels, I also think she'd have interesting dynamics with Damsel, Prisoner, Spectre, Stranger, and Thorn, and would actually love to see more of her dynamic with Nightmare, Wild, and Wraith. (Looking forward to those new Chapter IIIs, too, and I'm very curious about the expanded Apotheosis chapter!)

Favorite headcanon

Well, hands down my favorite headcanon is transfem Paranoid!

But I am also super attached to her having major difficulties with getting her own body: She overpreens to the point of not being able to fly, she has all sorts of trouble sleeping (nightmares, night terrors, insomnia, even sleepwalking), and worst of all she has a harder time trusting the others to the same extent that she used to, at least at first. They're still parsing as us but they're also parsing as other and it fucks with her a bit. She also can panic due to not being able to protect the others or sense the pain/injury/illness/etc. of the others the way she'd have been able to if they still shared a body...

Like, overall she does like having her own body, it's quieter and she has more control over herself, but there's a lot that's difficult about it for her too.

[frankingsteinery]

dont know if i’ve said this all here yet but i see very often people pointing out victor’s supposedly idealistic childhood in comparison to the creature’s early suffering, and it always comes off as some sort of “gotcha!” moment when i think really there’s room there to be looking at the WHY that is. why, despite supposedly having this ideal childhood, with good, caring parental figures in his life, he fails to give this same upbringing to his own child? the issue is that of those who bring this up, their perspective tends to be already inherently limited: that is, victor is a bad parent simply because he is a privileged asshole. by beginning his narrative by describing his family and childhood as perfect and ideal, victor sets an expectation for parents that is obviously impossible, yet people continue to hold him accountable to it.

and, really, what childhood is really as perfectly happy as victor’s description? his almost-desperate insistence that his childhood WAS perfectly happy is just that — desperate — and it makes it suspicious. this insistence suggests the opposite, and i believe this assertion is taken at face-value far too often; particularly when his childhood, even in-text, was objectively imperfect and troubled, and victor himself directly addresses in his narration to walton that his past recollections of his family and early childhood are idealized, even going so far as to describe them as "religious" and "sacred" in feeling: i think [among other things] that this suggests, like many victims of childhood trauma and abuse, now that there is physical distance between the memories as well as time having passed since then, he has sentimentalized this era of his life

if you step back take a moment and look at the maternal figures in his life as well (caroline, elizabeth, and to a lesser extent justine) an obvious pattern emerges - each one of them was orphaned, and then “saved” by becoming a member of the frankenstein family, where they are afforded an environment where they are able to become these stereotypically motherly, nurturing caretakers. this pattern is broken with victor: when he is orphaned, instead of joining the family, he EXITS it — that is, he is sent off to ingolstadt, and completely stripped of this support system, leading to his “failure” as a mother.

in a similar vein, the same people who harp on and on about how victor is negligent and an unaccountable father fail to hold the creature accountable for his actions as well, and somehow the fault for the entire plot of the book (that is, the murders of the frankensteins and co) rests solely on victors shoulders.

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Hi! Are u okay? I would like to request some hcs for Cater, Idia, Leona, Epel and Vil (separated) with a tomboy girlfriend who is friendly and kind to everyone – big sister vibes –, is especially sweet and affectionate to her boyfriend but can change from water to wine if you push her so far; Similar to the bully hcs, someone says something to her that really pisses her off and she throws her hands at the bully and what would be the boys reactions to this change in behavior.

I'm sorry if that's too specific! Sorry for any grammar mistakes, shout-out from Brazil <3

— 𝑴𝑒𝑙☾︎

Hello! I've been doing just fine, I hope you're doing okay as well! And thank you for the request I hope you'll be back for more!

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Warnings: Female reader, mentions of blood, pinching, slapping, slight insults/Threats (Leona and Idia's), mentions of yelling.

Request: Yes.

Words: 1,381

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Cater Diamond

One of the many things Cater enjoyed was posting pictures of you on magicam. Eating, laughing, swimming, playing Video-games- it didn't matter. His Gallery was full of you and so was his profile on Magicam.

He didn’t know you could be so rough in a fight. You were always sweet and kind, even to the youngsters at the school. A lot of people looked up to you at NRC because of that. THough it was like skinning an onion when he found out the punches you could pull.

“Girls shouldn't eat as much as you do.” Someone had said, walking up to the table one day. “No one wants a fatty. You should get her under control.”

He was ten seconds away from jumping in and telling this guy off, until a loud Thwap!! Rang out across the lunchroom as you slapped the guy as hard as you could. You turned from milk to fireball in an instant.

And he was impressed.

The fight started in a matter of seconds after that, hair being grabbed, punches thrown, screaming, yelling. A crowd gathered as he attempted to pull you off the student that had a firm grip of your hair.

Blood dripped from your knuckles, and his nose was bent out of place when the fight was over. You had broken the kid's nose.

Cater gushed over you later while bandaging your raw knuckles. “That totally would’ve gone viral on Magicam! Where did you learn moves like that?”

Of course, you did get into trouble, as did the kid that picked on you, but everyone learned a valuable lesson that day.

Milk can sour very quickly.

Idia Shroud

What he doesn't have in guts you have in fists.

That was something he learned quickly in the relationship. You may be sweet and kind but you also had a side burning deeper than hell's fire in your heart. You were very quick to tell off people that picked at your boyfriend.

Likewise he also enjoyed how much you cared for Ortho as if he was already a little sibling. It was like being a natural born leader and guide was in your blood.

He didn’t know the extent of how far you would go in standing up for him until someone made a rude comment about him.

“Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that.” Quickly went to, “I’ll pop your fucking ballsack.” Very quickly.

He didn’t try to separate you from the fight as your fist collided with the guy's jaw, he only held Ortho back slightly in a state of shock as he watched the brawl. Idia gave a witty comment towards the student when they fled the scene with an already bruising jaw.

You had almost ran after the guy, but held yourself back and instead asked the two siblings if they were okay.

Ortho said he was going to scan your body for injuries, Idia was lowkey blushing. Congratulations you fried his brain.

His pride grew higher that day. He also asked you for pointers and was more so clingy with you for the next few weeks following the event of the fight.

He may have also hacked the school system and corrupted the video of you kicking the dude's ass so you wouldn’t get in trouble. Idia makes sure to go out of his way to give a sly look every time you stand up for him towards the person insulting him. He likes causing drama.

Leona Kingscholar

*Smirk*

Yeah that's pretty much it. Leona is more than aware that sweet isn't all there is to your personality before he even was in a relationship with you. He just got that vibe and knew he was correct.

When you threw the punch the other guy had it coming. He wasn't being lazy, though he did lay back with his arms crossed watching you beat the shit out of this guy for his bullshit comment.

Cue happy Lion man. Leona was rather amused at the fight but if it got out of hand- if you were getting hurt- he would break up the fight. And maybe throw a few punches of his own for good measure.

You both end up getting in trouble together, and he's the one that just drags you away without a care in the world to the teachers yelling at him to get back here.

On the bright side, it's nice having someone else to care dump Cheka off with, especially since you seem very good with children.

He does enjoy watching your motherly nature. He'd like to have cubs with you one day. He just won't admit it over his life. Ever.

So yeah, he's not really worried about you. In fact, he likes seeing you get feisty. Just not towards him. That's just annoying.

He has threatened to shove a fork up your pussy. When you two fight the dorm literally grabs popcorn. Who knows who'll win, after all. It's the best show to watch.

Epel Felmier

He's a bit too innocent to realize you have this side of you at first. While he knows he does have a fighting spirit, he'd never seen you remotely angry before, so he just assumed you were a peaceful gal.

Oh how wrong he was.

Expel is small and appears frail, and a lot of people exploit that weakness, not on your watch. One wrong comment happened and you'd shocked the guy in the face, who had immediately gone at you and all hell broke loose.

Rook couldn't help but be amused at the situation he was watching, but at the same time knew poor Epel would have the time of his life if Vil found out.

Epel's lips curled into a large smirk that showed off his pearly whites as he watched you tussle with someone until they had run off like a scared bitch.

"You're gon' havta teach me that!" He said, happily as ever. He was quick to wrap you up in an embrace, squeezing you against him.

You immediately hugged back, happy to be back in his arms. And you'd agreed. Rook's job of keeping Epel out of trouble just got a lot harder.

Epel was excited in a way to learn about this new side of yourself you'd shown off to him, it made him love you even more.

God did he love his girlfriend.

Vil Schoenheit

You were picture perfect and he loved it. You were sweet, reliable, soft, good with children. Honestly he absolutely loved you. He just didn't know about how quickly your temper could be set off until it did.

Someone had called your man ugly.

That's right. Ugly. And you weren't standing for it. Vil stood in shock whilst Rook covered his mouth with a coy laugh as your fist connected with the guys jaw. Vil swore he'd heard a crack. While he would argue greatly that he was prettiest of them all, he also knew people had opinions that sometimes couldn't be changed.

Watching you punch this guy with a fire more fierce than diablo's anus after a bad day was certainly something. Albeit it wasn't what he was expecting at all.

He was almost impressed.

Had he not been ashamed of your behavior first and foremost. Vil was quick to break up the fight and have Rook escort the kid to the nurse while he had a stern talking to you.

He spoke to you that day like you were a child getting scolded, and when you refused to relent that what you did was wrong, Vil ended up giving up, admiring your stubbornness of the subject. It was rather adorable hearing you say you'd smack the shot out of anyone that calls him names in front of his face.

He absolutely had fussed over your bloodied knuckles too. Vil was very quick to use everything he had to heal them to perfection so they wouldn't scar. Not a bruise should be left on your skin.

[evolutionsvoid]

Going out to the canyons and badlands guarantees beautiful views and memorable trips. The majesty of time worn rock, the incredible colors found in their many layers! Get a look from up high, and you see a landscape that is sculptures of nature itself! To sit there and take it all in, soaking up the sights, listening to the wind howl through the rocky canyons and enjoying the serenity of the wor- BAM! The jarring sound of an explosion echoing through the air! The peaceful quiet is randomly broken up by these startling blasts, ringing through the channels and chasms. The first time people hear it, they are quick to panic and think there is an attack happening. Some sneaky group of bandits blasting powder kegs or volatile magic or something! It certainly startles you every time! Even when you know it is bound to occur eventually, it will still catch you off guard! These loud bursts are rare and sporadic, but there is no way to ignore them if you are anywhere near the region! While some think bandits or loud mining, it is actually the result of a native resident of these lands dealing with some trouble. Someone is agitating them, which leads to quite the ruckus and quite the mess!

The species I am talking about is the Blast Cap Scutumback, though most people stick to calling them Blast Caps. As the name points out, they are a member of the Scutumback family, a group of mollusks known for their armor plating and flattened shape in their juvenile stages, which leads to the comparison of them and a shield. Blast Caps live in arid places, typically where rocks are aplenty and water is rare. Fitting that they live in such stony places, as they both blend in with rocks and move about as fast as one too. Blast Caps live at a snail's pace, slowly crawling about with a muscular foot that is hidden by their girdle. Now would be the part where I talk about their day-to-day lives and their incredible behaviors, but crawling about and eating pretty much covers all they really do. Blast Caps have no interest in rich social lives or finding odd ways to pass their time. It is essentially "eat until the food is gone" and then "move until you find more food." While pretty simple, you can't argue with results! 

Blast Caps do not eat meat or plants, instead going for a troll's diet. Rocks, minerals and metals are their meals of choice, and they use a powerful toothy radula to scrape away at stone for sustenance. The process is very slow, but I already said that they live a very slow life. As their radula etches the rock, they feed on the dust and flakes that come off, running it through an odd digestive system to extract nutrients from it. Some suggest that they also feed on lichens and moss, as those have been seen on rocky surfaces they chew on. However, we do not know if they specifically target these food sources or just so happen to eat them merely because they grow on the food they actually want. A Blast Cap will spend days sitting in one place, chiseling away at the stone until they deplete whatever substance they want from it. Once it is gone, they move on, leaving a distinctive wear mark on the rock that lets you know who is responsible! 

While sitting around and eating rocks doesn't sound like the most thrilling species to describe, things get much more interesting when you consider the substances they build up in their guts. The Blast Cap's love for specific minerals and stones winds up making a dusty mixture in their bodies that they add to potent fluids of their own, which winds up creating an explosive compound. It may seem like a real bad idea to create explosive fluids in your own guts, but the Blast Cap's creation is rather stable, only detonating when exposed to flame or sparks. When stored in the body, its own internal fluids and organs do well to prevent any accidental detonations from occurring. When danger approaches, that is when the liquid is put into use, and to powerful effect! Blast Caps will secrete this fluid in different ways, then use flint-and-steel-like setups in their anatomy to create the triggering spark. Their extra "teeth" and radula are capable of being scraped together to make sparks, or their armor plating may be rubbed together to do the job. 

How they utilize this defense varies by age, as the juveniles have one trick and the adults have another. When Blast Caps are young, they are much smaller and flatter, and their coloration helps them blend in with the stone. It is good for hiding, but some predators can sniff them out, or some oblivious beast may accidentally step on them! When a young Blast Cap senses a presence getting too close for comfort, their armor plates will shift to reveal fluid spraying pores. These orifices are tied to their explosive liquids, which can be released in a faint mist. They will only eject the weapon when pressure is put onto their armored bodies, be it a probing predator or a heavy misplaced boot. When they feel their body being touched, they release a small cloud of explosive mist and slam their plates shut, making a spark and then BOOM! While the area of effect is small, the explosion has a punch to it and it can severely mess up a snout or foot. While their armor plating protects them from this blast, those who agitate them are not so lucky. Predators can have a nose blown off, or even be blinded due to damage to the eyes. Beasts who step on them by accident will have chunks of flesh destroyed and nasty burns. Human-sized hikers often straight up lose a foot, having it blown to pieces due to this blunder. Though the young Blast Caps are small and weaker compared to the adults, some would argue they are more dangerous due to how easy it is to miss them and not realize you are walking through a living minefield.

When a Blast Cap gets old, their bodies fill out, almost inflating into a more hunched shape. Two large storage organs develop on their sides, for holding explosive fluid and small stony chunks for digestion. Their mouth parts become more flexible, allowing them to rotate it from its usual downward position up so that it points outward. This helps them eat things at different heights, or reach places where their bulkier body cannot climb. It also makes for a handy weapon when threats approach. While they can still release an explosive cloud around them, this wastes far more fluid due to their larger size requiring more to fully cover them. Instead, when they sense danger, they move their mouths upward and point it at the enemy. They will take a chunk of stone from their gut and bring it to their throat, along with a gob of explosive fluid. If their foe doesn't retreat, they will scrape tooth and radula together to make a spark and ignite the liquid sitting behind the rock. In an instant, their mouth erupts in a plume of light and smoke, and the stone is launched out at incredible speeds. This projectile is shot out faster than a rock sling could throw it, and it can do serious damage to those it hits. Bone shatters easily and armor is damaged beyond repair. If it hits you in the chest, your ribcage is busted and probably embedded in some important organs. If it hits you in the head, well, you won't realize it until you wake up in your afterlife.

To make matters worse, is that sometimes the rock is porous and winds up soaking in some explosive fluid. When launched, it will shatter when it hits its target or the environment, releasing a cloud that can be triggered by a single spark. Folk scrambling for their weapons or falling with armor hitting stone may accidentally create this trigger, and blow themselves to pieces without knowing their mistake. Needless to say, not many animals choose to prey on the Blast Cap, as the cost is massive if they screw up. However, some crafty birds, like ravens, have figured out a way to prey on juvenile Blast Caps. They pick up small rocks and debris in their talons or beak, then fly overhead and drop it atop the Scutumback. This "attack" will cause the Blast Cap to explode its defense, but the birds are far away from danger. They will then drop more rocks again and again until the Blast Cap stops detonating, as its fuel will have been depleted. Then the birds can swoop in to attack, knowing the young mollusk has no weaponry to fight back.

With the dangers that can come from an exploding mollusk, it should be obvious that locals are very careful around them. Areas that are heavily populated by Blast Caps will have warning signs around them (not that those can truly ward off dumb tourists). When traveling these places, people walk slowly and always keep an eye on the ground in front of them, as a single misstep can cost you a leg. While these areas are notoriously dangerous, the native people have found ways to benefit from them. Places where young Blast Caps are plentiful will be scouted out, and then hunters on horseback would go out to track down a nearby herd of game. With incredible coordination, they would scare the animals into a stampede, and direct their escape route towards Blast Cap territory. The thundering hooves would agitate the mollusks and they would prepare to explode. As the herd tramples through, they would trigger the Blast Caps, resulting in explosions, lost limbs and fatal tripping. In less than a minute, dozens of ungulates could be downed by these living traps, allowing the hunters to slowly creep in to collect the freshly exploded meat. It should be noted that most Blast Caps actually survive this crazy tactic, as they are very hardy and can handle being stepped on or trapped beneath a fallen beast. It should also be noted that this hunting tactic was only used in hard times when an entire village needed food, as it can be pretty wasteful with how much meat gets blown to mush and also the state of your food is pretty rough by the time you carve it up. No fine steaks or flanks to be found here, just messy ground beef.

Also, this same tactic has been used on invading forces, where natives tricked enemy armies to travel through Blast Cap territory, using their ignorance of the local fauna against them. One wrong step and the whole force is thrown into chaos, as people panic, flee and trample over more Blast Caps. While casualties would be low due to the small area of these blasts only taking out legs, the effects could be crippling to an army, now laden with wounded and mutilated, while also worrying about where the danger is. It is a clever strategy, I give them that, but it does make me worried anytime I am hiking in these areas. I am careful in my walking and mindful of my step, but then I think to the chaos of these hunts and attacks, and think of how a tumbling rock or a dropped canteen could set off a chain reaction that would turn me to mulch! It hasn't happened yet thankfully! But I guess you know that because I am alive and writing this entry....                 

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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"Blast Cap Scutumback"