#literally just dead weight floating around the universe

[deakyjoe]

Not A Place, But A Feeling

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: angst and maybe a little fluff idk

Summary: They say home is where the heart is. And your heart is with Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is 56), a rewrite of episode 3 basically, kissing (!!), groping (!!), implied smut, mentions of death & suicide (Bill & Frank, Sarah), reader is Bill & Frank’s adopted/surrogate daughter, guilt, sadness, grief, loss/bereavement

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: In celebration of Pedro’s birthday, have something I’ve been working on for literal months <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bill and Frank were dead.

Their corpses sat rotting away in their bedroom, the door locked shut, as Ellie read their goodbye letter, a note of upbeat confusion in her voice. You couldn't blame the kid, she'd never met either of them.

Joel stood next to you rigid, unsure what to do or say as he just listened to the final words spoken by two of the few people he'd chosen to trust in this world.

You, on the other hand, felt as if the universe was crashing down around you. All blood had escaped from your body, seemingly draining out from your feet, as your head floated around in a storm of lightness that threatened to knock you unconscious at any moment.

Bill and Frank had raised you, the former finding you abandoned as a toddler when the outbreak had started. You'd stayed shut away in their own private community for years, Tess and Joel being the first people you could remember meeting that hadn't been your surrogate parents. And when Frank had come up with the genius idea to dump you in their responsibility so you could socialise some more and see the real world, you'd been all too eager to sneak back into the QZ with them.

You were beginning to regret that enthusiasm.

"And take care of our girl for us, we know you will." The final words of the letter hung in the air for a moment as Ellie lowered the paper into her lap, eyes flicking between the two people stood in front of her.

Joel said nothing. And you ran.

The front door almost fell off its hinges with the force of you swinging it open to get to the front yard. Barren flowerbeds were quickly flooded with the contents of your stomach. You retched at the floor, nothing else coming up but the feeling of needing to vomit still strong.

They were dead. Dead. Gone. Forever. What were you supposed to do now?

Your legs trembled beneath you, struggling to keep your weight as every fibre of your being just wanted to give up and collapse into the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Trying to shake the feeling off, you pushed yourself into an upright position and started walking. To where? You didn't know. But this is what you used to do when you needed time to think, time to clear your head, time to escape. You walked the town. You hadn't had that same ease in the QZ, it was nice to have it back now. Even in the worst scenario.

You couldn't dwell on this for too long. People died. Regularly in this world you lived in for that matter. It was an inevitability. The loss of Tess had been a warning sign of that only recently. You'd been taught not to grieve too much, you didn't have the time for it. And it wouldn't change anything.

But you still ached, feeling as if a part of you had been ripped away and stolen for eternity. So, you walked.

Joel had watched you leave out of the corner of his eye, not surprised by your reaction at all. It was a little understated if anything. The men who had raised you were dead. Nobody coped well with the loss of family, he knew that better than most.

"You should probably follow her." Ellie said, looking towards where you'd abruptly left the house.

"She'll be fine." He insisted, rolling his shoulders back and taking in the room around him. He'd have to figure out everything for himself now that Bill wasn't around to help. So he got started on that, distracting himself by creating a mental list of inventory the group of you would need for your journey. And all of it was bound to be lying around here somewhere.

Ellie could only watch as Joel ignored what he really should have been attending to and took to wandering around the house instead, staying careful to keep clear of the downstairs bedroom.

It took two hours for you to reappear in the house again, acting as if nothing had happened.

You strolled in to find Ellie rummaging through a dusty old box with your name plastered on the side of it in block capitals, the black ink slightly smudged.

"Hi."

Her head snapped up to meet your eyes. "Oh, hi. I found this."

You shrugged. "My music collection, right?"

She visibly relaxed and smiled. "Yeah." Ellie wasn't a shy kid by any means and she certainly didn't have any trouble with her confidence or prying, but she liked you and didn't want to overstep since you'd been nothing but nice to her since you'd met.

You nodded. "I think I've got an old Discman around here somewhere if you want to take some of it on the road with you."

Before she had a chance to respond Joel stomped back into the room, gaze landing on you. He didn't say anything but his expression was questioning. You just gave a short nod which was enough for him.

"Take a shower and I can find some clothes for you both." You said, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked under your weight but you paid it no mind.

The both of them could tell you still were not feeling quite right but didn't push it, Ellie disappearing upstairs to take advantage of the luxury of a shower that was actually hot with good water pressure. Joel silently followed you to a closet where the stash of unused clothes was stored away.

You found jeans for him and Ellie, a t-shirt for the young girl and a plaid shirt for him. It was one of Frank's. Joel watched you silently as you hesitated before passing it over to him. Luckily, neither of you had to fill the tense silence that followed as the shower switched off upstairs.

“I’ll go give these to Ellie then you can shower.” You mumbled, pushing past him when he gave no more than a grunt of acknowledgment.

You don’t know what you expected from the man, he wasn’t exactly well-versed in emotional support. Just something a little more would have been nice. You pushed the thought aside as you knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Ellie called back.

“It’s me. I’ve got you some clothes.” You were slightly turned away from the door in case she decided to open it.

“Oh! Okay, hang on.”

There was muffled rustling from the other side before the bathroom door opened a crack and a hand stuck out.

You laughed and gave her the pile of clothes. “Should be some spare toothbrushes under the sink too. Maybe some toothpaste. If you’re, I don’t know, feeling extra hygienic.”

“Feeling extra hygienic.” She echoed back in amusement. “Thanks!”

The bathroom door slammed again and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

You trotted down the stairs to find Joel hovering by the door to the kitchen, surveying his surroundings. You recognised that look.

“What do you need?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

You sighed. “Don’t tiptoe around me, Joel. What do you need?”

His gaze shot back to yours.

Tense silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Ellie came bounding down the stairs and collapsed in front of the box of CDs again. She didn’t seem to notice the staring contest going on between the two of you as she rifled through the music rapidly.

Joel’s mouth closed again momentarily before he appeared to change his mind. “You good here for a while?” He directed at Ellie.

The young girl glanced up from the box and nodded, finally noticing the atmosphere in the room.

Joel turned back to you and tilted his head towards the front door. "Let's take a walk."

You followed him silently as he walked past you and out the front of the house, not stopping his fast pace until he was well away from the building.

Falling into step beside him, you debated whether you should be the first to speak. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think on that for too long because as you reached the point where the boutique was coming into view, Joel stopped and suddenly turned on you.

"You should stay here."

The statement felt like a knife in your chest. The way he said with such finality, such conviction. Like he’d been thinking it for a while. You wondered if that had been his plan all along.

"What?" You didn’t let your confusion and hurt go amiss from your tone.

Joel could only repeat himself. "Stay here."

You scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"It's safe." He pushed through clenched teeth.

You nodded. "Safe."

"Your home."

He’d completely lost you.

And yet you nodded slowly again. "My home."

He nodded tightly, wishing you'd stop repeating everything he said in that sardonic tone.

You clicked your tongue quietly. "You think this is my home?"

"Yes."

You glanced at the row of derelict buildings next to you, the cracks on the ground, the dead grass. "The place I left years ago, where I had no friends, where my parents have recently killed themselves, you think that's my home?"

Joel had never heard you directly refer to Bill and Frank as your parents. It pained him to hear the word used in such a horrific scenario. But he didn’t let up.

"You grew up here."

You laughed humourlessly. "You grew up in Texas. Do you still refer to that as your home?"

He'd like to. But didn't. "No."

"And what is your home, huh? What do you think of your home as, Joel?" Your brows furrowed together as you watched him thinking about it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Tess.

...You.

You didn’t let him answer. "Bet it's not a place, is it?"

You were right.

You knew that so you carried on. "Bill and Frank were my home. Now they're gone. Tess was my home. But guess what? She's gone too. Tommy's gone fucking M.I.A.! So what am I left with, Joel?"

Him.

"I'm left with you." You shoved at his chest, surprised by your own strength when he took an unsteady step back. "So if you think that I'm going to stay in this fucking ghost town alone instead of following my home wherever he goes with that girl who needs us, then you really don't know me at all."

You went to push past him, to leave his ridiculous suggestion behind and maybe go clear your head with a hot shower, when he stopped you with a statement that felt like the knife he’d already plunged into your chest was being twisted around to hurt you even more.

"Tess promised Bill and Frank that we'd look after you."

The scowl on your face deepened and Joel knew he'd given the wrong answer but it was the only answer he knew to give.

"Is that what I am to you, Joel? A promise that Tess made?"

He didn't respond.

A sting that threatened tears bit at the back of your throat. "Because if I'm a promise that someone else made for you then fine, I'll stay. I won't burden you with having to take care of me anymore." You ran a hand down your face. "You've got your hands full with Ellie anyway."

“That’s not what I meant.” He tried.

And failed.

“Then what do you fucking mean?!” You wailed, fingers clawing at your scalp in frustration. “Do you want me to stay here for me or for you? Just spit it out, Joel! So I understand what the fuck you want!”

Joel Miller was an intimidating man. He marched around with a permanent frown on his face, his tall and broad figure parting any crowd that saw him coming. That's why, when he took a few sudden paces towards you, you inched back a couple steps. It was instinct. He was a killing machine. And he didn't look too happy with you right now.

But the pure shock that rocketed through your system when his large hands landed on each of your cheeks and he crashed his mouth against yours would have been enough to keep a whole city's electricity running for a month.

You froze for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in surprise, not sure what to do with yourself. Joel Miller was kissing you. Joel Miller was kissing you. Out of every possible outcome, you never could have predicted this. The older man who you had adored quietly for years and trusted with your life, with your soul, was kissing you.

Your fists curled into the front of the shirt he’d been wearing for days, fabric a little stiff with dirt and grime, using it as leverage to meet his lips halfway.

He kissed you hungrily, like a man starved, devouring everything he could possibly take from you. Fingers tangled in the back of your hair, tugging roughly to elicit soft whimpers out of you. He licked into your mouth hotly, tasting as much of you as possible.

The feeling of your palms sliding up his chest seemed to knock him out of his stupor, detaching himself from you and taking a couple of unsure steps back.

He looked at you surprised, almost like he couldn't believe he'd done that. "I-"

"Joel..." You trailed off when he gave you a warning look. So you went for another approach. "I thought you and Tess..."

His face tightened in frustration. "No."

You didn't believe that. "No?"

"No." He gave a subtle shake of his head. "Never."

He seemed adamant. And sincere. So you chose to believe him.

You weren’t shocked when he looked at you for just a couple of seconds more before spinning on his heel and started walking back in the direction of the house. He was like that. Joel seemed to enjoy ignoring his feelings.

But then he changed his mind and looked back at you again. "We can stay a couple of days and then we need to move again."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

He tilted his head up towards the dull sky for a moment before turning again and stalking off.

You waited until he was out of sight before following him. If he was conflicted on what he’d just done, then pestering him with your presence certainly wasn’t going to help.

When you got back to the house, Ellie was still sat on the floor.

She didn’t even look up as she spoke to you. “The old man’s showering, thank god. Thought my nose was going to fall off.”

You stifled a laugh and set about finding out if there was any food in the pantry that was still good to eat. You knew there was an endless supply in the basement and garage, but something slightly fresher was more likely to satisfy the three of you for the next couple days you were apparently staying. Managing to find something mildly edible and leaving it out for the two of them to eat, you informed Ellie she could help herself to anything in the house before making your way upstairs to find some of your own stuff to wear in what used to be your old bedroom.

You’d miscalculated how long it would take Joel to wash away the days worth of dirt as he emerged from the bathroom just as you walked past it, hair damp and slicked back and new-ish clothes on. He looked good. Very good. And somehow better than usual.

You swallowed thickly and slid past him into your old bedroom, not saying a word as he watched you go. The knowledge that he felt something for you, you didn’t know just what yet, was weighing down on you. What were you supposed to do with the idea that he maybe liked you just enough to want to kiss you? Joel wasn’t the kind of man to suddenly open up about his feelings and tell you he was hopelessly in love with you. Maybe he was pre-outbreak, you thought. You’d like to have known the him that existed pre-outbreak, you decided. But he certainly wasn’t that man now.

You pushed your door shut behind you, leaning against the wood and letting out a long exhale. God, why had he decided now was a good time to make this more complicated than it already was? You almost despised him for it.

Shaking the thoughts away, you found yourself some clothes and traipsed to the shower. The hot water and steam would clear away the temporary worries whilst you figured out how you were going to address your own feelings for him. Sure, you’d always known you’d silently harboured a thing for Joel. But you’d always assumed that nothing would ever come of it, he was a lot older and Bill would kill him if he ever caught wind of anything, so you’d buried the feelings deep down inside of yourself. Until today apparently. When he’d decided to dig it all up by kissing you.

You scrunched your eyes shut and forced that thought out of your head. The memory of the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hands, his very large hands, held you, the way his tongue licked into your mouth, the way he groaned lowly deep in his chest.

Thoughts. Forced. Out. Gone.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you ate in silence before Ellie declared she was tired and you told her she could sleep in your old bed. She seemed ecstatic with that as she’d admitted to snooping earlier and thought that the mattress looked comfortable. You’d laughed and waved her off. Joel had then mumbled something about supplies and had disappeared into the basement.

You took that as your opportunity to speak to Bill and Frank, something you’d wanted to do since Ellie had first read that letter. So you hauled yourself up from where you were sitting, padded down the short hallway to the room where their bodies rested, and promptly sat down right outside the door.

You spoke to them silently in your head, giving them updates like you would’ve done were they still alive and you were just visiting. Telling them about life in the QZ and what you’d been up to. In retrospect, it seemed ridiculous. But at the time, it felt right.

When you were done, you just closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the door.

"Don't go in there."

Your eyes shot open at the deep voice to find Joel standing a few feet away from you. Of course. Who else would it have been?

"I'm not. Just wanted to sit with them for a minute." You sighed and squinted your eyes at him. "I know that sounds crazy."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I understand."

There was a brief moment of silence.

He broke it. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"Ellie's in my bed.”

"Master bedroom." He countered.

You frowned. "I thought that's where you were sleeping."

"Couch." Joel’s line of defence was unwavering; you didn’t really know why considering you were having a simple conversation about sleeping arrangements.

So you pushed on. "Couch? Why? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"I've slept on worse."

"What's wrong with the master bedroom?"

He hesitated. "That's where Bill and Frank used to sleep. Feels like an invasion."

Oh.

You hummed and nodded your head. "That's why I can't do it either."

"You can't stay here all night."

"I've slept on worse." You repeated his words back to him, surely he would understand.

He nodded and slowly offered out his hand. “Come on.”

You almost didn’t take it, shocked that he was doing it. But after a moment’s pause, you slipped your hand into his and let him pull you up. And when he didn’t immediately let go, and started to pull you towards the couch instead, you thought you might have a heart attack.

When the two of you reached your apparent sleeping grounds for the night, Joel turned back to look at you. Only to find that you were a lot closer than expected. He didn’t like the way you looked up at him because it reflected a grief he’d only ever seen in himself. It was too personal, what you were feeling. He hated it. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel tempted by it.

He’d already crossed that boundary once. What was once more?

You were less surprised the second time Joel Miller kissed you. In fact, you were more relieved.

One hand cupped your face, keeping you grounded, the other clutched at your waist, keeping you close. Whether that was for him or for you, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to complain either way. And when the two of you fell back onto the couch all bitter memories of loss, of grief, of confusion, of him all went away.

Joel could only wish that he was on the same mental path.

This was so unbelievably selfish of him. Bill and Frank trusted him with your safety and security. And here he was on their couch, the memories of their lives still dancing around him fresh, kissing their daughter as he groped and grabbed at you with lust fuelled energy. It was more than lust, Joel knew that, but the ghosts of Bill and Frank didn't.

You were on top of him, full weight pushed against his body, and Joel could think of nothing but how fucking soft you felt under his touch. He ignored the betrayal of two of his only friends, ignored the glaring age difference, ignored that he was feeling what he should have felt for Tess. None of it mattered when your skin was warm and velvety in his palms. None of it mattered when your tongue slid against his and you swallowed the soft groans he'd accidentally let loose every now and then. None of it mattered when you whispered his name against his lips almost checking like his was still there with you. And of course he was. He'd never leave you from this moment on.

He'd continue to be selfish and ignore all the reasons why this was so wrong because it just felt right. Like you'd said, he was your home. And you were certainly his. Maybe he could afford to be selfish for once in his life.

The kisses were sweet, almost as sweet as you, but Joel could feel you yearning for more. Your fingers itched against him, twitching in anticipation. He understood perfectly as he felt the same, letting his hands drift to wherever they wanted. And you had no complaints, arching into his touch as much as you could.

The two of you were like horny teenagers, making out on the couch and trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake the rest of the house. The rest of the house being Ellie in this scenario. Although the teenager wasn’t stupid; she’d felt the tension as soon as she’d met the two of you. Even if you both appeared unaware of it.

The sun dipped below the horizon.

Hands dipped below waistlines.

A war raged through Joel’s mind. This was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. But you felt so right.

He broke away momentarily, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Maybe you should sleep.”

You only nodded at him, eyelids half closed and pupils blown. Joel just kissed you again. Maybe his moral dilemma could be a problem for the morning.

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for ages, unfinished, but calling to me. Glad I finally got around to completing it :)

[solar-halos]

odesta week. day #5 - finnick lives friday

annie and finnick finally have their post-war wedding in district 4. 1k, fluff. also unintentionally set in the Deep Dive universe, so there's a character i mention named jamie. jamie is chill all u need to know about him is that he and annie were friendly with each other before the war so that's why he's there

For the sake of the other victors, Annie and Finnick have their wedding in the fall. It won’t be as hot that way.

As long as they were in District 4, Annie would have married him any time—and any day—of the year. She’ll always tolerate District 13 for letting them live, but they seriously needed to learn how to party.

Having another wedding had been on their to-do list for years. First, she thought Finnick was dead. Then, the next thing she knew, he was being rushed to the hospital, and all she could think about was how he was there with her, warm flesh and beating heart and all.

But she was already pregnant with Benny, which left room for little else. She also had too many nightmares. And then, somewhere down the line, she somehow got pregnant again. It’s not her fault her husband is so hot, no matter the circumstances. At least she didn’t spend the majority of her pregnancy with Moira in an underground bunker, the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. 

The weight of the entire world is still on her shoulders, because Benny and Moira literally are her world, but at least Finnick is there to make everything feel less heavy. Benny and Moira are his world, too. 

“Hey, Finnick.” Thank goodness he’s awake now. She had a question. “What would you do if I had baby fever?”

“Um…” The novelty of this question has worn off by now. He blinks at her, sleepy and relaxed and beautiful. “Don’t you already have baby fever?”

True. No one had warned her about that, but no one had warned her about Finnick being such a good dad, either. Probably because no one thought that they’d ever have to warn her about that, but still. She needs to jump his bones right now. 

She can’t get pregnant now, though, unless she wants to remake her wedding dress. Which she doesn’t. She spent the last five years making snail-amounts of progress on it, but now that it’s done, she doesn’t ever want to take it off. It’s green, like her dress in 13, but the similarities end there. It floats around her knees in a seafoam green cloud, because their wedding was gonna be on the beach and she didn’t need the hemline to drag along the sand, and her mom helped her embroider black swirls all over the bustier.

There were so many things the wedding in 13 was missing. They had the wedding net, yes—that was non negotiable—but it didn’t drape over their shoulders the right way. They had salt water, sure, but that was just salt mixed in with water. And don’t get Annie started on the lack of seashells. 

She and Finnick have been working their fingers raw since last January. The wedding net made out of rope was a breeze, but the grass was a bit trickier. The rope represented the stability of marriage—the grass represented the fragility. It was supposed to be a real good omen if a couple could get through both pieces without getting frustrated at their progress or snapping too many blades of grass.

Most of what Annie remembers about the experience is the laughter. Both of the projects were time consuming, but that’s exactly why they paced themselves the way that they did. They even got to teach Benny and Moira some knots. 

She gets jittery, for some reason, when their wedding day does arrive. Her stomach swoops the entire time he sings in the shower with her. Her heart skips a beat when he twirls her around in her dress, announcing that he couldn’t wait to see her at the altar. She squirms in excitement as she waits for the music at the beach to start up, signifying that she can finally start walking toward Finnick.

She’s not getting cold feet. Far from it. She’s just paranoid that something—or someone—Capitol is gonna swoop in at the last second and mess everything up. Destroy the altar, burn their wedding papers. Something, anything, to make sure that they keep Annie and Finnick apart. 

That doesn’t happen, obviously. They had made sure to keep their wedding small, so that already makes Annie feel a lot safer. The only thing she has to worry about is Haymitch’s geese nipping at everyone’s feet. He brought them all the way from District 12, making a point to announce that this is their first ever wedding. Annie is flattered.

The net constructed out of rope was intricate and heavy, so Jamie and Annie’s mom work together to drape it over Finnick and Annie’s shoulders, manipulating the rope so that it looks like an infinity sign. Then comes the more delicate, silky smooth grass.

“Brings out your eyes,” Finnick whispers to her. 

“Brings out your eyes,” she shoots back. Not very original, she knows, but she’s blushing too hard to think of an actual compliment.

It’s true, though. As a matter of fact, everything at home brings out Finnick’s eyes: the sea, the sky. Maybe it’s because he always looks so happy.

Mags doesn’t officiate the wedding the way they always wanted, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t here at all. She strung together the pearl headband Annie is wearing, and the paperclip bracelet on Finnick’s wrist is courtesy of her handiwork. Then there’s all her favorite foods Annie made sure to include on all those platters she made, because goddamnit, Mags liked to eat. What better way was there to honor that?

Benny and Moira are surprisingly quiet throughout the entire thing. Annie realizes it’s because Johanna keeps sneaking them candy, but Annie pretends she doesn’t notice because she’s supposed to be listening to Haymitch pronounce them husband and wife (he didn’t actually have any of the qualifications, but that didn’t matter, ‘cause the first thing she and Finnick did when they got back home was go down to the Justice Building and make their marriage official in District 4. She likes it better this way—it feels more secure.)

This is where Benny and Moira get their time to shine. Annie and Finnick had spent countless hours weaving together a tiny bowl made out of grass, so Benny and Moira are both very careful as they scoop that into the water. 

They had begged Annie and Finnick to let them do this part of the ceremony for them, and she wasn’t about to tell them no. Usually, the person officiating the wedding did that stuff, but their children were too young to officiate anything. Benny was barely six, and Moira wasn’t even five yet, so they had to bend the rules a little. Haymitch didn’t seem to mind. 

“Thank you, my loves,” Annie says, crouching down so she can dip her fingers into the bowl. Finnick follows her lead.

“Thanks, guppies,” he says. “You did an awesome job.”

They stand back up. Annie makes sure their children are back by Johanna’s side before turning back to Finnick, brushing the pad of her thumb against his lips. He does the same.

It’s the funnest kiss they’ve had in a while—Annie knows this because she’s smiling throughout the entire thing, which makes it kinda hard to embrace him properly, but she doesn’t care. They’ll have plenty of time for kisses later. For now, they break apart and book it to the dance floor. 

Annie hadn’t anticipated how heavy the seashells would be. There’s a tradition in Four where the guests clip seashells onto the bride’s dress in exchange for a dance, so eventually the shells replace all the embroidery on her dress, and Annie’s never been happier. Her dress was a labor of love—the shells were a reminder of all the love she’s forever surrounded with. She doesn’t see how she’s ever supposed to take them off. 

She does, though. Much to her dismay, the sun has to go down eventually, and everyone has to go back home. Johanna hefts Benny and Moira in her arms, refusing to admit that she needs help carrying them upstairs, so Finnick and Annie settle on supervising the entire thing. 

They don’t even wake up when Annie and Finnick press goodnight kisses to their foreheads. That’s the level of tired Annie intends on being in a few minutes. Their bed has never looked so good.

Finnick has never looked so good. Maybe it was the dancing or the cake or the matrimony, but he’s literally glowing.

“Hey.” Annie pokes at him. He raises an eyebrow at her in the mirror, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he says, but his toothbrush garbles his response, so she pretends not to understand him. He sees right through her, but he still rinses his mouth out and hangs his toothbrush up before telling her again. “I love you, Annie.”

She uses her last burst of energy to fling herself into his arms, soaking up his warmth. Worth it.

[rindomness]

Ok ( sends you an ask) I guess why nightvelle? What are you thoughts on the place it’s self? (jackdaw)

(send me night vale topics to write an improvised essay about)

NIGHT VALE THE PLACE ITSELF. oh boy. this got long i added a readmore

The fun thing about Night Vale the place is that, at least for the first... five to seven or so years, it's sort of Schrödinger's Town. It exists! Obviously, it exists. But it also really, really doesn't exist. And that's kinda the key to understanding why Night Vale is like that.

I'm not fully sure what the details are on where Night Vale came from, but Night Vale - our Night Vale that we follow in the podcast, which I'm going to be calling the True Night Vale (TNV), kind of... doesn't have a full universe to fit back into? And like obviously spoilers ahead on this one under the cut

But TNV's universe is, uh, gone. Dead. Destroyed truly and utterly. You see, TNV comes from a universe in which the Cold War blew open into a Not-So-Cold Nuclear Armageddon. The world literally ended. And TNV should have ended with it!

Except, well, there was Huntokar.

In Night Vale's universe, there are beings which are referred to as gods that are treated as such but also, like, kinda just exist. They're around. The Glow Cloud (all hail), for example. And Huntokar. And oh boy Huntokar. How many feelings I have about Huntokar.

TNV is a version of Night Vale that was on the brink of ending due to nuclear armageddon. It was also the domain of a goddess who loved it dearly. (or deerly. get it, because huntokar is a deer- i'll leave) And what she did is she, basically at the last possible second, tore TNV out of existence.

So now this specific version of Night Vale is stuck floating in a space of simultaneous existence and nonexistence and when Huntokar did what she did, she pulled every other version of Night Vale along for the ride, so now there's like. a million Night Vales just kinda floating in the same place in time and space?

And it's fine! for a while. for a while that holds up. and it holds up kind of... entirely on the back of cecil's reporting. because every version of night vale has a cecil. and he's the Voice, you see, and this is a title. Like, names have power, etc etc etc, and Cecil's reports and Cecil's steadiness and Cecil's unchangingness is what keeps Night Vale, every Night Vale, from crumbling in on itself.

So, Night Vale is this fucked up little town that both exists and does not exist, and its tenuous grip on reality is held together entirely by the unchanging nature of its Voice. And it all happened this way because a god loved a place and a person so much she ripped reality apart to save it.

IT'S MESSY! and very very fragile!

so it's hard to get in and out of night vale, because technically, night vale exists outside of reality, and time doesn't work there because of all the time travel and the complete disconnect from the rest of the world. In this little town that simultaneously does and does not exist, perception is reality takes on a whole other meaning, and Cecil's reports of events take up a whole new weight. Night Vale needs Cecil to report on events.

And then Carlos comes to Night Vale, and Cecil starts to change directly in response to him, and this weird little tightrope Night Vale has been balancing on to keep realities separate and persisting begins to strain.

The fun thing is that in the current day of the podcast, Night Vale (TNV specifically) does actually exist in some version of the real world? Like. Obviously it is still a fictional reflection, because it is a fictional podcast, but Night Vale is presented as a real place with real world consequences for its existence, rather than a sort of floating point of a town in the space between existence and non-existence. (fucking Listener Questions and Listeners, dude. I screamed IRL when I heard fucking Ross and Carey start talking!) I'm very excited to see how that gets handled going forward, because despite being real, it is still a deeply weird and out-of-step place. It might not be balancing on a tightrope of existence on a technicality anymore but it's still, like... it's still real and not-real simultaneously. It's fun!

Also i am not entirely convinced Night Vale isn't sentient in some weird fucked up real-but-not-real town way as a result of the attention and focus Huntokar sent its way, nor am I convinced entirely that Cecil can't subtly alter events as they are happening simply by discussing them, rather than just through (a frankly enormous amount of) soft social power. I am, at the end of the day, also a fucked up living places enjoyer, so im obviously going to be biased.

Also i could talk so much about how night vale attached itself to carlos, too, but this is already REALLY LONG? oops. maybe another post I could probably write a whole essay just about that. There'd be overlap obviously because of how intertwined Cecil and Night Vale are, but. Yeah. Yeah!

but yeah. night vale as a place is Fucking Weird in some Really Tragic Ways if you think too hard about it!

[apathyfairy]

age 0-18 is like i need to be older than i am now. i need to grow up so i can finally live my life. and age 19-21 is like ok i’m finally an adult but i don’t feel like it at all lol so..what am i supposed to do with my life ? and 22 and beyond is just feeling so old like you wasted your entire life and can’t relate to anyone and there’s nothing you can do about it at all

[lanawinters-ily]

The Irony of Life (And of Death)

You & Billie Dean Howard are in a happy relationship despite the strange circumstances. Can anything else really go wrong, this close to being together forever?

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Word count: 1700

Warnings: mentions of death & suicide

You & Billie were in love. It was a strange, unrequited love to the naked eye, but she was Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the Stars after all; bridging the gap between life & death. In a way, she helped the living feel connected to the dead, but also the dead to live their lives again, a whole other lifetime or even experiencing one they had never been able to have in the first place.

Your relationship did the same thing – split down the halves of humanity, life & the afterlife. You had no limits, & changed the course of this order to mould it to your desires. A love or union between a spirit & a human was a literal portal to hell, creating the Antichrist in the only time the bridge of procreation had been built – a disaster for the whole world from the very thing that had created the population in the first place. But it could be debated that it was the violence of the act itself: Tate, or the house. How could an act of hate create a true life? Surely it was destined to create a monster anyways?

So really, there was no recorded love between these two departed beings of the circle of life, but you were the closest it had gotten. You had been dead for 20 years before she came, stuck in frozen time, the Murder House the centre of the clock in which no years seemed to pass. To some, it was a blessing, to others, a curse – imagine being stuck in the same place for eternity – the same body, similar people, the weeks rolling round in an orderly fashion so neat that you prayed for a pinch of change.

You didn’t believe in Gods or Devils, even less after having concrete proof that not all who die actually go anywhere, but some part of the universe granted your manifestation. Billie Dean Howard was more than a pinch, she was a bucket of life – bright & shiny, with a light that people just couldn’t place their finger on. The moment she stepped through those doors to the world for the first time, your jaw dropped to the floor in pure shock, like an angel had just floated down from heaven. If you had known of her abilities at this time, you would have tried to be more covert with your reactions, but you thought you were hidden under the cloak of invisibility that death had shrouded you in. This meant you assumed that between you & Billie there was a wall, you had the power to see though but she was left in mystery. Of course, within a few seconds, you realised that Billie was looing right at you, & before you could call it a coincidence, she let out a musical chuckle at your antics before introducing herself.

Billie Dean Howard, Medium to the Stars.

Only a woman with such grandeur, such charisma could hold such a title. She was human, but she was also a higher being; both in your eyes, & in a more realistic sense. Billie was a medium, so she could feel & communicate with spirits as if they were a typical person, giving her an access to both sides of life (& not-life of course), & also granting you a chapter of afterlife entirely unexpected, & wholly human in experience. This was probably why you found it so hard to grasp the reality – that she had a whole life outside of the house that you were chained to, but she wanted you.

It seemed that the tether of soulmates is not only limited to the living.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you stared down at the weight in your arms, & there was the very woman that occupied your mind; all day, every day. She even looked positively radiant when she was snoring, blonde hair forming a messy halo around her rosy face, calling for you to kiss her with the ties of your affection. You spent almost all your time with her, & would for eternity, as she planned to stay with you for life, & for her eventual death.

You wanted Billie to go out, to live her life. Since you had died at the young age of 22, you hadn’t escaped education, hadn’t travelled the world, hadn’t even done half of the things you wanted to experience. You didn’t want to hold Billie Dean back from her plans, but she had assured you time & time again that you were her plan, & that was that.

Today was the day that it would all change, but that it would also stay the same, forever. The both of you had come to an agreement that Billie was to end her life today, you holding her, to ensure that you would be together forever. The perfect death to start her perfect second life, as she described. You felt unbearably guilty over the whole affair, feeling as if you were cornering Billie into a decision, but her life was this house – her friends, her family; she needed it to survive so to do this, she would have to die.

A strange twist of irony, but then, when did life really make sense? What is sense, really?

“Darling?” a sweet voice rasped, making you look down. Billie was awake, & looking right at you with a bleary confusion in her chocolate eyes. She looked so innocent, so content as she snuggled into you, ironic as she was to die today. You supposed that many people were this content & clueless on the morning of their deaths as fate plans them, except for the fact that Billie Dean didn’t share either the oblivious sense or fates plans. This was her own accord, all planned, no reliance on anyone but herself. Her death, in her hands.

But first, Billie had to go get the supplies.  So, you both got ready off the makeshift bed in a deserted room in the Murder House, soon to be your shared home permanently. The pair of you pottered & dressed as if it was a normal day: no haste & just enjoying the company as if you weren’t about to live forever for eternity. Every moment together, every kiss, every caress would always be like a first for the two of you; you both shared a childish excitement at the thought of forever exchanging these special moments, no limit to the days you could spend in each other’s arms.

You saw her off at the door, embracing gently in a short goodbye.

“Sweetheart, babydoll,” Billie chuckled as she usually did whilst you littered her face with kisses; “I’ll be back before you know it. Just wait 10 mins for our eternity to begin, ok?”

The words would have set you racing, if your heart was still beating. Every sentence Billie Dean spoke was always close to restarting your dormant heart. She was the life in your after, a life in her own - that would not change with death. You knew that she would still light up the room, still send you feelings of warmth even if her skin was to become cold with death.

You were torn out of your Billie daydreams by a strange smell in the air. At first you brushed it off, instead longingly staring out of the window to see if your girlfriend was at the top of the road. But soon the aroma was stronger, choking & undeniable - you didn’t need to breathe but you could still feel, so the impending smoke still filled your throat, your lungs. Your eyes were watering, burning like the source of the fire. You didn’t know where it had come from but it spread quickly since much of the house was wood. It wasn’t surprising that the house was capable of burning that quickly - it was its own worst enemy in this way. The fire could’ve been started by Satan himself, unleashing his fury at the growing love that had spawned within the house that he had used to contact the earth. Love is the Devil’s enemy, so you had to be stopped.

Your instincts were alarming, the doorways blocked by flames so you threw open the window & fresh air knocked you in the face. Escape. But as you tried to put your legs through the frame to jump out, an invisible force tugged you back into the room. Try as you may, the shield was unbreakable & had no means of smashing. The spell was cast & Billie was too late.

As you slowly gave up & the orange glow consumed the room, you stuck your head out the window to gulp on useless air for the last time. You heard screaming & turned sharply to the side, wondering where the noise was from if all the ghosts were already dead, & saw her. The love of your afterlife, running down the pavement frantically. She was stuck, her confident persona shattered by terror as she watched her angel slowly fade away.

Billie simply stood by the inferno, looking up at you like Rapunzel in her tower. She wished that you would let down your hair & let her up, because Billie Dean Howard knew that whatever was next, a black endless hole was better than a consciousness without you.

It was ironic how you were stood desperately wanting to live, yet your girlfriend wanted to die. Polar opposites united by love, soon to be broken.

Your vision was fading as you saw your limbs starting to disappear; the body of your spirit leaving as the hold of the House lost its magic. You locked eyes with Billie as she tearfully fumbled in her handbag for a velvet box, pulling it out & opening with trembling hands.

“Marry me?”, she cried with a simple pearl & diamond encrusted ring in her hand, outstretched to you.

So beautiful, so Billie.

You nodded with all the strength you had left, before you disappeared into the air - travelling to your next destination, whatever that would be. Your last thought was that you hoped you would see Billie there one day, as you watched her collapse to the ground in anguish. It wouldn’t be long before she was gone too.

What is next?

Who really knows until it’s too late to tell.

Taglist: @ka-s @ninaahs @stayevildarling @babypocahontas @winters-witch-bitch @basicasshole @bottom4delia @forevercountess @violentwavesofem0tion @sporadicsupercorpquotesmonger @liberosisaspire @mellowalieneggsknight @supremeinlilac @thecasualgeek1 @lucykilljoy @mrsdeanhoward

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.” 

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself. 

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found. 

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive. 

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches. 

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,” 

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process. 

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I’ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks. 

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,” 

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!” 

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

[danceworshipper]

Ida Sommer - HPHL MC

Info subject to change as more game information is released. All of my HPHL ocs exist in the same universe

[profile template by me]

Personal

Full Name: Ida Marie Sommer

Gender: Female (cis)

Sexuality: Pansexual (closeted)

Birthday: August 20th

Birthstone: Peridot

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Age: 14 (at beginning of game)

Blood Status: Pureblood

3 Positive Traits:

- Charming

- Spiritual (nature oriented)

- Resilient

3 Negative Traits:

- Childish

- Uncommunicative

- Vain

Usual First Impression: When first meeting Ida, people often assume she is immature, ignorant, and easy to take advantage of due to her sheltered nature and cutesy appearance. This impression is highly incorrect

Location

Birthplace: Germany (exact location TBD)

Current Home: Her father's estate in one of the richest areas (Germany)

Future Home: A beautiful cottage secluded from the world, near a mountainside (Germany)

Favorite Place: A cliff overseeing the sea in Japan, close to the little shop where she got her wand

Disliked Place: Her maternal grandparents' home, simply because she doesn't enjoy their company

Appearance

[image created using the Live Portrait Maker app]

Face Shape: Roundish jaw, soft features with a strong brow bone

Eye Color: Yellowish green

Hair Color: Light blonde

Hair Style: Ida wears her hair down or in a single braid. Her hair is mostly straight with side bangs, and is parted in the middle

Skin Tone: Light

Freckles/Spots: A few freckles on her cheeks, more visible when she's been out in the sun

Scars: None during her schooling. After graduation, Ida marks her arms with runes only she and Sebastien can make sense of to strengthen her connection to the world around her

Piercings/Tattoos: Single earlobe piercings.

Final Height: 5'9"

Final Weight: 137lbs

Physique: Thin with long legs, slightly wider than average shoulders

Clothing Style: Ida is a rich kid, so her clothing is always of high quality material and her jewelry is noticeably unflawed. She dresses modestly until she turns seventeen, when she stops caring what her parents think. Her favorite colors to wear are pastels

Carried Items:

- her wand

- a locket with a picture of her and her parents in it - not worn, but kept in her satchel

- a silver pocket watch stuck at 11:18 pm, handed to her by the same Seer who told her where to get her wand

- a handful of candy

- extra quills for her roommate who keeps forgetting hers

- a book from the Restricted Section about Elementals, written by Elementals and charmed so no one other than an Elemental can ever figure out what it says

Magic

Wand: 12 inches of firm Ebony wood with a koi-mer hair core. A pitch black, rounded wand with a pattern of scales carved into the handle. This wand was custom made in a small, almost unknown shop in Japan after a Seer she bumped into on the street told Ida that her perfect wand would be created there. It would seem foolish to go all the way from Germany to Japan on the word of an unknown Seer, but it was Ida's turn to plan the summer trip, so she picked a place in Japan close enough to the mentioned shop

Animagus: Loon

Boggart Form: A headless figure easily recognizable as herself, crumbling away into dust. A failed attempt to merge with nature resulting in her demise

Riddikulus Form: A statue of her like the one in her parents' back garden, over glorifying her features, that has been attacked and is crumbling away. She hates that statue

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Ida would smell lime juice, fresh water, and static electricity

Amortentia (to her): TBD

Patronus: Ida has never been able to cast a Patronus. Not for a lack of happy enough memories, but because of her powerful soul. The Patronus can never escape her magical core

Patronus Memory: N/A

Mirror of Erised: A tree so big it grows up an entire mountainside. The tree bark is covered in swirling patterns Ida recognizes as Elemental runes. She doesn't yet know what exactly this tree is, but she feels an undeniable longing for it

Family Spells: The Sommer family has no special family spells

Inherent Magic: Elemental

- Ida has all the magic of a normal witch, but on top of that has a deep connection to the earth and the magic stemming from it, even beyond the earth into the universe. If not properly trained (or if driven to a great enough temptation), an Elemental could vaporize the entire planet, or bend it to their will. They could also leave humanity behind if they so wished and become nature itself

- Elementals are theorized to have fragments of Merlin's soul fused with their own, hence why they feel strong connections to each other and can't ever fatally harm one of their own. Most Elementals also fall in love with each other as well, and the connection is thought to be stronger than a normal human's love could ever be. These connections help ensure no Elemental gives in to whichever temptation has the strongest pull on them. Only one Elemental has ever yet gone evil, and this is how it was discovered that they cannot kill one another

- This special magic is not hereditary. In fact, no one knows what causes someone to be born an Elemental, only that there have been less and less of them in the recent centuries. There are only two known Elementals left: Ida and Sebastien

Family

Mother: Lina is a warm hearted woman who wants the best for her daughter, misguided though she might be. She often has to shout at her husband to trying to hold Ida back, or discourage Ida's dreams. She noticed Ida's growing power long before her husband did, and was the one to finally contact someone for help when Ida grew so strong and uncontrolled she couldn't stop floating

Father: Elias is a business oriented man who, though he loves his daughter, up until her reveal as an Elemental wished she was a son. He's the reason Ida was homeschooled for so long, as he didn't think a girl was worth the tuition money. He refused to believe that Ida was anything other than ordinary until a man in a high position told him otherwise

Sisters: None

Brothers: None

Pets: A screech owl named Goldig, meaning 'cute'

Other Important Family: Ida's paternal aunt, Ingrid, is one of the biggest influences in her life as a child. Ingrid is an independent witch who lives fabulously by herself with her dead husband's fortune. Ida used to yearn for a future where she wasn't tied down by a man and could do as she pleased

Family Values: The Sommer family as a whole is mainly concerned with two things: remaining pureblooded, and growing richer. Most of the Sommers are decently good people, but they have period-appropriate prejudices and are willing to leave someone behind to save themselves, metaphorically and literally

Opinion on Family: Up until entering Hogwarts, Ida really only knew her family, so she loved them and thought very highly of them. As she becomes more socialized and learns more about the world, she starts to notice her parents' many flaws and though she never stopped loving them, she does resent them for homeschooling her and ignoring the signs of her being abnormal, because she used to think she was broken when in reality she's nearly a god

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Extroverted

Best Friend: Sebastien Parr - another mc of mine who is also an Elemental, and an exchange student from Beauxbatons

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend She Didn't Expect: TBD

Who She Wishes Was Her Friend: TBD

List of Casual Friends:

- Sophia Burton @gcldensnitch

- Charlotte Grant @weasleysandwheezes

- canon friends TBD

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD - will likely be picked from the game's characters, but could possibly be someone else's mc

Her Type: TBD

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Never played, but loves to watch

Clubs: None

Organizations: The fake Headmaster's Apprentices organization that she and Sebastien use to hide what they're really doing

Favorite Class: Herbology

Least Favorite Class: History of Magic

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood: Ida is kept at home. She knows no children her age, and spends most of her free time roaming her father's land. No matter how far she wanders, she never seems to get lost. Ida has strange dreams where she watches the world as an outsider. After being told by a Seer that her ideal wand would be created at a small shop in Japan, Ida convinces her father to spend a month there over the summer, and her mother takes her to the shop to get her wand. Ida sneaks out one night and climbs a cliff that looks out over the ocean. In later years she can't remember whether rising up over the waters and hearing the stars call to her by name was a dream or not, but she knows the moon smiled at her.

First Year: N/A

Second Year: N/A

Third Year: Ida's uncontrolled Elemental magic reaches a breaking point, and Ida explodes her little study room as she lifts up in the air, unable to come down. Her mother sends for help: two healers, a historian, and three government officials later, Ida is brought down and informed that she will be enrolled in Hogwarts the following year. She is not informed why, though her parents are

Fourth Year: Ida enters Hogwarts with no social skills. She meets Sebastien and they're both informed of their true nature. As Ida struggles to catch up on her studies as well as train her Elemental magic, she also learns just how wonderful having friends her age is

Fifth Year: TBD

Sixth Year: Ida grows suspicious of Sebastien's "friend" Dorian. Other details TBD

Seventh Year: TBD

Post Graduation: Ida marks herself with ancient Elemental runes and her father gifts her the cottage. She spends a year and a half where almost no one hears from her, before appearing back in her friends' lives as if nothing happened, looking healthier and happier than ever

Career(s): Ida doesn't live long enough to have a career

Marriage and Children: Ida marries (TBD) from school, someone who had always had a crush on her that she eventually returned the feelings for. They spend a beautiful three years together before her end. Ida manages to give her love a son, but only after she's gone

Death: Ida sacrifices herself to stop Sebastien and Dorian from destroying the world. Ida's biggest temptation as an Elemental was always to leave her humanity behind and become nature, so she does. She traps the two men inside of a ridiculously large tree that grows out of the mountainside near her cottage. This tree forms from her body, and has a notch where her favorite necklace can be inserted to be allowed entry to the chamber Sebastien and Dorian are trapped. However, she hid the necklace in Japan, where no one will find it until a century has passed and her friends have passed away. Ida can occasionally gather her spirit into a physical form to communicate with her love and child that she left behind

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- Ida is the ancestor of my main hphm mcs, Gracie and Tessa Chiva, on their father's side

- The reason Ida is sent to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang is the fear of bad influences. No one wanted to risk her being corrupted

- Ida does feel guilty about leaving her love behind, but since she couldn't kill Sebastien and she still loved him and wanted him to be happy, this was the only way she could think of to stop him

- Her love watched her leave humanity behind. As they wept, Ida's spirit gathered to say her goodbyes, and point them to their son, who had been born from Ida's final breath at exactly 11:18 pm

- Ida thinks very highly of herself. This is both from being praised so much as a child and hearing so much about the good she can do as an Elemental

- She throws a graduation party so extravagant that it's talked about for decades after her death

- No one but her love knows what truly happened to her. All anyone else knows is that she and Sebastien disappeared at the same time

[wornoutmouse]

Illumi x Poc Reader

I wrote this cause I don't see any Poc readers with hxh like I do mha😫 Also not sure if I'll make this into a story what do you think?

You weren't the strongest nen user in the world, hell you weren't even in the top 50. So if someone were to ask you why you were currently having dinner with the most feared family in Padokea you would have no choice but to just shrug your shoulders. You glanced around quietly eating your meal as your posture became stiff as a board the longer the silence became. You were not naive to the fact that there were many eyes on you both literally and figuratively.

Sitting across from you was a rather large man with long white hair calmly eating his food. He was almost a mirror image of the older man to his left. Although shorter in stature you could practically taste the power radiating from him.

'This must be Illumi's grandfather' you thought

Next to the old man was a large boy with shiny black hair similar to Illumi's noisily chewing while focusing with a mobile game in his right hand. Someone you deducted to be his sister sat next to him in a black and pink kimono quite similar to the one your were forced to wear before arriving, she ate her food quietly. Finally turning towards the lady of the house who's hard gaze you could feel on your face ever since you arrived.

Clearing your throat you opted for small talk trying to lessen the tension. "Who made dinner, it's delicious." The woman clapped her hands together in a gleeful manor, "Do you really think so? The new butler prepared it but I found it a bit dry so they were promptly fired!" She replied voice getting hard at the word fired. It was not hard to understand that fired was Zoldyck for killed. You stared down incredulously at the rice and beef on the table that was practically oozing in tenderness and moisture. "Oh really?" You respond lightly trying to keep a blank face as the woman snapped her silver spoon in half bellowing a obnoxious, 'Oh dear!'

You swallowed shallowly as you watched a servant immediately present her a new fork. You came to a decided conclusion that this woman was off her rocker. You opened your mouth to speak again before a quick sharp pain spread up your leg piercing through all the layers of your kimono. Tensed you pluck some beef into your mouth at the same time you plucked the object out of your flesh. Based on the thin length leading to a round end you shuddered glacing at Illumi who was now missing one of his needless from his vest. This was obviously a warning to stay quiet.

After the meal Illumi ushered you down the hall and up many stairs before shoving you into a dark room causing you to trip and almost fall. You huff angrily turning to your captor, "What is this about Illumi?" You ask flicking his needle towards his face marveling at how easily he caught it gently between his long slender fingers returning it to his place above his heart. "It was only to get you to stop speaking. It wouldn't have been long before my mother threw a fit and that would be rather annoying." He replied nonchalantly his dark eyes staring into yours before promptly turning and walking towards a linen closet.

You combed your hand through your disheveled afro that you were unable to fix after Illumi had made you open his heavy ass 'front door' you personally called bullshit on that one. But had no choice since you were immediately threatened if you refused.

"If you are unable to open at least one of the doors then you are not worth my time and will be disposed of."

Plopping down on the plush bed you gasp as you sank down a few inches grasping at the silk sheets. "What could I have possibly done to upset your mama? I opened 2 of your stupid doors and I put on this kimono just like you asked!" You asked exasperated as you tugged on the kimono that had clung to your round figure no matter how much you loosened the sash. Illumi closed the closet turning with two stacks of purple linen in his hands perfectly folded. "That is true. Infact she was estatic at your efforts at first. But that all changed of course when I told her that I was open to marrying you."

Your heart sunk into your stomach like your body in the bed at those words. You shuttered at the thought of marrying this deranged man and bearing his fish eyed offspring. His monotone voice and blank face only fueled your reasoning as he spoke about marriage as though he was shopping for bread. "What the hell do you mean marriage!?" The only reaction you received was a show blink, "You managed to intrigue me, anyone capable of that needs to be monitored closely and what better way to do that than marriage?" You roll your eyes and gestured universally, "How about, I don't know, literally ANYTHING! Be roommates you know, like normal people!" Illumi looked almost as though he was pondering on the idea before shaking his head

"No, besides it's about time I've settled down don't you think." You dead panned absolutely positive that your ideas of settling down where vastly different. "I'm sure your mother does not approve of you marrying someone you just met." Illumi's mouth twitched up hinting at a smirk, "No, things like that are common around here, her problem is about how weak you are." He paused for a moment waking towards making you mean away as he sets his long arms on either side of you, caging you between the bed and himself examining your features before continuing, "And she's not too keen on mixing different backgrounds into our pure Japanese heritage." Your blink slowly trying to calm your heart beat at the proximity before scoffing looking towards the window to your left so you wouldn't cry in fear, "Offend me why don't you?"

He leaned away plopping one of the purple stacks into your lap, "Let's go shower." He says heading to the bathroom stopping when he realized you weren't following. "Well, come along." You looked at him like he'd lost his damn mind, which he had apparently. "You got me messed up if you think I'm getting in the shower with you Playboy continue your journey and leave me alone." You say rolling into your side facing away from him in order for you not to go back on your choice in fear only to relax at the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.

FLASHBACK

You gasped in exhaustion as you ran as far as your legs would take you. Flying through the dense forest trying to keep a close ear on the sounds of twigs snapping at your right. 'I'm totally fucked' you thought as the sound easily caught up to you.

You didn't understand how you got into this situation. You were simply visiting your uncle at his new estate. You knew he got his wealth in greasy ways but not enough to put a hit on himself.

You propel yourself off of a branch trying to get higher into the trees. You wondered if your uncle was still alive. He was a more advanced nen user so if he doesn't survive you surely won't. You pushed yourself harder through the trees thinking back to seconds before the ambush.

Your uncle was giving you a saphire necklace that he had aquired through questionable means. The only thing that gave away something was wrong was the fact that the estate was completely silent with no sound of his rowdy partners celebrating through booze and marijuana. At that realization, he ushered you though the bedroom window just as his room door slammed open. All you saw before you jumped was long ebony hair and dull black eyes. You landed on the ground in a awkward way, spraining your ankle but wasted no time pushing through the pain; breifly recalling what your mother said when she sent you here.

"You just learned nen basics so you're not adept to protecting yourself. Your uncle Ricky messes around with dirty folk so if he tells you to run then run baby and don't look back."

So here you were, flying through the air just 2 months after your first nen training, putting everything you knew to the test. After long last, you burst through the trees finally able to see your surroundings illuminated with the moonlight.

You began bounding across the tops before something sharp stabbed through your sprained tendon, causing you to fall far and hard back into the forest.

You groaned, sitting up and blinking rapidly, you try to adjust your eyes to the change in scenery. Standing up shakily, you take a step forward before you feel a large weight land on your back, pushing you face down into dirt and dried leaves.

"There is no use resisting child. Stay still and I will consider making your death quick~" Came a silky voice above you. "Such wasted potential~" Before you could respond, everything went black signalling that your clone had met it's demise. You blinked yourself bringing your consiousness back into your real body. "Wow that nen trick really did work, maybe that old lady wasn't crazy." You mutter wincing at the ghost of pain you felt drumming through your ankle. Once you casted your nen on a pile of twigs, you quickly ran in the opposite direction. Only watching from it's own eyes so the movements would seem fluid.

"I should hurry it won't be long till they realise they were tricked."

You quickly ran into a small tourist town and headed to the nearest bar so you could ease your pain. Sliding onto the stool you wave over the bar keep. "A shot of vodka for the road!" You call out, already grimacing at the taste you'd have to force yourself through. The bartender looked at you and smirked before sliding you a root beer float.

You stared at the ice cream floating in your glass before looking at him like he was crazy. "Sorry sweety but your babysitter said to give you something light."

He gestures behind you, and you turn to look choking sightly as breath catches in your throat.

Right behind you were familiar dull black eyes pearing down at you. This man was tall, at least 6 feet plus with pale white skin, and long hair. He was dressed like a Christmas tree with gold bulbs adorning his green top. "Can I help you?" You ask trying to feign innocence. The man stiffly sat down in the stool next to you ignoring you for the time being. "Barkeep please give me what you gave her." He said point to your float. Once he received his, he looked at it for a while as the ice cream sunk into the root beer. The silence was terrifying but you found yourself getting lost in his sharp features and his calculating hands as they wrapped around the tall glass.

"How did you do your little trick?" He asked pulling you out of your trance. You blink slowly, "What trick?" You ask tensing as his head turns towards you looking into your eyes almost daring you to lie

"I told my colleague to rid the area of any strays in the area. He informed me that he was persueing the 'cute Cocoa girl with the curly hair." He faced his drink swiping the dripping cream and slowly licking it off his finger never breaking eye contact. "So you can imagine my surprise when I find my self persueing the same girl. So I want to know how you did it."

You fold your arms and began drinking your float indignant to the situation. "Sorry, family secret, I can't tell you." You suddenly feel something thin yet sharp pressing into yout neck as a sultry voice chuckled from behind you. "How sneaky of you my dear, tricking me into following a ploy."

The ebony haired man watched your face looking for a reaction and you looked back the best you could without provoking your neck being slit. With a sigh the man drunk some of his float licking the ice cream from his lips, "Stand down Hisoka, we don't want a repeat of last time." And you could only imagine what that meant. There was a chuckle, "Oh Illumi my dear your no fun~" the mystery person replied. But the force was removed from your neck.

[lordbloodysoul]

Name:

Rift Doorman

Title:

“The Layer Breaker” – “Usurper” – “Ever Hunger”

Nicknames:

Rifty / Riff Raff / Tele-Broski (Fresh)

Freak of Nature / Parasite / Anomaly Animus (Error Sans)

Paperworm / Layer Breaker / Clown Vomit (Ink)

Age:

[REDACTED]

Height / Weight:

Varies

Soul Type

“Collective Soul”

// - A Collective Soul shows trades of all known Soul Types and is shielded by a thin membrane of Void. It looks like a blank Soul with a black outline, that has a small pitch dot in its center from which a vibration rolls across the surface of the Soul. Those waves appear in different colors and strokes. To those who are very sensible to Soul Energy, the vibration will sound like an endless army of different voices breathing simultaneously in sync. The rhythm changes with Rift’s state of emotion. It has an aroma/flavour that could be described as “Retro and vibrant”. The feeling it would induces is more reminiscent of Allure and vivid Chaos. Like a puzzle started, but left unsolved. With every piece just raining passed fields of endless colors, trapped within a pool of blackness. - //

STATS:

LV

[REDACTED]        // It will show the “ : P “ Emoji //

HP

[REDACTED]        // It will show the “ >:] “ Emoji //

ATTACK

[REDACTED]        // Just spells out “YOLO” in painfully bright colors //

DEFENSE

[REDACTED]        // Just spells out “LMAO” in painfully bright colors//

Doorman-Tier:

Tier A—Strength Level is not readable, due to its current activity behavior.

History:

Rift Doorman was born outside a Universe of the Undertale Multiverse. Its behavior is unusual compared to other Doorman. Rift traverses the Layers of the Timelines in search of something, but without a Universe to akin to, both its Power and Ambition were altered in a dangerous manner. Throughout its travels, this Doorman has eaten itself through various Timelines and Multiverses. However, these places didn’t just disappear, like usually when things are being destroyed through Outcodes or beings from the Anti-Void. They stay mostly intact. Broken like shattered glass, but still existing. Each piece would then connect with another part. A puzzle, that was willingly done wrong, with Timelines and places in Space just overlapping in chaotic patterns. Strings missing, but not forgotten, rules shifted, players removed and entire areas shifted incoherently.

When Rift gained conscious it felt nothing. Devoid of anything, it just drifted. This state changed when it fell into a Genocide Timeline by accident. Within it, Rift faced the Fallen Human in the Judgment Hall together with Sans. As it wasn’t able to feel pain, watching Sans Dust became its first experience with Death. It amused it. Thus it smashed the human child. Seeing as the child’s death was different from Sans’s, curiosity began building up. More so as Sans returned from the dead when the Timeline reset. The battle broke apart, literally, when Rift tried mimicking voices and speech patterns, causing a ear ripping shriek that splintered the very fabric and Layers of the Universe it was visiting. Sans, slain once more begged the creature to stop the child’s madness. Still incapable of understanding why, it understood that this Fallen Human had caused the Skeleton grievance. He understood the visualization of agony and hopelessness, but couldn’t comprehend the feeling itself. Amused by the concept of FIGHT and MERCY, they decided to experiment with it in this broken place. Trapping the Human Child in a never-ending loop of Resets they had no control over. Dying as plaything to the anomalous creature. Rift bored itself over the course of 17.589 Resets, ending the Human Child by eating first their upper body and disintegrating their Soul for absorption. This act loaded the Fallen Human’s Timeline Data Layers into its own being, giving it a broader view on what’s been happening. Still not able to comprehend things, however, Rift left the splintered Timeline and returned to the Layers between.

More travels were its answer. Further down its path, this Doorman entered a Rampage, experiencing many Emotions from interacting with various worlds in different ways. However, it couldn’t feel them at all. It understood. It could see them. Could comprehend what actions would lead to what reaction, but not why it was necessary. Hollow. It was hollow. Like a Black Hole. Just ripping everything apart and consuming it, but nothing could look back or return it. Within it grew a terrible Hunger, which it satisfied by devouring various portions of the visited Timelines and Multiverses. Places, Sections, Memories, People. All fell to its strife to understand. To engage. To be part of something. It began building a sort of pocket dimension in the Layers between the Multiverse, where it gathered things from various Timelines that kept intriguing it. In one already destroyed Universe, Rift recovered a monitor of round shape, still functional. It had the shape of a face, much like all the other creatures it met had. Thus it connected with the screen and used it as a makeshift face-mask, ensuring its actual form wouldn’t freak out too many people.

While striding through the Timelines, absorbing information, energy, magic and various other stimuli into its form, Rift discovered that it was possible to READ these Data and use it. Shaping its attacks in combat into Patterns and Styles unlike anything this Multiverse had ever witnessed. But not only that, it began to hunt and kill other Doorman instinctively, absorbing them into its form as well, leaving their Timelines defenseless. Rift became a true threat to many, just through its curiosity and yearning for understanding. It also began leaving pieces of itself behind in various distorted Worlds, hidden from view. Small Homunculi, holding enough Data and energy to reincarnate it. Rift slowly devolved into a Parasite that endangered the delicate balance of the Multiverse. A thorn in the side of both the protectors of the Multiverse as well as the Vanguards of the Anti-Void. As its shattering of Timelines caused multiple Universes to intertwine with one another. Rift became a target for eradication, even though no one knew about its existence yet.

It was during another stride into another Timeline that it encountered the parasitic entity known as “Fresh”. Their interaction was quite different than what it was used to. And something began to stir within it. Rift felt something. Something that was unfamiliar and strong. It played with Fresh, before that one disappeared to safety, as the creature seemingly grew too attached to them. That escape started it all. A chase that both were not prepared for nor understood. Rift’s conscious was completely fixated on Fresh. It didn’t understand why, but knew it was important. For days, weeks and months it kept chasing them. However, the Parasite didn’t need or wants anyone following them, so they kept fleeing and hiding. Despite their best efforts, though, Rift finds them every single time.

[!!!SPOILERS WARNING!!! - for those who wish to Read the FanFiction or wait till I get around to making the Comic, since the LITERATURE SUBMIT on DA doesn’t allow much creative Freedom, so I have to do a lot of Re-Spacing and Editing on those Parts. This Section will spoil some of the Plot in exchange for Character Build - If you don't want that spoiled, please proceed to the APPEARANCE Section - !!!SPOILER WARNING!!!]

Fresh found himself in a skirmish with Error and Ink, as they both tried tracking him down. They misjudged and thought they were responsible for several Holes within the Multiverse. With no secure escape Route, they were forced into battle, holding their own well. Up until the Anti-Void’s Enforcer, C0D35 Doorman, stepped onto the field. His entire presence alone began to erase the Universe he’s chosen as a battleground. Manipulating Space was practically useless against this foe, as one of C0D35 special abilities was to block all types of magics. Before the fight could harm Fresh, however, Rift shattered the Universe into several pieces. It took Fresh with it and delved through several Layers of broken Code, Timelines and hid them in a small Space it had created from the leftover scraps of Multiverses long forgotten. A Null Space of sorts. Due to the strenuous battle with Error and Ink, the body Fresh had chosen was slowly failing. They had to let go of the host body and seek out another. Rift, even though unable to talk and acting more like an excited puppy, willingly helped the Parasite. It took them to another Timeline to gain a new host body. Fresh, unable to understand or comprehend the motivation of this anomalous creature, decided to experiment how far its warped sense of loyalty would go. Curiosity getting the better of them. Since they couldn’t escape from it for long anyway. Thus the duo began their journey to try and understand what this drive was, where it was coming from and what it all meant. But Fresh already has the slight suspicion that something was off with Rift. Something huge was brewing.

Appearance:

Rift Doorman has no corporeal form. It’s a mass of black noise, free floating energy and magic. The almost cloud-like, dense column attached itself to an egg-shaped monitor. A remnant of a long forgotten Timeline. Due to the vapor form of its body, Rift can change its density and size at will, ranging from grasp-less like fog and air to solid and unmovable like a wall of steel and stone. This Doorman is holding its form together through sound wave. The magic and energy flooding its form gives these waves color and form, embracing its shape and fueling every movement of the mass. This special way of mass control makes it possible for Rift to even split itself into multiple smaller versions of itself. The Energy and Magic coursing through its vapor shape glows in various colors, like a swarm of bugs and fireflies. The ones that are mostly present range from neon-pinkish to eye-stinging green lights. The color of the Emoji faces on its screen are similarly bright and colorful, while the biggest mass of the body is a pitch-black buzzing fog.

Rift uses the screen it found as a makeshift face. By sending energy and magic through it, it channels different words and expressive Emojis, which it uses for communication, since it cannot speak. It developed this form of talking, which is accented with Retro musical tunes and sound effects, due to its own lack of actual vocal cords. Rift can only mimic various words through pitching and dipping sounds and tunes.

Underneath the screen is a distorted black orb-shaped head, with a bright, monstrous white jaw and eyes. The magic, energy and sound waves, which course through the body are accentuated here, pulsing through the big eyes that stare empty into the world. As the delight of murder and fighting was presented with a smile by both his first encountered Sans and Fallen Child, Rift has adopted that same expression into its own. Empty of empathy, reason or guilt. Hollow.

Personality:

Rift is a peculiar Doorman. Even though highly intelligent and fast learning, it prefers to act like an excited puppy or curious child. Devoid of any real emotion to drive its actions, it only acts upon what other people think is the “good thing” to do in a situation. Leaving trails of Chaos and destruction in its wake. Rift’s first real emotion was “a sense of joy” which emerged from killing the Fallen Human in their first ever visited Timeline. After loosing that, it was filled with a Hunger to learn more, experience more and discover why it was unable to understand or hold emotions like other beings do. It likes being lout and giddy, causing confusion and messes all around.

Rift learned from its travels that violence is considered bad, thus it only acts upon it when given a cause or being asked of. Through Fresh’s company, it grew found of their way of speaking, censoring and general demeanor, which they try to imitate. Not always successful. Rift lacks empathy and basic moralities. Doing the right things as much as they can, but never getting appreciation, feelings of guilt or delight out of any of its actions.

It is a slight hoarder, liking to collect various things from visited Timelines and just storing them in their own little Null Space.

Likes:

Fresh

Eating

making music through its distorted Retro Voice (which would probably sound much like the music you can hear in the “Just Shapes & Beats” Video Game – example here )

helping people

playing with Fresh

exploring and learning / education

collecting stuff for its Null Space

cuddling and hugs

dancing

Fighting, when allowed to do so

people laughing and smiling

inducing Fear into ‘evil’ people (it doesn’t understand it, but their expressions give it a sense of ‘delight’, which it can’t comprehend)

Dislikes:

pointless violence

swearing

anyone who tries to harm Fresh

disrespectful and rude behavior

the other Parasites spawned from Fresh

seeing other people go through loss, sadness and hopelessness (it doesn’t understand, but it dislikes their expressions during these moments)

Capabilities:

Rift is a special Doorman. Unlike any other it can and can’t do various things that are unlike its species. Since Doorman are shaped by what their Timeline / Universe needs, their abilities will be manifested into something they can use as an exploit to reach their goal. Rift, however, has neither a goal nor a world for that to work. Being born outside the Multiverse, Void and such, beneath the Layers of the In between, corrupted its whole existence. Thus it learned an ability so variable, loose and dangerous, that Rift managed to break its own power limitations. That ability is ADAPTATION. Through it, the anomalous entity can learn anything that it finds. This ability is limited only by its corrupted special skill, ARCHIVE, which extents its own Data Volume by absorbing that of other objects, Worlds and people. Through these two abilities, Rift extended its repertoire of skills by taking those of others into its own. By devouring other Timeline versions of Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, Napstablook and various other monsters, it learned their magics, attack patterns, strengths and weaknesses, accumulating them into its own form and using them against various aggressors along the way. Taking the Souls of the Fallen Children, it enhanced its own Soul Power, HP and influence over various aspects within the Timeline Layers. Even though unable to cause REWRITE or OVERWRITE, its Determination rivals the power output of such abilities, nullifying their affects on its own self. By devouring various Doormen, Rift added their special abilities into its own arsenal. But not only these are something to worry about, since they also absorbed the (apparently) infamous “COLOR PUZZLE”, which appeared in various Timelines. Through absorption of its information, Rift learned to utilize the principle in its own combat patterns, making for, probably, the worst experience of a FIGHT for any genocidal maniac. During a FIGHT Rift delights itself by causing its opponent as much headache and frustration as possible. All its patterns are a mix of things it accumulated from various Timelines, objects and people. The difference to its style is that every pattern follows a rhythm it deliberately switches to cause as much distress as it can. Their own original patterns appears as orbs, bars and string lines, which move in a sort of symphonic flow. It likes to abuse the rules of the infamous “COLOR PUZZLE” into each of their attacks. Goal during these fights are to keep itself busy till its bored. It will reset its opponent back into battle till it can’t get enjoyment out of it anymore. Than the most common outcome is for Rift to grab its foe and devour it (or part of it), just to satisfy its hunger for a bit.

// Attack Patterns for this Character would look like a mix between Undertale and “Just Shapes & Beats Style //

Rift’s voice is a powerful instrument of destruction, as its wavelength and pitch can shatter and fragment entire worlds, when threatened. Most of the time, though its a tool for amusement and distraction as they can’t use it to speak, but make totes rad Retro music and sounds with it.

Due to their body being so fluid, Rift tends to shape-shift a lot. Switching sizes being one of the more common transformations, however, it is capable of turning into practically anything it has a rough understanding off. From people to buildings and even entire landscapes. The greater the scope, thought, the higher the risk of its Soul overloading and damaging it. This skill it uses often to entertain Fresh’s curiosity and help them fight their boredom.

The Doorman is capable of using the Data collected to create completely new Multiverses out of them, which it does by filtering the most intriguing information into its “Null Space”. A collective widespread anomalous space in the Layers in between. Much like the Core Universe, it is a hidden pocket dimension that is unreachable unless you’ve been there once or are aware of its existence. As the Null Space grows, so does Rift’s power, which is connected to it. Would this secluded fragment in the Layers in between be destroyed, the damage to Rift itself would be tremendous. Rift is capable of creating “BACK UP FILES” for itself. So called Homunculi, which it scatters across the various splintered Timelines, hiding them in various objects. Through those Back up Data pieces, killing the Doorman has become nearly impossible. For its adversaries it is even unclear if this anomaly can ever truly be completely killed, since normal, widespread magic and fighting abilities are completely wasted on it. However, Rift is not completely invulnerable. All of its outstanding skills require huge amounts of magic, which it needs to store by devouring and absorbing Energy, Magic and Entities from other Timelines. Starvation is a realistic issue to it, since their moral compass started to change with the appearance of Fresh. Survival becoming an “optional goal” to its primary instinct fixating on the Parasite and its well-being. Rift can be harmed by beings from the Anti-Void as well as Ink, which is why it tries to stay hundreds of paces away from them. Especially C0D35, as his ability, ANNIHILATION, exceeds its coded protection by a margin. When Rift’s Soul reaches critical its body becomes fully corporeal and eats at its own mass till burn-out. The energy and magic from its body will slowly dissolve the very fabric of Reality, Time and Space as it goes on, till everything just becomes absolute Chaos. This meltdown can cause any nearby organism to be entrapped in a cascade of pain and maddening delirium, slowly eating at their very existence. It would cause an unseen apocalypse of shier Madness, but also cause the very Death of Rift, if the burn-out isn’t stopped.

Relations:

Rift has no great attachment to anyone besides Fresh. And even that “affection” is a level of understanding it can’t comprehend. For it, its something that it was born for, but doesn’t know why or what it is supposed to do with it. Finding the answer to this riddle is the only ‘purpose’ it got and after wandering aimless for so long, it decided not to let go of it till it knows.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Trivia:

The first word Rift ever spoke was “YOLO”, when it read the glasses of Fresh at their first meeting.

There is a Momma CQ version of Rift.

Kid!Rift entire backstory is goign to make people wanna stab me to death. I am sure of that.

Rift’s musical Battle Patterns are inspired by the game “Just Shapes and Beats”

Yes, I am aware that I messed up the Color Patterns of both of my Fresh Designs there. They were both drawn separately before placed in the same picture together. It has bugged me to no end!

Yes, there will be a Momma CQ version of this one coming (probably soon, since I don’t want to loose my shin. It’s not worth making Rifty mad)

Fresh Sans belongs to @loverofpiggies

--------------

[yoondoze]

if | myg

letter #1 | letter #2 | letter #3

listen to: the 1975 - anobrain

wc: 1.5k

a/n: please pay close attention to the formatting as to not get confused. last part up at noon est on friday

"Dear Y/N,

There are lot of things that scare me.

Heights, insects, rollercoasters with loops in them. Jump scares make my heart stop, closed and small spaces steals the breath from my lungs. 

But nothing has ever scared me more than that day on the lake.

That was the day I thought you were going to die. Little did I know, huh?

We were sixteen then, tubing like we did every summer at my parent's lake house. We were on the pancake tube, the red and black one that could start flying if it got enough wind under it. It was also the one that flung you off like a torpedo into the water on a wrong landing.

The waters were choppy that day. We went out of our neck of the lake and more toward the dam, where all the water traffic was. My dad was slinging us through wake after wake of every other boat he could see, making sharp lefts and rights so no matter how much we leaned, we still skidded out of his own. It was terrifying but every scream of yours was followed by laughter.

It wasn't one that we even saw coming that flipped us over. We were out of the wake and flying across the surface. Maybe it was the clashing of the waves beneath the surface, maybe it was the will of the universe, but we got enough air that the bottom went topside and we hit the water.

Going under felt like I was in a washing machine, disoriented as you're tossed around and water shoots up your nose. Eventually, I bobbed up to the surface. Once I got my hair out of my face, I spun around the look for you, expecting to see you floating somewhere within my vicinity like you usually did. I spun and spun, but I couldn't see you anywhere."

Yoongi's parents were swinging back around to pick the two of you up. Yoongi kicks to reach his head further out of the water to try and spot if you somehow ended up further away. And then, he sees something that sends chills down his spine.

Your life jacket. Without you in it.

"I'm no swimmer, but I'm sure my time could have beaten a world record that day."

At this point, they noticed and were yelling for you too. Yoongi splashes over to it in a frenzy. It was unbuckled and absolutely soaked. He takes a big breath and dives under, going deep until the pressure hurts his ears, until his hands scrape the sludge of the lake bed. He can't see a thing. 

"I thought you had drowned."

He only comes to the surface when he can barely hold his breath any longer. Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to breathe properly. Does he go back under? Does he wait? Does he call out some more?

"And by some miracle, whether that be god or fate or pure, unadulterated luck, you bobbed to the surface ten feet away from me."

You gasp for air, nearly turning blue in the face. You cough and sputter, treading water as best as you can, but alive. Yoongi's relief is instant as soon as he meets your open, seeing eyes.

You throw your arms around him as soon as he's within reach and though he struggles with your weight, he's just glad you aren't dead.

He pulls you onto the boat with the help of his mother, speeding back to the dock to get you to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Later on, you say you can only remember hitting the water and then surfacing, hardly able to breathe. The doctors say you must have hit your head too hard, and then confirm it when your scans come back showing a concussion. Within the next few weeks, you recover just fine.

"You were okay, and that's all I cared about. Because for a second, I thought you were gone. It's the worst feeling I've ever had.

Yet funny enough, you went again the next year.

That was the first time I realized our lives were finite, and we didn't have forever. As a kid, you believe that you're unbreakable and you have all the time in the world in front of you. But you could have died that day just as easy as it is to think that. 

I think it was after that day that I started to fall in love with you. Or realize it, anyway.

I paid closer attention, maybe at first because I was so worried, but it was one of those things where I began to notice all the little things you did that I never noticed before.

Your expression when you would braid your hair in the mirror. Your smile when you talked to strangers in line with us at the grocery store. Your excitement when talking about that new movie, or book, or show, or song. I didn't always care for them, but I cared for the way you cared for them.

Also, I had a soft spot for the way you got along so easily with my family."

Yoongi is just stepping out of the shower when he hears your voice.

It's undeniably you - he's heard it every day for the past five years and could recognize it in any lifetime, but he tunes in more than ever these days. He just has to wonder: What are you doing here if you're not in his company?

His bare feet pad on the hardwood floors, messily towel drying his black strands as he enters the kitchen. There, he finds his mother guiding you through photo albums upon photo albums, and what he soon deducts be his baby photos.

"Nice of you to join us!" His mother says.

You look up at him with a grin on your face and look back to the face underneath your fingertip.

"He was so cute back then," you say.

Yoongi rolls his eyes though your compliment makes him giddy on the inside. He expects a snarky follow up such as, "What happened?" 

Instead, you say, "Still is."

He tries to ignore the fluttering of his heart when your eyes flicker up to meet his. He tells you to shut up jokingly, because he doesn't know what else to do. Fortunately, you just chuckle at him. You always know what to take to heart and what not to. You're probably the only person who can.

"The day it actually struck me, though, was the first time I let you put makeup on me. Willingly. It sounds silly, I know, but I remember being really hesitant at the start and then loving it."

"Okay, keep your eyes open and don't blink," you say, holding his chin steady with one hand while your pinky rested just below his cheekbone. Slowly, and with practiced precision, you sketch out a dark line with the eye pencil in hand.

"Not only were you really good at it, as everything you did was equally cool yet wholly different, but I liked having the excuse to look at you for so long. Your personal bubble is relaxing and warm." 

Yoongi breathes steadily through his nose, sitting as still as possible on the edge of your vanity bench. His eyes are trained on you, following the natural curve of your lashes, the slope of your nose, the arch of your brow. The way you pull your bottom lip into your mouth in concentration, the way your eyes squint for a mere second in self-critique.

When you pull back, your jaw drops in surprise at your work.

"That looks really nice on you."

"Sometimes I try to put on eyeliner when I'm bored and missing you a little more. It never turns out as good as when you did it, but it's oddly comforting."

He turns to the small mirror on your desk, checking both sides of his face. Slightly blushed, a little glitter on his lids. It's simple, but he digs it. It's fitting to his eye shape and makes him look cool and edgy. He hopes you think so too.

"Maybe it was just being so close to you, but I started thinking about you pretty you were. Your eyes, your hair, your lips. And then I thought about your pretty personality. And your pretty heart. And I sighed and thought, "Wow, this is so nice... I love this... I love... her."

That internal progression was just so normal, it took me a second to realize the epiphany I had accidentally stumbled upon. You were right in front of me - literally. The best thing was that I didn't feel heavy or guilty or upset about it. I didn't mind it at all, because it was you.

And for once, I thought that loving someone didn't have to be hard."

[monsterlovinghours]

More Than I Deserve

So here is the long coming second chapter of my self insert fic. @beetlejuicebeadoll this is for you, sorry about the number of times I said I'd post and didn't.

Tw: mentions of death, suicide attempt, depression. Chapter 1 is here.

The first few weeks in his new digs had been...frustrating. She just didn't seem scared of anything. Bugs crawling on her? She laughed and swatted them off, replying that she had lived in roach infested apartments and this was nothing new. Severed head in the cupboard? Nothing more than a gasp, a press of her hand to her chest, and a "very funny!" Shadowy figure standing in her closet, doors opening and closing on their own, disembodied voices and reaching hands clawing out from the walls? Acknowledged and dismissed, as if she were observing the weather. Not a single scream. Beetlejuice tugged at his hair, growling to himself. What the fuck was this weirdo afraid of?

Finally, when she had had the audacity to laugh at a dark figure skittering across her ceiling, he appeared in her room, hands thrown above his head and scowling. "Alright, I give up. What the fuck makes you tick? What are you afraid of?"

Molly had stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, lips pressed together as if to suppress a smile. "When you know the house is haunted, it isn't scary anymore."

He opened his mouth to argue, then sighed, dropping his head in defeat. "You make a good point."

"In any case, why do you have to try and scare me? Do you want me to leave?" Her voice held notes of earnestness, genuine curiosity. "Is it the house you want?"

"No! No, I don't want your house, goddammit." He folded his arms grumpily across his chest; this wasn't how a haunting worked. "This is just how these things go. This is what I'm supposed to do."

"Why?"

Beetlejuice paused, absently tugging some loose threads from the sleeve of his blazer. It was a while before he answered, his voice still carrying that signature rasp, and yet softer somehow. Pensive. "Y'know...I don't really know anymore."

Molly stood from the chair she had been reclining on, and reached for him. Out of instinct, he drew back, looking untrustingly down at her hand, and her heart gave an odd lurch in her chest. Still, she let her fingertips graze over the back of his hand, his skin as cold and smooth as marble. "Maybe you can just, you know, live here. Well, not live." To her relief, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Its okay for you to just be here. Honestly, I kind of like having you around."

He snickered. "Babes, you're so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown." His posture relaxed a bit as she laughed, and she took his hand between hers, warm palms pressing around his fingers. God, that felt nice. 

"No, really. The house doesn't feel so empty now. It's a welcome change."

Once again, he chuckled, grasping her wrist and tugging her against his side, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "You're fucking weird, kid."

It did take some adjusting; after all, there was a bit of a learning curve when it came to dead/living cohabitation. But once he stopped pushing her out of bed because he was bored and she got used to the smell of damp earth on everything, it was remarkably pleasant. He was an oddly good conversationalist, having been around for longer than she could really comprehend, and would sit cross legged in midair, gesticulating wildly, his expression animated as he told her story after story. She didn't shy away from the fact that he had killed people; but then, by now, he didn't expect her to. "You're not trying to kill me," she explained, "so what does it matter? You're a demon, I expect human lives aren't as sacred to you."

"You know, you probably shouldn't be as chill with this as you are," he joked.

"Mm. Maybe. Death doesn't really faze me anymore."

The smile on his face faded slightly. "Lose someone?"

A pause. "Everyone." She looked up at him, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Why do you think no one ever comes by?"

All was quiet for a long, long moment. “Look, babes, I’m not that great with...y’know, human shit. Emotions.” With a sigh, he settled down beside her, legs kicked up on her coffee table. “But if you wanna talk about it, I’m listening.”

She lifted her head, a soft smile on her face that didn’t touch her eyes. “Careful, or I might think you have a heart in there somewhere.” Her gaze faraway, she spoke, her tone carefully measured and emotionless. “Where I grew up wasn’t exactly a great place. It was a small town, most people were dirt poor. We weren’t well-off, but we were comfortable enough. Grew up just fine. The neighbor kids weren’t as lucky. Their parents made meth and child abuse into an art form.” Absently, she picked at the chipping dark green nail polish on her right thumb, still gazing into the far distance. “When I was fifteen, my older sister had her high school graduation party at the house, and my whole family came. Like, the whole family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins. The whole gang. I was a little shit and didn’t want to socialize, so I snuck out and went for a walk. Didn’t feel like they’d miss me anyway. Turns out the neighbors were cooking up a big batch of fresh methamphetamine that day, and something went wrong. The explosion was so big it took out half the block. My house and everyone inside included.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. My whole family, vaporized.”

“Jesus, kid,” he said softly. 

“It took me five years to really process everything, you know? At first it was pandemonium. The state got involved, since I was a minor, and no one could figure out what to do with me. Too old for foster care, not old enough to live on my own. I was checked out, barely spoke to anyone, and frankly didn’t care if I lived or died, so I literally didn’t give a shit where I ended up. I floated around for a while, until I was sixteen and could legally live on my own. Turns out Mom, Dad, and both sets of grandparents named me in their wills, so I ended up inheriting quite a bit of money. I bought a shitty apartment in a shitty little town and did nothing but marinate in a delicious stew of survivor’s guilt and PTSD for four more years.” There was bitterness in her tone; he could almost taste it in his mouth. She returned to picking at her nail polish, not even attempting to look up at him. “Then I started getting my shit together. Got my GED, took online university courses and got a bachelor’s in library science. Started going to therapy, started talking to people. Got a job. I relearned how to be a person all over again. I even got a girlfriend.” At last, she looked up at him, as if challenging him to say something, or perhaps gauging his reaction to her sexuality. When his expression didn’t change, Molly lowered her head and continued.

“She lived upstate, about a two hour drive away. We met online through a literature forum.”

“Pff. Nerd.”

Molly gave a soft huff of something close to laughter. “We hit it off, I took a leap and asked her out, and we dated long distance for two years. She was the first person I was ever in love with, the only person I’d gotten close to since my family died. Then around Christmas on the third year of our relationship, she was driving down to see me...and she hit black ice and went off the road. Killed instantly. I found out about it two days later because her brother found me on Facebook. Her parents...they didn’t know she was a lesbian. They would have made her life hell if they knew. I couldn’t even attend her funeral.” Once she stopped talking, the house seemed unnaturally silent, as if even small sounds were muffled under the weight of her suffering. “After that, I just kind of...shut off again. I figured I was cursed or something, that I wasn’t meant to be around people. I bought this house, found a job editing online articles, and that is the story of how I ended up being the town recluse at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.”

He was quiet; what could he possibly say? Throughout his long, long existence, he had seen worse things than the life she had described to him...but not many, and not by much. There hadn’t been a single human interaction in the time he’d been here, he hadn’t seen her leave the house except to take the trash to the curb once a week. Yet, she seemed...stable. At peace with it all somehow. There was a current of strength running through her, of fire-tested resilience that he begrudgingly admired. Beetlejuice glanced down at her and saw that she was staring expectantly up at him, as if waiting to see what he was going to say. With an easy smirk, he knocked her shoulder with his. “So...you’re into the ladies, huh?”

Molly was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing, awkwardly swinging her fist to land a glancing blow on his chest. “Really, you dick? I bare my soul, my whole tragic life story, and the only thing you take away is that I’m into girls?!”

Chortling, he dodged her second swing easily, darting forward to perch on the edge of the coffee table. “Can’t help having a one-track mind, babes. That explains why you haven’t fallen for my roguish charms yet.”

Scoffing good-naturedly, she relaxed back into the couch; he was relieved to see her posture ease, her body more relaxed after a break in the tension. “Oh, is that what you call it? Besides, what makes you think I’m only into girls, slick?”

He raised an eyebrow, all but leering at her. “Swinging for both teams, doll? I won’t lie...that’s pretty fucking hot.” He could practically hear her eyes rolling, but she laughed softly. It was quiet for a moment, then he reached for her hand. Ever since she had taken his in her own, he had slowly been testing the boundaries of how much touch she allowed. Hand-holding was fine, a casual arm slung over her shoulder was tolerated, but anything beyond that and she would flinch and ease away. Though, knowing what he knew now of her past, touch must be something she was unused to. Now, as easy as anything, his fingers meshed between hers, squeezing softly and holding back a sigh at the hot press of her living skin against his. “Hey, uh...thanks for telling me. Family shit isn’t easy to deal with.”

A beat, and then she squeezed back. "Thanks for listening." She smiled. "You know, for being a demon...you're pretty nice to me."

"Yeah? Well, don't read into it, babes, I'm just trying to get in your pants."

His eyes followed her as she laughed and stood, lingering with her hand in his for a moment before letting go and padding barefoot into the kitchen, a strange expression creasing his brow when her back was turned. Slowly, at the very roots, the tiniest flush of pink tinged his hair. This wasn't how hauntings were supposed to go. The dead were not supposed to feel, especially for the living. This was unnatural, topsy-turvy, wrong in every way, but even so, he was grateful that she had decided to try that summoning spell; after observing her in his time here and learning about her usual practice (what she called "green magic"), he knew now how outside the norm such a dark spell was. Yet she had called him, said his name with no hesitation. Hell, she had all but put out a welcome mat. For him. The pink in his hair slowly began to spread upwards as the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; not a smirk, a grin, or a disingenuous lopsided curl of the lip, but a genuine smile. Perhaps just being here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 7: Ch 2

Previous 

Summary: After finding Syco, the duo finds an unsettling, new reality.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Syco’s eyes are as blue as the sky. No, they’re as blue as the ocean, and just like the ocean, I could get lost in them. It’s not because of fondness. It’s because of curiosity. They’re mysterious. The longer I look into them the deeper I go and the darker it gets. As we look into each other’s eyes, I remain at their edges before I hit and am trapped at their rock bottom. “No, we’re not. Sure. Okay. We have a common goal. Maybe we’re similar here and there, but we’re not equals. We’ll never be because I’m not and I don’t ever plan to be like you.”

Standing back up, dirt tumbles down his poofy, red-stained pants. “I won’t force you to believe what I see, but open-mindedness is the key to winning this war.”

Going straight into it, “You put nanites into me.”

“I ordered my men to do so.”

“Why?”

“Insurance.”

“How about my friends? Khavas? Why am I not like them?”

“I’m not surprised you have a very good eye. You’re right I could’ve turned you into just another mindless lackey, but I didn’t,” he motions to his head, “Whatever is up there is keeping you from that. The strong win wars, not the weak.”

“Another question. Where are they?”

“Ask as many questions as you want. None of us are currently in any rush, but to answer your question they’re with the Virmus’ current commander, Commander Knox, and the rest of my men fighting the war as we continue on this back and forth.”

“What? How far away are they?”

He tilts his head. He blinks. He pauses. Then, he looks back at me. “Last time we were in contact they were in Quadrant Thirty-Nine fighting two factions. I think that was about four hours ago.”

“Are they okay?”

“Of course they’re okay. I’m mad, but not mindless and especially not heartless. By now Commander Knox, a better strategist than me, should be signing a treaty between us and the other two factions. Both are the weakest factions but protect a pivotal solar system. It has the greatest minds in the known universe.”

“Then, why are you all the way out here? Wouldn’t it be smarter for you to stay with Knox?”

“Commander Knox,” he corrected me before continuing, “You remain to be worried about your friends. They can heal just like us. So, I’m here to increase our numbers with the less impulsive factions, the ones who can actually think before acting. Commander Knox and I could’ve switched places, but his heart doesn’t compensate for his mind.”

I made sense of his words, “You know how to talk and he doesn’t.” 

Before he’s able to reply one of the Tauvoxes that threw Saamuki and me come running up to him. “Commander,” he interrupted Syco. 

“Captain.”

“We picked up another ship heading our way.”

“How long do we have?”

“Two minutes.”

“They’re incredibly fast. They have plenty of fuel to spare. Interesting. Order for the others to beam us.” Now the captain’s eyes move to me and then to Saamuki. “Now, captain,” Syco continued with annoyance. 

With the wave of the captain’s hands, a screen appeared before him and he typed just as fast as Saamuki’s typing skills, if not faster. Neither I or Saamuki get to ask before a familiar feel, a familiar pull, and a familiar tractor beam pulls everyone but Commander Raubtier and his men. Them, on the other hand, salutes Syco before they teleport. 

As soon as our feet touch Syco’s flight deck, I feel an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. The feeling came from both reliving the memory and the unnatural way of moving from one place to another, one dreaded place to another. So, I fall to my knees and struggle to get back up. 

Saamuki looks at him and he takes her worry for the wrong reason. “Your ship will be accounted for once I assess the situation and destroy it.” 

From down below the platform all of us are now standing on, one of the Tauvoxes handling one of the ship’s many computers points out to Syco, “Commander Syco, an incoming transmission from the incoming ship wants-”

“Accept it. I’d like to see the face before I cut it from its body.”

Appearing overhead, a screen appeared. In it, it showed an alien with a crab-like exoskeleton, and guessing from the badges pinned on the right side of his chest is the commander of the now arrived ship. Small tentacles attached to his upper lip moved with every new expression as he worded, “Syco, are you insane?”

“Commander, I know it’s been a decade, but there’s no way you’ve forgotten the obvious answer. You were the one that spread it across the universe, after all.”

This gets a smirk out of the sea creature-like commander. “I’m not playing games, Syco.”

“Neither am I.”

The other commander’s amused face fades. “Then, you’ve truly become insane. Even your predecessor would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

An eye roll from Syco is followed by, “Get on with it, Cala.”

“Syco, stop this right now. You have yet to comprehend the consequences of your plan. End your war or I will be forced to end you.”

For the second time, I hear Syco laugh. “I’ll see you outside, Cala.” With the transmission ended, Syco turns to the captain from before. The captain salutes. “You are now my second-in-command. For now, you will be in charge of keeping this ship stable as I proceed with my final battle with Commander Cala and that Commander Raubtier is ordered to proceed.”

“Understood, Commander Syco, but are you sure you wish to go alone? Commander Cala is said to be-”

Syco places a hand in front of the recently appointed second-in-command, “I am well aware of the rumors and I know most are true. I have witnessed first-hand, but I don’t plan to go out there alone.” The spotlight is brought back to me when he turns to me. “When I defeat the Lords, I will give you back your friends, but for right now something is slowing that down. Help me defeat this obstacle and you’ll be rewarded with time and the rest of your questions that need answering.”

I can feel her eyes on me, so I turn to her. We spoke without words being said. “But I’m coming too,” Saamuki added. 

“I wouldn’t think otherwise,” Syco responded. 

There we were, the beginning of where it all truly went downhill. I was trying to fight against him at that time, but now I’m fighting with him. I saw him as my enemy when we stood in front of each other. I still do, but now, as we’re standing beside each other waiting for what’s to come inside our spacesuits as Cala descends towards us, I’m seeing him as an ally. Oh, how things have changed in such a short amount of time. He orders us while still facing ahead, “You with the blue fire stay behind us. Shoot whenever you find an opening and, human, you’re with me, but don’t get in my way. I’ve been waiting for this rematch with Cala.” I can hear the strain of his gloves as he tightens his fists. 

Cala smashes onto the ship with such a force it causes the metal around him to bend and crack. The quake that came with it brings the two of us—not Syco—to lose our footing. Once I regain it I see that even with the distance between us Cala is massive, easily four times bigger than Syco. Speaking of four, two arms sprouted out from his back. Green ooze was shot out in the process. Cracking his knuckles and neck he lets out, “This is your last chance, Syco.”

The subject replies, “Merciful as ever. No, but thank you, though. I’ve been waiting for years for this, Cala, and I don’t plan to wait any longer.”

“Then, I pray your last moments will satisfy the bloodlust your people have.” Every step Cala takes is another rumble and more of a reason for my heart to race. The crown remains a crown. When his fist collides with Syco’s, the crown becomes a staff. It’s not what I wanted. The two struggled for dominance. Pushed Cala off of him and then barreling towards him, I’m finally able to make the two-handed sword. 

Cala’s fist comes smashing into Syco’s face. If I was in his position it would’ve easily shattered my skull. While his blood drips down the glass of his helmet I swing. Cala dodges it but isn’t able to dodge Syco’s counter. Syco’s fist is sent into Cala’s stomach, causing the two to just be a foot apart. This would’ve made Syco an easy target if it wasn’t for the swinging of my sword. My sword connects with his left arm’s exoskeleton, but when his second left fist aims for me, Saamuki’s blue fire hits him, forcing him to be pushed away from the two of us. 

Grunting as he wipes away the burn from his face, “When did you start believing in teamwork, Syco?”

“A lot has changed since we last clashed, Cala.”

“Is that so? Let’s see how much. Let’s see what will happen when I finally stop going easy on you.”

One moment Cala was ten feet away from us, brushing the aftermath of Saamuki’s attack off of him. The next he’s inches in front of Syco, slamming his knee into my teammate’s face. The attack causes him to fly past Saamuki. As Saamuki tries firing, which Cala dodges with ease, he transforms all four of his hands into blades. It’s a technique I’m familiar with, and one I’m going to get too familiar with. All four of them fly at me. The nanites have gotten me accustomed to the weight of the sword, but not against four times as much. They hurl at me with such a speed my senses can barely keep up with. I’m able to deflect some of them with my sword, but not all. He cuts into my suit and then into me. I see my blood floating out of me as far off in the distance, above us, I see Cala’s and Raubtier’s ships blasting each other. It’s a magnificent light show filled with explosions and all the colors of the rainbow, but one I wished I was farther away from. 

I was able to block his upper blades, but not his lower blades. Frozen in shock as he has the other two sunk into my abdomen, I watch him begin to pull me apart. Moving the sword would land his upper blades into my eyes. He was a cat. I was his mouse. He trapped me in a dead-end, literally. Then, as more of my blood floated away from me, Saamuki defies Syco’s orders. She returns to the fight by coming all too close to him with blue flames encircling her fists and then, floating, proceeds to swing left and right. With glowing blue eyes bursting out of her angry ones she causes Cala to stumble backward, letting me go painfully, and him being unable to counter. His blood splatters with each hard hit. “You are a sin that must be cleansed,” The Speaker spoke out of Saamuki’s mouth. 

Hand clutching where Cala wounded me, a feeble attempt to force the blood that’s yet to spill out of me to remain inside of me, Syco regained consciousness and stepped next to me. “Things keep changing, but they always go back to being what they were,” I turned to him as he continues with, “Can you turn that into a long-ranged weapon?”

“I-I can try.”

“To win a battle you first have to remember to breathe. Focus, human. Don’t ever let your emotions get the better of you.”

He moved as if he wasn’t just hit with a force compared to a truck. Between Saamuki’s punches is Syco’s. Both can hold their own against Cala who seems to barely have weakened. They dodge his blades with ease. They moved as one, moving with fluidity. As for me, I looked down at my sword. I look into the blade lying underneath its fire and into my reflection. 

Breathe in. 

Breath out. 

I tighten my grip on its handle. Raising it, pointing it at Cala who’s too busy with Saamuki and Syco, I watch the sword be transformed into a bow. My other hand touched its string and pulled it back. I can hear and feel it stretch underneath my grip. An arrow made out of fire manifests between my middle and index finger. I can hear it crackling. I can feel its heat. 

Breathe in. 

Breath out. 

Then, I let go.  

[kenzieam]

The Tutor - Chapter Six

Pairing: AU Bucky X Levi

Rating: M (my usual, lovelies)

Warnings: language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse

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Levi the jock needs help in high school and her twin brother, Steve, volunteers his newest friend, Bucky. Seemingly just to piss her off, Bucky accepts but soon realizes there’s more to the Levi than she lets the average spectator see.

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Feedback = Happy writer.... lol

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A LITTLE MORE SMUT; LOVELY, LOVELY SMUT TO MIX WITH THE ANGST.....

This is the second to last installment, stay tuned for the final chapter of Bucky and Lev as soon as I can get what’s floating around in my head down onto the screen!

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One Year Later

Levi stumbled on an uneven patch of sidewalk, checked herself and cursed her lack of awareness. Today was the last day of her accelerated summer courses, she should be happy!

But she wasn’t, she was hella distracted.

Why? Because in the last few weeks, Bucky had started pulling away from her.

They’d managed for a while; speaking on the phone, Skyping every few days, the twins coming home on all the major breaks but, ever since her first year had ended, and Levi had made the painful choice to cut her summer break short to only two weeks before returning to campus for accelerated courses through the summer, something had changed between them.

Even with their attraction, the latent chemistry that simmered between them, it had taken real work this last year to make it all work.

Tired from classes, weary from studying or, in Bucky’s case, exhausted from all that on top of helping care for his sisters and working a side job, it had sometimes been a herculean effort to pick up the phone, or open the laptop, and put on a brave face for the other, because you were both struggling and neither wanted to add to the other’s misery.

Levi couldn’t help feeling a prickle of jealousy towards her brother, not for the first time since they’d began school almost a year ago. Peggy had been accepted to a school in the same city as the twins and rented a basement suite from a couple who were rarely home, enabling Steve to spend time with his girlfriend whenever he damn well felt like it; and so he hadn’t, and probably never would, experience the isolation and anguish Levi felt on a regular basis. Seeing her brother with his love however, was a balm to her soul in small ways, at least Steve wasn’t suffering like her and Levi, no matter how much Brock had claimed otherwise, was not so selfish and spoiled as to deny her brother that happiness.

Bucky had supported Levi’s most recent choice, the decision to attend accelerated courses, something only a few ultra ambitious students did, because it would cut down the overall time of her education; she’d be graduating and available to slavering head-hunters long before her classmates, although in the hindsight currently clouded by recent events and Levi’s new insecurities, she realized that his support had been stoic and guarded, him saying what was right again, not what he’d wanted. It was a calculated gamble, straining the present situation further for gains in the future, but Bucky had forced a smile over the laptop screen when she’d first brought the topic up and, when they’d finally been standing in front of each other again in those aborted two weeks, pulled her into a embrace, pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured what had become her mantra, her fuel, this last year.

I’m here with you.

Had it been a mistake? Because for the last two weeks, Bucky had been distracted, distant on the phone, always with some excuse why he couldn’t Skype her, give her the opportunity to heal under the warmth of his smile, those brilliant blue eyes and Levi had finally narrowed down the queasiness in her stomach to concrete words.

He was hiding something from her.

But what?

Her mind raced with possibilities and, despite having been largely successful in silencing his voice since his death, Brock’s words taunted her now.

Spoiled little Princess.

You aren’t worth it.

Bucky had found someone else, that had to be the reason.

Someone without the baggage, without the literal distance separating them. Why slog though unfulfilling Skype calls, the object of your love right there in front of you but untouchable; fuck, Levi might have well been on Mars; when you could touch someone real, hold someone real? Not have to wait until a certain time of the day to talk, to wait with sweating palms and hope the other had the time and energy to answer? Feel your body coil tight because you wanted the other so badly, but knew you would have to rely on your own hand?

Levi’s mind raced, working through her options, she only had a week before fall classes started. Could she find a last-minute flight? One that left tonight or by tomorrow afternoon? If not, or if she needed to drive instead, it would seriously cut into the time she had to see Bucky, to try and work out what was going on between them. She’d barely get there and have to turn around and come back, not to mention the fact that, as soon as she saw Bucky, regardless of the strange distance forming between them, her body would clamor for him, her heart crying to shelter in his arms again. It would be that much harder, nigh impossible, to drag herself away from him and return to classes.

Could she stand to miss the first few days of second year?

Even as that thought swirled through her mind, she dismissed it. She had left to get an education, to branch out and have a life; whatever was going on with her and Bucky right now couldn’t get in the way of the very reason they were in this position to begin with.

I need to get my head on straight. She chided.

Without remembering the walk, Levi looked up and realized she was already home.

Chafing under the undeniable truths of her husband’s temperament, Levi and Steve’s mom had surprised them both by buying a house, not far from the university, and putting both twin’s names on the deed as sole owners. It made sense, she tried to explain, buying rather than renting, but there was a definite ‘fuck you’ in the transaction, directed at the dead man himself; using a chunk of the money he’d held so tightly to help out the twins he’d fought so hard not to aid in any way.

The neighborhood was old and gentrified, the lots large. The whole place reminded Levi of Detroit’s Brush Park, but well-maintained and loved. Their own house was eclectic, tall and deep, the relative narrowness of the house more than made up for by how far back from the street it went. A garage to the side and large backyard were welcome additions, and Levi had a hard time deciding whether she like the shading trees in the back or the giant covered porch out front to relax on more.

Steve emerged from the kitchen as she walked through the front door, a ready grin on his face.

“Hey, Junior. Last day, huh? What’s wrong?” Even if they hadn’t shared a womb and known each other inside and out, Levi’s face was enough to warrant the question.

Levi considered not answering, simply pushing past her well-meaning brother and hiding upstairs, but her lips parted, and the marrow of her heartache fell out.

“Something’s going on with Bucky.”

Steve shifted his weight, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

Levi sighed, taking off her new favorite thrift store find, a red flat cap, to run a hand through her hair, it had gotten longer in the last year, certainly no less unruly, and she’d put serious thought into chucking it all in for an extreme pixie cut more than once lately, if not for the desire to feel Bucky’s fingers trail through it again, coil it around his fist as he pushed unbearably slowly into her from behind-

Clearing her throat almost violently, Lev shook off the unwelcome and certainly ill-timed thought of the last time she and Bucky had made love, the last time they’d seen each other before Lev returned for classes and forced her attention back to the conversation with her twin brother.

“He’s,” she sighed, pulling off her light jacket and hanging it on the nearest hook, “distant. Distracted. It’s like he thinks he has better things to do, or he’s hiding something from me. Christ, he hasn’t even answered his phone in the last two days; I’ve tried his house, but his mom says he’s working.”

“C’mon, Lev. Are you sure you’re not just-”?

“Being paranoid? Yeah. I think….” She took a deep, steadying breath, because talking to her brother; her steady, reliable brother, was making all the little nagging thoughts in her mind seem too fucking real. “I think he’s interested in someone else.”

Steve snorted, a loud horse-like sound that would have been humorous under any other circumstances. “Bullshit. I call bullshit. Who?”

Levi chewed her lip. “I don’t know, but why else-”

“Junior, you need to relax.” Steve strode forwards, wrapping his arms around Lev and squeezing her tightly. “You’re thinking too much. Go upstairs and have a shower, I’ll order some pizza, we’ll sit down and watch some movies, just like old times, how does that sound?”

To be honest, it sounded amazing and Levi let herself melt into her brother’s embrace for a few seconds, felt him press a quick peck to the top of her head. Steve took a step back, loosening his arms slightly and gripped her chin gently, tipping her head up to look at him.

“No thinking tonight. We’re just vegging out, okay?”

A wave of pure gratitude washed over Lev and she blinked rapidly to head off tears. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great, now go have a shower, you stink like that model glue you guys use.”

Lev rolled her eyes, slinging her messenger bag back onto her shoulder and mounted the stairs, feeling lighter already. “I want the Donair Special!” She bellowed back down as she climbed.

“Gross.” Steve’s voice drifted up.

“Better than that green pepper abomination you like!”

“Veggie Deluxe!”

“Disgusting!”

“Go have a shower!”

Levi entered her room, still smiling. Minutes later, she stepped into the shower, hair piled in a bun on top of her head and sighed in relief as the hot water streamed down her body. Soon the lively green tea scent of her favorite body wash filled the air and Levi closed her eyes, just feeling herself decompress for a beat. Deciding to go the full nine yards, she lathered and exfoliated every inch of her body before shaving her legs and armpits and, while her hands moved automatically through the motions, she let her mind wander, sorting through her chaotic thoughts, chewing them into manageable pieces.

“I love you.” He whispered, watching her face, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Levi smiled back, reaching over with her free hand to stroke along Bucky’s cheek, watching him close his eyes and relax under her touch. Lying on their sides facing each other, sweat still glistening on their skin from making love, they’d spent the last few minutes just existing, lower bodies tangled together, Bucky’s head resting on his outstretched arm while Levi played lazily with his scattered chest hairs, not speaking until Bucky had said those three little words.

“I love you too.” She replied, feeling the warmth of Bucky’s regard as he opened his eyes to gaze tenderly at her, those hypnotizingly blue eyes roaming over her face as if committing her to memory and he smiled again at her, reassuringly, his own free hand coming up to cradle her face, brush his thumb along her bottom lip.

Levi melted under his touch, letting the peace it brought her chase away the shadows inside. After picking the twins up from the airport and dropping Steve off with Peggy at her house, Bucky had taken Levi back to hers, pulled her up the stairs to her room and down onto her bed, kissing her with a desperation borne of months apart; pushing into her willing body with a ragged groan, both losing themselves all too soon in a shuddering release, only enough to take the edge off, before spending the next hours thoroughly ravaging each other, making love and fucking in turns, until they’d collapsed in a boneless tangled heap, no words needed between them until Bucky had whispered those three magic ones.

He didn’t say anything further, but Levi read it in his eyes. ‘I missed you. I’m so glad to see you. This has been so hard.’ and she let her own confessions reflect back. They didn’t speak about the impending future, the fact that they would have to climb back out of this bubble all too soon and face reality, that Levi was only here for a short time and then she’d be flying away again, back to a world only visible to Bucky through the screen of his laptop. They couldn’t, it hurt too much, cast too dark a cloud on their world.

Bucky rolled suddenly, to hover over Levi. Their lower bodies pressed together, he held his upper body up on his forearms and gazed down at her without speaking. His eyes travelled across her features, the expression on his face so intent and serious that Levi had the sudden thought that he looked like he was either about to break them apart or ask her to marry him.

She ran her hands up his biceps indulgently, humming in approval. In an attempt to distract himself this last year, Bucky had started working out in earnest; and the lanky, puppy dog limbs of before were now muscled and defined. Levi would have loved him, did love him, in any form, but to see his new frame, rivalling Steve’s, was a delicious sight and she’d been treated to an eyeful for hours, watching his powerful back bunch and flex with his thrusts, sitting on his thick thighs while impaled on his cock and embraced by the strength in his arms while he’d buried his face in her throat and groaned through his shuddering climaxes. He’d even let his hair start to grow out, seeming to shed the nice guy image of his past, embracing something a little darker and grittier, as if the solitude and darkness of their imposed isolation from each other had become a physical representation, something he projected outwards to succor the sorrow simmering inside.

His grin, in answer to her humming appreciation, brought a new level of joy to Levi’s heart, fuck, how was it even possible to find new levels of love for this man, to fall even further into him?

His hand reached up and, still without speaking, he traced along her cheek, following his fingertip’s journey with his gaze, an almost heart-breaking tenderness in his eyes, his brow creased in concentration and Levi realized he was memorizing her anew, committing her beneath him like this to memory, absorbing every tiny detail of this moment to help him get through the endless, dark ones later, when his body would ache to feel hers and be denied by distance and circumstances.

Finally, his eyes landed back on hers, having trekked across her whole face, and the grin that had faded to a faint, distracted curve of his sinfully full lips shone on her again.

He pushed into her slowly, watching her as he did, inhaling sharply as Levi sighed in relief to feel him so intimately again, her walls welcoming him with their tight warmth. He started to move his hips, slow and easy, holding her close and staring into her eyes. They didn’t speak, hardly made any sounds save for faint whimpers from Levi and quiet groans from Bucky but the intensity and intimacy between them built like wildfire anyway.

Bucky’s thrusts remained slow, languid and almost sultry but devastating in their precision and power, his spine arching sharply with each one and Levi reached down to feel his perfect ass flexing with his movement then scratched her nails lightly up his straining back to cradle his face. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck with a ragged groan, clutching her to him with renewed strength, their bodies pressed tightly together, hardly moving save for Bucky’s measured thrusts and Levi felt her orgasm rise steadily, building low in her belly.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

“Lev,” he groaned. “God baby, I’m there, I’m right there-”

The wave crashed, white heat scorching her, exploding out and she welcomed it, reveled in its power. She felt Bucky’s face contort with sweet pain against her pulse point; a bone-deep shudder running through him, his controlled thrusts suddenly erratic and then he groaned into her hair; a guttural, raw sound as he pulsed inside her, each jet hot and heavy and amplifying Lev’s own release, an infinity circle of giving and taking; scorching passion-

A shampoo bottle crashed to the floor, startling Lev out of her daze and reasserting reality. Her fingers had begun to probe between her legs and pleasure hovered in the shadows, brought on by her memories but her orgasm remained stubbornly out of reach, petulant and sulkily demanded only Bucky’s touch to complete itself. Levi groaned, body tight, and gave up, quickly finished cleaning herself, then stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body.

Pulling on her favorite yoga capris, Levi snagged a black muscle shirt and a hoody she’d swiped from Bucky on her last break then snatched her phone and earbuds off her desk and crashed noisily downstairs. The quiet of her room was not something she wanted to experience right now, the reminders of Bucky in her treasured messenger bag, the blanket that had once graced his bed that he’d given to her after she’d burrowed into it during a break, musing how it smelled so much like him and now wrapped herself in whenever she was feeling particularly vulnerable and missing him. Right now, everywhere she looked would hold some hint of him, and she wasn’t sure she could stand the reminders.

Steve was nowhere to be seen and Levi wandered into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of ice water then gazing absently out the window as she leaned on the counter, sipping it.

Hearing a vehicle, she glanced around outside, searching for the prehistoric Civic the usual delivery guy drove, held together more with duct-tape and Bondo than metal, it’s color, where it could still be seen around the rust, sun-faded and dull. She gently teased the pizza guy on the regular about it and he only laughed and tried to flirt with her, offering a ride in his ‘vintage classic’ before winking cheekily at her and roaring away, decaying muffler blatting obnoxiously.

Lev had seen the guy around in a far newer sporty hatchback, so why he insisted on delivering pizzas in this old thing was a mystery, but it added zest.

She saw no familiar rust bucket, and leaned further, craning her neck to the driveway before the glass fell from boneless hands and crashed into the sink. Levi’s feet skidded on the hardwood floor and she almost slammed into the fridge before reaching the front door and throwing it open.

“Bucky?!” She shrieked.

[incorrect-kotor-quotes]

I just found your New Vegas posts, and I sense a lot of hostility towards Lonesome road. Why?

The core problem with Lonesome Road is that it is, and I don’t say this lightly, the kind of writing I would expect from Bethesda.

Everything happens because the plot says so regardless of whether it makes any sense for the player to do, or in-universe. It tries to tell me how I feel, chastises me for decisions I did not make, and pokes holes in the worldbuilding. The whole narrative and its message rely on too many contrivances to make sense.

“This is your road. When you come, you’ll walk it alone.” The first area gave me a robot companion who follows me for the majority of the DLC and whom I regularly speak to… Wait, was that a pun about ED-E not having legs? I walk, but he floats?

Also, why can’t I bring companions to the Divide? In Dead Money and Old World Blues the Courier was kidnapped, then in Honest Hearts you travel as an employee of a caravan to the new location and they only have one opening. For Lonesome Road, you don’t bring backup because the plot says you don’t. That’s the justification of a lot of the DLC. Everything happens because that’s what happens.

“You had the option to turn back at any time, your refusal to do so put everyone at risk.” Bullshit, Ulysses had access to functional ICBMs and could probably have gone to get the components he needed if pressed. There are dozens of warheads lying around and he knows where the detonator is. Plus, he threatened that he would destroy the Mojave anyway, I wasn’t going to take that lightly and wouldn’t assume he was bluffing.

Even when I wasn’t aware Ulysses wanted components from ED-E, I knew he was tracking me through the robot (and also broadcasting annoying dialogue at me) so I would’ve left ED-E and gone on alone if that was an option. The game wouldn’t let me, because the plot said I had to bring him.

“The destruction around you is your fault.” I (supposedly) destroyed the Divide by accident. The guilt trip rings a little hollow coming from Ulysses, who wiped out New Canaan on purpose. He also nearly wrecked the entire wasteland by releasing the Think Tank and directed Elijah to the Sierra Madre, all of which are messes I had to clean up. Also, I’ve probably killed more people deliberately than I did at the Divide, I didn’t regret those, I’m not going to regret this.

“Ulysses will nuke the NCR if you don’t stop him.” I’m a Wild Card player who’s planning to transform New Vegas into high-tech development center by empowering the Followers of the Apocalypse with Enclave/Big Empty/Sierra Madre tech rather than continue Mr. House’s tourist economy. I don’t hate NCR, but cutting off their biggest supply line so they can’t invade would be doing me a favor, though I stopped the launch anyway because I want there to be less radiation in the world. Ulysses’ plan is based on my good standing with the NCR, and there’s no way to make it clear I’m not working for them, I’m working against the Legion.

“You should feel bad for your character’s role in destroying the society in the Divide.” What society? I couldn’t find any evidence of people living here prior to the nuclear detonations, only the Marked Men, who are all NCR or Legion soldiers, no locals among them. One of the ranger logs mentions a tribal society, that’s it. The only records were from before the war. The Tunnelers might be mutated humans who lived there, but it’s not clear, I thought they were mutant humanoid reptiles like the Lakelurks. Ulysses hates me for destroying a fledgling nation, one that was supposedly the hope of the wasteland, but I know nothing about it and my character doesn’t even remember. He just made up a complicated backstory about how important the Courier and the Divide were to each other, putting him somewhere on the intellectual level of Fantastic.

I’m serious. Please explain to me how “Before you… this is the edge of the Divide. Ahead lies your work, the history you burned in the earth. What you brought to the people here.” and “I read numbers. Sometimes I make up little stories in my head about what the numbers mean.” don’t convey similarly warped interpretations of reality.

“The Tunnelers are an imminent threat to the Mojave, even tougher than Deathclaws.” No, they aren’t. Maybe I’m just that unstoppable, but the Tunnelers were never a serious threat. As for being tougher than Deathclaws, the game mechanics make it clear they aren’t. Deathclaws can tank several hits from the toughest Tunnelers, whom they can easily one-shot at higher levels. The Tunnelers only killed a Deathclaw in a scripted event. And they definitely aren’t any worse than Cazadores. Those things actually can fight Deathclaws, I tested that out at the Thorn.

“The Divide will tear at you.” In Lonesome Road I had plenty of anti-rad drugs, could kill Rawr in two shots, and viewed the Marked Men more as walking sacks of cash than serious threats to the point I took it on at Level 2, making trips between the Divide and the Gun Runners to sell all the loot. The only part that gave me any trouble was that Deathclaw spawning outside a trailer after I entered it. I still killed it.

The Sierra Madre was worse, and developed more effectively from a gameplay perspective. I managed with the right perks and skills, but between the toxic cloud, invincible holograms, shielded speakers, the Ghost People’s resurrection ability, and the crushing weight of those gold bars, Dead Money was full of obstacles which could not be easily circumvented. Where LR tries and fails to convey a feeling of isolation because you have a friendly companion, DM punctuates its loneliness by forcing you to work with allies who would probably kill you if they could, and might try later. Y’all want challenge and danger until you get it.

“You have to sacrifice ED-E to stop the missiles. Can you bear killing him?” I absolutely can. ED-E is a copy of the Mojave ED-E, and the ending slides make it clear the Divide version transmitted all relevant data to the Mojave, something I expected to happen, so I stopped the missiles while losing nothing. There are no negative consequences for me. He’s fine.

“Stories spread of the battle between the two Couriers.” Told by who? Literally no one saw the fight and lived except the Courier. No one goes to the Divide, the Marked Men ain’t exactly chatty. Were there recording devices? Was ED-E transmitting everything? How does anyone else know what happened well enough for me to get a reputation boost? Also, the confrontation was over in seconds, fighting the Legendary Bloatfly was more intense.

“The Courier tore the ancient flag of the Commonwealth from its cables, and cast it over the corpse, though whether done as a sign of respect, or in anger for what had been endured to reach this moment - that is unknown.” No, I didn’t. I killed Ulysses with a .50 explosive round to the back of his head, looted his body, threw his remains down a missile silo, then tossed some frag grenades down after it because he was rude to my robot. His body was in chunks. I went back after the ending to check, it was still there. As for what had been “endured”, Ulysses did not inflict significant physical or emotional harm upon me. I lost exactly one hit point in the Courier’s Mile, you can do the math on how tough the rest was on me. Don’t ever imply I respect Ulysses.

The problem with Ulysses as a character is that he makes a lot of assumptions about me, my motivations, and how I work when New Vegas’s strength lies in providing a variety of options. Avellone wanted him to be the Courier’s antithesis, but there are so many choices you can make he ran into the problem of making Ulysses every Courier’s antithesis regardless of their faction, morality, personality, or skills, and he makes no sense as a result. You can’t have a character who’s opposed to both an evil low-intelligence legionary and a sneaky pro-independence member of the FoA. He’s just a pretentious dumbass who wants to blow everyone up.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #222

Tues Apr 27 2020 [08:12 PM] Wack'd: HERE WE GO. AFTER LIKE EIGHT MONTHS. THE AUSPICIOUS RETURN. [08:12 PM] Wack'd: FANTASTIC FOUR VOL 1 NO 222 [08:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Sound the music [08:13 PM] Umbramatic: huzzah! [08:15 PM] Wack'd: So! We are almost at the John Bryne era, but before we get there, Doug Moench and Bill Sienkiewicz have like ten issues in 'em. [08:16 PM] Wack'd: We open with, uh. Sue Storm giving her increasingly preteen looking son a horsey ride while wearing a full pantsuit and pearls.

[08:16 PM] Wack'd: It's a choice! [08:18 PM] Wack'd: It's weird seeing Reed being playful...

[08:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Franklin shrank like two feet between cuts here. [08:18 PM] Wack'd: This, though. Weirder. Definitely weirder.

[08:19 PM] maxwellelvis: If I were a gambling man I'd say Franklin got kidnapped by Skrulls or something in the night and hasn't yet realized it yet. [08:21 PM] Wack'd: Reed heads out to the library and Ben joins him since he's on his way to the movies. Reed is very insistent they take a train rather than a cab, because he's worried about finances, but also [08:21 PM] Wack'd: *cough* [08:21 PM] Wack'd: IT'S NINETEEN EIGHTY [08:24 PM] Bocaj: There are trains? [08:24 PM] Wack'd: So we cut directly from this talk of personal finances and energy shortages to

[08:25 PM] Bocaj: I remember it going differently but go off I guess [08:25 PM] Wack'd: Nah she did that [08:26 PM] Bocaj: Dang [08:26 PM] Bocaj: Tough love [08:26 PM] Wack'd: In that annual where he nearly traumatized Franklin to death [08:27 PM] Wack'd: Meanwhile, Johnny's out in Jersey doing some racing! [08:28 PM] Wack'd: Johnny you've had like three love interests since then, also she cheated on you

[08:28 PM] maxwellelvis: Damn you, Pavlov [08:29 PM] Bocaj: With Quicksilver [08:29 PM] Bocaj: Like fuck [08:30 PM] maxwellelvis: I've no idea what she saw in him. [08:30 PM] Bocaj: That’s just. That’s sad. And then she cheated on Quicksilver with a random real estate agent. It’s like a race to the bottom [08:30 PM] maxwellelvis: The only rungs left down from there are like, Blackheart and Irving Forbush. [08:31 PM] Wack'd: Okay Sue two things: 1. his powers aren't the only things he's suppressing, he watched you die like 20 issues ago, take this kid to a therapist

[08:31 PM] Wack'd: 2. "So long as nothing traumatic happens" is just asking for it [08:32 PM] Umbramatic: yeeeeeeeeeeeep [08:33 PM] Wack'd: SPEAK OF A GUY WHOSE NAME IS LITERALLY NICK SCRATCH, YOU KNOW, LIKE THE DEVIL

[08:34 PM] Wack'd: Gdi Sue and Reed, you just left to the door to the *Negative Zone open in a house with a child? Next you're going to tell me you leave guns lying around or put cleaning chemicals in easy-to-reach places or don't put plastic plugs over unused electrical outlets [08:35 PM] Bocaj: They’re bad parents [08:35 PM] Umbramatic: they leave guns in the cleaning chemicals with no plastic plugs over them [08:35 PM] Bocaj: You gotta keep your doors to the antimatter universe locked. That’s just common sense for raising a child [08:36 PM] Wack'd: ...HEY DOES THAT DRAWER HAVE A LOCK ON IT?! I WAS JOKING ABOUT THE GUN THING!!!

[08:37 PM] maxwellelvis: It's 1980, Wack'd; childproofing doesn't exist yet. [08:37 PM] Bocaj: Its juuuuuust a flare gun [08:38 PM] Wack'd: Oh so Franklin can just shoot a ball of fire, cool [08:38 PM] Bocaj: When has a child ever killed anyone or burned down a library with a flare gun [08:38 PM] maxwellelvis: Yep. No seatbelts or booster seats in the Fantasticar either. [08:40 PM] maxwellelvis: Unsafe at Any Speed was published in 1965 and I think by 1980 people still had yet to take it seriously. By the Clinton administration, that changed somewhat... [08:40 PM] Wack'd: Lorrie, you're not missing anything, he was gonna spend the entire time imagining you as his ex

[08:40 PM] maxwellelvis: Must be nice to not have to have a secret identity. [08:40 PM] Bocaj: Saves time [08:41 PM] Bocaj: Don’t have to think of excuses or find a phone booth [08:42 PM] maxwellelvis: What's not so nice is having a secret identity, but your enemies know who you are anyways. S'why Rita Repulsa would have been way more dangerous if it wasn't a kids show. [08:43 PM] Wack'd: 

[08:43 PM] Bocaj: “Oh no, he’s become a teenager!” [08:44 PM] Wack'd: "Easy, Susie, you don't know what you're saying! It's entirely possible that is Franklin, he says weirder shit than this all the time" [08:44 PM] Bocaj: True [08:45 PM] Wack'd: Wow. Uh. Probably not a good sign when the murderous spirit of a dead witch is cheering on your behavior!

[08:45 PM] Bocaj: I see the attempted ironic echo [08:45 PM] Wack'd: (Also, speaking of Franklin saying weirder shit than this, the "I like watching you and momm smooch--yeah [08:45 PM] Bocaj: But both situations were creepy so [08:45 PM] Wack'd: Yeah [08:46 PM] Wack'd: So Reed sends Johnny to fetch Dr. Strange as Franklin starts, uh

[08:47 PM] Umbramatic: FLOATING GUNS [08:47 PM] Wack'd: I swear to good I didn't read this ahead of time. I literally had no idea when I said the gun thing that I was being ironic [08:48 PM] maxwellelvis: To be fair, all the locks in the world would probably have done no good with Franklin's power and Scratch's magic combined. [08:48 PM] Umbramatic: Okay, i believe you. [08:48 PM] Bocaj: Hey Dr Strange! Both he and Reed always think they’re right [08:48 PM] Bocaj: It’s gonna be a hoot [08:48 PM] Umbramatic: (i actually do belive you i just had to link that) [08:50 PM] Wack'd: "I could do it. I could leave him to die. I could let Franklin murder him. I would be blameless...and I would be...free..."

[08:51 PM] Bocaj: HAH! [08:51 PM] Mousa The 14: Sue get possessed too? [08:51 PM] Wack'd: I think she's just in shock. [08:51 PM] maxwellelvis: No, I think Scratch just broke the Franklin Button [08:52 PM] maxwellelvis: He shouldn't'a did that. [08:52 PM] Mousa The 14: Tends to be poor form to possess a child right before his mother’s eyes. [08:53 PM] Wack'd: So Strange is out of town, naturally. But as Johnny leaves a redhaired lady named Desadia spies on him, and places a cryptic phone call to a Nick-Fury-looking guy called Gabriel. That will probably be important later. [08:53 PM] Umbramatic: probably. [08:53 PM] maxwellelvis: There's nothing ominous about those names at all. [08:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Desadia is definitely an uncommon one [08:55 PM] maxwellelvis: If her last name is Marcus, RUN [08:55 PM] Wack'd: Back at the Baxter, Reed snaps Sue out of her shock, which, like. I was honestly hoping she was mad at Reed for hitting her? Or something? [08:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Someone should be [08:55 PM] Bocaj: I’ll be [08:55 PM] Wack'd: I get that it's her kid but it's also Reed's and he's fine! Going into shock is not just a thing women do! [08:56 PM] Mousa The 14: How does Hank “has had some head issues” Pym never live it down but Reed “Man of Action” Richards just gets to do this whenever [08:56 PM] Wack'd: Marvel's First Family [08:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Grandfathering [08:57 PM] maxwellelvis: Nobody wants to be the one who broke them up for good. [08:57 PM] Wack'd: Johnny returns and he has a solution which is also the only solution he has to most problems [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Burning it? [08:57 PM] maxwellelvis: FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! [08:57 PM] Wack'd: He just...melts the entire fucking room to slag, yeah [08:57 PM] Wack'd: Because hey, no more weapons, right? [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: God dammit, Johnny [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: I mean yes that’s technically true but [08:58 PM] Mousa The 14: Other people are around [08:58 PM] Wack'd: Then they do what they only didn't do from the beginning because gotta make Sue look weak [08:58 PM] Wack'd: Shove Franklin in a force field and shoot him fulla sedatives

[08:59 PM] Wack'd: Some exceptional faces on Franklin this issue, gotta say [08:59 PM] Wack'd: Though he kind of has a Little Lord Fauntleroy thing going on in that first panel [08:59 PM] Bocaj: Maybe reed should try lobotomizing him again [09:00 PM] Bocaj: Worked out fine the first time [09:00 PM] Umbramatic: reed's face there reminds me of seasons greasons [09:00 PM] Wack'd: We don't talk about Conway anymore. 😛 [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Has Scratch given any indication that he's the one possessing Franklin? [09:01 PM] Wack'd: Not really [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Like announced his presence? [09:01 PM] Wack'd: But they figure they should bring him to Agatha's anyway. [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: So for all they know he just did this on his own. [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: FINALLY [09:04 PM] Mousa The 14: It’s a possession even if it’s not old scratch they know they need a magical solution [09:04 PM] Wack'd: I love that Reed starts this page having a séance around a pentagram and ends it declaring that actually this is all highly scientific

[09:04 PM] maxwellelvis: I just mean why's she second? [09:04 PM] maxwellelvis: "HAIL SCIENCE!" [09:04 PM] Wack'd: Also we're just going to trust this guy who none of you have ever met who just wandered in here out of nowhere, that's cool [09:05 PM] Mousa The 14: Yeah that’s weird. [09:05 PM] Mousa The 14: Like what are his credentials? A single eye and a white streak? [09:05 PM] Wack'd: In fairness that's more than Dr Strange has [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: If he’s not blonde, in a trench coat, with a working class accent then this is not the man you’re looking for [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: Good point, Wack’d [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, but Dr. Strange looks like Vincent Price [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: However Dr. Strange has a doctorate [09:06 PM] Wack'd: A Doctorate Against the Dark Arts [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: Hah! [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Daimon Hellstrom has a pentagram on his chest and goes around at all times without a shirt on, AND his hair goes up in devil points. [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: 🥁 [09:08 PM] Bocaj: Look if you want to fight demons you gotta ditch the dead weight like shirts [09:08 PM] Wack'd: Why was this guy necessary? What was he doing that Agatha couldn't have? Just from a sheer plot construction point of view I don't understand what this man's utility is besides "someone besides a woman fixes this problem"

[09:09 PM] maxwellelvis: I guess we'll find out next issue? [09:09 PM] Mousa The 14: Maybe this is his backdoor pilot for a comic that never took off [09:09 PM] Wack'd: You know what, that seems likely [09:09 PM] Wack'd: He's got kind of a Gary Seven energy to him [09:09 PM] Mousa The 14: They did that quite a bit with the FF if I recall [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Namor, the Black Panther, those are just the examples that worked. [09:10 PM] Mousa The 14: Using the some of the  2 in ones or whatever to help enhance whoever’s book was failing [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: The Inhumans too. [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: @Mousa The 14 Or to conclude a series that was cut short prematurely. [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, next issue: field trip to New Salem! [09:10 PM] Mousa The 14: Indeed [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Speaking of series cut prematurely short, it's letters page time! [09:11 PM] Wack'd: Our first letter is from Chris Wells of Brooklyn, who was apparently very concerned that we's never find out what happened to Dr. Sun from Nova! [09:11 PM] Wack'd: Because as we all know, Fantastic Four would never forget about a plot point involving an evil golden robot. [09:11 PM] Bocaj: Return of the revenge of new Salem [09:12 PM] Wack'd: He also was happy to see HERBIE go even though he didn't hate him as much as he thought he would. And wants Johnny and Dazzler to hang out more. [09:13 PM] Wack'd: The next letter is all praise for Bill Mantlo. Folks...really liked HERBIE's heroic death? Even though it was a relic of a plotline that really never went anywhere and only existed because of a crossover with a book no one seemed to like [09:14 PM] maxwellelvis: And involving a character I thought nobody liked, too. [09:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Guess it's all in the telling. [09:14 PM] Wack'd: Every letter on this page is just "I hated HERBIE, but his death made me cry!" [09:14 PM] Wack'd: No accounting for taste I guess [09:15 PM] Bocaj: That’s what happened with Cipher too [09:15 PM] Wack'd: Adric Syndrome [09:15 PM] Bocaj: Not bill, Doug [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Forced to kill him off, she made sure EVERYONE felt bad about wishing him dead. [09:16 PM] maxwellelvis: How DID Cipher die, anyway? [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Tragic sign language accident [09:19 PM] Bocaj: He got shot with a bullet from a gun [09:19 PM] Bocaj: Saving Wolfsbane I beleive