#pitch benson

[venusdear]

what's with gordon and making his characters like 11 and they've already committed thievery, landed in jail, and BROKE IN

[stillcominback]

✨back by popular demand✨

[unimportant-ramblings]

I think recap podcasts of shows hosted by stars of said show are very tacky but if the pretty little liars girls started recapping no I don't I never said that

[thestarmaker]

I give the pauly shore pinocchio movie a 6/10, it might not have been good but it was better than I expected. I had fun! Mr Shore had the most fun of all!

[naturesapphic]

Hello! I have a request for Olivia. Maybe a situation where reader and Olivia were held hostage. Reader hasn’t been doing good since, with having to witness Olivia being tortured. All week reader would try to remain professional and nonchalant. Olivia knew when reader was masking her emotions, end of week she goes reader’s place. Reader opens the door already in a bad way as she’s been all week after work. She opens up and tells Olivia all that’s in her mind and heart, including how she has feelings for her boss. She starts to have a panic attack at her own confession.

Confession

Olivia benson x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping and torture, mentions of rape, hurt/comfort, cussing

~ flashback ~

You were lying on a gross marble floor with no lights around you. You tried to move around but you were restrained by something. All of a sudden, a bright light flickered on and you looked up to see Olivia on the ground tied up like you. “O-olivia?!” You called out to her and she didn’t respond. You kept calling her name until you heard a groan and Olivia trying to move around. “Olivia! Are you okay?” You asked her and she forcefully turned around and saw you on the ground tied up. “I’m fine. But are you okay?” She asked you and you looked at her as tears sprung to your eyes. “No…Olivia I’m s-scared…” you whimpered out and you saw Olivia’s eyes soften as she saw how petrified you looked right now.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll get us out of this.” She reassured you but that was soon gone when someone came into the room the both of y’all were in. “Don’t make that a promise princess.” The man laughed out as he bent down to Olivia’s face. She glared at him and he didn’t like that. He socked her in the face and you screamed out “no! Please!” He kept hitting her to “teach her some manners” and you kept screaming at him to stop but he never did, not until her face was bloody and she could barley see. You started sobbing and the man walked over to you and started kicking you in the stomach to make you stop screaming. You eventually did so he would stop kicking you and he finally did. He left the room as she gave y’all a sinister smirk which made you feel the chills all over your body.

You looked over at liv and whimpered at how badly he has beaten her. You needed to go over there, you needed to see if she was okay. Your arms and legs were tied up but you managed to lay completely on the floor and start rolling over to her. You successfully got to her and had trouble sitting up but you eventually did it. “Oh livia…” you whispered to her and you leaned down carefully and placed a gently kiss on the top of her head.

~ flashback over ~

Your thoughts were interrupted by fin calling your name, snapping you out your daydreaming, “Y/n! You alright?” He asked you and you blinked a few times to focus on the world in front of you and not memories in your mind that haunt you. “What? Oh yeah…I’m good…” you said quietly as Olivia watched you from afar, noticing how you haven’t been the same since y’all got kidnapped.

~ flashback ~

It was the next day you suppose, when someone came into the room. A scared nurse was pushed into the room and the door was immediately locked. She saw you and Olivia and rushed over to y’all. “Please do her first…” you begged her and she gave you a small nod. She cleaned up Olivia’s face and told you that she would wake up soon. You thanked her and she quickly examined you and made sure that you were alright. She told you that you will be okay, that you just had some bruising and you will be sore for a week or two. You thanked her again and a loud voice called her and she went back to the door and she went out. Someone turned off the lights and the room was pitch black, then someone turned on the heat and the both of you were covering in sweat, and this went on for who knows how long.

~ flashback over ~

You were brought back to a gun being shot near you and you quickly shot at the person who was trying to shoot you. Olivia came rushing to you with backup behind her. “Y/n! What the hell happened?” She said sternly as she grabbed your weapon from you and scanned you over to make sure that you were safe. “I-I don’t know…I blacked out…” you explained to her and she gave you a disappointing look. “You could have gotten killed!” She yelled and started massaging her head. You sighed “I’m sorry…I just got distracted but it won’t happen again.” You try to explain to her but she wasn’t having any of it. She couldn’t take the chance of someone getting hurt or worse, you getting hurt.

“Go home y/n…” she said sternly but with a hint of gentleness to it. Your eyes widen and a look of hurt crossed your face and she noticed it. It hurt her to do this to you but she didn’t have any other choice. “Please y/n go…and call me when you get home. That’s an order.” She demanded and you walked by her, hitting her shoulder on purpose as you walked home in the night. Olivia hates that she sent you home but there was no way in hell you were going to get hurt as your mind isn’t in the right headspace right now.

~ flashback ~

It feels like it’s been years since we’ve been abducted here, but in reality it’s probably only been a couple of days. Everyday we would get beat up and tortured, apparently one of the men knew Olivia. She sent this guy away for rape and child abuse and he swore he would get his revenge out for Olivia. He wasn’t going to take you but he thought y’all were together because the both of you seemed really close, so he decided to take you as well.

You were in and out of consciousness when you heard gunshots and screaming. You tried to stay awake and see what was happening but you were so sleepy… you tried to look over at Olivia but found people around her. You looked up to see munch, and fin surrounding y’all. Munch and fin helped Olivia up on her feet but she was wobbly as she was trying to walk, so munch let her use him to walk. You smiled weakly at her, knowing that she is safe now and closed your eyes, but you didn’t wake up. “No! Y/n!” Olivia screamed out and fin immediately picked your limp body in his arms and ran outside where the ambulance is.

When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. Blinking a few times, you looked over to see Olivia wide awake in her own hospital bed beside yours. “O-Olivia…” you called out to her weakly. “Y/n…hey.” She rasped out as she smiled at you. “Did they catch the people who abducted us?” You asked her and she nodded her head yes as you sighed in relief. “It’s over now y/n”.

~ flashback over ~

You launched forward in bed and looked around the room hurriedly. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest and you couldn’t breath. Since Olivia sent you home, you’ve been having terrible nightmares about the few days y’all were trapped. You breathed in and out slowly and focused on Olivia. She always makes you calm, especially when you have your panic attacks. She was always there since she knew how to help you as she was the only person you trusted and who could help you from it, But a sudden knock from the door made you confused and a little scared.

You got up from your bed with only in your tank top and short shorts, you walked to your front door and open it to reveal your captain. “Olivia? What are you doing here?” You asked her confused. “It’s been days y/n and you haven’t called me at all to let me know you are okay.” She explained to you and you stepped aside for her to enter your apartment. She went in and looked around your place “it’s nice. Seems comfy.” She said and you looked at her awkwardly. “Uh…thanks?” You said and she sighed. “Y/n…what’s been going on with you recently? Ever since what happened when we got kid-.” She was interrupted by the haunted look on your face as she mentioned the incident and her heart immediately broke in pieces at the look you gave her.

“Y/n….” She said and got closer to you and you whimpered out. “I-I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry I haven’t been a good detective recently! My mind won’t stop replaying the memories and moments in my head. I keep seeing you get beaten and tortured!. And while you were unconscious…he came in and raped me…h-he wouldn’t stop! He kept saying how this is going to hurt you…he thought we were together. He wanted his revenge and this was one of them!” You cried out as you kept talking. “Do you know how hard it was seeing you in so much pain? I couldn’t do anything to help you! Watching the woman I love get beaten repeatedly to the point where you were barley conscious and hearing the boys talk shit about you and how the guy who raped me said how he fucked your girlfriend.” You said and Olivia gave you a shocked look. You looked at her with a confused expression until it hit you like a bus. You just claimed to your boss that you were in love with her. Fuck.

“Oh God…I-I’m so sorry Olivia! F-forget what I s-said I-I’m sorry…” you said as you started hyperventilating. You got on your knees and was panting hard. Olivia instantly got down on the ground with you and put you in her strong arms. “Hey hey shhhh sweetheart it’s okay…” she said trying to reassure you but you just kept crying and apologizing to her. She can’t believe that you just told her that you loved her. She didn’t think you were interested let alone love her. She had her eye on you ever since y’all become friends all those years ago and now…she knows that you have the same feelings for her like she has with you.

“Y/n. Sweetheart look at me.” She softly demanded and you sniffled as you looked up in her brown eyes. “I love you too…I’ve had for years. That’s why I’m always so protective and insisting that I go with you everywhere. I’m in love with you y/f/n.” Olivia confessed to you and you swear you could pass out right then and there. “Y-you do? But what will t-the others think?” You said with a bit of worry hidden in your time. She gave you a soft smile and shook her head. “Almost everyone already knows. They see how I look and how I treat you. The only person who didn’t know was you.” She explained as you sniffled and gave her a goofy smile to which she laughed at. She rested her forehead against yours and held your body close to hers. “Will you be my girlfriend Angel?” She asked you softly and you nodded your head excitedly. “Yes of course! Captain.” You said giggling and hugging her tightly.

“Don’t worry darling. The bastards who hurt us will rot in prison for the rest of their life. That’s a guarantee on my behalf.” She reassured you and you hummed in acknowledgment as you nuzzled your face into her neck. She smiled down at you and continued to hold you in her arms.

A/n: whew, 1936 words. I hope the anon who requested this enjoys it! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

[desswright29]

CLASS 58 (Co-Captain)

Pairing: CopShuri X Cop reader

Contains: Reader Crushing hard, hints at cheating (that’s about it)

You pull into the parking lot, in your all black 1967 Mustang, 5:30 am on the dot. The sky was still pitch black and there were only two other cars in the parking lot that you assumed belonged to the instructors. You turn off your car, get out and sit on the hood, taking a deep breath, staring into the sky. Early morning was your favorite. The still and quietness of the morning had always helped you start your day off right. Popping your airpods in, you lay back and stare into the sky waiting for the sun to rise.

 Your mind wondered as “Angel numbers/10 toes” poured into your ears. You could only hope that this was the new beginning you needed. This offer from the FBI came at the perfect time. Right in time to give you a new beginning after you and your wife of 5 years divorced. You had the need to get away. Especially, after she’d taken the son you’d adopted together. Going through this would give you an outlet during the nasty custody battle you found yourself in. You didn't want to take him from her, just for the two of you to be able to co-parent cordially. But, she was making it so unnecessarily difficult.

“Get the fuck out y/n!”

“Baby please. Listen to me please!” You sat on your knees infront Riri, begging to be heard.

“What am I listening to? I saw everything I needed to see!”

“I was lonely, Ri! You're not even affectionate with me anymore! We hardly see eachother. Don't act like you haven't checked out of this relationship!”

“And who’s fault is that? How dare you!? How dare you turn this shit around on me to cover your ass. At least I was trying! I never even entertained the thought of cheating!”

The look in her eyes broke you. The tears spilling out of her big pretty brown eyes, onto her beautiful face. Since you were teens you’d worked hard to keep those eyes sparkling, to make her smile so hard that the dimples in her cheeks would show up. Now she was broken by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, just go.” She seemed exhausted with the conversation.

“What about Amari?” You say in tears. A look of disgust came over Riri’s face.

“You should have thought of that shit before you placed your face between another bitches legs. Right now I don't want you around me or my child. Get out.” She spoke softly, walking away as though it took all her strength to hold her body upright.

You huffed, rubbing a hand over your face. To stop the tears from escaping. You had to shake it off, push the memory back into its space on the back of your mind, and prepare yourself for the day. 

“Today you will have your first P.T. test! It’s purely to gauge where you are physically right now and will not affect your grade. But, if I were you I'd give it a hundred percent! I suggest you don't waste our time or yours. When I release you all, you’ll head from the training building over to the gym and prepare for the push up and sit up segment of your test.” Mr. Kaufman looked over the class as they stood at attention, stern, serious. Making sure he got his point across.

“FALL OUT!”

The class fell out of formation, grabbing the belongings they would need to head to the gym when a voice called out to you.

“Aye yo Y/l/n wait up!” Benson scuffled, catching up to you. “What’s up, boss lady. We get assigned to dorms today. You think we’ll be roommates?”

“Prayerfully, my luck isn't that bad.” You continue on your way trying to avoid conversation not in the mood, however she doesn't take the hint.

“Ahh man you do me so bad. You're gonna love me when this is all over.” The two of you walk inside of the gym and find a weight bench to sit on, waiting for instruction.

“You’re very confident. You should direct that towards someone who won’t ruin that for you.”

“Loosen up, pretty lady. You can't be stuck up the entire six months.” You shot daggers at her and she finally took her cue. Laughter erupted from the other side of the gym, and you peered over seeing Shuri and a group of the guys from the class entering the gym. Damnit was she fine! When she walked into a room everyone had to sit up and take note, and you had to admit it had you intrigued. The girl that everyone would soon find to be the class whore, lingered closely pretending to be interested in whatever was being talked about. Laughing and twirling one of her cornrows around her finger.

“You could look a lil less disgusted by the sight.” You look back over at Benson’s amused face.

“What are you talking about?” You say defensively.

“You look like you wanna snatch Auguste up by them thick ass cornrows for being all up on Udaku.”

“I dont give a fuck about that girl. I don't know her.”

“Yea. Well you look like you want to.”

“Whatever.” You stood to your feet, rolling your eyes, and walking away with Bensons chuckle trailing behind you.

Mr. Kaufman entered the gym instructing you all to place out the green mats assigning you all to your respective lines. You were all called up by three’s for the push-up portion of the test. The class captain being one of the first up. She walked up confidently placing herself in a push up position. Sgt. Sanders called start and you watched Shuri work. Biceps protruding from her short sleeve compression shirt, and veins popping from her forearms and neck. She moved so effortlessly, even with her weighted vest on. You found yourself in a slight trance. She must have felt your stare, because her eyes found yours, her bottom lip curling into her mouth as she pushed them out faster. Your mouth fell open slightly as your mind traveled to places it shouldn't, her eyes never left yours as she put on a show.

“TIME! Damn good job Udaku! You knocked that out of the park!” The sergeant called out. Snapping you back into reality. You finally let out the breath that you never realized you were holding. What kind of spell did that woman have you under?

“I’d pay money to be the mat underneath that woman.” Auguste said from behind you.

You swallowed to ignore the way your body had gotten hot under Shuri’s gaze. A smug smile sat on her lips as she walked past you.

“Good luck, battle.” (Military jargon to acknowledge other military personnel. short for “battle buddy”)

She knew who you were.

“Y/l/n, you're up!”

You sat on your knees on the mat looking ahead seeing Shuri standing in between the lines arms crossed, focused directly on you. You got in position and when start was called, you looked straight forward, avoiding Shuri’s eyes that burned a hole through you. You knocked out your two minutes effortlessly.

“TIME! Udaku’s got some competition! Great job y/l/n!” You found Shuri once again, as you stood to your feet. She stood in the same position she was in before. A small smile plastered on her face as she gave a slight nod in your direction, before walking over to her group of friends.

The rest of the test breezed by. You and Shuri taking the lead the entire day. She left you in the dust on the running portion. She was Olympic level fast. And you were impressed.

“Alright everyone! Settle down. Get to your seats! Great job today. We’re gonna go ahead and release you all so that you can get settled in the dorms. Good news. You all will be the first class to use the new dorms. So only two to a room. You’ll share a a kitchen and bathroom. The bedrooms are seperate.”

The class began to cheer.

“Dont get too excited you dont get to choose your roommate. The list is on the board in the hall. Check it out. Get settled, curfew is at 9 pm. That means toe to line for count at 8:59! Get out of here.”

The class stood to their feet, the chairs squeaking against the floors as they rushed into the hall to find out who they would be spending the next six months with. You stayed behind, pushing in chairs waiting for the crowd to clear out. You pulled out your phone turning it on, checking to see if there was any word from Riri. Once again nothing.

You shot her a quick message before placing your phone back into your pocket and walking out into the hallway. 

You were met with Bensons smiling face at the end of the hallway. 

“Whaddup roomie!” Her face lit up with a smile and her arms spread wide. Your eyes widened.

“No way!” You rushed over to the list, your finger roaming over the paper until you found your name; low and behold your name was listed below Bensons in room 306. 

Your head dropped as you let out a sigh. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love the idea of being alone with me 24/7” You let out a groan. 

“We’re gonna have to set some clear boundaries. Atleast I know what to expect from you.” Benson pumped her fist yelling. “This is gonna be a fucking blast!”

“No yelling in the halls!” Sgt. Sanders yelled from the office. 

“My bad sarg!” She yelled back. You shook your head and started walking out of the building.

“I’ll meet you at the dorm Benson.”

As you walked to your car, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, you felt someone quietly approaching, your guard went up and you turned quickly ready to strike when you came face to face with Udaku herself. Your hand went up to your chest as you let out a breath. 

“Shit!”

“I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you. Wasn’t trying to sneak up, I'm just naturally stealthy…..Like a cat.” She stood in front of you, her smirk showing just a sliver of her perfect teeth, today her hair was braided back, and she had changed into a simple black sweat suit, she made it look like she’d just stepped out of vogue, and It made your body visibly tremble.

She noticed your reaction as her gaze traveled over your body, “Cold?”

“Uh yea. It is pretty chilly.” You say once again avoiding her eyes. 

“Yes it is.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Y/l/n right? I noticed you didn't come get my information after class yesterday.”

“I think I'm capable of listening and getting the same information you receive. I won’t be needing it.” You say, and she smirks.

“The other Army recruit, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“Kind of my job, and I can tell you’re very strong willed, competitive, and prepared.”

“Competitive?” One of your brows shot up, your arms crossing in defense. 

“Yes, I saw your attempt at beating my scores, and though I admire your resolve, you can’t beat me.”  A smirk spread across your face. 

“Is that so?” She nodded very sure of herself.

“It is very much so.”

“Riiiiight Captain. We’ll see.” You say with a salute. She gave a chuckle, the soft sound made your ears perk up, you could listen to that forever, my God was everything about this woman attractive!

“But since you can’t beat me. I was thinking you would consider joining me.” You cocked your head to the side waiting for her to continue.

“You see I need a Co-Captain. And turns out I get to choose. I’ve watched you and think you would be the perfect partner.”

“Oh do you?”

“I haven’t seen anyone more qualified than you.”

“Co-Captain?” She placed prayer hands in front of her, before putting on her best pleading face.

“Pretty pretty pleeeease?” Those intense eyes focusing on your own, paired with her sexy accent had you looking away quickly trying to avoid the blush from rising on your cheeks. 

“Your one hell of a negotiator. Where’d

 you learn?”

“I’d say it was my military training, but that one in particular seems to work best outside of work.” This time you couldn’t escape the blush.

“I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” She said pumping her fist just like Benson had earlier. She held out her hand and you firmly grasp it; The two of you shook on it. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

“Same.” The handshake lingered a bit before the two of you let go.

“That yours?” She said her head nodding towards your car. Your face lit up. Not going unnoticed by Shuri.

“ ‘67 Reborn. My dad passed it down to me. His dad passed it down to him. She’s my baby.”Shuri nodded her head, cocking it to the side, her smile getting bigger.

“Cute.” She said, Your head snapped towards her. “The car. She’s beautiful.” Her gaze lingered on you, and the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. In reality it was only a few seconds. She turned towards the building, throwing a “See you at the dorms partner,” over her shoulder before walking away.

You stared as she swaggered her way into the building. Leaving you with her clean scent lingering and your heart racing.

This was going to be a long 6 months.

Once inside your car you check your phone again. Heading straight to you and Riri’s text thread. The only thing ther was the several read text messages you’d sent over the past few weeks. Including the one you’d just sent.

Ri, I’m sorry. Just let me see him

Shuri watched from the window inside of the training building, as you hit the steering wheel in frustration. You sat back staring at the sky for awhile before you finally placed your key in the ignition and headed towards the dorms.

[the-paper-monkey]

Thanks for the tag @dracopetal!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern

My abandoned fic collection has 3 fics in it, so I'll use those to get to 10 :>

The Diadem: “I don’t understand,” Draco said for what must have been the fifth time that hour alone.

Tabula Rasa: At first, Tom wasn’t sure what woke him.

Caprice: “My grandson, do you see him?”

Marked: The Malfoy boy knelt before him, head bowed, shaking with fear.

The Secret Garden: It was late October and Amy Benson had come down with diphtheria and infected half the orphanage.

Blood: Aunt Bella birthed the child, but that was the last time she did anything one might consider motherly. 

Alley Cat: “Draco. Draco,” Pansy hissed, grabbing his ear when he didn’t immediately turn around.

A Generous Minute: It was 1945 and a most unfortunate year for Abraxas Malfoy. 

Bluebeard: The day before the school term began, Draco dragged Tom to the Quidditch pitch. 

Edible Horcruxes: “My grandson,” Abraxas announced, depositing the child in Voldemort’s arms.

The Travelling Cabinet: It was six pm on a Tuesday when the boy came tumbling out of the filing cabinet.

I added the eleventh to make the trend clearer because what I can see most is me... telling the time in the first sentence ("it was late October", "it was 1945", "the day before the school term began", "It was six pm on a Tuesday"). I did not realise I had so many fics that started with 'it was' 💀💀

Also, Abraxas features a bizarre amount for how much I feel like I've written him (3, 8, 10).

Tagging: @cindle-writes @duplicitywrites @indigo-scarf @danpuff-ao3 @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger @metalomagnetic

[occasional-pyrrhon]

pyrrhon thoughts?

GUAH ok well here's a big post I made abt my biggest headcanons for him and on main @swadloom I tag him on posts and occasionally go on divine madness rants under the #guy tag but aaaaaah here's some more just for you 🤲

He 100% believes all the stuff about justice and heroism that he goes on about and all the crazyass stuff he pulls is justified in his mind for reaching that goal of becoming the most powerful protector of humanity

His eyes glow solid bright green if he's angry or out of it / distressed

I think he would do that thing tiktok boys do where they shush you and wag their finger and trace their jawline but instead of it being a flex on his looks maxing he's trying to channel physical damage to whoever he does it to

I wish him and Pit were a funny friend duo sooooo badly its unreal. Like the idea of him respecting this punching bag angel more than the gods is SUCH AN INSANE CHARACTER REVELATION that could inform SO MUCH about him then two second later he fucked up in space 4ever. Sad! Whatever imagine if chapter 17 opened up with Pit making his way through a big gauntlet of aurum ships then coming out the other end, meeting paths with Pyrrhon and hi-fiving midair. Then he zooms off and only a minute later it's all thrown away for power. Think aboutd it.

Because it's my current biggest fixation: Playing d&d with him would either be heaven or hell. He will come up with some shit the ppl making the rules never prepared for. He will take a random street beggar under his wing and give them a volatile ancient artifact. He will hype the shit out of anything anyone does. He will put his soul in a kua-toa and create a new whole ass god that he puts his soul in AGAIN so he can go party with Primus. He will poke the trap.

Part of an attempted fic I've been working on coming out in 2 million year. But I think he has mild weird psychic abilities that other gods don't have. One bit in there is him trying to learn how to gift prophetic powers but as goodwill apollo its weird and fucked up so that touching his gem just kinda traps you in his adhd mindhellscape for a bit and he doesn't fucking know how to turn it off 💔. Holding together the prophecies with sticks and stones like the spongebob puppet TV thing you know the one. Do I sound insane right now

Sometimes his use of third person upticks if he's trying to reassure himself or if he's less grounded. Which is. Most of the time really but it turns down in straightforward conversation and the like and could be every sentence if he's really out of it

That being said he would use the same dramatic mannerisms that he uses in the heat of battle for like. fortnite vc

He thinks spongebob is bad ass as hell. Chicken little too. And probably Bill and Ted and rainbow dash. And freddie benson. Just the most random ass guys that activate his godly protection complex. You won't be left to toil in the middle any more malcom .

Okay one fucked up one. uhh if/when he returns and gets tentatively accepted back into skyworld, he's paranoid and convinced that people are going to try to send him back to the aurum since he became one with them and in his own eyes can't go back to being who he was. He swings between desperation to return to them and desperation to never leave earth again. He keeps pretending to be confident and unbothered to at least hold on to that part of him, but when he messes up again, and proves he's just as worthless and idiotic as he used to be, he gets that feeling of the path he went down repeating until all that's left for him to do is break down and plead not to go back there, that he knows he deserves it but he'll do anything to make up for it and stay here on earth. Meanwhile none of the others would have a reason to do this, and they have no idea where this is all coming from... though maybe some of them have been there as well.

Gyuhh. Anyways. Once everyone becomes aware of the Problems ppl pitch in more than he expects, and Viridi begrudgingly creates some lil fireproof immortal friendguys, a cat and snake specifically, to be therapy animals for him. This serpentine creature is coiling around pyrrhons arm with nothing but a freak tube body and its force of will!!! And it's sticking its little tongue out awwwwww. I'm split between them having Egyptian deity names or like being the longest most insane gacha 7 star fusion type names that shorten down to like. tabby

I think he would really love insane shitty movies like the channel awesome movies or our drawings or ESPECIALLY the amazing bulk. I HATE DUST I DON'T WANT IT BUILDING UP IN MY HOME was a verbal stim for him at least at some point

His response to asking about his gender is like being a beacon of light concentrated into a form of sun flare and meteor fire all to serve justice through the realms. And like you'll have to roll with that because it's not like you can ask him what's in his pants. Because. I mean

[venusdear]

TEAM SWINDLE, the show

✶  — EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 |

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nobody

CW: Choking/strangulation, whumper as whumpee, guns, brief dubcon and gore mentions, brief gendered slur towards the end

For @amonthofwhump day 11: Strangulation

You can find more Nanda on Jameson’s masterlist

-

He was stupid, really. Just fucking full-on stupid. No excuse for it, no reason, no understandable explanation for what he'd overlooked. Forgetting to check one single room in the enormous house. Losing track of one person for just a few seconds. Not even his assigned target. 

Just one single man in one single room that Nathaniel Benson hadn't accounted for.

One stupid mistake, and now he's on his back with heavy hands closed tight around his neck, gasping for a thin thread of air he can just barely pull into his lungs. 

This asshole, with a face like a thumb that got delusions of grandeur, is going to kill him and dump his body and Nanda's brand new house will go to some chump who doesn't even deserve it. 

"Let… go-" He hisses, but honestly, he doesn't even know if this guy speaks any English. There's no reason for Thumb Face to know it, they're deep inside the borders of another nation across the breadth of the world. But he says it anyway.

It's pure instinct, and just as stupid as forgetting to check that room. Like the guy will just decide to pull back, whoopsie-doodle, guess I'll stop trying to kill you since you clearly don't actually want me to… 

As it is, the guy only sneers down at him, and leans forward. His weight on Nanda's stomach keeps him pressed into the floor, just a few feet away from his gun. 

He could fix this, if he could only reach that gun. Just a few inches too far away. Just a little too far. 

Just far enough. 

Bright white bursts like fireworks flash in his vision, his body pleading with him for oxygen he can't provide. Between those sparking lights, he can see the snarling expression of the man who will soon murder him, his teeth far too white to seem real, sweat beading up on his forehead over a pulsing vein. 

I am going to die at the hands of a man who looks like a child drew him while blindfolded. 

His fingernails scrape and scrabble along the man's thick forearms, gaining purchase but no strength to pull him away. He's already torn long red gashes, but none of it moves the man at all. 

If only he could reach his fucking gun-

His vision grows dark at the edges, heart pounding, desperate to force what oxygen he has left to his brain to keep it working for as long as it can. 

The darkness is growing… 

Who will even miss him? After he's pitched into some dark river and found by police who see no identification on an anonymous corpse? Who would notice when Nathaniel Benson never comes home?

No one. No-fucking-body.

He has a brand-new, entirely empty six-bedroom house with a cleaning lady paid by automatic draft who has never seen his face. It would take a year for the drafts to stop. He has a series of one-night stands with cute boys who come their brains out under his whip and his dick but never want to fuck him twice to show for every time he's tried to find someone with tastes like his own who won't tell a safeword as soon as things really get fun. Phone numbers that won't pick up if he calls. Pretty men who leave when he enters the bar. 

He has a sister who would mourn him, but he only speaks with Sammie once a month or so… oh, and nieces and nephews who might remember him for a couple of years. He has parents who pretend he never existed until he's right in front of them…

Who would miss him? 

Christ, who would even pay for the tombstone? Or even be notified if anyone did identify his body? One stupid mistake and his life stops like it never began. 

Nanda finds just enough air to grunt, but when he tries once more to breathe in, the bastard's thumbs on his windpipe and his fingers closed tight leave no room. 

The air stops in his mouth, over his tongue, sits there like a weight or the name of a lover he doesn't have. 

The guy's wearing a V-neck sweater and when he leans over so far his stomach is pressing to Nanda's chest, he sees a flash of light on dull metal through the growing darkness taking over his vision. 

He doesn't think about it. Thinking is getting harder, it would take too long to think it through. Instead, he pulls his right hand back, jams it up under the guy's shirt, and pulls the gun awkwardly out of the underarm holster he's wearing. 

He's nearly gone, he can't see anymore. His heart pounds in his temples and ears and he hears absolutely nothing when his finger pulls the trigger, once twice three times, the gun kicking back into his own stomach, over and over. 

He's not even sure if he really fired it - or just hallucinated it - until the hands on his throat go slack and then fall away, as the man slumps to the side, half-on and half-off of Nanda.

He coughs as his throat whistles with new breath, head spinning from the lack of and sudden overwhelm of oxygen, laying limp on the cold hard floor. 

The man with his thumb-shaped head coughs, too, but it doesn't do him any good. He'd coughing in a thick, wet way that tells Nanda he shot through his lungs, or at least through one. 

Nanda manages to shove him off the rest of the way, and with agony starting to throb behind his eyes, he rolls onto his side and then onto his hands and knees to crawl to the place his own gun had fallen. The thumb man's gun in one hand, his own in the other, he turns around to face the dying asshole whose hands he can still feel like ghosts clinging to his throat. 

"Fuck you," He says in a rasping, whistling thin reedy voice. "I wasn't even h-here to kill you."

He raises his own gun, a wonderful familiar weight, and fires. 

The man's head abruptly loses half its bulk and now it isn't shaped like anything at all. But the wall behind him is painted a beautiful bright red streaked with grayish-white. 

Nathaniel Benson slowly drags himself to his feet, holstering his own gun, stumbling down the hallway. He checks his watch, closing his eyes as the world lurches around him when he tries to focus on the numbers. 

The target will be home soon. 

He has two hours to clean this mess up if he wants the kill to be according to his original plan. Or, he supposes, he could brew some tea, clean up his fingerprints, and kill the bitch when she walks in the front door after the opera. Or just after.

Let her see her thumb-lover's body, first. Let her mourn him. If she even does. He’s not sure how anyone could mourn someone who smelled so much like beer cheese dip without pretzels.

Still, give the target a couple of hours to discover him.

Then kill her. 

Nanda leans back against the wall, his own sweat trickling down the back of his neck to disappear into his shirt. 

Get the job done. Get home.

And then go find someone who will do anything he wants and still miss him when he's gone. 

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlinthesnep  @thefancydoughnut  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @nonsensical-whump  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp

[mariamariquinha]

Casual - Another Mike Duarte Drabble

It will be the last. I promise. These are all loose ideas and writing exercises because I'm running like an old car - slow but still driveable even if it feels like it's going to explode.

This is dangerous because I started to care.

You'd say it was a convenience of the job, a bonus for choosing street work over desk sergeant. 

It had been a hard chase, one of those moments when you were more instinctive than practical, and when you least expected it, you were on the curb with a guy, him just pushed up against a parked car so he could be restrained, after punching you in the face. Usual. 

You didn't even notice that there was blood dripping from your forehead or something when you arrived at the station - you wiped it with your hand to stop the bleeding. When your captain said you'd better go to the hospital, you wanted to finish booking the guy and any further questioning was for the next day.

At least the act of attacking a police officer warranted pre-trial detention.

The doctor was adamant about the recovery, but he gave you the painkillers knowing you wouldn't take them. Professional experience with your 'type'. It wasn't until you got home, showered and sat on the sofa with a beer in your hand, that you came to the inevitable conclusion that maybe your 'type' must have been out of date for quite some time.

Someone knocked. Insistent. 

Your first reaction was to grab the gun sitting on your coffee table. In the background, a random movie that you barely paid attention to was playing, and your eyes stayed fixed on the door, waiting for the next knock.

It came.

“Who’s it?” You asked. 

“Mike.”

In all the months you've started dating casually, this was the first time he'd come to your apartment. There were always motels, his apartment, under the justification of being more practical, which was true. 

It was past eleven, he certainly had other occupations besides showing up, without warning, at her house. And without calling over the intercom.

Maybe that instant chock, the fact that you waited long enough to answer, made him grow impatient. 

“... I'm going in anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you will.” 

And he did. 

Duarte didn’t look around in search of anything inside your apartment, nor did one of that arrivings from a lot of politeness. You certainly had stopped caring so much about this type of behavior a while ago.

“Any chances of telling me what happened?” He stopped in the middle of your living room, hands on his hips. 

“You wouldn't come here if you didn't know that,” You adjusted yourself in the couch with discomfort, ready to sip more of your beer. “How did you get into the building?”

“Is this relevant?”

“I like to think it's not that easy to get into my apartment.”

He wet his lips, rubbed his chin and shrugged, like a mischievous boy caught in the act.

“I showed the badge to your neighbor, Mrs. Hastings. Said it was a professional matter.”

“You’re unbeliviable.”

“You wouldn't let me come any other way.”

Well, that... makes sense. Fuck. 

There was a small smile playing on his face with your silent admission, and shortly afterwards Duarte went into your kitchen and fetched himself a beer, making himself welcome at your side.

“Beer seems to solve most of our problems,” He muttered. 

“The doctor told me to stop.”

“Why?”

“Eh,” You shrugged. 

There were a few questions you wanted to ask there, in the pitch black of your living room, but you made sure you did your best. You wanted to ask about the Benson case, about the whole BX9 situation, because he was definitely wasting precious time while he was there with you. 

Also, who were you kidding? Your ego was particularly bruised for making such a reckless decision as if you were an amateur professional. It wasn't the way you should have handled things and it made you feel bad.

“I lost Muncy,” Because you certainly didn't want to talk about your situation, so Mike brought up his. 

You pondered the information silently, staring at the TV and movie knowing he was doing the same.

“Benson?”

“Mm-hm.”

“The Manhattan SUV is good.”

“I know.”

“And she’s a good detective.”

“It sounds very rehearsed,” He pointed out and that made you look at him. “When we worked together, you didn’t talk much.”

Mmphf. 

“... I’m not a fan, is all.” 

“Are you not a feminist?” It was obvious that Duarte was teasing you, but you still rolled your eyes.

“Is that why you came? To ask my opinions about Muncy?”

“You don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Of course not,” You got back to the TV, a touch offended. “Just because I agree with feminism, doesn’t mean I need to like all the women in the world. You can dislike a cop but admit they’re good at what they do.”

“As it happened to me.”

Which was also true. You didn't want to assume how those concepts got lost along the way, how his bullshit got more tolerable, or how the two of you became more in tune. And he knew it. He always knew everything. 

“I'm not a walk in the park either,” You said after a time, not daring to see his reaction. 

He didn’t say anything for a good amount of time. Just when the silence was full settled, though, he decided to open his mouth. 

“Don’t do that again.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, shaking your head and then pursing your lips to prevent something stupid coming out. Him, on the other hand, seemed more determined, squirming in the couch to turn fully at you. 

“... I needed to catch the guy an-”

“I wasn’t talking about it,” He interrupted. This time, you two stared at each other and perhaps that was the closest you've come to seeing him with no intentions of pissing you off. “You should be careful about it too, but that’s not what I meant.”

“So what do you mean?”

“I heard from a former Captain I had that the more experienced we get in the profession, the more we become those people who react to robberies. As if we suddenly switch sides and relive every day on the other side of the spectrum of what we once were.” 

He touched your shoulder.

“Everyone makes mistakes. We’re not the fucking Robocop or whatever.” 

“But?”

“No but. I wouldn’t lie, especially because you would know if I did.”

That made you smirk, just as he did right after. When silence hung in the air again, he narrowed his eyes and came to a considerable conclusion, one that made him raise his eyebrows in defeated acceptance.

“It's not just casual, is it?”

Because a casual thing didn't go that far. Because he wouldn't say that to you or be there if it weren't for a feeling of care that went beyond the limits of that casuality.

“No.”

And with that, you leaned over to the coffee table, put your gun away and picked up the TV remote, handing it to him before making yourself more comfortable on the couch.

“We can watch your Indiana Jones.”

“Who said I like Indiana Jones?”

“I stalked your mother on Facebook.”

He laughed. As the opening credits of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom started to roll, you hoped that was enough for him to know that it was your way of saying that, in fact, it wasn't a casual thing.

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

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@the-hinky-panda

@annetje

@bullet-prooflove​

@seaweeden

[day0walkersdrafts]

They’d upgraded from the supply closet.

Not that his room on base is all that luxurious. It’s tiny, the bed’s a fucking twin and the paint on the walls is chipping a little. He’d forgotten to clean before she got there, so his clothes are still strewn about haphazardly, waiting for a Staff Sergeant to come by and scream at him for it. The stereo he’d managed to smuggle on base with Benson one night (bless the fucking guy, he’d do anything for a free pack of cigarettes) was the only noteworthy part of the room. In his opinion anyway.

The CD’s were stacked lovingly on top of it, in a very specific order. And he slides a case off to hold it up to her.

“Hybrid Theory,” he says, throwing her a smile over his shoulder. “My freshmen year repeat.” Then he shuffles the CD’s a little more, picking up a case. “Or, Weezer. By Weezer.” He turns then with the CD’s in his hands. Lark had been focused looking at the music, but looking at her on the bed completely spools whatever thoughts he’d had into shredded ribbons floating away from him. He holds up one more CD case. “Smash by Offspring, too.”

“You were a very angsty teenager, huh?” She’s laying there in one of his Shadow shirts. The thick cotton kind that he’s supposed to wear on off days; regulation black and stiff. It fits on her differently than him, and she’s comfortably tugged it up a little too to show off that little tattoo underneath the swell of her breasts. His eyes linger there before falling lower. She’d not put any pants back on, just her underwear.

They’d had sex an hour ago and she was still there. In his room. Still listening to him take her through every album that he could reference as points in his life. I listened to this band when my boyfriend broke up with me. I listened to them when I got kicked out. This was a CD I was allowed to have in jail. And she’d listened to him, humming with delight if she knew the band. Commenting on those she was interested in; picking out a playlist because the stereo could switch between three CD’s.

She’s still there. And it makes his heart flip a little in his chest. Lark puts the CD’s down on the stereo. It causes some of them to slip a little, nearly fall off, but he’s crossing to the bed now.

“I’m still kind of angsty,” he admits, with a playfully dark grin.

“Kind of?” She teases back and it makes Lark wrap a hand around her ankle. She gives him one warning arch of an eyebrow and then he yanks. She makes a squeak of a sound that’s high pitched and pretty. He pulls her down more—she feels like nothing its so easy to pull her toward him. He watches that shirt hike up higher and higher, sits just perfectly to obscure more of her skin. Matilda’s arms wind back above her, spine lifting a bit from the bed as she adjusts for comfort. Or to make him insane.

She’s good at doing that. Does that a lot. Teases him until he has to pin down her hands, or hold her arm behind her back and kiss her shoulder and get a little rough with a thrust. She’d not expected him; he relished in that, because sure, it wasn’t obvious he could be like this in bed. Lark knew he looked soft—knew most people found him cute and endearing and sweet. And Lark had liked flipping Matilda over on the bed and pulling her hips back and kissing her spine.

At the end of the day, though, he’s still bludgeoned by her.

Lark moves until he’s kneeling at the end of the bed and hooks a leg of hers over his shoulder. He kisses beside her knee, glancing toward her and grinning against her skin. Matilda’s hand floats up, soothes back his black hair. She bites her lip in that way, that fucking way. His mouth moves a hungry, but slow pursuit over her thigh. The warmth of her body makes his feel painful.

He thinks she’s going to break his heart; that it’s inevitable. Because, he likes her. Not a small amount, not an easy feeling to ignore or tuck away. She’s not a distraction for him the way he might be for her. Lark likes listening to her talk, likes asking her questions about her art, likes getting to see her smile, likes stealing things for her that even money can’t buy on base. He likes losing sleep to make sure no one on base ever fucking bothers her.

He doesn’t know how much of him she might like. If it’s just the way his arms are stronger than they look and can hold her body close in an embrace, devouring her with a kiss that makes them both pant. Or if she actually likes listening to him talk about music, isn’t just indulging him--if there are things she gets caught up on, when looking at him the way he does looking at her.

Larks teeth finally touch the fabric of her panties, tug them a little bit as he looks up at her. Matilda’s beautiful pale face has gone slightly pink in expectation, in anticipation of where his mouth will go next and—

A hand bangs at the door. It makes Lark jump—it makes Matilda jump too, her heel accidentally colliding against his shoulder and sending him backward. He scrambles up from the floor, his heart racing into his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispers, turning to her and yanking the blanket to cover her, tuck it around her as she looks at him with giant eyes.

“Tanaka!” He pauses entirely when he hears the voice. Lark’s hands are fisted into the blanket, looking down at Matilda. It’s a shame those pink cheeks are going to waste. “W-Why is your door locked, man?” His body sags forward, hands catching and bracing themselves on the mattress as he shuts his eyes.

“Why are you trying to get into my room, Benson?”

“Wh-Why? Jacking off? Oh fuck, you are, aren’t you? You try that trick I told you? Sitting on your left hand ‘til its numb?” Matilda’s nose scrunches in disgust (still manages to look pretty doing that too) and Lark slowly puts his forehead down on her shoulder.

“Benny, what the fuck do you want, dude?”

“Corporal says we gotta do smoke tests with Unit Six. Sink’s out until his st-stupid wrist isn’t broken.”

There is an irony to Xavier inadvertently getting in the way of his time with Matilda. I’m not letting him sneak off to find that fucking medic next time we’re in field, Lark thinks sourly as he pulls back from Matilda. He kneels on the bed a minute. She looks up at him, with a smirk of an expression. His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing over her lower lip.

“Are-are you still jack—”

“Ben, I will be out in a fucking second, relax!” He waits a beat to see if Benson will say anything else awful before leaning back down. Lark’s still holding her cheek when he mumbles to her. “You can stay here, if you want.” Her eyes narrow a little, almost suspiciously—and he likes that about her. Wants to tell her he does, but is afraid it’ll come out wrong but, it’s that she is suspicious about him at all that he thinks shes fucking brilliant. Sometimes she tangles him up so easily, he forgets where he is, what this place is.

Matilda never seems to forget, and he appreciates her. Keeps him sort of grounded too.

“You want me to just lay here, bored, while you go ‘smoke test’.” She makes quotations in the air with her slim pretty fingers. He grins crooked and reaches under the bed until his hands find the iPad he’d gotten jailbroken by Nomi.

“Smoke tests are when you—actually, listen,” he plops it onto the bed. “You don’t need to know what smoke tests are, they’re not as fun as they sound. Just—if you wanted to stay here, while I’m gone.” Lark pulls back, slides from the bed. He stands there for a moment before he reaches for the shirt she’d almost torn off him when they’d gotten into the room. “You could. I’d like if you did.”

Matilda puts a finger on the iPad and slowly slides it her way. Her pretty eyes are lidded, aloof. But she smiles, underneath that all. It’s a real smile too. Lark darts in to plant a kiss on her knee before he tugs his jacket off the desk chair. When he opens the door (and shuts it behind him very quickly) Benny is standing in the hallway.

“Works li-like a charm right? Ol’ numb left hand?”

—

It goes on for longer than it’s supposed to. Smoke tests are easy; it’s just an assimilation of another teams patterns. Stiles team is supposed to mimic Unit One, supposed to fall into line with theirs and mesh. But Shadows rarely ever mesh well. As good of a Sergeant as Stiles is, as fantastic as she is, actually; heads butt non stop. Benny gets into a fight with Anderson and Xavier has to pull them apart by their scruffs like mange ridden dogs. Lark can’t get a response on comms from Fontaine because Fontaine’s a piece of shit.

And Xavier’s anxious; that energy rolls off him, permeates the entire training. Switches himself from boot to boot, gets testy quicker than usual, gets mean faster too. Yells more than he should, aggravates Stiles into telling him to quiet down. It’s a miserable event that leaves every operator stormy as they walk away.

It’s because he wont be in the field. Lark walks the long hallway to the private side of the base. Wont be able to find that medic. Wont be able to keep him safe. He pauses in front of his door. For some reason, Lark imagines Matilda on the field. He thinks of concrete splattering up from sniper rifles and he thinks of gunpowder residue that sticks to the skin and doesn’t come off for days. The smell of blood. It makes his stomach turn over and he puts the key to his room in. Wonders if its better to find her there or not and knows which one is right and which one his heart wants.

When he gently opens the door, just wide enough for him to slip in, he’s shocked to find the lights off. Lark stumbles a little bit in the dark, getting the door locked behind him.

“Hm?”

Her voice makes his heart skip over a beat, the rhythm coming undone and picking up speed and tempo.

“Just me,” Lark says softly into the dark of his room. He can barely make out the figure of her in his bed. She’s sitting up slightly and then hearing his voice, settles back down. He stands there for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to do until he finally sits at the desk and begins unlacing his boots. He’s slow about it, like he’s trying to put his thoughts together and can’t. His mouth feels so dry for some reason. The drills had been long and hard but Xavier had been a fucking dog about refilling canteens.

When he finally gets his boots off, his shirt comes next. Then his tactical pants. Lark slowly kneels on the bed. It’s a twin, but she’s slim—they’re both slim. And she’s turned onto her side, tucked closer to the wall.

“You said I could—”

“Yeah,” he replies quickly. Then he clears his throat. His hand finds her thigh, drags up her waist. “Yeah, no—I mean, yes. I wanted you to stay.” Her laugh is such a gentle sound in the darkness. He slowly lays down beside her and as he does, she turns to face him. One of her long legs hitches up over his hip and pulls his body toward her. Lark’s sore, will probably be sore for a few days, from all that running, climbing, jumping, arguing, feeding off Xavier’s horrible anxiety about his medic. Lark’s anxiety about his—her.

“I was having a cool dream,” she mumbles, sleep still in her voice. Sleep more. Safe here.

“Was I in it?” He laughs, bringing an arm around her ribs, smoothing a hand down her lower back. He feels her shiver. Bundle closer.

“We were at the beach,” she starts, sighing content in her half sleep. We. Lark listens to the rest of it, listens to her voice dwindle to nothing but breathing as she falls asleep again. He should sleep too; he has to be up early, has to report in for hanger duty because they don’t actually have enough flight staff and Benny had volun-told him to work alongside him. He should sleep because he’s tired, and he needs it, but he’s been good at putting off sleep for her. Makes her mad that he does; makes her snap a little at him and he likes it because it means shes feeling something for him. Even if it’s annoyance.

—

The next time they’re in the field, Xavier looks at Lark with raised brows. For a red head, he has these oddly defined, dark brows, expressive with them. His hair isn’t that sort of ginger orange glow, but this real deep, almost amber color that seems unnatural in genetics. Reminds Lark of the dyed hair Matilda had before she’d been made to subdue her personality the way they all did for the Shadows.

“Give me like—” Xavier hunches closer, big green eyes docile in a way he never looks. His comms are switched off, he’s tugging at his tactical mic to give it the slip. “Like not even half an hour.”

You could stay, he’d told her. And she had—and it had become sort of regular. Not all the time, but Lark didn’t go to sleep alone all that often anymore. He looks at Xavier, that nervous sort of pinch to his face that means he’s worried as much as he is excited—because it havdn’t been his Extraction Unit running these last couple weeks, had it?

“Tell him he fucking owes me,” Lark says in a flat voice and Xavier doesn’t even wait for the full sentence to get out before he’s skidding around the corner of a building. Lark stands there, looking out the vantage point they’re posted at. 

He tries to find a song to sing, in his head, shuffles through the old routine of finding a melody first to hum; but his brain is full of a conversation instead, one he’d had with her before leaving. Something mundane, but he settles on thinking of her voice instead. Hums not a tune, just a hum as he remembers the tuck of her hair behind her ear almost slipping out, a strand that would fall gracefully and touch her collarbone if it did.

[nazrigar]

Thank you for your answers! But if you don't mind, I would like to ask a few more questions: 1) Have you thought about who could voice your characters? I can think of at least one candidate - Jodi Benson for the role of Petra! Kill me, but I can't stop imagining that cute little lamprey singing Part of Your World x) 2) I realize this is a spoiler, but I can't help it - should we expect art with Kara hugging someone? That would be the most beautiful thing in the world. 3) How does the mermaid and werebeast community feel about such an unconventional relationship? Carroll wouldn't scold her daughter for falling in love with a girl? 4) In the comics you mentioned the werebeasts' belief in God. What is the situation with religion among the sea people? 5) Finally, I want to clarify. Do werebeasts' clothes transform with their bodies? Or do they always wear extra kits in case they transform?

Hiya there Anon! Liking the enthusiasm!

To be honest, not too much, as how a character voices can change depending on the character's journey and development! For example, while Jodi Benson is excellent, Petra's voice would be a quite a bit higher pitched, as a reflection of her youth.

Unfortunately can't reveal my plans just yet. xD

Urvara as a whole is very much accepting of LGBTQ+ relationships. Werebirds being the most famous for such pairings. Again, can't reveal too much about Kara's relations. Spoilers!

The most common Merfolk faith is a form of Pantheism that simply worshes a Goddess. Everything from the sands of the seabed to the clouds of the sky is considered an expression of her, even if not literally her.

Clothes transform with their bodies, and are only restricted by how much a body part is restrained etc. For example, when using plate armor, make sure your armor has maximum movement as possible. That way you, a wererhino, can turn from "heavilly armored guy" to "walking tank that shrugs off 18th century musket rounds". Kits are available when you need an entirely different skill set from the current garb you're wearing.

[sailorsally]

I doubt Misha would say no. But I HOPE he would if the pitch was really that bad. (Incredible that I still have hope, isn't it? After all that, a part of me still thinks "maybe it won't be that bad.." How dumb am I?) I will use the example of Amber Benson. She played the lesbian character Tara in Buffy. Fans were MAD when she was killed off. So hurt in fact that when the tbt asked her to return for an insulting cameo in the final season, she declined. She cared more about the fans than the job.

well, one thing that’s good about Misha is that that man can and will listen. I think he knows well enough by now that the fans won’t settle for shit. And if he needs reminding, I’m sure people will remind him.

[girlofprey7]

Ok so I said in a previous post that I’d talk about what my ideal cast of VA’s for the Mario movie would be, so I came up with afew ideas:

Luigi and Mario- good old Charles Martinet, there is literally no one else that I can picture voicing them.

And yes they will have beautiful and adorable Italian accents because FUCK YOU ITS WHAT THIS FILM DESERVES.

Bowser- Jack Black can stay, but I would pitch his voice down just a little more, and then it would be perfect. Plus I guess we gotta have at least one celeb in here for marketing.

Peach- peach’s voice was probably the hardest for me to choose from. But I came up with a lot of great voice actresses that can do a classic high pitched princess voice: Jodi Benson, Tara strong, Laura Bailey, Hynden Walsh, etc.

Toad- I also have quite afew ideas on who could voice toad. Keagan Michael key is doing a decent job, but I feel like he could be a little more raspy and higher. I think Michaela Dietz would be really good considering how well she did in distant lands, or even Richard Horvitz.

Donkey Kong- Patrick Warburton would fit DK 100%, Seth Rogens got nothing compared to Kronk.

I’d keep Kamek the same because Kevin Michael Richardson has amazing range and is qualified.

I’ll prob do a part 2 (;