#rippers resurrected

[veesunderthetree]

Rippers - Sweet, sweet revenge

**English is not my main language, please forgive my mistakes*** Thump. The rhythmic sound of fists against a wall. Thump. Thump. The pungent smell of blood. The obscene sketch on the wall, a stain around the remains of a mangled head on a body. A red rose that blooms, blow after blow after blow. Thump. Thump. His knuckles now crimson against the brick wall. Leather gloves cutted, torn, worn. A furious, primitive and hoarse cry is lost amid the crackling of the flames. Satisfaction. Empty, bestial satisfaction.

Thump. Thump. “Should we stop him?” Bly's is the only whisper in a multitude of held breaths. All the companions are observing the violence of the masked man against the now lifeless body. While the leather suit tightens following the wriggling of the underlying muscles, no one dares to intervene. Everyone maintains the necessary distance, just as a deferential God maintains that distance from his faithful. Thump. Thump. "Do you want to go there?" Sir Grayson is the only one to respond with a low, deliberate grunt. He is intently observing the silver plating of his lighter. "It's revenge for him." Thump. Thump. Bly would sell his soul to agree with the old man, but he can't take his eyes off the scene even an inch. He feels his gut twisting violently and that animated tangle that is his mind take shape around an image - a roar of applause, a man with his face covered, with his own voice, the shrill laughter and a flash of bared teeth in a smile. Monocle rejoices, kicks and crackles like an animal excited by the massacre. Thump. Thump. Felicita passively digs into her bag without focusing on any visual detail, her nose almost pointed at the ground. The glow of the flames shines on her golden glasses and her feminine profile, illuminating her worried face with terrifying clarity. Thump. Thump. Hubert at her side breathes as if he is marking time, the sure rhythm of someone who has already experienced that fragment of life. His chest rises and falls regularly without a quiver, while his hand reaches out to Felicita's shoulder. Bly looks at him dumbfounded, without understanding how the massive man can remain absolutely indifferent in front of that macabre spectacle. Then, he notices his feet. The more Yurei delves into the bloody remains of his prey, the deeper his boots dig into the ground. It is not the weight of the man that leaves footprints on the pavement - if anything, it is the will of the earth that leaves furrows on the man. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thu-

There is nothing left to break down. With a gesture of pure anger, Yurei throws the rest of the corpse to the ground, releasing a muffled bark. No part of his body is exposed, his figure completely shrouded in layers of black leather, fabric and tarpaulin. Yet, Bly has the impression of being able to see behind the clothes and behind the dark mask - a body marked by burns, a contorted face. The narrowed blue eyes, the lips tensed in an exposed grin. A demon as a lone avenger. A madman who he chose to follow. With a sob, the doctor feels his heart sink into his chest. He lowers his head, hoping to escape judgment. If not to that of others, at least to his own. And he curses whatever God made Yurei what he is.

______________________________________________

Tump. Il rumore ritmico di pugni contro ad un muro. Tump. Tump. L'odore pungente del sangue. L'osceno schizzo sulla parete, una macchia attorno al rimasuglio di una testa maciullata su un corpo. Una rosa rossa in continua fioritura, colpo dopo colpo dopo colpo. Tump. Tump. Le nocche ormai vermiglie contro il muro di mattoni. Guanti di pelle ormai sfondati, consumati, lacerati. Un grido furioso, primitivo e rauco si perde in mezzo al crepitare delle fiamme. Soddisfazione. Vuota, bestiale soddisfazione. Tump. Tump. "Dovremmo fermarlo?" Quello di Bly è l'unico sussurro in una moltitudine di respiri trattenuti. Tutti i compagni stanno osservando la violenza dell'uomo mascherato contro il corpo ormai esanime. Mentre la tuta di pelle si tende seguendo il guizzare dei muscoli sottostanti, nessuno osa intervenire. Ognuno mantiene la debita distanza, come un Dio deferente mantiene quella dai suoi fedeli. Tump. Tump. "Vuoi andarci tu?" Sir Grayson è l'unico a rispondere con un basso, deliberato grugnito. E' intento ad osservare attentamente la placcatura d'argento del suo accendino. "E' la sua vendetta." Tump. Tump. Bly venderebbe l'anima pur di dare ragione al vecchio, ma non riesce a distogliere lo sguardo di un centimetro dalla scena. Sente le budella torcersi violentemente e quell'animato garbuglio che è la sua mente prendere forma attorno ad un'immagine - uno scroscio di applausi, un uomo a volto coperto con la sua stessa voce, la risata stridente ed un baluginio di denti scoperti in un sorriso. Monocolo gioisce, scalcia e screpita come un'animale infervorato dal massacro. Tump. Tump. Felicita scava passivamente nella sua borsa senza focalizzare nessun dettaglio visivo, il naso quasi puntato a terra. L'ardere delle fiamme risplende sugli occhialetti dorati e sul profilo femminile, illuminando con terrificante chiarezza il suo volto preoccupato. Tump. Tump. Hubert al suo fianco respira come se stesse scandendo il tempo, il ritmo sicuro di chi ha già sperimentato quel frammento di vita. Il petto si alza e si abbassa regolarmente senza un fremito, mentre la sua mano si allunga sulla spalla della compagna. Bly lo osserva interdetto, senza capire come l'uomo massiccio possa rimanere assolutamente indifferente davanti a quel macabro spettacolo. Poi, nota i suoi piedi. Più Yurei scava nei rimasugli insanguinati della sua preda, più i suoi stivali scavano profondamente nel terreno. Non è il peso dell'uomo che imprime impronte sul selciato - semmai è la volontà della terra che lascia solchi sull'uomo. Tump. Tump. Tump. Tu- Non c'è più nulla da sfondare. Con un gesto di pura rabbia, Yurei scaraventa il resto del cadavere a terra, rilasciando un latrato soffocato. Nessuna parte del suo corpo è scoperta, la sua figura completamente avvolta in strati di pelle nera, tessuto e tela cerata. Eppure, Bly ha come l'impressione di poter vedere dietro i vestiti e dietro la maschera scura - un corpo segnato dalle bruciature, un volto contorto. Gli occhi blu assottigliati, le labbra tese in un ghigno scoperto. Un demone nei panni di un vendicatore solitario. Un pazzo che lui ha scelto di seguire. Con un singhiozzo, il dottore sente il cuore sprofondare nel petto. Abbassa la testa, sperando di sfuggire al giudizio. Se non a quello degli altri, almeno al proprio. E maledice qualsiasi Dio abbia fatto di Yurei quello che è.

[laimabynight]

Ashkara Kathat (20). A princess of a province in British India, she learns the ways of royalty by day and by night she and her father go on the hunt for supernatural beings. She uses her wealth to support ripper operations, but only when she is allowed to be there. Among her treasures is one of the newest weapons, her repeating crossbow.

Rippers Resurrected

Art by DnD_characters

[djregular]

Saving Throw Show: Rippers Resurrected Actual Play

All three parts of the Rippers Resurrected game that I was part of for Saving Throw's Ko-Fi Sub-A-Thon are up on their YouTube! Check out me, Bee Zelda, Havana Mahoney, Saving Throw head honcho Dom Zook, and GM Amy Ellison as we get our Penny Dreadful on and deal with some spooky Victoria Era weirdness!

If you'd like to support Saving Throw and see more stuff like this, subscribe to the Saving Throw Ko-Fi, follow the channel on Twitch, like and leave a comment on the videos and let everybody involved know where you saw them. Also, keep an eye peeled for more with me and Saving Throw coming up very soon!

[skelevenn]

Daily Drawing #54

Played with my TTRPG group last night, so drew my character The Behemoth. We did fight skeletons but actually I grabbed the necromancer and slammed him into a skeleton instead of this lmao. Just didn't wanna draw a whole extra guy.

We're playing Savage Worlds in the Rippers setting! Basically Victorian monster hunters. SW doesn't have classes but they're essentially a Barbarian, with a berserk ability and everything. Rippers specifically has this system of implanting body parts from supernatural creatures to give abilities and such, so Behemoth is a hand-to-hand fighter with werewolf claws. And is full of fiend's blood, and is abnormally big. I'm a sucker for dark experiments and body horror. I usually play magic users in DnD so I was purposefully trying to make a very different character. They've been pretty cool to play so far!

[fantastic-nonsense]

Hi! I've never done this before but I'm new to comics (started with WFA and Zatanna and the Ripper) and I've basically got most of my information from posts on tumblr and r/hobbydrama (including yours.) I think I have a general idea of what Jason Todd is like, but I believe a lot of people are unhappy with his new characterisation.

So, if you were the one in charge, how would you write him? Would you write him with a team or as a solo character? Would you have him use the All-Blades or a crowbar or his guns? Would you have him properly rejoin the batfam or not?

Thanks!

Hi! Welcome to the fandom! I hope you're enjoying your time here.

In general, I think DC (and the fandom) has spent too much time milking Jason's death for trauma porn. They have refused to allow him to find closure, move past that, and exist beyond his daddy issues drama with Bruce. When DC has allowed him to have stories outside of that, they were often written with little consideration for what should be done with Jason beyond making him "badass."

None of this has been conducive to creating any kind of satisfying and coherent narrative or character arc for Jason, especially when both writers and editorial seem more obsessed with stealing traits, relationships, and stories from other people to give to him (most prominently Dick, Selina, and Helena). My hottake is that DC should move beyond "Red Hood" as an identity for Jason entirely, because it drags his character down and keeps him inherently tied to the same problems that have kept his character stagnant for years.

However! I don't think he's unsalvagable. I simply think DC needs to put a decent writer on him and commit to a character direction for more than 2 years at a time. I'm unsure of what Shawn Martinbrough is currently doing with Jason in his The Hill arc, as I'm not reading it, but I've heard that there might be some forward momentum finally happening there?

Anyway, my personal conception of Jason's future (as lovingly brainstormed by me and my friends in our comics discord server) is effectively this: he becomes a street-level paranormal detective who solves cold murder cases by talking with the victims' ghosts and providing closure to restless spirits. Think Lockwood and Co. meets Pushing Daisies with a superhero twist; basically, a supernatural detective noir book.

There's a lot of concepts and lore drops tied into this idea, but basically it was born out of a discussion where I was talking about Jason's many connections with the supernatural and occult across all continuities and how it's kind of a mystery why DC hasn't just formally connected him to the mystical side of the DCU. So I was like "they should just reveal that Superboy-Prime’s reality punch resurrection left him LITERALLY undead, make the event where he finds this out also spark his ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and make him an occult detective. Let him close cold case murder files and put those spectres to rest."

Which is also a great premise for a Bat book and a great unfilled niche for a Batfamily member. Kate's supernatural stories are much more high concept and connected to her family drama. Damian's supernatural/occult connections are traditionally very heavily tied to his family history and the Lazarus Pits. Dick's semi-regular magic encounters are usually stuff he deals with alongside his teammates in the course of working with the Titans. None of the other Bats have enough regular encounters with the supernatural and magic side of the DCU for it to encroach on their shtick, and a Gotham-based supernatural book is well within DC's ability to publish and market given books like Gotham by Midnight.

In terms of how that direction affects all the other questions you asked...I think Jason's relationship with the rest of the Batfam should be complicated. I personally don't think "good/bad relationship with the Batfam" is a particularly useful way to look at it because I think there are people he should never see eye to eye with, people he realistically shouldn't and doesn't have a problem with, and people he should get along with just fine. I don't think everyone needs to or should be friends or enemies with him, but his morals and past actions will (and should!) complicate those relationships in interesting ways.

And re: what weapons I'd like to see him use...using the All-Blades would certainly factor into my proposed narrative direction, as that would lean into the supernatural connections, but I generally prefer the concept of Jason using knives as his preferred weapon over guns/a crowbar/etc. That way he can still be a marksman without using guns, and I think that fits more with his character trajectory as someone attempting to be less lethal but also has no problem roughing people up when he thinks they need to be.

[recreationalfanfics]

can i request buddha, Hercules, jack and Brunhilde with douma or kokushibou reader please ❤

So this is a Yandere request but here's a TWIST: The Kokushibo! Reader just being incredibly loyal to Brunhilde as they were with Muzan and seeing her as their new master.

Many human champions were summoned back from when they were in their prime...no one ever said that a demon couldn't be the prime for a human who was turned into one. Göll cowers next to her sister in fear as Brunhilde watches the man- no...the demon manifest. She would have chosen their brother, but the malice and anger they carried with them until their death would perhaps make them just a bit more hungrier to see a gods blood stain their blade and make it more likely for them to win. Once it fully manifests, it walks in front of Brunhilde, they look at Brunhilde before kneeling before her.

"I am at your command, My Lady."

Yandere! Brunhilde:

- You quickly become her right hand man...demon?? and her favorite out of all the other champions, while she loves Göll, it can be tiring to constantly hear her crying and cowering. With you, she felt calm. With you, she felt her head become clearer. She felt drawn to you, incredibly so.

- Brunhilde herself is a manipulative Yandere but considering you pledged your undying allegiance to her, it makes her obsession with you grow as well. The fact you also will do whatever she asks without question makes her heart flutter and reassure her that nothing will steal you away from her.

- You're also a warrior like her, you've seen battle and you've seen blood. You are aware of the sacrifices that must be maid and that each battle results in Brunhilde losing her sisters painfully, maybe when you were resurrected you started to feel a bit more than you did as a demon and you'd put a hand on her and comfort her.

- You do also keep her a bit more composed when she gets short tempered or sighted and assuring her that she still has you and she looks at you and her eyes soften.

- Right...she has you. You. You. You.

- When your fight happens, she preforms the Völundr with you, to ensure you don't get hurt and you're motivated to keep your Lady Brunhilde safe.

- You don't know the way you make her giggle when you say that stuff. When you call her YOUR Lady, she isn't used to getting such respect from God's so she never expected to get it from a demon. You're polite as you are strong.

- She hates it when other women or men come up to you, they think they can steal you away! So she stands there, looking very upset, and you tend to her immediately.

- You are not dumb, you may be aware of her Yandere tendencies and regardless of how you feel; you promised her your loyalty and that is what she will receive. She brought you back to life after all...a second chance to prove to humanity you're worth more than your brother.

- Also if you have multiple eyes, that is so chill with her tbh. Like, if you let her she will kiss you on each eyelid to show you just how much she loves you if you start to feel insecure but also, like, you sense there is a certain possessiveness in those kisses.

Yandere! Jack the Ripper:

- What a curious creature you are indeed. He saw Brunhilde introduce you and while most people were hesitant to work with a demon, he was more than pleased. Then he saw your color...

- What a noble color it is, truly, it dazzled him. Such strength and such nobility even if you were a creature forsaken by God and driven by bitter jealousy.

- Jack tries his best to speak with you, when you train or when you enjoy some tea to yourself. He's simply fascinated by you: by your appearance, to the anger and loathing you hold in your heart, to your composure.

- He simply admired you, was fascinated with you, obsessed with you. However, it appears that only Lady Brunhilde was your main concern. You weren't mindlessly loyal to her and he understands being grateful but you would die for her and it honestly irked Jack off a bit.

- She was willing to have her own friend killed for the sake of humanity and while Jack was fighting to save it as well, it bothered him how you could be the next peice on her chessboard she could sacrifice.

- He doesn't understand it, how could you be so loyal and trusting of someone like her...unless there was another reason...you didn't love her, did you? The answer was "no", you were simply obeying her, but he just can't help it but feel sick when he sees you standing next to her. Her whispering into your ear, most likely battle strategies and looking at her like she was the important thing in the world.

- Jack knows he can't exactly hurt you nor Brunhilde, plus with the current events fighting between themselves wouldn't exactly be a strategic advantage and only cost them everything.

- You're so stoic all the time, he's heard your backstory and he understands why, but if you soften up or become more expressive to Brunhilde then it just confirms his fears. If you're more tender and soft with him then he feels like crying tears of joy. Does this mean you see him as precious to your heart as he sees you?

- He feels like he understands you, better than anyone here. Both of you driven by your families to become the monsters you are. Both of you died tragically, alone, and as either traitor or heartless but both sharing the title of ruthless killers.

Yandere! Hercules:

- Okay so let's say he and Jack's battle ended in a draw, he confronts Brunhilde for using a serial killer to represent humanity and you just see some big man coming towards your Lady looking very hostile.

- You draw your sword and put it to his chest, narrowing your eyes and daring him to come any closer. It takes him a while to realize what you are and when he does, he glares at Brunhilde.

- "First a killer and now a demon?" He glares, his gaze hardening. You simply warn him to mind his tounge but Brunhilde assures you that Hercules will not harm her and you listen to her and bow your head in apology.

- Which he didn't expect. After all, demons are supposed to be heartless killers who preyed on humans, yet you seemed to be genuine with your apology and remained silent. Of course, that wasn't enough to change his mind about you and how he didn't think you'd deserve to represent humanity, but it was enough where he grew curious about you.

- His obsession with you grew over the next few interactions that you two have with each other. Yes you're appearance may be off putting to most but there was also something about you that Hercules could never seem to get off his mind. The way you didn't seem to look down on your fellow humans and followed them silently, the amount of respect you had towards the Gods and their abilities, not really hating them like how your fellow humans did.

- There have been times where you seem to show human emotions. Such as concern with Okita gets coerced into fighting that instigator of a God, Loki, and you help heal him with such care and precision. Hercules honestly is surprised to see an ounce of humanity within you.

- He loves Brunhilde like a sister, he truly does, but even he can't deny that she has her wicked schemes and while she seems to hold you in high regard, he worries about your safety. Perhaps he challenges you to a friendly fight, since he's seen your strength and Blood Demon Art at work, and he tries to convince you.

- Convince you to not be so loyal to Brunhilde, that you'd simply be just another sacrifice in her game of chess, and that she wouldn't really care about you. He gets increasingly frustrated in the fight because you're quite adamant on ignoring him and saying you're aware. This causes him to be a bit more brutal in his battle with you.

- He stops when he sees that he's injured you, regret and guilt for what he's done as he helps you up and promises it was an accident. Hercules will help you but seeing your hurt is horrible and he made his own fears come true, that the other God's would do something 10x as worse to you.

- I think he'd kidnap you after this, since you both are on completely different sides so he can't keep an eye on you unlike the other two. So he genuinely just wants to keep you safe and he will apologize but he won't let you leave. You don't understand how dangerous this battle is and Brunhilde could always put someone else in your place...just, anyone but you.

[unrelatabledude]

hi okay. dungeon meshi crazy b au. i think it was @tunkus who encouraged me to type this so. thank u. for indulging me. some of this is up in the air and some of this is subject to change but lets get into it.

major spoilers for the central conceit to dungeon meshi. the anime hasnt gotten there just yet! Have a kohaku to keep you occupied otherwise.

Kaname is the Lord of the dungeon. HiMERU at this point, is a shared pet name between Kaname and our Merumeru. They explore together, Merumeru worked as a canary for a while, and they publish wildly different papers under the same name. A while ago, Kaname got ensnared by the Winged Lion, so hes been ruling down there for a while and Himeru is slowly trying to lure him out and save him.

The original idea was to have Kaname be essentially a post dungeon Mithrun, with Himeru trying to find a solution, but I like the active role better. More Tojo brothers content.

Hiiro is our Falin, eaten and transformed in the dungeon. he and Kaname hang out. Kaname's new pet bird that wants to feed him. Another idea is to have him just be lost down there but i love. Chimiiro. Himeru resurrects Hiiro knowing that he'll most likely be transformed, but does it anyways to lure out Kaname.

Rinne is still a runaway prince, so that makes me hesitiate with the ending. I don't want Rinne to be forced into leadership, but we can see how it goes/if people have ideas for it lmao. Niki 100% still found a 17yr old Rinne on the street but due to being. a Gnome. They were closer to the same maturity (sad. sad) . Rinne and Niki come up with the Dungeon Food idea together, Rinne comes up with the plan to eat food, but it's Niki's experience and talent that make it work. They lost all their money gambling down there, as well. Himeru joins the group Post-Hiiro Incident, but he knew Kohaku beforehand, and help rescue him from his situation. (A living weapon created by the Suou family) Kohaku's reccomendation makes the deal better, as well as Himeru's willingness to leave the surface immediately.

I want it to be Rinhime focused, with both of them trying to figure out exactly what the other wants out of the dungeon. There's a huge bit I have in my head where Rinne mentions he's read Himeru's books and everyone assumes its the horrific bodice rippers Kaname writes, when no. Rinne reads Himeru's dry ass Plant Anatomy books.

The Canaries are a bigger factor earlier, as they were already on the way. Theyre headed by Madara (who knows Oremeru) and Mayoi is part of the group. Tatsumi may be as well but I haven't super thought of the guy.

IF YOU GOT THIS FAR..... THANKS..... ILY..... LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE STUFF OR IF YOU HAVE IDEAS..... BYE

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

Stats from Movies 1601-1700

Top 10 Movies - Highest Number of Votes

Jaws (1975) had the most votes with 940 votes. The Last Winter (2006) had the least votes with 353 votes.

The 10 Most Watched Films by Percentage

Jaws (1975) was the most watched film with 67.4% of voters out of 940 saying they had seen it. The World Is Full of Secrets (2018) had the least "Yes" votes with 0,2% of voters out of 420.

The 10 Least Watched Films by Percentage

Leatherface (2017) was the least watched film with 66.6% of voters out of 515 saying they hadn’t seen it. Fired (2010) had the least "No" votes with 7,4% of voters out of 392.

The 10 Most Known Films by Percentage

Jaws (1975) was the best known film, 0,3% of voters out of 940 saying they’d never heard of it.

The 10 Least Known Films by Percentage

Fired (2010) was the least known film, 91.8% of voters out of 392 saying they’d never heard of it.

The movies part of the statistic count and their polls below the cut.

Headgame (2018) Loop Track (2023) Tarot (2024) Şeytan (1974) Broadcast Signal Intrusion (2021) The Guest (2014) Red Eye (2005) Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) Yummy (2019) The Manor (2021)

Boys From County Hell (2020) Totally Killer (2023) I Saw the TV Glow (2024) Curse of the Werehuahua (2021) Alive (2018) Come To Daddy (2019) The Devil's Backbone (2001) Jaws (1975) High Tension (2003) Cape Fear (1991)

Below (2002) The Last Winter (2006) The 13th Warrior (1999) Run Sweetheart Run (2020) Meander (2020) Fired (2010) The Jack in the Box: Awakening (2022) Bed of the Dead (2016) The Vanishing (1988) The Eye (2002)

Mind-Ripper (1995) The Editor (2014) Thale (2012) Feed Me (2022) Organ (1996) The Severed Arm (1973) Night of the Demon (1957) ClownDoll (2019) The Quantum Terror (2022) The Furies (2019)

Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974) I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle (1990) Identity (2003) The Stepfather (1987) The Black Cat (1941) The Clown at Midnight (1999) Solomon Kane (2009) Season of the Witch (2011) The World Is Full of Secrets (2018) The Clown Murders (1976)

Bloody Harvest (1987) All Hallows Eve (2013) Slaughter High (1986) The Gingerdead Man (2005) I Am Not A Serial Killer (2016) The Good Neighbor (2016) Killjoy (2000) Last Summer (1969) Cry_Wolf (2005) Predator Island (2005)

The Other (1972) Leprechaun (1992) Be My Cat: A Film For Anne (2015) I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2020) Beyond Re-Animator (2003) Better Watch Out (2016) Urban Legends: Final Cut (2000) Human Lanterns (1982) The Mummy (1932) The Mummy (1959)

The Pyramid (2014) New Year's Evil (1980) Black Christmas (2006) The Seventh Curse (1986) The Mummy's Hand (1940) Never Hike Alone (2017) Legend of the Mummy (1998) President's Day (2010) The Curse of King Tut's Tomb (2006) Unfriended: Dark Web (2018)

Leatherface (2017) [REC]² (2009) The Mummy's Tomb (1942) The Mummy's Ghost (1944) Predator (1987) Halloween: Resurrection (2002) Carrie (2013) The Mean One (2022) Cronos (1993) Terror Train (1980)

Ancient Evil: Scream of the Mummy (2000) The Boxer's Omen (1983) Stepfather II: Make Room For Daddy (1989) The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964) Halloween II (2009) Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh (1995) Candyman III: Day of the Dead (1999) The Cat (1992) The Mummy's Curse (1944) ThanksKilling (2007)

[heartshapedbubble]

HI HI HI ‼️‼️

I'm so happy the requests are open again (I was waiting for this 😭😭)

I hope exam season went well!!

Anyways,I'm back (if you still remember me smh) with a platonic request!!

Can I just have platonic Jack,Charles Holt (i think you write for him),Percy,and Burke any person of your choice (you can remove or replace some if it's too much/you dony write for them) with a child reader that's really paranoid,is scared of everyone and everything,and has just a deep backstory,for example with bad parents,and like a big brother who is a psychopath or smth (idk I made that up on the spot,you can change it if you'd like!!) kinda warming up to them,following them around like a lost puppy and just crying when they aren't there?

I hope it's not too complicated and made sense,and that you have a fantastic day!!

AHH HELLO FINALLY RESPONDING TO THIS REQ!!! sadly i'm stuck in an endless loop of exam seasons but so far i have all As!! B) partially the reason i've been inactive here, i'm working quite hard on my education this year!

of course i remember and i shall deliver - have a great day! <3

jack, charles holt, percy and burke lapadura with an upset!child reader hcs🎩✈️🧟‍♂️🔨

jack the ripper🎩

he warms up to you quite quickly. in his opinion, you can hide away behind him as much as you want and he'll gladly hold your hand whenever you want him to - just be careful not to cut yourself on his blades

i don't think jack is much of a listener. he just sees you curled up and sad and can't help but pity you, so little and innocent. who could have possibly wanted to harm such a precious little thing like you?

a bit tone-deaf in situations like these, i think he'd even baby you here and there. he's so determined to take good care of you he goes a bit overboard sometimes

as i mentioned before, he's more action-oriented in cases like these. despite the gravity of the situation his manner of speech remains light and even gleeful. in his eyes, now that you're with him there's no reason to worry anymore. he doesn't want to make you even sadder than before!

the type of caretaker to carry you around at all times and pick you up whenever he notices you're upset. in doubt? carry the lil kid on your shoulders

charles holt✈️

this man definetly has some fearful-avoidant attachment thing going on with him. at first he's awfully uncomfortable, seeking every possible moment to avoid you. he's not a bad guy - he just doesn't know how to react in situations like these and copes by escaping them as soon as he gets the opportunity.

on top of that, he has never been good with kids.

he pities you, though :( i think he'd see some part of his younger self in you and that would really rub salt into his wound

he talks to you in the same way that he talks to adults, except the occasional "little guy/little fella" and bends over/crouches whenever he talks so you two are at the same level

also the type to pick you up when he notices you're crying :( in general he's much more responsive once you two get closer, often patting your head and back in an attempt to comfort you

grab his hand *once* and he just follows along with you. no questions asked

he didn't get much attention as a kid so he's kind of projecting in the form of giving you all the affection he didn't receive, albeit shyly

percy🧟‍♂️

percy often uses his muteness to his advantage, playing deaf just so he can avoid the other residents and quicky return to his solitude. he knows it's bad but he literally experimented on cadavers, he's not below that.

yet he can't pretend forever.

something that percy copes the worst with (after his resurrection) is guilt. seeing you so upset, seeking any sort of comfort from the manor residents makes something inside of him break. probably not his heart, rather something more human that he can't exactly pinpoint.

not big on physical affection, instead guiding you with an occasional tap on the back or simply pointing towards something. he also communicates with you with his gaze - it has been, for the most part, drained of humanity, but the way he furrows his brows and blinks slowly makes you think he's trying to push the few remaining bits of empathy through his eyes, in hopes you'll understand what he wants to say to you.

likes going on walks with you after dinner. mostly through the corridors of the manor, straight to the garden where you two sit to catch a breather and appreciate the blooming plants

burke lapadura🔨

probably the most responsible (in a way) out of the four here tbh

the most communicative out of them too - when he's not preoccupied with his machines, he's a solid listener and provides his own insight and advice. often it's a bit too much for you since you're quite young, but he's trying his best ok :(

believes good food can soothe anything! he's not the type to cook hearty meals (do NOT let this man into the kitchen) but he always keeps some cookies in his workshop in case you visit

awkward with any sort of physical touch so he compensates with quality time. if the weather is nice enough he may propose a short fishing trip or flying kites in the backyard

the way he sees it, distracting yourself from your past trauma is the best way to cope with it. never mentions your upbringing unless you want to talk about it - he wants to create as much happy memories with you, even if it means spoiling you with new machines and toys

[veesunderthetree]

ENG: The young woman rhythmically turned the wheel of the zippo, the springs made a characteristic click. Sparks, but no flame. “Vivienne?” Silently, a word passed her lips pursed as she held the thin cigarette Bly made. A word by no means for a woman, but suppressed by her habits and by the attitude with which the family had formed her. Sure, up to a certain point... She tried again, holding the zippo closer to her and shielding it with her hand. Finally the accursed accessed with a vigorous blaze. Obviously Bly had gassed it to the brim, she thought sarcastically. She lit it, inhaling heavily and releasing a cloud of smoke. “Vivienne?” she heard again from afar. The faint voice of a little boy. "Coming, dear." She slipped the zippo into the hidden pockets under her long green skirt, which always seemed empty but were actually full of beads, skeins of sewing thread, colored buttons scattered around the Lodge. She had to keep a certain composure but in reality she was an avid collector of colored trinkets, no less the brooches that she placed in her hair styled as best she could. Looking back on it—and she checked a minute pocket watch to be sure—it was nearly noon. Why did he call her? She followed the railing of the balcony up to the narrow wooden stairs covered with a beautiful red carpet, in the typical bright color very dear to Venice. With graceful steps and barely lifting her skirt, she walked down and straight to the source of the voice. "What happens? Canteen trouble, Raven?” The child adopted in Austria by the Lodge and now grown into a young adolescent, wrapped in his raven-like overalls, shook his head vigorously. She saw him roll his eyes in surprise. "No, it's just... how, is it lunchtime already?" “I think the waitresses are about to put pots on the tables. Hot the way you like them.” Vivienne smiled confidently, seeing his small clear eyes light up with happiness. "But tell me." “Oh, and is there dessert too today?” the little one exclaimed, before stopping again. “No, sorry, I'm lost. I can't continue with my project. It seems too complicated..." "Which? The potato shooter?” "The other. The flamethrower that doesn't explode with you when you use it." “Oh, that.” The girl rolled her eyes with a half smile. The Frazers had a certain calling for desert death, she knew. Possibly devastating everything, she knew. But getting to those levels was foolish and counterproductive: Allen, what the hell had he thought when he had commissioned those contraptions? Definitely to use them actively ... and this was why she was making arrangements with Jonathan for the maintenance of the lodge in Venice. Mina did not resent it, but the ex-lawyer Harker, mentor of the Old Guard, was decidedly more familiar and less hostile. A matter of taste, she supposed. “Tell me, what's wrong?” "It is too big! It must be wearable, but I don't know how to reduce the size of the tank and the ignition, and then it should emit a continuous jet of fire but there is the problem of overheating the components and…” “For goodness sake, Raven. You know I don't understand any of these things." "But Vivienne, you know how to create those barriers to defend yourself from shots at a distance, I thought you could, I don't know, recreate that magical effect by touching the inductors that would connect..." Vivienne broke down for a moment bringing her hands to her temples. She was starting to get confused by the boy's lively babbling, and as much as she wanted to help him, with all the good intentions in the world she still wasn't prepared to carry on a long conversation with an enthusiastic little Caped Crusader. “Darling, you need to explain in simpler terms, I already told you,” she whispered, but she was saved in time by the reprise of Raven—who had absurdly short breath times—by the knocking of the kitchen bell. "Lunch is ready!" the utterly happy, blond teenager announced, almost hopping in place. She gave her half a second and she saw him running towards the delicious target, disappearing from her sight at the first corner towards the west halls of the great building. Vivienne sighed almost relieved; she narrowed her eyes and inhaled—but her cigarette had already gone out. A "Damn!" ran away from her, but fortunately the hall was already empty. Presumably everyone had two legs and normal moving speed, so Bly would take a while to get off. Time to light up and slip away to the refectory, before Hubert got up from wherever he was sleeping (strictly on the floor) and began his considerable bulk between the doors, or a very sleepy Grayson returned from the dark caverns under construction of his abode to spend some time in male company. She argued again with the lighter, looking around to decide where to leave it. The icy figure - actually endowed with less coldness than she wanted to show - her green eyes looked for a flat surface on which to leave it in sight for the Doctor, and she found that the piano was an excellent, highly visible shelf. She let out a sigh as she got closer, because she also saw her well-placed Tarot cards, left there for some time gathering dust. "Sorry, old friends." She closed her eyes, seeing the magic within them come to life as she reached out for them. She portrayed her with a grip on her heart: the San Giorgio did not see well this practice of an illiterate witch, but it was her uncle who taught her to help her better channel the magical energies when she still did not have a mentor. Then Jean Jaque in turn had considered it an excellent method of focus. Who knew what America would have in store for its comrades, too? In a rush she grabbed them and hid them in the back of her pockets, where no one could see them. She pulled yet another "Damn" realizing that the cigarette had gone out again. She switched it back on and set the zippo upright on the piano where she was sure Bly would see it before heading towards the kitchens with the vague satisfaction of having won for once, turning the cards over and over between her fingers. ITA entry 7: La giovane girò ritmicamente la ruota dello zippo, le molle fecero un click caratteristico. Scintille, ma niente fiamma. “Vivienne?” Silenziosamente, una parola passò sulle sue labbra increspate per tenere la sottile sigaretta fatta da Bly. Una parola affatto da donna, ma sopressa dalle sue abitudini e dall’attitudine con cui la famiglia l’aveva formata. Certo, fino ad un certo momento... Ci provò di nuovo, tenendo lo zippo più vicino e facendo scudo con una mano. Finalmente il maledetto si accede con una vigorosa fiammata. Ovviamente Bly l’aveva riempito di gas fino all’orlo, pensò sarcasticamente. Accese, inspirando pesantemente e rilasciando una nube di fumo. “Vivienne?” sentì di nuovo da lontano. La flebile voce di un ragazzino. “Arrivo, caro.” Infilò lo zippo nelle tasche nascoste sotto la lunga gonna verde, che sembravano sempre vuote ma in realtà erano piene di perline, matasse di filo da cucito, bottoni colorati dispersi nella Loggia. Doveva mantenere un certo contegno ma in realtà era un’avida collezionista di gingilli colorati, non meno le spille che poneva tra i capelli acconciati alla bell’emmeglio. Ripensandoci - e controllò un minuto orologio da taschino per esserne sicura - era quasi mezzodì. Perchè chiamarla? Seguì la ringhiera del balconcino fino a delle strette scale in legno ricoperte da una bella moquette rossa, nel tipico colore luminoso molto caro a Venezia. Con passi aggraziati e sollevando appena la gonna, si diresse giù e dritta alla fonte della voce. “Che succede? Problemi alla mensa, Raven?” Il bimbo adottato in Austria dalla Loggia e oramai cresciuto in un giovane adolescente, avvolto nella sua tuta dai tratti corvini, scrollò la testa vigorosamente. Lo vide alzare gli occhi con fare sorpeso. “No, è che... come, è già ora di pranzo?” “Credo che le cameriere stiano per mettere le pignatte sui tavoli. Bollenti come piacciono a te.” Vivienne sorrise confidente, vedendo i piccoli occhi chiari illuminarsi di felicità. “Ma dimmi pure.” “Oh, e c’è anche il dolce oggi?” esclamò il piccolo, prima di interrompersi di nuovo. “No, scusa, mi sono perso. Non riesco a continuare col mio progetto. Mi sembra troppo complicato...” “Quale? Lo spara-patate?” “L’altro. Il lanciafiamme che non esplode insieme a te quando lo usi.” “Oh, quello” La ragazza sollevò gli occhi al cielo con un mezzo sorriso. I Frazer avevano una certa vocazione alla morte nel deserto, lo sapeva. Possibilmente devastando tutto, lo sapeva. Ma arrivare a quei livelli era sciocco e controproducente: Allen, che diavolo aveva pensato quando aveva commissionato quei marchingegni? Sicuramente di usarli attivamente... e questo era il motivo per cui si stava organizzando con Jonathan per il mantenimento della loggia di Venezia. Che Mina non gliene volesse, ma l’ex avvocato Harker, mentore della Vecchia Guardia, le era decisamente più familiare e meno avverso. Questione di gusti, supponeva. “E dimmi, cosa non funziona?” “E’ troppo grande! Dev’essere indossabile, ma non so come ridurre le dimensioni della tanica e l’accensione, e poi dovrebbe emettere un getto di fuoco continuo ma c’è il problema del surriscaldamento dei componenti e...” “Per l’amor del cielo, Raven. Sai che non ci capisco nulla di queste cose.” “Ma Vivienne, tu sai creare quelle barriere per difendersi dai colpi a distanza, pensavo che si potrebbe, non so, ricreare quell’effetto magico andando a toccare gli induttori che collegherebbero...” Vivienne si scompose un attimo portandosi le mani alle tempie. Iniziava ad essere confusa dal vivace blaterare del bimbo, e per quanto volesse aiutarlo, con tutte le buone intenzioni del mondo non era comunque preparata a supportare una lunga conversazione con un piccolo, entusiasta Crociato Mascherato. “Caro, devi spiegarmi con termini più semplici, te l’ho già detto” sussurrò, ma venne salvata per tempo dalla reprise di Raven - che aveva tempi di respiro assurdamente brevi - dai colpi della campanella della cucina. “Il pranzo è pronto!” annunciò l’assolutamente felice, biondo adolescente quasi saltellando sul posto. Mezzo secondo e lo vide correre verso il prelibato obbiettivo, sparendo dalla sua vista al primo angolo veso le sale ad ovest della grande costruzione. Vivienne sospirò quasi sollevata; socchiuse gli occhi e aspirò - ma la sigaretta si era già spenta. “Accidenti!” le scappò, ma fortunatamente la sala era già vuota. Presubilimente tutti avevano due gambe ed una velocità normale nel farle andare, quindi Bly ci avrebbe messo un po’ a scendere. Tempo di accendere e defilarsi nel refettorio, prima che Hubert si sollevasse da dovunque si fosse messo a dormire (rigorosamente per terra) e iniziasse la sua notevole mole tra le porte, o che un Grayson molto assonnato facesse ritorno dagli antri bui in costruzione della sua dimora per stare un po’ in compagnia maschile. Litigò di nuovo con l’accendino, guardandosi attorno per decidere dove lasciarlo. L’algida figura - in realtà dotata di minor freddezza di quanto volesse dare a vedere - cercò con gli occhi verdi una superficie piana su cui lasciarlo in vista per il Dottore, e trovò che il pianoforte fosse un ottimo, visibilissimo ripiano. Si lasciò sfuggire un sospiro quando, avvicinandosi, vide anche i suoi Tarocchi ben riposti, lasciati lì da un po’ di tempo a prendere polvere. “Mi spiace, vecchi amici.” Chiuse gli occhi, intravedendo la magia che li permeava prendere vita mentre allungava una mano verso di loro. La ritrasse con una morsa nel cuore: i San Giorgio non vedevano bene questa sua pratica da strega illetterata, ma era stato proprio suo zio ad insegnargliela per aiutarla ad incanalare meglio le energie magiche quando ancora non aveva un mentore. Poi Jean Jaque a sua volta l’aveva considerata un ottimo metodo di focus. Chi poteva sapere cos’avrebbe riservato l’America ai suoi compagni, inoltre? In un impeto li prese e li nascose sul fondo delle tasche, dove non poteva vederli nessuno. Tirò l’ennesimo “Accidenti” accorgendosi che la sigaretta si era spenta di nuovo. La riaccese e posò lo zippo in piedi sul pianoforte, dov’era sicura che Bly l’avrebbe visto, prima di dirigersi verso le cucine con la vaga soddisfazione di aver vinto per una volta, girando e rigirando le carte tra le dita.

[bracketsoffear]

Dr. Strangelove (Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb) "I mean first of all, just look at the title of that movie. Just look at it. Anyways, Dr. Strangelove is a former Nazi missile scientist who, following the end of World War 2, was recruited by the United States as the country’s head of weapons research and development. When Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper sends out a wing of nuclear-armed bombers without prior approval, threatening to trigger a secret Soviet doomsday device that will render the world uninhabitable for 93 years, Strangelove is called in to advise. After the US government fails to recall one bomber with a damaged radio, he gleefully proposes the United States retreat into underground nuclear bunkers ruled by top government and military men for a century."

John Gaius (The Locked Tomb) "Originally part of a team of scientists tasked with saving humanity from climate change, John was gifted strange necromantic powers by earth itself. He proceeded to use these powers to essentially start a cult. He attempts to convince various nations and companies to follow his plans for how to save the planet, but nothing works and eventually the whole thing has gone to such shit that John NUKES THE EARTH AND EVERY HUMAN STILL ON IT. He can feel them all die and uses their power to fuel himself, spending the next ten thousand years chasing after the trillionaires who escaped the planet, blaming them for the destruction of humanity. He is so afraid of Extinction that he literally causes the mass Extinction of every living thing on earth. Oh also he takes the dead, resurrected soul of planet earth and traps it in a barbie doll, and what is more Extinction than the soul of our planet trapped in plastic?"

[duckwnoeyes]

If you accept that Willow is a reflection of Giles, and Buffy is a reflection of Jenny, then Giles yelling at Willow is s6 after she brings Buffy back to life has a fun new significance.

After everything as Ripper, I don’t think Giles would ever try to resurrect someone. But I also think he probably has the ability and the knowledge to do so. Giles could have brought Jenny back, and God knows he wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t right.

Whereas Willow does not know any better, has not learnt any better, because Giles did not teach her any better. And how could Giles stand to watch Willow do what he would not? If Buffy is to her what Jenny is to him? Because if Giles had been a bit more like Ripper, (a bit more like Willow), he could have had Jenny back. And part of him yelling at Willow over this, is him knowing he would have done the same thing at her age, and maybe just a little bit of it is him being envious of Willow for not knowing better.

And it isn’t until omwf that Giles learns that actually Buffy is far worse off having been resurrected. So until then, there’s that question in the back of his mind of why didn’t he at least try to bring her back. Like Giles has very brutally been taught to stay within the laws of magic, and by that point in his life I could not see him breaking them. But seeing Willow resurrect Buffy must have been a little tempting.

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

[Starship Icarus] IV

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Mills finally meets his sleepin' gal.

WC: ~5.8K

*

You woke up as if from a grumpy nap as a child. Had you been a teenager, you would have rolled over, wrapping your blanket around you like a burrito and asked for five more minutes. Followed by trying to sleep for an hour or more.

The screen rose into view as your pod tilted. Your body gradually became accustomed to weight and gravity again, in a way that made you aware of the endless vessels carrying fluids all throughout the landscape of your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation and only listened to the voice greeting you and guiding you out of stasis without opening your eyes.

“We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she spoke in her serene, mechanical voice and you started testing out your newly awakened body. Deep breath, balling up a fist, swallow, blink, neck pop. The pod, cracked open like an egg from which you were meant to hatch, wheeled you to the door.

“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious.” You huffed an unimpressed little laugh and you were satisfied your contrariness was intact after a century in deathlike-sleep.

“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”

*

You remained in your cabin only long enough to follow the protocol, drink some resurrection juice and receive your luggage. It was nice and spacious in there, and you were gratified your Moroccan leather pouf was already waiting. You could immediately tell you’d be taking it easy and resting for a day or two until you were feeling more like yourself. A relaxing bout of reading with your feet up on the pouf and some fragrant tea steaming in a mug sounded heavenly.

As soon as you were out of your stasis gown and dressed in your own clothes, you went out in search of the other passengers. It was a little eerie to be alone, with only holos and machines for company.

“Hello?” you called out softly, voice still croaky from disuse. “Anybody around?” you asked casually, not wanting to come across as too eager or discombobulated. Silly thing to worry about in the face of colonizing a new planet.

A figure of a tall man shimmered behind a fountain and you stopped for a moment. Still groggy, you wondered if you weren’t just seeing weird shadows. Surely, the polite thing would have been to respond if he’d seen you. “Hi?” you offered, prepared to feel silly if you’d just greeted a mechanical ficus or a waylaid coat rack.

“Hi,” he responded in a gravelly voice and finally came fully into view as you passed the fountain. You watched each other in silence for a few moments. On your end, you were trying not to give him blatant elevator eyes or burst into girlish giggles. He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers.

Gingerly, as if he might scare you off, he took a few tentative steps closer. You did the same and stopped when there was a friendly, but polite distance left between you. “Are you passenger or crew?”

“Passenger. Julian Mills,” he was looking at you without blinking. He was probably just as disoriented as you.

You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.

“I didn’t see anyone else from my row wake up yet. What about yours?” you asked, still more sleepwalking than awake. He stopped shaking your hand, but still held it.

“Same on my end.”

Thoughts were slow to crawl through the fog of your brain. It was increasingly frustrating to feel yourself sluggishly process information that should be received instantly. “The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do,” you observed, looking around, somehow already knowing you wouldn’t find anyone else. The reassuring sheath of his hand around yours slipped away as you twisted around.

*

God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.

“I haven’t seen anybody else so far,” she added, confused, but hopeful.

His heart squeezed guiltily. He knew living with his actions would be difficult, but it felt worse in ways he could not have anticipated. “The crew is still asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, ma’am.”

“Miss,” she corrected and he wanted to smile at that. It was the snippy tone he recognized from before and his chest melted like honey. “That makes me feel ancient.”

“Miss.”

“Um, back to the topic at hand,” she still felt loopy and it showed. “Who’s going to land the ship? We’re arriving in a few weeks.”

To make short work of it, Mills took her to the observatory. The same little panorama showing how screwed they were informed her of their whereabouts, now approximately two years closer to Homestead II than when he was there the first time.

“The others aren’t late waking up,” he said when he saw the same rejection in her expression that he felt initially. “We’re early.”

Her mind was beautifully clear and logical, so he led her down the same path he stumbled down many months before, without even needing to suggest the next steps. He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved.

The crew were in their inaccessible area, messages took decades to travel to and fro, it was impossible to break into key areas, impossible to get back into the pods.  

Finally panic set it and he let her run off, in search of her pod. He gave her time, appreciating that she would want to have whatever breakdown was to ensue privately. It was the smallest bit of decency he could afford her.

When he eventually decided he should look in on her, she was still looking for a way back in feverishly. He indulged her, letting her try to convince him there had to be a way, as desperate and incoherent as she was being. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.

He led her past the wreckage in front of her crew room, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to break in with every implement he could think of. She agreed to take a seat in and some deep breaths, a sedative if need be. He half carried her as she slumped into his side, knees wobbly from over-excitement. She paused and took in the marks of a labor than had clearly gone on for months.

“How long have you been awake?” she looked up at him and frowned. Realization sharpened her gaze and he looked for any signs of accusation, of pulling away. None yet, he was momentarily relieved.

“Close to two years.”

Her hand lifted to her lips in horror and he could swear she was about to cry.

“Come on, it’s right through here,” he secured a firm hold around the curve of her waist and directed her towards a lounging area of the Grand Concourse.

*

“You remember the facility you had to go to? Where they put you under? The procedure has to be done with special equipment, pretty much only in lab conditions. It’s multi-faceted and it takes a long time. There is no such equipment on the ship, or anyone with expertise to do it. The pods we were in are just designed to maintain stasis for a certain length of time and wake us up.”

She listened, despite all the effort it took, and Mills could see her try to stave off more fits. Her body was tightly coiled, rocking back and forth in a tiny orbit, teeth chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. She was quiet for a long time, occasionally shaking her head, in disbelief or refusal.

“I don’t want to condescend in any way, but I’ve been through what you’re feeling now. You should believe I’ve tried everything I could think of.”

“Two years…” she shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity when she looked at him again. He couldn’t stand to meet her earnest gaze for longer than a moment.

“You should sleep,” he suggested gently. “It will clear your head, I promise. You probably feel like it’s full of cotton wool now.” She wouldn’t confirm and he decided not to tell her anymore about what ‘she must be feeling’. “Drink that freaky pink stuff from the water dispenser, it’ll feel good. In the morning, you’ll… I can’t promise you’ll feel much better, but you’ll be more yourself.”

She was still too shocked to cry, as he had been at first, so she just looked defeated. Still, she stood up and opted for the correct corridor to make her way to her cabin, which was impressive.

“I can walk you to your cabin,” Mills suggested as casually as he could, even as his heart climbed into his throat and choked him. “The layout can be confusing,” he fumbled, losing confidence when she didn’t nod vigorously or give some other indication she wanted him. He should have just said I’m taking you - in fact, I’m also holding your hand. And I’ll be there first thing in the morning when you wake up.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she said out of some self-sufficient, considerate habit.

She didn’t want his company. He tried not to spiral out. Sure, she’ll want to process this unimaginable calamity. However, he would have given anything, anything at all, to have someone with him on that first day. God, that first night, how awful it was, in endless solitude. And there she was, bravely walking away, sure that she would find a way to fix it.

“Almost two years…” she repeated, this time in a sigh that made him weak. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long. It must have been torture.”

“It was,” he choked out, wondering if his face looked as guilty as his thoughts.

She shared a convivial silence with him before surrendering to her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

*

Mills knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep that night. His blood felt like stinging electricity in his veins, shocking as it pumped through him.

“What’ll it be, Mills?” Clyde greeted in his subdued way.

“The usual.”

“How’s yer day been?” he asked just to make conversation. Mills’ paranoid brain detected a non-existent tone of accusation.

Mills swished the bourbon for a long moment, gaze lost in some private distance. “You know I have the worst luck in the world?”

“How’s that?”

“My prom date broke her leg after I asked her out – never made it to actual prom. I once gave CPR to a guy who’d been in a car crash. He sued me for fracturing some of his ribs. The company I worked for was the only one in the colonization business, right up until I was supposed to embark on the first mission. Then they went under. The one woman I’ve been unable to get out of my head is right under in front of me, right under my nose forever… and I can’t get to her.”

Clyde countered with his own programmed backstory – how his pa lost his diamond, how his uncle Stickley was electrocuted, how his ma got sick after she got their daddy’ settlement, how his brother blew his knee out and ruined a promising sports career, how he lost his hand…

“She’s awake,” Mills interrupted the story he had heard many times before, half-compunction, half-defiance.

There was only one she Mills had mentioned in all these months, so Clyde did not need to ask for clarification. “Congratulations,” he offered and Mills stared back, face not displaying the usual markers of happiness or satisfaction around the eyes or mouth.

“That’s whatcha wanted,” Clyde prompted, as though Mills’ circuitry failed for a moment and he was trying to get it back on track.

Mills could have strangled him. For the crime of being completely right.

“Ya don’t look happy,” the bartender noted and waited for an explanation.

“Can androids keep secrets?” Mills asked, realizing he should have wondered about that much sooner.

“I dunno ’bout androids, but gentlemen can,” Clyde responded solemnly, “and I consider myself one.”

Mills nodded. “Don’t tell her.”

“Don’t tell her what?” Clyde asked back earnestly. To him, borrowing her pen and waking her out of stasis were probably on par and he needed explicit instructions as to what to keep from her.

“Don’t tell her that I woke her,” Mills hated saying it out loud. “Let me do it in my own time.”

“’Course,” Clyde agreed all too easily, blissfully bereft of morals.

*

What if she likes short blond dudes? Mills wondered as he lay sideways on his prison cot of a bed. Still wide awake, he had his hands folded behind his head, eyes staring unseeing into the creamy ceiling. Some Aryan ideal? Maybe a British accent? A long coke nail? A nipple ring? He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.

How long, then, before she was ready to give in? To touch him like he craved, even if she didn’t really like him at all? It seemed an inevitability, even if he hadn’t known, from the earliest memories as a boy breaking hearts on the playground, to his exploits as an adult, precisely the kind of effect he had on women. What a sick thought, and one he kept having despite himself, counting greedily down to it.

*

It had been years since you woke up crying. The last time had been from a nightmare when you were still a teen. You’d forgotten it was possible to wake up already sobbing and salty with tears.

That next morning, you’d arisen, implausibly, even more desperate and disconsolate. If it even was morning. If time was reckoned the same way out here, or reckoned at all. If it was, then it was inexorably ticking down to your death, hurtling towards you like those glittering, burning stars sprinkled around your charging ship, dragging you into oblivion and making your fleeting existence truly pointless.

*

“No hibernation pod has malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the holo assured you.

“I’m telling you, mine has!”

“Hibernation pods are failsafe,” it responded contentedly and Julian recognized the same conversation he once had as he approached.

“And yet, I’m awake! What a conundrum, hm?” you planted your hands on your hips, as though scolding. He took in the pose and smiled sadly.

“Dumb machine,” you muttered when you realized you’d get nowhere with that piece of junk.

“Happy to help!”

You gave it the middle finger as you turned to leave and join Julian on the way to the mess hall.

*

Behind you, there was a failure with the greeter holo. Its blue light blinked erratically and powered down, the blue circles along its crescent base turning black as they died one by one. You were too frustrated to look back and Julian was too distracted by you. He walked up to your side, eyeing the small of your back and the swell of your ass under it, hand tingling with desire to rest.... on either one. He missed how the sphere flickered and shut down. Deep in the bowels of the ship, red letters flashed warnings on screens before guttering out. No burial was had and their ghosts were snatched piecemeal out of the ether by other systems, carrying on some of their work, while the other bits, both crucial and banal, stopped like broken clocks.

*

“Have you eaten?”

“No. And I could eat a horse,” she said unselfconsciously and he nodded.

“Gold class breakfast,” the dispenser announced when he was already seated. The unfamiliar pronouncement made him crane his neck curiously.

She carried over a tray laden with food and tucked into it as soon as she sat down. They ate in silence until she had to come up for air. It was then she noticed his soylent beige and black coffee. “Yeesh. I feel like a glutton,” she muffled, a big bite still filling out her cheeks.

He shrugged. He was enjoying the sight of her delighting in her meal too much to care about having the same gruel for the millionth day in a row. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a gold class passenger.”

“What?” she frowned and her hand shot up in front of her mouth in case some food came flying out. Mills was amused to see her eyes widen as the information soaked in. “No way! Are you kidding me? What is this wannabe class bullshit?” she was outraged and he ached at the fact that she could muster this emotion for him in the middle of all her turmoil.

He just shrugged again, trying not to grin around his spoon of bland soylent. He should have realized this revelation would incense her proletariat spirit.

“Have you been…eating just that? This whole time?” she tried to ask evenly, not to make him feel bad.

“For breakfast, yeah,” he said. It had been so long that he just couldn’t bother being upset about it anymore.

She, however, shot out of her seat. “Let me get you something! What do you want?” she entreated, flustered with the desire to do something kind for him. It was such a genuine compassionate act that guilt overwhelmed him again. What would she do if she knew, he wondered while she made her way over and examined the menu.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he protested half-heartedly. He had never been much of a fruit and veggie guy back home, but over a year in, he would take kale and rambutan and kumquat and fucking chard, just to remember how much he didn’t enjoy any of it.

She slid a tray heavy with food in front of him, from crispy bacon and hashbrowns, to scones and cut up papaya and dragon fruit, with some foamy coffee that smelled overly sweet. But he’d be damned if he didn’t down that odious concoction all the same.

He stabbed some dragon fruit with its Dalmatian dots embedded in the white flesh, chuckling at the sight.

“You like dragon fruit?” she asked, slowly recovering from her mortification.

“I hate it!” Mills proclaimed happily and popped it into his mouth.

*

During the day, and the next several ones, you kept suggesting different options. Checking out the infirmary, the cargo hold, the comms room, building your own pods…

We can’t do that, Julian would reply, or that didn’t work, I already did it, as he shot every idea down.

“You’re not even considering—” you snapped, losing the battle to frustration.

“I’ve considered all of it,” Julian assured, effortlessly patient. “I’ve tried it, I promise you. Everything you can think of, and then countless other things.”

He seemed ready to settle down and give into this trudge into the void. The mere thought of it made your pulse skyrocket and sent you hyperventilating.

“I’m not ready to give up,” you said unsteadily as your breath kept sliding out of your lungs without ever oxygenating you.

*

For the next few days, you consciously avoided Julian as you put your ideas into action. You tried and failed, just like he said you would.

Eventually, to keep yourself busy and try to make sense of some of your thoughts, you started keeping a log. Whether it would become a personal diary or a document you would try to submit in order to detail what happened to you and Julian to the company, you were not yet sure.

“Why did you do it?” you asked as you approached the desk where he tinkered with something that looked like half of a set of binoculars.

He looked up like a TV frozen on an uncanny distorted image.

“Join the mission,” you clarified as you pulled out the notes you’d been keeping for your log. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been thinking of making some notes… Not sure for what yet, but I was wondering if you’d let me interview you?”

“Sure,” he became warmer again and put down what he was working on without complaint. “But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?”

“You are the first hibernation failure in the history of space travel. The first recorded one, at least,” you added with your distrustful tone and he smiled at that. He really could be distractingly handsome and you had to consciously hold back from trying to tease out more of those rakish smiles. “That’s major news.”

“Mh,” he nodded, “I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.

“You’re not in bad company.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“The Wright Brothers,” you supplied and he leaned his head side to side, weighing your words.

“Henry Ford, Albert Einstein...”

“You’re making me blush,” he gave a coy flick of the wrist, so at odds with his classical masculinity.

“Thomas Edison,” you added the last name that usually followed on that list.

“His fortune turned, I believe, when he started stealing,” he noted with a shrewd look on his face.

“Yeah. Forget that asshole,” you conceded.

“I take your point,” he said and added in a smaller voice, “it’s very kind of you.”

You interviewed him and learned not just about his life, but the hushed up history of the mission to Homestead II. Julian relayed how he was first advised to take a demotion, and after the company was almost bought out by some deranged South African autocrat rich off his parents’ blood diamond legacy, suddenly the old crew were no longer eligible. He also detailed the many months of solitude, replete with a vacillating mental state and copious misadventures. Although he didn’t pity himself or linger on the details, he was candid and you felt comfortable asking whatever question came into your head.

“And do you think you’ve, for lack of a better word, resigned yourself to this situation?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you asked that. You were too conflicted and that look would surely hurt him to see.

“I’m not entirely sure. A lot can happen in a day, let alone a year or a decade. So I can’t say I’m resigned. But I understand how it can seem that way to you,” he said kindly and waited until you looked back at him. “You don’t have to accept any of this. You’ve just woken up. It must be irreconcilable and unthinkable to you now—”

You shook your head. “I’m scared of accepting it, and doing it so effortlessly. It’s actually so much easier to give in than I anticipated. I expected... I had more fight in me than that.”

He leaned in closer, moving with urgency. “It’s not ab-,” he started passionately, but then rephrased, “I don’t’ think it’s about being brave or strong. You also need to see sense and recognize reality. And you seem to be… scarily good at that.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Reality is something I can’t wrap my head around. To be traveling, until the end of my natural lifespan – which is effectively forever – and never arriving. I’ve never… conceptualized futility on such a stark level.”

Julian let the angst hang in the air, giving it the respect it demanded. Then he sighed and tried to approach you from another angle. “A wise android once told me that you shouldn’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be and squander the chance to enjoy where you are.”

You pursed your lips and considered.

“I’m sure it sounds like a platitude now, but it’s helped me in some ways over time.” Julian didn’t press for any answer or acceptance out of you, placidly returning to his work and sitting with you in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“What for?” he scoffed, sounding amused.

“For everything,” you didn’t want to embarrass him and enumerate all the small kindnesses and comforts he had provided to you as you woke up and realized the situation you were in.

It was obvious in his expression he did not think he had helped much. You hoped to change his mind. With any luck, he wouldn’t begrudge you avoiding him earlier.

“I should meet this Clyde,” you shifted to brighter topics, “he sounds like a character.” You had yet to meet the android bartender. Drinking or sitting in some simulacrum of a bar didn’t sound very appealing before, but you might as well check out more of the ship, you reasoned.

“Let’s go for a drink tonight, then,” Julian floated the idea. You couldn’t tell if he really was as nonchalant as he seemed, or if his eyes were trained on the object in his hands strategically, to give off that appearance.

You decided he probably wasn’t thinking of it as a date, but you could still feel the intent of him, filling the space around you. His presence, heavy and commanding, even when he didn’t mean to exert it over you.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you responded, suddenly preoccupied with your pad. You thought you felt him steal a glance as you looked away and it took great effort not to smile to yourself.

*

In her absence, Mills had noticed one of the little roombas repeatedly run into a corner as he walked by it on one of those lonely days. He didn’t think much of it. Its sensor could have broken or he himself could have been fucking with it too much out of sheer boredom that it somehow malfunctioned. After pondering whether he should bother trying to repair it, he decided not to since there were enough of those critters crawling around.

As they walked towards their cabins, through one of the pod rooms, he noticed two roombas rolling on as normal and was satisfied with his earlier decision.

“So now that all of this happened, do you still think sending large numbers of people on such missions is a good idea?” she probed. He was thinking about the same thing, watching them clustered together in their life-sustaining coffins.

“I think they would say yes,” he evaded the question, “you can’t categorize people into yes’s or no’s, ones and zeroes.”

“Homestead can. Into zeroes in its account.”

“I don’t dispute that. But you can’t know all these 5,000 people and their reasons to participate. Some of them could be very good.”

“Maybe so, but I know people at large really well. And I’m good at seeing when they’re being exploited.”

“But what about who they are? What drove them to be here? This guy?” he picked out a familiar face. “Can you tell anything about him? Is he a banker, teacher, or gardener?” he asked playfully and she accepted the challenge, peering over the lid.

He looked stern, with defined, robust features, austere even in repose. “Banker,” she guessed as he thought she would.

“Gardener.”

She frowned. “Probably gardens some gnarly, mean looking plants.”

“Madison, Donna, or Lola?” he covered the information plate on another pod and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Donna. That fits a redhead.”

“Madison.”

“No way!” she peeled his hand off and checked her name. It was true. Mills was grateful she took some time to look on, taking in her face and reading the information about her because he was still reeling from feeling her skin on his again. “Midwife,” she said wistfully and her face fell. “Right. Some babies are bound to be born up there.”

He could feel them both carefully avoid the other’s eyes. Babymaking was an unhelpful thought to linger on just then. “Another sucker selling a useful profession?” he guessed at her thoughts.

“No. I mean, yes, it’s useful. But I was just thinking… It’s silly. But it occurred to me how we probably would have been friends.”

“You think you can tell these things?” Mills asked, living and dying a hundred times in the space it took her to respond.

“Of course. You know these things instinctively. Call it what you want, intuition, ancestral wisdom, something you carry in your bones. We’re still humans, even if we’ve soared among the stars. We’d gravitate to each other,” she concluded and he felt lightheaded. “Besides, my grade school best friend was also named Madison,” she shrugged, “it would have been an easy point in her favor,” she tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to keep going, but a glance to the pod next to Madison’s rooted her to the spot. He almost bumped into her and felt a cold sweat dew on his skin at the idea of touching so much of her body with so much of his.

“Alicia,” Mills sounded out her name. A-lee-see-a, he pronounced it in the correct Spanish way.

“I know her. She had a rather severe change of heart and wanted to stay back,” she double checked her information just to be sure.

“Why didn’t she?”

“I‘m not sure. I lobbied for her contract to be voided and for someone to be taken off the waiting list and take her place. But they decided not to for some reason.”

“Or she decided.”

“I don’t know… She seemed pretty adamant from what I’ve seen,” she huffed, still bothered by the situation. “It doesn’t seem right, you know? To make that decision for her. Force her into something she didn’t want.”

“It doesn’t,” he agreed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, determined not to fan the guilt her words ignited.

“You’d know all about that,” she muttered.

His heart stopped. “What?” he felt his shame was written plainly on his face when she turned to him.

“With your pod malfunctioning and having to deal with it alone for so long. It’s the last thing you wanted. At least she’s asleep.”

She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, and he let her fall quiet. Then she rubbed his arms in support and he felt even worse.

*

Mills was already waiting at the bar when she came around the corner. The still unfamiliar rhythm of her steps as they approached through the Grand Concourse folded a thousand origami cranes in his gut and they all soared, pulling his heavy body with their flight as he turned to look at her.

She had on a simple outfit of black turtleneck and high-waisted checked skirt, with a pair of what his onetime fiancée would refer to as sensible heels. She was breath-taking.

He smiled as he got up to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and offered his hand to help her hop up onto the stool. “You look wonderful,” he tried not to sound licentious and make things awkward.

If she was flustered, she didn’t show it too badly. “Well, I packed this. I thought I might as well wear it.”

“Sure,” he nodded slyly. He wasn’t about to let her reject the compliment. “And you look wonderful in it.”

Finally, she relented and tried not to smile too broadly. “Thank you. You both look very handsome,” she glanced from him to Clyde with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Clyde’s a sharp dresser for sure,” Mills joined in and Clyde accepted the compliment.

For a time, Clyde was prompted to recount some of Mills’ notable misadventures over the last two years, including his nudist period, his Rasputin phase, and the mini Olympics he staged with the roombas. When the laughter died down, what swam to the surface was the awareness that all of these stories took place owing to his unfortunate circumstances. He felt both himself and his awoken girl beset with a feeling of emptiness.

Mills looked over at her and she let him look for a long moment. “I can’t think about all of this anymore, Julian,” she sighed and his name on her lips felt like a kiss as it floated to him. “I’m hitting the same walls a thousand times… It’s too sad.”

“Let’s not talk about it for a while, then?” he leapt at the suggestion and offered his hand in a deal.

She gave his eagerness a smile and took his hand. When she shook on it and squeezed, it was confident. “Just… be my neighbor,” she asked amicably.

Mills nodded to himself, considering. Still holding her hand, he leaned over the bar and Clyde came close to hear him.

The song that was playing on the jukebox scratched to a halt and after a few beats of silence, a new, familiar melody tinkled its lullaby tune on a glockenspiel. Then a marimba filled out the tinny sounds and a piano joined smoothly.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, the song started and she bent over with a laugh.

A beautiful day for a neighbor, the sweet voice went on and Mills tugged on her hand, inviting her to dance.

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

She relented and followed him a few steps away from the bar. He placed a hand in a respectful, neighborly spot on her waist, and she did the same, on his shoulder.

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood

A neighborly day for a beauty

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

They swayed together to the melody that was equally as sad as it was sweet. It fit the mood better than anything he could have planned for in advance.

I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just, like, you, she tap-tap-tapped to the beat into his chest with her index finger and he watched her fondly.

I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you, he mouthed the line, watching from her eyes to her lips, down her neck, and then he hit the brakes, before he got too un-neighborly.

So, let's make the most of this beautiful day,

Since we're together, we might as well say,

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Even Clyde tore his eyes away from his little glass as they danced, recognizing the image before him as one of classic, universal romance.

*

@thegrislady @safarigirlsp @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @house-of-cadwyn

[slashthrashandcrash]

okay Stranger is a total yandere no doubt about it. you even think about looking at his girl and he'll cave your head in and give your heart to her as a present. Ripper gives me tsundere energy tho. he refuses to admit he likes Fran even tho he killed the last 3 guys she spoke to. one of them was only a grocery clerk.

You're not too far off about Ripper!!

His relationship with Francine is that he loves her, but he's not in love with her, y'know? He's come to adore her. She's a fellow creative, she's his muse, dare he say she's even become his dearest confident (entirely one sided because he has an "Are you there, God? It's me, Margret" relationship with her spam inbox when he's in the throes of a manic depressive episode). Unlike the Stranger who had a crush on Ashley pre-death that worsens with insanity each time he's resurrected, the Ripper's obsessive dependence on Francine was a much more gradual build.

But when he realizes just how enamored with the idea of her he is, it definitely hits him like a truck, standing in his office surrounded by flurries of sketches and concepts and portraits that are all undoubtedly modeled after his favorite little writer.

[livlepretre]

The cruelest thing everrrrr...OF COURSE I LOVE IT

I can't imagine how Stefan will handle this or Elena for that matter.

HAHA you mentioned Kol looking down at Klaus

KOLVINA YES

BUT ALSO, Elena's humanity making Kol yearn for his own mortality or at least miss it, unless he's bullshitting to get one over on Klaus, we know another vampire who yearns for it! My BOY FINN *cackles*

It's like you're writing me little tidbits of Finn love lol even when it's just part of the story

I can totally imagine Kol as a Ripper, though that wasn't in tvd canon was it? And Jeremy being in the five hah I didn't know you were going to go there!

Elena after this chapter lol

Elena after every chapter for the foreseeable future, tbh

LOOK ONCE YOU POINTED IT OUT TO ME I HAD TO CASUALLY MENTION THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE OKAY

and actually I am very fond of Kolvina, naturally had to slide it in

ohhh the mortality thing... yeah, Kol was speaking truly, I think-- I think Kol would prefer to be a witch than a vampire, and so there is always going to be a part of him that misses his mortality for that reason

and you know I also 💙 Finn

actually, Kol was a ripper per the originals canon! it wasn't in tvd, but they go into it in the originals-- I think he actually loses control and murders Davina???? (and she's somehow later resurrected? I never got that far so I'm not clear how that happened)

and I have been angling this way with Jeremy since he showed up again in chapter 39-- Elena thinks she sees something weird about the way he moves during the battle, but she also thinks her mind is playing tricks on her 😈

thanks for reading!

[knightsbroadsword]

3 more instances of out of context things that Guardians remember from prior to their resurrection!

The Cryptarch sits at a small table, away from the hubbub and clamour of the Courtyard at the request of his client. Across from him is an Exo Hunter, a fairly simple design, brushed grey plating with decorative horns. His artificial red eyes look down at the table and he runs his fingers down his nose to process his thoughts. "I had a dream," he confessed. "And now I remember who I was before my Ghost found me; before I became an Exo. It's frighteningly real, Master Cryptarch." The Cryptarch in question doesn't speak but gestures gently for the Exo to continue at his own pace and he lets out a synthetic sighing sound. "I want you to look into the name, Jack the Ripper."

A Void Warlock comes across a seriously old pre-Golden Age movie that was in amongst some recreational activity data files in the Neomuni CloudArk. He takes a closer look at the cover before turning to his Ghost. "I think Ice Cube makes a cameo appearance in this one." There is a notable silence between the two as one pixilated eye stares in to the Warlock's visor. "Guardian, why would a piece of frozen water receive an acting credit?"

A Void Titan that utterly whiffs her Shield Throw. The whole fireteam watches her get a little too eager on the run up and promptly catapult her Shield across the Winding Cove only to earn a distant "what the fuck, Richard?" from her Solar Hunter partner. Definitely not her name, but the familiarity she felt sent an unpleasant wave of goosebumps up her arms.

Guardians that remember stuff.