#I haven’t drawn in eons

[katadastical]

Whatchya lookin at Morgan

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated however please do not repost, redistribute my art, if you have inquiries please DM!

[ananayellow]

They longass relationship should work better as yuri

[reverendazmx]

why does the jonkler laugh at man? is he stupid?

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

Omg you guys I drew Hiro again this one’s for all the bh6 mutuals still hanging out here now I can actually draw

[robosdiary]

*is this love by whitesnake blares in the distance*

I haven’t drawn him in eons auuuuughh

[eyescah]

Tell me why I haven’t drawn in EONS and I had plenty of gays that I needed to be drawing instead but it was the toxic ones that finally gave me the energy?!!!

[saturnzlv]

life makes echoes

— parings: todoroki touya x reader

— notes: mature language & like one sentence that’s suggestive. and i can’t write for shit IM SORRYYYYY. i haven’t written in eons, but bassist touya & making a switch city playlist has me hard.

— synopsis: when your boyfriend is a bassist, and you go to one of their practice sessions

♫ echoes by the rapture

“it’s nothing too bad,” touya tells you as he takes his bass guitar case out the backseat.

you’re too busy staring at the small family home in front of you to answer him—the attached garage is open with a drum setup visible as well as a few nicknacks. there’s two people inside, and you think you think you recognize one of them and vaguely remember the other.

touya shuts the car of his beat up ‘98 lexus es with his case in hand, then he gestures for you to walk up the driveway. “just think of it as your own private concert,” he says.

at that, you turn your head to look at him with an incredulous expression. “this is a pretty shitty first concert then,” you say.

he lets out an unamused and sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. “you’ll like it,” he affirms. lifting a hand, he points to a blond boy with eyeliner framing his amber irises then a light blue haired boy fiddling with his drumsticks and testing the sound of the symbols. “you’ve met keigo and tomura, yeah?”

keigo, the blond and the one you recognize, sits on the couch against the wall. he has a guitar propped up on his knee as his fingers pluck the strings and his left hand deftly fixes the pegs. as touya plugs his bass into a spare amp in tomura’s garage, keigo lifts his head to glance at touya.

“back in my first year of college, sure,” keigo says as he stands from the couch. “we were in the same modern japanese class.”

tomura eyes keigo with a slight furrow in his brows. “why do you remember that?” he asks, to which keigo shrugs.

cautiously taking a once over at the couch, you look over at tomura on the drums. you’ve heard his name and a few facts in passing from touya. “you must’ve been a second year, right?” you ask as you deem the couch clean enough to sit on. tomura nods in response, and he’s about to speak in reply when touya clicks the button to shut the garage door.

“what are you in the mood for?” touya asks, walking past the drums to stand in front of one of the two mic stands available, positioned a little in front and apart from the drums. he looks over his shoulder at tomura, his question directed to the youngest.

tomura taps the drumsticks against the symbols, getting a feel for some rhythm. you can sort of recognize the tune, and it gets more familiar when the bassline is added by touya. leaning back on the couch's surprisingly comfortable cushions, you await for your so-called “concert”.

however keigo doesn’t step up to the microphone. he instead lifts his hands in surrender. “wait, wait,” he calls, a hand settling on the mic stand as he turns to face his band members. the drummer and bassist cease their playing, and you’re pretty sure tomura’s already annoyed from keigo’s sudden pause. “we’ve already done dance, dance like seven times this week.”

“i thought you got off on singing and making out with the mic?” touya points with a slight glare. “this song is perfect for that shit.”

keigo waves touya off before he adjusts his hold on the guitar strapped around his neck. with a pick in hand, he strums a muted note in a fashioned rhythm. the drums pick up, and keigo steps up to the mic. his gaze shifts to touya as he sings the first drawn out ‘yeah’ of the song, giving him a glare with furrowed brows. he sings a second ‘yeah,’ and before he can continue singing, tomura quits the drums.

“are you just going to stand there?” tomura asks, and you have to stifle a laugh at his obviously annoyed tone.

“i wanna show off,” touya replies very pointedly. “you think i can show off to fuckin’ take me away? no. i can’t. play some better shit.”

with pursed lips and a steady glare, keigo presses his fingers to the fretboard once again and strums a few simple notes going low. tomura gently taps his sticks against the symbols as keigo plays the familiar beginning notes of echoes, and touya complies by adding the bassline.

“i hate this song,” keigo mutters, yet the mic picks up his words.

there’s a small, cocky grin on touya’s lips as his fingers dance down the fretboard of his bass, plucking the notes with ease. “too bad,” he tells his bandmate.

with your leg crossed over the other, you prop an elbow on the armrest and let your cheekbone rest against your fist. it’s the boys' first time showing off to a friend—that much is insanely obvious—and, despite having formed this shitty band just a few months ago, they play well together. tomura, only twenty, plays the percussion as if it were made for him. keigo’s voice sounds borderline angelic. touya’s damn well-versed with his fingers, you know that much.

your foot taps against the concrete flooring of the garage in tune with the drums. there’s no denying that the sound from the trio is pretty good, too. it’s probably good enough to put in your spotify playlist—not only as support for your boyfriend’s band, but because their sound is catchy.

once the song comes to an end, keigo steps away from the mic stand. there’s a small nod of approval from tomura after keigo shoots him a thumbs up.

touya sets his bass down on its stand in favor of walking up to you on the couch to gather your opinion. “so?” he asks, and he leans his hip against the couch’s armrest. his vibrant blue eyes peer down at you as you lift your head up to meet his gaze.

a hum of thought elicits from you, and you give him a small shrug. “not bad,” you say. touya gives you a disgruntled look, and you let out a soft laugh before lifting your head from your fist. “it was good,” you correct yourself.

that cocky grin returns to his lips, and he says, “not bad for a first concert, huh?”

if touya wasn’t the best at reading people, he would have missed that grimace that crossed your features. “let’s not go that far, babe,” you reply.

[krokettez]

don’t think you have to do all that for a pact but what do i know man

i miss beur.. i haven’t drawn him in eons and i had to draw the back of his head yesterday and now i miss him

[outsockk]

silly little attempt to mimic the WCanimated art style ft. the guy i haven’t drawn in eons

[cyrusughhhh]

It’s him!! I haven’t drawn the gods properly in EONS

….welcome back <3 (+ some headcanons because I usually post about the gods as characters in mythology, you’ll be able to tell if it’s just me talking about him as a deity I believe in)

[swaps55]

Ao3 mememe

Tagged eons ago by @moosemonstrous. Thank you!

Tagging @cr-noble-writes, @mallaidhsomo, @urrone, @screwyouflightlieutenant, @stormikins and anyone else who wants to play.

I love end of the year memes, but I wrote very little this year in comparison to the last 4 years or so. So I appreciate that this meme in particular is a little more comprehensive. It's nice to look back on a full body of work and take a moment to be proud of it, vs fret over what did or didn't get written in the last 365 days.

How many works do you have on ao3? 52

What’s your total word count? 1,043,782 words (!!!!!!) over 11 years.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sonata (mshenko, longfic set between the end of ME1 and beginning of ME1)

Cantata (mshenko longfic, pre-ME1)

Celestial Navigation (mshenko smut, but not Sam)

Fugue (mshenko, Alchera and the 2 years before Lazarus)

Pieces Form the Whole (collection of mshenko prompts and one shots).

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Yes. Someone took the time to tell me my story meant something to them, and I will thank them/flail with them/take pleasure in their pain/etc. Fandom is community. To build a community, you need to engage with the people who love the characters and worlds you love. If my spoons are low I may not respond right away, but I will respond.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

There is one fic of mine that hates happiness and also puppies, but it’s not even 1k words long, so I don’t feel it counts. Fugue probably has the angstiest ending for what is the angstiest thing I have ever written, because it ends with Kaidan still believing he’s lost Sam forever. But I also like to think it’s a hopeful ending. At the end, you know that whatever happens next, he’ll be ok.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I’m a happy endings kinda person, so most of them? The first kiss AUs in the Opus Multiverse probably have the edge over something like Sonata, because they exist within their own little bubble free of things like consequences and Alchera.

Do you write crossovers?

I have daydreamed about something like a Mass Effect/Stargate crossover, because it would practically write itself, but I doubt I’ll ever actually do it. A Mass Effect/Dragon Age crossover could be fun, but others who would do it better already have, and I wouldn’t be committed enough to it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Eons ago on ff.net, by someone who was probably very young and very convinced it was their sacred duty to tell internet strangers they sucked. I only remember it because it’s the only time I’ve ever encountered something like that. I’ve received some insensitive comments, but not hate.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do write it on occasion, though it’s not a mainstay. I stick to very emotionally-driven smut because I don’t have the slightest idea how to write actual sexual attraction. XD  

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No one has asked me about doing a translation, but I have had others podfic a couple of stories, which is REALLY cool.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once, and it went very poorly. I am not built for collabs, unfortunately.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

The SSV Normandy, which beats out the NCC-1701-D by a nose hair. JK. Sort of.

It’s hard not to say Commander Shepard/Kaidan Alenko. I’ve written well over 500k words about them specifically, and I certainly haven’t done that for any other ship. I’m actually not that shippy when you get down to it. A romantic element isn’t usually what compels me. I am drawn to powerful connections, be it between two people or a group of people.  

So really, my original answer isn’t far off the mark. The group of people on both those ships are my favorite.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don’t have a stack of WIPs, because really I can only focus on one thing at a time. I have an unposted multiverse AU that I’ve scribbled close to 10k words on that likely won’t go anywhere until Opus is finished, which won’t be for a while. But I don’t have any real reason to think I’ll never go back to it. That fic has a host of challenges I need to figure out a way around, so that might be its undoing, but some of the writing in it is stellar and I am patient.

What are your writing strengths?

I’ll say working with multiple POVs. It’s something I love doing to the point I can’t really imagine not doing it. I like seeing the same series of events through the eyes of different people, how it creates a whole only the reader gets to see. I like the challenge of sitting between an unfamiliar set of ears and figuring out what goes on there. It’s a lot of fun.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am absolute shit at scene setting. I am terrible at visualizing, and I forget what words are when it comes to describing architecture of any kind, people, or clothing. If you are at all surprised to read this, it is because I work VERY HARD at scene setting. Because I’m bad at it. “Where are these characters, Swaps?” “Uh. They’re in a room. With stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

When it comes to a character's appearance, I cheat and instead describe what their clothing/appearance evokes, rather than what they look like, because fuck if I know what they look like.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If I could do it, I would, but another thing I am quite bad at is languages and dialect.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Technically, I put Alec Ramsey and the Black Stallion on a spaceship when I was maybe ten. But that aside, I had reams of Star Trek fanfic scribbled in notebooks before there was an internet to post them on.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have had ideas for Horizon and Warframe, and occasionally think it would be fun to try my hand at Stargate, or even go back to Star Trek. But in the end, Mass Effect is where I live and I still have stories to tell there, so here I stay.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

That is such a hard question to answer because I wrote them all with an intended audience of me and I know me really well, lol.

The long fic I have gone back to the most is Cantata, and the one shot I have reread the most is probably The Words That Change Us.

[happy-beeeps]

Stay.

Summary: When the weight of loss is too heavy for Wolffe to hold, you do your best to shoulder it for him.

WC: 1.1k

Pairing: Wolffe x gn!reader

CW: mentions of death, angst, loss, grieving, alcohol, brief descriptions of canon typical violence

It’s raining when he first shows up. The kind of rain that batters against your transparisteel windows and flashes lightning bright across your room in shattered, drawn out chunks. The concept of having such violent storms with an artificial weather system never really made sense to you, but you supposed whoever’s job it was to run it needed something to spice it up.

The 104th isn’t due to come to Coruscant until the morning, if they were lucky they’d be in late in the evening, and by the time Wolffe had finished briefings and set his gear down, it would be beyond reasonable hours to sneak his way to you. Instead, you did your very best to keep yourself busy, pouring yourself a glass of wine and tidying up your apartment. You’d taken his whole shore leave off of work, and you planned to spend it however he wanted. Wolffe wasn’t overly fond of crowds, but you’d spent dates at 79’s, Dex’s, or just in bed, wrapped up in each other and an overly fluffy comforter.

You allowed the fond memories to swim past your eyes–anything to not think about the fact that you hadn’t heard from him in nearly three rotations.

It wasn’t unusual, his squad was elite, stealthy. It didn’t make it any easier.

There’s another thundercrack, another spray of rain–then raps on your door. The unmistakable sound of hands on the smooth durasteel of your apartment door.

He’s not supposed to be here yet, you check your chrono to confirm. You haven’t even gotten a sip of your wine, and it’s only a few hours away from the dead of night, and there’s still no message from him. Still, it’s a knock at the door, and you’ve been to know to forget you’ve been shopping on the holo until a parcel arrives days later.

When you do finally make your way to the door–the knocks are incessant and quickening, and you hit your solicitor with a bitter “hold on a second!”--you throw it open, hair out of place and mouth pouting at the intrusion.

Wolffe… Wolffe is here. In front of you. In one piece, though accompanied by scratches and cuts, only a few with bacta patches or stitches. His shoulders are slunk low down his back, and he looks like he’s gripping your door jam for dear life.

He doesn’t say anything, not even when you murmur his name in surprise, eyes shooting up and almost welling with tears at the sight of him. He says nothing, but collapses into your arms in one fell motion, gripping your frame tight in his arms, tight enough that it nearly hurts, and sobs.

You’dve sooner bet on a rookie podracer from Mon Cala to win the Boonta Eve Classic than you’d expect to hear Wolffe sob. Now, you’d do anything to make it end. The sound makes you let out tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, and you understand the gravity of this past mission, and you hold him closer. Someone didn’t make it back.

You guide him backwards into your apartment and the door slides shut behind you, and in the stillness of the room he breaks even more, moving to sink down to his knees. You meet him, gripping him even closer, whispering quiet coos and “I’m here’s.” After what feels like eons of suffering, you’re in pain even thinking about how much pain he must be experiencing, he pulls back to look at you. His hands grip each of your cheeks, and you mirror his actions.

You attempt to lighten the mood. “I see two hands, two legs, two feet, one eye. I’ve got you back in one piece.”

He smiles but then shuts his eyes and shudders. “It should’ve been me. I’m the Commander. I’ve let them down.”

“Wolffe, stop, what do you mean? You came home, there’s no way you let anyone down.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he’s shaking his head now, gripping your face gently but with more pressure, as if he’s assuring himself he’s actually here. “They didn’t make it back.”

“Who, Wolffe who?”

His eyes are wide, tears escaping from even his mechanical eye–something you didn’t even know was possible–when he starts. “Mesh’la… Everyone.”

You don’t know how to respond. It feels like the wind has been sucked out of your chest with a vacuum. The tears are slowing now, you know no one hates to cry like Wolffe does, but he just looks numb. Lost. For nearly the first time in your relationship, you really don’t know what to do.

So you do your best.

It’s late, still raining, but you don’t care. You grab two ponchos from the closet by your door and drag Wolffe to the garage connected to your apartment. Your speeder, a sleek white with no roof, has often been your confidant when Wolffe was away. Maybe it will work with him.

The rain is pelting both of you when you peel out of the garage, blurring into the ever constant traffic of Coruscant. You like to fly, not recklessly, not fast, but just the monotony of flying keeps you focused. It’s easy to focus on nothing else but the lanes of traffic and the people around you. You’d contemplated letting Wolffe fly but decided against it—a decision you’re grateful for when you glance out the corner of your eye and see the way his knuckles whiten around their grip on your thigh, or how he stares so intensely out at the busy city.

You say nothing to him, and he says nothing to you. What is there to say to someone who just lost not only his brothers, but his squad. You know it isn’t his fault, there’s genuinely no way he could’ve avoided this, but you know he doesn’t feel that way. He’s going to bare those deaths of his brothers on his shoulders for the rest of his life, and you’ve taken your job to help carry the burden.

You finally ease into a slow, rounding descent towards your garage, and just before the neon bleeds out into the darkness of the space he murmurs out, quietly, “Thank you.”

The walk back to your apartment is still, but there’s less of the uneasiness of before. The weight is there, and it will be forever, but you think he’ll learn to carry it.

He’s quiet, shifting on his feet in front of your door. “I should go.”

“Or you could stay a little longer?”

And he does. Following your invitation he follows your hand back into your apartment, to your bed, and into your arms. You spend the rest of the evening tracing small circles onto his back and finally, when you’re certain he’s drifted asleep, you let yourself weep, thanking the maker that Wolffe came home.

[azaisya]

I haven’t drawn in eons. I should draw again

[starry-kittens]

Solar System Introduction!

Hello! Hello! We’ve been posting for a bit! But even with the hashtags telling you what alter is sayin or postin’ what you’d really have no idea who is who without a proper introduction, I’ve been holdin it off for a while but I finally got to it! If you don’t know a lot about Systems or alters um…I would suggest doing some looking into it yourself, We definitely aren’t experts on the subject. But what you should generally know is that a system is usually made up of a variety of alters that have their own personalities and usually have a specific role in the system! Sometimes it takes a bit of time to find out/understand what that role is (at least for us anyway, we’re stupid.)

Kitty— The Host!

They are so far the alter who has been here the longest from what I can tell, there source is uh… complicated? They say it’s Little Big Planet but eventually they have evolved from it (I have no other way to explain it than that no they aren’t a pokemon) They are an alien creature thing! They were created in a lab of some kind and have been living for eons just doing whatever it is they want to do to pass the time. They are immortal and used to travel between dimensions just for the hell of it. Since they have been around the longest they are our host!

Melon— The Co-host!

Okay so I put a lot in the image already but I am the Co-Host and up here the most often. In all honesty it’s pretty rare that I am ever away from the front! I have been fronting pretty much consistently for an entire year now! Maybe a year and a half? Anyways crazy stuff. As I had also said before I don’t mind being called Max still, our nicknames are just so we don’t get each other confused with another. I am also the stress holder! So that’s fun Not

Lambert & Narinder—???

Okay so we don’t really have any idea what exactly there system roles are yet since they’re so new. I like to say Lamb’s role is being my best friend✨ but I don’t really know what it is in all seriousness. But they are both slowly becoming regulars!

Wally Darling—Trauma Holder

Wally Darling from the Welcome Home puppet show! He is as funny as he is traumatized! He forgets most of it though, he forgets a lot of things—I think it’s really part of his job to actually!

Thats all I really have for now!

A little bonus cause I’ve never drawn all us Sam and Max alters together

(From alters from left to right Taz, Tag, Screw, Liver, Mel (Me), and My Sammy! We haven’t given him a nickname yet)

[summerwritesfics]

🍔I Have My Own Reasons But I’ll Believe For You

Pairing: Gen Length: 1646 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Redemption, Quan Chi redemption arc, He’s being dragged into the side of good kicking and screaming, Phantom Pain, Guilt, Angst, Hurt/Comfort (of a sort), The buddy cop duo no one asked for, Cassie is wise beyond her years @anyfandomgoesbingo: Quan Chi

Summary: Still in Special Forces custody, Quan Chi gets a visitor.

AFG Mixed Bingo Masterlist

Notes: This is a sequel to a fic I wrote a couple of years ago called The Villain On This Story, and I highly recommend reading it before this to understand whats going on. But yeh, my continued effort to try and drag Quan Chi into the light regardless of if he wants me to or not >:) Title is from The Villain Of This Story by Machinae Supremacy.

Quan Chi had not moved since he’d been placed in the room. He’d just curled up on himself, trying to ignore the searing pain from the scars on his back, and swallow the self pity enveloping him. Thankfully, his tears had dried up, that or his tear ducts had straight up stopped working, he wasn’t entirely sure at this point.

He heard a door opening across the room, but he didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t want to know who was here to gloat regarding his current position.

“Uh. Hey?” A voice called to him, and he winced, recognising it as the younger Cage. “You doin’ alright there? Um, just… You kinda haven’t moved since Lord Raiden put you in here.”

“I have no reason to move,” he mumbled, hoping that would be enough to signal to Cassie that she should leave him alone.

“Right. Just- uh- y’know…” She paused for a second, like she was expecting him to look up at her. When that didn’t happen she sighed. “You do know you’ve been in here for like… two weeks now… right?”

Quan Chi slowly lifted his head. To be honest, he wasn’t exactly good with the passing of time. Living for an eternity and in a place that didn’t exactly have a regular day and night cycle tended to do that. Two weeks though? A week is 7 days. So two would be 14 days. That sounded like a somewhat high number by a human’s standards.

“You’ve refused the food we’ve given you.” Cassie pulled a face like she had just thought of something. “Wait, do you even eat? That’s not something I’ve ever really thought about.”

“I do eat,” Quan Chi informed her. “I just do not need to do it as often as humans seem to.”

“Good to know.”

Silence settled between them, and it took everything in Quan Chi’s power to not curl back in on himself. He didn’t exactly trust Cassie to not take a moment of weakness to her advantage. And he wasn’t fool enough to underestimate her. If she was anything like her father, she was a warrior in idiots clothing.

“Look, I get this isn’t exactly an easy situation,” Cassie started again, and Quan Chi clenched his fists. “And to be honest, I don’t really know what Lord Raiden’s plan was with this.” Does that holy moron ever have a plan?  “But, we’re here now, so… I dunno, I guess we need to get on with it, right?”

“How exactly do you propose to do that?” He asked, not forcefully but earnestly. “From what I understand it is his intention that I be redeemed, a task that, I fear, is not exactly feasible.”

“Why not? People can change.”

“I am not a person.” And he never had been. Even when he wasn’t a demon, he was always nothing but a plaything of the deities. “The only reason I currently regret the things I have done, is because he has forced on me emotions I have not had in eons.”

“So, what you're saying is you weren’t always like this?” She asked, leaning forward slightly, like she was expecting some sort of long drawn out story. She would be disappointed if that was the case.

“I do not know, those memories were stolen from me.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but they still came out in a growl. Cassie tilted her head, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was genuinely concerned for him.

His back burned.

“In some Earthrealm religions, it is believed that demons are angels who fell from the heavens,” he began slowly, and for a moment, it felt like he had his wings back. “That isn’t strictly true of course.” He looked straight into her eyes as he hissed “some of us were pushed.”

Silence stretched out between them, Cassie’s eyes widening and her pupils darting around like she was trying to get her head around what had just been said. Eventually she let out a deep breath, reaching a hand to rub the back of her neck.

“Alright. There’s a hell of a lot to unpack there, not gonna lie.” Her hand flopped down onto her lap. “Although it does give a bit more context to your hate boner for the Elder Gods.”

Despite himself, Quan Chi let out a bitter laugh at that. “You have no idea.”

It always infuriated him. Not that he was thrown out of heaven, given who he was, it was entirely likely there was a good reason for it. But he didn’t remember that reason. He wasn’t even allowed to remember just what he was being punished for. How was that fair? How could anyone look at the Elder God’s and decide they were just?

What did I do to make them condemn me to this hell?

“And you don’t know the reason they cast you out?” Cassie questioned, and he could tell from the tone of her voice, even she was doubting the Elder God’s on that front.

“No.” He tried not to wince at the agony that blossomed down his back. He knew it was just a psychological response, but that didn’t change that he could still feel it. “All I remember is the rage and pain as I fell.”

And the smell of his wings burning. That particular scent would stay with him forever.

“Oh. Yikes.” Her voice was kind of flat, and it just seemed like such a comical underreaction to everything. “Well. Uh. Maybe in redemption, you might find the answer.”

Quan Chi snorted. “So far, all the reasons I have been given to redeem myself seem awfully self-centred and selfish.” He tilted his head, face screwing up in frustration. “One reason to ease my own guilt by finding forgiveness, the other to discover why I was originally pushed.” He pressed himself back against the wall, still trying to ignore how his body tried to protest the action. “Should redemption not be because I wish to be a better person? Does doing it to soothe my own pain and feed my own desires not completely defeat the purpose of self improvement?”

Cassie pursed her lips, before whispering “huh.” She lent forward, resting her head in one of her hands. “You have a point there.” She let out a breath, biting her lip. “But… I mean. Maybe it’s at the very least a starting point.”

“A starting point?” Quan Chi questioned, miserably.

“You feel bad, and you don’t want to feel bad anymore.” She sat back up straight and shrugged. “Sure, it’s a selfish as fuck motivation, but it’s still a motivation to be a better person.” She held her hands up. “All I’m saying is it is something to bounce off from. And like, who fuckin’ knows, maybe in pursuit of it, you’ll actually find something else to be a better person for.”

Quan Chi actually considered those words. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but… well… he supposed he would not know if he could be a better being if he didn’t at least try.

“Maybe,” he agreed, trying to sound non-committal about the issue. As eternally frustrating as he found the girl's father, he had to admit, Cassie was strangely wise for her age. A little crude, but… There was a wisdom that had no right to be there.

“So. What do you say?” Cassie asked, standing up and holding her hand out to him. “We gonna give this a shot?”

He regarded her hand for a moment. What other choice did he have here, really? He either accepted or would probably be left here to rot. There really was only one answer to her question.

He accepted her hand.

She helped him to his feet, wearing a smug smile on her face. Quan Chi hated to admit she actually had a pretty decent reason to be so smug. She had basically just gotten her way with him.

“So… Where exactly do we begin?” He questioned, completely unsure what exactly came next. What did redemption entail? Did he have to do some sort of training? Or was he just going to be thrown into a situation and expected to know what the so-called right thing to do was.

“Well, first, I suppose I need to get permission to let you leave this room cause we ain’t doing shit in a tiny square box.” Ah. Right.This was technically a prison cell wasn’t it? “Then we’ll grab some lunch and come up with a plan from there.”

“Is lunch necessary?” He’d already established he didn’t need to eat as regularly as a human. He would be fine for another couple of weeks.

“Yes it is, because I said it is,” she claimed, wagging her finger at him like she was telling him off.

Honestly, it just confused him further but he decided that maybe step one to being better was to not argue over things like this so he just replied with “then… Lunch it is.”

Cassie giggled, before turning on her heel. “Cool. Hang in tight, I’ll go see what I can do.” She paused at the doorway. “Uh, just a heads up, they might need you to wear some sort of tracker or something, at least to start with.”

“I will comply with anything you come up with.” At this point, he’d do anything to get out of this room.

“Cool. Like I said, I’ll be back in a sec.” And as soon as the door slid open, she went and exited. Quan Chi just watched her go as the door shut behind her.

He lent back against the wall, closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards. He still had doubts, but maybe this was better than nothing.

Selfish reasons or not, he supposed Cassie was right, they were at least reasons.

[idle-skull]

I haven’t drawn him in eons