#Val reviews something

[valenshawke]

Law & Order, Season 23, episode 5: "Last Dance"

Blah, blah, blah, rich tech mogul commits murder to cover-up that he's a sexual predator. Variation on a tried-and-true story that the show has used since time immemorial.

But they had to make it more complicated to write Jack McCoy off the show.

@albatrossisland and @monidon, this one's for you.

In Seasons 18 and 19, you had Governor Donald Shalvoy and he was very clearly a fictionalized version of former NY Governor Eliot Spitzer. I guess they didn't want to anger the current NYC Mayor, Eric Adams, by having a fictionalized version of him being corrupt. But in the era of #MeToo where formerly untouchable powerful men (for decades) got away with all sorts of sexually predatory actions, it strains credulity that someone would not simply cut their losses and distance himself from the suspect. But you need an antagonist, right?

I'm often not a fan of the criticism that something is contrived. A story is a story and the actions a character takes are written to lead to a certain point. Everything is contrived in fiction. It's how well you do it.

Since the show came back, the writers show they simply cannot do it well. Everything has gotta be a twist, curve-ball, or an absurd social commentary (and I'm saying that about a show that did social commentary since episode ONE). If anyone is wondering where my gripe is on that last one, it goes back to my bone to pick with Nolan "Spineless Coward" Price giving IMMUNITY to a SCHOOL SHOOTER so he could PROSECUTE THE FATHER for the shooting.

Now, do I believe (in certain cases) parents should be held responsible for the actions of their children in this case? Absolutely. The Ethan Crumbley case in Michigan is a perfect example! There NOT definite warnings signs: There were FUCKING FIVE-ALARM BELLS and red flags the size of football fields that something was seriously wrong with the kid and he needed help, not for his mother to buy him a fucking gun. Parents were charged without any immunity. I still hold that against the writers.

Rick Eid's run as show-runner has demonstrated a clear lack of knowledge of character history on the show (Jack in particular), a lack of even the loosest understanding of the law works in the show's universe, and a desperate need for actual lawyers as consultants or on the writing staff.

I'm also convinced that writers hate Hugh Dancy. The guy has acting chops, he was wonderful in HANNIBAL. But like… refer to my earlier description of Nolan Price.

Which brings us to Jack's sendoff and the overall story.

Mayor Payne? Yeah, that's certainly subtle.

I often think back to how Jack (and Mike Cutter) fought back against the GOVERNOR and they can't handle the freaking mayor? Writers, what the fuck?

I guess where the writers got something right was Jack believes in justice for the victim, regardless of who you are. And they gave Jack one last courtroom battle. And, on one hand, it is fitting. They wanted Jack to go out in a figurative blaze of glory. He was alone in the court, no second chair. I do wonder if he thought about all the second chairs he's had and how they helped him along the way (I am getting weirdly emotional writing this). And despite the fact he got burned, he managed to burn his enemies on the way out.

But this isn't the end I wanted.

Sometimes, a low-key ending is suitable for a character who worked (by my own calculation) 50-plus years in the DA's office (perhaps closer to 60 years). Who tried some significant cases, contributed to case-law that the show SHOULD HAVE REFERENCED, mentored each of his second chairs after Claire and Jamie. Mentored Mike Cutter.

Jack simply deciding just to retire and not run for re-election and spend the rest of his days fixing his relationship with his daughter, spend time with his grandson, write a book, maybe be a talking-head on legal shows (no, I can't see that), fine. But I wish they could have convinced Sam Waterston to finish out the season, maybe recording something so they show a goodbye party or SOMETHING to start next season, and then have the newly-elected DA introduced. That would have been more satisfying.

As for everything else about this episode. Couldn't the writers, I don't know, research and clarify their own damn show?

Ben Stone

Jack McCoy

Mike Cutter

All Executive Assistant District Attorneys. I know there was some debate on whether or not Nolan Price was actually an EADA. But now he's Deputy District Attorney? What? Writers, there are other EADAs in the DA's office. I realize that the writers have always played fast-and-loose on the hierarchy of the fictional DAs office. SVU had Chief Assistant District Attorney Charlie Philips who spoke of "assigning" a case to Jack McCoy, which I always took more as a administrative role versus a trial role, which put him above Jack in whatever hierarchy worked in the show.

But there were times it very much seemed like Jack WAS the next person in charge if the DA was unavailable until his own appointment.

And then you have the board shown in Season 21 where it seems they had dug it out of storage since it still hate Mike and Connie listed, with Mike being "Chief Assistant District Attorney" before they changed it to "Nolan Price" by the next episode.

I've always been frustrated with the sloppiness of the writing since the show came back and this just adds to the pile.

"It's been a hell of a ride."

It has. I started this show in September of 1998 and even in the periods I didn't watch it too much, there was some comfort that Jack was always there. And I delayed watching this because I just couldn't accept the end.

And now I have.

Memories of days gone by.

[hussyknee]

@valentineish hon, your tags are the posts

(alt included)

You know what? You're right about everything. In fact people who shit all over mspec gays/lesbians not only have no concept of how anything works, but they're also fucking selfish and horrible members of the community. I'll die on this hill. A bunch of assholes only out for themselves.

We are actively under fire in many countries. US and UK are actively heading into a trans genocide. Russia is getting worse, too now. Loads of other countries I haven't named. (Before anyone says jack shit the fucking center named after the person who coined the term genocide said we were headed that way. Genocide isnt an overnight thing you stupid leftists Do your damn research and shut up.)

We are at a high rate of suicide and sexual violence, regular violence housing and health care denial, etc. Do you think someone is going to stop and make sure someone isn't a snowflake queer or "tucute" or mspec lesbian before they bash their fucking head it? Do you think a doctor is gonna tell a nonbinary person who looks visibly queer "of course I'll treat you, you're not one of those trans people" Not to mention how you're so quick to exclude closeting and questioning kids who already want to kill themselves? Do you fucking hear the way you talk about your own people? LEAVE OUR OWN PEOPLE ALONE AND CALL YOUR GOVERNEBT REPS OR GET PETTITIONS CIRCULATED OR DONATION POSTS BOOSTED!

You would really rather attack people who's fucking LABELS you disagree with than do anything fucking positive to protect the rest of us? It makes me sick to my fucking stomach that y'all care more about policing than you do about your own people? Absolute selfish and cruel bootlicker behaviour. It's disgraceful, and I'm ashamed and enraged to share space with you people.

[sammylkcho]

Mayhaps Sebastian saving us from something just outside his shop? Pretty pls?

Here you go! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like the result, dear anon.

Warnings/Notes: slight descriptions of wounds, some blood mentioned but nothing major, unedited

"I'll go grab some blankets and cushions then, I won't take too long!" You informed Sebastian, gripping the canvas bag hanging from your shoulder. You planned on stuffing everything you could find inside it so you wouldn't have to carry things in your hands or deal with any extra worries when you returned.

Sebastian responded with a soft hum, his eyes still fixed on some classified documents. He had been busy reviewing, flipping through, and sorting various papers. Maybe he’d made some progress, or maybe not—you didn't really know since he wasn't telling you. So stubborn.

"Be careful out there. The anglers are a bit more aggressive lately. Some expendables managed to evade them, and it seems to have pissed them off. Big surprise…" He muttered the last part with a tone full of sarcasm, like the anglers were acting like spoiled kids who didn't get the toy they wanted. Hearing that gave you a slight shock and sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it with a soft hum.

Showing fear or the slightest tremor in this place could get you killed.

Every day outside the four walls of Sebastian's shop was a vals with death, never knowing what danger could be lurking around the corner. The only threat you'd managed to neutralize, thanks to Sebastian, was Painter's turrets. After Sebastian talked to him and explained the situation, the AI had mocked you but grudgingly agreed not to try and kill you anymore. Right before you were about to leave, however, the AI had apologized, explaining the reasons Sebastian had already mentioned.

You parted on good terms. You considered him a friend, though to him, you were just an acquaintance… It was progress.

"Well, don't miss me too much!" You waved goodbye, ducking to exit through the vent.

Once you crawled out, you looked both ways, like you were crossing the street, making sure no cars—or rather, no Pinkie or Pandemoniun—were coming your way.

Hearing nothing, you stood up and headed a few rooms over, careful not to stray too far.

When you came back, you had a blanket and three cushions you'd grabbed from one of the couches in one of the rooms.

You had to hide a few times, crouching into corners when you couldn't find a locker to duck into, praying to any god that you were in an angler's blind spot.

Now, you were on your way back to Sebastian's shop, looking forward to some warmth and safety in that little secure place. All you wanted was to curl up in the things you'd gathered, your body and mind exhausted.

Just as you were about to duck into the vent again, a sudden, sharp yank and the piercing bite that followed knocked the wind out of you, the attack violent and unexpected.

A high-pitched scream escaped your throat as the sensation of thousands of needles tearing into your skin like you were nothing more than food shredded through you. You could feel your blood spilling, staining both your wetsuit and neck crimson. The pain was unbearable, and the awkward angle your neck was pulled into made it hurt even more.

Your strength was fading, and your vision was speckled with black dots that refused to disappear no matter how much you blinked. The agony consumed you, and the urge to close your eyes wasn't helping.

You heard a faint noise coming from the walls (or above?), like something sliding quickly, but you couldn’t focus on it through the wave of pain as the wall dweller yanked and bit into your flesh.

The sound of one gunshot, then another, sent chills down your spine.

The wall dweller dropped to the ground, and its grip on you vanished, causing you to collapse from the loss of strength.

You braced for the cold, hard floor, but instead, two pairs of arms—plus one extra—caught you firmly, preventing you from injuring yourself further.

You glanced up and recognized Sebastian's clothes. You tried to smile to show your gratitude, but all you could manage was a weak grimace.

"You're lucky I've got a extra medkit. I won't charge you for it this time. Just be more careful next time, idiot." You could hear a slight hint of concern in his voice, along with that familiar frown he always made when you were possibly to blame for something.

He cradled you in his arms, and you didn't protest. You didn't feel like moving and could feel yourself about to pass out any second from the blood loss you were dealing with right now.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were already inside the shop. How? You didn't know, and you didn't feel like overthinking it right now. Instead, you noticed how Sebastian's movements with his third arm were a mix of hurried and precise, like he didn't want to make a mistake with what he was doing.

You hissed as he began cleaning the open wound, wrapping a gauze around your shoulder and applying pressure to stop more blood from spilling.

You didn't pay attention to what he did next because of the discomfort and the awful itch spreading through the wound. It hurt, itched—you didn't even want to move your injured shoulder in case it opened up again or got worse.

Even after Sebastian finished, he didn't let go or lower you from his arms. He just stayed there with you, for who knows how long. Just you and him.

And you'd thank him later, verbally, for everything he’d done to help.

[inkykeiji]

character: valentino warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, possessiveness, toxic relationship, daddy kink, gun play, slight oral fixation, fem!reader who has unspecified piercings notes: for @sovya, who is val’s precious lil princesa ♡ and who always listens to my insane ramblings about ideas i had at exactly 6:20am hehe c: words: 687

Valentino has an interesting little quirk, you’ve come to learn; he always has to have something of his inside of you. It’s a simple fact, really. No matter what it is or where you are, a piece of him must always be within you in some way, shape, or form. 

He, of course, prefers for it to be a part of his body—his fingers, his tongue, his cock—but unfortunately that isn’t always feasible. 

And, of course, there are other objects that work well, too. 

Sometimes it’s his gun, barrel rammed down your throat as far as it possibly can be, teeth scraping against the N of his bedazzled name as you desperately attempt to swallow more, knees sinking into the plush shag of the carpet beneath his work desk, your chin resting on his thigh as you sit at his feet. Your lips pucker tightly around the barrel as they suck, thick dribbles of saliva oozing from the corners of your mouth to drizzle off your jaw in shimmering cords, while a dutiful tongue curls around the heated metal in a protective, almost loving embrace, eager to siphon it further into your body. 

Sometimes it’s one of his shiny gold rings, pressed flat under your tongue as you suck it into your flesh during your daily outings, the metal clacking daintily against your teeth while you mindlessly toy with it, the tip of your tongue hooking through the band then circling the halo in a lazy, messy outline, encrusted salt melting against your tastebuds, staining your tongue with the zest of his sweat. 

Sometimes it’s his favourite bullet vibrator, soft pink silicon engraved with his full name and a smattering of cute little hearts buried deep in your cunt as you go about your day, never knowing when Val might turn it on, turn it up, but always knowing that he’s watching through the discreet cameras he had Vox plant all over your shared condo, always ready for that telltale video call that you better fucking answer right before you cum—and knowing that if you don’t, you’ll be suffering endless edging until Daddy gets home (and sometimes after that, too). 

He gets off on it just as much as you do, chuckling darkly when your knees knock together and your thighs tense, a sharp gasp spilling from your throat and nails chipping as your fingers curl around the edge of the kitchen counter, tauntingly asking if something is wrong, amorcito? as his face swims into view, sadism stretched sharply across his face, eyes glowing with the knowledge that he holds all of your pleasure, all of that power, in the silky palm of his hand, controlling it with the single flick of a notch. 

Sometimes it’s his custom-made heart-shaped studs and barbells, embellished with ostentatious V’s and filling all of your piercings, glinting in the late afternoon sun or heating under your clothes as he drags you from store to store, an arm tightly linked through your own—showing you off, his most cherished accessory, his prettiest prized possession, his best accomplishment.  

If he has to pick a favourite, though, it’s his fingers, one of his four hands wedged between your soft thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt full and idly stroking the silky walls as he works—writing scripts or reviewing footage—and you play—mashing buttons on your pretty pink handheld or colouring a picture for him, book folded at the spine and balancing against your bent knees, little tongue playing with the point of your fang as you concentrate. 

And yet, despite the sensuality of it all, it isn’t even sexual half of the time, going far beyond the shallow pleasures of carnality. Because that secret, shared knowledge that there is a piece of him constantly inside of you—a private claim of ownership in the most intimate sense—provides a deep-seated comfort; a warm, dense calm that roots itself at the very core of your souls, that soothes anxieties and serves as a steadfast reminder: that you are owned, that he owns you, that you belong to one another, always. 

[storm-angel989]

Hello!!

I was wondering if you could do a Val x daughter teen reader.

- She’s super duper sleep deprived (yawning every other 5 minutes and it’s so obvious she’s fighting to stay awake), and relies on a crap ton of energy drinks to keep her up and going. How would Val, Vel, and Vox react to finding out about this?

Hi Friend,

Thank you so much for your patience <3

As all three of the Vee’s very well know, sleep is so important. They want to see Reader succeed, but not at the expense of her own health. So take a peek at what happens!

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

My official bedtime is eleven. I crawl into bed at two. 

My day started at 4:30.

Get up. Drag myself to the gym. Lately, I’ve been listening to my textbooks on audiobook while I run because I, for the life of me, can’t get my brain to retain any of the information. My first sip of an energy drink is paired with water as I frantically scramble to scrub my hair and get dressed in my uniform before I need to leave for school. 

Seven thirty. Skip breakfast in favor of the second energy drink of the day. Slide into my homeroom seat exactly six minutes before the bell rings. I can’t be late, or else I risk getting kicked off the water polo team. 

School ends at three. I lose track of how many energy drinks I buy, how many cups of coffee I consume. All I know is it’s easier to study and drink coffee than it is to study and eat. And midterms start tomorrow. 

Practice starts at three thirty and by the time I get in the water, my week and a half worth of cramming for midterms is starting to catch up to me. It’s all I can do to stay awake, and unlike the other girls, I’m grateful for the freezing cold water. 

This routine had been mine for the past two weeks, and I was exhausted. Cramming for exams always sucked, but this time around felt harder than most. 

“I just need to review one more chapter,” I promised myself as I climbed into the limo. The ache in my head matched the heaviness of my eyelids and I let out another yawn. “One more chapter, and then…”

Out of habit, I pulled out my exam schedule. I felt my heart drop and jolted awake as I read through the test list for the next day. Fuck. Science was tomorrow. Not history. I hadn’t even started to review science.  I opened up another energy drink as I stared into the eyes of what would be another all nighter. As the last drop of liquid entered my body, I could feel my heart beat- an uncomfortable buzz. I tried to ignore it as I exited the limo and trudged upstairs. My mind blurred as I went through the motions without remembering exactly what I was doing. 

“Ah, princessa, I’m glad you’re home,” my father’s voice floated across the room. “Your Uncle Vox just finished making dinner. Come sit.”

“I can’t, Daddy, midterms start tomorrow,” I replied through a yawn. “I have to study, I mixed up…”

“You can’t study on an empty tummy. Your body needs fuel,” my Aunt Velvette replied.

Her tone told me I wasn’t getting out of it. I dropped my backpack and hazily made my way across the living room. I stumbled but caught myself on the table. I could feel all three sets of eyes on me as I righted myself and slowly sank into my chair. 

“Babygirl, are you feeling okay?” Vox asked as he pressed his hand to my forehead. “You don’t look good.”

“No, no you don’t,” my father added. “Did you eat before practice?”

I tried to remember but the memories of the day wouldn’t come. I shrugged in response. 

“Have you been drinking?” Velvette demanded after a moment of silence. She crossed her arms. “You’re stumbling, you’re pale, you’re slurring your words, something is wrong.”

“No! I’m just, I’m really tired,” I protested as I tried to bite back a yawn. “Midterms, they're tomorrow and I..I need to study. I can have another energy drink, maybe that will help.”

I went to push myself up from the table and felt the heaviness of Vox’s hands on my shoulder hold me in place. His other hand reached over and clicked on my VoxTech watch. 

“When did you go to bed last night?” My father asked gently. 

“More importantly, how many energy drinks did you have today?” Vox asked. 

Unable to hold back, I yawned. “It's midterm week, I dunno. Guys, I have to study, I…” 

I watched all three of them exchange glances. Vox hit a button on my watch and they both looked at their phones. Alarm spread over each of their faces.

“No. You’re not going anywhere except to bed,” my father said firmly as he stood up. 

“Dad, no, I’m…I’m fine..” I started to protest as he lifted me into his arms. “Daddy, I’m sixteen, lemme go…” I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes as I tried to push myself away from him. 

“Mhm, yeah, you’re right, you are sixteen,” he replied softly.

The next thing I knew, he laid me down in my bed and pulled the covers over me. I felt the weight of his body on the bed as he sat down next to me. 

“Close your eyes, ninita,” he said softly. “You need to rest.”

Under the warmth of the covers, snuggled in the comfort of my bed, exhaustion swept over me. Unable to fight, I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

It could have been days, or hours later. As I slowly came to, the red digits of my alarm clock flashed. Eleven thirty am. Panic rushed through me. Late! I was so late! I sat straight up, but before I could swing myself out of bed, Vox’s hand pushed me down. 

“Hey, hey kid. Calm down. Relax, you’re fine,” he said soothingly.

“No, Uncle Vox I have my history midterm today, I have to go, I’m so late!” I babbled as I tried to push against him.

“You’ll make them up, deep breath,” he replied evenly. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m going to let your Dad and Vel know you’re awake. If I let you go, will you please stay down?”

Slowly, I nodded as the panic began to subside. He released me and sat down on the bed next to me. A few moments later, the door opened and they both walked into the room. 

“How are you feeling?” my father asked. 

“Better? Dad, my midterms, practice, I have homework,” I began.

He held up his hand. “Stop. Take a breath. Uncle Vox called the school. Your midterms are rescheduled for two weeks from now. Lots of time to study without you running yourself down to nothing.” 

“As for homework and practice, you don’t have to worry about that until Monday, which is when you’re allowed to go back to school,” Velvette added. 

“Allowed back to school? What the fuck does that mean?” I asked. 

“It means you’ve been asleep for almost a day and a half. It’s Thursday, sweetheart,” Vox said gently. 

Panic washed over me. A day and a half? I slept for a day and a half?

“See, the problem with sleep deprivation is that it catches up to you. No amount of energy drinks or coffee can fix the issue. The only way to feel better is to sleep,” he continued. “And it appears that you, little girl, pushed yourself to your max.”

“And could have done some serious damage to your body in the process,” my father added. “So this is how the rest of this weekend goes. You’re going to the doctors to get checked over…”

“Why? I was just overtired,” I protested. 

“No, you were exhausted. And you consumed so much caffeine your heart rate and your blood pressure were sky high,” Vox answered.

“Your Aunt Velvette, Uncle Vox and I have been taking turns sitting with you just to make sure you were okay,” my father added. “So no. A checkup is not negotiable. We’re also going to have a discussion with the doctor on the importance of sleep and the negative effects caffeine can have on the body. Anyway, after you get the all clear, you are going to spend the weekend resting. You can watch movies, study for a few hours, I don’t care. But when your body is tired, you need to sleep. Otherwise, you’re not going to recover from this.”

I felt myself deflate. “Am I grounded too?”

“Call it grounding if you want, but you’re staying home all weekend,” my father replied calmly. 

A thousand protests raced through my mind. I had an away game this week. I needed to keep in shape. I had projects to do and laps to swim. But as I studied the concerned expression on my fathers face, I realized that nothing I could say would make them change their minds. The creeping feeling of exhaustion swept over me and I yawned as I settled back against the pillows. 

I felt lips press to my forehead and I snuggled back under the covers. Maybe a bit more sleep wouldn't hurt.

[dykobra-kid]

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE’S ART AND HER BEAUTIFUL OC

★☆☆☆☆ guys do NOT go to the hot topic in zone 6. i can forgive there being no merchandise. whatever. can't find shit anywhere in the zones. but whatever IS there, they will refuse to sell to you if they don't like you. you're lucky if they even acknowledge you. i went in and the entire time the redhead was getting tattooed?? and when i asked if i could check out, her girlfriend told me to shut up and wait?? terrible service. would rate no stars if i could. AVOID AT ALL COSTS!!

(attack on squid ink, my wife @dykobra-kid 's killjoy oc :3)

[showtoonzfan]

TRIGGER warning for mentions of SA! ⚠️

So apparently in someone’s review of HH, pictures were shown, visuals to “Poison”. I’m not showing them here but, it’s bad. Angel being tied up and Val with a few other demons are grabbing and pulling onto him, hurting him and probably SAing him. It makes Viv’s twitter joke “the visuals that CUM with it”- look even worse. I’m not surprised though, she’s made it obvious she’s into BDSM. And here’s my thing. If you’re into that, that’s okay! I don’t kink shame. However, there’s a difference between being into something and fetishizing it. Viv fetishizes men tied up, wether it’s consensual or not, and she’s been like that for years, even back in her Zoophobia days with Addison and a few other characters. She’s fucked in the head and it sickens me that she can never take abuse seriously, especially sexual and physical abuse. It’s just all hot to her and I hate how she’s the one who has to represent SA survivors’s trauma onto the screen. They all deserve better than this fujoshi bitch.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Meet Velvette📱🧶

Meet my take on Velvette! I had LOT OF FUN with this one! She’s reviewing Pentabucks newest drink!(being its top influencer can get you it for free!)

My Velvette’s more involved with social media/advertising/trends rather than owning all of Hell’s fashion indurstry. She’s basically a social marketer/influencer who uses her influence to support and advertise a lot of the overlords and high influence peoples businesses, products and services. She’s def still into fashion, I imagine she has something like a Bergdorf Goodmans, luxury end store and probably collabed with other fashion brands). I also see her own some fo the trendiest resteraunts, clubs, beauty salons, etc. def sewn herself into big brands!

I’ve heard she was suppose to be a doll because her pilot look mouth alluded a bit to stitching and wore frilly clothes.

so I ended up making her a rag doll! Doll’s are very popular to sell, especially to sell additional objects such as fashion, accessories, etc. Basically she sells herself out to the public eye 👁️. There’s also a bit of sewing terms that fits with social media such as “Pinned”, “Threads”, etc.🪡📍

And rag dolls are known for their adaptability(perfect for trend setting Vel)! I styled her outfit as a kinda tweaked modern outfit of Raggedy Anne/Andy’s outfit. The jumper and black booties. Restyled into a more flashy romp jumper and heeled boots 👢 Even made it to her name, VELVET!

Ngl many friends of mine have said she gives off Monster High vibes(I feel like 2000’s cartoons def inspired me). As well as Lalaloopsy!!!!!!! I was also a bit inspired by OG Millie’s outfit(love the double straps).

Put her in two shades of brown for a patchwork vibe! Another thing I’m going for with the rag doll theme is to allude to insecurity. I imagine she came from less glamorous origins. Didn’t have porcelain dolls like Charlie or plastic Barbies like all the other popular and rich girls, but simple rag dolls and stuffies. No matter how hard she tries to be like perfect porcelain or pretty plastic…she’s cursed to be seen as just some raggedy rag doll💔. I also imagine her death had something related to becoming…torn up(I imagine it wasn’t a pretty end)…

For this look, went with bubble braids made from balls of yarn 🧶 She has all kinds of hairstyles, from yarn, cotton, stitch on wigs and even real hair(from scalps of those who got on her nasty side, @a-sterling-rose suggested this). There’s even a type of hairstyle called “yarn braids”.

Wears fake nails 💅. Gel, acrylic, she’s made of cloth so she can adapt to any kind.

Gave her actual ears 👂 (added them on herself).

Clout Glasses 😎.

For her color scheme, @the-burd-lord suggested I'd go with RGB theme, colors on display screen(Vox is the leader and a screen) Ngl I was conflicted what colors to go with for the vees(Primary, Red blue purple etc). But then I realized when u mix those colors u get those other colors and then I decided to give the Vees two main color themes for each. One for show, the other their true colors! Velvette likes to use green, magenta and purple, for a visually pleasing vibe, light green and magenta for sweetness with purple/gold for luxury, but truth she’s a vain, envious clout seeker who has and will do less than ethic things for the likes. The two colors r also a mix of Val and Vox’s colors(uses them, advertises them to advertise herself!)

Played around with a assymetry color vibe for the envy vibe, thats she’s two faced 🎭. Having a deceptive social media personality like Miss Heed(less lovey dovey).

@lovesart23 video on Velvette really helped me consider what to do with her, like her beign Envy theme(she’s a clout chaser afterall). I LOVE her use of purples and greens for her! I also really dig the eye theme which mine in a sense does too. In this case, button eyes.

Added more weight on her a bit, to give off a more rag doll type body(especially with the limbs 🦾🦵)

Gave her black purple eyes with pink and mint button irises. Got Pin eyelashes 🪡📍

Her her a needle/selfie stick. Good for selfies, fashion emergency and stabbing people!

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

I’ve also done the Hazbin Gang, Mimzy, and even her associate, Vox 📺.

[ms-cartoon]

Warning: This post will contain mentions of assault or anything along the lines of it. You get the idea.

My review for HH ep 2 was supposed to be out by now, but there are some things I have to say first. My reasoning for sticking around for Hazbin Hotel is all gone except for Vox right now. I love Husk too, but they really just kinda ruined him for me in ep 4. I'm probably being dramatic but that's just how I feel. If he's supposed to be this wise bartender who's meant to make people feel better and help reach an understanding of some sort, he really just failed at that.

EP 4 of Hazbin Hotel is probably the worst one out of all the eps released so far. There are PLENTY of flaws to point out, but they can be said for some other posts I'll upload soon. What I'm mainly concerned with as of now is that "Loser Baby" song sung by HuskerDust.

So it's revealed that Husk was once an overlord and was always gambling. He betted his status and powers when playing against Alastor and lost. Now I guess he's forced to do whatever Alastor wants such as being a bartender. . . .

Sorry to get off topic here but. . . . Husk was an overlord??? I don't like how they just suddenly reveal that. It caught me off guard. I know they sorta foreshadowed it in the pilot, but they should've given most newcomers to the show a hint or something. It honestly feels like the writers just pulled that revelation out their asses just to add some positivity and similarity between Angel and Husk's relationship (because Viv and the fans just love idea of this ship oh so much)

Also, since he was previously an overlord, how come nobody's heard of him??? Everybody will get shocked when they hear or see Alastor or recognize him by his radio shows. Everybody knows the Three Vs, Camilla, etc. but not a Husk??? The Overlord with a gambling addiction?? Charlie and Vaggie will get shocked when Alastor comes in the picture but look at Husk like he's some random dude that just popped outta nowhere?

Plus, Alastor didn't force Husk to work as a bartender. In the pilot, he was easily convinced with cheap booze.

Speaking of his gambling addiction; well we all know he likes to gamble judging by his appearance. But gambling being his addiction?? Since when was that implied?

Anyway . . . . At this point, I don't get what the idea of that song is or what Husk meant by it. Maybe I am overlooking it, but its pretty hard not to believe knowing how Viv screws up her writing skills and how she went about it. According to all the Viv defenders, the song was meant to say Angel isn't alone in being stuck in a situation he feels he can't get out of and that Husk can understand where he's coming from and what he's going through. Well sorry to burst y'all's bubble, but even if that was, they just did wrong ENTIRELY. (Sidenote: If you Hazbin lovers wanna see it how u see it, then fine. But Imma stick with what I believe and there's nothing that could be said to change my mind, so don't bother trying to correct me.)

Husk makes it seem like he knows exactly what it's like being in Angel's shoes; signing a contract and being forced to do something against his will. That part seems to be the only thing they have similar. Except what happened with Husk in the past should NOT count as a similarity!

Husk: Loses a bet against Alastor, costing his soul and status as an overlord. Agrees to commit to Alastor's biddings apparently, including being a bartender for a hotel (which he wasn't really forced to do. He doesn't seem to be afraid in refusing Alastor's requests. I partially don't even believe it was apart of the deal to do what Alastor wanted)

Angel: Is a pornstar. Forced to be a pornstar and do whatever Val wants him to do. Including submitting to him and his sexual needs, getting beaten, r8ped, assaulted (sexually even), exploited, drugged, etc.

What part of Angel's problem should Husk be understanding? Alastor doesn't beat or r8pe Husk! It's never even revealed what Husk goes through with Alastor. I doubt it's anything bad on his part, since he clearly isn't afraid to talk smack to the powerful radio demon who could kill him in an instant. They just . . . had that past and now Husk is doing him a permanant favor. What Husk is doing now isn't even anything bad. He's working as a bartender for a hotel and is being paid to do it. He may not like, but it's nothing bad. What ANGEL is going through on the other hand?? The word "bad" doesn't even begin to cover it.

Husk may not know what Angel goes through (though he should connect the dots since Angel hinted at him when he revealed he gets drugged all the time) but Angel just full on agreeing with him and accepting that he's a loser for what he goes through and having to embrace his situation????

Ummm . . . . NO!

Bro! You just saw Angel about to get drugged!! He should NOT have to accept that!!

[redvexillum]

A/N: How long is this? I don't know, until my brain stop producing content for this story. This story is just really fun to write for me at the moment.

SUMMARY: You royally pissed someone off because you were receiving anonymous hate emails for the past fifteen years. How incredibly petty and...entertaining. At first, you decided to ignore them but as their hate comments got increasingly creative, the more you couldn't help but add oil to the burning, passionate flame of their hatred towards you.

Until one day, the mysterious anonymous hater (probably) accidentally revealed themselves to be the one and only TV demon, an Overlord and CEO of everything technological and modern.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, dual POV, enemies to f*ck buddies to something indescribable, Vox is a bratty sub, dom!reader, Vox takes a lot of L's but he secretly enjoys it, reader is sexually liberal and confident, Vox is bad with feelings, Vox is so f*cking hard for reader but refuse to acknowledge it, strong offensive language

<- PREV

“THAT DAMN BITC–” The rest of Vox’s words distorted, the bass in his voice reverberating beyond its normal capabilities, rendering his rage incoherent. His claws trembled, fighting the urge to crush his phone as he watched her latest VoxTube video.  

A groan echoed beside him. Val, his partner, stirred from his slumber, grumbling as his eyes squinted against the glow emanating from both Vox’s face and his cellphone. “Voxy, are you watching that bitch again?” Stretching his lithe arms, he yawned, the gleam from his singular golden tooth piercing the darkness of Vox’s bedroom.  

“How dare she!” Vox seethed, his eyes burning as he glared at her face, that damn smug grin on her red, hot lips. “Look at her!” He turned his cellphone screen toward Val, who tilted his head, squinting harder. 

“What am I looking at?” Val asked, leaning closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Vox had forgotten that Val had shit eyesight.  

It’s that damn VoxTuber, the one that–” Vox started, his ire heating his head, the faint beeps inside his skull warning him he was close to short-circuiting. His mind replayed her terrible reviews, each word a dagger that cut down his pride into ribbons. Her smug expression taunted him, a constant reminder of her audacity.   

The room felt suffocating, his rage palpable. “She thinks she can get away with this. She has no idea who she’s dealing with,” Vox growled, his voice a low rumble that shook with suppressed fury.  

“Oh, the bitch you’ve been obsessing over for the past, what is it now? Half a year now?” Val said, his tone not amused, as he reached for his pipe and put it close to Vox’s fingers.  

With practised motion, Vox produced sparks in his fingers to light the pipe for Val. “I’m not obsessing over her,” he hissed venomously, affronted that this bitch didn’t take his threat seriously from the email he had sent yesterday.  

“She called my show mid,” he continued, his brows furrowing down as he mimicked her awful voice, “and today, she released a review of my Cobra dildo and said it was so fucking bad, it might as well be considered a fucking war crime for anyone who uses it!” His voice raised, and his hands clenched into tight fists, attempting in vain to curb his rising fury.  

Val snorted, then took a long drag of his pipe, releasing pink smoke from his lips that billowed out and hit Vox’s face. With irritation, Vox waved his hand to disperse the smoke clouding his sight.  

“Well, isn't that why you stopped creating anything sex-related and left it to the professional that, you know,” Val wiggled his fingers, “know what they’re doing?” He took another drag of his pipe, the smoke curling between their naked figures, barely covered by the thin sheets.  

Narrowing his eyes, Vox’s head snapped over to his partner. “What do you mean by that? You said it was a great idea.” His teeth ground together, and again, he felt the heat rising and the sparks tingling at the back of his head. “You said it was innovative.” 

Although Vox had little care for the sex industry, he was the CEO of VoxTek and knew it was imperative to leave his mark – his footprint, so to speak – in every sector his corporation oversaw. When he showed the design for his first dildo to Val, Vox was praised for his ingenious design.  

Val paused mid-drag on his pipe, a wide grin spreading across his face. His fingers traced the contours of Vox’s neck before massaging his shoulder. “Voxy, the design was interesting, but not as practical as you imagined.” With a pitiful pat on Vox’s shoulder, Val shrugged nonchalantly. “Certainly made for a good tool to shove up some disrespectful whore’s ass, that’s for sure.” 

His partner’s comment only served to defend the bitch’s review of his dildo. “Fuck you,” Vox spat, whipping the cover off his body and swinging his legs out of the warmth of his bed into the cold.  

“Oh, come on, Voxy,” Val crooned, chuckling between his words, beyond amused by Vox’s irritation. “Why don’t I shoot her in the face a couple of times for you?” His eyes curved into sharp crescent moons; his sadistic glee evident as his eyes glowed red in the dark. “Maybe rip her cunt off and gift it to you?” 

Vox hated her.  

But as he heard Val’s suggestion, his eyes dropped back to the girl on his phone screen.

He hated her.  

The way her lips always seemed to be hiding a dirty secret, the way her eyes lit up with mischief, the way her voice seemed to chime with infectious energy – he hated everything about her.  

But the very idea of needing fucking Val to fight his battle – he hated that above all else. 

Slowly, he turned his head toward Val. He didn’t need a damn scandal on his hands. VoxTek had to maintain a perfect image. He would handle that damn bitch on his own. “Val,” Vox forced a smile, his eyes burning with unchecked rage sparking out from his skin, “don’t touch her,” his voice booming and distorted as if multiplied and overlapping.  

Val raised a brow before shrugging his shoulders. “Suit yourself, Voxy, just trying to help,” his voice light, almost sing-song, before taking another long drag from his pipe.  

With one last glare, Vox stormed out of the room, dressing angrily in his usual blue suit attire. He headed to his office to launch a full-on attack. If she wanted to shit-talk his brand and image, then two could play at that game.  

He entered his office, a lone platform surrounded by inky darkness where one accidental slip could easily lead to a plummet that would take days to restore his body. Sitting in his chair, he faced the numerous computer monitors, ready to take command.  

Before connecting the wires to the back of his head, he resumed the video. After all, it was important to know your enemy and information was key. It was certainly not because he couldn’t go a day without watching her latest video.  

“—honestly, I don’t even know how this got a five-star review! Can’t get anyone off, I tell ya!” Her laughter echoed in his office as she waved the Cobra dildo around.  

The product was a simple design: a dildo with a narrow-curved tip adorned with two red beady eyes. He thought it would be perfect to massage the erogenous zones in one’s ass or cunt, but clearly this bitch didn’t even know how to use a sex toy properly.  

Though he never tested the product himself, it was obvious that his product was perfect and always the best.  

In fact, she was probably a fucking virgin, pretending to be a slut for views. Besides, who would want to fuck her? 

Vox certainly wouldn’t.  

No siree.  

A lump formed in his throat as his eyes trailed down the long, slender expanse of her throat before pooling at her perky breasts, with a hint of cleavage visible beneath the white tube top she wore for today’s video.  

“Trust me, I was very thorough with using this,” she said, the tip of her pink, wet tongue peeking out from her lips as she slowly traced her lower lip from left to right. Vox’s eyes couldn’t look away from her tongue, and his mind automatically started to record the video, storing it in his internal hard drive.  

Her devilish lips turned upward into a dark smirk, a promise of exuberant pleasure to come for any lucky fool to be able to shove their coc– he quickly vanished the train of thought before it fully materialized into the forefront of his mind.  

“It was so well used, until it was dripping, guys,” she whispered into her microphone, and a shiver tingled down his spine as her voice seemed to rub and ruffle all the right circuits within him.  

He could feel the front of his pants getting tighter by the second. Her voice – her sinful, lustful voice – continued its low timbre. “I’m going to sell this on Hell Bay, used,” she said, before…she winked.  

That saucy, little, she-devil, winked!  

The rest of her video played, and it took every ounce of his self-control to will his traitorous, lower half to behave. He had just fucked Val – how the hell was he already ready and roaring to go again?  

Taking a deep breath, he dragged his hand down the flat screen of his face. He didn’t want to fuck her. He just had a very healthy libido. This and that were unrelated.  

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, shaking off the unwanted feelings. He couldn’t let her get to him. Not like this. With a deep breath, he connected the wires to the back of his head, his mind merging with the digital realm.  

First, he was going to send her a scathing email about how much of a fucking cock-licker she was.  

He hoped his words would make her cry.  

Then, he was going to start programming bots to spam her videos with comments about her being a shit VoxTuber. He’d review bomb all the products she was sponsored by.  

Opening a blank email, he began to type, each keystroke a release of his pent-up fury.  

Cackling, his claws clicked and clacked against the keyboard. He knew this bitch wasn’t going to last for long. He gave her three days, tops.  

Then he suppressed a snicker, amused by his own generous estimation. Three days was too much. 

He’d give her 24 hours, tops.  

As he continued to draft his email, he entered a bidding war for her used Cobra dildo on Hell Bay. It was pathetic how these poor hapless fools only had a couple of thousands of dollars to spare. He was going to bid so high that no one would dare to dream of ever outbidding him.

There was no way he was going to let anyone buy the dildo and desecrate his ingenious product, his prized possession, if he had anything to say about it.  

The first thing you did when you woke up was check your phone for any business emails or opportunities to expand your brand and image. As you turned on your phone, your eyes nearly bulged out as your email linked to your VoxTube account had over 100,000+ emails in the span of six hours.  

“What the fuck?” you mumbled, scrolling through the email subject lines and realizing they were notifications for comments on your video. God, why couldn’t VoxTek program their site to have a setting where you didn’t have to receive push notification for this crap? It was only clogging up your email.  

As you scanned through the email messages, you quickly realized that all the comments made on your video were all from a bot programmed to flame your comment section. It was easy to tell with how unoriginal and unimaginative the comments were, considering it were five different variations of saying that you sucked.  

Grinning, you couldn’t believe your luck. Whoever sent this virtual attack was a moron. Didn’t they realize that more engagement, regardless of the negativity, meant that the VoxTube algorithm would push your video to more potential viewers?  

A bubble of giggles burst forth as you deleted the emails with ease. Today was going to be a fantastic day, you just knew it in your bones. Plus, with the bots entering your comment section, it counted as a view. Your latest video reviewing the Cobra dildo shot up in views, gifting you with an immense boost of your view count compared to what you would’ve normally received.  

Among the spam and invitations to parties with other companies wanting to collaborate with you, you noticed another email from Anonymous666 in your personal inbox.  

You were no stranger to hate comments; they came with the territory of the industry you were involved in. Back when you started, specifically, back when you were alive, every hurtful word would send you spiralling into despair.  

But as you steadily climbed the ladder of fame and fortune, you learned to brush off the negativity. In fact, sometimes you found the passionate hate comments oddly charming – each one a unique expression of someone’s emotions, someone’s evidence that you lived in their head rent-free. For a while, it brought you great joy that you had such power over their minds.  

But eventually, even the most creative hate comments started to feel mundane and repetitive, leaving you in a cycle of apathy and boredom.  

You knew Anonymous666’s messages would likely fade into insignificance in your mind soon enough. For now, though, you have decided to indulge in the free entertainment. With a smirk, you clicked on their new email for today.  

Subject: Fuck you  You wouldn’t know a good sex toy if it fucked you in your fucking cunt, covered in your cream. I bet you’re a virgin slut, and you don’t know how to use a god-damn dildo.   Here’s the instruction for your dumb ass, peanut-sized brain:  You insert the fucking dildo in your cunt.   Your review of the dildo only shows how incredibly naive you are. You’re just spreading fake news. That dildo is fucking outstanding. It’s five stars. It would obviously be the bestseller if VoxTek didn’t release a new dildo biweekly.   Furthermore, what is wrong with you selling the dildo, used, no less, on Hell Bay? That’s disgusting. Depraved. And wrong. Who the hell would even buy that? I guess if you’re desperate for cash, someone might be generous enough to donate money to you. You might as well be a whore at that point – shaking your fucking ass and tits for money.   Moreover, you are not sexy. At all. You’re just trying much too hard.   In short, you are an attention-seeking whore.   Well, you definitely got my attention!   I’m going to make you regret shit talking the greatest company in all of Hell.   Fuck you.  

Your lips quivered, a mixture of amusement and disbelief contorting your expression. “Ah…” you managed to choke out before laughter erupted from deep within you for the second day in a row.  

Anonymous666 did not miss.  

You couldn’t help but wonder if this fervent hater was a die-hard VoxTek enthusiast. Maybe they weren’t a fan of yours after all, but rather they were hard up for that TV demon himself. It would explain why your videos critiquing VoxTek’s products attracted the most bot-generated comments.  

For a moment, you toyed with the idea of engaging with them, perhaps even coaxing out some insider information about the largest corporation in all of Hell. You lick their dick and give a pretty smile, and they tell you all the little secrets you needed to scam some of the honchos that wank themselves off for having a supposed tight security.  

Fuck, you missed that high.  

Your fingers hovered over the reply button, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you imagined the possibilities. Yet, after a brief pause, you sighed and pressed the delete button instead. 

You’d danced that dance before, and while you couldn’t entirely avoid the desire to become an influencer once again, you’d resolved to focus on a different goal in this new life.  

A simpler goal.  

A goal where you focused on accumulating as much wealth as possible and finding solace in the comforts of damnation for the rest of eternity.  

A notification chimed on your phone from Hell Bay, announcing that username ScreenDude69 had won the auction and purchased your used dildo for a staggering $750,000.  

Wow.  

Impressive.  

Excessive, but undeniably impressive.  

Maybe you should put up more used toys up for sale, considering you just hooked a hapless fool, and it aligned with your goal perfectly of earning as much money as possible. 

You had a feeling that if they bought one, they were sure to buy them all.  

NEXT ->

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

[doodler16]

“Loser, Baby” should’ve been a heart to heart conversation between Husk and Angel Dust instead of a song. I understand both sides regarding fans and critics. The song is supposed to inspire Angel dust to open up, that he is not alone, and embracing his qualities in a healthy manner. Which is fine, the problem is the execution.

Husk starts off “Loser, Baby” by being honest and stating the obvious: how things are hopeless and how Angel’s life is wrecked, not sugar coating things like Charlie would throughout most of the show. But things take a turn when Husk surprises Angel Dust and getting his attention when Husk is like, “yeah you are correct, not only does your life suck but you are a loser.”

Things go immediately downhill when Husk continues to call him a fucked up little whiny bitch, a loser again, screws loose boozer, an only one star reviews-er (reference to Angel Dust showing his porn film earlier in the same episode that won him a sex award), and power bottom at rock bottom. Near the end of that sequence, Husk mentions to Angel that he has company.

All the things Husk said, that I listed sounds like something Valentino would say to Angel Dust to demean, mock, and emotionally abuse him. Imagine Valentino saying all this exactly how Husk is doing right now. It changes everything. Understandably, Angel Dust is annoyed and even questions how this is supposed to make him feel better.

Husk continues the song and we, the audience see a more vulnerable side of him. Husk mentions how he thought no one could relate and how damaged he is. Husk says that you should let walls down and how Angel Dust is not the only one who is suffering.

There are other positive messages in the song like: “it time to lose your self-loathing excuse yourself, let hope in.” “Play your card, be who you are.” Which is great! The problem is the positive words featured aren’t the complete main focus and felt they added near the end, it’s mainly negative words like how Husk and Angel are both losers, Angel calling himself a coked up dick sucking’ ho, a schmoozer, and a dummy. Both demeaning themselves in the process.

If all those small positive words sprinkled in the song got completely removed, would anyone still think it’s empowering? So, I don’t blame anyone for thinking Husk was/is victim-blaming Angel Dust when most of the song featured negative words. And, I’m not surprised that it got lost in translation and many are still fighting about this song till this day.

Also Husk’s wording in specific parts of the song makes him sound dismissive. For example: when Angel says how sold his soul to Val’s weirdo ass. Husk says, “Haha, and you think that makes you unique?” I get what Vivziepop and the writers were going for but his wording was so awful.

[dice-sociation]

AP Review: Reckless Attack - Main Campaign

Listen Here: https://www.recklessattack.com/episodes/

Quick info:

Audio Quality: High Quality and Edited, Effects, Music. Vibes: Lord of the Rings, Ghibli, Never Ending Story, Avatar the Last Airbender, Frogs Extras: Discord and Patreon rewards. System: 5e DnD Average Episode time: 1 hour Uploads 1 Episode per week. Campaign/ Show Length: Long Term Campaign Platforms: Podcast, Audio Only. Accessibility: Content Warnings Language available: English Diversity: AAPI/BIPOC Number of Episodes Review is based on: 100 (This is my first review so I decided to start with a Podcast I’m already caught up on) ** If you want the TLDR, scroll to the bottom of the post **

Why Reckless Attack?

I honestly believe that part of the draw of listening to people play a TTRPG is not just the story telling but an assurance that adults can somehow actually and consistently come together, in person, to pull off a full long term game. Reckless Attack is one such podcast. They are a small indie podcast with excellent audio quality and editing. 

But, why should you listen to another high fantasy podcast? Well, have you ever wanted to see what a post-apocalyptic High Fantasy world would look like? The deeper you delve into Reckless Attack, the deeper the lore gets, and we have barely scratched the surface a hundred episodes in. You’ll join the players as they explore a world recovering from an apocalyptic event, ripe with magic and unstable artifacts, an undead army, and frogs.

Starting The Pod

Right out the gate, the listeners are greeted by a Lord of the Rings style opening monologue, giving relevant history and context to the kind of place the characters live in. I personally get the feeling a lot of the world was established in a previous game or between the DM and players prior to the start of this campaign. If, as a listener, it feels like you're missing something, don't worry; you'll get a lot more context down the road, especially once the players make it to the city of Agmar (Episode 15). The first 15 episodes are a nice slow build up. 

Conveniently, the first recap episode covers Episode 1-14! (Though I really enjoyed the first 14 episodes, I know not everyone has the amount of listening time I have). If you are so inclined to start from the first episode, you'll get nicely eased into the characters and their relationships with one another before a lot of the bigger world building really starts to soar.

(My one caveat is that I listen to this podcast at 1.3-1.4 speed since the players and Nathan speak with a good amount of pauses, and that can be a little too slow for me.)

About the Team

Nathan, the DM for the main campaign, paints some amazing pictures of his homebrew world. He has a real talent for creating larger than life NPCs and Big Baddies for his players to interact with. They all have clear motivations, flaws, and personalities that truly rounds out the overall story. When it comes to plot, Nathan kept me on my toes with plot twists that would literally snap me out of whatever multitasking I was doing. And I must recognize how often Nathan opens the floor for the players to build parts of the story and describe longer stretches of downtime. Those moments are like the equivalent of cinematic montages to represent the passing of time.

The players, Sophie, Steve, David, and Jonathan, deliver wonderful descriptions and leave plenty of space for each other to speak, balanced with just the right amount of crosstalk. Each character has a very unique voice which is helpful for listeners (especially because David and Jonathan are twins and have similar voices).

Sophie plays Valeska Carter, the Human * Cleric. "Valeska is a young woman in search of answers. Like, compulsively."* I quickly fell in love with Val, an exhausted nerd who can never have enough notes and organization. If you're the kind of person who is always rescuing animals, you will love her too. 

Steve plays Selv Asterlin, the Dragonborn Monk. "Selv’s years at his town’s icy mountain monastery has trained not just his body, but also his mind and emotions. The large dragonborn seeks to be a peacemaker in conflicts, exuding strength, calm and serenity while straying away from violence and lethal force when possible."* But don't be fooled, Selv is often one for the occasional good prank, and I always appreciate Steve's references even when the rest of the group don't understand them. (I got you Steve) 

David plays Kascorin "Kass" Brightmane, the Dwarven Warlock. "Tomorrow (Kass leaves) this city for the Golden Tree adventuring guild, and in leaving this city, (He leaves his) friends, (his) family, and (his) comfortable life behind."* Kass is very grounded, serious, and focused, until he runs into tasty dried meats. Kass has all the charm of a warlock and the grit of a soldier. 

Jonathan plays Checkers, the Gung Druid, with his trusty pals Mango and Junior. "Joining the Golden Tree adventuring guild on a dare, Checkers and his frog pal Mango are here to prove that it’s better to find your own path than to follow someone else’s. After all, where’s the fun in looking before you leap?"* Checkers is a lot like the characters I personally play. Someone who doesn't stand around for too much planning and prefers to "leap" into action. In my very humble opinion, every group needs an instigator. 

I have also come to really admire the level of trust and respect the group has for one another. They handle both wonderful whimsical beats as well as solemn moments with great care (Episode 108 was magnificent.)

*Quoted from the official Reckless Attack website. You can find this and more at their website www.recklessattack.com. (Be aware, reading the available character sheets may contain spoilers)

About the World

Ryxia is built on a world where long ago, the Gods walked among mortals, but one day they left. As if in consequence, magic in this world seems to ebb and flow, and monsters roam the wilds. Until, the "second of Ryxia’s twin suns disappeared from the sky, the Ultragiants appeared, and the Pentarchy’s great capital city of Narhasur was turned into a smoldering crater." *

You can think of the Ultra Giants as the Titans of this world, being elemental and colossal. These Ultra Giants terrorized mortals until one day, the mortals managed to kill one " wielding their city’s Object of Focus… The object was destroyed, as was much of the army. But strangely, within days, the Ultragiants no longer stalked Ryxia."*

As the mortals re-emerged, they started to rebuild despite the incredible amount of monsters who now roam the lands. 

*Quoted from the official Reckless Attack website. You can find this and more at their website www.recklessattack.com. (Be aware, reading the available character sheets may contain spoilers)

Extras

Aside from the main campaign Nathan has his own series called Reckless A-Talk. This series Nathan or others on the team interview incredible people from all over the TTRPG space. Nathan's style of interviewing is mostly allowing his guest to speak more than he does, followed by the wonderful lightning round questions. I highly recommend listening to these (as a little treat) if you are interested in learning other perspectives and other aspects of the industry. 

Bonus one shots are another part of Reckless Attack, allowing the players to take the reigns.  They serve as fun filler for when you just can't wait for the next episode to drop. 

And if that's still not enough content for you, you can always subscribe to their Patreon for even more content, including the very relaxed Reckless A-Snack.

TLDR

High Fantasy world rebuilding the world after mortals were nearly wiped out.

Listeners will get a good feel of the world within the first 14 episodes. (IMO, the pacing starts to pick up after Episode 14)

Here are "Tale Til Now," recap episodes for those who want to catch up faster. (Episodes 1-14, 14-42, 42-66, 67-84)

Non Player Characters are larger than life, with clear motives and personalities.

The Dungeon Master and Players share a lot of world building and you can feel the love and trust they have for each other.

Recommended listening at 1.3x-1.5x speed if you are one of those people (you know who you are).

Find more details about the world and characters at www.recklessattack.com.

Lots of extra content for those who just need more, including; interviews, one-shots run by the players, and patreon bonus content. https://www.patreon.com/recklessattack/home

Do you have ideas or suggestions? Please feel free to comment!

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[jokeroutsubs]

[📝 ENG translation] Joker Out pleased 50 chosen fans the night before the release of a new album

Original article written by Niko Hari for RTV MMC, published 15.11.2024. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by IG 10_anja, proofread by @flowerlotus8

The fans listened to five new songs for the first time in the listening room of Val 202.

The night right before the release of Joker Out's third album, 50 chosen fans listened to the band's five freshest songs for the first time. Through their song selection, the members exposed the album's stylistic diversity, which will be presented in concert form at the end of the month.

The most loyal fans waited for more than 800 days for the release of Joker Out's third studio album Souvenir Pop.

(Ph: MMC RTV SLO)

After a few days of the release of Joker Out's second LP Demoni, the Slovenian public was convinced by how quickly their fans fall in love with new music since the fans managed to memorise the lyrics of almost the entire album in a short amount of time and were, at the surprise of everybody, even the band, singing along with Bojan Cvjetićanin at the top of their lungs.

This time, around 50 lucky fans got the opportunity to "consume" the band's new music before the other mere mortals at Val 202's listening room.

The fans listened to five songs from the album Souvenir Pop with the company of Andrej Karoli, the editor and radio presenter on Val 202, who can be at least partially credited for the renaissance of Slovenian pop due to his intense playing of young local bands on the radio waves.

First, Joker Out pleased the fans by playing the acoustic version of the already well known hit 'Novi Val' and soon after, the first notes of the new songs were heard in studio 26. It was a little bit anticlimactic since the songs were not played live, however, the band listened to the studio versions of the songs alongside the 50 fans.

(Ph: Kaja Ravnak/Val 202)

On the other hand, the fans were able to get to know the album best through the recorded songs. The honour of choosing the first song went to Karolij, who first offered the fans the song 'Sonce'. He admitted that all of the members of the band were surprised by his song selection, considering the song is quite gloomy and at the same time carries a heavy message.

"'Sonce' is actually a story in which a dead son talks to his mother who is alive. The story was directly inspired by the current situation in Palestine. Some people thought that it's a love song when I showed them the song without context, but it's not. Jan took over the task of writing the music to the lyrics. The entire arrangement is Jan playing the piano. The story could not be told more beautifully through music." said Cvjetićanin.

An extreme move away from Umazane Misli

Immediately after the first song, it was obvious that Souvenir Pop would not be an album of radio hits but rather a mature product of music, which also highlights the band's musical development. From songs off the album Umazane misli, which shot the band to the very top of the Slovenian music scene, and with the move away from Demoni, the boys showed the public can relate to the different styles of music they create.

The third album confirmed this move, since the chosen five songs showcased a powerful genre, textual and linguistic diversity as well as the band's ability to step-up with every album, which was appreciated at the first listen by the fans too.

"At the start I was very sceptical of the lyrics, since the song was originally written in English. We really liked it, besides, it's difficult to let go of something that's familiar, but Bojan convinced us to let him also have this song in Slovenian. He was right, the song written in this form was missing for me on this album." said Kris Guštin about the second song of the evening and Bojan added that him and Kris have a completely different interpretation of the song:

"'Mesto duhov' is the reflection of when I realised for the first time in my life that we as a society fell into a very negative mindset. People have a defensive aura around them, always on guard - which is normal when we see everything go in the opposite direction from what we want every day." He also added that this is the first lyric he wrote in which he was 100% pessimistic.

They observed the fans' reactions

If the gloomy sound of the song titled 'Sonce' was surprising, it was even more unexpected to hear much upbeat rhythms in a song titled 'Mesto duhov.' The song ticks all the expectations of a quality modern rock song, and in the chorus, the music and the lyrics are almost ironically cute. Karoli also noticed the discrepancy: "How can you be sad and write pa, pa, pa ..."

The guys attributed the reason to the fusion of the Slovenian and English versions of the song, and the most (un)obvious indicator of the fusion is certainly the guitar solo, which in the final version still "sings" the lyrics of the original version in Morse code. Even before the first song, Karoli asked the audience to leave their mobile phones in their pockets this time, as this is the only way they will be able to fully enjoy the new songs.

Between the ballads, Lina, a fan, was completely engrossed in the music and with closed eyes took in every note. "I didn't expect for it to be as good as it was, and I had high expectations. I really liked it, I just closed my eyes and really felt the music. Although I'm a lover of rock, I really liked the diversity of the album.

"I enjoyed 'Mesto duhov' the most. Obviously I like the other hits as well, but 'Mesto duhov' and 'Sonce' touched me the most. I thought that they would perform the songs live, but just listening to the tracks was okay too, since we could also observe them and how they listen to their own music." she told us.

Before playing the third track, Karoli asked the boys about how they feel when they listen to their own songs with their fans and what they do while listening. "I am constantly looking at the reactions. With this song especially, I was observing how you will react to the chorus." admitted Nace Jordan to the 50 fans.

Joker Out explained that the final version of 'Lips' did not sound anything like the first, since they wanted to at least partially record it in French. "At the start, it was a very Franz Ferdinant rock 'n' roll song. The idea was to even invite a French singer to collaborate on this track. But then it quickly went down the drain since we realised that none of us knows French." said Cvjetićanin before the premiere of this song.

Instead of the originally intended rock song, the audience received a complex and musically multi-layered track, which probably will never be the most desired song at concerts, but Joker Out still added one of the highest quality tracks to their collection to date. "I believe that all lovers of pop music would like to have as many hits as possible, but on the other hand I'm happy that the band makes music that carries weight and stands on its own," approved the music editor of Val 202.

He added that Jure Maček will not have much to do due to the absence of acoustic drums, but Jure quickly reminded him that he plays one part in the old-fashioned way at concerts. Nace also said that throughout the entire song, we can hear a heartbeat in the background.

The favourite song from the album

Then followed the song which was, based on the reactions, the most liked by the audience and at the same time the song 'Muzika za Decu,' which was described by Karoli as a tribute to Partibrejkers (a well-known old Serbian rock band), is probably also the one that will play the most on the Slovenian radio.

If the audience was enjoying the previous songs by closing their eyes and swaying to the music, the penultimate song broke the peace, like a crystal in a glass factory shattering during an earthquake of the smallest magnitude. "'Muzika za decu' was definitely the best song today," was what a group of girls agreed while exiting the studio satisfied after listening to all the songs. The last song on the list of the new songs was 'Ako toga više neče biti.'

"This is Bojan and I's favourite song on this album," told Karoli to the audience before listening to the last song off the new album and added that this song, at least in terms of lyrics, is a description of a middle-aged man after going through a truly difficult divorce. Still a sad ballad, but sounding more optimistic than let's say 'Sonce', again had the audience closing their eyes and all that was left was to enjoy it.

"This song will always be relevant after every broken heart. I can't wait for the concert performance," is how Karoli finished the listening. After the "official" part, fans were given a rare opportunity to ask the band practically anything. Until the end of the session, various questions were asked about the album, songs, clothes and the friendship between band members.

The visibly delighted group of mostly female fans (there were also some male fans of Joker Out) then got a few minutes to capture the moment in front of the cameras. All that remained was the wait until midnight, when the fans of the band could listen through the entire album for the first time, on which Joker Out included 10 songs.

[valscigarette]

Summary: Val goes to the drugstore after a long night (drugstore!au)

Tags: Vox/Val, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced SA, Drugs

See AO3 or DM me for more detailed tags/warnings!

WC: 3.3k | AO3

-

Despite how the sun blinds Valentino at this cruel, early hour, he knows the walk to the drugstore by muscle memory. Two dozen steps down one block, cross the street, a right turn, eight more steps, and turn to the left so he can grasp the cool metal of the door handle, a hiss escaping him when it cracks the thin rug-burn scabs of his palm. This place needs automatic doors. Still, Val powers through the sting of pain to wrench the old, squeaky door open and enter the dim shelter his favorite drugstore provides. He’s pretty sure he’s more attached to the morning cashier than the store itself by now. Something about that box-headed prude makes Val feel like a million bucks,  no matter how many insults they trade back and forth. 

“Oh, fuck, Val!”

He hears the sinner in question before his eyes adjust, and chitters as he stumbles toward the counter. “I don’t think they pay you enough for that,” he drawls. With a few rapid blinks, Vox’s blue screen comes into fuzzy focus, his concern twisting a slashed frown across his face. “You get a raise, Papi?”

“Cut it out,” Vox retorts, none of the usual bite in his static voice. His eyes dance around his screen, taking in every detail of Val’s disheveled state, from the crook in his antenna, to the bruised necklace around his throat, to the cum trail ending at the broken strap of his pleasers. If Vox wanted to be mean, he has no shortage of material. “I told you,” he adds with a spark in the wires atop his head, “I’m not one of your fucking customers.” Vox suddenly turns on his heel and opens the pill cabinet, defaulting toward the slot of oxycontin. “The usual? Or something stronger?”

“You know me so well.” One of Val’s heels creaks ominously under him, prompting him to lean further into the counter before it snaps. “A double, Voxxy.” He squints at the shelves and asks, “You guys carry the good shit, right?”

Vox hesitates with two bottles balanced between his fingers. “What’re you thinking?”

“Special K.” Though Vox can’t see him, Val still bats his eyelashes. “Enough to knock out a horse. I don’t wanna move for a week.”

Another arc of electricity haloes Vox’s head, making Val’s fur stand on end and his wings twitch reflexively. The air always has a taste in Hell, and Vox’s static brings a dry, sharp flavor to the tip of his tongue, triggering more drool to fill his mouth and coat his lips– something he can’t discern as distinctly attraction or fear that Vox might hurt him. Val dismisses the latter. If Vox lays an unpaying hand on him, Val will regenerate and his boss will squeeze every last penny and pixel from the bastard for his trouble; on the other hand, if Vox ever coughs up a couple hundred bucks, he can have carte blanche.

“Yeah, you uh-” Vox clears his throat, “you look kinda rough.”

Somehow his words sting worse than a slap would. “Fuck you. You’re one to talk, you wear the same goddamn shirt everyday.” Val sucks in an inhale and gestures at Vox’s garish, ugly sweater vest to illustrate his point. “Are you a fucking cartoon character? At least I have taste-”

His scathing review of Vox’s fashion is cut short by his shoe breaking, prompting Valentino to lose his balance and crumple to the linoleum in a tangle of limbs that would hurt if he wasn’t already most of the way to stoned. No way Val would’ve made it to the store sober. As he catches his bearings, he hears Vox curse and jog around the counter, the fuzzy hum of his screen deafening when he kneels next to Val.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” Val huffs, struggling to push himself up when his wings cover the ground around his body. “Just a broken heel.” 

He’ll have to work off the cost of it, probably through another night like last, but it's a problem for later Valentino, once his current injuries heal enough to take a fresh beating and his ego recovers enough to admit a fifth costume piece needs replacing in as many weeks. The cost is gonna come out of his drug money sooner rather than later. Val curses under his breath at the thought as he struggles with the fine buckles of his shoes. At least his only witness is Vox, too anxious and antisocial to fuel the rumor mill, and too enamored by Val’s attention to take advantage of an easy target. 

Vox is safe like that. 

“You need to clean up,” Vox says, holding out a claw-tipped hand to Val. In the months they’ve come to know each other, he’s recoiled from every touch, even incidental ones- never offered it. “There’s an emergency shower in the back, I use it sometimes when my water’s off.” He wiggles his fingers, impatient, until Val takes the support. 

“It doesn’t damage your,” Val waves one of his upper hands around Vox’s head, “whole thing?”

“You’ve seen me drink coffee. It’s not all mechanical,” Vox answers dryly. As he leads Val around the counter, he has to hold both of them up through Val’s stumbling and wincing in a display of more strength than his wiry frame suggests. Vox pulls him through the Staff Only door, down the hall, and into the bathroom lit by a single corded light bulb and inadequately perfumed by a urinal cake in the cracked toilet bowl. “Leave your clothes on the paper-towel dispenser so they don’t get wet,” Vox says, pointing toward the metal box jutting out above the sink. “You get ten seconds of water every time you pull the lever next to the shower, and it’s cold, but you can’t drip-” he stops, his face glitching with stripes of technicolor, before his voice returns in a whine of feedback, “fluids in my fucking store. It’s disgusting.”

Val rolls his eyes and tugs off his cropped hoodie. It sticks to the lashes in his back that have just started to scab over, but he tamps down a reaction as it pulls away from the welts. “Please. You’re into it, I can tell; wouldn’t be staring otherwise.” He tilts his head and hooks his thumb into the waistband of his skirt. “Hmm?”

One of Vox’s eyes flashes red for an instant before he schools his shock into a guarded expression and pointedly casts his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t be shy. I’m not. Everyone’s seen it.”

“Val,” Vox snaps, falling short of intimidating and landing in the neighborhood of defensive. “I’ll be right outside, so I’ll hear if you fall.”

“Aww, such a gentleman,” Val coos, because he can never resist pressing Vox a step past the line. 

Rather than reacting, Vox lets himself out. For the first time in over twenty-four hours, Val is entirely alone, too close to sober for his comfort, and torn between amused by Vox’s care and annoyed at the delay in getting his fix. The former wins out. There’s something cute about Vox, clinging to a proper image like he doesn’t sell ecstasy for a living and get behind on his water bill, practically short-circuiting every time he’s tempted by the myriad sins at his doorstep. If Vox ever gets past his hangups, Val would happily introduce him to the messier pleasures of the afterlife. 

Reveling in the thought, Val peels off his skirt, fishnets, and gloves, then piles his clothes on the dispenser with his wallet atop the heap. Now to actually clean up. There’s not much he can do with only hand soap at his disposal, but he fills his bottom two hands with the pink stuff from the dispenser before positioning himself under the rusted shower head. He spares a moment to hope the water is clean. 

Thankfully it is, albeit ice cold, as it cascades over Val and cuts through the grime caked into his fur. Other than the obvious mess from a few creampies more than his body can reasonably accommodate, flakes of dried cum stick to other parts of him with errant smears of blood, sweat, and cigarette ash. All in all, Val’s had more disgusting nights. The thin soap doesn’t make him feel clean, but it washes the visible stains down the drain and rinses easily with each timed stream of water, leaving him to begrudgingly admit he feels better without a head-to-toe coat of dried jizz. The water doesn’t sting when he washes his injuries either, a miniscule comfort after all he endured to get them.

After his final rinse, he shakes off as much water as he can with a full body shiver, but finds the paper towel dispenser empty when he cranks its handle. He sighs.. Vox means well. It’s not his fault Val hates redressing without fully drying off. With effort, he negotiates his thigh-highs and miniskirt back into place. He pauses over the hoodie; it’ll stick to the cuts in his back again, and he doesn’t want to wash them a second time today, but Vox is liable to throw a fit about his indecency. Any other day it’d be a guarantee. This morning, though, his misplaced pity seems to erase their carefully defined boundaries.

Val tucks his hoodie under his arm and reemerges from the bathroom with his armor intact once more, despite his relative state of undress. True to his word, Vox leans against the opposite wall, his eyes darting from the front counter to Val when he appears, then away again with a minor glitch when he spots his bare chest. 

“Really?”

“My back’s fucked,” Val says simply, brushing past Vox. Feedback cries through his speakers, echoing in the enclosed space loud enough to make Val cringe upon seeing the state he’s been left in. Without a mirror to check the damage, Val can’t be sure how bad it is, but he could feel at least a dozen individual gashes when he washed. “I came here to get pills for it, remember? Earth to Vox?” He stops, turning to face Vox again when he doesn’t hear his footsteps following. Eight months have made Val an expert on the intricacies of digital expressions, but he can’t make heads or tails of the twitchy one on Vox’s screen now. “Are you short circuiting? Surely you’ve seen a man’s tits before today.”

The unreadable look falls off Vox’s face as he straightens up. “I have a first aid kit under the register; I’m not selling to you until I bandage those. Because they’re a biohazard.” He nods, as if to convince himself of the excuse. “No fluids in my store.” Recovered from his lapse in control, he ushers them out of the staff hallway. “And don’t show up like this again.”

He gently shoves Val onto the stool in front of the register, which Val only complies with because his muscles are too sore for it to be worth the fight. When Vox ducks to retrieve his first aid kit, the sharp corners of his screen press indents against Valentino’s calves, static from his screen and antennae teasing the lavender fur on end. One day Val’s going to see how that feels between his thighs.

“But you take such good care of me, Papi,” Val simpers.

“Here it is!”

Popping back up with the dusty kit in hand, Vox carries on like he didn’t hear the aside. He has a knack for spinning conversations, reality, to his whims with the skilled precision of a charlatan. One day, he’ll be important. Val knows it. And if he plays all his cards right, Val can climb the ladder with him as the pretty little mistress who cracked Vox’s repressed shell.

“You get off on this?” Vox asks, lifting an ancient roll of gauze. 

They’re clearly the first to make use of the kit, given how non-angelic wounds heal on their own, but with as many to attend to as Val has currently, it’ll take long enough for bandages to be sensible. Neither his flat nor the club are particularly clean, after all.

“I get paid.” That’s all that matters. Val reminds himself so every time he knocks on an ugly john’s motel room door. “Don’t get me wrong, Voxxy, I love a good pounding, a little fight-” he stutters when Vox begins pressing the first layer of gauze into the tender welts on his back, “but I’d rather bend those slimy fucks over and remind them they’re paying for the privilege to get their pathetic dicks anywhere near me.” Vox’s hands still and Val wishes he could see his face. “I like dancing, I like sex, and it keeps the drugs flowing. So if you're asking, yes, I get off on it.”

Vox considers this in silence. He winds the gauze around Val’s chest to secure it, masterfully avoiding contact with anything other than the inches of bandaging he pushes into place over the lashes, as he works his way down Val’s back. It aches, fiery and deep, every time the dull backs of his claws smooth the gauze, but the pain is far closer to the enjoyable sting of lactic acid after a vigorous fuck. By the third row down, he reaches the deep centers of the gashes, where his unwavering focus spikes from tolerable to white-hot, like a spark directly through Val's spine. 

He twitches away with a gasp. “Fuck.” It takes a conscious effort to keep his wings from draping in a protective curtain around his back. He expects Vox, his safe, predictable, loser, fucking drug clerk to freeze at the reaction, but Vox smooths the gauze again with a considering hum Val can only read as interest. “Ah, I see. Should I have come in all bloody sooner?” he teases. 

“This may come as a shock to you, but not everything is about sex,” Vox deadpans. 

When he presses the next layer down, Val groans in the back of his throat to antagonize him. He expects a snarky reprimand, perhaps a warning hum, but instead Vox suddenly digs the points of his claws into Val’s hip, far enough from the lashes to cause a distinct, fresh pain to flare at the contact.

“Yes it is,” Val counters, tilting his head back to look up at Vox’s flickering screen. “This holier-than-thou attitude’s holding you back, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Inches from the smooth, static glass, Val can’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss Vox: if his screen would be cold with death or warm with electricity, if his tongue would be wet like real flesh or ephemeral like the jolts between his antennae. With any other sinner, Val wouldn’t hesitate to find out, but he can’t risk it this time. Not with Vox. He’s spent too many months being a good boy and following Vox’s lead to screw it up with poor impulse control now.

“You’ve got something special, amor.” Val grins into the teal glow. “Sucking and fucking, it’s not for you- I get it.” Another deliberate drag of Vox’s claws makes him trill. “But you’ve got star written all over you.”

“Okay, I know you think it’s funny to call me a prude, but here’s the truth, Val.” While Vox’s voice isn’t any louder, its timbre drops deep enough to vibrate Valentino’s bones. “My unwillingness to risk Hell’s version of gonorrhea-”

“Regular gonorrhea,” Val interrupts.

“-doesn’t mean I’m celibate. You do know you’re a whore?” Vox laughs, a distorted, mean sound as he winds a second layer of gauze around Val’s torso. “I’ve got better options.”

Though Vox doesn’t tempt the injuries he’s presumably caring for again, his sharp claws repeatedly skim the spared skin of Val’s ribs and waist. “Not to insult drunk back-alley bowjobs,” Val chirps, ”but you’d be much less uptight if you got a decent fucking orgasm every once in a while.”

Finally, Vox finishes his wrapping, the brush of his hands dulled through layers of gauze as he knots the end in place. He lingers a moment too long; palm splayed between Val’s upper set of shoulder blades, standing close enough for Val to enjoy his body heat, calculating eyes darting over Val’s figure like he’s memorizing the scene. The attention is familiar, if not from him.

“As fun as this has been,” Vox says slowly, turning to pack the first aid kit away, “You’re lucky no one else has come in. So, two bottles of oxy, and how much ket?”

Val pulls his shirt on as he stands up. Frustration at the dismissal squeezes his heart, but he knows better than to expect anything else from Vox. “Five grams, powdered.” If the quantity surprises Vox, Val can't tell. “What do I owe you for it?”

“Two hundred,” Vox replies automatically, crossing behind Val to reach the tranquilizer section. He places the scale on the counter and begins to measure out Val’s ketamine with more dedication than a shithole drugstore deserves. “If your cut’s less than that after they tore you up, you’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

Val hums. “Don’t worry about me, Daddy makes plenty.”

More accurately, he makes enough to get so high, he can put up with his least favorite customers and his handsy sleazeball boss. He eats and lives free at the club, and the cash he sees from his work keeps him stocked, making it a decent gig– definitely beats retail work. He feels the edges of the bills in his wallet, guessing from the number that they’re in twenties rather than hundreds this time.

“How many twenties is that?” he inquires. 

“Ten.”

Val counts the bills, restarting a couple times to be sure, but a nagging feeling insists he tallied them up wrong. He frowns as he counts them again. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure I can do simple math,” Vox enunciates, like multiplication is simple to most sinners. “Oxy’s sixty a bottle, like always. Two bottles is one-twenty, and then eighty for the ket.”

“That’s it!” Val crumples the bills as he snaps his fingers on another hand. “Eighty for five grams sounds wrong. Mixing up prices isn’t like you, Papi, are you distracted?” It wouldn’t be shocking, after the morning they’ve had. “I don't want you to get in trouble. You’re lucky I’m an honest sinner.”

“Honest, ha!” With a couple more adjustments, Vox seals the five gram bag and returns the stock of ketamine to its shelf. “You’ve never been honest a day of your existence.” He comes back to the register to slide Val’s goodies into a logo’d paper bag and punch the details into the register. “No, it’s correct. Staff discount, for the…” Vox jerks his head toward Val’s discarded heels in the store lobby. “Inconvenience. Put the money toward a replacement pair.”

Discounts are part of life for Val, a given in the red-light district of the city where he’d be hard pressed to run into a shopkeep he hasn’t fucked yet, but this doesn’t feel like the typical quid-pro-quo. Since Val arrived, Vox has done him favor after favor. If it had just been the shower, or the bandages, or the discount, Val could write this off as a relic of Vox’s antiquated brand of masculinity, but for him to do all three without asking anything in return is a bear trap waiting to close.

“How sweet.” As Val hands his cash over, he dismisses the thought; Vox is too tame to demand anything Val wouldn’t give him cheap regardless. “You’re too good to me.”

Vox's customer service smile glitches. “It's my job, Val.”

“I know, but you always make me feel special.” Scooping up his shoes on the way out, Val allows his skirt to ride up, grinning smugly at the choked sound Vox makes. “Same time next week, mwah!”

[sapphoshands]

here's the thing tho. less than a month ago this article came out about inside out 2 and the disney-pixar culture around making it, and it included these bits of reporting:

But multiple sources say that Disney leadership internally put a large part of the blame for Lightyear’s financial failure on a same-sex kiss in the film, which was briefly removed then reinstated after an internal staff uproar. In a joint statement to Walt Disney Company leadership, LGBTQ workers and allies at Pixar said leadership was censoring “overtly gay affection” at a time where employees were also protesting the company’s response to Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill. “It is, as far as I know, still a thing, where leadership, they'll bring up Lightyear specifically and say, ‘Oh, Lightyear was a financial failure because it had a queer kiss in it,’” one source tells IGN. “That's not the reason the movie failed.”

The apparent hesitance to touch on LGBTQ themes and storylines in particular affected Inside Out 2’s development, according to several of our sources. Multiple people recall hearing about continuous notes to make Riley, the main character of both Inside Out movies, come across as “less gay,” leading to numerous edits that ramped up around September 2023 after the resolution of the WGA strike. Sources describe rumors that there was special care put into making the relationship between Riley and Val, a supporting character introduced in Inside Out 2, seem as platonic as possible, even requiring edits to the lighting and tone of certain scenes to remove any trace of “romantic chemistry.” One source describes it as "just doing a lot of extra work to make sure that no one would potentially see them as not straight."

“Mind you, Riley is not canonically gay,” one source says. “In the film, what you saw, nothing about Riley says that she is gay, but it is kind of inferred based on certain contexts. And so that is something that they tried to play down at multiple points.” Another source calls some leadership “uncomfortable” with queer themes at large, and the insistence on keeping those themes out of Inside Out 2 was “a big thing throughout” development.

and granted that's disney-pixar rather than disney-marvel but it is blowing my mind that in january 2023 this show started filming with two queer leads and up to three queer or queer-coded secondary characters?

how do you even pitch this. how do you go into an office at one of the biggest, most conservative conglomerates in the entertainment industry and sell this show? how do you GET IT MADE without being buried in notes? especially with the uptick in review bombing in the last couple of years? there are no disney-big names in it or behind it. there are no big comics characters in it. there are no? straight? men???? there is no heterosexual explanation for any of this!!!

jac shaeffer and mary livanos, teach me your ways.

[captianprices40thson]

Can you make a story for October, a male reader x soap. Where before the reader joined the 141 he was in a different military unit and one evening he got captured by the enemy and was murdered by dismemberment but some mad scientist there put him back together using the dismembered pieces. He came back by being hit by lighting. So now he kind of looks like frankenstein. he doesn't have all the bolts or dead skin, but he has one sliver gray eye. the other one is a light yellow, and he also has stitches on his face and his body. When he was finally rescued and back with his team, some were afraid of him and some belittled him. So he wears full body gear now so no one can fully see him. After joining the 141 he gets hurt really really REALLY badly and a some of his stitches rip, he tries to brush it off like it's nothing but soap refuses to believe him, so he kinda forcefully pulls male readers gear off and sees him body for the first time.

I'LL LEAVE THE REACTIONS OF SOAP TO YOU. Also can you do the reactions of the 141 too. Like maybe there in the room too when soap takes the gear off...

If you're not comfy with the dismemberment, you can just have it implied.

Happy early halloween, if you celebrate it🎃🎃🎃💖💖💖🙃🙃🙃

They took the credit for your second symphony, rewritten by machine and new technology.

Pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Male Reader

Requested: Yes

Word count: 5.4k

Pronouns used: You/Yourself. Reader referred to as Y/N and male titles/compliments.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, gore, dismemberment to the best best of my ability, fluff, angst, so much death on god, brutal deaths, stitches, skin ripping, bad language.

Notes: Finished this at 1 in the morning and posting it during Japanese class at school, going to go over and review it soon, but I want to get this out soon as possible. I loved this request and just saying, my inbox is open! If you’re not sure on what I do and don’t write, check my page!

“Y/N?” “Huh? “Y/N, were you even listening?” Your commander asked, a stern look on her face. You didn’t even realise how zoned out you had been, oblivious to the fact that the vast majority of your team had already prepped up.

“Oh…Sorry, Captain.” You apologised, standing up from your seat on the bench and making way to go put on your gear. Of course you were going to be a bit freaked and zoned out, this was a deadly mission. You knew your Captain was going to need everyone to be in tip top shape for this mission to go smoothly, if you slipped up and did something wrong…it would cost lives.

“Come on, Y/N. I need my best man out there today, not distracted Y/N, okay?” Your Captain told you, giving you a small pat on the shoulder. Valencia was a nice woman, even let you call her ‘Val’ on the odd occasion. She was a good person, believed in the good of the world more than one person should. She believed in you as well, she knew you could be great.

You nodded, placing your helmet on and giving her a thumbs up. The rest of the team were just waiting for you to finish up before they would leave, an indicator that this mission was already unorganised. A bad feeling, like a black hole, had appeared in your stomach.

“Alright men! Let’s do this. You all know the plan. I want Oak and Close going in from the left, Wilson and Stampler on the right. O’Niel and Bennets are on standby back here and C/N will be heading in from behind as our sniper. We have MedVac ready for those who will need it. Remember, we are going after Andrei Kowalski and his men. This is capture or kill. All clear?” Valencia cut you from your thoughts of dread by announcing the mission was about to start. You’d all get into your helicopter and make your way there…then would come the warfare and violence. You had become null to it by now, the screams and bloodshed were all but nothing to you.

It was liked you had blinked and you were on the field. Time meant nothing to you as you ran through the warzone, the occasional screams of your team members were able to be heard from miles away, sometimes the radio would cackle and you’d catch them conversing with one another, but you were alone in your field…

Always alone.

“C/N? Do you have eyes on him?” Your Captain’s voice called in from the radio, bringing you back to the mission on hand.Your eyes adjusted to look through the scope aimed at the building the team was meant to be invadinging. The lack of your team members indicated they seemed to be receiving a little more resistance than expected.

“Not yet, Captain. I see some of his guards, but not him. I’ll try and get into a better position.” You responded, getting up from your spot on the floor. Your suit was heavier and harder to move in considering it was a camo sniper version, but it was better than being spotted and murdered because an enemy saw you.

You adjusted yourself and lay down on the wet ground. The mud helped cover parts of your gear that didn’t fit in with the terrain, but you still had that odd feeling. That sense of unease that you just couldn’t seem to shake. You had gotten this feeling before on other missions, but it never led to anything.

And it was never this bad.

“C/N. They’re breaching the building now. Mission’s been changed, we’re taking out Andrei at whatever cost. We won’t be able to capture him.” Valencia’s thick English accent came over your radio, startling you a bit. You were a trained sniper, but somehow you were always caught off guard by the one thing you can always expect. You radioed back, confirming you got the message and were proceeding with the instructions.

Your voice drowned out the sound of the footsteps behind you. The cackle of the radio concealed the heavy breathing of the soldier lurking just a few steps away from you. You moved your arms to push yourself up, the rustle of your clothing covering the sound of his body standing over yours, his feet either side of your torso.

“Boo.”

You knew that voice, that unmistakable voice that always seemed to have a smirk behind it. A witty tone that had no business being there. The stench of the cigarette that always seemed to follow the man standing above you. You quickly turned your body around, abandoning the sniper rifle you were holding and just focusing on the fact that he was standing above you. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your pupils dilating as you processed that it was in fact him standing above you.

Creeper. You had given him that name. When you served as rookies together when you first joined the force, it had become a habit for him to appear out of the blue and scare the hell out of you. He was Creeper to you even after he betrayed your team and you’re fairly certain that's what he is to everyone else as well.

“Alons-” You whispered, but he cut you off, his gun whipping around from his side and now inches away from your eyes. Your breath hitched, knowing you were done for. You looked away from the gun and back up to him, his cold dark brown eye meeting yours. The other eye was a pure white, you cringed every time you thought of the incident which caused him to be blinded. You knew he blamed you…

Maybe that's what drove him to betrayal.

“It’s Creeper, Y/N. I don’t go by that name anymore.” He hissed, his finger on the trigger twitching as he spoke. He was serious, he was going to shoot you and have no mercy about it. This was it…you were going to die here.

“I’m not going to kill you with this gun, Y/N…” He began, lowering the gun a bit. You let go of the breath you were holding from relief, but that was met with a slap to the face that was what he did next. He placed the gun back into his hold and then reached for his back. His arm was up like he was stretching, but his hand quickly grasped the axe he attached to his back and brought it down so he could hold it in both his hands.

“I won’t regret this…at all.” He spat, bringing the axe up to his shoulder like he was about to swing a bat. Your eyes went wide and before you could say anything else, he swung. He swung right down to your neck.

You had heard alot about death. You had many ideas about it. You had heard it would be painful, you had heard it would be painless. You had heard you stayed conscious, you had heard it was over instantly. No matter what divine entity you did or didn’t believe in, it didn’t matter, death wasn’t the same for everyone. If you could still create thoughts after you died, yours would be praying this isn't what it was like for everyone who did. You didn’t want every kind soul to feel the red hot poker being pressed against your skin that was your death. 

After the pain, there was silence. If you were able to think, you would be grateful for it. It would be comforting, calming to your soul to finally be at rest after an impossible amount of years without it. For once, your soul rested unbothered, ready to let go of the fraying rope that was your life.

Then you woke up.

The light was blinding, you would assume you were in heaven, but that would be entirely incorrect. Your ears rang with the most awful noise one could hear, an ear splitting ringing that would drive you insane if it was played for more than five minutes. What felt like a jolt of electricity slammed through your body like a hammer down on a nail. The blinding light disappeared as quick as a snap.

The first thing you noticed was the pain. It circled around all your main joints and connections between the body. Your wrists, knees, ankles, elbows, neck…everything ached. Then you felt the feeling of something pulling on all of your skin, like that time you received stitches in the webbing of your thumb, but everywhere else on your body that ached, along with across your face.

You tried to move your neck first, turn it and try to figure out where you were. The only thing you could see from your head being pointed directly up was a sort of dark blue hue that made the place seem depressing and creepy, like the only light was coming from the moon outside. You were able to move it, but it was stiff and harder than it would usually be. That was your first sign that something was off.

Your head looked down to inspect where you were, taking in the fact you were laying down on a cold metal table. You weren’t restrained or anything, but you were getting major creepy vibes. It felt cool on your back, it was clear that you probably hadn’t been laying there all that long, or the heat from your body would’ve warmed it up. Then you looked down at your hands as you tried to move them.

The stitches and ever so slightly discoloured skin was your second sign that something was off.

You sat up, your body rigid and hard like a doll being used for the first time. You weren’t in your normal clothes, just a simple robe that you’d wear in a hospital if surgery was performed on you, and by the looks of it, it had. 

You were able to move your arm up and inspect it, cringing at the stitches and blood. Several questions ran through your mind, the main one being ‘How the hell am I alive?’ and the second being ‘What the hell happened to me?’ Everything hurts, especially your neck. Your bones felt like they had been removed and remoulded, it all felt too weird to you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own.

A cold and icy voice broke you out of your mesmerised trance of inspecting your body. It came from seemingly nowhere. It sounded…delighted. Your eyes flickered over to the shadows in the corner, one of them was moving towards you. 

It was a man, probably around 6 feet with a stupid grin on his face. His skin was pale, paler than the moonlight shining in through the window above. He slowly walked over to you, hands behind his back like a villain.

“Finally…finally it fucking worked!” He grinned, shaking his head like he had seen something he couldn’t believe. You couldn’t blame him, what was happening was unbelievable. You quickly slid off the table, groaning as you moved for the first time in what would feel like to your body.

“What…the fuck did you do? W-What is this? What happened?!” You called out, your voice cracking as it was used for the first time in ages. You coughed, trying to make it not as itchy. It wasn’t working.

“Y/N…You’re still as animated as ever.” He grinned, gesturing to you and your stitched up body. You wanted to strangle him, clearly he had done something awful to you that you were going to get him to explain, regardless of whatever threats you had to make.

“Answer me right now you…you madman.” You hissed, walking towards him. Every step hurt, like it wasn’t meant to be taken. He smiled, taking a breath before speaking again.

“Y/N…Let me explain. Do you remember the night you went on the mission to kill my good friend Andrei Kowalski…do you remember being killed by your old friend Creeper? You should…you should remember being decapitated. Well…I was given your body…or what was left of it after Creeper chopped it up into a million pieces. Under strict orders from Andrei…to bring you back. So…I stitched you back up. Like you were my very own Frankenstien’s monster. The plan was to bring you back to life the same way Frankenstien had…and it worked.” The man smiled, seemingly okay with telling you his entire plan. You couldn’t decide whether he was stupid or just overly confident in himself that you wouldn’t escape and go find your team. “What now?” You asked, feeling the need to get into his head. After all, this man had literally just reanimated your dead body. He brought back a dead man and just stood there like an evil little Einstein.

“Now…I will bring you to him. So he can kill you over and over again…and you’ll come back every time.” He grinned and before you could react, he grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you closer to him in order to trap you. What he obviously didn’t anticipate was that your years of military training and work would stay with you and chime in when you needed it most.

You grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you and then placing your leg behind his so you could throw his balance off and keep him on the ground. You slammed him down and placed your foot on his chest, grabbing a metal rod just a few inches away from you and raising it high, just how Creeper had done.

“Y/N. Y/N WA-” He called out, extending a hand out to try and reason with you, but you brought it down on his head, instantly crushing his skull. You slammed it down over and over, making sure that if anyone even tried to bring this monster back from the dead, it would be impossible. You didn’t stop until you could see the brain sticking to the bat, that’s when you knew it was done.

You dropped the metal rod and stood there for a moment, huffing and puffing as you figured out what you had just done. You looked up from his body and to your horrible convenience, there was a mirror just in front of you. You stood in front of it, observing what you looked like.

There were clear and major differences that you could see so far. The first one being your eyes, they didn’t look the same as they had done before. One of them, the one on the left was a light yellow and the right one was a silver grey. It was creepy and inhuman, there was no pupil or iris either…just pure colour. You would question how you could still see, but you were too distracted by everything else and too high off of fear to question anything.

Your skin was neatly stitched together with a white thread, standing out against your skin tone. Most of the stitching wasn’t visible, but when it was it wasn’t too obvious, sort of the stitching you’d see on your friend’s hand when they’d get a deep cut or something. Just that, pulling your skin together. There was blood along most of the lines, the dried stuff was yours, the fresh belonged to Mr Crazy that you had never gotten the name of.

“Y/N?” A voice called out. Your eyes snapped over to the door in the corner or the room, the door was open. Standing in it, Valencia and the rest of your team. Valencia herself looked horrified as you stood over his dead body, his blood now mixing in with yours. The darkness in the lab made it look like you were a shadow, a ghost…a monster.

“Val-” You began, but were cut off by her running up to you and giving you a hug. You were caught off guard, she had never shown any affection to you, let alone physical. This was unlike her in so many ways.

“You idiot. We thought you died. We tracked your radio here but-” She spoke, cutting herself off as she made eye contact with you, or tried to. Your silver and yellow eyes had confused her, then she saw all the stitches. The one across your face concerned her the most.

“Y/N…what the hell happened to you?” She whispered, stepping back and raising her gun slightly. As the rest of the team looked over to you, they did the same. Placing their weapons in a hand that they’d be able to use in case you attacked them. You couldn’t explain yourself, you really couldn’t. Hell, even if you didn’t fully know what had happened to you, there was no way you could explain yourself.

“Captain…don’t…I-I’m not a threat.”  You whispered, stepping forward and raising your hand. To your surprise, she took a further step back, some of the men even raised their shields. She clutched her gun, raising it further to her chest. That's when you realised, you were not a human to these people you called your friends…

You were a monster.

______________________

“Why’d you join the 141?” 

“Huh?”

“Why’d you join us? You were a part of The Seekers, no? They’re a pretty elite team. Why’d you drop them for us?” Soap asked, shuffling a bit closer to you as you sat on the bench. It had been little over five months since you had joined the team and the connection between you and Soap had formed instantly. Unsurprisingly, the team members didn’t mind the fact your entire body was covered up. They had Ghost on the team, they weren’t going to judge you.

“Oh I…a mission went wrong. I didn’t feel like I could stay with them and neither did they.” You replied after a moment of thinking. For a minute, you had wanted to refrain from telling Soap the actual reason for it. Technically, it was the truth so that was going to lend a hand to your moral argument.

“Was it the same mission that…caused you to cover up?” He asked again. You thought about hitting him with the ‘that's enough’ that you had used before when he asked to see your face a while back, but you were close now. You felt he had a right to know now.

You gave a small nod, the glasses you wore over your balaclava covering your expression. You were glad he was respectful with his questions, never pushing you to answer anything you didn’t and never stepping over the line you had drawn. You didn’t want to get attached to this team as quickly as you had, but Mr MacTavish had broken down your walls quicker than you could put them up.

“C/N, Soap. We’re going to head out now, Gaz just got back with the all clear. Good to see you’re both in gear.” Ghost interrupted you two as he walked into the gear room. You were reminded that you were in fact, in the military and not some hangout session with Soap. You nodded, getting up and holding out your hand to pull the slightly shorter man up.

“Oooh, thank you M’lord.” He smiled as he took your hand, pulling himself up. You would roll your eyes if you could, so you just let out a small scoff. He chuckled as he walked with you to the deployment area, knowing they were in for a hell of a journey.

_____

“Y/N? You okay?” Soap’s voice cackled in over the radio as you made your way through the little abandoned city. The rest of the team were over in another section, leaving Soap and Gaz back at a small protected setup area. You were just so lucky to have Soap watching over you from the cameras that had been placed in all the buildings before it was abandoned. How your team had access to them, you had no clue. All you knew was that your man was here and you were to take him down.

“All good over here, Soap. Tell me if you see one of those fuckers hiding behind a corner.” You spoke back, pressing down on the radio with your gloved hand to respond to the man you were developing a small attraction to, whether you knew it or not.

“There’s a guy around the corner, knife him.” Soap informed you, shuffling from where he was laying in the safe room. You nodded, taking his advice and running round the corner, throwing and pinning the man to the wall, knifing the guy in the throat. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone when he came back.

“Nice kill. You should do that to me sometime.” He smirked, his Scottish accent only adding to his sassiness. You groaned at his painful attempt at flirting, firing back at him.

“You want me to kill you? Don’t worry, I'm already planning it.” You smiled, making your way through the destruction that was the ruined town of Norest.

“Do you have plans to kill every one of us?”

“Nope, just you.”

“I’m flattered. How’d ye do it?”

“If I tell you, I’d have to change my plan.”

“Fair play.” Soap smiled, checking the cameras to watch you move. He was so intrigued by you. He had never seen your face, never bothered to check your file. He respected you too much…along with the fact Gaz had caught him snooping around in the file area. But the respect came first.

Sometimes, he’d gaze at you and just wonder what it would be like to see what was under your gear. He wanted to see you, the real you. His sketchbooks were filled with a thousand pictures of what he imagined you looked like, each picture different from the last. Did you have bright blue eyes, ivory skin and wavy ginger hair, or did you have beautiful dark brown eyes, mahogany skin and medium length locs? Perhaps you had acne, perhaps you had a scar going across your left eyebrow. He didn’t have a clue what you looked like, but he knew you were handsome.

“MacTavish? Are you still with me?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, not even realising he was kicking his feet like a schoolgirl (Gaz was utterly bewildered, but was unable to comment because he was actually doing his job and guiding his other teammates across the town in search of the man they had to find.) “Aye, I’m ‘ere.” “Good, thought I’d lost you. I need you to check around me. Pretty sure I heard our guy but I wanna make sure.” You told him, making sure to keep quiet. Your stitches were getting a bit itchy, but you could scratch them later when you were by yourself. It wouldn’t look natural for Soap to just see you scratch the middle of your face in a specific pattern and for him to not question it.

“Right, gimme a sec.”

There was a silence, what felt like an eternity of waiting before you got a response from the scott. It was like he was purposefully keeping you on your toes, wanting to see you squirm and hide for no apparent reason other than he was a chaotic man.

“Yeah, he’s there. I’ve informed Gaz and he’ll direct Ghost and Price over to you. He’s a few metres away, you could sneak up on him and take him down from behind.” Soap spoke, clearly moving as he did. He would be looking over at Gaz and getting his readings on Price and Ghost as he explained the situation to you.

You gave a nod, knowing he could see you. Peering round the corner, Soap wasn’t lying. The dark slicked back hair, tall physique and tanned skin let you know this was your guy. You slipped your hand into your 

You ran up to the taller man, placing your gun to the back of his neck and kicking his knee so that he’d fall and you’d be able to kill him nice and swift with no hassle or fuss whatsoever. Unfortunately, the man had different plans.

He quickly turned around, grabbing your gun and throwing it to the side. You were unable to press down on the back of his knees, because he had turned around and was now facing you. You reached for your knife, but were stopped when you felt his foot on your chest. It took a second to register what was happening, but by the time it did you were shoved into an already cracked wall.

You took a moment, knowing you didn’t have one. You had most likely gotten a concussion from the hit, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Just as you were about to grab your gun which had been thrown aside, the man stopped you. He grabbed onto your mask, his nails digging in past the fabric and into the stitched skin below, and shoved your head down to the floor once more. 

The screams of Soap came in through your radio, assorted word vomic that you couldn’t actually make out with everything spinning and your ears ringing. You’d hope he’d come to you and save you, but as soon as your mind stopped spinning, you realised you didn’t actually want him to save you. There was blood dripping and staining your mask. Your blood. It was an unnatural amount for something that shouldn’t have even drawn more than a drop of the red liquid, which could only mean one thing.

Your stitches ripped.

It seemed that your enemy had also been caught off by the amount of blood, giving you just a few seconds to grab the gun, aim it at his face and completely miss, hitting his shoulder instead. He grabbed it in pain and immediately resorted to grabbing out his own knife and stabbing it right into your stomach, ripping it through the skin and dragging a line down it. You cried in pain as your flesh was exposed and your stitches ripped, causing even further damage. 

Why wasn’t he killing you? Why not put you out of your misery and shove that knife right into your face. Why make you suffer? There were so many questions and not enough time to answer them. Well, there was probably enough time, but that would require knowing what the actual fuck was going on.

“Y/N!” You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard the sound of your Captain running towards you, Ghost right behind. The unmistakable noise of a gunshot colliding with someone’s head put a smile on your face, watching as the man fell to the floor.

“Y/N, You alright?” Price asked, kneeling down beside you as you pushed yourself up against the wall. Your hand was on your chest, covering up any exposed skin or blood. You nodded, trying to pass it off as if you were just shaken up. You couldn’t let them see…you.

“Y/N! You idiot!” The familiar Scottish accent put a smile on your face, watching the Scottsman run towards you was a relieving sight at first…but then you remembered what happened.

“Y/N, you alright?”

“Don’t look.” “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“You won’t like what you see, just step away. All four of you.” “I have a right to know. Are you injured?”

“No-No just go.” “Y/N, Let me see-”

You would’ve liked to protest more, but you were losing too much blood to fight him. Soap had pulled your hands back, moving your shirt so he could see the heavy amount of blood loss. He looked up at your glasses, noticing the blood on your mask. He knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t like it. 

When he removed your mask, your glasses came down with it. Gravity had decided to fuck you over more than you had already been fucked. There was a silence as the whole team looked over at you, the ripped stitching across your face…and your eyes. They were, if anything, the biggest indicator that something was different with you.

“S-Soap…” You began, but you couldn’t figure out how to finish what you were saying. You just wanted him to say something, say anything. Instead, he was just staring. You had no idea what he was thinking about, but you just knew he was horrified with you, along with the rest of the 141. 

“Oh…oh Y/N…What…what the hell happened to you?” He whispered and to your surprise, he placed a hand on your bloodied cheek. He looked concerned…but he wasn’t scared of you like you’d expected. He got closer instead of backing away, that’s what made him different from your old team.

“Soap…I’m sorry for not telling you…or anyone else about…” You trailed off, using an arm to gesture to yourself. You had no idea what he was thinking about, you could only hope it was something good about you. He was clearly about to say something when Price butted in first.

“You two, we should go. We can all have a…chat after Y/N isn’t bleeding out infront of us.” Price’s rough British accent made him seem more serious in all situations he’s in. This one especially. Soap gave a nod and turned back to you, his eyes not full of fear or hatred…just sympathy.

_______ “Do you think I’m a freak, though?” You asked as Soap walked around your hospital bed. It had been a few days ever since the incident had happened. Soap kept a close eye on you and reported back on your condition to the rest of the team. When you had woken up, the questions were slow and boring…but now you were finally opening your walls and so was he.

“No…I don’t think you are. I mean-I’ve got no idea what exactly you are, but you’re not a freak. Just…different.” He responded, careful to not say anything that might upset you. You took note of this, feeling a bit hurt that he was censoring himself, but knowing why he was doing it helped a bit.

“You don’t have to filter yourself, John. Tell me…any questions that you have.” You practically begged him. The whole reason you covered yourself up was not to be seen as different, but now that it was useless, it was useless for Soap to cover his questions up. It took a while for him to gather up the courage to ask you something, but he did.

“What…what happened to you? I’m assuming you weren’t born like this.” He questioned, trying to add a little humour to the end of the message but failing miserably. You took a breath and told him everything. The mission, what death felt like, killing the man who brought you back to life, not belonging to your team anymore because of what had happened. By the end, you were sure Soap was tearing up. He was an emotional man, you couldn’t blame him.

“I…I’m gonna be honest, Y/N…that’s really fucking depressing.” He expressed, placing a hand on his mouth. You stared at him for a moment, his eyes staring back into yours. He was fascinated by you, what you looked like. He was sure he had a sketch in his book that looked exactly like you…minus the stitching and the eyes.

“The rest of the team…what do they think?” You asked, closing your eyes and looking up. You needed to know the reactions of everyone in the team, you couldn’t live with yourself not knowing their actual opinions on who and what you were.

“Ghost and Gaz are…surprisingly alright with it. Price was a bit shocked, he was only shown a photo of you before…all that happened. But mainly..they don’t mind. When you come back to active duty…I don’t think you’d need to cover up as much anymore. You still can, if you want. Not gonna force you.” Soap told you, sitting down next to your bed. You were grateful for him in times like these, where he reminded you that you were no longer alone. He was always there for you…you loved him for that.

You loved that he was kind to you.

You loved that Soap was so understanding and patient.

You loved…

You loved Soap.

“I will say though,” his words cut you out of your sudden very gay realisation, turning to face him as he sat next to your bed. “You are way more attractive than anything I could even imagine sketching up.” (Happy Halloween!)