#Void would absolutely be the problem child

[emthimofnight]

People keep wanting to know what it would have been like if Stellar's failed lab siblings survived infancy and were adopted like she was, so here are some, "What If?" doodles!

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Story Masterlist

Chapter 6

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: implied possessive and obsessive themes/actions/behaviors/thoughts, reader is one second away from having a panic attack, indirect mention of death, mention of murder, implied toxic family/child abuse, very, very light choking, mention/possible stalking, Toxic marriage/relationship, Reader is so done mentally despite only living in the Argece mansion for one (1) day, Reader becomes sassy, jealousy, everyone ooc

NSFW warnings: Very suggestive, throw back to their first time, implied dacryphilia

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE THEY ARE BOTH ARE  EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS 

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DON’T INTERACT/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS

= = =

“You never once referred to Dion as your husband.” 

“P-pardon?” 

That caught you off guard. Frankly speaking, calling the man your husband aloud is stomach-turning. Not that you would admit that, or rather not that you could. The punishment you would receive from Lant if it were to ever reach his ears…

 “Well, we haven’t been married for even a week.” Carefully explaining yourself, you scan behind her to check if anyone was there. “So, I am still a bit shy about it.” You smile shyly. Blood rushes through your veins and you can hear the thundering pumping and feel it. 

Your blood becomes ice and skin slime as Roxana observes your behavior and reaction before making a move. Fresh coral lips tug into a soft smile as Roxana sees past your lie and stares into your soul. Her eyes remind you of your husband’s; glowing scarlet that curtains their true emotions and thoughts. 

Sinister or otherwise, you’re afraid to drown in them. 

“I see. That’s adorable.” She reminds you of a venus fly trap; inviting only to trap you. Even so, her ‘affection’ towards you nearly has you tripping on your feet. No. This is how she gets people.

“Lady Roxana, I had a fun time speaking with you.” You halfheartedly bid her farewell, bowing. You plan on walking the moment you raise your head. What you don’t plan on doing, however, is returning to your chambers immediately. 

Ah, but… where would you even go? 

“Oh, right. Do you remember the way?” She blinks at you while you blink back. Your mind is a void - absolutely nothing in it. Next, she laughs. 

It sounds like bells on Christmas, a chorus in the church, that exciting and relieved feeling you get once you hear ‘shift’s over,’ from the managers. Head full of cotton, you allow yourself to simply enjoy this moment. Once the blissful laughter has ended, she offers to guide you.

Personally. 

“O-oh, it’s fine - “ you just got mind fucked - Roxana willingly go anywhere near Dion’s room? Something’s not right. You take a step back. 

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” You give her a faux smile, worried.

 Worried for what? Your safety? The possible argument that could break out between the two siblings? Seeing something you’re not supposed to? Or having to awkwardly stand to the side as Dion acts weirdly and creepy towards his sister?

… or have her be in that position as your husband observes you like you’re a circus animal?

“It’s fine; I’d like to get to know you more. We’re family now, so it’s natural.” 

We’re family now. 

“...I’ll accept then. Thank you for taking care of me.” The scream that wishes to burst from your chest, the saliva drowning your gums and mouth, the quiver that threatens to take over your body - you hold it back. You have to. 

“It’s not a problem.” 

Fear prevents you from asking about Hana. 

You follow once she starts to walk, the sound of heels hitting the floor echoing. Even her back is elegant - perfect form, back straight and head up. Carrying an air of sophistication and confidence, Roxana Agriche deserves the female lead role. Her blond waves lightly bounce with each step. 

She is the definition of beauty. 

And as a dedicated fan - also driven by fear and mental stress - you will stay steps behind her. It’s for the best, it’s for your safety. Walk in her shadow but not at her side. Let the spotlight shine on her so you won’t be noticed, left alone by anyone and everyone. That is one plan for survival. 

“Oh? Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were behind me.” The fifteen-year-old girl waits for you to join her side after stopping, refusing to walk another inch until you do so. And your eighteen-year-old self  heistates - not because you feel inferior to her. God no, but because her mind is a puzzle you can’t solve. 

You don’t have the power to read her thoughts. You are only able to guess. 

This isn’t fiction anymore. 

“It’s fine. I was also lost in thought.” Busy with admiring her rather. You pick up your pace a bit if only to please her. She resumes guiding you once you’re right by her. Nothing falls into place despite observing her from the corner of your eye. You don’t sense anything.

No hostility nor mischief. There wasn’t a hint of pity on her face. Mockery was also absent, genuine joy nonexistent. 

“If I may say, you’re more lovely than I heard.” She compliments you, offering another one of those sweet smiles. And like the fool you are, you trip over both your feet and words. 

“A-ah, you’re too kind. If anything, the saying goes towards you.” Your neck feels hot and your mind is turning to mush. “Truly, you are indeed an interesting person.” 

She stops again, taken aback. But she quickly recovers before returning back to the conversation. “Interesting? You’re the first person to describe me as such.” 

“That’s a surprise. I thought many would have.” You think about it. What was the first thing everyone notices about Roxana? Her beauty, of course. 

But, as a reader, how could you ignore and forget her personality? 

…then again, this entire time you were mentally obsessing over her appearance and voice. You were no better than everyone else.

You take a turn in the ridiculously long hallway. Just for a moment, tranquility replaces the harshness of reality. Funny. 

One moment you’re afraid of her and the next she brings you peace. She’s a bit easier to deal with than Dion. Softer, gentlier, and outwards she is humane. The most sane person in this hell. 

“We’re in the main hallway,” Roxana informs, and the staircase looks familiar. When you had made your way with Hana to the dining room, you were disorienting so hard you didn’t even realize your feet were moving. 

“Up these stairs and we’ll be closer to your room.” Roxana tells you, a hint of disgust in her  voice. Aha. So she doesn’t want to go near him. Then why guide you? 

“Oh,” you say, “how nice.” How wonderful indeed, seeing the husband who left after your first night, who’s acting weird, who’s brutal personality is hidden beneath a layer of ‘indifference’, who probably stalked you while - 

Oh. 

Oh God. 

“? Are you okay? You look pale.” Roxana’s question brings you back to reality. Blinking, you try to calm yourself before your breathing gets heavier. Your heart won’t stop rattling. Your blood won’t stop rushing. Your ears are ringing. 

Never once did you think of the possibility that Dion Agriche had stalked you during the duration of your engagement. The shampoo, the sheets, that horrifying look in his eyes - 

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I’m just a bit… nervous.” Did he stalk you? If so, why? To drill even more fear into you, to show you that he could easily cause you harm? To silently threaten the safety of your family if you were to ever act out? 

“But yes, I’m fine. Just need a minute to gather myself.” 

Either out of curiosity or obligation, or even consideration, Roxana lets you do just that. 

- - -

You arrived at your - his - chambers  sooner than wanted. Way too soon. 

Despite the show your sister-in-law displays, she can’t hide the disgust and hatred in her eyes as she stares at the heavy double doors. You don’t blame her. Even if he acted out on orders, your husband still killed her brother. Their brother. 

He also attempts to harm her mother. Just to see her cry. 

…would he do the same to you?

“Well,” turning to her, you show a smile. It doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re too tired to even try. “Thank you for showing me the way.” 

You open the door before she could even get a word out. Shutting it behind you before every single ounce of bravery evaporates, leaving you a slimy mess. Monster or not, Dion Agriche is still your husband. And, as you were raised, you have to play the role of his wife. 

 His pretty, little, obedient wife. 

Only to see that no-one is in the room. 

“...haha…wow…hahaha!” Like a mad woman you giggle, falling to the floor as your legs give out. Was it from stress? Relief? Does it matter? 

You’re happy - you don’t have to see his face for a bit longer. Even if it’s only for a minute, you don’t have to be in his presence. But with happiness comes realization - Dion will eventually show up. He told you such. 

“...I… I just want to sleep.” Your shoulders slump as you become boneless - so much happened within the span of a few hours. Odd behavior, old memories, confusing and conflicted feelings - you’re not meant for this environment. Forget about being murdered or tortured - your mind would dismantle before anything could happen. 

The floor is uncomfortable but all of your strength is gone. Were you always this weak? This hopeless? So much that you couldn’t even last a single day. Pathetic. 

“...” ahead of you is the bed. The same bed you will have to share with your arranged husband. It was comfortable, but the fact you’re forced to share it with Dion makes you bitter - the fact that he’ll fuck you on it makes you so fucking sick.

You’d rather sleep on the floor. 

Moonlight fills the room from the glass doors closing off the terrace. Jeremy said you should escape. Is it worth it? Was jumping off the terrace to attempt an escape worth it? Would you survive it? 

Get caught? 

Die?

Your mind is becoming muddy. You haven’t even met with Lant yet. The worst of the worst. Yet here you are, already thinking foolishly. Of course you would be caught. Dying wasn’t something you wanted to do, though. Neither was being punished for attempting an escape. 

Your ears perk at the sound of the doors opening behind you. 

“Do you find the floor more comfortable than the bed?” Low and deep, Dion doesn’t even properly greet you. Well, not like you want to either. 

You want to tell him to try it out of spite. But you’re too tired to even turn around and face him, much less stand. His footsteps get closer until he’s right behind you. Your eyes shut close. 

“Wife.” He calls once, and you don’t respond. You don’t want to.

You want him to stop calling you that. You want him to stop talking to you. You want him to stop existing. 

His footsteps echo in the room before he kneels in front of you. Finally, you look at him. What type of expression are you making? 

His hand is cold as he brings it up to cup your cheek. Scarlet that glows in the moonlight that looks at you in such a strange way. Do you know what was swirling in his eyes? Do you want to?

“...Dion. Welcome back.” Acknowledging him, you peel his hand away from your cheek. He already touched you the night before. That’s enough. 

Instead of leaving, he grasps your wrist. Firm enough to where you couldn’t tug your hand away. You eye it before giving up. Just for now. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m too sore from last night,” you say, assuming that sex is on his mind. Obligation, lust, a soon-to-be routine. Either one could be the reason. 

“I’m not here for that. Nor do I want it.” 

Your head tilts to the side before he continues. “Father expects us to dine with him tomorrow.” 

“I see. Is that all?” 

“You look dead,” free hand cupping your face - again - Dion gently swipes his thumb under your eye. Your fondation catches on his thumb. “Worse than when you showed up for dinner.” Hah. Is he enjoying himself?

“I’m just tired,” lying your eyes travel to your lap. “I’ll… if that’s all, then I’ll retire to bed.” You want him to leave you alone. You want to go home. 

On shaky legs you force yourself up and your husband lets go of your wrist. Your knees buck as you walk towards the bed. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. All you need to do is make it to bed. Changing clothes isn’t even on your mind - you just want to lay down. 

“You’re not going to change?” Your husband inquiries. What was wrong with this man? He barely spoke a word to you before the wedding. He left after cumming and leaving you alone, in pain and shivering like a fucking newborn foal. 

Sure, he was called away, but he never even returned like the bastard he is. He didn’t spare a fucking glance at you during dinner until his siblings showed up. 

“Where is Hana?” You ignore his question, focusing on the one person who doesn’t feel like a death trap. 

“She retired for the night. On Roxana’s orders.” 

“What? Why?” You almost get whiplash from how hard and fast you turn your head to look at Dion. Your husband has been looking at you this entire time. 

“She didn’t think I’d show up here.” 

I wish you didn’t. I wish you would have stayed indifferent as you were until today.

“Oh. Then, I’ll just sleep like this.” Flopping onto the bed, you kick your heels off. The corset is still tight, and it makes it harder to breathe. But you refuse to ask him for help. 

Thankfully, your husband makes no move to. Instead you hear him walk and the sound of the closet opening. Ruffling of the clothes before it stops. From what you heard, nothing dropped to the floor, rather, heavy boots walk towards the bed until they stop right next to you. 

Amazing how being so mentally and physically worn makes a person forget their survival instincts. How it makes fear turn into annoyance and gulps become huffs. 

But annoyance becomes confusion when something soft and loose lands on your back. Did he just… throw something on you?

Why can’t your husband just pick a side? Decide to ignore you. To be nice to you. Not go back and forth like it’s a fucking swing boat. 

“Wife,” there he goes again with that dreadful title, does he not remember your godforsaken name? “You won’t fall asleep with it on. You’re unable to.” You’re one second away from tearing your hair out. One second away from strangling him. 

You can regret everything tomorrow. 

“... Will you leave me alone if I change?” Supporting yourself on your elbows, you crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Your husband only nods, not explaining why he’s so insistent on having you change. 

You’re so done that you don’t even realize he’s enjoying this side of you. Your frustration, your annoyance, all spent and directed towards him. Tomorrow, when you’re of clear mind you’ll freak out, kicking and yelling at yourself for risking making him mad, only to question why he didn’t say anything in the first place. 

“I can’t reach behind my back,” you communicate to him, waiting for his reaction. A reply that may never come. 

“Just lay face down. I’ll untie it and won’t touch you further.” You wish he would leave and maybe fall down the stairs and break something. Ah, but maybe Lant should go through that instead. Break his neck and lay there, lifeless. How would the scene play out after that?

“Alright,” you give in, preparing for a war that doesn’t exist. Dion removes whatever he threw onto your back before nimble fingers quickly and carefully undo the strings on your dress. Once he’s done with that, he works on the corset, completely gentle. 

Wait, something wasn’t right. 

“Wait, how do you know how to undo the strings so quickly?” Waiting for his answer, you don’t make an effort to watch his reaction. You’d rather not look at the man who’s walking on thin ice right now. Yes, you are going to consider chucking yourself into the nearest river tomorrow. If you could find one. 

“... I was taught.” 

“By?” 

“A teacher.” 

He leaves it at that, choosing to leave out the details. It makes you suspicious. …was he also taught those techniques by a so-called teacher too?

Considering the amount of wives Lant has, STDs most likely don’t exist in this world. Regardless, the mere thought of your husband sleeping with someone before you irritates you. Not because you were jealous or anything of that sort, no; but because it was hypercritical. You were expected to stay ‘pure,’ a virgin while -

“You are the only person I’ve touched, much less slept with.” Was he a mind reader? Or were you just that obvious?

“As your wife, I think I should meet and thank your ‘teacher.’” Exhaustion does wonders to a person. The brain doesn’t work as it should and fright is no longer a thing. Instead it’s replaced by reckless behavior and a clouded mind. 

“Although, I do wish they also taught you aftercare.” 

“That person,” Dion begins, “is someone you know but are unable to see.” Sure Dion Agriche, sure. “As for afterwards… Father called for me.” 

“Mhm. For what?” Cold fingertips barely graze your spine as he looks at your skin. By now everything was untied yet the male doesn’t move. With lidded eyes he considers biting it. But he’s already breaking his promise by granting himself  the pleasure of grazing it. 

And you’re giving him a pass, perhaps with a blurred mind. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this conversation, much less show something other than fear in his presence. 

“To discuss further action regarding our marriage.” 

“You know,” you yawn out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “most people in arranged marriages would refer to the marriage as ‘this,’ not ‘ours.’” The call of sleep is tempting you. 

“I’m not most people.”

“I know. If you were then you…” 

“Then what?”

Then you wouldn’t be a product of two insane and mental people. You wouldn’t be so jaded nor affection starved to the point you consider hatred as it. You wouldn’t have killed your own siblings or live solely to make one cry. You wouldn’t wander around the earth until your sister decides to kill you. 

You change the subject. “You could have let me finish at least once. It was my first time - you’re supposed to make it a positive experience.” Why you brought this up, you’re not sure. You doubt he feels guilty about it. 

“...Should I make you now?” He traces your spine, the cold sensation making you shiver. Odd. His touch doesn’t feel as gross as earlier. You must be going mad. 

Even more so since you’re hallucinating the hint of hunger in his voice. 

“No. I hated the entire thing. Just jerk off and I’ll shove it in, or something.” The idea of his sperm going anywhere near you repulses you, but you understand your role as a wife. His wife. 

“You also found my crying cute. I don’t like that, I actually hate it.” Was communication always this easy when your body is boneless and mind worn? Was he so talkative because he’s tired as well? 

“I can’t help it, “ Dion rubs circles between your shoulder blades and it makes you melt. For a split second, you forgot who you’re talking to. Where you were, who your husband was, your in-laws forgotten. For a moment, everything was ordinary and domestic. 

“I enjoy seeing you cry.” His fingers travel higher until his fingertips are at the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse. He wants to squeeze it, see you squirm. The urge to make you cry over and over again from overstimulation gets harder to resist. You’re allowing him to touch you, to see the skin of your back, to see you so vulnerable - surely, you could offer him a taste too, right? 

“...You’re not supposed to be this way.” A light chuckle comes from your chest. “You’re supposed to be brutal, selfish, unredeemable - well, you probably still are, but still. You’re not supposed to be married nor basically asking your wife to fuck.” 

You go on. 

“You’re not supposed to be this way. You’re driving me crazy, acting so different from what I know.” You’re supposed to be the character that was written in the story. Not… whatever this is.

Maybe you misunderstood his character. But you never did finish the novel and the webtoon was put on hiatus because of the shit the artist went through… you hope she’s doing better now. Way better. 

“Even Jeremy and Roxana are behaving weirdly.” You leave it at that, becoming silent. Dion doesn’t say anything. 

You decide to ask him a question that’s been nagging you ever since he mentioned his ‘teacher.’ 

“Oh, by the way… how would you react if I also had a ‘teacher’?” An undertone of teasing laced your voice - of course, you didn’t mean it. Unless it was a lover, you wouldn’t sleep with anyone outside of marriage. Although, you never did enter a relationship once prior to your engagement. 

The atmosphere becomes stiff. You suddenly remember who you’re dealing with - an Agriche. Dion Agriche, to be exact. 

Horror spreads throughout your body once you realize just what you asked him. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him lean over you, fingers putting slight pressure on your neck, a silent threat to choke you. He’s like a heavy cover, you can barely breathe. 

When he talks it’s lower and deeper, sinister and possessive, his breath hitting your ear as he answers. 

“Easy. I would kill them.” 

[hisfavegirl]

HOTD Characters When You Said They're Stink Even After Showerd Four Times.

Pairing : Aegon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, And Jacaerys Velaryon.

Thanks To @zaldritzosrose For Letting Me Using Your Divider.

Aegon Targaryen.

Aegon stood there, completely dumbfounded, his wet hair still dripping from his fourth shower of the night.

“You can’t be serious.” His voice was flat, disbelieving.

You crossed your arms, standing firm. “I am serious. You stink, Aegon.”

His jaw dropped. “I JUST SHOWERED. FOUR. TIMES.”

You waved a hand in front of your face, dramatically gagging. “It’s worse now. You smell like wet dog and cheap cologne.”

Aegon looked down at himself, sniffing his own arm. “I smell like fucking lavender and cedarwood, actually!”

You made a face like you were going to vomit on the spot. “Disgusting. Go. Couch. Now.”

He blinked at you, horrified. “Are you throwing me out of our own bed because of a scent only you can smell?”

You just stared at him, unrelenting.

Aegon groaned, dragging his hands down his face in defeat. “I hate pregnancy hormones. I hate them so fucking much.”

You squinted. “Did you just say you hate our child?”

His eyes went comically wide. “What? NO! That’s not what I meant—”

Too late. You were already grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him. “COUCH, AEGON.”

Aegon caught it with a groan, trudging toward the living room with all the grace of a man sentenced to death. “Unbelievable. Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”

But before he disappeared, he turned back, pouting. “I better get morning cuddles for this.”

You smirked. “Depends if you still stink.”

Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond stared at you, utterly perplexed, his damp silver hair clinging to his bare shoulders. “I showered four times.” His voice was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to reason with a wild animal.

You wrinkled your nose, backing away like he was toxic waste. “And you still stink, Aemond.”

His brow furrowed, and he sniffed his own wrist. “I smell like nothing.”

You fake gagged, waving a hand in front of your face. “Exactly. It’s revolting.”

Aemond blinked, processing. “So I stink… because I smell like nothing?”

You nodded, arms crossed. “It’s unnatural. You reek of… emptiness. Like a void.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “Seven fucking hells. You’re making no sense.”

You pointed dramatically at the door. “Couch. Now.”

His eye twitched. “You’re seriously banishing me from our bed? Because I don’t have a scent?”

You scoffed. “I can smell the irritation coming off you right now, so yes.”

Aemond closed his eye, muttering to himself, “Patience. She is with child. She is unpredictable. You love her.” Then he sighed heavily and grabbed a pillow from the bed, moving toward the door.

But then he paused, turning back, deadpan. “Should I roll around in dirt first? Maybe bathe in dragon fire? Would that be acceptable?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Now you’re just being difficult.”

Aemond let out a low, exasperated laugh, shaking his head as he walked out. “Unbelievable."

Jacaerys Velaryon.

Jace froze mid-step, towel still slung around his neck, fresh out of his fourth shower. His damp curls stuck to his forehead as he stared at you, bewildered.

“What do you mean, I stink?” he asked slowly, like he was trying to understand a foreign language.

You wrinkled your nose dramatically, waving a hand in front of your face. “You just do. It’s awful. I can’t sleep next to that.”

Jace looked genuinely offended, holding out his arms. “I smell like soap. Expensive soap, by the way. The kind you made me buy.”

You gagged. “That’s the problem! It’s too much. Too clean. It smells… wrong.”

Jace blinked. “You told me to shower because I smelled bad. Now I smell too good?”

You huffed. “No, now you smell wrong!”

Jace dragged a frustrated hand down his face, mumbling to himself. “Seven hells, how do I fix that?” Then he straightened, hopeful. “What if I roll in the laundry? Or—ooh! I could go outside and—”

You cut him off with a sharp glare. “Couch, Jacaerys. Now.”

His mouth dropped open. “Wait, are you serious?”

You nodded, crossing your arms. “Dead serious.”

Jace stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he should argue. Then, with an overly dramatic groan, he grabbed a pillow and trudged toward the couch, muttering under his breath.

“Unbelievable. I smell wrong. How the fuck does someone smell wrong?”

Then he peeked back into the room, eyes narrowed. “If I start smelling right again, do I get my bed back?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

Jace sighed heavily, flopping onto the couch. “Gods, pregnancy is terrifying.”

Tag List : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @hayleythecannibal @ceoofglytchell @ashblooddragons

[ageingfangirl2]

Hazbin Hotel x Child Reader Series

PART 17 - THE GREAT DUCK HEIST PART 1

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO

It had only been a few days, and already the duck phone had taken over the kid’s life. Alastor hated it. They were constantly staring at the screen, watching duck videos on loop, taking pictures of random things, and worst of all? They had started ignoring Alastor’s stories.

That was the final straw. And the worst part? Angel Dust was actively encouraging it.

‘Yeah, kid, that’s it! Get real deep into that screen life! You gotta take selfies with the perfect lighting—here, lemme show ya!’

‘Angel, you’re corrupting them,’ Charlie groaned, watching the two pose dramatically for the duck phone’s high-definition camera.

‘Nah, babe, I’m educating them,’ Angel winked.

Alastor gritted his teeth, ‘This has to stop. That foul—and I do mean that in every sense of the word—piece of technology is undoubtedly being used by Vox to spy on the hotel!’

Charlie sighed, ‘Al, I think you might be paranoid—’

Vaggie cut in, ‘No, he’s probably right. I wouldn’t put it past Vox to bug that thing.’

Charlie groaned again, ‘Okay, fine, but we can’t just take it away without the kid freaking out!’

Alastor’s grin widened, ‘Oh, my dear Charlotte, that’s where you’re wrong! We simply have to be creative about it.’

Charlie immediately regretted this conversation.

Phase One: The Distraction

Vaggie, begrudgingly agreeing to help, casually approached the kid, ‘Hey, uh… you wanna learn more self-defense moves?’

The kid looked up from their duck phone, eyes lighting up, ‘Oh! Yeah! Can I learn the one where I kick someone really hard?’

Vaggie smirked, ‘Oh, absolutely.’

And just like that, the kid put down the duck phone and ran off with Vaggie to practice some questionable combat moves. Target temporarily abandoned.

Phase Two: The Extraction

Alastor and Charlie immediately moved in. Alastor grabbed the duck phone off the table and squinted at it suspiciously.

‘Hmm… What do you think, Charlotte? Should I simply crush it under my heel? Ooooor perhaps throw it into an interdimensional void?’

Charlie snatched it away, ‘NO! We can’t just destroy it, Al! That would just make them upset!’

Alastor pouted, ‘A shame. I was looking forward to watching it die.’

Charlie rubbed her temples, ‘Look, let’s just hide it somewhere and tell them it got lost. After a few days, they’ll forget about it.’

Alastor wasn’t convinced, but before they could argue, Angel Dust appeared.

Phase Three: The Interception

‘AYYY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOIN’?’

Charlie and Alastor froze.

Angel gasped dramatically, pointing at the duck phone in Charlie’s hands, ‘OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD—YOU’RE STEALIN’ THE KID’S PHONE!’

Charlie panicked, ‘Shhh!! Angel, shut up!’

Alastor hissed, ‘You buffoon! Do you want to ruin everything?’

Angel snatched the phone out of Charlie’s hands and held it protectively, ‘Nuh-uh! I ain’t lettin’ you two ruin the kid’s fun!’

Charlie groaned, ‘Angel, you don’t get it—Vox could be spying on us.’

Angel snorted, ‘Pfft, who cares? If Vox wants to watch me look fabulous, that’s his own damn problem.’

Alastor’s eye twitched violently, but before the argument could escalate, a very small voice spoke up from behind them.

‘Wait… what’s going on?’

The group froze and slowly turned. The kid was standing there, looking at them suspiciously.

Phase Four: The Cover Up

Alastor immediately put on his biggest, most innocent smile, ‘Ahh! Nothing at all, dear! Just making sure your little device is safe!’

Charlie nodded aggressively, ‘Yep! We were just… uh… CLEANING IT! Making sure it’s all nice and polished.’

The kid narrowed their eyes, ‘…Are you guys trying to steal my duck phone?’

Angel pointed dramatically at Charlie and Alastor, ‘YES! YES, THEY ARE!’

Charlie smacked him.

Alastor grumbled, rubbing his temple, ‘Listen, darling, this horrible little machine is likely being used by Vox to spy on us! Surely you wouldn’t want that, would you?’

The kid paused, ‘…Oh.’

Alastor perked up, ‘Yes! You see! It’s for your own safety!’

The kid took a deep breath…And then let out the loudest, most obnoxious quack from their phone.

QUAAAAAAAAACK.

The sound echoed through the entire hotel. Charlie’s soul left her body. Alastor visibly cringed. Angel was wheezing with laughter.

The kid held their duck phone close, eyes narrowed in suspicion, ‘You guys are not taking my duck phone.’

Then they ran off with it.

Alastor groaned dramatically, falling back into a chair, ‘CURSE YOU, TECHNOLOGY!’

Charlie sighed, slumping against the wall.

Angel smirked, ‘Looks like the kid ain’t buyin’ your boomer agenda.’

Alastor glared at him, ‘Mark my words, Angel Dust—I will have my revenge.’

Angel just quacked at him with the phone and walked off.

Alastor visibly twitched. This was far from over.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Drownin' in Poison

I am finally getting around to starting (and hopefully completing) this fic idea! I'm not really sure if it will go anywhere, but I am still really excited to make this idea a reality. I hope everyone enjoys it! This is based on the song Poison from Hazbin Hotel, and the story takes place after Vegeta comes back from Earth. Gifs are not mine!

Summary: Vegeta is informed by Frieza that he needs to relax more, and what better way to do so then with entertainment from one of Frieza's personal performers. Vegeta is reluctant but cannot say no, and he is mortified to see that the performer is a Saiyan like him. Will he choose to save them from their fate, or will he drown with them?

Warnings: sexual and suggestive comments from Frieza and his men, racist comments from Frieza, nonconsensual physical contact and choking, cursing, reader is wearing revealing clothing, mentions of injuries during a flashback, if I miss anything please let me know!!!

Vegeta was pissed. No, that was an understatement; he was absolutely infuriated. Vegeta had been working under Frieza's tyrannical fist for a long time now, so why in the hell would he interrupt a training session for a "lovely chat" as it was phrased by Frieza's dispatched henchman. Oh how he wished to see Frieza begging for his life as he made that wretched alien pay for his cockiness. Still, Vegeta was not a fool, and he knew that he would have to wait if he wanted to catch Frieza off guard.

Vegeta slammed the doors to Frieza's council room open, his lips raised in a snarl. "You've got a lot of nerve calling me in here while I was training, Frieza. I can not fulfill your orders properly if I become weaker than those you send me to destroy!"

Frieza, who was talking to Zarbon about the Frieza force's next mission, shooed the green-haired warrior away. Zarbon did not hesitate to follow his commander's wave, but not before shoulder checking Vegeta on his way out. The shove did not phase Vegeta as much as Zarbon wished. "Oh Vegeta, you know better than to use such a tone with me," Frieza quipped as he approached him, his pace smooth and calculated. "Even for a filthy monkey, you are quite strong, and I would not have kept you alive otherwise."

Vegeta's face was void of any emotions, and yet his eye slightly twitched at Frieza's remark despite hearing it quite often. "Why have you summoned me here, Frieza?"

Frieza's dark lips stretched into a wicked smile, his eyes glittering with joy and a hint of something else that Vegeta could have swore was eagerness, like a child who knew a secret but refused to reveal the whole truth. "I believe that you need a well-deserved break, Vegeta. You have done so much for my empire, and I want to repay you for your dedication to me."

Vegeta could feel his hair stand on end under his armor, his instincts flagging at Frieza's offer. If he still had his tail, Vegeta knew it would be puffed up and twitching with alarm. All Vegeta could do right now was clench his fist as he stood taller. "That is not necessary. You accepted me into your ranks when my planet was destroyed. That is repayment enough."

"But you need to loosen up is the problem. You are so uptight and it disgusts me. Luckily, you have earned an invitation to an exclusive party for the top elite." Frieza's chest rumbled with a high pitched giggle as his crimson eyes locked with Vegeta's. "I have no doubt that you will enjoy the show."

..............................................................................................................................

Vegeta pulled at the collar of his azure button up shirt as his dress shoes tapped on the metal floor. Frieza's servant left the shirt for him along with a suit jacket and dress pants the color of the onyx cosmos that he had explored for Frieza's conquests. The instructions to the club were tucked into the suit jacket, and based on the coordinates, the club was not meant to be found easily.

Curse Frieza and his damn orders, Vegeta thought as he realized just how uncomfortable and warm the outfit made him feel. His armor would have been perfectly fine to wear. Then again, Frieza must be hiding something if he wanted Vegeta to wear something that he felt was idiotic trash.

The hallway became darker and darker until the final curve led to two wooden doors guarded by none other than Zarbon and Dodoria, the magenta light from above almost creating halos above their heads. Vegeta scoffed as he stopped before them. "My, my, don't you two idiots make quite the pair. Are all the other qualified guards injured if Frieza had to resort to you?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow as the other two glared at him.

"Shut it, Vegeta," Dodoria barked. "You should feel honored to be stepping foot into this club. Where's your invitation?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Are you blind?! It's right here!" Vegeta shoved the piece of paper into Dodoria's chest, not even waiting for him to check it before shoving past the guards and entering the room. Vegeta could feel his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the room, his face flushing from anger and confusion. The whole club was decorated in white marble floors and purple wood stained walls, amethyst stones etched into the tables and the bar's counter top. Several of Frieza's top men were here, each one being served by various alien races that Frieza had conquered. It was the outfits that caught Vegeta off guard. Each worker had on tight outfits made from different styles and fabrics, but all of them were either a shade of purple or white to match Frieza.

To make matters worse, the tyrant in question had his own throne center stage to what Vegeta assumed was a performance area. The throne itself was a deep indigo with swirls of white stone dancing along the sides, and there were tables surrounding the throne for Frieza's favorite soldiers. Vegeta couldn't help but notice there was only one spot left.

"Ah there's the filthy monkey now~! We saved a special spot for you, Vegeta..." Frieza smirked as he swirled the wine in his glass cup, his dark fingernails tracing the edge as he took in Vegeta's rigid walk as he found his seat. "Not what you expected, hmm? I told you I would find a way to help you relax, and you better enjoy yourself. That is an order."

"Yes, Frieza." Vegeta mumbled as he took a few drinks from whatever the soldiers' had brought him. Damn rancid beer, Vegeta lamented to himself as he wiped his lips. Even with the loud music thumping throughout the club, Vegeta tried to address Frieza. "With all due respect, Frieza, I do not understand your motives for inviting me to this club. Places like this are not meant for high classes warriors like me."

Frieza laughed so hard that some of his wine spilled onto one of the soldiers below him, but he was too pleased with himself to notice. "You'll eat those words, Vegeta. I have a special guest that will make this place feel like home!"

Home? Now that made Vegeta nearly spit out his drink. What in the hell did he mean by home?

I'm not above a love to cash in

The music from the speakers faded until there was nothing but the eager energy from the crowd and a single lilac spotlight shining down onto the stage. An announcer stepped out onto the stage, a wide yet fake smile stretched across their face. "Good evening, everyone! Welcome to another show at the Violet Underground! Tonight, we have one of the club's top performers here for your entertainment. Without further ado, here is none other than Y/N!"

The person that stepped through the curtain and took the place of the announcer was clad in a tight purple outfit, a white heart decorating the opening near their chest and matching thigh high pearl boots that echoed through the room with each step they took. Their eyes and lips were expertly done up with purple and white makeup, making their dark eyes glimmer in the light despite the performer's discomfort with the makeup. It is true that they were beautiful, Vegeta could not deny that, but there was one part of their appearance that had Vegeta gripped with fear. It was their brown tail that swished as they walked that automatically revealed that this performer named Y/N was a Saiyan just like him. While Vegeta gritted his teeth and wondered how it was possible for another Saiyan to survive the desolation of their planet, Frieza's soldiers and the others in the crowd were already spewing flirtatious comments towards Y/N.

Another lover underneath those flashin' lights, Another one of those ruthless nights, yeah, yeah, yeah

As the tempo of the song started to pick up, Y/N's body moved to the rhythm with expert precision. Vegeta could not help but become mesmerized by the sway of their hips and tail, the way their Saiyan muscles flexed with each bend and step, but at the same time, Vegeta could still feel the anger building in the pit of his stomach. Vegeta could barely hear his own thoughts over the loud music and shouts from the crowd. How the hell did a powerful Saiyan warrior become a performer for such a beastly crowd?

I shoulda guessed that this would happen

Y/N was wondering the same thing. They did not ever see themselves performing in a skin tight outfit in front of soldiers that would storm the stage if not for Frieza keeping them at bay. This was not the job that they were promised. Before every performance as Y/N put on the outfit that matched Frieza's colors, the memories of their first meeting always flashed through their mind.

"You must be the filthy monkey that my men captured trying to flee from the rest. Still, you do appear to be quite strong."

Y/N kneeled before Frieza, who was lounging in his throne as the tip of his tail flicked lazily side to side. They were bloody and beaten, the cuffs digging into their wrists, and yet they couldn't help the growl that escaped from their throat. "When I get out of these cuffs, I will kill you myself! Just like the weaklings before me!"

Frieza tilted his head as he smiled and let out a sinister laugh. "My, my, you are quite a feisty one. My men have told me about the fight that you put up, and I believe that you would be the ideal candidate for a new fighting squad I'm creating."

Y/N's face relaxed slightly at the comment, but they remained hesitant at first. "What is this fighting squad you speak of?"

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes, Spewin' all your red-hot lies, yeah, yeah, yeah

"It's called D.A.N.C.E., and only the strongest warriors have learned to master it." Frieza had to take a sip of his wine to keep from laughing at his own deviousness. He knew that the younger Saiyans would always pounce at the chance to fight without knowing all the details, but to fall for something like this was astoundingly foolish. He slowly rose from his seat and walked to stand inches in front of Y/N. He bent at the waist so he could stare down at them. "So, do we have a deal, Monkey?"

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

Not knowing any better, Y/N had eagerly accepted the deal that would allow them to keep fighting, and more importantly to keep living long enough to kill Frieza and make him pay for what he has done. Their eagerness and lack of questioning led them to here, where D.A.N.C.E. meant dancing for soldiers and doing whatever it took to keep them and Frieza entertained. At first the news made Y/N sick, and yet they knew that if they did not perform they would be killed, and so they did whatever Frieza ordered.

Vegeta let his eyes flicker over to Frieza who was sitting beside him, trying his best to not launch himself out of his seat and punch the pale alien in the jaw. He could tell that Frieza was enjoying the performance, despite his hatred towards the Saiyan race. Frieza's tail swayed back and forth in the same pattern as Y/N's hips, his blood-colored eyes appearing darker as he took in their figure. Vegeta even caught him liking his lips as he took another sip of his wine. The other soldiers were no better as they shouted and whistled, some of them even shifting in their seats as they resisted the urge to move and disobey Frieza. Y/N knew all of this was happening, and yet they appeared unbothered by it all. In fact, they were somehow relishing in the behaviors around them.

'Cause I know you're poison, You're feeding me poison

Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow, Up your Poison, I made my choice, and

Y/N had accepted their mistake long ago, otherwise it would have torn their spirit apart. The only way to win this game was to play the role that was expected of them, or what Frieza expected from them. Whether that meant flirting with the Lord or his underlings, practicing new performances and moves until their muscles ached, or wearing these awful outfits that made their skin crawl: all of it worked as steps towards ending Frieza's reign. Y/N realized that if this was going to work they had to pretend like they were enjoying themselves.

Every night I'm living like there's no tomorrow

The beat of the song dropped, and along with it Y/N's body dropped to the floor of the stage as they seductively crawled towards Frieza. Y/N could feel a shiver as the cold stage clawed at their skin, but this new move was worth it as Frieza's eyes widened along with his smile, his tail flicking faster in a more predatory way. Frieza had never done anything to Y/N, but they were not naive to ignore the strength and power he had. All it would take is one word and they would be done for. As the soldiers became more rowdy and vulgar, Y/N tried to focus on only Lord Frieza, knowing that he would enjoy the attention. How could they have been diminished to such humiliation?

Frieza leaned over to speak to Vegeta, his voice reaching a higher pitch so he could be heard over the song. "Even though they may be a monkey like you, Vegeta, I would not hesitate to take them in this room right here and now. No one would stop me, either."

Oh-Oh, Oh-Oh, Anyway you want me, baby, That's the way you got me

I'll be yours, My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison

Someone new caught Y/N's attention. They had never noticed this soldier at Frieza's club before, and he seemed like he was hating every second of this act. Y/N swiftly moved back to a standing position as they swished their hips and moved to the opposite side of the stage while the song moved on to the second verse. They were curious to get a better look at this new patron, and there was something else that drew Y/N to them. Why did that dark hair look so familiar?

Then it hit them. Y/N recognized the man as none other than Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans. Y/N thought that all of the royalty from Planet Vegeta were dead, or at least that is what Frieza had told them. Y/N could find themselves smiling at Vegeta instinctually as the happiness of finding familiarity in one's own people returned to them. Despite the smile, Vegeta could barely look at Y/N, and any time he did look it seemed laced with infuriation. Was he mad at them for ditching their Saiyan heritage and fighting spirit? That was far from the case, and Y/N could feel this man's anger seep into her own movements. Y/N leapt down from the stage and strutted with purpose across the room, thinking about ways to prove this arrogant prince wrong.

I got so good at bein' untrue, I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear

Y/N had never left the comfort of the stage before, and it became harder to ignore the comments that were being thrown her way. "Why don't you come over here, doll?", and "I bet that Saiyan stamina would be great in the bedroom" were just a few of the comments that Y/N heard. They pushed the comments away and made it their mission to catch Vegeta's attention.

I disassociate, disappear, yeah, yeah, yeah

The dark-haired man noticed Y/N approaching, and they made sure to swish their tail more obviously for him. He was handsome, and Y/N made a risky move by running their hand along his jaw as they passed him. Vegeta curled defensively into the other side of his seat, but he could feel the warmth creeping up his neck at the attention. Y/N could tell that he had him in the palm of their hand now, so they gracefully stepped up onto Vegeta's table and grabbed his drink from him. Y/N smirked as they drank what little bit of the alcohol was left, shocking Vegeta and spurring on the others at the table.

So far beyond difficult, To resist another gulp

Y/N felt the moves come more freely to them as they danced on the table and never broke eye contact with Vegeta. This was a move that could cost them their life, and Y/N could feel the daggers that Frieza was staring into them. Y/N did not dare to look at Frieza yet, and instead they twirled around and showed off their tail with pride. Vegeta, on the other hand, could only sit back and watch. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but that would mean committing treason against Frieza and risking both of their lives. How could a performer, someone who threw away their self-respect so quickly, cause Vegeta's heart to skip a beat?

Yeah I know it's poison, You're feedin' me poison

I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow, Up your poison, I made my choice, and

Y/N decided to spare a glance towards Frieza, and while they could tell that he was pissed, he also seemed amused. Was he getting off on the fact that two Saiyans were before him, predicting that they may team up in the future to escape? Y/N felt that deep down they should play it safe and return to the stage, but they were sick of being confined to a fake performance that was not who they were. They were a warrior, and they were going to show it through their rebellion. Y/N grabbed another bottle from the table, not even stopping as they took a drink and maintained eye contact with Vegeta. They knew they shouldn't be drinking while performing, but at the same time, they stopped caring about the logistics after the first sip.

Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow

Vegeta, upon realizing what Y/N was doing, made the choice to have a little fun of his own. If Frieza wanted him to loosen up, or lose his cool due to the Saiyan performing for him now, then he would follow the orders to a T. Vegeta smirked as he leaned back in his seat, resting his arms behind his head and playing into the role that Y/N wanted him to set. Y/N watched Vegeta closely, seeing what else he would do. Vegeta raised his hand and made a slow twirling motion, and Y/N eagerly followed the signal to spin for him as their purple suit shimmered in the stage lighting. For once in the entire time that Y/N had been stuck on this planet, they finally felt proud of the performance they were giving. It felt natural.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, anyway you want me, baby, That's the way you got me

I'll be yours, My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison

The song reached its final cord, and Y/N struck a lasting pose as they remained on the table. Soldiers and servers alike clapped for them, but it was Vegeta's claps that felt like the best praise. Y/N smiled at him, a genuine smile not stitched with forced flirtations, and their tail happily moved from side to side. Vegeta offered his hand to help Y/N down from the table, and just before Y/N could reach out to him, something jerked them off balance.

Frieza had wrapped his tail around Y/N's waist, the pearl colored appendage coiling around their body like a python ready to squeeze the life from it's prey. Frieza lifted Y/N up with ease as they gripped his tail for fear of being dropped. Vegeta shot out of his chair as it clashed to the floor, the other soldiers pulling out their weapons and pointing them at the new hostile target. Frieza placed Y/N in his lap, his tail moving higher up their chest to curve around their throat and giving a light squeeze. Vegeta could tell that Y/N was not comfortable with Frieza's advances, but if he moved, he would be killed without hesitation.

Poison, I'm drownin' in poison

I'm filling up my glass but it's always hollow

Frieza tilted his head to peer down at Vegeta, loving how angry he looked at the thought of him stealing one of his own. Frieza's eyes narrowed as he chuckled and tightened the grip of his tail, causing Y/N to let out a gasp. "Easy now, Vegeta. A monkey like you should remember his place, and this monkey belongs to me~," Frieza turned back toward Y/N and licked a stripe across their cheek, the contact causing Y/N's nose to crinkle in disgust as they jerked their head the other way.

"If they are your property, then why do you waste their potential?! Why not put their skills to a better use?" Vegeta shouting at Frieza in front of the others could have been a death sentence, but the twinge of a feeling deep in his gut told him to protect his own. Afterall, Y/N did have the build of the Saiyan warriors he used to train.

Frieza perked up at Vegeta's outburst. He let his tail relax as it unwove from Y/N's body, but he kept a strong hand placed tightly on their waist. Y/N winced at the contact and knew it would leave bruises the next day. "Well, Vegeta, what better use could they have than this?"

Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison

Vegeta relaxed at Frieza's willingness to listen, something that he did not do often. "Let me train them for you so they can become another warrior for your ranks," Vegeta offered. Frieza waved his hand, and the other soldiers lowered their guns. Vegeta took that as a sign to continue. "You lost a lot of great soldiers on the last mission, and I have no doubt that Y/N here could do the work of all those soldiers if not more under my guidance." Vegeta swallowed as he quickly glanced at Y/N, whose eyes were pleading to be set free.

Frieza shrugged. "The idea has potential, but we will speak more on this tomorrow. For now, have a few more drinks and enjoy yourself. You'll know my decision when we meet again."

Y/N's head hung low, their eyes watering as they tried to blink the false hope away. They looked up at Vegeta one last time as he went to leave, and the look in his eyes seemed more certain than their own. If Vegeta is as strong as Y/N remembered, maybe he could set them free, or they would both die by Frieza's hand.

Wish I had somethin' to live for tomorrow

[babybruno]

Ok personal opinion, I feel like a lot of ppl HC Bruno as being kind of passive with his mom. Everyone is absolutely entitled to their own HC’s, but personally I have a hard time picturing him being like 100% chill with his mom after what she had done.

Think about it, from his perspective everything was really chill. His dad worked hard, his mom was very loving and caring, they all ate dinner together and all had a pretty chill time, then one day his mom just… decided to leave. Out of the blue, with no explanation, and just left and after a while stopped coming around completely. I feel like he’d would feel a certain way towards her after that.

I think he’d think one of two ways: being indifferent (not passive) to his mom, or holding some sort of resentment.

The first route would probably just be “I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing and I don’t really care and don’t want to see her”. He wouldn’t exactly HATE her, just be like “eh idrc”

The other route is him being kinda pissed, which is valid. I mean, she up and left, and in a child’s mind, maybe in some way he might blame her for what happened to his dad. His thought process might “if she didn’t leave, maybe he wouldn’t have had to work extra hard and he wouldn’t have gotten involved with those gangsters and gotten killed”. Keep in mind, Bruno’s dad got shot when he was like what, 12? I think it would be totally rational for him to think like that.

That aside, what kid WOULDN’T be a angry for a parent just up and leaving ? Imagine having what you would call a picture perfect family just for it all to like disappear in one day ? And remember, Italians are HUGE on family. I myself come from a very large Italian family, and if it’s one thing that’s incredibly important to them, it’s family. So with the addition of Bruno being a kid and his cultural perspective on family, why wouldn’t he be angry with her ?

On top of that, I always thought it was incredibly inappropriate to have Bruno decide to either be with his mom or dad. Then when he chose his dad, his mom cried and pretty much begged him to come with her. That’s detrimental. No wonder Bruno has such a self sacrificing attitude, he’s had to do that since age like 10.

No wonder he goes around and picks up all these lost abandoned kids and feels the need to “save” or “fix” them in some way, he tried to do that with his parents and couldn’t, so he’s probably constantly looking to “fix/save” someone to fill that void.

Bruno is a very caring and understanding person, but I feel like it would be reasonable for him to kinda be like “yeah wtf is ur problem mom???”.

Also just to throw it out there I refuse to read purple haze feedback but I know his mom does cry at his grave. Which is also like u had NO IDEA what ur son was up to ??? U didn’t know he was involved with the mafia ? Do u even care that he spent years at the hospital with his dying father and had to do some pretty dark shit in order to take care of him ?? And now bro is dead ??? All because u wanted to live in THE GOD DAMN CITY ??? Girly wtf ??

That also probably adds to his grief, knowing his mom wasn’t there for him when his dad was dying.

ANYWAYS I do not like Bruno’s mom :D

TLDR; Bruno probably had terrible mommy issues.

[themildmahariel]

Rook Questionnaire

Inspired by @hedwigoprah post here ♥️ template here

1: Where in Thedas is your Rook from?

Euzen's clan is from Ferelden, but they fled north during the 5th blight. He was a child then, so he doesn't remember the place much.

2: What is your character's alignment?

Neutral Good.

3: Race and subclass?

Elf - Mage.

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

Assuming he still had the canon Thorne background, probably off with Antoine and Evka.

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

A mix of cynical/cautious/melancholic. Boy's got the anxiety and depresh.

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

Davrin. Since Euzen has only been a warden for like 2-3 years, everything is still so new to him and he imprints on Dav as a kind of role model.

He's also good friends with Neve, although he's sort of intimidated by her because of her sheer force of will.

7: Romantically close with?

Emmrich. He's the first person Euzen has ever dated and so he's extremely grateful that Emm takes everything slowly.

8: Who are they suspicious of?

Lucanis and the Crows. He doesn't like people who kill for coin.

Also Spite. Euzen doesn't have much magical training, so he's extremely wary of demons, even ones that are . . . somewhat under control like Spite is.

Euzen's creator (me) has no problem with these characters fyi lol.

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

No lol. He leaves the Wardens after the events of Veilguard.

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

No. I have a headcanon that Euzen's right arm is underdeveloped, which would make that difficult. He also didn't have many opportunities to learn with his clan and Wardens.

11: Weapon of choice?

Mage knife. As stated above, he doesn't have much magical training, so he finds it easier to stab than to try to control his magic in the heat of battle.

12: What is their orientation?

Panromantic Asexual.

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

Necessary evil, but he's kinda . . . really good at it.

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

Sewing; he taught himself how to sew when he was quite young. He was actually one of the clan's tailors, which was one of the few things about clan life that he enjoyed. I like to imagine that he made his and Emmrich's wedding attire.

He also really likes to read. His clan didn't own many books, so he now has a very curious mind.

15: What NPCs do they like? Which ones do they dislike?

He's pretty close with Antoine and Evka, even though they don't see each other very often. I like to think that they helped him when he had top surgery after joining the Wardens.

He dislikes the First Warden, but he's also very intimidated by him. He was waaaay too scared of him to punch him at Weisshaupt.

16: Do they have a favorite creature in Thedas?

Probably cats, since he practically acts like one himself.

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

Yes and no. He's an anxious person and quite introverted, so new places and people can be scary. But he also likes adventure and being able to see and experience new things.

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

Doing whatever Antoine and Evka are doing most likely.

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

Maybe the blight in him. But he's also just kind of a sickly dude, so a particularly nasty illness could do him in as well.

I'm a little wishy-washy on whether he'd become a Mourn Watcher after Veilguard and attempt lichdom. In the end, I don't think he would want eternal life, though.

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

He hates Solas' guts, but talking with Lace and a solasmanced Lavellan makes him change his mind at the end.

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

Void Blade.

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

Dalish and Common.

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

He shuts down and tries to pretend that everything is all right. If it's really bad, anyone showing any kind of concern for him might make him break down though. His upbringing made him unused to kindness.

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

After all he's seen, not really. But then again, he doesn't really know who is talking during Emmrich's corpse whispering so . . . who knows anymore.

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

Spellblade.

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

Cat 😺

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

Not very happy. He was born a she to a mother that had him from an affair. Bio papa died, and both mom and dad knew his origin and resented him for it. Because of his disability his clan hated him for being "useless." One day he was lured into an abandoned ruin and was locked inside as a joke. Only there was blight in there and he became corrupted. His clan ran into some Grey Wardens, warned them about his situation, then left.

He joined the GWs to save his life. While he was happy to be away from his clan, he never wanted the Warden life. They did allow him to transition pretty much right away though, which he was grateful for.

The only good times in life thus far were during the events of Veilguard, unfortunately.

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

He likes to defer to Varric. Which. Yeah.

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

If Euzen had to choose, probably Mourn Watch. Which he may be accepted into after Veilguard anyway.

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

He's a short cutiepatootie 😊

Nah but actually, I like how he forges on even if he's scared out of his mind. He takes responsibilities seriously and doesn't complain, and eventually learns to spread that responsibility when it becomes too much to bear alone.

[rukkako]

Yknow, back in the day of around 4??? 5 months ago??? i was playing warframe like every other day, when, upon finishing this one grineer extermination, I recieved this weird transmission. Something about a "candidate" being "ready". While I was heading to extraction I came across this one enemy marked by a red dot, so, without thinking much about it, I killed him and mercy'd him. I remember thinking "damn. My nova prime is so cool" while I looked at her absolutely demolish this random grineer's liver with her parazon. It was only when I returned to my orbiter that I was made aware of what I had just done. I had created him. Coheg Rott.

I didn't know what was happening; who was this man? Why did he have my nova's little bow on his shoulder? Why was he so unbelievably fucking stupid? I stood there, maw agape, listening to Coheg telling me about how I had "taken his arms and his legs but that was no more" and how he "lived and killed, killed and lived" and how he now had a "SECTORRRRRRRRR" and I remember thinking "oh boy. I hope this isn't that much of a problem."

Coheg then proceeded to take my fucking shit every time I went to earth. He took my money. He took my void traces. He even took my rare mods. And every. fucking. time. I had to listen to his stupid ass voice. Telling me how he "was the boss now" and how "Sectorrr… is… mine…!!!! sectorrr!!!! yes!!!!!! sectorrrrrrr!!!!!!!"

I hated Coheg. I grew to absolutely despise him. I had now a bastard, ugly, stupid child taking my lunch money every time I dared go to earth. It was devastating really. I didn't do anything about it for months, and during that time my hatred and contempt for him grew. So I started hatching a plan.

I had to take him down. I couldn't stand the idea of having created such a creature. A tyrant with the brain capacity of a goldfish. So I wised up (watched a bunch of youtube tutorials on liches) and I learnt some stuff. You have to kill his thralls. You have to keep stabbing him in the gut. You need to find out the correct mod order. You want him to have a good weapon like the Kuva Nukor or the Kuva Bramma, and not something like a Kohm.

So I started my mission. I went into his territories. I killed his slightly less ugly children (you're telling me this guy FUCKED?????) and I started stabbing him repeatedly. And getting those requiem mods, oh, it was QUITE the god damn pain, but it was worth it. All to see my bastard son Coheg retort and twist in pain and scream in fear and rage. It filled me with a satisfaction unknown to me up til then.

So I kept. on. doing it. Each time he ran away and each time I relentlessly followed him. He managed to get to sedna. During my travels, I met some kind strangers that stuck with me and helped me take my bastard son Coheg down, them also dealing with their own paternity problems.

And so the moment came. I finally stabbed Coheg three times with my pointy arm weapon and he fled to the proxima region. It. Was. Time.

I equipped my nova. She started this, she had to finish it.

He wailed and screamed and yelled. But he went down in no time.

And I was about to vanquish him… when I remembered.

"This fucking sucker has a Kuva Kohm."

And I realized that, during all that adventure, I'd started to… become used to his fucking raging stupidity. That if I killed him, I was gonna… miss him.

So I didn't.

He follows my orders now. Sector ISN'T his now. And my Coheg nightmares are over.

What's the lesson here folks? Always check out what weapon someone is gonna give you before sleeping with them. Also, I would make an absolutely dogshit abusive mother. So I guess I'm not having any children in the future.

Thanks for reading. And for the last time: Fuck you Coheg. (Affectionate)

[madara-fate]

Define Boruto

Can you define Boruto's goal for me ? To be able to define Boruto's goal, we have to tangibly define Sasuke, right ? There, the problem, you understand ? Boruto goes from a big tantrum to fanboy. Is fanboy a/his goal ? This is probably what Ikemoto understood, since he made him a blond nukenin lone wolf Sasuke (Which is a big lack of respect to Naruto).

When Sarada tells us that she wants to become Hokage, we understand right away, because we can define what Hokage is, no need to be a scholar to understand.

But here's the problem is that Sasuke has never been REHABILITATED in Konoha (Which is a big lack of respect to Naruto), Sasuke in chapter 699, is pushed towards the exit by the Rokudaime and goes on a « redemption » journey*. Chapter 700, we are introduced as a lone wolf, rather than a father. Chapter 700+1, Sasuke has been gone for 10 years. Boruto movie, Sasuke becomes exclusive to Boruto and ignores his family.

Boruto squats Sasuke while Sarada is in the trees, there is all the discomfort I had during the movie.

*But why is it up to Sasuke to apologize and have to go on a journey of redemption ? While Chapter 485, Kakashi recognized that Sasuke was a victim in a collective madness.

The conclusion of the manga is in a mess, it becomes null and void.

Chapter 229, Naruto was ready to do anything to bring Sasuke back even if it meant breaking his limbs. Chapter 307, Naruto who did not want to become Hokage without having brought** Sasuke back to the village.

**By bringing back it is intelligently that I understood it, otherwise what is the point of working hard for nothing ? What's the point of giving Sasuke a family if he can't even enjoy it ? It's a humiliation for Sakura & Sarada too !

The same goes for Boruto's promise to Sarada, null and void, Boruto is following the same path.

Boruto is a clone of Naruto (or Naruto 2.0), the one who has all the MC and savior relevance, has exclusively Sasuke (Jiraiya) and does more stupid things than his father, remake***. But here's the problem with making Boruto the Hokage, Kishimoto didn't assume his remake choice, because for that to happen, Boruto would have had to be the only child of the new generation. So since he didn't know how to assume it, he artificially created the drama of Boruto with his father so that Boruto wouldn't want to become Hokage succeeding his father. But here, the tone of the manga becomes « hello I'm Boruto Uzumaki son & grandson of Hokage and your future Hokage, YOLO ! ». That's it, on both sides, Boruto has absolutely no merit !

***In this sense, it's more respectful for Naruto & Sasuke, but not for Sakura.

Anyway, tell me your opinion & analysis.

This is probably what Ikemoto understood, since he made him a blond nukenin lone wolf Sasuke (Which is a big lack of respect to Naruto).

I don't really understand how Boruto's development has in any way been disrespectful to Naruto.

But here's the problem is that Sasuke has never been REHABILITATED in Konoha (Which is a big lack of respect to Naruto),

What do you mean by rehabilitated? Sasuke is hailed as a village hero so it's certainly not in a sense of being respected. And again, I don't see how Naruto is being disrespected here.

Sasuke in chapter 699, is pushed towards the exit by the Rokudaime and goes on a « redemption » journey*.

Kakashi didn't push Sasuke to go on his redemption journey, that was a decision that Sasuke made for himself.

Chapter 700, we are introduced as a lone wolf, rather than a father. Chapter 700+1, Sasuke has been gone for 10 years. Boruto movie, Sasuke becomes exclusive to Boruto and ignores his family.

Sasuke didn't ignore his family in favour of Boruto, I really don't know why people keep on saying this.

Boruto squats Sasuke while Sarada is in the trees, there is all the discomfort I had during the movie.

I don't understand this point.

*But why is it up to Sasuke to apologize and have to go on a journey of redemption ? While Chapter 485, Kakashi recognized that Sasuke was a victim in a collective madness.

Because despite being afflicted with the Curse of Hatred, Sasuke was still in complete control of his actions. It's not like he was in a genjutsu or being controlled by someone else. So why shouldn't Sasuke have apologised for defecting the from the village, for infiltrating the Cloud Village which effectively served as the trigger for the 4th Shinobi War, for intending on slaughtering the 5 Kages etc? No one forced him to do those things.

The conclusion of the manga is in a mess, it becomes null and void.

How?

Chapter 229, Naruto was ready to do anything to bring Sasuke back even if it meant breaking his limbs. Chapter 307, Naruto who did not want to become Hokage without having brought** Sasuke back to the village. **By bringing back it is intelligently that I understood it, otherwise what is the point of working hard for nothing ? What's the point of giving Sasuke a family if he can't even enjoy it ? It's a humiliation for Sakura & Sarada too !

I don't understand anything here, at all.

How is Sasuke not "enjoying" his family? How have Sakura and Sarada been humiliated?

The same goes for Boruto's promise to Sarada, null and void, Boruto is following the same path.

How has Boruto's promise been rendered null and void? As far as I'm aware you're making many disjointed points but not giving much explanation or justification.

Boruto is a clone of Naruto (or Naruto 2.0), the one who has all the MC and savior relevance, has exclusively Sasuke (Jiraiya) and does more stupid things than his father, remake***.

I don't understand what you're trying to say here.

But here's the problem with making Boruto the Hokage

Boruto doesn't even want to be the Hokage, so there's no problem.

Kishimoto didn't assume his remake choice, because for that to happen, Boruto would have had to be the only child of the new generation. So since he didn't know how to assume it, he artificially created the drama of Boruto with his father so that Boruto wouldn't want to become Hokage succeeding his father.

I don't understand. What are his "remake choices"? What does that mean? Since he didn't know how to assume what? Why does Boruto not wanting to be the Hokage equate to "artificially created drama"?

But here, the tone of the manga becomes « hello I'm Boruto Uzumaki son & grandson of Hokage and your future Hokage, YOLO ! ». That's it, on both sides, Boruto has absolutely no merit !

I don't understand. Boruto doesn't want to be the Hokage so I'm really struggling to understand what you're trying to say. Are you making a hypothetical situation?

***In this sense, it's more respectful for Naruto & Sasuke, but not for Sakura.

More of this respect stuff, I don't see how any of what you said (regardless of how little I understood) is disrespectful to Sakura.

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 11 - No Moon At All

prev - chapter 1

"... So, you haven't missed all that much really." Hosah slouched back into the booth seat, greatly undermining the gravity of all he'd just explained to the recently absent detective.

The ashy, almost silver, haired man opposite him seemed to be at a loss for words. Looking at him and Jeanne sat beside each other was definitely an interesting sight. In terms of just about everything, the two were polar opposites, maybe that was why their relationship seemed so distant, so cold, so strained. Hosah had told Teddy all about his concerns about the pair, but the lunch time they'd spend together, the first time as a whole group, would surely show his assistant exactly what he meant.

One thing the shifter always liked about Thierri is how they seemed to be on the same wavelength. There was no feeling of making things weird or awkward in a conversation with the guy, he seemed to always understand just exactly where Hosah was coming from, which was nice when he didn't really want any logical solutions to his problems, just someone to validate him and indulge in whatever delusional perspective he had.

"Oh yeah, same old same old, right?" Thierri tilted his head in a shrug of mutual understanding, taking a sip of his disgustingly sweetened coffee all the while.

These kinds of conversations were the ones Hosah’s father had taught him were just in man’s nature, playing down their struggles in phrases like ‘Living the dream’ or ‘Nothing new’ , not making a spectacle out of their struggle. It was a lesson the shifter carried with him through every day life, one that men such as himself wouldn’t be too talkative of their struggles as to not worry anyone, his respective job as a man to be the one to help others, and not to be helped.

It was at this point when the shifter realised he'd been the only one speaking this entire time, his coworkers all having an air of uncomfortable tension about them, an unresolved issue that Hosah had no idea about. Eugh. So awkward. The only thing filling the void of conversation was the painful sound of cutlery against the ceramic plates. God, that noise, it drove the shifter absolutely insane.

Rather than focusing on the people in-front of him, Hosah would rather just eat whatever food he'd spent an unreasonable amount of money on, and that was really saying something. It was too pretty to eat. A cute little slice of the same cake Teddy had bought for him a week or two prior, hand iced with little slices of strawberries between the layers, cemented by whipped cream. He fidgeted with his fork in his hand, trying to calculate what bites would be the best in order to get the most satisfaction out of the cake.

This was something Hosah had done ever since he could remember, it'd start with the second best bite, then he'd work his way around the meal picking out the more unsatisfying parts until he'd gotten to the very best bite at the end. Very much impractical, but the thought of not doing this just made him want to not eat at all. Not necessarily a good habit, but it could be worse.

A hand giving a reassuring rub on his knee caught him off guard. It was Teddy, with a slightly concerned smile plastered across his face, eyebrows angled down, as if to say 'All good?'. It was already hellish before Hosah had said anything about his doctors concerns, how everyone treat him as some fragile, incapable victim, constantly on the brink of breaking, but everything was about to get at least a hundred times worse from here on out.

Another thing getting progressively worse was the tension around the lunch table. The shifter desperately wanted to break the silence, feeling like a child in the middle of a messy divorce, but there was nothing that came to mind in terms of conversation topics. Lately, Hosah found himself praying for divine intervention a lot more than he usually would.

"Oh, also, autopsies came back whilst you three were sent over to the bakery." Jeanne, like the angel he was, swooped in to save the group from certain death due to awkward silence.

If the shifter had put the fork to his mouth in all the time his food had been sitting there, he would've surely spat it out in surprise. "Really? What happened? What did they all say?"

Hosah could assume the last victim had bled out from his assistant's observation, but the rest seemed to be in perfect health on the outside, aside from the fact they were dead, of course.

"Well, they all seemed to have overdosed, aside from fifteen. Looks like whoever done it has access to the medication they give the shifters who grow in order to keep them regular sized." The dark haired, one-eyed detective took a sip of his drink, leaving Hosah at the edge of his seat, wide eyed, waiting for more detail. "Obviously, 'ts gonna work differently when you're on the opposite side of the shifter spectrum. Did it to keep them small I guess."

Ugh. The more detail the shifter received, the more he wished he'd just stayed in Colorado on shit money working in retail by day, babysitting by night.

Hosah had almost forgotten there were other people around the table aside from himself and Jeanne as his assistant interjected,

"How can people do that. I don't understand. I.. What would motivate anyone to treat others so badly." Teddy didn't look at the shifter beside him, or at anyone around them in-fact, instead, staring off into the distance with glossy eyes and a pursed lip.

The shifter was always aware that his assistant was quite perceptive and insightful, but he’d not expected such a high level of empathy toward his own situation. Only made sense, given his reaction to having the parents identify their child’s shrunken, rotting corpse in front of him. Now seemed like the time for Hosah to take his turn giving the man a pat on the leg, to let him know all would be okay, even if he didn’t fully believe that himself.

"Man, you should get on the internet and just see these kinds of message forums. Just unbridled, unprecedented hatred. I don't know what the fuck we did to them, it's these fucking.. Conspiracy theorists. They have their own shitty lives, and instead of realising maybe they're the reason for it, they want to look to anywhere else but themselves to put the blame. We're just easy targets, easy to say that we use everyone around us, that we're just the same as any other city rat running around the streets spreading all kinds of diseases."

Oops, Hosah didn't mean to rant on like that. In embarrassment, he quickly shovelled his first bite of the strawberry shortcake into his mouth, hoping someone else would pick up the conversation, or the topic would be changed.

"Mmm. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. Most don't know how to handle having such an imbalance over people in this world. People take advantage of others even when they don't have to power to kill them with one harsh movement, you guys have never stood a chance really." That last part may have been a little offensive, but Jeanne was right.

Mouth filled, all the shifter could do was give a passionate 'Mmm' with a point over to his superior in support of his statement. How great, he knew inviting Jeanne wasn't such a bad idea, look at these high intellect, insightful conversations being had. Anyone who overheard must be thinking , 'Woah, what a set of intelligent and handsome young men' .

"That reminds me, actually, sorry for the other day, Jeanne, I was careless and couldn't handle my emotions. Sorry." Teddy perked up, this was something the shifter had no idea about, what the fuck did Teddy of all people have to apologise to Jeanne about?

Was this why his friend had been avoiding the two all this time? What happened whilst Hosah wasn't there? When was Hosah not there?

"Damn, bitch, what'd you do?" , was the most casual way Hosah could put all of his questions.

Instead of giving a straightforward answer, the ghostly looking detective sitting opposite him waved Hosah off, "Long story, no big deal, it's all resolved now, just a.. misunderstanding. Don't worry about it."

Hm. No, no yeah, the shifter was definitely going to worry about it.

Everyone, now seemingly at ease, continued to chat about nothing as Hosah continued to question in his mind just what could've happened between the two. Chowing down on the cake, he wondered how exactly they got into a situation where they'd be fighting. In fact, Hosah became so deep in thought that he'd actually cleared the plate in front of him. Perfect! One less problem to worry about, surely now that he'd eaten one slice of cake, that means all future food related issues have been defeated, and he'll never have to worry about that specialist appointment or his doctor's theories ever again!

Feeling all proud of himself, Hosah and his assistant trailed behind the two detectives in front of them, walking in pairs back to the office.

Teddy took the shifter by the shoulder, pulling him in closer, his hand cupping the blonde head and pressing it into around his collar bone area due to the height difference. "We should go back to that cafe more often, since the food is good there,"

"Psh, come on," Hosah scoffed, his neck now craned up to rest his stubbled chin on his assistant's shoulder, "I told you, there's nothing wrong with me, just been too stressed to have any kind of appetite lately." If that were the case, the shifter would've been stressed every moment of his life.

It was better if he gave everyone one less thing to worry about anyway, there was enough on Teddy's plate, despite his claims of wanting to help, the shifter knew it was just too much to ask from him. This would be something Hosah would handle himself, given that everything else in his life was a shared task. It was his right as a man after all, to take care of his own shit and to not expect the people around him to help him with it.

"Right." Teddy didn't let go of the detectives head, instead playing with his hair, his fingertips moving in satisfying circles.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the sensation was very nice. They probably looked like a couple to everyone else around them, but for once in his life, Hosah didn't really care. He couldn’t even really be bothered if his stalker took notice, maybe it’d teach them to back off, now that he had a guard dog that’d stick by his side during every second of the day.

That reminded him, his hair was one of the things on his mental list of 'jobs to cover once you're normal sized', "On the way back home, can we stop at the convenience store? Need to fix my hair, it's all grown out and shit."

"Yeah, yeah sure. I can help you with the back if you need it." Teddy reassured the shifter, despite wanting to say ‘Yeah, I can see that’.

Hosah was gonna need all the help he could get after the last time he tried to do this job alone, exhibit A of the disaster being his current state. Yellowed, with a texture similar to that of straw or hay, as his hair desperately wanted to curl, but would he brushed out and left a frizzy mess.

-~-

"I don't know, what do hairdressers do, bleach first or haircut first?" The shifter had never actually had his hair cut or bleached by a professional, which is probably why it looked so choppy and bad.

Teddy didn't look up from the instructions ok the box, "Never been to a barbers before?" he smiled, not in a demeaning way, but it still annoyed Hosah just a little.

"Nope. My grandpa owned his own barber shop so he taught my dad how to cut hair. He usually did it for me."

Instead of using his words, the assistant gave a little 'Mmm' of understanding, too indulged in using the box guide rather than trusting the process as Hosah usually did.

"Okay," he said, grabbing a towel from the back of the bathroom door in which they sat in, "Colour first, then cut."

Despite insisting to do it himself as he had done so countless times in the past, Teddy had already decided he was going to play hairdresser today, with the shifter sitting shirtless on a stool in the already cramped bathroom as his hair was being covered in the shitty store bought shit he'd become accustomed to.

"You do this yourself usually, right?"

"Yup."

".. Can tell." Teddy winced as he got around to the back of the shifter's head.

Turning back to look at the man behind him, Hosah asked, "What, is it bad? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Keep your head forward." the assistant used his un-gloved hand to give Hosah's cheek a gentle touch back into the previous position it was in before, "No, it's not bad, it's just.. Roots are pretty long. And the length. 'Ts like mullet."

"Shut up, no it's not, it was just buzzed before, that's all"

Hosah didn't take kindly to being laughed at, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands like a bored schoolboy.

It was particularly hard not to squirm with the sensation of the brush against the back of his neck, Teddy's fingers gently pressing against the almond skin, keeping the shifter in place as he brushed from the ends to the roots of his choppy hair.

Shivering under the touch, Hosah felt the need to clarify, "Sorry, the bristles tickle."

"Not much left to do now," his assistant said under his breath, "Your hair is just.. very thick. It's nice."

The shifter got stuck between saying thank you or saying something self deprecating, ultimately deciding silence was the best way to take the compliment. Letting people say nice things about him put Hosah at unease, as if acknowledging it would make him come off as big-headed or vain, so instead he usually just denied it instead.

It was proving to be very difficult not to shift whilst in his seat, with the skin to skin contact around his shoulder and the gentle brushing of the bleach against his scalp. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hosah's default size was three inches tall, he's the most comfortable when shrunken, being a 'regular' height to him felt like one massive perpetual growing pain that filled his entire body.

Despite the pain of getting around, the least physically painful time of his life was probably when he'd gotten height stuck for three months. Over time, the shifter learnt to just tune out his chronic pains, but getting into a comfortable position in life where he had someone to look after him, the thought of just staying tiny forever became overwhelmingly tempting.

" 'Kay, looks completely covered to me." Teddy said in a sigh, removing his singular glove, "Now we wait."

The urge to run his hands through his bleach covered hair was difficult to overcome, "I'm gonna go put a record on,"

It was honestly a miracle that Teddy also owned a record player, as the world had made its shift from tapes and vinyls to CDs and ipods, but that was one thing Hosah took immense pride in. His vinyl collection spanned all the way back to the fifties, as a good portion of the records he'd amassed were 'borrowed' from his father. Scanning through the box he'd had his assistant bring over, ultimately the shifter decided on a little Townes Van Zandt, playing Hosah's all time favourite song 'I'll Be Here In The Morning'.

This song always reminded Hosah of his ultimate dream, living in that cabin on the islet in the lake, although there were some sour memories and feelings attached to it, he felt as though he'd spent too many years fantasising about it to give up now.

"I never really pegged you as a country type of guy." The voice came from the figure leant up against the bathroom door frame, almost being as tall as the door itself.

"Well," Hosah sighed, "I'm not really that picky. Jazz is my favourite though. Just sucks that all the best artists are dead now."

Teddy laughed as he approached, their height difference being more prominent that ever as he stood directly in front of the shifter now, "There are still some talented musicians. Can go to one of those Jazz Clubs and bars over the weekend, it'll be fun."

The taller figure leant down, close to Hosah's face, which was hidden by the fact he'd chosen to stare at the rug underneath him rather than the person he was talking to. If that was Teddy's idea of weekend fun, then the shifter had been doing it wrong his whole life.

"Sounds nice, yeah," Hosah turned his head even further to the side as he spoke, desperately trying to hide how red he'd gotten from the close proximity.

It wasn't supposed to be happening this way around, it had been years since the shifter had been teased by a man, he'd grown used to being the one having to initiate all these sorts of feelings. It was a pleasant change of pace, one he welcomed like an old friend at his doorstep.

"Cool." Teddy echoed the shifters own words back to him.

Hosah would’ve taken this as his sign for a smoke break if he didn’t have a thick layer of convenience store hair bleach on his head. The pain of his own flustered-ness was almost unbearable, but his morbid curiosity kept him around the sofa on which his assistant had now sat on, waiting for what move he would make next, if any at all.

Still, with his eyes focused on the wooden floor under his feet, the shifter could feel eyes lingering on him.

“Hey, do we not need to put like, I don’t know, foil in your hair, or a plastic bag?” Teddy asked, his head tilted to rest on one of the many pillows accumulated on the couch.

“No clue. What are you, some kind of professional?” Hosah joked, hoping his downturned eyebrows and his squinted eyes would distract from the shade of red his face had turned.

His roommate just shrugged, “Might as well be, my mom spent more time in hair salons then she ever did at any of my games and shit.”

“Ahh, so you played a lot of sports as a kid then?” Now they were getting somewhere. A nice common ground for the two to stand on.

“I mean,” Teddy stood to his full height, “Look at me. I was six foot by my fourteenth birthday. They begged me to join the basketball team.”

Sounded about right.

“Kind of always expected you to be more, you know,” Hosah took a moment to consider whether the other person would take offence, ultimately deciding he didn’t really care as he did his best ‘classic highschool movie nerd’ voice, “In the book club.”

“God, I should’ve been,” Luckily, Teddy took it like a champ, laughing it off, showing his radiant smile, “What about you? Not really the football type, right?”

“Baseball. I was fuckin’ great at it too. Short and skinny, aerodynamic you know? Then I started shifting more, and I got busy with all the doctors visits and health consultations, had to quit in the end.”

A bittersweet memory, but still one Hosah looked back on fondly. It was one of the only times he really felt like part of a friend group as a kid.

“Yeah, I can picture that, you in the cap and the cleats?” Teddy went back to his previous teasing ways, an unexpected turn for the person the shifter assumed to be quite the prude about these kinds of things.

All discombobulated, Hosah struggled to get his words out in one piece, “I think it’s time to rinse.”

Without turning back, the shifter speedily shuffled back to the bathroom, with Teddy following close behind him.

“Just sit down on the floor and hang your head over the side of the tub,” Teddy instructed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom door, shutting it behind him all the while.

Hosah obediently followed the instructions given to him, his neck uncomfortably craned up so it rested on the bathtub’s walls, his hair still stuck in its same position due to the solution in it.

The warm water hitting his scalp certainly was a pleasant feeling, the hard pressure of the shower head being weirdly soft against the tender skin the water pounded down upon. If it wasn’t hard to shrink before, it was definitely a challenge to stay his current size now. Hosah hadn’t even realised how he’d had his eyes closed for a while now, enjoying the pampering of which the likes he’d never experienced.

“It’s nice, right?” Teddy laughed, although the shifter had no plans on saying anything in return, being too indulged in the process to even notice the fact his assistant had said anything at all.

And that wasn’t even the best part, Hosah knew true bliss as the shower head was turned off, Teddy moving over to the shampooing process. Gentle fingertips massaging the purple solution into his scalp, the sensation being so satisfying that it brought a wide, involuntary smile to the shifter’s face.

It was moments like these which made Hosah wish for just a few seconds, he could leave his body and look in from an outsiders perspective. Seeing this moment from the angle of a painted idea would probably be pretty beautiful, although his position, leaning up with his head hanging over the tub, probably wasn’t all that nice looking from a third person view point.

Teddy lifted the jug of perfectly warm water, carefully rinsing the shifter’s hair of the soapy mixture he’d just rubbed in, brushing his fingers through the freshly bleached locks to make sure he got all of it out.

As the shifter opened his eyes, long after the sensation had ended, he was met with that same smug look Teddy sometimes carried, when he’d gotten his way with things.

“Enjoy yourself?” He asked, taking it upon himself to start drying Hosah’s hair, delicately scrunching the ends rather than the usual scrub the shifter would give to his own scalp after washing it.

Hosah scoffed, too flustered to think of anything witty to get his assistant back with.

The pair sat on the cold, tiled floor together, Teddy tenderly rubbing the towel in a circular motion against Hosah’s head, the setting sun gleaming in through the small, stained glass window above the toilet which they were hanging out beside. Even with the mess from the bleaching job that just took place, Hosah could picture how beautifully picturesque this scene probably looked. Trying to imagine himself from a different perspective than his own was difficult, but it was one he was willing to try out in hopes of painting this moment, as payment for his assistant’s care.

This reminded him, he had to ask what specifically Teddy wanted him to paint for him.

“You know that painting I promised you?” Hosah began his inquiry, his big brown doe eyes looking up innocently at the figure which sat above him.

“How could I forget?”

His hands balling up into tense fists, the shifter continued, “What specifically did you have in mind for that? Just so I can get started,”

Teddy’s eyes adverted from the task at hand to look at the shifter below him, “Anything you think would be best. I wouldn’t even mind if you threw something you did years ago at me, to be honest,”

Great, perfect, that means Hosah had free rein on what he was creating, just how he liked it. But now was the hard part, making something as equally as beautiful as the person he was making it for. The task seemed daunting, almost impossible, but the shifter wouldn’t want to let Teddy down, especially not after all he’d done for him so far, with more aid surely to come in the future.

“There,” Teddy moved a few inches back, now sitting on his butt the same as the shifter did rather than on his knees, “All better now.”

Hurriedly, Hosah got up to look at his new and improved hair in the mirror, and sure enough, it looked even better than it did the last time he’d done it himself. He felt finally whole again, finally himself as his hair had been returned to the sleek, almost white colour it once was. There was still a little dark root peaking through, but this time it looked very intentional, and it made his head hair match his facial hair and eyebrows, which was always nice.

“You like?” Teddy asked, moving in behind the shifter, resting his chin on the damp hair.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Best it’s ever been.” Despite wanting to be angry over how his assistant positioned himself, Hosah couldn’t bring himself to feel any negative emotions at all.

Looking Teddy in the eye through their reflection, the shifter added, “Thank you, it looks great.”

“Aww,” the pale arms wrapped around Hosah’s dainty shoulders swaying him left and right playfully, “Anytime.”

If this is what life would be like with Teddy, the shifter wasn’t sure he’d even want to return to his own apartment once all the crazed stalker shit had worn down.

[schraubd]

Portland: America's Last Bastion of Normalcy

In my congressional district, local media is now projecting that Janelle Bynum has ousted incumbent Republican Representative Lori Chavez-Deremer. As terrible as election day was on the whole, I am grateful that I'll be represented by a Democrat in Congress once again, and I'm glad my neighbors made the right choice in sending Bynum to Congress. Meanwhile, across the river in Washington state, Democratic incumbent Marie Gluesenkamp Perez has won her rematch against Republican challenger Joe Kent. This was a result that thrills and honestly confuses me. Perez's 2022 victory over Kent was one of the night's bigger upsets, largely chalked up to Kent being basically a White supremacist. But clearly the lesson of 2024 is that that's no longer any object, and if you told me ahead of time that election night would see a broad-based "red shift" compared to 2020 I would have been dead certain that Perez was absolute toast. So why exactly did this nut crack? I don't have an answer to that,* and I acknowledge that Perez has annoyed Democratic leadership before. But she seems to have some ideas of how to present progressive priorities in a way that speaks outside of our current base (e.g., her championing of "right to repair" laws, or pairing student loan debt relief with "dollar-for-dollar ... investments in career [and] technical education"), and she is a voice worth paying attention to going forward. Needless to say, both Bynum and Perez bucked a pretty terrible national trend. As most of the country embraced the chaos and the void, the single, solitary exception was the Pacific Northwest. Here, we rejected crude reflex and base instinct. And it's not just the local congressional races. In the Portland mayor's race, we didn't pick the woman who thinks the law doesn't apply to her just because she's "progressive", and we didn't pick the man who wants to execute the homeless because he promised "law and order". Our new mayor is going to be Keith Wilson, whose major appeal in the field, from my vantage point, is that he seemed like a normal, good guy making reasonable efforts to resolve the problems in front of our city. That shouldn't always be enough, but in the field we had it was better than all the alternatives.  In my city council district, I felt like we had a plethora of good candidates to choose from, and the three winners all were among my top six picks. Here too, I'm very happy with the choices offered and choices made, and none of them seem (yet, anyway) like kooks, cranks, or gadflies. I'm optimistic that they will be diligent and attentive public servants when they enter office, and again, that's not something I take for granted anymore. It is, of course, quite off-brand for Portland to be America's avatar of normalcy. Locally, we're more used to embracing our "weird" identity, nationally, our reputation is something like that of a post-apocalyptic drag show. "Normal" is not historically our forte. But for my part, I am so, so happy that this is the city my wife and I have chosen to build our life in and raise our child in. Portland is a great city. It is full of great people, great beauty, great resources, great activities, and great values. I'm under no illusions that anywhere, blue states included, will be "safe" in the coming years. But there are very few places I'd rather be than here, and if you're looking for a new place to call home, I'd encourage you to look our way. * One thing I will say, and someone inundated with ads for the Perez/Kent race, is that Kent went 100% all-in on anti-trans fearmongering. The result was Perez likely expanding her margin of victory in an otherwise red wave year. Take from that what you will. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/91uKjqv

[malzykins]

GIVES US THE VOID HAND FREAKS LORE!!! (You dont have to if you dont want to)

OH BOY. well with a nice little request like that how can i say no 😇 

HUGE preface that this is very AU-heavy because. like I got no beef with the actual canon but I just want to play around with my favourite characters like little dollies if that is okay. :]

To even get to the freaks though we do have to start at the beginning of this for it all to make even a lick of sense and to me anyway it feels like a lot.. warning not one centimeter of this is without some form of mental degradation and shameless self-indulgence (<- failing to cope with the lasting effects of cringe culture)

absolutely MASSIVE text post belo im dead serious:

Nothing much really differs from the origin of the Operator/Drifter themselves, all the Zariman shit still happens etc. Operator was kind of a bastard child (shes 12 most of them are, but i digress LOL), very much the kinda person to stick their nose in everyone’s business and try to “fix” all their problems if she thought something could be gained from it (sound familiar?), be it a compensation from the people themselves or from her seniors getting basically surface-level information about it all and being like aww what a good kid!! and gassing her up with all this praise. Most other kids definitely knew what she was doing, or at least didnt like her or the vibe she put off, but it didnt really stop her cause that’s not whose opinion she necessarily cared about the most.

When the Zariman incident happened, her ENTIRE support group became her enemy and she was left with nothing. She got her just desserts alright and it broke her, like really broke her, like watching a spoiled brat finally get what’s coming to em and she genuinely did like a total heel-turn in terms of personality temperament etc. She became a lottt more prone to acting childish and favoured emotional outbursts over rational thinking, since she didnt have her people that she looked up to anymore, she didnt have her Glue so to speak. She went from main character syndrome to acting how a 12 year old would probably realistically act in a fr life-or-death scenario overnight

Being a child in a traumatizing situation she latched onto really anything she could get. any distraction. desperately wanting something or someone to trust. so when that damnable doppelganger shows its face, behaving exactly how she used to behave towards other kids (not that she had the self-awareness to deduce that at the time), she instantly ate from the hand that feeds. And there was that :)

Nothing strays from canon between this point and the First Dream. Shes still very much a petulant crybaby and kind of sucks at being a Tenno but thats neither here nor there,, in the Dream, though, is when things start to REALLY deviate.

During the years of war and strife and child-soldier-ism with everyone else, she had a lot of time to think. Shes well aware that all this void power shit wasnt possible before their time on the Zariman, and as far as she was aware she was pretty certain that didnt change the moment they boarded. Over time she fights the memory suppression of her traumas to dig up answers and narrows it right down to that moment she shook hands with herself, something clearly odd and nonsensical, now viewing it with a bit more clarity of mind and basically coming to the epiphany of Oh You Motherfucker. theres no way it was not you. theres no way ALL OF THIS (the existence of the tenno and by extension their eventual drafting into the war, and all of the bullshit that follows that) was not because of you. And when they get told that theyre all going to be put into a cryosleep, because theyre more trouble than theyre worth, really, to just to give everyone around them more peace of mind well. shes quite upset about it. She and other kids definitely try to fight their way out of it (they dont make it far) and rest assured theres no shortness of bawling and sobbing, but deep in there there is anger. She starts to get real pissed off about this whole ordeal and honestly just fucking everything that has lead to it, that piece of her old self that had the capacity for rage and ambition bubbling through the surface.

When she was placed into the First Dream, that quickly manifested well outside of her control. She herself was entirely lacking in conscience, but that essence of herself that existed just beyond her own grasp, that metaphorical spirit that whatever youd want to call it, began to fester in some crevice deep in the Void, not having truly left the place after the events of the Zariman unfolded. It festered and festered and grew until every horrible negative emotion that she Could Not experience in her current state snapped free and went on a violent witch hunt for exactly who the hell made her this way and WHEN she found It, that manifestation didnt relent in the slightest as it quite literally beat the absolute ever-loving dogshit out of the Indifference and (taking some of the various Murmur codex entries very literally) lashed its very flesh apart like a goddamn. kindergarten art project.

Once all of her anger was spent and she realized that didnt actually fix any of her problems, and the bastard was busy reeling for a while because, what in the fuck was all that about, she was left just a lonely, sad empty husk. And because of the Void’s receptivity with negative emotion, it did something with that, taking those lacerated fragments and turning them into something greater, turning them into companions to fill that lonely gap, into the Murmur. they are very No Thoughts creatures and dont understand what existence really is, and like most freshly borned creatures they imprint on the first thing they see (the Indifference) though they know at least the smell of who ultimately made them and are constantly chasing that trail to find the source (hence their appearance in reality in the albrecht labs because we dont really Know in canon what theyre looking for in there exactly (afaik) so I’m justttt rewriting that. for me 😇)

Once they inevitably have their cool reunion or whatever (which takes place a lot sooner than the normal story progression, I just am not sure on where to put a pin) Operator latches onto them just as much as they latch onto her, their Maker, and she ends up neglecting a lot of her responsibilities to just run and play with the little freaks all day ^-^ which really pisses off the Drifter. and makes HER take up the Operator’s mantle, a good chunk of the normal questline being done by her instead.

NOW. for what you ACTUALLY asked for. Im so sorry 😭

THESE three bastards: Prodah, Nahkip, Vedah, in that order. In this little AU thing, Murmur fragments have this little bit of individuality to them in the form of those lighter blue stripes or “veins”, which are more like indentations in their skin that faintly glow with their Void energy. The more a fragment has or the more unique they are, the more respected the individual is in a sort of innate social hierarchy system. If a fragment is born with no veins whatsoever, if they are unmarred and “perfect” so to speak, they are essentially bullied and outcasted to some unloved corner of the Great Indifference to wallow alone, and for a faction all about unity and working together that isnt very nice. :)

Vedah and Nahkip are the two I probably have the least juice for. Not that I dont like them (far from it) I just have yet to reeeeally get to them ;; I at LEAST have personalities and such down

Vedah is like a curious naive little dog. It’s very erratic and jumpy and is more often a follower than a leader. It loves games but gets bored easily, and loves trying to make friends. It definitely makes the most racket out of the three, big chatterbox this one (I love the sounds the fragments make... they are such screechy little creatures it's soooo cute)

Nahkip is probably the most “normal” out of them. It doesn’t vocalize often and carries itself in a bit of a high regard (not necessarily in a conceited way, moreso it is aware that it is of a somewhat higher caliber than most and incidentally behaves as such). It’ll politely listen to others and offer input when it’s spoken to, but once all is said and done, it returns to pretending you don’t exist, going about its own business.

Prodah, the last fellow, is (was?) one of those unfortunate veinless souls. It often found itself a victim of many fights, and it quickly learned that trying to defend itself only made matters substantially worse. In one particularly nasty scenario, its ring and pinky finger were completely snapped off by an attacker and ground to dust. It tried to fight its way out of exile often, but eventually succumbed to the hand it’d been dealt, fleeing to some unaccompanied outcropping overlooking the Void.

Vedah found it, eventually, having sniffed it out and tracked it from where it hid buried in the sand for god knows. Prodah of course, very angry and scared and traumatized all at once, didnt take too kindly to the ordeal, but Vedah’s “people skills” and a rare instance of patience helped bring the guy just enough out of its shell to at least stop regressing into fight-or-flight everytime it (Vedah) moved :] Still VERY skittery and non-trusting. just a bit more… tolerable.

Vedah and Nahkip are friends. or. at least Vedah sees it that way. Nahkip tolerates it but could really give or take. Vedah always wants to show around its new friends to its current friends, and Prodah is not an exception even if it really should be (hence the naivety; you can’t “look guys it’s cool dont be mean okay :D” your way out of everything girl)

LUCKILY Nahkip seems to not gaf. At least not in a bad way. No it actually definitely gaf because it’s been ages since it’s last seen a veinless fragment still kicking around (esp since there is essentially no reproduction of these creatures, whatever exists is all that will ever be (unless MITW feels like getting flayed again. for some reason) so once you’re killed or whatever it’s gg) and is very surprised that one is still alive, figured over time it should have just gone feral and torn itself apart from insanity or decomposed on its own, but it didn’t. and Nahkip is a bit of a studious fellow. so it is very interested in this creature.

There isn’t too much coherent lore after this.. lots of bits and bobs and meat and potatoes but not the most fleshed-out explanation for it all? At some point the three become close enough with one another (maybe more spiritually than anything, cause it likely isn’t so apparent from an outside perspective) that they form a Severed Warden like some sort of Digimon evolution or whatever 😇 There is some large gap of time where the Operator does not see them, the entire Prodah arc happening under her nose so when she next greets them they are together as the Warden and shes so proud of em ;; she doesnt really understand how it happened/works but she knows Vedah and Nahkip are in there and they do their best to introduce Prodah to her. After some coaxing it uncurls itself to meet her and she's absolutely appalled to see a friend in such a sorry state (being a Warden didn’t heal old scars), and figured that wasn’t any way for someone to live. so she removes her gloves and gently holds its hand in her own Void-corrupted ones (that I’m sure most Operators have anyway; shes extremely self-conscious about people seeing them but the Murmur are similar to her, in a way, so with them she relents) to offer that connection and comfort with it. In the same motion, some transfer of power takes place and after a brief moment, Prodah finds itself whole again with two new fingers to replace its lost ones, brimming with the light of Void energy. IN TURN, though, not such is without consequence, the Operator now missing those exact same digits that Prodah initially lacked. She quite literally gave it her own (which is why its lighter-colored fingers in the image do not have the standard issue Murmur claws. also this throws the Indifference for a loop because ??? bastard child I gave you that for YOU. not for you to just give handouts to thralls 😐). This is a complete heel turn for Prodah because while it was initially a perfect, veinless creature and demonized to all hell and back.. to receive marks from the Maker itself??? WILDLY different story. Okay we respect you now. like a lot. like A LOT a lot.

I absolutely had plans to include The Fragmented One in my little repertoire of creatures as well :3c For this I’m going to pull directly from my brief lore document instead of just reiterating what is perfectly fine to copy-paste instead, if no one minds:

“To make an example for the Operator, the Drifter assists Loid in secret in purging the Laboratories of Murmur presence, but ends up slaying the Warden of Vedah, Nahkip, and Prodah in the process. The Operator’s heartrending grief at their passing draws uneasiness from the Indifference itself, and her dormant, volatile energy involuntarily wrenches forth their fragments from the afterlife, as if they had never perished at all (this is unknown to her; her döppelganger is the one to impart this information, yet not knowledge of their whereabouts). She dedicates restless hours to searching for them, neglecting her own health, too nerve-wracked to properly eat or sleep. It is after a week’s passing that the Operator discovers an odd formation within The Great Indifference and, upon touching its surface, the structure breathes in new life, lost fragments rising from beneath the sand to create the One. Upon spotting Vedah, Nahkip, and Prodah atop the bow of the amalgamation, she becomes overjoyed at their revivification, triggering a transference of power between them; the Operator’s Void energy unknowingly begins to bleed over into the One, a deadly power donation creating an impossibly cataclysmic entity with capabilities yet to be measured. In anointment, the Operator honorably dubs the creature Fronrein—’tandem roar’—and it is forever at her beck and call.”

this Fragmented One is no stronger than the one you face normally. I just wanted to squeeze in something for my lore that could possibly explain why that fucker is SO god damn brutal in Steel Path.

Lastly (thank Christ right), something I haven’t yet fully fleshed out is that I want to pull the consciousness of the main fragments into the Operator’s warframes. Likely happened at some point during Fronrein’s birth. it’d be neat for these friends to exist in two places at once :) seems totally feasible to me given how freaky the Void gets. Vedah inhabits her Wisp, Nahkip her Protea, and Prodah her Harrow. None of this is planned, it just sort of Happens. the fourth arm of the One also gets dragged into this (dont have much for it. similar mannerisms to Nahkip I know at least), being placed into the Drifter’s Chroma, and she is NOT happy about it. very peeved actually. She hates these fucking things and to now have them basically be sentient frames walking and (telepathically) talking around the ship MUST be some sort of cruel divine punishment. She mellows out though, after some grueling amount of time, becoming a bit more platonic with her Chroma after slowly letting her own defenses down and just bonding and talking with the guy (now that these Murmurs can actually do that), but still is a bit standoffish with the Operator’s frames.

Operator thinks it’s cool as all hell. She’s brainstorming what all frames she could possibly get next and then try to shove Murmurs into those ones too. MUCH to the Drifter’s chagrin. god help them.

ANYWAY. I dont want to beta read this again I just hope it makes sense. Above all I hope it satisfies your ask ;; this is nearing 3,000 on the word count and actually took multiple days to write LOL /// thank you for giving me the opportunity to spill about these guys :’]

[tales-of-wocdes]

I should have been more specific with that ask:

So basically the mutation works like a void MC's mutated hands have grown black up to their elbow and can absorb evil magic and curse which they store in their arms which they then brutally rip off or chop off and grow back, MC can pretty much sell their severed arms for alot of money.

So how would the Acient react if someone attacked them with a spell that corrupts their magic and MC pays them back for saving their life by absorbing it and chopping of their own arm and watch it grow back.

No problem :D I am having fun here with these asks!

Hmm, interesting :D I do sort of like this idea.

Someone corrupting the Ancient is a BIG if, and quite complicated with this particular Ancient (he might have all sorts of stuff floating about in his essence already). But if we for simplicity assume that something manages it, and the MC can indeed absorb unlimited amounts of mana (i.e. MC does not pop like a balloon from trying to help the Ancient).

Let's also assume that the attacker either dies during the act or runs away after the act as MC absorbs the magic from the Ancient. If not, then add fighting the attacker as step 2 bellow.

First the Ancient would check on MC, they like children (hence you know, saving enough children that stories started spreading) and would therefore prioritize that. Regeneration is rare, but no unheard of so the Ancient is not bothered by that. Neither is he the squeamish type, quite the opposite. He is Ancient after all so a dismemberment or two is not a big deal, even a child casually doing it. This is all about checking on MC, and their physical and mental state to make sure the child is fine.

Second: After deeming MC to be "fine" or as close as possible, a thank you is in order to MC. Maybe a promise of some tasty treats. The Ancient also asks MC to not employ this ability unless absolutely needed for now.

Third: The Ancient would investigate the husks that MC tore off. Since they likely contain massive amounts of mana, the ancient would take the hands with him. He is not paying MC for them, maybe in some treats, since...

Fourth: MC is still going to the orphanage, but the Ancient would either stay with MC themselves or have another Ancient come to MC if they could not stay. This is to test the level of MC's abilities, and perhaps help them understand the abilities. Also explain to Custodians and Protectors. MC needs to be assigned extra protection since they are now quite a money mine if someone finds out.

Fifth: Development of some sort of suppressor for MC abilities if MC cannot control it. MC is getting some regular training from the Ancient to help with this ability but if MC is lacking control, then a suppressor of some kind is ideal since absorbing all the magic MC touches, would be inconvenient. Assuming such a suppressor can be made.

The Ancient wants MC to have a childhood no matter what.

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

Hope this answers the question :D

[sidesteppostinghours]

2, 9 and 29 for cynthia? c:

morning gabe!! thank you for the ask! :]

2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

oh Absolutely the first two. getting a plant or a pet would fix like. 75% of her problems. a child is. a different matter. it depends on the circumstances. how old is the child? how long is she taking care of it? if its like, a baby for one week or smth, she could probably do fine as long as she has a parent or other guardian in contact. a toddler or older would Not be her forte though. she could take care of them physically, but not emotionally without some telepathy, and she figures thats kinda frowned upon with kids.

9. Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

answered this one over here!

29. What recurring dreams do they have?

oh interesting. ive never really thought about the dreams they might get, i always kind of stuck to the canon dreams. hmmmm. if i had to say itd probably be dreams about the void, since cynthia was the most shaken up about what actually happened there. the way the void touched her mind was Deeply unsettling. also, in the non-canon version of her that goes to the hollowground meeting as eve (and where she has high subterfuge), she gets frequent dreams replaying her connection with hg after Situations in the rev demo. its equal parts comforting and distressing.

questions from here!

[lauren-no-why]

💕🎥💎!!

ok ok while my work computer is tied up crunching away at bird data:

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

Oh my god you've given me permission to just go off endlessly on Johnnie, you're a gem.

For the folks reading this who don't already know him, Johnnie Redmayne is an absolute joy. Kid brother to the two current (well, 1967 current) leaders of the World Enders gang, Johnnie is a thrillseeker, a hedonist, the type to leap before he looks, to live with zero regrets, and most of all, he just wants to have fun. There are a lot of implied but not explicit-in-text reasons for this that have to do with the World Enders being centered primarily in East LA, primarily nonwhite and/or of lower economic class, mostly young rebels during an era of counterculture but instead of the white hippie flower child route they're out there causing violence and mayhem and just loving every minute of it.

Anyway, Johnnie is also dead, murdered essentially in a drug dispute, though that's kind of underselling it but I won't rewrite the whole premise of Vide Noir here. But because this is the time and space and cosmic horror fuckery fantasy drug made from the ashes of dying stars and the void between time and space and reality or whatever, he's presumably confronted with some REALLY HORRIFIC things as his mind is slingshotted out into the void where the dead don't so much float as drown as they're fully overwhelmed with whatever goes on out there. And Johnnie? Well - who the heck does this. He's like "uhhh, no thanks! Nope, I hate this, and I'm not going peacefully, death sucks and is boring at best and really really fucked up at worst, so I'mma take a rain check and go back to where all the fun is. Seeya." And now he's a ghost, out making fun of Buck Vernon on midnight desert highways and probably causing a lot of problems for other people because that's way more fun than the alternative.

He's a character who has the potential to be saddled with so much darkness and misery, so much trauma, and I'm sure it's all in there but instead he's not going to dwell on it or make it his personality because that sucks man. He's taken the World Ender ethos to a new level - live your life how you want, die if it kills you who cares, and skipped past the dying normally part right back to the existing for the sake of finding joy in the chaos and destruction and the booze and the ladies and the not being crushed under the heel of cops and an oppressive society but instead sticking it right back to them.

Anyway this kid is hilarious and wonderful and I sure hope he surfaces in the next album and also Eddie Sandstrom is an absolute delight and he better come back to reprise his role even if he doesn't really look 18 anymore I don't really care.

I'm going to stop and move on now even though I really could keep going. Have a pic.

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

Buddy, it's the Dead Man's Hand scene in the movie, how could it not be. Hey Ben feel free to remake this all you like forever, you're doing great.

Also Until the Night Turns if that counts as a scene, because it does in the movie that plays in my head. Massively underrated song by the fandom, this does so much heavy lifting with the characterization and setting and people need to pay it more attention.

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

More! fun! facts! yes let's see. Oh, I think a fun one that's easy to miss is that we actually have an image of Buck Vernon's driver's license and the contents of his wallet. So now you can all know his birth date, height, eye color, etc plus the fact that he keeps SO MANY PHOTOS OF LEE with him. I love this kind of stuff. It's a movie prop that doesn't actually surface in the movie in a viewable form other than I think one of the photos, which is why this isn't on the wiki as not being in the movie itself makes it sort of borderline canon, but it's on the prop designer's website as an example of her work.

[theultimatepumpkinpie]

I have always felt the Drifter and Tenno being the same person opened up a LOT of possibilities, and intresting ideas and want to know your thoughts on the two, because I think you have got some of the best views on these two one person duo ever

Because I've always felt both are incredibly intelligent but in different ways, the Operator knows all these Orokin mannerisms and ideals, they're calm, collected, they have emotional outbursts when in serious situations but are normally incredibly calm and they in the end never get so pissed it causes problems, they understand their weapons perfectly, they are probably more comfortable piloting a warframe then they are walking around themselves

The drifter while less intelligent in fields of study they make up for it in something the Operator does not have, being far more willing to take risks and being physically stronger and also extremely quick on their feet, still incredibly intelligent and even grasp many ideas the Operator cant, such as how Durviri works, how the Zariman can be a meeting point for the two, then theres also their ability to survive, they Survived Durviri and set up camp in the woods and Survived there for a long time, alone, outside of Ordis and a near dead Lotus, they crafted their own weapons, own gear, own tools, they didn't have magic void powers but they were absolutely going nuts and dropping grineer, corpus, even killed off two sentient prime warframe hybrids with a bow and arrow and their own wits to stay alive

The Operator is a more classic intelligence, this proper and well mannered void child and the Drifter is a more survival smarts person, sure they cant do all the fancy stuff or fully understand a warframe like the Operator but they don't need the Warframe to survive, they're a capable fighter without and with the warframe

Why thank you so much <3 I am absolutely not normal about these two and I’m always glad to hear that people enjoy that lol

You are absolutely right, they are both intelligent in those, different ways and yet still somewhat manage to seem like the same original person due to subtle personality ques. The reason behind the differences is likely due to their upbringing. Like the whole nature & nurture instead of the “or” argument.

Like you said the operator lends a lot of their calmness and manners to the orokin’s rule. Their training during the old war would have demanded them to be so as well as discipline towards combat. Their difficulties with managing their void powers as well as their youth could contribute to those outbursts you mentioned. The fact that they are more skilled and comfortable in the warframes is cause of the sheer amount of time they were in them as well as the time spent in the second dream after their re-awakening. And personally, I believe that part of it is also an escape from their trauma as well as someone to share and heal from the pain with (the warframes themselves as who they used to be).

As for the drifter, they were all alone with nothing more than books and videos and whatever was left on the zariman as they were never rescued. Without much to answer to discipline would take time to acquire and would have mostly been from their survival. They learned a lot of those skills you mentioned on the job and in a similar way it was their situation that demanded that of them. And they took of the mantle insanely well.

But without any real people to answer to, (only ever having people they brought to life from a book) they would not have needed to adopt the same manners. They could just be themselves in any situation and still get the job done which made them a lot more carefree in the end.

I absolutely love these characters more than I ever thought I would and I love trying to get inside their heads (and there is no short of subtleties to sort through for that) and based on what I’ve noticed from them, I think you got them down pact.  

(also sorry this took awhile to respond to, asks are unreadable on my phone and my brain is made of mice who don’t want to sit still)