#but still. like hypothetically. If it was straight I would not like it any less I would still be just as crazy about it

[ciderjacks]

hey if u guys r sad about ofmd and want another show with gay people to watch you should consider watching Deadloch. It’s really good it’s really really good uh it might get a second season if the creators decide to do that.

if you watch good omens you’ll be able to watch Deadloch they’re on the same service. Uhhhh One of the actors from ofmd is there shes one half of the main duo (the other half is played by Kate Box who’s an amazing actor and Dulcie is now one of my fav characters ever) gets to wear an open Hawaiian shirt for like 3 of the 8 episodes which is a bonus. It’s extremely gay and it’s fun and beautifully written and no queer characters die and it’s satisfying and funny and Please watch it I’m begging you please watch itPLEASE

[puffywuffy8904]

Wanted to try my hand at designing some slightly older duck kiddos!!! Headcanons and insane ramblings under the cut:

I designed these to be around 14-15, so early high school age (y'know in a hypothetical scenario where they actually end up going to high school). I imagine they still adventure with Scrooge and the fam, just moreso on the weekends (cut to Huey on the floor of the Sunchaser frantically trying to finish his biology homework while they're being shot at by sky pirates). Donald and Della are also both a part of the school PTA. Nobody else in the PTA is happy about this. Now for individual headcanons:

Huey:

Straight A student that's kinda neurotic about his grades, will freak out if any of them drop to a B.

I like to think of his hat as his comfort item so he still has the same one and if it was up to me he would also wear it to adulthood. even if a grown ass man in a lil baseball cap looks silly.

He's sooo mad about Dewey being taller than him lol.

Dewey:

Solid B student with the occasional C.

Couldn't join the drama club and the basketball team at the same time so he chose the drama club (the actual reason is that he tried out for the basketball team and didn't make it but he won't admit that). He still likes to carry around a basketball and practice on the court by himself.

Grows cheek fluff like the others he just cuts his off out of insecurity.

He's the tallest.

Louie:

Has pretty shitty grades, not because he's not smart, but because he doesn't really try (I mean, kid already has it made, why bother?).

Still wears the same green hoodie every day like he did as a kid but this time it's a little bit bigger and baggier. Does he wear the same clothes underneath too???? We will never know.

He's the shortest.

Webby:

Also a straight A student like Huey but seemingly puts in way less effort than him (which bothers Huey greatly).

Has to carry all her supplies in her arms because she's not allowed to bring a bag to school anymore (she kept trying to bring weapons in. Not because she planned on using them, but because you can never be too prepared.)

In at least 5 different clubs, probably started like 3 of them.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.

I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.

You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)

I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)

Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.

The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.

[saltywatercrocodile]

Quick (Informal) PSA For Therian Minors

I see a lot of minors in the community who seem very...comfortable, I guess, with sharing personal information and photos on here and other sites, and I just wanted to speak my piece about it.

Something I remembered from another post that I wanna steal because I love the wording: before you share something on the internet, think what could someone who wanted to hurt me do with this information? Not trying to be condescending, I'm an adult and I think that exact sentence in my head before I post/comment/DM anything related to myself.

Just saw a post where a well-meaning therian minor linked their Youtube channel, which has videos of them irl (wearing a mask, but still) doing quads outside and at an indoor non-chain business with the name/logo of the building clearly visible.

I cannot emphasize how much I was taught to be extremely careful about posting any irl images as a kid/teen, as people can infer your location from very minor details, MUCH LESS VIDEOS OF MY WHOLE BODY IN AN EASILY GOOGLE-ABLE LOCATION. What happens if someone with malicious intent sees that video, which is public on youtube? What will you do when someone attempts to blackmail or doxx you? Not only would this would-be criminal know where you are, they can also see how old you are and exactly what you look like. Terrifying.

(I understand we're in a culture of many people posting videos of themselves online, but (in my opinion) it's just not safe to be uploading public content that's advertising "Hi I'm bodily a child/teenager and this is what I look like and this is close to where I live and I'm also a therian who's probably hiding this account from my parents")

This individual is essentially just trusting that no one on the entirety of Youtube will just google the name of the indoor facility (along with any other location-identifying posts they may make) and either threaten them via doxxing or just straight up threaten their life/safety.

I knew someone in school who got too comfortable in an in-game chat, and was lulled into a false friendship and tricked into mentioning his address. Then he was threatened and told to send them money or they would physically find him. Thankfully he felt safe enough to tell his parents, who knew how to stop the situation. I know a lot of us aren't out to our family, and I dread to think what would have happened if the boy I knew hadn't felt safe enough to explain the situation to his parents.

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

TLDR; before you post personal info/photos, think of the absolute worst evil that someone could do to you with that information. I know it's a bummer, but doxxing/blackmail happens more than you think, and even if your posts only seem to get low notes/likes/whatever, they can theoretically be seen by ANYONE, including people who want to hurt you.

(also I don't mean to call out or harass anyone, I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanted to use an example bc it's what inspired me to make this post and also I wanted to outline why real behaviours I'm seeing can be dangerous, rather than just making up hypotheticals)

[saixria]

I’m not usually opposed to hcs but this “Ares used dark quick thought to help Odysseus in 600 strike” and other divine intervention theories are getting OUT OF HAND ITS THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE (TLDR at the end)

To start, Vengeance saga hit as hard as it did because Odysseus is all alone. Just listen to the intro of dangerous, the pause where the crew should’ve sung in response like in Full Speed Ahead. Because of all the choices he’s made, he’s fully alone now, and this is the first time he’s ever had to fight without his crew. Charybdis being a mortal facing up against a huge unsurvivable monster AND WINNING is what makes it so POWERFUL, and same goes with GITW/ 600 Strike. It’s the most impactful as a 1v1, Odysseus facing the cause of all his grief throughout the musical, he himself delivering every blow onto Poseidon on behalf of his dead crew. It’s CATHARTIC for him, and for us as the audience, because it’s a perfect ending to what Poseidon started in Ruthlessness when he taught Odysseus to be ruthless.

Dark Quick Thought also just kinda. Cheapens his character development. Dark quick thought inherently causes rage according to Jorge, basically making them more ruthless. If we relegate the reason Odysseus was so enraged and ruthless in straight up torturing Poseidon to Ares’ Dark Quick Thought, that just makes all the build up of Odysseus learning to use ruthlessness and to be a monster worthless. Dark QT isn’t why he’s acting so cold and ruthless; it’s all that he’s endured, forcing him to transform into a monster that disregards all morals just to get home, just to survive. It was Odysseus’ own decision to become a monster, like he literally said “I’m gonna use ruthlessness” in the song Dangerous, not because of any Dark QT influence. The fact that all his rage is coming only from himself, from his grief and exhaustion, and not Dark QT makes this moment all the more haunting.

The fact that this is the climax of his transformation is, and I’m not joking when I say this, illustrated by the line “next to my wife”. The whole musical “sleeplessness” (lol) has always been an indicator of guilt. E.g. “until it is said I cannot rest” “I no longer dream only nightmares of those who died” “I could sleep at night” etc. Even in LiP he was still haunted by guilt, since he’s trapped in Ogygia it feels like all he’s sacrificed has been completely worthless — he killed his whole crew for nothing. His response to Poseidon asking him how he’d sleep at night was “next to my wife”, showing he’s truly “thrown his guilt away” all to get home to see his wife — the only thing he cares about now.

Last thing, the gods just don’t like directly interfering in each others business. Hermes gave Odysseus a windbag and advice but that was it, hes still on his own at the end of the day. There’s a reason for why Athena didn’t ask Zeus to tell Poseidon to chill, why Hermes didn’t directly beat Zeus up for Odysseus. That helps make God Games MORE IMPACTFUL, because here are the gods, stubborn and set in their ways against directly helping mortals, and here’s Athena going through the trouble to request divine intervention ANYWAY, all for her friend. It makes no sense for any other god to randomly come and help Odysseus when they don’t even know the man.

I have no problem with people having fun imagining what would happen if the gods had helped Odysseus fight Poseidon, I’m just really frustrated bc I see so many people say this is “what actually happened” or “what should’ve happened” instead of being a fun hypothetical. There is no proof at all that any other gods came to help Odysseus in 600 Strike; the red eyes in the animatic is literally just symbolic and acts as contrast to Poseidon’s blue glowing gills on his shirt during the darkened torture scene.

TLDR: Direct divine intervention in 600 strike makes Odysseus’ isolation less impactful, cheapens his transformation into a ruthless monster and is just not realistic for the gods to do since they don’t interfere with each others business much.

[charleslee-valentine]

Franklin Hardesty Enright and disability.

So Franklin is a wheelchair user, presumably a paraplegic full-time user. But his chair is not designed for independence. His is a folding frame, as we know because we see it folded up in the Sawyers’ kitchen.

Folding frames are known for being very low cost, so they’re some of the most common, such as in stores, hospitals, zoos, and amusement parks where they’re available to rent. However, an independent wheelchair user probably won’t be able to use one full time.

For starters, their shock absorption is awful. Every speed bump, crack, or blemish in the ground makes the entire frame rattle and bend. This can range from destabilizing and disorienting to downright painful for the user. In the case of being pushed by someone else using the handles on the back, the frame still shifts, and often deviates from a straight path, rocking and gliding side to side. These movements are so subtle, they’re usually only noticed by the individual in the chair.

Wheelchairs are also quite heavy to begin with, and folding frames are some of the heaviest. It takes a large amount of force to propel a folding wheelchair forward. Getting over doorframes can be a pretty extreme feat, let alone climbing stairs in one like Franklin did. His complaints in that moment were well goddamn earned considering I got stuck on a supposedly accessible door just the other day.

An independent wheelchair, known as a rigid frame chair, is designed to prevent these flaws. It will have better balance, so it can be tipped back onto its back wheels. Experienced users would likely be able to climb small porch stairs relatively painlessly (although still hard, just less excruciating.)

Rigid chairs also often do not have arm rests, allowing a larger range of motion and longer, easier strides in the chair. Distance traveled takes less effort and it the friction from manually propelling the wheels is reduced. When the friction is too high, users will get blisters and sores on their hands from even minutes of use. Other ways this can be avoided is tilted wheels and gloves. Franklin notably has neither of these, because tilted wheels come on rigid frames themselves, and it’s probably too damn hot to wear gloves, even the ones designed to be worn at all times.

Independent/rigid wheelchairs often look something like these examples:

Another precaution paraplegic wheelchair users often take for their safety and comfort is a wheelchair cushion. Nowadays, they can be scanned and fitted perfectly to a wheelchair user, but back in Franklin’s day, there were already cushions he could’ve gotten. For even a couple of dollars, just a little foam pad would’ve meant a world of difference to his body, but seeing as we would’ve noticed one when he tumbled down the hill, he doesn’t use one.

If you’re like me, you might’ve wondered why Franklin doesn’t have any of these things.

There’s actually virtually no reason.

Modern independent frames were already on the market in the 70s and being developed with additional features and reducing the weight around the time of tcm canon.

Here’s a photo from 1970 of various types of wheelchairs including independent frames:

Not only is his wheelchair behind the times, so is using wooden slats to enter the van. Lifts had existed since 1966!

To be specific, his wheelchair is a 1950s design.

This is his frame almost exactly, which was a 50s Everest and Jennings design that was still in production without any advancements or changes into the 70s.

So Franklin could hypothetically have a new wheelchair, but looking at the picture above, this wheelchair came with leg pads. Franklin’s doesn’t have those anymore.

Either he removed them or they were missing from his chair when he got it, and I see no reason why a man with paralyzed legs would remove support from his wheelchair. Franklin may have an older, second hand wheelchair.

At the very least, he almost definitely is using the wrong kind of frame for his needs, and with no additional technology to support him.

Still, all that being said, it’s important to remember that Franklin may *want* a folding frame wheelchair.

I myself am an ambulatory wheelchair user, with a pain disorder that makes it impossible to propel myself for more than a couple minutes at the most. I *need* someone to push me most of the time.

The question isn’t about why Franklin isn’t doing this or that or buying this, it’s about why isn’t anybody helping him.

Motorized chairs had existed commercially since the 50s, he could have one of those, except they were still very expensive and also extremely fragile. He may very well use one in normal situations, but he’s on a road trip, not navigating his safe home. Franklin is relying on somebody to help him, and they don’t :(

His frustration with Sally when she’s pushing his chair isn’t because he’s ungrateful, it’s because he’s not being listened to and hasn’t been all day. Given that trust to someone is hard, especially if the chair he’s using is temporary and he’s normally self propelling when he’s not rolling down hills in the woods at night.

Ableds will never understand the frustration of asking somebody to help you get around, only for them to get mad at you when you advise them they’re doing something wrong or unsafe with you. Imagine someone else controlling your legs and getting mad when you tell them which direction you’d like to go.

And in Franklins case, he can’t very well stand up and do it by himself. We might not know the specifics of his disability, but we do know he’s paralyzed.

Sure, he’s able to shift and turn and lean from the waist, but his legs and hips never move. Paul Partain was pretty dedicated to portraying Franklin and even when rolling down the hill or dragging himself up the steps doesn’t move his legs.

While it isn’t ever specified his exact condition, Franklin is dependent on his friends. But they let him down, and even bullied him for his emotions about that let down. And in the end, he’s the one that is killed for it, without even entering somebody else’s property willingly like the rest of them.

Franklin Hardesty deserves goddamn better. In universe, and in fandom spaces where he’s treated as deserving of his death for *daring* to complain about using already outdated disability tech that doesn’t meet his needs. Oh, and being called an offensive term from the 1920s and before in the opening of the film.

But let’s say “invalid” was a good word to use for him. That word usually means someone is not only disabled, but also sick or weak to the point of needing care and assistance. If Franklin is having this word used to describe him, it should at least be recognized that he’s not capable of dragging himself around in the middle of nowhere!! Like if they just absolutely have to call him that, the least they can do is even know what it means and not throw him to the damn dogs.

[starbabyg]

pleaseeeeeee jack and trevor share her

Picture Perfect pt. 3 | Jack Hughes x reader x Trevor Zegras

part one and part two right hereeee

warnings; smut duh, the words cock and other funky words that make me squirm, jealous Jack , also a bit shitty writing lol

+++

Trevor couldn’t get you off his mind ever since that day. It’s all he could think of, the way your pussy gripped around Jack’s dick. The sound of your angelic moans. It was sick the way all of his thoughts were revolving around you. Trevor couldn’t even face Jack any more. He had been avoiding him at all costs, too scared he’d blurt out how he needed to fuck you to get you out of his head.

You walked out of your room and into the living room, seeing Jack playing a video game with his feet up on the coffee table. “Hey, isn’t it guy’s night shouldn’t you be at the lake house?”

“Yeah, but Trev said he couldn’t make it again. I think he’s doing that shit on purpose cause Cole told me he saw him the other day,” Jack responded, not looking up at you. He had a rough demeanor about it, but inside Jack was just a bit hurt that it seemed like his best friend was avoiding him.

“Is he mad at you or something?” You made your way to the kitchen island, grabbing a mandarin and peeling it to snack on.

“Can’t be, I didn’t do shit to him. And I mean it this time.”

“Well when was the last time you even saw him?”

“That one weekend he came over and watched us fuck. Told me he’d call me to chill afterwards, never did,” he shrugged.

“You don’t think he was weirded out by the situation? Like at least a little bit? I mean he did watch us have sex,” you concluded.

Jack recollected the event, he knew Trevor was nervous about it but he didn’t think that he would be weirded out by it, “I don’t fucken know, I thought we were close enough for that. We’ve joked about it before, banging groupies together— all before I met you of course.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded. “Still, it was a hypothetical situation. And I’m your girlfriend, Jack. Not a groupie you’re never going to see again. It adds a certain nuance to the situation don’t you think?”

Your words made Jack think deeply, and one thing about Jack is he hates getting deep in his thoughts. He furrowed his brows, what you said confusing him just a bit. “Yeah I guess that’s true. But whatever, I’m just gonna confront him and ask him why he’s being like this.” Jack got up from his spot, putting his slides on and grabbing his keys. If Trevor was going to avoid him the only thing he could do was be right there where he had no choice but to see Jack.

“Stupid Trevor avoiding me like a weirdo. Making me drive to his house cause he wants to be lame. Funky ass missing guys night again,” Jack grumbled the whole drive to Trevor’s place.

When Jack arrived to Trevor’s place he was less upset and more hurt by the fact his best friend hadn’t responded to his texts or calls. That it had really got to the point where he had to actually drive to his house to see him face to face. Nevertheless he knocked, picking his posture up and preparing himself for the confrontation.

“Yo–” Trevor opened the door with a smile on his face, which faded with the sight of a less than happy Jack on the other side of the door. “Oh, what’s up Jack,” he now monotonously greeted.

“What’s up? That’s all you gotta say bro?” Jack started off, his hurt feelings getting to him, “You’ve been flaking on me. Not answering my calls or texts. Just straight up dodging me. What’s up with you?” At that moment he sounded like a heartbroken girlfriend, but at that moment he was.

Trevor was taken a back just a bit, but fully understood where Jack was coming from. “It’s just that I um, I’ve just been—“ he stuttered and stammered, not being able to form a cohesive sentence.

“You’ve what? Whatever it is, it just sucks you’re not able to communicate it with me. Being as we’re like best friends and all,” Jack spoke vulnerably, something he had taken up from you.

Trevor sighed, the words resonating with him. He realized he just had to face the problem head on, and tell Jack what was going on in his head. “Listen,” Trevor looked down, not being able to look Jack in the eyes, “It’s hard for me to tell you this. I never in a million years thought I’d be in this situation. Ever. Like ever. It makes me sick just thinking about it. But, watching you fuck y/n was a huge mistake.”

“Was it too much for you? She told me you probably thought I was weird, god I’m embarrassed—“

Trevor cut him off, “No, no. It’s not that. Like at all. It’s just that you were right about everything you said. About y/n,” Trev took a deep breath to muster up courage and to finish, “So right to the point that I can’t get her out of my head. Just seeing the way she fucked you and shit. It’s been stuck on my mind. I’ve never seen no one fuck like that ever in my life. And you know how many girls I’ve fucked.”

Jack didn’t know how to react or respond. Yeah, he was proud of you because he knew you were the top of the top, cream of the crop. But also, his best friend was lusting after you, his girlfriend.

“So you gotta crush on y/n?”

“I don’t know if you can say crush, she’s a great girl and all but I know you two are meant for each other. It’s just, she has that sexual prowess. If anything it’s like a fuck crush.”

“A fuck crush,” Jack raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what Trevor just said. The entire situation was difficult for him to comprehend.

“Yeah. Not to objectify her or anything. But she just looked so fucking amazing fucking you.”

Jack pursed his lips, “So if I let you fuck her can you stop being weird?”

“Wait, what did you just say?” Trevor had to double take, cause after everything, he knows Jack didn’t say what he just said.

“If I let you fuck her, can you stop being weird,” Jack drew out his words.

“No way. I’m not going to fuck your girlfriend and no way you’re actually going to let me fuck her just like that.”

“If it’ll make you get over whatever the hell a fuck crush is, then yeah. Get her out of your system so we can be cool again. I don’t wanna lose my best friend over some petty shit like this, cmon Trev.”

“Jack, listen to what you’re saying. Are you really going to let me fuck your girlfriend.”

“I’m not all too keen about you taking her all by yourself. Not no cuck shit. But remember when we always talked about tag teaming a girl?”

“Yeah, I kinda remember,” he recalled all the conversations from when they both first got into the league, bragging about all the pussy they were gonna get.

“Well, how about a threesome with my girlfriend,” Jack proposed, “God it makes me sick just thinking about it. But if there’s anyone I would have a threesome with it’d be you.”

“Jesus Jack, you’ve put me in a sick situation. A sick sick situation. I wanna say yes but I wanna say no.”

“Like I said, if this is what it takes for shit to go back to normal I’m all for it,” Jack sighed.

“You sure that you’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be, In this moment. I might come to regret it but you know my dumb ass just lives in the moment,” shaking his head, Jack tried to push all negative thoughts away.

Trevor contemplated, because the first time he said yes to one of Jack’s asinine ideas he got put in this situation. But still, he just couldn’t get you out of his mind. His body was feening to feel yours against his. To feel you ride him the way you rode Jack. It was driving him borderline insane. The whole situation was a catch 22 for him.

“Are you sure y/n even wants this? I mean look at the position we put her in,” classic Trevor, always worried about you where Jack had always been mindless.

“You saw the way she was about to go down on you. Seems like we’re all consenting in this situation.” He recalled the way you so easily crawled over to Trevor without a second thought, about to take him inside your mouth just as you would with him. It sparked a tinge of jealousy in him, but at the same time also turned him on seeing you from another point of view.

“I just don’t want this to make shit even more weird than it already is. I know how much you love her and you know how much I love you.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I trust both of you to even do any of this shit. We’ve been best friends since like forever, and to be honest I’ve never been in love with someone as much as I’m in love with y/n. And I’m the one who put us all in this place, being the show off I am. Can’t bitch out now.”

“Jack, if this goes south I’m literally gonna kill myself. I’m already dead inside from shame and embarrassment,” Trev spoke with his eyes squeezed shut. It was still difficult for him to look Jack in his eyes.

“Jesus Zegras, don’t be so morbid.”

So right then and there Jack and Trevor set a day for the threesome. With Trevor freaking out the whole time, and Jack trying to calm him down, you were clueless to the whole ordeal.

It was a Friday evening, Jack running errands and you taking the day off from the hectic week. You laid in the king sized bed the two of you shared, only in one of Jack’s oversized graphic tee shirts and a pair of lace panties that you so loved to adorn.

“Hey princess,” you felt Jack’s hand run up your bare leg. Your eyes fluttered open, still adjusting to your surroundings. Everything was always hazy when you first woke up.

“Hi my love,” you sleepily smiled at him. You turned so you were no longer on your side, but leaning your back against the headboard. Still blinking to adjust, you could now make out another person in the room.

“How was your little nap? You still look sleepy my little love bug,” Jack smiled at you. He loved how you looked when you first woke up, always with a look of clueless confusion, brows upturned and bottom lip stuck out just a bit.

“It was fine, hadda nice dream. Probably coulda slept through the whole night I was so comfortable,” you rubbed your eye and stretched as you finally started to actually wake up.

“Yeah? I got someone here who wants to see you though,” he told you, his thumb still rubbing that spot on your leg.

“Huh? Who?” You turned, seeing Trevor stand idly by the door, “Oh hey Trevor, long time no see. How you been?” You softly smiled up at him.

“Hey y/n,” he timidly waved. Seeing you in person sucked every ounce of courage that was inside of him. If he was nervous before, now he was a complete wreck. He tried to mask it by mustering up a half smile.

“Trevor’s been feeling some type of way,” Jack started.

“Hm? What d’ya mean?” You questioned confused.

Jack looked towards him, not being able to tell you himself, from lack of words to say it or refusal, no one knows.

“Jack, I can’t say it,” Trev shook his head. Between you and Jack, it was just too much to be put on the spot and confess how you had him feeling.

Jack stood up, “Well, I’m gonna get a drink. I’ll be right back. Give you some space.” This wasn’t just for Trevor to finally relay how he feels about you. Jack himself just couldn’t stand to be in the room while it happened. He knew what was about to go down, yet his possessive instincts kicked in. He had to at least be a little tipsy before consciously going through with another one of his crazy ideas.

“Are you like, grossed out by me or something? That I could actually go through with fucking Jack in front of you? Do you look at me differently now?”

“Yes, I look at you differently.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“But not in that way. Y/n, I just can’t seem to get you out of my head. Ever since I saw you fuck Jack, I just can’t. I’ve had this sick craving, I needed to feel what Jack felt. It makes me sick that I can’t feel you bounce on my cock, that I can’t just flip you over and fuck you how Jack did. I just can’t stand not being able to experience you like that,” finally all the words spilled from his brain and out for you to hear. “And I know I shouldn’t feel this way because you’re my best friends girlfriend, that’s why I’ve been avoiding Jack. Because of you. Because I can’t have you the way I want to. The way I need to.”

“Trevor, I–”

“It’s fine y/n. You don’t have to try and let me down easy. Jack wanted to bring me here to get you out of my system but this is another insane idea I just can’t go through with and put you through.” Trevor turned hastily to get out of there as quickly as possible.

You shot up as fast as you could and grabbed Trev by his arm, pulling him back into the room. “No Trevor, I was gonna say I can help you get over me. Guys always get over it once they get what they want right?” You softly chuckled.

Trevor sighed, “Y/n I don’t want you to think of it like that. I really like you, you’re perfect for Jack. I– just don’t know where this sudden infatuation came from.”

“I know Trev, it doesn’t have to be that way. Let’s just get this over with and forget it all happened mm?” You tilted your head, your hand that grabbed him now making its way up his tricep. The way Trevor talked about this situation, how he viewed you now, sparked something tantalizing inside of you.

“W-what about Jack?”

“Well we’ll just have to get his blessing, right?” You pulled Trevor out of the room, to where Jack was seated on the kitchen island, beer in hand. “Jacky baby, is it alright if I get to play with Trev tonight? That is what you brought him over for right?”

Jack took a deep gulp, he hated the words that came out of your mouth but he loved the sultry way that you spoke him, he couldn’t stop himself from breathlessly staring and nodding. Just like Trevor, he too was trapped under your siren spell. You could never do anything without Jack, so you gripped him by his wrist and yanked him up from his solitude. You’d need the space of the big California king bed for the three of you.

“I think it’s only fair that Trevor gets to undress me,” grabbing his hands, you set them at the hem of the large tee shirt you wore. There really wasn’t much for him to strip your body off. Trevor’s breath hitched, this really was the moment, he’s finally getting what he wanted. Slowly he lifted the shirt up, your arms raised. Jack sat there with anticipation, palming himself through his sweatpants. So this is what it looks like to the neighbors huh. He was loving this point of view, seeing you in another light.

Now just standing in your bra, panties, and knee high socks, Trevor’s brain had flipped a switch. It’s as if his brain went feral, urging him to grab your supple breasts. He cupped them, feeling the fullness of them in his palms, squeezing them, the flesh filling in the gaps between his fingers.

“Screw this bra, it needs to go now,” he mumbled under his breath. Trevor reached around to your backside, feeling for the hooks. Trevor fumbled with it, trying to use one hand to unhook it was proving difficult. Jack saw this, and he himself started to get impatient.

“You’re taking too long, let me do it,” he smacked his lips together, slightly shoving Trevor out of the way. Swiftly, with one hand Jack had unlatched your bra, with the straps falling off your dainty shoulders. Jack smirked at Trevor, who only looked back with his mouth agape. “Perfect titties.”

“Mhmm,” Trevor agreed with Jack, bending down and taking one in his mouth. Trevor started sucking it softly, the feather like sensation causing you to gasp. Seeing that Trevor could get that kind of reaction out of you made Jack grow a tinge jealous. Although it was all turning him on, he was feeling that bit possessive feeling over you. Jack planted himself onto your other boob, suctioning to it with pressure.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as Jack gently rolled your nipple in between his teeth. The slight pain mixed with the intense pleasure sent shocks through your body. Where Jack was going rough, Trevor went soft. With the slightest touch of his tongue he flicked it in all the right places around your areola. Starting with the bottom, swinging around the top, then making a full circle around the whole nipple. The two differing pressures started to make your vision hazy, your legs starting to buckle and give out. Sensing this, and knowing your body, Jack went behind you, now supporting your weight as your naked body pressed against him. Jack moved your hair to one side out of the way and pressed kisses from the nape of your neck upwards. One hand held your waist, the other gripping the bare flesh of your boob, rolling the nipple between his index and middle finger.

Seeing Jack supporting the upper portion of your body, Trevor kneeled down, planting a kiss to your clit as he placed himself in between your legs, putting both knees on his shoulders and hoisting you up. With your body now in the air, lifted up by the two boys, Trevor began to lap his tongue on your pussy, licking up your labia and up to the crown of your clit. You squirmed, your legs locking around his neck. The feather like kitten licks so slight and so gentle, although it wasn’t a lot of pressure it stimulated your bundle of nerves in all the right ways. With Trev’s hands on your backside he started to grip and grab at the flesh of your bottom before taking his right hand to insert two fingers inside your vulva. He curled his fingers down, caving into the floor of your silky walls.

All Jack could hear was the slurps of Trevor’s mouth and the squelching sound of your pussy, and quite frankly he was becoming a bit bratty that he didn’t get to be in any of the action. Jack pulled your body back, the two of you falling on the bed before he elevated your body to fit right between his legs, your back reclining on his chest. Jack padded his fingers along your stomach just before going to touch your lower lips. The temperature change from Trevor’s warm mouth to Jack’s cold fingers contrasting greatly. Starting off at a normal pace but quickly picking it up, Jack was determined to make you feel better than Trevor could.

“C’mon princess, I know you feel it, let it out,” he smirked. Knowing last time Trevor didn’t truly get the full Y/n experience. Trevor just quizzically looked, what the hell did Jack mean? Anyways, Trevor was focused on you, watching how your body reacted to the brash touch. Your toes curling up, your legs twitching. Trevor made his way up your legs, planting kisses from the tops of your feet all the way up to your thighs.

At this time Jack had both hands playing with your princess parts, his dominant hand gliding in and out of you as his other toyed with your clit. With all of this touch you were getting overstimulated, and fully well knew what Jack meant from that statement. You felt the buildup in your lower stomach, and it was getting to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself.

“Oh my fuck, I’m gonna– I’m gonna,” you breathlessly tried to get out before you squirted, Jack pulling his fingers out at the right time as you ejaculated juices that covered the bed sheets, and subsequently got a bit on Trevor as well.

“No fucking way, did you just-,” Trevor gaped in awe. Throughout his multitude of bodies he had never once met a girl who could squirt, only seeing it in videos.

“Mmhmm, just gotta play with her in all the right ways and she’s your own little waterfall,” Jack smugly boasted, proud of himself that at least he was the only one who could get you like that.

You turned around, now on your knees as you kissed Jack intensely, “I think baby deserves a treat for himself now huh,” you lowered yourself down his body, peppering kisses as you made your way to his dick. Swirling your tongue around the tip and head, you then took his full member in your mouth and started to bob up and down.

Your ass stuck out in the air vulnerably, Trevor smacked it, surely leaving a hand print, before diving in and eating it from the back. This took you by surprise, making you lurch forward and causing you to take more of Jack in your mouth.

“I think she needs to be stuffed from both ends, huh Jack,” Trevor grunted, now wanting—no, needing– to bury himself deep inside your walls. Too preoccupied with getting deepthroated, Jack just nodded and groaned out what sounded like a grumble of a yes.

Trevor pulled down his shorts, his dick now throbbing from how hard it had been this whole time. He rubbed the head from the fore and aft of your vagina before easily sliding it in.

“Is’so slick and wet. Just slid right in,” Trevor softly murmured, starting off with slow measured strokes. His hand laid on your ass as he watched his dick glide in and out of you. In this moment he was awestruck, he finally was able to feel what he was only able to daydream about. He relished in the moment, knowing this would be his only chance to feel your insides.

Wanting more pressure, you backed yourself up against his cock, your plump ass bouncing as you rocked forward and backwards. Every time you moved up, your throat taking more of Jack’s dick. Trevor bit his lip, he loved the way you took initiative, but in the moment he was much more hungrier for more friction. Trevor grabbed your hips, ramming his cock in you as deep as he could. You squealed, surprised at the tempo Trevor had now started to go. Your ass was now clapping loudly against his front side. He then grabbed you by your neck, pulling you up so your back was pressed against him and your head tilted in the crook of his neck.

Trevor’s hands roamed all over your body, a squeeze to your tit, soft touches on your belly, all before his hands made their way down to your punani. He played with your folds, just embracing the slick wetness you were secreting.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” your eyes were rolling back, hands gripped to Trevor’s arms. Jack glared at the two of you, he felt like Trevor was being pretty selfish by not sharing you.

“It’s my turn,” Jack snarled, roughly pulling you down, Trevor slipping right out of you. Jack spread your legs out, aligned himself with you, and jammed himself inside. All regards were out there window, he had to make you feel just as good as Trevor did, maybe even better.

A few strokes in he brought your legs together, straightening them up and having them rest on him, making you feel tighter for him. Jack rhythmically pounded you, on arm securing your legs to its position rested on his chest, his other hand holding you by your waist. Trevor stood over you, stroking himself as he watched you scream in pleasure.

“Hey pretty girl, stroke this for me why don’t you,” Trevor lowered his bottom half to you, letting you grab his member. You pulled him closer to you, rubbing his cock as you started to lick his under shaft and balls. Trevor’s head fell back, a nice deep grunt leaving his mouth. To you it was simple things, but to him he had never had a girl do these kind of things to him. “Fuuuuuuck y/n that feels amazing.”

At that point Trev needed to feel the inside of your whatever, almost to the point of climaxing. Your mouth, your pussy, hell if he could fuck your bellybutton he would.

“Bend her over the bed, I gotta feel her I’m bouta finish,” his breaths were hitched. Jack listened, knowing after this was over he’d finally get you all to himself again and this would all be behind you three. Never have to share you again as greedy as he is.

Jack stuck your taut ass out, your elbows rested on the edge of the bed as he pushed you faced down. He smacked your ass, leaving his imprint before looking at Trevor, “Go for it brother.”

Trevor positioned himself behind you, jiggling your ass a bit before inserting himself inside you once again. Jack got in front, about to face fuck you into oblivion. With his hands planted to your hips, Trevor began to snap himself into you, a nice pace so he can ride this dream out as long as he physically could. You looked back at him, mouth agape moaning as you started to fuck him back, grinding yourself against him.

Jack didn’t appreciate himself being left out, and grabbed your face just a biiiit too forcefully, opening your jaw and jamming himself inside your moist mouth. He held your hair back, one hand under your chin as he shoved as much of himself between your lips as you can take. You started to gag, and with this your walls tightening as well. With your walls tightening with every time you choked, Trevor got closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Oh shit– I’m gonna fucken,” Trevor couldn’t even finish his statement before he swiftly pulled himself out of you and finished right on your ass. “Fuck.” Trevor looked at the mess he made on your backside, he spent all that time backed up that it coated most of your ass, dripping down the sides. Jack himself was close as well, having restrained himself not wanting to finish before Trevor, and only took a few more strokes inside your mouth before he warned you.

“Get ready baby I’m gonna cum,” he brushed your hair a bit, relief in his voice. Soon you felt his warm seed coat the inside of your mouth, with you sucking his tip to drain him. Jack pulled himself out of you, your mouth closing with a ‘pop’ as you licked your lips. You swallowed, cause Jack did not train a spitter, and opened your mouth to show Jack you swallowed every drop. “That’s my good girl.” He smiled with approval.

Trevor got himself dressed as Jack got a baby wipe to clean you up. “Well, that settles it. Y/n thank you for the great fuck, Hughes, I’m never being nosy again, see you at the lake house this weekend?” Trevor laughed, dapping Jack up.

“Of course bro, I knew this would fix you being weird. Back to normal, and I know no more crazy ass ideas from me either,” Jack brought him in for a hug.

“Yeah, for real. Imma get goin tho, practice tomorrow and let you two love birds sit in that after sex bliss, see y’all,” he pointed to you both, before exiting out of the room.

“Bye Trev!” You shouted tiredly, worn out. He waved back at you one last time before he was finally out of Jack and yours sight.

Trevor closed your front door, making sure to lock it behind him. He rested his back on the door, letting out a big sigh. That had sealed it, and had turned out just how he expected it to. Fucking you had only made his crush worse, and now he had to hide it for the rest of his life.

“What the hell am I going to do now?”

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoah AU, where Noah says this in London instead:

Owen: "Why don't you like Al? He's great!"

Noah: "I like Alejandro and I agree that he's great, but I still don't trust the guy."

Owen: "Why?"

Noah: "I have my personal reasons... One of them being that I don't like how he treats you, Owen... So, please be careful from now on..."

Owen: "Okay, Noah... You do have a point."

How would Alejandro react to Noah liking him, but not truly trusting him? 😲

See your first mistake is assuming Noah would ever give up an oppertunity to shit-talk someone. /j

But for real, if Noah did clarify that he doesn't dislike Alejandro but does distrust him, I can't see things playing out too differently from canon - save for Alejandro being a bit less openly hostile towards him post-challenge. Noah would still be eliminated, because having a teammate who distrusts him doesn't align with Alejandro's game plan.

Especially if Noah divulges why he doesn't trust Alejandro. If Noah tries to out the fact that Alejandro isn't as altruistic as he wants to appear, that makes Noah himself a direct threat to Alejandro's plans and schemes. Again, he'd be eliminated as soon as possible.

Regardless of any potential feelings between the two, Alejandro can and would always prioritise the competition over any budding relationship he has with Noah... at least in London. Further on in the competition, if/when the two of them have gotten to know each other better (and when mutual feelings have had time to grow and develop) it's a different story.

It would, however, mean there's a lot less bad blood between the two post series. At least on Alejandro's end. If anything, he'd probably have a smidge of respect for Noah, since he's one of the few people who had caught on to Alejandro's false geniality pre-merge and/or pre-elimination.

Meanwhile Noah would still be justifyably salty that Alejandro got him eliminated, but I imagine he'd pin most of the blame on himself. After all, it was his big mouth that once again dropped him into hot water with his team. Plus, in this scenario, Noah admits that he does like Alejandro, so even considering his elimination I doubt Noah would be too upset with Alejandro himself.

So, in the case of this hypothetical AU, I'd suggest that the main meat of the story here would be post-World Tour, which plays out canonically (or as close to canonically as you'd like). Alejandro gets Drama Machine'd, and Noah - as one of the few people in the cast who doesn't actively hate Alejandro - questions his whereabouts when he fails to show up on the cruise boat the Gen 1 cast are seen on at the beginning of RotI.

He's likely the only person to do so since, barring Heather, Noah's one of the select few who Alejandro didn't royally fuck over. Not directly, at least. And Heather's too preoccupied with the loss of her million to think about Alejandro's wellbeing. And Chris tells him straight; the robot on the cruise ship? Alejandro's chilling in there, healing from the lava burns in almost complete isolation.

Noah is understandably horrified. He's even more horrified when Chris reveals that the Burromuertos signed over custodial rights for Alejandro and disowned him, so Chris is full within his legal rights to keep Alejandro in the Drama Machine for however long he deems fit. Unfortunately, he's also sworn to secrecy about the whole deal; Chris can't have Alejandro's situation reaching the press, it'd be bad for the show's publicity. (Add some legal jargon here, or something about non-disclosure agreements being in the casts' contracts, or whatever.)

But he can't just leave alejandro to suffer in an indefinite mechanical imprisonment. So Noah bargains his way back into his old position as a PA, if only to keep tabs on Alejandro's wellbeing.

Something something you end up with one of those Assistant Noah x Drama Machine Alejandro AUs, which eventually evolves into a "Noah works as an assistant on All-stars" AU, or whatever.

[hugheses]

these are just some thoughts after seeing ur post on the hockey thigh thing btw, and i hope you hear me out. you being a lesbian (im bi and i have a gf currently), which is something you emphasise a lot, and not being attracted to these dudes doesnt make this whole parasocial archive any less weird or creepy. i'm not here to shit on or invalidate your passion, because obv its something you care about deeply from how much your scour the web for all these old things, even of their mother when she was young. and genuinely, thats pretty cool, i work in archival and i have a lot of respect for that with the effort you've put into it.

but i think you are encouraging others to imitate this blog and culture, when it comes to other players who aren't as in the media as the hughes family. like i agree that its part and parcel of the job as athletes who represent a multitude of things like ur franchise ur family etc, but i feel like we just shouldn't proliferate this. i know people on twitter are unjustly harsh and oftentimes critical to the point of meanness, but i think some points they share are valid. just bc its on the internet, doesnt give us the permission to do stuff ykwim? like imagine just going up to the hughes and giving them a scrapbook of every media moment from their mothers childhood, to her college, their dad, and them as kids and now as adults. thats just straight up weird. and don't even get me on the sexualisation, i get they are adults but isn't that just basic respect?

i know having an internet community is rlly important to some, and im sure ur followers would still give you that support u need even if you dont constantly supply them with these media things, or dangle ur secret archive like a carrot over them.

hoping you have a great day

you clearly put a lot of time and thought into this, so i will give you that same level of consideration back. i think you have some misunderstandings about me, hockey fandom, and fandom culture as a whole.

first, the lesbian thing. admittedly tumblr search is very broken but according to it i’ve mentioned the word lesbian twice on here, as a disclaimer for why i might not be the best person to understand what male attracted people find hot. it's possible it's come up a few other times but it’s definitely not something i "emphasize a lot". it's somewhat ironic that you bring up you being bi and having a gf in what reads to me like a deflection on your critique that i say i'm gay too much, when you seem to think me saying i'm a lesbian is bc i'm trying to deflect on sexualizing these guys. which admittedly is the most confusing part of your entire ask. is this solely about the thigh ask? if you’re worried about "basic respect", hockey fandom is probably not the place for you. i know i don't like seeing 500 reader insert posts every time i open anyone's tag, which is why i have related terms muted and block people who don't use them. however this is very much a part of hockey fandom and i’m aware of that. on the flip side, the unfortunate reality is that hockey players are some of the nastiest misogynistic men on the planet who generally do not see women as actual human beings beyond mommies, maids, and holes. if i WAS sexualizing these men 24/7 i would feel well within my rights to do so, and could make an only slightly ironic argument for it being feminist praxis. if jack hughes can ask girls to flash him, i can have a little sexualization, as a treat. 

calling me weird and creepy isn’t actually negated by following up with saying you're not trying to shit on or invalidate my passion and you respect the effort i put into it. if you think i’m weird and creepy, you’re allowed to feel that way, but actually own it if that’s what your opinion is.

you imagined this scrapbook scenario and then say that it’s weird. i agree, that hypothetical thing would be weird. good thing i’m not doing that, will never do that, and take many efforts to have a strong fourth wall and keep this blog separate from the people it's about. i am a firm believer in keeping fandom private and secluded! that's why im not tweeting all of this and tagging them. 

it’s a big leap for you to assume that i do this because i "need support". not that it matters, but i do all of this because i find it fun and i’m being generous with people who do not have the time/resources/know-how to find this stuff on their own. there's nothing wrong with finding a community online, but i had one before doing all this. in fact, all of this has been really more trouble than it's worth in terms of harassment vs kindness lmao. some people on here have been lovely to me, but i’m beyond the age where i need virtual validation from strangers. you’re right about one thing, i do dangle my secret archive like a carrot, largely for petty reasons because of a few specific assholes. 

you seem to think i’m the only person who does stuff like this. update/archival accounts are very common for musicians, actors, even like... tiktok influencers. were you not online when people hacked an airport security cam feed to watch one direction sit and do nothing? everything ive ever posted on here has been available to the public. i’m just good at finding stuff. even within this smaller sports fandom on tumblr, i have been inspired by OTHER BLOGS who were doing this before me and go way harder than i do. i didn’t invent the concept of collecting information and images about public figures like you seem to think i did, but thanks.

if you want to critique fandom culture as a whole, go right ahead, but i ask that you keep the sanctimonious lectures out of my inbox, especially when they're based in assumptions. any one of these things could have been questions i would be willing to chat about if you were actually curious about me and what i do. i in fact have lots of opinions that might surprise you on many of these things you mentioned. but i will have those conversations with other people, who talk to me with the respect and dignity that i deserve.

[dukeofankh]

The discourse about whether romance novel fans are porn addicts is dumb and hilarious. Like, are the books deeply pandering escapist fantasies that usually veer into deeply horny fuck scenes? Yes. Are they PORN though? Oh, absolutely also yes.

The issue isn't whether it's porn. It's that porn addiction isn't real, and getting mad at women for reading porn makes even less sense than being mad at men for watching it, considering at this point the people aren't even real so it's not even like there's a risk of exploitation.

Does it make someone an addict to consistently read books that make them feel good? No. Might not be the most challenging or enriching thing ever, but who gives a shit. People don't have an obligatory quota of deep existential thought that they're shirking by reading thinly veiled Reylo fanfic. Reading words isn't something you can be addicted to. That's not what addiction means. Just straight up. Even when it's compulsive or self-soothing behaviour, that's still not the same as an addiction and you need to stop acting like your youth pastor and/or favourite sex-negative tumblrista knows better than a field full of people with PHDs in neurochemistry, who consistently maintain both the conclusion that the only aspect of porn consumption that is bad for you is the shame some people feel for consuming it, and also that since people can develop compulsive relationships to anything including eating hair, laser focusing on that happening with porn specifically is pretty clearly just a basicass moral panic.

If I could watch movies about a cool awesome guy that everyone thinks is the coolest, and all the dudes are like "oh no here comes the coolest dude ever, I lose and you win" and the girls are all like "but you only have one penis and me and my gorgeous frenemy each have several holes how are we going to figure this out?"...I...would? And I do? Its not hypothetical. I am a dude. That's what a lot of media aimed at dudes has, historically, been. Wish fulfillment. Ladies should also get wish fulfillment.

Like, is it cringe to see people geeking out about their porn in public? Yeah. I don't tend to do that, personally. I think that since people tend to see women's desire in a toothless and objectified way, there's a tendency for some people to overlook how broadcasting it can put people off in public spaces. But that's more of an issue of social media cramming everyone into the same space and destroying the barriers between niche hobby spaces and adult spaces and people's public news feeds. The women reading the porn is fine. The women liking the porn is fine. The women talking to other women about how they like the porn is fine. Something annoying you or disgusting you is fine, but then that's kind of all that can or should be said. There isn't a step two. There isn't a step where you should shame and smear people until they never annoy or disgust you.

At this point society's morals are pretty broadly varied. Theres only a few things left you can call someone that are received with the scorn and shame you meant them with in any consistent way. And that's why everyone spends all of their time calling people they don't like either pedophiles or addicts. It's getting tiring.

[rescue-ram]

Now I'm curious, how would you adapt a modern version of Mash?

Oh man thank you for giving me pretext to ramble about this. I have too many thoughts about Cursed Hypothetical MASH Reboot.

Genre Change MASH is from the golden age of sitcom and is one of the best examples of the genre. Tragically, really good sitcoms don't get made, and the shorter lengths commissioned mean we wouldn't get space for the sillier or more experimental episodes that make MASH so charming and memorable. This is also why any remake or reimagining could never replace the original. There's also less "suspension of disbelief" with modern audiences, so I think modern MASH would have to have a more grounded setting and consistent time line, so RIP time loop. I think the modern genre that would best fit MASH is dramedy. Classico MASH already had elements of "get 'em laughing so they cry harder" and Hypothetical Remake MASH would play that up. Basically, we're gonna "Better Call Saul" this bitch.

In writing out my ideas below, I realized hitting the main plot beats I imagine makes this sound like. Depressing. Which it kind of would be! But I want to emphasize that in my mind's eye this would still tonally be a comedy right up until It Isn't. Similar to BCS, characters encounter obstacles, handle them in very funny ways, but things Keep Happening and compounding and at the end you realize all those funny things have added up to something horrific and inevitable.

General Thoughts In my beautiful mind, this is five twelve episode seasons, each corresponding to a roughly six month period- the first two seasons are 1951, climaxing with Henry's death, first episode or two of season 3 is Trapper leaving/BJ arriving and then 3/4 is 1952, and the final season is 1953 and the ceasefire. Fortunately, because the characters in MASH are pretty well fleshed out with a lot of traits I think they could be turned into dramedy characters pretty easily, and you can take the Big Things that happen to them and play them straight/expand on them into proper arcs. Also, pulling in more historical details could be really interesting, and an opportunity to unpack how Fully Evil the war in Korea was. In reading more memoirs from doctors who served in MASH units, I was struck by how much contact with international forces they had, and the surprising amount of contact with their Chinese/Korean counter-parts. I think more of both of those things would be fun to incorporate into Hypothetical Remake.

Expanded Roles for Nurses We need more women. And fortunately, we got them! Even though there is Not A Lot of existing canon, I really do think we have enough on the recurring nurses to act as seeds for fuller characters. I would love to see Kellye developed as a supporting character from the start. Struggling to articulate this, but I think a deeper perspective on anti-Asian sentiment could be explored through her, possibly with some connections to the history of colonialism in Korea in particular. The character was described as Chinese and Hawaiian, but given her credited surnames of Yamato and Nakamura getting a little into her Japanese heritage and the resentment of Koreans towards the Japanese could be interesting as well. I also think "Dish" Schneider's conflict, torn between loyalty to her husband/fiancee and her attraction to the handsome funny guy who relentlessly flirts with her, could be a source of drama. I also really like Ginger's recurring "thing" with Trapper in canon, and expanding that into an actual friendship and digging into the racism and taboos against interracial relationships of the period would be interesting. You can take Margie Cutler as a young and inexperienced nurse and give her a little coming of age arc. I would also love for Knocko McCarthy to be a foil for Margaret- as the second most senior nurse, she chafes under Margaret's command and kind of collaborates with the Swampmen to subvert her, culminating in Margaret calling her out that if she didn't side with them against her, they'd hate Knocko too, and them growing closer over the series.

Ho-Jon and Expanded Roles for Korean Characters Many have written about the shitty representation of Koreans in MASH, and Hypothetical Remake could remediate that significantly. I think giving Ho-Jon (or a similar new character) an expanded role would be good, with more ties to his family out of camp and conflict over whether or not supporting the occupying American forces and the south is the right thing to do or the expedient thing. I also think there's some dark comedy to be mined from a slightly subversive Ho-Jon taking advantage of racism and being seen as ignorant or interchangeable to get away with shit. Would love for Black Market Guy to be a recurring character. There's also a great real life story I read where a MASH surgeon formed a bond with a Chinese doctor after accidentally connecting to a PLA radio channel, and I think that could be adapted into a really fun source of comedy (bonding with "the enemy" over shared indignities, surprising similarities, etc) and ultimately drama (Hawkeye finds out about a US or ROK attack that will cripple that doctor's unit or put him in danger- does he say nothing, knowing hundreds will be injured or killed including maybe his new friend, or does he commit treason and risk prison or death to warn him- and how does he live with not knowing what happened when he has to choose inaction?) Any of the Very Special episodes could be adapted and expanded. And of course, Hypothetical Remake would have Korean writers, or consultants, or at the very least a goddamn baby name book so we don't end up with a dozen characters just named Kim, or worse random syllables.

Radar I would love to keep Radar as one of the main POV character throughout the whole series and use his unique position to bridge between different storylines- he's an enlisted man so he has that perspective, he's close with Hawkeye and the surgeons, he's assisting Henry/Potter so he has ties to command, give him a friendship with a nurse and you're set. Given the comedy-to-tragedy arc of dramadys, I would love to take the book detail that he enlisted with dreams of glory and becoming a general and lean fully into that. He starts out season 1 as a sweet naive farm kid flying by the seat of his pants to figure out his job, he gets more and more enmeshed with the military over the course of the series, currying favor with the brass to pull strings to help the unit/his friends/himself, and it ends with Potter giving him a recommendation for officer school- an outcome fully framed as a tragic loss of self to a corrupt institution.

Hawkeye I think Seasons 1 and 2 in particular could be driven by the Hawkeye and Trapper committing outrages and crimes in the name of justice/not giving a shit, and then having to spend the rest of the season engaging in more outrages and crimes to Bugs Bunny their way out of consequences. The central tragedy arcing through the series is the Destruction of Hawkeye Pierce. He starts out determined to stay himself, stick to his principles, and not let the army change him. The glimmer of hope at the end is that he has survived and gets to go home, but At What Cost. I also think making him bipolar makes the most sense- early season Hawkeye hints he's had highs and lows before, but always managed to cope, but under the increasing stress his mental health gets worse. Insomnia due to overwork triggers a manic episode (adapting Dr Pierce and Mr Hyde) about halfway through S1, with a major change in his relationship with Trapper associated with that, and his first on screen depressive episode triggered by Henry's death, which gets him his week of R&R he goes AWOL from. He holds it together through S3 with increasing amounts of self-medication for BJ's sake, and S4's overarching storyline for him is a fully Catch-22 expansion of The Late Captain Pierce with increasing levels of franticness to resolve it, and S5 is a full blown "I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE" crisis culminating in the equivalent of GFA, and a brief psychotic episode triggered by his mood dysregulation and moral injury. An expansion of The Late Captain Pierce would be a great source of absurdity and drama, the ultimate consequence of his alienation of Everyone In Bureaucracy or Command (they all dislike/hate him for his antics and disrespect in S1-3 and no one wants to help him in his predicament, with a few spitefully refusing to help outright), and necessary to explain his presence in Korea in 1953 since his enlistment should've ended by then (since key members of the bureaucracy Hate him they refuse to count the months he was "dead" as part of his service, and his father is in too poor of health/financially strained from his cancer scare to advocate for him successfully stateside). I also think "playing straight" all the nurses breaking up with him after Ceasefire could be interesting. Like, S1 Hawkeye is a ladies man who's saying all the right things and juggling multiple relationships, but after they realize he doesn't Capital L Love any of them they start to distance from him- not unfriendly, but less a source of support. That alienation from others, first with the nurses at the end of S1 then others in camp, causing a vicious cycle of increasingly erratic behavior leading to less support etc culminates in his breakdown towards the end of the series.

Trapper My beloved boy ♥️ who has less of an arc and more of a vibe in existing canon, so we get to make some shit up whole cloth. Either keep the book/movie canon they were friendly in college, or make them childhood friends- not close, but some kind of pre-existing relationship. First episode is them stealing a jeep and bonding as they get into Shenanigans and Danger on their way to camp. Some people have the headcanon that Trapper lost a brother in WWII because of Wayne Rogers' acting choices, and I think a backstory like that could be interesting. He starts out a little ambivalent about the war, not wanting to be there and very aware of the human costs, but also feeling he has a duty. As he and Hawkeye get into more and more Situations trying to expose war crimes or fix injustices and even basic supply issues and are met by indifference or incompetence, he gets disillusioned. After Hawkeye's manic episode, he decided the one Actually Good thing he can accomplish is keeping his friend sane until they can get back home, since he starts to increasingly see his medical work as futile and the UN intervention as hopeless/harmful. They get closer and rely on each other more and more in S2, and in my based and gay pilled vision this is explicitly romantic and sexual, albeit with serious ambiguity if they would've had this relationship outside the trauma of war. Towards the end of S2, Trapper starts to get sick, and it turns out stress and increased alcohol & tobacco use contributed to an ulcer- it almost seems like he'll be sent home, but as in Classico MASH he begins treatment at the 4077th- and then Henry dies. Hawkeye spirals and they have to send him away, and then Trapper has to help pick up the increased work load. His symptoms get worse and he tries to cope and hide it, and develops peritonitis. When he realizes he's going to be evacced to Tokyo and then back to the States, he has a bit of a fucking meltdown. Mission Failed, he can't be there for his friend, and he blames himself because it was partly caused by his alcohol abuse. This is not just me being a Trapper simp, he has to go home before his enlistment is up for plot reasons since we no longer get the benefit of fuzzy timeline, and the genre convention of dramedy is you always Reap The Whirlwind at the worst possible moment.

BJ Ironically, I don't need to change anything about BJ to turn him into a dramedy character. He already has a "negative character arc", and you just take the major beats of that, set them in a linear escalation, and tighten them up. He starts out bright eyed and idealistic, determined to keep his head up, do his duty, and get out. Hawkeye meets him at the air field, having missed Trapper. Hawkeye blames himself for Trapper's health problems, and wants to do better by the new guy, offering him support and guidance. BJ bonds with him through the craziness, but as stress increases he starts acting out in small petty stochastic pranks, and then Peg's letters and missing his family build his anger, and he lashes out at Hawkeye because he suspects (in that "he's not right but he isn't wrong either" way) that Hawkeye's friendship isn't really because of BJ himself but because BJ is Trapper's Replacement. He suspects Hawkeye and Trapper were more than friends and he's simultaneously jealous and repulsed- he wants to totally replace Trapper and for Hawkeye to like him best, but he also loves Peg and misses her terribly and resents Hawkeye for "making" him want him. His chaotic unhinged repression is funny until it's briefly terrifying, then sad. As Hawkeye's mental health deteriorates, he tries to be supportive, but is ultimately overwhelmed by the intensity of Hawkeye's crisis and pulls back, though they mend things somewhat at the end.

The Hawkeye/Trapper/BJ Nexus In summary, our core duos are codependent trainwrecks, but while TrapHawk are more of an enabling and felonious "Thelma and Louise" style folie a deux, BJ and Hawkeye are more of an epic highs and lows "if you can't be with the one you love love the one your with" "hand in unlovable hand" mess.

Margaret Don't have nearly as much to say about our girl because I suck and have been writing this for almost 2 hours now because I'm insane but she has one of the best character arcs in MASH and Hypothetical Remake would really just intentionally start laying out her conflicts and growth from episode 1. She would also have more independent story arcs of trying to manage the nurses, and navigating advancing her career in the face of sexism. I would love to see her messy and complicated relationships with powerful men explored more fully. She bonds with Frank first to have a relationship where she's more in control than with her superiors, then as an ally to push back against the TrapHawk Chaos, then as she grows more confident (and TrapHawk get in over their heads) she is able to let go of the cloak of power military pretensions give her and be more herself.

Henry and Potter Henry remains a lovable incompetent. The one headcanon I have I'd like to use in Hypothetical Remake is that he's pretty severely dyslexic- I base that off his mispronunciations and malapropisms and canonical issues with reading (in Classico MASH doing things like holding a paper upside down or not being able to read maps and the words on them). He got through med school by having his wife read his textbooks out loud and type his papers, and brute force memorization. This is part of why he over relies on Radar to manage his paperwork and is easily scammed into signing off on things- he really can't tell what he's signing unless he uses all of his focus to decipher the text, and he's a trusting person so he rarely does. @marley-manson I LOVE your take that your ideal Potter is the exact same character in the show but the narrative treats him as an antagonist, and that is the vibe Hypothetical Remake would have.

Frank and Charles Again not a lot to say here, secondary characters and minor antagonists, but they would remain big sources of commentary but their pathos would be played up more in a dramedy.

Mulcahy Again, not too much different from canon, just more intentional building of a tragic arc. A smart sensitive guy who grew up poor and thought the church would be a path to respect or maybe even greatness got told to be a math teacher by his diocese, enlisted as a chaplain when the war broke out as part of his personal quest for meaning and significance, is confronted by the horrors and damage to innocent lives but still tries to believe in a greater purpose and good to what's happening, struggles with feelings of powerlessness and futility, and when he's finally able to do something heroic loses his hearing, which costs him his vocation- he's permanently disabled and would be unable to return to his old role as a parish priest/school teacher.

Recurring Characters Sidney my beloved ♥️ We bring back Sam Pak as a returning character. Also General Hammond and other members of the brass. I think Oliver could work really well as a recurring character.

Klinger Whole bundle of thoughts on this guy I wanted to save till the end. Because I adore Klinger, he's incredibly funny and one of the kindest and most principled characters on the show, and he's also incredibly 70s and I don't think could work as he was in a 21st century dramedy. I can see three potential paths to adapting him. A) Lean into the young, brash, hustler side of his personality, and he's a straight guy who thinks the craziest thing someone could do is wear a dress. B) An explicitly gay character who refuses to admit to being gay for a discharge because he finds the idea of being judged less than or broken for his sexuality incredibly offensive, but did drag back in Toledo and also refuses to stop being himself just because he got drafted. C) Principled pacifist serving as an orderly because of the draft who refuses to wear the uniform and started wearing dresses as a protest against bullying/abuse- oh, your gonna call me a sissy and steal my clothes because I refuse to use a gun? I will not only wear a dress, I will zhuzh it up into something amazing, because I would rather wear this outfit you intend to humiliate me with than that damn uniform.

[velvetvexations]

it's also complicated because cis people do not even have one gender role per binary gender. girls and woman convey significantly different gender roles and expectations. many transgirls are adults but are of the social role of girl and not women! i know of many on this very site who dislike being called women, even. some cis people stay Girl or Boy gender role their whole lives, some go on to become Men or Women, some start off as Men due to expectations but become Boys later. like cis people aren't even the same gender their whole lives functionally.

I think anon here communicated the idea perfectly well, but to make sure it's as clear as possible I wanna clarify that they're not saying all trans people were a different gender before they transitioned but that some people do see value in that framework for them personally.

And that some people find value in that really pisses transradfems off. Like they'll make up stories about how I must believe trans women are a separate gender from cis women or am trying to kiss up to TERFs when I associate with my AGAB instead of recognizing that people can simply be genderweird in that way. They're obsessed with distancing themselves from the concept of being men to the point of overkill.

Not wanting to be called AMAB? Perfectly reasonable, although it's going to make discussion hard because you're still going to inevitably need a word that functionally means the exact same thing, defined as 'someone who was assigned male at birth.' Even TMA still carries that implication because you can't get a specification on who is affected by transmisogyny without defining a transfem, and they can't do that without "was assigned male at birth" in there somewhere. So that's difficult, but I also get not wanting to have "male" tagged to your identity if you aren't genderweird in the way I am.

But then they also don't want to even acknowledge that TERFs see them as men. They don't want to acknowledge that sometimes a feminine presenting AMAB person in old media might be modeled on other groups of feminine presenting AMAB folk. They're so defensive and desperate to prove they are and always have been Trve Fymyle, it's legitimately pathetic. These people transitioned when they were ten and have never faced any real opposition to being seen as who they are, so they go through life seeing people talking about the views of transphobes whom transradfems will never actually encounter on their own and for the first time in their lives they have to reckon with the hypothetical possibility of their girl card not being accepted and it drives them to madness.

Rewarding masculinity comes with so many conditions that I think it's a mistake to call it an unqualified good that is only ruined by presentation. Similarly, I think transmascs suffer less because they're seen as women who don't know they're place and more like freak mutants the same as trans women. In both cases they're not hated for either their assigned sex or what they're putting out there, they're being hated for being Wrong in a way that transcends logic and goes straight to "kill it kill it kill it" like when someone sees a bug.

Plus, it very often depends on the context. If you wanted to divide it like that, I think it's undeniable TERFs* hate trans women because of the sex they were assigned at birth, but hate transmascs for their masculine presentation.

*properly radical feminist TERFs, not the generic label for "female transphobe"

I don't have it on hand but there was a study of whether straight men and women, cis gays, and cis lesbians would date trans people; the straight people basically wouldn't at all, 10-15% of the gays would date trans men and almost none would date trans women, and the lesbians were like "10-15% would only date trans women, 10-15% only trans men, and 30% both" which I think illustrates that point that the other person was getting at with regard to whether the issue of lesbians being "more trans inclusive" was more complicated than it looked

It really does feel like this massive sprawling narrative because transandrophobia in MLM spaces has made me regularly think "wow yeah no fucking wonder so many trans men prefer to stick around lesbian spaces instead." Like. Just very firmly entrenched in my mind.

Bless you for the reassurance, anon. <3

[imsobadatnicknames2]

i keep thinking about ur stardew valley + land ownership/colonialism post and while i was thinking that too ive also been trying to think about like is there a way to make a farming sim not predicated on those? since as a game genre there is a niche of Watching Things Grow but also i know farming has been around since we first left huntergathering behind and it wasn't always about land ownership. i suppose the first step would be leaving behind the american/european idea/aesthetic of farming and finding some gameplay way of disincentivizing max yields/max profits playstyles

Okay this is an interesting ask and one I don't have all the answers to, but...

I think a game that comes much closer to simulating the actual ideals of communal land ownership is Dwarf Fortress and the way its mechanics depict dwarven society as at least communist-adjacent*. Now of course DF isn't exactly the type of game you would think of when someone mentions cozy relaxing farm games (it's, after all, a pretty crunchy simulator that can get pretty violent and gruesome when things go wrong) but you generally do a lot of the same things in it (growing crops, gathering resources, watching things grow, etc). and there are a lot of principles in it that could probably be incorporated into a Wholesome™ game.

In Dwarf Fortress there is the sense that the land you have is communally owned and managed by the entire population of your fortress. You as a player designate a list of tasks that need to be done and then available dwarves divide those tasks among themselves based on their labor preferences. And generally they don't have an economy based on wages and buying and selling products. When a dwarf makes a piece of clothing it isn't made to be sold, instead it goes on one of the clothing stockpiles, and then when a dwarf needs a new shirt they go to the clothing stockpile and grab one. The meals that are made in the kitchen go to the food stockpile, and then when one of your dwarves is hungry they go to the food stockpile and grab something to eat. And they don't have to pay for any of it because it's assumed that they're also doing the labor they can to contribute to the fort. So it works a lot less like Petty-Bourgeois Landowner Business Simulator and more similar to something like a commune.

Of course, this isn't to say that its base ideological assumptions don't share a lot of pitfalls with other farming simulator/terraforming type games. After all, it still fundamentally stems from the premise of "this plot of untouched land is here for you to do whatever you want with it" and more generally it still has a lot of themes of Civilizing Untamed Wilderness that have a lot of ideological implications which... You know, play into a bit of a colonialist mindset, but it's something you could potentially write around if, for example, your hypothetical game revolved around a community already living there or something like that.

And of course it still implies a bit of an extractivist ideology because ultimately you're still trying to Extract Resources and Maximize Efficiency but I think at least it has some mechanics that play counter to this e.g. having too many animals grazing in the same area for a long time will cause it to lose vegetation so your animals will go hungry if you don't rotate them between different pastures, fortress wealth is used as a trigger for events such as hostile invasions and megabeast attacks, etc.

Anyway, I just think the way land management is depicted in dwarf fortress avoids some of the bourgeois ideological implications of some farming games and incorporating some of the things it does right could be considered a step in the right direction.

*I say communist-adjacent bc I don't wanna fall into the trap of projecting my own politics into the game when in some aspects it just doesn't share them. I've heard several ppl claim that DF is a straight-up communist game, and while the way you play in it does share some aspects of communism, the government system of dwarves is still clearly depicted as a monarchy, and while nobles DO contribute to labor just like everybody else, the game still expects you to give them luxurious quarters, private dining rooms and offices that stand above those of other dwarves. I've had a lot of people reply to this with something along the lines of "oh but you know, when I play I just arrange 'unfortunate accidents' for all of my nobles" and like...yeah but that's not really the way you're intended to play, so saying that the game is straight-up communist because you can do that is still very much projecting your own politics onto it.

[mandalhoerian]

NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 10

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 12K~ warnings: COCKROACHES. gunshot wound. blood summary: A lie never lives to be old. author's note: bit anticlimactic, this one. i hope you enjoy anyways!

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

The headless chicken they were after Ada's disappearance, it took the duo a while to map out the T-junction, and the process was made even worse by talking each other's heads off, mainly because Leon acted like a little boy who lost his mom in a mall, and kept calling out for Ada's name while jogging around mindlessly, hoping his shouts would bring her back home, or whatever the fuck.

Of course he didn't understand Ada hadn't strayed off. She had left. Without a word of goodbye, no mention of anything to them beforehand, simply gone in a flash, vanished out of thin air. No different from how she waltzed into their lives in the first place.

Surprisingly, Vera reacted to it how she would to being ditched at a night's out with the girls, instead of losing her fucking shit like Leon. The problem was probably her in this case for her lack of reaction. But what was she supposed to freak out about, exactly? A woman wanting to go her own way? Which was understandable? Was it concerning? Well, maybe if she was a normal person instead of a professional, but this was also an extenuating circumstance, and Vera really couldn't care less about Ada's intentions or reasons as long as it didn't affect them, and it didn't seem to be.

Emphasis on seem.

It was definitely affecting Leon.

One would think she had been abducted right in front of him, and Vera definitely had become fucked up in the head after everything, because she wanted to laugh in his poor face. Ada was absolutely fine. She would go unscathed from this, with the FBI gifting her a spa visit in Cabo after her success. Vera on the other hand needed at least a year of therapy, or maybe a decade in a mental institution to recover from the trauma.

"What the hell. Where could she have possibly gone? It doesn't make any sense." He complained loudly, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the empty space, the same question he had repeated like a parrot at least five times. "Ada!"

Yeah, okay, Vera had enough.

"Okay, hold up, will you?" She yanked his arm backwards, causing him to stumble to a stop and turn around, eyes wide open in surprise, flitting to her hand holding onto him, then back to her face, the slightest twinge of red dusting on his cheekbones. "Are you trying to call out all the undead to our location? Because it's working, and there's going to be a zombie stampede headed this way at this point. You see that elevator shaft?" Still holding onto his elbow, she pointed to what she was talking about with her free hand. "They'll be raining down from there."

He stared at her with an incredulous expression on his face, mouth opening and closing, until his shoulders slumped, sighing in resignation. "Sorry. You're right, I just—"

"You're worried. I know." Vera let go of him, and crossed her arms behind her back, standing straight and rolling on her heels, shrugging nonchalantly, plastering a grin on her face to dispel any tension lingering. It was tempting to double down on him by pointing out that calling out for her in that hypothetical scenario was equal to a baby bird in a nest screaming for his hunting mother with a mouth awaiting food. "But it's an FBI agent we're talking about, she can hold her own."

His gaze was trained on her for a few seconds before shifting away, looking everywhere but her. A companionable , short silence settled over them after that, save for the occasional buzz of the air conditioning system powering the generators scattered throughout the complex and Leon's intermittent huffing. "Yeah, but... It doesn't sit well with me when it comes to abandoning people who might need help..."

Leon was... legitimately ashamed, hunched slightly forward, brows drawn together, the puppy dog look he always seemed to unintentionally sport when upset. He was going to be the death of her. "Trust me, she doesn't need our help," she replied, flinging her arms out with a dramatic flourish. "You're not abandoning her, just getting out of her hair. She left for a reason, Leon."

A snort of amusement. One he let out with zero conviction. "Sure."

Vera chewed on her bottom lip, digging the toe of her boots into the ground in a timid manner. Did he have to sound this sullen? She didn't know how to handle these kinds of situations. Emotional shit wasn't really her forte, not unless she was in the same position. And she was never good with words — and still wasn't, after being supported so much by him.

It was awkward. Vera wanted to give Leon a pat on the shoulder or something, but that was crossing the line and would make everything even more weird. "Listen. You know who truly needs your help? Sherry. And even Claire. We have each other, but she's on her own out there. They're our priority."

Leon inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, raising his head up and locking eyes with hers. The sheer intensity of his stare, the storm brewing beneath, was almost intimidating, she would be burned by his gaze. His voice was firm, resolved. "You're right. Let's get going."

"Lead the way, officer."

This was the Leon that was worth the hype, Vera decided. Leon when he was in the zone, focused, driven by duty and morals, doing what he thought was the right thing, no matter what, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead with confidence and assurance. It was something to admire, especially when he wasn't the type of man who showed off.

"You wanna find out where that pipe leads to?" Leon asked, tilting his head in its direction and pointing a finger.

As they drew closer to the destination, the distant sound of machinery powering on, buzzing and grinding in tandem echoed off the walls, followed by a distinctive squeak of rusty metals that was definitely leaking in from the giant ventilation tunnel Leon was talking about. Leading up to it was a single metal ladder hanging off the ledge, offering the duo a chance to climb up to investigate further, and this time, there was no dilemma - Leon hopped onto the rungs, testing each one individually to ensure they wouldn't buckle, and Vera waited for her turn, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

That was before it was revealed that a horde of cockroaches was waiting for them up there.

"Ah, Jesus!" She swore, stumbling back at the sight. Leon joined in too, also cursing.

One of the insects chose that moment to crawl on her boot, and she kicked it away with a panicked yelp. There might or might not have been an embarrassing scream that put Leon's Ada-call to shame. "Fucking shit, ughhh, whyyyy," Vera complained loudly, face scrunching up as she covered her nose with her elbow. She could cry. She could fucking cry.

"Well, at least they're not zombies," Leon quipped.

Oh, shut the fuck up.

Vera didn't dare breathe through her nose, afraid she would puke at the overwhelming smell of ammonia and alcohol, which were mixed with an acrid, coppery scent that caused bile to rise up to her throat, burning the insides. If one cockroach touched her, she was going to lose it. The tunnel was filled with at least a hundred of them, and they were either scuttling around the floor or clinging to the sides, creeping out from underneath the cracks. One of them could fucking fall on her hair and she would legitimately pass out.

It was the worst sight she could imagine, the very embodiment of nightmare fuel. It didn't take much imagination for her mind to conjure up images of a dozen cockroaches crawling up her limbs and inside her mouth and ears, which she quickly tried to shake off physically as she whined, shaking both her hands around after having to put away her Samurai Edge so she wouldn't accidentally fire away in her panic. "Oh, sweet hells. Ughhhh, okay, okay, okay. Alright. Let's just run. Let's run to the end. I'm literally one step away from having a fucking seizure."

Leon cocked his head to the side, not at all affected by this whole ordeal. How did he not break a sweat? Vera wanted to push him into a bed of roaches, see how he'd fare.

He was about to say something, probably make a joke that was funnier in his head, but she didn't stay for that, sprinting straight down the path with the biggest leap of faith she had taken since ever, ignoring Leon's startled shout from behind as she dashed past the critters as fast as she could, not stopping to gag at the crunching sound below her feet.

At this point, her disgust of a concert hall of cockroaches trumped the fear of dying and turning into one of those things. At least if she got attacked and turned, she wouldn't have to experience the torture of having them chew at her flesh.

How she made it to the end, Vera didn't know, but her heart was hammering against her rib cage, lungs on the verge of collapse, she was probably yelling all the way there too to expel all the revulsion inside her too. The aftermath of that little marathon was practically the day after a major workout session, except, with more horror involved. She wasn't even paying attention to her surroundings after jumping down to safety without checking for a ladder to climb down or whatsoever, too busy catching her breath as she hunched over with her hands on her knees. And when that was done, pacing around in circles while shaking her arms was next, and it wasn't long until Leon came into view and she latched onto both his arms like a koala, the jitters making her jump up and down.

"I hate bugs. I hate bugs so much. Ugh. Ughhhhhhh! Eww. Ughh!" She rambled, feeling him tense under her touch, his body going rigid. Rubbing her fingernails up and down the outside of his arms was doing wonders in getting rid of the crawling feeling. "I'd rather fight ten zombies at once than deal with those."

Vera could almost swear she heard the smile in his voice. "We'll stick to that then, alright?"

When she pulled back, a tiny smirk adorned his features, despite the tiniest bit of red in his face from what was probably having to run after her. She nodded, still scratching the vest, the pace of it getting less aggressive. "That would be awesome. Just round them all up and feed them to each other. Should be easy."

The laughter that escaped Leon's lips, this time, was genuine, and Vera was delighted to hear the sound — a bit husky, but boyish and infectious. He stepped back, gently prying her away from himself, and even though nothing about it was curt, Vera felt the heat spreading to her face, only now realizing she had basically cuddled him up and got away with it.

Her hands returned to her side like a whip. "S-sorry, I just..."

"It's fine," Leon reassured, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "No offense, but that was definitely a sight to behold. Who knew you could run that fast?"

No witty retorts were made on Vera's part, at that moment, all she was capable of was an entertained huff, and a light slap with the back of her hand to his chest as she turned away, promptly coming face to face with an unconscious body of a man lying face down on the floor.

"Gghhk—! What the fuck!"

That made Leon actually laugh.

Creeping forward hesitantly, she nudged the body with the tip of her boots. "Was he here the whole time?"

"Guess so. Maybe he got caught off guard by those bugs and fainted, who knows?"

Vea clicked her tongue, groaning at him. One slip, and now she was the butt of all the jokes — Leon of all people was making fun of her. Great. "Yeah, yeah. Go on, get it out of your system."

Her curiosity was piqued by the small backpack the man was carrying with him, the item in question slung around his upper body. From her vantage point, she could only see it was packed with something, and she stepped to the side to crouch beside him and flip him over.

"Hey," Leon's tone was colored with concern, approaching Vera with caution and holding his shotgun tightly, readying himself in case this guy woke up in a bad mood and took it out on them. "Careful there."

Vera leaned in, bending her head to get a better look. "Look at all that ammo. This is good stuff, what the heck is he doing with all this?" She whistled in approval. From the jumpsuit and the location, this was a sanitation worker, likely abandoned in his duties when shit hit the fan and then spent his time hiding. She took it upon herself to salvage as many useful items as she could, she opened his pack to gather up his findings — namely, the shotgun shells and 9mm bullets, painkillers, a half empty box of magnum ammo, and a pouch with some emergency gauze. Vera immediately started gobbling up one of the bars of candy from the bag, grabbing a bottle of water to wash it down with as she emptied the contents into her pockets, letting Leon take the rest.

The last object to be found was a photo, crumbled from being inside the pocket of his pants, but with some effort, she flattened it and flipped it over to examine the contents.

A family in the picture, on vacation by the looks of it, beaming at the camera. Two children stood in front, the oldest appeared to be in her pre-teens, with long dark brown hair and a sly smile that could rival Vera's. She was wrapped around the waist by her younger brother, a little boy with a huge gap between his front teeth and messy auburn hair. He was flashing a peace sign to the camera with the most mischievous expression she had ever seen, and the image of a perfect family unit was completed by the father himself, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he grinned down at the two kids.

Vera gave nothing away as she also took that photo, and put it away in a secure pocket in her backpack. Her brain was clean of any thoughts as she did it, driven only by a twinge of breathless longing, a fleeting desire to preserve, as if this was her vacation and the kids in the picture were her siblings.

Leon didn't say anything about it, observing her movements but not questioning them. Vera didn't owe him an explanation — she didn't have one in the first place.

With that done, they moved on, the lack of undead on their path having created a false sense of security that crashed and burned the moment they opened the next door in the form of multiple guttural groans and the signature moaning, along with shuffling feet.

Peeking through the narrow slit of the gap, both Vera and Leon could barely make out the forms of the creatures staggering around, and Leon raised his finger to his lips, signaling her to get back and retreat. They closed the door silently, communicating solely via eye contact and hand motions to form a plan.

A nod.

Leon was going to lure them and show the way with his flashlight.

Another nod.

Vera was going to shoot. No need to waste any shotgun ammo. Aim for the knees and then go for the head.

Third nod.

Leon slid his fingers in through the crack and counted down. Three. Two. One.

Container room. This was a container room.

The fluorescent lights weren't working above as she spun in circles, surveying the area. Stacks of pallets, forklifts, metal boxes and other heavy equipment she was too unfamiliar with in the corners of an endless maze of containers, with a few elevated walkways, but that was about it. She also took note of the random objects that stuck out: a couple of crates to their far left, some yellow barrels that definitely should not be lit on fire, especially not in close quarters. In any other circumstances, she would be very fascinated, wanting to pull apart the machines and test the functions, but that was not the time for any of that. They didn't have the time for that, to begin with.

An upstairs of some sort ended up to be the only way out of this, neither of them thought it was worth it to explore the nooks and crannies, the presence of half a dozen undead was proof enough they would waste their time looking for just another dead end.

After that, it was relatively quiet for a while as they progressed onwards through a passage with a glass window, leading to an area with a busted, giant ventilation fan with enough space between the blades for a grown person to squeeze through, and surely enough, she could see a path to something down there.

Propping the butt of his gun on the fan's lower blade, treating it as a railing, "You think Ada went this way?" Leon mused.

"It's between the locked door down the other way and this. Or a secret third thing," Vera added, peering into the darkness that swallowed up everything in view, eyes trying to adjust to the lack of light. It was pretty dark inside, and there seemed to be nothing but more vent tubes leading into tunnels. It smelled less sewer and more industrial exhaust in here, a burnt odor filling her nostrils and irritating her senses.

"I don't know..."

"Doesn't hurt to try." Vera shrugged, turning back to look at him with a grin. "Just go ahead, I'm right behind you."

"Alright," Leon mumbled, kicking off the fan to hop over it, landing on the platform below gracefully, without missing a beat. Distracted by watching him, she bumped her head to the blade above, causing her to flinch and step back, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead.

"You okay?"

"Yup, just a tiny bonk."

"I can catch you if you're scared."

He was getting comfortable with the banter. If it was another man with a more inflated macho ego, he would be accused of trying to flirt, but Leon was too innocent for that, and she wanted him to be able to throw barbs at her so she could counteract and return it in kind.

"Nope, my childhood self would love this," Vera continued, smiling and tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "We're practically in a giant bat cave. That basically stinks." The final line was muttered as an afterthought.

He looked over his shoulder, obviously confused with how he should react, the slightest twitch of his lips made it hard to determine if he was amused or disturbed. "Didn't you just complain about the cockroaches? Now you want to add bats to the list?"

"I'm really going to literally jump you if you keep going on with that," she grumbled, not in the mood to get into that topic. Her grip on the steel tightened as she pushed herself up, throwing herself over the gap, and there was a split second of weightlessness, where the adrenaline rushed and her stomach dropped to the ground as her legs flailed in the air. Then she landed, kneeling down with a grunt, and the impact reverberated all the way up to her thighs.

A hand was held out in her peripheral vision, and she glanced up to see Leon hovering above her, and Vera almost wanted to slap it, but took it anyway, letting him help her up. She made sure to get in his face by tugging his arm downwards to her height, smirking, enjoying how flustered he was getting. It was the ephemeral joys of messing with Leon that she wanted to milk out for as long as possible.

It got interrupted by a woman's voice trickling in from afar, the echo reaching them as fleeting whispers. Leon's head shot up, and Vera whipped around, her entire frame rigid from the shock.

The voice sounded like Ada's, and she couldn't make out what the exact words were, but she could tell for certain, the FBI agent was somewhere nearby.

However, Annette's answer was much clearer as she answered, "You'll never get your filthy hands on G."

Leon let go of her to whirl around, and the movement brought Vera out of her daze as she refocused, watching as he brought a finger to his lips in a signal to be quiet, and motioned towards a pathway, and Vera nodded, following his lead.

They climbed up a rusty metallic stairwell and sneaked up to the source of the voices, hiding behind the side of the container like it was a wall, the shadowy silhouette of Annette Birkin visible at the far end, standing before what looked to be a closed garage door with yellow tape on the ground framing the entrance, warning any personnel to keep out.

And too fixated on Ada who had to be behind the door and inside that metal container, Annete wasn't paying attention to anything else, continuing with, "Then you won't die alone."

There wasn't even any time to take in a surprised breath before a buzzer rang out, and a rectangle of flickering orange lit up Annette's face, accompanied by a mechanical whirl from within the sealed door, the grinding of gears as the mechanism inside the container powered on.

It dawned on Vera as Annette started walking away, her heels clicking with purpose.

"You locked her in an incinerator!" Leon exclaimed, anger coloring his tone as he stepped forward and revealed himself, triggering Annette's flight response.

"Shit!" She followed, forcing herself to get out of her stunned state by bolting into action and bringing the Samurai Edge up, aiming at the middle of her back and firing once. It wasn't intended to kill her, Vera just wanted to get her to stop, or at least delay her escape.

She missed on purpose, the bullet hitting the sliding door the woman opened with a bracelet around her wrist, and her yell of alarm pierced the air. She didn't turn around to try confronting the two, managing to slip away as Leon slammed into the door, rattling the entire thing in the frame.

"Goddamn it!" He groaned, pounding a fist against it.

Out of instinct, "Upstairs!" Vera yelled to inform Leon, not stopping to discuss with him as she flew past and headed up the stairs right across the incinerator, finding a single lever among the different types of controls, buttons and switches. It was surrounded by electrical cables and wires, with one end of it leading into the floor, and she grasped onto the handle, pulling it down, and a low rumble resonated from the mechanism, a generator powering down, and the faint glow of the flames streaming through the metal blinds dimmed out.

"Did it work!" Vera called out, panting as she ran back to the door to see if it worked. It wasn't open yet, and Leon had resorted to opening the rectangle latch on eye level to peer into the room, knocking on the barrier to get her attention.

"Ada!" He yelled, tapping on the door rapidly with a flat palm.

"I'm fine!" Ada responded, voice muffled as it seeped out from the crack, but clear and loud, meaning she was in good condition. "Just get this damn thing open."

Relief instantly made her a thousand times lighter, she could fly away, and Vera released a shaky exhale, her shoulders dropping.

"Give us a second."

Vera knew exactly what to do, turning on her heel to jog back up to the control panel she was working with just seconds ago, and pressed the button to her far left that turned on a green lamp to life. There was a button underneath it, and she lifted the cover to push it down, and the beeps from the keypad-like lock beside the switch could be heard as she did so. Another rumble, louder and more violent, followed suit as the door's status changed, and the blinking of red changed to white, the humming of the motors increasing in volume to a high pitched whirr.

"It worked!" Leon confirmed, and Vera bounded down the steps, breathless from ricocheting back and forth downstairs and upstairs in such a short amount of time, coming to a stop to wait for the door to open. She bounced on the balls of her feet, licking her lips to get rid of the dryness in her mouth and wiping her sweaty palms on her black jean shorts. The hot wind blew in her direction, blowing strands of hair across her face and exposing her neck, the distinct smell of burning plastic assaulting her senses.

It was a bit longer than she anticipated, with the metal doors finally giving in to gravity's pull to reveal a clean hallway, no signs of fire or smoke at all, and then there was Ada, looking disheveled with her bangs sticking to her damp face, and soot all over her trench coat, but she was alive, unhurt, and most importantly, breathing.

Vera didn't realize how nervous she was until Ada emerged, the second wave of relief flooding over her senses, a rush of warm liquid, making her boneless as she watched the older woman stumble out with Leon's supporting hand on her back.

She couldn't hold back the sigh escaping her, running her hands up to her hair and pushing it back, the black curtain parting to reveal she was flushed all the way to her hairline as she walked over to her, a giddy, light sensation in her stomach, a bubble of happiness she was afraid to pop, afraid it was all just a dream she would wake up from at any moment.

"Want some water?" She blurted out, and her words were a bit breathy from the adrenaline in her veins.

"Don't mind if I do," Ada replied, raising her chin to accept the offer. Vera shoved her hand inside the backpack to get out the bottle, uncapping it with practiced ease with one hand.

Before she could do so much as get it to her face, Ada grabbed her hand, taking a generous swig, the angle allowing for droplets to trickle down her jaw and soak the collar of her shirt. Her gaze met Vera's as she drank, and Vera, for some reason, felt her heart drop all the way to the floor, freezing in place, a deer in headlights.

The first few drops of water trickled out the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the smooth column of her neck, disappearing behind the scarf around it. Ada withdrew to release an exaggerated gasp for breath, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Much appreciated," she said, passing it back, the lingering warmth on the plastic ghosting across Vera's skin like a caress.

Vera's cheeks grew hot, her mouth parting slightly to collect some oxygen to her brain, the upturn of her lips weak, wavering as she forced herself to be calm and collected. "Yeah—you're welcome."

The reply was delayed, her attention divided between her inner struggle and Ada, and the woman in question herself smirked, knowing she caught the effect of her actions on Vera as she brushed past to join Leon, who was staring at them with what he thought was discreet observation.

"Good to see you in one piece," he remarked, sounding friendly and casual, as if they didn't just bust her out of an incinerator.

"It takes more than that to bring me down."

"Speaking of," Leon started, folding his arms over his chest. "What the hell was that? Why would she—"

Ada didn't give him time to finish as she cut him off, stating firmly, "Umbrella doesn’t want anything getting out. Not the truth, not what they do, and definitely not what they make."

"Sherry's mom works for Umbrella?"

It wasn't the lengths Umbrella would go to that surprised Leon, not even the fact that Ada had almost died for it, Vera concluded. Leon had to have already witnessed similar things or worse during the course of the night, to not be shaken up by all of it. His speechlessness stemmed from Annette's connection to Umbrella. And what an idiot Vera was not to anticipate this reaction. It was a mistake, Vera felt the coldness spreading as if her blood froze, ice crystals growing in her veins, creeping to the ends of her nerves.

W.B. is William Birkin, she remembered blurting out. With no evidence whatsoever, a statement thrown in the wild she expected Leon would eat up, and accept it as her randomly connecting the dots out of the blue, his brain doing the rest of the work by itself.

"Exactly," Ada confirmed, not taking her eyes off him, but Leon's entire attention was on surveying Vera's reaction as she sweated under his stare, refusing to meet his gaze and feeling it bore into the top of her skull. "Umbrella's top research scientist along with her husband, William Birkin, who's also responsible for all this. The G-Virus."

Leon remained silent, the suspicion that was bubbling under the surface he didn’t bother hiding leaking out. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head, processing the information, chewing over it, mulling over what was presented and drawing conclusions for himself. All the while staring directly into her soul, and Vera almost cracked. Almost.

It was when the silence turned unbearable that Leon spoke up, his voice gruff, "We better get moving, then." He broke his gaze and turned to the other woman, leaving Vera to breathe, the coldness dissipating in a wave of heat.

Vera was a bug under a microscope.

He knew something was wrong and that she was privy to it. He had already begun distancing himself, putting a thin wall between them that would grow thicker and thicker, the more he found out. And what was more was that Vera was aware he had caught on she knew more than she led on. He hadn't figured it out completely, but he was closing in.

"I'm telling you two again, you should get out of here." Ada repeated, for the umpteenth time, but the only response she was graced with was Leon shrugging, nonchalant and unaffected by her concern, and Vera shooting her a glance. "You have your answers. Forget about Raccoon City. Forget about the Birkin girl. Go back where you came from, and never look back."

The authority and conviction in Ada's tone made the hairs on Vera's back stand, and her spine straightened, a shudder raking up her body, goosebumps exploding on her skin, every muscle tense, every fiber of her being screaming in protest, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows.

Leon gave no indication that he agreed with her. "Not a chance. We can't abandon that little girl to deal with all this on her own."

"Then, the moment you find her, we go our separate ways," Ada announced, cold, unrelenting. "I've risked enough as it is, and so have you."

His silence was damning. Vera wasn't stupid, she knew why. Her stomach sank and she felt hollow inside, the emptiness gnawing at her guts, the walls of this maze caving in on her as Leon faced the road ahead and walked with Ada by his side, the two of them moving together seamlessly, no hesitation, no falter in their steps.

So Vera trailed after the two, but in that moment, she knew that this was it.

The candle she was holding had finally reached its end, and all that was left of it was the wax.

Ada now had a similar bracelet to Annette's, the door Leon had previously slammed into opened with a beep, a digitalized sound that echoed in the large, open hall, the corridor extending in front of them.

"Visitor clearance confirmed. Your ID is authorized until October First. Please return before this date."

The concrete was crumbling and falling apart, revealing the pipes beneath and the wires peeking out from the holes in the structure, with the familiar green, artificial glow, the lights from the ceiling providing the main illumination to the hall.

This entire area was humid, and she could feel the condensation on her face. Not only that, but they heard the sounds of water flowing from ahead, a river coursing through the halls, and Vera could swear she felt the vibration of it from the ground under her feet. The sheer size of this underground labyrinth was a testament to just how big this place was, and she couldn't help but wonder, how far had they dug this place to have it built this expansive? How much resources and time had Umbrella poured into this operation that the city above was going to shit and people were dying on the streets and this laboratory was thriving and expanding with each passing day?

The answer was obvious. People's lives didn't matter to these corporations, there were thousands of nameless, faceless numbers whose death wouldn't affect the bottom line of the company. She had done the math before. All those disappeared kids. All those missing families that didn't exist and would never be found because Umbrella made them disappear, and then would turn around and play hero, use their money to save the children that mattered, and then whisk them away to create even more subjects, and it was an endless cycle.

That was the point. That was how it all worked. It was a miracle she was freed from that system, if it wasn't for her father, she would be right where she had been born, taken out once in a while to be injected with new experimental serums to find out their effects on a child, and then sent back to her cage. And then disposed of, once her body gave up, used up by the age of ten.

She felt low for not telling the truth to Leon and Claire, but all of this... It was too much—

Bang!

"Ada, watch out!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Her eyes snapped open from the train of thought, and Leon had been the first to react, tackling Ada to the ground from the bullets fired, saving her from death yet again. She could see the metal rain pelting the concrete wall, spraying debris everywhere and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Vera stayed glued to the wall swerving into the corridor the gunshots were coming from, while Leon and Ada were still lying on the floor across from her to the opposite wall, and Ada hissed from being crushed underneath him, struggling to push him off.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, Annette's voice ringing out, "This is my final warning. Next time, it will be a bullet to the head!"

Then with a beep and a mechanical click, she was gone.

Leon rolled to his side with a pained groan, and Vera saw red—

She was in front of him in an instant, leaning over to pull his upper body upwards, the man yelping from the sudden movement, clutching his left shoulder and gritting his teeth.

"Is this the part where you yell at me for being reckless?" He asked, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

She would have laughed in any other circumstances, but no. "Go!" She whipped around to face Ada, who was already propped up on her elbows, watching with a mixture of emotions. Vera tried her hardest to hide her shaking. "Don't let her get away!"

Ada was stunned at first, but Vera saw her eyes harden, the fire dancing in the brown irises as she got up with a grunt. She didn't go the way Annette did, moving instead to a separate direction, disappearing from their view as she slipped through a fire exit door, and Leon tried to push himself to sit upright, only for her to push him back down, making him lie down on the cold ground.

"Don't fucking move," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for arguments, but there wasn't any malice or hate in it, no disdain for his recklessness or that he almost got himself killed for Ada, just the ice cold of dread that pooled deep in her stomach.

This was the second goddamn time.

Him crumpling to the ground as Irons shot him square in the chest in that parking garage was playing in her head over and over again, it didn't matter he had a bulletproof vest on, in Vera's mind, he'd died on the spot. Shell-shock had smoothed her brain for any logical reasoning, blood visible or not. Irons was there. Irons had shot Leon. Irons had killed him. It was enough for her to shut down.

She couldn't believe this was even worse than then.

Blood was soaking through the uniform and his fingers, staining her hands as she pried it off the wound, a part of it sticking to the moist skin, the edges of the torn fabric glued to his flesh. Red was blooming on the stained, gray concrete, and the liquid was seeping through the cracks. There was an exit wound. The bullet had pierced through. She just didn't know what. Just the meat of his clavicle? Did it shatter the bone?

It could be just the deltoid, maybe, she was grasping onto hope.

God, there was so fucking much in the way, the short-sleeved uniform, the undershirt, the vest—

Her hands were slick, her fingertips slipping against the saturated fabric, trembling too violently to untangle the straps of the Kevlar and unzip the vest to open it. "Leon," she whined, voice shaking, her head swimming from the stress. She was panicking, she knew it, the tears were burning in her eyes, her vision becoming blurry. "Leon, I need you to sit."

"You just said not to move—"

"Fucking sit up!" She shouted, finally succeeding in removing the vest, pulling it over his head and discarding it on the floor beside them, hearing the metallic clink of the shotgun shells and spare mags on the hard floor. She immediately felt like the shit that felt just at home in these sewers, biting down on her lip, swallowing thickly and blinking the mist away. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry."

Gritting through clenched teeth, she didn't wait for his reaction before wrapping her arms around his torso to lift him up to a sitting position, his groans of discomfort ringing in her ears. Nausea washed over her as she heard the squelching sound of the hole in his shoulder shifting, the muscle fibers stretching, and his blood flowed freely down the curve of his pectoral and abdomen, spilling onto the ground, turning the patch of gray a dark red.

"Jesus—" Leon breathed, gulping down to calm down, adjusting to the pain and the change of positions. His eyelids fluttered, shutting and opening repeatedly, the muscles around his eyes flexed, creating tiny folds on top of the ridge above his nose. "M'okay."

He had to be on the brink of passing out from the sheer shock, his breathing was shallow, and his face had drained of color, which was frightening, given how pale Leon was naturally. Vera focused on relocating him to lean his back against the wall and out of the puddle of blood he'd formed on the floor.

He was really trying, though, huffing as he shuffled around with her help, his feet sliding in the slicks as she pushed him back to rest on the vertical surface. "Easy, easy," he cooed, reassuring her, although it was also probably directed to himself. He winced when his back touched the wall, unable to contain the grimace of pain that followed, breathing out from his mouth.

"Oh my god, oh fucking hell, I'm sorry!" She wailed, feeling horrible she put him through it all, wanting to help him with whatever she could do to make sure the pain would go away. "Okay, okay, okay... Listen, I need to..." Vera fumbled with her words, looking around frantically for anything useful, and remembering she had a backpack bursting with supplies, she ripped it off in a haste. "Uh, your sleeve. I gotta—"

She took out her pocket knife, and began sawing through the hemline, cutting and tearing the cotton until the both sleeves were separated from the rest of the outfit, throwing the severed pieces aside and leaving his entire left arm naked from the shoulder down.

Vera was a woman possessed, a wild animal crazed as she scrounged through her belongings, looking for... There! A packet of gauze pads, and a roll of medical tape, bandages, disinfectant, saline, she forgot everything in her panic, but she recalled that at some point, they looted first aid kits and stole all of it. She got out a tube of antibiotic ointment and set the items in a line next to her.

"Fuckfuckfuck..."

Everything felt so small, as if the world had shrunk around her and collapsed upon her, her own personal universe collapsing in itself and her along with it. The lights seemed brighter, the air thinner, and the smell was stronger than ever. Blood was running down Leon's arm in rivulets, pooling underneath and joining the larger puddle he was in a minute ago. It wasn't gushing, it wasn't spurting out, but it was dripping, a steady stream that didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. The panic made her want to wipe all the blood away and get rid of the mess, but she had to focus on stopping the flow first.

Leon, bless him, was bearing with the pain admirably well, but Vera could see it wasn't the worst part — she could tell from the sweat gathering around his hairline and the beads rolling down his temple he was having a hard time. And she was about to make it tenfold. But she was beyond caring now, her whole life became focusing on making sure he pulled through and survived another day.

"Listen, I'm going to... I'm gonna have to disinfect this first. Front and back. It'll hurt like shit."

She was met with his half-lidded eyes, dull and fogged. He nodded once, understanding what he needed to do. "Do it," he ordered, straightening his spine against the wall, and his features hardened, steeling himself for the pain to come.

Leon kept his left arm extended and close to him, elbow resting on the knee of the leg bent vertically, allowing Vera space to do her thing. With one last deep breath, Vera tore open the package of the gauze pads to pull one out, soaked it in the disinfectant and brought it to the entrance wound, touching the broken, oozing skin.

"Okay," she whispered. "On the count of three. One, two—"

Leon inhaled sharply the moment she applied pressure, and she moved quickly to blot over the front first. He cried out, shouting hoarsely and in agony as she worked, not letting up once to give him time to adjust, dabbing over and over, feeling like an ass for putting him through so much. His forehead had fallen on her shoulder, his legs began to jerk involuntarily, and she fought the urge to sob.

It took much longer than she anticipated to finish, her heart hammering against her ribs with every anguished cry from Leon, her mind racing with scenarios where he would bleed to death, her palms were clammy and her fingers slippery but she managed to get through this stage.

"Almost done, baby. Almost done, Leon. Hang in there."

She told him sweet nothings to distract him from the pain, but they were for her peace of mind. Vera needed to reassure herself that Leon was still there and it was up to her to keep it that way. The process was draining, and she couldn't imagine the amount of suffering Leon had to endure.

The exit wound was much easier, the disinfectant not as agonizing, and Vera wasted no time in repeating the procedure.

She discarded the bloody gauze and put her entire weight onto him, her lower arms on the sides of his ribcage and the open wound. "Now the bad part, okay? It's okay, Leon, it's okay. You're doing so great."

Her right hand searched around for the saline, finding it near the first aid kit she had yet to touch, and she unscrewed the cap. The syringe came next and she carefully filled it, before tapping the outside to release any excess. Vera leaned in to inspect the entry hole of his shoulder, the blood gurgling up, and she pinched the edges.

Leon gasped when she stuck the syringe into the hole and released the liquid into his body, forcing it to clean out any dirt. He jerked wildly, his other hand holding onto her to brace himself, his entire being pulsing with life and fighting back with all he had, but Vera wouldn't budge, pressing herself deeper to the wound to prevent it from closing up.

Leon whimpered, almost screamed when she yanked out the syringe, and Vera held him close as he moaned and groaned and panted and squirmed, waiting for it to subside.

"That was it. It's over. It's all over now." She crooned, reaching to stroke his cheek, to grab a fistful of his hair to grip and tug on gently, and Leon raised his head, his chin hooked on her shoulder, but didn't open his eyes, eyebrows knit together from the immense strain he went through, and she stroked the bridge of his nose with the back of her fingers, cupping his jaw, careful to avoid his injury, brushing the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone. "Look at you... It's all over. You did so well, so good. That's it. Take a breather. I need to take care of that wound."

Withdrawing from her embrace, Leon was a wreck, and she could only imagine how awful he felt. She hurried to peel open the packet of bandages, ripping them off to throw them to the side and applying the adhesive plaster on the back to have it stick together. She held it in place over the exit wound, and motioned for him to bring up his right hand.

"Hold this, okay? Hold it there."

Vera got more gauze and opened the ointment, squeezing a dollop to the center of her palm, and smeared it across his entire front, and then back, ignoring his pained protests and wincing and jolting, running the heel of her hand across his trapezius and up to the back of his neck to apply more pressure, hoping it would alleviate some of the throbbing, the greasy, yellow fluid coating the wound, mixing with the blood that was drying on his skin, and Leon grunted from the pain, but Vera didn't let up, lathering more and more in hopes the medicine would take effect.

It was all done in a span of minutes, she threw the empty tubes aside and grabbed the gauze, unrolling it to wrap it around his upper body.

"Okay, just a bit more and I promise you can rest," she promised, using the sticky side of the bandage to attach to the layer in front, looping it under his arm, to his back and up over his shoulder, before bringing it to the front to continue her work. She wrapped the roll around a few times, holding the layers in place, and when she was satisfied, she cut it with her knife and secured it with the tape. "There. All done. How do you feel?"

Leon cracked his eyes open, and Vera wanted to laugh — the look he gave her was priceless. "Like someone took a nail and drilled my shoulder. How do you think I feel?"

His voice was dry and tired and rough and in pain, and she smiled, taking the last remaining gauze pad and soaking it in the saline, before she used it to clean him up, wiping away all the dried blood. "At least you're still sassing me. That's a good sign."

"You sure you didn't go to nursing school?"

She scoffed, finishing her last sweep to collect the scraps and throw them in a pile on the ground, the bloody fabrics and used plasters. "Far from it. That was all improvisation."

"Well, if there's an RPD after this, we gotta tell them you're worth a damn in an ER."

Vera could fall asleep on the spot with how relieved she felt, like she'd run a marathon and couldn't think of anything else other than sleeping. She slumped against the wall next to him, the rush of adrenaline wearing off, leaving her to bask in the aftermath.

Her heart was slowing down to normal, her blood pressure dropping back to regular levels and the erratic pulse calmed down to a more stable beat. She didn't know when the fingerless gloves on her hands had come off, but they were somewhere on the floor next to them, as was Leon's shirt and the vest, the other things they were carrying too, scattered around in a messy heap. The blood staining his front and his hands and her clothes made her skin itch and her nose scrunch, but they didn't have the luxury of privacy, much less time to get cleaned up.

Vera stared at the ceiling, the pipes that ran on it, the blinking fluorescent light, the rust on the screws that bolted it into the solid concrete.

The exhaustion hit her with a tidal wave, her muscles aching and her bones weak, a switch flicked, the colors of the world around her losing vibrancy and growing duller, and she could hardly keep her eyes open, the heaviness on her eyelids pushing her into unconsciousness.

She wasn't even the one who got shot, for fuck's sake.

Don't think, thinking slows you down, the voice of her father started in her mind.

Leon shifted next to her, and she turned her head, about to ask him if he was okay, when she saw him slip, his knees bending as the strength in his thighs disappeared, and she gasped, straightening her legs in a quick reflex to support him. He leaned over, the weight of his head falling on her shoulder, his right side pressed up against her left, directly against her burnt, bandaged upper arm, his cheek to her collarbone, and it made her exhale heavily to adjust to the additional weight, the sudden zap of white hot pain radiating down her arm and up her neck, and the muscle twitching involuntarily.

Vera was hyper-aware of his entire body, the smell of gunpowder, his breath, his hair tickling her throat, the moisture from his sweat cooling down and evaporating, and most importantly, focused on not to move despite her discomfort, as not to disturb him. She bit her lip and tried her hardest to not show it, as not to make it seem he was unwanted, when nothing could be farther from the truth. Leon needed his rest, he deserved to sleep for all the things he went through and did for others.

She lifted her right hand to cradle the side of his neck, the silky locks of the dirty blond strands tangling in her fingers, stroking and carding through to keep her mind busy, her heart heavy, trying not to get stuck on how cold his ear was. He was unconscious, passed out from the trauma his body suffered, and she felt that pressure at the back of her throat, the burn in her nostrils as she swallowed it all back. Her gaze flickered to his face, studying him in the quiet that blanketed them, his brows no longer furrowed and relaxed, the sharp lines on his forehead fading as the muscles loosened.

She took a deep breath, leaning forward to rest her temple on the crown of his head, and sighed.

Leon stirred and was roused to consciousness by a rhythmic pattern of constant pressure, massaging his scalp. He recognized the feeling immediately, the gentle scratches on his head and the comforting petting motion, the soft, affectionate touches, the familiarity of the sensation soothing him to wakefulness, and his eyelashes fluttered, attempting to blink open the haziness.

He wasn't fully aware, he was still out of it, barely lucid, and there was a sharp pain in his left shoulder, pulsating and shooting down to the tip of his finger, making it tingle as he wiggled his digits, the limb felt stiff and leaden. He couldn't move it properly, but he didn't try, just remained where he was, comforted by the ministrations.

There was something cold, wet, and slightly painful on the tender spot of the affected area, and he became aware of his surroundings, of the scent of antiseptic, of the drip of leaking pipes somewhere, of the crackling of electricity in the cables, the noises of the sewers he was all too familiar with by now. He had his right side leaning into a body, head lolled on the curve of a warm shoulder, his arm was dead asleep from lying on top of it for who knows how long, and he was tempted to move it to get the pins and needles out of it, but his eyes landed on Vera's face, her own tilted up and away from him, her expression distant.

"... Vera...?" He tried, his voice strained and feeble, coming out in a rasp. The strokes on his head paused and stopped altogether, and she flinched, startled by the suddenness of his awakening. Leon tried to clear his throat and failed, his lips parched and cracking, tongue heavy. He blinked rapidly to fight off the fatigue. "Wha... What—"

That's when he noticed the dead body lying on the ground, right in front of him and Vera at their feet, with the shovel sticking out of its skull.

Vera removed her fingers from his head, and he immediately missed it, completely at a loss as to what was happening. She glanced at the corpse with a scowl, before setting her attention back on him.

"Don't worry about that," she said, not a trace of remorse on her features, twirling a silver band with a green digital band on her left wrist — and Leon immediately took notice of her bandaged hand underneath the fingerless gloves.

He wanted to reach for it to examine it, to check if it was injured and if he could do anything, but the ache in his shoulder prevented him from lifting his arm. "Are you... Okay? What happened to your—"

She shrugged, offering him a nonchalant smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry about that either. Do you want to sleep some more? We're safe here for a while. I checked."

Her eyes roamed across his face, assessing him, checking him for injuries, a downward pull at the corners of her mouth. Leon's mind was too foggy to keep up. "Ada..?"

She kept staring ahead for a while, stuck in the process of trying to form a reply, and she glanced at him. Her hair was damp and hanging around her in loose curls, stray strands were plastered to her cheeks, framing her face. Leon thought it was very fitting. "Went after Annette."

The cold, hard floor was seeping the warmth out of his body, the wind blowing in from somewhere icy, but he still found it in himself to give her a disapproving frown. "You should've forgotten about me. I would've caught up."

"Always the hero, never the damsel," Vera commented, a sigh of exasperation leaving her lips as she reached over to fuss over the bandages on his shoulder, tugging on the ends to fix the arrangement. "How is your pain? Still hurts like a bitch? Wanna pop some pills?"

It was almost impossible to think clearly, but he realized he'd been a burden enough for the two of them. "No. Save it. Just let me... Sit for a while."

"There is no honor or victory in bearing the pain Leon, just take the damn painkillers," she snapped, annoyed for whatever reason, her brow quirked up, daring him to defy her, and it clicked — the severity of his situation must have kicked in Vera's protectiveness and she was angry he almost got himself killed. It was sort of endearing to know he'd matter to somebody that much, but the shame of letting her down was just as strong.

Leon tried to sit up with the strength of one arm, struggling with it for a moment, before he managed to move a few inches, and Vera was there in an instant to help, her arm around his back, keeping him upright.

The shift of positions was awkward and clumsy and required her assistance, but he found himself thankful she was there to keep him from crashing to the floor. He leaned back onto the wall and grunted at the impact, and Vera was right beside him, hovering as he took a few deep breaths, waiting for it to pass.

He stared at the body on the ground instead, not knowing who this person was, wondering their life before the outbreak. "Yeah, al—alright."

Vera stuck her hand inside the pouch of the backpack between her legs to rummage around, the zipper opening with a loud sound, and she took out a small box with a first aid label.

To him, an eternity had passed when the capsule fell into his open palm, and another one followed shortly afterwards. It was embarrassing to be unable to perform the simple task of popping the pills in his mouth, his left hand useless and unmoving, and he wanted to shout in frustration, but Vera was there, guiding his hand to the bottom of the plastic bottle, helping him raise it to his lips.

He drank it greedily, the coolness of the liquid running down his throat, washing away the soreness, and the pill slid in effortlessly as he chased the freshness, before she withdrew her hand and Leon pulled back.

He kept gulping it down, a few drops dribbling down the corner of his mouth, and he licked at the corner of his lips to catch it before it spilled. Vera turned to the side, returning the box and the water bottle to the bag, and he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

"Is the wristband from the unfortunate bastard?" He asked, craning his neck to peer at the dead body, at the protruding shovel. Vera hummed.

"Yep," she mumbled, looking up, the hollow in her eyes still present, her gaze distant and glazed over. "That door doesn't open without one of these, 's how he got in."

"I don't even wanna know how you managed to kill him," he chuckled, impressed with her, always impressed with her, and he didn't understand why she seemed to have an issue with it. "And what the hell happened to your hand?"

She flexed the fingers of the said hand, wriggling them in the glove. "Asshole snuck up on us. Closest thing was the knife and well, grabbed the blade in a haste. Ouch ensued. Nothing bad. No nerve damage outside my ego."

Leon studied her profile, the slope of her nose, the soft, full line of her lips. She definitely looked younger without the black lipstick, and the dark circles underneath her eyes looked more prominent than usual. "Any news from Claire?"

Vera shook her head, shifting to turn towards him, pulling up her leg to cross it over the other, and rested her elbow on the knee. "Nothing yet but I did call her about you. Told her to keep searching for Sherry. She sounded pretty shaken up. You should talk to her if you feel up to it, she'd probably appreciate it. Let her know you're okay."

The thought of Claire being worried about him made him wince internally, and he felt like absolute shit for being the reason behind the fear. Claire was doing all this on her own, with nobody to watch her back, and he was in a cozy spot with Vera by his side.

"We should keep going," he sighed, carefully wiggling his left shoulder to gauge the damage and testing the limits of the range of movements. "We've lost too much time already because of me. Can't afford to stall any more."

"Give it some time," Vera proposed, waving a dismissive hand, and Leon closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her knuckles grazing over his forehead, and for a moment it didn't cross his mind that she was checking his temperature, taking it as a sweet gesture. "Let the meds kick in. At least until you can stand on your own."

Vera's entire person screamed 'just relax, everything's gonna be fine' as she took on the role of taking care of him, and Leon wanted to let himself be taken care of by someone else for a change, wanted to forget about all the bullshit they've been through for a minute and bask in the tranquility that she offered, to allow himself to be the weak and not be responsible for anyone else but himself. It was hard not to give in to the temptation, his nerves too strung up to deal with it on his own, and it was so easy to get used to this.

And this was the perfect opportunity.

"Only if you tell me why you hid the truth."

Vera's hands stilled, the calm replaced with hesitation and alarm, her shoulders tense, her entire being rigid. It was brief, fleeting, lasting a split second, but Leon noticed the subtle changes that occurred in her demeanor.

"What?" She tried to brush it off with a casual chuckle, but it came out too forced, and Leon wouldn't have it. Not now. He wanted to know. Deserved to.

Maybe it was Leon's own fault for not seeing it before, he'd only known Vera for a day after all, deeming it a personality trait or a quirk of hers, and perhaps even a trauma response that she would barely react to information that others would freak out over, like he and Claire did. She knew Sherry, it was natural she would have information about her parents about being virologists, but the minute Ada had revealed they worked for Umbrella, all the little nuggets of knowledge Vera had dropped that would otherwise be classified as useless information, all the tiny clues that were too insignificant and nonsensical at first, fell into place and made sense. W.B. William Birkin. Brian Irons. The sewers. Ben Bertolucci. Vera Kaplan, P.I.

"You knew it was Umbrella. From the beginning. Why did you keep it a secret?"

She froze, not even a muscle twitching, her eyes wide and fixed on him, all the oxygen got sucked out of the room. It was a wonder she didn't stop breathing altogether, the only noise that broke through the dense atmosphere being the buzz of the neon light in the distance. Leon wanted to take it back, to take it all back and pretend it didn't happen, but they couldn't remain stuck in the past.

"I mean, why act like you had no idea at all— you just... Watched us, watched me go out of my mind, with Sherry and... and Claire and—" He bit his tongue to stop the words from spilling, to refrain from saying too much, and to avoid crossing a line, continued softly, "I don't understand."

Vera's blank face became devoid of color, her complexion taking on a sickly hue, and he was almost sure she'd shut down on him, but she surprised him when she lowered her eyes and dipped her chin. "I suppose it doesn't matter how you figured it out, huh?"

Leon didn't want to fight her, not about this. Not when all he wanted was the truth, the undiluted version of it. Not when all he wanted to do was understand her, the motivations behind her actions and why she felt the need to hide. "Who are you, really?"

"Fucking hell, I didn't bullshit that much. You saw me bury my father, give me some grace," Vera scoffed, rolling her eyes, and she looked annoyed, but not at him, at herself. He wanted to retract, to tell her he was sorry, he didn't mean it to sound that way, but she beat him to it. "... I'm sorry. It's not you, it's— no, it was you, that's dumb, I'm sorry. But, not in the way you think, ugh—" Vera pushed herself off the ground with an unceremonious groan, stepping over the dead body with a slight sway to her step, and held the handle of the shovel in a firm grip. "I can't just go around and give this information to anyone. Like, hello, this is a big ass company that has government officials under their payroll and nearly all of the city's residents dying because of this virus. And before that even happened, what do you think happened to people who blew the whistle on Umbrella? Hmm?"

Vera pulled the shovel from the deceased's head, and the resistance in the rotted flesh and bone made her grunt. She took a deep breath, giving it another forceful tug to loosen it, and with a final pull, the head came free, and Vera stumbled back from the momentum, barely catching herself. "They disappear. Never to be found again. They all become a statistic. People who never existed and are erased from the records, as if they never lived to begin with, as if they never mattered. Maybe their loved ones never even learn the truth about their fate."

Leon watched her with intent, observing her every move as she began to pace, back and forth, around the small area. "And... And I was in it from birth, Leon. You remember the orphanage? Founded by Umbrella. I don't know Irons because he was the boss of my dad, I know him from there. He was the director. He ran that shithole. Sold children to be test subjects. Like fucking livestock."

"What?" Leon breathed, his eyes following her as she moved. All warmth in his body drained, leeched out by the very words she uttered.

"Do you have any idea how fucked up these people are? The things they did to my friends? They preyed on the poor and homeless kids who came in as abandoned infants, fostered them for years and then handed them over to the researchers to be experimented on, to see if their mothers' drug addictions affected them in any way or something."

She was… speaking a different language, one that he heard but still comprehended one way or another, his stomach twisted and undulated, calcifying from the mental images, his blood running cold. "What the fuck."

Kids. Kids. Children. 

Experimented on. 

Leon had to lean forward and support his head, focus on breathing loudly from his nose so he wouldn't throw up. The dizziness had him frantically blinking to make it go away. What kind of world was this? What kind of monsters lived in this city? It wasn't the ones that kept coming back from the dead, that was for sure. 

Vera rubbed her fingers together, her eyes darting all over the place. "And I found out too late, after I got out. After Marvin... Yeah. I was like some golden fucking goose for them, I don't know. Good for P.R. Gifted kid. I was worth something because I was the face of the Raccoon Orphanage for Umbrella, the star pupil of Raccoon City, the girl who went places and became a technological genius and made something of herself—"

"You're Doe-Eyed Jane," Leon completed, Jesus, his whole generation was plagued by this girl who only lived through the T.V. and newspapers. She was all anyone — any parents could ever talk about at family gatherings. Documentaries, the news, the magazines. Jane Doe, the Girl Who Defied All Odds. He remembered the stories about her going viral, about how she was a prodigy, so small compared to the guest speakers on the screens, shaking their hands as she presented the projects she was working on, what had won science fair competitions, all the academic awards she had earned. Leon had thought she was too good to be true, too unreal to exist, and wondered if she was ever really a real girl who was actually living or just some stunt to boost the company's image. The poor, unfortunate orphan who was so smart that she got an internship with the leading corporation in the country, the future of their tech innovations, and he could see her clearly in his mind, standing on stage in front of cameras with an Umbrella representative, holding up an award. It wasn’t a mental image he’d conjured up, too, there really were poses she had given with Oswell Spencer, the creator and founder of the company, in the covers of many newspapers.

Even in that giant portrait in the orphanage’s hall.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a grimace. "Doe-Eyed Jane. Shitty name for a shitty image. The golden calf they paraded around to convince people that Umbrella was good."

Leon had to stop to take a deep breath. He would have never been able to guess. The little girl and Vera in front of him were different people. So different. One was a cheerful and outgoing child, who smiled at the camera with big bright eyes and shiny teeth, who laughed in interviews, who waved to the crowds that swarmed her, well-mannered, intelligent, and polite, dressed in expensive clothes with her hair always in the same braids, and the other one was this fierce, stubborn young woman with a sharp tongue, a blazing fire in her eyes, and an aura of an untouchable confidence with the penchant for trouble and chaos.

"I'm sorry for not telling you, or Claire, I really am. At first, I didn't think it was even necessary. It became a matter of eventually spilling the beans. And I really couldn't handle being fucking questioned, you know? About how I could have prevented it, how I could have done something— believe me, I know. I've had to live with that. Every single day of my life. Because in the end I took advantage of the cushy life Umbrella provided for me. How could I look anyone in the eye after learning what I now know?" She gestured around wildly, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm not gonna lie to you or make excuses. It was easier to shut up, to be honest, than to talk about it. All of it."

She clasped her hands behind her head, threading her fingers through the disheveled mess of brown strands, and shook her head. "The shitty thing is that I wanted to at some point, and I just couldn't. I just kept coming up with reasons to postpone it further, oh the timing isn't right, oh Marvin no, oh Sherry disappeared, oops, there goes Claire too. And then… and then too much time passed. I was too scared I would ruin our trust."

She crossed the length of the small corridor, moving from side to side, unable to keep still, the silence settling between them heavy, as his eyes stayed glued to the floor, vibrating from the anxiety, from the pent up emotion that was begging to be let out he really didn’t think should be the focus here.

"Not that it matters now," she whispered, almost inaudible. Leon glanced up from his spot, and she looked miserable. "But I'm going to use it for good. That's why I'm recording shit and collecting documents left and right. To make sure nothing like this happens again. I was Umbrella for years, and the moment I was aware, I betrayed them. This time I'll do it right. I will make sure they pay. All of them. Even if it kills me. I swear. That, you can trust."

He understood. He couldn't say he was happy about the outcome, but he understood. And for now, that had to be enough. "Okay."

Vera halted and stared at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. "What?"

"I said okay."

She continued to stare at him with an open mouth, blinking, gawking, a fish out of the water. "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?" Leon shrugged, the movement shooting a hot, white bolt of lightning up to his neck, and he flinched, hissing. Vera took a hesitant step forward, wanting to help but not knowing if he would accept it, and he extended his good arm towards her, making her understand he wanted her closer. "At least you were right about this not being the right time to talk about it."

She moved as he beckoned, placing her palm in his, Leon intertwined their fingers together, and she tugged, helping him get up. "We're on the same side. Whatever information you have, no matter how insignificant, can be of use. And not to me. To the victims. They deserve justice. They deserve someone who stands up for them. Or else what would their sacrifices have been for? Just promise me you will be there to speak for them."

Vera bowed her head, and Leon could see a single tear drop falling from her eye, hanging on to her chin, and then disappearing into the material of her turtleneck, her voice weak, "They will get justice."

He gave her hand a tight squeeze, a physical reassurance, and she squeezed back, nodding.

[imagionationstation]

DA BOIS

I SAW THE MOVIE

I WAS INTRODUCED TO THE UTTER NONSENSE THAT IS MM /aff

I HAVE THOUGHTS

NOT, LIKE, ANALYSIS WHICH MAY COME LATER

JUST THOUGHTS

AND SPOILERS

So I’m studying the boys and at first I was just “They really are leaning into this whole teen thing, huh” but then I thought back to every memory I have of my brothers and how they interacted and was just like- OH

OH WAIT

THIS IS ACCURATE

🤣 The bacon and egg scene- literally my brothers in a nutshell. The constant quotes and references- a little on the nose, but accurate.

BUT I SPENT

THE ENTIRE MOVIE

Waiting to see which turtle would spike my patented they need some hurt/comfort and at first I was leaning towards Leo- BUT THEN WHEN THAT BUS/TRUCK (I forget exactly what it was) FLEW STRAIGHT AT DONNIE AND MIKEY’S WATCHING IN HORROR AND DONNIE IS STUMBLING AND HURT AND OBLIVIOUS AND LOOKS ONLY HALF PRESENT-

Hands down. That got me.

I has a favorite and he’s so innocent and bright-eyed and deserves injury and kidnapping. I will make this happen.

The boys as a family were so fluffy and vibrant and relatable.

The boys as individuals…?

Leo has personality and concerns and attachments and a crush and flaws and strengths and he just felt like an person.

The rest seemed kinda… Plain. Raph had the anger thing going for him, but I have a hard time distinguishing Mikey’s and Donnie’s personalities. Mikey was friendly and liked improve, but that was never really touched on at all. In battle or otherwise- Donnie was the one who was thinking fast and taking the lead when talking to the Superfly. And Donnie was the one who Leo described as the best with people.

I’m not exactly sure what Mikey had going for him…

Donnie isn’t much of a techie, other than his headphones and phone, which is only used casually. He can drive and read comics, but that’s not really an abnormal teen thing. Like, any of his brothers couldn’t have driven using game skills? Or come up with a comic/movie solution to defeat Superfly?

That’s more nitpicks than anything tho. I might have missed things as well- it’s only my first watch. You shouldn’t make any firm decisions or judgements based on a first meeting. Hopefully, I’ll spot differences between them later on or they’ll flush out the characters more in the series.

They pushed a LOT into this movie. Everything was happening all at once. Like, they didn’t skip a BEAT when shifting from evil mutants trying to kill the boys to TCRI is locking them up.

And what the heck did Leo expect April to do?? SHE WAS ON A HIGHWAY BRIDGE?? DID HE EXPECT HER TO JUMP DOWN- SHE’S COMMENTED ON HOW CRAZY THEIR ROOFTOP TRAVEL IS! What makes him think she can do that??? 🤣🤣

At the very least she had to bike around and off the bridge to do anything, and he would have been unconscious by then. Boi just like “she abandoned us 🥺” when she could have been trying to help them while they were being loaded before going to get Splinter.

All hypothetical, of course. Would make for a good OneShot tho.

I like how the April betrayal was just a “I guess I was wrong” type of disappointment and not some dramatic heartbreak, because that feels more realistic to me. Relieved the crush wasn’t played off for laughs and all the brothers seemed disappointed.

April was such a good teen. They never played her off as anything but a normal person who didn’t have quite the right amount of self-preservation. Probably where the journalism comes in.

She was also a good representation that you don’t need green skin to not fit in. Life is hard, man, and I hope the series explores that even tho people don’t scream when they see them, that doesn’t mean life will be any less difficult. School is still prey grounds and people are still predators .

OMGEE SUPERFLY THO

DUDE WAS SCARY. BUT THE WHOLE TIME. I WAS WATCHING.

I COULDN’T NOT LIKE HIM FOR BEING EVIL

Dude got his daddy KILLED after daddy talked about raising him and his siblings and being a loving family by a bunch of weapon-using scary humans that also tried to kill them WHILE HE WAS A BABY

TCRI CREATED A FORMATIVE MEMORY THAT WAS STRAIGHT TRAUMA! OF COURSE HE HATES HUMANS-

That poor fly 🥺😔

The parallel between Splinter and Superfly was interesting. Felt a tiny bit forced at the end there, but I can respect it. Can’t dictate a fam’s every choice. That’s not fair. Gotta let your fam be free to grow and make their own mistakes and create their own morals~

I have a couple other thoughts, but I want to formulate them a bit more. See if I can make stuff off of them.

One last thing before I go…

MY SOCIAL ANXIETY HEADCANON STILL STANDS

NOT ONCE IN THE WHOLE MOVIE WERE THEY SEPERATED UNTIL THE SCHOOL

And even then it’s in a controlled environment. They all know where the other is. It seems safe.

But what happens when that illusion is gone…?

[ggulmul]

Jikook and Coming Out

This is a tiny think-piece about Jikook and the hypothetical event of them publicly disclosing their relationship.

This post is comprised primarily of my own thoughts and opinions, and might be too speculative for some, which I respect completely. Other perspectives are very welcome, so feel free to share your thoughts.

Starting off with my current impression of JK. To me, he’s the type of person that wears their heart on their sleeve, and proudly so. In his Vlives he’s candid and open, and occasionally vulnerable to an admirable degree. Especially recently he seems to want to show himself, his full authentic self, with very little room left for pretence.

(Not to sound cheesy but all those times JK has sat there not speaking, just looking into the camera or seemingly lost deep in thought (first observed in his birthday greeting to Jimin, and several times since in his Vlives), I always had the feeling that those silences were filled with things he wants to say but can’t, at least not for now).

Then there’s Jimin. To me, Jimin is much harder to read, as far as his true emotions and intentions go. I believe he’s as kind and lovely and loving and lovable as he appears. I simply think he keeps a lot hidden. We know he’s a private person, very guarded and in control of how he presents himself —I believe there’s a distance between Jimin the individual and Jimin the idol; maybe a protective distance necessitated by the constant vitriol that he’s had to endure for so long and is unfortunately still subjected to.

And with the type of conscientious, dutiful person Jimin is, paired with him living in a collectivistic society, he might struggle with the notion of disappointing anyone, whether it be his fans or his nation. I hope this isn’t a great concern of his, but I think it could play a role.

With their different personalities, different experiences, and perhaps different expectations they have for themselves (whether internally or externally motivated) I think that Jimin and JK relate to the topic of coming out differently, and of the two I think JK is far less apprehensive. Were he to come out, I’d actually expect him to have almost a devil-may-care attitude, like, utterly unapologetic.

Again, this is just my opinion, but I don’t think JK is too concerned with the consequences revealing their relationship would have for himself personally, if he holds any concerns they would be for Jimin.

In the event of a public ‘coming out’ I have the feeling that the backlash would be bigger for Jimin than for JK, whether it’s done individually or as a couple. This despite Jimin being the one who most of the general public would probably assume to not be straight, just based on stereotypes (alternatively, it could be precisely due to stereotypes and prejudices regarding gender and sexuality that he is generally judged more harshly by some —but that’s a topic for another day).

Regardless, Jimin is pretty much always unfairly criticised no matter what he does and seems to be held to a higher standard, people expecting perfection from him at all times; and unfortunately, in some misguided people’s eyes, homosexuality is a flaw in itself.

And coming out would be difficult, of course it would. That being said, I think we sometimes put too much weight on the negatives —the inevitable hate, the possible social ostracisation— leading many to conclude that Jikook will probably never publicly reveal their sexualities and/or their relationship.

But IMO one must also take into consideration the value of being able to be yourself, fully and openly. To not be constantly, ignorantly or purposefully misunderstood.

So yes, them being public figures complicates things. And yes, there is a lot at stake. But Jikook —being extremely wealthy and famous with a dedicated fanbase— are in a very privileged position, and they hold a lot of power.

Furthermore, the LGBT+ climate in South Korea does seem to be changing slowly but surely, especially for the younger generations. Should they want to, Jikook could not only be a part of this change but a significant driving force. Whether or not that’s something they would want is a different question though, one only they can answer. And if they wish to never publically come out, indidually or together, then that is not better or worse than the alternative. Only they have the right to decide what is best for them and their future.

In any case, these musings don’t really become relevant until after the completion of BTS’ military service. At which point, as far as Jikook are concerned, I have a feeling things will be very, very ‘loud.’