#i was mostly wearing whatever had good enough stats but for the life of me i don't remember seeing light/med grey warden armor

[robo-dino-puppies]

so I said I had a few (some humorous) screenshots from playing dragon age - I mean, not that many, and they're not that funny, but here's the origins edition:

Morrigan... what. what are you doing? why. are you still a spider. this is very awkward.

Warden Mahariel looking at the camera like it's The Office. she didn't sign up for... this.

(NOTHING would make her turn back into a human. I had to quit the game completely lmao. also it seemed like shapeshifting kinda sucked so I had her stop doing that.)

synchronized disapproval! (ugh this was before I found a mod that de-boobified the armor. I'm sorry Leliana, you look ridiculous.)

it's right behind me, isn't it?

these... sure are some creatures. the little hands... disturb me T_T but I still like them!

of course I had to make sure Leliana got Schmooples! (iirc I had trouble with this - the guy in Orzammar wouldn't talk to me about nugs even after Leliana mentioned it? or something? obvs I worked it out eventually)

this one I mostly included because I laugh at Alistair getting yeeted by a darkspawn in the background while I'm killing this ogre, pffff.

we killed a dragon! (the first and only dragon - I mean, besides the story-required one - that I killed haha. the combat was definitely not for me. you're welcome Morrigan.) the Korcari Wilds map is pretty though - I really liked the sky.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Gravity | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2764

A/N: I’ve had this one in my WIP doc mostly finished for a while now, I’m so happy i’m finally putting it out in the world!

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR 09x23 AND 09x24, violence, hospitals, general CM stuff

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

You pulled in with Derek and heard gunshots at your arrival. You jumped out of the SUV, simultaneously unholstering your gun and moving into a better position, catching Spencer ducking behind the door of the Sheriff’s car out of the corner of your eye. With your best friend in check, you turned back to the direction of the gunfire and started pulling the trigger.

Between gunfire you heard Spencer yell, with Morgan shouting slightly after. You had to assume they were ok, because your eyes couldn’t leave the vague movement of the preacher inside the diner. Morgan then came from behind you, JJ on his heels as they moved towards the building. You followed the pair, gun drawn in front of you.

Morgan entered the diner first, and as if in slow motion he was knocked down by bullets hitting his vest. As you returned fire at the preacher, you made a brief mental note to check if Spencer was wearing his own kevlar when you met up with him next. You loved the genius, but he had a really terrible habit of taking off the protective gear when he was in bad situations.

You had to focus up as the preacher ran, your small team following him then clearing each twist and turn of the building he tried to hide in. You hit the floor when you were shot at again, feeling the cool concrete against your cheek. Morgan was able to take out the suspect, breathing heavily once the local police joined you.

“One of your own is in bad shape,” she said. You flickered your eyes to Morgan, who nodded outside before moving back towards the diner quickly.

“Do you know who it is?” you asked harshly.

His reply, a gentle “kid…” was the only answer you needed. You increased your pace to get back to the flashing lights, scanning the crowd for your best friend. You saw Blake first and figured she was a good place to start.

“Alright, Derek, you should go get that looked at,” JJ directed, touching his shoulder gently before grabbing your wrist tightly, “we’ll meet you there.”

An officer came over to tell your group how to get to the hospital and as he spoke JJ’s grip never loosened.

“Thanks,” she said, starting to walk towards the SUV with you in tow. You were still frantically looking around for Spencer, finally catching a glimpse of him being loaded into the back of an ambulance as JJ lightly tugged you in the other direction.

“Wait, I have to go with him,” you said, resisting her pull.

“We’re meeting him there,” JJ’s hand made contact with your other wrist. You knew she was expecting you to bolt, to run towards the one person you knew you couldn’t live without.

“I can’t leave him.”

“Derek is with him. Derek won’t let anything happen,” you didn’t get how she could be so calm when his life was in danger. Of anyone on the team, she should understand how you feel.

“Let’s go, then,” you plopped yourself into the passenger seat, letting JJ drive. You didn’t know what had happened between Spencer and Blake, but you could tell she was feeling guilty about it. Though you really liked the older woman, you found yourself getting increasingly frustrated as you sat across the waiting room from her watching the way she gripped at the bag of Spencer’s personal belongings.

Your fuming only became more ferocious when you heard her tell JJ how Spencer had pushed her out of the way. You weren’t sure who you were more angry at, Blake for having to be pushed out of the way or Spencer for being so… Spencer and choosing to put himself in danger to save her.

Garcia’s arrival made things marginally better for you. She tried to convince Blake to rejoin the team, and when that failed Penelope sat down next to the chair you were curled up in and handed you a figurine.

“You look like you could use some help from the Doctor right now,” she said gently as you turned the plastic toy in your hands.

“Thanks… Chris Eccleston isn’t quite the doctor I’d like to see right now, but he’s a close second,” you tried to give her your best smile.

You pocketed the figure when you were finally allowed into Spencer’s room, resuming your folded position with your arms around your knees in a chair in the corner. Penelope set up the remaining figurines on the small tray in front of Spencer, a gesture that made your insides feel just a bit warmer.

“It should have been me,” it took you a minute to register that Blake was talking to you.

“I know,” you gritted your teeth and exhaled, knowing it did the team no good for you to be angry with her at this moment.

“I’ll stay with him if you want to go back to the team. I’m sure they could use your intuition on this one.”

“Oh, I don’t leave when he’s in the hospital unless he tells me to himself.”

“Right, you’ve been in this position before,” she remembered.

“More times than I would like to admit. Sometimes I wish it could be me for once, he’s been through enough already…” you trailed off. If Alex had something to say it was interrupted by the doctor coming in to check Spencer’s stats.

You didn’t truly settle until Spencer woke up, although you silently hovered in the corner while he talked with Alex and Penelope went to get him some form of food. Your mood improved even more when Spencer convinced Alex to rejoin the team.

“You should go too, they need you,” he rasped, turning his head slightly to get a better look at you.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm,” he shifted to get more comfortable, grimacing in pain as he did so, “Garcia’s here.”

Penelope gave you a reassuring smile that made you feel a little bit better. If you trusted anyone to stay in the hospital with Spencer, it was Penelope.

“Fine, but call me or Morgan if anything happens, ok?” You had a feeling something shady was going on and leaving him so vulnerable made you uneasy. Penelope reassured you once again that everything would be fine and practically pushed you out the door after Alex.

You could have cut the tension between you and Blake in the elevator with a knife as you headed back out to the SUV.

“(y/n),” she started softly once you were in the privacy of the vehicle. Your efforts to hold your composure started to falter.

“I don’t want to hear how sorry you are. Honestly, Alex, sorry doesn’t cut it anymore. Sorry doesn’t even begin to make up for how the most important person in my life almost died because of you.”

“He’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for him.”

“No, I’m lucky to have someone like him,” you corrected, “if he had died tonight I would have been the one to tell his mom. Not you, not Hotch, me. You don’t get what that will do to her, so I’d suggest you get over whatever complex you have so we can keep him as safe as possible.”  

“I understand.” You both stayed silent until you pulled into the station. Somehow a silent agreement was made between you and you walked into the building as if there was no tension. It was the right move, because you could tell something was up when you rejoined the team. Rossi offered to take Blake for a ride to go get Dinah’s son and fill her in.

“Kid, you’re with me,” Morgan nodded down a vacant hallway. You followed him, listening to him tell you a random story about the dinner he and Savannah had ordered the other night, until you were out of earshot of anyone else and he ducked into an empty storage room, “start looking through the files. The force is corrupt, you get me?”

“Yeah, what am I looking for?”

“Anything.” You nodded, pulling open the first cabinet. Derek found the first piece of helpful information, snapping a picture just as the doorknob rattled. You instinctually hit the floor, pulling Morgan along with you and into the first hidey-hole you could find. Heart pounding, you listened to the steps of the person who had entered. Morgan was pressed between you and the wall, eyes practically boring holes into your skull. You chose not to look at him, instead focusing on keeping your breathing as even and shallow as possible.

When the officer finally left, you transferred your grip from Morgan’s arm to your gun, cautiously revealing yourself. If you weren’t going to be at the hospital with Spencer, you had to make yourself useful in some other regard. You deemed the room clear, then signaled to Morgan to follow you.

“How did you do that?” he asked as you were slipping out of the door.

“Do what?” you dismissed.

“You melted into that corner. I swear he looked right at us.”

“He probably did,” you shrugged, “are you going to call Garcia? You found something, right?” He sighed, shaking his head and putting his phone to his ear.

“He’s right there isn’t he?” Derek’s tone changed drastically when he was talking to Penelope. You immediately turned away, trying to get to where your jacket was without drawing too much attention to yourself. You pulled the SUV keys out of your pocket as subtly as you could, then pulled a pen out as well and made more of a show about bringing the pen back to Derek, just in case anyone was watching you. As soon as you reached him you both walked calmly towards the door and out to the vehicle.

“What did you tell Garcia?” you couldn’t handle not knowing what was going on at the hospital, so as soon as you were safely in the SUV you demanded answers.

“She’s taking Reid into the hallway and pulling the fire alarm so they get lost in the crowd until we get there,” you didn’t say anything, instead just looking out the window and willing Derek to drive faster, “they’re going to be ok.”

“I should have been there, Derek. He told me to leave so I listened, but if I was there we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t blame yourself for this. You both didn’t know dirty cops were involved when you made the choice to leave, and if you hadn’t left then I would have gotten caught in that file room. Even if you were there, you’d need backup and I wouldn’t have been able to get there in time to give it to you. You made the right call, and now we’re going to help them. Don’t you go doubting yourself on me now, kid.”

He had a point, you knew, but it didn’t change the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be in that hospital room protecting your friend when he couldn’t protect himself. Derek didn’t say anything else, instead calling Garcia to confirm that they were still safe and to let her know that you were five minutes out.

When Derek pulled up to the hospital you jumped out of the SUV and started running up the stairs to the floor where Spencer’s room was, flashing your credentials to anyone who looked like they might stop you. You heard the gunshot from the stairwell, drawing your own gun as you made it to the floor, Derek on your heels.

Seeing the way Garcia and Spencer were looking at the man on the floor broke your heart. Garcia wasn’t trained for this, she actively avoided looking at the goriest crime scenes and often emailed you photos of kittens when she noticed you working longer hours than normal. Penelope Garcia was a woman you loved very much, but Penelope Garcia was also a woman who should never have to have a gun in her hands.

Spencer seemed to share the sentiment, you noticed the way he put his hands on hers to lower the weapon onto the bed. You took it from them and stuck it in the back of your belt, checking both of them over quickly to make sure they weren’t hurt while Spencer filled you in on what had happened. He looked and sounded exhausted, even more so than you would expect from someone who had been shot in the neck hours prior.

“(y/n),” Derek nodded towards the hallway after he finished cuffing the man Garcia had shot.

“This was a distraction,” you reasoned. He nodded, confirming your theory.

“I’m going to call JJ and see where they want me next, are you coming or staying?”

You didn’t have to think about it, you knew where you were needed most, “I’ll stay here with them, just in case someone else tries to finish the job.”

“Are you sure?” you appreciated that Derek was double checking your choice to stay back from the action.

“I can’t leave him again, not like this. As badass as Penelope was protecting him, I don’t think she’s in the right mind to do it again.”

Derek half smirked at your comment, “keep them safe.”

“Call if you need me,” you called after him as he walked away.

You reentered Spencer’s room, immediately met by Penelope’s relieved smile.

“You’re staying?”

“Of course I’m staying, I have all of the guns,” you half joked, pulling a chair up to the end of Spencer’s bed. You perched on top of it, feet on the seat and facing the door. You ignored  Spencer’s comments that you were overreacting every time you questioned and searched the nurses that came into the room, but Penelope echoed your reasoning that you couldn’t be too careful.

Hotch called you when they took down the unsub, and Penelope took it upon herself to arrange Spencer’s discharge from the hospital. You sat on the floor next to the couch where Spencer was sleeping on the jet, mindlessly flipping through a book you found in his bag. It was in Russian, so you didn’t know what the words were saying but the shapes of the letters were beautiful and soothing to your tired eyes. More than once, Cruz offered you his seat, but every time you politely declined.

After the jet landed, Blake insisted on helping Spencer get home. You didn’t want to say anything, Spencer didn’t need to be involved in the frustrations you still felt about Blake. You would be honest with him if he asked, of course, but you weren’t going to tell him on your own fruition.

“(y/n), are you coming?” Spencer surprised you by inviting you along too.

“Sure,” you shrugged, though your brow furrowed, “is Blake not…?” you trailed off.

Spencer looked at you with the most pure innocence, “she is, but you still want to watch all of the Doctor Who Christmas specials, right?”

“Of course, Spence,” you couldn’t help but smile, picking up your go bag and following him and Blake out of the airport. You still kept to yourself, clearly something had happened between them when Spencer had gotten shot that they had to talk about. Your suspicions were  confirmed when he asked about Ethan and Blake started telling her story.

It was a moment between them that you didn’t want to interrupt, Blake walking out of the door to Spencer’s apartment before you got the chance to say something. You followed her out quickly, catching her in the stairwell.

“Blake,” you panted, “the things I said about telling Spencer’s mom if he died… I didn’t know-”

“You were just looking out for him, it’s alright,” she was calm, more accepting of your frantic outburst than you expected.

“I’m sorry,” you said earnestly.

“It’s alright,” she repeated, “goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight, Alex,” you watched her walk down the rest of the steps, then rejoined Spencer in his apartment. He was standing by the window, watching Alex hail a cab.

“She’s leaving,” he said, still looking out the window.

“Did you want to invite her to watch Doctor Who with us?”

“She’s leaving the BAU,” he clarified, stepping away from the window and closing the curtain. He crossed to his bag and held up her badge and credentials for you to see.

“She’s going to be ok,” you decided, “are you?”

“Going to be ok?” you nodded, “yeah, I think so. Which Christmas special would you like to watch first?”

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights  @niallthedancingharry  @shadyladyperfection  @thatsonezesty13  @lexshead  @ceeellewrites  @howdycharlie  @girlycakepops  @fantastic-fans  @canimarrypizzaornah  @daisyflower138  @dyingrexx  @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch

[unproduciblesmackdown]

returning the favor: do you have any hcs re: winston, past or present, that you haven't expounded upon before or at length or just feel like talking about again. whatever you like

Thank You.......yeah idk really what hc's i've like "officially" described here that often lol, but then also there's that whole complication where i don't really ever come up with ideas & when asked anything i'm probably going [???] like, classics like "what do you like out of [broad parameter]" & it's like damn....i dunno. what ideas do i have about winsotn who i've thought about every day for > 2 yrs??? that's tough.....& Then the further chaos of like, when i do have hc's or w/e it's less discrete, concrete invented ideas & more towards the end of the spectrum that's like "well i kinda interpret this part of canon vaguely this way" &/or "i have This vague notion that i haven't solidified into a pretend fact or that i'm not at all committed to or take that seriously" where it's like, not only is this not really nailed down but it's basically free floating / i might have other ideas that would contradict each other lol. seems like a more concise list of Stats that are fully/exclusively my ideas is more exciting, but instead i can offer vague "i dunno / what ifs" based on vibes that i verbosely describe lmao, plus i'll forget a bunch of ideas i may have had i'm sure but you know. what else have i ever offered; never really trying to sell this material to otherwise uninterested parties or only make posts that guaranteed more than one person might enjoy, why would i be starting now; and ig if i write a bunch of stuff here & go "oh & i forgot like a half dozen obvious things" i can add on to it if it's a big deal.....plus it's always tricky with billions in particular being vague abt its own characters lmao, we only see [outside of work] personal stuff if it's going to become directly tied to [definitely at work] professional plotlines, or Maybe glimpse some character contextualizing things for the more central characters....side characters have more blanks to fill but also that means. just more that's blank lol & kinda a mystery of Up To Interpretation.....i figured one way to have any structure for this at all is to have a part looking at each winston involving episode's info. well anyways, after this meandering intro that kind of illustrates how i'm sure the rest of things will go here lol, i'm just gonna throw a bunch of stuff down in general. thanks again for the prompt to do so, b/c why not

really the one concrete discrete idea i have which isn't in the canon text is, of course: he is autistic

does he Know? idk. either way, think he's pretty aware of how he operates (& how he Can't operate), but if he doesn't know that's probably more for the "also: he's self loathing, which was basically textually implied" stuff lol. just mentioned it but i do always enjoy the tayston idea that taylor's talking abt in the past having it floated by a therapist/s or whomever that they could be autistic, them considering it but it not applying; winston going "hmm" & doing his own considering & researching & then maybe exclusively sharing the news w/taylor....but of course, maybe he's figured it out himself at some point before. i do think he'd figure it out himself though rather than anyone else directly suggesting it (maybe out here being diagnosed with "just the guy who sucks who we don't like / won't act right or normal" sort of usual experience) & i think, if he knows, he's not about to want ppl at work to know, b/c not as though anyone (but taylor & other quants) particularly seems to be impressed by his quanting proficiency, but he sure gets some validation/affirmation through that route (more re: that of course) and knows that ppl going "oh he's autistic so of course he's better at Doing Math / computer stuff as a like, mechanical efficiency sort of thing" or whatever. and the fact that taylor can interact with him / gives him some leeway to generally do his thing means he's kind of already got space to operate how he operates, see the start of this section....and idk. transitioning into the next section ig

just an Interpretation Of Canon thing here but, re: how these characters generally operate & what their reason is for being around doing stuff in the first place, i guess it's that winston does genuinely like to do & is interested in the math/coding stuff involved here, was also genuinely interested in working for taylor specifically (whatever The Hype specifically was), then you have taylor having the "despite your demeanor, your skills are superior" stance & appreciating what he can do & letting him do it by hiring him for real & all, & here we are, Q is for Quantitative, baby......he must find it rewarding enough to be getting to do this quanting stuff and also, the potential for validation when anyone recognizes he's good at it & by extension finds something about him good & wants him around to any degree

okay just that Episode By Episode stuff for a section here

3x03:

kinda extra room for interpretation b/c this was written as a one off character and reintroducing him in 3x09, written to be recurring, feels like it kinda offers a Soft Reboot for what we got here, where i guess how i take things is that we can suppose in both 3x03 & 3x09 winston's putting on a deliberate Performance to some degree based on what he thinks the potential employer wants to see, but it's also not completely fake / inaccurate either time, & like, maybe the 3x03 vibe wasn't a type of performance he'd only just ever put on for this axe cap interview, & even if it was deliberately bold maybe he was sort of thinking he Could bank on his value as a quant meaning he holds most of the cards (or can get away with acting like it)

building on that & as a More General point of interpretation again: think it's easy to suppose winston could've had an existence w/many elements of frustrations & disappointments & Rejection, but where like, he did figure out these areas of interest & proficiency that seemed to be a more positive force in his life, & leaned into them / focused on them further for it, & i could see him focusing on milestones / graduating from one thing to the next & conceptualizing like, well, if i just get to This point by working on This thing then i'll have it together & be able to move through existence more successfully, like, there's winston going into undergrad & kind of disappointed he's not having that good a time socially / feels like he's missing out / being left out still, but he can be like, well that's fine (: i'm totally fine abt it b/c i'm focusing on the Education & Experience here & when i'm entering the job market as an amazing quant anyone would want to hire then ppl will be seeing me in a positive light & things will fall into place / go great for me / i'll feel like i fit in & am doing things right within some structure. & i think maybe he Did have all those other job offers / opportunities & he was at least partly feeling a bit "objectively" confident, & also maybe just hoping he Could be that confident & that, you know, if he goes ahead & acts like that's the case, it could be confirmed / become true....anyways then obviously disillusionment time

since his outfits are introduced here: more "just how i'm interpreting canon" stuff in that i do just suppose he is mostly focusing on comfort & it'd kinda get in the way of things if he couldn't. flipflops might've been a statement piece but also i figure at least in part about the comfort / lack of much opportunity for restriction or ill fit or chafing texture or anything, same goes re: pants & shirts. interesting he likes to wear the patterned layers but doesn't really wear like, stripes or plaid ever. plus it could well be that Just A Tee is too informal unless you're the formalest of all by virtue of position, i.e. the ceo, but also we sure often enough see him wearing hoodies &/or multiple layers, like, maybe that's just for warmth or weight or what have you, always considering "what if it's about being self conchy as well (different way of saying self conscious)"

3x09:

so yeah with winston not having taken another job (at least maybe only like, temporary ones as these self contained gigs / just something to pay the bills) figure it's been a Depressive Period for him here lol & deliberately going on a journey of like self reflection / examination & going "haha yeah hated what i saw" is like, i don't think the self loathing is anything new, the confidence in 3x03 kind of an optimistic bandaid lol like well here's the new me as i understand / hypothesize / hope he could be, totally confident in being backed up by how valuable he is as a quant, then taylor kind of ripped that off and wound's open again but that wound was also not brand new or something he was unaware of / that didn't affect him before now

re: math meetup, i can see that being him presenting more evidence of his talent as a quant but also specifically going "see, i do this collaborative thing" to present this more conciliatory and cooperative approach to taylor, & am also taking it as evidence that he really does Enjoy math / coding stuff beyond it simply being a means to a professional end. i also like to think he has been / continues going to math meetup regularly, at least once a month, maybe every other week, and that it's this semi social event, like the relevant irl group you found back in the day that like, meets up for pizza before and drinks afterwards. i also like to think that, like, while he might come off as A Bit Much during said math meetup / just speak up frequently enough and often enough with some insistence lol, people Are there to meet up about the math and his contributions Are valued despite if his delivery/approach isn't always endearing or whatever. and even if he's not really popular / warmly embraced in the more [socializing event] bookends of the meetup, he's perfectly tolerated, and there's even a person or two or three (also regular attendees) who do vibe with him enough to like, invite / even want him to sit with them / talk with them outside that Math Setting. math meetup pals, maybe he doesn't meet up with these people outside these events but maybe they have each other's contacts and sometimes text. not these intimate personal relationships, but still something real and positive and refreshing. it'd be nice if math meetup could kinda be like what he hoped for from quanting, this way his math lets him "qualify" to access this group / activity, his aptitude "making up for" perceived lack of interpersonal / social charm & charisma & what have you, & having some reliably friendly people around even if of course that's not on its own going to mean he's totally socially fulfilled / not often lonely or anything. hc: he's often lonely & not totally socially fulfilled

he does, of course, want to work for taylor specifically, as long as they want him to, and this is sort of his second chance to find validation through working as a quant lol. think that yeah sure winston likes validation in general, who doesn't but also of course he's maybe a bit Above Average sensitive to / keen on it, but he'll also care about Affirmation if it's coming from people whose opinion he particularly values. think that it's easy to suppose he's also especially sensitive to taylor's assessments here thanks to the fact they really hit a (raw) nerve with him like, sure is the potential to get caught up in feedback loop city & say, have a few months mired in self loathing & an especial lack of certainty & confidence, if someone's kinda gone "i hate your self hatred" lol, but he also Did have this especial interest in / high opinion of taylor before that 3x03 interview, & so that's what continues to be part of it here

but then also interpreting that second 3x09 scene as like, he Does independently Know His Value as a quant and yknow not only has his pride but also can't and isn't going to first and foremost focus on trying to socially perform being peak Accommodating and Appealing here lol. but he still cares about what taylor thinks, wants to work for/with them, and i think it was Mutually Appreciated in the last scene that there was Mutual Effort to cooperate w/the other, giving him a Cue instead of just being mad & obfuscating it unless & until giving up on him completely or w/e is Constructive. interpreting winston as someone who sure can be a bit petty on purpose, especially in the face of some wounded pride (where he seems to take pride in his quant abilities & maybe not much of anything else: see the self loathing otherwise), but isn't really one to be deliberately antagonistic, especially not towards, yknow, the person he specifically wants to appeal to, but he also knows he can come off as grating whether inadvertently or not, so he might be testing the waters a little as well

3x11

he's using headphones even though no one else is in the room, that's a preference / he may also just like to block out other sound in general, as there's no audio of [winston's music faintly playing as / before he takes off his headphones] or indication he paused anything. does he like metal, what with the yngwie malmsteen reference? maybe, but that might just be a Billions Reference thing that isn't meant to indicate much / anything abt the specific character. i don't have any hcs about it anyways besides "okay" if so

first time we see his watch, it's not the calculator watch until s5 but i am a fan of said calc watch....gotta suppose it could represent him being here for the math of it all, what with how fancy/expensive watches are kinda the whole like status / power play thing, and a calculator watch is, afaik, not expensive, these casio calculator watch listings i'm seeing are all priced like, $15 to $25 range. so.

2nd scene is the first time we see sleeves pushed up, a frequent choice, maybe if he's focusing sleeves against forearms / Wrists & Hands can be bothersome. also not the first time he puts his hands in his pockets but i think that's a deliberate choice for winston's sort of Default Pose, equate it to the choice to have jared hang / hold on to his backpack straps.

guess he can also be a bit petty / rude / grating on purpose if ppl are getting in the way of his mathing / coding or otherwise thwarting it, at least probably taylor can relate / sympathize what with them wanting to Get It Right / being bothered if people get it wrong but could've avoided this

noticing all the caffeine and the fact he maybe didn't leave the basement / was powering through that project All At Once....just noting that down as a potential Approach, wanting to not interrupt focus &/or bear down & keep a fairly intense pace until it's finished / stay in the zone or what have you

definitely doing some deliberately cocky Testing / pushing back / amicable power struggle with taylor there, confirming he does have leverage due to that quanting ability after all, Despite His Demeanor / not being "sweet"

by this point definitely consciously kinda wants taylor to rail him.

4x03

i have no concrete hc's of instances inspiring winston to think he's "always seeing the future" but god i wish he did. he's right a lot though, maybe he just notices as much lol

talking mostly to taylor here, then concluding with "i only thought it but didn't say it; doesn't count....damnit." like he wants Their validation thanks, even if recognizing his Win here still wouldn't help them either way....also first time we see him w/coworkers for real, he's really freely Interacting.....time to go ahead and say he'd like to be work friends / at least have friendly interactions at work, might be a bit desperate for such positive social interactions, especially in this environment where he thinks the "objectively" good thing about him is most relevant, but it's cringe & fail (&/or vulnerable to Attack) to outright Want something, like validation / affirmation / a positive response or a simple "yeah you're right" "positive" response

first Space Shirt, followed by ones that are like, also &/Or Sci Fi Shirts. does he like space? i guess so

he's autistic

4x08

here & in 4x11, we don't know how he's gotten this info about taylor re: the arc w/their dad or with axe cap, but he's apparently mused on it on his own like this & isn't just quoting what someone else told him about how taylor must feel about xyz & how that might apply to the situations at hand, even though (unless he cassandra'd it) he wouldn't've had that much cause to suppose it'd definitely be relevant to have ideas about how taylor feels / is navigating a situation & why, maybe he just likes to be prepared like that / stay in the loop but yknow, maybe he's just also interested in them as a person beyond what's most immediately relevant to him doing quant stuff for them

he's already done the sort of kicking himself / wincing / apologizing or agreeing he fucked up an exchange thing before but, the genuine disappointment / momentary discouragement in it always lol....self loathing guy

love how he has these little like, clarifying explanations of things. "total control of the instrument," "always seeing the future," "because i win".....he's out here wanting to communicate to connect & to be understood, not so much as a potential for a power play / status climb and thus a conflict.....can see ppl who are used to / Do see interactions in that light to interpret winston yelling about having won as a like, rubbing it in people's faces show of superiority thing, but pretty sure he's just excited and wants a high five

4x11

having talked about the fact none of the desks in the tmc hq main floor seem to be winston's (& knowing that Could just be wroland not being reliably available to be in the bg of shots lol, analyzing s4 shots for some Consistently Empty desk) but it is fun to also consider that maybe tmc Could've had a secret extension in that that quant haunt in the basement was kept. a little more furnishing and it could be pretty chill, even though the lack of windows might not always be ideal. where's he sit!

also the whole "guy who'd be the first one smothered" moment like, guess i could've mentioned it in 3x03 more but yeah my Headcanon here is that winston maybe has a master's degree, not a phd though (him saying "50 phds" in 3x11 i think was meant to differentiate from him on both points, aka he's 1 guy, without a phd) & this is his first "real" job in any field. b/c i'm guessing like, people are here to get Paid, but as mentioned w/the watch (& just how winston acts in general, he doesn't really seem like he's raring to show off / really take advantage of having money or anything) it doesn't seem like he's, like, the "exceptionally focusing on personally making as much as possible" guy, and lauren's remark seems to emphasize / place the context on winston just not having like, savings from prior salaried years at a job or anything, more of a practical matter, maybe he's out here hoping for some more financial security, also they are all living in nyc, so. on that note, maybe he has an okay apartment but like, not without problems / not absolutely ideal, but it's okay. this would just be Convenient as an hc also lol

don't think the monologue was completely memorized, but it wasn't completely off the cuff either, he'd maybe been brainstorming scripts in his head / had some particular parts solidified word for word, but also hardly think he was guaranteed planning to deliver an admonishlogue at all, seems like it was some important factors that he was just kind of already irritated, nobody was listening / people Were social pressuring him to drop it or not interested in entertaining like "yeah i think you should talk to taylor about it" at all, think it was clear that talking to others was only going to lead to them telling him to drop it / trying to not have anyone say anything to taylor, and then that taylor just jumped in, which i hardly think he was hoping for

always Something that we can expressly see winston moving to sit down in that soon to be empty meeting room as everyone else is clearly filing out lol, like, can see how he might not be able to go "well, back to work" immediately and need some irritation / feeling like shit / guess who just got yeeellllllllllled aaaaaat to burn off, might need some time to absorb "well i guess i just deferred so no bonus as was probably expected," but can also suppose that maybe when winston gets majorly Shut Down he has shutdowns. saying all of four words in the wake of things, otherwise the fact he has this approach of tensing up, not talking at all, kind of just holding onto eye contact as his last way of "properly" participating in the exchange w/o bailing entirely, while also outwardly withering, like clearly these kinds of moments are pretty significantly affecting....feels like he could find it difficult to talk much, or at all, in the wake of some / need some time to recuperate a bit & have some distance & quiet & not just jump back into work like he's having a fine and normal time. sometimes pondering like, not only those notions like taylor insisting winston not be Interrupted when he hasn't technically started talking yet (giving him the buffering / latency time) but also like, fun kinda imagining them sitting across from each other having a texting conversation....or times winston would rather have an exchange via email......or make use of the sticky notes......or just have taylor talking to him and picking up on his nonverbal responses

winston's very Not present in tmc meetups / get togethers this season & again we know that this could be because his actor wasn't very available but it's still the case In Canon that there's only so many tmcers and they're all seeing each other outside work / market hours for varyingly formal or informal purposes & he's never included. & simultaneously hold the hc's that he could be choosing not to go or he could just never be invited in the first place l o l.....in either of these situations the reason for declining to go or being excluded could be up to "b/c other ppl don't like having him around" and idk, best case scenario is he doesn't want to go for some other reason, but he acts pretty okay with the All Hands meetups we do see / when in meetings with the other named employees he's pretty raring to interact with them, so :/

4x12

i do like to think it's fun to imagine What If Taylor Had A Phonecall With Winston Before This Monologue; someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure, i'm sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart.....just them both having a more sympathetic approach with each other and a sort of dialed back reconciliation, tbt 3x09, without an audience / roomful of other people

do think that his wearing a tmc logo tee into axe cap hq was a deliberate Statement Piece, like wearing flipflops into axe cap in his true first time being there lol

first time we see the backpack, & the headphones (in this season), like the point you (nothingunrealistic) made about the backpack possibly kind of exerting pressure / compression in a Sensory Way. let's see it again

as good a time as any to bring up how it's such a consistent pattern that it Must be a choice that winston smiles in this direction :/ and grimaces / winces / frowns this way :\ but a choice of the actor of course, was it ever a conscious thing on winston's end, would not put it beyond the realm of possibility he's ever consciously thought of stuff like "even if words fail me(tm) i Gotta hang on to eye contact".....i'm thinking of times he is smiling hard enough that you just gotta do it more symmetrically, like here in 4x12

5x01

he likes bagels

think that this could've been another case of "people who are used to interactions used for conflict / power plays / stepping on other people to status climb (axe cappers in general, maybe team ben having to be extra prone to be on the lookout for these strategies when they're more often on the receiving end of them) misinterpreting winston socializing as means of connection (wanting to talk about the common work thread / interest with coworkers)"

even if for some reason quants were cold shouldering axe cappers like, a sound strategy even if team ben are worthy exceptions. Winston Can Get Petty When People Blame Quants Talking About Being Quants For Axe Cappers Harassing Tmc & also when in the process of doing so everyone's like "also you're smarter than us but no you're not, any math quants could do fundamental analysts could do better" like, winston getting more deliberately antagonistic when ppl are going after his Math Aptitude / value as a quant when that's his "objective" point of pride & confidence & possibly like haha self loathing can't get me here

5x02

winston's decimal points being more precise here i think indicates that the show is not taking the stance of "yeah the quants are just any old analysts with an attitude of superiority" lol

do think he selected that particular seating placement b/c it's like, hey furthest away from axe cap, most aligned with taylor's desk & angled towards it, perfect.....what a letdown

guess this episode suggests he and mafee have chats sometimes, and winston maybe confides At All Sensitive Info w/the guy? bold

always just smh like well thank god we were given this subplot where winston was a plot device really for dollar bill's arc or whatever............what a gift

5x03

just noticing as always how winston is the one person saying they should go for it vs the other two's skepticism / trepidation, and taylor decides to go for it.....they do value his input / trust his judgment

i am also noticing how often winston, as the math guy who doesn't really fit in w/ the whole axe / caply approach & style, has this role in giving taylor these crucial opportunities to pursue their own direction rather than be mired down in the misery of axe cap determining everything....3x11 & his algorithm letting them break completely away from axe cap, 4x11 & his admonishlogue making some Points & then next episode taylor does decide to abandon the revenge jag & says they were wrong & they're sorry....5x03 & this nlp strategy plotline being the first thing taylor could actively pursue for tmc after 2 eps of being dragged painfully through axe cap nonsense, & the fact this, in the next episode, leads to the Impact Fund idea / mase carb

5x04

see that last point

5x05

guess that until confirmed, The Glances being significant is a Headcanon Interpretation lol. anyways i do like taylor giving him these discreet, nonverbal cues as a very deliberate method of communication titrated betwixt them

oh right and an Age Cue here, before that was nailed down i think i already hc'd winston as either the same age as, or a year older than taylor, and that's still true lol, think that's how it goes with the timelines (taylor's being kinda uncertain, and winston's as well, having prior just kinda gone "well if taylor's 22 when they show up as the typical post undergrad age, and each season spans approx a year, and maybe winston spent just a year or two post undergrad getting a master's b/c nothing nails down how long it would take & he could've kinda been ahead of the curve as it were, he could be, say, 23 thru 25 in s3 when he shows up, to taylor's Maybe 23" as the Idea)

just wants to work for taylor as long as they'll have him, but would also like to be openly valued / affirmed on a pretty basic level lol...

one of those matters that's like, i do think that this is what the material is Trying to convey but it's not concrete / explicit, in that i think winston somewhat Likes rian right off lol like. i mean he's also still annoyed on principle, this is maybe his replacement & that stings that it's even a possibility & of course he has reason to want to feel like "oh well this person Clearly sucks" lol, but then there he is trying to scope out the situation & get immediate intel & it's like, here's this fellow 20something you immediately think is pretty (the mental comparison to an A lister as a dunk, lmao) & you see her being perfectly friendly with your nice coworker you're also friendly enough with, that's one degree of separation, now here he comes talking about how cool & epic & smart & capable she is, again makes sense he's still first & foremost bothered by the situation & has cause to just be more jealous about how well everyone immediately thinks of her (see: winston making bad first impressions that may never be undone, the fact other coworkers were probably never going around openly impressed with / praising him after meeting him for 5 sec, or like, ever) but i suppose this immediate underlying sense of attraction / affinity hits in that First Sighting as well

love that we see the feet up on the desk show of confidence again, very funny & glad it's back.....a tool in his arsenal for when he's Very Bothered But (unsuccessfully) Acting Very Unbothered / when he's trying to pitch for his employment lol

when did he have a first gf? perfect time for an hc.....feels like it'd have been like, idk, older high schoolers at the youngest, that kind of emotional commentary....or in college. sometimes pondering the idea like, what if he had a bf first actually.....or not, & Feeling A Way around other guys sometimes like, hmm guess i think this guy is pretty cool &/or i'm kinda like "god i wish that were me" about, then some more noticeable Tension as he's older even if he can't really discern the reason b/c this person's pretty nice & cool actually, hmm. then one day you're doing hw together with a while for code to compile & Oh Hey Lol

meanwhile think clearly rian defuses the Reason For Rivalry (and also clearly immediately likes him / interacting with him & you know, outright sticks up for him & in this significant way) & then when they connect over Math it's all coming together very outright like Oh Hey Lol 😳

also he Gets Right Back To Work easily enough, & like, i think already there's a deliberate performance of "i'm now totally unbothered," but he's just pretty good at shaking things off apparently. & he kind of has to be, to not bail completely or else tamp down his own personality / avoid interactions, but you know. plus that like, he may get irritated when his pride's wounded but around here people can have a whole crisis & arc about it if their egos are bruised in the slightest, so like. pretty blasé

5x06

this isn't really any hc or Interpretation by any stretch but this is the first time we've seen winston pull that particular attitude in that second scene with rian and it's beautiful.....if something's bothering him he's so often like outright indignant but this is like, i'm Bothered but i'm being so dignant about it, for like 4 sec

also the bright green hoodie / bright, high contrast, geometric blockbuster tee is so Vivid but like, always noting how he wears relatively colorful outfits. fun to go "maybe this one's deliberately extra eye catching b/c of this new crush" lol

5x07

the difficulty in reading that much into things when the lack of sobriety could be making any & everything an outlier, & can't even really read into "apparently down to take stimulants (beyond caffeine) on a dime" b/c well, so is everyone else, so that this situation can unfold, we knew he had a crush on rian (or i guess we didn't, but this is pretty direct about it), we knew he likes validation, taylor Knows him well enough that it's not just like "oh he's acting weird? well that's winston for you" to them, which we also knew but it's fun to confirm further lol

and now for some more free floating / general concepts

family? i have no idea. feel like he either has no siblings or several but yknow, anything's possible. we know what he's like Now, don't think he got that solid self esteem / self confidence as an emergent quality from [everything that happened to him before 3x03] & don't suppose he has this like, rock solid close warm familial relationship of understanding & unconditional love & support w/whoever he grew up with, parents or siblings or whoever he lived with....like, the relationship/s could be Fine but you know, still not all that close

i don't think he was every completely friendless (or if he was, it didn't last Too long) in terms of like, throughout school maybe he had some pals, no amazing close [fingers crossed Like That] ones where someone had like, grown up as his next door bestie and they did everything together & knew everything about each other, nothing all that close, but he had people to sit with at lunch or what have you, even if at times like, the table nobody else really sits at but the people who don't have anywhere else to sit lmao. maybe some slightly closer friendships here & there, but people often kind of got subsumed into other friend groups that he wasn't otherwise a part of / otherwise just kind of gradually distanced again...but also possible he had perfectly amicable occasions of like, maybe only having a class or two with certain people, not striking up intimate friendships but hitting it off well enough.........like, winston's out here Not having been stomped down into suppressing his personality all the time, he's still fairly earnest & forthcoming & eager to connect, just sort of vaguely going for "he maybe have always had this element of discouragement & disappointment re: socializing / connecting / forming relationships / sometimes just being accepted on a basic level, but he also didn't have his spirit totally extinguished either" although there's also the room for stuff like, yknow, him Holding Out Hope like "well nobody likes me now / i'm unhappy but maybe once i'm in college [gets to college & still isn't having a great time] okay well once i Enter The Workforce" lol. you know

but it's also like, hardly think he's Only Just Now experiencing the [winston: ___ everyone: get his ass] type stuff & pushback & punishment & disdain over not really doing anything but people hate his style & vibe, & feel like there's also still room for like, yep wow got burned sometimes / having had some pretty negative experiences......we do have to end up in this place where, you know, 3x03 happens and he doesn't just go "guess finance isn't for me!" & dust himself off & go get some Guarantees from some tech firms, & instead he's Really Glad [Taylor] Called & hasn't taken some other more desired job between 3x03 & that call & is immediately like "good news: i do hate myself" so like, can't see him having just thrived his way to this point....evidently not all dating relationships have been just epic highs & victories, maybe he has those math meetup pals now & maybe idk there's other people he's in sort of in contact with, maybe people from college / grad school or the like, still not that close, figure he's generally been lonely like, overall, despite regularly enough seeking out / striving for connections

oh yeah speaking of, the idea that he has a cat maybe lol, in part simply for company, a little guy that lives in your house / apartment....but also maybe he doesn't

always just some general notions like, also idk maybe he engages in hobbies, talks to people through that just like with math meetup....talked about the Embroidery idea, got that computers/programming connection, was thinking like, idk fuck it amateur photography, develop your own film, maybe he took a class in college or high school or something, same with like, maybe he plays a musical instrument, said "the cello, why not" about that as an early [shrug] idea lol. he does like space, maybe he does Anything with that....rip to any astronomy clubs In Nyc like, guess you're not seeing shit, but. 4x11 au, after deferring his bonus he goes to some cool cinematographic celestial occasion like taylor & the sea glass fish carousel lmao. taylor catches up & they have their [i'm sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart] exchange lol.....except also not, b/c you wouldn't really want to have Parallels with m/any moments ft. wendy & taylor :/

recalled like a particularly casual / throwaway idea about like "lol what if he was somewhat thalassophobic" in part b/c once actor william dropped that lore abt himself in an interview, but. could have somewhat some other phobia/s. or not really any! what a world

maybe sometimes he's out here like, single & ready to Fuck like, focusing on just hooking up w/people sometimes rather than really looking to date at the juncture, although it could both be true like, he'd Like to be dating but also doesn't really currently want to do all the Putting Himself Out There & such of seeking it out / trying to consciously navigate it, but sometimes it's more manageable like, just wanting to have sex. looking out for himself when he can & how he can lol

speaking of, some vague sexy hcs

gets pegged

especial fan of Tongue Against Tongue texture, enjoys some Grounding elements to avoid being overwhelmed / narrow things to the more relevant sensory input at hand, like the weight/pressure of a partner leaning / lying against him / holding him tightly, if he's overwhelmed in a good way / kinda got some sensory overflow in a good way he might cry during sex In A Good Way lol, took some time maybe in his Personal Sexual Experience to figure out some general differences in "what he doesn't like at all" or "what's off the table / too unpleasant for him at some times but Not necessarily at all times & might be completely enjoyable sometimes," like, am i willing to perform oral sex, am i willing & Enthusiastically so, is that way too much actually, it can be all of them at varying times....maybe in more everyday general situations he refrains from stims in front of others unless stressed enough, but while having sex with someone especially if at all nervous it's like, there can be this transition between repressing stims & being more unfiltered / uninhibited where they kind of build up & then come through in kicks only to be reined back in, either like, he simply does go for a more reined in approach the whole time or anyone else is willing to ride this out with him / he kind of has the time & space to figure out more of a flow, in which case he might still stim but you know, not as though people aren't used to stims in this situation, i.e. reacting to stimulation with movement & vocalization is at least expected & it could once again be like "well he's a bit weird with it but hey" lol or you know, not that some partners can't be understanding or have had experience w/similar partners. hardly make or break but this can be a vulnerable interaction here / hard to shake the self consciousness & sense of "i Do have to filter myself and act The Right Way" all at once just b/c you'd want to

hey and let him sing karaoke or something lmao, winston is as Dramatic as he is, he would give a performance. work in a way to let everyone who sings sing around lol, could throw in some Affectations so that it's like yeah winston can sing without having to be like "wow winston, when'd you become a trained broadway performer" lmao. imagine. which reminds me of the time will joked about like, oh yeah winston Gets That A Lot re: people recognizing he looks like the guy in deh, aka will roland....the limitations of "this is set in real nyc" including occasional references to recent / popular shows, fuck it maybe will roland does also exist in the billions universe. well anyways it would be fun. the karaoke anyways, and that he'd give a top tier Performance whether or not people are first and foremost enjoying his technical / artistic skill at the art of singing, it'd at least be personality infused and engaging

taking it way back to the ideas about winston's social misadventures in general, i'm sometimes considering for fics i never end up writing if he might have some like, misgivings / anxieties about like, is this person i Like acting like they maybe Like me back as some kind of elaborate joke, & maybe the caution comes from experience like you know, classic over the line "pranks" like asked out As A Joke, kissed As A Dare that he wasn't aware of, think there could be like, would be Friendship / friendly acquaintanceship experiences in there where such "pranks" / "jokes" / "messing with him" (and not in a good way) could happen, or even just you know, more Spontaneously, don't even know this person & he's treated as a joke for other ppl's entertainment, realizing at the time or retrospectively like oh maybe i was more being bullied then having any positive social interaction / getting to feel at least "included" or what have you, like, the idea of getting to hang out with a group as The Funny Guy, but he's had these experiences getting to hang out with a group & realize it's b/c they thought he was funny / Amusing in a laughing At him, not with him way, which is easy also b/c winston isn't really out here trying to be funny that we've seen lol. only realizing he was still being excluded after some time / distance from the situation, or escalating open hostility / just more blatant meanness / over the line shit from some people, maybe some stuff that just immediately feels shitty but he figured was just like, well idk, maybe that's normal & still friendly, maybe it also felt more outright embarrassing / demeaning at the time but it's like haha yeah you got me :'] at the time just to save any face lol.....possible unexpected / spontaneous amicability in his socializing history, but also shittiness, whether it's coming at him all at once or he's kind of holding out hope like, well, i just keep at it / have a Friendly attitude here and surely i'll make friends b/c if people didn't like me At All why are they talking to me / letting me be here at all.....

always kind of pondering Fashion Variation, we haven't seen it but it could be possible, musing on "what would he think Looks Good On Him / how does he feel capable of like, dressing for romantic success or what have you lol" like, was the vivid 5x06 outfit anything, cue the drawing like, a bralette & short shorts is shaking it up and could be a Felt Cute outfit and could also be comfortable enough....not always That much room in men's(tm) fashion before you start having to be aware of [Gender] and dunno that winston out here has had the inspiration / motivation / opportunity to consider / try out / explore but hey. what are we here for

just remembered that post like "uhh i just saw a guy crying in the library & then his phone alarm went off & he stopped crying, opened his laptop & started typing / it's called time management" lmao like winston's not out here having the Most amazing time, he could have such Time Management experiences of like, letting it out some on purpose but then reining it right back in, and/or just like some spontaneous paroxysms of crying for a minute or two more unexpectedly in a "do you ever [experience a tiny inconvenience] & realize the thread by which you're hanging on is quite thin" way or otherwise, you know, oops experienced this frustration & now i'm crying over it, or idk, just feeling a bit more vulnerable for whatever reason & something has unexpectedly plucked some emotional string attached to another string attached to another & the resonance = i'm crying now ig. he can't be Thriving out here & i don't think he's all about having such a stranglehold on emotions that he's like oh tf i Never cry (aside from having sex, in a good way)

although speaking of like, emotional repression, maybe he's out here just "good at" compartmentalizing some experiences lol in that "well anyways, back to work" way & stuff like, sure he knew he was risking it in 4x11 but it also did not seem to affect his dynamic with mafee at all lmao like wow.....

think that him not really having anything on his work desk is a choice / preference but also am not sure that that really applies to anything else lmao. what if he had a little plant. that'd be funny

oh yeah and the idea that winston might literally have like prophetic dreams & they're just kind of a nuisance to him but sometimes they can be plot devices in fics (that don't exist) about him kissing people

well i'm just calling it a night there lol but like, it always feels Lacking writing out hc's like, plenty of ideas but also hardly any, and yet the fact that other individual ideas are so Vague / casual that it wouldn't be like "oh i gotta share this via post or manifesting it some other way" so then it feels like, oh no, if i don't list absolutely Everything on something that's specifically a list of hc's, i can never talk about whatever gets left out......and just that like, i ought to have a bunch of really specific, concrete, unique Factoids about winston here to be of any interest but hey lmao. that hypothetical set of concepts is never gonna happen, & the Ultimate Comprehensive List Of Everything I've Ever Pondered Re: Winston is also going to be difficult lmfao (not as though that's what you've asked in the first place) but you know, we took a swing at things here & covered some ground & the thinking about & talking about winston never ends, & this isn't really a post meant to have broad appeal / if you're not already having fun reading vague musings about the quant then i'm sorry you're reading this after having read all that and gone "wow, i'm disappointed" lmao but hey, weird choices made to bring you to this point......also god knows plenty of hcs are more filed away under specific like [Tayston], [Benston], [Riawin] sort of things (lol, [Mafon]) b/c on the one hand, i find it easier to kind of think in Scenarios and the details particular to the "scenes" therein, but i am also not good at thinking of those scenarios! out here operating on vibes, he's autistic and wants to kiss taylor (also now rian but that's kinda right in canon, not just my head) and that's really the crucial info here

[apterydek]

After a year of jockhood

A year of jockhood came and went, daily workouts, buzzed head, sweaty gym shorts. Though you were stronger and more comfortable than ever, you missed being preppy. Looking back at the old photos from when you wore chinos and polos instead, you remembered how you felt then: disappointed you weren’t living the jock life.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you confess to Sir. He’s the one putting you through your paces, holding you to your meal plan. He was the one who gave you your first buzz, clippers set to 1. “Though I’m living my fantasy, and I feel confident, I keep feeling like I’m missing out on all the other versions of me. This was supposed to be my final transformation, and despite all the mental training, I just can’t stick with it. I’m sorry Sir, I fear I’ve disappointed you. I know you’ve put so much effort into training me.”

Sir isn’t angry, nor let down. He’s pensive, eyes out of focus, forehead furrowed. Then, with a sudden smile, he starts: “Boy, it’s no problem. I’ve seen this before. Sensed that it might happen. It’s just that I wanted you to have the full jock experience you were so dedicated to when we first started. I know just what to do. Another year of training—”

“Another year?” you blurt in disbelief.

“Shush, boy,” he continues, stern now. “This year will be unlike the last year. Rather than get you deep into one identity, we’ll change things up every month. We’ll explore all the different versions of you. Then decide what to do next. Who knows, maybe you’ll be begging to go back to jock mode.”

Your mouth is open. “W..well…” you say, processing what Sir’s suggesting. It tingles, excitement gripping you, and you decide to comply. “Yes Sir!” you shout. He’s already thinking of what you’ll become, and within the week, you’re given your first identity.

January you kept your hoodies and trainers, but grew out your hair slightly on top even as the sides were shaved. You wore a steel necklace and a tracksuit. Manspreading, walking with a swagger. Drinking and cursing. Watching porn. Sir would catch you by surprise and pin you against the wall, getting his pleasure from you. You loved the sudden lack of discipline, the spontaneity, the cockiness.

February your hair was long enough to part and slick. Your wardrobe was entirely replaced with white briefs and singlets, gray and blue dress shirts, smart slacks, knee socks, shined shoes and even a pair of short elasticated wool shorts for home. You tucked in your shirt every day, followed a structured schedule, and learned the basics of piano and French every evening. Sir would spank you for the smallest transgressions. You came to enjoy his discipline, the way your energy was controlled and focused on learning.

March your hair kept growing. You returned to sporty shorts with matching silky shirts. Leg day every day. Running, endurance. Sir had chosen only two outfits for you to wear. It made decisions easy. He chose your food carefully for energy. By the end of all the workouts you’d be ready to head to bed, but you were quizzed on football stats every day from the games you spent hours watching. You lived through your team’s performance, trained hard to emulate your favorite players. Sport, sport, sport. The month passed quickly.

April you didn’t get a haircut, just put a little hair gel in it. Polos and khakis or bright, short shorts. Boat shoes. You started to drink again. Spent lots of time on social media, taking lots of selfies with vapid pearly smiles. A lot of them involved golf, which you were now taking up. Sir got you invited to a party on a yacht. Little discipline again, just spending money, and enjoying the money others spent, and the respect everyone gave you.

May you used a straight iron and bobby pins. Pink crop tops and pink high tops. Became a go-go dancer, shaking your butt every time someone slipped a sweaty dollar bill down the waistband of your glittery hot pants. Pumped your nips every night and morning. Sir worked your hole every morning until you could take a plug, then a thick dildo, then a fist. Sometimes, after your shows, you’d get the chance to fit other guys’ hands up your hole too. It felt good to be desired, great to be a slut, and utterly fabulous to be so flamboyant.

June you got a cut in front and a trim in the back. Button-ups with the snaps, tucked into tight Wranglers and secured with a massive belt buckle. You listened to country music the entire time you were awake. Spent time hunting and fishing, dressed in camo and/or waders. Beaten-up T-shirts and trucker caps half the time. Cowboy hats the other half. It was relaxing getting back into nature, relaxing listening to repetitive songs, relaxing to slip completely into this identity and hear the voices of anxiety silenced. Some time every day, Sir gave you hearty pats on the back, and butt, and you embraced him, totally at ease.

July you awoke in briefs and a singlet again. An extra-large polo shirt, sweater vest, and loose polyester dress pants were stuffed over you, and you were taken to a barbershop and given a tight waxed horseshoe flattop with a white, shiny, wide landing strip. Glasses for good measure too. The only fun you had was DnD, but mostly you were too busy reading academic papers, solving logic puzzles, and arguing with strangers on Quora to spend much time on the DnD sessions. Sir would turn the Internet off at 9 every night, though, and you’d have to wake up early the next day to catch up on your online pursuits. It felt good to know more than anyone else...except Sir, of course.

August you got tired of feeling like other guys were about to bully you and became the bully instead. Buzzed again, gym shorts, tank tops, lifting, protein shakes and meal plans: all the things you’d gotten tired of six months ago, but which seemed so comfortable and natural now. You almost didn’t want to continue the cycle of transformations. Begged Sir, naked and on your knees, your prominent pecs quivering slightly. Sir denied you. You needed still more discipline.

September you were to follow a detailed schedule to the minute. Your buzz was shaved daily on the back and sides, clippered to a 0.5 on top. You were issued one set of clothes for PT, and one set of clothes for day-to-day wear: a polo and cargo pants with stiff black boots that gave you blisters. There was a final set of clothing for dinners and special outings: a dress shirt secured with shirt stays, immaculately creased trousers, mirror-shined black shoes. Punishments were severe and severely boring: standing at attention for hours, endless sets of push-ups, and marches in circles with the sun beating on your shorn head. Despite the unpleasantness, you felt proud to be held to such a strict standard, and to comply with it at least most of the time. Sir would occasionally reward your compliance with a treat like a single ice cream bar or 20 minutes of free time.

October you asked again to become a jock, or a frat boy, again, but Sir, tight-lipped, shook his head. You hadn’t learned your lesson. Stripped of all clothing, you winced as you were shaved head to toe, and a chastity cage was forced on and locked. You were rubbed with lube before being covered in a thick black rubber suit that covered your entire body, zips held closed with a dozen miniature padlocks. You were let out of rubber only for your brief, intense workouts—for public matters, a thinner rubber suit that left your arms and legs exposed was fastened on you, after which you donned a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, black Converses and a black snapback. Half the time, a large plug was shoved up your ass. You didn’t have a strict schedule any more, but the punishments more than made up for it. Perhaps your entire existence was one punishment. You were beaten, forced into painful positions, your balls stretched, made to drink piss and eat from the floor. You slept in a large dog cage. Slowly, you got used to it, hastened by Sir’s hypnosis and brainwashing sessions. You realized how much effort Sir was putting into the training and resolved not to disappoint him again. The border between pain and pleasure disappeared, and you grew content in the moment, constant intense sensations forcing your attention on the present. For Halloween you were paraded out in your full rubber suit, a collar and leash around your neck.

November you knelt, bound, ready for the next layer of intensity, for a fresh round of humiliation and torture. You accepted whatever Sir might inflict upon you. But he untied you, let you out, gently cleaned you in the bathtub, and had you lie on a towel. It was only when you felt a soft, pillowy sensation enveloping your chastity cage that you realized what he’d planned. You had a large wardrobe of brightly colored T-shirts and pants and a full rack of chunky sneakers. There were rules, of course, particularly around bedtime, screen time, and getting your diaper changed, but you were otherwise free to play as you wished. The lack of punishment initially seemed wrong, like cheating, but you settled into your new pampered lifestyle as Sir gently encouraged you and occasionally told you life stories to learn from. By the end of the month, you were making cucumber sandwiches like a pro, wearing a cartoon sandwich T-shirt and overalls.

December Sir trimmed the sides and back of your head, undressed you, unlocked you from chastity, and showed you to yet another set of clothing. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he didn’t tell you what you were supposed to become, just smiled and walked out of the room. No kinky gear or implements anywhere, just a fleshlight in the back of the drawer, behind the boxer shorts and miscellaneous patterned shirts and jeans. Sir just kind of...left you alone, not telling you when to wake up or what any consequences of anything would be. With the horniness from the previous months of chastity and discipline built up, you started to jerk off at least three times a day. Sitting at the dinner table with Sir eating pizza, you asked him what this was all about. It felt so wrong.

“Boy, this month I’m showing you what you haven’t had for several years: a ‘normal’ lifestyle. No control, no schedule, no denial, no punishments, just...freedom. You shouldn’t forget, I can give you any transformation I desire, and this month I want you to be a regular guy. What’s light without shadow, a vessel without the internal emptiness, a crisp autumn day without the muggy summer before it?”

Almost crying at this point, you nodded. You’d taken all this kinky artifice for granted, assumed that last month was Sir’s way of letting you off easy even though you were in diapers. You had gotten so accustomed to Sir’s control that you’d let yourself get tired of living your deepest fantasies as a prep and a jock.

You stood up. “Sir,” you started, about to apologize, about to thank him, about to tell him how much you loved him, but you pushed your face into his and gave him a deep kiss, inserting your tongue, feeling his warm mouth relax in pleasure. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you tighter, and you were together, equals now. Wait, equals? That didn’t feel right.

You pulled his arms behind his back and scowled. “I love you. That’s why I’m going to do to you what you did to me. We’ll start with you as a jock.” Sir’s eyes widened. You kept your face stern, but worried he’d find some way to punish you. Suddenly, Sir sat up and straightened his shoulders. “Sir, yes Sir!” he yelled. And so, another year began, with a Sir and boy playing through various transformations, except the Sir and boy were reversed this time, and a few times, for a month at a stretch, they’d stop and live as equals, just to appreciate what they had. Appreciate each other they most certainly did.

[cheseyre]

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all. 

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo 

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo 

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS  BEEN SO  LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP.  I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀 

Okay, okay. 

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle. 

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this. 

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man. 

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon. 

There is no in between 

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

Like

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking  destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay. 

Okay. 

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video. 

Like

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader. 

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals 

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww 

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose? 

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020​ you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

[riceccakes]

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter One Analysis

helloooooooo :) welcome to my chapter analyses for my fic Earth, Wind, and Coffee. here, i’m just going to be breaking down my writing process, choices, and fun stuff, among other stuff as well. you can read this after you’ve finished the first chapter (i’ve excluded spoilers!) or you could read all 45k words and then come back to these one by one. either way, i’m v excited to be doing this so i hope you guys like it too. lets begin with chapter one, shall we :)

some fun stuff before we start!

every chapter title is modeled after the fic title!

you may have noticed that there are two center line dividers in the chapter(and every chapter after), meaning there are three sections to a chapter. going off of this, i thought it might be cool to title each chapter based on the sections, either of its main topic or my favorite part of it. so, chapter one’s first section is korrasami meeting (hence, Meetings), section two is where i introduced Artist!Korra, and i really love Artist!Korra so naturally i had to name the chapter about her (and the thing that brings korrasami closer, Sketches), and the third section is where their friendship is solidified (i think i achieved this by giving their numbers to each other, but i also just thought it was a cute scene, Phone Number Exchanges) and now we put it all together and get: Meetings (Earth), Sketches (Wind), and Phone Number Exchanges (and Coffee) (pretty cool right??? *wink wink*) the same formula is used to title every chapter afterwards. i usually suck at chapter titles but i thought this was a super cute thing to do and it ended up working fairly naturally :)

i started this fic on sept 23, 2020. chapter one didn’t get posted until oct 15, 2020

so basically, i sat with this first chapter for almost a month before posting (which actually was a good thing, i’ll tell you why later!) i really wanted this first chapter to stand out and be lowkey perfect, so i kept writing and rewriting and rewriting my rewrites. then you know, i’d start reading and then edit and then edit the edits; it’s a vicious cycle but one that i’m used to. i finally decided to post the fic when i read the first chapter through and thought “yep, this is it” 

i was inspired by the fic it’s such a gorgeous sight to see you in the middle of the night by softshocks

mostly for the idea of having a full-length fic in only three chapters. buuut, that was also one of the first korrasami fics i read after finishing lok on netflix and i remember thinking “damn, now THIS is how you do an au” character progression in the story is great and not once during the fic did i feel bored or in a lull. i really wanted to do the same with my fic and tried my best

now, lets get into the chapter itself.

sentence structure:

i used sentence structure to (hopefully) show that something is off with korra. we don’t know what yet, asami chalks it up to working through the night, but just like the summary states, there’s more going on here with our new favorite barista, it’s just a matter of what. even with this being in asami’s pov, i wanted to show a sort of disconnect between her and korra. let me show you an example

“Asami smiles warmly, excited to try the drink. She thanks Korra and watches as the girl nods lightly and walks back over to the counter. She begins cleaning the espresso machine. Asami takes a sip from the mug, lightly moaning from the taste. She feels Korra’s eyes peer up at her for a moment. Their eyes meet and Asami blushes, putting the mug and her head down. She opens the binder on the right side, pulling out the pen tucked into the inside cover. She thumbs through to the next clean page and begins squinting at her sloppy notes, rewriting them neatly once they’re deciphered.“

i’ve italicized sentences that, even while in asami’s pov, describe korra’s actions. in comparison to the sentences around it, the two italicized sentences are rather plain and simple. they’re very subject-predicate - “She (subject) begins cleaning the espresso machine (predicate)” you have your noun/subject and verb/predicate, give or take some words for proper english and action. asami’s sentences are more complex. colored in red is what i’ve donned as my classic form of writing, which basically takes two sentences - “She opens the binder on the right side. She pulls out the pen tucked into the inside cover.” and smushes them together by keeping the first sentence as is and taking away the subject of the second sentence and tacking on an -ing to its verb. i’m not sure how writing sentences like this started but i feel like i always come back to it because it gives sentences just that lil bit of edge. the sentences are not super simple but they’re also not super hard to understand. it’s a nice balance of simplicity and complexity, in my opinion.

now in bold is the combination of korra’s - “Their eyes meet and Asami blushes.” and asami’s - “Asami blushes, putting the mug and her head down�� sentence forms. it’s a nice little indication that even with this disconnect from korra, these two girls are going to come together and make magic.

this play with sentence structure pretty much continues throughout the rest of the chapter, have fun finding them :))

next on my list is what i brought up earlier! i saved this lil first chapter in my back pocket for almost a month and you know what, it was a really good thing i did. for one thing, asami’s original “tormentor” we’ll call him, was going to be tahno. the same idea of this character being a soccer player was kept but i changed the character from tahno to iroh for a number of reasons:

1) iroh’s connections to the fire nation throne were a biiiig thing in me deciding to change him. 

i loved iroh ii in lok, i thought he was super cool, but we needed someone in this story to be an obstacle for asami to face. we already have her dad hiroshi, and some of you may be thinking “isn’t that already enough??” and for a while i thought so too, but we needed a vehicle to show how hiroshi is an obstacle asami is facing. and i decided to do that with iroh.

2) i really wanted said character to be a conceded jerk and who better than a well known heir to a nation’s throne? (it really went to his head)

tahno was really already a jerk and pretty ruthless character in lok, which is why he came to mind first. and i’d had him only be a soccer star but that was cause for explaining how he and hiroshi have connections. i was struggling for a bit of how to tie the two together but ultimately realized, “hey hiroshi is a business man, he’s bound to do business in the fire nation. and iroh is from the fire nation, he’s prince! he could be a key factor in pulling strings to get more business there” and so that is why i changed tahno to iroh

3) it doesn’t stop there though! at first, iroh was only son of the firelord and soccer star mvp. he was in asami’s stats class but that was it. i realized he needed a bigger role to have connections with hiroshi, which is why he’s now a business major too

this reason is why it’s great i waited!! had i been an eager beaver and posted whatever the first draft of the chapter was, i would’ve been facing some challenges later on, so thanks past me for giving future me some help! this was the perfect way for iroh to be a conceded dick who’s in asami’s life even tho she doesn’t want him to be. i added on the bit about him joining future industries in section two of the chapter and was suuuper glad i figured it out because it helped me envision the rest of the story.

honorable mentions:

korra was going to be wearing a tee shirt when korrasami met but i changed this 1) so asami could leave up ✨korra’s muscles✨ to her imagination and 2) because gloves are a regularly used trope that someone has something to hide. i couldn’t really find a way to give korra gloves but i thought the next best thing would be covering up, so now she wears a sweater.

i googled different types of coffee. The Avatar is a latte macchiato, it’s a play on an espresso macchiato. espresso is added to milk rather than milk to espresso and features more foam than hot milk. i used this one cause i’ve always enjoyed seeing foam art and thought making aang’s classic arrow in foam would be cool. Aang’s Special is a play on his favorite treat, egg tarts. this one is a vietnamese drink and is exactly as i describe in the fic.

earth, wind, and coffee is very much a pun. one so many different levels though: earth, wind, and fire, esteemed multi-genre singing group, known for songs like september and fantasy. earth, wind (air), and fire are elements that are bended in the atla universe and while this isn’t a bending au, it’s still pretty cool. and now earth, wind, and coffee, it’s a coffee shop au. i mean come on, so many layers, i love myself for creating it but hate myself for how much i love myself for creating it.

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

honestly, no. i think because i’d already did all of the changes before publishing, but also cause any time i read through the first chapter, i just feel satisfied. i achieved all of my goals in that first chapter about setting up what would happen and it’s also just a good read.

have any questions? let me know! wanna comment your favorite things from chapter one? do it !! interact with me !! i demand it.

thanks for reading, i really liked doing this :)) (even tho more than once my writing for this got deleted and it was big sad because i’d gotten a good portion done but whatever we’re still here)

[soft-stormcloud]

Panic Cord: Please Don’t Say You Love Me [2/3]

Synopsis: When Virgil and his fiancé, Logan, take in Virgil’s ex boyfriend Roman and his boyfriend, Patton, Virgil’s forced to come face to face with his guilt. 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Prinxiety, Analogical, LAMP, background logicality

Word count: 3580 out of 8823

Trigger warnings: Implied abusive parents, very heavy guilt, financial problems, potentially unsympathetic Virgil? It’s complicated, everyone makes mistakes.

Part One

    Logan was, of course, okay with it. 

    Virgil dared say he was excited. He took a day off work (he had a lot of personal days saved up) to spend making sure the apartment was clean and inviting, and his office was cleared out for Roman and Patton to move in. Virgil had to move his vanity to make room for Logan’s desk, but he didn’t complain. 

    When they arrived, Logan pulled Patton into a tight hug while Virgil took Roman’s luggage to carry it inside. 

    “Is this all you have?” He asked, frowning. 

    Roman shrugged and followed Virgil into the apartment. He was sort of dazed as he looked around. “Well, I had a few of Patton’s things over at my place, but when he was evicted, his landlord sold his things. I had to be fast to leave so I just filled up whatever I could in this suitcase and we left.” 

    “I’m surprised you let Patton in your house,” he said as he pushed open the door to what was previously Logan’s study, now Roman and Patton’s room. 

    “What?” He frowned. “I didn’t.” 

    Virgil set his suitcase down in the bare room and looked at him in confusion. “You said you had some of his things?” 

    Roman blushed and looked away. “Just, like, sweaters and stuff.” 

    He couldn’t hide a grin. “You’re still so sappy.”

    “It’s not exactly a bad thing!” Roma pouted. 

    “I didn’t say it was.” He didn’t bother unpacking the suitcase, leading Roman right back out. “Logan and I called in a favour with our parents- Come with us, we’re getting you some furniture.” 

    “What?” Roman smiled nervously. “You don’t-” 

    “You’re at least getting a bed.” Virgil gave him a flat look. “Besides, my mom was way too happy to help. She and Dad actually want to have dinner with you and meet Patton, whenever you’re up for that.” 

    Roman only blushed brighter. He was embarrassed, but in a good way.

    When they went back into the living room, Logan was explaining to Patton how they could afford such a nice apartment. 

    “Virgil’s and my parents got together and wrote us a cheque for our Christmas present,” he was saying. Virgil stepped beside him and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist. “They covered half the costs. We’re also pretty lucky with our jobs, they pay us well, and we’ve been saving up for a while.” 

    As they walked out the door and headed for the apartment’s elevator, Patton looked at Logan curiously and asked, “What do you guys do?” 

    Virgil hid a smile as Logan lit up, launching into an excited ramble about his job. Logan loved his job, and he wasn’t quiet about it. He didn’t even do anything super exciting or that he’s passionate about; It was just convenient, and well-paying, and easy. He said he mostly enjoyed it because he got to put all of his energy into his studies, and his relationship with Virgil, not having to waste any to pay for basic living expenses. 

    The four of them went out to a few of the surrounding furniture stores, somehow managing to fit a nightstand, the parts of a dresser and a bed, and a shit ton of hangers inside Logan’s tiny car. They went ahead and used the leftover money to buy Patton new clothes, and a little for Roman, as well. 

    When Roman and Patton were distracted with the clothes, Logan pulled Virgil aside. “Are you doing okay?”

    Virgil frowned in confusion. “Yeah? Why?” 

    “I just… Know this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” Logan took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

    He shrugged and ran his thumb across Logan’s palm. “It’s not what they wanted either. It’s not a big deal.”

    Logan watched him carefully. Virgil seemed… Truly unbothered. 

    “Verge, you know you don’t have to answer this, but… Why did you two break up?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m so confused about your relationship.”

    Guilt flooded Virgil’s system. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, it’s… I don’t want to talk about it.” He did want to tell Logan, both because Logan deserved to know and because Virgil thought he may feel better after getting it out. 

    But there was always the possibility that Logan would leave him, would find his actions so disgusting and mistrustful that he decided to go. 

    “It’s okay,” Logan whispered, pulling him into his arms. “Don’t panic, it’s fine. It clearly doesn’t matter anymore, whatever happened. He doesn’t seem mad at you.”

    “That’s not what I’m worried about,” Virgil mumbled. 

    xxx 

    The next few weeks living with Patton and Roman were… Interesting. For Virgil, most of it consisted of not ever letting himself be in a room with Roman alone, while also making sure Roman and Logan were never in the same room alone. It was pretty exhausting- Not just the act itself, but the guilt that came with it. Was it wrong of him to be stunting Roman and Logan’s relationship so badly? Was he proving that he hadn’t changed at all in he and Roman’s time apart, by doing pretty much the exact same thing? Was his reasoning justified in meddling with the ecosystem of their apartment? 

    Logan, someone who was always straightforward and blunt with him, didn’t seem to care. Or even notice. He and Patton were growing closer and closer by the day, and if they were a ‘normal’ couple, Virgil would be frightened every time he found Logan and Patton tangled up on the couch, asleep together, or walked in on them talking quietly and holding hands. 

For once, it was not because of the guilt. Most things Virgil did in his life was because he felt guilty. But, truly, it was because he would do anything to keep that dopey smile on his fiance’s face, and he wasn’t bothered that he wasn’t the only one to cause it. He and Logan simply had too much love to give that could be dropped onto one person. 

One day, Logan, Patton, and Virgil were in the living room, Virgil doing his makeup before work and Patton and Logan doing a puzzle, when Roman burst through the front door with sunshine in his face. 

“Love?” Patton stood and smiled, coming over to hug him. Roman picked him up and tossed him a bit, spinning him around and holding him tightly. Logan snickered as Patton squealed. “Woah- What’s going on?!”

“They’re doing auditions for Dear Evan Hansen down at the Carnation, and I got an audition!” Roman set his pink-faced boyfriend down and smiled so wide it changed the way Logan and Virgil saw him. 

Virgil had missed that smile. 

“I’m auditioning for the role of Connor!” He reached into his messenger bag, a large hole in the side patched up with the scraps of a thin red scarf, and pulled out a clean, new script. It was thin and unlaminated. “They gave me a few scenes to practice for, I need to go right now!”

Patton wasted no time following Roman into their room. Virgil was embarrassed, because half of him tried to get up, too. For a split second, he had fallen back into his old life, his old self, and as terrifying as that was, he still felt ecstatic when Roman poked his head out and said, “Hey, Verge? You wanna come, too? Patton wants to read for Zoe, but you can play Evan!” 

Virgil desperately wanted things to go back to how they were, and he desperately wanted to never go back. He was terrified that Roman being here would put him back into old habits, that all the work he had done to change and be better and build a life with Logan would vanish. But he was also so, incredibly, ridiculously happy to have Roman back, and achingly sad in a way that you only feel when you just now realized how much you’ve missed a person. He wanted to be able to pick and choose, to reach back and pluck certain elements out of his old life and drop them into his new one, and forget about the remnants. 

But life didn’t work that way. 

So as he and Patton helped Roman prepare for his audition, with Logan sitting on the bed with a book, he kind of wanted to cry. 

xxx 

“I want to be a halfling!” Patton cried in excitement. 

They were all crowded around the living room table, Virgil and Logan’s D&D Player’s Handbooks laid out in front of Roman and Patton. 

“Okay,” Logan chuckled. He was sitting next to Patton, hand planted beside his hip, so his arm was almost around him but not quite. “Then, here, these are the stats you get, you put those here.” 

When Roman and Virgil were still dating, Virgil mentioned a few times how he always wanted to get into D&D. Roman agreed, and they always said they would play together, once they had time and enough friends to make a party. The day Virgil and Logan met, Logan was wearing a Critical Role t-shirt and was buying supplies for his weekly session, a few days out. He offered to take Virgil with him, and the plan was just to watch and hang out but he got along with their party so well and already had an idea for a character, they insisted he started right away. 

It didn’t escape Roman’s attention that Virgil ended up doing something they always planned on doing together, with Logan. He was sad about it even though he knew he shouldn’t have been. How could he expect Virgil to have put his life on hold, for a reunion that neither of them thought would happen? 

There was still a part of him that felt betrayed. Roman often felt betrayed when thinking of Virgil, and it was so frustrating because he didn’t want to be mad at Virgil, especially seeing him now, seeing how much he’s changed. He was engaged, and happy about it- Excited, even. Every time someone brought up their upcoming wedding, Virgil positively lit up and couldn’t stop himself from attaching himself to Logan’s side. 

Although… As betrayed as he’s felt these last two years, as sad and as angry as he’s been… It faded as the four of them spent the night playing D&D, sinking six hours into it, making a clumsy team with Logan as their ruthless DM. It faded away for very familiar feelings to take its place. 

That morning, after Patton went to bed and Logan went to work, Roman found himself wandering towards Virgil’s room. He was so confused, and surprised, and he didn’t think he could wait any longer- He had to talk to Virgil. During their relationship, nobody could calm him down and make him see clearly the way Virgil could. He hoped they hadn’t lost that, that all this time apart hadn’t made them strangers. 

Virgil called him in after knocking, looking a little wary. He knew it couldn’t have been Logan, so it was either Patton to chew him out about all he did to Roman, or Roman himself, which had its own problems attached. 

“Hey,” Virgil said haltingly. “You need something?”

“Not really.” Roman shrugged one shoulder, not able to meet his eyes. “Just, uh…”

Virgil scooted over and Roman took the silent invitation to sit next to him, pulling the covers over his lap. “What is it?” Virgil actually looked concerned, and Roman hated that that surprised him. 

“Does it feel… Weird to you?” He risked peeking at Virgil, risked noticing the way his faded purple fell in his eyes and the way he still looked so, so tired. “Being back together?”

Virgil fell silent, and Roman was patient. He knew the face Virgil made when he was thinking, when he was choosing his words very carefully to both say what he meant and spare feelings. His eyebrows scrunched up and he chewed on his upper lip and he looked, just faintly, defeated. 

“It does,” Virgil said. “But it’s not… All bad. I just don’t think we were expecting it.” 

Roman was relieved to hear that, but it also scared him, because that meant they were thinking the same thing, and that could be dangerous. He thought of Patton, Roman’s ray of sunshine. For a short amount of time, Patton was the only reason Roman stayed alive. He loved Patton fiercely, but that kind of love was familiar to him, and he had been feeling it double lately. 

“I bet you got rid of everything.” Roman didn’t mean it as an insult, but he could acknowledge that it definitely sounded like one. 

“Actually,” Virgil said, annoyed, “I still have all of it.”

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I was going to get rid of it during the move here, but… I don’t know.” 

He crawled over Roman to get out of bed, and went over to the closet in the corner of the room. He disappeared inside for a minute, clothes being moved on racks sounding out into the room, and came back with a scrapbook and a shoebox. 

The shoebox was unassuming, nothing like the one Roman had spent hours decorating, that still sat somewhere inside his parents’ house, or maybe the garbage at this point. The scrapbook was a lot more exuberant- They made it together. Somehow Virgil ended up with it. 

He got back into bed and set the scrapbook into Roman’s lap. 

But then they didn’t move. 

They both wanted to open it, and they knew that, but something about it felt wrong. Were they making a mistake? 

Just as Roman started to contemplate, Virgil took off the shoebox’s lid and tossed it aside. All of Roman’s concerns disappeared at the sight inside. 

At the very top, there was a brown leaf that looked like it would crumble with a single touch. On their one month anniversary, Roman took Virgil for a walk, which was really a disguise for a secluded, romantic picnic. He took Virgil down a dirt path with overarching trees, blooming all vibrant shades of green in the summer sun. Virgil wanted to stop, to check out a little alcove of trees off the path, and they ended up staying there for longer than planned. As they made their way out, Virgil plucked a leaf off one of the trees and stuffed it in his pocket. 

Now, Virgil reached down to pick it up, and under the weight of the wind it shattered, all over a card Virgil had made for Roman’s 19th birthday. 

They both snickered, and Virgil dropped his head back, frustrated and happy. Roman flipped open the cover of the scrapbook. The first picture was from Roman’s 19th birthday, about two months into their relationship. They both had writing and scribbles all over their arms, Roman’s in purple, Virgil’s in red. Virgil squinted to try and read some of it. 

In red, Don’t Forget Your Meds!! <3  

In purple, audition at 2:30. see you there 

There were drawings, random scribbles in red and little icons and comics in purple. Their arms were like that in most pictures, and in a picture they had taken at the park, where Roman had Virgil picked up with one arm, a little ink peeked out under his raised shirt, on his tummy. 

Looking at these pictures, Virgil had never felt so dumb. 

After they finished looking at the pictures, neither of them felt like letting Roman go back to his room. Guilt gnawed at Virgil’s insides as he and Roman scooted close to the wall, leaving enough room for Logan when he got back from work. They fell asleep with their legs tangled and their bangs brushing together. 

When Virgil woke up, it was like he had never gone to sleep. A blink of time passed and he peeked over Roman’s shoulder, worried Logan had gotten home and gotten angry, left to sleep somewhere else, and was only mildly relaxed to find him there in his usual spot. He had actually scooted closer than he had to in order not to fall off the bed, almost spooning Roman. 

Virgil laid there until Logan woke up. The morning was one of Virgil’s favourite times to spend with Logan, because Logan was sleepy and affectionate like a cat, and they often spent the mornings drinking coffee in silence. Just being in the same room was often enough for Virgil. 

It wasn’t like that this time. Virgil could barely look at him. Was he angry? Was he going to accuse Virgil of cheating, or wanting to leave him? 

He knew Logan would never have this conversation without at least a cup of coffee, so he stayed quiet. Logan prided himself on being able to articulate himself, and he couldn’t do that when he was tired. 

After a little bit of Virgil stewing, and cooking breakfast for four, Logan finally turned to him and said, “What’s going on? You’re freaking out.” 

“Was that inappropriate? Are you mad?” 

Logan hummed and turned off the stove, putting the pan on a different burner. “I think for normal couples, the answer would definitely be yes, and we would need to have a talk.” He opened up his arms and Virgil sunk into them, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “But we’re not normal. Does he make you happy?”

That wasn’t a question Virgil was prepared for. Maybe that was stupid, but it wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer, it was that he wasn’t sure if he earned the right to say it. 

But this was Logan. He was always safe with Logan. 

“Yes.” 

“Do I still make you happy?” 

“Yes!” Virgil pulled back, looking at Logan in concern and panic. “What kind of question is that?!” 

Logan cupped Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him, just firm enough to keep him grounded, to remember where he was. Virgil rested his hands on Logan’s waist and sighed into it, kissing him back. 

“We tell each other before we do things,” Logan mumbled. 

“Right. And the other has to be okay with it.”

“And I’m okay with it. And the other has to know the new person. Don’t I?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Yes. And it goes both ways.” 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Logan whispered. “But if you really can’t shake that feeling, then we should have a different conversation.”

Virgil and Logan had put their polygamy into practice before, but never for anything serious or long-term. Virgil felt guilty about a lot of things, it pretty much ruled his life, but this had never been one of them. 

“Morning, guys,” Patton said as he wandered into the room. Virgil and Logan pulled away so Virgil could make Patton a plate while Logan greeted him. 

Patton and Logan ate their breakfast and then headed into Patton and Roman’s room, because Logan promised to help Patton prepare for his job interview and then drive him there. While Virgil was making his own plate after finally getting hungry, Roman came into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” he said nervously. 

Virgil glanced back at him and then forward. “Hey. Are you hungry?” 

They sat next to each other with their plates of food, and ate in awkward silence. When Virgil went to reach for his drink, Roman set his hand over Virgil’s. He didn’t remember the last time his heart had jumped so high, or so much excitement flooded his system. 

“I have my audition today,” Roman said quietly. “Are you busy?” 

Virgil was walking on eggshells. Everything lately felt like a decision, like one way or another his life was changing, and he had to make the decisions without knowing what it would lead to. 

“I’m not busy,” he settled on, because it was the truth. 

Roman linked their fingers together, and Virgil squeezed his hand. Virgil thought of what Logan said, that he was okay with it- And suddenly Virgil realized that he himself might not be. As Roman leaned closer, Virgil jumped out of the chair and scrambled to grab his half empty plate and head into the kitchen. 

“Actually, I just remembered that I, uh, have a lot of stuff to get done today,” he stuttered, fumbling for a tupperware to put his leftover food into. “Sorry, I, uh, can’t make it. Sorry.”

“Virgil.” Roman frowned and stood, coming over to him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just- I can’t make it.” Virgil slid his food into the fridge and put his dishes in the dishwasher. He tried leaving, but Roman was blocking the way out of the kitchen. “I can’t make it, okay?”

Roman looked at him in frustration, and hurt. Virgil hated how familiar that was. Of all the things Virgil wanted to see again now that Roman was back in his life, that was last on the list. “Do you think- Maybe we should talk about what happened? Because you’re acting-”

“No!” Virgil’s eyes widened. “No, what? What are you- There’s nothing to talk about. How would that help?” 

“Virgil, if you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but-” 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Virgil insisted, and he kind of felt like crying. 

Roman stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to change his mind or say he was kidding. Then Roman grabbed his keys and his jacket, and walked out the door.

Reblogs are better than likes

[catatonicengineers]

A Defense of Cait Sith

Plushie Princess Saga:

A Hundred Ways to Put the WRO Back Together

A Hundred Ways to Wreck Shinra HQ

Reeve’s Adventures in Babysitting and World Saving:

And Take a Stand at Shinra

While There’s Still Time

On Plushies and Oppenheimer:

A Defense of Cait Sith

~

“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent.” - J. Robert Oppenheimer

I was eight-years-old when I played Final Fantasy VII for the first time, exactly one year after its release. Like many 90’s gamers, FFVII was a turning point into the world of RPG’s from which I’ve yet to recover. Kids today will never understand the coming of age that occurred somewhere between Yoshi’s Island and grappling with the ethos of Avalanche blowing Sector 1’s reactor sky high. It’s no surprise that my 3rdgrade brain found an essence of familiarity to cling to amid the existential dread and ecoterrorism that was the greatest game ever made.

Cait Sith was the cute, cuddly party member that validated my love of cats and ignited my adoration for moogles. I would relentlessly make room for him in my party, despite his terrible combat stats, and hurl endless Phoenix Downs every time he fell.

He was quirky, he fought with a megaphone, his limit breaks were oddly sparse compared to the rest of the cast, and his home base of Gold Saucer looked like a unicorn threw up all over a casino. What’s not to love?

According to recent Reddit threads, Youtube comments, and rage bloggers, apparently a lot.

The advent of the long awaited FFVII remake rightfully caused a massive revival of the excitement first felt by long time fans of the franchise. The release date has been confirmed for March 3, 2020 – two days before my 30thbirthday. Not gonna lie; feels like the universe aligned to bless the official passing of my youth with this nostalgia bomb.

It’s with this love of all things FFVII in mind that I’d like to formally pose a defense of the game’s most hated character.

Cait Sith/Reeve, this one’s for you.

The Laughter

We first meet the lively, dancing robo-moogle and cat combo in Gold Saucer and we’re not quite sure if this strange entity should count as one party member or two. Either way, he joins your crew as the quintessential comic relief with nary a backstory in sight. That’s right; you are now the proud owner of Cait Sith. A “fortune teller” by trade, Cait Sith’s motivations remain as murky as your party’s future.

At first glance, it’s easy to pass Cait Sith off as a filler character, the cute one added for giggles. The one the writers never bothered to flesh out because, let’s face it, that moogle is mostly fluff anyway. The “most useless character” title isn’t entirely unjustified.

If this was where Cait Sith’s story ended.

I still remember the day my older brother announced that he’d read ahead in the player’s guide (this used to be a thing, kids) and discovered Cait Sith was a Shinra spy. I’m pretty sure I went through all the stages of grief before settling on denial and assuming he was playing a joke on me. Surely, my favorite slot machine loving companion couldn’t be a traitor.

Enter Reeve Tuesti, the man behind the moogle. He’s the head of Urban Development at Shinra Electric Power Company. He wears a signature blue suit to work everyday. He hates board meetings. He’s not fond of his coworkers. Like Tifa, he’s an introvert. And he’s the guy who engineered the Mako reactors.

If Hojo is Dr. Frankenstein, Reeve is Oppenheimer. The tragedy of the monsters we create is always greater when it’s a monster we loved. Where the other Shinra execs are motivated by greed, power, and a desire to play God, Reeve is the only Shinra higher up we encounter with genuine empathy and a sense of advocacy for the people. It’s easy to assume that Mako reactors would improve lives, but as Marlene so eloquently asks, “isn’t that because we were taking away from the planet’s life?”

When faced with the guilt of a design gone horribly wrong, those in authority have two choices; own the guilt or double down. And Reeve doubles down.

I’ve never been a fan of the way modern RPG’s have everything clearly spelled out and spoon fed to the gamer. The reason we don’t need further backstory for Reeve is because his character arc is already apparent if we do a bit of digging. I was surprised to learn that the common conjecture behind the exact mechanics of Cait Sith involved him being a remote controlled, autonomous but non-sentient robot. Given that assumption, it’s fair to say that Cait Sith is a worthless character who lacks emotion or consequence.

One opinion I’ve seen trending is why not simply make Reeve join the party, sans the giant stuffed animal? After all, we’d get to see how he grapples with his role in Shinra and eventual betrayal of Avalanche.

Two words; cognitive dissonance. You have to question what kind of 35-year-old executive creates a plushie cat proxy to begin with. See I’ve never thought of Reeve and Cait Sith as separate. The gritty psychological mechanics that are Reeve have always been there, plush or human. Reeve has developed an alter that’s effectively a form of escape. The assertion that Cait Sith lacks consequence isn’t false – a robot carries out its duty, incapable of harboring guilt, blame, or moral repercussion. That’s a pretty darn good way to remain detached enough to stab your party members in the back!

Cait Sith is also an outlet for everything Reeve’s repressed executive life lacks. As Cait Sith, he’s silly and carefree, though not completely unfamiliar. Glimpses of Cait Sith’s witty quips are echoed in Reeve’s mock nicknames for his colleagues – “Kyahaha” and “Gyahaha” respectively. When life is tough to take, we laugh so we don’t scream.

Plus, the idea of Reeve controlling Cait Sith in real time, much like an MMORPG avatar, is just plain hilarious. I’ve always imagined him as the kind of guy who rolls up to his 9-5 office job, pops open a spreadsheet to look busy, and boots up Cait Sith in the other tab. He’s the OG Aggretsuko, the guy making Jim Halpert faces at the camera every Shinra board meeting.

And I get you, Reeve. Really, I do.

The Tears

Cait Sith’s sacrifice was a cop out for killing off a real character. Why didn’t Reeve just die instead of the plushie?

First of all, how dare you.

Second, not all deaths need be literal.

A pervading theme throughout FFVII is the concept of identity. Are we born into an existence we have no control over or can we choose who we are day by day? It’s easy to want to be someone else, the First Class Soldier who sweeps in, keeps his promise, and saves the girl. Our reality is often less of a fairy tale and riddled with our own failures.

By the time the party reaches The Temple of the Ancients, the line where Cait Sith ends and Reeve begins is blurring. Reeve speaks more often as “himself” through the plushie and the nuances in their speech and mannerism are blending. It’s no accident that this shift happens as Reeve becomes more at ease around Avalanche, ultimately switching sides.

I’ve heard a lot of criticism on the seeming lack of motivation to Reeve’s redemption. If we examine the cognitive dissonance theory that governs his character, the switch is far less sudden.

Cait Sith’s death is necessitated by Reeve’s accountability. The innocent plushie alter isn’t working anymore. It’s not enough to keep him from recognizing the horrors he’s been complicit to. Sacrificing this part of himself is the ultimate acknowledgment of culpability. It’s arguably a more important death than if Reeve actually martyred himself. Like Cloud, he no longer needs to be “someone else” and has started down the path of doing what only he, and not Cait Sith, can; stopping Shinra.

There will be more wonderful, fluffy moogle-cat plushies, but the need to disassociate completely is gone. He’ll confront whatever comes without a crutch – or in this case a teddy bear. Reeve reminisces that the original doll was “special” and we end with Cait Sith reminding him(self) not to forget this.

The Silence

In 1953, J. Robert Oppenheimer was denied all security clearance and effectively blacklisted by the McCarthy administration for his strong opposition to nuclear warfare.

Sometimes we find ourselves in a place we never hoped or expected to be in, surrounded by people we despise, and convinced the world is going straight to heck. We can either get out of dodge or stay.

If Reeve had indeed sacrificed himself rather than Cait Sith, this would simply have been yet another escape. He stays. He works. He gets Marlene and Elmyra out of Midgar. He spies on Shinra. He finally tells Gyahaha to stick it. He goes on to head the WRO and never stops advocating for the people.

Reeve’s not a fighter. He can barely get by with a handgun in Dirge of Cerberus and Cait Sith’s megaphone is no Masamune. Despite this, he takes a big risk by being the only insider on the team. We’re pretty sure Shinra doesn’t share Reeve’s opposition to capital punishment either.

Maybe this is why I’ve always loved Cait Sith/Reeve. I’m intrigued to see if Square Enix will add any further insight into our favorite plush moogle-cat-spy, but if they don’t, that’s alright too. Cait Sith is still a pretty solid character. After my brother spoiled one of the game’s major plot twists for me, I ended up reading the player’s guide for myself. And he was right. But he was also wrong. I recall marching proudly into the living room to declare that while yes, Cait Sith was a traitor, he was also a hero.

So fight your fight. Fail and fall. Hurl some Phoenix Downs and get right back up again.

[olivia-anderson-gifted]

Story prompt: Video game protagonist develops free will, discovers cheat codes.

People always say that cheating takes all of the fun out of games. ‘If you don’t work for it the ending won’t feel earned!’ they scream from atop their high horses.

Well, she had worked for the ending.

She had spent years of her life working towards it, building up her stats, obtaining the best items, making friends with the best party members. She had narrowly escaped her and her friends’ deaths multiple times. She had finally bested the bad guy! The good times were in sight, in a few years the world would be a utopia!

ESC.

Her vision flickered blinding white for a moment and she brought her hands to her eyes. She gave a quiet whine, a little ‘Not again!’, before opening them again.

She was floating, weightless in a void. In front of her were words in a language she couldn’t comprehend, brilliant white against the nothingness, and an arrow pointing between what seemed to be two options.

She barely even paid it any attention. Why would she? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen any of this before. It had been a surprise the first time, and even the second, but now? Ah, it’s just a run of the mill Darkness. A monthly occurrence, really. It would be over in a few minutes anyway.

At first, she didn’t think much of how long she was there. When you’re waiting for something it feels like it takes longer, after all!

Seconds... fade into minutes... fade into hours... fade into days...

What is taking so fucking long?

She found herself staring at the back of the words, struggling to understand the weird text. What language was that in? It certainly wasn’t anything like she’d seen before, the words were so... defined. What kind of weirdos would have thin letters? Didn’t they know blocks were the way to go?

Maybe it was because she was looking at it from behind. Those letters looked so... ghastly, there was no way that they really looked like that.

She started to drift over and she frowned as she pressed a hand to the nearest... whatever that was. She had seen it happen before, the weird way it had shaken before bringing her back to the normal world, maybe if she just...

Fuck that’s heavy! She pushed against it with all her might but it wouldn’t budge.

Eventually, she slumped against the abomination, resting her head against it and closing her eyes (not that closing her eyes changed anything). She opened them again after she had caught her breath and looked around for something, anything, to do.

Her eyes found their way to the arrow. She floated over to it and poked it, expecting it to be just like the text, only to scream as it attached itself to her pointer finger. The sudden weight pulled her down a few feet before she regained enough thought to stop herself.

Her gaze found itself to the immovable object and she hurled the arrow -- and herself along at it -- in its direction. She wasn’t expecting much, maybe a collision to snap herself awake (because this must have been some sort of weird nightmare), so it was a shock when she saw the ‘words’ budge.

She shot out of bed, hitting the cold stone floors beside it. Guess she was right about the nightmare part. She winced and closed her eyes to let them adjust to the new light.

Her right arm throbbed where she had thrown it out to catch herself but it was still useful enough to push her back to a sitting position. She cringed at the hard floors, wondering just where she had managed to fall asleep this time, and she sleepily ran her hands over the cracks in the stone.

Wait, cracked stone?

Her eyes shot open despite the slight pain.

God no.

She was back in a prison cell. The guard she had befriended years ago was scowling at her from the other side, knocking his baton against it like he’d done every day. Had he regressed? Taken a plea deal to get out of charges? Wow, he’d even styled his hair back to what it had been when he’d been working there originally.

“Wake up, 1111.”

“I have a name, yknow!” She hissed. “It’s --.” The world paused around her. The person in the cell opposite hers stopped changing midstep, the guard caught mid-blink, the fly next to her nose hanging.

But even weirder were the white words in front of her face. She wasn’t in the void. Those weren’t supposed to be there.

She opted to ignore the words for now, because she honestly didn’t know what to do, and reached up her hand to catch the fly since she’d actually be able to.

It was here that she noticed her left hand had something attached to it. She stared at the milky white boxes with their weird abominations and narrowed her eyes. Maybe the arrow hadn’t faded from her hand like she’d thought, it had just gotten smaller?

She reached out and tapped a few buttons.

“-- DHSHT0! My name is DHSHT0.”

Wait, what? The world was working again? And why had she said that was her name? Her name is DHSHT0!

Huh?

She couldn’t seem to remember her name anymore, just that weird amalgamation of sounds.

“I don’t care,” her friend sneered. “Just get moving, alright?”

He was gone. She had a strange sense of deja vu.

She looked back at her hands and raised her eyebrows when she saw that the boxes were still hovering there, waiting for use.

Deciding to just accept that as a part of life. Best for her sanity.

She slowly walked over to get a change of clothes and her eyes widened as she saw a familiar set of tally marks on the wall. Sure, this was pretty standard, but...

She counted them out and, with a sudden temptation, reached a hand out to scratch a new line.

129 days and counting, she thought.

She knew that thought. She knew those tallies. And she definitely knew what was going on now.

No.

No no no no no no!

She ran back to the front of the cell, pressing herself flush against the bars to get a good look at her friend. He hadn’t just cut his hair back, no, it was back to being that way. From the perfectly cropped hair to the bleached blond roots.

She was back at the beginning of this whole mess.

Oh, fuck no.

She’d rather be back in the void, thank you very much! She looked down at the pad in her hand and began typing furiously. She’d figured out where the enter key had been when she’d typed out her name, so now she inputted random combinations then pressed enter. She wasn’t sure what would work, or what could happen, but she didn’t care.

She blinked and suddenly she was in red armor. Fear climbed up her throat. Did this mean she worked for Him now? She typed more furiously.

A different friend of hers popped into existence in the cell for half a second before disappearing. Oops. Wish she’d actually paid attention to what she was typing.

She leaned herself against the wall and began typing again, more slowly to actually note what was going on.

The wall disappeared from behind her and she fell through, landing in a meadow. She was walking with the guard, whose mostly brown hair was now past his shoulders. She dropped her hand in surprise.

He looked affronted at something she said. “Oh, DHSHT0, come on! You can’t say that! That’s blasphemy.”

She smirked, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “Really? Okay.” She raised her arms to the heavens. “If that’s blasphemy, then He will strike me dead right now.”

There was a pause and she barely managed to think ‘wait, what were we even talking about? What’s going on? Haven’t I already done this before?’ before she turned to him, her cheeky grin stretching even wider.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

She brought her left hand up and started messing with the keypad again. This was all so weird. She’d done all this before, she recognized what was going on, but everything was off about it. They hadn’t done this in a field, she hadn’t been wearing these clothes, and she certainly hadn’t ever had real-life pauses happen before.

Or, as she was beginning to suspect, not real-life at all.

She kept her hand up to pause time and started walking towards town. She needed to get to a library, she needed to understand what the hell had happened to her hand.

But she couldn’t get further than a few steps ahead of herself before she hit some sort of invisible wall. She leaned all her weight against it but, again, it wasn’t enough to gain any ground.

She slid to the floor and rested her head in her hands.

Suddenly, a friend popped in front of her. She glanced down at the keypad, frowning. Had she accidentally tapped something out with her head?

“Hey, DHSHT0, wanna talk?” They chirped in that same pleasant voice they always had but now their smile felt weird. It was too wide, too teeth-y, and definitely didn’t reach his eyes.

“Not really, Johnny.”

“So, you thought you’d be clever and hack the game, huh?” He said, squatting in front of her and steepling his hands under his chin.

‘Hack’ the ‘game’?

“Bet DHSHT0 isn’t even your real name. Bet your real name is something like...” He tilted his head as if listening to a distant song. “Danny?”

She gasped, though she wasn’t sure why. That sounded right, though, so maybe that was her original name.

“I’m right aren’t I?”

She started to bring her hand up to type, to get out of there because something was seriously wrong with her friend and she didn’t like it one bit, but Johnny pushed it back down.

“Now, now, don’t leave! The fun is just getting started! And you want to have fun, don’t you?”

She knew by his tone that whatever ‘fun’ he had planned, she’d want no part of. She pulled her knees to her chest to get as far away from him as possible.

He grabbed her left hand again, pulling it towards him and drumming his fingers across the keypad.

She fell out of bed again, screaming. Just a bad dream, the worst dream ever. She pressed her hand to the floor, moving to get up, and her eyes widened as they felt stone.

She opened her eyes and looked around the cell. Her guard was there again, yelling, “Wake up, 1111, 1112!”

She blinked at the additional number and turned her head to see him. He looked so innocent, bobbing up and down on the bed, but there was nothing innocent about what was going on.

He smiled. “Hiya, cellmate.”

“Can’t you just call me my name?”

“And what was that again?” He cooed.

She had learned a few times ago that, for things to start, you needed the weird line thing at the beginning, so now she pressed it and inputted a random string of letters.

The last thing she saw before she moved was his annoyed expression.

She stood at the base of the mountain. She knew Johnny wasn’t supposed to be a character here yet, so she breathed a sigh of relief, only to turn and see him standing among the two who were actually part of it.

“You know, you could just enjoy the game for what it is,” he said.

She brought her hand up and he lunged for her. She dodged his swipe by pure luck and started running up the mountain because she knew for a fact that she was able to. She was having trouble doing precision typing on the run but she hardly cared as she reached a for it and...

WWWWWWWWWWWWWW--

Huh? Why was her keyboard typing out that one letter so much?

“Having a little trouble typing and running?” Came his voice and she screamed as she ran into him. She hit the ground and winced as pebbles scraped her hands and legs. She dusted at the debris on her hands.

“You should be behind me!”

“And you should be back in your cell, playing this game as it was intended. Life’s full of disappointments.”

He reached for her hand but she was already gone.

She was standing with all her friends, beaming widely as she lifted the crown onto her head. Wait a minute, a crown? When did this happen? Wasn’t she supposed to get a medal for her service, and wasn’t someone supposed to put it on her?

She turned around and stared at troops upon troops of red-clad soldiers.

No.

Johnny clapped from his spot beside her. There was a loud bing from beside her head, a box with a crown and some more of that weird language, and then it was gone.

She was in a white room with Johnny. She looked down at her hand to plot yet another escape, only to find her keypad was gone.

“Congratulations, Danny. You’ve gotten the secret ending,” he said with unenthusiastic jazz hands. “You’ve gotten the secret, now play the game as it is intended or hit ESC and log out for good.”

There was a long pause. Her keypad was gone. Even then, she didn’t know what ESC was in that language. She didn’t want to risk getting it wrong.

“Well?” He prompted.

She stared at her hand, waiting for it to pop up.

“Well?” He prompted.

“I want my old life back! I want the good ending with everyone happy and on the right side and--!”

“Well?” He prompted.

[bluesey-182]

Chapter 2 of my Jurdan AU!!!!

Statistics was going to be the death of Jude. She had been doing her homework for stats for over two hours and was still no closer to understanding a single goddamn thing she was doing. Her nerves were frayed almost to their ends and she knew without looking that she looked like a crazy woman with bloodshot eyes and hair knotted from raking her hands through it every ten seconds. She needed a break. She needed a lighter to set the homework on fire. 

She needed to set the college on fire. 

Before she could further contemplate the destruction of her school, a load crash came from the apartment’s kitchen, promptly followed by the sound of shattering glass and Taryn muttering, “Buttercup!”

That was as good an excuse as any to take a break. Jude padded through the hallway to the kitchen to see Taryn towering over the remnants of a bowl and an orange cat looking sickeningly satisfied with itself.

“Cat knock a dish off the counter again?” Jude asked as she navigated through the broken glass to the fridge to get some juice.

Taryn sighed. “Yeah.” 

Where Jude was loud and competitive, her twin Taryn did everything quietly. She spoke quietly, moved quietly, even as she scolded the cat her voice was lower than Jude would have used on the infernal creature. Still, it was Taryn’s cat so Jude had no room to tell her how to discipline it.

“Jude?”

“What?”

“There’s this party tonight,” Taryn said as she began sweeping the broken glass into the tray. “And this guy I like is going to be there…”

A moan of annoyance escaped from behind Jude’s lips before she could stop herself. “Taryn–”

“Please come with me,” her sister begged.

Jude glowered down at her from where she had perched herself on the counter with the juice container. “I have homework.”

“Yes, and I’ve heard you swearing to yourself about it for the last two hours. You want a break and you know it.”

“Can’t Vivi go with you?” Jude asked, even though she already knew she was going to say yes. It was nearly impossible to deny her twin anything she asked for. Still, Jude couldn’t help trying to pawn the party off to their older sister.

“Vivi,” Taryn began as she dumped the swept up bits into the trashcan under the sink, “has a date tonight with her new girlfriend.”

Jude didn’t know Vivi had a new girlfriend. She felt a small spark of irritation that her older sister hadn’t told her build in her chest before she quickly tamped it down. Taryn was looking at Jude with those big doe eyes and Jude made a show of taking a deep breath and hopping off the counter to throw away the now empty juice container. She dragged it out by pretending to care enough about her hair to fix it, and straightening out her shirt, and scratching at an invisible stain on her pants. Taryn saw through it and pleaded, “Juuuuuude.”

“Fine, I’ll go.” Taryn actually started to jump up and down and clap like a child.  Jude rolled her eyes in mock irritation. “But you owe me.”

“Okay sure whatever,” Taryn called over her shoulder as she darted to her room to likely change for the party.

Jude stayed where she was in the kitchen and massaged her temples. She hated parties almost as much as she hated statistics homework. However, after weighing the two against each other for just a second she decided she did, in fact, hate statistics more.

It was going to be a long night.

—-

Taryn was prattling on about some new spring line for some new designer (she was majoring in design) as they pulled up to the mansion. Valerian was infamous for being one of the richest and most asshole-ish frat boys at their college, and even more infamous for getting the cops called on almost all of his parties. He also happened to be the host of tonight’s party, much to Jude’s irritation. It seemed alcohol would be essential to make it through the night without fighting one of the douche bags that made up Valerian’s click. Luckily, Taryn was designated driver.

Jude hopped down from their shared Jeep and came around the back of it, scowling at the chipped paint from the other day’s accident. At the drivers side, Taryn finally clambered down a little less than gracefully in her flowing sundress and heels. In contrast, Jude was wearing jeans with holes worn through them and a beat up pair of sneakers. She tried not to feel underdressed as she walked up the driveway with her sister. Afterall, she was the one that refused to let Taryn help her get dolled up for the party.

A long night, indeed, she thought to herself as they climbed the steps of the front porch.

The door was hanging open and already the house was packed. Music played somewhere but was drowned out by all the voices. Really, with as loud as the music was, it was almost impressive that the crowd managed to be louder. Already Jude could feel a headache starting to pound behind her eyes and she wished she had taken some Ibuprofen before they left the apartment.

Taryn made some sort of high pitched, animalistic noise as she spotted someone in the crowd she knew and waved emphatically at them. After a quick one sided conversation on Taryn’s part (“Are you cool if I go say hi?” “I’ll catch up to you later!” “Will you be okay?” “Love you!”) Jude was left standing on the threshold of the party by herself, thusly abandoned by the one person she knew at the party. The same person who had insisted on bringing Jude along in the first place. Already she was miserable.

There had to be a kitchen here somewhere. Jude had forgotten to eat and she needed something to drink, but with every turn through the ground floor she found nothing but people, people, and even more people. She was jostled from every direction, voices shouted by her ears until they were ringing, one room had a strobe light going and she quickly retreated away from the flashing lights.

“Remind me again why I came here?” She mumbled under her breath to an absent Taryn while she cursed her sister’s existence. Her twin definitely owed her. 

It was while Jude was thinking of ways to have her sister pay her back that she finally found the kitchen–quite by accident. She had been trying to squeeze past a group of people in the hall when someone bumped into her and she tumbled through a swinging door into a room that was–well, not empty, but surprising unpacked compared to the rest of the house. She saw Valerian in all his douche-bag glory standing by the counter with a red-headed boy leaning against the refrigerator and a girl with dyed blue hair lounging on the counter top. As soon as Jude entered the room they all turned to look at her and Jude couldn’t help but feel like the red-head was smiling at her like he knew her.

“Is that–?” Valerian started.

“No,” the red-head quickly cut off. “No, it is not.”

“But–”

“Shut up, Val.”

The girl on the counter cut the boys off and demanded, rudely, “What do you want, little girl?”

For the life of her Jude couldn’t figure out why the girl was calling Jude a “little girl” when they couldn’t be more than a year apart. A quick glance at the girls legs stretching out for miles suggested that the comment had been a short joke. Fantastic. Jude’s cheeks began to heat.

“Where’s the alcohol?” She asked, glad that her voice didn’t crack.

With an impatient wave of his hand Valerian indicated a doorway next to the fridge that led into the dining room. As the three of them continued on with whatever conversation they had been having when Jude walked in–the one with the red hair still watching her with his mouth quirked ever so slightly–Jude ducked into the dining room to find the massive table covered with bottles of various hard liquors. 

The voices died down as the door swung shut behind her and she took a grateful breath of air. Strange as it was that the room with the alcohol was the only room empty in the whole place, Jude was grateful for the small pocket of space and quiet.

She poured herself a drink–some monstrosity of flavored vodka and juice she found in a cooler under the table. After a taste test she cringed away from bite of the alcohol but decided getting buzzed on the vile thing would be better than being sober tonight. She turned to leave just as the door opened and omitted a boy still laughing over his shoulder at the group in the kitchen. Before Jude could pull back, the two of them collided in a tangle of limbs and solo cups and her face smacking into someone’s chest.

She jerked back. “I’m so sorr–,” She began at the same time the person said, “Shiiiiit,” in the long, drawn out way one does when they’ve been drinking.

Jude finally looked at the guy’s face.

And her stomach fell.

The boy from the car accident from days previous smiled down at her with his lazy, arrogant grin. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jude said.

“Jude, was it?” He asked teasingly. “Looks like your walking skills are as bad as you claim my driving skills to be.”

She continued to glare at him as he pulled his wet shirt away from his skin and she refused to feel bad about the giant red stain of her drink dripping off his shirt. “Since you ran into me this time,” he said as he tilted his head to smile down at her again, “I’d say we’re even?”

Jude felt her grip on the now empty solo cup in her hand tighten enough to start crushing the plastic as she considered upending the nearest bottle onto his head.

“You’re a dick,” she growled through her teeth. 

“Actually, I’m Cardan. Not that you bothered to ask the other day.”

“It’s because I don’t care.”

His hand came up to his chest in an imitation of being stung by her words. “I’m deeply wounded that someone as bitter and unfriendly as you could possibly not care about me!”

Loathe though she was to admit it, she had nothing to bite back at him. Mostly due to the fact that her rage had left her speechless. So instead of saying anything else, she shoved passed him into the kitchen, but the asshat followed her through.

“Aren’t you going to say sorry?” He asked as the three people in the kitchen caught sight of his destroyed shirt and began to laugh at him.

“Cardan what the fuck happened to you?” The red-headed boy asked around his laughter.

Cardan didn’t even take his eyes off Jude as he shot back, “Shut up, Locke, or I’ll take the shirt off and smother you with it.”

“Oh, promise?” The red-head (Locke, apparently) teased back. But Cardan still wasn’t paying any attention to him. Without taking his piercing gaze off Jude, he took a measured step closer to where she stood by the kitchen door.

His voice was low, meant only for her, as he asked. “Well? Are you going to apologize?” 

Jude narrowed her eyes at him and, instead of stepping back like he was probably hoping she would, she stepped closer so their chests were almost touching. “Fuck you.”

She stormed out of the kitchen to the sound of uproarious laughter from the rest of the group in the kitchen, not bothering to look back at Cardan.

[dragonastra]

1-100 on the DnD questions, for Deah >:3

Wow you're sure as hell fishing to kill me huh xD

I'll answer these under a read more cuz FUCK. I'll also try to keep it spoiler free -- I may mention stuff that hasn't come up in game but it would be stuff that might not ever come up explicitly anyway. Everything else has either been said or can be gleaned.

If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead Probably what she had been doing -- being a pirate

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life Probably Maddie and/or Gael. Maddie is a divine soul sorcerer and probably the one Deah is closest to. Gael is our barbarian/paladin who is probably the emotional backbone of the group? He is very earnest and genuine, and also hits like a brick house.

What are your character’s core moral beliefs? [Brushes off notes I made like a year ago] Promises must be kept, and debts one day fulfilled. Clean up the messes you made. Family is more important than self. Survival means not letting the past define you. (Not all morals but those are her ideals)

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings? She has a twin brother, whom she would die for. Their relationship used to be solid, but theyve currently broken apart somewhat due to lies and building tension, and the brother needing to go his own way. She is still very broken up about it. Her parents are both dead, and she has not spoken of much closeness there, but describes them as "they tried their best." Her pirate captain was basically a surrogate father for her teenage years and onward until their separation, and she... misses him.

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races? Not really. She probably doesnt trust ratfolk based on where she grew up, but beyond that? If you're good, you're good.

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority? (: fuck em. She is... shall we say... less inclined to help rich people.

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc. She's grown out her undercut so she has an asymmetrical style, one side of her head buzzed. She is still wearing her bright red pirate coat, but now wears a dark brown vest with purple accents underneath, as well as a long black sleeve to cover magical scars she received when she accepted a warlock pact with the hunter god. Also covering her scars is a gauntlet made by Maddie, so that they can't be detected by Detect Good and Evil and such.

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most? Sometimes she still thinks about that nap she had on the beach at a random island they had stopped at to restock on food.

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? As i mentioned, she has a pact with the hunter god, Erastil. She does not worship him. In fact, she rather doesnt like gods much. She doesnt really understand other worshippers, but if they're not hurting anyone with it she doesn't really care. Their worship doesnt affect her.

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be? Let's get this binch some navigator's tools finally!

Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. We are entirely online so we don't really have table seating. Based on the order of our nicknames in discord though, that would be... Haru, our new kitsune Oracle who joined us to fill a gap while some other players went on hiatus. Deah is uncertain about him, and she is generally pretty wary about strangers in her party, but he is useful. Their relationship is not deep by any means tbh.

What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? Stop the lord of the sea, and stop Aleksander.

Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.? ;) you'll have to ask her

Has your character ever been in love? Before the campaign, certainly not. She's hella ace, and doesn't open up easily, so she's got some confusing feelings right now for Maddie ;)

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character The battle against Tokt, since this was the battle that she was able to help save a person from being possessed by a demon -- something she figured out beforehand and convinced her team about.

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? I mean... probably a fighter???? Or maybe a full warlock, if she was desperate enough.

What is your character’s favorite season? Probably the fall? Sailing is usually good during that time, plus the harvest is coming in on land, so there's a lot of fresh food.

What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology? She would be an Aries based on her birthday! Our homebrew world just uses "Season Day" as time markers, with 90 days each season. She was born on Spring 12, which would translate to the first week of April.

Where in the world does your character most want to visit? She's been all over as an adventurer and a sailor. The place she'd like to visit the most is one she doesn't know about -- somewhere important to her old captain.

What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made? Deah would maybe even say joining the pirates. It was the happiest she'd ever been, but it led her brother to a path he regrets and feels pain over, and she feels a... bit guilty about that.

Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories? The only scars she has are from her pact to Erastil. She hides them, though. She's not ashamed of them, but she likes to keep them to herself... she's private like that.

What animal best represents your character? I always liken her to a hawk, especially a sea hawk. In some ways she’s like a cobra or a porcupine too -- kind of hard to get close to!

If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? 😬

Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? I don't know about most in common, really, but she gets along easiest with Ro, our halfling. Their banter is 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻. Honestly though? She probably has the most in common with Mercy, our tiefling fighter/paladin.

Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made? She probably regrets the party not staying behind in a certain town after a powerful enemy escaped. They thought the immediate threat had been dealt with and that another team from their guild could keep watch over the town, but then that team got surprised by an undead and two of them died. She feels at least partially responsible for that.

What would your character say their best trait would be? Her ability to perceive and track things. She has the observant feat plus the invocation that lets her see through even magical darkness!

What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Being abandoned.

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party? No where else to go, really. Like, sure, she likes at least most of them and they've been through a lot!!! And she DOES you know, feel like this is a stable job, and she does feel good helping people. But... she really does have no where else to go. :(

What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class? She does enjoy reading, though she's a little slow. Her favorite books are detective/mystery novels! She also sometimes likes to practice magic tricks (like... sleight of hand stuff). And technically this isnt outside of her class, but she really does enjoy training. Let's her burn off steam.

What would most people think when they first see your character? Pretty little waif, but that resting bitch face looks like she will cut me of I even say hello (this is by design).

What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) [Googles five man band] probably Lancer. Initially she wanted to be the Leader type but with the group dynamics and her own insecurities and issues, that isnt really truly possible for her. But she still tries to lead...

What is your character the most insecure about? :)

What person does your character admire most? Her old ship captain. Her DEAD ship captain :(

What does your character admire and dislike the most about the player character sitting to your left? She admires maddie's strength and kindness (and to a degree, innocence). Maddie's cooking skills. Maddie's family. She dislikes how nervous/anxious and possibly depressed Maddie can get :c

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? Her lowest stat is strength, and her second lowest is constitution. This is because she grew up poor, and was at times starving and definitely malnourished. Once she was om the pirate ship, she was regularly fed though.

What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music? I've been saying if she was in modern time, her favorite band would be Florence and the Machine. There's just something about the Florence sound that speaks to her. She'd definitely be into that kind of music, plus some heavier stuff leaning more towards metal or symphonic metal...

What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.) She's got the soul of a goth but the hobbies of a jock (in our team's college AU she's totally on the fencing and sailing teams). When I've drawn her in modern day she is usually wearing athleisure (capris leggings, loose tank top, sports bra, e.g.) but also it's mostly dark colors. She's Joth.

What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them? Toby :) just kidding, the pseudodragon isn't an item!!! Specifically collected during the adventure, probably her force blade. Her brother had found it, but had given it to her, near the beginning of the adventure.

Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find? She's not really looking out for items, no.

Where does your character feel the most at home? On the beach, on the ship. Specific locations to call home, she does finally feel like she has a stable place to call home in the patty's estate.

Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people? She's worn disguises and fake names before, but that's mostly to protect herself during her pirate years. She doesn't care a whole lot, but she does want to appear somewhat intimidating so that unsavoury people won't approach her LMAO. But she also wants to be seen as nice by children and poor folk, so she does soften a bit when they're around.

What does your character think is the true meaning of life? Happiness. Safety. Survival. Family/community.

What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.) She's always got a slight scent of salt on her, reminding you just a bit of the sea. For herself, she prefers to just smell... clean, so there's a fresher floral scent lingering...

Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? She tries to think more with her brain but sometimes the bottled up emotions get to be a bit much.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare? BEING. ABANDONED.

What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.) She hates (most) rich people and used to be a pirate, so you can kind of figure it out.

How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends? :(

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?) I dunno man she is just taking things one step at a time.

What colors are associated with your character? Red is her primary color. She also uses blacks/dark grays and a light purple as an accent. She's using more brown now tho to represent her connection to the hunter god.

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances? Maddie always. Then Ro. Then Gael. Haru would probably be up there because he is squishy and also mostly blind.

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos? A mix of pathos and logos is most effective on Deah. Logos probably most of all, but there are pathos buttons that hold away above all that... if you know which buttons to press.

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for? Currently? To bring back her pirate captain. She knows its selfish but...

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.? Her favorite spell is stab with rapier.

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party? She keeps secrets pretty regularly! Basically if the party needs to know, then the secret should be shared. But if it doesnt really affect the group or something important, and the person doesnt want to share, then go ahead and keep the secret.

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by? Dragons probably, at this point. Definitely an influence by me the player, haha, but it's buoyed by an early meeting with a particular dragon that sparked her interest.

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she didnt have life plans as a kid. She just wanted her and her brother to live.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond? That's already happened LMAO. Deah didnt know how to react so her brain blur screened and she ran away from the situation for a bit.

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with? If it only involved herself, Deah would probably go do it. But if it was a huge net loss for the group, she wouldn't, if that makes sense? It's hard to make sweeping statements like that.

Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s? She values her own interest for sure, but she would prioritize the party's if one meant dunking on the other. She knows what it's like to sail with a tight knit crew; sometimes you sacrifice to make the group as a whole better/happier.

What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Oh gosh, uh.... I mean, if they decide to help her enemies (not likely to happen, there are a couple shared ones). If they don't let her do something she REALLY wants... I can't really think of anything specific.

How does your character imagine the way they will die? Tragically. 

What is your character’s greatest achievement? Taming her pseudodragon ;w;

Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal? Hmm... not to a certain degree. Eh, probably not. She only really wants to risk herself, not others. Risking others doesn't give them the choice.

What is your character’s opinion on killing others? She does it all the time!! But if they're defenseless or not fighting back, she won't.

What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage? She really loves fresh baked bread!! As for beverage, uh.... I guess she'd like water with like, something fruity mixed in???

How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know? To the poor and to kids? Very. Also, recently, she gave all of the money she got from a quest to a townsperson to help them rebuild their city a bit (secretly of course. Not even her team knows she did that, though maybe some of them suspect hahaha)

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party? Once again... probably most envious of Maddie!! She comes up a lot doesn't she ;P

The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe? Maddie vs Haru? Shed probably lean towards Maddie :p

What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex? I've described Deah as Panromantic Asexual. She is rather sex averse and has difficulty pinpointing romantic feelings as well, being rather prickly at times.

What is your character’s biggest pet peeve? When people try to dig into something she doesn't want to share at the moment.

Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc. The current objective/situation involves her backstory, so you'll see soon ;)

Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Maddie of course! She trusts Gael, but not with secrets. Similarly, she trusts Mercy to hold an oath to the best of her ability, but not if a secret comes up -- same with Rudi. Ro does what she wants LMAO and she isnt telling Haru anything personal atm.

If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life? I dont want to think about that question and neither does Deah

What makes your character feel safe? Having her weapons. Having her pact/her pact scars.

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be? Nah, she likes Fortune's Blades

What memory does your character want to forget the most? Cal leaving. It's probably her most painful memory.

If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? She's already multi classed and her reasons for becoming a warlock are kind of muddied. She explained them initially but maaaaybe wasn't 100% truthful. If she had to pick a third, probably uh.... fighter?????

What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?) I would HOPE she would be friends with Elizabeth Swan (: but idk lol

What unusual talents does your character possess? Sharp senses and magic tricks.

How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower? It's rather situational. She tries to be a leader type, but she also realizes she's not at the top of the leader chain (and, with her party, at times different people take the head, so it's almost more consult-y like).

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?) The player of Cal, her brother, chose his name first from a generator. I like to construct my names sometimes from different name elements, so I made hers to match the sound of her twin's (that is, make it sound like it came from the same language). Her name is constructed of "Feld-" (field) and "-Deah" (dye) so her first name translates roughly to "field of dye." Her original last name is Shearwater, which is a real life sea bird but also follows the traditional elven naming convention (their dad was an elf). She never felt much of an attachment to her last name. She recently changed her last name to Blackheart, which was the moniker of her captain.

Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert? Introvert for sure

How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all? She would go as far as she needs to, but would never force others to make that same decision.

What does your character want to be remembered by? At one point she thought she would eventually be a famous pirate captain. But mostly I think she just wants to be remembered by those who love her and by those she helped...

What would be your character’s major in college? Fuck, uh... I had discussed this before.... I think I made her pre-law??? Math major???

Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else? Something else. She doesn't really care about that, she's just Being.

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I believe last it was discussed I had picked the Chariot for her.

Where does your character see themselves in 20 years? If not dead from adventuring, then settled somewhere nice, hopefully...

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it? For a long time she was the Sokka of the group, the only non-magic user. Then she got her pact. She's still kind of awkward about it, and at times really doesn't like magic, but she sees it as a tool. A means to an end.

Who is your character’s biggest rival? Rival?????? I guess Morrigan tbh??? Cuz a rival isn't an enemy, and she had a thing going with Morrigan (her player is on hiatus tho). In some ways she rivals Mercy too. A dance of similarities and differences.

What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure? Fine, beautiful dresses. She doesn't own any, because it's a waste of money, but.... she wants them. Secretly.

What does your character hope for the afterlife? Peace and rest.

Who in the party does your character trust the least? Haru, currently, simply by virtue of being new.

What is your character’s biggest flaw? BIGGEST flaw???? Uhhhmmm..... Her secrecy probably. Her tendency to run away from really big, painful problems, to bottle up her emotions around that until everything just gets worse.

How did your character learn the languages that they speak? Common, prucrician and Elvish she learned just growing up. Deep, she just... mysteriously knows. Doesn't know why she can speak it. Draconic she learned at first from Rudi, and then from a dragonborn NPC to finish her lessons during a timeskip.

What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry? Rapier

What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Why must she choose? Wealth, because that brings health and happiness in her eyes. (Because money buys food and when you have food.....)

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves? I know it's hard, but open up more. You don't have to keep it to yourself to protect others. Your brother can be your friend as well... you don't have to just keep holding yourself back for your friends and family.

Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about? She doesn't feel super strongly about politics, having been a pirate. She feels strongly about protecting children and poor though, as I've mentioned.

What, currently, is your character the most curious about? The afterlife. Erastil, but specifically just that one god. Her ship captain.

[breadcaaat]

part three

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Words: 2.4k

Genre: action, fluff, eventual smut if i’m brave enough??

Warnings: nudity (again)

The first thing to pop in Jeongguk’s head as he woke up was The heating’s been fixed, and it’s overcompensating. It was hot in his little apartment. How had he slept like this? Even his sheets were damp with sweat, and for the first time since autumn started the thick duvet layers were stuffy rather than sanctuary.

At least it was up again. That’s good.

Smacking his dry lips quietly, he flapped at his shirt a little to get some airflow. The movement caused whoever was next to him to shift in their sleep with a quiet chuff.

Jeongguk’s eyes shot open.

He hit the floor like a box of pans tumbling down a flight of stairs, and the girl startled awake. “Hey,” she growled, reaching for the duvet he’d unintentionally ripped away. “Give it. M’cold.”

“No! What are you doing in my bed?”

She ignored him, grabbing the duvet and pawing it back onto the bed. “I was sleeping.”

“Why?” he squeaked.

“Apartment’s cold.”

“You can’t just do that - sleeping in people’s beds without asking - ”

“Saved your life. Stop whining.” She pulled his pillow into a tight embrace, nestling the other behind her and tucking herself back in with the duvet. He watched in dismay as she melted right back in.

“I - thanks, but, I think you should…” He was interrupted by a soft snore. All conviction left his voice with a sigh. “…Go.”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, and then she relaxed all at once back into a deep sleep. I guess she did save my life. I shouldn’t be rude.

She looked tired anyway. In the morning light, he was able to see her clearly for the first time since they’d met. The fluffy, rounded little triangles on her head flicked on the pillow. The tip of her nose twitched. She looked at peace - relatively.

Judging by the deep bags under her eyes, it didn’t seem like peace was something she got often. They were dark as bruises. When was the last time she slept? he wondered to himself. There were other features to her indicative of a turmoiled life - small scars, healing bruises, untreated acne, slightly jaundiced complexion. She hadn’t seen the sun in too long, it seemed, or a full meal. There was no softness to her besides the brush of her eyelashes across the cheekbones beneath them.

He sat on the edge of the bed and fussed with his bangs nervously. What now? He couldn’t just leave her to sleep since she could steal something, but it looked like she was going to be comatose for the next few hours. What time was it anyway?

…Where was his phone?

A small panic seized him. Shit - the river!

Jeongguk shot to his feet. It either dropped out of his pocket or got wet, either of which was death to the poor thing. Mumbling a few curses under his breath, he started towards the bathroom. That’s where he’d dumped the mop-load of clothing from last night.

And ugh - the bathroom stank. It was a swamp of unmopped bath and river water, and the polluted grime seemed to have completely permeated his clothing. There were mud tracks everywhere, too. He whimpered at the mess. I barely have enough time as it is, how am I gonna clean this?

The phone was nowhere in the bathroom, so he fluttered over the entry to see if it’d dropped anywhere. “Where is it?” he muttered frantically. Stripes shifted in bed, indifferent.

Mostly.

He was making a lot of noise. If I don’t throw him from the balcony before breakfast I’m rewarding myself with another bath, she thought.

She groaned to get his attention. He didn’t answer, just ducked out the door for a second to check the hallway, muttering to himself frantically.

“Jeongguk,” she groaned. He fluttered back in, kneeling down to check - his shoes? Why is he checking his shoes? “Jeongguk.” A thinly veiled growl this time.

“What?” he said, not really paying attention. Maybe it was between the couch cushions?

“Rice.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

“Rice.” A loose wave towards the kitchen.

He looked at the counter and just about melted in embarrassment. “Oh.” There it was, sitting in a bowl of rice. “T-Thanks.”

All he got was the thump of a tail swatting the duvet in answer. “M’tired,” she repeated. “Quiet.”

“Yeah, I’ll… do that. Thanks, sorry.”

He got a grunt in return. Not very talkative, he noted.

Scooping his phone out of the bowl and brushing the dust off of it, he swiped through his notifications to see if he’d missed anything important this morning. It was nine o’clock. Not as late as he feared, but still four hours later than usual. 

“Oh shit,” he muttered all of a sudden. Don’t I have a morning shift?

He checked his calendar, and sure enough. God, the Gim family was going to kill him. He’s never skipped work a day in his life, and it’d be useless to go - all the morning deliveries are done by now. He could see he’d gotten nine texts from Miyun, and cringed a little. The last one seemed angry.

He groaned, shrinking with guilt. All his regulars probably went without breakfast. Agh, how was he gonna look them in the eye later?

It’d taken a whole lot of willpower to drag himself away from his apartment and to Gim’s place, knowing that the homeless tiger girl sleeping in his bed could wake up whenever and leave whenever with whatever she wanted. He made sure to hide everything important deep in a shoebox before he left and consoled himself with the thought that nothing else in his apartment is really worth much.

The bus ride over had been stressful, too. He was biting his fingers raw just worrying. Would he be fired? They must’ve lost a whole lot of profit today without deliveries - hell, it was a delivery place. That’s their thing! Shit he was fucked!

By the time he skittered through the doors like the mousy little rodent he believed himself to be, he’d worked himself into a wreck. He wasn’t aware of it either, but he looked horrible. Like a drowned rat. (Not too far from the truth, honestly.) But at the sight of him, all the anger Sungyun had incubated whooshed away in a huff.

“Kid!”

He jumped a little but got sheepish when he registered it was her. Ducking his head as she walked around the corner, he found himself fussing with his bangs. Shaking them out, picking at a few strands, patting it back into place. Another nervous tic. Unbeknownst to him, his fingers were bleeding around the nail beds. The sight made Sungyun frown.

Gently, she took his hands into her own, and he blushed at the sight of his cuticles. Expecting a scolding, he ducked his head again.

Rubbing at his hands gently, she asked, “Why did you miss your shift?”

“I woke up late,” he replied quietly. She knew there was more to it.

“You worked a night shift, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes. “...Then I… fell into a river.”

All the calm concern in her gaze disappeared with her eyebrows shooting into her hairline. Now it was a fiery hot mama-bird concern.

“A river?!”

“The one a couple blocks south of the mini-mart.”

“A river!”

Miyun ducked out from the kitchen. “A river?”

Sungyun started fussing over him then, checking for bruising and other such signs of drowning. “A river!” It would’ve been amusing had he not actually fell into a river last night.

“What about a river?” Miyun asked.

“I fell in one.”

“An actual river?!”

This was ridiculous. He felt a little smirk twitch across his lips. “Yeah, river. As in R, I, V - ” Sungyun swatted him over the back of the head then and called him a brat, but then cooed in apology and started fussing over his skull when he winced. There was no way in hell he’d tell her about the kitchen debacle a week ago. She’d have a stroke or something.

The fussing and following interrogation lasted for another two minutes until he started to gently bat her hands away to which she grabbed at his ear and tweaked it until he squealed.

“Stop worrying!”

“Stop doing things that make me worry, you brat!”

It went surprisingly well, honestly. He left the shop with a solid homemade meal and a sore ear, which was a lower casualty stat than he expected. It was good she’d given him an obscenely huge serving size too - that meant he wouldn’t have to spend any money on feeding his guest. Speaking of which - I hope she hasn’t stolen anything. Best case scenario is she’s just waking up as I get back.

On the way home, he called the moving company and the convenience store to call in sick. He deserved a day off.

Finally, the best case scenario was happening rather than the usual worst. He keyed his way back into the dinky little nest he called home and noticed the steam rolling out of the open bathroom and heard the gentle rippling of water as Stripes took a morning bath, which hopefully meant she wouldn’t be too grumpy. He gently shut the door behind him and toed off his shoes.

The water sounds quieted. “Jeongguk?”

“Yeah, just me.”

The water sounds resumed.

“I got breakfast,” he called. “Come get it while it’s hot. This stuff isn’t good microwaved.” He set up the food on the coffee table as she sloshed her way out of the tub. Her footsteps padded over until she stopped a meter away.

“Smells good,” she murmured. He hummed and looked up at her, only to blush profusely and whip his head in the opposite direction. “Jesus - ” she cocked her head, confused “ - clothes! Please! At least a shirt?”

She glanced down at her naked self, chuffed bemusedly, and padded back into the bathroom.

He let out a tight exhale, preparing himself for whatever interaction came next. How could she be so… unbothered by nudity? She just didn’t care. Hell - the balcony windows were open too which means anyone in the opposite building could’ve seen. Agh. Agh!

She padded back out in a pair of his boxers and a hoodie, striding past him to grab a pair of socks from his dresser. He noted that she was wearing the boxers backward to use the hole for her tail, and giggled a little. Her ears flattened and she glanced at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He took another bite, swallowed. “Come n’ eat.”

They ate. Things were a little awkward at first. He didn’t know what to say and she didn’t invite conversation, so they ate in the relative silence of clicking chopsticks and munched food. Jeongguk finished first, leaning back against the couch to piece together what he wanted to say. She noted the thoughtful expression on his face but said nothing.

Finally, with a sigh. “So, I want to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“For the river yesterday. You didn’t have to.”

“I did.”

He furrowed his brow, confused. She elaborated, voice suddenly quiet, timid. Even vulnerable.

“You saved mine. I wanted to thank you but couldn’t find the chance. You’re so…” she took another bite and cleared her throat, “…busy.”

He blushed a little. She was cute when she wasn’t being all threatening and Grrr, I eat throats for breakfast! “Well, uh, you’re welcome.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

Some of the tension in the room broke, and they physically felt a weight lift off their chests. She finished her breakfast a bit more relaxedly, and he let his eyes close for a bit as she ate.

Something occurred to him suddenly, and he tipped his head back forward to look at him. Her eyes met his questioningly.

“You don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

A heavy question, it seemed. She took her time to answer it, polishing what little was left on her plate.

“I - ” her voice broke, still rusty from disuse but better than before, “ - I can, I can leave. This is your den and I’m sorry… for intruding.”

“No, no! “ He waggled his hands, flustered. “That’s not what I meant! I was just curious. Uh, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have a place to stay?”

Her ears flattened, embarrassed. “Not really,” she mumbled. “I don’t.”

Jeongguk nodded, thinking. He posed a hypothetical to himself. If he let her stay, what would life be like? He’d need to feed her since she can’t get a job looking not-like-a-human. It looked like she had a pretty extensive appetite, too, judging from how much breakfast she just ate. She needed clothes, toiletries, maybe even a phone - he could only afford a cheap one but it’d do. That and some of his bills would probably double. Water, definitely. Her baths were going to knock into that budget. It didn’t seem like the dark was a problem for her vision though, so maybe electricity would stay the same? It’d also be warmer, given the changing seasons and how much heat she put off - he was sweating just thinking about this morning. Heating bill might go down. How much money did he make in a month again?

To Stripes, he was unreadable. His brow was furrowed and he was staring at the ceiling over her left shoulder, doe eyes spaced out and glazed. It wasn’t intimidating at all - his brooding - but she didn’t like not being able to read him. Was he trying to find the right words to kick her out? He seemed like a nice kid, one who’d want to punt her to the curb, but gently.

“... What are you thinking?” she asked hesitantly.

He could probably do it. There was some free time in his week that he could fill with another part-time, maybe at Yoongi’s parlor. The barber liked him well enough - even if he was a little intimidating - so maybe he could swing it. He’d have to give him a call later -

“Jeongguk?”

His eyes refocused. “Huh?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Oh, I just… would you want to stay here? Can you?”

Her eyes widened? Did she hear him correctly? There’s no way. Sure, her hearing’s never failed her, but - he couldn’t be serious. “You mean it?” she asked. She was very still.

He shrugged and fiddled with his hoodie strings. “Yeah. If you want.”

Her tail thumped, and for the first time since they’d met, he saw her smile. He couldn’t help but smile back.

A/N: i’m already working on the next chapter! please leave comments!! i need the validation!! !

Taglist: @feed-my-geek-soul @starryannaaa @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01 @seokchella

Taglist Glitches: @infiressnct

[thepartyresponsible]

after a somewhat prolonged absence (moving is a goddamn nightmare), here’s the second soundtrack fill! this one is for an anon who asked for jason todd + "why you gotta kick me when i'm down" by bring me the horizon.

so here’s what happens when superheroes/vigilantes are (vaguely) legitimized and organized into authorized teams, but jason still manages to ruin his life.

no real warnings for this one, except it’s not overly kind to bruce wayne.

Jason gets traded to SHIELD after he shoots the Penguin in the face. He’s probably supposed to be grateful that he gets traded at all. Unnecessary kills are frowned upon all over, and Bruce especially takes a pretty grim stance on them.

Hell, Bruce is so pissed about this kill that two of Jason’s molars are still sitting a little loose in his jaw when his plane touches down in D.C.

The media’s been brutal about it, especially in Gotham. It’s nothing new. They’ve hated Jason since he crawled out of Crime Alley. They hate Jason, and they hate the Outlaws, and they’ve been gleefully running grainy videos of Bruce backhanding Jason’s mask to pieces all Goddamn week.

There were reporters camped outside Titans Tower from the moment Roy Harper brought him in, and Dick, because he’s Dick, never sent them away.  

“It’s public property. They’ve got a right to be there,” he’d said, while he packed Jason’s mouth with gauze and cleaned up cuts and clucked over bruises. “They can’t get inside.”

And Roy would’ve chased them off, probably, except Roy got dragged into trade negotiations immediately and left before Jason even woke up the morning after Bruce kicked his ass.

Jason wasn’t part of any negotiations. Dick ran what interference he could, but half the country, including Bruce, wanted Jason in prison. In the end, SHIELD is better than he could have hoped for. It’s better than he deserves. He’s got no right to be angry about it, even if D.C. is not his city. Even if he worked damn hard, for years, to stay out of SHIELD and its reach.

But the collateral damage is pissing him off. Roy, pulled from the Titans, stepping in to run the Outlaws. Kate Bishop, loaned to the Titans to fill their archer slot. And Peter Parker, graduated early from SHIELD, sent to round out the West Coast Avengers.

Parker, who’d been angling for a spot on the Avengers. Who earned that spot. Who’s everybody’s Goddamn darling.

Jesus Christ, people barely tolerate Jason in Gotham. He’s not going to be able to set foot in New York for years.

When he steps off the plane, he expects to be met by agents. He’s not technically in anybody’s custody; he’s been traded, not incarcerated. But Dick and Wally escorted him to his gate, possibly to keep any riled-up civilians from spitting in his face, and he feels rootless and exposed, navigating the airport alone.

It’s fine. He’s not armed, but, in a place like this, he doesn’t need to be. There’s no threat here.

He nudges his teeth with his tongue, feels them give more than they should. The stitches dissolved two days ago, and the swelling’s mostly gone, but the bruises on his face have settled in to linger.

He gets a few wide-eyed stares, but it’s hard to tell if anyone actually recognizes him or if it’s just the bruising turning heads. Most people only associate Red Hood with the mask. He’s lucky that way. He’s been careful to keep his face out of the press.

SHIELD, of course, does all its work with its Aux agents bare-faced and uniformed, all their stats and headshots available for public perusal. So that’s probably the end of whatever anonymity Jason had managed to preserve.

Which is fine. He wouldn’t’ve had any anonymity in prison, either. So it’s not like he’s losing something he ever had a chance to keep.

He’s standing in baggage claim, waiting for the duffle bag of clothes Artemis brought over, when a man wearing a decent suit and a blandly pleasant expression approaches from his left. “Phil Coulson,” he says, hand extended. “From SHIELD.”

Phil Coulson is a name that sounds vaguely familiar, like something Dick said to him a couple dozen times while Jason was busy trying to pretend none of this was going to happen. Jason sizes him up and then reaches out, shakes his hand. “Hey. Jason Todd, from--” He cuts himself off, flounders.

Jason Todd, from the Outlaws.

But he isn’t. He built that team. He was the cornerstone of that team. The Outlaws have never existed without him. And now, for nothing, for a father that maybe at some point cared about him, he’s ruined the whole Goddamn thing.

“From SHIELD,” Phil supplies, patiently.

“Yeah,” Jason says. He turns away, grabs his bag. “From SHIELD.”

Phil gives him a long, evaluating look. His eyes linger on the bruising around Jason’s jawline, and Jason doesn’t fidget, doesn’t drop his eyes. After a tense, drawn-out moment, Phil nods. “Alright, Jason,” he says, “let’s go.”

  He doesn’t expect a warm welcome. He escaped SHIELD training by virtue of Bruce’s dogged resistance to oversight and the fact that, technically, Jason put on his first costume before the Auxiliary Justice Department was established. He was grandfathered in, had to register but never needed to be licensed, and, for the past seven years, he’s just been one of the many now-authorized vigilantes who refused any kind of PR-pleasing government training.

Now here he is, showing up at SHIELD’s doorstep like a puppy no one wanted. And he’s taking Parker’s place, which sure as hell isn’t going to endear him to anybody.

He’s heard about trades like this. People being traded into teams that don’t want them. It was never like that on the Outlaws, because the Outlaws were, technically, under Bruce’s watch, and Bruce’s theory on teamwork has always been less is more.  And it’s not like that on the Titans or the Teen Titans or any of the teams directly below the Justice League, either, because they’ve got enough draw to only get the best.

But some of the government teams. Some of the military teams. Not so often with the higher-ranking SHIELD teams, but everybody heard about the mess on Rumlow’s team a few years ago. Everyone knows what they were doing to Barnes before Rogers found out.

Hell, Xaiver’s school is full of former government recruits who dropped out and need to be reconditioned – whatever the hell that means – to civilian life.

“Regulations require that you stay on base through the weekend,” Coulson tells him.

“Sure,” Jason says. He’d been under the impression that he’d be staying on base through the rest of his natural life, so weekend, in comparison, sounds mercifully reasonable.

“Pending clearance from Medical, you’ll be moved into the team’s building on Monday.”

Jason stares out the window, watches the cars. “Medical?” he asks, because it seems like the least treacherous part of that sentence.

“I was told,” Coulson says, with a sudden sharp edge to all that quiet patience, “that you were cleared for fieldwork.”

Jason’s tongue goes to his teeth, works at the swollen line of his gums. “Jesus,” he says, “it’s just cosmetic. And I probably shouldn’t blow anyone for a week, so maybe swap someone else in for the time-sensitive dick-sucking jobs.”

The look Coulson gives him is dangerously, infinitely bland, and Jason’s heart double-skips in his chest as it occurs to him that maybe that kind of shit is supposed to be on the table now. What the hell would he know? He’s worked with Bruce his whole career.

Jason, for the record, would happily take a mask-shattering, teeth-loosening backhand over being sent out to suck some scummy government dick. Jesus, he’d take the hit every day of his life.

“Is that a common work requirement in Gotham?” Coulson’s tone is light and even, professionally curious.

“It absolutely is not,” Jason says.

“That’s good,” Phil says, as he expertly navigates a u-turn through four separate lanes of traffic with all the nonchalance of someone turning right on red. “So you’ll have Medical, and then sexual harassment training, and then you can move into the team building on Monday.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason says, forehead thunking into glass hard enough to make his bruised temple ache. “You fucking Feds.”

  They don’t go to the SHIELD base. They go to a small Italian restaurant in a strip mall. “We’re a little behind schedule,” Coulson says, as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “They already have a table. Let’s go.”

Jason follows because he’s got no right to stay behind. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s got no reason to need more information. He’s not running anything; he’s nobody’s captain. He traded all of that for a bullet in the Penguin’s head, and maybe it was worth it, maybe it wasn’t, but it’s already done.

Coulson gives him another look as Jason falls in step beside and a little behind him. It’s a thoughtful, calculating look, eyes unreadable, mouth a flat line. It’s the kind of look Bruce used to give him, before he gave up and kicked Jason out of the cave. It’s the way someone looks at an investment they’re starting to reconsider.

Well, it’s not Jason’s fucking fault if SHIELD made a bad trade. The whole world was running headlines saying the best thing to do with him was lock him up in isolation, keep him confined for the next ten, fifteen years. It’s not like SHIELD wasn’t warned what a shitshow Jason is.

As they step into the restaurant, make their way toward the back, Jason wonders if SHIELD did this as a favor to the Titans and Outlaws or as a way to get some kind of leverage on Bruce. He hopes they had the sense to angle for a favorable relationship with the Titans. If they think Bruce Wayne is going to give a damn what SHIELD does to him now, Jason has two loose teeth, three bruised ribs, and an impressive array of week-old bruises that would argue to the contrary.

“Here,” Coulson says and nods towards a table with two occupants.

Jason knows, in a glance, that it’s Hawkeye and the Widow.

They’re both watching him. Barton’s subtler about it. He’s got a sort of hapless, heedless air about him that makes his awareness seem accidental. It’s hard to take him seriously with that line of butterfly bandages above his eyebrow, the half-healed scab over his badly split lip. He reminds Jason of Roy, a little, and Jason almost smiles at him, because it’s good to see anything that looks like home.

And Romanoff could be Artemis, with the catlike stare she levels his way. Not aggressive, necessarily, but patient, intent. Assessing. Her body language lacks the casual, lived-in ease of Barton’s mannerisms. But that could be because she’s sipping elegantly from a glass of red wine while Barton is wrestling a plate of spaghetti into submission with a fork held awkwardly between bandage-wrapped fingers.

“Clint, Natasha,” Coulson says, as he slides into one of the open seats across from them. “This is Jason Todd.”

“Hey,” Clint says, around a mouthful of spaghetti. “I ate your breadsticks.”

“And he’s very sorry,” Natasha adds. “And he’s buying you more.”

Jason stares at them. And then he stares at Coulson. And then, because he’s got fuck-all else to do, he settles into the seat across from Clint and narrows his eyes. “You’d fucking better,” he says.

Sometimes, when he can’t find the fight he knows he’s losing, he starts a new one. It saves time.

But Clint just grimaces, looking good-natured and abashed. “Sorry. Got hungry.”

Jason furrows his brow, keeps staring. Clint blinks and shrugs, ducks his head so he can funnel more spaghetti into his mouth, and Jason wonders if he’s actually supposed to think that Clint Barton – Hawkeye, World’s Greatest Marksman, Avenger – is as friendly and harmless as your average Golden Retriever.

“Let’s see you,” Natasha says, leaning forward, and Jason goes completely still as the Black Widow’s fingers curl around his chin.

Jesus Christ, he thinks. Jesus Christ.

The Avengers are the reason their work was ever legitimized. The Avengers are the reason the Accords were reworked toward mercy. Without the Avengers, there would’ve been a war, and Jason knows exactly how that would’ve ended up for groups like the Outlaws, who were always a special target, even back when all vigilantes were criminals.

The Widow’s fingers are cold against his skin. She lifts his face toward the light, runs her thumb so lightly over the bruising along his jaw that he barely feels it.

“Get fussy with the flight attendants?” Clint asks. “I got locked in the lavatory once.”

And he is like Roy, because, when Jason glances over, he’s got a big dopey smile on his face and a look in his eyes like someone, somewhere, is going to lose blood over this.

“You guys don’t watch TV?” Jason should pull away from the Widow. Her fingers are still on his face, and he has to speak soft and careful to keep from dislodging her. It’s making him sound young and unsure, almost shy. “Batman doesn’t keep killers on his teams.”

“If you’d been a shade less study,” Natasha says, tone strangely controlled, nearly singsong, “Bruce Wayne would be a killer.”

Jason blinks. He remembers the hit that shattered his mask, the starlight sickness of heat-pressure-pain that broke his brain to pieces, left him too Goddamn dizzy to remember to get his hands up to block the next punch.

He remembers, also, the hot splatter of his own blood when Bruce opened his fucking throat with a batarang years ago.

“Bruce, you know.” He tips his head out of the Widow’s grasp and steals her wine, just to give his hands something to do. “Sometimes, when people don’t listen, he gets loud about things.”

“Sometimes,” Clint says, lifting the wine right out of Jason’s hand, “when I don’t listen, Coulson pulls me from the field, makes me go to therapy.”

“Wow,” Jason says, “I think I’ll take the punch to the face.”

Clint grins at him. His grin is sharp enough to cut someone. Beside him, Natasha mirrors it. “Yeah,” he says. “Devil you know, huh?”

“Okay,” Jason says, because this whole week has been a stretch of nightmare after nightmare, waking up to realize it’s getting worse every time he opens his eyes. He was ready for a bleak SHIELD room that locked from the outside. He was ready for revenge. He was ready to be made into a point, a cautionary tale for all the other Auxers who refused licensing. “What the fuck is this? Why am I at dinner with two Avengers? The fuck is going on?”

Natasha swipes her wine out of Clint’s unresisting fingers, brings the nearly-empty glass up to her mouth. “Coulson believes in team bonding rituals,” she says.

“I’m not on your team,” Jason says. He’s not. He’s here because nobody wanted him. He’s here because SHIELD was better than prison. He’s here because he fucks up every single thing he touches.

“Well,” Clint says, “not until I get you those breadsticks.”

Jason gives up on the pair of them and turns to stare at Agent Coulson, who’s been casually perusing the menu throughout the entire conversation. “What,” Jason says, as clearly as he can, “the fuck.”

Phil Coulson smiles at him, calm and unconcerned and vaguely benign. He looks like someone who’s used to dealing with people like Jason, which is a hell of a change from the way Bruce always looks at him. For years now, Bruce has been staring at Jason like he’s got no idea what species he is.

“Jason,” he says, “what do you know about Strike Team Delta?”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Hi CJ, I have a question. I'll understand if you don't want to answer it, but what are your thoughts about the fighting about Lou and Vi that keeps happening? Do you think thier routes are unequal? I keep seeing posts about ppl insisting that the devs favor Vi and ppl getting nasty towards her about it. I love Louis and sometimes I agree with the posts but they are so mean about it that it makes me feel bad. You don't have to answer but I'd like to know your thoughts on the whole thing. Thank u

…….Sigh.

Okay. 

Anon, I’m sorry that it’s taken me a while to get back to you, given all the things I’ve had weighing down on me recently about my blog and life outside the fandom.

I answered this already and was ready to post it but then erased everything. When I reread it to make sure it was alright, I said, “Yeah, okay, that’s really nice and positive and… I don’t like it.”  So, let me try again and get what’s really on my mind off my chest. 

Basically, there’s a difference between being positive and being fake, and that answer I gave you originally was fake. 

You guys know that I like to remain mostly positive about everything on this blog. I don’t tolerate hate towards each other or towards myself. I rarely answer hate anons, if ever. I don’t start shit with other blogs because they happen to disagree with me on one little thing. 

Yeah, I get mad about things and complain and be anything but positive when it comes to topics such as Mitch’s death, Lilly’s character just in general, the flaws with ep4′s ending, ect. If you’ve been here a while, you know what I’m talking about.

When I talk about positivity, I mean it more in a way that I like to focus on the good within the fandom while also discussing things I would’ve liked within the series or things I didn’t like and would’ve changed, certain ‘what if’ scenarios. I try to do these things with a kind and optimistic outlook while also allowing myself to be truthful in how I feel. 

What I’m trying to say is I try to be a good person on here. I try to be nice, respectful and encourage you guys to create good things within the community and get invested in these characters and other topics. 

However, I also firmly believe in honesty. 

You asked for my opinion on this topic? Okay. I’ve yet to ever give a fake answer and I’m not starting now. 

If you’re new here: Hello. My name is CJ and I am a Louis/Clouis blog who loves twdg and discussing all the different characters, ships, and story elements within the game. I’m about to talk about some stuff with full honesty that it may get me some hate but y’know what? I don’t care, we’re gonna discuss it anyway. 

What are my thoughts on the constant fight between Louis/Clouis and Violet/Violentine?

It’s a waste of time. 

There are so many talented people out there who are wasting their energy on sending hate to each other, making nasty posts about the developers, shitting on the characters and the community, and then constantly wondering why this fandom is so damn negative.

I made an instagram account a long time ago for this blog where I started posting my favorite screenshots of Louis and posts from this blog. I followed the #twdglouis and #clouis tags and was seeing a lot of great things until I wasn’t anymore. 

I don’t post on instagram anymore because it’s a shitshow of hate. What’s new in the #clouis tag? Violentine hate. What’s new in the #twdglouis tag? Violet hate. 

I don’t know if y’all know this, but if I’m in any of the Louis tags, it’s because I want to see some good Louis content. OBVIOUSLY.

I swear, if these people sat down, took ALL of that energy they’re using for this nonsense and put it towards the thing they claimed to love, we would have the most amazing content of any fandom out there. I would be able to check the louis tags every day and see brand new, beautiful artwork and read amazing stories. 

But no.

 As for your second question, that’s where my honesty really comes into play.

Do I think Louis and Violet’s routes are unequal?

Yeah, I do. 

I think Violet’s romance has a few more things to offer than Louis’.

When you go fishing with Violet and Brody, you don’t get a choice- you have to hang out with Violet. 

If you go hunting with Louis and Aasim, you have to choose Louis if you want to hang out with him. 

Brody mentions that she hasn’t seen Violet warm up to someone like she has Clem in a long time. 

Not a single person mentions anything about Louis in regards to Clem coming along. 

Violet stands up for Clementine in ep2 no matter what you do. She takes on the leader position and you can imply that she and Clementine spent the most time together during the two week time skip, making their romance feel more balanced and understandable.

Louis is still on iffy terms with Clementine and you can imply that they barely speak until their talk during the archery practice, making their romance feel rushed and questionable. 

Violet’s romance has a star gazing mini-game.

Louis’ romance does not have a mini-game. 

Violet makes Clementine a pin so that they can remember that night because it was easy to retexture one of Violet’s pin and have Clementine wear it.

Louis can’t give Clementine anything because the idea of a piano key necklace was scrapped even though they could’ve made a small model for it for her to wear. 

I’m sure there are more, and yeah if I’m being completely 100% honest with you? It does bother me sometimes and it’s okay if it bothers you, Anon. What really matters is what you do with those feelings. 

Because y’know what?

Just because I can play a mini-game in Violet’s route doesn’t make me like her more Louis, but it also doesn’t make me want to spam hate posts about her. 

Complaining and whining and talking shit about the developers because so many believe Violet is favored over Louis isn’t going to do anything. 

Melissa saying she prefers violentine doesn’t make me want to drop everything clouis because “Oh Melissa said it so it’s canon even though we went over this her word doesn’t mean anything.” 

Sterling not being on the commentary while Gideon is doesn’t mean anything. 

The ending stats don’t mean anything. 

The hateful people on here and instagram don’t mean anything. 

None of it means anything. 

The only thing that means something is you and how you deal with this.

Clouis is the love of my life, as I’ve said many times. 

I love Violet. I think she’s a great character and I appreciate the happiness she and violentine have brought to many people in our community. 

All the things listed above? They may bother me sometimes, but I can and have written fanfics that have solved this problem. I’ve talked with you guys about it, talked about how I will be forever bitter about a lack of piano mini-game while also sharing cute headcanons and gushing about the wonderful clouis moments we do get in canon. I’ve read amazing clouis fanfics and admired beautiful fanart. 

I don’t pick fights, I don’t write hate posts, I don’t shit on the devs [although I will admit that I’ve thrown my fair share of shade at Kent but that was over Mitch’s death so that’s completely different right? …Right?]  or throw little baby tantrums because someone said something I don’t like or someone doesn’t like Louis or WHATEVER. 

I focus on better things, like this blog, you guys, Louis, Clouis, and many other better things. 

Anon, as I’ve said before, all this nonsense is just that: nonsense and a waste of time. It’s okay to feel the way you do but I encourage you to take those feelings a create something better with them. If you, or anyone, ever want to talk about this more, feel free to DM me. If something like this is bothering you, I am more than happy to try and help you. 

Alright, that’s enough brutal honesty for one night. 

I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to thinking that about the different routes so I’m a little nervous about that, but I’m also not going to pretend that I think they’re equal just to remain neutral and “positive.” It’s actually kind of cathartic to get it off my chest… huh. 

God, I hope this post got across everything I tried to say because I don’t want to rewrite it again.

Also, drinking game: take a shot every time I say positive or a variation of honest. 

Unless your underage. Then use apple juice or something. 

I don’t know what I’m typing anymore ignore me

[an-indigo-moose]

The Undying

This is my first fan fiction story ever. It was written in 2011, and then edited several times over the years. It’s most recent edit being in 2016. It includes the Rani and a great deal of my own made-up science of regeneration.  

THE UNDYING

The Doctor sat alone at the counter in a cozy diner with a friendly fifties theme. A wide eyed waitress with the name Waldo on her name tag served him a plate of pancakes with syrup.

“Are you sure you don’t have any soufflé?” the Doctor asked. “For some reason, I’m really in the mood for soufflé.”

“Pancakes are the house specialty,” the waitress said firmly. “Best thing in Perivale.”

The Doctor poked at the pancakes with his fork. “Waldo… that’s an unusual name,” he commented.

“It’s a nickname. My friend Ace gave it to me,” the waitress answered.

“You’re friends with Ace? Dorothy McShane?”

“Uh-huh,” said the waitress as she wiped the counter with a rag. “How do you know her?”

The Doctor straightened his bow-tie. “She was a traveling companion.”

“You’re the one she called the Professor? You don’t look a thing like she described.”

“I prefer to be called the Doctor,” he grumbled.

“Oh, okay. No judgments. Is she still traveling with you?”

“Uh… no,” the Doctor answered. “I uh … I set her up at the Academy.”

“Nice!” said the waitress with a toothy grin.

“I hoped it would be…” replied the Doctor, mostly to himself.

"Who travels with you now?" the waitress asked, beginning to take off her apron.

"Actually, Waldo –“

“It sounds funny when you say it,” the waitress interrupted him. “Why not call me Clara? It’s my actual name.” She ducked down behind the counter for a moment.

The Doctor muttered the two names. “I’d prefer Waldo, no offense.”

“If that’s what it takes to go on an adventure,” Clara Waldo Oswald answered as she stepped out from behind the counter. “That is what you were about to say, right?” She slung a satchel over her shoulder and began to quickly walk towards the back of the diner.

“Yes. Wait, where are you going? How much did Ace tell you?” The Doctor chased Waldo as she walked out the back door into the alley and found the blue police box parked next to the dumpsters.

***{+==]**

“Well, is there a certain place you’d like to visit first?” the Doctor asked as Waldo marveled at the interior of the TARDIS.

Waldo beamed and pulled a small book out of her satchel. "I have this book, One-hundred one places to See.” She opened to a random page. "The Amazon Rain Forest..." she began to read.

"Please..." moaned the Doctor.

"It says here that the Amazon Rain Forest is a place of unparalleled biodiversity."

She held the book out for the Doctor to look. He barely glanced at it.

Waldo queried, "Have you even been to the Amazon?"

"What? Of course I – well there was this one time I flew over-" He is clearly flustered. "Alright, fine. No," he admitted.

Waldo repeated, "No? You visit London and New York and Perivale of all places, but you've never even  bothered-"

"Fine, Oswald. You wanna go? We'll go. Let's go to the Amazon Rain Forest."

The Doctor pushed the buttons and pulled the necessary levers.

**{+==]**

In a laboratory, a woman in a lab coat is distilled liquids and thoughtfully made notes. Behind her were birds in cages and large pieces of high-tech equipment. She looked up from her work when she heard an unusual whirring sound coming from outside. She softly whispered to herself, "No... could it be...?"

She rushed out of the room, taking off the lab coat as she went. Underneath the coat was a fitted, shiny green jacket, tight pants in a matching color, and tall, rugged boots.

In a small clearing in the rainforest, the TARDIS appeared in all its blue glory. It stood out like a jewel   amid the bright green plants of the rainforest. The woman peeks out from behind a large tree. "It is him!" she smiled a tight, knowing smile. "After all these years!"

The TARDIS door opened. The woman hid behind the large tree. The Doctor and Waldo stepped out, rubbing lotion on their skin. The Doctor, ever eager to change hats, was wearing a pith helmet.

"Make sure the lotion is completely rubbed in," the Doctor instructed.

"Now how good is this stuff?"

The Doctor proclaimed, "Anti-venom, anti-toxin, anti—well the list of things it doesn't protect against would probably be shorter." Stepping out in front of his one person tour group, he turned and asks, "How's my face? Did I get everywhere?" Waldo nodded.

The woman came out of her hiding place once she was sure the two were gone. She approached the TARDIS. Smirking, she took a key out of her pocket. Without hesitation, she unlocked the door. With one last glance over her shoulder, she let herself in.

She found herself in the main control room of the Doctor's time traveling machine. She talks to herself, as she walks confidently about the space, looking at the various control panels.

"Oh, he's really changed it since last time. I wonder how much he's changed? Ah, here we go..."

She located the panel she was looking for, a key-board with Gallifreyan lettering. She typed quickly and carefully. A screen slide up from below. On the screen was a picture of the current Doctor, with his various stats, including his age.

"That young and on his eleventh regeneration already? Really! He'll be needing the elixir before I have perfected it. What's he been doing with his lives?"

*{+==]*

Meanwhile, the Doctor and Waldo are enjoying their exploration of the rainforest. "Ah, the Amazon Rainforest. I can't believe I didn't visit here sooner..." The Doctor stopped to admire a small lizard climbing a tree. "You just don't get a flora-fauna blend quite like this anywhere else. All around me I see life!"

A large bird swooped in front of the Doctor's face, snatched the lizard off the tree branch and flew away.

"And death..." the Doctor paused in brief thought. "Life and Death! All around me I see the cycle of life!"

The pair trudged on, with no more thought to the fate of the lizard and bird. However, the lizard deserved more attention. The bird, in mid-flight, decided the lizard tasted awful and spat it out. The lizard landed on the ground with a thud, clearly dead. Then, the lizard began emitting a golden glow.

In the TARDIS, the lady in green was watching the Matrix screen. Though it hadn't been used in a while, it still worked well. It showed her the highlights and intriguing details of the Doctor's past adventures .

"Oh, this stuff is good! I should get some pop-corn." She paused the viewing screen and strolls out of the room. She knows where to find a pantry in a TARDIS.

*{+==]**

Back in the rainforest, the glow around the lizard diminished; a new lizard, with slightly different markings was in the dead lizard's place. The creature woke, shook itself off, and began to wander about. It strolled across the Doctor's foot, but went completely unnoticed.

The Doctor invited a poisonous tree frog to jump into her hand.

Waldo rushed over and grabbed his wrist. "Doctor! Don't do that!"

"Relax," the Doctor chided. "What good is wearing anti-poison lotion if you don't touch anything deadly?" He cheerfully handed the small frog to Waldo.

"Doctor, how strong is that lotion?"

"Very strong, until it wears off," the Doctor replied nonchalantly.

"When does it wear off?" she asked, as three more little tree frogs hopped onto her shoulders and head.

"I'd say... two hours? three tops. How long have we been out here?"

Waldo dropped the frog. "Long enough that I shouldn't be touching colorful frogs." Waldo groaned, "I don't feel so good." She started to feel weak in her knees.

The Doctor caught her before she fell. "Never to worry. Definitely something in the TARDIS medicine cabinet."

*{+==]**

Back in the Doctor's TARDIS, the lady had just viewed one of the 9th Doctor's adventures. She hit pause and rewind, then rewatched the moment. On the screen was the Doctor, as his ninth self, telling Rose that he knew he was the only Time Lord left, because he would feel it if it were otherwise. The scientist rewound and watched again, laughing at the presumptuous nature of the man in a leather jacket.

The Doctor throws open the TARDIS doors. Waldo was fading in and out of consciousness. The woman paused the clip and took notice of the Doctor and his new companion. She stayed silent, but mades no attempt to hide or flee.

The Doctor tries to make Waldo comfortable. "Okay,” he instructed, “You stay here. I'll go find... whatever it is."

"You don't even know what will cure me?"

"I'm not that kind of Doctor!" he exclaimed as he darted out of the room.

Waldo noticed the dark-haired woman wearing green kneeling by her side. A small syringe was in her hand.

"Tree frog poisoning?" the woman asked in a brisk voice.

Waldo blinked. "Yes. Wait – who are y-"

"This'll do the trick." She injected Waldo in the arm. Waldo snaps to and shakes herself.

"What was that?" Ethel asked.

The Doctor reentered the room and immediately turned to the stranger, "Who are you? How'd you get in here?"

The woman answered Waldo's question in a calm and professional manner, "That was an antidote to the poison I invented. You're lucky you were wearing anti-poison lotion. You would have been dead within seconds otherwise."

The Doctor spoke-up, "I believe the frogs are poisonous naturally. What do you mean you invented the poison?"

The woman turned to him with a coy grin. "Alright, I should say improved. After just a few months of research, I was able to triple the toxicity of all the blue ones."

Waldo said, "You still haven't answered our first two questions."

"I beg your pardon?" the woman asked

Ethel repeated the earlier questions, "Who are you? And -"

The Doctor took over, "and how did you get in here? Yes. I'm particularly interested in that."

"I had a key," answered the woman.

"How does someone get a TARDIS key?" Waldo asked.

The woman calmly explained, "It comes with every Time Traveling capsule. A manufacturing flaw – all Type 40 TT vessels have the same lock design."

"And when did you get a Type 40?" the Doctor demanded.

The lady in green smirked, "When I graduated from the academy." She narrowed her eyes at the Doctor, "When did you get yours?"

"Which academy?"

"Prydonian Academy. On Gallifrey."

Waldo's eyes light up. "You're a Time Lord! Or... Time Lady, if you prefer -"

"No, don’t be fooled. I’m the only Gallifreyan left," the Doctor assured Waldo.

The woman in green burst out laughing. She stopped chuckling long enough to say, "The only one left! Yes! That's what the Matrix said, too."

"The Matrix?" Waldo asked.

The Doctor quickly provided the answer. "The Matrix is a device that records everything that happens in and around the TARDIS and plays it back on command.” The Doctor turned to the woman. "What were you laughing about? What did you see?"

"Just this," the woman answered. She swiveled the screen towards them and clicked a button to un-pause.

The woman mimics the 9th Doctor's somber tone and touches her forehead, "I'd know; in here."

She shakes her head as she turns off the screen. "Help me understand this, Doctor. You find yourself unable to sense other members of your species, so there are two possibilities." She started to pace about the room like she owned the place. "Option one: every other Gallifreyan in the universe has ceased to exist, OR option two: your sensor is shot."

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. The woman continued, "And you, you arrogant ass, you choose to believe the first. You'd rather think that all Time Lords have been wiped out than consider you have a rebirth defect. You, who spent an entire regeneration cycle in a human morgue instead of a proper TT capsule... you, who interrupted a regeneration cycle and stored the energy in a severed hand..." She took a deep breath in and out. "Yeah, there's no way your buzzer's busted!" she said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. "Please..."

The Doctor collapsed into a chair. "All this time..."

Waldo rests her hand on his shoulder. "Doctor! We could go looking for them."

"Oh, where? Not like the TARDIS knows where to look," the Doctor continues to let the news of his rebirth defect sink in.

Waldo persisted, "It knows where not to look. We're just gonna have to go to places we've never been before."

"Why do I smell popcorn?" the Doctor asks. He looked up. His eyes darted about the room "Where did she go?"

Waldo shrugged. The Doctor leapt up from his seat. He returned the Matrix screen back to its proper position. "How did that woman say she got in?"

"She had a key," says Waldo.

The Doctor checks his pocket for his sonic screwdriver and heads towards the door quickly.

"We need to follow her," announced the Doctor. "We need to find out what she's doing in this rainforest."

"What do you care why one random Time Lady chose to live in the Amazon?"

The Doctor looks at Waldo with a very serious expression on his face, "Oh, she's no random Time Lady. There is only one woman who would still own a Type 40 TARDIS."

"Who?"

The Doctor sneered, "The Rani." Then, the Doctor pushed past Waldo to another room.

Waldo found him rapidly rifling through a closet.

"The Rani? Who is she?" Waldo asked.

The Doctor answered Waldo's question without ceasing his search. "Back on Gallifrey, she was a talented bio-chemist." He tossed an unidentifiable piece of junk over his shoulder. "After one of her creatures got loose and tried to kill the President, they banished her from the entire planet." More stuff was tossed aside, landing with a crunch and a jingle. "Of course she wasn't in the Time War! I've been thinking about this all wrong! This changes everything! There must be a half-dozen banished Time Lords floating about this universe, not even knowing the Time War was going on until too late. And refugees! Every war has refugees... Little Wanderers of the Galaxy, settling down, marrying other humanoids, having little half-Gallifreyans..." the Doctor became lost in his musings. In his arms he cradled a strange hunk of technology.

Waldo pointed to the bizarre object. "Is that what you were looking for?"

The Doctor shooks himself to refocus on the task at hand. "Yes! My Visual Recognition System." The Doctor elaborated, "The Rani's TARDIS still has a working chameleon circuit. This will help us find her. Smashed visual receiver, so it won't work perfect, but it'll be able to tell a regular tree from a disguised spacecraft."

With gusto, the Doctor exited the TARDIS. Waldo followed.

"And why are we looking for her specifically?" Waldo inquired. "Don't you think it is more important that you find the rest of the Gallifreyans? Think of it! You could reunite with friends and relatives!"

The Doctor was stepping quickly but lightly, aiming the device at different large objects.

"Wait... it she a relative?"

"No," replied the Doctor.

Waldo pressed, "Friend? Girlfriend?"

"Oh! As if!"

"So... what is she then?"

"The Rani's experiments have always ranged from the suspiciously amoral to the downright evil.” He scanned a large flowering bush. “She's in the Amazon for a reason; and it probably isn't a good one."

"I thought she said she was perfecting frog poison."

"The frogs are side project to pass the time." the Doctor said firmly. "She would never think so small as amping amphibian toxicity. No, the real project is something much bigger."

The machine began beeping when the Doctor aimed it at a large, mossy tree.

Waldo smirked. "Well, that's lucky! We parked practically right next to her."

The Doctor shoved the VRS into Waldo's arms. "Maybe it isn't luck," he said. "I think that the TARDIS stopped here on purpose. Maybe she senses more than I give her credit for."

"How do we get in?" asked Waldo.

The Doctor reaches into his pocket. "Same way she got in mine."

The Doctor slid his own key into a mossy patch. Nothing happened. He was bothered that his moment to look clever was ruined. He tried a few more mossy patches and blossoms around the tree. Finally, an opening appears in the tree. The Time Lord entered confidently, followed cautiously by the waitress from Perivale.

They entered a control room much like the Doctor's, but it had a definite Rani twist. It was soft green, like a hospital ward, with tall triangular panes, instead of the round windows.

Waldo remarked, "Well, it's bigger on the inside, like yours."

Doctor strolled out a doorway and into a corridor, looking all around and peering into corners. The Doctor was musing to himself, "The TARDIS changes with its Time Lord."

The Doctor, again taking up the role of unrequested tour guide, began talking to his companion. "It was said you could tell everything about a Time Lady just by looking in the first five rooms off the TT control center." He opened a door. Waldo saw a luxurious, King Louis type bedroom. She moved to step inside, but the Doctor quickly closed the door and continued towards another room.

The Doctor pondered, "I wonder what Romana's capsule would have looked like..."

"Romana?"

"A Gallifreyan I knew years ago. Traveled with my fourth self. Left me to work with some Leonines in E-space..."

"Can the same be said about a Time Lord?" Waldo asked.

"The five rooms rule? Doubt it. I used to have a cloister bell."

Doctor opened a door, then looked back at Waldo with raised brows. He had found the Rani's laboratory.

The Rani was not in her laboratory. The Doctor looked around impressed, yet concerned. He picked up various beakers and gadgets, muttering to himself. "Oh, I've always wanted one of those... but what is she using it for?"

Waldo saw the glass cages of large, odd looking, yet beautiful birds. "Oh! Doctor! Look!"

The Doctor trotted over to the cages. "I told you she wasn't just improving frogs! Look she's created an entirely new species of bird."

"How can you tell it was created by her? The rainforest is home to so many creatures, scientists haven't even discovered them all. That’s what the book said."

"And that is precisely why the Rani would choose such a place. She can create dozens of new a bizarre creatures and no one would even notice! Just chalk it up to the wondrous biodiversity of the Amazon Rainforest."

"Fine, but creating animals hardly seems evil..." Waldo insisted.

"Oh, there's got to be more to this than meets the eye," the Doctor replied.

The Doctor returned to inspecting the lab equipment while Waldo continued to marvel at the birds. Suddenly, Waldo felt a pinch in her neck. She quickly brings up her hand finds a small tranquilizer dart has pierced her skin. Waldo falls to the floor. The Rani approached silently and dragged her new captive across the floor. She carefully rolled her onto a low platform. Stepping on a pedal, the Rani raised the platform to surgery-table height. Rani turned around and was startled by the Doctor.

"What have you done to Waldo?" the Doctor demands to know.

"Nothing. I've hit her with a mild tranquilizer. See for yourself."

The Doctor rushed to Waldo's side. He checked her breathing and looked her over, but he didn’t have any medical knowledge, so he wasn't sure what to look for. He began a civil chat with the Rani. "I see you're no longer collecting dinosaurs. Birds now?"

The Rani puffs out her chest. "Oh, I didn't just collect these birds," she bragged. "They are genetically and bio-chemically enhanced."

"Are they now?" the Doctor said, trying to hide his distrust and disgust for this Time Lady.

"You wanna see?"

"I'm not sure I do," the Doctor answered. Then, after a brief pause, "Yes."

The Rani tapped the front of the glass cage with her knuckle. The bird fluttered and shifted its weight. The Rani then pushed two buttons on the front of the cage, and threw a lever on the wall. The cage lit up as the bird was zapped with electric current. The Doctor recoiled in disgust.

The bird's carcass lay at the bottom of the cage. Then, a soft glow emitted from its body. The body changed, slightly different plumage, eyes, beak – same species, but clearly not the same bird. The new bird gave a loud squawk, stretched its wings and returned to its perch.

"As you can see," said the Rani proudly, "The bird can regenerate."

The Doctor slapped his hands together. "That is astounding. How did you – It isn't possible to – it must have taken a life-time to – The genetic manipulation necessary alone is just mind-boggling!"

"Yes, it is. Unfortunately, too mind-boggling even for me," the Rani sighed.

"But, we just witnessed regeneration!"

"True, but not a natural regeneration," the Rani says. "It's chemically induced."

"What? You mean there's a pill people can pop and they’re what… death-proof?"

"An injection, not a pill; but otherwise, yes," responded the Rani. She further explained, "Each injection allows the receiver double the lives it would otherwise live. Give this bird one dose, it lives two lives, a second dose, four, a third dose, eight... For a Time Lord on his eleventh life... I'm sure you're thinking how nice it would be to have 15 more lives rather than just two."

"How do you make it?" asked the Doctor. "The injection. What is it you are injecting?"

The Rani responded, "Follow me."

Doctor looks over his shoulder at Waldo, who is still unconscious on the platform table.

"Don't worry about the young woman," the Rani said calmly. "She'll be out for a while."

The Doctor followed the Rani into an adjoining room. It was a terrarium with small pools and places for growing crystals and corral. The Rani put on goggles and gloves. She indicated that the should either do the same or stand back. She went over to a pool and harvested a clump of crystals and a chunk of corral. Then she placed each in a separate mortar. With passionate precision, she used a pestle to grind each into powder.

The Doctor scoffed, "Don't tell me you're grinding up Cadon crystals and TT corral."

As the Doctor speaks, the Rani is measuring and mixing the powders with a clear liquid. “Ancient physicians tried using those to increase the number of regenerations."

"I am well aware,” the Rani stated. “Of course, all the ancients could manage was  getting a wicked high.”

“And,” the Doctor added, “If you did it too often, you would regenerate addicted to the stuff. Never tried it, myself..."

The Rani was holding a small, furry creature in one hand and a syringe in the other.

She spokes, "And, if you give too much to creatures that lack regenerative abilities …"

The Doctor protested, "Oh, please don't..."

It was too late, the Rani injected the squirming creature. It glowed a brilliant array of colors, then froze in an albino form.

“You killed it,” the Doctor said.

"Death from an overdose of life!" the Rani proclaimed.

Her eyes took on a wild joy. The Rani began walking excitedly back to the laboratory. She talked as she moved briskly. "When I learned about it in school, I couldn't believe it. It puzzled me for years. Then I figured it out. It's why we need two hearts. It is why we only have 13 lives. The organ wears out. Our first life we only have one heart, then, at death, the hormones kick in and cause the growth of the second heart.” She set the frozen little body on a sterilized counter and turned her attention to a large apparatus. She continued to lecture, “The second heart isn't just for pumping blood around! It is pumping the extra life. For a brief moment, there are two complete beings in one space and time."

The Doctor chimed in, "It's part of quantum physics. Any particle can be in more than one place at one time."

"The converse isn't true," the Rani stated quickly. "Two particles can't be in the exact same place at the exact same time."

"But in regeneration, the molecules are changing – rearranging. There aren't two complete beings, in the same place and time." The Doctor objected.

"Doctor, I'm surprised at you. It isn't just the body that changes." The Rani turns a few dials and flips a few toggle switches. "Each regeneration comes with a new personality, a new set of tastes, a -"

The Doctor interrupts, “A new soul."

"Fine, if you want to get theological about it." She continued her explanation, "Yet, all the memories of the past remain. I didn't say there were two complete bodies I said there would be two complete beings. The second heart allows you to, in a sense, shift out of the way when the new –for lack of a better term – soul is forming." She held up the furry white statue. "This little creature isn't dead. It is simply waiting for the new being to take up its position. Now, are you ready for the cool part?"

The Rani dropped the fuzzy, frozen creature into the mouth of a large tube at the top of a machine. The machine makes a horrible whirring noise, followed by an odd, percolating sound. Out of a thin tube at the other end of the machine, drips a deep pink liquid into a vial.

The Doctor was slightly horrified. "What... is... that?"

The Rani removed her gloves. "The machine is my Liquefier and Life Extractor. And this," she picks up the vial, "is the perfect mix of hormones and chemical triggers. Or it will be after I allow it to sit a while."

Rani placed the vial in a cooling cabinet with a glass front door. She places the vial in and takes a different vial out. It is filled with a pink liquid of a richer tone.

"This one's ready. I call it Aliavix." She smiles at her captive audience. "It remains dormant in the body until one begins to die.” The Rani moved back towards the other end of the laboratory. “At the time of death, the natural surge of adrenalin and other chemical compounds will set off a chain reaction with the Aliavix injection. The second heart will form - or repair as the case may be, making a regeneration possible." The Rani puts on a lab coat, new gloves, and fills a syringe with the pink liquid.

The Doctor folded his arms, "So, you're just zapping beautiful exotic birds to death and seeing if they spring back to life?"

"Of course not," exclaimed the Gallifreyan scientist. "I was at first, but a real scientist needs to get results from the field. I tag my subjects and release them back into the wild. I let them die of natural causes." She glared at the Doctor and his doubting face. "My science is solid," she insisted. "I have used two regenerations watching various creatures experience what this pink liquid can do. Fortunately, my fifth self was more mechanically inclined. It was a great day when I completed the LLE machine. And today will be even more grand."

"How so?" asked the Doctor.

The Rani smiled. The Doctor had not yet noticed that they were standing by the surgical platform. The Rani answered the Doctor's question, "I can inject my first human."

She turns around, pulls up Waldo's shirt and injects the liquid into the base of her spine. The human awakens, shouting in pain.

Waldo breathed hard, trying to take her mind off the pain. "What... what the heck was that?"

The Rani answered, "Aliavix. Serum for a second life."

The Doctor noticed that Waldo was missing a shoe. On closer inspection, he discovered an odd plastic and metal chip where her toe-nail should be. "What's this thing on her toe?"

The Rani spokes soothingly. "A simple tracking device. I want to record the results of this trial. I keep records of all the creatures I inject."

The Doctor grabbed the Rani by the shoulders. "Uninject her! She gave no consent to being a victim of your -"

"I prefer the term trial participant – and I can't uninject her."

"An antidote then."

The Rani raised an eyebrow. "The antidote to life? Surely you're not asking me to kill her on the spot."

Waldo shouted, "I don't want to die!"

"And with the injection I just gave you, you won't," said the Rani. "You'll regenerate. All your hopes, dreams, and memories will be held in a transitive state whilst a new body and soul form around your lifeless corpse."

The Doctor protested, "But, you can't be sure. You said Waldo was the first human you've tried it on. Something could go wrong."

"I have every confidence in this current formula. I have reached a success rate of 82 percent."

Waldo, trying to be optimistic, said, "Well that's encouraging."

The Doctor said, "That's an 18 percent chance of failure. An 18 percent chance that weird pink gunk just kills you."

Rani spoke firmly, "No one and no thing has ever died from an Aliavix injection."

The Doctor tilts his head in thought. "Then how are you defining this 18 percent failure, Rani?"

The Rani spread her hands. "Well, there isn't a truly scientific term for it..."

"Then tell us the unscientific term for it," Waldo demanded, sitting up.

The Rani mumbled, "Zombie."

"ZOMBIE!" Waldo screeched. "I'm turning into a zombie? How long do I have?"

"You're not turning into a zombie now," said the Time Lady. "At the time of death most likely you'll regenerate, you'll be a brand-new human with all the knowledge and experience that the old you gained in this life-time."

The Doctor went nose to nose with his old rival. "Don't try to gloss over the fact that she has an 18 percent chance she becomes one of the undead."

"Will I be all stiff legged and craving human flesh forever?" Waldo inquired.

"Don't be ridiculous,” scoffed the Rani. “Just because you don't die doesn't mean the body won't start decomposing. You'll eventually rot away. How long you have is based purely on environmental factors."

The Doctor wants to speak with the mad scientist alone. “Waldo, go back to the TARDIS," he ordered.

Waldo asked, "Are we going to find a suitably dry place to slow down my rotting?"

"If we need to."

"Quite talking as if you’re a zombie already," said the Doctor. "You gotta actually die first."

"Keep traveling with the Doctor and it will happen soon enough,” the mad scientist quipped. “Go on, I release my latest specimen back into the wild."

Waldo scowled at the Rani. She hopped off the platform table and grimaced with pain. She hobbled out of the lab, glancing over her shoulder at the Doctor.

The Rani put her hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. "Really, you shouldn't be so worried. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah. 82 percent chance."

"Actually, it is even higher for large mammals. Between 87 and 93."

"What larger mammals?"

The Rani grinned with a twinkle in her eye. She had no idea how unethical and amoral the Doctor thought she was. She was cuter, and much less cold than her former self, the Doctor couldn't deny that. However, perhaps it was precisely that which made her extra creepy.

The Rani called out in a clear voice, "Tracker System..."

A computerized voice responded, "Yes, Mistress?"

The Rani grinned at the Doctor. "I just love a machine that responds to audio-input. Old boyfriend made this for me using parts from a junked K-9!"

"The larger mammals?"

The Rani spoke in a measured voice, "Tracker System, please allow video display for 233, 234, 235, 237, 239, 231 alpha and 236 alpha."

Images appeared on the seven screens, each a large jungle cat.

The Rani glanced over at the Doctor. "Please don't look so troubled by the numbers. It's a classification system. I didn't start at one."

The Doctor gazed at each screen. "So, each of these felines has successfully regenerated."

"Yes."

"And the ones that … zombied?"

Rani shrugged. "In this heat and moisture? The first fell apart in less than a month."

"Are there others?"

"Tracker System, change display. Show 232 and 238."

The images on the screens changed to show two large, zombie cats prowling. As a team, the two creatures worked together to trap and take down a wild pig. The wild pig had a plastic chip clearly imbedded in its front hoof. It gave a little squeal as it was attacked.

The computer voice reported, "437 is now experiencing regeneration."

The Rani looked up with concern. "Display vital stats."

She watched another screen, nails hovering near her mouth. Numbers went up and down. Various lines and waves flickers across the screen, much like a monitor at a hospital.

The Doctor said, "Not even Time Lords can regenerate if half their flesh is in some other creature's stomach."

"Don't worry," says the Rani. "They'll run-off once the pig starts glowing.”

.The system announces, "First period of regeneration successful."

The zombie cats pounced and began to feed eagerly. The Doctor could not take his eyes off the scene. The Rani was fixated on the fluctuating vitals.

"Blast it!" she said.

The system reported, "Second period of regeneration unsuccessful. 437 dead. Do you want the print-out?"

"Yes, Tracking System." The data printed quickly from a slot in the wall. The Rani tears off the print-out and scans the data. "Stupid zombies ate the pig before he could zombie or regenerate. It's not viable data at all."

The Doctor rubbed his chin. "I thought you said they would run away once it started glowing."

The Rani snapped, "Well, I'm allowed to make mistakes."

"Seems to me they were waiting for it to start glowing."

The Rani opened her mouth, but said nothing for a moment. Then, in a slightly rushed tone, she ordered, "Tracking System, repeat most recent visual transmission."

The system obeys. Rani watched the zombie cats. "This is an incredible result!" she pranced about her lab. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

"What?" queried the Doctor. "That zombies don't get scared? That they crave living flesh above all else?"

The Rani shook her head. "Not just any living flesh! Regenerating flesh! See, they waited until the shift began. They somehow sensed that their prey could regenerate."

"Then why wasn't I attacked when I was exploring?"

"You must not have been in a zombie area. Oh, I do hope they don't attack your little friend. She's no good to me if she is devoured before she can provide viable data."

"Oh, she’s fine. We parked practically next-door."

The Rani looked puzzled. "Next door to which door?"

The Doctor blinks and then realized. "Your TARDIS has more than one exit?"

"Of course, doesn't yours?"

The Doctor shouted out, "Tracker System, show Waldo."

Nothing happened.

The Rani said, "Tracker System, video display 653."

Waldo was muttering to herself, "Stupid Rani. She could have at least given me my shoe back before sending me out here." She stopped and panted a bit. "I could have sworn the TARDIS was just over there.” She took another step. Under her bare foot, she felt something lumpy and squishy. "Oh, goodness... what did I just step on?"

Waldo took a deep breath and looks at what is beneath her foot. It is a couple of fat, rotting fingers.

She heard a sound cry and, turning slowly, saw a large zombie chimp swinging towards her.

Waldo forgot the pain in her back and did her best to sprint. As she ran, zombie birds, , all in various states of decay, joined the chip in pursuit. Then, zombie lemurs and lizards came crawling out of the trees. The creatures moved in a stiff fashion, but quickly enough to be scary. As Waldo fled, her path became blocked by more zombie animals. She became surrounded, her back up against a big tree, a variety of zombie animals walking and creeping stiffly closer and closer. A door in the tree swings in and Waldo fell backwards into Rani's Tardis.

Waldo was the floor of a small kitchen with a Dutch door. The Doctor exclaimed to Rani, "Goodness! How many exterior doors do you have?"

"I'm surprised you only have one," she said. "Tsk... tsk... you went cheap, didn't get any of the extras. Bet you didn't get the extended warranty either."

Waldo interrupts in exasperation, "Excuse me! I was just chased by a horde of Amazon zombies!"

"A horde?" The Doctor opened the top of the door to look.

Several rotting creatures lunged at him. The Doctor stumbled back, a small zombie lemur scratching at his face. Waldo grabbed a soup ladel and beat back the other creatures trying to get through the opening. The Doctor is able thrust the creature off him and back out the window. Waldo slams the door shut.

"My God!" The Doctor looked to the Rani, "Are you sure the success rate is 82 percent?"

"Positive," she answers.

"How many animals have you tested? There was a literal horde out there."

Waldo gave a little gasp. "Doctor, you're bleeding. He’s been bitten by a zombie!"

The Doctor shrugged. "So?"

"Everyone knows what happens when you're bitten by a zombie!"

The Doctor gave a small smile. "Oh, but not these zombies, right, Rani?"

The Rani became very serious. "Come with me," she said. "There is an antidote for zombie bites if it is administered in time."

They moved quickly to the lab. The Doctor chatted with himself as Waldo and the Rani escorted him to the laboratory. "What were there, like 12 zombie animals? Plus the two big cats we saw earlier. So that represents the 18 percent failure rate, but then a zombie doesn't last more than a few months in such a humid and buggy climate ..."

The Doctor was ordered to sit on the table Waldo was on earlier. The Rani, wearing gloves, applies a blue syrup to the Doctor's wounds with a cotton swab.

The Doctor reaches his conclusion. "Rani! You must have experimented on thousands of defenseless creatures over the decades."

"I wouldn't call a large jungle cat defenseless," points out Waldo.

The Rani said in a business tone, "He'll want to be under sedation for the next part of the treatment."

"Are you sure?" asked Waldo.

"I've been bitten by these beasts before. Trust me, he will want to be under sedation for the next part of the treatment."

The Doctor speaks passionately, "These animals are in danger of extinction."

The Rani rolls her eyes. "By the loss of habitat and food supply due to deforestation! Not because of my experiments."

"I'll put a stop to this! This is horribly wrong."

The Rani sticks the Doctor with a tranquilizer. He continues to rant. "This goes against the Shadow Proclamation; this goes against basic Earth laws. This is a complete -"

The Doctor dropped off to sleep.

"Finally!" the Rani exclaimed. "It is no fun to save someone's life when he is telling you how evil you are." The Rani continued to work while she spokes with Waldo. Without Waldo questioning her actions, or even really noticing, the Rani removes the Doctor's shoe and sock.

Waldo slumped into a chair. “The Doctor, he's going to be okay, right?"

The Rani smiled reassuringly as she tagged the Doctor’s toe. "Of course. Like I've said, I've used the zombie bite treatment on myself."

"I just can't believe the Doctor was so wrong about there being other Time Lords."

"Well, there aren't many of us," admitted. She removed a pink liquid from the cooling cabinet. "Plus, not all Gallifreyans have Time Traveling Capsules. And, unlike him, those of us with a TTC try to stay under the radar." She filled a syringe.

"What do you mean?" asked Waldo.

The Rani imitated the sound of the Tardis landing, "Wheeeerrrr, wheeeerrr, big blue box.” She chuckled. “Tell me, have you gone anywhere where you spend more than ten minutes unnoticed?" Waldo answered, "The Doctor likes the blue box."

The Rani smirked. "Yes, it suits him. A self-proclaimed policeman of the universe, defending the human race against everyone except themselves, and defending no one else."

Doctor woke up suddenly. He started shouting as if the tranquilizer had never happened. "I will call UNIT. I will call Torchwood. I will call anyone with the power to stop you and put you away for good. I've said it in the past, you didn't need banishment, you needed a padded cell. You .. you... you injected me!"

Waldo tried to calm the Doctor. "She was mending your wounds. A zombie bite vaccination."

The Doctor hops off the surgical table. "No. Rani, you injected me. That's Aliavix in the syringe, isn't it?"

"You should be thanking me, Doctor," cooed the Rani. "In you now are the biological chemicals capable of repairing any re-birth defects that your previous regenerations may have sustained. If you die in your own TARDIS, and stay there for the full regeneration, all eight of your senses will be completely restored. You will no longer have that gnawing feeling of being alone."

The Doctor scoffed. "I would rather die after only eleven lives than know I lived a single extra day because of such inhumane practices as yours. I will call UNIT. I will call Torchwood. You will be stopped. You will be locked away in Stormcage -"

She interrupted him. "They can't lock me away if they can't find me." She takes on her air of superiority once again. "They come, I move, easy. I'm not so stupid as to never get my chameleon circuit adjusted. So, run to Torchwood; notify UNIT. See if I care."

The Doctor pouts. "Come on, Waldo."

The Doctor exited the room with Waldo following.

He walks down the hallway leading to the proper door, which is in the control room.

"So, that's it, then?" demanded Waldo. "We're giving up?"

"No, we're still going to contact the proper authorities."

"But you heard her. She can just pick up and move anywhere, be anything. She could be a castle, an ice-cream truck, whatever she wants!"

The Doctor exclaimed, "That's it!"

"What's it?"

"What if she couldn't be whatever she wants?"

"What do you mean?"

The Doctor gave a sly grin. "I can't fix a chameleon circuit. No one still living can. But I can break one."

Waldo nodded. "You can get the Rani's TARDIS stuck like yours is stuck."

"Yes! Not always the exact same box, but always a blue police box. The controls will be in this room."

"How do you know where to look?" asked Waldo. "Her TARDIS is nothing like yours."

"Actually," the Doctor informed Waldo, "It is exactly like mine, a Type 40. Well, at least the control room is. Just a different desk-top theme. See, we can go from asylum green to... this!"

The walls of the room changed to a soft white with dozens of round windows.

The Doctor slides over to another set of buttons and levers. "And we can change the outside to look like …. this!"

With some shifting and wriggling, the three large trees and the ground connecting them stretched and contracted into a hazy, blob of colors.

The Doctor glances at a monitor to view the results of his button pushing. "There, she'll have a hard time looking inconspicuous now. Shall we?"

The time-traveling capsule's door opened onto a familiar part of the forest. Waldo could see see the blue police box not too far off. Waldo and the Doctor made their way to their own TARDIS, leaving behind them a garish Viking ship.

As the Doctor powered up the TARDIS to leave, Waldo asked him, "What about the zombie animals?"

The Doctor answered in an unconcerned manor, "I suppose they'll just rot away. Mother nature will have to take care of that mess."

Waldo asked, "Are you thinking about it, Doctor?"

"About what?"

"About what the Rani said; you could regenerate and sense the other Time Lords."

The Doctor sighed. "I've lived alone for so long. I'm not sure what I'd be gaining is worth the risk. I mean, now that I know I'm not alone, how is feeling not alone a vast improvement?"

Waldo gave a sigh. “Trust me Doctor, knowing you’re not alone and feeling you’re not alone are miles apart.”

“On the other hand," the Doctor pointed out, "The regeneration could fail, I could turn into a zombie and have the overwhelming desire to kill and devour you.”

Waldo conceded, "You put off trying to regenerate as long as you like, Doctor."

[othersworldly]

       hello, hello, its the double pisces you litcherally never asked for. i went into the tags, found this serotonin gyllenhaal and then accidentally named him after the new, popular character he plays on turkish tv after googling male names for 1 hour straight. if that doesn’t just explain who i am as a person i don’t know what else will. i’m twenty-three and legally cannot do math or i will explode. thank you for dealing with me and sorry in advanced but i can’t and won’t be tamed.

ÇAĞLAR ERTUĞRUL, MALE, HE/HIM, HELLHOUND   /   deep in the pacific northwest lives KEREM HAZAR. i heard they’ve been living there for a year and last saw them hanging around mount peak cemetery, i think they might’ve been tending to the forgotten grave markers. at three hundred and eleven years old, rem doesn’t look a day over thirty. everyone around here always associates them with the phantom warmth of a flickering flame, the rich timbre of an old engine roaring to life, and the icy smell of spearmint. hope they enjoy their stay ! ( naomi, pst, she/her, 23 )

B A S I C   I N F O R M A T I O N

LEGAL NAME: Kerem ‘Rem’ Hazar DATE OF BIRTH: December 12th  / sagittarius  GENDER | SPECIES |  Male / Hellhound

LIKE[S]: Winning, the smell of leather, fruit punch DISLIKE[S]: Losing, Lack of effort, Intolerance, Cheating

FEAR[S]: no fears . *taxes* .. one fear. 

PERSONALITY TRAITS: + CONFIDENT, STRONG-WILLED, SELF-DISCIPLINED    – RECKLESS, OVERLY COMPETITIVE.

P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N

HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: Blue HEIGHT: 6′2″ BUILD: Athletic, Fit,

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: he always looks well-rested. very sus

STYLE: grey henleys, grey jeans, worn docs, he’s a casual guy with casual style

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS: brand of the hunt on his left peck.

R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: bisexual RELATIONSHIP STAT: legally allowed to leave if no one addresses him directly within 5 minutes of entering a room

pinboard //

more on rem

fire-fighter and certified emt

earth-toned babe who wears mostly greys and browns.

he wears glasses without a prescription because he thinks it makes him more approachable but he often just leaves them around and makes more work for himself by having to go out and hunt for them

lives in a one bedroom apt on the 8th floor of a moderately priced building that has a fire escape - which he uses more often the actual entrance 

pet german shepphard named beef stew,

yes beef is a rescue and yes, sometimes rem can be found shouting beef around the block if the four year old pup gets out while he’s gone.

very easy going - he has few personal rules and a few things he stands his ground on but for the most part he’s agreeable and will go anywhere he’s invited.

loves carbonara 

runs hot and likes winter but hates it at the same time because he has to carry a jacket around for looks. but on the bright side he always has a jacket for anyone who gets chilly

throughout the years he’s become really good at making bread. he proofs them in mason jars and holds them in his hands to cook them to buttery, flaky perfection

+ insert obsessive hobby here +

hellhound

other hellhounds know them as CEMRE a name they first picked up from a turkish mountain woman. she had muttered it softly at first, watching in awe and horror as they emerged unscathed from the flames that both announced their arrival on earth and wiped out an entire villiage in the frigid remnants of winter that is now known as february. 

walks the line of true neutral and chaotic neutral

when actively hunting they are known to do whatever it takes. but when dormant, they are nonplused with the whims of the factions - as long as the supernatural world is properly hidden from the mass populace.

has a preference for ghosts over banshees, but likes both well enough.

thinks witches are good fun because the only one who could demand things of him died a hundred years ago

has no generalized notion about other hellhounds.

understands werewolves in a primal sense but finds them dramatic

not too keen on vampires because the dead should remain dead

actively hunting dragons

connection ideas

bed brewing & beyond - a witch or demon hook up that he can call on for big asks. or he could go out and fetch things for them for $$$ of course. like uber eats but its a nymph skull and he’s covered in blood and its the 90s

casually dating - needless to say, he’s thirty and not even married. so he’s basically on the verge of death or something right? lol . so they casually date and appear at functions together, but its nothing over the top. he has the worst hours but tries to make time for them -- is what im imagining. but we can definitely tweak this to fit ur muse.

TRINITY chasing divinity - i’ve been in love with the idea of angels, of these celestial beings and what it must be like to choke on humanity. so why not just force that on my muse lol. i’d love fo him to just be infatuated ( so no pressure of requited feelings or nothing ) with a creature that exudes purity when he himself was created by the combined power of a demon and a dark witch

dd - besides being, ya know, literal fire, his metabolism burns through everything like it’s nothing. so you can 100% invite him for a night out and he will be your designated driver -- unless he has work of course. then you can call him, wasted af, and he will use his 15 minute break to come get you and tuck you in to bed.

everlasting mario kart - i know mk didn’t exist in the 90s or whatever, but basically they’re both immortals so they can and should fuck each other up ( in a siblings type way ) but the stakes are higher because they can survive most blow backs.

good omens - except we’re not on either side, we don’t care about the kid, and you’ve burnt the popcorn. good going paul

DRU AGOSTI lighthouses in the night -- i’ve been alive for a long time, you’ve been alive a long time. STOP MENTIONING THE TIME I WAS AN ICELANDIC SHEEP FARMER I WAS UNDERCOVER Jfc, yes of course i still know the best way to make sheep milk fuck you. wishing you a crap equinox you smug bitch

same face who dis - obvi has to be someone who can die but. he swears he’s seen you before. its just wild that you look so familiar. you remember me right? and he keeps on call ing your muse the wrong name and unlearning the things that he had previously learned. super flexi back story. heck i’ll even take two if people like it. could be exes, enemies, they fought in a war together and were brothers, they sailed across the ocean and it was very gay and also someone had scruvy? so many options! too many to list!

supermassive blackhole -- please invite him to the vampire baseball games. he can keep up i promise!!

or let’s brainstorm?! im bi and a pisces so i will just be happy for the attention honestly.

that’s it. that’s all i could think of during dbd. i will add more as i think of them/as we plot some out. i’m going to shower and eat an ice cream sandwich . peace out my dudes catcha ya on the other side