#odd squad behind the scenes

[personinthepalace]

If I has a nickel for every time a live action kids tv show made a golden replica of a child actor, I would have two nickels

Joshua Kilimnik as Odd Todd - Odd Squad Walker Scobell as Percy Jackson - Percy Jackson and the Olympians

[rcmclachlan]

Return of the Mack

For @alchemistc. Hope you feel better soon!

At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency. Some have jokingly called the third one the Anti-Bystander Effect, because if someone needs assistance—whether it's to stop an assault, run into a burning building, or help a little old lady find a quarter she dropped—a firefighter will immediately rush in to save the day. It's a special brand of classical conditioning that instills an elevated sense of responsibility in every trainee, and it's paid in full by the state of California.

Which is why it's so odd for there to be three capable firefighters standing around doing nothing while there's an old man clearly in need of dire assistance. If the LAFD higher-ups knew they were actively choosing to watch the carnage unfold instead of lifting a finger to help, they'd all be shitcanned. 

Luckily, there's a fourth firefighter on the scene doing the absolute most. 

"I thought we made a pact to keep him from using his powers for evil," Eddie says, taking a dispassionate sip of his coffee. 

"Is it evil if he's actually using them in service of a greater good?" Hen's attention is half on what's going down and half on the Notes app on her phone, where she's typing out the week's grocery list. "You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Draped over the railing like his bones have melted, Chimney gives a sage nod. "He's like a one-man Suicide Squad." 

In the apparatus bay, they watch as Vincent Gerrard uses the distraction of B Shift heading home to duck behind one of the engines, most likely to regroup after being thoroughly ambushed the second he stepped into the station five minutes ago. He slumps back and breathes. The moment of weakness costs him: a grinning demon rounds the corner and makes a bee-line for him as though he can taste blood in the air.

"So, which one of you said 'spreadsheet' three times in a mirror?" Ravi sidles up next to Chimney and unwraps a breakfast burrito from Delia's. 

Chimney gives him the stink-eye. "I hope you brought enough for the whole class."

"Nope," Ravi says, taking a cheerful bite.

"None of us summoned him," Eddie says. He leans down to try and catch the conversation being had, but he's too high up. For a second, he thinks he hears the words 'crack whore' but it's probably a trick of the bay's acoustics. "He's everywhere, always, just watching and waiting for you to slip up. Like God."

"Or the Devil," Hen says in agreement.

"Or Santa," Chimney adds.

Ravi chews thoughtfully. "I thought we threw out all the clipboards. Who gave him that one?"

"Tommy," Eddie, Hen, and Chimney say through a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh. 

It's not just any clipboard. It's the king of clipboards. It's the only clipboard that has ever fucked. The thing is a navy blue polycarbonate beast with "Buckley 118" embossed in fire engine red on the back, and the clip looks like it was forged in the fires of Staples HQ. 

At the bi-weekly Beer and Bitch Night last Friday at Golden Road Pub, Tommy had pulled it out of a bag and presented it on one knee like he was proposing, or bestowing a sword to a king. The entire brewery was then given front-row seats to an intense game of tonsil hockey that nearly went into overtime until Eddie threatened to call Athena because Bobby looked like he was seriously reconsidering sobriety.

"Does he know what he's unleashed?" Ravi sounds genuinely curious. 

As if on cue, Chimney's, Eddie's, and Hen's phones chime with three incoming messages. 

T.K. 07:26am: Has it started? T.K. 07:26am: Remember: you promised one of you would film it T.K. 07:27am: I'm offering 3 nights of free babysitting to the first person who delivers

That last one is followed by a gif of J. Jonah Jameson shouting "Bring me Spiderman!"

Hen frowns down at her phone. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Chimney mutters.

H.W. 07:28am: Why are you so desperate for video?  E.D. 07:28am: What 40-something year old still pinky swears? H.H. 07:28am: Clipboard Buck better not be a weird sex thing for you, Kinard

Tommy's typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears and disappears again. Then appears—

"Yeah, no." Chimney hastily pockets his phone. "Those two were made in a lab for each other, I swear to god."

Down in the bay, Gerrard has moved to stand almost directly underneath them. While they can't hear what Gerrard says to Melanie Wu, an electrician so talented she could probably take down the entire grid with her eyes closed, that puts such a dour expression on her face, they can hear it when Buck, popping up behind Gerrard like an insane Jack-in-the-box, says, "Don't worry, Melanie! This is something to bring up during Thursday's workplace conflict seminar."

"What seminar?!"

Buck isn't cowed. He taps his clipboard and says, "The one I scheduled with Chief Alonso. You know, the mandatory one we all need to do in order to keep our certification—well, we'll keep it as long as nothing comes up during the seminar that might call into question our ability to do the job."

There's a charged moment where it almost looks like Gerrard might take a swing at Buck, but then he notices the audience hanging above him like a Greek chorus and shouts, "Someone'd better top off the fuel and DEF or—"

"Already done, Cap." Buck makes a show of turning to the second page on his clipboard and lists off, "All fuel, DEF, oil, and coolant are set. Tires have been aired up. Hoses have been drained and cleaned, and re-rolled. Engines were all waxed yesterday, all medical supplies have been inventoried and stocked, and I've made a list of the harnesses and cutting torches that need replacing. Just need you to sign off on everything. Sir."

The ingratiating smile on Buck's face would fool even the wiliest of senior officers, and Gerrard himself looks like even he's not sure if what just happened was disrespectful, but they know better. 

"Diabolical," Ravi whispers, awed. 

Hissing through his teeth, Gerrard spins on his heel and storms away in the direction of the little office in the administrative section of the firehouse where he's taken to holing up like a miserable groundhog until they get a call that forces him back out. If he sees his shadow on the firehouse wall, it's six more hours of bullshit.

As soon as he's gone, all the firefighters that had stopped to watch the show burst into laughter and applause, and Buck cracks up, taking sweeping bows and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

Chimney rolls his eyes and looks to see what Hen's expression is doing, because no one gives good face like she does, but she's holding her phone in a way that clearly means—

"You're filming this?" Chimney demands, betrayed.

She gives an unrepentant shrug. "Three nights of free babysitting? I'm not proud."

"You do know this means Buck's going to get laid and be absolutely insufferable about it, right?"

"Three nights," Hen bites out through very audible regret.

Buck looks up, flashes a grin, and the second he clocks the phone he salutes it with the clipboard. Then he struts after Gerrard, calling almost lazily, "Cap, wait up! I wanted to talk about setting up a mock exam for everyone who's planning on taking the TCFP D/O!"

They all watch him go. Silently, Hen sends off the video with the air of someone about to make a drug drop. 

"So, when does Taylor Kelly's exposé come out again?" Eddie makes a dubious face in the direction of the administrative offices. "Because I don't know that Gerrard won't off himself before it does."

"We win either way," Chimney points out. 

"It comes out next Monday," Hen says, slipping her phone into her pocket and elbowing Chimney in the arm on her way to the stairs. "Karen and I are hosting a watch party that night and you're all invited."

Ravi beams. "Thanks, Hen. I'll definitely be there."

"And you'll be bringing dinner from Taco Azteca—for everybody. Make sure you get enough carne," Chimney calls over his shoulder as he follows Hen. 

"I'm not a probie anymore," Ravi whines. "You can't haze me like this."

Snickering, Eddie pats him on the shoulder and says, "You do this and I'll make sure you're not sitting anywhere near Buck and Tommy when Taylor drops the bomb about Gerrard and Ortiz."

"Extra al pastor and buche it is!"

[yandere-kokeshi]

Ok 👌 hi, can I request platonic yandere poly tf 141 with civilians teen reader? Reader just want to live her/they're live in peace and this old guys just have to ruin it for her/them

Warnings: yandere behavior, descriptions of kidnapping, arson, and reader living in an apartment complex.

NOTHING ROMANTIC – EVERYTHING PLATONIC

A/N: Ty so much for sending this in! I also added some things from the ask you had sent previously. Please enjoy <3

If anything, all of them are surprised and slightly amused. You, a teenager, have the ability to see through their manipulative acts, and know their obsessive habits; going out of your way to purposely ignore them, makes them quickly realize just how smart you actually are. 

While Price, and the rest are happy that you’re smart, tactical, and trust your gut; they’re also irked by how smart you are. It means they’ll have a harder time getting close to you, and since you have the need to live peacefully, and that ‘old guys’ are trying to ruin it, only making them irritated.

Within the squad — Gaz and Soap are the most approachable, confidently and openly walking up to you within their nice and kind demeanor. Most of the time, they’re beside you, arms on your shoulder, and asking how school, homework, and your recent friends are doing. 

They try to make it not weird, they’d never want to make you uncomfortable or feel odd around them. At your apartment, they show they’re not a threat; quickly gifting you sweets, items within your area of hobbies, and buying you lunch for school that they hope you’ll enjoy. 

If that doesn’t work? Price and Ghost step in, even though they hesitated due to their age. Ghost wears a pandemic mask — his ghost signature still intact, and Price playing as the good ol’ neighbor that you want a hug from, and a huge mug of hot cocoa. 

But, again, you being smart and able to pick up their queues quickly, only makes the situation harder than it needs to be. 

Whether you have parents, a show in the system, or just being taken care of, they quickly swing in within a plan– a plan that’ll make you realize that you need them. Just like a parent. And how they adore you like a kid of theirs. 

And the next you know, somehow, the apartment of yours caught on fire — the building crisping and loud of crackling, and you never expected them to storm in; whisk you away as you were coughing. Before you know it, the entire building crashed down as all of you made it out alive.

Of course, your parents didn’t. They were never meant to. And now, all of them are comforting you in their care, ushering you into the car, driving away from the scene whilst Price and Simon stay behind, covering their tracks.

Within a few weeks, you’re adopted — by your rightful family, in the rightful arms of comfort. Sooner or later, you’ll come around and love them just as much as they do with you. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – interlude

prologue | one | two | three | four | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: while waiting for your answer, makarov ponders on your unusual relationship and his yet-unknown motivations.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, makarov’s pov, he’s a bit fucked up mentally, light obsession?, couple mentions of sex, it's like a character study idk

word count: 2.4k

note: shit's officially hitting the fan in the next chapter, so... enjoy this sorta-kinda character study? dive into makarov's very odd "romantic" side? idk what to call it. hope you like it! (￣▽￣)

"i suppose i could protect you."

"i'm not joining your side, even for this."

vladimir makarov has never been a patient man. when he wants something, he takes it. strength, respect, power— he's razed cities and ended lives for less than that.

but, he's learned patience. his time in the military proved fruitful in this endeavor; being a captain forces a person to wait for things, to work smartly and plan for the future. ever since he left those days behind, he's continued to learn, and now proudly declares himself a master of self-control.

few things can break the restraint that he's put on himself. few people can.

makarov examines the board tacked up on the wall across from him. he leans back in his arm chair and reaches for the tumbler at his side, the whiskey in the glass sloshing against the sides as he lifts it to his lips. he furrows his brow, his attention flitting between the images on the board.

the one-four-one. the task force he technically has to thank for his ascension to the top of the ultranationalists - well, he mainly has his own efforts over the years to thank for that, but he won't deny that the group made things easier by eliminating zakhaev's incompetent heir back in verdansk.

pictures of the members of the squad - and, a handful of allies - stare back at him. his longtime enemy, captain price, ghost, soap, gaz, "nikolai," commander karim...

and, yourself. lieutenant petra. your real name briefly flashes through his mind as he shifts in his seat, his focus now solely on you.

his eyes linger on the photo of you pinned alongside your teammates' portraits. he's well aware that his personal vendetta against price causes him to act irrationally, but you... for whatever reason, makarov is easily influenced by you. he'll die before admitting it aloud, but he's become somewhat enamored with you.

why?

makarov sets the glass aside once more and stands, crossing the small space and stopping in front of the board. he all but ignores any information not pertaining to you. his eyes find you in group photos, he relentlessly scans dossiers and files of information on your professional and personal lives, he reads through your messages with each other and replays the conversations you've shared...

his mind drifts back to your first meeting, just two weeks ago.

⋆⋆⋆

the al-mazrah sun is violent overhead, beating down on him and his men. makarov's grown accustomed to the heat, but the few mumbled complaints that he overhears from his soldiers threaten to make him snap.

he would, if not for the good news overriding the frustration being imposed on him right now. everything has been going to plan— the few bumps in the road have ultimately done little to deter him from reaching his goals. the only worry is the task force in the city; shadow company is an annoyance, but the one-four-one is a true threat to makarov's plans.

when he comes across the scene of destruction, it's almost as if his prayers for the team's elimination are answered. three members of it are in the area; the two men - sergeants gaz and soap, he recognizes fairly quickly - lay pinned under rubble or incapacitated, while the third member stares at him in a daze from a spot closer by.

makarov fights back a twisted grin when he notices the fear gloss over your disoriented expression. you can hardly stay conscious, much less put up a fight, and as one of your teammates frantically shouts for you, he realizes he may have an opportunity here.

you're already fading in and out of consciousness when he orders his men to remove any of the wreckage covering you and, by the time makarov crouches down to gather your mangled body in his arms, you're out cold. the only resistance he faces are weak protests from the sergeants.

in his benevolence, makarov decides to spare the two. they'll dig themselves out of this or succumb to their injuries - either way, it's not his concern.

you, however, take in shallow, ragged breaths in his arms, and he knows that you require care if he intends to keep you alive. the squad accompanying him are soldiers, not doctors— they can do nothing to help, but he can stabilize you in the meantime. that's what he tells himself as he orders his men to evacuate, clutching you close to his chest until the transport plane arrives. he lays you across a section of the seats, barking at one of the soldiers to grab the medical supplies, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows with a heavy sigh.

he's no medic himself - quite the opposite, in fact - but makarov knows enough from his years in the field.

he ushers his men away from you once the supplies are delivered, forcing them to huddle up at the opposite end of the plane as he works. your injuries are severe, but still remarkably mild compared to what they could have been. it's a small miracle that every limb of yours is still intact.

you don't stir at all, even as he peels your gear off and carelessly discards it on the floor, before dragging your shirt up to your chest and examining the sizeable gash running down your side. steady hands clean and disinfect the dirt-stained wound and stitch it closed before his focus shifts to the burns starting to bloom on your skin.

it's a nasty sight, but it hardly fazes him. makarov rolls your sleeves above the afflicted areas on your arms and loosely wraps them in gauze, making a mental note to put you in something with shorter sleeves once you arrive at the prison. he's hurried in wrapping the burns covering your back; not because he is impatient, but because he can sense the prying eyes desperately trying to peer at your partially uncovered form after he removes your shirt.

if they weren't still flying above contested territory, he'd punish his men for their lack of diligence.

makarov carries you into the prison and to the small office that the doctor was permitted after finally arriving. tarkovsky sends him a curious look when he sets you down, already pulling on a pair of sterile gloves and preparing his equipment.

"i trust that you will give her the best care, doctor," makarov utters, stepping back from the operating table. "i will accept nothing less."

tarkovsky hums in acknowledgement as he carefully cuts your uniform open and looks over the freshly completed work. "you've never brought me a prisoner in a condition like this," he replies, referencing the dressings that he starts to unravel. "is she a special target, commander?"

"one-four-one." he says, curt. the doctor seems to understand and nods in response, already beginning to tend to your wounds.

"she will receive nothing but the best, commander makarov."

it barely takes a day for you to awaken, a fact that surprises even makarov himself. he personally handled delivering you to your cell, not trusting any of the depraved prison guards with such a task, and occupied himself with other matters until he received the news that you were awake.

you were as spirited as he expected from someone of your caliber. stubborn, confident, and competent in what you do. it took you over a week to finally kill one of his men, and the one you did kill...

he was pleased with your performance, and he did not spare the rod with the guards assigned to your surveillance.

makarov had been in the middle of dealing with one of the general's men that managed to slip under his radar. he was attacked after a private meeting with his council, earning several cuts from the man's blade before he successfully disarmed and pinned the agent to the floor, beating him into submission. his fists were bruised and smeared red from the force behind each swing, perhaps a bit excessive, but he didn't pay it any mind.

until another man came sprinting down the hall, briefly pausing at the sight of his commander standing over an "ally" beaten to a bloody pulp, only snapping out of his shock after makarov turns to face him. the soldier opened his mouth and practically vomited out his words, something about "the prisoner attacking the doctor."

the sight that he was greeted with upon arriving at your cell could only be described as stimulating.

you, the ever-disciplined lieutenant, disheveled and staring back at him with a wild look in your eyes, refusing to falter even as you're outnumbered and backed into a corner with guns drawn and pointed at you. makarov tore his gaze from you and allowed it to fall to the man lying dead in a heap - the younger, less experienced doctor that tarkovsky insisted on keeping around despite knowing that his commander wanted to wring the brat's neck.

needless to say, he wasn't disappointed with your choice of victim.

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?"

if he didn't know better, makarov could almost mistake the question as coming from a place of concern rather than contempt. you have no reason to feel anything but hatred for him, though - nor does he have a reason to feel anything but the same for you.

still, he steps back from the board and reaches for his drink again, beginning to pace around the room as the interaction plays in his head. your sarcasm and attitude only serve to wear out his carefully-crafted patience— but, the way you responded when faced with almost certain death, the blood smeared across your skin, the proficiency that you maintained despite your condition...

he stops in the center of the room, fingers clenching and unclenching around the glass.

fuck, you were beautiful.

his jaw tenses, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down the unfamiliar sense of desire that sits thick in his throat.

it's not like makarov is unacquainted with this side of himself. he's bedded a fair number of women in the past, he is far from a virginal saint. he seldom spends nights with company, however. it's just more convenient to deal with his needs alone and get on with his work; he's never wanted anything more.

but then, there's you.

you make his blood boil and frustrate him like no other. not even the captain, his sworn enemy, can rile him up as easily as you do. he's fascinated with you and the rage that you seem to awaken from somewhere deep inside of him. he feels nothing but anger towards you— even as he sits alone in his quarters, bringing himself to his peak, imagining you before him, under him, pleading for more.

a sudden pain in his hand distracts him from his thoughts, roughly yanking him back to reality. makarov looks down and blinks at the sight of blood pouring from his palm, unceremoniously dripping onto the floor below. the tumbler that was nestled comfortably in his grasp now clatters to the ground in pieces, leaving behind a small collection of shards embedded in his skin.

the amber whiskey mixes with the crimson that slowly pools at his feet, a sickening color combination that brings a smile to his lips.

this is your fault. he flexes his fingers, brow twitching from the pain that shoots through the area, and revels in the misery that you've indirectly caused. he wants more of it.

you are loyal to your team, loyal to your cause— on one hand, he admires it. on the other, it only tempts him to see how far you're willing to go, how far he can push you before you break. everyone has their weakness, even you. all he has to do is find it.

he could see the hesitation in your eyes the last time you spoke - in a collapsed building in the middle of a war zone, with enemies and allies both scattered in the streets, surrounding your location. you were covered in a layer of dust and ash, having narrowly escaped the collapse with your life, and all he wanted to do after coming face-to-face with you on the battlefield was push you to your limit.

as always, though, he restrained himself. you won't give in like this. makarov has to play his cards right and take his time with you. he's unsure of the role you'll play in his grand plans, but there is one thing that he knows for certain: you'll be his greatest accomplishment yet.

you're already wavering, standing over the edge and staring into the abyss. all he has to do is convince you to take the leap.

he clenches his hand into a tight fist, savoring the pain that binds him to you. every matter is easier said than done, he reminds himself. you may teeter over the edge, but it's clear where your allegiances lie - with the captain, not him.

for a reason that he can't quite place, that angers him. it's to be expected— no amount of information given in good faith can make up for the fact that he's your enemy. even so, he feels like he deserves your fealty, your skills, your attention; the lack of it makes his skin crawl. it's a thought that refuses to leave his head, a pit that settles deep in his stomach and twists like a poison-tipped knife whenever he's reminded of it.

vladimir makarov does not chase. he does not ask for what he wants. nothing will change that, not even you. he'll find a way to make you seek him out. he doesn't care what it costs, both in funds and lives, it's all the same to him. it's only a matter of time.

a buzzing from his phone on his desk catches his attention. makarov approaches it in a lazy saunter and picks it up - with his uninjured hand - and reads off the name on the caller id. your real name flashes across the screen, staring back at him. a low chuckle escapes him before he answers the call and lifts the phone up to his ear.

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." makarov concedes with an amused huff. "have you come to a decision?" he asks, cruel satisfaction swiftly displacing any of his prior emotions.

you inhale and exhale deeply, audible over the phone. he can imagine how you look— eyes held tightly shut, hand clenched into a fist at your side, your thoughts entirely consumed with him.

after a long moment of silence, finally, you speak.

"i have."

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @sparda-ly, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea, @thriving-n-jiving, @preciouslittlecreature, @infinitewhore, @jade-jax

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[nayruwu]

hi guys! it's me again on my way to throw some salt because i'm starting to believe guren belongs in a retirement home to be treated for early onset dementia.

so i'm reading the chapter, and it's all fine and good, i love it, go krul, go ferid, whatever. and then even guren shows up! i was waiting for that. but then i see this

and it's like, uh, yeah, weird thing to say considering she literally is the person that caused "everyone" to die for her own goals, but this isn't a new thing. he's said some shit like "if i had just let myself die along shinya, mahiru and the others" before, and it was odd then, it's odd now. anyway, then comes this

and i'm like?? hello???? this is a hundred times worse than "dying together with everyone", because it takes his friends out of the equation entirely and gives the image of someone who doesn't even care if they left them behind, who just wants to go and die together with their murderer. which does not fit the image i have of guren at all.

you may know that this notion itself is also not new, since he did try to die with mahiru by throwing himself and her out of a window in catastrophe (hence the "back then"). the thing is, she had not killed his friends at that point. to him she was just a broken girl and if he could end her suffering by dying alongside her, his saviour complex ass would have done it. he also hadn't yet come to the realisation of how much he loved and needed his friends. but to say this now??? i feel personally offended on behalf of guren squad, lol. imagine if he fucking died and left them to spend their last 2 years alive wondering about all the lies and the hurt, having no way of knowing their end is near, probably blaming themselves for not being able to help him even though he brought it upon himself willingly. it just makes me want to. urgh. it's horrible, and it makes no sense.

and yeah, i'm not going to pretend that i'm not also offended because of this.

did this just mean nothing?? this shit was so emotional, the original scene, the fact that he still remembers exactly what shinya told him eight years ago, for THIS? for him to say the same exact thing TO THE PERSON WHO KILLED HIM? sach mal hast du lack gesoffen oder was??

the dissonance between him shedding all those tears over his friends' deaths and then acting this way towards mahiru, i just. i do not get it.

and like, i hear the people saying that he's just pretending, he's only staying so calm because he has his own plan, he's going to betray mahiru, and i want to believe that, i really do. it' the only thing that would make sense. but as awesome and fitting of a plot twist as that would be, i will not set myself up for further disappointment and believe it.

maybe we're just doomed to watch guren and mahiru get married and have 5 kids that they name in honour of his dead friends, who knows.

salt over

[bones4thecats]

Hello!

If requests are open, I'd like to send one in. Hear me out: the Octavinelle squad and the Pomefiore squad with a reader who makes jewelry. And one day they make something especially for them (A pin or a bracelet or something)

A/N: Apologies that this took so long, Anon! But I do hope you enjoy this piece~~

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👑 Your beautiful boyfriend has watched you make your jewelry for quite some time

👑 The way you would mold something worthless into something gorgeous in the matter of minutes to maybe hours was impressive to him

👑 His birthday was something that was quite popular around NRC, and all of Twisted Wonderland, so you’d expect him to get stuff sent to him all the time

👑 And you were correct

👑 But when he finally retired for the night, in favor to spend time with you, his gorgeous S/O, he smiled when you handed him a box wrapped in shimmery purple paper, with a cute little jewel bow

👑 Opening it was fun for him, the way your eyes lit up when he held up the headpiece was amazing

“ My Dear, this is beautiful, thank you very much. “

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🏹 Rook always sprung surprise gifts onto you, so you decided to put your love of crafting to use

🏹 He always loved to watch you make your pieces whenever vice-housewarden duties didn’t burden him

🏹 When you walked up to him and held out a decently sized box with a beautiful ribbon with an arrow made out of it and he smiled

🏹 How sweet was his S/O?

🏹 When he opened the box and saw the beautiful necklaces you had made, he gasped and began to rant on how gorgeous they were, and how we couldn’t bear wearing them, they weren’t even on the same level as formal pieces

🏹 They were far above!

🏹 And, true to his nature, he pulled out a small box and showed you a necklace with a bow and arrow on it, which made him laugh fairly loud, different from his more formal one used around others

“ I guess we are soulmates, mon bijou! “

Mon Bijou ~ My Jewel

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🍎 Epel always was hard to make gifts for, he wanted to seem manly, but was organized in a, in his words, “prissy and preppy dorm”

🍎 So, when his birthday approached, you had made him a gorgeous ring with amethyst and steel, and you knew he’d like it

🍎 While the rest of the first years laughed and joked with one another, you grabbed your boyfriend before handing him the small ring box, with the words on a tag saying, ‘For my one and only <3’

🍎 That was enough to fluster the country boy

🍎 But seeing the ring you had made turned his face nearly full red, you could’ve compared him to Riddle!

🍎 He smiled and allowed you to put the ring on his finger

🍎 It may not be completely manly, but Epel can put this behind him, just once

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🐙 Azul was a hard one to give thing to, as he believed he didn’t need them as much as others

🐙 It was one of his faults he gained from bullying

🐙 But you wanted to make him something that would both go with his outfit and not attract to much attention to

🐙 And obviously be unique, you needed to give him something original

🐙 It took quite a while, but on your monthly anniversary, you handed him the ring and he just blushed and laughed as he gave you one as well

🐙 You guys put them on each other and the tweels teased on how it was like a scene at a wedding

🐙 He never took it off afterwards, unless it was necessary, he doesn’t want his S/O’s precious work damaged

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🍄 This guy, whoa

🍄 You have made him feel welcomed with his odd fungi obsession, so he has encouraged your wish of jewelry-making

🍄 Jade has given you many different things that he finds fit for either your dorm room or for you personally, like a mushroom themed hair pin

🍄 This tweel never really expected much when it came to physical objects in return, he was quite content with basic affection, whether it be verbal or physical

🍄 So when you messaged him one afternoon after school, saying you had something for him on his walk, he was intrigued

🍄 Smiling when he saw you, he asked what the immediate meeting was about

🍄 Handing him the necklace was hard, as it was difficult to tell his emotions

🍄 He looked at the piece of jewelry and chuckled lowly

“ My delicate S/O, you really do listen to me. Mushrooms and the most beautiful chain, you truly are amazing. Oh, what did I ever do to deserve you? ”

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🎭 Floyd never really gave you anything material, his love language was mainly physical affection or his constant teasing

🎭 But when he learned of your craft made him laugh

🎭 He really does admire how much patience you have to make these dazzling pieces in time

🎭 Whenever he saw something he liked, he’d rant about how amazing they are, before eventually leaving, per messages of Azul or Jade for skipping work or something random, Sevens knows

🎭 Floyd was just hanging out with you on his birthday when you asked him about the extra mark by his ear

🎭 He just smiled and said when he was younger he pierced his ear with a paperclip (not canon, but I thought that sounded cute)

🎭 That was when you got the idea, an earring, and thankfully, you were wearing a moray eel earring

🎭 Taking the object out and handing it to him made him freeze and ask what you were doing

🎭 This tweel brother just laughed at your answer, “For your birthday, of course.” You said

🎭 He grabbed it and pierced it through the hole, exclaiming how amazing you were and asking,

“ Oh my tiny S/O, what did I ever do to deserve you? ”

[prodigaldaughteralice]

So, I was tipped off a while ago by a post that’s probably still in my queue (I have a long reblog queue u_u;; ) that a few words were changed in the US edition of Monstrous Regiment. As it’s my favourite Discworld book, and I’d only ever read the US edition, I tracked down a second-hand UK first edition online and had a re-read as soon as it came, with my battered old US edition next to me so I could check when anything pinged me as ‘off’. Here’s what I found, not counting minor UK->US spelling changes like turning “girlie” into “girly”.

(There may be more that I missed, I didn’t have both copies open the whole time, but I’m pretty familiar with this book. As my sister teased me about when I mentioned I’d done this comparison, I did have it in my bed for several years as a teenager so I could reread it whenever my insomnia was hitting particularly hard.)

Spoilers from here on out, of course.

The first two are just kind of pointless? Changing “coprolite” to “coprolith”, which is just a less common word for the exact same thing, and changing “riff-riff-raff” to “riffraff” feels like they forgot Jackrum was playing drunk in that scene. Whatever. These don’t bother me.

There are a few UK->US type changes in the next one (“wooly vest” to “woolen undershirt”) which similarly feel pointless to me, but what really gets my goat is the last word. “The man’s bare chests,” plural, being changed to “the man’s bare chest”. Because that’s foreshadowing, but it’s not a giveaway, because on a heavier (cis) guy they do hang separate. It’s a nice little touch, and they took it out.

The next one is the one I’d been tipped off to, and it’s the change I’m the most annoyed about. “Turned her chair to the fire/around him the kitchen worked” -> “turned her chair to the fire/around her the kitchen worked.” I’m sure whatever editor changed it didn’t do so with any kind of malice or agenda, they just weren’t paying enough attention and thought they were fixing a continuity mistake, but it’s just such beautiful writing that they removed.

Because they’ve just had this incredible, delicate, vulnerable conversation about the girl Jackrum left behind him, and that that girl was him, and that he has a son out in Scratz and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s leaving the army. Polly cries. And it’s Polly who suggests that he really can remain Jack Jackrum, he can go back to his son in medals and braid and be his father, and Jack gets to really settle in to the idea that he can be happy that way. Both those pronouns being “her” doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily; I always read it as Polly processing. But the switch between the two sentences is so beautiful. It’s a gentle closing of the conversation, it’s that girl being fully put behind him, and Sergeant Major Jack Jackrum (retired) getting to go on with his life.

The last one is just… odd. Inexplicable, and it’s the hardest to explain as just an editorial accident. They added a word that specifies something that was not previously specified. “One of them was Maladicta, in full uniform” becomes “one of them was Maladicta, in full female uniform.” I was thinking about it on this reread, and Mal is the only member of the squad who wasn’t publically outed at the Keep. Mal wasn’t involved in the actual raid— too busy gibbering and sucking on a sack of coffee beans— and at the trial Mal kind of stood in the back vibrating from caffeine overdose. Even Jackrum said “with vampires, who cares”. Only Polly knows about Maladicta.

And what that means is that Mal is the only member of the squad who could reasonably remain presenting as male in the army. Polly encourages a couple of young recruits in the very end that it’s their choice to enlist as men or as women, with Mal right beside her, and I think the original ambiguity there is really lovely— it doesn’t matter if Mal has an ‘a’ on the end at the moment, because Mal is there to help Polly fuck shit up, and that’s what matters. By adding the specificity, they just… took away a really nice bit of subtext, a really nice effect.

So yeah, I’m ticked off as a queer person about the (minor) subversion of the book’s general gender fuckery, but I’m almost more ticked off as a writer. Pratchett was so talented, and we talk about it a lot on a large scale of themes and motifs and characters, but he was also just so fantastic on a sentence to sentence level. This is craft! This is really beautiful, delicate writing, elegantly put together and perfected, and some US editors just. Took out some of it. And it’s still an incredible book! As I mentioned, I had it in my bed for years as a teenager so I could reread it over and over, it means a ton to me, it’s my favourite of his work and I love his work! But it hurts to see these little places where it was originally even better.

[sonofthesaiyans]

Sasha's Finest Hour...

This is perhaps the only episode of Attack on Titan I would willingly watch if I were to sit down and put it back on.

"I'm Home".

Way back in the early days of season two.

Doesn't matter how much time has passed since the finale, my love and appreciation for Sasha has never wavered. And this episode here, where she showed us what she was truly made of should have been the start of much greater things for our legendary Potato Girl.

Her courage in this episode cannot be overstated. Armed with nothing but a bow and arrow, she finally managed to cast aside her fear of the Titans to save her hometown, and in doing so she saved the girl who she'd later take in as her own sister. Sasha has always been one of the most noble characters on the show, and nowhere is that clearer than in the moment she stays behind to ensure Kaya's escape.

Her character growth in the span of a single season is nothing short of impressive. She went from the odd one out among the recruits to throwing herself in the clutches of these monsters all to save an innocent life, and LIVED to tell about it.

It's from that moment that Sasha went from a silly, self-indulgent farm girl into the kind of warrior the Scout Regiment needed.....And one who earned her right to wear the Wings of Freedom. Not many who can say they fought their way out of the arms of a Titan with only an arrow for self-defense.

Sasha proved she's much stronger than she appears, her sense of justice and her compassion for others is what makes her stand out among Eren's circle of friends. And it's moments like this episode that are why I believe so strongly that Sasha had the potential to rival even Mikasa as the main heroine of this story. She's a girl with no extraordinary superhuman abilities, just a strong will to live and to stand with those who need her the most.

And we FULLY DESERVED to see a whole lot more of what this episode promised than what we ultimately got. We deserved to see more of Sasha becoming the big sister figure she was to Kaya. We deserved to see more of her with her father who was so proud of her, her mother who we NEVER saw share even a single scene with Sasha....with Mikasa her supposed close friend and roommate, with Niccolo the man who abandoned his prejudiced mindset because of her....with freaking Eren who she had once trusted.....And YES, even with the Gabi Braun, who could have learned much from Sasha without the story taking the extreme turn it did on the heels of Sasha's incredible growth......

....And Hajime Isayama owes us DEARLY for denying us all of the potential laid out by this episode.

This episode offered so much towards one character, and it could have gone even farther. Even without outright killing a Titan, something else we absolutely deserved to see at least once, this was Sasha's proudest moment. We needed more episodes/chapters like this where Sasha could show what she was truly made of.

Sasha Braus, truly the most noble of them all. ❤️ ⚔️ 🥔 ⚔️ ❤️

And with that said, "I'm Home" is also the one episode where my other favorite gal, the too often overlooked Lynne gets her introduction.

Definitely another gal for whom this episode should absolutely have been the start of something much greater.

May be weird that I feel such a strong attachment to a character who was not long for this series, but Lynne still left her mark on me. Like Sasha she is beautiful, compassionate, and rock solid in the face of danger, striking back with the same ferocity as the Titans who are constantly on the attack.

She's a capable member of Squad Miche, and her kindness and care towards Conny and the other members of the 104th make me wonder what kind of relationship she would have had with the main squad if she had been given that chance. No doubt she'd have been a force to be reckoned with, and a force to keep up with, given her gallant stand at Castle Utgard.

Truly a character who deserves a second chance to shine. And this episode gave us a great introduction to what could have been. But once again, we were robbed of that by an author who never acts on the potential he puts onscreen. But that hasn't stopped me from exploring what she could have been, what her story might've looked like, and giving her the spotlight she's overdue for.

Remember her face, because she deserves that much. Lynne earned her Wings of Freedom. ❤️ ⚔️ ❤️

Long story short, this is the one episode of Attack on Titan I'd put on if I were to do so again. This episode gave us much, and it should have been the foundation for far more than what ultimately ended up being.

Two great characters, both who richly deserved so much better.

And that's not all I have to say about this episode, guys. We'll be back on this one soon enough, so stay tuned.

[moltensmusings]

We stopped at the start of the infinity clock arc so now that I've seen things with fresh eyes: I still fully stand behind my statement that wee needed at least 7-10 episodes of just the characters left behind before the tenrou crew got brought back.

I also want to say: it was really weird for them to just have random clips of 13 year old Romeo staring out over the water before the timeskip. It was such an odd decision. Like all it was for was to make people wonder but I don't feel like it was necessary. I truly thing us having no idea that 7 years would pass would've been far more effective and heartbreaking for a decision.

We can still have the first post timeskip scene include Romeo. In fact I think a fun scene of him working the job with Bisca and Alzack would've been great. It would still be a bit confusing but fairy tail always enjoys chaos so starting a timeskip with it would've worked great. I also just feel like we needed an actual scene of Romeo in the field using his magic because the content we get for him in the infinity clock arc really didn't do a great job of showing him as someone with strong magic in my opinion.

We could've had each episode focus on a slightly different group of characters and give insight into have they've changed while also setting up twilight ogre as an actual tangible threat that Macao wasn't able to completely rid the town of without risking harm coming to citizens. The tenrou crew returning and bringing much needed numbers and firepower to help secure the city would've been just as effective if not more so.

On top of this: I really think the retrieval crew should've been smaller. Maybe more support/scout type characters being sent (Warren, Jet, and of course vijeeter because I'm standing firm on him being a stealth squad member) but if the guild is so heavily at risk of being wiped our by Twilight ogre I think over half the remaining members rushing off on a potential multi day mission is such a baffling choice.

I don't mind the new guild, but when one of the guilds members is a wizard who can control wood why is it in such disrepair. I think Laki being the one to keep the guild looking relatively pristine but being wiped from the effort could've been a great character moment as well. How do each of the guild members assist the guild post timeskip?

I could go on about each member and once more prattle about juvia staying behind or anything else but I'll stop for now.

[obsessedwhim]

Office Time

You were ecstatic to hear that Ichigo would soon be spending some quality time in the Seireitei with his dear friends and probably training, which was always an inevitable option.

Though his arrival was in a few days you were bursting with glowing nervous energy, not that he was aware of your lowly sixth-seat self but man! You sure were aware of him!

Not only was he the courageous Hero who saved your home more times than you have fingers, but he was also kind, interesting and.. and... soooooOOOOOoooooo a t t r a c t i v e !

So tall and cool, you could barely look at him whenever Ichigo had somehow made it near your vicinity. Not to mention his intimidating Zanpakuto, shaped unlike any sword you had ever seen!

The first time you saw him in person was... admittedly- seeing Yoruichi pick up the youngster after his defeating of The One and Only Kenpachi Zaraki, Capitan to Squad Eleven.

She watched for a moment as you and your squad mates rushed to the scene of the crime and after that, it's like the bright burn of his hair scorched itself into the very wrinkles of your brain. Burning brighter with every thought that passed through your simple little scull.

There was this one time when you had to make a house call to a Lieutenant and the ginger just happened to be there. You kept quiet and tried so hard to keep your eyes on the bandages before you, but then a shadow covered the sunlight you needed and so, you glanced up with a question in your throat only to swallow said question like a cold rock once you saw it was the legendary Kurosaki, leaning over you with a curious stare. Sunlight glowing from behind him as if he were some sort of stunning.. glowy.. person- thing...

"Oh, hey there" he flickered his eyelids in blissful innocents, as if not sure if you were a person or not. Not that you've been acting like a normal person since noticing his spiritual energy which surrounded you like water, as though you had somehow sunk to the very bottom of the deepest lake- oddly, very much like a suffocating hug. You wondered what pressure Ichigo would use on you with his bare hands, not that he would, but say he would...

Before any more lude thoughts were able to flush the blood to your cheeks you blinked and began packing your things away quickly "Welp, that's all the help I can give ya Renji, stay well- be safe! Byyeeeee!"

With a medical box underarm, the smallest of the three ran out of a nearby door and hoofed it over the first garden wall you came across. Leaving both males blinking in your wake.

Though the memory itself was keeping you awake at bedtime with wave after wave of cringe, seeing his eyes up close- the way you could recall the different layers of brown in his almond-shaped gaze and still feel his room temp breath fanning on you from above- it was all worth it. The strange smell he emitted clung to your nostrils, but you being you enjoyed the odd scent coming from him, which you learned later on was a human realm aftershave.

Would it be weird if you bought it? That's weird, right? No... is it?

Whatever, because now was the time to completely indulge yourself in your work, with Hanataro off sick for the next couple of days you were chomping at the bit to get rid of this mountain of paperwork. You couldn't take all these tumultuous emotions and so it was time to forget all about 'em and focus on the perfect piles you had created, both alphabetically and essentiality wise.

It was perfect! Just you, this warm cup of tea and a wonderful breeze that drifted through the window. Nothing would take you away from your office space on this day!

Letting out a slow breath you sat at your desk, flickering through a handful sheets until a few squad mates ran by your open window, glancing at the outside world while black uniforms blurred past the square opening. The stampede pulled the forms you held to your chest in a strong rush of air and the white reports danced across the moving flashmob of rushing Reapers.

"No!" You reached after the vanishing articles, going limp and accepting your fate for now with a wince "Those were the forms to confirm public bathrooms..."

"Here" a hand held out a crumpled pile "I dunno if I got 'em all, but.. This is what I was able to get"

You felt it as soon as he held out those crumpled papers, his pouring energy washing over your skin as if the very sun itself took a moment out of its day to shower you with that good ol' fashioned Vitamin C, trying to ignore your burning flesh you held out shaky hands with a bowed skull "T-thank you, you.. didn't have too"

Though you couldn't see it, Ichigo's shining eyes widened and he near dropped the pile into your little hands before clearing his throat "Naaah, it's.. no problem" he scratched the side of his head before realising you weren't moving.

"Yooou uh, you okay there?" the local Hero quirked a brow as you took a moment to quietly whimper to yourself "I... can't move"

Ichigo bent his knees and squatted before you, glancing up through his lashes and the strands of your hair it was becoming increasingly harder to breathe normally, he was absolutely breathtaking, even more so than you thought from all the distances you'd seen the wonderful Kurosaki form, from all angles. Which was rather annoying at this point in time, but oh well.

Your lungs squeezed at the window corner internally slicing you in half and Ichigo chuckled as blood filled your cheeks "You want some help?" he questioned, grinning widely and you couldn't help but hold what little breath you were getting.

Keeping his eyes matched with yours the male grabbed the scruff of your uniform and lifted you back into your office window all while your fingers shredded the at sheets mercilessly as you imagined his strong hand wrapped around your throat instead.

"Well.." Ichigo turned with a salute, not letting you see his blush rise at how light you were, he could just pick you up and take you away from here "See you 'round"

And there he left you, before anything could register through your shocked being but still that strange aftershave drifted through you and proceeded to stay with you for the rest of your office time.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Umbara Arc - Some thoughts on what happens after the friendly fire accident

There's a lot that can be said about the actual battle between the 501st and 212th. The sheer brutality of the fight, the amount of casualties and injuries, Rex's absolute panic but also quick thinking once he realized what was happening, and then everyone stopping to process what the entire attack actually was: A trap.

But I'd like to mostly focus on the affects the post-battle and Waxer's death have on Dogma, as well as some other interesting details I noticed while looking through some clips.

I'll keep this under a read more because it's definitely gonna be long and I DO have quite a few screenshots to go through.

---

Right after the battle we get a brief glimpse of a group of clones from both battalions that are trying to help the injured, as well as a close up of Tup's reaction to this whole ordeal. He's shocked and clearly upset by how things turned out (this is after all his first campaign and he very likely never imagined this sort of thing might happen out in the field, and I even doubt they even trained troopers for a potential friendly fire incident back on Kamino), but what I find interesting is that he turns to look towards Dogma of all people when speaking up (and I think it's Dogma he's looking at rather than Rex, because when he turns to talk Rex is crouched down looking over something or perhaps someone), as if maybe looking for an answer that his fellow rookie definitely doesn't have.

Dogma in turn seems completely unsure of what's going on and turns to Rex who is now paying attention to him, asking why a group of clones would attack them while clearly having trouble processing what exactly transpired. I have no idea how long Dogma's been a sergeant for, but this event rattles him to his core so I don't think he's actually been in all that many grueling fights (granted that every single battle on Umbara has been arduous but not to this extent).

Before Rex can answer however, Kix approaches and informs him that Waxer was found and that he's not only in charge of the platoon they encountered but also that he's still alive.

Hoping maybe he has the answers as to why the 212th attacked the 501st, Rex opts to seek him out rather than answer Dogma's question (either because he doesn't know what to say to him, or because he'd rather not throw speculation at Dogma that might not be well received). Maybe hoping to get answers of his own, Dogma follows Rex and Kix to see Waxer rather than stay behind with Tup to further process things.

When Waxer explains that Krell gave the order to attack its obvious that Rex doesn't need much convincing, due to all the prior negative experiences under Krell's very brief command. Dogma and Kix don't contest this either and exchange silent looks, which is actually pretty interesting if you think about it...

See, Dogma has been following Krell's orders without argument and was even in charge of Fives and Jesse's failed execution (which is odd considering Dogma is a sergeant and so it should have fallen on his CO to man the execution instead). But when confronted with this situation and then being told his general is responsible, he doesn't actually argue that this might have been a misunderstanding. In fact, if you look back on the botched firing squad, Dogma has complied with Krell's demands but never fought the others too much whenever they went against orders.

He could have easily just drawn his own blaster and taken care of the executions himself, or even denied Waxer's words because obviously a Jedi would NOT do this and maybe the battle was an honest mistake on their part. But Dogma doesn't do either of those things. What he does do is close his eyes once Waxer passes away.

I double checked when I was watching this scene, and it's not just him blinking for a brief moment. Dogma watches Waxer's form slump and proceeds to close his eyes and shake his head for a moment, before opening them again with a neutral expression.

The more I think about it, the more I think that there's two things going on with this scene in particular that strike me as important to Dogma's character development:

Dogma is being confronted with the reality that a Jedi has done something to actively sabotage two battalions, and that said Jedi's disruption ended with disastrous consequences (and not just the amount of injured and dead clones resulting from the ordeal, but also the death of one of the 212th's best troopers).

In seeing this take place he doesn't argue that this is genuinely Krell's fault, and even mourns Waxer because this was very much a death that should have never happened. That said he is still bound by honor and duty.

Which brings us to the next couple of scenes...

There's a lot to be said about Dogma's clear hesitation here.

Rex explains to both the 501st and 212th that going after Krell is definitely a treasonous act (even if Krell's own actions are also indication that he's committing treason against the Republic) and that he understands perfectly if some of them would rather opt out than follow along with the rest of them. He's giving both his and Cody's men an out in case this ends poorly for them (because that is a possibility that every single one of them is more than aware of).

At first Dogma is willing to follow Rex and the rest of his brothers, only to falter on their way to confronting Krell. Where once he'd likely be at the front of the line, ready for the next battle, he instead lags behind noticeable. And he also removes his helmet, which sets him apart from the others who are kitted up and unwilling to back down from this.

The thing is, when Dogma removes his helmet he looks like he's not quite decided what he should do. He's standing there watching the others march on, mulling over whether or not he should continue to follow or if he should remain strong in his convictions and fall back on his training. And then that brief flicker of uncertainty falls away as he quickly makes up his mind and sets his jaw. Deciding to continue to do his duty rather than following along with a plan that he knows will very likely backfire and end with mass court-martials or worse (Dogma clearly trusts his training more than he trusts sudden unpredictable situations, and I can't fault him for being uncomfortable and conflicted on where to stand in this clash).

I've already done a post on Dogma being apprehended so I won't go into that again. But I still find it pretty curious that this entire campaign is set up as a moral dilemma for Rex, where two troopers stand as his proverbial shoulder angel and devil (with Dogma initially representing the angel and Fives the devil, only for those roles to then be reversed when it becomes clear that Krell is the villain of this story), only for Rex to initially take on a more passive role.

The true stars of the majority of the Umbara arc are Fives (who more than proves his worth as a free-thinking man who is loyal to his brothers rather than a blind follower to authority figures) and Dogma (who was meant to represent everything a clone trooper is expected to be, and who is forced to come to terms with the fact that things are not as black and white as he was taught to believe).

But more on Dogma later.

Can we all just agree that Tup is the absolute MVP of this story arc just from how quickly he goes from being an impressionable newbie, to actively using things he learned on his own throughout the campaign to his advantage when it came time to hunt down and apprehend Krell?

Tup learned very quickly about how much the Vixus were a threat, and kept his eyes on the ground whenever they were out in the field because he discovered just a slight brush against one of their tendrils could lead to sudden death. Something that he even showed to Dogma who was oblivious to this particular danger.

While chasing Krell, Tup notices a Vixus's tendril and hatches a quick little plan. Knowing Krell will not hesitate to attack a vulnerable clone, he tip toes his way over the tendrils and then calls attention to himself. And Krell easily takes the bait because he's paying more attention to "putting the clones in their place" than the environment around him.

It's through Tup's quick learning and ingenuity that Krell is caught at all, and I honestly think his mini character development arc is also pretty neat, even if it's not really focused on for the majority of the story (Tup's story arc is much more subtle than Fives's, Dogma's and Rex's, but it should honestly be just as praised!).

Tup also comes to the fast conclusion that Krell cannot remain alive if they hope to take Umbara. A sentiment that Rex agrees with, even if it's against everything he believes in.

For Dogma this is not as easy a conclusion to get to, but it's one he reaches anyway at a great personal cost.

Krell laughs in Dogma's face, mocking him for being loyal to the point of willingly blinding himself to the harsh reality of living and dying for a system that simply couldn't care less about clones (no matter how good a soldier they are), and Krell even relishes in the fact he's shattered this clone's trust as if it were nothing more than a game for him. As if Dogma was just a silly little toy to be played with and then tossed when broken.

It's the straw that breaks the spamel's back.

The rest is history. Dogma proceeds to look back on all his mistakes while Krell taunts Rex, notices Rex's internal conflict and hesitation, and then decides to spare the captain the trouble of facing punishment (mostly likely execution) for trying to be a good person rather than just a good soldier. He also finesses a blaster out of an ARC trooper's holster while handcuffed, which is honestly impressive.

Dogma takes the fall and takes Krell with him. And I think that's both tragic and kind of poetic in a way...

[personinthepalace]

Some things never change 🥺

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Stay Put

The streets of the Forerunner city on Alpha Halo were deserted, a silent testament to a civilization that had vanished eons ago. These pathways, once bustling with life, now played host to only whispers of the past and the occasional footfalls from John.

The Master Chief moved with a deliberate pace, his towering figure cutting through the eerie stillness. There was no need for weapons in hand; the man was a walking arsenal, a fact well known across the galaxy.

Trailing behind him, a sight that would baffle any onlooker—a young Sangheili. This child, swathed in robes rather than armor, seemed out of place following a human, especially one as formidable as the Master Chief. Yet, here he was, tailing John like a lost puppy, albeit one that could potentially rip your arm off if provoked. His movements were hesitant, betraying a mix of reverence and fear that one might reserve for a deity or, in this case, a heavily armored super-soldier.

Cortana's holographic form flickers into existence. She looked like she'd walked straight out of ancient Athens, though the furrow of her digital brow suggested she was more concerned with the present than the philosophies of the past. "John, you've got a tail. And I'm not talking about our little friend here," she said, her voice carrying a hint of snark that belied her skittish posture.

Almost on cue, a squad of Covenant enforcers rounded a corner, their presence an instant threat in the quiet of the abandoned city. They were a small group, but they packed enough firepower to make a dent. Their armor glinted under the artificial light of the Halo, a silent challenge to any who dared stand in their path.

Without missing a beat, John scooped up the Sangheili child, a move so swift it was almost casual. "Hang on, kid," he muttered, an odd note of tenderness in his voice that contrasted sharply with his next actions.

Ducking into an alleyway, he set the child down with surprising gentleness. "Kee'rah here, gah'nu? Nu'keh vo'rah, kee'lah so'ko." (Stay here, got it? Don't come out until I say so) he instructed in Sangheili, a language he spoke with the ease of a native.

The kid nodded, his eyes wide behind his mask. The fear was palpable, but so was the trust. "Vah'ruum kee'na." (I will wait) he said, the words heavy with an accent but clear in intention.

John nodded once, then turned to face the emerging threat, his figure a stark silhouette against the dim light filtering into the alley. Cortana's form hovered near him, her earlier apprehension replaced by a focused concern. "Don't get too cocky, John. Remember, pride comes before a fall, and I'm not equipped with a broom to sweep up your ego."

The Spartan couldn't help but crack a small smile, barely perceptible beneath his helmet. "Keep an eye on our six, Cortana. I'll handle the front."

As he stepped back into the fray, the alleyway behind him became a temporary sanctuary for the young Sangheili, a silent witness to the unlikely alliances formed in the shadow of war...

John burst from the alleyway, his eyes quickly scanning the scene before him. The air was charged with anticipation, the quiet before the storm. Ahead, a Wraith tank, menacing and bristling with firepower, was flanked by two Ghosts, their drivers cackling with glee. A squad of Zealot Elites, their energy swords humming with deadly intent, completed the deadly entourage. The battlefield was set for a clash of titans.

Without a moment's hesitation, John charged forward, his Spartan armor enhancing his speed to a blur. The ground beneath his feet seemed to quake with each step, a testament to the impending showdown. WHOOOSH! The first Ghost lunged at him, its plasma cannons blazing. John leapt into the air, a twist of his body turning his momentum into a devastating kick that sent the Ghost spiraling into a nearby ruin, exploding in a ball of fire and smoke. BOOM! Landing gracefully, John didn't pause.

The second Ghost zoomed towards him, cannons firing wildly. ZZZZAP! ZZZZAP! With an agile roll, John dodged the plasma bolts and, in one fluid motion, ripped the plasma cannon from the Ghost. Turning it on the vehicle, he unleashed a torrent of energy that shredded the Ghost apart.

KA-BLAM! Now, the Wraith tank took aim, its main cannon charging with a deep, ominous hum. The air vibrated with the power of the impending shot. John, eyeing the massive tank, sprinted towards it, the plasma cannon still in hand. As the Wraith fired, John leapt, using the cannon as a shield. The plasma bolt hit the cannon, engulfing John in a blinding light, but when it cleared, there he stood, unscathed, the cannon obliterated.

With a roar, the Brutes driving the Wraith emerged, brandishing gravity hammers. John dashed forward, meeting the first Brute with a powerful punch that sent it flying back into the tank with a CRUNCH. The second Brute swung its hammer in a wide arc, WHOOSH, but John ducked under the swing, then uppercut the Brute into the air, following up with a swift jump and a mid-air tackle that crashed them both into the tank, denting its armor.

As the tank reeled from the impact, the Zealot Elites charged, energy swords drawn. John landed, facing the onslaught. The first Elite swung its sword in a deadly arc, but John parried with a stolen energy dagger, the clash of energy creating a dazzling display of sparks. CLANG! He spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to another Elite, sending it crashing into a third.

THWACK! The battle was a whirlwind of motion. John moved like a specter among the Elites, dodging, parrying, and striking with precision. Each move was a dance of death, a testament to his unmatched skill and the power of the Spartan program.

Finally, as the last Elite fell, John stood alone amidst the wreckage of his foes, breathing heavily but victorious. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the chaos that had just ensued...

In the aftermath of what could only be described as a one-man demolition derby—courtesy of John himself—the battlefield was a sight to behold. Wreckage strewn about like confetti after a particularly rowdy party, courtesy of our favorite Spartan and his less-than-gentle touch. John stood amidst the chaos, taking a moment to breathe in the... well, not fresh air. More like the smoky, charged scent of victory and plasma burns.

"Kee'lah so'ko!" he bellowed into the alleyway, the Sangheili equivalent of (Time to come out, kiddo!) His voice carried the kind of authority that even the most disobedient pet would think twice about ignoring. The young Sangheili, whose idea of a good time probably didn't include cowering in alleyways during explosive battles, peeked out. Seeing John, who was remarkably not on fire or dismembered (a common outcome for most after such a scuffle), he scampered over. With a move that was part relief, part "you're-my-hero," the kid gave John a hug around his waist. It was a touching scene, if you ignored the backdrop of fiery destruction.

"Kee'va tu'rah vah. Vo'kehm nu'keh vo'gah, gah'nu?" John said, his voice finding that gentle timbre that he rarely used, probably because it was hard to sound gentle when you're a human tank. (You did well to stay put. But let's not make a habit of this, okay?)

The kid, still clinging like a limpet, mumbled something that sounded like awe and agreement all mashed into one. "Vah... vah kee'nu'rah vah'rom. Kee'ah... kee'ah vum'rahr, thum'keeva vah'ree." (You... you took them all down. Like a... like a really angry, heavily armored bear)

John couldn't help but chuckle—a sound as rare as a polite discussion between a Grunt and a Marine. "Gah, kee'ah vum'ko. Vo'kehm, thum'keeva vah'ree kee'va so'rah vum'kah veerah, gah'nu?" (Yeah, something like that. But hey, angry bears have to make sure everyone gets home safe, right?)

As they resumed their trek through the city's ruins, the child's curiosity bubbled over like a pot left unattended. "Vah'keem kee'va nu'kuh thum'keeva vah'ree tu'rah?" (Are we going to see more...angry bear stuff?) The question was earnest, a mix of dread and excitement at the prospect of more explosions and heroic deeds.

John, casting a sidelong glance at his small companion, shrugged. "Vah'keem. Vah'zum kee'ah thum'roh, vum'la tu'keeva. Vo'kehm nu'vah, kee'na thum'keeva vah'rah tu'keeva vum." (Probably. The galaxy's a big place, filled with all sorts of trouble. But don't worry, I've got enough bear rage for all of it)

The conversation took a turn for the philosophical—or as philosophical as one can get when discussing intergalactic conflict and angry bears. "Vo'kehm vah'ruum? Kee'rah nu'kuh tu'keeva?" (And after? When there's no more trouble?)

Looking ahead, John's gaze softened, a rare moment of introspection for the Spartan. "Vah'ruum kee'va so'rah vum'kah. Vum'la kee'zum, vum'nu vah'haus... Vah'keem, vum'nu kee'na vah'bakeery." (Then we make sure it stays that way. Maybe plant a garden, build a house... Who knows, maybe even open a bakery)

"Vah'bakeery?" (A bakery?) The kid's tone was incredulous, as if the idea of the Master Chief swapping his rifle for a rolling pin was more far-fetched than any alien race.

"Gah, vo'kehm nu'kuh? Vah'zum kee'love cookies. Nu'keh kee'va intergalactic vah'rahs kee'rah vah'la eating cookies." (Yeah, why not? Everyone loves cookies. Can't start intergalactic wars if you're busy eating cookies)

Their laughter echoed through the ruins, a light moment that bridged the gap between species and circumstances. With every step, they moved not just toward their next destination, but toward a future where the absurdity of baking cookies could stand as a beacon of hope in a war-torn galaxy.

@jellotherelol, @empresskadia, @authortobenamedlater, @ageless-aislynn, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites.

[honeybewrites]

Writing Share/WIP Wednesday Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag and @the-golden-comet for the tag!! I'm using this for my Wednesday posting schedule. Two birds, one stone, all of that.

Rules: share some writing!

I recently redid Rage and 703's first interaction and figured I'd post that! I think I've posted some snippets from it before, but this is the "full" scene, or at least until a scene change. Or I decide to rewrite it again...

Anyway! Hovering at about 1k, so a little long, but most of my posts are haha! Enjoy :D

The projections suddenly disappeared, vanishing like ghosts. Taking off the headset, there was no one else in the training cube. She knew better than to think it was a malfunction. No. Her training had been stopped for a reason. Taking off the rest of the gear, she set everything aside, standing and waiting in the center of the small room. Hands clasped behind her. Back straight, staring ahead mutely. Waiting for whoever would deliver her next orders. Two minutes later, she heard Master Gerd’s footsteps. Followed by another pair she didn't know. The steps were heavy, long strides. Highly likely to be another male, though not a Master she was familiar with. The door to the cube opened. Master Gerd walked in, followed by a man. He was tall. Well built. Not as old as Master Gerd, but at least middle aged. Suntanned skin, white and gray shoulder length hair pulled back in a bun. A goatee completed the look. He didn’t wear the standard Mors black suit, but his clothes were certainly expensive and protective. The intricate knife on his belt and bulging bag with the Mirralian government insignia told her he was a respectable figure. One that was well above herself. But his eyes… they were like brewing storm clouds. Dark, dark gray, with a hint of white lightening when the light hit them right. Only there was no ferocity in them. They were gentle. Like soft rain in early spring. It was odd, to see that gentleness in a man’s eyes. What was more strange, was the fact he smiled upon entering the room. One that reached his eyes. Perhaps there was something wrong with him. What man would smile upon seeing her? Other than a perverted one she was tasked with seducing. Though his smile didn’t look like a perverted one. “She’s efficient. Loyal. Well trained and obedient. She won’t be near as difficult as your last Asset,” Master Gerd said to the man before turning to her. “Due to your increased injuries and… questionable mission tactics, you are being assigned a field handler.” She had become more careless in her missions. Leaving more messes and bodies behind. Coming back bloodier each time. Master Gerd had been growing more frustrated with it. Especially over her lack of tidiness. He’d said as much. Repeatedly. He couldn’t punish her directly for it, since she completed her missions effectively, but that hadn’t stopped him from finding other things to punish her for. The message was still clear. The momentary death and reviving needed after her last mission must have been the final straw. Though assigning her a field handler seemed a bit… unorthodox. She had grown more messy, true, but her completion rate had skyrocketed. She was completing missions normally reserved for squads or duos, alone, well under the allowed timeframe. Especially compared to before… no. Those weren’t things she should be thinking about. It wasn’t her place to question orders. She was trained to follow them. Nothing more. “This is Master Ronan Airvix. You will treat him with proper respect and you will obey his orders, just as you do mine. If I hear of disobedience, there will be serious consequences, is that understood?” “Yes sir,” she said listlessly. “You’ve been assigned another mission. Debrief and objective has been sent to your comm. Airvix will be accompanying you. You leave tomorrow morning.” “Yes sir.” He turned back to Master Airvix, waving a hand in her direction. “Do what you will with her until then. She’ll comply. Though try not to do too much damage to her before departure.” Master Airvix laughed. Forced and uncomfortable. “Of course. Anything I need to know about her history?” “Her file has been sent to you. If you have further questions you may ask Healer Asurr, myself, or her if you wish. Though she likely won’t know the answers you want. She’ll need three hours before departure to prepare her gear and stop in Physical for her pre-check.” “Right, got it.” Master Gerd left without another word. The door didn’t make a sound as it closed behind him. Leaving Master Airvix and her alone.

She kept her position. Waiting for his instructions. “I know Gerd introduced me as ‘Master Ronan Airvix’ but you can just call me Rage.” He chuckled a little. Hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Most people do. Nickname I earned myself in healing school. Uh, what else? Oh, I’m Mirralian, certified healer, and uh, I’m blind. Wasn’t born blind, result of an accident, but I’ve learned to live with it. Doesn’t stop me from ‘seeing’ and it’s helpful at times. What about you? What’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she said.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his little rambling about himself. Perhaps he just liked to hear himself talk? No. That didn’t seem to fit his personality. It seemed to make him uncomfortable if anything. So why would he bother? “Well, yeah I know your number, but what’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she repeated. This must be some kind of test. She didn’t have a name. Or at least, she wasn’t supposed to. Her number was all the identification she needed. Master Gerd had punished her many times when he caught her responding to a name.  Her name would never be spoken aloud again. It would remain buried deep in the crevices of her mind. Right next to the memories of them. She would keep those memories safe. Far out of the reach of the Mors. It was the only thing she had left to remember them by.  “Don’t the other Assets call you something else?” He asked. Brow scrunched. Frowning. “I’ve seen them call each other names before.” Many of the Assets did have names for each other. Most of the Masters didn’t mind. Even Master Gerd turned a blind eye to it.  But they were just Assets. She was different.  The other Assets didn’t talk to her, nor she them. If she was assigned a mission with them, they avoided her. She returned the favor and kept to herself. She was well aware her presence was unnatural. Disorienting. Unfavorable. There was no need for her to be close with anyone. She had learned her lesson on relationships well. Never again. “I go by A-703.” He shrugged. Eyeing her oddly, but otherwise accepting the answer. “Gerd said you have to report to Physical for a pre-check?” “Yes sir.” “Er, you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ Rage is just fine, really.”  Was this some other test? To make sure she showed him the proper respect? Did she continue addressing him as Master Airvix and disrespect his wish? Or did she address him as Rage as he asked her too and disregard proper honorifics and manners? Either way could be perceived as insubordination.  “Might as well go to Physical now if you’re done here. I need a few things from them and I want to know you resting levels.” He started walking towards the door, talking still. She followed. “Gerd had mentioned something about you having genetic altercations? Something about Asurr working with you?” “Healer Asurr is my primary healer.” They were far more than her primary healer. She was still unsure how much information this man was granted. If he was digging for information, and he used it, linking it back to her, Master Gerd would have a serious punishment for her. It would be best if she remained quiet. Observed. Until Master Gerd had given her clearer instructions.

First off, tagging @nczaversnick @yourpenpaldee @wyked-ao3 @elsie-writes and anyone else who wants to hop on!!

And because I'm doing this for my posting schedule, I'm using my tag list. You guys don't have to hop on the game if you don't want, but if you do, consider yourself tagged!

If anyone wants to be added/subtracted from the tag list, you can comment or DM me!

General Tag: @orions-quill @fractured-shield @anaisbebe

EoWC Tag: N/A

[str4ngr]

rotten roots [ könig ]

cw: angst, dark themes [death, war scenes, violence], unspoken feelings/refusing to accept feelings, foul language[like once], gn! reader, soldier! reader

In his work, love was nonexistent. Rather, the environment of KorTac was absolute in crushing any semblance of the emotion, ensuring its roots could never take hold. Why? Simple, it made men weak. 

König was no exception. Even with his position of colonel, his iron heart was no match for the loathed clutches of love. He despised you, your odd, disgusting, abhorring way of making his heart skip a beat. The way he would seek your smile even though he knew should have, no, does not have a reason to. He found himself unfocused, intensely aggressive with each interrogation, the only fruition worth eating from this devilish sprout in his heart, as it at least got the answers quicker. But he never looked at your soldier, only the you that was human, the one he hated the most. Because the soldier that he carved you to be was perfection, skilled, well trained, commendable. 

The you that you were in front of him now was flesh he wanted to burn. Burn with the searing temperature of his hands, the strange static in his fingers as his hands begged to make contact. To squeeze that supple flesh that stuck out of your face as your grinned like a burning star, face gently flushed with a perfect tone of blood. He hated your humanity, because it was weak, 

Because it made him weak. 

Metallic was a strange smell that only had itself to describe it. No synonyms, no metaphors, but it was a universally known scent, one that no one enjoyed. Blood dripped from his hands, he was no longer fazed by the lingering warmth he once was when he was fresh into the ranks. the fleeting of life grasping onto the groves of his gloves in desperate, meaningless hope. König raised his eyes to meet yours, electric, matching the violent gleam that saturated in his pupils. His appearance was vile, but the soldier he sculpted was indifferent, simply responding to the hushed whispers of his commands. 

Your grim face led close behind his, making reflected movements of your superior as you swept through the area, contacting the rest of your squad. Nodding with one another, your partners alternated like a perfected waltz, just as the colonel had composed, moving in rhythm to his stern directions. 

Your partner took his first step forward, the room, a rather auditorium-esque space, was far more complex then expected. Your brain followed your habits, contacting König for an explicit plan, after all, you could die at any moment. 

His icy tone pierced the crackling audio of your ear piece, “Follow the plan.” Sending confirmation, you proceeded. Your mission in print was simple, a search and destroy. Something you’ve grown acclimated to, you were ultimately made to. 

Now that ultimately led to the mistake that had you caged. Your acclimation turned to carelessness, unfortunate in such an environment. The news, rather a warning, quickly reached König.

He couldn’t explain this feeling. It was the same feeling he got as a boy, when he feared his fathers shouting, a knot too big for his throat stealing the air from his struggling breaths, making his eyes burn as the swelled. But his father wasn’t here, nor were any tears. Yet the knot was, hallow and fat, taking up that same spot in his throat as he could feel it bulge from his Adam’s apple. 

Soon enough, like it had once had before, it dropped to his stomach, making him feel starved, as though he had never eaten in his life. It ached and throbbed, pounding on the edges of his ribs for relief. What would be considered relief? He knew the answer, but he refused to acknowledge it, refused to acknowledge that in fact those same roots he cut and burned from his underling soldiers day after day were growing within, infesting his heart. 

Incoherent scratches broke though the receiver on his body. His mind honing in on nothing but the crackling audio he heard, 

“Colonel,“ the audio was utter shit, but the lack of updated materials was not König’s main focus, the voice was. “You’ve gotta’ get out.” A strained, pained, exhausted, tortured voice, one he almost couldn’t recognize. The lump in his throat was beginning to think, begging for mindless words to spill from his lips, while keeping those very lips sealed shut. He knew there was no chance at escape for you, but there was for him. It was now or never, and as Colonel, it was now.

But what about König? Was it fair for him to say now, when the humanity he struck and buried six feet under clawed its way out simply to beg for the latter? No. There was no doubt, but those rotten hands of the decaying person that was once König would not stop, crawling under the skin of his belly to his throat, all the way to his temple. His head drummed with instinct, with rationality, with the very thing he hated the most. 

His soldiers stood beside him, ready to jump into action at the words of their superior, but none came. “Go.“ And he went. Your squad knew what your words meant, the words portraying your agony, portraying your dutifulness. In mindless routine, he called his squad out, evacuating the surviving members. Yet, the phantom of the person he once was made his mind melt. 

Never did he feel the veins in his legs so vividly. Were one to ask him, König could likely map each individual one, tracing the searing sensation the filled them as his blood saturated with adrenaline. He questioned his sanity in the mere moments he ran, the mental ages that he felt were passing, spending millennia asking himself what he was doing. He truly did not know, he could not form any kind of answer, any pathetic excuse, any reason to run. All he knew was where he was going, to the voice of the person that made his corpse’s claws tear his psyche to shreds, to the voice that pumped his blood like a well-oiled machine. 

To you, always to you. It was always your smile he looked for when he made a silly joke. It was always you he checked in on after a mission first. It was always your room that he would take an extraneous detour simply to wave hello. It always you that he prepared a second mug of coffee for in the mornings. König was running to you, and he couldn’t stop himself. 

The feeling was back, the same one he felt as a kid, walking beside his bitter mother, one where the weight in his chest turned to the world laying against him. His head hurt, his thoughts in shambles, his rationality like shattered glass. So what if he was making a choice he would regret, it was now or never. 

He knew that it was always never. The access to you was completely blocked, and even a man of his mass couldn’t break through such a crowd. 

“König,“ Your voice was clear this time, or maybe it wasn’t. He isn’t too sure, maybe it was just a memory, but he felt his heart drop at the sound of your tone. “Go.“ He was about to refute,

“please,“ he could see your face, delicate tears running down your face. Gentle sobs entering your mic and exiting to his ear, “please, for me, König, go back alive.“ Your voice made his corpse crawl. His mind restructured itself at the sound of desperate attempts of communication from his like. 

His body lingered, eyes gleaming through the shadows as he carefully imagined your face, dirtied and bloodied, crying the tears of an angel. Slowly, in a vain effort to prevent himself, he began to turn around, and exit. 

“Du bedeutest mir alles“ He whispered into the his device, knowing you would never know what he said, “Bitte verzeih mir.” They came now, blistering rolls of of diluted salt, hiding behind his mask in self-disdain. 

He was weak, he has become the very example of the weeds he was taught to pluck out. König was in love with you. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

translations

1. “You mean everything to mean,” 2. “Please forgive me.”

im actually going to cry wtf

directory 

[tom-is-online]

SPLATOON X SEKAI AU

LEO / NEED - HERO MODE Ichika - Inkling - hero shot / splattershot - Agent 1 Saki - Octoling - Undercover Brella - Agent 2 Honami - Octoling - heavy splatling / dynamo roller - Agent 3 Shiho - Inkling - 52 GAL - Agent 4 After the great zapfish is stolen from Inkopolis the Neo Squidbeak splatoon, Consisting of Captain Miku and her four agents, takes out to find it!

MORE MORE JUMP - IDOLS Minori - Inkling - sploosh-o-matic Haruka - Inkling - trislinger Airi - Inkling - krak-on roller Shizuku - Inkling - aerospray Splatfests are back! Inkopolis's upcoming all-girl idol group is here to spice up the classic fest format, picking a topic and splitting into duos to support their side! Whoever's side fights hardest for their beliefs will reign supreme!

VIVID BAD SQUAD - BATTLE Kohane - Octoling - splat roller An - Octoling - enperry dualies Akito - Inkling - clash blaster / rapid blaster Toya - Octoling - e-liter After the sudden appearance of swarms of octolings, many flooded Vivid Street - becoming a hub for the Turf War scene. After a trio of Octolings against all odds swept a season's 4 VS 4 bracket many new teams have attempted to surpass their raw power

WONDERLAND X SHOWTIME - CHALLENGE MODE Tsukasa - Octoling - splatana stamper Emu - Inkling - carbon roller Nene - Octoling - splatterscope Rui - Octoling - Natuilus Come one and come all! Water or participate in WXS's CHALLENGE BATTLES! Where battling meets the outrageous! Play your part and maybe your team will receive some help from our wonderful helpers in battle!

NIGHTCORD AT 25:00 - DLC STORY MODES Kanade - Inkling - Octoshot Mafuyu - Sanitized Octoling - Octoshot Ena - Inkling - painbrush / inkbrush Mizuki - Octoling - Dapple Dualies / trislosher Despite the screams of the Deepsea Metro becoming quieter recently, the chemicals behind "Sanitization" are still spoken of with such fascination by those seeking perfection, talent or themselves.

Feel free to give me any criticism, questions or thoughts in the notes or in my asks, I will elaborate on my thought process

Also whilst I'm here I have ideas on like their nationality cuz i think its important to note down cuz like I put thought into it

Inkopolis Natives Ichika, Airi, Akito, Emu, Kanade, Ena

Octovalley Natives Honami, An, Nene, Rui, Mizuki

Splatsville Natives Shiho, Minori, Shizuku, Kohane

Deepsea Metro Natives Saki, Toya, Tsukasa, Mafuyu

Calimari County Natives Haruka

+ BONUS THOUGHTS

the Calimari Inkantation is just sung by the vocaloids cuz like of course

each unit knows the vocaloids, they are different ppl

L/N Miku (Inkling) is the Captain of Neo Squidbeak

MMJ Miku (Inkling) helps MMJ like a manager

VBS Miku (octoling) on a team with Rin, Len and Luka. helps vbs train, doubles w/ luka

WXS Miku (Inkling) she just likes challenge stuff. maybe shes like judd

NIIGO Miku (Octoling) is like a guide in the deepsea, she don't do much. She knows Mafuyu already

I imagine the L/N story being most similar to Splatoon3's main story

Mafuyu is a high-ranking sanitized octoling soldier, despite the Tenmas + Toya being from the Metro too, they don't know each other due to military ranks

Due to the metro being freed, Toya was not fully sanitized like Mafuyu, which is the reason I have come up with for his hair being like that

Akito has seen Ena go into the deepsea before and is very against the idea. Toya says it's probably a bad idea to go there so it must be horrible

Ena and Akito's dad does NOT like octolings and taught them not to since it's a thing a lot of inkling parents tell their kids.