#really heavy angst

[s0ulzen]

People coming up with some real melancholy bittersweet ending in how q!jaiden died on purgatory. Trying to get q!cellbit out (@asseenontv) Found peace. Is with Bobby now. Etc. etc. but me with my emo egg hat on is like.

Shit. How angry she must of been. She played the game. She followed the rules. But the only rule she didn’t know is that she will never walk away a winner. Like she played and followed the rules with the federation. So she could make sure no more eggs died.

But all the eggs still died.

I’m thinking back to the moment on stream post Bobby’s funeral when cc!jaiden really embodied the emotions of a grieving parent. And how in the face of failing all the eggs that would compound to her breaking point.

Like the madness q!baghera and q!cellbit had post nuclear explosion they were still driven to atone, had a will to live if only to hold themselves accountable. I don’t think in the face of the explosion at the inevitable q!jaiden would of been mad, but drowning in grief. Like every shard of her broken soul sinking to the bottom of herself while that grief suffocated her.

Calling for cucurucho. Trying to negotiate a deal for the eggs return. But the only answer is the drop in pressure as the fallout and explosion race towards her.

I don’t even think q!jaiden would find peace, blinded by the explosion would she even see the light where Bobby is waiting for her? There’s something about the air on egg island and dying to this horrific moment with overwhelming emotions. That chains q!jaiden to this plane of existence. To walk the pixels as a wraith, unaware and unseeing to the little egg that follows her forsaking his spot above cause his mama needs him even if she can’t see him.

Edit: imagine if some of the flowers in Bobby’s field turned to wither roses. 😶😶😶

…

Anyway! JAIDEN it’s been so much fun following your journey in the QSMP (omegalul 🤣🤣🤣). I can’t wait to see what’s next on your journey! Tallulah thank you for letting me borrow the hat. I’m fine. XD.

[mobius-m-mobius]

well... I mean that *is* true so - Lokius Incorrect Quotes [14/∞]

[deepspacenova]

CRIMSON DESTRUCTION

4000 words | heavy angst. romance. blood/injury. war. major character death.

Note: I'm still reeling from everything we've discovered in Sylus' myth card, my friends. This draws a lot of parallels and portrays a bit of history repeating itself. I apologize in advance for any pain and suffering this might cause, this one's for the masochists (: I know not all of us want more angst as a coping mechanism for angst so make sure to read the warnings

Inspired by this ask from a fellow angst enthusiast — i think i may have... over-delivered? Either way, I hope I did your prompt justice @huachengnism <3

Also, bc no ideas are original, I was half done writing this when I found this post by @relentlessconqueror, who I apparently share at least a few braincells with when it comes to headcanons haha so *fist bump*

She struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the exertion of the escape. Her ribs screamed with every inhale, bruised from the last blow she’d taken before breaking free, and every bone in her body ached.

It'd been hours since Mephisto miraculously landed on the bars of her cell in the depths of the Association's intricate Wanderer prison system with an all-access key card. But she — they, she corrected as she felt the reassuring pressure of the crow's talons perch on her shoulder — were alive and unhurt. 

The battle had moved to what little remained of the newest No Hunt Zone: what was once known as Linkon City Centre. The once bustling hub that had been full of people and livelihoods had been reduced to a crater on the planet’s surface, destroyed by violence, explosions, and carnage. Linkon was falling, neighborhood by neighborhood, consumed by chaos orchestrated by the Hunter’s Association. Their relentless pursuit of her — the so-called Traitorous Tenebra — had left a trail of destruction in their wake.

She'd barely survived the Alpha Team's brutal "interrogation," which had brought her to the brink of unconsciousness when they demanded information she refused to give. But it was their arrogance and the surrounding destruction of their crusade to capture the elusive leader of Onychinus that let her slip through their grasp.

Now, she had one goal: find Sylus so they could escape this nightmare.

It was easy to predict how today would go — Ever Group’s unrelenting thirst for domination and the Hunter's Association’s relentless pursuit of Onychinus and aether cores made for a volatile duo. But no one, not even Sylus, who had an uncanny knack for understanding human nature, could have foreseen how they would fuel each other’s chaos, turning the Linkon into a nightmare of their own making.

Bloodthirsty men who called themselves "researchers" with protocore-powered ammunition stormed the streets, piercing through civilians like arrows of death. She'd done all she could to defend the innocents of Linkon from afar with the Hunter weapons she’d swiped on her way out of the Association. But only so many could be saved while it seemed like countless others met their ends.

Of course, the Hunters had their own twisted methods for submission. The few teams she'd spotted were taking protocore-inlaid weapons while Wanderers followed their commands like the puppets Xander Sciences made them to be. The very creatures the Association set out to destroy, now wielded like oversized hellhounds to take down Onychinus' leader, "the harbinger of doomsday in Linkon."

She couldn't help but scoff at their zealous fanaticism. And she was the Tenebra.

Bodies and blood were strewn across the cobblestone and the asphalt, and there were far more dead from their side than she’s sure they had predicted in their arrogance. But the fate of Ever’s defeat loomed over the rubble like the mythological Hades, waiting to collect his souls. 

She watched for a few minutes as the attacks grew more spaced apart, deciding that now was the perfect time to send the signal to Sylus. She’d only had a glimpse of his black-red mist and that was hours ago. All she’d wanted to do was cup the reassuring beat of his heart in her hands, to feel his hand wrap around the back of her head, pressing her nose into the warmth of his neck. 

Now was the time. They were done here. Done with this place. 

She looked at the thunderclouds overhead, swelling with eagerness to spill their deluge of water over the landscape. She removed the dark red gem around her wrist before her hands rose to clasp it over her companion's sturdy neck. Her fingers trailed the cold metal of her crow's studded wing when she murmured, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend. Now, Mephisto. Go."

His mechanical wings unfolded before he launched into the stormy sky. She watched the crimson glimmer as he soared with a fluid grace and precision that made him as real to her as any other crow.

Sylus would know to meet her now.  

Sylus surveyed the No Hunt Zone from the neighborhood’s tallest building, atop the skeletal remains of empty flats that had somehow stayed standing. He was up there for a better vantage point, sure, but he also had to distance himself from the eye-stinging smoke that had surrounded him below as well as the eerily familiar, nausea-inducing smell of burning flesh. 

But he wasn’t going to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. That was then, this is now. 

He'd purposefully stayed within sight of Linkon's supposed saviors and the battle, moving just enough to keep their attention fixed on him. He darted between buildings, his black-red mist filtering through the haze of smoke, a deliberate lure to give her a chance to make it above ground and send him their signal.

He felt a faint trace of her energy only an hour ago as he moved around, commanding and powerful, the only source of water in a desert of death.

Sylus' heart almost beat out of his chest in anticipation of being with her without time limits, without restraint, and he did his best to tamp down that feeling he forbade himself to feel since he was a dragon with his first love: hope. 

But he couldn’t avoid the promise of their escape. It wrapped around him and took the form of her body, making him feel a longing so fierce, he had to force his feet to stay on the stone until Mephisto arrived. 

The firing shots and pained cries were getting fewer and far between, with no shadows of Wanderers moving within sight. The battle was almost over. 

As Sylus squinted to see if any of his men lay among the dead, his ears caught a rhythmic flapping, prompting him to extend his forearm. When he felt the cold weight of the robot's body land on his arm, two things happened at once.

One, his gaze locked on his bracelet's twin, the garnet-colored gem winking at him as he took it off the crow's neck and clenched his palm around it. Two, at the same time, Mephisto's beak opened to reveal the recording device within and the only voice he ever wanted to hear rang out, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend."

The sound of the words surrounded him like an embrace. Fiend.

He froze in delighted disbelief and couldn’t help it. He laughed. A loud, genuine laugh. It sounded gravelly and unpracticed, feeling foreign on his battle-hardened cheeks, but he couldn’t contain his relief. 

They were done here. 

Mephisto trailed Sylus like a shadow in the sky as he headed toward the N109 Zone, smirking all the way. Very much the opposite of the expression a man who’d just sacrificed everything he’d built on this planet, whose organization had been disintegrated by the Hunters Association, should be wearing. 

He glanced back every so often at Linkon behind him, a scorched blemish on the landscape. 

Impatient, Sylus tried to seek her out with his evol and swore he could feel her heading his way. He was half-tempted to haul her to him, her complaints of manhandling be damned.

The abandoned buildings in the N109 Zone stood like silent witnesses, their jagged edges silhouetted against the unnaturally bright moon. 

He glanced around and whispered her name a few times. When no one answered back he leaned against a crumbling wall, waiting for her. The moon seemed brighter in the sky.

That was when he saw the sinister glow of emerald eyes in the alley. 

A sharp crack split the air, as Sylus’ power surged forward, barely stopping a metaflux-infused bullet mid-air and disintegrating it into nothing before it pierced his chest. 

"Impressive," a guttural voice growled from the darkness. 

The lead scientist of Xander Sciences emerged and Sylus’ lips twisted into a grimace. The maniac had fused himself with a Wanderer. 

The aether core Ever had attempted to manufacture had done more than just augment him — it had warped him completely. Whatever remained of his humanity was buried under a grotesque amalgamation of man and Wanderer. Ugly green scales shimmered under the moonlight, and claws scraped the concrete as he moved.

"I was wondering when you’d crawl out of your hole," Sylus said, his voice calm and unbothered. 

The monster sneered, revealing his jagged face. "You’ve meddled with us for the last time. This planet is mine to reshape. You won’t stand in our way."

He moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blur. He slashed with his claws, but Sylus ducked, releasing a burst of energy that sent him skidding backward. The hybrid roared, firing another shot, but Sylus twisted his hand, bending the energy around him to absorb the bullet’s momentum before redirecting it in a volatile arc that scorched the ground at the monster’s feet.

The battle was a storm of power. The hybrid lunged, his claws tearing through the air, but Sylus met him head-on, energy crackling from his fists as they clashed. Each blow lit up the darkness, casting crimson shadows on the crumbling walls around them.

"You’re nothing but a monster now," Sylus gritted out, his voice strained as he deflected another strike. "Even your own tech couldn’t handle your ambition."

He laughed, the sound a guttural snarl. "Ambition is evolution. And evolution demands sacrifice!"

Sylus wasn’t winning this fight, though. He’d already won. 

The hybrid had definitely been injured in battle, or he might’ve just been drunk on bloodlust, but either way, his attacks were haphazard and sloppy at best. Sylus was just looking for the right opening, baiting him so he could deliver her final strike against him. 

Sylus’ evol surged, spiraling around him in a black-red maelstrom of raw power. He struck the ground with his fist, sending a shockwave that threw the monster off balance. Taking the opening, Sylus launched forward, his fist colliding with its jagged jaw, cracking scales and sending it stumbling.

But he recovered, the gun in his beastly hand raised as he fired a spray of bullets, each one infused with metaflux. Sylus dodged, but one grazed his arm, searing through his jacket and burning his skin.

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his frustration into his power, summoning a massive sphere of energy. "This ends now," Sylus growled.

The sphere expanded, its glow lighting up the area around them. With a roar, Sylus hurled it at his enemy, picturing the faces of the hundreds, thousands of humans and monsters alike who had wronged him. Wronged her.

The hybrid tried to counter, his claws swiping through the air to absorb the energy, but the sheer force of Sylus’s attack overwhelmed him. The explosion rocked the area, sending debris flying and shrouding the battlefield in smoke.

When the dust settled, the brilliant Carter of Xander Sciences lay motionless, his hybrid body cracked and broken. Sylus stood over him, breathing heavily, his evol flickering around him like a lightning storm.

"Evolution demands sacrifice," Sylus echoed, his voice low. "Guess you were right about that."

She sighed as she spotted the outskirts of the N109 Zone and headed toward their spot, toward Sylus. She knew he’d be there waiting for her, knew he'd gotten her signal when she saw the silhouette of a black crow sailing through the sky. 

She couldn’t wait to be with him unreservedly, without ever having to leave his side again. She found herself getting excited, feeling a breathless sort of anticipation. Her body ached, the pain of old wounds and new wounds alike coming together throughout her body. And it took all of her willpower to stay cautious of stragglers, to not to break into a sprint. 

But her willpower was no match for hope. No match for the smile that slowly dominated every inch of her face. 

She’d never been so overjoyed, so relieved. So overcome with the need to see his vermillion-streaked eyes, taste teasing smirk, feel his silver-streaked hair. 

The journey felt endless, like she was the Greek king Sisyphus, eternally destined to never reach her only goal. But finally, finally, she could see the haphazard border of the N109 Zone.

When she was just a few dozen feet away, she spotted him, reclined against a stone wall near a felled wanderer, spotlighted by the moon like her very own star.

She paused to compose herself, holding back her stupid tears of joy, of relief. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she was okay with that, content to steal a moment of gazing at him for herself. 

But then he stirred, his eyes lifting to meet hers, and her breath hitched. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, but it softened when he noticed the way she looked at him, the way her entire being seemed to collapse with relief.

“You’re late,” he called to her. 

She broke into a run, ignoring the protests of her body, her legs barely able to keep pace with the urgency in her chest. “Sylus!”

He stayed in place, his arms opening as she barreled into him, wrapping herself around him. The warmth of his body and traces of his evol enveloped her, buzzing against her skin like a thousand kisses.

One of his arms slipped down to wrap her leg around his waist and held it there, as if the pressure of her chest against his wasn't nearly enough. She felt the warmth of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth on the space between her neck and shoulder as he tentatively nipped her there, like he was infusing himself into her.

She pulled back with a gasp to look up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. His greedy gaze faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, as his eyes searched hers.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips met his in a rush of emotion—relief, joy, desperation—all spilling into that single moment. For a heartbeat, he froze, startled, before his hands moved to cup her face, pulling her closer. His evol flared, an electric hum that danced between them, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest to her palm, which caressed the pulse of his neck.

“Careful, sweetie, I might start thinking you like me,” he rasped, his voice rough and playful as his hand slid to the small of her back, holding her close.

She laughed through the lump in her throat, clinging to him tightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, ruby gaze sparkling with mischief. His brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You look like hell.”

“I’ll live,” she reassured, leaning into his touch. “I just… needed to see you.”

He sighed as if the words were a balm, hand still cradling her face. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Because this big fiend will hunt you down if you leave my sight. Or��" he let go of her leg to circle her wrist and fasten her half of their bracelet around her wrist. "—dare to take this off again."

“Not a chance,” she whispered into his throat, wrapping her arms around him to clasp the bracelet with her other palm, as if printing its jagged shape into her wrist. “No matter how many times the world turns its back on us, I’m never leaving your side.”

The moment took up the entire lens of her focus, so she didn’t spot the other silhouette skulking from the entrance of the N109 Zone.

Sylus felt the shift a second too late.

The sharp, metallic click of a gun broke the fragile quiet, the sound slicing through the air like a knife.

She turned toward the sound and Sylus saw her eyes widen, not with fear, but with recognition.

“Jenna,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

From the shadows stepped her former leader, the woman who had once been her mentor. Jenna's presence was a weapon in itself, Sylus knew —steely, unyielding, and absolute. A metaflux-infused dagger was already raised aimed directly at Sylus.

“Did you really think I needed all the prison guards? I knew where he went, you’d follow,” Jenna’s voice sliced through the air, her voice razor-sharp as she spoke to her and aimed a disgusted glance at Sylus. "The perfect bait."

Without hesitation, she threw the blade like a dart.

"No!" she screamed as Sylus pushed her away from him, the blade slicing his cheek and eye, leaving a burning streak of pain and a hazy right field of vision in its wake.

Pain erupted like a white-hot brand as the impact shattered the aether core in his eye. Blood and fragments of glowing green dripped down his face in a torrent, obscuring his vision.

He staggered, his breath hitching as agony lanced through his skull. The disorienting mix of searing pain and the flickering in his right eye overwhelmed him, and he stumbled.

Through the haze of pain, he could feel the core’s fragments still burning into him and the world around him blurred as his mind fought to regain focus.

A frustrated sob behind him made his blood run cold.

Raising his head, his heart dropped as he saw Jenna’s gun aimed not at Sylus but at her aether core. Her heart. Jenna's other hand had forcefully raised her elbow, aiming his beloved's gun at Sylus' chest.

“You had such promise, young Hunter," Jenna continued, her tone lamenting. "But you should’ve known better than to run from your fate.”

“Jenna, please—”

Something sinister flickered across Jenna's face before vanishing into her practiced calm. “I taught you everything. And this… is how you repay me?” Her tone was as merciless and final. "Now you either kill him, or I kill you."

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. He tried to reach out toward her, tried desperately to yank her back to him and take her away, but his evol didn't respond.

Jenna only smirked, her grip tightening as she tilted her head. “Your fate has always been sealed. But hers… Well, that depends on how obedient she feels.” She shrugged coldly. “Now shoot him."

Sylus' mind raced as his blurry gaze locked onto the watery anger of her eyes, familiar to him for longer than this planet's entire existence.

"Do it." He ignored her cry of indignant fury at his unmistakable command as he spoke cruel words wrapped in a loving tone.

"Sylus, no."

Inhaling through the pain he exhaled a shaky, almost impatient sigh. She had to do this, had to know he was okay with a world without him in it. "You bluffed once before in this position, kitten. Don't let a second chance pass you by."

"Stop!" The hand being forcefully aimed at his heart was shaking.

Suddenly a fierce resolve burned behind her eyes at his words, at the memory.

Her quaking hand suddenly steadied and her fingers adjusted their grip on the gun, and for a moment, relief overcame the pain in Sylus' body when he thought of her shooting him and ending it once and for all.

But — his cunning little kitten — she outmaneuvered them all.

She twisted her wrist, aimed the barrel at her chest, and pulled the trigger.

The deafening crack of the gunshot rang out, the impact jerking her frame as the bullet pierced right through her and struck Jenna, who staggered backward, eyes wide with shock as crimson bloomed on her Hunter's uniform.

Letting her go, Jenna clutched at her chest as she fell to the ground.

And the world slowed to a crawl.

The visceral scream that tore through his throat was a feral sound, an ancient, animalistic roar that was both agonized and shrill enough to become a death knell for every living being in Linkon. In the world.

Sylus’ legs buckled as he caught the weight of her body. His knees hit the concrete, and his arms tightened around her as he laid her trembling form on the ground.

“No, no, no,” he growled, his voice cracking as he pressed his hands against the flickering, shattered aether core in her chest, desperate to stem the flow of blood.

Her face was scrunched up tight in excruciating pain, but she was still alive. He could work with that. He would. 

“Fuck. You’re okay, kitten, you’re okay,” he crooned. He ignored the blood dripping from his eye to her chest and tried linking his hands through hers, tried to get her to resonate with him, to activate either of their evols so he could at least attempt to—

But her hands were bloody and trembling and limp.

"It's okay, Sylus. It's... alright," she soothed, wincing. "There's no choice, if it's between you and me. No choice."

A half-growl, half-sob escaped him. “Yes, and that choice is always you. Now look at me so I can fix your mistake and figure out how to— no, you're not allowed to close your eyes."

He paused during his diatribe, noticing just how much of his blood and hers had pooled beneath them, just how pale her lips were getting.

“There’s no saving this, Sylus.” Her unfocused eyes met his, hand hovering in the air weakly to pull his face down and place a kiss on his forehead.

The familiarity of the feeling overwhelmed him, like a thousand cuts of grief all at once. His groan sounded like a whimper as he pulled back to grab her hand and press it into the ravaged side of his face.

"Jenna was wrong.... about your fate." She inhaled a ragged breath. "We just made sure of it. There's no going back now."

All he could do was shake his head and imprint her hand over his eye, cold reality starting to fall like ashes around him.

When grey wisps started to sprinkle her hair and rest against her eyelashes, he realized it was actual ash. To some, it might’ve been beautiful; to him, it was devastating. Their souls were separating again, except this time, she was the one leaving him.

"If I ever had a soul—" he exhaled a shaky breath, blinked past the wetness that blurred his good eye, "—just know that it was you."

"You'll always be tied to me, Sylus. Forever." Her breaths were faster, shallower.

Her cheek twitched up and her eyelashes fluttered as suddenly, weak little notes squeezed their way out of her chest. His hand tightened around hers as the familiar melody embraced him and finally made the chest-wracking emotions drip salty trails down his cheek.

As the final note of her requiem faded, there was a long silence.

He waited for her voice again, for more words, but when he pulled back her chest was a pool of crimson and her eyes were closed.

She was gone, and he was in agony.

Suffering had long created a hole in his blackened heart. But this pain was unlike anything he’d felt before. It enveloped him, suffocated him.

And that’s when he found it. That small pebble of rage beneath the mountain of anguish. 

He set her on the ground as gently as he could before getting up and sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, focusing on the anger so he could escape his grief. 

He felt it latch onto faint, flickering traces of his evol and the two powers laced together like two lovers, moving through his body, his fingertips.

He almost felt drunk with it.

He didn't notice it at first, he was still fixated on his beloved's lifeless face, but there was a soft glow radiating from the shattered remnants of their aether cores.

Black-red mist twitched restlessly and began to stretch outward.

“The day of judgment is today. Everyone will pay for this,” said Sylus, his voice utterly calm. “The whole world will burn.”

[xjulixred45x]

Platonic! Yandere! Posiedon (RoR) and the Child of Adamas: Trophy

This turn out so long, it's kind of a One Shot at this level. Just platonic.

Some warnings: Neutral Reader, unhealty mindset, YANDERE, heavy possesive behaviors, slight violence, objetivisation, Stockholm syndrome, heavy Angst(some comfort? But not really). The Bad Guy won.

It is no secret to anyone that Poseidon was a strange case even for the gods themselves, even for his own family.

Aside from Hades, Poseidon didn't really have any interest in forming a good relationship with his brothers growing up, and the more he developed his aggressive and volatile personality, the less initiative there was to change that on the part of Zeus and Adamas. Poseidon did not even try to change this himself, with any relationship within his family, with his nephews or nieces, for example. However, on one occasion, just one occasion, this changed.

It was quite a surprise that Adamas, of all his brothers, had finally produced an heir, Poseidon knew that he had married a Gorgon, but had treated the subject with the same indifference as always. He probably would not have attended the creature's ceremony if Hades himself had not convinced him to do so. Poseidon believed it was a waste of time. However, there was also the morbid curiosity of what kind of creature would emerge from such a…particular union.

There were two ceremonies, one for the people of Adamas, where he showed his child to everyone, proudly holding up his first offspring. And another for the family, much smaller and more private. Being that they (forced) MADE Poseidon go.

He just wanted to show up and leave, but curiosity reappeared, this time more persistently when he saw everyone crowded around the new member of the family. A look won't hurt after all.

Poseidon was prepared to see the most abominable creature possible, or a kind of mix between the Gorgon and his brother, but what he ended up encountering was much more...pleasant? And that was what surprised him the most.

The child of Adamas and his wife had brought out the best aspects of each other, he could even say that they looked a little like their grandmother, Rhea, and although they had clear signs of being their parents' child (some scales here and there, over there, birthmarks), they exuded something that no one else in the family did: innocence.

Poseidon, for the first time in thousands of years, felt interest in another living being, in protecting it, in maintaining it. A loving, harmful feeling that contaminated everything around him.

So this was love.

___________________________

reader was named by Adamas as successor to Nike, the Entity that symbolized victory, inherently linking them to their father.

Reader grew up being nurtured and loved by their family! They had good memories of it, about learning to fight with their mother, learning to use their weapons, going on expeditions with their father, and of course, visits from their uncle.

No one expected that Poseidon of all the gods would become a recurring figure in the creature's life. He put Adamas on alert and his wife was distrustful, while the reader innocently awaited his visits.

Every time Poseidon came to visit “the family of Adamas” (reader only), he brought a gift for the creature, a weapon, a pet, accessories, etc. All with his serious face, but always staring at the reader's expressions, looking into their young and curious eyes.

Adamas realized this.

A part of him was incredibly offended, after all, he was showing his child, from the moment they were born, the respect he never received. However, as the years went by, this anger turned into suspicion, and from suspicion...to concern.

There would be times when Poseidon would take the creature out of Adamas's palace (despite his denials in this regard), either to show them the ocean, to take them to Hades, or even to his castle. which was very fun for the reader! They really had no idea about the world outside of their family, so having these kinds of escapades seemed like a lot of fun, even if it bothered their father.

It was almost as if he wanted to… separate them from reader, keep them away, as if they were unworthy. And there was really no way to stop Poseidon's visits, not only because of the fights this would bring, but because he simply wouldn't allow it.

Adamas could see a strange gleam in his eyes, the gleam of a persistent predator, stalking steadily after its prey. And that worried him.

He was concerned to see how Poseidon took his baby away from their family, from what they enjoyed doing together, and tried to replicate it in a souless way. It worried him how Poseidon acted with people who even interacted with his child, it wasn't his normal aggressiveness, it was something worse, it was possessiveness, as if he were defending what he thought was his property.

And at the same time, it was the happiest Poseidon had ever seen in his entire life. He never thought se would see him smile, or that he would allow his wild 2-year-old child to play with his hair and clothes, PLAY with them, go to the beach, collect shells... When did a relationship so... sweet and sincere become so creepy, uncomfortable and undesirable?

However, there was something that Adamas and his partner had over him that Poseidon did not have, a much closer bond that he could not understand. The pride, the admiration.

Reader, even with all the time they spent with Poseidon, they couldn't stop talking about how great their father was to them, as a warrior, as a god, as a father in general. Which made the twisted feeling in Poseidon only intensify, grow darker, because for the first time, Adamas had something he wanted. And he wasn't going to get it while he was still alive.

__________________________

The reader began to take some interest in watching his father's battles around this time, it was so exciting! Seeing his father kicking the minor gods' asses, giving honor to Olympus, and the best? reader always came down to leave him the crown of laurels, declaring him the winner.

Poseidon used to just stare into the distance before, not even bothering to come many times, but now it was strange. Being able to see how Adamas and the reader laughed, they looked happy... Poseidon wanted that, he wanted to be the winner, but not in the eyes of the gods, he already had their approval and fear. He wanted to be the winner in the eyes of the reader, who would see him with the same affection and admiration as their father... who would see him as their father.

Maybe that's why he was so angry with Adamas when he stopped allowing him even in his palace... Maybe that's why he was so willing to do what he did when the time came...

________________________

To say that the reader didn't know about their father's plans would be naive, even if they didn't totally agree with his methods or what he was going to do, they believed in his philosophy, they believed in him, they understood him, and they supported him. Even if it wasn't the best decision.

They were calmer seeing that so many gods were joining their father, it gave the illusion that they were right. Of course, until they arrived with Poseidon.

It was a bittersweet feeling, reader remembered most of their best childhood moments in that palace, and now, the only reason they came was precisely to cause a war. The things one does for love...

Anyway, what the reader did not expect was what happened when they arrived...

In less than a blink…

A single attack.

And Adamas. Their teacher. Their father.

Died.

reader couldn't move, they didn't even realize when they fell to their knees at the sight of their dead, severed father, and let out a scream of pure agony. They were so engulfed in pain that they didn't even notice when Poseidon started walking towards them.

There he was, even with the blood of their father, his brother, the tyrant of the seas bowed to their level, patting them with his bloody hand on the head, staring at them again, there was not even a sign of guilt, regret or sympathy in his eyes.

Only satisfaction, because after all, he had finally won. He got what he wanted. He won his own laurel crown, His own Trophy.

_____________

The reader didn't know how much time had passed since then, they was too numb to think about it, too hurt to care.

After Adamas' attempted revolt, his elimination from history, and the subjugation of his army, the only thing left to know was what they would do with the reader. They couldn't just let them go as if nothing had happened, but they didn't want to punish them for something their father did.

So Poseidon, as expected, declared that he would be in charge of monitoring them and ensuring that they did nothing in the name of avenging Adamas (as much as they wanted to, it was not on their priority list now). Just what they needed.

Life in Poseidon's palace was silent, still, heartless really... it didn't help that Reader was so depressed at first that they wouldn't even leave their designated room for several weeks at a time.

Although Poseidon's function was to "hold" the reader, he acted more like a sincere caretaker, which made the reader feel sick every time he tried to approach them, for absolutely any reason, no matter if it was to wake them up, to talk to them or feed them, the reader could still see the blood on his hands. Feel it on their skin...

Obviously it wasn't long until Poseidon got fed up with this and started blatantly ignoring the reader's discomfort. If he said they were going to eat together, they would do it, if he said they were going to train, they would do it, he was the one who made the rules. Period.

With time, and enough submission, Poseidon began to make more demands. Have their room close to him, have the same type of clothes, that they will begin to stand out in certain areas of his interest, etc. reader could handle things up to that point, but what really broke their heart was when Poseidon demanded that they start calling him “father.”

It was like forcing broken glass down their throat.

No amount of luxuries, privileges, affection or fear could make it all worth it.

However... so many years had already passed, eons perhaps. And reader was so tired.

Tired of arguing, tired of fighting, tired of feeling drained and sad, they knew the hole they was getting into, but at this point they didn't care. Nothing mattered. Not anymore.

______________________

Poseidon was sitting, watching the fish through his window, not really thinking anything in particular until the door opened.

He honestly didn't expect to see reader, but he didn't get to say anything before they excused themselves saying that they couldn't sleep well, so he let them be. This used to happen from time to time. The reader always liked to be where the fish were. They gave them security.

Poseidon just returned to what he was doing, waiting to hear how the reader leaned back in one of the armchairs they had brought for them years ago. But he was surprised when reader addressed him instead. they didn't even say a word as they sat next to him, leaning their head on his shoulder.

Poseidon just stared at them, trying to hide his astonishment. This might be the first time since…the incident…that the reader was giving him any sort of genuine affection. It wasn't forced. It wasn't fake. Genuine. they was looking for comfort in HIM.

Poseidon only moved the reader slightly so that they were more comfortable while they watched the fish, in a comfortable silence. Poseidon was rejoicing so much that he didn't initially notice when the reader fell asleep, clinging to him. Maybe they should go to sleep...

Or better yet, maybe they can stay like this a little longer.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x reader

You die.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

TW: DEATH, heavy angst, gore, blood, kind of disturbing, a bomb explodes, derealisation/disassociation, graphic, I'll be so honest this fic is kind of fucked up

Lmk if I should add any more specific warnings!

If you're sensitive to violence and dark themes, you probably shouldn't read this.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

This mission had gone terribly awry. 

It was only meant to be a routine checkup. The IPC was planning on allocating resources from this planet, something the locals had not been pleased about. Aventurine understood. He would not be particularly happy to have his planet drained of all that made it worthwhile either. (He had not been happy. But all things considered, he thought he was being generous. Nobody was being directly killed, the IPC merely wanted a cut of the many materials the planet offered. The Avgins on Sigonia had all been very intentionally exterminated. He was not doing that to these people.)

Still, he couldn’t afford to take risks, hence the many IPC assigned bodyguards he had brought along. Deals like this, where the clients were undeniably on the losing end, were bound to go wrong in one way or another. Often violently so. 

He just had not expected the bombs. He had not expected the mass amounts of guns. The people were more capable and vengeful than he had assumed, then. Ultimately, it was his own fault.

Most of his goons were dead. Most of the government officials were dead too. It made sense they’d want to go out in such a loud and proud way. A declaration to their people they wouldn’t lay flat before the otherworldly corporation that had come to essentially take away what made their planet their home. Bold to be ready to kill so many of their own, but he could respect it. 

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be very angry. It was fair, all things considered. He’d had this long coming; being killed by the people whose lives he was ruining. In their positions, he’d love to kill him, too. The only issue was that this hadn’t happened under normal circumstances. 

No, you were with him. You’d been just a bit away from him when they opened fire, when they set off the bomb. 

It was so stupid. It was so, so unbelievably stupid that he’d let you come with. It was your job, yes, but he should have reassigned you to some other mission. Something safer. Something that didn’t involve visiting planets to drain them of all their worth. Something that didn’t bring about rage from the clients. 

He could see you. He’d been saved from the brunt of the impact, and his luck had once again protected him from serious harm. He had only been slightly grazed by a bullet, had only been slightly burned by the heat of the explosion. Nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t walk off within a week or two. You had not been so lucky. 

Your arm was outstretched over your head, body lying limply on the floor. Missing the other arm. There was only a gaping, red hole where it had once been attached to your body, a little bit of bone sticking out of the gory mess. The blown off hand with your engagement ring lay close enough to him that he could touch it. Maybe intertwine his fingers with it for the last time. The pinky was missing.  

He pushed himself onto his feet on unsteady legs. He could barely feel his own body at all. One glance down at it told him he’d been right in his initial assumption, though. No parts of him were missing. He was intact. 

He stumbled over to where you lay, your expression calm, almost peaceful. No pained pinch between your brows, no worried frown on your lips. Were you unconscious, or were you dead? Though he knew it was unlikely you’d leave this place alive either way, he hoped desperately for the former. 

He fell to his knees next to you. Something was buzzing beneath his skin. Something was buzzing in his vision. Had the world always been so blurry? Had there always been such a loud noise ringing in his ears? His hands trembled as he carefully reached out, a hand tenderly cupping your cheek. Your face was red, slightly burnt in places. Your hair was singed. You felt hot to the touch. 

No, not hot. Warm. Warm as in alive. He couldn’t hear you breathing, but warmth meant life. Warmth meant life. You were alive, surely.

He brushed his thumb under your eye. Tried to find something to say, but he found his mouth refused to open. Carefully, so carefully, he shifted you onto his lap. He stared at the dust from all the debris that had settled onto you. He couldn’t breathe. 

(He thought back to a time when the dust had been sand. He thought back to the red that had painted the ground then as it did now. He thought back to another body he had pulled closer, with hands much smaller and weaker than the ones he had now. He thought back to the taste of salt as tears fell in an endless stream from his eyes to cover his face and hers.)

He moved his free hand to your neck, gently pressing a finger to where he knew he was supposed to find your pulse. It wasn’t there, but only because he wasn’t searching hard enough. He carefully felt around, and though he couldn’t find it, he knew it was still there. He just didn’t dare press down hard enough to find it. The same applied when he felt your wrist. He was just bad at finding things today. 

(He stupidly hadn’t found a good enough reason to put you out of this mission. He stupidly hadn’t found anything that happened before the explosion suspicious enough to leave early. He stupidly hadn’t found his way next to you quickly  enough to save your life.)

When his hand landed on your chest, absent of a heartbeat, tears started falling from his eyes. But why was that? You weren’t dead. In fact, the longer he looked at you, the more sure he became this couldn’t be you. Your skin wasn’t this hot. Your arms were both still attached. You did not have fresh burns covering your face. Most importantly, you were alive. Alive and well and happy and safe from this little mishap. He had misremembered, you had stayed home during this mission. The hand he’d been so sure belonged to you had been someone else’s, he’d merely mistaken the ring for yours. It was such a bland ring, after all. He’d have to buy you a new, much prettier one once he came home to you, and apologise for his oversight in giving you such a boring design. 

He ignored the repeated whispers of ‘not again, not again’ going through his head. Nothing was happening ‘again’. This was not Sigonia. This was not a person he loved, or even knew. He couldn’t understand why his body curled over the stranger’s, sobs wracking his frame as he pulled them close, soft apologies tumbling from his mouth. He nuzzled his face into your- their hair, hand carefully cradling the back of their head as the other supported their back. 

The body smelled like you. The body felt too similar to yours in his arms. The body had your face, even if your features were a little damaged. The longer he stared, the more he could feel his gut sinking. So he shut his eyes and reminded himself that there was no possible way this was you. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. The universe would not be that cruel to him, would it?

Then again, maybe he had deserved this. If it was real. He was not a good man. He had not come to this planet with good intentions. Losing the thing most precious to him, the only thing precious to him, after taking away so much from so many others was a befitting punishment. 

But you hadn’t deserved this. Wouldn’t have, if it was real. You were so kind and generous and perfect and lovely, so different from him, so different from the position your job wanted you to be. You didn’t deserve to die. 

Die. Dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

You were dead. 

(Aventurine had seen so much death in his life. He should have been used to it by now. He was used to it. He had just forgotten how much it hurt when it is someone he loves.)

He held you tighter. If he held you tightly enough, could it piece you back together? If he held you tightly enough, could he replace the parts of you that were missing with his own? The sobs that escaped his lungs were violent, and quickly, some morphing into gagging. He felt sick. He had to turn himself away from you briefly to throw up, not wanting to soil what was left of you further, before he desperately held you again. Would it be the last time he held you?

Maybe if he took you back to the ship quickly enough, something of you could be salvaged. Maybe he couldn’t piece you back together, but he could find someone who would. There had to be something he could do. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t lose like this again. 

He could barely stand. His body was already weak and your added dead weight made it even harder to balance. He picked up the parts of you strewn about on the ground he could quickly spot. Your hand, your shoulder, what he thought might be your bicep. He couldn’t find your forearm and he didn’t have time to properly search for it. Maybe someone could put all of you back together? Maybe you’d be whole again. He wanted you to be whole again. 

(He couldn’t save his people. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save his sister.)

(But things had to be different now, surely. He was a different person now. He had power, he had wealth, he had everything. What would it all be good for, if he couldn’t save you?)

Other IPC personnel met him outside the building as he stumbled out, and Aventurine’s mind was so hazy he couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. He was pretty sure his own, now dead, workers had sent a distress signal. People rushed in to find anyone else from the wreckage. After, Aventurine found out he was the sole survivor. (He always was.)

(You had not survived.)

He demanded you be taken into surgery. That the medical staff on board had to get you to breathe again. For some reason, they had been hesitant. He threatened to have them fired or killed if they didn’t get to it. He set you as first priority, putting the best doctors they had on hand to work on you. 

They sewed you back together as best as possible at his insistence. They got your heart pumping blood again, they hooked you up to machines and forced your lungs to breathe. The surgery lasted for four hours.

It did not change the flatline on the screen signalling your brain activity. 

He could find the best doctors in the whole galaxy, but he already knew the line would remain flat. Nothing was bringing that back.

He stared at you for hours after your surgery. Interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling the artificial warmth of your hand. It did not feel like you. The temperature was wrong. The look on your face was wrong. Your body was wrong. Everything about what remained of you was wrong. 

He eventually laid his head on your chest, and then he cried.

He cried until the black spots in his vision grew so numerous he could no longer see, until everything faded and he could no longer hear the beeping and humming of the machines keeping you hollowly alive. 

(Why did he ever let himself love again?)

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Sorry that was messy I wrote everything today because I am con-crunching tomorrow and won't be available for like at least 3 days after this (usually I write over the span of multiple days so I can re-read for grammatical/spelling errors and so my language will be a little more varied + I get fresh ideas). Sorry this fic was ?? kind of messed up ??? I think ??? I think my perception of what's messed up and not is kind of weird (I grew up on warrior cats HELP.) so to me it didn't feel that fucked up to write about Aventurine literally picking up your body parts after you died but I've realised upon mentally summarising that part of the fic that maybe that was kinda horrific. Just a glimpse into my twisted mind heh 😈.... sorry

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[rynli]

me: I should write the one-shot that lives in my head about Harry applying for a job

brain: you will write a whole casefic about Harry realizing being a cop already killed him once, acab applies even to Kim, and he needs to quit if he wants to get better

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial III

the prosecution makes its argument

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past trauma, referenced child abuse, referenced caning, past emotional abuse, war, guilt, parental death mention, child death mention, emotional whump, crying, angst, comfort)

In the Emperor’s quarters, the dead far outnumbered the living. Delta knelt upon the bearskin run and ran his fingers through its thick white fur. He wanted to reach for the mouth of it, to feel the teeth, but he dared not move without permission. The fresh cane marks along his calves made sure of that.

“Here, boy.”

The Emperor had taken to calling him boy, which he found strange and overfamiliar. To his handlers, he had always been One-Oh-Seven. More and more, it has simply been Delta. There was no need for numeration when there were no others.

He rose up off of the carpet, taking silent steps until he stood in front of the weary form of the old man. 

The doctor was nowhere to be seen. For this, he was grateful.

A hand heavy with time and with rings pressed against his forehead. Did he look sick? He didn’t mean to. The Emperor would find no fever there, at any rate. Delta ran cold.

“Are the stars all in alignment tonight, poppet?” He withdrew his hand. “Will today be a good day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was no gap in between their words. There was no hesitation. He would be punished for lying just as quickly as for failing, so he was careful not to lie. Of course today would be a good day. 

Delta was excellent.

But the Emperor still searched him. It was not illness he had sensed. 

“Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice only made the sting worse. Delta looked down in shame.

It was sullenness. That was all. He was cold all over, soaked with shame. It was bad, he knew. He was supposed to take all punishment without complaint, but Delta so seldom needed correction. It hurt all the more when it did come. He couldn’t get the chill of it to leave him. He’d been torn into. 

Unfit, the doctor had said. Unworthy of the privilege. Disgraceful.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Delta responded, the shame of it deepening. He hadn’t meant to sulk about it. He was only proving their point.

There was nothing wrong with his ability to perform, which is all the Emperor had really been asking. A little emotional hurt had never impacted his powers before — thank god for that. Today would be no exception.

With that, the Emperor rose up. Delta followed a half-step behind him. He was getting on in age. It was never hard to keep up.

They walked all the way past the war room, out onto the deck of the ship. The air was thin in the upper atmosphere, but it was getting more bearable upon the descent. There were a collection of advisors and generals gathered about by the railing. Delta kept his head bowed respectfully, careful not to look them dead on. With the Emperor there, he knew they wouldn’t dare touch him. But it was a deeply ingrained habit and one he saw no reason to break.

There was a pressure at his shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only scared him worse. He could see the target below. Its perimeter was painted in a pale orange color.

They wanted showy this time.

Space was made around him as they clicked the collar off of his neck. He closed his eyes. The light was painful. All the hearts beating so close were distracting. 

Disgraceful. He felt the sting of fear in his chest and prickling at his eyes. It was going to hurt. He was getting frigid in a way he hadn’t before. He didn’t want to be hurt.

He zeroed in on the target anyway, visualizing its delimitation among the pale. He wished they’d given him something to hold onto. All he had now were his own hands and his nails cutting indents into the palms. Showy. The world snapped as the target was turned to dust.

The collar clicked back on. Blood was already pooling in his throat and in his sinuses. The migraine aura descended. He swayed, but not fall. The Emperor’s hand steadied him there. It moved calming circles into his back. He heard the applause, but to him it sounded miles away.

“Incredible.” The Emperor had whispered into his ear. “You were wonderful.”

And like that, he was glowing. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to feel a thing, but the warmth of the praise made itself at home in him. It was the only time he let himself feel anything close to pride — and he could have lived in its light. It was almost worth it. He felt sick enough to die and it was almost worth it.

~~~~~~

Silas placed the blank sheet of paper down onto the desk and slid it towards him. His expression was grim.

“I want you to write down every target you can remember hitting. Names and dates. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

The room was small and dark, not much bigger than a broom closet. Maryam sat beside him at the table. He had a legal right to keep her there — and thought he had not asked her to, she volunteered to accompany him. 

Delta rocked his leg a little as he felt at the rough graphite of the pencil.

He took the order for what it was. He had a good sense for it. There were some things he struggled to remember, but in general, his memory was better than most. He had been allowed no distractions. He’d had no choice but to focus in.

He started with the earlier days of his imperial career — the battleship he’d crushed on the water, the first show of strength before the purchase was made. And then there was all that came after. He was never told until the day of what he would be after, but he remembered them all the same.

Marisol

Pyrha

Holliday

Basalt

Clover

Killian

Versus

He wrote mechanically, appending the dates as best as he could. He’d already made up this list in his mind several times. He’d have offered it to Levon if things had gone differently, but as it stood, he’d never been given the chance.

Regina

Ursa

Deidra

Anatol

Timber

Jocobe

Weissan

He soon ran out of space on the page. He write in a smaller script around the margins.

“That’s enough,” Maryam said, eyeing the prosecutor nervously. Delta kept writing.

“You can stop now,” Silas agreed, reaching to take the paper back.

“I’m not done,” Delta snapped. 

He recoiled just as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the nerve to speak like that, to talk back at all, and especially not to them. He dropped the pencil and drew back into the chair, fully expecting to get smacked in the mouth, bare minimum. 

The hit didn’t come. Silas took the paper and examined it without much reaction. It was a long list — and that was only with the Emperor. He hadn’t even gotten to Paris yet.

“Can I ask you something? For my own curiosity?” Silas said.

Delta looked up at him.

“About how far away from the target are you when activated?”

“…A mile, sir.” Delta tapped at the chair.

He nodded. “What’s the closest you’ve ever been to someone you’ve killed?”

He heard Maryam scoff beside him, but he thought it was a fair question, if an abrupt one. He had to think about it for a second. As the answer came to him, he felt the shock of ocean water, stealing just as much breath from him as it had the first time.

He held his hands up to demonstrate, having no other way to quantify the distance. Right up against his body. He’d garroted him, wrapped the chains around his neck and held him there. The water had done the rest. He hadn’t even used his powers.

“Daniel Martino,” he answered quietly, “The same night I got picked up.”

It was his most recent kill  — and if Levon’s word was anything to believe in, it would be the last. 

He hadn’t told anyone about it until now.

“Your handler?” Silas asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Silas and Maryam exchanged a look he could not read.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t fault you for that.” Silas folded the paper into his pocket.

The clemency caught him off guard. Delta looked down, embarrassed all the same.

~

The shades were drawn in the conference room. It was a stormy day outside — Delta could imagine how the static might’ve felt on his skin had he been out there. For now, all he could do was imagine it.

“Delta,” the prosecutor drew his attention back, “I asked you a question.”

Silas was sharper with him when there was a crowd. He was familiar with this tactic. It didn’t register to him as a surprise, only as a kind of dull pain.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Delta said weakly, but sincerely. “…Could you repeat it, please?”

He usually would not have been bold enough to make requests, but then he usually wouldn’t have zoned out in the first place.

“Were the accounts of lateral violence within the Institute true?” He asked, then clarified: “Were the students there encouraged to hurt one another?” 

“Yes, sir.” Delta closed his eyes. He did not need to guess the next question.

“Did you ever use your powers to injure the other students?”

Not because he wanted to. He didn’t know if he was allowed to answer with that. It had been a yes-or-no question — and his handlers had gotten mad whenever he tried to explain himself around it. He didn’t know if the same rules would apply here.

“Yes, sir.”

He caught the concerned looks of the others at the conference table. The council members had shown him no scorn so far, in spite of everything. He dreaded losing it. But in his mind, it was an inevitability. He couldn’t make himself look back.

“Did you ever kill any of them?”

It wasn’t the same as injuring. The administration had loved to use him as a threat long before he was in the imperial service. He’d always be the first they brought out they sent to scare the others into submission. After the first few times — cracked ribs, broken arms, and painful shocks — any actual violence wasn’t needed. The threat alone was enough.

That wasn’t the same as killing. While the punishment had been painful, the kills were quick. Those were for safety alone. Nobody ever died as a punishment. They died because they were about to kill everyone else.

It’d been a yes-or-no question. The answer was yes, obviously.

“Yes, sir.” 

He kept his eyes down. Kitty shifted a bit to his left. He didn’t want to see the way her face changed when she found out.

Silas ended his line of questioning. The lights dimmed further as the video began to play.

PYRHA 08

SOL 07

The caption showed against the grainy white backdrop. He could see the town in his mind before it was shown on the screen. It was before the disaster. Jade was pushed up into the edges of the home. All their streets were still cobblestone. From above, as he had seen it, the town looked to be built into a crescent moon shape. The blue tops of buildings stood out against the pale sand.

“…There was this burning, endless light…”

The voiceover played over still frames of the cloud. The images clipped together in animation. He saw the tip of the airship approaching the edge of the sky.

Whoever had produced the documentary had no knowledge of the cause. How could they? It was a superweapon, they were sure, but how could they have known what? 

All they could do was to quantify it. The ground temperature had reached the same peak as the sun. The duration lasted ten to fifteen seconds — 12.945 seconds, Delta corrected in his mind. There’d been no warning. 2,031 people had died. About five hundred families.

The focus was the math — and more than that, the footage. Few of his attacks had ever been so well documented. But almost as an aside, they had spoken to some of the eye witnesses.

A girl with chestnut brown hair smiled sadly into the camera as she held up the picture. The image quality changed again as a video from inside her house began to play. He could not tell if she was the infant or the child holding onto it inside the cedar living room. The camera shifted angles to capture their mother grinning on the couch, clapping along to the silent song. 

There was some primordial ache in him that would not sleep. It’d always burned too hot. After the first few times, he’d learned not to touch it.

He felt it burning now, pressed up against his skin with no escape.

“And my friends always made fun of me for being such a townie, because I had to ride the bus two hours just to get to school,” the girl chirped softly, “And I remember that morning, my mom telling me not to stay too long after classes. She wanted me to come straight home that day because-“

Her voice broke. 

“Because we were going to go out as a family.”

The clip cut away to the moment the sky tore open.

Delta stood up before he knew what he was doing. He stumbled blindly away from the table, pushing out into the hall.

He’d taken her parents from her. Ripped her away from them, the same way he’d been ripped away from his own. The loss cut through him sharper than he could ever remember. 

He was crying. He couldn’t stop it. The sorrow and fear enveloped him in equal measures. He’d walked out. He hadn’t been dismissed, he’d never walked out like that in all his life. But he couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

He wanted his mom. It was silly. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She clearly hadn’t wanted him.

“Delta?” Levon called after him. He stopped dead. He was recall trained — he wouldn’t dare move farther. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t think he could.

He sank to the floor instead. He tried to hide his tears, but his body shook from the effort. He was still good about being quiet when he was hurt. He was trying very hard to be good about it.

A soft sob escaped him anyway. Levon bent down onto the floor beside him.

“That was too far. I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” Levon placed one hand lightly onto his shoulderblade. His thumb worked over the knots that had formed there, so bound up and painful.

“I’m sorry,” Delta said. It was always the first thing to come out of his mouth these days, no matter how much they tried to correct it. 

He remembered how young he was at the time. He remembered how proud he’d been.

“I didn’t know,” Delta said through tears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know, baby,” Levon’s voice got quiet. It didn’t echo. No one else could have heard. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Then, even quieter, the admission: “It’s not your fault.”

Delta sobbed into his sleeve, leaning over so that his face almost touched the ground. He wished he could stop it. It was taking everything out of him.

He felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. It was an invitation. He accepted it before he could stop himself, too desperate for any semblance of comfort. Levon pulled him into the hug. His cries grew muffled as he hid his face in the fabric of the shirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Levon said, the pain audible in his voice. He carded his hands through the boy’s hair, doing all he could to soothe him.

“I didn’t mean to,” came the soft whine in response.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[pookie-draws]

so yo girl got obsessed with tf2 out of NOWHERE

expect more maybe?? they're fun to draw :D

lov the sillies

(reblogs appreciated!)

[tf2-headcanons-polls-confessions]

god I love people carrying momentums of dead friends/partners/etc.

* Sniper with Scout’s dog tags around his neck

* Spy wearing Sniper’s hat

* Heavy caring for Archimedes & him always perching on his shoulder

* Soldier having Demo’s eyepatch around his wrist

* Pyro with Scout’s wraps tied in bows

* Engie using Pyro’s axe

* Demo carrying Sniper’s glasses in his pocket

* Sniper wrapping himself in Medic’s coat

* Engineer using the dead ringer

…good stuff.

Especially when it’s not directly stated that they’re dead. Love me some blue curtains.

[midnight-mourning]

RESTART

My submission for an angst event, and I'm gunning for the win /j

For real though, had a lot of fun writing this! It's based on my promptober day 29 response, though you don't have to read it to get the jist, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2,998

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

You double check that there's no one around, and sit back down on the box you were previously moping on. In particular, backstage. Sun wasn't likely to look for you here, not liking to leave the Daycare and all that. Though, he had been getting more comfortable with it lately, which meant you'd have to start finding more hiding places. 

You stare down at your hand, you'd come to accept it as that now. It works just like your original, it flexes, bends, grips just the same. It's just pure white, and completely mechanical now. 

The rest of your body functions relatively similar to how it did before, too. At least, you think it does. You'd like to say it's because you've lost track of time since the incident that you can't tell. In reality, you know it's been seven months, 19 days, 21 hours, and 7, 8, 9-god, you still struggle with getting that to quit. 

No, it's just that you've been like this so long, you don't know what it feels like to be human anymore. Your thoughts are still human, that much you're sure of. Sun doesn't think like you do, from what you understand. He doesn't like to talk about it much, he doesn't like to talk about what happened at all, frankly. 

You get it, he feels ashamed, blames himself for it. But still, you don't think it's fair that you can't even acknowledge how much has changed. Your entire life is here now. You can't never leave the Plex, never go home again. You're stuck here, forever, it seems. 

You want to say that you tried harder to find a way to, fix this? move past it? you don't know. But you didn't. You didn't try to contact your friends, your family, anyone. You just, accepted it. What choice did you have? Besides, as far as you knew, nobody seemed to notice you were missing, so you guess it wouldn't have mattered in the first place.

You sigh, and then laugh at the sound. Your voice is hardly still your own, the metallic ring always noticeable to you despite your best efforts to ignore it. 

To Sun's credit, he had tried his best to make this entire ordeal as comfortable for you as possible. 

No Moon, that much had been established. You think he was also afraid of what the naptime attendant was capable of, if he could so effortlessly kill murder destroy harm you, without a second thought. Though, you were surprised to find that Moon did avoid you when the lights went out from time to time-not nearly as often as before, you're still trying to determine how Sun managed that one-not even sparing a passing glance. 

Additionally, you had your own space, in their room, that is. Still, you treasured the area where you could put a bed, books, and other such items that you no longer had a need for-but they helped. They helped. 

And, while reluctant, Sun allowed you time to yourself when you needed it. You could tell that despite all your reassurances, and the amount of time that had passed, he was still concerned about you potentially, having a glitch, as he called it. You called what happened when you first woke up like this a psychotic break, but you digress. 

Regardless, if you weren't running errands, or helping out in the Daycare, you typically chose to be by yourself. Far away from the place. You could tell it upset him, but to be honest, it was hard to be in there 24/7, you don't know how he did it. 

Besides the obvious fact of the matter that you'd died there, it was just too much. He was just too much. 

The music, the noise, kids running around, screaming, crying. Now that you were a bot, they didn't treat you nearly as nicely. You got beat up on, a lot. More than once having to have Sun patch you up or repair you after a long day. 

And Sun. You, at one point, you think you had loved him. Loved Moon. But that had been a long time ago now. Before this. 

And it wasn't even that you couldn't feel the emotion anymore, or hell, even because of what happened. 

You just, you'd grown hollow. Maybe it was because seeing each other all day every single day got to you. Maybe it was because of his constant attempts to get you to engage, doing crafts together, watching movies together, playing games together. Even a few times where you went out in the Plex on these little 'dates' because that's what they were, no need to pretend. 

Maybe that's what it was, all this, pretending. He always just wanted to move on, have everything okay without putting the effort into making it okay. 

You don't know anymore. But what's new?

You lean back against the wall, eyes closing. Even like this, you still have that damn interface pulled up, unavoidable with its synoptics of your system. 

You see there's a notification in your messages. Opening it, you're unsurprised to find it's one from Sun. 

'Starshine! You've been gone for a bit now, everything alright?'

You answer shortly after reading, 'Fine. Just taking some quiet time.

Doing that meditation thing you suggested.' An obvious lie to you, but he buys it. He always does. 

'Oh! I'll leave you be then. I knew it would be just the thing to help :)'

You scoff, opening your eyes and shaking your head. Resentful. You've grown resentful. And that, that makes you feel ashamed more than anything. 

You send back a quick reply, ':)'

It wasn't his fault. You know it wasn't. You called it 'the incident' but you truly don't believe it had been intentional. Though any attempts at an explanation were shut down immediately. And not in the same, nervous way every other similar discussion was. This was a firm 'No' with no exceptions. 

Whatever had happened to Moon to cause him to act that way, it seemed to scare Sun badly enough that he'd even snapped at you one time. 

"Sunshine, I won't tell you again," Sun warns, "We're not talking about it. It doesn't matter. Moon is fine. Okay?" He shakes his head, "He's just, not feeling so well these days. But I have it under control, do you understand?"

You'd been taken aback by his tone. Too, shocked, and honestly a bit frightened, that he'd lashed out at you like that to say anything. 

He sighs, coming over to where you stand. He hesitates to put his hands on your shoulders when you flinch, and instead clasps them in front of him. 

"I don't mean to sound harsh, Love, but it's for the best if we just drop it. Please."

You find yourself nodding, muttering a quiet "Okay."

"I'm sorry," This time he does initiate contact, pulling you into a tight hug. He doesn't tower over you quite as much now, so it's not as awkward as it used to be. 

"You know I love you, right?" He asks in the quiet, voice low. 

You hum, "I know."

He seems to be waiting. If you still could do so, you'd be biting your cheek to steel yourself. 

"I love you too," You say after a moment or so. 

Sun pulls back, and leans down. Your faces touch and there's a brief, soft, static between the two of you until he stops kissing you. 

"I mean it. I love you. More than you know."

Even though you can't return the feeling, you didn't doubt that he meant it. 

The memory replay is interrupted when you hear voices off in the distance.

That was another thing about this new body of yours, all of your senses were heightened to a degree that was borderline uncomfortable.

You double check your location is undetectable-something Bonnie had taught you early on-and listen in. You weren't a snoop, but sometimes you needed help passing the time. And this was one such example. 

"I just don't know what else to do, Freddy," Sun's voice, you'd know it anywhere, "I've tried everything! I don't know what it will take for things to just..."

Freddy's tone is soft, encouraging, "Just what, Sun?"

"Go back to normal? I, I know it can't be like it was, then, before, but, but surely I can get their old self to shine through again, right?"

You realize they're getting closer to your spot. Shit. You need to hide. 

Quickly, you duck behind another stack of crates, pressing yourself snugly behind them. 

Just in time for Freddy's voice to become clearer as they walk backstage, "I'm afraid it's not that simple, my friend. You still haven't told them the full story, have you?"

You peek just slightly out from your hiding spot, able to just see the two bots standing not far from you.

"N-no. But, I'm going to! I swear I will. I just, I need more time," Sun's hands grip his rays, "I have to win them over again first. That way, that way it won't hurt as much."

Freddy seems to want to say something, but doesn't. 

Instead he puts a hand on the taller bot's shoulder and smiles, "I know you'll do the right thing, Sun. Now, I believe Monty has challenged Roxy to an arm wrestling contest, would you like to join?"

"I would! But, I'm afraid I lack the skills nor the strength to participate myself."

They walk off then, chatting happily, but the conversation sticks with you. What did Freddy mean by full story? What did he know that you didn't about your own, demise. 

A message pops up in the corner of your vison. You expect it to be from Sun, inviting you to watch the match. 

It's from Moon.

You're... more than just surprised. You hesitate, but end up opening it. 

'I can tell you the truth.

If you'd like.'

You panic, you swore your location had been off, you know it had. 

You play dumb, '?

What are you talking about?'

'I wasn't with him, I just happened to notice your signal in the system coincidentally at the same time.

He doesn't know you were there, if you're worried about it.'

'How can you do that?'

'Does it matter?

Do you want to know or not?'

'I shouldn't even be talking to you. I don't want to be talking to you.'

'Aw, still upset are we?

I don't blame you, but I think once you have the full picture, that may change.'

You don't answer, sitting back and looking up to the ceiling. You're debating. You want nothing to do with Moon, especially because he doesn't even seem the least bit remorseful, which, hurts more than you'd care to admit, but still. You do want to know what happened. You want the truth. 

And god do you want someone to talk to. Really talk to. About your death, and just in general.

'Fine. Tell me.'

'Not like this. Later. When he's busy.' 

'He's not busy now?'

'When I'm in control.'

'Why? What's that have to do with anything?'

'It's more fun that way.'

Seems despite everything, he's still got that same cheeky personality. 

'Alright. Give me and time and a place and I'll be there.'

Once that's sorted, you exit your hiding space, going to join in the festivities briefly with the other bots. You'd say it was difficult to pretend everything was fine, but that'd just be lying in and of itself. You try to have fun, at least. Afterall, as far as you can tell it's only Sun and Freddy hiding things from you. 

Right?

When the lights go out in the Daycare, Moon doesn't approach you immediately. Instead, he heads out for his usual patrol. About ten minutes later, you receive a message. 

'Catwalks above Monty Golf.'

You take that as your cue, and head that way. Upon arrival, you spy Moon juggling several golf balls to amuse himself. When he sees you he stops, catching them one by one. 

Something stirs in you, and you clap. He seems surprised at this, but bows anyway. The moment takes you back to-you shake your head, everything is different now, and dwelling on the past won't change that. 

"Alright, let's hear it," You keep your distance, leaning against the railing out of his reach. 

You don't think he'd hurt you, but you'd thought that back then, too. 

Moon notices your choice it seems, and chuckles, "I don't bite, Star."

You stay firm, his eyes narrow at this. 

"It's better to show you than it is to say, and for that, you need to come closer."

"And if I don't?" You cross your arms.

He tsks, "Then you won't get the full story. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

You pause. 

"I won't harm you. Not this time. I promise."

You scoff then, "You've made a lot of promises, Moon-man," You curse yourself for letting the nickname slip, "What proof do I have that you'll keep this one?"

"You don't. But he's also made promises, don't you want to know which one's he's kept?"

If you could, you'd be biting your lip right now. 

"He has everything to gain from lying to you. I do not," He holds out his hand, "What's your choice?"

You consider your options, but you'd already made your choice before showing up here. 

You take his offer, hand resting on top of his, "You break this trust, and you'll regret it."

His hand grips yours and you're suddenly spun around and then lowered into a dip, Moon's other hand on your back to secure you.

"I wouldn't dream of it," He leans in, and as he grows closer you swear there's a flash of purple in his optics, "Now hold still, and watch."

Your vison glitches, and you're no longer on the catwalks. Instead, you're standing in the hallway outside the Attendants' room. Inside, you hear an argument occurring. 

Before you can do anything else, a hand rests on your shoulder. You glance up to see Moon. He puts a finger to his smile, then leans over you and cracks the door slightly. 

Inside, you can see Sun pacing back and forth, and another Moon? Sitting on the dresser. One leg swinging back and forth as he watches the fretting playtime attendant. You take note that there's, an air of static around him. Causing a hazy effect around his entire, otherwise relaxed, form. 

"What do we do, what do we do?" He asks, hands gripping his rays, "They're leaving, they're leaving and they're never going to come back."

Other Moon rests his head in his hand, "They just mentioned potentially moving divisions. It's not for certain, and they'd still be around even if that was the case."

"But they want to go, Moonie. They'd rather a different job than working with us. Do they hate us that much?"

A shrug, "I thought the kisses I got the other night proved otherwise, but maybe I'm misinterpreting."

Sun makes a noise of frustration, "You're no help with anything anymore! Ever since you-"

"Ever since what?" Moon growls, and his visage grows darker, the entire room darkening and glitching.

Sun cowers, putting his hands up and things return to normal, "Since you're, upgrade, you've been, less than supportive, to put it plainly."

Another shrug, Sun goes back to pacing. At that moment, other Moon seems to notice you and waves cheekily, but says nothing. 

His counterpart suddenly stops his movement. 

"What if, what if they, couldn't, leave?"

"You're going to make them stay in a job they hate?" Moon tsks, "How selfish, Sunny."

"Yes, but no, I-" Sun hesitates, really, hesitates. 

This piques other Moon's interest, he sits up a bit, "Go on then, I'm on the edge of my seat."

"What if, what if something happened to them, that made it so they had to stay... Forever?"

Moon pauses, then chuckles, "You're not suggesting what I think you are, are you, Sun?"

"It's for the best," Sun argues, seemingly mostly with himself, "They're not thinking straight. This would, this would help. And then, we'd never have to worry about them leaving ever again."

Moon stands, walking over and putting a hand on the playtime attendant's shoulder, "You can't take this back, you know. There's no do-overs, no fixing things. This is final."

"I know," Sun nods, "And you can, take care of it?"

The edges of the room shift again as Moon snickers, "Can't do your own dirty work, Sunny?"

"You say that as if it doesn't benefit both of us," He mutters. 

"It won't. Not for a while. You can't change their memories, they'll know what happened. It's just the cause that will be, murky."

Sun shakes his head, "They'll never know. I'll make certain of it."

"Are you sure about that?" Other Moon asks, and points to the door where you stand, partially visible. 

Sun's eyes widen, and the world around you starts to crumble. 

With a gasp, you find yourself back on the catwalks, stumbling away from Moon. 

You're shaking, and your system starts sending warning signs of an overload. 

You hear a click. 

Looking up, you see that Moon's reached over to a nearby switch, and the light's start to come on one by one. 

"Good luck~" He snickers, bowing one final time as rays start to pop out from his faceplate. 

Sun's face snaps to yours, immediately starting to walk towards you, hands up, "Starlight, you have to listen to me-"

You can't. You won't. And you don't get a further choice in the matter, either. 

In your haste to get away, you stumble back against the railing. And panicking, trip, and tip backwards. Sun reaches out for you, but it's too late, you're falling. You're about to go through so much pain all over again, and all you can think, the only word you can see, is 'LIAR'.

LIAR. LIAR. LIAR.

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

Aw, what a fun twist! Oh, but bummer for you though, yikes, sorry about that one :/ Anywho, thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @eternal-soup (IT WON'T LET ME @ YOU I'M SORRY)

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

If you want to be added to the tag list, or check out my other stuff, see this post here for more information, bye!

[cocoapowderpictures]

Melanie MacAfee

Age: 32

Melanie MacAfee joined the park in her late twenties, working in the maintenance department as an attractions mechanic. Despite her technical duties, Melanie found joy in entertaining children as Molly the Macaw, a character she brought to life with her warm and nurturing personality.

She first befriended Finley, who joined the park six months after her, and together they became close with Randy, Lou, and Sandra. Known as the "mother figure" of the group, Melanie was the glue that held them together, always doting on her friends with a caring and protective nature.

She was the second to disappear. 

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

Yay!! Melanie/Molly has been introduced to the cast! For those unfamiliar, these characters are part of my Cast Chronicles AU, an Indigo Park AU set in the 1960s. In this alternate reality, the main cast mascots are human employees who worked together at Indigo Park. As the story unfolds, we delve into their roles within the park and the friendships they form. However, things take a turn for the worse when they begin to mysteriously disappear, one by one.

Feel free to ask any questions you may have about this AU! I'm super hyperfixated on it and want to talk more about its lore hehe!

[esprei]

sorry i haven't posted in 1000000 years i've drawn stuff but it's a lot of non canon dystopia au stuff mostly

[allgremlinart]

the post-canon jetko dynamic I'm crafting is like. ok so these two men who both feel things WAY too much can function well when separated [either through distraction/hierarchy of priority/conscious refusal to acknowledge certain feelings about certain people (at least on Jet's end, Zuko isn't emotionally savvy enough to CONSCIOUSLY repress his emotions)] but when you put them in a room together its like splitting the atom. like you have a certain amount of time before they cant ignore each other any longer.

THAT or they just slot back together like nothing has happened or no time has elapsed at all. maybe they make a creepily professional and efficient duo. maybe the smooth working-together (a la "we made a good team" Ferry dynamic) is like. the Prelude to the eruption. What I'm saying is they both have the POTENTIAL to be incredibly possessive people but would also never admit to it so instead they'd just have to have crazy reunion sex all the time.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 7

Part 6

Last time: Eddie learns why everyone quit calling

~~~

He runs a hand through his tangled hair, bringing him back to the present as he looks across at Nancy. She’s leaned into the back of the couch, feet still perched in his lap. Eddie’s almost forgotten what the force of Nancy’s gaze feels like, full of heavy emotions weighing him down. He’s lost so much time with his family, missed so much. Nancy hands him a box of tissues as he dries his eyes on his sleeve.

A look of regret crosses her face. “We can take a break, you know. We don’t have to go over it all right now.”

“No, Nance. I need to hear this. I want to hear this.”

She looks at him for a long moment. Eddie’s not entirely sure what face he’s making, but Nancy must sense his resolve, so she continues with her story.

While living with Nancy, Robin was able to get them both a job working as servers at a cafe around the corner. Between making a decent amount in tips and scheduling his own hours, Steve was able to finish his teaching degree.

“Robin quit her job?” Eddie asks, surprised. “I thought she made good money as a private language tutor.”

Nancy chuckles, like he’s missing out on the joke. “Really? You don’t think Robin wouldn’t quit her job in a heartbeat if it meant getting to work with Steve? Especially when he needed it most.”

He smiles. Yeah, of course she would. Even when Eddie and Steve were at their best, he’s still not sure he could ever love Steve as much as Robin, but fuck if he didn’t try every day to prove otherwise. 

Why did he ever stop trying?

A happier occasion than the last move, the two found a bigger place closer to Steve's new job. By October, Steve had charmed the Principal into hiring Robin to teach Spanish and French. They were doing well– and still are, Nancy adds on with a smile.

Eddie doesn’t deserve to feel proud of Steve, knowing he’s the reason Steve had to put his life on hold, but he smiles regardless. Nancy squeezes his ankle, still propped in her lap, like she can read his thoughts. It’s encouraging to know that after everything, she’s still here with him. He doesn’t deserve her either.

“He loves his job, Eddie. You know he’s always been good with kids.”

“I know,” he says, tipping his head back to keep the tears pooled in his eyes. “Elementary, right?”

Nancy sighs, a small laugh escaping on the exhale, “Kindergarten Phys. Ed., to be exact.”

And god, Eddie can’t help but laugh. He can imagine Steve in his favorite blue track pants, white t-shirt, with a whistle around his neck, teaching the kids how to play parachute and tag. Running around and building obstacle courses with them, consoling them when they stumble. 

The tears fall anyway, but Eddie’s smile is still bright and shiny. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed, true happiness fizzing like tiny bubbles in his chest.

It’s a little bittersweet to hear Steve's doing well, but that's just the small, selfish part of him wallowing in the fact that he's not the person making him happy. Still, Steve's doing well, and that means everything in the world to Eddie.

~~~

Part 8

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings @thewickedkat

@stripey82

[muyru-iru]

Coruscant/20VSY/#7-Time log Wolffe: I can't recognize you anymore! Who are you? What have you done to my twin? To Fox? Fox: I'm still me, Wolffe. Wolffe: NO! You've changed! Fox:...I changed? Fox: you are so utterly wrong. This society shaped me. I didn't want this. My hands were tied due to our sickenly and sacred mortality... Battle of Geonosis/ 22BBY/ #10-Record log Wolffe: Fox? please....fox...don't do this..Tenten. CC-1010 very softly: You will realize one day that you were never the enforcer...but a normal living being trying their best to be satisfied at heart. Wolffe: fox?! what are you talking about? Fox...no..nonono...FOX! NOOOO!

sometimes you learn what it means to be the older brother.

you know the consequences, you will not run like last time.

[paskuda-lynx]

Now this is the weird cartoon I'd watch.

There would be some very questionable humor, screaming (and i kinda really miss Hunter's screeches from the second season. He was GREAT while raising his voice, no matter what anybody can say about it being annoying), grotesque episode scenarios, cool uniforms and much else!