#the only person that could see him was dead

[your-turn-to-role]

this is only one episode before bard's lament, too, which is my favourite episode for grog/percy stuff

because yeah, when they have this conversation, they don't know it's a matter of hours before their group explodes and everyone struggles to pick up the pieces in the aftermath

but the way percy and grog both respond to scanlan's outburst and decision to leave is exactly because of what you've written here!

percy does not cope well with losing people, and the more people he loses the worse it gets. he tries to hide it but it shines through at the seams, he has major abandonment issues because he can't lose another family like he lost his first one. and that's the reason he gets so angry at scanlan, and holds that grudge a full year until scanlan gets back (is still holding it for a while after that), because not only is he losing scanlan, but it's scanlan's choice. that kind of hurt and betrayal he can't forgive

i love his distant "i keep thinking i could just... shout, right now, and half a dozen guards would stop them" (and grog's following "yeah. it'd be half a dozen dead guards though." "what's half a dozen dead guards these days?"), because it's percy realising simultaneously that he has so much more power this time around than the last time he lost his family in this very castle, and yet at the same time, so much less. because the de rolos didn't choose to leave. scanlan did. percy could forcefully keep his family together this time, but at what cost? and is it even really still a family when it's your wishes against theirs? will you destroy your family for the sake of keeping it close?

and then you've got grog, who is the only member of vm capable of acting like a mature and rational person when scanlan leaves. he's sad, yeah, of course he is, scanlan's one of his best friends. but grog knows that sometimes you need space, and he trusts scanlan will come back when he's ready. he cares just as much as percy does, but he doesn't need to cling to their family in the same way because he has no regrets to haunt him.

grog is often silly but bard's lament (and the following episodes) shows us it's on purpose. when vm wants to scry on scanlan, and grog says no, vax tries to distract him by playing games, but grog stands his ground and ignores vax. he reminds them scanlan asked for privacy, and the least they can do is respect that. it's only once he has everyone's agreement that he turns back to vax and goes "okay now i'll play" with his usual grog lightheartedness. grog may have an intelligence of 6 but he's not ignorant, he understands what's going on when it comes to his family and the people he cares about. it's a choice to leave the bad behind and focus on keeping his family happy, because that's the kind of person he wants to be

(and i think you're absolutely right that percy sees that in grog, i've joked about percy being the grog whisperer but that understanding is another thing that comes through in the small moments if you have an eye out for it)

all of it culminating in my other favourite part of that conversation - "grog? i know we don't always agree and i know that i can be unkind, but... you know you're family, right?" "i don't know much. but i do know that." "it's... nice, having an older brother again."

i’m thinking about percy’s “i just miss an awful lot of people” speech again, and im thinking about all the wonderful commentary people have made about the things he said about his own grief and loss and death as he monologues. 

but more than that, i’m thinking about the last thing he says, to pike and grog. pike says “I understand” and he says “I know”, then grog tries so chime with “I just got it too.” and percy goes “I know you don’t, Grog. I’m so grateful that you don’t.”

and at face value, there’s definitely an element of ‘this is vulnerable for me, and i take mild comfort in knowing that not everyone is really privy to how much of my soul ive bared.’ but it also says so much about the sadness percy sees in his friends.

with pike, even though she has no horrible loss in her backstory, she feels sadness right into her core. her heart is so big and all-encompassing that she takes in sadness from everyone, friends or not. she feels sadness so strong that she oftentimes has to walk away from the party just to clean some of it up for others.

grog, on the other hand, knows deep loss, like percy does.

vox machina walked him to the doorstep of his demons in westruun, just like they did for percy the first time they came to whitestone. and they stood by and fought for grog, barely escaping with their lives, just as they did for percy. and they gave grog what little semblance of vengeance they could for the murder of his father and hatred he suffered from kevdak’s hand, just as they could for percy and the briarwoods.

the key difference, is that percy walks the halls of this building and turns every corner still expecting to see one of his brothers, but is met with vax or scanlan instead. percy lives among ghosts, no matter how hard his friends pull him down to earth. 

but grog picked up the titanstone knuckles and the blood axe, the exact same weapons that were used to throw him out of his own herd with disgust, and he did not pick up any of the ghosts that clung to the sides. he tore them from kevdak’s arms and cleaned the blood off and let those memories burn with his uncle’s body. he carries them with pride and with joy, and thinks only of the family who helped him retrieve them, it seems, rather than the family he lost to them.

and i think percy, who cares about him and finds his happiness contagious (though he may loathe to admit it), its very bittersweetly happy to know that even though to him, loss is a smothering coat, grog doesn’t really wear clothes.

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 1- Drone

A/N: I see a handful of people like this, so I’m going to take it and run lol

P.S- the artist of the cool redesigns are s3tok41b4, give credit where credit is due.

The Honeybee is one of the most hardworking insects in the world. Always pushing themselves to please their Queen, producing honey with the pollen they scavenge for, always having a high risk of dying the moment they are conscious of what their purpose is.

Your mother taught you that bees have a hierarchy: The Queen, the Worker Bees, and the Drones. The Queen was meant to control the strength of the colony, maintain the hive’s behavior. The Workers were meant to go out and provide for the colony, defending the hive from danger. And the Drone, was only meant for one simple thing; reproduction.

And right now, you didn’t felt like anything.

Your mind was fuzzy, vision blurry as you tried to collect what Mr. Gordon told you. Your mother was dead. She was dead and you couldn’t even got a chance to say goodbye to her, how could you accept grief when the last words from her was: “I’m going out for a bit, my little bumble bee. I’ll be back for dinner,”

Not even an “I love you”.

“Hello young master,” The fuzziness and numbing sensation wore off just a bit to hear a gentle accent, one that was filled with comfort and pity. Lifting your head up you saw an old man, in a clean sharp suit with eyes that told so much stories yet nothing.

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I am here on the behalf of your biological father, Bruce Wayne,” That name. You heard it all about that man. Wayne Enterprise was the first companies that funded your mother’s Project: Honey, they were the one that helped her group reach to the sun.

Yet the project burned like Icarus, never fully knowing the feeling of the warm feeling of success. She never mentioned him again, never once talked about Wayne Enterprise after that.

Alfred noticed the look of confusion, so he crouched down in front of you as you clutched the edge of the GPD waiting chair.

“I assure you, Master Bruce will be the best father you will ever know,” He reassured, lending out a hand for you. You stared at him for a moment, eyes filled with emotions you couldn’t control or understand just yet, but one was overpowering than the others. Hope.

“Really?” You mustered out, voice small and confused. Alfred nodded before noting how your eyes were tearing up. You realized you weren’t going back home, you weren’t going back to have your mother making your favorite meal, you weren’t going back to your toy filled room that you played for hours, you weren’t going back ever again.

“I want my mommy…” You whispered out, voice cracking at the end as globs of tears flowed down your cheeks as your mind fully understood what everything meant. You lost your mother, but maybe you will gain a father.

“My sweet dear,” Alfred hushed you gently as you clutched his hand and burrowed your face into his chest, his smooth suit now crinkled and stained with tears. Gordon closed his eyes and looked away, knowing the feeling of losing who you couldn’t save.

Alfred led you to the limo, where you hesitated as you never actually saw a limo in real life before. He explained that you will be able to collect your personal items when you officially meet Bruce.

You stared out the tinted windows, watching the buildings pass by, citizens of Gotham living their lives, yet they all were connected in one way. Gotham was their hive, and they all work to survive in a hive invaded by wasps and other insects that dare to harm each bee.

And a wasp got your mother.

You were in awe at seeing the massive Wayne Manor. Are you really going to live there? You pray that Bruce Wayne will be as nice and kind as he is on the news, someone who will give you warmth and a place to call home.

Alfred held your hand as he let you along the long driveway, and inside felt like it was bigger than the outside. You felt out of place, like an outsider bee searching for refuge in another hive.

“Come along now, Master Bruce is in his office,” You’ll have time to demote everything later, you thought. It was time to meet Bruce Wayne. You fixed your hair and clothes as you walked, as if you were ready for a bunnies deal with him. You hoped you were good enough just as you stopped at a giant two way door that led to his office.

“Master Bruce, your young child is here to greet you,” Alfred announced while pushing the door. Your eyes widened at the well dressed man sitting at his desk. His eyes piercing and strong, as if he saw the dangers of the world and still held hope.

‘He could be the Queen bee mom was talking about,’ You thought with a small smile. You took a step back, hand slipping out of Alfred’s. Here you go, the moment of bonding with your father, your smile widened ever so slightly when he looked up from his work to make eye contact.

“I’m (Name)-,” Just as you held your hand out, Bruce grabbed his papers and walked past you and Alfred, only giving a small smile and nod to Alfred. Not looking at you.

“Oh…” You dropped your hand, standing there in the office awkward of the lack of welcome, greetings, or even warmth in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t even know you were there. Alfred called out for him, slightly appalled at his zero acknowledgement towards me.

‘A Queen Bee would never ignore her worker bees’

“I’m sorry, Master (Name),” Alfred was going to give Bruce a great scolding of his life for ignoring you, but when he stood up, your small hands grasped his long fingers, where you gave a bright smile, so sweet yet so sad.

“It’s… okay Alfred,” You smiled, “Things are going to be okay,” Alfred knew that the look in your eyes told him everything. You were shattered when your father hadn’t said anything to you, yet you were still hopeful that you will belong in this hive.

You will be his Worker Bee.

You had help from Alfred to collect things from your old home… is the manor really your new home? You stuffed as much photos of you and your mother into your bag, along with your favorite plush your mother got you, a fluffy Minecraft bee plush she got for your birthday.

You walked around the empty house, a feeling of grief yet nostalgia filled your stomach. You stopped at your mother’s door, slinking to see everything the same as if she wasn’t gone. When you turn to leave, you stumbled back into her working desk, papers scattered.

Your mother’s papers to Project: Honey. You couldn’t just let her hard work die. You may have not understood what the appears meant, but you know how much her researched meant. You stuffed them into your binders before letting Alfred know that you were ready.

That was the day you met Bruce’s eldest son, your new big brother.

Dick Grayson, the son of Bruce Wayne. Not biological, yet he was cherished. You were happy, excited even, to have a big brother that you can count on, someone who will comfort you and playfully bother you, someone who you can tell many secrets too.

And it started out great! At first… He smiled brightly and patted your shoulder, looking sad and walked off. yet it didn’t felt all too genuine. That still didn’t stop you, your little kid brain thought maybe it was because he was busy at first! And he was, with Bruce.

Everytime you showed up from school with drawings and assignments that is covered with bees, you would always show Bruce first, but when he simply hummed and went back to his work. You went to Dick, who gave a very exaggerated “Wowww!! Amazing!” Before walking off. Disheartened, you went up to Alfred and showed your drawings, to which he framed it and placed it on your wall.

It made you smile just a bit.

When you ran up to Dick with great news that you wanted to see a movie, and begged for him to go while holding his hand, he looked a bit uncomfortable and gently peeled your arm away, saying that he had urgent business with Bruce.

“Sorry kid, maybe next time, okay?” There was never a next time, it you didn’t have the heart to ask again.

You moved your stuff into a spared room, however Alfred insisted to have yours connected to the family hall, as the one you chose was much too small. The room was the nursery Martha and Thomas Wayne has set up when they brought Bruce into the world, yet it was only temporary as they moved him into his own personal room to grow.

“I like it,” You beamed at Alfred, clinging onto your bee plush as his grip to the doorframe tightened. It seemed that your sweet smile of yourself was something he hasn’t seen in a while, not even from Dick. Seeing you in that nursery room felt like as if Bruce was a baby once more, happily jumping around while wanting to play.

The same sweet smile you both held. You had a cool window that views into the garden, insects flying around with their lives.

A bee. A single honeybee buzzed on your windowsill, perched down as if inspecting the area. You admired it as it began to dance around as if trying to communicate with you, making you giggle and show off your bee plushie. It didn’t appreciate a giant object in its face however, and flew away to the top corner, making you smile with the knowledge of one thing giving you attention.

Barbara Gordon visited often, and you were in awe at how amazing and smart she was, as expected being the daughter of the man who held you and carried you in his arms when you were told that your mother died.

You wanted to thank her dad, to talk to her and maybe make a spark between you both. However, it didn’t matter as she gave you a look of confusion, as if silently asking what was your purpose in the manor.

She merely ushered you out of her way before running to Dick and Bruce, the three of them gone. That’s okay! You still had Alfred, and you spent your free time talking about bees and cooking together. Alfred loved seeing you beam.

Jason Todd arrived not long after, and you were mesmerized at how tough yet sweet he was. He might have been older than you, but you didn’t care, he actually gave a damn about you. You were able to share your rants about bees and other things, and he shared books and stories.

The only downside was the fact he was always so busy with Bruce. You wanted to follow, you wanted to stay close to your brother, yet Bruce didn’t even spared you a glance as Jason gave you an apologetic look before leaving with him.

You didn’t know where they went, but you didn’t care as you just wanted to have every moment with Jason. Why is Bruce taking things away from you when you began to be happy?

“I’ll be back before you know it, bumble,” Jason grinned. That never happened, as he passed away from a Joker attack that day. The manor was filled with thick grief, Alfred cradled you as you sobbed into his chest once more, a familiar feeling of loss building up inside your heart.

You confronted Bruce, begging him to let you see Jason for the funeral, but out of guilt and grief, he aggressively shoved you away with the look of sadness with a hint of disgust.

“Go away,” He didn’t even utter your name, yet that wasn’t the thing that hurt the most, it was the fact you were never told that the funeral happened. Not even Alfred could give you a reasonable excuse, and only apologized over and over as you numbly walked back to your room.

You held onto the bee plush tightly as you cried for hours, only stopping when you felt like passing out. Days in school never felt as joyful and pleasant, teachers were concerned of the lack of energy, yet never was concerned enough to contact Bruce or Alfred.

But you knew Bruce didn’t even want to come when called from the school, as you heard from your small room that he didn’t want to be part of the parental contacts for the school. Another sign that he doesn’t care.

Tim Drake was the next to be adopted, or rather, the one who forced Bruce to adopt him. He was a smart kid, very tech savvy that followed Bruce for a while to the point of actually managing to hack into a computer system that was locked down with security.

Fourth times a charm, right? You quietly slunk over to the boy, curious as to what he was furiously typing away. The moment you opened your mouth, he immediately stopped and turned to look at you with bemusement, and even disgust.

“Do you mind? I’m too busy to deal with this,” And he went back to his typing. You simply closed your mouth, feeling embarrassed as you scurried away. Tim was a year older than you, and you gave up on trying to befriend someone older, knowing it won’t be the same with Tim as it was with Jason.

Jason… he was back! You thought you were dreaming and believed to be fake, yet there he stood. Tears welled up as you ran to hug him, crying that you missed him and was so happy to see your brother again.

But the happiness was gone when you felt pain your eye. You tumbled back and looked up at him with shock and fear as his eyes glowed green. They weren’t green, they never were, and they were filled with rage and hate. He was different appearance wise, and you guessed personality wise too.

You touched your eye when it became clear that he punched you. He punched you as if you were a stranger who attacked him. Your body shook when he scoffed and stalked passed you, only giving you one last glance.

“Just stay the hell away from me, and we won’t have issues,” No mention of your name, or playful insult, no Bumble. You knew it wasn’t the Jason that smiled when you reenacted your favorite scene in a story, the Jason that tried his best to have Bruce talk to you, the Jason who you grew to love as a brother.

He became the outcasted bee that still clung to the hope he’ll be accepted again. And he was.

Bruce still clung onto Jason, he still loved his son that he would do anything for him to forgive him. You watched from a corner as Bruce actually cried for a child, his child.

You were even his kid? You stayed in your room for most days if you weren’t in school, laying by the window as you watched the beehive that was made next to your window, admiring how these honeybees would land on your finger and buzz.

These little insects gave you more attention than others, and you were fine with it.

Barbara was back. She had to go into a hospital after another Joker attack. She remained in a wheelchair, yet was still as smart and tough as before. Even though she didn’t care for you, you thought this was a perfect time to talk to her. A foolish move, as you mistakenly touched the bars to her wheelchair, and she pushed you away with a glare.

“As if I need any help from you!!” You knew you made a mistake, you knew if you were her you also wouldn’t want someone make you feel incapable of moving, yet you felt sadness when she yelled. You could only muster a “I’m sorry”, before running off to your room.

Stephanie Brown arrived not long after. She was bubbly, always grinning, and was mischievous as a fox. You bumped into her while she was laughing with Tim, who didn’t give you a glance. You said hi and wanted to say hi, but she only waved you off while smiling.

“Yeahhhh, sorry. Just too busy with something else, bye!” That smile felt forced and condescending, that she knew I wasn’t worth her time. You knew that tone very well from Tim, so you didn’t even bother being sad about it.

Cassandra Cain wasn’t even worth tears as she didn’t even spared a glance after staring intently at you when she arrived and walking away. It felt like she was judging you before even knowing you, and she deemed you as someone not worthy of even acknowledging.

You only saw her when the others hung out together. You didn’t care that you weren’t included (of course you cared), but it was the fact they all looked so happy talking to one another, having the best time of their lives without you.

Damien Wayne, the younger biological son of Bruce, arriving with the same scowl and attitude at his father. A little brother, you thought. Maybe this time…?

No, of course not. Every member of this family doesn’t ever give you a chance and immediately deem you as an inconvenience. Damien gave you a clear sign he didn’t like you when he gave you a defensive and deadly glare before drawing one of his katanas and you barely managed to avoid it hitting your face, merely slicing a mean and clean cut on your forehead.

“You’re not worthy to refer to me as your brother. You are simply a result of a one night stand with a low class civilian! You’re not equal to us to be deemed as a Wayne,” He sneered, attempting to strike again before Dick held him back, scolding him for having his katanas out.

Not scolding of attacking you, no worrying about your gash on your forehead, nothing. You began to tear up as you stumbling to stand as Dick gave you a sympathetic shrug before dragging Damien away.

“You have to understand he has a rough time growing up,” You should’ve known Dick didn’t come to stop Damien because he saw you, it was because Damien was “acting out”, and it was his duty as big brother to calm him down.

Duke Thomas arrived as a newly adopted son of Bruce, and for once, he gave you time to say hi. You were in the library reading about Entomology, where he was lost in the giant halls of Wayne Manor and stumbled into the library.

“Hey! If you don’t mind, do you know where the kitchen is?” He sheepishly asked you, and you were caught off guard at his interaction with you. He acknowledged you? Your smile couldn’t have been any bigger as you excitedly walked to him and introduced each other.

You showed him the ropes of how to guide himself through the manor, even daring to show him the secret passages that only you and Alfred know. He was amazed that no one mentioned you, to which you gave no heed to that comment.

It wasn’t long when you showed him the kitchen where Stephanie and Dick grabbed Duke and took him a way to have a hangout with the others, leaving you standing there with your smile gone and Duke confused as to why you were following.

You should’ve known the others would take him away from you, and alone you were again. No Duke, no Jason, no Alfred, no one.

Bruce spent all his attention to other kids, ones who begged for his love, others who weren’t even grateful. Alfred tried his best to include you, yet it was in vain as he had his hands tied when it comes to you, always rushing to other’s aid when they need him.

You were alone in a hive with a father who doesn’t care or love you.

He wasn’t a Queen… he was nothing yet meant everything to this hive.

Your so called siblings were his worker bees, protecting each other and Bruce. Alfred was more than a worker bee, he was the one raising and tending to the family hive. And you…?

You weren’t even worthy of being a drone.

You never belonged to this hive.

You were an intruder.

Buzzzz

Well… you’re not completely alone.

A/N: I’ll give Bee!Reader more personality soon, just wanted the relationships with the Batsiblings out of the way.

Also this kinda gives off Mirabel vibes from Encanto, living in a nursery room, you just really like the alone space for you and you alone.

Tag list: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star (girlie is ain’t letting me find ya 😭) @moom0goddess

[eumppattv]

MEET CUTES ᯓᡣ𐭩 OT7 ｡𖦹°‧

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ cute ways fate has you meet them

enha ୨ৎ reader fluff headcanon masterlist engene zone

heeseung ⊂⊃ gaming cafe

you needed a day of relaxation, of doing something you loved- and gaming was just that. you made your way to your favorite gaming cafe, ordered some food and got to business. in walks heeseung, finding an empty spot beside you. first he’d look over slightly to see what you were playing, and then he leaned in until you couldn’t ignore him. after some small talk and a couple rounds together, he had asked for your number so you could “play” in the future. you would then become his long term gaming partner.

jay ⊂⊃ cooking show audience

jay was ecstatic when he found out he won a chance to be in the audience of his favorite cooking competition. making his way through the crowd, he was in search of his chair number. it so happened that your chairs were right next to each other, and so small talk erupted between the two. little did you know, jay thought you were gorgeous, and he could barely focus on your words or the rest of the competition. his mind was all you, and anytime you talked to him he got red.

jake ⊂⊃ batting cages

you and your friend had decided to go down to the batting cages, a fun activity you like to partake in. you called ahead and chose a time, but when entering the next day, jake and ni-ki were already using the space. after a couple arguments, and a talk with the manager, you found out the space was double booked. jake suggested you all share the space- leaving your friend and ni-ki 3rd wheeling. you ended up beating him, and let’s just say the rest is history.

sunghoon ⊂⊃ furniture store

tasked with decorating his own bedroom, sunghoon had made his way up to his favorite furniture store. he had been walking down the isles aimlessly, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw your body sprawled across a big bed. noticing his presence, you sat up, telling him you were testing the comfortability of the mattress. somehow, your trip ended with both of you laying on this bed, reviewing it to each other, until you were kicked out of the store. it was a great bonding moment that would kickstart your love story.

sunoo ⊂⊃ friends party

sunoo was no stranger to social events, and neither were you. you were only strangers to each other, because although you had many friends in common, you had never met. that is until sunoo made his way to the outdoor patio where you sat alone, needing a breather. he approached you, taking a seat next to you- and the conversation flowed perfectly. you realized you were very alike in mindset and personality, so it was only natural for you to fall for each other as this “friendship progressed.

jungwon ⊂⊃ late night walk

jungwon often likes to clear his mind by going on walks, no matter the time. on this particular night, he had been strolling down a trail around a park, when he noticed you a couple feet ahead, seemingly lost in your own thoughts. he noticed your steps slow down, until he was pretty much right beside you. that’s when he saw the tears sliding down your cheek, prompting him to quickly rise to action, asking you if you’re okay. the night was then spent with him comforting you, a stranger, and both of you unknowingly falling in love with each other.

ni-ki ⊂⊃ clothing store pop-up

you and ni-ki were two strangers, connected by your love for fashion. there was a week where your favorite streetwear brand was doing a pop-up store near your neighborhood, so of course you decided to go. walking in, you find your favorite hoodie and quickly go to grab it, until you feel another hand on yours. ni-ki has reached for the same item, and you were both left staring into each other’s eyes until he retracted his hand, reluctantly giving you permission to take the hoodie. while he didn’t get what he wanted, he did mange to walk out with your number.

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[merakiui]

would love to hear your thoughts about yan Lilia

the general Lilia with pregnant reader lives rent free in my thoughts 💚❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

AAAA YES!!! :D it’s been so long since I’ve talked about the general and his pregnant darling. <3 I have many more thoughts to share,,,

Taken prisoner after your village has been destroyed and claimed by the General of the Right and his men. They need all the resources they can find. Most of the humans are dead or, if lucky enough, escaped for safety. You weren’t so lucky. It was only a matter of time before the keen General sniffed you out, finding you huddled in hiding. You beg him for mercy, to spare your baby. “There is no mercy to be found in a conflict as bloody and brutal as this one,” he tells you in a rough snarl. He’s certainly not soft. He scoffs at the insinuation. Your tears mean nothing to him.

But he supposes it would be unfair to your child, who is completely innocent and has no idea of the war that’s currently raging on. So you’ll come with him as a prisoner, and if you try anything funny he’ll cut you down himself. You cower under the eyes of his men, and the General makes it clear that you’re with them now. His right hand is baffled: “General, you know this human will only hold us back…!” he protests on and on, the same arguments each time. “We can’t guarantee their safety.” He doesn’t like you much or trust you, but he’ll tolerate you if only because the General orders it. >:/

You’re given bigger portions of food,, whatever they can find, really, all for you and the baby. You thank them with a grateful smile, offering to do the cooking in exchange for their help. Baul doesn’t trust you, but you certainly know your way around food preparation. He can huff and puff over his cold, raw rat meat all he wants, insist he’d never eat anything made by a human. You’re busy making a hearty stew with the ingredients Lilia’s men managed to scrounge up and it smells delicious. Tastes so, too. Lilia commends you for it. His men seem to be in higher spirits, too. Funny how good food is all it takes to boost morale, if only for the night.

You sleep near Lilia. At first it was so he could keep an eye on you, watching you hum lullabies to your bump, his own eyes falling shut momentarily. Now it’s just for your protection. To feel comforted that you’re in his sight, within reach. He remains awake for patrol. Sometimes you stir, rubbing your eyes and blinking sleepily at him. If he’s feeling chatty, he might entertain your questions or a short conversation—anything to lull you back to sleep. He asks you what you’ll name your child. You shrug. You haven’t considered it yet. Lilia hums his acknowledgment, keen eyes picking up on your slight shivering. He tells you to keep warm. It can get dreadfully cold at night, and you’re so fragile. “A shame the fire’s nothing but embers,” you whisper, wrapped up in a fur cloak. “I suppose there are other ways to keep warm…”

His gaze pans over to you, assessing your person, those words and the message they carry. He is not soft. He is cruel and cunning. He…hopes for your safety, in spite of everything. To last this long on your own as a human, you’re strong. He’s impressed. Perhaps he’ll allow himself this gratification just once, his cold, callused palms resting gently upon your rounded stomach. The way you arch up into him, a hand falling over your mouth as you fill with pleasure and deflate with a dreamy sigh. “For such a cold, hard General, you’re very gentle,” you whisper, reaching up to trace your knuckle against his cheek.

He takes your hand in his, his mouth opening in snappy retort. And then he closes it, scoffing under his breath. He is not soft.

When this war is over, he wonders if he’ll ever see you again. In spite of everything, he hopes so. He wants only the best for you and your child.

[andromeda-starship]

AHH! Yes! I love all the little details and nuances you put into this! I think you so accurately characterized both Matt and Frank in this, including how their unique traumas (and violent coping mechanisms to appease their guilt, giving them a sense of control) affect those around them.

Matt is such a complicated character, and it’s true that without all the explanations and complex that come from the viewer’s omniscience- he’s a difficult book to read. He hid his powers from his best friend for a decade, he lies to everyone, and even though WE know that there are some compelling reasons for those actions- those who are living their lives alongside his own only see the results of his choices, of his traumas, his coping mechanisms, and how he hurts those around him by leaving so much of his past hurt unresolved. Festering within him, poisoning his relationships by limiting his perception to something that is ultimately selfish and self-serving.

Don’t get me wrong- taking in Matt’s experiences in life, it’s somewhat understandable. He lost his father because Jack thought he’d be worth more to Matt dead, leaving him alone and vulnerable, his world on fire. Stick trained him, cruel, cold, and ruthless- then abandoned him when he couldn’t be who he wanted him to be. Elektra, the first person Matt could be himself around 100%, had loved him- but not enough to stay. To not try and force him into being someone he’s not. That he’s worked so hard NOT to become.

I can’t imagine what it was like all those years, lying in bed, hearing every terrible thing hiding in the darkness. That one story of the day he first let the devil in him win, when he beat the father who was touching his daughter at night, after all his other attempts to help failed… How could we fault him? How could we fault him for caring? For doing something when he saw how the system failed the vulnerable? How could we not love the man who had restrained his inner beast for so long, only to snap- now balancing on the unraveling moral tight rope of a line every single night because he couldn’t lie there and do nothing.

The thing is, Matt is a hero to us because he can’t hide it like he does in his own reality. Like he does in all his relationships. So who can blame the reader for her perception of reality when it’s all she knows?

I think with Frank, he is so forthright with his motivations. With his reasoning. He doesn’t hide, he doesn’t lie, he knows who he is. Why he does what he does. And so does everyone else, especially those close enough to see the reality of his broken heart- the one of a loving father and husband. One who lost everything which anchored him. One who decided he had nothing to lose, and took on all the consequences without any hesitation. One who would take on the blame for the reader, because in the end he’s the one who is oh so willing to make the sacrifice.

I think it’s funny how Matt has so many religious themes, but Frank really is a martyr. Matt is reluctant, he can’t take the consequences of his actions, he hides his shame and his confliction behind blistering anger and stubborn pride into everything falls apart. I think it also has to do with their relationships with faith, their ideas of god.

Matt believes.

Frank does not.

Frank sees a chaotic world in an unfeeling universe, sees how the good are hurt by the powerful, and decides to bath in the blood of the unrighteous, wades steadily through as an unwavering force, an angel who smites the wicked- all with his face bare.

Because he is unafraid. He knows what he’s doing has consequences, but that won’t stop him from doing what he feels needs to be done to ease the unbalanced scales of the world we live in. One which Frank sees clearly and accepts as it is- no romanticization. Just the truth.

I think this characterization is really represented so well in how the reader perceived these two men.

Matt is a force of guilt.

Frank is a force of acceptance.

And at some point, you have to let the burden of guilt go, and fall into the loving, unwavering strength found in the open arms of acceptance.

And get a dog with him.

SAME SIN

pairing - frank castle x reader

summary - in your darkest hour, matt doesn't answer the phone. but frank does.

warnings - blood, death, violence, attempted robbery, religious trauma, possible infidelity, matt's lowkey kind of a bitch in this but that's ok, probably deviates from canon at times but fuck it we ball, MDNI 18+

word count - 3.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Blood wept from your fingertips, dripping onto the asphalt.

It had soaked through the man’s shirt. Oozed from the scattered holes in his chest, pooling around his torso. His lungs breathed no air. His eyes didn’t blink, gazing sightless up towards the Heavens. 

Sickness hit in a crushing wave. 

You doubled over, clutching your stomach as bile surged up your throat, burning over your tongue. The gagging continued long after there was nothing left, saliva dribbling from your bottom lip. 

Then there was stillness. 

Not the stillness of calm, or peace. But punishment. Sentencing. The solemn gaze of an all-forgiving Father as he stands before you, stone in-hand.

[To kill is a violation of Faith—] 

{—You or them?} 

The gun had still been smoking when it’d clattered at your feet. 

Regret felt like a wet blanket on your shoulders, suffocating in its weight. You couldn’t stand it.

Couldn’t stand.

Asphalt dug into your knees, crumpling at the man's side. Your hands had been shaking as you grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse, praying for it in the way a sinner prays for absolution.

You found none. 

No pulse. No absolution. 

Still, you tried. Locked your fingers over his chest—pressing and pressing, trying and trying. Until thick ribs cracked and caved, until your palms were drenched in warmth and death and–

Rain. 

It was raining. 

Little drops, softly pattering all throughout the alleyway. You watched, dazed, as they slid down the lit-up screen in your hands. 

You didn’t remember pulling out your phone, but you remembered making the call. 

Calls. 

In the Bible, the number seven is considered sacred. Symbolic of divine oaths and promises, of perfection in the purest, most angelic sense. 

Seven times you called the Devil. 

Seven times he didn’t answer. 

You tilted your head back. The rain fell faster, cool drops steady rolling down your cheeks. The sky was a yawning, starless expanse. In the past, you’d always said that’s why you hated the city. The lack of stars—veiled by pollution and human selfishness, replaced by a twinkling skyline made of artificial hope. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were glad for their absence. 

At least the stars hadn’t seen what you’d done. 

Blood smeared across the phone screen as you dialed your eighth call. A different tone than before; a number not saved but remembered. 

A number you’d promised Matt you’d never call again. 

{In case you ever need it—} 

[—I don’t trust him.] 

What is trust? 

Once, it felt like the comfort of sunlight pouring through stained glass windows. Sitting amidst the oaken pews with a man at your side—a soft man dressed in a sharp suit, his glasses tinted red and his heart pure gold. 

Now, trust felt like the relief of a call that rang only once. Of cold fear melting into the gruff warmth of another’s voice, heavy with concern as they answered: “You alright?” 

You almost laughed. 

No. Of course not—because why would you call Frank Castle if you were anything other than desperate? 

“Are you busy?” you asked, awkward and hesitant. 

In hindsight, the question felt stupid. There was a body lying in front of you, and certainly no amount of busyness took precedence over that. But then, Matt must’ve been busy. Playing dutiful layer or God’s lone soldier. That’s why he hadn’t answered. 

Unless… 

[Elektra’s just a friend—] 

{—That what we are?} 

On the other end of the line, Frank urged, “C’mon now, doll, you gotta answer me, alright?” Had he asked something? You hadn’t noticed. “Where’re you at?” 

“An alley.” 

A rough, humorless chuckle. “Little more specific, sweetheart.” 

Five blocks from Matt’s apartment, you thought. 

“Off West 51st,” you said. 

“Don’t move.” There was the sound of a door slamming, of boots pounding down a flight of stairs. “I’m on my way.” 

Panic thrashed in your veins, anticipating the sharp click of a call gone dead. “Wait!” A cry, a plea—but for what? You had no clue what to say next. 

You hadn’t told him about the man, or the gun, or the sin. 

And Frank hadn’t asked. You knew this was because the Why? for your call hadn’t mattered to him. 

Only that you had. 

{You call, I come—} 

[—Frank Castle is a murderer.] 

Your eyes squeezed shut. You went to rub them, then remembered the blood dripping from your hands. 

So am I, you thought. So am I. 

Frank said your name. Once, twice. 

Quietly, you asked, “Will you stay on the phone?” 

The sound of another door pushing open, a great whoosh! of air as the city unfolded around him: sirens screaming, traffic blaring. With your eyes closed, you could almost see—shoving from his apartment building, marching down darkened sidewalks with a determined clench in his jaw. 

It wasn’t a man coming to save you, nor a vigilante. 

It was a soldier. 

After drawing in a breath, Frank uttered, “‘Course.” 

Time dragged. 

Hell’s Kitchen droned around you. Occasionally, Frank would ask: You good? to which you replied: How far are you? At some point, you drifted further from the man’s body. Ended up sitting on the ground, your back pressed to a brick wall. 

Your emotions were still fuzzy, as dull as the blunt edge of a knife. But your nerves… those were razor sharp. 

You watched both ends of the alleyway. Vigilant, afraid. Your muscles tensed whenever a car door shut too loud, whenever a stranger passed beneath the distant, buzzing streetlights. 

What if someone noticed? 

Gunshots weren’t such a strange thing in the Kitchen. The Devil couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the cops were either too busy or too lazy to investigate every bang! in the night. 

But if someone noticed you like this—curled on the ground, a dead man at your feet and violent red on your skin… 

He started it, you reminded yourself. Self-defense is absolvable. 

[To a judge? Or to God?—] 

God doesn’t matter. 

[—Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?] 

Why didn’t you answer? 

Your grip tightened around the phone. “How far now?” 

“Check your nine.” In the second it took for you to envision a clock, Frank had already amended, “Left, sweetheart.” There was the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “Look left.” 

You did. 

Frank was little more than a formless figure approaching. He was dressed in all black, his hood up against the rain. You couldn’t see his face, but you didn’t need to. His presence was enough to ease the frantic beat of your pulse. 

When he was close enough to hear, you hung up the phone. Wiped your nose on your sleeve and sniffed, “Took you long enough.” 

Cool and calculating—two descriptors that fit Frank best as he scanned the scene. He took note of the discarded gun, the puddle of watered down blood, the man with three bullets in his chest. 

You were the last thing he noted, and the only one to put a crack in his stern exterior. 

“Smart enough to practice law,” Frank lightly joked, “but not to read a goddamn clock, huh?” 

A laugh sputtered past your lips, melding into a broken sob. 

“Paralegals don’t practice,” you argued, ignoring the tears wetting your cheeks. “And I can read a clock just fine, asshole.” 

There was a softness to his face, one brow raising. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” So long as it’s in front of you, and you’re telling time and not direction. 

Frank hummed, his knees popping as he crouched down beside you. “Well I ain’t got a watch,” he said, “so I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

Another weak laugh faded into quiet. 

Then, more hesitant than you’d ever heard him before, Frank asked, “You wanna tell me what happened?” 

Something about the way he said it struck you as odd. Like it was a choice—that you didn’t have to explain. If you wanted, the secrets of tonight could remain just that: Secrets, known only by you and a man who had no voice to share them. 

[Do you remember Psalm 80:9?—] 

Even secret sins are exposed in His light. 

{—How do you deal with it? All Red’s Catholic bullshit?} 

By believing in it. 

Frank took your silence for an answer. Shifted as if he might reach out, offer comfort. Instead, his fingers curled into loose fists. 

“How ‘bout you go wait around the corner,” he offered, “and let me take care of all this?” 

You weren’t sure what Frank’s version of ‘taking care of this’ entailed, but you knew you were comfortable with never finding out. 

Frank followed suit as you pushed off the ground. His movements were precise and easy, while yours were graceless and weighted. Standing, the world seemed to shift beneath your feet. Your mind was still hazy, your bones tired. 

Existence had become an arduous task. 

“When you’re… done,” you managed, your arms curled tight around your waist, “what then?” 

You didn’t want to go home—or to Matt’s. 

You didn’t want to feel alone. 

As if he understood this, Frank simply answered, “I’ll take you back to my place. Get you cleaned up, let you rest awhile.” His head tilted slightly. “You like pizza?” 

The world was ending. 

And yet here stood Frank—no Bible quotes or Hail Mary’s, no judgement for the sin you’d committed or the mess he had to clean. He offered only calm, only patience—and pizza of all things. 

[What do you see in him?—] 

{—Let me take care of all this.} 

You nodded. 

Frank’s apartment was bleak. 

One room total—unless you counted the cramped shoebox of a bathroom, which you did not. The front door opened into a shoddy kitchenette, connected to a living room that clearly doubled as his bedroom. 

He owned minimal furnishings. There was a lumpy couch, a small table with one chair, an old doormat that read Stay Awhile! except the Awhile had been all but completely rubbed off. You assumed that’s why it was inside instead of out—because even indirectly, Frank Castle wasn’t the type to ask anyone to Stay. 

Behind you, Frank grunted as he kicked his boots off onto the mat. You wondered if you should do the same, but didn’t. 

It felt strange to be in Frank’s apartment. Not because it made you uncomfortable, but because it didn’t. You felt fine. Still shaken, still a little sick—but safe. 

Would Matt be able to tell? Would he smell the gunpowder and Old Spice clinging to your skin and know that you’d been with Frank? 

That’s how you knew when he’d been with Elektra. You didn’t need super senses to smell her perfume—a heady mix of cloves and something citrus, lingering on his shirts as plain as if it were lipstick on the collar. 

Unthinking, you said, “You should get a bird.” 

Frank chuckled. “Yeah? And why’s that?” 

You weren’t sure. It was just the first thing that had come to mind, a means of evicting Elektra from your thoughts. 

“It could liven the place up,” you suggested. Though, after taking another glance around, you realized that might be asking too much of one little bird. 

He’d need a flock. 

Frank slipped past you, warmth crawling up your spine at the slight brush of his hand against your back. You told yourself it was unintentional—no more intimate than someone scooting past you in a crowded bar or a grocery store aisle. 

Still, the warmth lingered. 

“Don’t think I’m much of a bird guy,” Frank admitted from the kitchenette. Then, nodding towards the couch, he added, “Sit.” 

You drifted that way and sank into the cushions. The springs were practically nonexistent, and the brown leather peeled like a bad sunburn—impossible not to pick at. 

“What kind of guy are you, then?” you asked, more interested in a distraction than his answer. 

Frank dug around in the cabinets, grabbed a plastic mixing bowl, and went to the sink. “I like dogs,” he told you, loud enough to be heard over the running water filling the bowl. 

You pretended not to hear him anyway. 

After starting at Nelson & Murdock, you’d planned to get a dog. It seemed like the right time. You had your own place, your own income—and you knew Foggy would love having something cute and furry around the office. But then you got closer to Matt, and the dream died before it ever began. 

Dogs were too much for Matt. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many textures. Back then, you’d thought it was a reasonable sacrifice. No dog in exchange for an incredible boyfriend. 

You knew better now. 

You should’ve picked the dog. 

Dragging the lone chair from the table, Frank settled in front of you with the bowl of steaming water and a thin cloth. His eyes went straight to your hand. You assumed it was because of the dried blood until he said, “You’re fucking up my couch.” 

You stopped picking, dusting the flakes of leather onto the floor. “It was already fucked,” you defended. 

“So you gotta make it worse?” 

You fixed him with a blank stare. “Nothing could make this couch worse.” Short of setting it on fire, that is. 

“That how we’re gonna play this?” Frank looked like he was holding in a laugh. “I let you in, offer you food—and you pay me back by talkin’ shit about my couch?” 

“It’s not just the couch,” you stated plainly. “It’s the whole apartment.” 

It reminded you of prison—a place that you, Foggy, and Matt had worked hard to keep Frank out of. Even if the trial hadn’t gone as expected, you hated the idea that all that fight had been for this: A peeling couch, a faded doormat, a lonely little chair. 

Frank deserved better than that. 

[Have you forgotten?—] 

[Castle was charged with 37 counts of murder] 

[—Why are you so attached to this case?] 

With the bowl balanced on top of his legs, Frank dipped the cloth in and wrung it out as he joked, “Guess I need that bird.” 

Your lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. 

“Guess so.” 

Frank held out an open palm. Without thinking, you laid your hand against his. 

The water was too hot. Not quite burning, but still uncomfortable as he pressed the cloth to your wrist. But you didn’t flinch, utterly motionless as he wiped in slow, circular motions. 

His touch was far lighter than you’d imagined. 

Not that you ever had imagined it. 

As the cloth moved down to your fingers, Frank’s focus grew more intent. He was meticulous in cleaning every line of your knuckles, the dried blood caked under your nails. 

Only when the water in the bowl had turned the color of rust, the cloth stained and your skin spotless, did Frank trade one of your hands for the other. 

Only then did you confess. 

“He had a knife.” 

Half a second—that’s how long Frank’s movements faltered before he kept on cleaning. You were thankful he didn’t try to look you in the eye. That he didn’t have to for you to know he was listening. 

“Foggy has a deposition in the morning,” you continued shakily. “He always forgets to print his motion, so I stopped by the office to do it for him and… I don’t know. On the way back home, I could just feel it, you know? That someone was there. That they were following me.” 

An understanding nod as Frank moved the cloth to your index finger. 

“I know it’s stupid,” you told him. “But I thought if I cut through the alley, got closer to Matt’s, then–” 

He’d hear it, if the worst happened. The Devil would come. Your boyfriend—if you could even still call him that—would save you. 

But that had been a stupid, childish thought. 

“I figured I could lose,” you said instead. “That I could turn the corner and just run in circles until he gave up. But he was fast. I wasn’t even halfway down the alley when he ran up behind me, when grabbed my shoulder and–” 

Your breath caught. Frank’s touch moved slower, gentler—a feat you wouldn’t have thought possible. His eyes caught yours in a concerned glance. Only then did you remember how to breathe. 

“It was just a knife, Frank. A knife—and I pulled out a gun!” A short, hollow laugh. “I should have let him rob me,” you rationalized. “At least a wallet can be replaced. But him, his life–” 

Frank cut you off. “How do you know?” 

Your brows furrowed in answer. 

His hand went still against yours, holding the cloth wrapped around your ring finger. “That that’s all he wanted,” Frank gruffly clarified. “To rob you.” 

“I don’t, but–” 

“You remember what I told you? When I taught you how to shoot?” 

{You or them?—}

Frustrated, you insisted, “It’s not that easy, Frank. It’s not my choice!” 

[—It’s up to God, who lives and who dies.] 

Frank shook his head. “That’s the Catholic in you,” he argued. 

“I’m not Catholic,” you snapped, low but harsh. Frank looked confused, and you fought to keep the shame from your voice as you muttered, “Not anymore.” 

Religion, you’ve learned, is a funny sort of thing. Even when you stop believing, it never truly goes away. God becomes a ghost under your skin, a divine haunting that borders on insanity. You will always think in terms of Sinners and Saints. You will always know that no amount of repentance will ever mold your soul into something more like the latter. 

Frank wasn’t the type to pry any further. 

Instead, he adjusted your hand. Carefully dragged the cloth along the curve of your fingernail. The water had cooled, now too cold where it was once too hot. 

“It doesn’t matter what he was going to do,” you decided. “It only matters that I killed him.” 

This time, it was Frank’s breath that hitched. 

“No you didn’t,” he said, and you had never heard someone tell a lie so matter-of-fact. 

“I did–” 

He looked up. A muscle feathered in his jaw, and when he spoke, it was with the steely resolve of a no nonsense Marine.  

“No. I did.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I gave you that gun,” he continued. “Gave you that goddamn advice, too. That no matter what, you always gotta pick you. And see, I don’t regret that shit either because all that? It kept you alive. Kept you breathing. And if some no-good prick’s gotta so you get to live? Fine. Good.” 

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stare at him. 

“But if someone’s gotta bear the weight of that guy’s miserable life,” Frank told you, “then let it be me, alright?” His gaze fell, lingering on your lips a moment too long before he uttered, “‘Cause I ain’t gonna let it be you.” 

[You care about him—]

[—Don’t you?] 

Do you care about her? 

[Elektra’s just a friend—] 

… 

[—Can you say the same about Frank?] 

You studied the man before you. 

Frank Castle. The Punisher. 

The one you shouldn’t call, shouldn’t trust. A murderer and a felon, a crack in your already crumbling relationship. Someone you tried to stay away from, tried to forget. 

A number not saved, but remembered. 

No, you thought, and wondered if Matt already knew. I can’t. 

Swallowing, you looked down at your joined hands. The blood was almost all gone now, washed away by someone far more damned than you. 

“Okay,” you said. There was no need to say anything else, no need to keep bearing the crushing weight of your newly acquired sin—not when God was a ghost and the Devil had abandoned you, not when a Soldier was so willing to bear it for you. 

“You know,” you said, deftly changing the subject, “my brain’s a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure you promised me pizza.” 

Frank fought the subtle curve of his lips. “Did I?” 

You nodded, and he chuckled. 

“Fine–” he refocused, back to cleaning off the last of the blood–“but you’re placin’ the order.” 

You mocked him, Fine!, while sliding your phone from your pocket. The screen lit up with two missed calls and one text. 

Matthew: Sorry, got caught up with something. Everything OK? 

Your thumb hovered over the message. 

In the Bible, the number eight is symbolic of many things. Resurrection is one of them; something dead brought back into eternal life. Once, you would’ve seen Matt’s text—a string of eight words—and wondered if that meant something. If maybe there was something left of your love to be resurrected. 

Now, you stole a glance at Frank—your eighth call—and thought of new beginnings. Of choosing your own path. 

You cleared Matt’s message. 

Tapped on the Safari icon and asked, “Do you want somewhere specific?” 

“Ever been to Lombardi’s?” suggested Frank. 

You shook your head. “Is it good?” 

Frank cut you a look. “‘Course it’s good. But knowin’ you, you’ll probably shit talk it the same way you did my couch.” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “Keep it up,” you teased, already typing the restaurant into the search, “and your only company’s gonna be the couch and the bird.” 

He chuckled. “I ain’t gettin’ a bird.” 

You'd just pressed the phone to your ear, already listening to it ring when you built up the nerve to ask, "What about a dog?"

Frank set the cloth in the bowl. Gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Maybe a dog.”

a/n - this has been sitting in my drafts literally since january. i can't decide if i like it or hate it, but i've gotten into too much of a habit of writing, overthinking, and then never posting---so, here it is! thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it <3

[navydoves]

xavier admits it.

cw: angst, suicide

“you’ve… lied to me this entire time.”

“i have.”

“and… and everything about you… a-all the strange, weird happenings in your life… is because of this?”

“they are.”

“and the reason you don’t have a family, you left them behind, you left… you left me behind?”

“i did.”

tears start to well in your eyes. this was too much for you to process all at once and xavier felt an immense amount of guilt hit his chest despite knowing this reaction would come out of you.

“i…i love you, greatly, there isn’t an ounce of me that doesn’t,” he whispers.

“but you didn’t love me enough to stay with me, you didn’t love me enough to even give me—her—an explanation as to why you left. and if she was anything like me she probably loved you too! and you ripped that away from her.”

“i… did.”

“and now you’re telling me all this like i’m supposed to be okay with it? like im just supposed to just… live with this knowledge that you’re not from here, that our entire relationship has been a lie, that you’ve abandoned me once. how am i sure that you won’t do it again? that you won’t go and find another me because it’s convenient for you.”

xavier wets his lips and looks down at his lap. usually sharing the blanket of the night sky with you would bring him great consolation, but all he felt was turmoil that boiled disgustingly in his chest. he knew if he turned to you, really looked into your sadness soaked eyes, that he wouldn’t be able to hold back his own tears.

“i won’t do that, i didn’t leave her—you—because it was convenient for me. there’s already been so much miscommunication and misunderstanding between me and you, in both lives, i don’t want there to be any more. i left because i had to. it was either that or getting used to seeing your dead body over and over again. what… what kind of person wants to see the one they love be killed countless amounts of times? everything i did… everything i do now is for you.”

you bite your lip and shake your head. your emotions were high and you knew something hurtful would spill out of your mouth if you dared to respond. you wiped away your tears and held your knees to your chest. this lovely spot on the roof xavier and you designated for star-watching became bitter to you so quick. you felt like you were being mocked.

“why… why are you telling me this now? why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut and we could’ve lived a happy life together? i feel like im being tortured right now.”

xavier smiled to himself solemnly. he wished he could’ve kept his mouth shut, that he would’ve left you in bliss for the rest of your life til death do you part, but that wasn’t possible.

“because i don’t have a happy life ahead of me. i’ll be dead soon.”

it takes you a second to fully register the weight of xavier’s words. you sit up and turn your head toward his, eyes wide and heart thumping within your ears. you felt like another train just hit you square in the face and then ran over your dead body a few more times for good measure. dread.

“w…what?”

“philos, that planet, feeds off of its people. you were its feeding bag because of a protocore syndrome you had within your heart—similar to the one you have now—but since that’s all in the future… no one on philos exists yet. no one but me. philos as a planet still exists out there and i’m the only one with a connection to it, so it feeds off of me for life. i’ve tried to… live with my condition as best as possible, but i can feel it�� my end. which is why i have to be honest with you now, i don’t have much time left to do so.”

and indescribable, insurmountable, absolutely horrific sense of grief punctures your chest. lies, it was all lies, this wasn’t going to happen this was all a joke on your life. what had you done to deserve such a man so selfless yet so selfish? he’s played with your heart like strings but how could you be upset when the melody that came out of it was so beautiful. hes duped you time and time again but… would you, could you be happier if you knew everything from the beginning?

“what the actual fuck and am i supposed to say to that?” you sob softly. “can you at least fucking look at me? can you at least fucking bless me with that? how long am i gonna have left to look at you?”

xavier’s brows knit together as the first wave of tears spilled from his eyes. he wasn’t used to crying, he wasn’t used to this unbelievable sense of remorse and disgust simmering within his entire body. he turns his head to you and holds back a small sob as he meets your ruined eyes.

“you deserve so much better than me, i know. to hurt you in this way… to make you feel this type of pain, i’ve amounted to nothing as your partner. my death doesn’t scare me, leaving you does. but i’ll repent for you. in every life i’ll ever live i’ll repent for you.”

“i don’t want you to fucking repent. i want you to be here, with me, living this life with this version of me. i can’t stand the idea of you… moving on, living life without me somewhere else. you’ve already done that once xavier.”

“then i’ll make it my dying wish to not be reborn.” he responds quickly. “i don’t want another life, i want my last life to be with you. this you. you’ve already granted me my every wish of happiness, i owe my life to you. you’ll have it.”

you shake your head again and grip the sides of your hair. why did he have to be this way? so terribly noble and devoted to the point that you feel like you have no choice but to accept his sacrifice. why do you feel bad for him when you were the one who’s been manipulated and deceived this entire time. you let a sound that was between a frustrated groan and a choked cry. you felt so powerless and lonely already. who was this man to you? you didn’t know anymore.

“xavier i can’t even… what do i even do? what can i even say? it feels like my head is gonna explode and i don’t know if i should hate you for all of this or love you in your last moments. xavier what do i do?!”

xavier touches his chest and grips onto his shirt with anger. he’s never hated someone more than he did himself right in that moment. to save you from a lifetime of torture, he goes and tortures you even more. gently, tentatively, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a hug. if you decided to push him away and curse at him for even trying to be console you, he’d accept it. but you instead melt in his arms. his warmth and love were overwhelming even now.

“i wish i knew, i wish i could tell you what you needed to hear and make everything okay again. but for once im not hiding anything from you and i have nothing to say left. i love you, and i will accept absolutely anything you decide to do from here on out. but if you’ll bless me one last time, then i just… want to be with you until im not.”

you shake and sob within xavier’s arms. you didn’t want to leave him, no matter how much pain and agony you felt in the moment you couldn’t bare to leave him. the love you’ve built up for him over the years couldn’t just vanish and you didn’t want it to either. but what about you? why did you have to suffer even after his death while xavier got the peaceful ending? why was every single thing you encountered always unfair to you?

“…xavier,” you murmur while pulling back from his embrace. there was a sudden shift in your energy that he noticed almost immediately. “you’d accept anything i do?”

“anything.”

“then let me die with you.”

a very familiar sense of dread now hit xavier. he stares at you for a few moments before shaking his head.

“w…what?”

“i can’t live without you, i can’t imagine a life like that. i want to die with you, that’s what i want to do.”

“i…i can’t let you do that, that’s—“

“you can. you’ve spent your entire life lying to me, every version of me. i hung onto your every last word because i loved you, so please, for once keep your promise. you said you’d accept absolutely anything, so this is my final decision.”

xavier’s face was painted in horror and uncertainty. what was he supposed to do at this point? deny you? accept you? beg for you to change your mind? you deserved to live more than he did. why should you suffer the same fate as him if he’s the one who did this to you.

why did he have to drive you to suicide?

“you’re…. not thinking right. please… don’t be so sure about something. we’re not calm right now, p..please just take the ti—“

“no!” you cut him off again. “no, no my mind isn’t gonna change. i’m gonna have to suffer the rest of my life without you and feel the same pain you did when you lost me. i can’t do that, you know the feeling all too well and yet you’re still denying me. xavier please. i can’t die without you. i can’t live with you. please.”

broken was too tame to describe xavier. the concoction of emotions burning within him left him feeling speechless and the unfortunate determination in your eyes was what guided his next words.

“when?” he asked.

“now.” you responded.

you look to the ledge of the roof where several stories down was the street below. it wasn’t a small distance to potentially gain injury, it was a large enough gap to ensure death.

“please, you have to at least consider—“

“there’s nothing left to consider, xavier. i can’t give this type of grief another day to live. i need peace.”

you stand and brush the rubble from your legs and hold out your hand for xavier. if he took it, it meant he resigned to your words and accepted the fate you’ve decided for the two of you. you hoped he would love you enough to grant you that. he glances up at you with wet, pink eyes and then looks down at your hand. he takes several moments of consideration before he takes it, stands, and walks with you to the ledge of the roof.

you never liked heights and so you sought comfort within xavier’s neck as you held him tightly. he reciprocated and held with you a strength that he didn’t know he had up until now. you’d finally calm down, and seeing you this calm made his heart ache. you were happy with his fate, with your death, and that question still rang in his mind even as he neared his end.

why did he have to drive you to suicide?

he was a good for nothing. and the girl he spent his entire life trying to protect from death was now going to die within his arms once again. he was worthless and his life’s objective was too. it was that realization that made him okay with dying right then.

you looked up at him from his neck and smiled somberly, a new stream of tears ran down your cheeks. xavier looked down and smiled back, kissing away your tears one final time. fear overtook you as your bodies tilted, but xavier’s words brought you peace.

“i love you so much.”

“i love you more.”

it was said that the event of two shooting stars occurring in one night was nearly impossible, but that night the impossible happened.

[mayashesfly]

"Welcome to Evolution SMP"

The words barely registered in his mind as he stared at M- Martyn.

The side swept blond hair, the sky blue eyes, the playful curve to his smile.

He could almost see the square shape of his jaws through the round cheeks, the rough blond stubble that highlighted it.

But- no.

This wasn't Martyn.

This couldn't be Martyn.

He was too young.

"Wait, he's already awake Martyn?" A strangely familiar voice called out from above.

His eyes snapped towards the noise, only seeing cobblestone stairs from his angle as the sounds of steps grew closer.

"Yeah Timmy! He's awake!" The- Martyn- replied with a shout. "Give me a moment, will you?"

"Alright!" The- Jimmy? replied, the sounds of steps stopping for a moment before it slowly moved away.

"Sorry about Tim" Martyn shook his head, a fond look appearing on his face.

And he stared at him.

He didn't even realize he stopped breathing until he exhaled, the growing pain in his lungs disappearing with it.

This was Martyn?

Jimmy is around?

What was happening?

"He could be a little trouble sometimes but he's a good person" Martyn tells him, waving away a hand casually with a grin that grew when he faintly heard a faraway "oi!" from upstairs.

Jimmy? Trouble?

He stifled a startled laugh as he could hardly comprehend what was being said even as Martyn's lips continued to flap with incomprehensible noise.

This was Martyn.

This was Martyn?

He couldn't hardly believe it.

Martyn was- is- supposed to be dead.

He's supposed to be aged, taller, sharper.

Not this- this person.

Cheeks still rounded with traces of baby fat, his face smooth without any stubble, a higher pitch still in his voice.

He couldn't be.

"Anyways, Jimmy already said it. But I'm Martyn" Martyn introduces himself, smiling warmly as he offers his hand.

He could only stare at the offending hand. Noting the smoothness of his skin, the lack of callouses from years of hard work. The cleanliness of his nails, not stained with blood.

"Martyn Inthylil Wood" He added on, still smiling calmly as he kept his hand in the air.

And he could only stare.

Before Martyn snorted lightly. "Or you can call me Morty Gage, I'm practically the Lieutenant of the Property Police"

His shoulders slackened at the sound. Before he smiled back, giving his hand a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Littlewood. You can call me Ren Diggidy Dog"

[artsninspo]

Richmond Inc. | Terrance's Interlude

to be read after part 008

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」 「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

♠ authors note: a few of you wanted some insight into Terry's mind, so I wrote this quick little snippet that should explain a few things about him.

♠ warnings: mentions of a mothers death & sexual thoughts

♠ summary: following the events of part 008, we get our fist look into the thoughts of the man himself Terrance Richmond.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~1.1K

⌖ - Secure Location, Monte Carlo, Monaco

Looking at her suit again he counts the points of impact sustained during the firefight that they’d found themselves in. The worst was at her hip where the decoy had shot when she was trying to help him. Impressions from glass shards as they fell, the worst of which had cut through her dress just under her breast. Then there were the impressions on the feet. While Cassandra hadn’t encountered any fire it was clear that he could have lost Lorence. The realization unsettles him. He paces the length of his room in the safe house while in deep reflection. He’d founded Richmond Inc. because he had the ability to kill proficiently. Only he’d learned quickly that taking lives never fulfilled him the way preserving them did. Lorence Cole’s life was one he couldn't fathom being taken from her. The thought alone caused him chest pain. Her presence in his life felt serendipitous; and he was the last person to believe life's intangibilities. The harshness of life had killed his ‘faith’ in anything outside of what could be proven. If miracles existed and karma was real his mother would have never been killed after committing her life to the improvement of others. If life were fair Lorence would have never even been in that kind of situation.

“Rich, she’s stable. Nothing's broken or sprained, no clots, just a few bruises and a pulled hamstring” Joel says entering the room to update Terry. Joel has always considered Lorence a sister to him and yet he waited to suit up while his boss hadn't spared a moment to plan or protect himself.

“Is she still crying?” Richmond asks, laying the suit back down.

“No, she's trying to make sense of it all”

“She go through shock?” Terry asks.

“Yeah, the shakes,” Joel responds. 

“The authorities are snooping around. Do you want me to handle it?” Joel asks.

“Take point” Terry nods, needing a moment.

“Keep your phone close, in case I need anything” Joel sighs earning a nod from his boss in response.

“Will do” Terry nods.

He’d been too late for his mother. He’d been on the phone with her as she wrapped up with patients for the day. He’d been asking for fast food for their Friday night tradition. He heard the fear in her voice as the client came into her office, he heard her beg the man to stay calm. His babysitter was in the process of calling the authorities when he heard what he’d learn later was the sound of bone cracking and his mother screaming. He’d froze then before deciding to run the ten minute drive to his mothers office. Only then he hadn't been strong enough to keep pace. He hadn't been old enough to drive either. He arrived after the police to see a bloodied woman being lifted onto a gurney. He knew she was dead the way her hand hung lifelessly. Taking a breath Terry shakes the memory out of his head, the trauma of the event bringing him back to the moment where his heart raced so violently he thought his life was over right there. Lorence’s screams had brought him right back there.

He’d redeemed himself and somehow he still felt like a failure for not saving her from the predicament altogether. Being in Lorence’s presence had him thinking of his mother more than ever. His mother was unconventional, she didn’t dote on him like most boy moms do. He was the apple of her eye but never to his own detriment. She spoke to him like he was an adult explaining all of her actions thoroughly. She told him all the secrets to life she knew, and all the paradigms she’d studied even if he wouldn't understand them at such a young age. She called their outings field trips. He was often the only kid in the company of adults. To make things more interesting they played observational games where he learned about body language. Signs of deception, truth, discomfort and the whole nine yards. He’d imagined his mothers smirk on several occasions when Lorence rejected his attempts at kindness. Pride is poison. His mother would often say - she’d been right. Putting his pride aside had worked wonders with Lorence and was the reason he reached the venue to protect her.

His thoughts go back to the truth, the full extent of it. The reason he’d been so tense during his first meeting with Lorence. The reason he’d grilled her was to be sure she was a qualified candidate and not a desperate attempt by Cassandra to pull him out of depression. It would’ve worked too if she'd been a hooker like he thought. If it weren't for the barber's cape covering him, every attendee in the room would’ve known he was thinking with his dick. He found himself staring all the time during those first few weeks of her employment waiting for her to disappear, for her to not be real, for her face to be some kind of high level prosthetic sorcery. His thoughts would oscillate then to her coming into his office and letting him have his way with her. He's order her to strip and then fuck her right there in his office. Terry dug deep to find deceptionand ulterior motives but there were childhood and graduation photos to confirm she was real and exactly who she claimed to be. He’d verified the metadata on his own. Lorence’s presence was making him so crazy he looked into the social media profiles associated with her to be sure nothing was a foot. Then he sought her out a few times, only she avoided him like the plague. That had made him angry, women seldom refused his advances, half the time they came to him but not Lorence who looked at him like he was the boogieman. Eventually Richmond took the hint because just seeing her around made him feel again. He found himself thinking about her at random. Looking through her files for information about her. Weighing his options. Trying to conceive of ways to get closer before giving up altogether. But the other night had changed all that for him. She had let her guard down and walked alongside him for hours. She was unguarded and somehow more beautiful. She was real. And by some strange coincidence she’d come to know Joel and started working for him just as he’d begun to give up. It was unspoken, the minute he’d seen her eyes - he’d been hers. After possibly losing her, now it was time to accept it.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this quick look into Terry's mind. Chapter 009 should be out sometime before the end of this week. Just in case you missed it (I don't think any of you did 😆) I was playing coy about the origins of Terry's attraction. No Lorence doesn't look like his mother. There's no weird Oedipus complex going on. But there is a reason Cassandra would know Lorence is his type. Lets see if any of you can guess it 😉

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[animatronicappreciation]

As far as I'm aware! I've never actually BEEN to Babyland General, so I can't say with 100% certainty, but I haven't heard any news about him being removed! As long as he stays in good condition, he seems to be here for the long haul! He moves around from time to time when they redecorate, but he's usually spotted in the delivery nursery, which is employees only (with a viewing window). I don't think he's been out in the open where guests could potentially interact with him in a very long time, but I THINK I saw him in some old 90s footage being a lot more "up close and personal". But it's been some time since I saw that video, and I don't think I could find it again even if I tried.

As of this video, posted seven months ago (as of 3/13/25), he's still there! Looking back at the pictures from the original post, it looks like his beak has begun to deteriorate a bit (based on the wrinkles in his beak in the first and third photo), so maybe that's why he's kinda hidden in the back, but that could also be his positioning in those photos causing the wrinkles, so who knows? I truly hope that he's not starting to deteriorate, since he's an incredibly beautiful figure, even though he hasn't run in decades. But he's also decades old at this point, and even under the best conditions, nothing is permanent in this world.

I can only speculate on his condition, especially since the employees of Babyland don't seem to have much knowledge about the figure. I did ask at the time of the original post if they knew the manufacturer of the figure or had a manual for him or anything of the sort, but they came up empty-handed, unfortunately. I didn't really expect them to know much since that's not their area of expertise-- they've got bigger fish to fry, what with taking care of all the Cabbage Patch babies and kids all day and making magic for the REAL kids! But it's still a bit disappointing that we've come to a dead end when it comes to information about this figure.

If anyone ever comes across any footage of this figure in action, PLEASE send it in! From what I heard when asking longterm Babyland fans on FB, he wasn't active for very long at all, and we've never been able to uncover any footage of him in working order. I guess you could call this a lost media mystery of sorts!

TL;DR: Yeah, he's still there, and I wish I had any update or further information, but I unfortunately do not :(

-Mod Possum

OK UPDATE from like five minutes later, I did end up finding a more recent pic of the Colonel, and I'm sad to say that he IS showing signs of deterioration :(

Tumblr is eating the image quality but I'm gonna link the original source on the image, so just click it to be taken to a better quality version.

But two months ago, u/Bananabread365 on Reddit posted this image to r/LiminalSpace [here], and they were able to get a remarkable zoom quality on this image... and what we see isn't very encouraging. It looks like the dear Colonel's beak is beginning to crack. It seems like them positioning him toward the back of the nursery is very intentional to hide his deterioration.

I learned from a post from Mod Rat that, allegedly (Mod Rat didn't source this claim and I can't find anything to back it up, but I certainly don't doubt him), the reason the Colonel was ultimately powered down was because the repair costs would've been too great to maintain the figure in its functioning state. That's certainly understandable, but it's disappointing to hear, especially since that means that the Colonel's odds of his beak being restored are slim. I doubt that the original mold for the beak is around anymore since this is a 40+ year old one-off figure manufactured for a roadside attraction, and the cost of manufacturing a new one would likely be pretty hefty, since it would mean either taking a mold of the original (tough to do without completely wrecking it in the process) or sculpting a whole new one (takes a lot of skill and time that both need to be compensated).

I know that not many people think this particular character adds anything to the Babyland General experience, but I think he's a very unique piece of Babyland history! He's important to the lore of Babyland General and the Cabbage Patch Kids as a whole, and it's sad to see that time is starting to take its toll on him.

This is Colonel Casey, a stork that looks after newborns at Babyland General, the Cabbage Patch Kids “hospital” in Cleveland, Georgia, where Cabbage Patch Kids are “born”.

Although he no longer operates as one, Colonel Casey was at one point an animated figure! I just received confirmation of this via email!

You can find Colonel Casey looking after the newborn Cabbage Patch soft sculpts that are “born” at Babyland General every day! Although it’s a shame that he’s no longer operating as an animatronic, it’s still wonderful to see such a beautiful figure!!

Fun fact: the soft sculpt Cabbage Patch Kids that are “born” at Babyland General are hand-made by artists local to Cleveland, Georgia! Each one is a one-of-a-kind piece of artwork, and no two are alike! They’re quite pricey compared to your average Cabbage Patch doll, but rightfully so, since they’re hand-crafted works of art!

- Mod Possum

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts and medium - Ghost Types Guide

hello!! I figured i should make a list of which type of ghosts/spirits there are! It seems fitting as i never explained and i doubt i will give a clear list in the drabbles themseves!

(Also i havent given content on this in ages and it was about time haha)

Warning!! These are about people who died very bad deads. There will be mention of murder and trauma and abuse and rape.

It doesnt go beyond mentioning but people be aware.

Ghosts

This one isnt actually like other undeads at all and actually very misleading. This is the only spirit type that still has their complete soul, and so are actually considered a monster type. And not an undead. And once a monster ghost finds the right vessel and has a high emotional state, they can fuse with the vessel and become corporeal. Making them effectively a monster of another subtype. (They will always be ghost type first, but they will get a second monster type based on the vessel. Be it like Doll or Robot or even an skeleton (yes they can possess dead matter and a human skeleton could work as vessel))

So. Ghosts! How they are formed is a bit of the mystery as the only people who know are ghosts and it is a mystery they hide fiercely. (Ghosts can both form from dead humans. And from ghosts themselves procreating)

It is rather ironic that most people still call spirits ghosts when ghosts actually refer to the living monsters. (Yes that makes the name of the drabble serie also very ironic because none of them are technically ghosts but that is beside the point.)

.

Next up the undead spirits. First rule with a spirit forming, almost always a traumatic or painful death of some kind is needed for them to form. A spirit is made of the left over magic and lifeforce/energy of a living person and these can be evoked and passed on through very strong emotions. Starting with the weakest.

Shades

Shades are the weakest type of spirit. They are hardly more than an echo. Their powers are limited to being shortly visible and very minimal interacting with things. They are also never fully there anymore personality wise. They are just a weak echo of the person they used to be. Often only remaining because of unfinished business that they may not even remember. It depends on how they feel in life. Often having very hopeless deads can cause shades to form. Most spirits in the world are shades and they just watch unable to interact or reach out for help.

Ask was VERY close to becoming a shade after his own dead. The only reason he didn't is because Dust managed to bring take revenge FOR him on Ash's rapist and murderer. (Sidenote. If you were to check in the cell the coach is stuck in. You would just see an empty and emotionless husk. Withering away slowly as Ash got all the lifeforce and soulenergy the coach had left BECAUSE Dust took revenge for him. Spirit and medium rules get weird like that. Neither Dust or Ash are aware of this.)

Phantoms

Phantoms are the next weakest but are the first type of spirits to keep their personality and all their memories when they die. They have a limited form and abilities as all their energy went into perserving their sense of self and identity. Phantoms are often the spirits who interact with ouiji boards. They are still invisible and rarely visible to the normal people. They could expand a lot of energy to be seen but that would be too tiring for them to maintain for long.

They often just want to be heard and tell their stories. They often want things to have mattered. Their existence to have mattered.

Ash only ended up in this section thanks to Dust as mentioned in the before section.

Horror is also in this sectionbut much stronger than Ash. Horror's dead made him realise how many things had been messed up and how he never truly had any influence in his life. He wanted deeply to have anythign he did matter. To be able to still do things and change things. Which is why he can still interact with the world and things around him. All things considered with how traumatic and depressing his death had been it is honestly a miracle he had still been as strong of hope and determined to make a difference.

Wraiths

Wraiths are the first spirits to be completely visible to people, monsters and humans alike. They appear completely normal and alive. But that is a trap, as these spirits only want one thing.

Revenge.

Once they get revenge against the person who hurt them while alive this feeling does not disappear. These spirits are consumed and motivated by rage and hatred alone. They want to hurt others the way they have been hurt. They want those they find guilty yo be punished.

But the longer a wraith exists to more removed they become from their original target. The longer they exist the less they will care about details. Maybe they originally wanted revenge against their abusive partner. Once that person is taken care off they will start looking for other abuse partners to kill. Once they can't find any more they will get into relationships and kill their partner for even the smallest argument. Until eventually they just target everyone in a relationship.

It is a slippery slope and the older a Wraith gets the more dangerous they become.

Dying with a lot of hatred and rage in your heart/soul leaves you as a Wraith.

Spectre

A spectre is not as much stronger than a Wraith as they have more control. They can chose if they want to be visible or not and are not consumed by their rage. They feel all the emotions as they did when alive but their emotions shift quickly. The smallest things can bring both joy but also sorrow and rage to a spectre.

And depending on their mood they will react.

They do not lose their rational thoughts but that makes them more dangerous as they learn and adapt to challenges.

While an old Wraith is dangerous as it targets everyone. An old Spectra is dangerous as they learn all they can about their target and they are patient enough to make your life a living hell to get their revenge. As a spectre is aware that death is just a possible end and escape for their target, and if they don't wish you to die you won't.

Spectres are often the cause of old hauntings in houses. The ones where you see something move or fly by but nothing attacks you. If you did not directly harm a spectre they will not care about you. They will ignore you and you can safely ignore them.

A cold need for revenge and an unfavouring focus on this gives you the ability to return as a Spectre after death.

Poltergeist

The poltergeist is stronger than the before mentioned spirits because they have all the same abilities as the other two but are truly free with their emotions. Tehy don't feel just rage or hatred or feel superchargest emotions like the spectres.

Poltergeists truly feel what they felt when they were alive and they are rare to form.

Rare enough that it is not common knowledge of how one comes to be. Very few in the story know how one can form (what makes them form is finding a freedom and relieve in death. If a person dies believing that death will just be the next adventure and freeing there is a posibility to return as a Poltergeist. This is not a matter of that someone wishing to die and for death returns as a Poltergeist, it is about wanting to life and wanting to continue but seeing death as a means to it. It is a chaotic way of thinking. To look at what everyone thinks is the end and see a new beginning. Killer, the glorious bastard, died a horrible death. But as he was laying there dying, being bitten by rats and mice as he could not even move and felt the hunger eat at him. He realised that death would be freeing. He would be free of the pain and the chains. It isn't that Killer wanted to die, he never did, but he did see it as a freedom to break free of all the chains holding him. And it did.)

Becuase Poltergeists don't feel the need for revenge they rarely focus on that. Instead they move on and start to explore their abilities and their options. It is why they will often make mischief happen. As they grow bored and want to play in a way they can. They want interaction as there are hardly any spirits that are on their level.

As they are powerful the weaker spirits will try to stay away from poltergeists. Afraid they will play and hurt them for their amusement. Some may, some may not. It depends on who the person was.

The Poltergeist is dangerous as they are rare and people just don't know what they can expect of know their limits. Many believe these may have been the most powerful if it weren't for their seemingly mischivious and carefree nature. Ironic, for a spirit.

And last, the strongest spirit.

Banshee

Banshees are by far the strongest spirit as they gain magical powers on their death. They can sing a soft song which is enchanting and able to hypnothesize you and encourage you to remain near them. Which is dangerous as they will hold you close before stealing your lifeforce and life-energy to empower themselves.

They also have a cry/scream which can split walls and crush bones. Which is from a weak Banshee.

Banshees do not feel empathy anymore. They know they used to be alive but the power and magic available to them makes them feel mor eimportant and above mortals. They feel like they have risen above and deserve to be served.

They do not take kindly to you refusing to listen to their orders or if you do not serve them. They will take it as a personal insult and they will try their hardest to make you reject this decision.

Banshees are formed from other spirits. Who manage to collect enough life force and life energy of other spirits to grow stronger.

If you find a banshee you quickly need to find help against it, as if you don't have the right tools you will not win. And the banshee will figure out you are against them, and they will make sure you never do that again.

.

As mentioned above, A banshee is formed through taking Life force or Life energy from other creatures, specifically other spirits.

All spirits have a very limited amount of this energy. Living people generate it for as long as they are alive and use it to make it into mana or just energy.

Spirits can steal this force from living people. Which is why they will often haunt people to begin with. To gain a little bit of this unlimitted source. But it is hard to take this energy from people as the physical body protects this.

It is easier to take from their fellow spirits as they do not have a physical form to protect this energy. Which is why spirits are almost always alone, as the only thing they truly and naturally have to fear are their fellow spirits.

(Ash is safe as he is anchored to Dust. Dust is sharing his own energy with his brother without much of a thought. And because Dust is one, physical, and two, a very powerful medium who has many charms to protect both himself and Ash (and later the other spirits stalking him))

.

There is one more type of undead to talk about.

The living undead.

Revenant

The revenant is not a zombie. A eevenant is a spirit who somehow gained a physical form again.

No one is sure what makes this possible or even how a spirit can achieve this.

This is not the same as possession. This is a way that they truly gain a body that is truly theirs. A body that is specific to their spirit and no one else.

Revenant are immune to possession and most of the other spirits's abilities.

But for now? Not even the experts on spirits know what a revenant can or could do.

After all... It isn't like this options happens...

[onlybeeewrites]

Easy to Blame

Request: Darling....can I request a fic of xaden ....where the reader is her sister and he and other marked ones don't like her due to some reason...but then she's a goddamn badass and yeah make it angsty as hell(I don't know if this makes sense)

Pairings: Xaden Riorson x sister!reader, Marked ones x Reader, sort of Sawyer x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, cannon accurate violence, targeted hated, cursing, life threats, past deaths, misdirected hatred and grief, bad parenting.

A/N: This is where my mind went with this request! Hopefully you all enjoy it ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the guilt clung to you like a second skin, thick and suffocating. A burden and weight that seems to be placed rather unfairly onto your shoulders. As each and every step through the halls of Basgiath War College was met with narrowed eyes, cold glares, and the ever-present whispers that followed like a specter.

It didn’t matter who you passed in the halls. It didn’t matter when. Didn’t matter who you sat with in class or in the dining hall. The other cadets in your year would see the swirling dark tattoo on your left arm and lift their noses at you. While other marked ones would do the very same thing.

They didn’t trust you.

No one trusted you.

He didn’t trust you.

Xaden Riorson had made sure of that.

Your older brother—the only family you had left—had turned his back on you the moment you arrived at the college when you were old enough. His expression carved from stone, his voice sharp enough to cut. You had known it would be difficult. You had expected anger, the frustration, even the resentment.

But this? This was something worse.

You wasn’t just unwanted. You were avoided. You were the enemy. To everyone.

“Stay the hell out of my way.”

His voice was ice, cutting through the tension between them like a blade. And cut through you like shards.

You had found him in the training yard, surrounded by the Marked Ones in his squad, his second-in-command Garrick, your old friend, leaning against a post while Bodhi, your cousin, didn’t even look at you. While Imogen crossed her arms, regarding her with a mixture of distrust and disdain.

But ever so determined, you lifted your chin. It had been almost two months since you had gotten there. Almost two months and he still refused to even give you two minutes of his time. And yet you refusing to shrink under their scrutiny. “I’m not your enemy, Xaden. I’m your sister. You’d think after six years you’d know that. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m here to,”

He scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” Interrupting your sentence

That had hurt. Had it been too late? You could feel your stomach twisted. You had prepared herself for hostility, but hearing it aloud—from him—still hurt. Hurt more than expected. That was your brother.

But in that moment you had never more like a stranger.

Garrick sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, it’s not personal—”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Xaden cut in, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, his voice lowering to something dangerous. “Because of you, our father is dead. Because of you, our mother walked away from us. Had you just been a little more helpful, things wouldn’t be this fucking difficult,” he said. His voice filled with pure distain, pure hatred and anger.

His words hit like a punch to the ribs.

You had only been fourteen years old, just barely understanding what was even happening when their father was executed for his rebellion along with the other leaders. You had stood there, frozen, tears streaming down her face while Xaden held her hand so tightly it hurt.

But it was your mother who shattered everything.

It had been before the rebellion. Years before. Right after Xaden’s birthday. She had tucked you both in at bed that night. Told you both how much she loved you. Kissed you both so lovingly and softly. And the next morning?

Gone.

No note. No explanation. Just a home that felt empty and wrong.

Xaden had never forgiven her for that. Neither had you.

And now, surrounded by the people who would die for him, who would follow him into battle without hesitation, he made sure they all knew where she stood.

“She can’t be trusted,” he had told them. “Keep your distance.”

And they had listened.

The isolation was suffocating.

It was a permanent weight in you chest that was always threatening your mind constantly.

You were used to whispers, but the silence was worse. The Marked Ones didn’t speak to you unless necessary. They didn’t train with you. If you tried to spar, they found someone else. If you sat down at a table, they left.

Even the others followed their lead.

Even your squad. They put up with you when they had to. But that was it.

Sawyer was the only one who seemed indifferent, watching her with something like curiosity rather than outright hatred. At least she had him. Sawyer was sweet.

But Xaden?

Xaden didn’t look at you at all.

And that was worse than all of it.

It was months past, presentation and threshing was just around the corner—or just over the gauntlet.

The Gauntlet loomed in the distance above them, an unforgiving structure of swinging beams, crumbling platforms, and gaps that seemed impossible to cross.

Failure meant death.

And you weren’t about to fail.

The morning of the run, whispers followed her as she strapped on her training leathers. Echoed whispers surrounded them around the dining hall and through the halls out side.

“She’ll fall.”

“She won’t even make it halfway.”

“She should’ve never been allowed here in the first place.”

“She won’t make it past threshing.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You ignored them.

You had to.

You couldn’t allow those thoughts to take over. You couldn’t let them be right.

All the odds were against you. Abandoned and ignored by your brother. Ignored and shunned by your family from a decision that you truly had no part of. It wasn’t your fault. In the big grand scheme of things, it was not your fault. But that didn’t matter.

Because in their minds, and in Xaden’s, it was your fault. Everything. Was. Your. Fault.

And that guilt? That unfair burden? That would always remain as long as Xaden blamed you for everything.

It had been months now after parapet. Threshing was in a few weeks. Presentation. But first was the Gauntlet.

Xaden stood at the top with Garrick, arms crossed as he surveyed the cadets. If he heard the murmurs, he didn’t acknowledge them. His dark eyes narrowing down the course at his wing as the other sections and squads prepared to do their practice runs before the timed trials.

Practicing for when threshing was finally around. The test for a chance to prove themselves worthy. Worthy enough to make it past presentation, they’d need all these skills. To ride your dragons. If you made it that far, at least.

The course was grueling. Designed to push cadets past their limits. Designed with dragons in mind for each obstacle. Designed to weed out the weak ones.

And so here you were. Standing in the front of the line for your squad, just behind Sawyer. First squad was finishing up ahead of you. The first few competitors barely made it over the first swinging bridge before slipping to their deaths. Others hesitated at the crumbling stones, losing precious time.

Then it was time for your squad. Sawyer went first, his agility unmatched as he maneuvered through the course with a speed no one could match. It was probably because he had done this before.

Sawyer was a repeat, as you had learned. He had gone through all this last year.

Then it was your turn.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, but you shoved the nerves down. You didn’t have the luxury of fear. You couldn’t afford to feel. Not now. Not in front of the rest of your Squad, the

As the signal to begin echoed through the training grounds, you launched yourself forward with unwavering resolve.

The first obstacle, a towering vertical wall, stood as an imposing sentinel. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward it, you steps light and measured. Utilizing your momentum, you leaped, you fingers gripping the edge with practiced precision. With a controlled pull, she swung her leg over and descended smoothly, barely pausing before advancing to the next challenge.

The rotating wheel loomed ahead, a notorious obstacle that had bested many cadets. Timing her approach, you synchronized your movements with the wheel’s rotations. With a swift, calculated jump, you grasped a handle and swung yourself to the other side, landing in a crouch before springing forward without losing momentum.

A series of balance beams awaited, each narrowing mean. You navigated the beams with grace. Your arms subtly adjusting to maintain equilibrium. Your focus was absolute, gaze fixed ahead, blocking out the murmurs of onlookers and the weight of expectations.

Next came the rope climb. Seizing the coarse rope, you ascended hand over hand, you movements fluid and efficient. Reaching the summit, you tapped the marker and descended in controlled slides, your feet touching the ground with barely a sound.

The next challenge, the chimney climb, required both strength and strategy. Positioning yourself between the narrow walls, you used opposing pressure to “walk” upward, your movements steady and controlled.

The final challenge was the huge steep wall. The one to run up, the challenge that simulates climbing up the dragon leg to ride. And just above it was where your brother was.

Taking a deep breath, you backed up. Backing up as far as she possibly could. This was where she proved them all wrong. And then. Suddenly, you bolted forward. Using all the strength she had, she spent it into and bolted up the wall. Your feet pressed against the wall as you pushed yourself up and up and up until your hand reached the lip of the curve.

With all the strength you had left, you pulled yourself over the edge. Your body was pulled over with the last bit of your strength as finally your right leg got pulled over. And a soft click of the stop watch sounded in your ears.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd as you finished hauling yourself over the edge.

Garrick’s voiced cleared before he read your time aloud.

Second place.

Second place.

Only second to Sawyer.

The silence stretched, heavy and stunned, before someone let out a low whistle. And then some hushed mumbling.

You got to your feet before you turned, locking eyes with Xaden. Onyx eyes, locking with onyx eyes. Sweat dripping down your skin.

For the first time since you had arrived, he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

And for a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you saw something crack in his expression. Something uncertain. Looking like you big brother again. But there was something else.

Something like doubt.

But then he turned away, jaw tightening.

He didn’t congratulate you.

Didn’t acknowledge what you had done.

But he couldn’t ignore it, either.

You weren’t weak.

Just like Xaden, you were a Riorson.

And you were a goddamn force to be reckoned with.

[violetjedisylveon]

Shadowpeach Angst AU, where the Jade Emperor decides to punish Sun Wukong in 2 ways... One is sealing him under the mountain... And the other is taking away his best friend's free will (Macaque)...

Macaque is now a constantly smiling, mindless servant to the Emperor (similar to how White Pearl was to White Diamond)...

Wukong becomes a disciple for Tang Sanzang to both atone for his past sins + hoping that redeeming himself would convince the Emperor to bring Macaque back to him...

But after the west journey, the Emperor REFUSED to give Macaque back his mind, because the Emperor believes that keeping Macaque is the only way to prevent Wukong from attacking the Celestial Realm again...

Wukong is heartbroken and depressed, until he eventually meets MK...

When Azure Lion destroys the Emperor, it frees Macaque...

Wukong tearfully gives Macaque a big hug! :')

Anon my friend, thank you for the delicious angst (also sorry for the wait in response, I've been cooking)

Prepare yourself to get yapped at cause I have thoughts!

Macaque would have either been captured soon after Wukong was defeated trying to shadow him away before anything worse happened, or he would've been caught after the celestial realm burnt Flower Fruit Mountain to the ground.

Regardless, Macaque ends up in the hands of the Jade Emperor.

Everyone knows the six eared monkey is someone very important to Wukong, and Wukong's extreme reaction to him being caught is very telling.

He finally shows some humility and begs for his mate to be spared, Macaque was just following his lead, he never wanted to rebel, all the punishment should go to him.

Execution would be the typical punishment for treason, Macaque isn't as immortal as Wukong is, he could be killed, but that's too easy, especially with the knowledge that the pair are mates.

The Jade Emperor says he'll spare Macaque, but he will serve the celestial realm. Macaque refuses, there's only one ruler he'll serve.

It's not a choice Macaque gets to make.

The Jade Emperor places him under a spell that can only be broken by his power, turning the once feared warrior into the perfectly well behaved servant who follows his commands to the letter.

Wukong is forced to watch the process while he's helpless to do anything to stop it. The last thing he sees before being sealed under the five phases mountain is the haunting grin on his mate's face.

Some in the celestial host(Nezha, Erlang, others with morals) think the punishment is a little extreme, but they can't argue with the Jade Emperor.

So, Wukong has five hundred years of stewing in grief and guilt because his mate is effectively dead, the only way to get him back is for the Jade Emperor to give him back, and he will never do that.

It's worse than if he actually had died, because Macaque is still alive, but he's not himself anymore, he's a grinning shell of who he used to be, he might not even remember him. Fun times for the monkey man!

As for Macaque, he is very unaware of what's going on around him. He doesn't think, he does what he's told. He's the Jade Emperor's personal servant so he's got a lot to do anyway, there isn't time to think, he doesn't need to think, he has a purpose, and that is to serve, not waste time with things he's not meant for.

Sometimes he gets flashes of things he's certain couldn't have happened, he'd be able to hear them if they were. Fun times for the monkey man!

When Wukong is freed, he eagerly joins the pilgrimage in the hope that his reformation approved by Buddha will be enough to get his moon back, the pain crown is a precautionary measure because he gets very aggressive at the mention of Macaque and Tripitaka is a squishy mortal.

Wukong understands why, Tripitaka doesn't abuse it. Zhu Bajie is not able to get him to use it on Wukong during the boen spirit arc because he trusts Wukong’s desperation to save his mate.

But, as you said, once the journey is over and Wukong is a Buddha certified redeemed monkey, the Jade Emperor refuses to give him back, it's the best way to keep the monkey king in line.

As a "reward" for the redemption, the Jade Emperor does allow Wukong to see Macaque once.

Wukong is absolutely devastated to see what Macaque has been reduced to, the now strained smile on his face never fading, his bright vibrant ears are shadows of their former selves, his mate is a shadow of his former self.

And he doesn't even remember him. He knows of him, and he gets irritated at him because of the giant mess his little rebellion left that he had to clean up.

Wukong is crushed that he wasn't able to save Macaque from the situation he dragged him into, and once all the pilgrims are dead, he becomes extremely depressed for 1000+ years.

Now that her monkey is super depressed, Nuwa decides to fix it.

She, being a goddess and relative of the Jade Emperor, is able to get access to Macaque, and she so she gets some times with the six eared monkey and instructs him to make a little clay monkey. Mac doesn't question it and makes a little four eared monkey, why's it got four ears? He doesn't know, it just felt right.

Nuwa dismisses him and takes Macaque’s monkey to the mortal realm before granting the creation life, it's a monkey, hooray.

Then she drops the baby in front of Wukong and is like “hi son, I got you a baby to cure your depression hope this helps.” Then leaves.

Wukong knows he's not in the state for raising a baby and sends the cub to the mainland where he gets picked up by Pigsy and Tang. Wukong is ignoring the fact that the cub Nuwa gave him is clearly Macaque’s, his fragile state of mind can't handle that.(I must make MK Shadowpeach’s kid, I just have too)

Then the same kid comes busting down his door two decades later with his staff, and he's both happy to see him and ashamed he couldn't be a better parent for him.

His depression gets better with people in his life again.

The plot of seasons 1-3 happens, MK does bump into Macaque during the celestial heist to deal with Spider Queen, literally, he literally bumps into him then runs. Macaque was very confused then moved on.

As for Macaque being freed when the Jade Emperor dies.

No.

The spell on him just passes to the next Jade Emperor, Azure. Now Azure has to be the one to free him.

Here's the thing, the Camel Ridge trio think that Wukong threw his lot in with the celestial realm because they had heard about Macaque being the emperor's most valued servant, and those two follow each other everywhere and they came to the conclusion that Macaque convinced Wukong to abandon their cause and betray them.

So they really don't like Macaque, but he is the first to bow to Azure as the new Jade Emperor.

Azure is confused and thinks it's just Macaque being a schemer and trying to get in with him like he did with the old regime.

Yellow Tusk notices something is off and decides to ask the other servants about Macaque, and gets told that he was put under a spell by the Jade Emperor that only he could undo, and it seems to have passed to Azure with his ascension. Yellow Tusk brings the issue to Azure, since they're trying to be better than the previous regime, they can start by freeing the person who's been a prisoner in his own mind for the last 1700+ years.

Azure considers it, but he knows how deeply Wukong cares about his shadow, and this tactic has been successful in preventing Wukong from attacking the heavens, why not use it a little longer until the Monkey King is subdued?

Extra angst.

Macaque gets brought down to be used as a bargaining tool, and that understandably makes Wukong very upset and he and Azure fight. MK joins in because that's an asshole move.

Macaque does get freed when Nezha seals the Jade Emperor's powers, therefore making him the one in charge of them, and he frees Macaque immediately.

Mac is extremely confused when he's back, and he is immediately tackled with hugs and kisses by Wukong; he does not let go of him for a solid week afterwards. It's been a rough seventeen hundred years, he's allowed to be a little clingy.

Macaque is very much not okay after being freed, he suffered a lot of abuse that the spell on him would not allow his mind to acknowledge, so now he's being hit with all of shit that happened to him. Wukong wants to kill everyone who ever hurt or was mean to his mate. He can't but he really wants to(Erlang gets a crushing monkey hug because he was nice to Macaque.)

Thanks for this idea, it's been very fun to play with!

I hope you enjoy the angst anon!

Got a Masterpost now

[theoneandonlylobster]

Like, we all know Sozin was a huge, flaming f*g, the narrative could not be more clear on this. It's even more obvious than Azula being a Big Ol' Lesbian and I think that's also pretty crystal clear. Now, some of that is probably down to villains historically being queer-coded, and the various reasons for that. But you cannot tell me, you cannot convince me, that if Avatar were premiering in 2025 instead of 2005, that we would not see Massive Flaming (lol) Homosexual Sozin and his great-grandaughter, Queen of the Lesbians, Princess Azula.

That being said, particularly in Sozin's case, this has some, to put it mildly, disturbing implications because of his CANON lesbian younger sister Zeisan and the fact that he passed a law in the Fire Nation banning homosexual relationships, supposedly so that the population growth would not fall (this is literal Nazi propaganda, but Sozin is a literal Nazi, so that's not surprising, he literally invented being a Nazi in Avatar). So, if the common reading of Sozin is correct, he not only hated his little sister, but had such internalized hatred towards himself that he banned public displays of homosexuality and invented the concept of fascism at the same time. That's some overachieving.

Not to mention he also wiped out an entire civilization. You know, the civilization that his ex (who he killed) was going to be reincarnated into. We cannot downplay that. Bro committed an entire very successful genocide just to be sure his ex would stay dead. Talk about zero chill!

Oh, and fun fact, did you know Azulon wasn't even born until the year of the Comet? He was born twelve years after Roku even died, and you can see how old Sozin was then. Imagine Aang waking up and he missed a whole ass Firelord who ruled for three quarters of a century, who he didn't even know existed because either he wasn't born yet or news of his recent birth hadn't reached the Southern Air Temple yet. Aang went to sleep with Sozin as Firelord and woke up, to his perspective, maybe a day later at most, right? With that super old man on the throne with no heir and the lesbian sister who has sequestered herself amongst his people (who would also be super old by then anyway). I'm sure it was an interesting conversation when Katara and Sokka told him of Zuko's lineage! I'm sure Aang was expecting him to be from some random offshoot up the tree. Which loops back to Sozin being super gay, because he obviously refused to stick his dick in some pussy until the absolute last second.

Like, it's definitely funny to joke about Sozin and how gay he so clearly was, but it had real implications if you think it through in the narrative and they are very gut-churning and not so great. Which, actually, is why I don't think we'll ever get canon confirmation on Sozin The Worst Homosexual of All Time. Because damn, son. You kind of are.

(And thankfully over the years there have been a lot of efforts to insert way less problematic queer representation into the world of Avatar. And definitely not all representation needs to be positive. But, again, with the storied history of queer-coding villains, Sozin of all people who is SUCH an over the top piece of shit just in the canon narrative was, I think, accidentally coded as queer and everyone ran with it. Because it's funny. And it is.* But we do at least need to take a moment to acknowledge that it's hurtful, too.)

*There's almost a recognition that Sozin, were he a real person, would need to be mocked on the level of such monsters as Hitler, Stalin, Putin, and Trump. Which is fair, given that he did invent being a Nazi in that universe. So it's giving a very "Mel Brooks, The Producers" level of seriousness to Sozin which I think he has rightly earned and which all tyrants must be met with. The fact that a lot of that mockery (and the mockery within "The Producers") is mocking queerness is a whole other kettle of fish that I don't feel like unpacking.

potentially the funniest screenshot of all time. ta min i am so sorry he’s doing this shit at your wedding

[pushing500]

The Cull

So, here we are. All the permanent colonists plus my four favourite outpost dwellers. Why is everyone here, you might ask? Well, that's simple: It's time for a cull.

To accept the quest and find the first piece of The Archonexus map, we must choose five of these ten colonists to take the next step. The other five will stay behind to help facilitate Wasbum as they settle in and make Sparks their own.

I have taken the liberty of selecting the first of our intrepid explorers:

Makya "Mechi" Jones

Mechi was here in the beginning of this story, and if Randy doesn't kill him, he'll be here until the end. A powerful mechanitor and technomancer, Mechi is driven by his devotion to his family—originally just his sister, but now including his brothers and little girl. Perhaps finding The Archonexus will satiate his desire for knowledge, or comfort him as he mourns his sister's assumed death. Only time will tell...

You will decide which of the other four colonists joining us for "Season Two." To help, I have compiled brief profiles and a list of reasons for and against their inclusion in the "away team."

Kwahu Jones

Why should we bring Kwahu?

- As the first clone, he and Mechi share a close bond, and each would feel happy knowing that the other is safe and close by

- He is a capable user of Staticlord psycasts, and who doesn't like smiting their enemies with lightning?

- He is a Knight with The Empire and it's always nice to have powerful allies

- Two mechanitors are better than one

- He's a delight to draw

Why should we leave Kwahu behind?

- Sparks would perhaps fare better with at least one mechanitor around to oversee the mechanoids we can't take with us

- Kwahu would have a chance to explore his own sense of self without being reduced to "Mechi's clone"

- Mechi already has an expertise in research, so a second expert is not required

- Addiction to coffee in more than one person may be difficult to keep in check while we set up a new colony

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Tokori Jones

Why should we bring Tokori?

- He has an expertise in first aid, which will likely be an essential skill in setting up a new colony

- If his medical skill doesn't work, he can also raise the dead (nine more times, at least. Then he's out of fingers to sacrifice.)

- He's got a detoxifier lung and a detoxifier kidney, which could both be useful for dealing with pollution in our new colony

- We only just met him, so it will be a good opportunity to get to know him more

- He's a delight to draw and still has both his natural eyes so I can have fun drawing them

Why should we leave Tokori behind?

- We only just met him, so we wouldn't miss him as much as some of the others

- Mechi is an accomplished doctor, even if it isn't his expertise

- He would be sad if we didn't get plumbing and a bathtub set up ASAP

- Addiction to coffee in more than one person may be difficult to keep in check while we set up a new colony

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Lansa Jones

Why should we bring Lansa?

- He's still getting used to being alive and needs someone responsible to keep an eye on him

- He's got untapped psycaster potential that we still need to explore

- He is the only Jones boy NOT addicted to coffee so we don't have to facilitate that in a new colony

- He's a delight to draw

Why should we leave Lansa behind?

- He's grumpy and rude and dislikes most of the other colonists already

- He hasn't been alive in this colony for very long so we won't miss him as much as some of the others

- His bionic eyes are less fun to draw than they could be

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Ivy Jones

Why should we bring Ivy?

- Mechi has raised her from infancy and probably feels the same familial protective streak for her that he feels for his sister/clones

- With Ivy you get two for the price of one because she comes with Henry (the flesh whip) attached

- Ivy brings social and artistic skills to the table, both things that Mechi is not so good at

- She’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Ivy behind?

- She’s almost an adult by RimWorld standards, and she might enjoy a bit of freedom from her “parents”

- She’d be the most suited to the role of showing the new residents of Sparks around when they arrive to make it a base for Wasbum

- If her mother ever comes looking for her, Sparks is the first place she’ll check

Alistair

Why should we bring Alistair?

- Just look at him

- Mechi made Alistair with his own two hands, meaning Alistair is probably the closest to a biological son he’ll ever have

- We haven’t seen Alistair wake up yet, there’s still so much to experience

- LOOK AT HIM

- He’s very good at making bionics and enabling Mechi’s transhumanist lifestyle

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Alistair behind?

- He hasn’t awakened yet so there’s not actually any personality to be attached to

- He hasn’t awakened yet so he has no ability to learn new skills that might be required in a new colony

- Mute, so not too much potential for funny conversations to draw

Melissa Romanov

Why should we bring Melissa?

- Having a colonist with unnatural healing abilities akin to reusable healer mech serums is op as hell and also very cool

- Even if she didn’t have creepjoiner healing powers, she has fun cancer powers

- Every new colony benefits from a creepy blind grandma

- Mechi owes her for saving him from duplication sickness

- She’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Melissa behind?

- Mechi hates her more than usual because she’s super ugly

- She’s blind

- Apparently the creepjoiner unnatural healing has the potential for nasty side effects

- We haven’t had any creepjoiner negative side effects from her yet, but she’s been at an outpost which might have paused the countdown for it to show up

- She’s polyamorous, which means she’ll constantly be sad that she’s not in a relationship

Kouichi "XiaoLiang" Rox

Why should we bring XiaoLiang?

- He’s always been there for Mechi and co., it seems appropriate for him to follow them and continue to help out

- He’s very cool

- He’s got an expertise in sharpshooting which is bound to be useful

- We might run into his grandpa Paul again and it’d be nice if they met

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave XiaoLiang behind?

- Perhaps it’s time for XiaoLiang to go back to being a wandering Man in Black

- He’s an undergrounder, which means he’ll get upset if we make him go out to hunt or otherwise put his shooting expertise to good use

- He’s polyamorous, which means he’ll constantly be sad that he’s not in a relationship

- His grandpa Paul might show up to Sparks again, and it’d be nice if they met

Mitja "Flapjack" Furlong

Why should we bring Flapjack?

- He’s a little bit good at every skill which is very useful for starting a new colony

- He is kind, which means he’ll get along with everyone no matter how disfigured they are by flesh whips or cut-out eyes

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Flapjack behind?

- Not a particularly interesting colonist so far

- He’s just sort of got NPC energy

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- Good at lots of skills but not great at any

Marc-Daniel "Jut" Crowley

Why should we bring Jut?

- He’s a good boy and I love him

- Incredible melee ability which is useful for defending a new colony

- Can explode people with his mind

- Sanguophage powers might be useful

- Speaks French

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Jut behind?

- He still hasn’t shown any signs of creepjoiner downsides, so there’s a chance things could go south sometime

- He’d need to steal Mechi (or someone else’s) hemogen from time to time

- He’s blind

- He’s French

[minh907]

Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost!reader.

Life always brings us surprises, fateful encounters.

___________________

Jinwoo sat leaning against the old tree in the deserted park. It was pitch black. Most of the houses had turned off their lights at this hour, falling into a deep sleep after a hard day's work.

The only source of light at this time was the yellow light from the street lamps and the dim moonlight.

What was Jinwoo doing here at this hour?

He had just finished a dungeon raid that the system had assigned him. He didn't want to go out at such a late hour, but he needed to get stronger, he needed to earn money to live, he needed to seize every opportunity he could find. It was all for money. He had a mother and a younger sister to take care of.

Ever since his father disappeared, everything had been disrupted. He had suddenly become the pillar of the family.

Jinwoo sighed. He lowered his head, covering his face with both hands. His hands were full of wounds, bandages were wrapped around his hands, and many places were still bleeding. But he didn't seem to care about it anymore. In a while, he would receive the system's reward, and then his body would be healed as before.

He should probably go home. But for some reason, he didn't want to go home today. It was strange.

He had been walking unconsciously on the dark road, and then stopped at a park near the edge of the city.

There was a feeling of something stuck in his chest that made him uncomfortable. He punched the tree to release it and then lay down on the park bench., one hand raised to cover his eyes.

A gentle wind blew by, the leaves rustled. Everything was so quiet.

"So rude, didn't your mom tell you that waking a person up is rude!?" A voice suddenly rang out above his head.

Jinwoo immediately sat up, warily looking towards the direction the voice came from.

On the branch of an ancient tree, a person was sitting on the tree, both hands holding onto the branch, legs swinging.

That person was transparent, his figure was as faint as smoke, his eyes were curious, but for some reason he felt sadness in their eyes.

"Who are you!?" He asked cautiously.

Your eyes widened, looking around and then back at him, pointing at yourselves.

"Are you asking me?"

"Other than you and me, who else is here?"

You were even more surprised. "You saw me!?"

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes in suspicion "Of course...? Why can't I see you? I'm not blind."

Your eyes sparkled "Finally someone can see me!" You clapped your hands "Wonderful, I've been so lonely! Finally someone can see me!"

"Wait! What do you mean?"

You flew down and stood next to where he was sitting. "Don't you recognize me? I'm not human anymore."

"Does that mean you're dead?"

"Something like that. But I don't like to say it like that. I'll say I turned from a visible person to an invisible person."

Jinwoo's face was blank. 

His instincts told him that this was not a dangerous creature, but his mind was still tense.

He summoned his dagger and pointed it at you.

"Tell me, who are you!? What is your purpose? Or what do you want from me!"

"Hey, rude. I haven't done anything to you yet." You pouted. "You came to disturb my sleep first!"

"What?"

"You suddenly punched the tree, it woke me up!"

He slowly lowered the dagger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

You snorted, "Luckily you were the first one to see me, so I'll spare him."

You flew to sit next to Jinwoo, who moved a little further away from you.

"Hey, why are you avoiding me? I didn't do anything to you."

"I don't believe you."

"What!? I'm 100% harmless."

Jinwoo looked doubtful, making you angry.

"Then let's be friends, if we're friends, you'll trust me more, right?"

Jinwoo looked down at the ground, sitting further away from you.

"I don't want to be friends with ghosts."

You whined, "Please, I'm lonely. It's been a long time since anyone talked to me."

"Why don't you go find someone else!"

"I want to too. But I don't understand why I can't get more than 1 meter away from this tree."

A trapped soul? Jinwoo rarely believed in ghosts, but after the dungeons appeared, the world began to act abnormally. Especially situations like this that couldn't be explained by common sense.

"I can't leave this place," You continued, your voice as light as the wind, your eyes suddenly darkening. "No matter how hard I try, I just end up back at this tree."

Jinwoo frowned. Why? He was curious about this.

He suddenly thought, if he was the only one who could see you, maybe fate had arranged this and wanted him to do something.

"...What can I help you?"

You were silent for a long time, then whispered softly. "I want to know why I died... I don't remember why I'm here. I just know that I'm dead."

You suddenly looked straight into his eyes, your gaze sincere "Can you help me find clues about them?"

Jinwoo hesitated for a moment then nodded. "Okay.."

You smiled happily. The wind blew your hair, the moonlight reflected on your cheeks, making your face seem to glow, your smile also became brighter and purer. For a moment, that smile made Jinwoo let go of all his guard, relaxing his shoulders.

"I'm Y/n. Just Y/n. I don't remember my last name, or who I was before. I only remember this name, I think it's my name. Nice to meet you!"

"...Sung Jinwoo."

________________________

To be continue....

_________________________

The idea just came to me and I was like: Oh, I have to write this.

But then I realized it's going to be quite long, I guess….and after I wrote this part I wondered if I should write a part 2….

[ronearoundblindly]

What do the cevans + bucky guys do if someone's trying to move in on their girl? Someone with more of an in than a rando - an ex, a coworker, a friend.

So this took me a while because there's a difference between exactly who is making a move on you and exactly what your guy's situation is. I've done my best to generalize but also add enough context.

Warnings for some questionable reactions, language, and possessiveness. MINORS DNI.

James Mace

He's away for long periods, so I could see him being quite upset with someone getting too friendly while he's gone. Mace understands people are supportive of each other in stressful times; he can't be mad at you getting support, but if he ever caught that friendly, supportive guy touching you? Absolutely, a fight would break out. He's not bulky but scrappy as all hell, and he will viciously defend you(r relationship).

Curtis Everett

Possessive. Super duper possessive. If he gets a whiff of any other man in your life--in any part of your life--being interested in you, there's a 'talking to' that happens, and either the dude backs off respectfully or you never fucking see that guy again. All your exes are either dead to you or really dead. Period.

Jimmy Dobyne

Ok, shockingly, not that possessive. In some ways, he finds it flattering that others are interested in you. Why shouldn't they be? You're great. As far as them making an actual move on you, Jimmy expects you to shut it down firmly, quickly. The only time he'll get physically involved is if a guy tries to hit on you while you're drunk. Un-fucking-acceptable. Do not fucking try it, asshole. Jimmy don't care if that's your boss's boss or the goddamn governor. Step the fuck off his girl. You're allowed to enjoy yourself without fear of someone taking advantage

Johnny Storm

lol, what? What's going on? Unless Johnny sees or hears you distressed about it, he's not bothered. He trusts you, and he assumes you're having fun getting some attention unless you give him a look (or text) that says 'step in, please.'

Jake Jensen

Does the guy mind being doxxed? Does he want himself to suddenly receive subscriptions for gay BDSM magazines or have his personal number listed as a provider for STD treatment? "Hello, I'd like you to take care of my genital herpes." "Oh my god, man, my dick burns. You gotta help me!" "Uh, can you get crabs from a rimjob???"

Yeah. Go ahead, put that arm around Jake's woman and see what happens. Here's your copy of Anal Angels Monthly, dickhead.

Jake...won't actually tell you he's doing any of this, but he hopes that fucker goes insane or to jail. No big deal. What are you thinking for dinner, babe?

Lloyd Hansen

Um, he probably put you in the dude's path on purpose, honestly. Like you are there to distract while Lloyd works in the shadows of that guy's life and steals something, tortures someone, or lures them in to kill. Lloyd thinks it's nice you're so useful in this way.

If a nobody (to Lloyd) gets close to you, he doesn't really care because you know Lloyd's got that good D you'll come back to...🫣 He has his own criteria for who is nobody and who is somebody, and it doesn't really matter what you think of the person or who they are to you. They are you are either useful, or Lloyd doesn't care.

Ari Levinson

Whole thing about it here from Bedrock and Blueprints, but in general, I do see Ari as on-guard for you receiving unwanted (or wanted) attention from men close-r in your life. His go-to move is to plant himself like a brick wall beside you until you make it very, very clear to the guy that Ari is your one and only. He doesn't think of himself as a possessive person because he will do this subconsciously.

Ransom Drysdale

Usually gets nasty and snippy with you. How could you not shut down the flirting? How could you let the guy think he has a shot?? How come you didn't apologize to Ransom for the embarrassment??? It's bullshit, but good fucking luck getting Ran to see that...

Andy Barber

Mixed bag. Andy arbitrarily gets super-pissed or doesn't notice at all, based on the level of attention he's paying in a social situation. Maybe he's distracted by a case at work when you all are out at dinner with people, so the fact your recently-divorced coworker is thrilled by your concern for him goes right over Andy's head. Maybe you two are at a friend's wedding and your bestie from middle school wants you to come onto the dance floor with him for that song--the one you made up moves to back in the day,--but Andy refuses because you're his and promised him all the dances tonight. He's unpredictable without knowing the full context.

Steve Rogers

Whole thing about it here for Fools Rush In, but Steve doesn't really get flirting. He barely does it himself, so it's hard for him to recognize someone being too nice to you. Someone making a move on you--short of physically moving to take you somewhere--goes right over his head. He isn't the jealous type as long as there's trust between you. Steve might get a smidge frustrated if he can't relate/speak about huge, important subjects to you, but instead of being jealous of guys who can talk to you about those things, he just learns more about them to join the conversation. Pretty simple solution if you ask him.

If, however, the guy makes you uncomfortable, Steve will do everything possible to separate you from that, though he will do it discreetly in public so as not to draw more unwanted or uncomfortable attention.

Bucky Barnes

Highly unjealous until he is megajealous. No, those aren't words, but they are applicable. Bucky just lets most things roll off him like a duck in water when he's happy in a relationship. He'll start off a bit prickly while getting comfortable and gaining trust in you, but after that, he's all-in...until someone goes too far. If a guy you know is flirty or whatever, Buck's fine (excepting you don't seem mad or upset about it), but if one motherfucker professes his love for you and how you should ditch Bucky, etc, you'd be hard-pressed to find the words to stop Bucky from hunting that son of a bitch down. The guy would be forbidden from being near you, if you work together, someone has to quit, and if it's an ex? Well, likely that guy disappears off the face of the earth and his body is never found. The end.

Thank you for asking!

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