#this is NOT ship art i will bomb you if you think it is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shygirl4991 · 1 month ago

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All art belongs to @lizaluvsthis Thought i try my hand with a different ship enjoy! Ships: SMG34, Marware Next Part Tags: First love, enemies to friends to lovers, one sided crush, humor, fluff

Summary: Mr Puzzle comes up with the perfect plan to finally be popular, but when his plan involves his nemesis. Everything gets covered in static as the TV man gets blinded by a strange emotion, with payback on his mind operation Pedro begins.

It was weeks after the events of the meme factory, Mr Puzzles stood outside cigarette in hand. Even though he couldn't taste it, just the feeling of the action helped the man think. He sighs as he thinks over the events, not only did he lose his first ever ally thanks to that annoying plumber. That very same plumber now haunts his every waking thought, the way his blue eyes shined when he arrived on the scene. The way the man’s mustache flowed in the wind as he turned to hand Leggy the mushroom, it all played out as if the whole thing was a movie. The picture of Mario causes Mr Puzzles screen to show a blushing expression as his antenna’s start to spark, frustrated by the strange emotion he gets an ashtray turning off his cigarette and storming inside the studio.

As he storms into his studio he is greeted by the movie posters of his past failures, while it hurts to see the puzzlevision posters it was a good reminder. He could be a star, nothing will stop him from getting those five stars back. The moment his eyes laid on Mario, the spark came back causing the TV man to look away. They must have done something to him during the event of his plan to take over the meme factory, that was the only explanation as to what was going on with him. He walks to the back of the studio and sits on the floor, he needs to find a way to fix himself. An image of a lightbulb appeared on his screen, Mario was the trigger meaning that whatever is wrong with him has to do with that plumber. He makes a plan to spy on the crew in the morning, the only way he can learn what they did is to gather information. He makes a mental note of all the items he needs before he shuts down and goes to sleep in the tv realm. The next day, SMG4 was pounding on the coffee and bomb cafe doors. Three slowly walks to the door with coffee in hand to open the door, Four held back giggling at his ex rival bed hair “Three! We are about to shoot a new video, I was hoping you want to be one of the main characters this time around?” SMG3 sighs, taking the script from Four’s hand then setting his coffee down, he takes out his reading glasses and goes over the script. As he reads the script Four gives him a sweet smile, with a sigh he tosses the script at Four’s face “Yeah how about no, being with the others fighting a Wario ghost head doesn't sound like my style.”

Four glares at Three as he bends down to grab the script “Come on, plenty of viewers would love to see you interact more with our other friends!” Three blushes seeing the puppy eyes the man was giving him, he quickly grabs his cup of coffee and sips it. Once he felt more in control of his emotions he rolled his eyes at Four then crossed his arms, seeing this was enough for Four to know the man wasn't going to change his mind. Four sighs as he turns and walks away “Alright, but I will be back later for my coffee!” Three lets out a small smile as he watches Four walk away “You still have to pay for it!” As Four kept walking to get ready a nearby bush was shaking, there Mr puzzle was spying on the guardians. He watches as SMG4 packed his equipment ready to go hunting for the memes they needed for the video, with binoculars in hand he looks around for his main target. “Wahoo!” Mario jumps out of a pipe that spawn out of nowhere landing in front of SMG4, Mr Puzzle felt his mechanical heart speed up at the sight of his target. He takes out his notepad ready to take notes, he watches as Four and Mario walk out of the showgrounds. He slowly follows the pair making sure he doesn't miss a second, Ignoring the strange emotion surging through him.

Hours passed, Mr Puzzle had learned nothing about the idiot that plagues his every thought. Even worse, he had to watch people fawn over SMG4 asking for his autograph and talk about how amazing his series is. He had snapped several pencils over the hours of watching the sight, that should be him not SMG4. He notes down to make sure to get rid of Four once he is done dealing with the plumber, he sighs as he looks over at Mario. The goofy smile the man had caused his antenna to spark, noticing that he hides behind a tree. His screen showed how flustered he felt, even back when he was in his old body he had never felt such powerful emotion. Whatever illness the SMG4 crew gave him was truly powerful, he slid down the tree annoyed by the events.

Looking at the notepad he sighs flipping through his notes, he pauses on a page with five stars drawn on it. He got to taste fame, taste the power that came with it. Getting up with a new found fire, he steps away from the tree ready to continue his mission. He watches as the men fail to find the meme they were looking for, they say their goodbyes and separate. Mr puzzles lets out a chuckle “Finally, thought those two imbeciles would be stuck together all night. Now lets see what this idiot is planning,” He peeks out of the bush to see Mario spinning around. As he spins Mr Puzzle notices the mustache was changing shapes and sizes, he gasps when Mario grabs his stache using it as a boomerang to distract Luigi in order to grab the man's plate of pasta. Thinking back on everything he has seen, the mustache always did have a mind of its own, he starts to write down in his notepad “Mario’s mustache equal funny?” Peeking out of the bush again, his eyes meet with Marios causing the TV man to glitch out. He hides back in the bush as his face goes static, he smacks his head hoping it would help out. Slowly his face returned, placing a hand on his chest he felt his heart about to explode. Taking a deep breath he looks at his notepad, if his theory is correct then perhaps Mr Puzzle can get his payback. He chuckles to himself as he waits till the twins are asleep, he slowly sneaks into the house and walks into the bedroom. He lowers the brightness of his screen as he looks at the bed, he reaches out pulling a mustache. He looks close to notice he got the wrong one, he clumsily places it back as he goes to the bed on top. He pulls the mustache off and lets out a soft chuckle “Thank you Dear with this i have my chance to be on top~”

He pockets the mustache then looks at the plumber's sleeping face, his screen flickers as he blushes. He will have his payback for whatever illness this man put on him, he gets off the bed leaving the house to start his plan. Once he makes it back to the studio, he picks up the phone calling an old ally as he stares at the mustache. “What do you want?” said the womens voice on the other line “Ah Liko! My favorite mad scientist, I have a favor I want to cash in.” He heard the women let out a bitter laugh as he heard the bed creak “A favor huh? What are you planning this time?” Mr puzzle places the stache carefully on the table “I want to create a star for my new show!”

Liko sighs “Create a star? Life isn't something you can just casually make, could you imagine creating a cast for your silly parody shows?” Mr Puzzle lets out a chuckle as he looks out the window “Nothing like that i assure you, i learn how SMG4 is getting comedy gold. I have stolen it and need a body to put it on, you're the only person i know with that skill set.” He taps his head with a fond smile, he hears a groan from the other line “You were a lucky case, but knowing you I know you won't let me be until i help you.” She hangs up the phone leaving the TV man alone with his thoughts, with her help he can create a star that will surely give him the fame he craves. He turns and stares at the mustache, he felt strange as he looked at it. As if the TV man was feeling guilty for stealing the plumber's mustache, he groans as he turns around seeing car lights.

Excited seeing the familiar vehicle he walks up to the door, he fixes up his appearance and opens the door to his favorite manananggal. Liko rolls her eyes as she passes by him, Mr Puzzle chuckles as he follows “With that look I'm guessing I got in the middle of you and the lucky lady you found?” Liko turns glaring at him “You can just call her Flor, I swear i dont get why you two hate each other,” Mr Puzzle gives the creature an annoyed expression “Honey, that girlfriend of yours make sure to haunt me every chance she gets.” Liko giggles at the memory before stepping into the living area of the studio, she then notices a mustache on the table. She stares at it blankly before Mr Puzzle picks it up and starts to brush it, she takes a step back before pointing at it “You mean that is what you plan to put on a body?” He nods before gently placing it on the table again “This beauty came from the funny man himself Mario, with all the power of his comedy on my side there is no way i wont get five stars!” Liko shakes her head in disbelief before walking over to the studio’s back room, she pulls out a bag filled with an assortment of ingredients “This plan is as insane as you asking me to give you a television head.” Mr Puzzle smiles as he gently touches his head “And you did a wonderful job, happy to have you as a work partner!” Liko lets out another sigh, she can feel herself already drain just from dealing with the man. She was free to walk away, no like the man could force her to do this. Yet as she looks at the excited expression on the screen of his face, she couldn't help letting out a soft smile. It didn't matter what the man said, she always felt that the two of them had a nice friendship even if he pushes the business agenda whenever they are together.

Mr Puzzle sits on a chair glaring at the mustache, for a moment Liko saw his screen glitch out. She stares at him for a moment as he stares at the mustache, interested in what was going on she drops the bag next to him “Here.” Confused, he looked away from the mustache and turned to Liko “What do you mean here?” She crosses her arms as she gently kicks the bag, he looks down at the bag then at her “You can't possibly mean that you want me to make it!” She nods as she walks over to a metal table in the room, he picks up the bag following her steps “You're a big boy you can do it, plus i have a date soon. I can't have you always interrupting my date just to make you things!” He lets out a dramatic sigh that makes Liko roll her eyes “After all this time you're finally moving on from our business relationship!” Liko gently smacks his back “Yep, now you want me to explain what to do or you get enjoyment from staring at Mario’s mustache?” Mr Puzzle's screen glitches again showing the man blushing for a moment, her eyes go wide for a moment as his antennae sparks up. He starts taking things out of the bag then turns to her back to normal waiting for instructions “Fine, tell me what has to be done.” She has never seen the man act so out of character it fascinated her. Taking out her notepad, she wrote down what needed to be done “Here you go, now do you have an idea how you want the form to look?”

Taking out a pen he smiles as he doodles out what he wants his creation to look like, once done he proudly shows off the drawing. She blinks as the drawing looks like a child's drawing of Mario, she makes a note to herself about the odd obsession that the man seems to have on the plumber. Giving a thumb’s up she starts heading to the front door, he watches as she opens the door “Follow what i wrote down, don't blow up.” With that she leaves the man alone in his studio, he grabs the items and nods to himself as he begins creating.

Mario woke up to a nightmare, his mustache is missing, he runs around searching everywhere he could think of for his missing piece. As he walks into the city he notices people turning and looking at him, some running in fear while others turn to dust at the site. While the man felt naked without his mustache, seeing others' reactions to his new look made him smile “Heyyy people seem excited about this new look!” Feeling confident of his new look he walks forward not as panicked as before, there he sees Bob’s burger stand. Excited to get more food he runs over ordering “Nine million burgers please!” Bob turns to see Mario and jumps back in shock mix with disgust “EW A WALKING FETUS! Sorry bud, these are eighteen plus burgers because they have uh…a lethal amount of alcohol!” Angered at being rejected for getting food, Mario gets ready to fight. As he charged at Bob something started to feel strange, he lost control of his body and landed face first to the floor. Confused he attempted to do his usual meme shenanigans, he looked at his body confused “Hey! Why can't Mario do the funny?” Bob looked over the counter confused at what was going on with the man in front of him, frustrated Mario attempted to try different memes only for it to end in failure. His eyes water as he realized he was unable to be funny, his phone starts to ring breaking him from his thoughts. Seeing who it was from reminded him of the plans he made with SMG4, he runs over to his brothers old mansion where their crew are recording new videos.

As Mario enters the building Four runs up to him to get things ready, he pauses as he stares at Mario. Slowly he leans forward looking at Mario’s face “ Uh…did you get a haircut?” Shaking his head, SMG4 pushes Mario to the center of the room with the others “Doesn't matter, let's get to filming!” As Four grabs the camera ready to record Meggy gives the plumber a weird look “Hey is your-” the ground starts to shake, cutting Meggy off as a giant Wario ghost head appears. The head roars as Mario gets ready to fight it, he jumps up ready to pull out an item to fight with only to get an error. He looks at the error in shock “MAMA MIA!” he kept taking things out of his pockets only for more errors to appear. SMG4 looked at his best friend confused, seeing the others in the group give Four a look. Four lets out a nervous laugh “hehe uh mario do the funny now please!”

The Wario ghost sighs, disappointed at how unprofessional everyone was “That's it i quit!” Panicked SMG4 runs to where the ghost vanishes to “WAIT OUR SHOW IS MORE STUPID I SWEAR!” With a sigh he turns to Mario giving the man another look, this was the first time he has ever seen the avatar struggle with being funny. Four reaches out for his best friend only to pause when the door opens, the pair blink seeing a person walk in looking similar to Mario. The man starts to meme out catching the ghost head's attention only to get knocked out by the mysterious person, once the person landed they both gasped seeing the person’s face. Four looks at Mario’s face then the man only for it to click, Mario points at the man extremely angry “YOU TOOK MARIO MUSTACHE!” The fake Mario floats up clipping through the roof leaving the pair shocked before Four jumps into action “Don't worry Mario, we know all of your shenanigans. We will get your mustache back!” They run out of the mansion hunting down the mysterious man, Four takes out his phone texting the first person that comes to mind “SMG3 we need your help it's an avatar emergency.” Following the chaos, Four sees an opening and tackles down the man holding him down for Mario. The plumber cheers as he runs to take the mustache back, seeing what was going to happen the man starts to meme out. Mario growls as he attempts to grab it quickly, Four bites his lip seeing the funny movement. His guardian powers screaming to record the moment, he fought as hard as he could holding his own hand back to reach out for the phone. The man starts to do a dance breaking Four, he takes out his phone recording the dance. Four’s eyes shrink when he realizes what he did as the man ran off again, he frowns looking down as Mario glares at Four.

Three sighs seeing the mess and walks up to them “So this is what the emergency is? How the hell did someone steal Mario's mustache?” Four shakes his head as he looks down the road where the man disappeared to “That's a good question, Mario do you have any idea how this happened?” Mario was going to answer until he noticed an angry mob behind SMG4, Three’s eyes went wide as he slowly grabbed his partner's hand and pulled him close. The mob points at Mario “THERE HE IS GET HIM!” the group jumps on Mario beating him up, the guardians exchange a look before attempting to pull people off of the plumber. Once the crowd was gone, Mario sighs laying on the floor “It's no use…he’s just like me…” Four frowns sitting next to Mario and comforting him. Three lets out a small smile watching Four before he blushes and looks away, after a moment of silence something clicked for SMG4.

He gets up excited as he grabs Three pulling the man close, Three’s heart races at how close their face was. “If he is just like Mario then that must mean they share the same weakness!” Three smirks once he understood what Four is saying “Looks like it's time to get cooking.” As Four gets himself ready to make spaghetti, Three lifts up Mario “Come on, we will get that mustache back and show that bastard what happens when he messes with us!” Three opens a portal to help Four reach the castle faster, the pair sit outside of a shop waiting for the signal to bring the man back. Mario touches his face frowning “Will I ever get the funny back?” Three rolls his eyes as he gently smacks Mario’s arm “Stop being such a baby right now! I got a bomb cooking and ready for this guy, you will get your mustache back. Mario gives a soft smile to Three before pulling him into a hug, Three blushes and struggles before melting into the hug. His phone ding causes him to push Mario off him, he snaps his fingers where Four shows off a plate of spaghetti “Let's catch us an imposter!” They walk down a street with multiple houses, seeing an empty area the trio run over to set the trap. Four set the plate down with a smile, the smile didn't last long as Three started to put a bear trap in front of the plate. SMG4 glares at him while Three lets out a chuckle “Think about it, that bastard can't run from us if his foot is stuck.” Four looks at the set up, he hates to admit that SMG3 had a point given how weak he is to his urge to record memes. They hide and wait for the trap to be sprung, as they wait they hear meme talk from a distance. Peeking around the corner they see the target skipping around, he pauses as he sees the plate of pasta. Mr Puzzle mumbles to himself as he walks around the neighborhood “Where on earth did my creation go!” he was getting frustrated after hours of searching till he heard a scream. He turns as his screen flickers, showing a surprise expression before running over to the spot. There he saw Mario charging at his creation, he reached out grabbing the man and pulling him away from the plumber.

Mario turns his head confused, making eye contact with someone he didn't expect. Mr puzzle felt his antenna spark as their eyes met, Mario then crashed into a fence while Mr puzzle was petting his creation. SMG3 and Four stare in shock at the TV man as he waves “Hell-” his greeting gets cut off as Mario punches his face breaking his screen. Mr puzzle screams before he glares at Mario, his voice muffled as he yells “AT LEAST LET ME SPEAK! I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING YET!” He sighs hearing his voice “Great now my voice is out of tune…” he smacks his head a few times till the right component slid into place. Mr puzzle then pulls his creation closer to himself “Now where were we? Ah yes, how DARE you try to hurt my precious creation!” SMG4 growls seeing the man, noticing this Three reaches out grabbing his hand letting the meme energy flow between them to comfort the guardian. Four relaxes slightly “You, what do you want!” Mr Puzzle ignores the pair to focus on Mario “Ahh Mario, have you met my friend pedro? A puppet of my own creation I hope you don't ahem mind I was inspired.” He points to the mustache gaining him furious expressions from Four and Mario, it was strange how seeing such an expression from the plumber made him feel sick. He shakes his head blaming the feeling on his now broken screen, Mario stomps the ground “You stole Mario’s mustache?!”

Three gives the TV man a disturbed look “Kinda creepy dude,” Four lets go of Three walking up to Mr Puzzle “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE HIS MUSTACHE YOU WEIRDO!” MR puzzles expression goes blank before he scoffs “I’m not being weird! You all clearly don't understand the power behind Mario’s magnificent stache!” Mr Puzzle notices the duo giving him creeped out looks while Mario keeps glaring at him, he lets out a chuckle “Thanks to my research i have my own funny man, with Pedro by my side i can finally be famous!” Done with Mr puzzle speech Mario charges and punches the TV man knocking his head off and into Pedro, the mustache flys off catching both Pedro and Mario’s attention. The guardians watch as the two fight for the mustache, as they fight it rips in half each part landed on each of their faces. Three facepalms at the situation “This has to be one of the stupidest shit that has happened in a while,” Four helps Mario up as he glares at Pedro “We need to grab that other half!” Mr. Puzzle, hearing Four’s words focus on his body, moving it, he guides it to where his head is and lifts it up. Slamming his head back on he runs in front of Pedro “Don't you dare! That mustache belongs to Pedro!” SMG4 lets out a bitter laugh “No, it belongs to Mario!” Mario walks past Four to stare down Mr puzzle, the look makes his antenna sparks as his screen changes to a blushing expression “Me and Pedro meme off.”

In a blink the crew were now in an arena for the great meme battle, the crowd was cheering excited to see the event. SMG3 and 4 were seated together looking over everything. “I hope Mario can win this,” Three rolls his eyes. “Or we can rig this, win and then go home.” Over hearing this Mr Puzzle hit a button, the pair get surrounded by turrets making Four hug Three close in fear. Three blushes as he looks around to see Mr Puzzle smiling at them “I would rethink that plan of yours SMG3, seems you could get hurt if you do it!” Three nervously nods his head as Mr Puzzle hits the button again putting the turrets away, the TV man walks to the center of the arena with a mic in hand. He looks at Pedro then at Mario “Are we ready gentlemen?” the pair nods “Then let the meme off begin!” As the challenge begins Mr Puzzles sits down to watch, the first challenge was the funniest face. As he watched he couldn't help himself to stare at the plumber, watching the man shift his face into a balloon which surprised the TV man as he watched the balloon morph into the plumber face. The crowd cheered and laughed at how silly it looked, Mr Puzzle couldn't help a small giggle at the site before Pedro attempted. No matter how hard he attempted to change his face, Pedro was unable to. The down side to the materials Mr puzzle used is that Pedro only had one facial expression, he growls at them losing that point as the next challenge starts. Pedro noticed his creator was distracted looking at Mario every once in a while, anger grew in him as he became determined to win and get his creator's attention back. The next challenge begins as the pair must do their most silly pose, as everyone watches the challenges Three notice something odd. He stares at Mr Puzzle and sees small sparks on his antenna, he squints and sees the TV man was blushing as he stared at Mario. Three’s eyes go wide “No..fucking way,” Four seeing Three’s shock face, gently taps him to get the mans attention “Hey dude everything okay? You look like that time Eggdog drove his first tank with Beeg.” Three nods “I’m fine, let's focus on cheering for our idiot.”

While Mario attempted to do his pose Pedro took this as his chance to knock the plumber down, he then used the man as a skateboard. Mr Puzzle gasps at the site noticing the strange anxiety at the site he looks away, he should be cheering his creation on. Yet the more he watches something in him wants that annoying pest to win, is it because he found him such an interesting star. Pedro hopes up and down in joy getting a point, the TV man gives a big smile to Pedro. No one can tell thankfully since his face was a screen, his smile was one filled with lies. The final challenge arrived, the air was tense as SMG3 and Four lean forward nervously for the final challenge.

The next challenge appeared, Mr Puzzle looked at the screen as the words ‘insult contest’ was projected. This was the moment to shine, Mr Puzzle looked at Pedro with his mic in hand giving a supportive nod. The pair stare at each other stroking their half of their mustache getting ready, Mr Puzzle clutches the mic tightly as he watches. As they start insulting each other people start to lean more on Pedro's side, Mario feeling confident makes a statement about the man being fat without parents. Pedro lets out a smirk as he replies, Mr Puzzle gasps seeing Mario fall to his knees. Victory was his, ignoring the strange feeling in his mechanical gut. “Well folks, it looks like Pedro has Mario beat!” right as he was going to announce the winner he pauses seeing Mario stand up. Mario smirks at Mr Puzzle causing a small spark to come out of his antennae “I didn't hear no bell,” he lets out as a red light surrounds Mario. Pedro takes a step back in shock while Mr Puzzle watches in amazement, Mario blasts Pedro with a roast so bad it got the crowd cheering. Mario lands on the ground crossing his arms as he watches Pedro stand there in shock, Mr Puzzle sighs as his screen changes to express his disappointment. “The winner is…Mario,” he honestly thought he would be filled with rage ready to charge at the plumber. Instead he felt relief that the plumber won his mustache back, there was something wrong with him there has to be. He smacks his TV trying to focus, he needs to remember the crew ruined everything and that same plumber he felt relief for is the reason for this strange illness.

Pedro sighs looking down as Mario celebrates getting his full stache back, SMG3 and Four run down from the stands to hug Mario. They cheered as Mario noticed Pedro walking away sad, feeling guilty he gently pushed his guardians aside to catch up to the man. Mario touches his shoulder making him turn confused, the avatar takes out a pencil drawing a new mustache to cheer Pedro up. He gasps, touching it before he pulls Mario into a hug, Mr puzzle watches in shock as the pair walk away hand in hand to the parking lot. As the pair drive away Mr puzzle drops to his knees watching them go, his screen flickered showing him crying as he watches the sight. SMG3 walks out of the stadium and notices Mr Puzzles on his knees, slowly he walks over to the TV man. Mr puzzle sighs looking down “Why…can't I just win? Is it wrong to want to entertain?’ SMG3 scoffs, catching Mr Puzzle's attention “You didn't give a shit about Pedro, your focus is all on Mario.” Hearing this he looks at the car in the distance as his antennae sparks “Of course I wanted payback on that brute! He stuck me with some kind of illness, my head used to be filled with the best media out there and now….” he clenches his fits as he hits the floor “NOTHING BUT THAT IDIOT FILLS MY CHANNELS!”

Three sighs as he looks down the road “I know how that feeling is, when I was a villain wanting nothing but revenge. I was so blinded by that need for payback I was blind to what I was truly feeling at the time.” Mr Puzzle gets up patting his pants to clean off any dirt “Oh do tell,” he lets out sarcastically. Three glares up at the TV man “Hey fuck off, nobody here likes you if you havent notice. I don't have to say shit i'm only doing this cause I know what it's like to fall in love with your rival!” Three’s eyes go wide as he covers his mouth blushing, Mr puzzle stares for a moment processing his words. “In love…with a rival?” his screen flickers to static for a moment before a montage of clips with Mario in it starts to play.

Three relaxes for a moment watching the man in front of him, the screen flicking to a panic expression “LOVE!? THAT IDIOT?! THE ONE THAT KEEPS BREAKING MY SCREEN!” SMG3 nods letting out a chuckle “You were checking him out in the challenges, you're down bad.” Mr Puzzle bends down to shake Three “I CAN'T BE! Romance is something beautiful, with one courting the other. All Mario has done is make my life hell!” Three breaks from the panic grab and takes a few steps away, making sure that he wasnt going to be grabbed again he speaks up “How do you think i felt when i found out about Four, but when you think about it more..you start to see why you did.” Mr Puzzle crossed his arms “What's so good about Mario? That he can entertain? Make me laugh? That he loves television?” SMG3 smirks as the TV man keeps listing things about Mario, he pauses when he notices the list he made looking at Three. The guardian shrugs “Told you,” with that he starts to walk away from Mr Puzzle before he stops and turns “Hey a question, when did you teach Pedro how to drive?” Mr Puzzle looks at Three annoyed by the topic change “Never did,” they stare at each other till they hear a loud crash making them both turn. Seeing the red car the pair left in crashed SMG3 ran back inside the stadium to find his partner, leaving Mr Puzzle lost with his thoughts. Ignoring the pair running around doing random memes, Mr Puzzle heads to his home lost in his head. Once he made it home he slammed the door shut and sat on the couch hugging his legs, who would have thought the illness was one known as the love bug. He sighs as he takes out his notebook looking at the five stars he drew. “This can't stop my plan, no matter what happens…I need those stars.” He then sees the small doodle he did of Mario, frustrated he tosses the notebook across the room. About ready to go into his head and forget the day, the doorbell rings making him get up from the couch. He swings the door open “FOR THE LAST TIME I'M NOT GOING TO SUBSCRIBE TO-” he pauses when he sees who is at the door. Mario smiles brightly as Pedro sprints past them “Mario brought Pedro home safely!” Mr Puzzle blushes as he rubs his arm “Oh…how kind of you, even though you were the one to run off with him. Ahem thank you.” Mario nods and turns to head home to get some spaghetti, he had to long in the day without a plate of his favorite dish and he needed to eat now. Mr Puzzle looks at Pedro who is bouncing around in the studio, he then turns to the plumber “Mario! Uh..i am going to make some pasta for Pedro, would you like to stay and eat?” Everything was yelling in his head, what was he doing? Truly he has lost his mind offering dinner to his rival, he needed to focus on the big picture. He then remembers how nice it was to have someone with him to celebrate his victory, frowning at the memory of Leggy, Mr Puzzle shakes his head “Never mind, I'm sure you're going to get some with the SMG4 crew.” He was about to close the door before Mario storms in “Thanks TV Man, Mario is so hungry!” Mr Puzzle watches as Mario and Pedro sit at the table demanding spaghetti, he sighs then lets out a small image of him smiling before closing the front door. He walks over to the pair acting annoyed “ENOUGH! I swear you two have no manners!” Mario smiles brightly at Mr Puzzles making him blush as his antennae spark, he was already regretting the invitation. He walks over to the kitchen and places his hand on his chest, feeling his heart race at the sight of the plumber smiling. He takes out his cell phone and looks at his phone, staring at the star rating he sighs looking back at Mario. His mind is filled with confusing and conflicting thoughts as he gets ready to spend the evening with his new found crush. “Maybe…it won't be so bad. I mean the people love a good celebrity couple!”

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg4 smg3 #lizaluv #smg4 au #marware #smg4 mario #smg4 mr puzzles

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theresattrpgforthat · 23 days ago

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Character Friction: On “Asshole Characters”, or Shitty Little Guys.

A while ago I floated a few thoughts I had about “asshole” characters in the Indy TTRPGs community. I floated these questions because I had been listening to this interview between Klaus von Hohenloe of The Dungeon Newb's Guide and The Panic Table. In particular, Klaus mentions that some games don’t allow for player friction, and in games where this is the case (cough D&D cough), it culminates in a horrible experience for all involved.

To illustrate, I’m going to talk about some experience I’ve had with my own play groups.

Art from Last Fleet, by Vicentius Matthew.

It might be shocking to hear, but I’ve played D&D once or twice. I remember being in a campaign with two players who wanted very different things from that game. Player A wanted to bring their character on a deep emotional journey, while Player B wanted to act as strategically as possible in pursuit of their character’s benefit, often to the detriment of other members of the party. My own character wanted to track down leads to a mystery that mattered to her, but not really to anyone else. This often led to frustrating moments where characters might not communicate as much information to the party as they might have otherwise, and in other cases one character’s actions could pull the entire party’s journey off-course.

The three of us all played together in a completely different game, three years later - Last Fleet. Let me tell you, the character interactions were completely flipped on their heads. Player A got a dramatic emotional arc around an NPC who was integral to the main plot. Player B got to pursue their own agenda, often in ways that worked against the efforts of other PCs. As the GM, I was given tools that actually encouraged both of these moments: both pushing Player A to wrestle with their relationship and implicating Player B as a suspicious person very early on.

A basic move from Last Fleet.

There are a number of reasons this worked in Last Fleet and not in D&D. One, Last Fleet playbooks often encourage players to keep secrets, work against the benefit of the crew, and fuck up their relationships with each-other. Two, Last Fleet has something called the Pressure mechanic. This is both a resource and a time bomb: you can mark Pressure to improve your chances of success, but hit your cap and your character has to do something to relieve their stress - and that choice is usually rather detrimental to the ship.

Finally, Last Fleet’s a different kind of story. You’re not playing heroic adventurers fighting monsters and clearing out dungeons. You’re playing the last desperate strains of humanity, fleeing an alien threat that has the power to infiltrate your fleet and resemble the ones you love most. Last Fleet is all about how a high-stress situation can lead people to making poor decisions, and, should you desire, it can also be about how people are sometimes forced to rely on each-other in order to get through a harrowing situation.

When I compare these situations, I don’t think we had bad players at the table: we just had the wrong kind of game for the story that the players wanted. I suppose I haven’t necessarily played enough D&D to say that it can’t allow for compelling, flawed characters - what I like to call “shitty little guys” - but I certainly don’t think it’s a play culture that accounts for the diversity of player goals.

More to the point, I find myself really drawn to playing flawed characters - both with them and for them. I love my over-perfectionist superhero in MASKS who lashes out when her friends don’t meet her standards. I adore my Thirsty Sword Lesbian who doesn’t know how to flirt or how to process emotions. I’m having so much fun watching play-testers pick up their various monsters in Protect the Child and demonstrate each character’s struggles when it comes to relating to a kid. I think it’s fascinating that in Changeling: the Lost 1e, a Fairest is rewarded with a discount when they use their Contracts of Reflection to spy on people that they love.

Contract of Reflections, Equinox Road Sourcebook, Changeling the Lost 1e.

I’ve personally seen the most leeway for character friction in PbtA games, like Apocalypse World, Urban Shadows, and Apocalypse Keys. When I brought up the question in the Community post, I asked folks for other examples of playing Shitty Little Guys. Their interpretations were really interesting, and far broader than my initial scope.

@nebmia mentioned that by giving your characters “unpleasant” abilities, it will incentivize them to use those abilities in unpleasant ways.

@goblincow has a lot of thoughts about creating little guys who aren’t just horrible, but are also in horrible situations - which gives license for the players to endanger their characters in the pursuit of mischief.

@airkseablade brought up Tenra Bansho Zero, and how it uses something called an “Emotion Matrix” to randomly determine how a player character might reaction to meeting a new person, as well as “Fates”, which are goals that each player is rewarded for playing towards, but mostly based on group consensus.

@willknightauthor talked about Wraith: (The Oblivion?), and how each archetype available to players has a part of themselves that pulls them towards darker choices.

It turns out that we really like playing characters who are mean-spirited, greedy, and struggling to get what they want, and we have a lot of different ways to make that happen. It reminds me of a common piece of advice given to writers when they’re writing a novel - you want a character who’s flawed, because those flaws can be used.

In games like Trilogy or TSL, you might want those flaws because you want to see your character overcome them. In games like Mothership or Cairn, you might want those flaws because then it makes it easier to push your guys through a meat-grinder. In games like Hillfolk or Apocalypse World, you might want those flaws because you want to see just how much well-meaning or desperate characters can fuck each-other up, given the right circumstances.

So what’s the point of all this? What am I trying to get out of this?

When I hear stories about horrible players, the experience I’ve had at my tables makes me want to approach these “trouble” players with a bit of grace. Perhaps these “trouble” players simply want something that is a challenge to provide in a game like D&D, but in Mothership, Urban Shadows, Apocalypse World etc., they might find their choices welcomed and encouraged. And if you've found yourself being accused of being a "trouble" player because you like to a cause drama, perhaps these games might be more up your alley than you think!

Consider playing a game with horrible guys who suck today!

#mint speaks #indie ttrpgs #dnd #tabletop games #sometimes the experience you want is waiting for you #in another game #also thank you luka for embedding the phrase “horrible guys who suck” into my brain

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harbinger-of-chaossss · 8 months ago

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What I think your favourite sonic character says about you!

Sonic- you need therapy

Tails- Your an older sibling who feels 6 years old in their 20’s

Knuckles- you complain that nobody appreciates him enough. And you’d be correct.

Amy- you could give me a 3 hour video essay on an oddly specific historical subject and you’d have my full attention

Cream- you say you don’t like kids but then you cry every time you see a kid in fiction because you’re scared that anything or everything bad will happen. (the embodiment of that “if anything happens to them I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself” meme)

Big the cat- you scare me in a way that shouldn’t even exist

Shadow- You are so right (please kiss me on the mouth)

Rouge- you ether like her way to much. Or you like her way to much.

Omega- haha. Bomb.

Silver- You believe you’d be able to win a fight against anyone who would make fun of your friends, but would cry if you had to make plans over the phone.

Blaze- your handwriting and craftsmanship with making art and stories always comes to amaze me. Like you know when you join a fandom and see the most breathtaking fic or art. Like how is it not in a museum, or a best selling novel, that’s how I feel about your art/writing.

Metal- ok you’re a NERD nerd. Like you’ve been a fan of sonic since you were 8, you played a lot of the games, you own at least a couple comics and figures. This franchise is ingrained in your BLOOD.

Eggman- wow that’s really interes- *pepper-sprays you in the eyes*

Charmy- you were either the really annoying kid and proud, or stuck using millennial/ tumblr slang 24/7, Or both.

Espio- what’s it like only shipping rear pairs

Vector- your to swag to exist. Like there are at least 50 people you’ve had minor interactions with in real life who now have that interaction in their long term memory just because of how cool you were. What are you even doing here man? Go outside!

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #cream the rabbit #big the cat #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #team dark #team sonic #the chaotix #espio the chameleon #charmy bee #vector the crocodile #relatable

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adeptus-nonsense · 1 year ago

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humans are poets as well as warmongers

Humans nowadays are well known far and wide in this galaxy. Mostly because they are some of the most chaotic, Stupid or bold "daredevils" around (think i used that word correctly).

While i do recall my first meeting with the humans very V E R Y badly since i served in the contact wars when the Graktuka a well known theocratic empire and very influential and politically strong contender in the galaxy stumbled across human colonies. They saw this as an hostile action since the planet they were settling were a holy world, That however is a story for another time.

Just know that the Graktuka empire shrunk by a significant margin to the point where they asked for militairy support. The humans had apparently developed a kind of magnetic accelerated firing plattform piercing through multiple layers of hull completely ignoring shields. Given that Graktuka empire relied on shields since most of the galactic arsenal is plasma based but their hull wasn't weak at all. Unconventional weapons had to be used to even dent their armour. Realising that the humans ships were massive but rather primitive and slow a ground based invasion was seen to be the optimal way off going.

If you were there you would know why humanity is as feared as they are. Masters of the what did they call it? Art of war? Yeah something like that. Fields of bombs buried into the ground detonating with a light step. Weapons dedicated to injure soldiers just enough to save them but not kill them in order to make the invader spend more resources on saving said soldier.

Even our bases of operations with shields were not safe, let me tell you if you think regular humans can cause damage to stuff by touching things dont even get near trained saboteurs with your stuff. They break things in a ways that seems like a simple malfunction and will work after a simple repair. When the shield generator first broke down i thought i could fix it in a matter of minutes, I still havent fixed it to this day and i have taken that thing apart thousands of times without finding the fault.

safe to say we lost that war and this is just one one planet. This was the short part. Just be glad that they pack bond with just about anything. Saw a human carry a cleaning unit and named it "Ronald the Roomba" And that is apparently our ships mascot. But this is things we all are aware of. Let me tell you of their poetic side

This is not something most of us see as common knowledge about humans, but their cultural aspect besides war is for a lack of better words beautiful. This thing they call music.

for all their wars they know how brutal they are and write songs about everything they did wrong and how they wished how they could change it. But that is not all, according to human Jakob music portrays emotions and ones feelings in a way that regular communication doesn't and you dont even need to understand the words to understand the emotion said piece is carrying. Which i know to be true, it's almost therapeutic

I think My log of it will be a better way to describe since it is honestly hard to describe [alltough be careful their music is quite loud for most prey species]

Year 4574 human sector 456854 log 1 of service leave. I am currently here on a passion project of mine. While the war has ended 6 years ago off now the tensions do still exist. Me and some comrades in service are taking some time off and going to what humans call a bar and apparently there is a human performing. I have no idea of how this is gonna go. All i know is humans are incredibly chaotic especially when intoxicated. Still i should probably record this for the culture scientists at social scientific hub.

Log 2

*murmur and loud talking in the background at the bar*

"for clarifications sake, my name is Groakslo, i am here with my two comrades Kyukla and Telosa. We are currently at the bar only to see that humans are actively drinking poison, i was quite shocked to hear this and asked if it isn't dangerous and the bartender said and i quote "nah we gucci" note to self find out what gucci is."

Log 3

"the humans were beginning to get rowdy and even slight outbursts of violence did occur but nothing the surprisingly loud bartender couldn't handle by a very concerning threat, followed by him saying that the band is preparing so settle down. Telosa and i looked at each other very confused but still awaited this "band"

Log 4

"the band arrived and started to set up weird things, long instruments with metal strings, of varying thickness, i asked the a human who were close by what they were and he said instruments. I asked what they were used for and he said to play music. I was getting nowhere and decided to see for myself what they were gonna do."

Log 5 (i decided to be quiet for this one)

"welcome folks and aliens of all sorts shapes and kinds! Thank you for coming to this bar for our first debut our name is The Lines In between, and for those who dont know human music, we'll slowly lean you into it with this first on and it is namned Memories beneath the stars" [3 hours of music recorded]

Final log (yes i know i could voice record but i want to write while the memory is fresh i'm bad with words)

I never knew that humans could make such songs. Telosa and Kyukla was particurlarly affected. The song was as the name suggest the memories we made sneaking out to watch the stars as younglings, reminiscing about the times when the stars were the most unknown, adventure filled and beautiful place to be in. But also about the connections they've lost over the years, the good times wiped away like a water slowly polishing a stone into sand. It was odd, beautiful calm, sad all at once.

The voices i heard when i fought humans in war can not even be compared to that of the singer in that band, what is most perplexing is that the once borderline rioting bar was completely quiet when the band was performing, almost as if in a trance completely captured by the singers voice, smooth, rough, raspy but controlled in a way i thought impossible. A song about 4 human minutes somehow managed to capture the full emotional spektrum of not only humans but multiple species in that bar.

Humans truly are an astounding species. Truly a species that are on all of the extremes, stupidity, ingenuity, violence, poetry and many many more. For now i'll sign off and hope you at the social cultural exchange fellas have a field day with the music file attached to this.

Grokslo, highly decorated former geothermical shield generator militairy specialist.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #this is my firsy real post and more to come :)

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some-pers0n · 3 months ago

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Demoman is one of the characters in the fandom I feel most people straight up ignore or don't know how to write. Blunt, sure, but I do stand by it. Demoman is such a fascinating, intriguing character with the most fleshed-out backstories, yet is oftentimes relegated to being Soldier 2.0, only now with poorly written phonetics.

In other words, hey! I'm a fanfic writer who has a ton of opinions as well as a neurotic need to analyze every character they come into contact with. Pleased to see you're reading this. I've already done a little doohickey essay like this with Medic a while back. The purpose of these long rambles is half of me combing through every instance of the character and pulling them apart to see how their character works...and also me not-so-subtly venting and complaining about mischaracterization. Shocking how a fandom where the main characters are all very clear-cut stereotypes with some slight subversions here and there can't seem to get them.

This essay will go through Demo's beginning and all the way to his latest appearance in the 6th comic. I'll touch on how his character shifts and is expanded upon. I doubt he changes as much as Medic has over the years, but I think it will be interesting to see. I'll just go over bits of characterization, try to rationalize it, and then try my best to sum up all of the traits by the end and try to describe his character in the most canon-compliant way.

With that preamble out of the way, let's begin. This is also 7k words btw just...be aware of that, okay?

Before we actually get into proper character stuff, I wanna lay the groundwork first by exploring the types of characterization I see from Demo. Pick them apart. See what they're really like.

So, of course, there's the popular Redditor opinion of Demo that's mainly shaped by the way people play him in the game. There, people will describe Demo as being generally a bumbling drunkard. It's not too uncommon to see people say that he's an angry drunk. A man who is more concerned with alcohol and drinking himself into a stupor than anything else. I've also seen people say that Demo straight up can't read, which...euhhhhggg. He feels more like an alternative version of Soldier at times, which, again, isn't accurate to his character.

I don't care at all for this characterization. I do think a good chunk is rooted in racism and it's generally very uncomfortable for me to look at for too long. This characterization is pretty shallow and empty, which makes for a boring and offensive caricature. Reddit moment.

The second one is more interesting and the version you'll see more on Tumblr. It's this...odd version of him. I can't exactly put my tongue on what is off about it. It seems more accurate to his character. He's a foil for Soldier a lot of the time (Boots n' Bombs is his most popular ship let's be real) and generally isn't exactly seen on his own. Sure yeah there's the oddball art of him and him only, but let's be real most of his tag is mainly just him being in the background or saying a jokey-joke.

I actually fell back into Ao3 for a bit to skim over some fics to see what kind of characterization there was of Demo there to refresh my memory, and some of the common throughlines was shockingly that he doesn't drink a lot. "He rarely drinks!" I remember reading once. That's not right, no. He's an alcoholic. Like that's a core part of his character. Another fic had him being called "Cyclops" as a pet name. Ew. Anywho, other than that it's Demo being pretty into cryptids, having the Eyelander as a buddy guy, etc and etc. It's fun, but also it's missing...something.

Then, it hit me: Demo rarely is seen as an individual. He reminds me of Heavy in that regard, where most of his appearances have him be the straight-man to another character. Most of the time he's secondary and just a folly for the other characters. It's disappointing in that regard. Like you see a lot more stuff for characters like Scout, Medic, etc and etc with their own unique characterization stuff and getting their own attention.

So...then what is Demoman's character, exactly? Well, that's what we're here to see. It'll be pretty interesting, no?

----

So, funny thing is that Demo didn't change nearly as much as Medic has over the years. Sure yeah, the concept art of Demo was more of the generic stereotypical Scotsman. White, ginger, sideburns, that whole thing. Cartoony and fun design, but eventually they went with the Demo we all know and love today.

Looking at the concept art, it all seems pretty standard for the tone that Invasion was going for at the time. Nothing really to note there other than Demo's face being a stock angry grr grr expression. It is interesting to see how the idea of him wearing an eye was a constant even from the beginning though.

This then brings us to the voicelines. Ahh, good ol' characterization. Demo here is characterized as being jovial and having fun. He's throwing out insults left and right, damning them to hell and laughing at them as they die. Usual typical mercenary stuff. This is just personal headcanon material, but I always rationalize the way the mercs act on the battlefield as being a result from adrenaline and generally being drunk on blood. They aren't as mean when off the clock, but it's worth noting that these are how these characters act when a gun's in their hands and they're exploding people left and right.

TF2 really likes basing the characters off of the class they play as and how they act. Scout is fast moving and his gameplay is oftentimes getting right in someone's face and bolting, which is reflective in his hotshot personality. It's only reasonable that Demo is an explosive, fun, and generally cocky guy when out and battling. He's lobbing grenades and sticky bombs left and right. He isn't afraid to yell to the Medic he just blew up that he's been shagging his wife and calling the Scout he just chopped the head off "twinkle-toes". He teases and such when it comes to the other team.

However, the voicelines also very curiously give us a really fascinating look into his character. He's an alcoholic. He loves his scrumpy, which is not whiskey, shockingly. I thought it was whiskey for the longest time, but no! It's a cider! His stock melee is the bottle he uses to drink, now turning it into a quick weapon. His model in the main menu is him holding up the bottle itself. His default melee taunt is him taking a swig from the scrumpy bottle. It's a core part of his identity, let's be real. It's a part of the whole Scottish stereotype he has going on.

The game of course follows this. There's a lot of lines where he's slurring and babbling in a cartoony drunken way. A good portion of it is just him making vague threats...but a lot of it is also sad. He calls himself a one-eyed bloody monster. He weeps and cries. When jeering, he says he's hit rock bottom here. Interesting new development.

Apologizes for pausing to ramble, but I don't get why people try and sand down the edges to Demoman's character by making him out as though he isn't an addict. He is. That's something that is made abundantly clear. The iconography of alcohol follows him like his own damn shadow. I dunno. It bothers me.

I digress. There's some other bonus stuff I think is quite interesting. Most of his battle charges involve the other team. "Let's gettem lads!" and all. I think it's neat how he views his teammates as just that. Teammates. Those he fights alongside with. Another thing of note is how he occasionally has lines that are...odd in a way. Poetic and dramatic. Something that subverts the typical characterization. When he loses at rock paper scissors, there's a chance he'll say "Oh, 'tis a dark day", which. well then okay buddy.

So to recap: for characterization in-game, Demo is an alcoholic Scotsman who is generally pretty witty and functioning despite the incredible amounts of booze he drinks. He is energetic, bombastic, and generally hearty and having fun. He's not taking things terribly seriously and is generally just going about and blowing stuff up. However, there is a very noticeable streak of sadness to his character. When drinking, he reveals undertones of self-deprecation and hatred. Why? How?

...well, you just need to take a gander at his character card.

Erm excuse me what the fuck.

I honestly do not understand the logic behind this backstory. Like in a practical sense. Like, yeah!! obviously this backstory is sad and such! I really actually like this backstory and honestly I love writing him in the context that this happened to him. It's just that...I can't wrap my head around the idea of this being Demo's backstory given that everyone else has pretty silly little blurbs here. I think the darkest it gets is Soldier going to Germany years after WWII ended to kill people.

This??? Sure yeah TF2 gets a lot sillier and more cartoony comedic as time goes on, but even with the current tone where is the funny? I ain't complaining, I love me my angst, but this is so jarring to see. I suppose that explains why they retcon it later, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hey, at least it gives us an explanation to why Demo is sad. We can pretty easily gleam a reason for his current behaviour in the game from this: his messed up childhood. To begin, Tavish Finnegan DeGroot was abandoned by his parents and left to live in an orphanage. Eventually, he was adopted and brought up by some foster parents, who he then murdered in an attempt to blow up the Loch Ness monster. This was when he was six years old. Actual child.

He then went back into the orphanage, where he would tinker with bombs. Why? Insert whatever headcanon here, but for me I think it's a feeling of fascination, yet also heavy guilt. Perhaps revenge. Either way, he loses his eye from these experiments. Eventually however, he's brought back into the family when word spreads of his excellence when it comes to manufacturing bombs. The use of the word "lovingly" feels exceptionally sarcastic, but that could be in part to how his parents are later characterized. Either way, this is a result of the DeGroot tradition, which, and I quote, is wholly unnecessary and cruel. It even cites it as him being reintroduced into his family as the "end of his unhappy childhood".

...so yeah. Pretty safe to say the reason for his alcoholism is to cope with that. He feels the guilt over that and will breakdown into sobs over it even. Yikeesss... It can also mean that he feels as though he's held up to incredibly high expectations, having the entire DeGroot family lineage to live up to. Again, later on he's being nagged at for not being as hard-working as his father, who, in good ol' TF2 fashion, blew up the Queen for a nickel. It does certainly feel that way, no?

So this introduces a new wrinkle to Demoman's current characterization: he's an alcoholic who is happy and has an upbeat and fun personality (at least on the battlefield), but underneath it he's hurting and feels ashamed of who he is. He drinks to cope and manage it, yet it only seems to exasperate problems at times.

Can I safely say that Demo is the merc with the most fascinating and intriguing backstory and personality thus far? Sure yeah I love Engie a lot as well, but Demo's character actually feels like it is a result of the backstory written for him. Like all of the other mercs sure you can go on and on about stuff with them, like Scout and Spy and their whole deal, Sniper and his parents, everything with Heavy, etc. Demo?? Right off the bat there's something to chew on in terms of actual character writing.

What an interesting character! I sure hope later installations of the story will follow through on this and give him ample screentime!

Anywho, time for the Meet the Demo video. Again, a departure from the Meet the Medic video and how I rambled on and on about that one, but it was mainly due to MtM being something to mark a drastic shift in Medic's character from serious and angry to more silly and mad scientist-esque. Meet the Demo, due to it being one of the Meet the Team videos made so early on, doesn't really get the benefit of a short with a story, but I digress.

This one is stylized more like an interview, which, in canon, means he's telling this all to The Director and all. It opens with the title screen before the horns section seep in, cutting to a clip of Demo running while explosions go off behind him. A freeze frame cut before a voice-over of Demo comes on with the iconic line "What makes me a good Demoman? If I were a bad Demoman, I wouldn't be here discussing it with you, now would I!?"

Okay so just more confirmation and all of Demo's personality in-game. According to his bio, he has a short temper and all, which could explain him getting louder when asked that question. I don't think it's a joke or him exaggerating, since he seems genuinely pretty upset by the suggestion. He would have to be good at his job in order to be telling you this, yeah? Why even bother asking? It's an interesting bit of characterization that somewhat expands on that short temper.

More generic footage of him running about while explosions go off before coming back to the interview of him explaining a bomb in its simplest form. "One crossed wire, a wayward pinch of potassium chlorate, one errant twitch... and kablewie!!" Seems like filler dialogue, but I always like taking note of the fact he uses the chemical compound term as opposed to something more colloquial. It's just headcanons, but I really enjoy thinking that Demo is pretty damn smart and really gifted when it comes to making bombs and general chemistry. It's a clear passion and love of his and I like touching on it when I can.

The next couple seconds are shots between him taking a good swig of his scrumpy and then blowing up a level three sentry. It's just showing off his capabilities as a class. Nothing special (other than being cool and showing he's competent at his job). The real interesting part is his breakdown where he's on the verge of tears, exasperatingly telling the camera that he's...off. He knows it. There's not too many black Scotsmen, especially ones with a busted eye. "They've got more fucking sea monsters in the great Loch Ness than they got the likes of me" he says.

But, he perks up! He talks over a clip of him baiting a group of BLU mercs into a sticky trap. The voiceover is also really fascinating here. The way Demo talks reminds me something out of an Aesop fable. It's a very curious and fascinating way of talking. I wish this bit of characterization stuck around since it's pretty fun. "Come and get me I say! I'll be waiting on ya with a whiff of the ol' brimstone. I'm a grim bloody fable...with an unhappy bloody end!" is really cool.

The video ends with him taunting the mangled corpses followed by a rendition of the main theme with bagpipes. I should probably also mention Drunken Pipe Bomb, his theme song. It's an upbeat and fun piece with a mixture of the typical TF2 sounds (funky jazzy drums and bass guitar) as well as a Celtic flair, what with bagpipes, whistles, etc and etc. There's also a kickass surf rock section. It's quite the battle theme and definitely reflects a lot of Demo's character as being an energetic, explosive type of character who is proud of his Scottish roots.

So that's pretty much it for SFM bits for now. How about we take a step back and look at the first-ever actual TF2 comic: WAR!, where Demo really gets a big break for his characterization. We don't care about the Saxton Hale or Jarate ones. WAR! my beloved...

But first, the actual WAR! update. It was the sixth major content update released back in 2009. Remember when this game got actual content updates? Me neither. The update was based around the rivalry between the RED Demo and the BLU Soldier to excuse why they were adding new items for the both of them, with Soldier in the end winning the little contest and getting the Gunboats.

For canon lore, the update serves to introduce the idea that the RED Demo and BLU Soldier had a comradery at first. Friends! Interesting piece of characterization to have Demo explicitly go against RED and become friends with Soldier. The two of them do bounce off of each other quite well when they're paired up, I will say. They're both heavy-hitters in terms of gameplay and their personalities are quite loud at times.

For added voicelines, there's a bunch of the Administrator denouncing their friendship as well as domination lines for both Solly and Demo whenever they kill each other. Demo pretends he hates Soldier, but asks if he's okay, tells him that he loves him, and generally is like "but we're still friends though, aye? :]" He does care a lot about their friendship, which is pretty sweet and cute. Sure hope that lasts.

In the WAR! comic, we see Demo in a mansion. He's loaded! It's also confirmation that the mercs are given quite a lot of money, but apparently not enough for Demo's mother. She's nagging him about not working and saying that he should be ashamed for being so lazy, to which he rebuttals, saying he has three jobs and has made millions annually. Apparently not enough for his mother, since Demo's father worked twenty-six jobs.

She also brings up an interesting piece of information. "No demoman worth his sulfur ever had an eye in his head past thirty!" which implies that missing an eye is a family tradition to lose your eyes when working this job. Would this also imply that Demo is not thirty by this point, since he still has the one eye? Eh, whatever.

Demo taking care of his mom in this old, nagging state is pretty neat characterization, as well as him holding down two other jobs besides mercenary work for RED. He's very capable and talented! He's also extremely caring and sweet. Even when his mum is complaining and griping about him not living up to his father, he gets her tea and takes care of her. He does respond with a lot of "I know mum" when it comes to that. He's heard it all before. She keeps saying the same stuff. I like thinking he knows fully well he can't live up to the extreme work ethic his father had or truly impress his parents and is pretty bummed out about it, but that's just headcanons.

Anywho, Pauling's there. She's there because the Administrator wants to break up the friendship between Demo and the BLU Soldier and instead have them be pitted against each other. While Soldier needs to be tricked and insulted by Demo and told that he's a civilian (something that he hates apparently), Demo is more coerced and convinced.

He's still loyal to their friendship, but, aye, there's something different about that sword there. Here's an interesting bit of characterization: Demo being a sword guy. There's a lot of medieval stuff relating to Demo, what with DeGroot's Keep, the Eyelander, his general way of speaking at times, etc and etc. It's fun and I think he takes great interest in medieval-period stuff, but, again, headcanons.

Demo feels conflicted. How could she make him choose between his best friend and this cool ass sword?? He doesn't give an answer, but Miss Pauling further pushes him to choose violence when leaving even more stuff for him as well as telling him that Soldier said that he'll join the fight. It's then assumed that Demo agrees by that point.

It's interesting to compare and contrast Demo and Soldier. Soldier, despite hearing all of these mean things, still wants to be friends with Demo. It's until "Demo" calls him a civilian, something personal and sensitive to him, is when he decides to betray him. Demo meanwhile is more swayed by things that he loves, but the final push is that betrayal. He only acts when he's finally told that their friendship has been severed. Curious how their loyalty is strong in those ways.

...I should probably sometime mention the actual retconning of his backstory however. Hoouhhh boy let's go. So, for the 2011 Halloween update, there was a comic alongside it. This comic had some cute gags, like Heavy giving a little boy he scared seven grand. However, the main attraction is the rewritten backstory for Demo.

I mentioned earlier, but I honestly can't blame them for maybe trying another crack at a Demo backstory that isn't as bleak and miserable. I do really like the original one because I'm a sucker for angst, but this backstory does work a lot better tonally when you're just trying to write some goofy stuff, especially if it involves Merasmus at some point.

The story retcons the whole thing and seemingly makes it so that Demo has always been with his parents and the reason he lost his eye was not because of some brutal accident but rather a currrseeee ooohhhh spookyyy. He's hired by Merasmus to sweep up the place a bit, with him being exceptionally clear to young Tav to not touch any of the accursed tomes. He does, of course. Nothing too much in terms of characterization. It's more just saying "Hey Demo's eye is cursed and that's why he lost it but! hey! it comes back once every Halloween!!"

Again, I can't really knock this version of events. They're simple, but goofy and fun. It's all up to whatever you're trying to accomplish with Demo methinks. If you want silly and whimsical stories, you can have that backstory. If you want gut-wrenching angst, probably should take the initial one.

Aanndd that's virtually it for Demo being important. Demo doesn't get too much plot relevance later on. He's just kinda done with. He shows up in Expiration Date for a quick gag where he returns with a bunch of beer, shouting and cheering while being unaware of how they all just learned they're going to die in three days. He then shows up again during the bucket scene and doesn't do much other than mouthing somethin' (I can't tell you want tbh). A new thing is that he plays piano! That's fun! He then kinda watches Scout try and ask out Pauling and he yells for him to describe what she looks like, which is just what Demo currently sees her as (drunk, blurry, etc). He then fights in the big battle yada yada and shows up at the end with the beer again.

The MVM trailer I suppose is a thing to be noted. Here, he's a BLU Soldier and is playing cards with the Soldier of the same team. Seems like regardless of teams, there's some sort of bond between the two of them. All that happens is that Demo is down to bust up robots with the rest of the RED mercs. Pretty much it.

It is quite unfortunate to see Demo relegated to a role so passive in the story and comics. I've mentioned it before, but I do have an ever so slight grudge against Soldier for taking up the majority of the screentime when it comes to the comics. Yeah, he's really fun to write about, I can't blame the writers for doing so, but also like...c'mon... In the end, we're left with a good chunk of the mercs being underdeveloped in exchange for a ton of Soldier trivia. Props if you like Solly though; your fave got the best treatment.

Ah, but still! Demo has some moments in the comics! Let's go through them!

Uh. Upon checking most of the comics before the mainline ones, it appears he does not say even a single word. Or even show up in a good portion. Well that's disappointing. I thought he at least said like...one thing. The most he does in terms of characterization is put on a crown in A Fate Worse Than Chess, and even then that's just a silly cosmetic. Damn.

It's fine though! Because now we have the mainline comics! Hot damn finally some actual casual Demoman TF2 writing! Let's get a look and see what his normal usual personality is like! I wonder what fun shenanigans he's been up to.

The first time we see Demo he's babbling about his job being replaced by robots and looking utterly dishevelled and depressed.

Okay. That's...yeah pretty in line for his character thus far. An alcoholic who is struggling with some stuff and oftentimes will have a very vocal breakdown in front of others.

The way that he's characterized here is rather fascinating though, I'll say. He's depressed. From what we can glean, this is what his life has been like since the layoffs. He's gained weight (what with Soldier's very blunt "Hello fat Demoman!"), hasn't shaved, his clothes are dirty, and beer bottles are scattered in the living room. Even the Eyelander is like "dude you need to let it go" when Demo mumbles about robots replacing jobs. He's presumably lost his two other jobs and has just been laying on this couch, drinking booze and watching TV and nothing more, despite his mum's nagging.

This is a side of Demo we don't really see. Sure, yeah, we see the hot and tempered side (ex: Meet the Demoman and the general game) as well as the sad and weepy side, but it's never to this degree. Like full on depressive episode. Yikes. Sure yeah he gets dragged back into the plot and instantly gets back to himself (albeit more orange than actually black)(I keep forgetting how whitewashed Demo was in these first few comics), but it's played for laughs and gags.

What an interesting piece of characterization, no? I've seen a fair amount of major depressive disorder, BPD, PTSD, and or bipolar headcanons slapped onto Demo and tbh I can't blame them. I'd be really interested to see some fic explore that in greater detail. I'm too busy writing Engiemedic yaoi to do anything for now though. Womp womp.

The ending bit of the comic has Demo and Pauling mainly chat with each other. Oh yeah!! Demo and Pauling! They've got a couple pretty neat lines. For the usual contract it's just jokes about his alcoholism, his eye, and a couple about his mom and just general gags. In the Tough Break update, she's out drinking with Demo and nearly spills the beans about her job. Fun. I really like the Miss Pauling characterization where she regularly hangs out with the mercs. It's cute.

In the comics, she talks to Demo more like an actual equal than, say, Pyro or Soldier. She talks to them like they're children roughhousing in the backseat. Demo sits up front and the two go back and forth. Demo is the more mature and reasonable one here. Another thing that's a common bit of characterization in the comics is that Demo isn't...drunk. He's not slurring nor acting in a way that makes it immediately clear he's inebriated. He's pretty lucid. This can be from the fact that he's a very high-functioning alcoholic, but it also makes him out to be actually pretty all-there for most of the time. I've seen far too many fics where Demo is in a perpetual state of shitface drunk so that was a nice refresher.

Demo reappears in the second comic, where we get some pretty neat characterization. He's out on the town in disguise. I keep forgetting about that "What do you see?" "Not a damn thing. Let's switch places" gag that's so funny. Whatever. He is the voice of reason when it comes to Soldier. The straight-man character. He's not really...drunk here. He's not slurring his words nor is he exactly doing anything. He steps in front when Soldier starts yelling at an elderly woman, instead approaching her with a calm and kind demeanour. He holds Soldier back when he goes to strangle Scout for. I guess just being there.

So there's Demo when he's just doing stuff normally, I suppose. He's generally pretty level-headed, albeit because he's up there with Soldier. He's the Normal One when posed next to a guy like Solly. A little disappointing, but there's probably more in comic 4.

Ah the Swordvan comic. Demo and Pauling head over to Sniper's house to retrieve him. An odd bit of characterization is that Demo just takes one look at Snipes' house and goes "Welp, nobody's here. Let's get out". He doesn't seem terribly thrilled to be here, further backed up by him saying that there's just gonna be fingernails and jars of piss and he straight up says "good riddance" like what is his issue with the bushman??

Now that's kinda interesting. Demo sees Snipes as being kinda just gross and a raving lunatic. He could easily be in-place for the audience and just saying what we're thinking, but I think it's interesting to see that Demo, the guy often portrayed as being the weirdo party guy, being very straight-forward. He think Sniper is some sadistic madman and just wants out. Unfortunately, he's given a neckfull of Sniper's homemade family moonshine, so he can't get out quite yet.

A very common thing in these comics it seems is Demo being the voice of reason, which is pretty interesting. The straight man to everyone. When he wakes up to Pauling spitting on him to wake him up, he goes "eughhh gross, but, hey, it worked!!" before then is knocked out. He then stays quiet for the rest of the scene, unless of course you're counting the deleted pages. There's no dialogue, but Demo breaks free from the ropes binding him, yells at Sniper, then pushes past before then inserting three syringes-worth of the moonshine into himself and passing out. Alcoholism joke as per usual. Shockingly the first one we've gotten so far.

In the submarine ride down, Demo's passed out with his scrumpy in hand. Again just a gag about him drinking a lot. He then kinda stays in the background for the rest of the comic, only appearing really once to hold a vat of liquor, before then coming to in the final shot where he holds Sniper's dead body. Heyyyy Demo I thought you thought Sniper was a weirdo freak.

Nothing too much to say from this comic then. It's just establishing more and more that Demo plays a very...straight-man character role when it comes to the comics at least. He's reasonable, level-headed, and often just says whatever comes to mind. He's kind and will instantly rush to someone's aid when they're hurt as well as just generally being pretty good-hearted. Nice!

Comic 5 mainly just features a gag with Demo's liver being so overworked that he starts turning his other organs into alcohol distilleries. The whimsy. The line that I find most fascinating from this comic is from Spy.

Like oh okay so he straight up doesn't eat anything other than alcohol and aspirin. Water literally poisons him. Probably just a throwaway gag, but geez. It does say that he is kinda in pain all the time, at least to the point where aspirin is one of the few things his body can handle. Someone out there can probably work with that and make it angsty. Other than that, not much else for Demo.

Comic 6! The final one! Home stretch here folks before I can wrap this up and give a thesis on whatever the heck Demo's character is. Demo, again, is mainly just here for gags. It's the one thing I do really wish that the comics did more: explore Demo's backstory. Like you don't even need to keep the original one, but it's still fascinating to bring up the fact he has a family lineage at all. Instead, he's mainly just a straight-man character. But, hey, whatever. I'm just the one analyzing these silly comics and jokey joke characters for gay melodramatic yaoi fanfiction.

There's a gag about Demo's liver coming back to him after leaving. These soap opera drama scene could parallel the type of shows that he was watching when having that depressive episode, but that's maybe a bit of a stretch. He then gets included in that fun group shot, where his pose mimics that from the Meet the Demo, before then gets a one-on-one scene with Medic.

These two are such a fun duo I wish Jaggerbombs was a more common pairing. Ah well. Medic catches Demo up on everything whilst he's stitching up wounds. The medi-gun is broken so they're doing this the old-fashioned way. Demo has a gag where he's still drinking, only that it's hydrogen peroxide instead. This then leads to a scene where Demo asks why Medic never gave him an eye. Reasonable methinks. Medic responds saying he did.

Demo gets upset. He raises his voice for the first (official) time in the comics. Again, his temperament. I think it's a reasonable thing to be upset about tbh. Like imagine being told after all this time you could've had your eye back. He then learns that, no, the procedure has been done before, but rather that it never sticks because of how his eye socket is cursed. Demo asks how he can't remember this, to which Medic goes "Hooh :] It's because I scooped out a part of your brain" because of course he did. He then forgets the entire conversation + probably Medic entirely.

Aaannnddd that's pretty much it for Demo. That's his last speaking role. Just a quick, simple gag about his eye being cursed, his alcoholism, and generally being the straight-man for others, even if he does have a couple silly gags too. Seems like a culmination of everything he is in the comics.

To conclude: Demo is a character I feel can take on two main roles depending on what kind of tone you're going for. If you want angst, you've got a character who carries the guilt of murdering his foster parents as well as the burden of being a DeGroot, turning to alcohol to cope with his sadness and general inability to deal with it all. If you want silly goofy stuff, you have Demo being a straight-man or a neat party guy if you like the bit from Expiration Date where he brings back beer and such. Of course there's nuance. I find it best to try and find a balance between these two opposing sides. It just takes time and practice to really get a hold of his personality methinks.

I do wish he was more in the comics though as his own person, y'know? He's very reliant on others in order for his character to function, whilst most others have scenes where it's just them doing something. I wish he was used more than being the guy who drags the others back to reality. Damn it sucks to see that the fics where he's mainly just the straight-man are kinda right in that regard.

But for character traits? Hm, let's see. I find it's just trying to make sense of what's given to you and seeing what best fits for the tone of story you're trying to go for. However, for me trying to write him? Well...

His alcoholism is a central character trait. He is definitely 100% an alcoholic, regardless of however people try and sand him down. I personally really like sticking to the idea that he straight up can't eat anything but booze and aspirin because I think it's funny but also sad, but that's me. I think him having a flask of scrumpy on his person at all times is a neat headcanon as well.

Another big trait with Demo is his frequently shifting mood when drunk. He can swing from loud to weeping in a couple moments. I wouldn't say he's particularly angry nor aggressive, no more than any other character at least. He's most volatile on the battlefield, but otherwise at the base I feel it wouldn't be an uncommon sight to see Demo partying until dawn or holed up in the living room and sobbing. Poor guy.

In spite of what many think, Demo is certainly not lazy. He's a workaholic is anything. He holds down three jobs and rakes in a lot of money in order to live up to his name as a DeGroot. It could be because he likes working that much or that his mother just nags him to push himself that far. That also ties into his self-deprecation, another core trait of his, but that's pretty obvious to see.

His heart is another big trait. The guy loves. He cares for his mother even when she nags at him. He sticks by Soldier's side until he feels as though he's been betrayed. He takes care of the Eyelander and treats it like a pal. He generally cares a whole heck of a lot about people and other things. He wears his heart on his sleeve and says what he means. He doesn't feel a need to really hide who he is as a person. He's loud, fun, and just naturally pretty sweet and kind. I don't think he's ever really "mean" outside of the game stuff. There's also the whole "being hired to explode people" part but ehhh that's just the silliness in him :]

Demo also being generally pretty...normalish. He's a guy who's really just going through it when you take the angst option. He oftentimes will try and hold back others from doing something stupid when sober. I feel like when he's drunk he's more willing to get in on dumb shit, but still. However, this doesn't mean he's wholly a normal person. I think you can do a lot of headcanons here where you bring out some traits that are otherwise not talked about too much.

There are a lot of liberties to be taken with Demo's character as per usual. A ton of writing a character to be, well, in-character is just getting down their voice and mannerisms. Understanding their personality and motives is just half the battle. Demo sometimes speaks like an old-timey medieval knight or poet or whatever. He's generally pretty well-spoken and whatever. For the love of god if you want to write him, you don't need to include phonetics constantly. Please. It's so much better that tu'try toh spell everay whurd like tis. Oftentimes people will just know what the character sounds like regardless. Just try and mimic his way of speaking more and you'll do wonders for actually making that character sound like, well, that character.

I've neglected to mention Demo being a black man a lot because, well, it never really pops up a lot in canon. I think the most recognition we get for Demo being black is him just saying that he's black. He's a black Scotsman and that's about it. It's curious since I've seen a number of fics where it's all period-typical racism angst and whatever, with Demo being used as a way for the author to get up and proudly say that they think that racism is bad by having Demo being called a slur and getting upset. How progressive.

I dunno. I never really personally touch on period-typical bigotry stuff myself due to the fact that this is Team Fortress 2. Rocket jumping was invented before stairs. Besides, this is the late 60s/early 70s. The civil rights movement happened by this point. Not everyone walking the streets is gonna be some abrasive bigot. I don't know why people want to try and make it "historically accurate" to begin with since this series has never been period-accurate to begin with. I don't particularly think TF2 is a great series to go on about tackling period-typical bigotry either. Literally if you want Demo angst you've got the actual mountain load of angst with his backstory right there. Obviously of course people are allowed to write what they want and I do fully believe that sharing stories and portraying bigotry is important, but why with TF2??? Do people just really look at a POC and think their existence is inherently political and they need to make it clear they think Racism Bad, even though the tone of canon really doesn't match that?? Ah well. I'm just rambling.

Regardless, Demo is just a character where you can take a lot of different avenues with. Maybe you can explore his trauma and try and write about how he feels trying to live up to his family name. What about his issues with his now-deceased father? Maybe you can forgo that and have him be a partner in crime to Solly or whomever else, with the occasional glimpse into his more sensitive self. Really, it all just depends on the story you're trying to tell. Ultimately, writing Demo with a healthy mix of comedy and angst is probably what is best done if you just want a pretty in-character version. He can be out on some grand adventure to take down Nessie with a merc or two AND have it be a story about him coming to terms with his past. That's just a me thing though lol.

Demo, like the rest of the cast, is an easily moldable piece of clay. All of the mercs at their very core are just funny character archetypes. They can be whatever you want them to be. It's just best to work with their original characterization and personality in mind, y'know? Fanfic writing is mainly about having fun anyway.

Speaking of which, enough procrastinating for me. I need to get back to writing my yaoi...

#sp-rambles #tf2 #tf2 demoman #character analysis #long post

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fluentmoviequoter · 13 days ago

Text

As One

Venom!Jason Todd (tiny hint of x reader at the very end, past the double break)

Inspired by this incredible, amazing, breathtaking Jason as Venom art by @ciricearts!!

Summary: Jason receives more than life in the Lazarus Pit, and when he returns to Gotham and meets Venom, they must learn to fight as one.

Warnings: angst, brief suicide ideation/threat, minimal spoilers for Under the Rood Hood and Venom, fluff, banter, translations in double parentheses

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

It’s quiet, but not silent. Dark, but not black. Something like floating, but there’s a weight settling deep inside.

Jason’s eyes snap open, burning against the phosphorous-green liquid surrounding him. His lungs burn as his hands break the surface. Gasping as he rises, Jason has only one thing on his mind: revenge. His mind races, his head spinning with thoughts of what was, what will be, and untraceable ideas that are in no way his. With the weight in his chest, a storm has settled in his mind, a fierce tempest that throws the new world off its axis as Jason thinks of Gotham.

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier

Jason closes his eyes as the bomb ticks down. High above the warehouse, a shooting star draws the attention of children. As the alien disguised as a star crash lands, it braces itself against the fiery descent in what is left of its ship. Earth is a target, but as the heat and the wind race by, Venom is unconvinced that this is the perfect planet for his people to inhabit. It’s loud and hot, and so far, the view isn’t even all that nice. It’s a snowy night, so the world is white, and war echoes through the night. A lone explosion makes Venom shriek, but when he finally lands on a mountain, a pool of liquid reminiscent of his home beckons him closer.

Present

Jason refuses to look down as he dresses. He stole clothes from a drying line, but the scars on his skin are hideous, jagged lines that will take him back to the warehouse with the Joker if his gaze lingers too long. While he prepares to find his way across continents to locate Batman and the Joker, Jason doesn’t even try to control his thoughts. The pit that brought him back to life has caused his thoughts to be disjointed, bringing memories to the forefront when he least expects it. There’s something wrong, a presence in Jason’s mind that he knows isn’t his, even after the unexpected changes brought on by his resurrection.

“Ho bisogno di un trasporto per la Francia,” Jason tells a fisherman on the coast of Italy. ((I need transport to France.))

“Solo pesce. Non sei un pesce,” the old man replies. ((Only fish. You’re not a fish.))

Jason understands the man, but Bruce’s foreign languages will only get him so far. Without thinking, he adds, “Forse sono un pesce. O forse sono un mostro.” ((Maybe I’m a fish. Or maybe I’m a monster.))

Jason blinks, and suddenly, he’s on the fishing boat in the Tyrrhenian Sea. He doesn’t remember boarding or convincing the fisherman to agree to give him passage. When he looks over his shoulder and sees the man shrink away from him, Jason knows that the pit changed more than his height and the beating of his heart. There’s a war inside him, and Jason has no idea he is losing.

“Portatelo in America,” the fisherman tells another man at the docks in Spain. “Sii veloce, stai attento.” ((Bring him to America... Be quick, be careful.))

The Spanish man shrugs, unable to understand the warning.

“Tráelo a Estados Unidos. Sea rápido, tenga cuidado,” Jason translates. “Deberías escuchar.” ((You should listen.))

“¿De dónde eres, hijo?” the Spanish sailor inquires. ((Where are you from, son?))

“Soy de Gotham,” Jason responds. “¿Puedes ayudarme e llegar allí o debería hacerte llegar?” ((I’m from Gotham… Are you going to help me get there or should I make you?))

“Yo te ayudaré. Pero mantén al demonio adentro.” ((I’ll help. But keep the demon inside.))

Jason boards the ship to return to America, unaware that his funeral is over, the dirt still settling over his coffin. As he keeps his eyes on the horizon, Jason flexes his hands beneath his stolen gloves and wonders if it’s possible to keep the demon inside or if he’s let it stay too long. Maybe the pit finally broke its cage, he thinks.

Earth isn’t quite as hideous as Venom expected. The ocean sparkles beneath the sun as he travels around the globe. Humans are exactly as he had been taught, and Venom observes them, waiting for the right time to begin the takeover. It starts with a single body, and he is sure he’s found the perfect one.

So many languages, Venom grumbles to himself. He knows them, and understands them, but looks forward to a future where there is only one type of communication on this planet.

“New customer?” Jason asks, stepping out of the shadows and into the dark Gotham night.

“Who are you s’posed to be?” the drug dealer replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another cosplay freak!”

“Sixteen,” Jason says, his voice muffled by the tin helmet he created for himself.

“What?”

“Sixteen years old. That’s how old the boy you just sold to is. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s selling to children.”

“Oh, so you’re some kinda Robin Hood?”

“Not exactly.” Jason pulls a blade from his left hip, twisting it as he raises it so it glints in the moonlight. “You work for Sionis?”

“Yeah! That means I’m protected!” the man yells, stepping back.

“You don’t look very safe to me. You’re just one of eight.”

“You’re crazy, man.”

Jason smiles beneath the red helmet. As he lunges forward, he feels something shift inside him but ignores it as crimson blood spills beneath his blade. One down.

Leaving Black Mask’s hideout, Jason presses his hand to his shoulder. One of Mask’s goons got in a lucky hit; pure chance allowed him to pull the trigger at the precise moment the barrel lined up with Jason’s side. When Jason pulls his hand away, his glove is spotless.

“I shouldn’t have walked away from that,” Jason admits under his breath.

He’s ignored it since he fought his way out of the pit. The signs have chased him through hemispheres, but it took until tonight to understand that something is wrong. No, Jason realizes, there is someone in his mind.

As Robin, Bruce taught Jason that there were metahumans, homo sapiens with unnatural powers, and some of them could get into his mind if he gave them a chance. Now, it seems that one of these powered creatures is invading Jason’s life and, for some reason, protecting him.

Jason pulls his pistol from his side, presses it beneath his chin, and removes the safety.

“Last chance,” he murmurs.

His finger slides onto the trigger, and then the gun clatters to the ground as Jason is enveloped in an inky black substance.

“Stupidity,” its voice growls.

Jason can see, but his movements are limited. In the reflection of a window in the alley, he sees the creature looking back at him.

“You’d travel 4,400 miles to kill that clown only to finish what he started?!”

“Who are you?” Jason asks carefully.

The alien melts away and disappears into Jason’s skin without an answer. Jason looks around, trying to understand what, who, and where it is.

“You’re inside me,” he realizes aloud.

“Not much company in here,” the voice says in his mind. “Your plan for vengeance is pointless.”

Jason retrieves his gun from the pavement and repeats, “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” the voice echoes before silencing.

“Great,” Jason grumbles. “Unless you’ve got anything useful, stay in there.”

“It won’t work,” the alien in Jason’s mind argues.

Jason adjusts his grip on the gargoyle and tries to ignore it.

“You need help,” he adds. “Storm in too early and he’ll kill you… again.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay quiet?” Jason snaps.

“You can’t get rid of me. And you can’t get rid of him like this, either.”

“You’ll understand if I don’t trust you.”

Several moments pass in silence until the alien says, “Venom.”

“Won’t work.”

“I am Venom.”

Jason’s brows pinch, and then he murmurs, “Jason.”

“I know.”

After a long sigh, Jason asks, “What do you suggest I do? To kill the Joker?”

“Stop being stupid.”

“Forget I asked.”

“He has more at his disposal.”

“So, what? I need a utility belt?”

“Let me do it.”

Jason launches off the roof, noting that Venom falls silent as he freefalls through the Gotham sky.

Only after Jason uses a grappling hook to land on solid ground in an alley does Venom's head appear before him. Jason jerks backward, then pulls his weapon and shoots Venom until his magazine is empty. Venom draws himself together, living tendrils reshaping into his previous form.

“You can’t kill me, Jason,” Venom growls. “Not without killing yourself, and I need you.”

“You need me?” Jason repeats incredulously. “No, there is no we here, alien.”

“Oh, don’t hurt my feelings,” Venom deadpans. “I only need your body. Give me one more excuse and I’ll send your mind back to that glow-stick pool you crawled out of.”

“If you don’t need me, why did you save me that night with the dealers?”

Venom disappears, returning to Jason’s mind. As he takes over Jason’s thoughts one by one, he begins to plan how he’ll use a capable body like his to aid his leaders’ invasion plan. Jason, however, feels his mind clearing with each moment Venom is gone. Each thought that Venom takes over weakens the storm in Jason’s mind.

“What did you do?” Jason asks.

“It’s the beginning,” Venom replies cryptically.

Jason remembers the silence Venom fell into during the fall and smiles before he shoots his grappling hook straight up, weightless as he soars above Gotham with a clear head and the first step of a plan to not only kill the Joker but show Bruce why he should have done it before.

“Bruce,” Dick calls. “You have to take a break. Yes, we know that Red Hood is causing issues, and there’s a giant black alien terrorizing people. What do you expect to do about it?”

“Find them both,” Bruce answers without looking up. “Stop them both.”

“That was the stupidest-“

“Stop,” Venom interrupts. “I saved a life, you didn’t kill anyone, we’re good.”

“We’re good? You did it in front of Nightwing! Dick will tell Bruce and Batman will hunt us down before the plan is in place.”

“Todd,” Venom begins, “that’s not my problem.”

“It will be when he finds a way to debilitate you and your little plan to take over the world goes up in flames!”

Venom’s head moves back nearly imperceptibly, but Jason moves forward to continue, “Yeah, you’re in my head, too, so I know your plan. It’s not my priority right now but know that all of your weaknesses are clear. So, if you don’t help me, Batman will stop you.”

“And if I do help?”

“We both survive to fight another day.”

“One condition.”

“I’m not feeding you another drug dealer.”

“Buzzkill,” Venom growls. He encompasses Jason’s body and folds a nearby dumpster before agreeing, “Fine, yeah. But I want to go to the new bakery.”

“Deal,” Jason replies. “Now go away.”

Jason travels through the shadows of Gotham to get to his hideout. He isn’t followed - he makes sure of it - and as Jason strips out of his leather jacket and carefully crafted helmet, he looks into a mirror for the first time since his death.

Jason inhales as he raises his eyes to trace the map of scars, the autopsy marks he was sure would have survived his dip in the Lazarus Pit, and the childhood shadows of scraped knees and skinned elbows. Yet, his skin is smooth and blemish-free when his eyes meet his reflection. It’s all wrong, Jason thinks. There isn’t a single mark, not from his childhood, time as Robin, death, resurrection, or the endless battle he’s fought since returning.

“You’re welcome,” Venom says from inside Jason.

“Why?” Jason whispers.

“I could have killed you,” Venom states. “But we achieved symbiosis, and you need my help more than I need yours.”

“I don’t-“

“It’s easier this way. The scarred boy didn’t come back, you did, Hood.”

Jason turns away from the mirror to pull a shirt over his head. “We finish this, and then I’m going to kill you, parasite. These people may not like me, but this is still my home.”

“Parasite!?” Venom screeches.

“I’ve got a meeting with Batman, you stay quiet,” Jason says as he exits the warehouse.

“You haven’t lost your touch, Bruce,” Jason calls as he dodges a punch.

Bruce’s surprise gives Jason the perfect opening. He spins on his left foot, planting his right foot against Bruce’s chest and sending him backward.

Standing over Batman with his gun aimed at Bruce’s throat, Jason says, “We need to talk about the Joker.”

“He’s the least of our concerns, Jason,” Dick says, tapping his escrima sticks. “But we do need to talk.”

“Thanks, J’onn,” Bruce mutters before ending the intergalactic call on the batcomputer.

“Well?” Dick inquires.

“The alien parasites on Mars are killing their hosts,” Bruce explains, turning toward Jason.

“Are they… are they the same species as the thing in Gotham?”

Jason ignores Venom’s complaints at being called a thing as he remembers what Venom said about being able to kill him.

“Killing their hosts?” Jason repeats. Venom doesn’t make any argument against this, and Jason clenches his fists at his side.

“We need to find the one in Gotham,” Bruce says. “Get some answers.”

“Can you help, Jay?” Dick asks.

“Later,” Jason mumbles. “I have something to do first.”

Bruce nods, and Jason stalks out of the Batcave.

“That went well,” Venom says as they exit Wayne Manor. “He told you he can’t kill Joker and yet you stayed. Brave-“

“Are you killing me?” Jason demands. “No more jokes, no sarcastic little comment, tell me now, are you killing me?”

“I was,” Venom admits, extending from Jason’s shoulder. “I reversed the damage.”

“Why?! Why would you start something, then save my life just to kill me later?”

“You are the only human I’ve ever matched with.”

“That’s sweet,” Jason snaps. “But get out of my way. Go back to whatever corner of my mind you’ve stolen.”

“You can still trust me, Jason. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Hood!” Nightwing warns as Killer Croc turns toward Jason.

“What, Croc, did they miss feeding time again?” Jason taunts.

Killer Croc roars, then swipes his arm toward Jason, his claws catching on Jason’s leather jacket. As Jason moves back, Killer Croc swings his arm again, pinning Jason to the brick wall.

“Venom,” Jason says through gritted teeth, failing to push Croc away from him. “Now might be a good time to prove I can still trust you.”

“Oh, me?” Venom asks in Jason’s mind. “You want my help?”

“Venom!”

“But what if I kill you by saving you from those bullets?”

Killer Croc shifts his weight, and Jason’s ribs creak under the increased pressure. He asks Venom once more for help, and just before his vision blackens around the edges, Venom’s powerful tendrils extend from Jason’s torso and push the creature’s scaly arms backward.

“Thanks,” Jason pants, catching himself as he falls to the sidewalk. “Argue with me again and I’ll put a bullet in you.”

“I’ve seen your aim, I’m not concerned,” Venom bites back before turning his attention to the Arkham patients roaming the streets.

“Pull back,” Bruce demands through the communications system.

“We’ve got them,” Jason argues.

“Pull back!”

“But, B,” Dick tries.

“The aliens are moving toward Earth!” Bruce yells. “J’onn just sent out a red alert.”

“We can’t do both,” Venom reminds Jason.

Jason hesitates, then says, “Yes, we can. You like Earth, admit it. And you don’t want to be alone now that you’ve achieved symbiosis. If we work together, we can do both. But if you go back to your kind and take my planet… I will kill you even if it kills me too, V.”

Venom’s inky substance snakes around Jason’s arm, covers half his face like a mask, and obscures the bat on his chest.

“We’d have to fight as one,” Venom points out.

Jason and Venom disappear as one into the shadows before Bruce realizes he’s moved.

The door to Roman Sionis’s office breaks in half, sending splinters flying as the Black Mask rises from his chair.

“What are you supposed to be?” Roman asks, eyeing the black tendrils around Red Hood’s already imposing frame.

“I’m Red Hood,” Jason replies as Venom growls, “We are Venom.”

Their voices overlap, so Roman hears, “We ‘m Venom Hood.”

“Well, Venom Hood,” Roman begins, moving backward from his desk.

That makes no sense, Jason thinks.

Shut up, Venom demands, you died.

Jason prepares to retort, but Roman lifts an automatic rifle that causes Jason to delay the argument as he rolls out of Black Mask’s line of sight.

“I have to save the world-“ Jason says, nodding to himself as he corrects, “we have to save the world, so I’m going to have to keep this short. You’ll miss Gotham where you’re going.”

Venom pulls the trigger, and though Jason knows he’s trying to keep him from getting more blood on his hands, the world's fate hangs in the balance, and there is no time for either of them to make penance for the sins.

“Where are we going?” Jason asks as he enters the Batcave. He’s changed from his uniform, wearing a red hoodie instead of the armor he’s grown comfortable in. It makes me claustrophobic, Venom had argued.

“The watchtower,” Bruce answers. “Boom tubing now.”

“Where’d you go?” Dick asks.

“To see a friend.”

“Batman,” Superman greets as they enter the watchtower. He glances at Jason and asks, “Who is that?”

Jason waves, his red mask concealing the bottom half of his face. “Red Hood, Venom Hood, I’ve got a lot of names.”

“He’s with us,” Nightwing assures the Justice League.

“About that,” Jason interjects. “These… aliens, parasites, whatever you want to call them. They’re trying to take over the planet-“

“We know that,” Martian Manhunter interrupts.

“One of them is not,” Jason continues.

“How do you know?” Wonder Woman inquires.

“Perimeter breach,” the automated ship alerts.

“Nobody shoot me,” Jason demands. He tilts his head, then says, “The red ones are stronger, they’re leaders, if we get them down first, the rest… we can handle the rest then.”

“How did you become an expert on them faster than Bruce?” Dick whispers.

“Remember my worth in twenty minutes.”

The alien ship ports on the side of the watchtower, and within minutes, the aliens are moving throughout the ship without pattern or reason.

“Fire and noise,” Venom tells Jason. “Keep it away from me, but it weakens them.”

“Are you stronger?” Jason asks internally.

“Stronger than some,” Venom replies. “Why?”

“Come out.”

“No.”

“V… we need you.”

Venom sighs, then says, “I don’t like red.”

“Deal with it.”

Venom does just that, ripping the red sweatshirt in half as he encompasses Jason. Several members of the Justice League turn toward Venom, so he quickly pulls back. Venom separates fluidly, exposing half of Jason’s face and most of his torso. Jason feels Venom moving across his biceps and chest, and Venom moves his fingers by controlling Jason’s joints. Venom fits against Jason like a second skin, like a suit, highlighting his muscles and causing Jason to look more like the monster people have come to expect.

“He’s with me!” Jason yells, stepping toward Superman. “I told you one of them was on your side. It’s him. Focus on the fight!”

Another group of aliens seeps through the air vent, and the horrified leaguers work to save the planet with an enemy at their sides.

Jason stretches his neck to the side as Venom recedes into his back. The superheroes before him suddenly have excuses to disappear, leaving the watchtower as quickly as they can, while Bruce and Dick watch Jason as if he’ll explode.

“I should have known,” Bruce murmurs as he removes his cowl.

“Can I meet him?” Dick asks. “What’s his name?”

He’s too happy, Venom complains. And you promised a trip to the bakery!

“Later,” Jason tells Dick. “And his name is Venom,” he adds over his shoulder as he walks toward a boom tube platform.

Venom’s head bounces against Jason’s shoulder as they walk down the dark alley behind the coffee shop. Slurping as he drinks the blended coffee in Jason’s hand, Venom smiles.

“You should go see her,” he says after licking powdered sugar from his lips. “The girl you think about, who you should have kissed before Bosnia, but you chickened out.”

Jason hums and twirls the cup in his hand but hesitates to drink after his body companion. “I think my chances are gone… with any woman, thanks to you,” he responds.

“I could get into her mind and let you know for sure,” Venom offers.

“That won’t be necessary, thanks.”

Venom pulls Jason to a sudden stop, spreads over Jason’s arm, and pulls him onto a fire escape to reach the roof. He inhales deeply, then looks up and down the nearby roads.

“It’s Gotham, not all of earth smells like this,” Jason mumbles.

“No,” Venom replies. “There is another of my kind.”

“Great.”

Venom watches in silence, allowing Jason to text his brother and offer some explanations.

Jason.

“Venom,” Jason replies aloud as he sends another message.

Venom snaps Jason’s head up, and they both watch, mesmerized by how your hair falls back into place as the blood-red amorphous protoplasm melts into your skin. When you look up after landing on the roof, as directed by your symbiote, you smile at Jason Todd.

We’re in trouble.

Jason nods, and Venom insists, No, actual trouble.

Ex of yours? Jason wonders.

I wish. She kicked my-

#jason todd #venom #jason todd oneshot #jason todd fic #batfamily #hanna writes✯#venom symbiote #venom fic #dc comics fic #batfamily fic #red hood

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rubberduckyrye · 6 months ago

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I'd like to point to interpretation that Angie isn't portrayal of a native Polynesian islander because almost all the evidence around her character and what she says suggests she's not living in a village that has cult-like practices, but that she is in a straight up cult and is unaware of it. It explains a lot of stuff from the odd monotheism, why her "village" seems to only employ seemingly dark web shipping company, the police apparently bothering her "village" or her having an English name.

Referencing this Ask

I mean. That is one interpretation, sure, but to deny the fact that Angie is heavily coded to be Polynesian/Native Hawaiian is unfortunately ignoring the problem. Which is the problem I am trying to address itself.

Right in her promotional art, you can see that Angie is carving a statue--and it heavily resembles a tiki statue. Specifically this kind of Tiki Statue. Though since it is unfinished, it could be a full body version, but I digress.

She also mentions living on an island.

And the "natural disaster" that made the island smaller--that is probably heavily inspired by how Hawaii was used by US military and bombed frequently--which, naturally, made the islands smaller.

She also greets people in Salmon mode with "Alola," which is a reference to Pokemon Sun and Moon, which has it's main location heavily based off of Hawaii. Alola is a butchered way of saying "Aloha", which is a Hawaiian greeting.

Also, Angie having an English name matches with historical oppression in Hawaii. Where Hawaiians were forced to name their children with Christian White names and their Hawaiian names be their middle names. It was literally a law, at least, according to Wikipedia, for quite some time. (The fact that this is not easily verifiable is the very reason why having this discussion is so important--and why people need to stop trying to avoid the conversation.)

I understand the desire to want to dismiss the fact that she is a racist caricature because it sucks to enjoy a character who is one. I get it. However--trying to deny the fact that she is heavily coded to be Native Hawaiian/Polynesian is just sweeping the racism under the rug, and is a major problem when you have people like me who want to discuss the topic and how one should handle rectifying the canon narrative's bigotry.

The mere fact that she is so heavily coded to be Native Hawaiian/Polynesian makes the whole cult thing part of the racist caricature. Indigenous people (especially Indigenous Polynesian cultures) are subject to extreme racist stereotypes that include human sacrifices and savagery--and while Angie's culture isn't developed in canon enough to know for sure if it was truly as savage as, say, the King Kong Indigenous folk, the cult behaviors are a sort of "cousin" to that savagery. We as a society see human sacrifices as barbaric, as savage, and even when in a cult setting, we still present these topics in that fashion.

I'm sorry, anon--but I'm going to ask you only this one time to not derail the conversation I'm trying to start. I understand that there are interpretations that help explain away the bigotry--and this is one legitimate way to deal with bigotry in canon media, or so I've been told--but what I want is a full blown discussion on the subject. I don't want people trying to tell me "Oh b-b-but she can't be a racist Caricature, because (X)!" Because that is dismissing the problem to begin with.

This is a problem. This is a discussion about racism in V3's narrative. There is no getting around it--no matter how much you explain away the writing with headcanons and theories, these problems are still here.

So please stop trying to sabotage my desire for a discussion.

I'm going to note that I LOVE Angie as a character. I think that, when you remove the racism in her character stories, you have a very interesting and compelling female character of color who's intelligence rivals that of the smartest V3 characters. These aspects of her character I adore--but to ignore the racism, for me, is to just turn away from the problem and, in turn, contribute to the racist way fandom treats these kinds of characters.

So let me speak. Let me find people who will talk to me about it. Let me grow and learn. Please, for the love of god, let me learn.

#Angie Yonaga #danganronpa #Danganronpa V3 #DRV3 #Racism mention

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cloudwhich · 2 months ago

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enjoy this rambling i found in my notes app after i listened to the ascendancy trilogy audiobooks for the first time. i was working on my final animation project and i literally had to stop and write this down in the studio at like two am

it is SO heartbreaking ‘re-reading’ thrawn ascendancy. Like it just hurts my soul a little bit. I’m near the end of the third book after the final battle and GOD. Every character mentioned has such a distinct personality. Everything meshes together. The perspectives come from every single person EXCEPT thrawn. In a book about him. GENIUS.

The eventual trust that forms between Samakro and Thalias as well… after so much drama… honestly. Both of them as characters are so potent and persuading… they are real in my mind. And in my mind they are happy. (Also. I think I ship it)

AND ZIINDA… my love for her. A flawed character, but likable for relatable reasons. Her old doubts shadow her but she Persists. And does the right thing!!!! Also the way she’s voiced in the audiobook is just so fun. Like a reserved, slightly southern accent. Her and Sakmaro’s voices are so good. Each characterizes them PERFECTLY. Thank god for good voice actors to read my Star Wars audiobooks 🙏

IT WAS A PUNCH IN THE FUCKING GUT when Thrass was first mentioned because I knew what was coming. As did everyone else. But the memory interludes… good god. Those two deserved to live and thrive together it HURTS. And seeing Thrass’ view of thrawn through his perspective… they are BROTHERSSS. THRAWN NEEDED THAT BRO. And the words repeated from outbound flight in the last flashback… I cried in the studio. A single tear ran down my face bro PLEASEEEEE and I am DREADING the final flashback. I know the pain that awaits me. And then Thrawns final exile… why WHYY

Oh. Wutroow and Aralani my favorite command duo. Ever. Such a good dynamic it makes me wonder… (I can’t prove it. But they kissed once.)

But don’t get me STARTED on aralani and thrawn. Don’t. Because I can’t even. Equally stoic and skillful, but Thrawns autistic socially awkward ass wouldn’t survive a second without Ziara . And also… Don’t play. We all heard what she said about their museum “outing”. Ziara thought thrawn was taking her out. But she still enjoyed watching him ramble about art. Then she asks to GO BACK TO HER QUARTERS WITH HIM to “show him her wire sculptures”. And all that oblivious man does is Study. The. Sculptures. And psychoanalyze her. and THEN. Yall SPARRED??? Oh my god. Please. They probably had the most situationshipy friendship ever that only Aralani realizes ever had that connotation to it. I think after that ‘date’ ended she was like yeah. he’s either gay, autistic, or completely oblivious but i like his weird ass mind so imma keep him around

Oh. And Ba’kif was Stybla?? Did not know. I fuck w the Stybla not gonna lie. big fan of family drama

also. I find it so fucking funny when the officers get pissed off and curse or go out of standard protocol. I be giggling and kicking my feet when one of them says “damn”. Or when they swear under their breath WHAT DID YOU SAYYY I NEED TO KNWO

final thought: let Wutroow curse. Homegirl is itching to drop an f bomb let her do it

#thrawn #ar'alani #thrawn ascendancy #chiss ascendancy #chiss #wutroow #samakro #ziinda #thalias #ba’kif #thrass

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sunhighriptide · 2 months ago

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I held off on watching X-men '97 until I rewatched all of the original X-men animated series. I am glad I did that, I think I enjoyed it even more that way.

Damn. X-men '97 had no right to go that hard. I cannot remember another show that has gotten me to cry that much, first of all. They showed so many sides to the different characters, the art was gorgeous, the soundtrack was absurd, loved the story beats, yes. It was very good.

Rather dissapointed in the other heroes and scientists of the world. Yes, T'Challa and Steve spoke against the bombing of the Asteroid, but Tomy was standing right there, and he never pointed out that maybe shooting down a GIANT ASTEROID with no plans to recieve it was a bad idea.

Spider-man is, of course, exempt from this because we all know he was not consulted.

I loved the hints they showed of other heroes in the world. It felt more like the world of Marvel instead of one divorced. They don't have to focus on others or take away from the X-men to show they exist.

Slightly annoyed that they didn't directly mention Magneto's kids.

Lorna got a single shot in the intro, a cameo in a picture on Forge's wall, and one shot of her as a slave in Bastian's future.

Pietro was in the picture with Lorna and the X-force, and Morph turned into him at one point. He was on Forge's wall at the end, marked as being off-world.

Wanda was on the board at the end.

All three of them were in the background in Magneto's mind, on the ship with Rogue, but were in the shadows, where we couldn't see their face. Even just having them be mentioned, like "What future do you want for your kids, Magneto?" Did them dirty.

Questions for next season.

1. Where is Storm? She wasn't with the others, meeting Apocalypse. She wasn't with Jean and Scott meeting Nathan/Cable. Maybe she is with Wolverine and Morph.

2. Where are Wolverine and Morph?

3. When are Wolverine and Morph going to get together? I did like Storm and Wolverine, but Morph has real chemistry with him.

4. Why didn't they get Lorna to reverse the magnetic affects? Was she not powerful enough yet?

5. Why are Wanda and Pietro off-planet? Avengers mission? You'd think, if they were Avengers, Steve and Tony would have suggested asking their teammates to speak with their Dad before jumping to blowing him up.

6. How long did it take Steve to find his shield after Rogue threw it?

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luxurydumpsterfire · 3 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel ships I like!!! 1¡!!¡(In no particular order) (Includes non-canon ships) (This is just for fun and is not meant to offend anyone!) (Okay, I'm going to stfu now).

Let's go!

Radiodust!

These two live in my head rent free,all day,every day,24/7,365.

And most of the time they're kissing.

Anyways.

We know that they both lived in the same decade and have similar tastes in music and cuisine,which is already a great start! I also love the idea of Alastor adoring everything about Angel EXCEPT for the sex. Cause let's be real,Angel needs that. He deserves a complete and total gentleman who would never lay a finger on him; Especially after tolerating abuse from you-know-who, cough,cough,fuckyouValentino,COUGH.

Also,the tropes??? Good old fashioned lover boy x Killer Queen? Mafia x Serial killer? Hello???

10/10, Literally one of my favs.

2. Chaggie!

My babies!

Okay, I admit these two are very cute. Since neither of these two age normally, Charlie's a hellborn and Vaggie's a fallen angel,it means they'll get to grow old together! :)

I love the opposites attract trope and these two are no exception!

I would definitely like for them to get more screen time in the second season 2,since they didn't get much in the first one,but other then that, they're perfect!

3. Nifty x Baxter

(Do these two have a ship name? Idk?)

Baxter hasn't even come on to the show yet but I can already tell these two are going to be Chaos gremlins,in their own,lovable,concerning ways 😌

4. Lucililith

I don't believe for a SECOND these two aren't in love,even if just a little bit.

Yes,yes,yes,I know they're divorced. AND? THEY CAN STILL GET BACK TOGETHER! THEY'RE IN THEIR DIVORCE ERA, GUYS.

I think it's mostly the fanart that got me hooked,lol. And the fact that I would love to have them as my parents, honestly.

5. CasinoBomb

(No photo for this one,sorry 🥲)

I...I don't know,man,@zaebeecee 's posts about them altered my brain chemistry and...I DON'T KNOW WTF HAPPENED,IDK

I just saw one of their posts and the more I thought about it,the more I liked it

Something about them just clicks,you know? It's one of those ships that makes no sense but also a lot of sense.

Also,if you don't know what characters I'm talking about, it's Husk x Cherri bomb.

5. Radiorose

He doesn't mind her touching him 😢

They're so cute,omg 😭

Look at them!!! 💗💗💗

Although I mostly prefer them as besties, I also like the idea of them being together. You can tell he's a lot more comfortable with her then anyone else in the show and I love that ☺️

6. Radiohusk

(Art belongs to @vadoodlevee and it will be taken down if I am asked to).

Ah yes,the two loser old men in love. GIVE THEM TO ME.

They've known each other for years and are sick and tired of each others bs. They know what the other like's and dislike's because they're begrudgingly stuck together. They actually can't stand each other.

I'M SOLD!

And no, I'm not glorifing the slave x master thing. I've shipped these two HARD since the pilot,so calm down.

Alright, let's get more into the crackships/rarepairs. Not counting Casinobomb cause we've actually seen those two interact,lol.

Feel free to give your own personal take on these(as long as they're not hateful)!

7. Caramel Apple!

Apart from me just really liking their ship name,I feel like these two would be a really cute couple. Like,she would take him out to one of her parties when he's feeling down and would comfort him about his relationship with Charlie and Lilith.

I also feel like she would be very polite to Charlie and Vaggie.

And I like the idea of them baking together ❤️

8. Angelic Ballet!

A little hesitant on this one.

So, realistically,these two would probably hate each other. Sera was the one who approved the exterminations,resulting in the death of billions of sinners, which puts Carmila and her daughters in danger. So that's not really a great way to start a relationship...

However, I think in any other circumstances,I think these two would be a nice couple.

They both just want to protect the people they love and are willing to go to extreme measures to do just that. It could be Sera realizing not all sinners are absolute monsters,and some were just people who made mistakes in life. Kinda of like Vaggie realizing the hellborn weren't terrible upon meeting Charlie.

Also, they're both very elegant ladies who need another refined woman to treat them right 😌🏳️‍🌈

#radiodust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin characters #hazbin chaggie #shipping #radiorose #radiohusk #lucilith #Angelic ballet #queen bee #carmilla carmine #caramel apple

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humanpurposes · 1 year ago

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Just for a Moment, part iv

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues, death, mourning/grief

Words: 8100

A/n: This acts as a final part and an epilogue. Also available to read on AO3.

In early June, Lois Bennett knocks on the Wheelans’ front door. She has tears in her bright blue eyes and her hands are shaking.

“It’s our Tom,” she says, when Kitty has sat her down at the kitchen table and made her a cup of strong tea. “He’s missing.”

A hole tears itself in her chest.

His ship had been part of the evacuation at Dunkirk– a triumph, so the headlines say. But that’s the way of the world, she thinks, men lay down their lives, others have their lives taken from them by force, and all the while the press and the politicians declare each one a step towards peace.

“You think Churchill and Hitler give a flying fuck about peace?” her father says one night as he nurses a glass of whisky. “They want victory.”

Every night as she lies in bed, she imagines some new possibility. Tom could have run to safety, sought refuge in the town or gone elsewhere. Maybe he’s just biding his time, maybe he’s on his way back to her.

He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

He promised he would come home to her.

Monday 2nd September, 1940

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the sirens, that blunt, whirring, wailing noise that sparks a primal fear in her chest. Somehow she always wakes up before they go off, like her instincts can alert her of what’s coming just a second before the noise begins.

The baby starts to scream from the space beside her– since Lois has started working as an ambulance driver, she leaves Vera with them most nights. With shaking hands, Kitty takes her into her arms, keeping her close to her chest as she fixes a woolly hat over her head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know,” she says, pulling the hat over Vera’s ears. She keeps meaning to buy some earmuffs for her, but then, it’s not her baby.

It’s pitch black in the house, it has to be. No lights or candles allowed unless you want the Germans to drop a bomb on your house. Kitty keeps one hand on the wall as she finds the stairs, and hurries down to the kitchen. Mam and dad’s footsteps follow behind her.

They have a routine by now. Dad grabs a coleman and a box of matches, mam grabs a photo from the front room and a basket with bread and blackberry jam, and Kitty holds tight to Vera. Then they file out the back door, into the garden, down the ladder into the shelter. Dad shuts the door, lights the lamp, and finally they can all see each other.

Then comes the waiting. Some nights dad sings The Fields of Athenry and Kitty joins in. Vera seems to love singing, her eyes go wide and she lays completely still against Kitty, hypnotised by the humming in her chest.

After a few slices of bread to keep them going, dad lies along the bench and closes his eyes and mam takes Vera into her arms. “Get some rest, love,” she tells Kitty.

How can she? Beyond the shelter the world is nothing but uncertainty, sirens sounding, bombs booming, spotlights and distant fires cutting through the darkness. Only the morning will tell what the true damage is, once the sun starts to rise and the smoke and dust have settled. Houses and livelihoods will be left as rubble. More lives lost, people who didn’t sign up, people who couldn’t, people who thought they might at least be safe in their own homes.

She looks at the photograph mam always brings in from the house. It’s of the four of them, Eddie, Art, Stevie and Kitty, lined up in the front room before the eldest two Wheelans left for the continent, over a year ago now. Eddie and Art look handsome in their uniforms and Stevie is uncharacteristically glum. He hated that he didn’t sign up sooner, he said he didn’t want to look like the one being left behind.

They all came home after Dunkirk, a few precious weeks when the world felt normal again.

Only not quite.

Because she still spent every night alone, and Tom Bennett was still gone.

“Where’s Douglas?”

Kitty snaps her attention to mam, as dad starts to stir on the bench.

“Eh?” he grumbles, “he’ll be along now in a minute, I’m sure.”

They wait.

And keep waiting.

The bombs dropping on Longsight are louder than they’ve ever been before. Closer than they’ve ever been before. Each thunderous crash rocks the ground and the walls of their shelter.

BOOM– the roof trembles.

BOOM– dust and dirt fall from above them.

“We’ll be alright, here,” dad says, beckoning Kitty to sit between the two of them.

They huddle together. Kitty curls her knees into her chest like a child and leans into her father’s embrace. Mam has Vera on her lap and places a hand on Kitty’s knee.

BOOM– mam whimpers and Vera is crying again. Dad holds her tighter.

BOOM– Kitty reaches for one of Vera’s tiny hands, and she clutches tightly onto her finger.

Then a final, earsplitting BOOM. The bench jolts beneath them. Kitty clings to her family and squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for something awful to happen.

Only it doesn’t. The bombs become fainter.

They slowly pull away from each other, looking each other in the eyes and nodding, to make sure they’re all alright– as much as they can be.

When the all clear sounds, they make their way back into the house.

Glass litters the floor of the front room. The windows are shattered, so is the glass cabinet with mam’s best china, photographs are cracked. Anything that isn’t broken has been blown back by the force of a hit.

Through the tatters of the curtains and a haze of smoke, a fire burns out on the street.

Dad calls her name as she runs for the front door and yanks it open, but she can’t bring herself to step past the threshold.

The feels the heat against her face, as number 27 has been reduced to a pile of burning rubble.

The AFS arrives in time to stop dad from digging through the remains in search of Douglas himself.

Everything that belongs to the Bennetts is crushed under brick or goes up in flames.

It’s like losing Tom all over again. The house where he grew up, the kitchen where Josie used to feed the Bennett and Wheelan kids ginger beer and sandwiches, the bedroom that smelled of cigarette smoke, where he told her he loved her, exist only as memories.

She doesn’t go to bed that night– there are only a few hours until daylight anyway. She sweeps up the glass in the front room and the bedrooms while dad boards up the window frames. Hardly any light reaches inside the house, the air is still thick and hazy with lingering smoke, so they keep the back door open. It airs the place out, but lets in the cold too.

When Kitty answers the door in the morning, Lois’ back is facing her. She’s still in her uniform with her hair in a neat bun and a helmet in her hand.

“Lois?”

She turns towards Kitty with her lips slightly parted in a passive expression. “Dad’s gone,” she mutters. And once she says it the vacancy melts into grief. “He’s gone,” she cries, “everything’s gone!”

Kitty leads her into the house, but there’s nowhere comfortable to sit. The front room is in tatters and the kitchen is a mess with everything they’ve managed to salvage piled onto the table and chairs.

“Tea?” Kitty asks quietly, but she feels stupid for asking.

Lois leans against the wall and holds her face in her hand as she cries.

Kitty unsurely places a hand on Lois’ shoulder and tries to think of something to say, but all she can think of is “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

First her mam, then Harry, then Tom, now her dad. She must feel like her life is slipping away.

Mam appears from upstairs, dressed for the factory with Vera in her arms.

Kitty frowns as she hands the baby to her. Lois has lost her father and her home in one night, and her mother hardly looks phased.

“There’s still work to be done, Kitty,” she says, grabbing her coat before she leaves through the front door with her head and shoulders straight.

But this is just war. Men die in trenches and on beaches, bombs fall on cities, tragedy unfolds and they Keep Calm and Carry On.

Kitty carries Vera into the kitchen, but she doesn’t like the sound of her mother crying. Her little face goes red and twists before she makes a sound, then she’s crying too, burying her head into Kitty’s chest and clinging to her arms with those small, pudgy hands.

Lois doesn’t look up, like she can’t hear her daughter crying at all.

Sunday 29th September, 1940

Weeks go by. Douglas is interred with his wife, in the churchyard of St Jospeh’s. Kitty spends her days in the shop and her nights in the shelter, rocking Vera through the air raids, humming lullabies and muttering stories about her brave mam and her fearless uncle Tom.

The Wheelans never used to go to church every week, but mam insists now, anything for their family to be kept safe. As they head home, Kitty looks up the hill, to the gravestone she knows is marked Josie Bennett. She pictures Tom and Lois standing by the graveside at the funeral, twelve years ago now. It doesn’t feel that long ago they were all children.

She walks ahead of her parents– dad’s been having trouble with his knees and it slows him down. Her head is hung, she’s staring at her shoes, the same black pair of shoes she wears everywhere.

What’s she got to walk so fast for anyway? Their house doesn’t feel much like a home anymore. They at least have the windows fixed, but she tends to keep her curtains drawn, because where she used to look out to Tom’s bedroom window, there’s just empty space.

What’s the point in rushing home to a house that isn’t safe? That’s ghostly and quiet? That has a bomb shelter instead of a garden? What’s the point in carrying on when surviving the night is something they have to hope for? When each day brings a possibility that Eddie, Art or Steive could be missing or dead? What’s the point in clinging onto hope if Tom is truly gone? What’s the point? What’s the point? What’s the point?

Someone knocks frantically on one of the doors ahead, their door she realises. Her vision is blurry through tears, but she can make out the shape of a tall man, with dirty blond hair.

She blinks.

“Tom?”

His body collides into hers. He hugs her so tightly he crushes her chest but she doesn’t care. He could squeeze the life from her and she wouldn’t care, as long as she gets to hold him. Her hands find their way to grasp at his neck and his hair, pulling him closer and crying silently into his neck.

He doesn’t smell like cigarettes, which she finds unusual. He smells like dirt and sweat, and when he pulls away from her she realises he’s dressed in a khaki blazer, slacks that are too big for him and a mismatching grey shirt.

“What happened–”

He looks frantic, stroking his hands over her hair and down to cup the sides of her face. “Kitty, I’m sorry, I know it’s been a mad few months but where are they, dad and Lois? Are they safe?”

He doesn’t know. How could he? Lois tried to send a letter. Where would it be now? Collecting dust or sitting at the bottom of a pile of unimportant paperwork in a naval office because there was nowhere for it to go.

Her eyes well with tears all over again. His face is leaner, the lines of his jaw and cheeks more defined, the left side of his face littered with bruises and scars. She traces her fingers over his cheekbone, and down to the coarse, blond stubble along his jaw.

“Kitty,” he says, shortly, taking her hand away from his face. “Kitty, where are they? Tell me they’re okay.”

She glances over her shoulder. Mam and dad are approaching them now. Their faces mirror each other, confused, horrified, sympathetic.

“Come on,” she mutters, taking Tom’s hand and dragging him with her as she walks solemnly up Slade Grove.

They stayed joined at the hip as they walk, Kitty curling slightly into his arm, their legs brushing with every stride, bumping into each other and pulling themselves back in.

His hand is warm and his grip is firm, but she can’t stop herself from shivering. As much as she wants to gaze up at him, melt into his embrace again, kiss every inch of his face, she can’t help but feel guilty. He doesn’t ask any more questions, or so much as speak a word, but the concern is written all over him, the clenched jaw and the stiff shoulders that don’t sway as he walks.

She won’t be the one to tell him, she can’t be.

Lois has been living in a boarding house with Connie since the bomb hit. Mam had offered her a place at their house, but Lois wouldn’t take it. Luckily the house isn’t too far away, and when Lois opens the door, she’s utterly stunned.

Kitty waits outside, with her hands behind her back, leaning against the brick wall. Now her hands and her skin feel cold, so she tugs at her coat, keeping it tight around her body to keep out the autumn chill.

For a few moments she wonders if she hasn’t just made the whole thing up; Tom, waiting outside her door, running into her arms and vanishing again. She rubs her fingertips together. She had felt him as she feels her own skin now, she’s sure of it, the scars, the stubble, the hair on the back of his hand.

Tom Bennett, her Tom Bennett, though not quite the same man he was, before whatever happened at Dunkirk, before the war, when his place in her life was vague but at least it was consistent. She knows things will be different again when he comes out of that house.

She hears raised voices through the door, the unmistakable, raspy bass of Tom’s anger. Lois shouts back. Then it goes quiet again.

Her heart leaps out of her chest when the door swings open. Tom slams it shut and turns his head around, frantically, before his eyes find her.

He opens his arms and falls into her.

He lets out a few short gasps for breath as he leans his forehead against her shoulder and wraps his arms tightly around her waist.

She stays like that for as long as he needs, until he pulls back for breath. His face is red, it only makes his eyes seem brighter.

“Sorry,” he mutters with a sniff, “haven’t even said a proper ‘hello’ to you yet.”

Given the circumstances, she thinks that’s forgivable. She runs her hands over the sides of his face, his ears and his overgrown mop of hair.

“Hello,” she says.

Tom smiles, taking one of her hands in hiss and placing a peck to her knuckles. “Hello.”

They walk slowly back to Slade Grove. Tom is a little more subdued, but not quite settled.

She can only imagine the thoughts racing through his head. He wasn’t here to save his father, he wasn’t at the funeral, there was nothing he could save from his own home. Time has slipped by, the formalities have been carried out and Tom couldn’t have stopped any of it from happening.

Mam opens the door, takes one look at Tom, and purses her lips.

Kitty rolls her eyes and pulls Tom into the hallway.

The house has been cleared up a little better recently. They’ve gotten rid of everything that was broken, mended the curtains and the tears in the sofas, only the front room feels empty and impersonal without the china cabinet and the photographs they couldn’t save.

They walk on through to the kitchen, where dad is sitting by the wireless. He stands to take Tom’s hand. “Sorry for your loss, lad,” he says, giving it a short, firm shake.

“Cheers,” Tom mutters, “good to see you again, Mr Wheelan.”

Kitty makes tea and splits her rations of bacon and eggs between her and Tom.

“We were part of the evacuation effort from Dunkirk,” Tom explains, looking up to Kitty as she sits beside him. “I don’t remember much, but I woke up in a hospital in Paris, bullets and shrapnel in my chest, and the doctors were telling me the Nazis had taken the city.”

“Bloody hell,” dad sighs.

Mam sits stiffly in her chair and sips her tea.

“They were telling me I had to register as a prisoner of war, but there was this American bloke, a doctor, he told me they were trying out an escape route through Gibraltar.”

“We thought you were dead,” Kitty says. “Lois showed us the telegram. We all thought you were dead.”

She can see Tom’s hand flinch as if to reach out to her, but he stops himself and clenches his fist. He turns back to her parents across the table. “I had to die, officially like, they had some spare bodies and put my name to some poor bastard with 80% burns–”

Mam clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Tom says, trying not to smile. “Had to walk to Spain, then hitched a ride with these two blokes to Gibraltar. Onto Plymouth from there, and then…” he trails off. He has a distant look in his eyes that reminds her of Lois.

“Home?” dad says.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, ‘spose so.”

“Will you stay with Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom gives her a pointed look.

The raised voices, the slammed door. Maybe not.

“You could stay with us,” she says.

Mam tilts her head. “Now wait a moment–”

“Of course,” dad says, “we’ve got three empty beds upstairs, I’m sure we’ll be able to spare one.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Tom says, slipping his hand under the table and brushing his fingers over Kitty’s knee. She checks her parents aren’t looking at her and tries not to smile.

Dad holds up his hand in the way that means his decision is final. “Not at all, lad. We’ve known you since you were a childer, I think it’s the least we could do for you now.”

Lois drops Vera off at 5 o’clock, the usual time. She doesn’t ask about Tom, in fact she hardly looks Kitty in the eye as she hands the baby into her arms and places a bag by her feet. She presses a quick kiss to Vera’s head, and then she’s gone.

Tom is in the front room, splayed out on one of the sofas, flicking an unlit cigarette through his fingers– because if he smoked in the house, mam would actually kill him. He sits up when Kitty walks in with the baby on her hip.

She sits beside him and places Vera on her lap.

Tom takes one of her little hands, and his thumb is almost the size of her palm. “Can’t believe she named the kid after my fucking canary,” he grumbles.

“Tom,” Kitty chides.

“Fuck, sorry– fuck.”

Vera lets out a vague gurgling sound and Kitty giggles. “Say it enough, it might be her first word.”

He chuckles, and gently waves Vera’s arm about. “When do babies usually start talking?”

“Give her a chance, she can’t even sit up yet.”

He strokes his finger along the baby’s cheek, and grins when he coaxes a smile out of her. But it’s like he stops himself, pressing his lips together as his eyes darken.

“What happened with you and Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom heaves a heavy breath and takes his hand away from Vera. “I lashed out.”

“Christ, Tom.”

“She left dad alone,” he says.

If she didn’t have a baby in her lap, she thinks she could throttle him. “It wasn’t her fault,” Kitty snaps. “She couldn’t have saved him. No one could have.

He turns to face her with a devastated look in his eyes, the kind of look he makes when he knows she’s right. “How did it happen?”

She shifts Vera in her lap. “We didn’t see, we were in the shelter. We heard the bombs getting closer, and when we heard the all clear…” she blinks a few tears from her eyes. She doesn’t mean to cry, and she feels ridiculous, crying over Tom’s father when he’s sitting beside her.

Tom shifts closer to her, and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Tom nods, running his hand over Vera’s head. “He died thinking I was gone. He didn’t know I was alright.” He draws his tongue between his lips. “But he’ll be happy now, with mum and that.”

“I hope so,” she says.

“And I didn’t leave things on a bad note,” he says, keeping his eyes on Vera, “like you told me. I shook his hand before I left.”

“See? When has my advice ever let you down?” she says, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible through the thick feeling in her throat.

Tom keeps his chin tilted down but he looks up to her. He looks more peaceful than he did this morning. His lips are settled in their natural curve, his brow is soft, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that he won’t allow to become more than a glisten.

“Never has,” he says with a smile.

He shuffles closer to her, cautiously cupping the side of her face like he’s forgotten how.

She instantly leans into him, bringing their foreheads together until she can feel his breath echoing over her lips.

It’s been so long since she’s felt him in the way she wants. She’s hardly given herself a moment to even realise that he’s here, that her months of anguish are finally done because he’s safe, he’s alive, and he still didn’t break his promise to her.

“I missed you,” she whispers. If she speaks any louder she worries her voice might falter.

Tom draws his thumb over her cheek and nudges his nose against hers. “Kitty,” he utters. His lips twitch like he can’t quite find the words he wants.

“I know,” she breathes. “I know.”

He angles his head a little before he leans in closer and presses a soft kiss to her lips, and her heart breaks a hundred times over. She feels his sadness in the tentative movements of his mouth, like he’s still scared, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

So she pours all her longing and reassurance into him, as far as she can without speaking or pausing for breath. She holds onto his neck and deepens their kiss with firm lips and a deft tongue.

She wants to feel him, long after they’ve parted. She wants to remember how he feels, the warmth he gives her, the way his little hums make her feel weightless and set her skin alight.

Now, in this moment, the world feels perfect.

Until Vera makes a whining noise that means she wants attention.

Kitty pulls away with a short gasp, moving Vera to her hip and she stands and tries to bounce her into content.

“She’s probably hungry,” Kitty says, and nods to the bag Lois dropped off earlier. “Her formula’s in there, bring it into the kitchen.”

Tom does as he’s told and pulls the tub out of the bag. He walks into the corridor first, and as Kitty goes to follow he stops, and turns to her.

“You look good with a baby by the way,” he says with a grin.

She scorns herself for the thrill it sends through her stomach. “Don’t, you’ll give my mam a heart attack.”

At 6 o’clock, they put the lights out for the blackout, with only the fading sunset to light the kitchen as Kitty makes a vegetable stew and spuds for dinner. Thankfully they have some beef stock she can throw in as well, which stops dad from complaining that “just veg doesn’t count as a meal.”

Evenings are tense and uncertain now. They all try to make small talk with each other over dinner, but silences are frequent and imposing.

Once they’ve eaten, Kitty puts Vera to bed and mam and dad head upstairs shortly after, hoping to get as much sleep as they can before the sirens start.

Tom sits in the lounge, on a sofa by the window, keeping the curtains open just an inch, but all there is to see is black.

“It’s cloudy,” he says as Kitty appears in the doorway in her nightie. “Can’t even see the moon.”

She comes to join him, curling up into his lap and placing her head on his shoulder. “That’s good news for us.”

Tom wraps his arms around her and kisses her head.

The sky stays cloudy and quiet all night, no droning of planes, no sirens.

All she hears is the sound of his breathing and his lips against her skin as he nuzzles into her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin.

“Did you miss me?” she finds herself saying.

Tom pauses and pulls his face away from her with a furrowed brow. “Do you really think I thought of anything else?” he says. “It was all that got me through, the thought of coming home to you.”

In the morning she wakes with a sliver of sunlight creeping over her eyes, still in Tom’s arms, still clinging to him.

Lois comes to collect Vera before Kitty leaves for her shift at the shop.

“Is Tom with you?” Lois asks as kitty lowers Vera into the pram.

Kitty hesitates. “Yes,” she says, bracing herself for Lois to storm in and start shouting at him.

He appears in the doorway, with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

“I’m going to the churchyard,” Lois says to him, “if you’d like to see mum and dad.”

Tom looks to Kitty and she sighs, overemphasising the movement of her chest as she breathes. Don’t leave it on a bad note.

He looks back to Lois and forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

Tom stays with the Wheelans, sleeping in the boys’ bedroom, in the bed closest to the door. Each night, once Vera and her parents are asleep, Kitty steals into his bedroom and tucks herself into the space beside him.

“It feels funny like this, doesn’t it?” she whispers to him, brushing her lips over his cheek as she throws her arms around him and presses herself into his back.

“What, you being the one sneaking around?” he says, falling onto his back so she can drape herself over his bare chest.

“It’s exciting,” she says, kissing a path along his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t see why you got to have all the fun.”

“Made it worth your while, didn’t I?” She can hear him grinning as she reaches the hollow of his throat. She swipes her tongue over his skin and delights when he suppresses a grunt and grasps at her hips.

She sits herself up, letting her nightgown hitch up to her hips as she starts to rock against him.

Tom slips a hand between her thighs and smiles when he swipes his thumb over her bare cunt. “Right little whore I’ve turned you into, hmm?”

Kitty braces herself against her chest and nods, as Tom presses into her, dragging from her entrance to her pearl.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers. “All for me?”

“All for you,” she breathes as he starts to circle over her most sensitive spot. “Fuck–”

Tom places a finger to her lips as he keeps working over her. “Shh, you have to be quiet, you know that.”

She nods again, dreamily, moving her hips against him, adding and withdrawing pressure to his movements, treading the line between pleasure and longing. Until she falls apart, shuddering, pressing her lips together tightly and snatching back the one wanton whimper that sounds in her throat.

“Good girl,” Tom snarls. His hips are bucking against her and his jaw is tight. “Good fucking girl.”

She wastes no time slipping his cock free from his briefs and sinks herself down onto his length. He’s done for with only a few rolls of her hips, pulling out before he finishes and spilling himself onto her stomach.

He’s so pretty when he comes, with a silent sigh, his jaw hanging open and his nostrils flaring. Every part of his body tenses, his abs, his neck, his shoulders, as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and throws his head back against the pillows.

Another perfect moment, she thinks, bright and beautiful, and already slipping away.

He registers with the navy again, and in a few weeks he has his next assignment.

Before he leaves, Kitty insists on getting out Eddie’s camera (even though he’d kill her if he knew he went near it), and takes some photos of Vera for Tom to keep while he’s away.

She takes some of him too. They’re hardly high art– he wouldn’t stop laughing at his own snarky comments, but she manages one ‘serious’ one.

His mouth is halfway to a smirk, his smile lines apparent around his mouth, but his eyes are dark and almost sinister. He hates it but there’s nothing he can do to stop her from keeping it in the envelope of one of his letters, under her pillow for safekeeping with the rest of the pieces she has of him.

He has leave in the new year, and then he’s back in October, just over two years since he first left.

By then Lois is gone. She had come into the shop, with a letter for Tom and Kitty in the pram. She had said she was going to leave her with Robina.

“Over my dead body you are,” Kitty said before she could think it through. Mam and dad were slightly horrified when she came home early from work with baby Vera in a pram and all of her belongings in a bag.

Vera is a right little character now, a stubborn but happy girl. When Tom comes back to Longsight, he stays with the Wheelans again, and he’s utterly devoted to his niece. When Kitty’s at work, he walks into the shop with Vera in his arms to buy her a bar of Cadbury’s ration chocolate. It’s awful and bitter, but it’s the only kind Vera has known and she treats it like gold dust.

When Mr Gregory gives Kitty a few days off, she and Tom take her for walks to the park. It’s freezing, but she’s happy enough wrapped up in a coat and a woolly hat, squealing with delight when Tom picks her up and places her on his shoulders.

How remarkable are kids, that they can so easily forget about worries and fears, as long as they have something that keeps them happy.

Even with Douglas and Lois gone, she hopes Tom knows that something still remains.

Time slips away too quickly. Suddenly Tom’s in his uniform again, ditty slung over his shoulder. He takes Vera into his arms and hugs her tightly into his chest. “Be good for your aunty Kitty,” he says, “and take care of her until I get back.”

Vera nods frantically.

He says goodbye to dad like an old friend, and even mam has warmed to him a bit now. Kitty sees the way her mother looks between her and Tom, the knowing nod of her head. It’s acceptance, and she’ll take it.

“Shall we?” Tom says, taking Kitty’s hand and leading her through the door.

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, then a twenty minute ride into the city. She keeps a tight hold of Tom’s hand the entire way.

They settle in seats at the back of the bus. It’s the middle of the day, kids are in school and their parents are at work. Only a few other seats are filled.

“Thank you,” Tom says as the bus pulls away from the stop.

“For what?” Kitty says.

“For being there,” he says, “for looking out for dad when he was around, for taking care of Vera, and me.”

She wants to frown, but can’t bring herself to. “Of course,” she says, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “Of course.”

Tom’s been assigned to HMS Prince of Wales, docked at Scapa Flow in Scotland. His train leaves within the hour, and the moment they step off the bus onto the busy streets of Manchester, she feels herself walking slower.

Tom keeps going, letting her fall behind him slightly, but never letting go of her.

No matter how she tries to drag this out, she cannot stop time altogether and they eventually reach the train station.

She could spend an eternity in his arms, cheek to cheek, breathing along with the rise and fall of his chest.

“I want to do right by you,” Tom says.

“What do you mean?” she mutters.

They still hold each other close; she doesn’t think she could bear to look at his face.

“Once the war is over, I’ll save up my wages, get us a place of our own. It’ll just be the two of us.”

“And Vera,” she adds.

“Yeah,” he says, stroking his hand up and down her back. “I’ll get a proper job. You should do that clerical training you’ve always talked about.”

No more sneaking around. No more nights cut short when he has to leave her.

He pulls away from her, keeping his hands on her waist. “I know your parents don’t trust me and your brothers think I’m a no-good-thieving-bastard. But I love you, Kitty, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“Once the war is over?” she says.

“As soon as.”

“Tom,” she sighs. She doesn’t want to imagine the possibility, or speak it into existence, but it’s still there. “What if you don’t come back?”

Tom smiles with a small hum. “I’ve died once before, didn’t stop me coming back to you, did it?”

Kitty believes him wholeheartedly.

Thursday 11th December, 1941

Vera’s being fussy about her nap again. No matter how much Kitty tries to hush her, rock her, or hum a few lullabies, she just won’t settle.

Eventually she tries just holding Vera close to her chest, letting the side of her little head nestle just over her heart. She stops crying almost immediately.

“How hard could it be to look after a baby?” she asked herself when she refused to let Lois leave her daughter with Robina Chase. Quite hard, as it turns out.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Mam’s shoes come clattering down the stairs, the doorbell rings and Vera starts wailing again.

“Oh come here,” mam coos, taking Vera from Kitty’s arms. “You get the door, I’ll see this one gets her nap, eh?”

Kitty takes a quick breath before she opens the door. Hearing Vera cry makes her want to cry too.

The postman stands below the front step with a telegram in his hands.

“Catherine,” he says with a polite smile, “haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been… busy,” she says through Vera’s wails.

The postman hands her the telegram and she reads over the address: Lois Bennett, 27 Slade Grove, Longsight, Manchester, only there’s no house for it to be delivered to, and no Lois to take it.

She feels the tears start to prickle in her eyes as she waves him off, and when she shuts the door she can no longer stand. Suddenly she’s on the floor, her back against the door, unable to catch her breath as hot, stinging tears stream down her face and the telegram crumples under her fist.

She thinks maybe Vera keeps crying and mam calls her name, trying to get her to stand but she can’t. She just… can’t. A sinking feeling washes over her and keeps her pinned down, like the waves pummeling against the shore, over and over again.

If there’s a telegram addressed to Lois, it can only mean one thing.

Tom.

Monday 24th December, 1945

The bus to Longsight stops outside the shop. She lifts Vera under the arms of her little red coat, onto the pavement, and takes a mittened hand in hers as they head inside. Mr Gregory sold it a few months ago and she doesn’t know the name of the new owners.

The woman behind the counter smiles down at Vera. “Aren’t you a gorgeous little madam?” she coos.

Vera rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby, I’m five,” she says.

Kitty smiles to herself. “Bottle of sherry and a bag of Yorkshire mix, please,” she says. She crouches down beside Vera and spots a shelf of Christmas wrapping. “Go and pick out some ribbon for the bottle,” she whispers.

She pays for their items and Vera comes back with a bright red ribbon.

“Perfect,” Kitty says, and ties it into a bow around the neck.

As they walk towards Slade Grove, Kitty picks out some red sweets for Vera and a pear drop for herself. The rest she saves for later, finding she now prefers the sweets she never used to eat.

It’s nice and warm inside number 28. A Chorus of Christmas carols plays through the wireless from the kitchen, a backdrop to the bustle of the house. Mam is in the kitchen, making her final preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. Art helps her, albeit, his version of helping is pouring out gin and tonics. Dad, Eddie, Stevie and Connie are sat around the table, engrossed in a game of cards. But everyone stops when Vera comes bounding into the room, Kitty close behind her.

They each take their turns to smother her, and it feels good. Stevie practically jumps up and down as he hugs her, Art hands her a drink and Eddie hugs her the tightest.

She manages a sip of her drink and places it on the table as she goes to greet her dad, still mulling over his hand of cards as he kisses her cheek. Then she goes to her mam, and hands her the bottle of sherry.

“I chose the bow!” Vera proclaims proudly.

“And a lovely bow it is!” mam beams, placing the bottle amongst their Christmas stash of whisky, gin and dessert wine. “I have something for you, love,” she says.

“Oh?” Kitty asks as mam disappears into the front room. She comes back with a pot of poinsettias in a red pot, thick green leaves with bursts of blood red petals and golden seeds at their hearts.

“I thought we could put them out, tonight,” mam says.

Kitty opens her mouth to thank her, but she can’t. She nods as mam places her hand on her arm.

Even months after the war has ended, meat is still scarce, especially at this time of year, but mam had saved up her rations for a beautiful joint of beef, which she presents in the centre of the table.

It’s a cheerful occasion. The boys are rowdy, dad is quizzing Connie on her latest gig with her new band, mam is fussing over Vera.

Kitty watches them all. It’s hard not to feel like a ghost, an outlier, simply observing. Sometimes she thinks the others are still too scared to talk to her, in case she bursts into tears or shatters completely. She knows she won’t though. It’s Christmas. She’s supposed to be happy, surrounded by family and people she loves.

“We’re going to see her daddy for dinner tomorrow,” Vera says, stabbing at her boiled carrots.

“What’s Christmas dinner with Robina Chase like?” Stevie asks Kitty.

Her face freezes into a terrified smile to the others’ amusement. “No, it’s fine really,” she says. “Your grandma spoils you rotten, doesn’t she missus?”

Vera nods enthusiastically.

She’s such an easy girl to love. She has bright blue eyes, plump, rosy cheeks and dark brown curls, like her mother’s, kept in pigtails. But while her face is deceptively sweet, she has an awful habit for mischief and stubbornness. Kitty doesn’t mind that though. Girls should be stubborn, she thinks.

Stevie and Connie are expecting now. Dad insists it’s going to be a boy because he saw four magpies in the garden last week. They have a modest little house a few streets away and they’ve made it nice and homely. She’s had tea there and helped Stevie set up a crib for the nursery.

After they’ve eaten, dad insists they all go to midnight mass, as he does every year, despite Kitty’s insistence that it’s much too late for Vera. Still, she puts her in a pretty blue dress and shiny black leather shoes, and makes Stevie promise he’ll be the one to carry her home.

The church is mostly shadows at night, a few candles and lamps doing their best to fight off the darkness and the cold. Vera hates it. She pulls her woolly hat over her ears, swings her legs and on three occasions asks “is he done talking yet?” She likes the hymns though, even if she doesn’t know the words, mouthing some kind of nonsense that has them all in fits of giggles.

And once it’s over, they don’t follow the path down to the street. Kitty leads the way, with the pot of poinsettias in her hands. Stevie follows behind her, carrying a sleepy Vera in his arms, curled into his chest.

She stops before the grave she first stood by seventeen years ago.

Josie Bennett

Douglas Bennett

and in loving memory of Thomas Bennett, 1919-1941

Kitty crouches down to lay the poinsettias down when Vera gives a little squeak in protest. “I want to do it!” she cries.

“Come on then, missus,” Kitty says.

Stevie lowers Vera and she rubs her tired eyes as she staggers to Kitty. She tries to take the pot but with her mittens she can’t get a good grip on it.

“Together?” Kitty asks.

“Yes please,” Vera says.

They place the flowers down together, making sure they don’t obstruct the names.

“There,” Vera says with a little huff. She reaches out and puts her hand on the stone, brushing over the names of her granny and granddad Bennett, and then she traces over the letters of Tom’s name.

Even seeing it written in stone, she doesn’t think it will ever truly sink in.

A report said Tom had been in the makeshift aid centre on the main deck of the HMS Prince of Wales, when the final bomb hit. He could have run for the lifeboats. He would have had plenty of time. But he didn’t. He died to save his injured crewmates, men who would have never seen their families again.

For all the times he told her he would come back, for the life he promised they would make together, for all the nights she clung onto hope, she wanted to hate him for throwing it away.

She knows now that she can’t hate him. She could never hate him.

Vera falls back into Kitty’s arms. She catches her and places a gentle kiss to her soft cheek. “They would have loved you, you know,” Kitty says. “They would have loved that you’re brave, and funny, and that you drive everybody round the bend.”

Vera giggles and turns around, flinging her arms around her neck. “I love you, aunty Kitty,” she says.

Kitty hugs her tightly into her chest, with that strange sort of urge to just squeeze her and squeeze her and never let her go. “I love you too,” she whispers, so Vera won’t hear the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Vera manages to walk down to the gate before Stevie has to carry her, and by the time they get back to the house, she’s fast asleep.

Kitty takes her in her arms and carries her up to the little box room. Connie and Stevie have the other big bedroom, and Eddie and Art are roughing it on the sofas in the lounge.

She places Vera down in the bed, as gently as she can, and takes off her shoes and coat so she won’t have to sleep in them.

It’s almost like a ritual now, but every time she finds herself in her old bedroom, she unlocks the window and brushes her fingers over the scuff mark on the windowsill.

Vera stirs slightly when she joins her, curling into Kitty when she places an arm around her. The bed is hardly big enough for the two of them, how she and Tom ever managed to fit seems somewhat miraculous.

Tom Bennett should have been hers to keep. They should have spent all their savings on a little terraced house or a flat in Manchester, squabbling over the things husbands and wives argue about and making up between the bedsheets. In the winters they would have walked home from the pub through the snow, hand in hand, and huddled for warmth at night. In the summers they would have spent their evenings in the park with a punnet of strawberries, taking the train to the coast on the weekends, to Southport or Blackpool. Maybe they would have had kids of their own. She often pictures a little girl with big blue eyes and a bright smile. They might have named her Josie, after Tom’s mother, and Vera would adore her.

There is so little left of him now, the bomb that hit the Bennett’s house ensured that well enough. She would have liked to have kept his lighter, his wristwatch, maybe some of his shirts.

Instead, she finds other ways to remember him. She reads his letters every night tracing over his terrible handwriting, the imprint of the words in the paper and his fingerprint in a smudge of ink. And she has the photo she took of him on Eddie’s camera. She keeps it framed, proudly on display on the mantle in their flat in the city.

She feels him, in the smell of grass, the flick of a lighter, the smoke from a cigarette, whispered secrets between lovers and Vera Bennett’s laugh, the way she squints her eyes and shows her teeth, just like he did.

Two decades of friendship and it wasn’t enough time. They should have known sooner, she should have knocked on his door more often and he should have spent less time getting into trouble. She should have told him to join the pacifists while it was still an option, she should have convinced him not to go away, she should have held him tighter and never, never have let him go.

In the end though, she doesn’t linger on the times they weren’t together. She remembers them being children together. She remembers the first night he climbed through her window. She remembers his warmth and his infuriating smirk. She remembers the first time they kissed and the nights they spent together, when she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She remembers every time he told her he loved her, and she remembers every time she said it back.

She falls asleep to Vera’s fluttering breaths, the sound of the lads and Connie in the front room and the hymns playing on the radio.

The world is cruel and cold, but through it all she finds moments like these, when the tightness in her chest is replaced by something light and hopeful.

She clings to that feeling because tomorrow she’ll wake up surrounded by her family, and Vera’s little face will light up when she sees the gifts they’ve been saving for her. Dinner with Robina Chase will be worth it for the moments Harry will get with his little girl, and in the evening she’ll come home and laugh herself silly over glasses of whisky with her brothers.

For all the grief she remembers how he loved her. She’ll keep clinging to that feeling because Tom Bennett was hers, if only just for a moment.

Disclaimer: I only skimmed through the episodes that Tom wasn’t in and don’t actually know what Lois’ deal was, so I’m taking some creative liberties here.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

#my fics #tom bennett #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #wof #world on fire bbc #world on fire season 2 #world on fire fanfiction #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennet x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut

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