#we're being robbed as we speak

[starcurtain]

A Very Specific Blade Fic I Want to Read

Every once in a while I get an itch to read a gen fic and those gen fics just never exist, so hear me out:

I want to read a fic where the Stellaron Hunters specifically need Dan Heng for something. It's, I don't even know, some Xianzhou Fanghu Vidyadhara nonsense that only a High Elder can handle or whatever.

It's convenient that they've got the Express on speed dial, but putting Blade and Dan Heng in the same enclosed space for too long is a big no-go for Blade's mara, so Kafka calls up Himeko and is like "Hear me out--what if we trade. We'll take your dragon boy for a few short days, and in the meantime, you all can keep an eye on Bladie for us."

Everyone thinks this is a stupid idea, but somehow it happens anyway.

And weirdly, Blade is a complete non-issue on the Express. As far as most of the Express crew know, Blade is staying in the visitors' cabin with the door locked and not even coming out for food. He might be dead in there, actually. ("Maybe we should knock?" "Let's give him some space, March.")

But there is one person on the train who is having a very, very different experience with their erstwhile visitor, and that's Pom-Pom.

Because every night, when everyone else on the train is asleep, Blade is wandering out of his cabin to come sit in the parlor car. The phonograph is playing low, gentle music, and watching the stars passing outside through the windows is strangely relaxing to the normally barely suppressed monster that is Blade's mara. He feels... calm.

But Pom-Pom, who sort of lives in the parlor car, is terrified within an inch of their life.

No one else is around!! Who is going to help protect the poor conductor if this Stellaron Hunter decides Pom-Pom would be good for a midnight snack?! Why's this guy gotta carry around a sword all the time?!

But when nothing happens and Blade basically ignores Pom-Pom's existence, the conductor starts to go from panicked to... well, a little insulted, frankly! How dare anyone ignore the train's highest authority?! Being conductor is a serious responsibility that commands respect!

"Y-You should go to sleep!" Pom-Pom is very proud of themself for plucking up the courage to give Passenger Blade some important life advice.

But "Hm?" is all Blade says.

Why, the nerve of this guy!

Thus begins Pom-Pom the great and illustrious Astral Express conductor's grand plans to improve the attitude of one Passenger Stellaron Hunter Blade.

It goes slightly better than you'd imagine. Blade may be a mara-struck death-seeking unholy magical abomination but he does have manners, okay? The bunny isn't hurting anybody. Its wrath can be endured. (Maybe Sam and Silver Wolf would like a picture of its puffy tail?)

At some point, someone in the Express crew definitely catches Blade petting a passed out Pom-Pom in his lap. No one knows whether or not Pom-Pom passed out from fear or fatigue, and no one is going to stay long enough to ask.

Basically, tl;dr: Blade visits the Astral Express and bonds with Pom-Pom of all people.

After the Stellaron Hunters' mission is over, Blade is now registered as a guest of the Astral Express. But he only ever comes in the middle of the night, broods silently for an hour while Pom-Pom chats his ear off, and then leaves.

That's it. That's the fic.

[storm-of-feathers]

Ill be the first to admit that rwby has some writing problems but for some reason every "rwby critic" needs to talk ab how much they hate women and especially gay women and also that they think people of color should always choose terrorism

[tartarusknight]

I want more platonic stobin and bisexualy disaster Steve and gay disaster Eddie in my life. So I wrote some :)

Steve wanted to scream as he tried the handle again. "Steve. Steve!" Robin pulled him away from the door. "They aren't opening the door, and you're just gonna break the handle. Keith already hates your guts. Don't make it worse." She pointed out, weirdly calm about all of this. "Plus, it's not like we don't share space normally." She says and sinks down to the floor, tugging him down with her.

Steve looked at the door, "Why can't they accept that we're only ever going to be platonic?" He asks and runs a ran through his hair. He was sick of this. Of the comments and the teasing. It stresses him out.

They kept pushing the two of them together, and Steve was worried that it could mess up what friendship he had with Robin. Because Steve's used to messing up and hurting someone, and he really doesn't want to hurt Robin. He has nightmares of outing her by accident and ruining her life. It terrifies him.

"Steve, come on, it's okay. It's just a stupid bathroom. We've shared a bathroom stall. This is bigger than that." She jokes, and he pulls his knees up to his chest.

"I can't do this, Rob." He admits and watches her freeze. Her walls climbed up like he said something really stupid. "I'm sorry, but I'm just-"

She cuts him off, "I get it. You don't want to deal with the backlash of being a lesbian's friend." She says, and he blinks.

"What? No! I don't want to say the wrong thing. I get bitchy when I'm annoyed and I'm easily annoyed when I'm stressed. And I'm stressed! So I don't - I can't be the one to out you. I can't mess that up for you." He says, and it's nice to finally admit his fears.

Robin blinks at him, "That's what- Steve, that's what bothers you about all this?"

Steve nods, "I mess up everything I touch. I can't do that to you, I won't do that to you. Honestly, you should probably find better friends. One who thinks with his brai-"

"Shut up." Robin snaps, and he stops speaking. Looking at her with wide eyes. "You can't talk about my best friend that way. I won't let you," She states.

"You're best friend?"

Her eyes soften, "yeah dingus. Who else would be my best friend? We're soulmates," She decides, and he's confused because she sounds like she means it. "Platonic, with a capital p, soulmates."

He swallows back a ball of emotion, "even if all the kids I babysit-"

"Mother."

"Babysit," he stresses, and she smiles. "Try to get us together at every opportunity and won't believe that we aren't in love. Or that I'm in love with you at the least. I think you're better off because you call me dingus more than my name," he mused.

Robin sighed, "I won't say that it's not annoying. But I'm used to dodging questions about boys, and this way... with you, I have someone to be myself with. That's more important to me than some stupid preteens who think locking us in a bathroom would get us together."

Steve smiles, "last time we shared a bathroom did go pretty well, honestly." She knocked her knee into his. He glanced over at the door. "Do you think they'll give up?"

Robin snorts, "Dustin's more invested in your love life than you are. I don't think he'll give up unless you're dating someone else or the truth comes out."

Steve sighed, chewing his lower lip until something clicked in his head. "What If I come out?"

Robin blinked, "you- what?"

Steve nodded, "I mean I like both but I could just say I favor guys." He shrugs, "it's not like they could disprove it since it's mostly true."

Robin stared at him, "Steve... since when did you- what? Steve oh my god," She shifted onto her knees and slammed into him. "Since fucking when! Why didn't you ever tell me!"

Steve raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean since when? I literally point out hot guys all the time! When we watched watched Rocky Horror, I said Tim Curry was sexy!"

She shook his shoulders, "you did no such thing! You ask if I also think a guy is hot and you said- oh." It clicks for her and she falls back on her ass. She covers her face, "holy shit."

Steve smirks, "holy shit."

A giggle escapes her lips, "you so have a type."

"Shut up," he groans.

But before they can really dig into it, there's a loud knock on the door. "We're gonna open the door in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" The door swings in a Dustin's hand is over his eyes like he's gonna be scarred at the sight of them.

"We're literally just sitting on the floor Henderson. Not having freaky bathroom sex," Steve rolls his eyes and stands, Robin following suit.

Dustin looks upset like he expect his plan to work. "I don't get it." Steve ruffles his hair as he passes the kid. Robin lets out a small laugh as she stretches her limbs like she had been stuck in there for more than just 15 minutes. Steve turns, and she locks eyes with him, a silent question.

"Kid, I've said this a million times, but I'll say it one more time." He glances at the other kids that had either always been there or gotten here at some point since he'd been locked into the bathroom. "Robin and I will never date. She and I have no romantic feelings for each other. And if you pull this shit when we're at work again, I'll kill you."

"It's not like it was hard to figure out how to check someone out," Max shrugged and Steve huffed at her nonchalant grin from behind the counter.

Steve ushers the kids out from behind the counter before taking his normal spot, looking around at the empty store. Robin moves and bumps shoulders with him. "Platonic feelings only." She gestures between them.

Dustin groan, "I just don't get why!"

Steve glances at Robin, "because I'm too gay for her." He states and everyone goes quiet. "Honestly boobies are so high school." He winks at Robin who looks at him like he's bravely stupid.

"Wait but you dated Nancy?" Mike questioned arms over his chest.

Steve rolled his eyes, "so? I am more picky on who I date. Doesn't matter the gender. Robin doesn't tick my boxes."

"But she should!" Dustin complains and Robin groans.

But then Steve sees someone in the windows, heading towards the doors to Family video. "My type is more," and he just gestures just as the door dings to call their attention to the newcomer.

Eddie Munson glances at the kids and then at Steve. "Sheepies," he says. Eyebrows raised in confusion at the eyes on him. Eddie glanced at Steve, "Harrington, you break the kids?" He asks as all the kids continue to stare at him as he moves to the horror section.

Steve waves his hand, like he can brush off the confusion. "Nah, they're just shocked that I'm not completely in love with Birdie over here."

Everyone's jaw is on the floor as Steve leans his arms on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way he checks Eddie out when the man looks away. "Right," Eddie sighs and grabs a movie. "Well, not everyone's type is jocks." Eddie teases slightly, having warmed up to Steve little by little when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.

Steve takes the movie from Eddie, giving him his one free movie he gets for the week and hands it back to Eddie without charging him. "I'll win ya over." He winks, and Eddie's eyes go a little wide.

Eyes glanced around like he could ask if anyone else saw that. "Um, well, yeah, how-how much for the-"

"Consider it on me." Steve waved his hand and then leaned more into Eddie's space, "I haven't seen this one yet."

Eddie swallows, "You should check it out. It's, uh, pretty good."

Steve smiles, "I'm shit with horror, maybe if I had someone to hold my hand through it." He sighs overdramatically, then snaps, "Oh, I know! If you're not busy we could watch it together. I mean, it seems like a scary metalhead like yourself would be capable of holding my hand through the jump scares."

Eddie's eyes are blinking rapidly, "it's for the boys." He says, looking lost. Steve frowns, and Eddie jumps into action, "But I could-" He stops himself and groans. "I've got to- plans- fuck-" He stumbles and practically smacks into the door in his rush to leave family video.

Steve sighs and leans his head down on the counter. Robin pats his back, "I miss my whiteboard." She sighs and he looks up to glare at her.

[kalims]

ㅤdorm leaders being savages

summary. basically some backstabber mf tries to 'steal' him and... this is where the savage part starts

featuring. dorm leaders

content. bad friend, gender neutral reader, brutal rejection ���

note. a full post after a while :')

malleus

I mean it's not like he would notice anyways, again. I firmly believe human and fae courting traditions are vastly different and c'mon... he doesn't even know what the fuck flirting is do you really think he'd get their intentions. 💀

when they start to slide up an arm in places he's quite bothered about, (cause guy is so whipped that he won't let anyone but him touch you.) he isn't even happy that someone is near his proximity anymore, not scared and whatnot.

just he no likey.

AND HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC HE JUST SHRUGS THEM OFF EVERYTIME. he's just a genuine innocent lil' dude who wants his lover to come and save him from this touchy, weird, human.

no child of man cause that's your name ‼️

while he may not get it, he's got a feeling, sixth sense of sorts and when he sees it he's backing tf up away. he's not gonna entertain the doubts.

also he still doesn't get it in the end lmaoooo, he's avoiding all their advances thinking it's a part of human... culture? that he wasn't made aware of.

if they start putting in the forbidden words in the same sentence as your name you know shits going down, suddenly he's not that confused, oblivious, cute guy that they saw but a much colder shell.

when his eyes darken, and it starts storming they'd had better run, he's been kind enough to stay even with their relentless annoying behavior but that is where he crosses the line fr.

don't even be surprised when they get hit by lightning and end up in the infirmary or something, malleus didn't even say anything to them cause he believes actions speaks louder than words... *sends touchy, weird human to the nurse.* see?

someone insults him: ?

someone insults you: 😠😡🤬👿🌩⚡

just goes: "your friend is very unpleasant, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from spending time with them."

something unsaid; spend all of that time with me duhhh

idia

you know what I'm surprised someone actually likes him tbh 😭 except us because we're all built different and we love disgustang discord mod behavior.

you know what's even more surprising? the fact that idia is actually seen by your friend group. I swear he comes out of his room like once a day and that's just because he's craving something else that isn't in his food stock and he's just gonna rob whose mac n' cheese was in the microwave.

and that's literally in his DORM ONLY.

he's like a vampire and allergic to sunlight, he's more willing to come out in the middle of the night because that's when the least 'normies' are scattered around like flies.

(if that counts for anything at all??)

but hanging out is more fun and if you somehow managed to convince idia to come with you with your friends for some well needed, 'socializing' then you're in luck!

besides that you had to bet one of your items in that open world game you played together... all is good!

im like 99% sure idia is disgusted by any other touch from other people, besides you? cause if you touch him he's just embarrassed... but in terms of the disgusted faction, you've been there before.

he immediately spots their intentions cause he definitely plays otome games and this is one of them cliche scenarios to 'spice up' the plot by invoking jealousy in it.

only difference is its him, you and this... random.

if they weren't already offended by the absolute mortification and disgust on his face, somehow continuing to 'rizz' him up.. oh boy. it's gonna get worse.

he's got the worst fucking 3rd grade insults like... "back away from me you noob, are you supposed to be their friend?" he scoffs, surprising them cause they thought he was gonna be that red flag discord romance experience.

"sorry but im not really sorry. i don't associate myself with lower levels such as yourself, try to come back when you're higher but I doubt they'd accept a fiend back."

LIKE WHO USES NOOB AS AN INSULT?

when you come back he's steering you away, pulling on the hem of your sleeves practically begging to come home with the promise of 'grinding that outrageous drop rate item you've asked his help with.'

something unsaid; doxxing them as soon as I get back

vil

ok this one I get.

who wouldn't want vil... it's not like I've made the entirety of the fandom known about my obsession with him as my favorite character or anything, not at all... jokes aside he's a very prominent candidate, he's hot and rich. you get it?

forget about the other qualities because we all known those two can carry someone in life alone, life in luxury and fame? sign them up ASAP.

besides your boyfriend being one of the superstar actors, models, the dream jobs for a dream man even your friends had a hard time believing you. you should be offended that they even considered that you were clinically.. delusional.

plus you didn't even seem to know about vil before so how are you dating him?!

they found out the hard way and safe to say they're flabbergasted because what even?

of course out of everyone here, vil has the most experience in terms of being approached on a baseless appearance only, he's iffed by how fast people get infatuated when they're barely scratching the surface of him.

well, you somehow dug your way deep with a shovel so you're the only exception he will allow...

at this point he knows what to expect the moment one of your friends gave him a look he's all the well too accustomed to. it's easy to ignore the ones he sees in crowds cause there's always some type of fence blocking them from fully proclaiming their love or something.

problem here is that this person has no obstacles and he can tell they're waiting for an opportunity to strike like a snake. *texts the pomefiore gc to tell them about this SNAKE!*

honey this is a big NO for him, you need to consider your circle of friends if one of them immediately starts folding around like this and wastes what? a longer friendship with you? please, he's known his stylists more and they literally get replaced every single day.

he's giving them the biggest, sassiest side eye ever. putting a palm up before they even get to speak because frankly, he does not want to hear it.

they open their knarly mouth. "i—"

he raises a finger. "no."

a frown. "but i—"

"shush."

he can do this forever.

when you come back he's still giving a bombastic, criminal offensive side eye, mentally thinking on how to ruin this person's life in media of course! his natural domain. just one word and the rest of his army will attack fr.

vil usually doesn't do this but seriously? that was another level of low.

also he's just by your side, you don't even have to say that he's your boyfriend because he's lowkey rubbing it in their face that he is in fact, taken.

"next time you try to see me again, might as well buy one of the tickets to my fan signings because you’re not seeing me again otherwise.. well, not like you can afford it anyways." *fabulous hair flip*

something unsaid; either way I'll kick you out if you try to get in

kalim

most safest person to flirt with, even if you're friends with their lover but also the most impossible to actually try and 'steal.'

the thing about kalim is that he's adorably stupid, not to degrade him in any shape or form but he's so oblivious about everything that you could consider it as one of his redeemable traits to be adorable.

he takes everything you say so seriously to the point where if you joke about wanting to water an entire continent he's just there with his carpet waiting for you cause he's gonna do exactly that.

"you're in luck cause I have a lot of water in me!" pops his non existent guns on his arms. (he is talking about his unique magic..)

it takes a remarkable mind to be like... that but you like him all the well about it, compliment his stupid-ness and he'll just grin, flush a little and laugh loudly as he compliments you back. not an ounce of anger in his tiny body.

red eyes but what a bright heart!

the type of guy that goes. "any friend of yours is a friend of mine!" so when he meets your friend group, casually just throws them a grand ball. they don't know whether to be flattered or.. concerned cause this is pretty weird.

not only was one of your friends awed over the mere value of many things inside the dorm he renovated, apparently his very huge bank full of gold was something to gasp over too.

and that's exactly what they did. (I mean get that bag sis but that bag is already owned by someone else and that's you... so that's not slay of you, random friend.)

here's when his nature proves to be quite relenting, even after many flirting, even using those cringe pickup lines from the internet, he just won't budge! it's getting irritating cause they're sure the people already heard the embarrassing words coming out of their mouth.

also that they were flirting with a non-legally married man. (to you ofc ofc.)

kalim either laughs at them because he thinks they were jokes, and just funny or laughs just because he's kalim.

he didn't really mind the casual touches at first, maybe it was friendly? he does it all the time after all but there was a stinking feeling that it felt weird and that alone was weird cause friendly pats were supposed to feel good.

not with you though cause those feel great!

accidentally shuts them down cause they're feeling like a third wheel when you come back after a bathroom break and it's like a total contrast to how he was treating them.

how do you seriously not notice kalim now unintentionally flirting with you?! are both of you airheads?!

he was literally all over you when you quipped up a "hi, I'm back."

and he was like; "welcome back :DDDD!!!!" if it wasn't already obvious they'd even add floating hearts emojis all over his head.

something unsaid; girl he didn't even notice anything was up...

azul

kinda a 50/50?

I'm not sure if most people really dig the whole 'bad reputation' thing. he's friends with the most terrifying twins in the entire campus, notably scammed a lot of people, can give wishes with an extreme price.

oh yeah he runs monstro lounge too but that just means he won't have time to spend with a lover.

that's their own imagination but azul's actually very sweet and gets some overworked junior to do the work for him, usually jade since floyd just leaves if he's given the job. JUST so he can go fret over which tie to use for your unofficial date.

despite him annoyed and losing sleep 24/7 because of the tweels he still asks them which one to use, jade's opinion is most trustworthy since floyd picks the neon, vibrant ones. (don't question why he even owns it.)

I doubt he actually likes people though, anyone else than you? hard pass. he's a simp through and through but unlike idia who can't mask the mortification and disgust on his face even at the cost of his life, good thing that masks are one of the many things azul is good at.

he slips up sometimes cause he genuinely thinks it's embarrassing that they're doing whatever this is to him, (well more of an attempt?) and to you, who is also their friend and his lover.

slip up as in his eye twitches, he flinches away a little too fast when they touch him, and his smile wobbles.

I mean no one would notice if he uses his magic on one, singular person...

mentally makes a note to remember whoever this was cause they're not stepping foot in octavinelle ever again.

+ an object of fun for the tweels. #gotormentthatlife!!

he's just a polite guy, so he won't just straight up insult them but he does warn them. the only thing holding him back from cooking a whole table is the crowd that would definitely spread the news of him going batshit.

like; "could you please, stop this? I hope you're not as stupid as you make yourself out to be because if you think I'm an idiot to not know what you're doing.. "

meanwhile his mind; "ugh this bitch. [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]."

I mean he's not that intimidating ALONE but when he gets all threatening like that (🥰) he could pass for an assassin fr.

just gets the tweels to deal with them cause he does not have the patience to deal with this backstabbing ho and it's wasting his precious time that should have been spent talking with you.

ugh he did not spend like 30 whole minutes picking out his tie and gloves just for this.

azul when he sees you coming back: 😇

something unsaid; [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].

leona

oh boy, cover your eyes cause we're stepping onto another level of SAVAGE. you don't call lions that for NOTHING ‼️ beastman or just beast.

has the least filter out of everyone, as in he just doesn't give a single fuck, he's the chillest (agressive) guy on the twst planet so if the thought of wanting to insult some stranger that doesn't have a significance in his life at all pops up in his mind he ain't gonna change it lol.

gives the stinkiest eyes, even his tail and ears pause to synchronize with his thoughts cause if they had googly eyes they'd have a side eye too.

if he's laying down and they try pulling him upwards, tryna latch onto him? *just shoves them cutely.* problem solved.

leona's nice enough to let them off without losing something cause you really do mean something to him if he's holding back for your expense knowing that this is one of your 'friends.'

they don't even deserve to be called that!

like no one interrupts his peaceful nap times except for when he stands up to interrupt it himself just to drag you down with him.

wait so basically anyone but him???

he, really doesn't want to waste energy on this fool and to be honest they're really boring him since you went out to grab something you forgot. (but knowing this person for less than an hour in his life, they probably had something to do with that too.) so you aren't here to give him a reason to stay awake.

them rambling but in leona's eyes they're a blurry figure cause he's really sleepy.

then suddenly he's an iphone promax when he's looking at you 💀

if they already didn't take a hint from his earlier shove, the dirt isn't the only thing he's gonna shove someone into. there's a lake there for a reason other than keeping a home for the fishes y'know. never would know if they eat people too. /j

"would you shut up?"

yeah that's all he says but we all know how sharp it is to hear that from somebody so they immediately shut up. there's absolutely no need for any waste on energy of them, just one look from him and they're SILENT.

hopefully embarrassed too cause wtf was that??

unfortunately he can't fully enjoy his usually relaxing nap cause this random is corrupting the atmosphere even when they're silent, I swear they could shift and leona feels like one step closer to smacking 'it.'

ignored them every single time they tried to call out to him LOUDLY before but when you just silently step back on the field, he already peeks out an eye??? like no words needed.

what love does to a mf... sighs... another cold male lead we've lost to romance because of our mc <4

something unsaid; I was really questioning if keeping myself from strangling someone was worth it. took more effort than doing it literally

riddle

I'd have a crush on him too tbh.

unlike azul who already knew their intentions from the start, polite enough to kindly drop signs that he's not interested. riddle doesn't get it, he's just polite as well but also confused?

like he doesn't know they're tryna flirt, but he does think their actions are strange like c'mon. why are they trying to feel him up? he has no idea except the thought that he doesn't like it at all.

also it feels like he's betraying you so he just straight up pulls their arm away off of him firmly and shakes his head.

"stop this behavior."

he sighs.

surprisingly he's patient but also impatient???

consider this the first and last warning cause he WILL excuse himself if it ever goes on, riddle can wait for you browse through a whole store with him following you around and playfully commenting on your taste but can't wait for their attitude to get better.

he ain't gonna waste any more of his precious minutes on this period.

I don't know how to explain it, he's totally unaware of what they want, which is him ironically. but the reason he's rejecting their advances is because he's so devoted and a simp for you.

not a lot of people have the balls to converse or touch around him carelessly like that so freely so isn't it basic human courtesy to hold off all the physical affection till they're more acquainted?

well, not that riddle's not gonna let their current relationship advance any further from strangers at this point...

he's so loyal to you that it's cute jabskans.

riddle sticks to his principles, and he certainly has his own preferences for the personality of people. one of the traits he despises is when they don't understand his earlier warnings.

of course riddle isn't very forgiving, they're lucky they were even given a chance before cause even he, doesn't spare his dorm members a second chance when they break a rule he's been plenty lenient with.

so if you were given a chance, you better take it cause he's not giving you another.

like how since you did take your chance he's not gonna let you go now 😍.

isn't the type to be rude to people for matters he deems conflict being easily avoidable so he just makes up a believable excuse and walks away loool.

and they're like thinking; didn't he say he was tired and had to sleep since he stayed up planning the unbirthday party... why is he having a tea date with you???

suddenly he didn't look too tired at all compared to when he randomly slumped to look exhausted before??

something unsaid; 🥰🍵 what a successful unbirthday party *forgets about them immediately cause you're both having an unofficial date.*

note. ok so something unsaids are basically that but don't misunderstand, it's something they didn't say.

[likearhinestonecowgirl]

Deadpool Headcanons

cw:: mentions of sex and violence. it's wade lol

description:: goddess reader, wade is your boyfriend >:)

a/n:: wade and i are married irl so this is straight from the source

Wade likely meets you first. which is a nice way of saying he's been stalking you after having a legitimate romcom, slow motion, wind only in HIS (metaphorical) hair moment

once he finally introduces himself, your aggravation only leads (turns) him on

your way of cooing condescending, violent things as you accost this clown(?) sets it in stone - your the love of his fucking life

You shove Wade against the nearest wall. "I'm sure you're a.. special kid, but let's put on our listening caps." Your eyes practically pierce his soul, unblinking, pupils narrow and frustrated. "Go ahead." You release him and pat his head like an order. "On." You wait a beat, make sure he's listening- at least to the best of his ability. "Get in my way again and I will turn you into a fucking vegetable." You whisper yell, hardly realizing your nails are biting his jaw through his mask. "Thank you." With a curt grin and pat to his cheek, you saunter past him.

He grunts as he’s slammed against the wall, staring down at you with furrowed brows and a slowly growing grin. “This is not how my first dates usually go but I’m game.” He blurts out before you start speaking. He tilts his head at the mention of a listening cap, looking down at his hands as if one will materialize before you let him go. He blinks slowly and mimes putting a hat on before his head is shoved back against the wall at the force of your sudden grasp. He grins quickly at the fleeting feeling of nails sinking into flesh, chest heaving a touch before he mourns the loss of the sting almost instantly. As his skin stitches itself back together, he rouses himself from his starry eyed haze and starts after you. “How do you feel about Tahiti—maybe Turks and Caicos, I can’t exactly tan, but I feel like I can just sit out and burn.” He rambles, hot on your heels as he takes a selfish look of you before returning to the task at hand. What was it again? Right—planning your honeymoon. “How do you feel about hydrangeas, they smell like shit but, we could always settle for tulips.” He stops for a beat before continuing. “Fuck, you’re a great negotiator. Fine, we can do orchids.”

Wade is nothing if not good at wearing people down. that's how he eventually gets you to start laughing at his jokes, to smile cheekily instead of burning him with your stare or the venom in your tone

his personality is infectious and soon enough you two are attached at the hip

Despite his CVS receipt of red flags, Wade is a really good boyfriend

Wade is surprisingly attentive, but you truly are the most interesting, beautiful, sexy, delicious, thing that has ever graced his sorry fucking existence so how could he not spend his life fixating on you

he picks up on all the little things you like and goes out of his way to keep you smiling - only happy, fucked out tears are allowed for his girl

you can conjure up whatever you like, being a god, so his money is reserved for surprises - ringpops whenever the last is finished, food because you likely don't know how to cook (why learn when you can will a three course meal into life with a snap of your fingers) and Wade is banned from every kitchen for obvious reasons, and merch of himself with his moniker, name, and/or his symbol on it

Wade can be possessive and jealous to a degree, so showing you off is one of his greatest pleasures

if you wear his hoodie or a little pair of sleep shorts or panties with his name on it, the poor fuck will actually combust. should've worn his white pants

any time you go literally anywhere and meet someone new (ie dragging him along and making him pay for stuff) Wade takes the opportunity to make it known you are his

"Oh, have you met my WIFE?"

He beams to the cashier at the luxury store who truly thought they were about to robbed.

"Yea, she's my WIFE. We're MARRIED. It was a crisp afternoon and she threw me against the wall-"

All while his arm is secured around you, holding you to his side as he thumbs over your hip bone.

he'll likely say you're married before you even start enjoying his company. the moment you accept that unwrapped ring pop definitely covered in blood and lint, those metaphorical documents are signed. it's set in stone like the 11th fucking commandment. you'll be together forever

and you just go along with it. why not? being immortal gets boring after a few millenniums and this strange, poor mentally challenged man in spandex is pretty fun having around

the whole married bit goes on for so long you're not even sure if it's still a bit anymore

Wade uses the sanctity of your marriage in any situation - another guy with a gun on some mission copping a feel? "I'M MARRIED". someone brushes past him on the street? "I'M MARRIED". sees anyone look a little too long at you? "SHE'S MARRIED"

he'd kill and die for you over and over again. say the word and it's a done deal. that hypothetical guy who checked you out a little too long got a face full of gloved knuckles

want to keep his dick in a jar because Wade Jr. obviously brings you so much joy? say less. he knows a guy who can get him formaldehyde cheap

if Wade isn't busy showing you off in public, he's arguing with strangers on reddit about how you very much are his real life WIFE

ilovechappelroan: That's photoshop.

mercwithamouth1: it's not we took that picture together and her tits r real

webhead123: i think it's AI generated. see the blurry line where his cheek is apparently pressed against her head?

ilovechappelroan: Yea, mods should take this down.

mercwithamouth1: i have ur ip and im omw over she'll tell u herself WE ARE MARRIED and she will dox u bc she LOVES ME

webhead123: okay???? i already know where i live lol

"Hold this." Wade orders with a pouty huff and camera at the ready as he hands you a paper that reads i'm not a hostage don't ask me to blink twice

you two bicker and argue over random things (usually because you enjoy a reason to complain as it passes the time in your literally endless existence), but it's never anything of substance and usually under a veil of something condescending any sly

these stupid, teasing spats 9 times out of 10 end up with Wade soothing your brattiness by cooing little phrases and pulling you onto him in any way he can

"Don't pout, you're so sexy- fuck, I can't stay mad at you- what if I let you peg me?"

Wade doesn't mind this routine at all. it's just another reason for him to get his hands on you

he loves holding you, feeling the weight of your body against his - throwing you over his shoulder when you're being a brat, carrying you all day because his girl is "just too pretty walk", sat on his lap, chest, face (when he's been *really* good)

he'll do virtually anything to have you praise him, call yourself mommy and go on about how much of a good boy he is

he in turn responds to that comfort with a few pet names of his own - sweetheart, cupcake, the wind beneath my wings, my will to live or his favorite my future baby mama

nothing in the universe, not even the shittiest of writers he's handed, could take him away from you

he's content just having you, knowing you're his - BUT he does have a little fantasy he's shared a few hundred time of really having you. a pretty thing, a trophy who sits at home and waits for him to walk through the door covered in blood and guts. you can't go outside, it's just not safe out there for his baby, so he'll always be with you. dress you in nice things, show you off, shower you in affection, heed your every whim. you'd be slaves to each other

and why would you protest? sounds fun

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[slayfics]

A girls night at Mitsuri’s house. Don’t worry your secrets are safe here.

Warnings: NSFW themes hinted at~

You arrived at Mitsuri’s doorstep feeling excited for what the night might bring. You couldn’t believe the Hashira found some downtime to plan a girl's night. You wondered what other girls she might have invited to come over. But overall you were excited to take a break from the serious work of hunting demons. 

You knocked on the door and Mitsuri threw it open almost immediately. 

“Yay! I’m so glad you made it!” She exclaimed and pulled you into a hug. “Let me show you who else came!” She said as she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room. You saw Aoi and Kanao sitting around a table piled with deserts and tea. 

“Hi girls!” You waved.  

“Hello.” Aoi said seriously and Kanao just smiled sweetly at you. 

“Feel free to have as many desserts and tea as you want! I can always make more!” Mitsuri said as she pulled you down to sit on the floor. 

“What is our first task Miss Knaroji?” Kanon asked. 

“Hm?” Mitsuri looked confused.  

“Miss Kocho said this night was so we could all get special training from you.” Kanao explained 

“Oh right!” Mitsuri laughed. “Well actually we're just here to have a girl's night. That can be extremely refreshing for the soul you know! And Miss Kocho thought it would be a great exercise for you to express some of your feelings.”  

Kanao’s face turned white, but she kept a straight face and did not speak again. Training was something she could handle any time of day but expressing her wants and feelings was extremely challenging for her.  

“Sounds ridiculous to me. What are we supposed to be doing here anyway.” Aoi spoke. 

“Oh you know gossiping, talking about boys, the fun stuff! I’ve never had a girl's night before because I've been so busy as a Hashira. It would be nice to just be normal girls for one night. I really wanted Miss Kocho to come too but she said she had to go on a mission.” Mitsuri said. 

“Boys... you want us to sit here and talk about boys?? That seems like a waste of time. I’ve got injured demon slayers to check up on.” Aoi replied.  

“HEY! You mind your manners when talking to a Hashira! Miss Kanroji risks her life every day to keep us safe! So if on her day off she wants to talk about boys you better believe I’m going to sit here and do it, and I suggest you do too!” You spoke. Aoi seemed to be humbled by this and placed her head down. 

“Oh, it’s ok Aoi I understand. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said, looking hurt. 

“No I want to be here, I apologize.” Aoi said grabbing some tea off the table. “Please continue.” 

“Well tell me what’s been going on with you girls?” Mitsuri said and sipped some of her tea. 

Everyone was silent. No one knew how to begin or what to talk about. Being in the demon slayer corps robbed the girls of having any real childhood or adolescents, it was daunting to think what normal girls would sit and talk about. 

“Umm... I really want to play with Master Tokito’s hair.” You started bravely hoping to get some conversation started and fulfill Misturi’s dream of having a normal girls night.  

Kanao’s face got even whiter, and she started to sweat. 

“Yes! Me too! He has such beautiful hair I would love to braid it like mine one day!” Mitsuri smiled.  

“Wow that would be so cute, do you think he would let us??” You asked. 

“Hmm I don't know, maybe if we asked nicely or tricked him into thinking it was a training exercise of some sort.” Mitsuri giggled. 

Aoi and Kanao exchanged bewildered glances at each other. 

“Oh come on what boys do you two want to talk about?” You asked, turning to look at them both.

Kanao started to sweat more. 

“Miss Kocho told me a secret about you two, but I won’t share if you don't want me too.” Mitsuri teased. 

“A secret???” What secret could she have said about me?” Aoi exclaimed.  

“Well, we are all girls here and this is a safe place, so I’ll tell everyone. She said you cried SUPER hard when Inosuke got really hurt. Do you like him?” Mitsuri asked.  

 “Ooooooooo!” You said teasing Aoi. 

"WHAT?! Of course I cried I thought he was going to die!” 

“And that would have made you very sad, huh?” You nudged Aoi.  

“Why wouldn't it???” She said defensively.

“Ugh..” You exclaimed giving up. Aoi clearly wasn’t ready to admit any feelings she had for the swordsman, or maybe she hadn’t realized it herself yet.  

“Hmm I have an idea. I think we need help from some more ladies.” Mitsuri said and brought out a pen and paper. She wrote quickly then gave the letter to her crow. “Don’t worry they are trained shinobis so they will be here shortly.” 

“You invited Uzui’s wives??” You exclaimed. 

“Yeah! I think they would enjoy this too! Plus they are experienced ladies so maybe we can get some advice.” 

Before you knew it there was a knock on the door. And the three girls entered. 

“I want to know all the secrets!! What is going on?!” Suma explained bursting through the door and sitting down eagerly.  

"Well, Aoi here likes Inosuke but doesn't want to admit it.” You winked and stuck your tongue out at her. 

“WHATTTTTT? NO THAT IS NOT E-” Aoi started to protest but was cut off.  

“Aweeeeee that’s sooo sweet!” Suma said clasping her hands in front of her. "What do you like about him?” 

“Umm uh I don’t ..” She started to stutter and get flustered. Then attempted to change the subject “What do you three like about Mr. Uzui??” 

“Yeah! What is it like sharing?? No judgment but tell us please.” You asked eagerly letting Aoi off the hook for now.  

“We don’t share! He loves us equally. He always makes sure to take care of each one of us.” Makio said. 

“Awe, how does he take care of you?” Mitsuri asked innocently 

“Well he spends time with all of us, brings us gifts and he-... How old are you girls again?” Makio asked, blushing and smiling, placing her hand on her neck. 

“OOOOO! Say no more.” You laughed. “Well what about you Mitsuri. You gathered us here. What boy do you want to talk about?”  

“Oh, I don’t know.” She said instantly turning bright red. 

“What about Iguro? From what you said in our previous letters it sounds like he comes over a lot.” 

“Oh no no!” She waved her hand. “He only comes over to help me brush and feed my cats.” 

“You think a boy like that is actually coming over because he is interested in your kitties?” Hinatsuru asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.  

“Oh he’s interested in another kind of kitty alright.” Suma laughed as Makio hit her. Mitsuri turned even brighter red. 

“What do you mean?” Mitsuri asked.

“Oh it's obvious he’s totally simping for you. He’d do anything you’d say! He even gave her these socks everyone.” You spoke while pulling on Mitsuri’s green socks.  

“You really think he likes me??" She asked. 

“I know so. Bring him over right now let's play with him.” You suggested. 

“Oh no I couldn't do that!” 

“Sure you could! He’s a Hashira he can get here fast.” You protested. 

“Is he fast?” Suma asked and laughed. 

“Cut that out, they aren’t ready for that yet!” Makio said, hitting Suma again. 

“I think that poor snake boy would pass out around this many girls.” Hinatsura laughed.  

"That sounds fun I want to see!” Suma said.  

“Oh, another time another time! I really wanted this to just be a girls day!” Mitsuri explained. 

“If you brought us here for advice though, all these demon slayer boys are extremely unnerved by you girls.” Makio said.

“What do you mean?” Aoi asked. 

“Well, most only know the demon slayer corps having joined so young. Girls elude them. So, if you want our advice just walk around knowing you have quite a lot power over them and could probably get most of them to do whatever you say.”  

“I don’t get it. What would we want them to do?” Aoi asked innocently. 

“Come and find me in a few years.” Hinatsuru laughed and blushed. “But if you like one of them just go for it ok. Give them a kiss or something and watch them pass out and get a nose bleed, it'll be funny. We never know how much time we have left in our business anyway.”  

“Wow thank you Hinatsuru!” Mitsuri said still blushing a bit.  

“Hm makes sense. Alight that’s settled I'll go give Tokito a surprise kiss tomorrow. If he slashes my head off, I'll come back and haunt you though.” You said to Hinatsuru laughing.   

“Ok your turn.” Suma said turning to Kanao who was so white and sweaty that it looked like she was on the brink of passing out. 

“You don't have to share if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said. 

“Miss Kocho thought it would be good for you to speak your mind though. Think of it like a training exercise.” You encouraged her. 

“And this is a safe space we will keep your secrets. Are there any boys you like?” Mitsuri asked.  

Kanao did not speak a word but shook her head no profusely. 

“What a liar.” Aoi said and tilted her head away. 

“WOW! Betrayed by your own sister!” Makio laughed. 

“Tell us! Tell us!” You and Suma chanted. 

Kanao opened her mouth and with the tiniest amount of breath muttered “Tanjiro...” 

“OOOOOOO!” Everyone exclaimed, even Aoi, who had finally lightened up.  

“That is soooo cute you two would make such a cute couple!” Mitsuri said clapping her hands together. 

Kanao went back to her white face and not speaking another word. 

“Aoi you and Inosuke would be super cute too!” Mitsuri said.  

“Wait, Insouke! That’s the other boy that helped Lord Tengen! He is super valiant and has some great qualities... In the tummy area.” Suma said pointing around her stomach area and laughing. Aoi’s face turned red. 

"I suppose I haven’t noticed.” She said turning away. 

“What!” Kanao exclaimed, turning to Aoi.

Everyone froze at Kanao speaking up so loudly for the first time.

“You checked on him every single day multiple times when he was already healed, and I see you eye him while he trains!” 

“WOOOOOAHHAHAHA” The other girls laughed at the feuding sisters. 

“Ok fine!” Aoi gave in. “He is an above average looking swordsman... and I am fond of him. He makes me smile. HAPPY EVERYONE??”  

“Oh I’m so proud of you!!!! That was so brave admitting your feelings!! Thank you girls, this has already been the best girl's night I could have ever hoped for!” Mitsuri said cheerfully.

[thankskenpenders]

Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

[theoddest1]

Hazbin Hotel episode 5 is a rushed mess.

May just make this a continual thing where I review the episodes from here on out.

-Right off the bat, the pacing for this episode is probably the worst out of all other episodes so far. Things just begin abruptly (Lucifer's first song with Al for instance), no build up, 5 months have passed in only 5 episodes of barely any progress or focus on Charlie as a character, a random character that didn't need to be introduced but was anyway ruined the flow further, and this stupid ass rivalry all on the basis of who's the "better dad" is legit the most random conflict of any conflict so far. That will get a point all on its own along with some of the other things mentioned. The pacing left no real breathing room aside from 2 moments: Al's rise to power and Husk n Al's convo. I wanna say the second song would be a 3rd but it just resolves an issue that was present for seemingly years and pulled a "Stolas" with having a song or sob story as an excuse for the lack of effort to reach out and be a better dad. Lazy writing and pacing overall.

-5 months....5 months have passed with barely anything revolving around helping sinners or trust built around the main cast SHOWN ON SCREEN. We are told important information opposed to witnessing the progress itself. This is not only lazy but extremely jarring cause it feels as though episodes were skipped and bonds feel unearned. They get easily resolved in what feels like seconds, and we're just supposed to....deal with it. Angel and Husk barely interact throughout this episode, which, after the crazy ride they had, with the knowledge of a SEVERAL MONTHS passing by as well, you'd think Angel would be shown to be more chatty with him....which he doesn't. Nothing crazy, just small bits of them interacting and enjoying each other's company. Nah. We get that next episode, and even THAT'S lacking. I'll tackle that in a separate post. But yeah, 5 months, and we have yet to see the other guests' views and how it has changed for the better or the process of them realizing WHY they would go for redemption. How that has affected them. Nothing of note has come about from any of these. No other sinners have joined. No other demons seem interested in Charlie's Hotel. Nothing. We are told things have been done, yet it feels like we are still at the starting line, or well, a foot away from it and miles away from the finish.

- Lucifer is a joke. I don't mind me a goofy threat, it adds a charm to them but also shows that they take so little seriously due to their immense power....not Lucifer. No, that guy just....is a joke. Dude is in his mansion making fucking toy ducks for some reason and just has depression (show said it outright, not even depression is spared from "tell don't show")

He does literally nothing, doesn't seem to WANT to do anything, and no one respects the guy. Nearly all in the Hotel lack fear, intimidation, or admiration for the guy (Pentious is the only one who seems to exhibit admiration of some kind). The closest we got is being uncomfortable. That's it. Then there's his scuffle with Alastor. Tell me why he feels the need to argue with this sucka again? Cause last I checked, Alastor is a mere overlord, and Lucifer is The Devil. Wtf is this randomass rivalry that just...S T A R T S? Why does Lucifer get intimidated or moved by Al? It makes no sense. Lucifer has been alive far longer than humanity itself, but nah this random fuck who looks like he robbed a blood bank got him weeping insecurities? I'm supposed to take this sad excuse of a character seriously? How many of these carbon copy characters will Viv make until I finally end my suffering???

-Wtf is Alastor's deal? Why is he so pressed and annoyed? One moment he is as cool and collected as a cucumber and showing only SLIGHT annoyance (Vox and His song), then he goes to meetings and speaks with people far older, far more experienced, and/or far stronger than he show no interest and he gets pissy? How insecure is he that people not caring where he's gone or thinking his ideas are wack is what leads to his eye twitching and him throwing a random ass cuss. Seriously, THAT'S what got him to swear? That his idea for the hotel's name is stupid? BFFR! You can not be serious right now, THAT'S what gets him going? You'd think with how witty and chill he was in the pilot, he would find a quick and a effective smart-ass comeback, not essentially bitch at The Devil. This makes Alastor look like a thin-skinned wannabe, too cause these minor ass comebacks are why he has lost his edge along with some randomass song number?? And at the end of the day, Al just couldn't be damned anymore to even care by the end of the episode, he doesn't speak with Lucifer or give any stank looks, doesn't speak with Charlie, does NOTHING pertaining to the issues prior, nah, he just stands there and watches after telling Mimzy to go away. Some say he did this to simply piss Lucifer off, but that doesn't make sense (not saying it ain't true, just saying if it is, it's nonsensical). First off, if that were the case, why was he annoyed even BEFORE seeing the guy?

If he only wanted to get a rise, why is HE getting angry? Trolls usually don't care enough to be this pissed. Second, wtf would he even gain from doing this? What to help push Lucifer to be a better father to Charlie, request by Lilith to Al so that Lucifer can get his act together?? If so, that's the LAZIEST shit I have ever heard. Lucifer is such a joke, he needed a SINNER to get him back on track....

Regardless, this whole father shit by Al comes out of nowhere and ruins the goddamn flow of the episode. Prior to it all, Al has shown NO interest in anyone and has done jack shit. Wtf does he even do? He's done ONE thing so far and that was help for the commercial. Alastor has shown to be completely useless as of now.

-Charlie, why is she treated as tho she isn't a grown ass woman? She's babied to hell and back and despite being the daughter of Lucifer, hasn't shown any of her abilities to help the hotel. So Lucifer can summon shit but not her? Is she that useless? Also, gotta love how she never asks her dad about the Valentino situation to help Angel out. Man...what a great ass friend. She also doesn't find it weird that Al is just suddenly...babying her? She has zero awareness of everything, I guess, which is getting annoying now. You're over 200 years of age (went to high school in the 1800s according to what her comic was about, but guess that's retconned based on what happens in the following episode).

So she doesn't use her abilities to tidy up the place, she doesn't act her damn age, she doesn't do anything to help her sexually assaulted friend. What a damn joke, just like her dad.

-Mimzy shouldn't have been in an episode about Lucifer. Plain and simple. Her character should have been introduced in one of the earlier episodes. Not during fucking this. And we got a repeat of the pilot with Alastor's backstory retold. So they're down to retell his rise to power but not to make at least a proper recap of the events that happened prior? Key word....PROPER.

-Husk caring about Mimzy bringing trouble is actually fucking stupid. Because of the lack of proper build up to him now finding more reason to like the Hotel, it feels forced that he would be worried about what danger Mimzy brought. And on top of that, yeah...ALASTOR IS RIGHT THERE. You know who else is there? LUCIFER. I get it, Lucifer stood by and watched as the Hotel was being swatted, but he also sang a song about providing what Charlie asked for, meaning if she had asked her dad, he woukd be down to help, so WHY TF IS HE WORRIED???? Also , is Charlie just INCAPABLE of fighting for herself?? "She doesn'twanna hurt sinners-" so she had no defensive abilities??? What???? Also, that's a damn lie, she fought Katie Killjoy on live Tv. Are no other damn people capable of protecting the Hotel??? Why did Al need to step in for that? They were just LOAN SHARKS.

Anyway, the scene where Husk is probing Alastor about Mimzy and treating him as a pet is decently paced and the tone was pretty neat, sucks that this feels like their way of showing that Husk is also under a leash like Angel rather than him being treated as a joke, which btw...horrid way to compare the two. Wanna know why? One is subjected to an onslaught of sexual assault whether he was pushing Val's buttons or not, and forced to be assaulted by various men around him, passed around like a thing. The other is Husk, who legit disrespected Alastor and had to push at him to get such humiliation and terror, and guess what....Al still ended up pushing Mimzy away after she did end up bringing trouble, so he did essentially listen to Husk in his own distant way. This is the ONLY TIME we see Al be downright mean to Husk and probably the only time. Angel has been subjected to nothing but horrid assault after assault no matter the situation. So I better not see anyone say, "SEE LOOK, THEY'RE BOTH ABUSED" stfu. Nothing about their situations are even remotely similar. Just cause the chains are the same doesn't mean the users are. EDIT: Ima say this before people act like I excuse this. No, I am not excusing Alastor's actions. I am pointing out what happened on screen. Husk mocked Alastor, Alastor retaliated out of anger(much like how Angel retaliated at Husk in ep 4 after Husk kept arguing and mocking him) by pulling out the chains to shut him up. He didn't even hit Husk. Again, I'm not excusing it, just pointing out how vastly different Husk and Angel's situations are and how one overlord reacts compared to the other....who is a straight-up rapist.

-Both the songs are mid/ok but pulled down by the awful storytelling....shame. I at first was not fond of Lucifer's voice.....it's ok now, I guess. Idk. I'm still not really feeling it, though.

Episode sucked ass

Pacing was all over the place

ALASTOR AND LUCIFER ARE PISS BABIES

[torukmaktoskxawng]

run away with me

Pairing: Nor/Sarentu!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Avatar Frontiers of Pandora, fluff, angst, mentions of brainwashing and residential school trauma

Taglist: @mooniequeen

A/N: No one has requested me to write for AFoP so I decided to take matters into my own hands *cracks knuckles* Let's get to work.

This is basically my rendition of the cutscene you see when playing the game, after the title card. I made it lean more toward the angsty, romance play that we were robbed of when the game finally came out XD Enjoy!

Part 2

When So'lek told you that Nor had left Resistance HQ to have some time to think, you knew you needed to seek him out.

Using your new abilities and talents to track him down, it didn't shock you when you found Nor on one of the highest cliffs near the base of their new home. You remember he made a comment earlier about how there were more colors on Pandora than he remembered and how he had no names for them. You suspected he'd be all the way out here, admiring those colors and maybe trying to invent new names for them.

He didn't react when you approached the small fire he made, likely expecting you to come find him. He turned to face you with lowered ears and a forlorn look in his eyes, "What must our ancestors think of us? Do you think they pity us? Sad to see what we've become?"

"We're still Sarentu."

"Teylan barely speaks our tongue, but then... he always preferred human words."

"Alma says we all need time to adjust."

"Alma is not Na'vi." He growled lowly, turning away to kneel down in front of the fire.

You weren't deterred by his attitude, knowing Nor better than you sometimes knew yourself. He felt things stronger than most. He was passionate about what or how he felt and he wasn't afraid to admit it, hence why he didn't shy away when he proudly proclaimed his feelings toward you. It was years ago now, just the night before Alma snuck you and your friends into cryosleep to wait out the war. All that time you could've been with Nor... lost to cryosleep.

Nor felt the same loss as well, and that is why he wasn't wasting any more time. When neither of you are out on missions, you're with each other, safe at HQ, making up for lost time. Your relationship is technically still new and can easily be chalked up to young love, but Nor didn't see it that way. He claimed that was the way only Sky People saw it, but not the Na'vi. He wanted to do this right, and in his mind, the only right way was the Na'vi way.

So he asked So'lek for advice, on standard Na'vi customs and what the older man might know about the Sarentu ways to court someone. Nor was determined and straightforward about what he wanted to make sure you only got the best treatment. The Na'vi treatment, something that you deserved to have when you were younger but it was taken from you.

That's what you loved about him, growing up beside him. He reminded you so much of your sister at times with their shared determination as kids, though you refused to continue making that comparison after she died... afraid that if Nor acted too much like Aha'ri, then he would die just like her. You couldn't bear to lose him, too, not after everything Mercer and TAP have done to you.

Even now, as you two stood on top of that cliff, you were afraid of losing him, either to death or to life, should life and fate decide to tear you two apart. You wished you could vocalize your fear to him, but you were never as brave or as straightforward as Nor. You were grateful he had approached you about his feelings first, or else neither of you would've ever known.

Although you were not one with words, you were one with actions, and even Nor knew that you communicated with deeds.

Walking up to him, you slide your hand over his shoulder, and while he doesn't say a word, trapped with the demons in his head, he places his own hand on top of yours, a gesture of gratitude. He was thankful for your comfort, knowing that your way of communicating stems from being touch-starved and you would rather voice your thoughts through your actions instead of just saying them because, to you, that means so much more.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his palm bleeding into your skin while you look up and over the cliffside, admiring the scenery with a sad tone in your voice, "Why did the RDA come back?"

"They wanted more of Pandora," he responds with defeat, "They always do."

"Then we'll need to fight," you express with determination, squeezing his shoulder, "Aha'ri would have wanted us to fight."

You try to pull away, but Nor is suddenly too fast. He grasps your hand, gently, and you pause in your movement. He stands to his full height to gaze into your eyes, trying to relay what he's thinking without saying a word. But he wasn't like you. He wasn't good at sharing his thoughts through actions. He was better at it by talking, so that is what he did.

"Or we could run," he suggests and is quick to continue when the expression on your face falls, "Leave this place. Find somewhere else to call home."

"We've talked about this, Nor," you sigh tiredly, recalling not long ago when you, him, Ri'nela and Teylan were all sitting around a fire as Nor suggested they could all run away together. You express the same thing you said back then, too, "Alma brought us here for a reason. She believes in us."

He snarls, though there isn't much heat behind it, "Alma just wants to control us."

Not even you believed what he was saying, lowering your voice to a comforting whisper, "Alma is not Mercer. She actually cares about us as People."

"She left us."

"She thought we were gone."

He steps closer until he's nearly pressed against your chest, his hands sliding up to gently grasp both sides of your face, entwined in your hair. His voice wavered, desperate eyes staring back into yours, "If it were me instead of her, I would've clawed through the rubble of TAP, and I would've looked forever. Un... until I knew for sure if I lost you or not."

You wanted to be touched by the statement, your heart fluttering in your chest while Nor could no doubt feel your heartbeat, pumping through his hands as they rested near both sides of your neck. You shake your head slightly, "That is different. What Alma feels for us is not the same as... as what you feel for me. For all of us."

He shivered, almost proud that you managed to admit your confidence in his feelings toward you. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing in the same air as you while he matches the intimate moment with a whisper, "Exactly. I can't trust Alma with my family. I can only trust myself or you to take care of the four of us, to ensure we stick together."

You wet your lips when they felt dry, deciding to play into his dream for a little bit, "Suppose we did run away... where would we go?"

'Wherever we want! All of us,' he wanted to say the same thing he told Teylan down by the campfire, but he says it differently with you, "Anywhere, far away from here."

"Just the four of us?"

"The four of us," he confirms with a nod, thinking that he had you convinced, "We'll start our own clan. We'll renew the Sarentu."

"And what will happen when the war eventually finds us?"

Your question drives Nor to freeze, and so you continue, "Either Mercer, RDA, or TAP, it won't matter. They'll find us. You know they will."

He unfroze finally, huffing with determination, "Then we will fight."

"But if we fight now, and we win, then we can leave and we will never have to worry about the Sky People again," your hands moved until they were wrapped around Nor's waist, a bold move to match his own, his fingers still wrapped up in the hair on the back of your neck,

"We would never have to keep running or look over our shoulders ever again," you continue, "If we can end this sooner than later, I will go with you. I'll go wherever you want. But... But I can't leave now knowing what the Sky People are capable of. I can't leave knowing that there would be another child out there whose clan was wiped out and I wasn't brave enough to stop it from happening. I would never forgive myself."

Your words stun him into silence, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to feel shy and embarrassed, lowering your head to avoid him until his hands pause your movement. He gently uses his thumbs to push your chin to tilt back up, and when your eyes meet, he pauses for a moment, his intense eyes scanning your expression before his lips twitch up into a small, fond smile, "Heh."

"What?" You tilt your head, hesitant but smiling as well.

"Nothing. It's just... Aha'ri would be proud of you."

He says it so confidently that you know you believe him, and his words make your heart swell with pride and grief, missing your sister. Nor leans back and digs in the pocket of his pants, "I have something for you."

"What is it?"

He provides a carved stone, bearing the mark you both have on your face to signify your long-lost clan, "It's something to remind you of me, whenever you leave HQ and I cannot follow you. It's also a promise."

"What promise?"

"That if I ever leave, it will only be when you are ready to come with me," he leans back into your space, pressing your foreheads together once more as he closes his eyes, taking in your scent, "This time, my love, I go wherever you go."

You clutch the stone in your hand, wanting the carved mark to brand into your skin as you close your eyes as well. You already plan to tie Nor's stone into the songcord So'lek had given you, and you hope that in time, the songcord will grow, and there will be many more milestones to signify. Milestones that you hope that Nor and your friends will share with you, as Sarentu and as your family.

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[08melancholie]

Light Banter. — Micah/Reader

tags: Grief/Mourning, Loss, Death, Mistakes, Soft Micah Bell, Crying, Men Crying, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Murder, Brutal Murder, no comfort, Minimal fluff, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Not Proofread, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell, and reader lol

summary: The things Micah would do to go back in time and listen to Dutch, the things he'd said about you. Just for once, to rewrite this passage in his life. But that's an ending he may never face; so he must learn to cope with his mistake—both of your mistakes, and must do so all alone.

a/n: so ummmm ive been thinking abt my own fic for the entire two days ive been writing it LIKE i was in class imagining one of the scenes. micah bell angst LETS GOOOOO !!!!

words: 3,648 | AO3 LINK

Dutch is many things; controlling, manipulative, power-hungry—but somehow never wrong. And Micah had to learn that the hard way.

How he said the two of you were a match made in hell—he was right there. When he said you were both the biggest pains in his arse, always causing trouble wherever you went; when he had to put you both on camp-arrest, an attempt at lecturing you to not go into random bars and start fights; when he'd refuse to send you on jobs together, because he knew the outcome every time.

And you both should have listened, for once.

Another day brings you more trouble to stir. Micah and yourself have been out all day—early morning to late afternoon. Few folks were robbed; few non-compliant killed. It was a bit ruthless and brutal—but you were outlaws, so who cares?

Well, Dutch cared. Too much, in your opinion.

Always had his nose in your business, finding ways to scold you and Micah for any minuscule mission that ended in bloodshed or law. But that was your nature! And per his own word, you can't fight your nature—and so you won't.

Now, was that worth being sat in his tent, talked down to for hours? Well, yes. You either zoned out every time, or were struggling to hold in your chuckles and chortles with Micah; always worsening your situation.

Like today.

"You two are just.. unbelievable!" Dutch is scolding you like two children whom were just caught stealing candy from the corner store. He made you sit down on his cot before he started tearing into you both for another bar fight two towns over—initiated by Micah this time. "I sometimes just want to keep you both in camp, doing chores—because this isn't the way to go about." He adds, and it falls on deaf ears as you space out wherever while Micah just.. sits there, staring at him as if he's processing the words coming out of his mouth, when he in fact isn't. Dutch sees this and is simply fed up. "You know what? We're not gonna continue like this."

His next words get your attention instantly.

"I'm separating you two." Your eyes dart up to meet Dutch's dark ones, glistening with distaste. "No more sharing a tent; no more doing jobs together; hell, if you make me go that far, I'll prohibit you two speaking to each other." He barks, and you feel your heart drop to your feet.

"The fuck?" Dutch shoots you a glare at the vulgar reply and raised tone. "You can't do that, Dutch." You protest, standing up off the cot. Micah's head shoots up to look at Dutch, just as surprised and protesting.

He stands firmly above the two of you, looking and talking down on both. "I can do as I please," He stands back to his desk, where he previously was. "already had Charles start to move your—" He gestures to you. "—things out into a different tent at the other side of camp."

Your jaw goes slack and you feel like you have to pick it off the floor. "That.. Dutch! You can't be serious, that's just plain cruel!" You protest, clearly against the entire idea. But, everyone knows who has the last word; it's the reason Micah hasn't talked all night, and the reason he's been watching you, bewildered at how you're protesting to Dutch's word so confidently.

"I am not changing my mind; get out of my tent, both of you." He says firmly, and you have to be dragged out by Micah as to not pounce on Dutch right then and there.

Micah grabs you and—reluctantly, because he'd love to see you ravage the bastard like a wolf—leads you out of the tent, sighing after you exit and shut the flaps behind yourselves. "As much as I'd love to see it, I can't have 'ya killin' Dutch."

It felt much more real when you've left the tent.

Your eyes snap over to where you shared tent would be; split into two, like they were before you 'moved in' together. "This is bullshit.. he can't just segregate us!" You turn to Micah, who looks just as upset.

"I hear 'ya," He places his hands on his hips, looking at the tent as well. "but.. we both know there's nothing we can do." The truth in his words is painful, and you almost don't want to believe it. "Let me help get yer stuff in." He offers, and you nod with a small frown.

Micah helped you get your stuff across camp, the choice of being moved surprising most onlookers who caught a glimpse of what was going on. You just felt worse; even they didn't understand the choice Dutch made. You were reluctant on sorting the last item in its original place, slowly placing your last book into a drawer. "I.. I won't be used to this—I can't do this, Micah." You turn to face him, looking up with a quivering frown.

Micah feels for you. He doesn't even know if he'll be able to process this. He got used to having you in the tent; reading on your shared bedroll before he'd lay himself down, and you'd start reading aloud to him; early mornings where you'd slip out before him—if he managed to get some shuteye, ever—and greet him with coffee; pouncing on him whenever there was a job the two of you could do together. He'll miss it all. "C'mere, I know.." His arms extend to you, and you waste no time in pressing yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You felt safe there—and you know it sounds foolish; safe in the arms of a bloodthirsty, ruthless killer? Well, that was the honest truth. Before you were this close and started sharing bodily contact every day, his hugs—because rare—always felt much more meaningful and real. Your face buries itself in his chest, hands hugging him from under his arms and resting on his back, where his hands find your sides and squeeze reassuringly. You can't tell if he's trying to reassure you or himself right now. "Why would Dutch do this to us?" You huff into his coat.

He looks down at the top of your head. "Beats me, darlin'. I can't put my finger on it, either." He shifts one hand to your back and traces your spine slowly. "But it's damn unfair, that's one thing."

You nod against him in agreement, then pull away slightly, to be able to look up at him. "I think that we should part right—there's an O'Driscoll camp out west, close enough to be a problem." You smirk up at him, and he returns it.

"Oh, yeah? Is there, now?" He releases his hold on you, letting you take a step back. "Well, what're we waiting on? Don't want Dutchy stoppin' us here, do we?" He brings your smile back to your face, and you instantly make a b-line for your horses, mounting up and not caring about the approaching Hosea, trying to stop you.

The ride to this camp was pretty quick, seeing as the both of you were overly excited about it. You were going to end this right, have fun and then probably sneak off to do jobs and have one of the girls cover for you, like they have before when you got 'grounded' by Dutch a few months back. "And there it is," You point out the small outpost-looking area ahead, hitching your horse close-by, but not too close either. "In all her O'Driscoll glory."

"She looks promisin'," Micah jumps off of his horse, following your lead as you take coverage behind a nearby boulder. "tell me how we're doing this, partner." He looks over to you, ready for your command.

Now, whereas you always usually had a plan on how to do things, you just wanted to stress-relieve this time. And so, you did exactly that. "The plan is, you shoot everyone but me and yourself." You give a brief chuckle before drawing your guns. "I just need to relieve some of these emotions, and killin' off O'Driscoll scum will do it perfectly for me." You add.

Micah's smile turns into that devilish grin you love; taking his DAs out swiftly. "Oh, you've got it, girl." He laughs wickedly—oh, how you love that sound. You nod and cock your weapons, rising from your spot.

The entire area smells of blood and gunpowder, a scent you've gotten much more used to since meeting Micah and going on blood-thirsty missions with him. Bodies are scattered all around; faces with bullet holes in them, slit necks and penetrated chests. You and Micah were stood in one of the cabins there, searching through the many drawers, cabinets and closets inside the room. "Damn, these bastards were poor as dirt." You lean on the table behind Micah, on the opposite side as you watch him search through a closet, his back turned to you.

"I found a few pocket watches, but that's about it." You add.

"Hm, well 'least we got something, wouldn't dream of getting back to Dutch with noth—"

His sentence is interrupted by a horrifying squelching sound. Your breath hitches, nearly just enough to silence you. "Mic.. ah—" Your words are knocked out of your mouth by the sharp pain in your waist, and the hand on your mouth.

Micah turns around immediately, met by the traumatising sight of a knife in your side, a barely alive O'Driscoll's hands on you as he runs the knife deeper, slowly and excruciatingly painfully. "What the—" He draws his revolvers, pointing them at the man who tuts at him like at a bad dog.

"Don't do that, Micah." You let out a breathless gasp when the man twists the knife inside you, your hands shakily trying to push him off. You're gasping into the hand on your mouth, backing up into him as your eyes water. You never had a bad pain tolerance; it was more the look on Micah's face at the predicament you both got yourselves into now that had you wanting to cry. "You killed my brothers, 'ya rat."

Micah's unsure in what he's supposed to do. He grips his guns tightly, staring wide-eyed at the sight before him as he scrambles for any way to stop your pain, watching you squirm for release. "Let her go, she ain't done nothing."

The man just laughs and gives another twist of his hand and knife in your side that has you gritting your teeth together. "She slit one of 'em's throats. Wild little thing, is she?" His breath is hitting your neck as he speaks, clasping his hand down harder on your mouth. His knife handle is almost soaked, red staining your light blue shirt and trickling down to your jeans. Just as he stops twisting it, he pulls it out. You squeak out in pain, shutting your eyes closed.

Micah practically growls, watching the man pull the knife out and press the soaking red blade to your throat. "Please—don't." He's desperate, barely able to look at you fighting to stay standing, gripping onto the mans' forearm for dear life. Dear life, indeed.

"Wow," The O'Driscoll laughs, pressing the blade in harder. "beg me some more, Micah Bell. Never thought you was that kinda person." Micah is fighting between anger and worry; wanting to rip the man's head off while watching you squirm, losing more and more blood by the second.

His blood runs cold when a dead silence fills the room and you still up—the knife painting your neck red.

"No!—" He shoots the man dead on the spot, a headshot right into the forehead. He drops his guns and kneels to you, making you sit up and lean on the wall. "Damn it! No, no—don't do this to me, girl.." He unbuttons his undershirt and rips a piece up out of it, trying to hold it up to your neck in an attempt at saving some blood loss. "Come on, you can't do this to me—this is not how we said we was parting, sweetheart," He holds your hand up to your neck, your eyes rolling back as you cough and clench your side. "Please, please don't."

As an outlaw, this was actually how you always envisioned your demise. But, you never thought it'd be this brutal—or that Micah would be forced to watch. "Micah—" You attempt to speak, and it sounds terrifying; your voice isn't you, it doesn't sound like you.

"Don't talk, baby. I'mma.. I'll get'chu home.." You can't really tell if he's trying to convince himself or you that there's a possibility of redemption here, the horrifying look in his eyes as your blood paints the floor and himself, the hand holding yours over your neck getting soaked and trickling down his whole arm. He's getting just as bloody as you, and yet he still thinks there's a way to save this. "It's not too deep.. I can still get 'ya home.." He's huffing and out of breath, as if he just ran a marathon.

You use the hand on your hip to shakily touch his shoulder, removing it from the first knife wound. "No—.." You mumble breathlessly, shaking your head at him. "Stay.. while I go." You manage out, blood leaking down your front from between yours and Micah's fingers.

"No, please—please let me help 'ya. Don't do this to me." He's pleading with you, reaching his free hand to hold onto your side. "Please." He's never experienced loss like this; for a man that killed and saw death since he was a young boy, he sure wasn't prepared.

"Hug me."

"Y/N, don't."

"Hug. Me."

"I love you, darlin'. Why won't you let me help you?"

"Please, Micah. Hug me, hold me in my last moments."

His hands release your wounds. One goes to the back of your head, leaning you into his chest as the other runs through your hair. "I never wanted this, baby. I'm so fucking sorry." He's whispering into your ear while running his bloody hands through your hair, pressing you into himself. This is how you always wanted to die; in the hands of your favourite person, getting to hold them and breathe in their scent, making sure they're the last memory you have despite the way you'd die.

You start to feel woozy; dizzy. You feel your breaths leaving your lungs, your life leaving your body. This, was something no amount of preparation could calm you. "I'm.. scared." You manage out, holding onto his shoulders with a surprising amount of strength.

"Don't be, baby. You'll feel better." He hums, his voice cracking. "And I'll see you there, too. I'll be there, at some point." He whispers, pulling you away briefly to press a kiss to your forehead, wiping some blood off of your neck before leaning you back into him. "I'mma bury you at the nicest spot you'd have ever seen. I'll visit you every day, babygirl. I know you love tulips; how 'bout I plant some there? You'll love that, won't you?" He rambles into your hair.

A haunting silence. Your breaths slow down and hands stop gripping his shirt, and you go limp on top of him. That's what truly breaks him as his eyes water, maybe for the first time in multiple decades. "Oh, baby. I'll make sure you have the prettiest little spot.. with the prettiest little flowers." His tears stream down to your face as he pulls you away to look at you; his beautiful, strong girl.

"Me an' Charles'll bury you, give you the best spot in the entire damn country. I'm so goddamn sorry."

After a moment of silence, he got up and grabbed his guns, holstering them before gently picking you up. He got you up on his horse, calling your own to follow him as he left the massacred O'Driscoll camp behind—not before setting a fire to the cabin in which the man who killed you laid. Just in case.

He held you against him the entire ride back to camp which felt much longer without your little quips and stories, uncaring of how stained his clothes were from your blood. He occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head, fastening you against him.

Getting into camp was probably the most terrifying part. He hitched up and held you against him as he stood at the entrance of the campsite, feeling shellshocked. He looked down at your unmoving body, his eyes narrowing to your much more peaceful face.

"Oh, Micah."

His head perks up to the sight of Hosea, standing up from the campfire and slowly walking over, his eyes wide and one hand covering his mouth. "Micah.. Micah, how.?" Hosea was at a loss for words; hell, he assumed you invincible from how many close calls he had to watch you suffer through, so seeing you unmoving in Micah's arms was a terrifying sight. "No—you don't have to say anything. I'll.. get Charles—Charles!" He turns and yells for the other man, as Micah looks back down to you, waiting on Charles.

He soon shows up and instantly frowns, looking down at your body. He looks up to Micah after a moment of silence.

"You know where you want to bury her?"

It was a nice little hill, always painted in flowers during the spring. There was a lake nearby—you always loved sneaking off and skinny-dipping with him, uncaring of Dutch's lecture the next day when you'd be too tired to work. You liked smelling things, too; from flowers to Pearson's meals to Micah himself. You constantly got up into his chest and took in his scent when he hugged you—or when you involuntarily tacked him into an embrace. He'll miss your little surprise attacks on him. He hopes that the flowers will be enough to smell for you.

"Do you want a moment before we lower her in?"

Charles' voice gets Micah out of his zone, and he looks at the man. "Thank you.." He grumbles and Charles nods, walking off a few feet to give Micah his well-deserved privacy.

Micah takes a seat down next to your lifeless body, now cleaned up and dressed in your favourite outfit. You looked mostly like yourself—if you ignore the paleness of your skin and neck wound openly displayed, unable to be hid behind your shirt collar. He takes you in for one final hug, breathing in your scent, like you would with him. It pained him that you smelled like gunpowder and blood in your last moments, but at least the perfume Karen offered to put on you made a small difference. He embraces you for a long time, enough for Charles to come back and interrupt, asking Micah if it'd be okay now. And Micah knew you needed peace; so he agreed.

His eyes could barely stay opened as Charles shuffled dirt over your body, losing the sight of you slowly. He bit his lip, watching the last of your face get lost in the surrounding dirt. His eyes watered briefly, but he couldn't let himself cry in front of Charles, so he shoved it down.

Charles tapped the back of the shovel over the dirt pouch, flattening it out before taking a step back. "There," He turns to Micah briefly. "I'll leave 'ya to.. process it. Seems you still need to." He hums before walking away, leaving Micah holding back tears before your grave.

Despite never being a religious man, he hoped that an ending was real and that you'd gotten your peace, even in your brutal suffering.

People in camp mourned you and visited your grave for a few weeks before most stopped and moved on. But Micah couldn't.

He was there every day—early morning to late evening, if not downright sleeping at your burial. He had issues with insomnia before, and you always made it easier to fall into the slumber he always hoped for. Sleeping next to your grave hasn't helped too much, but he feels better; not wanting you to rest alone, by your wish you vocalised when Dutch wanted to split your tent apart. Your grave was cared for immensely, and there was barely any space around it from the overwhelming amount of flowers Micah had either bought or planted himself. He had one of the girls teach him how, and made sure to include dozens of tulips. He knew what you liked.

"You've been gone three and a half months, baby. I still bring 'ya tulips.. but I'm not sure if you're getting tired of them." He spoke to your gravestone a lot; he missed your voice immensely, now regretting the few times he'd space out while you yapped his ear off about some random topic. "I planted a few roses, I know you like 'em too."

"Hope you can see and hear me, darlin'. Did you know I got your name into my other barrel, huh?" He takes his right revolver out, tracing his fingers over the initials he carved into the guns' barrel. "Yeah... it's real nice, huh?" He holstered the weapon again, looking down at you under the dirt patch for a moment before looking up at the sky. Somehow, it always looked the prettiest when he'd visit you.

"That's you, ain't it, sweetheart?"

The sky was a mix of neon oranges and pinks, slowly fading into light, morning blues as the sun made its way up the horizon. The clouds were nowhere to be found, letting the sun pass into another day. Another day he spent with you.

"Hi to you too, my sweet girl."

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated! Finally finished this fic dear God. I want this man so bad its unreal chat.

[rwbyrg]

Hello again! I was wondering, in your own opinion, what moment(s) for both Oscar and Ruby, really implied that there was much more going on with the two character, in the sense that their relationship was starting to evolve? Also what do you like about those moments? To add, do you think we will see it much more in volume 10?

Hello!! I think, generally speaking, all of their focused scenes imply there's more going on or that their relationship is evolving in some way. RWBY doesn't have filler. So when characters - especially ones as central to the narrative as these two - get focused screen time together (and romance-y tropes), it's done with intention.

Ruby's arc is about many things, but especially about how she's pretty much the last silver eyed warrior that can face Salem. Meanwhile, Oscar's arc is about defining who he is while under a curse that robs him of his identity. And in their first meeting, Oscar comments on Ruby's eyes, and she asks him who he is. Even their first lines to each other are mirrored in how they're spoken!

This scene really shows that their character arcs linked from the very beginning.

We get all the stuff I mentioned in my last post and more and none of it is necessary to do if it's not building up to something. Which it very clearly is.

I have no doubts we'll get to see more of their shared story in V10 onward. The V9 epilogue - what was supposed to be the final episode of the season - works as both a closing point for the Atlas arc, and a kick off for the Vacuo one. It's setting the stage for what is to come. A non-extensive list of what we know we're getting so far:

Nora's and Winter's character arcs; both of them struggling with responsibility, grief, and guilt.

Weiss will almost certainly be getting some focus by extension of that as well. Especially because her arc has always been about her family.

Ren being more open and trying harder to support those around him.

Qrow, more hopeful than he's ever been before and how much it's propelling him forward.

And then we have Oscar.

Oscar and the merge. Oscar Pine, Little Prince, pining at Ruby's grave in the desert. I talk about this set up a lot, and it's difficult to explain succinctly because it's got a lot of complex pieces at play (and has been going on since their meeting, as mentioned above). But if I were to try and break it down as simply as possible:

Ruby's fatal flaw is her grief. Her silver eyes are powered by, and the embodiment of, the preservation of life. She doesn't want to lose anyone else that she cares about and cannot bear the weight of responsibility that comes with it alone. So much so that she almost abandons her own identity via ascension because she is offered the choice to do so. She stays true to herself in the end as someone that fights, not for those she's lost, but for those she hasn't lost yet. And the narrative, through all their interactions, but especially the Tea Party, has placed Oscar front and centre in the position of who Ruby hasn't lost yet. Oscar, who wants nothing more than to be a part of the team that he keeps pushing away. Oscar, who just wants to be who he is, to preserve himself, but is being robbed of that choice via the merge. Something Ruby, can't protect him from.

RWBY loves to make its pairings thematically complimentary and it loves pushing characters to their limits. There is no way that the scenes and setup between Oscar and Ruby haven't been intentionally building to something big with how much their respective and shared conflicts are directly playing off of each other. There is no way CRWBY - with their limited budget and resource constraints - dedicated all that screen time to these two for it to not pay off at some point. And given this arc is the last one... now's a good a time as any for it to happen.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The fighting in Gaza continues, and the daily lists of soldiers killed are back. We knew they would be. Listening to their families, mourning their precious loved ones, lost forever, is a pain that's only transcended by the pain of listening to the families of those slaughtered on Oct 7. Every once in a while, I think of my darling friend and colleague, Berthe Badihi. She's a Holocaust survivor, and she gives her testimony to our visitors from time to time. Her grandson, Gil, was killed as a soldier in 2002. That's always the part of her testimony that's hardest to sit through, when she talks about how the pain wasn't over even after the Holocaust was, and she kept losing family. But then Berthe speaks about remembering the difference between how Jews died during the Holocaust, with no human dignity, and how her grandson did, and that this is a source of comfort. That he died a free man, with his dignity intact, protecting his family, his people and his country. On Oct 7, Jews were once again slaughtered in ways meant to rob us of our dignity. And that's why we're gonna keep fighting until Hamas is eliminated, no matter how much the death of our soldiers pains us.

The rocket fire into Israel continues, several people were injured today as well, and a school was hit, though thankfully it was empty at the time, so no one was hurt.

Today we salute Gal Gadot. It's been clear that for simply being an Israeli, who's willing to speak for her people, and despite expressing her wishes for the well being of people on both sides of the conflict, there's been (for years!) a campaign meant to demonize her. It's precisely because she's such a big star, that she has so much to lose. Yet, she spoke out loudly against the world's silence when it comes to the atrocities of Oct 7.

Israelis are aware of the rise in antisemitism on college campuses abroad, especially in the US, and we're following as more and more hateful and even violent incidents take place there, and as the congress will be hearing the heads of universities tomorrow. The truth remains that for years, these universities have been taking Qatari money, the government that has taken Hamas under its wing. IDK that there are any donations that these universities stand to lose, which can compete with Qatar's money, but losing their reputation, being called out on the way they've become hotbeds of antisemitism, of hatred, bigotry and violence, might force them to make a change. One can hope, right?

Speaking of money and terrorism, a new study suggests that Hamas made money off of the Oct 7 massacre (or people affiliated with it), by basically trying to bet on an Israeli economic collapse following the massive terror attack Hamas planned. I hope this crime, of making money out of advance knowledge about the imminent slaughter of innocent civilians, can be somehow prosecuted by law.

Speaking of prosecuted by law, Israel is holding a discussion today on how to put the Hamas terrorists who participated in the massacre, and were caught alive. It's not likely they'll go through a normal criminal court. Most people here assume we'll see something mroe akin to the special court which put Adolf Eichmann on trial in 1961.

This is 63 years old Clara Marman.

She was in Hamas captivity for 7.5 weeks. She's been freed during the hostage deal. She has not given any interviews, but I got to hear her daughter, who confirmed something that many speculated on. The daughter, Ma'ayan said explicitly, that the reason why her mother doesn't want to answer questions about how well she was treated by Hamas, is because she's still scared for her brother and partner, who are still held hostage in Gaza.

This is 39 years old Asaf Hamami, with his wife and their 3 kids.

Asaf was a colonel. On Oct 7, he ran straight into battle, and together with his soldiers, they saved kibbutz Nirim from a massacre and butchery, the likes of which we saw at the other kibbutzim. Asaf was considered missing, until the other day, the IDF confirmed that he was killed during that battle with Hamas, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. The IDF was able to retrieve... enough of Asaf's body to allow for his funeral to be held, but the family understandably wants what Hamas is holding to be saved, and brought back to Israel. I'm going to emphasize again that he was a colonel. In Israel, some of the highest ranking officers still fight themselves. They don't send others to kill and die for them, they put their lives on the line to protect the civilian population. All of it. Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, Bedouins, everyone. While Hamas hides in their terror tunnels, leaving the civilians to be their human shields.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sombertide-0]

so i had a fun time talking with @avoidantvoidd this morning and got inspired to write a fic about Desmond being biracial (half white half syrian) and i focused on arab culture and yeah, here it is if anyone's interested

basically it's ramadan and desmond is sad about not being able to properly participate and it kinda fucks up his animus syncing, so becks and shaun decide to do something about it

Desmond comes up from the animus with a gasp, clutching at his throat. He’d been unfocused, hadn’t seen the guard coming at him before it was too late. He coughs, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue as the world steadily slows its spinning. He can hear voices, see faces that aren’t really there, feel the cold metal slicing his neck-

“Desmond!” He’s startled out of his thoughts by a very worried Rebecca. Right, he’s Desmond Miles, he was in the animus, he desynced. He groans and tugs the needle out, hunching over and clutching his stomach.

“Merda, fa male,” he wheezes. He shuts his eyes tightly. “No, wrong language, fuck… Sorry. Give me a minute.”

“What gives, Des? This is the fifth time you’ve desynced in half an hour. We need you to get through this memory.” Her voice sounds far away as he tries to separate himself from Ezio. He recites movie quotes under his breath, tries to remember his days as a bartender, remember what date it is.

It's Ramadan.

Fuck.

“Fuck…”

Shaun glances at Desmond over the rim of his glasses. "You aren't planning on fasting, are you?” Desmond cringes. He didn’t mean to say it out loud. Shaun keeps going. “Fate of the world hanging in the balance and all? We need you at your best, relatively speaking."

Desmond sighs and rubs his face. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced, stubble growing sporadically across his jaw, hair a mess. He shakes his head.

"No. I... I'd like to, but it's... not the same. Alone," he mutters tiredly. Beck and Shaun share a concerned look.

"Try to get some rest, Des," she says, powering down the animus. He nods mutely and stands on unsteady feet, slowly making his way to the room they have their bedrolls in.

"Poor guy," Becks whispers," Must be hard, being so disconnected from his culture." Shaun nods silently, staring as the door to their room shuts behind Desmond. "What do you know about Ramadan?", she asks. Shaun pauses. What does he know?

It's a social holiday, focusing on fasting during the sunlit hours of the day, followed by a big feast with family and friends. It lasts for 29 to 30 days, then is followed by three or four days of Eid, the celebration time. Sweets, gifts, parties, dances, music, it's all community based, and here they are, an American, a brit, and a sad Arab.

He sighs. As much as Shaun loathes Desmond, he can understand the isolation that comes with finding himself in such a different environment. "Okay," he says, "Here's what we're going to do."

Desmond wakes up from his nap not knowing if he feels better or worse. He groans, turns on his side, then the other, before deciding he wouldn't get anymore sleep. He stands, shadows dancing in his vision; Altair, Malik and Maria, sitting together around a warm meal. His stomach growls. God, when was the last time he ate?

No light seeps through the rotted curtains, alerting him that it's night. He must have slept for a while if it's already dark out. The others aren't in their beds though, so it can't be that late.

He slowly makes his way back to what was most likely a living room, before freezing at the door to the sorry excuse of a kitchen they have. Shaun and Rebecca were there, cooking together. Desmond shakes his head to make sure he's actually awake. He can see some of the food they'd already put out: a bowl of fresh dates, kisra and moulah, falafels, salata't rob, even a platter with freshly cut watermelon. When he looks back at what they were preparing now, he could see the telltale golden hue of one of his favorite sweets; basbousa.

Rebecca's the first to notice him standing there in shock. She offers a grin and beckons him to the table. "Hey, Des! We thought you could use a little pick me up," she says. Shaun rolls his eyes, cutting the cake into even squares and placing an almond in the middle of each one.

"Little is quite the understatement, don't you think?", he snarks, wiping his hands clean of the syrup, "We have enough food to feed a small town." Becks shoves his shoulder with a laugh. "Oh hush, this was your idea!" Shaun sputters.

"I- it was not! I simply answered your questions-"

"Then decided to look up the proper recipes and go out and buy the right ingredients and put in the time and effort to make all of this-"

"Listen, it wouldn't be worth anything if we couldn't do the culture justice!", he bristles, face a lovely shade of red. Rebecca snickers and drops the conversation, looking over to Desmond who's still simply staring.

"I...", he starts, swallows the lump in his throat, "What is this?"

Shaun scoffs. "What does it look like? Iftar. And you're late, the sun set over an hour ago."

"Iftar... But you don't celebrate, why...?" Shaun's gaze softens ever so slightly. He shifts his weight from one leg to another. "Well, Rebecca and I have noticed you weren't... performing as well as usual. So, we thought giving you a break and something nice would help get you back to your old self, however poor your performance already was." Desmond laughs despite the jab. "You did this for me. All of this, you..." His voice breaks. Dammit, he's not going to cry, he's not going to cry, he's not-!

Thin arms wrap around him tightly, the smell of rubber and cheap shampoo a strange yet comforting mix.

"You deserve nice things, Des," Rebecca says, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He hugs her tightly in return, tears stinging at his eyes.

He hasn't been able to truly participate in this holiday since he ren away from the farm, not having anyone around him to share it with. It used to be fine, but recently, with Altair's memories still knocking around in his head, and Ezio's celebrations he couldn't get through, it hurt a lot more. He never realized how alone he felt.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly pulls away from Rebecca to give her a warm smile. She gives one back and pats his shoulder. "Come on," she says, taking a seat at the table, "You better eat while it's still warm, I did not spend all this time and effort just for us to get a cold meal."

Desmond laughs. He's about to join her when he notices Shaun standing awkwardly with his arms crossed. The tips of his ears are still pink.

"Shaun?", he calls. The brit perks up. "Yes?" "Thank you." Shaun releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Don't mention it."

As they sit down and break the fast they hadn't started that day with a date, Desmond feels at home for the first time in a long time.

"Ramadan Kareem, Desmond," Shaun says with a hint of a smile. Desmond beams. He can’t help the fondness warming his chest. Maybe… maybe he’d be okay after all. Saving the world can wait for just one night.

“Ramadan Kareem, you guys.”

“… you overcooked the falafels. “

“Just shut it and eat, Miles!”

[balkanradfem]

Have you noticed how when m*n are talking down to you, they're taking credit for all imaginary things any m*n have done thru past? They'll tell you 'we built the world and gave you everything you have', as if this guy, personally, did anything for you that you now have to be grateful for. They seem to believe they share credit for accomplishments as a class of people, and as a class, deserve to be rewarded for it (by un-ending gratitude and favours from women, of course).

(This credit doesn't even belong to them, everything they built was created to isolate, oppress and utilize women to their advantage, not for women to have a free and happy life in. They decided among themselves that we need to be grateful just for being alive.)

However, the reverse never applies to women, accomplishments of women in the past are never used to derogatorily talk down to m*n, nor do we feel the right to speak about ourselves as a class of people who has accomplished anything, who's owed anything. This isn't coincidental, this is ensured by keeping us isolated and convinced that anything we do for this world, is highly personal, stays within the confines of our marriage, family, private and not considered an actual contribution. Our roles are not just enforced on us but minimized to the point where we believe 'it's just what we do, there's nothing else that we can do in our position', even as we go and create the entire human population, caretake and keep alive every m*n currently alive on earth, provide food, comfort, emotional support, cleanliness, and comfortable life to every m*n who manages to trap us in their home. And on top of that, we often achieve professional and academic success on level above m*n, but they readily convince us to give up credit for it, and let them claim it for themselves.

It is very obvious once we look at the real order of things, that it's us keeping them alive, and not the reverse. We're not only making them, but nurturing them and making sure everyone stays alive, fed, and happy. Even in the work area, m*n who make the biggest accomplishments are the ones taking credits for the work their wives did for them. We're doing it all behind the shadows, unseen and without anybody owing us anything, not even our human rights. So m*n could keep claiming they are the creators of the world.

But the thing is, if we were let be, if we were in the control from the start, we would have built it better. Males building the infrastructure brought us nothing but severe destruction of environment, annihilation of species, loss of natural resources and a climate crisis. It's not that we're lacking the ability to make better, we're robbed out of authority to do it. M*n have been standing in our way, creating garbage, trapping us in it, and demanding gratitude.

Creation of entire human race is not even allowed to be seen as an accomplishment, but males building a world that supports suffering and destruction is. Gratitude is supposed to be given for oppression, but not for being given your life, body, and caring for your survival. In fact, they prove to us just how ungrateful they are, when they throw away all of that meticulous care and effort, by turning around and torturing women. Committing extreme acts of violence, starting wars, raping and degrading women - that's not what we made them for. No woman wants to birth or raise a human only for him to go on and be a rapist, murderer or a torturer. Yet they do it and then turn around and demand us to be grateful, to bow down to us for being allowed to keep being alive. Regardless of how much their class tortured us and made us wish we were dead, we need to be grateful to each and every one of them, for not killing us yet.

It's disgusting. If they're going to take credit for everything done in the world, then we should too. Our class created your class. In return, our class got tortured by your class. We will care for your well being not a second more. See how long you live without women providing for you.

[just-a-itty-bitty-kitty]

Smitten? And the Tower?

okay okay back to these–(uni is killing me sorry they take so long to finish up)

SMITTEN!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!! I really really like Smitty, definitely somewhere high in my fave voices list!! He's very funny and I think his relationship with damsel can be as sweet as it is creepy.(they're both stupid your honor🙏)

That being said, I think people tend to mischaracterize him just a bit. I often see him portrayed as a sweet and caring person, especially if we're talking other voices, and I just really don't think that would be the case. He loves the princess, all of her, but outside of that, Smitten can be very dismissive towards others and also pretty selfish. He doesn't really care when Damsel confirms that she ended the world, and he dismisses Narrator's warnings not necessarily because he doesn't believe them, but rather because "a world like that isn't worth saving". But even so, Smitten can be bad for TLQ as well. His love is unwavering, no matter how bad the princess is to the slayer. And he very much prioritizes princess over anyone else, even TLQ. I stand by my theory that all the voices fulfill the role of a copying mechanism, Smitten isn't any different, but his is tricky. It's a form of protection that has you blindly devote yourself to another person, and that type of love can feel safe and grounding but can turn unhealthy really quick. My point is, do not let this man near Broken–

(small tw for mentions of abusive relationships)

speaking of Broken, or more accurately, the Tower route and the princesses that are bad for you!! Look everyone!!! It's my least favorite child!!!!!

I have conflicting feelings on Tower. Well, for one, I'm aroace and her whole uhhh. deal?m isn't very appealing to me– but that's besides the point, I would say that Tower is possibly one of the most controversial princesses as far as opinions on her go. On one side, we got the dommy mommy enjoyers, and on the other, there's people hating her for being, well, abusive and overall horrible. somewhere in the middle are folks who just don't like her attitude. I think all of those opinions are valid, and I think she can definitely be considered abusive(especially when we look at,, well,,, everything wrong with Broken), but I also find myself sympathizing with her for similiar reasons that I do with all other princesses. One constant among every princess is their lack of agency. We, as the slayer, shape the princess into what she becomes, and we are at least partially responsible for the way she turns out. We basically rob Tower of her humanity by idolizing her as this all-powerful God. And in a similar way, we can rob her of that power by defiling her. "It must be so lonely, thinking that she's everything that matters in the world.." It was said by the (soft) heart princess about SM, but I think it can just as easily be applied to Tower. A lot of people hate her because they don't like the idea of losing your sense lf agency, but Tower didn't have any agency since the beginning, which is why I can never bring myself hate her.