#x-virus culture is

[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || bonus part

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. tw: this is unfortunately very fluffy as well as smutty. if you came here for raw intense fucking wait until i release my new one shot with ej called huntin’ wabbitz. this is for the till dawn girlies ONLY. enjoy <3

“Why are we doing this again?”

Jeff’s voice was harsh, raising the question Ben had as well. The blonde stood in front of Jack, attempting to gracefully finish tying the demons bow tie. “Well Jeff in human culture weddings are a symbolic ceremony of love and unconditional commitment,” Ben explained, not glancing up at the pale killer. Somehow your request of a wedding had managed to get every creep dressed up, including Jacks friends.

Jeff went to run his fingers through his ash black hair, frowning once he realized it was in a man bun. “Yeah no I obviously have that part down pat. But I meant why are we doing this? We aren’t exactly humans anymore you know,” Jeff pointed out. Ben smiled as he finished adjusting Jacks bow tie. The sapphire blue suited him the best, according to Clockwork anyways.

“You are aware she’s a human right?” Ben asked. Jeff sighed, refraining himself from face palming. “As everyone has been talking about for the past twenty four hours, yes I am aware she’s a human,” Jeff answered. Ben went to defend you further, Jacks voice interrupting the blonde.

“We’re doing this because it’s what she wants.”

Believe it or not, Jack was apprehensive about the whole thing. It wasn’t the ceremony he feared or the social pressure to lift his mask to kiss your sweet lips. It was having you around so many creeps at once. The residents at Slender’s mansion had grown accustomed to your presence. You became just another resident, killer or not. Even the proxies had grown fond of you, initially pushing back on your stay due to your mortality. It may not have been a life they would’ve chosen for themselves, but you had proved time and time again your love for Jack prevailed all doubts.

It was also highly convenient to have someone able to grocery shop without a swat team being called.

You hadn’t outright come out and said you wanted marriage to Jack, but he was no fool. The magazines left out with pages of rings and dresses. Weddings were apart of your kinds culture and more importantly, they meant something to you. It wasn’t long after that Jack bribed Hoodie into helping him rob a jewelry store to get as many rings as they could carry. What else was he supposed to do? He didn’t know your ring size and he couldn’t possibly acquire the knowledge and be inconspicuous at the same time.

Word of your engagement spread like wildfire, the concept alone unheard of. Creeps from all over, including the Trenderman mansion, had been invited per your request. You had never met Laughing Jack, Jason the toy maker, Candypop, etc. Yet, you wanted all of them there for your special day. Jack thought it was touching once he put aside all of his fears about having that many immortal psychopaths around you. The main reason every creep turned up to your wedding was simple: you were human.

Outside of proxies, the supernatural haze that imbedded itself into creeps. It slowed down their aging, kept their bloodlust prevalent. Many of them didn’t even recall their human life. If they even had one to begin with. The idea alone that someone like you, could love someone endlessly like them was incomprehensible. This resulted in every creep on the planet to attend, that fact alone making Jack more nervous.

Slenderman had high expectations of his residents, ensuring that although unhinged they would maintain a stable and respectable behavior. Many of the creeps attending, including X-Virus and Nina the killer, were highly unpredictable. In the back of his mind he doubted that he would be able to protect you from all of them.

“Dude you should sit down, you don’t look so good,” Ben said, guiding him to sit down on the end of the bed. It was rare Jack had his mask off and it was most certainly non negotiable during the ceremony. But here in his bedroom with his (whether he’d admit it or not) best friends, he felt comfortable enough to take it off. Just for a moment. “You look kinda pale,” Jeff said, helping Ben guide Jack to sit down. The demon stifled a laugh. “Yeah you’re one to talk casper,” He chuckled.

Jeff rolled his eyes, a knock on the door interrupting a comeback that threatened to roll off of his tongue. The pale killer answered the door, revealing you. You were mesmerizing, the white dress Jane and Clockwork helped you acquire fitting you perfect. “I’d like a moment alone with Jack, if y’all don’t mind,” You say. Ben and Jeff exchanged glances. “Isn’t there some tradition about not seeing the bride until-” Jeff began, Ben’s hand planting a sharp slap on his shoulder.

“Hey dude what the fuck-”

Ben grabbed Jeff’s suit sleeve, dragging him towards the door. “Message received, see you guys at the ceremony,” He chimed cheerfully, a confused and mumbling Jeff trailing behind him. You could hear grumbling about Ben tearing the suit, the complaining making you giggle. You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. Jack was eager to be beside you, approaching you quickly.

“Hi there,” You greeted, giving him a genuine smile. Upon seeing your face he began to relax, the dark gray color returning to his face. “You look absolutely stunning my mate,” Jack purred, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The sound of chatter from the hallway made Jack jump, pulling you behind him. He recognized the voices to belong to Laughing Jill and Kate the chaser, two creeps he did not trust. His gaze was centered on the door, your soft hand grabbing his arm.

“Jack, I need you to relax,” You say softly. Your voice was like warm honey, temptation threatening him to look away from the door. How could he protect you if he wasn’t ready? You walked around him, looking up at him as he towered over you. “EJ seriously, it’s okay. I’m okay,” You told him. Jacks gaze finally broke from the door, the sound of the girls straying off in the distance. “It’s hard to focus when there’s so many of my kind around. You’re not a proxy you know, you don’t have Slender’s unlimited protection,” Jack explained. His eyebrows furrowed as you admired his suit, rubbing his fingers over the suit jackets fabric.

“Maybe not. But I have yours, Jeffs, Ben’s, the proxies, Jane’s grown to like me I think, oh and Smiley,” You replied, giving him a small smile. Jacks eyebrows furrowed, tilting his head to the side. “You really think we could take on all of them and win?” He questioned. You giggled. You took his large hand, guiding him over to the window. You gestured for him to look outside, the creeps all taking their seats and talking. “This isn’t a war EJ. They’re not here to kill me. They’re here to celebrate,” You say. Jack watched as Smiley chased Sally around the yard, Slender and Trender caught up in a telepathic conversation at the podium.

Where the fuck did they get a podium?

“I guess what i’m trying to say is that you worry too much. Your friends like me right? So will they,” You told him, tucking your hair behind your ears. Jack contemplated your reasoning, glancing down and spotting the bloody painter. “You invited the bloody painter?” Jack questioned. You followed his gaze, spotting him talking to X-Virus. “I guess? Does it matter?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. Jack inhaled sharply. The last time he saw the Bloody Painter it ended in a bloody brawl. No pun intended.

“He’s just uh, not my favorite person on the planet,” Jack answered dryly. His gaze was locked onto him, refusing to shift away. You grabbed Jacks chin, guiding him to look at you. “I don’t like the idea of him seeing you. Being near you,” Jack admitted. It was something primal, something he couldn’t shake off. You were his mate and an enemy was prancing around his territory. “Guess you should show him who I belong to then,” You suggested, biting your bottom lip.

Jack could hear your heart skip a beat, a smile creeping across his face. “Oh you naughty little thing,” He whispered, bringing his lips to yours. Jack was never soft or gentle, but he tried his hardest to be so he didn’t ruin the dress. His kisses were hungry and desperate, his primal instincts ensuing. “How long do we have until the ceremony starts?” Jack asked, his lips refusing to stray from yours. You giggled, lying down on his bed. “Oh I don’t know, maybe till dawn?” You teased. Jack pounced on top of you, giving you a small smile.

“Need to know how much time I have with you love,” He purred, his breath hot against your ear. The sensation made you shudder in pleasure, your body igniting itself on fire. “Maybe twenty minutes?” You guessed. Jacks hands slowly pulled up your tight dress before cupping your drenched heat. “Okay maybe thirty,” You groaned. He could feel your dampness through your lacey white panties, the feeling alone euphoric. “Tsk tsk. Dressed so pure when you know I stole that purity long ago,” Jack hummed, teasingly dragging two fingers up and down your slit.

You whined, your hips bucking upwards. “Jack we don’t have time for teasing,” You say, eager to feel him. The demon above you quietly snickered, pushing your panties to the side. “It’s our wedding, they can wait,” He said, dropping to his knees. He dragged you by your thighs to the end of the bed, playfully licking up your thigh. “Jack please,” You whined, running your fingers through his hair. You tugged harshly at the roots, trying to drag him to your cunt. “So desperate,” Jack murmured before diving into your folds.

You could never explain or process the euphoria his three tongues provided. Two would shove themselves inside of you, scissoring your walls to stretch you out as much as they could. The third would attach itself to your clit, stimulating the bud as much as possible. It was an indescribable feeling, one that always made you moan and pant like a wild animal. Jack had purposefully gave you head everyday for a month, just to train the muscles in his tongues to be able to fuck you better.

As much as you were hesitant, it paid off.

“Fucking shit, Jack!” You moaned, throwing your head back as his large hands pried your thighs open. A primal growl rumbled in the bottom of his throat, his gaze centered on watching you fall apart. His tongues curled to begin abusing your g spot, your back arching off of the bed. You yanked at his locs, trying to pry him away from your aching cunt. You bit your bottom lip. “Jack if you keep that up you’re going to get very wet,” You threatened, your face turning red. You always got embarrassed of your bodies natural functions, Jack noticed. He didn’t see the point. He had seen every part of you and adored every nanometer.

You also had squirted on his fingers, tongues, and cock more times than he could count. How you orgasmed didn’t matter to him. He smirked as he continued his motions, your thighs trembling in his grasp. You whimpered as you came, your juices squirting across his face. You could feel your face growing hot, some of Jacks suit jacket soaked. He leaned back, your juices coating some of his clothing. He could hear your heart practically pounding against your rib cage.

“Goddammit-” Inhale. “Jack-” Exhale. “Your suits now all wet,” You sighed, trying to swallow as much air as possible Jack on the other hand was gleaming with pride, helping you rise to your feet. “It’ll dry. Besides, I think it’s pretty fucking hot,” He purred. He brought you over in front of his full length mirror, bringing your hands to either side of it to hold yourself up for support. “You look so beautiful, just watch yourself crumble for me,” Jack ordered. You could hear the clinking of his belt, the demon then wrapping his arms around your waist.

The height difference was one that couldn’t be ignored. Originally you didn’t think it would be possible for Jack to fuck you standing. That was of course until one eventful morning in the shower made it possible. All he had to do was pick you up and guide you down onto his cock. He did just that, watching you awkwardly balance on your tip toes to stay standing. As many times as you took him it always felt the same, your walls spasming around him as you struggled to take his girth.

“You’re doing so well for me beautiful, now open your eyes and watch,” Jack purred, placing a kiss on the side of your head. You felt him bottom out inside of you, the bulge of his cock visible through your dress. You whimpered as he let you adjust to him, his ears twitching at the sound of your heart beat. It always sped up when he first entered you, creating an addicting sympathy he wanted to hear forever. He swallowed as his gaze fell down to your neck, the urge to cover you in marks ensuing.

Jacks large hands grabbed your hips, slowly guiding you up and down his cock. “Fucking- fuck,” You moaned, struggling to keep your eyes open. Jack couldn’t control himself as he thrusted into you, his mind emptying entirely. “Such a good mate for me, taking me like this,” He panted. He licked the tender side of your neck, a chill running down your spine as he continued to fuck you. “You like this huh? Being used like my own personal fleshlight?” Jack chuckled darkly. Your head fell forward, your eyes screwing shut.

“Oh don’t get all shy on me now. Look at yourself,” Jack ordered. He slithered one hand up to your face, forcing you to look up. “Watch as I breed you mate. Fucking watch,” Jack rambled, grinning as your lips puckered out like a fish. Your noises were sinful, Jack couldn’t help but have an egotistical sense of pride. You could feel your second orgasm coming, your hands grabbing onto Jacks arm.

“J-Jack i’m gonna cum,” You panted. Jack’s hand slithered to your throat, squeezing the airway. “Not yet mate, wait for me,” He ordered. He continued to snap his hips into yours, your body beginning to shake as you tried to listen. “F-f-fuck I can’t-” You rambled. You moaned as you felt him choke you harder. “Awe you wanna cum so badly? Go on, cum. Cum on my fucking cock,” Jack huffed. The cord inside of you snapped, your body trembling as Jack came undone inside of you. Cumming anywhere besides deep in your cunt was out of the question, your pussy often dripping with his seed.

For a brief moment Jack held you in place, enjoying the feeling of your abused walls settling down around his shaft. “EJ?” You panted, still dazed. Your fingertips traced over the bulge that showed through your stomach. “Yeah?” Jack hummed. He wiped your smudged eye makeup, trying to clean you up without taking you off of his cock. “We’re still supposed to be getting married you know,” You chuckled. Jack playfully sighed, rolling his non existent eyes. He lifted you off of him, your bare feet hitting the wooden floor.

You turned around, pressing your lips to his. You smiled into the kiss, Jacks hands going to help you fix your dress. “How kind of you good sir,” You say teasingly, both of you letting out a genuine chuckle. A loud knock made both of you jump, Jacks eyebrows furrowing.

“Guys i’m not going to come in I know what you guys are up to but everyone’s hungry can you come get married already?” Ben asked. Jack quickly redressed himself, the two of you making sure the other was presentable. Once you both were properly dressed Jack opened the door. Ben’s eyes were buried in his hands. “Ben you can look at us you know,” Jack said, reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing his mask. The blonde shook his head. You stuck your head out from behind Jack.

“You really don’t wanna see me naked?” You asked curiously. You couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles as Ben quickly looked at you. Jack went to hit him, the blonde dodging his hit. “You gotta be faster than that Jacky boy,” He said teasingly, running down the hallway. Jack looked at you, his blue mask secured to his face. You stood on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss to his mask before encouraging him, “Go get em tiger, i’ll make sure the bridal party is ready.”

The bridal party in question was standing in beside the alter. Toby was your maid of honor, the ticking time bomb the most excited out of the three of them. Masky and Hoodie on the other hand, could not believe you roped them into this. “They’re fucking right now aren’t they?” Masky asked. Their gazes fell on Jack chasing Ben across the yard. “Maybe Ben got a peak, lucky man,” Hoodie snickered. Masky elbowed his partner, rolling his eyes. “They’re going on a honeymoon right? We’re never gonna get any sleep if they stay here after this is over,” Masky grumbled. They watched as Jack tackled Ben, the two tumbling to the ground.

“Where could they even go for a honeymoon?” Hoodie questioned. Toby waved cheerfully as you walked out of the back door. “They’re going to a remote cabin Slender got for them, isn’t that sweet?” He asked, smiling as you wobbled across the yard. Masky and Hoodie exchanged glances before resuming a calm facade. “Ten dollars says she’s pregnant by the time she gets back,” Hoodie said immediately. Masky grabbed a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and showed it to his friends. “Make it twenty, not physically possible,” Masky replied. He raised his eyebrows as he watched Ben climb Jack like a jungle gym, the two in a petty brawl.

“They are aware they’re supposed to be getting married right now right?” Hoodie asked, watching as you smiled and greeted Laughing Jill and Jack. Masky sighed, reaching in his pocket and grabbing a box of cigarettes. “You can’t do that! This is a sacred ceremony!” Toby gasped, his head twitching to the side. Masky dug around in his suit pockets for a lighter. “Yeah yeah it’ll be fine kid. How long are we required to be here anyways? Boss was pretty vague with us,” Masky asked. Toby’s smile was cheerful as Hoodie handed Masky a lighter.

“He said till dawn.”

[probablyspooky]

Traitor (2010 Predator X Fem! Reader) Pt.3 Final

Its Time girly Pops

Last

"Yes love?", you ask, sitting up from your nest of furs and pelts, your mate slowly lowers himself to you.

"We are leaving...", he mumbled, "This trip was not successful, I was wrong to bring you here, I will take you home, and then come back alone when I can get a second chance"

You sighed, cupping your mates face, giving him a gentle kiss on the armored mask.

"Very well," you agreed, getting up from your nest, packing your items and then eventually getting on the ship and taking off back home.

It was a short trip back, you felt back you had ruined the trip by basically getting kidnapped by the game. Berserker could sense your sadness and promised that when you returned back to the clan, he would have a young one go to Earth and bring you back some nice Earth things, so that you could see some of the things that hail from your home planet. You smiled at this thought and proceeded to snuggle into your mates chest as he sat in the command room.

The return home was uneventful, as you were usually allowed to walk around, the first couple weeks home you weren't feeling so well. Often spending your mornings vomiting outside in the bushes, sleeping till noon, and eating weird foods that were even considered odd in yautja culture.

Berserker got quite nervous when you started getting moody, you never seemed to lash out at him, as you were afraid of upsetting him, but now you were a bit more annoyed at his mating advances, often refusing to go along with him on small hunts.

Worried you may have caught a strong virus, he took you to the clans healers, and the news was wonderful.

You were pregnant.

Your mates mandibles clicked with joy, and he purred into you, his claws grazing over your stomach gently, happy with the news he threw together a hunting party and went off into the local wilderness to find the largest animal he could to serve to you, as per tradition (that I made up).

He returned victorious, slaying the beast and presenting its skull and spine to you. It now hangs over the area where you decided to put your younglings sleeping bed.

Eventually as things go, days become weeks, and weeks become months, soon you were very swollen with child, carrying a yautja pup was very hard on your body, as you progressed you slowly began to slow down, not going out to hunt, you stopped doing chores, tending to be on bedrest more often that usual.

One day, while you were in a heated herbal bath, Berserker came in and joined you, causing the water to swish over a bit, he swayed over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his large hands over your stomach.

"(y/n)", he whispered, taking in a breathe of your hair.

"Yes love?" you ask, turning your head to look at him closer.

"The hunting spot came up again...I wish to go, but I will not go if you find it unacceptable for me to go."

You thought for a moment, as it took so long for him to get the spot for himself the first time, and now here you were ready to pop at any moment. Not wanting to be selfish you agreed that he could go, and that you would be fine.

Watching him, Tusk, and Falcon leave was a little heart breaking, you spent the time alone, thinking of names for the baby, learning to write in their language, and learning how to read their machines, as soon you would have your one communicator bracelet, so that when your mate goes off planet, you could still talk to him while he was gone.

He wasn't gone very long this time, he returned after a few days, you were so happy when you heard the news you waited at the landing dock for him to return. When those ship doors opened, you saw him walk off full of pride, new trophies tied to his belt, mostly human, perhaps he had hunted those humans from before. You ran into his arms, and he hugged you back, taking you up from under your legs, holding you up with his great strength.

"Was the hunt honorable?", you asked, feeling his dreads with your hands.

He carried you back to his home.

"I have many trophies to give to you my mate," he purred, leaving Tusk and Falcon to unload the ship.

But with their arrival back, Tusk and Falcon were sought out by other yautja women, and left the ship unattended, not knowing of what they brought back with them to their home planet.

While the darkness of night overtook the sky, two people stepped off planet, truing not to be scene by the lights coming off of the ship, they quickly scurried to the Jungle Hunters Clan. Taking note of the buildings, they looked around for anyone that would be out of place, something that wouldn't be needed by full blood yautja.

These two humans who have stepped off the ship, were familiar faces that had met you before. Isabelle and Royce, they had snuck onto the ship while your mate was hunting the others, Edwin and Nikolai did not make it, but they did not seem, bothered all that much, their minds were preferably stuck on their own survival.

Quickly scanning the many homes, their eyes landed on the ones that had a set of very small shoes sat outside the door, feet too small for yautja, but big enough for an adult to wear outside to cover the soles of their feet from the spikey ground.

The two of them walked up to the door, and gently pushed it in, not having locks on doors were often common on this planet, as it was dishonorable to attack someone while they were asleep. It was a code of like that many did not dare to cross, as it would bring dishonor upon themselves and their clans.

Walking throughout the halls of the place you called home, Isabelle and Royce walked through the kitchen rea, taking note of the abundance of fruit and veggies, often things yautja do not eat frequently, then walking past a living area where they saw a CD player and some discs of random artists.

"She's definitely here.." Royce whispered, continuing the sweep of the house, his eyes landing on the back room, which its doorway was covered with a large cloth.

Royce took a few moments to sneak up to the curtain, slowly pupping it back. In the middle of the room he could see the floating nest where Berserker and you slept. The two forms sleeping away peacefully on the bed, you curled up in his arms, while his limbs danged off the sides of the nest, hovering in the air.

Royce raised his hand above your mouth about to wake you up and smother your gasp, but Isabelle quickly ran up and stopped him

"What?", he whispered, annoyed that he was stopped.

"Look at her!" Isabelle, gestured to your body, "She's pregnant! This isn't a good idea"

Royce rolled his eyes, going back to his original plans, smothering his hand over your mouth and then tapping you awake.

You jolted awake, about to scream, but you felt a warm hand covers your mouth. You looked over to the owner of the hands owner, you felt tears sting your eyes, realizing the possible predicaments you were in.

Royce signals to you to come on, and slowly eases you off the bed, and out of your mates arms, trying not to wake up, and then sneaking you out of your home, Royce dragged you to the ship and shoved you towards it, pointing a pistol at you.

"Fly us home." he ordered, pointing the gun at you,

"I do-I don't know how to fly," you stammered

"Bullshit" he snarled, pushing you inside the ship and then forcing you into the pilots seat.

You felt uneasy as you were placed in the captains chair, the familiar hologram screen appearing before you, you slowly began to type into the control console, hitting enter.

Royce looked at you expectantly, watching you push buttons with symbols that didn't make sense to him at all, watching you hit the enter key, hoping that soon the ship would take off and they would be on their way way home. Yet nothing happened.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled, shoving your shoulder

"I don't know how to fly!" you cried,

"Royce, c'mon" Isabelle remarked, placing hand on your shoulder

Royce stomped back and forth, and looking out the open door of the ship, he began to see lights turn on, as yautja began to run towards the ship, his brain clicked.

Grabbing you by the hair, he dragged you to the front of the doors and threw you on the ground, you fell to the ground shielding your stomach from the fall.

"She fucking alerted them" Royce growled, pointing the pistol at the back of your head.

You looked up to see Berserker run at you, behind him Tusk and Falcon followed, along with other blooded members of the tribe.

Royce fired a warning shot a few inches away from your head, forcing all the yautja to stop in their tracks.

"Fucking traitor to your race," Royce spit at you, looking up at the yautja who were staring him down.

"I want to go home!," he shouted, "If I don't get to go home, neither does she"

You half expected for Berserker to have some sort of plan in dealing with this, but instead he slowly popped off his armored helmet, dropped his utilities belt, and walked up slowly towards the three of you. Isabelle had her gun pointed at your mate the whole time.

Clicking can be heard coming from your mates mandibles, as he pointed towards the captains chair, he calmly walked onto the ship, and silently typed on the keyboard, the rumbling of the ship started, indicating it was taking off.

Berserker then walked back, and picked you up slowly, not taking his eyes off of Royce and Isabelle. The ships door began to slowly shut, and since their window was closing, the two of them quickly hopped aboard the ship, and it slowly made its way off of the ground, and then eventually was floating through the air. Its thrusters slowly increasing in power.

As the thrusters began to glow a bright orange, your mate held his arm out in front of you, a single symbol was on his wrist brand, you looked at him and then at the ship. Smiling while doing so, you pushed the button, and together you watched the ship prepare are for takeoff, and then self detonate in the sky.

The clan erupted with roars and growls, chanting at the death of these humans who dared try and hold you hostage on their turf.

A part of you felt bad, you had just murdered the nicest human you've ever known, the first few humans you had met who had actually been to earth. Maybe you were a traitor to your race, but you were reassured, as the next days you found yourself in labor, and after that, you held close to your chest a small suckling, who was identical to his father.

Having his wrapped to your chest constantly apparently was a weird sight, as most mother of yautja did not care for their children the same way you did, but you didn't care, as your instincts were different, you were different.

He was the Berserker predator, and you his mate, the two of you from different sides of the planet.

One a grand warrior to his people and his race, and the other a loving mother, traitor to hers.

They were happy

I don't know what else to put here

[reddesires]

[Noa x Human!Reader]

So I've really gotten into planet of the apes and I absolutely adore Noa and I really wanted to put these ideas out there (I also wanted to venture more out with ideas but this is all I got :') I'm sorry if this isn't good, I haven't written in years.

•Reader is adopted by the clan leaders of The Marina Clan, Miro and Zena. Her mother was immune to the virus but she was very sickly, Zena tended to the woman as she was the clan's top healer but Reader's mother passed of natural causes leaving the young girl on her own.

•Reader becomes the older sister to Miro and Zena's two first borns, a pair of twins. River and Water lily are born a couple years after the Reader is adopted by the couple, the twin's absolutely adore their older sister and she finds herself babysitting them often  as their parents are very busy running the clan.

•The Marina Clan are experts at building boats, they take pride in their craft and they're unusually good at swimming in shallow enough water, they tend to avoid deeper water unless by boat. Many ceremonies are taken place by the water and a lot of their culture is dedicated to the water.

•Their rite of passage is learning to swim followed by building their first boat, the experience marking a major milestone for their people.

•Miro passed 2 years after the twins were born, Zena had then stepped into her husband's role as chief. Reader then took on her mother's role as the clans healer, before she was a prized hunter but she felt it was an important obligation she take on her mother's former role.

•Their clan is pillaged by another, many were wiped out, Zena coronated the Reader into being the clan leader before succumbing to her wounds. She then wears a headband to symbolize her status as her clan's matriarch.

•Reader essentially becomes a mother to her younger siblings, she is aware that she'll have to teach her siblings their clan's ways in hopes of them carrying on The Marina Clan's legacy.

The Meeting

Noa finds the siblings in the outskirts of his clan's land, he's intrigued to find a human with young chimps hanging off her back like a mother ape would have her young do. He seems frozen as he closely observes the trio infront of him but he's completely at a loss of what to do, caught off guard by this encounter.

Reader is cautious of him, her body language is defensive as she seems ready to protect the young on her back. Her breathing is ragged and uneven as she tries to pace herself it seems, he can hear her heart racing even from the distance he was standing.

He sees her wounds and the desperation in her eyes, when his mind finally caught up with him he holds his hands out infront of him in an attempt of easing her and showing no intentions of harming them. "you're..hurt." he says softly, his green eyes following the blood staining the skin against her forehead.

Her head tilts in acknowledgement but she holds her stance not willing to give in to the pain that seems to want to seize her, the determination still pumping through her kept her from collapsing.

Her siblings needed her more than ever and she won't rest till she's knows they're safe and sound

Noa feels something stir in his chest when he sees the young apes lightly peek over the human's shoulders, their gazes frightful and wide as their hands grasp onto her tighter. "I can help you.." he breathes out.

Reader stares with a slight dazed look at him, bewildered but relieved, her hand dropping her weapon and a desperate plea escaping her bloodied lips "please.."

[sailorrhansol]

One in the Grave | 00

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f) 

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it. 

❀ Word Count: 1,366

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of a viral pandemic and global shutdown, depictions of sickness, death and disease, brief mentions of grief and general destruction of the world, mentions of murder and fear, a note that implies suicidal intent, collection of items that are somewhat nonsensical and not necessarily supposed to make sense

❀ A/N: I got the idea for a collection of items that show a little of the world before we dive into it, though a lot of it won't make sense until one reads further. I liked the idea of showing different sides of the event that takes place before this story with the articles, discovered notes and lab sheets, and then at the very end you see some notes to our characters that you'll find in the story later :) IT IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW I'M NOT A SCIENTIST AND SO MUCH OF THIS IS NOT ACCURATE LMAO. I know little about biology or viruses but I did try to look stuff up to be... somewhat believable.

❀ A/N 2: Huge thank you to @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta reading for me and letting me plague them with this unhinged project. I love you both and I really enjoy when we three way smooch in the comments of the doc okay bye

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

❀ Disclaimer 2: The names and emails in this specific chapter are not real and for the fictional purposes of this story!

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Excerpt from the New York Times

Global Shutdown Imminent as WHO Declares VAHS a Global Pandemic

Thursday, October 1, 2063

…In a historic announcement today, the World Health Organization (WHO) has declared the outbreak of Vampiric Acute Hemorrhagic Syndrome (VAHS) a global pandemic. This declaration has sent shockwaves across the globe, prompting governments and health organizations to initiate unprecedented measures in an attempt to contain the spread of the deadly virus. VAHS, a highly contagious and fatal disease, has been rapidly spreading across multiple continents, causing widespread panic and overwhelming healthcare systems. The WHO has warned that without immediate and decisive action, the virus could result in catastrophic consequences. In response to the WHO's declaration, governments around the world have announced plans for a global shutdown in an effort to curb the spread of VAHS. This shutdown will entail stringent measures aimed at reducing social interactions and limiting the movement of people in order to minimize the risk of transmission. Public gatherings including… 

Excerpts from emails at the Center for Disease Control

From: Jelena Suarez <jelena.suarez@CDC.org> To: Alison.Murphy <alison.murphy@CDC.org> Date: September 1 2063, 2:12 PM Subject: [SECURE] Report 09-01-2063-11 Mailed-by: CDC.org

Alison,

Please find the attached report as requested. Confirm receipt upon review. 

Regards,

Jelena Suarez Lead Biologist, Team 6 Center for Disease Control jelena.suarez@CDC.org

[IMAGE] Previous Report Subject 990 shows signs of degradation in cognitive condition. Lateral views of the brain demonstrate lesions in the frontal lobe. Subject shows signs of hydrophobia and increased hemorrhaging. Internal temperature remains stable at 110 Fahrenheit. Fever continues to degrade.  [IMAGE] Current Report Subject 990 experienced a spike in fever and internal organ failure. Lateral views of the brain demonstrate further decay in the frontal lobe. Subject died at 0200 and reanimated at approximately 0523, showing signs of clinical vampirism unrelated to Renfield’s syndrome.

Excerpts from the journal of Nathalie Wharton

October 20, 2063

… This isn’t like those old-school movies Mom and I used to watch when I was little. These vampires are real, and they don’t sparkle in the sunlight. Tara says that the older ones, the real vampires, don’t go crazy like the new ones do. I say they’re all the same. We’re leaving to go to the cabin tomorrow. Mom is worried that we’ll get stopped at the checkpoint and sent back because we’re technically in a quarantine zone, but Tara said the checkpoint south of the city fell last week.  There’s not much news. We’re the only family on the street now, and Tara’s radio doesn’t always work.  I’ll miss home, but maybe the woods would be nice… 

October 25, 2063

… Tara was right, there was no one at the quarantine fence south of the city. The roads remind me of those zombie movies with abandoned cars on the side, full of stuff people left. Thankfully the National Guard cleared the road on the way up north. No one has driven this way since it looks like.  Dad keeps looking for Carriers but we haven’t seen any. It’s like humans don’t even exist out here anymore. Mom says it's because all of those infected have gone to the big cities where the human population is higher.  She said Memphis collapsed last week, with no radio signal going in or out but the screams can be heard for miles.  It’s hot all the time now. The air outside makes me feel breathless like that one time we went to Florida and it makes me tired. I’m going to miss Tara but the radio said there was a breakthrough on a vaccine.  I’m so tired… 

October 26, 2063

… I had nightmares last night and could barely sleep. It is so hot in the car that it feels like my skin is on fire. Dad is making us ration our water and food. All I want is a cold shower to wash the sweat off and to not be starving. It’s just water. I just want to cool off.  We have two days until we get to the cabin…

October 27, 2063

… I hate this trip. I want to go home. It’s too hot down south and I’m hungry all the fucking time. Mom and Dad look at me like I’m crazy, but I just want to not be hungry. They won’t give me any more food.  I can’t sleep. It’s too hot. I’m too hot. Why is it so hot… 

October 28, 2063

It’s too hot to write. I just want to go home. I’m hungry. I just want more food. 

October 29, 2063

It’s so hot and I hate my fucking parents. They won’t let me eat more. I’m starving. I’m hot. It’s too hot. 

October 30, 2063

I didn’t mean to kill them.

Bloodied note in abandoned warehouse, Columbus, Georgia 

To whoever finds this note, Are humans still alive? I hope they are. If they’re not, I understand. They didn’t tell us that this would happen. They told us that it would be okay. It isn’t okay. It was never okay. They told us to stay inside and wash our hands as if that could ever stop the virus from spreading.  I’m alone now. Mom died in the first wave of the virus. Dad died a few weeks later after Mr. Johnson attacked and tore out his throat. Daniel and I made it to the quarantine center in Albany with his friends from high school, but a week after Atlanta fell the Rabids showed up and tore through the quarantine. Those older vampires - the ones not infected - they didn’t even help us. They just keep fighting each other in the big cities. Daniel died yesterday. He wasn’t even a Carrier. He just starved. I don’t have anything to bury him with, so I’m going to leave him here and hide him the best I can. The vampires won’t bother with dead blood. It’s the Rabids who will eat him but there aren’t so many away from the big cities.  I hope that Daniel forgives me for not giving him a proper grave.  I don’t want to starve like Daniel. I don’t want to keep walking either. My shoes are busted from running when we left the quarantine. I know we passed a canyon on the way here. I thought it might be a nice place to die. I’m going to go right before sunset so I can watch it one last time before I jump. I’m not afraid to-

Crumbled lab sheet in Buenos Aires, Argentina

[ORIGIN]: Bloodline, turned [NAME]: Leanna Cordova [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Vampiris

[ORIGIN]: Natural, birthed [NAME]: Manuel Onzari [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Mammalia [ORDER]: Primate [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Dhampiris 

[ORIGIN]: Fever, turned [NAME]: Leandro Trejo [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Hominidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Rabidus

[ORIGIN]: Unknown, turned [NAME]: Unknown [DOMAIN]: Eukarya [KINGDOM]: Animalia [PHYLUM]: Chordata [CLASS]: Lamiae [ORDER]: Carnivora [FAMILY]: Canidae [GENUS]: Inmortui [SPECIES]: Canis familiaris

Ripped sheet of paper, abandoned home, Yunnan Province, China

Weaknesses:  Sunlight Stakes Holy water Beheading Batrachotoxin* Fire Chest damage  ripping out heart Carrier blood *Temporary paralysis that only affects vamplings and Dhampirs. Older Bloodline vampires seem to have higher resistance to paralysis. 

Unaddressed note smeared in blood, Seungcheol’s Blockhouse, Southwest of Black Harbor, Red Republic 

Find me, motherfucker. You owe me. -GR

Neatly folded note, Vernon’s office, The Tower, Black Harbor, Red Republic

Lord Chwe, Your request for documents regarding the sect of Grim in the Undercity has been denied by Master Archivist Ilsa per security clearance IA-45-KL7. My recommendation is to seek a writ of clearance from your Lord Father or any member of the High Council. Alternatively, I suggest seeking an audience with Lord Hong, who has extensive experience with the Grim that pre-dates the existence of the Undercity.  Yours in loyalty and service, Lead Archivist Jeon

Crumbled note, Chan’s pocket, The Tower, Black Harbor, Red Republic

I need you to steal something from the archives for me. Meet me in the Shadow Grove one minute after midnight.  -V P.S. Don’t bring Mingyu 

TAG LIST:

@hipsdofangirl

[leehallfae]

“what squats beyond / the yellow pond / of firelight / surely is death / or death-bringing.

how righteous / you feel when / you draw lantern up / & there is the thing / that the man-mouth / has named monster.

the thing changes / like every good / virus. / through history, / perversion is cultural, / contextual.

what i do / with my blood / is blush / like a woman.

what this means / is very little.”

— silas denver melvin, “bloodline,” beaver magazine (x)

[girlboybug]

California Gurls

"warm, wet n’ wild, there must be something in the water."

or the one where joel hasn't been to california in god knows how long, but, one thing's for certain. he loves, california girls.

what’s playing 🎧 : california gurls by katy perry

pairing : joel miller x cali!girl reader

word count : 2k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUTTY HEADCANON LIST, age gap, public sex, light themes of exhibitionism, heavy petting, bikini fetish, is that a thing? it is now. unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, oral f!receiving, blowjobs, doggy style, riding, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, switch coded joel and reader, joel still leans towards top/dom, edging, forced orgasms, drunk/high sex

TRIGGER WARNINGS : umm i honestly can't think of any besides sex under the influence of both alcohol and weed but neither joel and reader are sober so its all around consensual as always :) if i missed anything plz lmk!

a/n : hi baes, im sorry that ive been slacking on uploading, ive been a bit burnt out, and i recently just got a job! so i fear my uploading may become more scarce but i will try my best to not let it get too bad.

ive had this au in mind for awhile n thought a headcanon list would b perfect hehe and i might make it a full fic in the future. i have a very special fic im almost done with and then a few more requests, thank u to those patient ppl who requested it, i promise i havent forgotten abt u!!! anyways sorry this is so long kjjdsjhdjsj plz enjoy and if there is anyway i can make my writing more inclusive pleaaase let me know!

joel didn't even want to be in california, but it was on the way to where him and ellie needed to go, and it was supposed to be just them two passing through, nothing less, nothing more.

but then, and of course there's always a but, on the journey both joel and ellie stumble upon a beach.

a beach with you.

culture shock for joel, like immediately. it's almost like the virus never spread to california, specifically their beaches. girls girls girls, all clad in the skimpiest bikinis and swimwear he's seen in years - or ever actually.

ellie convinces him to stay, just for a little while, and of course, he obliges, begrudgingly. the begrudging feeling and furrow in his brows slowly melts away when he's left to unwind in the warm sand, wandering eyes traveling across the beach's very underdressed inhabitants.

he lets ellie play in the water, he's more than content enjoying the view surrounding him in the sand.

you’re quick to notice the newcomers, instantly excited upon meeting new people

you make it real difficult for joel to maintain eye contact while he talks to you, he feels like he needs to physically hold his eyes in place so they don't drift down to the way your tits spill out your bikini top

he can smell the salty water, the semi sweet and unforgettable scent of sunscreen and a hint of coconut on you, and it's honestly mind numbing

and when ellie begs to stay in california for a bit longer than they planned, he surprises both himself and ellie when he jumps to say yes.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you make joel never wanna leave california. when it's dark out, with the beach left empty and void of half naked and sunburnt people, it becomes a space for just you and joel.

he loves fucking you right on the sand, loves setting up your bright pink beach towel across the sandy floors just to push your face down onto it, smushing your cheek until your pretty lips pucker and sob his name when he bullies the fat head of his cock into your fluttering hole.

it was so easy getting joel to crack and fuck you, it didn't take much convincing, if anything, it took more convincing on his part to not bend you over upon immediate introductions. but when he finally lets himself have you, it's all he ever wants to do

it was a massive shock that he could keep up with your stamina, he's like what, 56? and you're a 20 something year old full of life and energy and yet he was giving you a run for your money, almost making you tap out when he forces a third orgasm of the night out of you

he loves to drag his tongue across your skin, loves to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder when he fucks you from the back, he loves tasting the remnants of the ocean that lingers on your skin

loves to sneak off with you behind the lifeguard tower, and he loves hearing you plead with him to give you some attention.

he loves to make you beg for it. he loves pushing those tiny bikini bottoms that cover not enough, just to lap and lap and lap, at your soaked cunt.

loves to eat it til you cry, he doesn't stop until you have to push him off. he loves it when he gets to flip you on your tummy, he pulls your hips up and buries his face in your pussy, licking you up until your legs shake and can barely keep you upright, but it's okay, he's always there to keep you in place.

you enjoy feeding his ego when you tell him he's the best you've ever had, which isn't a lie

but the way he forces your knees near your ears when you whine about how his cock is the best, and the way he plunges in so deep you can feel him kiss your cervix, makes you feel like you'd say anything else he wanted to hear to get him to keep fucking you like that

sometimes he just can't keep his hands off you, so he'll pull you away to the secluded part of the beach, and make you ride him

oh you love riding him. you like feeling the slight shift in dominance that occurs when you get on top. you love pushing his chest down, letting his back connect to the sand, tons of little grains getting lost in his hair when you keep him down like that, fucking him the way you like, using his fat cock like your personal toy. 

you don’t care about how sensitive he is, you make him take your tight cunt, he's the one that wanted this, so it's only fair he finishes what he started after all.

it's your turn to only get more turned on when you see his pretty brown eyes line with tears when you're fucking him through his second orgasm back to back.

you're insatiable when you're like this, drunk on his cock, and drunk on the power trip of being in control. you’re unable to stop your hips from rocking down onto his, guiding his fingers to your needy clit.

you lower yourself down to his chest, kissing his freckled shoulders, teeth grazing over his collarbones when he's whimpering in your hair, feeling too much everywhere but he doesn't tell you to stop, he takes everything you give him

loves pulling you into his chest when you've ticked him off, he keeps your back to his front, he spreads your legs and keeps them open with his ankle hooking around your's.

his strong bicep, that you love, keeps you in a loose chokehold, his free hand teasing your soaked cunt, bringing you to the edge of release just to rip it away from you. he loves kissing your sunkissed skin, feeling the warmth from being in the sun all day while he whispers for you to, shut the fuck up and behave.

his fingers circle around your clit, switching between that and burying his thick digits in your aching hole, scoffing when you sigh and whimper in relief when he pushes his middle finger in

doesn't let you finish despite your pleas and cries

he's so mean when he's mad at you. :(

he takes your bikini bottoms, pocketing them away and tossing you his flannel if you're gonna complain that much about being bare even though you're practically naked 99% of the time.

you immediately go home, throw his flannel over a pillow and hump it, trying your best to focus on the scent that wafts from his flannel, and lingers on your skin, pretending the friction you felt was from his fingers

you love getting back at joel, like when you're sitting at the tiki bar, and he's trying his best to converse with your friends

you'll snake yourself in his arms, hopping onto his lap while he sits in the barstool, accidentally letting your wet bikini bottoms soak his drying swim trunks

you also unintentionally squirm around in his lap, 'not realizing' you're grinding your ass right on his hardening cock, looking up at him in faux concern when he starts stuttering and stammering mid-convo

he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your warm skin, silently warning you

you don't heed his warnings, naturally, and instead hop off his lap, announcing to the group that you've decided to go for another session in the water, leaving him to awkwardly swivel his barstool away as to not flash his aching erection beneath his swim trunks to all your friends.

of course joel always gets the last word, he's pulling you away from the water, tugging you along with him by the rocks near the shore the furthest from everyone

little girl is gonna learn today, he mutters to himself, and you have to hide your squeals of excitement, knowing he's gonna fuck you stupid

and that he does, he makes you work for your orgasm, and that’s only if he feels nice enough in the moment 

he has you on your knees in front of him while he leans his back against the sturdy surface of a large rock, his hand resting behind your head while he grunts for you to take every inch of him down your throat 

s’what girls like you are good for, i’nt that right baby? 

your cunt flutters at his words, he always makes you tingly from just speaking 

when he’s about to cum he can never decide which is better, seeing your pretty face covered in his seed or watching you swallow it down without a single flinch 

before you, joel hadn’t done anything like this in like, 20+ years, so when you think you’re done, you’re not. 

his cock stays hard sometimes, and he’s more than willing to use you over and over until he’s satisfied, not that you complain, you’re always so pliable and compliant for him. 

he sits you up, pulls you into his lap and makes you put it in, loves watching his fat cock disappear into your greedy cunt, sucking him in and wrapping around him like a tight glove. 

holds your hips down and keeps you in place while he fucks up in to you, tugs your bikini top down and sucks on your chest, tongue messily dragging all along your salty skin, teasing your sensitive nipples with his teeth 

sometimes he’ll play nice, he’ll rub your sweet little clit, cooing and kissing at your neck and cheek when you collapse in his chest, rutting on his cock while he fucks you through your all consuming orgasm. 

buries his face in your neck to breathe in your scent when he’s close, whispers to you if you’ll let him cum inside, and you always say yes 

grunts a few utterances of your name when he cums in you, he slowly fucks his cum inside you, the wet sound from your grinding bodies turns him on more than he can even describe, addicted to how it feels and how it sounds 

loves to slowly pull out, and watch his cum leak from your hole, loves knowing he’s the first and only one, who gets to do that to you. 

and when he’s at your small place, with ellie being at a girl her age’s place for the night, he unwinds in your bed with you, passing a blunt back and forth

you give him sips from whatever fruity alcoholic drink you’ve concocted that night, giggling mid kiss when you taste the mixture of a mango pineapple drink and weed on his tongue 

and he always gets the munchies on nights like this, but not for food

loves devouring your pussy when he’s high, he’ll make his way on top of you, eyes ablaze, mouth parted with low breaths, eyeing you down like you’re his prey 

you try to tease him by closing your legs, but that’s fine, he can work with that

he grabs your ankles, taking them in one big hand, pulling you down towards him before he lifts your legs up by your ankles, smirking to himself when he pushes your panties to the side and dives in tongue first 

he can eat you out for hours, he’s just so hungry, and he can’t get enough of you

and when you’re shaking, trembling, struggling to breathe, he loves watching the violent jerk your body makes when he pushes his cock inside your messy and soaked hole, loves holding you down while you shake beneath him from your burning orgasms you just had back to back 

fucks you nice and slow, wants you to feel every single inch, and every single vein inside of you, wants you to know who’s fucking you this good

and when he can’t hold off on leaving california any longer, he tries to convince you to come with him. and in the time that the pair has stayed in california, ellie has grown to like you, and naturally joins him in his pleas, begging you to come along with them. 

and as much as you want to go along with them, you can't get yourself to leave. california’s your home, and it could be their’s too, you try to tell them, but you both know where the other belongs. 

when he leaves, he kisses you hard enough that you pray it bruises into your lips for the rest of your life. 

you make him promise to try and come by at least every summer, and with a wide smile, he says he can do that. 

[redhairedwolfwitch]

In Sickness - Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

A/n: this fic is covid heavy and based on my personal experiences, so there is content involving covid, hospitals, detiled medical stuff, anxiety (because i felt a lot of it on that lovely day where i was in a&e for nearly two days...) so read at your own risk because i probably overshared. take care of yourselves. @grapefruit-personified enjoy:) especially because i wrote this months ago and part 2 is mainly written, i just lost motivation to finish anything.

do not repost this anywhere, i only post on this tumblr so unless it's a reblog, it was stolen.

///

You could remember the day you met her. You had just moved to Spain, knowing zero Spanish made you shy and you were struggling with school, not understanding much. She spotted you sitting on the grass, tying together daisies into chains one lunch time, eventually she went over to join you instead of playing her usual lunchtime football.

The on hold music finally stopped as the clinician returned to the phone, advising you to get to the closest A&E department within the hour, after asking you if you had some way to get there.

Checking the time on your phone, you grimaced at the 12% and decreasing battery before admitting you had no way to get to A&E, resulting in advice for an ambulance, but a taxi would be quicker.

Your teammates were already at training, so none of them would be answering their phones, and your partner, she was where you left her. Barcelona.

Her last message to you was a good morning one, a message you had mirrored before the stabbing pain in your ribs had gotten worse.

You’d been able to withstand the pain yesterday, but it was stabbing more and more, getting more intense and making it hard for you to do anything. Now you were masked up in the back of a taxi, your breathing laboured as you waited for the Manchester hospital you’d been given the address to to come into view.

Leila frowned as she looked around the Manchester City training ground, wondering where you were and if you were stuck in traffic or something.

It was ‘or something’. Sitting in the emergency department, it took over an hour for you to be moved from A&E to the major emergency department, but your blood pressure and heart rate were high enough that they did an ECG. The nausea from before had stopped, but the hot and cold flashes hadn’t.

Your phone was on 8% as you checked the notifications, having no internet connection meant you didn’t have many, but Leila had texted along with the staff asking where you were.

You were barely able to send a pin of your location to Leila before the 5% battery warning lit up your phone, but you were cut off as a healthcare worker approached, wheeling over the machine to check your vitals.

Vitals that were circling the toilet, especially after a sweet old woman had spotted you swaying in your half asleep state in the waiting room chair, helping you move to a recliner that enabled you to lean back safely.

The back and forth to and from the waiting room was draining, after emerging again to return to the waiting room with a cannula in your arm.

They’d taken blood to grow some blood cultures, apparently to see if it was bacterial or viral, before leaving you in the waiting room again, attaching a small bag of fluids to the cannula to hydrate you after taking more blood to check on your general functioning. It was the nasal swab that gave them all the information they needed though.

Your COVID test was positive, but that wasn’t the only concerning factor to your vitals. They were too high, even for an individual fighting a virus. They offered you paracetamol to try to bring your temperature down, but your blood pressure had dropped slightly, your heart was still racing and your d-dimer was slightly higher than normal. 

You couldn’t fight back the tears after that, the waterfalls hidden behind your mask as they discussed keeping you in observation even longer, asking about if you had a family history of blood clots in lungs or legs.

At this point you’d only had a couple of small packets of random biscuits to eat, eventually heading into the waiting room that you had been isolated from to protect other patients, to quickly grab a packet of crisps and some more water, but it was all too much.

You didn’t know Leila had gotten your location update once in the changing room after training, and when she got no response, she began to ask questions.

The club staff had no answers after discovering your emergency contact you had written down for the club knew nothing, and the hospital told Leila nothing after being given a name she hadn’t heard of for your emergency contact.

So Leila contacted someone who would know. Your partner. Even in Barcelona, Aitana would know who your hospital emergency contact was, Aitana knew everything about you, except that you were in hospital.

It was getting closer to dinner time, you had nothing with you but your wallet, nearly dead phone and your zip up hoodie that was one of Aitana’s old Barcelona ones. Your legs and bum were going numb under the crappy waiting room chair you’d been moved to, your vitals still far too high for anyone to be comfortable sending you home.

They’d talked about giving you a blood thinning medication but a change in doctor later had you recalling all of your family health history instead. This doctor said it was sounding unlikely that you had a blood clot in your lungs, but they still sent you for a chest x-ray.

Aitana hadn’t heard from you all day. The panic inside her kept restrained by the knowledge you were probably training and having fun with your team.

Until Leila called, asking about a family member who had been out of your life for years now. A family member who was apparently still your emergency contact in NHS systems. It didn’t take long for Aitana to read through what Leila had sent, realising immediately you were in hospital and nobody had heard from you since.

It was closer to 8pm when they gave you the blood thinning injection in your stomach, keeping you hydrated with more water and trying to control your fever with more paracetamol.

You had all of the notices on the walls of the hospital waiting rooms memorised at this point, but the ‘one visitor per patient’ in the hospital policy was useless when you had come to the hospital alone.

Your arms were freezing cold, but you couldn’t get your sleeve on over the cannula without almost crying in pain, so you wrapped the shoulders of the hoodie around your shoulders and hoped your hands wouldn’t feel so cold so much longer.

The next flight to Manchester from Barcelona would arrive at Manchester airport past 11pm, but Aitana had made it to the airport in time for it, especially after asking her teammates for help.

They didn’t move you far, but once you had curled up across the two waiting room chairs, you were moved into an isolated room with a small view through the door of the nurse’s station outside.

The walls were bare minus plug sockets for machinery, a table near the recliner you were able to set up for the night, a sink in the corner and a bin for clinical waste in the other. It was past 10pm when a healthcare worker came in, attaching a bag of fluids to the cannula in your arm and leaving you alone in the dark.

Exhaustion washed over you but the cold feeling of the fluids being administered into your arm kept you half awake. Your phone is barely holding on with its 5% battery but the message Aitana sent when it was closer to midnight gave you hope.

She had rented a car from Manchester airport, getting her spare key from Leila to sort of your home for the night. A home that she had helped you pick out when it was clear Barcelona’s A team had no room for you, and you had outgrown Barcelona Team B.

One glance around your Manchester home was all it took for her to calm her anxieties. You weren’t there. Your bed was a mess, bedding all but tossed on the floor as she moved to pick up the bedding, finding some pyjamas for your return.

You were going to be okay.

She convinced herself of such as she checked your fridge, rolling her eyes at the nearing emptiness of your fridge and cupboards. She’d have to figure out how to do an online food shop.

It was closer to midnight when the first big bag of fluids was finished, sticking your head out of the door to have the tubing removed from the cannula, you headed towards the toilet for what was one of many trips there during the night.

You’d stopped looking at your phone hours ago, but getting a glance at the time after each toilet trip, it was nearly 2am when the next bag of fluids was administered, once again leaving you laying on the recliner in the dark, listening to every beeping alarm and footsteps passing by.

You probably should have called Aitana and told her what was going on, but every time you got an update, it was from a different healthcare professional and they kept changing their minds. For example, the blood thinning injection had been talked about hours before it was eventually given. You had managed to send out a short text though. 

You were COVID positive.

It was after 4am that you finished the next round of fluids, two bags that looked like they were cloudier, perhaps full of nutrients but the writing on the bags were small and you were more interested in going to the toilet again after flagging down someone to detach the tubing from the cannula again.

Your temperature and heart rate were fluctuating throughout the night, going from 39 point something degrees celsius to an apparent normal of 37 degrees, before rising again to 38.1 degrees celsius.

Waiting until 8am, another doctor came in, explaining the goal to get you a CT scan of your chest early this morning to check for blood clots, and if there were none, they planned to discharge you to ride out the COVID at home. It was only then that you were able to request something to eat, since your last meal yesterday was a three pack of digestive biscuits.

One bowl of cornflakes and milk later, you were offered more paracetamol and left to wait until it was time for your CT scan.

Your arms were freezing despite attempts to keep warm under the one blanket you were given, plus a smaller blanket to act as a pillow for your head.

They didn’t want to increase your temperature by giving you another, so you worked with your hoodie, the softness of the fabric working to keep you calm as you waited, and waited.

Aitana hadn’t been able to sleep much. The worry of you still being in hospital consuming her, so she stayed up, using a multi-surface cleaner to wipe down the surfaces in your place, gather your medical supplies in case you needed them to fight off the COVID virus.

You didn’t hear from anyone until noon, but the CT scanner was ready for you, and after a quick check that you were okay to walk, you followed the healthcare worker to the CT scanner room, a different location entirely to where the emergency x-ray rooms were located.

They checked you weren’t allergic to the contrast dye they would administer via the cannula, before warning you of the warm feeling that often overtakes your body once administered, and how it would feel like you had wet yourself, even though you would not have actually wet yourself.

Your arms ached as you held them above your head for the chest CT, slamming your eyes shut at the horrid feeling of the scanner moving, you remained still as you were informed what was happening, and when they were administering the CT contrast dye.

The warm feeling was too hot to feel like you had actually wet yourself, but it was a horrid feeling that didn’t help the nausea at the CT scanner moving to get the required imagery of your chest. You just wanted to go home, but it would be a lot worse if you did in fact have blood clots on your lungs.

Walking back to your isolation room, you were playing a waiting game as you managed to send another text to Aitana, updating her that you had had the CT scan. 

It was getting towards 1pm when the vitals machine was wheeled into your room, checking your temperature (38.1 degrees celsius), your heart rate which had decreased from 140 beats per minute to 128 beats per minute.

Your oxygen levels had maintained high throughout but when it came to the healthcare worker checking your pulse, your wrists were still freezing to the touch.

There were no signs of your CT scan results, but the healthcare worker had been kind enough to ask if anyone had spoken to you about food, something you had not had since being brought the cornflakes hours ago.

The result of the conversation turned into a sandwich, some more water, and a yoghurt as you continued to play the waiting game for your scan results and whether you did or did not have blood clots in or on your lungs.

It was nearing 2pm when the doctor from this morning entered your room again, but the key piece of information you needed was given. Your CT scan was clear, you could be discharged and have your cannula removed. You could go home and ride out the COVID in your own bed.

Your phone was somehow holding on as you texted Aitana that your scan was clear so you could go home if she or someone else could pick you up from the main reception carpark, your phone sending the message and getting a thumbs up response before finally the battery dropped to 0%.

Sticking your head out of the door, the mask you had been wearing since yesterday felt damp and close to your face, but you did not remove it yet. Waiting for a nurse to come remove the cannula in your arm, you went for your final toilet break before the final hospital waiting game.

It was warm outside, and despite the clouds in the sky making it seem greyer than that one moment where you saw out a window when waiting for the CT scan, it was sunny too. Your phone was long dead, but you were alive.

Holding your hoodie in your arms, your phone and wallet in your pockets as you made the trek across the main reception disabled car park, lingering near the out of use bus stop that gave you a perfect vantage point of the entrance into the hospital from the main road.

You weren’t entirely sure who you were looking for, who would be your saviour and get you home until a car you didn’t recognise pulled up in front of you. The window going down to reveal a pair of eyes you had not seen in person since the two of you were in Italy together during the winter break.

“Mi dulce flor!” you exclaimed, shock in your tone but your throat felt like you were swallowing knives, barely getting into the passenger seat before you were almost hacking up your lungs into your mask.

“Cálmate, estoy aquí mi amor.” Aitana cooed, her hand lingering on your back as you coughed, eventually settling enough to put your seatbelt on so Aitana could drive you home.

“Are you hungry?” Aitana paused, going over the English in her head as she watched you walk over to your couch, appearing with several blankets before digging through your living room cabinets for something.

“Bebé?” Aitana broke the silence as you froze before letting out a hoarse cheer of victory.

“Found it!” Revealing the old box set that left Aitana smiling softly, watching as you went to play the series from the beginning, then disappearing to your room.

It was getting dark when Aitana realised your phone was charged, allowing you to finally message your teammates and staff at Manchester City with an update of what had happened. But it also gave Aitana a chance to message her teammates and the staff at Barcelona, sending a photo of you wrapped in blankets, half asleep as you watched the TV.

It was Alexia, Patri and Laia that messaged back first, Alexia having helped Aitana get to the airport the night before whilst Patri and Laia had held down the fort when Aitana had to leave.

“What happens when you miss training? You have the game against Atleti… and the game against Chelsea-”

“Shush, mi amor. You were alone in the hospital for more than a day, I am not leaving you again.” Aitana replied, passing you your drink as you began to cough.

“They worried you had, what did you call it? Blood clots on your lungs! Era serio!” Aitana exclaimed before quietening her voice as you grimaced at the loudness.

“Lo siento.”

“It is not your fault. The virus…” Aitana fell quiet, brushing away a tear as you reached for her hand, holding it gently, “I thought I would lose you, mi dulce flor. I cannot lose you.” Aitana admitted, feeling your fingers draw patterns in the back of her hand. Your eyes were glassy with exhaustion but the love for Aitana in them was undeniable. 

She wouldn’t admit it, but Aitana listened to your breathing for most of that night. It was heavier, but you kept breathing which was a relief to her. The windows were opened enough to air out the room from germs, your fear of giving Aitana the dreaded virus which was wreaking havoc on your body and mind overwhelming you.

You didn’t want to get out of bed, the way your body ached was not helping you but Aitana needed your help for an online order of food. You were running a fever that was kept at bay by paracetamol, tapping away on the touch screen to add things to the order, much to Aitana’s amusement at how quickly you were doing it.

She found you on the couch later, curled up under your blankets and clad in your dressing gown over your pyjamas. You were breathing heavily but you remained in deep slumber, the tv stuck replaying the menu music over and over as you’d gotten to the end of the disc. 

Feeling your forehead to check your temperature, Aitana froze as it sounded like you whimpered in your sleep, eyes cracking open as you smacked together your dried lips. “Your hands are cold.”

Aitana rolled her eyes playfully before disappearing for a moment, dropping something in your lap as she returned.

“Lip balm? Gracias mi dulce flor.” Your voice was laced with sarcasm but Aitana ignored it in favour of heading to your kitchen to make something that didn’t irritate your mouth.

You hadn’t admitted it at first, but you had been trying to hide the grimace at the toast you had this morning, the rough texture hurting the hard palate of your mouth.

Staring up at the ceiling of your living room, your eyes fluttered shut as memories flickered in your mind. The first time you met Aitana, the flower crowns the two of you would make together, and the dynamic duo the two of you became on the football pitch, despite the boys picking on Aitana for her height, and you for existing.

Aitana was 13 when she joined Barcelona’s youth team, whilst you took longer to join, the two hour rides by public transport to get to practice were not in your favour until you were travelling with Aitana and her father.

The two of you were moved up to Barcelona B close together, but when Aitana was 17, she was promoted by the manager to the first team, whilst you remained with Barcelona B. It didn’t take long for you to figure out why.

You had the talent, but Barcelona were full of talented players, they had no room for you. No matter how well you and Aitana played together, you would not get to play with Barcelona’s first team.

It broke your and Aitana’s heart to leave, but Manchester City gave you an offer that was better than any other club in Spain. Manchester City were not Barcelona, but you flourished there. You flourished into a player that Barcelona kept an eye on, until your contract with City began to run out in the summer and the talks to renew were at a stalemate.

And now you have covid. A virus that you’d seen and heard of other players getting back during the height of the pandemic, but none were so affected as you were now. None had to be hospitalised despite being clinically healthy. They bounced back, but despite Aitana’s remarks that you would be back stronger, you doubted it.

The exhaustion hadn’t left you alone, even days later. Your temperature was kept at bay by paracetamol, your coughing grew worse before it was better, your gums so sore that eating crunchy foods still hurt, and you felt like you had cotton wool in your ears and wrapped around your brain.

Even after you were testing negative, your energy levels remained low but Aitana had to leave for London for the match against Chelsea before returning with the team to Barcelona.

She had tested negative throughout somehow, and it broke her heart to leave you, but it wasn’t long until the end of the season and the two of you would be reunited again.

The match against Chelsea ended on good terms for Barcelona, with a 1-0 advantage in the first leg thanks to Caro, and whilst you watched Aitana struggle to get on the ball in the first half, the second half enabled your partner to have more of the ball, despite the lack of goals.

You weren’t the only player who wasn’t on the Manchester City squad list for the match against West Ham the day after though.

Sandy and Laia were both out with injuries, and you were still weak and recovering from the virus that rampaged your body and mind. You sat with the two of them as you observed the game against West Ham, City winning 6-2 against the Hammers.

Your cough didn’t fully leave you alone, but that wasn’t the only issue. Your joints hated you enough that your knee joints felt like cement, your ears felt like they had cotton wool stuffed in them, and because of this, you were more wobbly on your feet than you had ever been before.

Manchester City had ruled you out for the rest of the season too quickly for you to feel comfortable, but it wasn’t what was bothering you. The talks that were previously at a stalemate had fallen through. Manchester City had decided not to renew your contract, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

“City don’t want me anymore. They took me in when Barcelona had no place for me, but now… I feel like a broken toy cast away when I’m no use anymore.” You left a voicemail for Aitana, she was busy training for the next leg of the semifinals against Chelsea.

Your hands tingle as you begin to type up what you had to, what you needed to say, to get control over something in your life.

Although some people may be excited by the prospect of a player who originated from Barcelona’s youth teams being a free agent who could come home, you knew the reality was much worse.

City were still at least trying to help you with your recovery but your hopes of returning to your pre-covid state were fading, especially after they ruled you out for the remainder of the season.

‘It’s a bitter feeling. Realising that the last game I played would be my final game at Manchester City. A club that took me in when I was lost, you have taught me so much and I will always be grateful. Thank you for changing my life, but my part at Manchester City is over. I won’t forget any of it.’

It was an early goodbye, City still had four matches left, two at home and two away. You would get to attend the home matches in the crowds, but you wouldn’t get to step on the pitch in City colours again.

Your lungs were fine according to the staff at City, your cough coming and going but it was your joint and fatigue issues that were the problem.

Your energy levels came and went, and even though they had had you training alongside your teammates some days, you would be wiped out after.

You had even fallen asleep in the dressing room at one point, using a hoodie that Aitana had worn whilst she stayed with you as a makeshift pillow. Leila was the one who found you,  but it was Steph that convinced you to let her drive you home, your body too sore to walk this time.

Steph remained silent as you sat in her passenger seat, tears falling down your face as you sobbed, venting your feelings of everything.

How your illness had wrecked your body and mind, how much you missed the old you, how much you missed playing and how much it hurt to leave Manchester City at the end of the season.

How afraid you were for what was to come, and how far away you felt from your partner, the love of your life you’d known since you were both children.

Steph, who knew what it was like to be away from a team due to injury, then dropped from the squad, but instead of her club, it was her national team.

You hadn’t even thought about the World Cup, but you knew deep down you would not be called up. You could barely stay standing after training, you would not be able to play a full ninety minutes in your current state at all.

“Do you know where you’ll go in the transfer window? Will you go back to Spain?”

“My love is in Spain, and I have nothing here outside of Manchester City. I’m lucky that City helped me with my coaching qualification before I got sick. I hoped that I wouldn’t need it immediately, but I’ll be a free agent in the transfer window, and I don’t know if anyone wants a player recovering from covid. Everyone else bounced back from it so quickly, but the simplest of things hurt me now. Please, I just want to go home and sleep.” You vented, swiping at your eyes to get rid of the tears, but Steph frowned at the last sentence you said.

“Don’t shut yourself away from us, little one. You may be leaving the club but you’re not leaving our hearts or our thoughts. So please don’t shut yourself away.” Steph begged, hoping you would make some sort of promise, but you didn’t.

It was a promise you could not keep.

/// translations hopefully ///

mi dulce flor - my sweet flower

Cálmate, estoy aquí mi amor - calm down, i'm here my love

Bebé - baby

lo siento - i'm sorry

gracias - thank you

[thequiver]

Who is....James Proudstar | Warpath? - A Reading Guide

James "Jimmy" Proudstar, is an X-Men affiliated character from Marvel Comics first introduced in 1984. Jimmy is a member of the Yavapai-Apache Nation, and was born in Camp Verde, Arizona. Jimmy grew up idolizing his older brother, John, who would die while on a mission with the X-Men, prompting Jimmy's own path into the world of mutant infighting. Jimmy's story includes topics around the mistreatment of indigenous people (including the medical experimentation that they've suffered), as well as dealing heavily with themes of grief and healing. However, given the nature of American comic books and the lack of diversity among writers, the comics do not always do a good job addressing themes and plots specifically related to Jimmy being Apache.

Many earlier comics do not accurately depict Jimmy's skin-tone or culture, so while in the graphic above I have adjusted some coloring, please be advised that in an unfortunately large number of the following issues...he will look white.

Reading list is under the cut!

From Hellions to X-Force

Jimmy's first appearances are with the Hellions, a villainous group of mutants under the direction of Emma Frost. Jimmy joined their ranks following the death of his brother, John, when he was determined to get revenge on the X-Men- he soon found that he didn't fit in with the Hellions and returned home. Cable approached him about joining the New Mutants but he declined until he discovered that the Hellfire Club (of which Emma was part) had murdered his entire tribe. Now fueled by a desire for revenge against Emma Frost, Jimmy agreed to join the New Mutants right before they turned into X-Force.

New Mutants (1983)#16-17 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #193 Firestar (1986) #2-3 New Mutants (1983) #39, 43, 53-54, 56, 62, 99-100, Annual 7A New Warriors (1992) #Annual 1A Uncanny X-Men (1981) #Annual 15A X-Factor (1986) # Annual 6A X-Force (1991) #1-3 Spider-Man (1990) #16 X-Force (1991) #4-5, Annual 1C Warheads (1992) #4-5 X-Force (1991) #6-7A, 9A-15 X-Cutioner's Song X-Men (1991) #17 New Warriors (1990) #31 X-Force (1991) #19, 21-26, Annual 2, 27-33 New Warriors (1990) #46 X-Force (1991) #34-38 Blaze (1994) #4-5 X-Force (1991) #39-41, 43 Cable (1993) #21 X-Force (1991) #44-53, 55-58 X-Force and Cable '96 (1996) #1A X-Force (1991) #59-61, 63-64 X-Force and Cable '97 (1997) #1 X-Force (1991) #65-66, -1, 68-71 Deadpool (1997) #12 X-Force (1991) #72-93, Annual 1999, 94-98 Cable (1993) #73-75 X-Force (1991) #99-117

X-Corporation

After the dissolution of X-Force, Jimmy would join the international mutant taskforce, X-Corporation.... it didn't last very long....

New X-Men (2001) #133 X-Force (2004) #2-3

X-Men

Jimmy keeps his powers after M-Day and returns to the Xavier Institute where he ends up "joining the X-Men". (It's complicated).

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #475-476, 478-479, 481-482, 484-491

X-Force: Take 2 (Now with Wolverine)

A new X-Force was formed, led by Wolverine (Logan) to do the more....extreme tasks the normal X-Men won't.

Uncanny X-Men (1981) #493 X-Factor (2006) #26 New X-Men (2004) #45 X-Men (1991) #206 X-Factor (2006) #27 (mostly here as set up for the next issue) New X-Men (2004) #46 X-Men (1991) #207 Uncanny X-Men (1981) #498-499 X-Force (2008) #1-6 X-Force: Ain't No Dog (2008) #1B Cable (2008) #6-7, 9-10 X-Force (2008) #7-11 X-Men: Legacy (2008) # Annual 1A, 230A X-Force (2008) #12-13 X-Force/Cable: Messiah War (2009) #1 Cable (2008) #13 X-Force (2008) #14 Cable (2008) #14 X-Force (2008) #15 Cable (2008) #15 X-Force (2008) #16-18, 20

Necrosha, etc.

After the events of Messiah War, Jimmy became embroiled in Necrosha (reanimated mutants were being controlled by Selene and the T-O virus). After fixing that scenario, Jimmy quit X-Force, stayed in Utopia after the schism, and would join the X-Men in a war against the Avengers. (This era technically includes Age of X, but Jimmy doesn't really...do much there so I didn't include those appearances).

X-Necrosha (2009) #1A,C X-Force (2008) #21, Annual 1A, 22A-25 Nation X (2010) #4C X-Men: Schism (2011) #5 (Jimmy's only in like 3 panels but they're important) X-Men: Legacy (2008) #260 X-Men (2010) #20-29

Weapon X

After all...that. Jimmy was captured by the restarted Weapon X Program, after being rescued the team Jimmy was on started by renaming themselves "Weapon X" as a way to reclaim the program that had hurt them. During this time, Jimmy started dating Domino...which was certainly a choice on the writer's part....

Weapon X (2017) #2, 4 Weapons of Mutant Destruction: Alpha (2017) #1 Totally Awesome Hulk (2016) #20 Weapon X (2017) #5 Totally Awesome Hulk (2016) #21 Weapon X (2017) #6 Totally Awesome Hulk (2016) #22 Phoenix Resurrection: The Return of Jean Grey (2017) #1-5 Weapon X (2017) #7-21 Astonishing X-Men (2017) #13A-17 Extermination (2018) #3-5 X-Force (2018) #1A-5, 7-10

Krakoa and Fall of X

Like many mutants, Jimmy moved to the mutant nation of Krakoa. While on Krakoa he joined the New Mutants, and would have a chance to reconnect with his beloved brother, John.

New Mutants (2019) #14-15, 18-24 Giant Size X-Men: Thunderbird (2022) #1 New Mutants (2019) #29 New Mutants: Lethal Legion (2023) #1 X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic (2021) #121-123, 138-142

[nokonomi]

CreepyPasta OC Dump! Maddie (Or Mads, Madison)

CreepyPasta OC DUMP

So this is my new OC, Maddie! (Mads, Madison) and she is my CrP self-insert (for X-Virus) and CrP OC! She is 25 years old and is an only-child of her “loving” family.

25 for 29 year old version of X-Virus

and 19 for 17 year old version of X-Virus?

Ethnicity: Khmer-American

Nationality: American

Languages: Khmer, American 🇺🇸 🇰🇭

Parents: Sothea Danielle, Loeung Moy

(Yes I am Khmer myself)

__________ Lore: So basically, she comes from a very strict Asian household where she grew up to be taught different things; which is how she ended up like a serial killer basically.

Growing up, she was homeschooled her entire life by her parents, taught her own language and how to speak it and write it. So she didn’t necessarily learn any “school” stuff. When she came to elementary school for the first time, she was very mature and well-behaved, which made her be praised by multiple teachers, but some of the students were jealous, so they started picking on her and even started being r@c1$t to her and her culture.

This caused for concern because her mental health was poorly declining at a young age, that’s when her parents decided to take her to a hospital. The doctors later diagnosed her with ADHD and Schizophrenia.

Growing up, she had to take kid-friendly medicine in order to prescribe this. But her parents urged to buy more “adult” medicines. So they bought “illegal” drugs for her to use and basically dr**ged her. They also abused her and gave her trauma at some point. when her father hit her in the head, it caused some part of her skull to break, which they took her to the hospital and excused it as a major accident that occurred at the park.

The doctors had to rush her to surgery, and of course, the surgery went well. But it caused 30% of her knowledge to go wrong. So basically she is kind of dumb now, and that urged her parents to try and “fix” her, so they took her to a therapists. The therapists says that she clearly stated….

“My delusions….I think I’m going delusional right now, because I am seeing things. I’m seeing something otherworldly that I’m not supposed to.”

The therapists prescribed her a medicine she needed to take. At 15 she went to Highschool in her junior years, and her mental health had decreased even more because of the frequent bullying and teasing of her.

Some people called her “Mads” in replacement of her name “Madison or Maddie” and they all started calling her Mads or the Mad Hatter. Until one day she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had brought a gun to school, teachers unaware of the dangerous she had in her backpack. She pulled it out in the hallways and everybody scream and ran into different directions. Shots were fired as blood splattered on the floor, people screaming in pain and fear, WHILST SHE WAS SMILING AND LAUGHING AT ALL THE PENT-UP PAIN.

Something had told her to keep going and do it, she had voices inside her head now, and “that she had to take revenge on society.”

Police had been called and multiple shots were fired while she was standing there. She had been shot in the leg, which caused her to slip and fall…The next thing she knew she was in jail, being questioned. Although one answer had alarmed the cops.

“The voices inside my head called to me. To help me take revenge on society for calling me these horrible names. I killed them. I had a reason. They were the ones RESPONSIBLE.”

Her parents was taken there as well for questioning. Until when suddenly, Maddie has jumped from her jail cell and stabbed her parents 10 times in all areas, their neck, their face. Maddie was truly a psycho.

They didn’t survive and ended up dying from the injuries they received. But bro decided, “hey, why not just set the place on fire?”

So she set the entire jail center on fire. All the while smiling and laughing entirely. She was a psycho after all. Maybe the kids were right. Mads would be her new name after all.

Also went to kill some random people because she thought all of society was at fault for her corruption. When she escaped into the woods, she found herself, standing infront of a tall, 10ft creature. At first she was scared, but she didn’t seem so scared after the creature invited her. Invited her to join him.

And she happily accepted. The end. Ended up having a best friend relationship with Toby and X-Virus (I love that duo, hello? Why not make it a trio?)

(SELF-INSERT FOR X-VIRUS LETS GO)

please help her she is really needing some AAAAAAAAAA

[curedigiqueen]

Why I think Appmon is the Best Digimon to Start With

Digimon Universe: Applimonsters, better known as Appmon, is the forgotten digimon series, because it quite frankly barely counts as a digimon series. In fact digimon only appear in one episode. And that is exactly why it is the perfect season to start with when getting into Digimon.

Appmon is just a show I'd recommend on its own, even if it wasn't a digimon show. It's got a lot going for it. It's character's are fun, both larger than life and compelling. The characters start immature and flawed, before growing into themselves. Their character dynamics are honestly also unique and fascinating. The plot is well constructed with regular progression, ample foreshadowing and well-earned twists. It's one of the best shows in the franchise.

A lot of the best things about Appmon, are the reoccurring elements that I love about digimon to begin with. The human/monster relationships where the monster evolutions reflecting human growth, themes about humanities future and cross-cultural interactions, strong sibling relationships, and normal kids growing into heroes. Appmon is very much everything I love about Digimon, and thus showcases some of the best the franchise has to offer. But without, the baggage of being a digimon season.

Digimon can be intensely metatextual. While individual digimon stories may be complete unto themselves, its very common for digimon stories to make reference to other lore and themes. Glossing over them for the older fans. Things like Yggdrasil, Royal Knights, Jogress, File Island, Homeostasis as they appear. They are explained when relevant, sure, and often are excluded more than included but any given entry (Cyber Sleuth for example) may throw a whole heck of a lot of them at you without a whole lot of elaboration on the idea. Appmon almost completely strips out the metatext. It strips out the recognizable monsters and by extension, the virtual pet elements (thus the two baby levels and eggs), the character archetype shorthand's, and general digimon reference book references. No Leomon or Wizarmon variants to wave death flags. No virus, data, vaccine types nor armor or hybrid levels or x-antibodies potentially randomly dropped in without context. Because it's not that context is ever really needed: they'll explain if they are, but there is still the decades long, exceedingly over-complicated metalore cooking in the background of any given digimon series. Instead the Appmon being Apps means that any context on the creatures are rather self evident, their app type. The simple act of living in our modern society provides enough context. There are a lot of references to IRL AI culture, such as all the protagonists being seemingly named after AI, and the Dartmouth Workshop of 1956 being a plot point. Appmon has plenty of references and lore, it's just not overly all about Digimon. It doesn't completely strip out metatextual references to digimon, but it is kept subtle and unobtrusive. Haru has goggles because they make him more protag like, the kids find a phone booth, the kids are called "chosen children" once, and episode 44 does bring in Agumon as a video game but its non intrusive and isn't really used as any sort of shorthand. You can know that goggles that do nothing is a very extra character design element denoting protag status without knowing its a digimon thing. Old fashioned technology and modern kids is always funny. The kids were in fact chosen. And one episode out of 52 being a cute and heartfelt crossover is nothing. In short, Appmon doesn't have any of the baggage that might make a traditional Digimon season difficult to get into.

Which is probably the reason they made Appmon, well Appmon to begin with. Why they decided to start the franchise fresh so to speak to target the child (new) demographic while tri. targeted the older demographic. Appmon's come and gone, and they've abandoned that strategy, so newer entries of digimon still try to capture a new demographic while building on the old, so Appmon still remains as most stand alone entry of the anime.

But it is still very digimon in the ways that matter, meaning that if you DO like Appmon, you're very likely going to find at least one other season worth looking into. Logistically the season is a lot like Hunters and Ghost Game, with how evolution and the digital field works, the characters vaguely (with heavy emphasis on vaugely) resemble the Tamer's cast, the way the human digimon relationship's function resembles Savers imo. It's themes of humanities future and chosen one narratives are very Adventure. In other words it feels like a digimon season, because it works a lot like what came before it. Really, digimon seasons vary a lot. For the most part no two seasons are alike, there are very few things consistent in Digimon. Just a lot of things that reoccur frequently. So in the end, Appmon feels like a Digimon season, because it's just like a Digimon season in every way EXCEPT for the actual monsters.

Appmon is particularly similar in it's themes. Digimon often tackles themes of identity, alternate selves, destiny and responsibility, humanities evolution, humanities relationship with digital technology, and cross cultural exchange. So an entry may dive right into: what happens when you abuse your alternate self, or where does the locust of the self actually lie, glossing over the lighter "what would it be like to have an alternate self". Appmon covers many these themes too but it does so through the fresh lens, of Apps and realisticish (Heavy emphasis on the 'ish') AI, building its case from the ground up rather than falling back on typical digital world backstories. What makes an AI a fully fledged person, what is the point of being alive, how will humanity handle being overtaken by its creation, humanties newfound dependence on various AIs, and how can humans and sufficiently advanced AI coexist without one taking advantage of the other. Many of the same themes Digimon usually covers, but in the more specific context of a war between hyperintelligent super AI. Rarely are digimon significantly more intelligent than a human, but Appmon builds itself around the idea. Being Very Digimon, while also bringing something new to the table.

Appmon may have come out in 2016, but it's themes of AI transcending humanity are perhaps more topical than when it debuted. The original Digimon was on some level born out of the mystique of the new technology that the internet was in the early 2000s. As such, while Digimon generally toes the line between sci-fi and fantasy, it usually incorperates Sci-Fi aesthetics, but fantasy worldbuilding. Appmon's worldbuilding actually is heavily sci-fi, no implications of magic, but the themes and motifs of the story border still on mythological. Something closer to our modern understanding of technology. We know our internet, it's nothing special to us anymore. But we forget to a certain extent the power held by the internet in the modern day. Who is this power meant for? Digimon is in many ways, conceptually, a holdover from a bygone era, even as it seeks to stay modern. But Appmon is unapologetically modern, in a way that feels like it should have aged super fast, but somehow still feels contemporary 8 years later.

The other side of what makes Appmon the best to start isn't just that it's good to start with, it's that the other seasons are worse. To start with that is. I love them to death, and I don't think they are necessarily bad, but if you aren't already interested in what digimon has to offer, it might be a bit harder to sell. With how metatextual digimon can be you might think the first season would be the best place to start. I mean how could it not be. It's the first. Well, not exactly. Adventure is both the best and worst place to start otherwise. It is one of the cornerstones of the franchise, and so much of what comes after calls back to it. Adventure is a subtle story in a lot of ways that leaves a lot of the details to be parsed on rewatches. It's a genuinely passionate piece of art. In fact, the show is so detailed they many of the details didn't even make it in the show, with lore clarified in side materials. Most of these details aren't incredibly important, but they do provide insight into some of the shows otherwise confusing choices. Also, most were never officially translated into english. Also, the shows attention to detail left the show rife with opportunities for translation to be mishandled, leading to additional issues. Not to mention the 90s weren't exactly known for their faithful dubs, and this is true of Adventure too. Though Adventure itself still suffers a lot from metatext even outside of its own lore. Taichi's name and design are reused from the manga. File island, Server Continent, the idea of "raising digimon", the frequent presence of "garbage" digimon, and the disjointed evolution lines, are all borrowed from the general V-Pet lore. And ultimately Adventure is even more complicated by the franchises refusal to let it go. New releases, and cameos in other works are varying degrees of canon incompliant. Sometimes recent releases are insightful to the original work, sometimes they perpetuate misconceptions about the original work. Sometimes both. Sometimes its hard to say one way or another. To be clear, Adventure isn't really that complicated, itself. Very enjoyable even if you don't think too hard on it. But it's barely covering a whole maze of rabbit holes. I do recommend Adventure and 02, and it can ABSOLUTELY work as a first digimon series. But it does leave itself open to a lot of bad takes.

But, a familiarity with Adventure is sort of required to get the full effect of Tamer's, which serves as a sort of deconstruction of Adventure era digimon to a certain extent, or to actually understand Digimon Survive (a visual novel) which is in many ways a more mature retelling of Digimon Adventure. Otherwise Digimon series are either too unique in premise (Frontier and Xros Wars), and/or not very good (Adventure: 2020, Ghost Game) to warrant as a recommendation for a "first" digimon series. In all fairness, all digimon season are a perfectly fair place to start. None of them depend on each other to tell their story. I'd even argue that 02 is an acceptable place to start, if a baffling one. You don't need to know the meta-textual elements to appreciate their stories and characters and worldbuilding. That's how the franchise has survived through its multiple iterations. But when Digimon throws "Armor" level around casually, an artifact of an old storyline, it's kind of hard to argue that on some level digimon doesn't have an overwhelming history.

Savers is my second choice recommendation of a first digimon season. It too has its own metatextual elements of course, they are less overt and Saver's also just does its own thing worldbuilding wise a surprising amount. Otherwise its a solid story that utilizes typical digimon tropes, but doesn't explicitly call back to Adventure in its premise.

Of course there ARE other digimon media. The original Digimon media was the V-pets, which are fun, but have niche appeal. The same applies to the Digimon World games. Speaking of which, Digimon Games are generally not the best way to get into the franchise. They're mostly not very good, and I'd also add that Digimon games are even more heavily marketed to pre-existing digimon fans than the animes are. Digimon Cyber Sleuth is maybe the only exception, but even that very heavily pays homage to Digimon Adventure. Though, some of the manga, like Liberator or V-Tamer might be good places to start too.

There is one big problem though with Appmon as a first series. No English dub. Now, generally speaking the digimon fandom is plagued by bad translations. So many of the dubs generally kinda suck, so I usually recommend subs anyway, but I recognize not everyone can handle subs. There is a french dub, for those who understand French. I don't so I don't even know if its a good dub. If you're a dub only person honestly I recommend Tamers as a first season. It was the first one I finished. Its got a few issues that hold it back as an ideal first show for the uninitiated, but a solid story you don't actually need any context for. Adventure and Saver's dubs have problems imo that keep me from recommending them. (There IS a more supposedly more accurate SE asian dub of the early digimon seasons out there, but its harder to find + I haven't actually watched more than a few clips so I feel I can't exactly speak to its overall quality).

Ultimately, Digimon is the kind of thing where you can jump in anytime, and the kind of thing where there are plenty of fans who would be happy to explain the weird stuff. But you DO have to start somewhere. I just personally suggest Appmon.

Appmon is overall, just a solid children's tv anime on its own, as well as a fantastic example of what a digimon season can be. But without the 20+ years of baggage.

[afreakingdork]

Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 1

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

I'd like to welcome you to my new fic and the cafe Kendra works at with this gorgeous chapter art by @hitokshellart

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Prison Time

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She's content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother's servers, but will she be infected long the way?

ATTEMPTED_EXECUTE_OF_NOEXECUTE_MEMORY is a computer error code that occurs as a result of faulty or outdated device drivers, an issue in the RAM, a virus, a malware infection, or corrupted system memory.

While in canon Kendra, Jeremy, and Jase have no last names, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles staff writer Russ Carney confirmed two times that they are nods to 2012 writers, so I took those same writer's names to give last names to their respective characters.

For the sake of this fic, this makes them:

Kendra Byerly

Jason Ricci

Jeremy Shipp

Also available on Ao3

It was the midday slump.

Consumerism was marked by the quintessential time when one lost their energy and motivation.

For pencil pushers, it was the time of day when their pitiable lunch break’s nutrition wore out and left them husks. It was by design. Their exhaustion made them more manipulatable by their corporate overlords. Every centimeter of the system was designed to keep workers docile. The obvious ploys of bureaucracy and hyper specification of a skyscraper’s worth of workers meant an over bloated building wasn’t under threat of collapse. Peons took pennies and were replaceable at a moment’s notice.

Kendra would have taken special pleasure in giving every one of those pencil necks a swirly.

Unfortunately such childish whims were frowned upon in adult society.

It didn’t matter that their attitudes needed adjustments now more than high school.

No, she could only savor her reality checks in the form of spit hocked into coffee cups.

At least she wasn’t a corporate wage slave, she’d tell herself.   

No, she was free from that.

She traded a scholarship at MIT so she could be trapped behind a counter that barely concealed the perpetually sticky shoes. The scent of coffee beans was baked into every strand of hair so when she turned over in her bed at night she’d catch whiffs of Java. She stood tall through the morning rush with plastic smiles for those desk jockeys and spit into their no-foam latte hypocrisy as if that got her any sort of foothold in this battered world.

She wasn’t bitter.

She was iconoclastic.

She had only become opportunistic because of society’s frown upon her nonconformity.

There was a time limit to how long one could be misunderstood.

When she was a teenager, the world was hers. She’d climbed through the scholastic honors like monkey bars in elementary school. Pre-pubescence couldn’t mar one bit of her squeaky clean grades in middle. By high school, she had built an award-winning tech club from the ground up that was both sanctioned by the school and only existed because of her. She saw further ahead as she always had. She looked onward toward the next obstacle that lay beyond the walls of learning and onto her futures.

Wasn’t that what the guidance counselors wanted?

She moved ahead of the curve. She was the epitome of advanced placement. Her reading level had always surpassed her peers’. She was taking college credit classes as early as her sophomore year with special considerations taken as a freshman. It seemed obvious she’d hit a public educational wall, but what more could she have done with her pak’s single income household? 

There were scholarships, but it would take her away and he needed her.

Until he didn’t.

Until Deborah Ricci appeared.

Until that mentality of ‘at least we have each other’ suddenly became ‘here: finally a sibling your age for you to bond with.’

Only pak conveniently left out the part where it was so he would no longer have to deal with her.

She didn’t rebel because her dad remarried. She busied her time once she had more of it to spare. She was an overachiever. She was success-driven. She was a college admission board’s wet dream. She had been tethered down by her upbringing so when she was freed from it, her creativity unleashed.

After their string of robberies and nearly infiltrating the Nakamura Corporation, the Purple Dragons didn’t get juvie, they got house arrest.

Their misconduct was seen as brilliant even in front of the eyes of the judge. They didn’t need character witnesses, they stood testament to what they had done. They asked how a mere set of teenagers were able to almost achieve such a feat. Nakamura’s CEO himself had set up a video call with both her and her bapak to commend her. An internship would be available in their security division after graduation if she wanted to find more of those same weaknesses in their system.

Escalation in the Purple Dragon’s endeavors after that was seen as natural evolution.

From their homes, eyes were on them.

On her.

They created a video game that captivated the world. The sequel was ordered the same day it was released. So it was created with an underlying purpose of ousting one irritating techno-dud and also happened to deploy a giant robot. Three teenagers with access to only their laptops and a shoddy WiFi connection built not only the 50-story machine, but the unique A.I. that analyzed and replicated player data. Their destruction was a stepping stone. They played their parts under her tutelage.

For his code, Jeremy got a full ride to Caltech the same day he was sentenced.

His records were sealed before he served a single day.

For the mech, Stanford’s recruiter made a home visit.

For Jase.

Kendra had tried to step in.

She fixed the bugs.

Not just in the robot’s design, but in Jeremy’s code.

The entire idea was hers and it showed how well she acted in a leadership position.

She took on the crunch time to give the other Dragon’s rest.

“We only have one spot to offer.”

Deborah Ricci had shooed her away.

“Shouldn’t you be happy for your brother?”

Should Kendra have been happy that Deborah Ricci played favorites with spawn that she pumped out?

She certainly wasn’t looking out for the daughter she supposedly always wanted.

MIT would come later.

After both Jason and Jeremy pulled away from Kendra in their senior year.

When their backtalk grew louder. 

When they told her that it was time to grow up from renegade thinking.

College had lured them into the system. 

They had both fallen for that bullshit West Coast dogma and betrayed their heritage. 

When they had nothing but written promises and practice showed them otherwise. 

All of Jason’s designs that weren’t proofed ended up short circuiting. 

All of Jeremy’s code that wasn’t reviewed bugged out.

Kendra didn’t have such a failing.

She had sent the schools anonymous tips that their golden ticket students weren’t so lucky in the chocolate bar pick after all.

The drivel they sent back only further perpetuated the cycle of hogwash.

“Code review and proofing positions are integral to the technological developmental process.”

“No advancement in our society was done alone.”

“When it comes to your applications, we believe that your values might not be the best fit for our institutions.”

Try elsewhere.

We don’t want you.

She didn’t want them.

The new recruits to the Purple Dragons didn’t come close to cutting it. Not that she compared them to two losers who were jumping city ships. They cowered too much. Their outputs were abysmal. Motivation wasn’t what it used to be and current technology made the newbies soft.

Why command when the tech could do the work for you?

Who did they think wrote that script?

They were posers in the name of innovation.

Cowards.

Scared to upset that status quo and softened by the system.

She’d show them.

She used her Purple Game franchise residuals to buy real help. What approached her dark web offer was those with proper scruples. This was where she shined. She was the queen moving her pawns. Finally, she had staff that listened and understood. They set their sights on what she always wanted.

Control.

To oversee it all.

To excel as she did.

Finding bugs in the step beyond.

The ones in society. 

The superior final checks.

She would weed the masses.

Word got out about the data breach days after it occurred. She held the information with a tight fist. That’s when MIT came to her dining room table. Their suspicions had been right and she showed the recruiter within reason. He had his offer ready and an embossed pen to sign. 

She was finally seen for what she was. Her accolades would be appreciated. She never considered a single fallback. She didn’t apply anywhere else. All those tech schools with their supposed up and coming programs were vultures picking carcasses. Her father wiped an actual tear from his eye as the paper was slid over to her.

Her non-compete.

Her secured fall attendance.

Deborah Ricci’s little proud puff of air.

“I knew she’d get there.”

Deborah Ricci whispered to Jase.

“Isn’t that grand?”

A grand?

$1000?

Kendra had the intelligence to make billions.

Kendra held data that would destabilize the stock market.

Kendra had documents that outed nearly every politician. 

Enough to cause a global depression.

Wasn’t that wonderful?

She set the pen down and told the recruiter she had one last thing to show him.

He said that wasn’t necessary.

She said she considered it a gift for his generosity.

His lips pursed and the room held a collective hush.

With a single button push, she released everything she had hacked to the masses.

Out of the kindness of her heart.

Her true blue beating life organ.

She could have held onto it.

She could have used what she learned for decades to come.

While MIT didn’t have honor’s distinctions, she’d always known in her heart that she would graduate Summa Cum Laude. She’d enter the workforce and sit at the top penthouse of some New York apartment. She’d grace the cover of every magazine. She would die a legend at a ripe old age with the same wits about her.

Where was the fun in fate?

She was never meant to walk the obvious path. 

She was supposed to jump ahead. 

Blackmail was pitiable.

It was beneath her.

What point was there in cleaning out a system that was wholly corrupt?

Having seen her future, she knew the truth.

She needed to burn it down.

Start fresh.

Mold it to her superior vision.

One that fit her drive.

One that awarded talent.

Merit.

The recruiter who was closest immediately knew what she had done.

He packed up without a single word.

Not while her father begged.

Not while Deborah Ricci stared on.

Not while Jase got a ping from his phone and pieced it together himself.

Kendra sat in the same kitchen chair and smiled.

She turned her laptop around.

She got to work.

The police came with their arrest warrant at 3:41pm that same day.

Two months from 18 years old, they decided to try her as an adult.

She had a record after all.

The compounded sentences for her conviction were up to 30 years.

White collar crime was a joke.

She served just under two years in a minimum security prison.

The hierarchy there was comical.   

Her family must have thought she would get taken down a peg. She was running shop through the library's antiquated computer systems in a day. She placed orders and took hold of the supply chain. There were three separate attempts on her life during that paltry amount of time.

What was a shiv when one had fought aerial battles with jetpacks?

Still, in that time she barely remembered the clothes she was released in.

It was back to society.

It was getting her GED since she had never finished her senior year.

It was the nature of her crime that kept her from being accepted to college at even a community level.

It was her criminal record that barred her from any technologically-inclined firm.

What changed?

She had directed a kaiju-sized robot to destroy blocks of New York City and for Jeremy that spelled full ride. Nakamura wouldn’t even look at her even though they’d promised her security detail after a string of robberies. All that she could reasonably tell had changed was a number.

Her age.

Twenty was no longer a teenage designation.

She lost time, but hadn’t been less productive.

It didn’t matter.

All those doxxed individuals still took their checks.

Her disruption unveiled corruption and yet the system continued to benefit them.

She was damned.

She turned to what she knew best.

With rotating online personas, she hacked.

What choice did she have?

No one outside wanted her.

No one in the system would have her.

Her own family sucked the air out of the room if they occupied it at the same time.

Her room became her only haven.

There she was free.

The world wide web.

Until a literal maroon of her past resurfaced.

Genius Built’s own Donatello Hamato ousted her when she tapped one of his suppliers’ systems.

It was an instant violation of her parole.

She knew it wasn’t actually him.

Why would it be him?

He had people for that. 

When was the last time that 30 under 30 blockhead touched an actual keyboard?

He likened himself to some pompous fashion designer these days.

Wearable tech revolution, her ass.

Some faceless nobody in his security detail took notice because they had to protect their bosses’ seismic assets instead of noticing a deficit in theirs.

She served five years in her next stint.

She didn’t blame him.

She had too much pride for that.

Blaming him took away her accolades.

She hated him for other reasons. 

He was the poster child for everything wrong with this world. He was the sewers to success story the tabloids wanted. At least that was what the rags in prison touted. She had been barred from anything that even gave off a hint of an electrical current in her second conviction.

The worst part was he had no idea.

He ate up the attention like he’d earned it. 

A wall of lawyers handled her case and he didn’t appear once. 

Why would he?

Why shouldn’t he?

He was a gullible waste of space.

He had fallen for all of the Purple Dragons’ schemes.

He was a blowhard.

He hadn’t changed. 

Self-serving.

Self-righteous. 

Just as he had always been. 

No one picked her up from prison the second time. 

She had been released on good behavior, but all favor for that sort of thing had long dried up.

This time she actually didn’t remember the clothes she was apprehended in. The only part of her that remained was some faint purple that scorched the ends of her now black locks. They were a violent reminder of her true success. She wore it as a brand. She hitched rides home to find it wasn’t one any longer.

There was no room for her.

Her father never looked her in the eye.

Deborah Ricci wasn’t home.

Kickboxing, her father lied.

She was given a starting sum to get what would have to be a closet of an apartment. 

She was offered a job by her uncle through the church.

A coffee shop.

Nothing chic.

Family owned and operated.

Small.

Hidden.

She was a shame to be tucked away. She took the cash with her head held high and spent part of it just to get her hair done again. The vibrant purple scared the cafe owners, but they’d already agreed to harbor a criminal.

Kendra wondered what they expected.

Tear drop tattoos?

They watched too much prime time television. 

They dragged out her training over a week even though she could make latte art within her first few hours.

What was a flick of the wrist to a certified 132 WPM?

She was never alone at first.

She wasn’t given the WiFi password.

She cracked it on the very same first day, but its speed was piss poor.

She worked as a barista.

They were busy in the mornings and not just with the church folk.

The high rises nearby had their advantages.

The shop offered coffee strong enough to keep a narcoleptic awake.

Kendra refused to say she had grown docile.

She was tired.

She was bored.

She was just as hungry as she ever was, but what was the point?

She would always be a certain amount of starved.

There would always be a blight on her name.

It was as patent as the cockroaches in her apartment. She would always be taking home the stale bagels for a cheap dinner. Hacking Swiss bank accounts didn’t have the same allure. Not when the risk for her was higher with each prison sentence. So she settled for mucus in matcha and purposefully misspelling simple American names.

A pittance for her purveyor.

Once again good behavior granted her the illusion of freedom. She was finally left to run things in the shop. She could close, she could be trusted with the register, and she was given real food. The ibu there made a mean nasi goreng. Kendra wouldn’t say it reminded her of her mother’s.

She cried because it had been weeks since she’d had a vegetable.

Her body missed nutrients, not home. She decided then to join the family network. She had always despised it growing up. It felt like a restriction to be beholden to her community. Now, she found refuge because she was forced to. 

Her wages got better.

The old folks asked for small things from her since their kids had run off for brighter futures. She tossed them bones in the form of grabbing groceries and hosting their game nights. She learned to call a fierce game of bingo and shooting down losers who faked their boards held some interest. It also helped that they would soon act as character witnesses. 

With each small favor she spared, her reputation increased. They all knew her past, but they needed help. She was allowed to fix their ancient tech. Some of it was older than her, but it felt like an injection of joy straight to the veins. The second her fingers touched specific combinations of plastic and wire, she was home. 

There were no newer models. 

They liked what they liked. 

It proved a certain challenge that had its advantage. 

The coffee shop was like that. 

She supposed it was for the best.

Would the allure be too great if she got hold of a stable internet connection?

It wasn’t worth her time to wonder as she succumbed to the slump. She teetered against the counter. Her arms moved, one over the other, to fold. She left a divot for her chin and put her head down. She had fallen asleep like this once  and an angry customer woke her just so she could yell about her laziness. She wouldn’t be fooled again and only let her lids lull.

It was the midday slump.

It was her mid-twenties slump.

It felt like a mid-life slump.

The bell on the door chimed a soothing contrast to what omen it bid.

“Oh…!” A male voice sang. “That smell! Complex and spicy, mmm!”

Just as Kendra was straightening her body, her expression openly soured.

It was one of those.

Some foodie jag-off who thought himself groundbreaking because he drank coffee at a place that wasn’t owned by some white hippie start-up. He would go back to his friends and say the family roasting beans here had connection to Che Guevara through his travels even though the guy was pinning the wrong continent. Kendra didn’t have a tier list of customers she hated. She considered herself a loathsome equal opportunity lender in that regard, but she had special places in her black heart for specific types of assholes.

“Welcome!” She chirped with nothing but microplastics lining her smile. “What can I get started for you today?”

What she didn’t expect was a mutant to appear from behind the espresso machine.

He was round and soft and couldn’t keep his eyes in one place as they roved with a gape that matched his mouth.

Her gut dropped like lead.

She knew this mutant.

His name was something just as froufrou as ‘Donatello.’

They were related.

Brother.

This was one of the turtle brothers.

Which one?

He was clearly orange, but which one was he?

She had never bothered to learn the coordinating name-to-color scheme.

The ones that weren’t Donnie were tech illiterate anyway as far as she could remember.

She supposed it didn’t matter.

She guessed the only thing that did was if he recognized her.

He’d surely tell his stupid brother how she was working in some lowly coffee shop.

Donnie was absolutely the type to gloat.

The memory of his voice grated her ears. 

“Uh…!” The orange masked man held the syllable before landing on her with bright eyes. “I’m sorry, I did not hear what you said.”

She blinked at him.

He returned the fluttering lashes.

There was no recognition on his face.

He must have had no brain power whatsoever.

He hadn’t heard her?

He didn’t need to.

The script was the same wherever you went.

You go in and someone asks for your order. 

“Welcome.” She responded with a flat and bitter brew. “What can I get started for you today?”

“Oh! Uh!” The mutant scrambled looking for the menu.

It was above Kendra’s head because this shop was set up like all the others. 

He continued to have trouble locating it. 

She’d mislabeled.

He wasn’t one of those.

He was a complete and total idiot.

She pointed a finger up and knew irritation was showing on her face.

He chuckled sheepishly. “Thanks! Let’s see what we got here!”

He didn’t recognize her.

It’s not like she had a uniform.

She had an apron on at best.

Everything else was well-worn clothes, but she had the same style.

That was her.

Lilac hair.

Nevermind the roots. 

Mid-length haircut.

The split ends hardly mattered. 

Teal lipstick.

Smudged from work. 

She’d ditched the beret only because she’d lost it years ago and finding another felt pretentious.

As the man mouthed what he read on the menu she could only think he was surely dumb enough to not recognize her unless she was wearing her exact ensemble from high school.

She did still have her purple satin jacket.

It was packed up.

Not that it mattered.

Nothing did. 

He was yet another moron to squeeze a few bucks out of. 

In that regard, she dodged one bullet for buckshot.

He was now a customer to get in and out.

“What’s an espresso bon-bon?”

“Espresso over sweetened condensed milk.”

“Sounds sweet!”

“Sure.”

“Affogato is espresso over ice cream, right?”

“Yup. We use Indoeskrim.”

“What’s that?” His eyes lit up.

“Ice cream.”

“Oh.”

She stared on, minutely satisfied at how his crest had fallen.

“Is that a brand or flavor?” His interest bounced right back.

“Brand.” She could barely keep a glare off of her.

“Where’s it from?”

“Indonesia.”

“Woah, seriously?!”

“No.”

“Wo-wait…”

His stupidity knew no bounds.

“Ah!” He pointed a finger like he got the joke.

She stared at the digit.

“You are… very serious.” His hand fell. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’m not.”

His eyes were steady for a moment before flying around.

When he settled back on her it was with a narrowed gaze to look for tells.

She only cocked her hip while waiting.

“You’re too good!”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir.” She poured all her bile into her words.

“Sure!” He had no idea.

That meant she could freely be crueler. “Would you like anything or do you want to continue to hold up the line?”

He predictably spun around to check the empty shop.

When he returned, he didn’t look betrayed, but ecstatic that she had pulled another fast one on him.

Like this was some kind of fun game and not wasting her time.

He had the IQ of a lump of clay.

The social skills of that same orangey blob.

He would be achingly easy to manipulate.

She inhaled only through her nose as he prattled on something about choice.

That was a dangerous thought. 

That was a bad road.

She had left that behind.

What end could she use him for anyway?

It’s not like he could do any feasible work for her.

He would go to a pet shop if she asked him to right click a mouse. 

His only exploitable feature was his connection to Donatello.

Her eyes widened.

A bit of adrenaline raced through her veins.

She could use this man.

He shared a home with the asshole.

Or did.

She hadn’t kept up on the news.

They were something though.

They were close.

She had read that in prison for sure.

In every article, Donnie had blabbed about his microscopic brain and his brothers.

They were his driving creative force or some psy-op baloney.

If she could get close to even one of his servers.

She could leave no trace with that level of access. 

It would take one tiny virus and boom. 

She had loads of code to pull from. 

She would have to transcribe it, but she had a particularly nasty one ready. 

It was her therapist’s suggestion.

Well not that exactly, but the man was a court-mandated buffoon.

He told her to write out her negative feelings into letters.

Not to send, but as a means to talk to the people that had supposedly harmed her.

Her.

Of all people.

There wasn’t a being who existed that she cared enough about.

So she wrote code. 

Notebooks worth. 

Useless scratchings until now. 

But Donatello. 

Now, he wasn’t a being. 

Donatello was a symbol.

Breaking him would finally send her message.

She had grown over the years. 

She was now a big enough person that she didn’t need to stamp her return address along with her letter.

The one she wasn’t supposed to send anyway. 

No. 

She could let havoc ensue and carve out the rubble. 

Surely this orange fool had a means to get her close enough.

She just needed to persuade him. 

That entailed connection.

She would need to get close.

Close enough for him to bring her to a home.

Did he need friends?

She couldn’t stand the thought.

She’d sooner seduce him.

Oh.

She could do that.

Her looks had come in handy once in a while.

With someone as stupid as him, she could probably convince him without a single touch, she bet.

He’d be as easy as a dog to lead with a treat.

She would dangle it in front of his nose long enough until he took her home.

She would make an excuse.

The powder room. 

A classic. 

Plant the virus.

Leave.

Heartbreak would be his only association and this damned coffee shop.

She bet he didn’t even know the address.

He would get lost trying to find it again.

If not, there was always arson. 

Electrical fires were about as easy to manufacture.  

“Okay…” He spoke ready.

She was glad she had nailed her eyeliner wings today.

She lowered her body in a calculated sultry way. 

“What’ll it be?” She looked at him in a striking way. 

He jarred a little and smiled off to the side.

Bashful, a good start.

“I’ll have a latte and a side of espresso. I like to taste new beans in their purest form.”

Eating them made more sense, but it mattered little. “Discerning choice. A latte and a shot on the side. For here or to-go?”

That would set the rest of her plan into motion.

He was probably too dense to notice if she left her number on a napkin.

He would wipe his mouth with it. 

He would throw it away. 

He would ask if she had given it to him by mistake.

She needed to be overt.

She preferred that at least.

The worst he could do was reject her.

Then this spur of the moment plan would be a write-off. 

Plans done this quickly rarely panned out. 

This would all have been a pipe dream created to help her through the slump. 

It wasn’t like she cared.

“I don’t know about discerning…” He chuckled with a hand behind his head and was clearly flattered. “How about the latte to-go and shot for here?! It’s gotta be fresh and I wouldn’t want to waste a second to-go cup on something so small!”

He was too easy. “You have taste. Few do.”

“Thanks, though that’s a shame about everyone else. The smell is incredible. It called to me!”

“Thank you.” She rang him up. “I try to let my work speak for itself.” 

He paid.

“Receipt?”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll have that right out.”

“Thanks!”

He walked away to peruse the seating area and she got to work. It was a process that took little brain power at this point. Espresso cups were warmed on top of the machine and she ground out an exact portion of beans. It was a quick tamp to get them into the portafilter. Then it was a lock into the machine for it to drip through. She pulled a double shot so one went into the cup and the other into an awaiting glass. Steaming the milk came next and she could tell by sound when it hit 155°F. One shot was ready while the other went into a to-go cup and, since the latte was made to-go, she didn’t bother with the design. She lidded the throwaway and placed the small espresso mug onto a saucer for an order up.

“Sir?” Damn, she forgot to get the name.

“Michelangelo, if you can believe it!” He headed towards her from where he’d been staring at some wall art with his hands folded behind his back.

It was like he wanted to ruin his brother. “Why wouldn’t I? It suits you.”

She slid the paper cup forward, but withheld the saucer.

Michelangelo reviewed her and seemed fine with reaching out to take the itty bitty handle. “You want to see my reaction? How scathing should I make my review?”

It looked dumb in his large hands. “I’d stake the shop’s reputation on this. Please.”

“You’re staking it on this?” He smiled and held the cup up. “I can’t let that go to waste! Here goes!”

He exhaled loudly above the small cup. It showed a gap in his teeth that she wondered why he hadn’t fixed. He tipped his head for an obvious inhale which he released in the same manner. He was putting on a show and she couldn’t have been more bored. He at least didn’t look at her as he took a delicate sip. Instead of swishing it like the sommelier he pretended to be, his lids cracked to observe the leftover liquid. He swirled it once before smiling into drinking the rest. When he looked at her again, she felt a tinge of irritation for having waited on him.

He grinned straight through it in an annoying way. “Incredible. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“We source our beans.” She scoffed. “The owners want it to be authentic.”

“From Indonesia?” He set the mug back onto the saucer she still had a hold on.

“I never said that.”

He chuffed. “Alright then, keep your secrets.”

Something about his playful tone caused her wariness to flare.

“My compliments to the masterful barista.” He bowed obnoxiously to her and got hold of his to-go cup. “I’ll come back for sure!”

“You wish!” She snapped before she could catch it.

“I do.” He spoke breezily and began to move away. “You know what they say! You hold onto a good barista with both hands!”

He was leaving. 

He was leaving and she hadn’t gotten the necessary information. 

She needed something. 

She needed a number. 

Sure, she didn’t care about this plan, but there was something to the cost-sunk analysis. 

She hadn’t invested nearly enough staking capital to count this as a risk. 

To get the reward she had to try. 

At least a little more than she had already. 

Which she guessed hadn’t been much more than playful. 

She put on her best cool exterior and caught the last of his gaze before he turned away. “That makes it sound like I’m only good for coffee.”

He stopped.

That wasn’t as alluring as she had hoped.

His head tilted. “Like what? Do you guys make sandwiches too?” 

She could feel the shine die in her eyes. “No.” 

She didn’t have to remember he was dumb, but she really needed to calibrate just how much. 

“I meant this job. If you wanted to see me so badly then you could ask me out.” 

For a second she thought even that blatant of a comment wouldn’t be enough. 

The idiot rotated to face her fully. 

His green skin flushed an even darker shade in the process. “W-wait…! Can you-!? Can you say that again!? I don’t think I heard you right!”

She turned her head to the side so he would have to deal with her profile. “Get your ears or whatever you have checked.”

That was mean. 

She raged against her own impudence.

He brought out the worst in her. 

She folded her arms because it was all she could do.

“Out how?” He quacked. “Like outside? Like to watch while you sweep the street? Like something else?! You gotta remember that I can’t tell if you’re messing with me!”

Her glare burst from her as she lolled irritation toward him. “It’s obvious, you fool! Obviously I meant a date!”

“A date…?” 

“Yes!” She snapped. “Sweeping outside!? What are you talking about?” 

“You want to go on a date?” He felt the need to point to himself. “With me?” 

“No, the other customers!” Her face felt hot as she threw her arms out to address the store.

Of course, he felt the need to look around.

Her hands fell hard onto the counter. 

She guessed if she was mean enough now then at least he would never come back. 

She wouldn’t have to suffer an ounce more of humiliation that way.  

“I’m flattered…”

Rejection hit her far swifter than she cared to admit.

“No one’s ever asked me out like that before!” He crept closer.

She blinked once at him. 

“Is this what it’s like?!” He sauntered a little. “The ‘love at first sight?’ The meet-cute? I reviewed your coffee and you reviewed me?! Ah! It’s like you asked for my number! Oh, but you didn’t… But you got me before I left! Most people have to get to know me first. I know my rugged good looks are one thing, but my personality is where I usually shine!” 

He posed and put on what he thought was a smolder. 

She could hit him.

She could say it was self defense.

She could smack that boiling hot drink right into his soft, round face.

She would relish in his screams as it melted off.

“If it’s a prank you can say so. You can laugh, but on the off chance you meant it…?” He sent her a sudden vulnerable look that undercut the positioning of his head. 

The raw emotion scraped her nerves. 

He was showing his tender side.

It had been mere seconds, she had done nothing, and she had already gotten this far. 

He really was revenge on a silver platter.

She would take that heart of his and eat it raw.

She was going to ruin him.

“I meant it. Don’t get a big head.” She scowled into something she hoped was cute in a pouty way and cast her eyes down to hide anything else in her lashes.

“I’ll ask then! Number, please! I’ll need your number.” He returned to set his drink back on the counter and addressed her with full excitement.

She flinched away and tried to pocket her revulsion. “What did I just say!?”

“I’m sorry it’s not every day you’re asked out by a beau-ti-ful barista!” There was that damned smile of his again.

It took up too much of his face.

She didn’t like it.

“Who asked whom?” She got a napkin and hid near the register as she scrawled out the digits.

“Oh yeah! The credit is all yours. I’m just helping.”

She returned to find him in a newly curated debonair pose with an arm folded on the counter and his body leaned.

She stared at him dully with the slip of paper in her hand and wished to throw it in a furnace if she had one.

He reached out and plucked it from her before she could rig something flammable up.

“I bet you need that plausible deniability while you’re on the clock. There’s gotta be rules about hitting on customers! Just know that I don’t make it a habit to ask out people anywhere near their place of business. It’s total creep territory, but you made it clear! I just wanted to also tell you that I was feeling the vibe, in a not weird way!”

“You felt nothing!” She seethed. 

He snorted one single time before he laughed. “Gosh, you’re so-! This is gonna be fun! We’ll have so much fun!”

“Hey! What do you mean? I’m ‘so’ what?!”

“I’ll text you!” He flicked his thumbs as if typing out a message and caught his drink once more.

“‘So’ what?!” She hissed after him.

“Bye!!” He ran out the door to another chime.

This one wasn’t near as soothing.

The sudden emptiness of the shop crashed around her. 

She felt danger creeping up the little hairs on her neck. 

She slapped them down. 

She had to trust her judgment. 

He was dumb and this would be an easy caper. 

She was sure of it.  She had to be.

🧡 NEXT 🧡

I'd like to not only thank my usual betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 , but join me in welcoming my new beta @unrestrainedhotsoup

[divijohm]

Is the request open?

You can do one of how X-Virus reacts when he sees the Reader being a cannibal

You have all the time you need, I'm in no hurry ☺💕

X-Virus with a Cannibal reader

A/n: did you guys know that some cultures do eat human meat? Is common in some parts of the world for the dad to eat the placenta to bond with his new born baby, for example. I feel so curious to try it but I'm scared lmfao here were I live isn't illegal to eat human meat but it's providing it ( be donation or murder, grave digging, etc) is

🥩 As I've stated before, X-Virus is germophobic, so he isn't much a meat fun in general, they're a garden of germs and yucky plagues.

🥩 He's pretty desensitized to seeing human meat but he can't really shake the discomfort when he learns that you aren't just cooking it for EJ and Lazari but rather eating it yourself

🥩 If you are a cannibal because of cultural reasons, he will ask so many questions to how this traditional started, specially if the meat is paired with human blood.

🥩 He don't mind much if the meat you're eating is human or not though, he just prefer that you cook it fairly so all the germs are killed and that you aren't eating the brain.

🥩 He vomited when you said that you used to eat it raw before you meet him, now everytime you are cooking he stays by your side making sure that you're cooking the meat.

🥩 Although he's used to seeing the meat, he never really touched it, so when you ask him to help you in the kitchen and he touches it he immediately backs off and go wash his hands for like 10 minutes. He hated how it felt, he thought that maybe it would be slightly different than animal meat, but he was wrong.

🥩 He made you a miniature of an cooked human arm, you use it as a colar

🥩 He can't help but gag a little when you convince him to try it for himself. Don't get it wrong, the taste is good. He just don't like how most meats feel in his mouth and it gets worse when he knows that it was from a germ filled, filthy human

🥩 He makes sure to clean and vacuum seal all the meat you get after he eat it for the first time, so there're no germs presents at all, in case you make him try it again

🥩 Bedsides the whole "why would you eat a germ filled thing?? Vitamin capsules are better" he really don't mind what you're eating, as long as you stay healthy of course.

[xaviers-student-union]

Xavier Student Paper: Issue #2

A return, and a dissapearence: Where is Gwen?

A few nights ago on a job, a friend of the Union; Miss Gwen Poole [ AKA; Gwenpool] dissapeared after reportedly being shot while working one of her jobs. Naturally, her line of work is incredibily dangerous and not without risks, and so this isn't the first time she's been injured. However, Miss.Pool is an active member or the community of heroes and anti-heroes and often interacts in person and through a newly popular medium for those in the buisenss of wearing poor fighting spandex and fighting people; known as Tumblr.

And more importantly, her beloved Jeff is currently being cared for not by Gwen...but by Scraps.

If anybody, anybody at all has any tips or leads to help confirm her status; if not her whereabouts. Please contact Deanne, at the numbers printed in the back of the issue

[ Relevent parties: @gwenpooleoffish , @scraps-stark ]

A Warm Welcome To our New Friend;

Since 2020, Eel has been somewhat off grid due to the outbreak of Corona Virus. Living off the shores in an old house boat, They have decided to make their return to mutant society by enrolling in the Xavier's adult courses; albeit in the medium of online school. We wish Eel a swift and smooth transition back into our community, and we hope you all here at the institute will treat them with warmth and kindness.

On that note, we'd like to officially remind folks that the institute in recent years doesn't just teach children, and prospective X-men. They offer degrees in unrelated subjects. For example, they are currently offering a Pre-Med course which is valid to get you into a medical programme upon graduation. Adult courses also include a dormitory that provides free housing, but with more privacy than the regular dorms inside the manor.

[Rlevent parties: @retrofittedfishmachine ]

Jasper's Monthly Spending Spree

As you all have probabaly heard, or even seen in our numerous posters around the building; it's that time of the month where Jasper takes the money his father forces on him and uses it to fund Pro-Mutant charities and campaigns. Aside from that, Jasper offers to buy everyone a gift.

If you're in need of anything, big or small please remember to contact him.

He's easy to find, as he practically lives in the library and club room.

Also, outside of his monthly spree he'd like to remind everyone that he's happy to step in and aid fellow students whose families may be falling behind with necessary payments. He has more money than he'd ever know what to do with. And, we're the worst to happen he has enough assets unrelated to his father that he would be able to live on. Though, jasper has asked I don't disclose anything more than that.

Extraterrestrial Cultural Exchange Club Event cancelled.

As forseen in last issue, it turns out that those "genuine" alien artefacts that the club leader promised were obtained legally and peacefully were in fact smuggled from the black market. As such, the event has been cancelled and all knowledgable parties have been barred from future club gatherings, participation and are receiving in school punishment.

All Alien artefacts gave been reappropriated to be returned to their rightful owners thanks to the work of Jean Grey, and Jasper. If you, or a family member have been impacted or believe your items to be missing please file a report with us and we will see to it that justice [ and your things return] be served.

Father and Daughter finally Talk; Everyone is pleased.

As of yesterday evening, Aranza Martinez and her Father; James Logan Howlett [AKA Wolverine] have had their talk. And while they're still figuring things out, they've both accepted that they want to be in each other's life. So, I hope everyone can join me in wishing them well.

It may be a long road to complete understanding, but hopefully with proper support and communication this could be the start of a fruitful, and happy parenting experience for a member of the xmen. So long as the mansion doesn't blow up.

Again.

[Relevant parties: @wolverineofficial ]

-

This about concludes this weeks issue but before we go I'd like to remind our readers to report anything they believe to be interesting! The newspaper uploads on Friday!

-

Author: Deanne

[queenpiranhadon]

Reverse tropes >:)

So when you encounter an avid Webtoons readers such as myself, you have to wonder what the common tropes in those forms of media would be like when put into context of other characters.

And you've got resurrection, getting back at an ex, your assortment of gay comics and fighting homophobia, but I'm interested in one in particular.

That being the normal girl x famous boy trope - one that I love dearly, but also, something that I think would be even cooler if it was the other way around.

And so, I present, normal boy x famous girl 🤩

In the form of my otps :)

Imagine in a slightly futuristic modern world where a young woman by the name of Sophie Elizabeth Foster is one of the most successful people in the world, bringing society to a whole new level of operating with her extreme intellect through her technology company Moonlark. When she's only 18, she's singlehandedly become the most well known person in the world, and has come to a major roadblock- a virus has taken over her systems- nicknamed the Neverseen, as it was so powerful no one had seen it coming. Sophie needs a break, slipping out from the comforts of her penthouse located on Havenfield street, and makes her way to a beach on the outskirts of the city, where she meets a troubled boy who lives there - in a place joking called "The Shores of Solace" - with a knack for trouble who goes by the name of Keefe.

Annabeth Chase has recently recieved a Nobel Prize, making her way to becoming the most well known architect in all of history. For someone at the ripe age of 17, it's both a significant accomplishment as well as an overwhelming cause of stress. And yet, she knows she can't stop now, she has to be the best, even though she's at the top. Taking on as many projects as she can, she's touring an old aquarium that's meant to be torn down to create room for her next architectural feat - a large tower with the sole purpose of highlighting Ancient Greek culture, something that she holds dear to herself given her own roots. But she's shocked to find a boy there, around her age, with striking sea green eyes- and an infuriating loyalty to the falling apart building - noticing a stubbornness that she sees in herself. Can she get over her pride, and try to see eye to eye?

Being the top doctor in the world is both tiring and exhilarating. Katara knows that, and yet, she's not fulfilled. To become a doctor is a very coveted occupation, one many parents wish upon their children as not only is it impressive, it's flauntable (not a word but who cares). Katara's extremely grateful to her family, but always felt like she didn't belong where she was - she was extremely proud of her talent of course, but it was what everyone expected of her. Women where she came from were always those to rely on when it came to being cared for, a caterer almost. Katara loved helping those who were in need, but it was taxing to always provide, when she never truly received from others. One day, when visiting her local coffee shop, she sees two customers arguing over something menial. She would usually just ignore it and go along her way - she had more important matters to attend to - but things get out of hand and she finds herself in the process of getting her hands burned by a scalding cup of coffee. Thankfully the bartender there comes to her aid, pulling her out of the way with such strength unbefitting for his smaller form. And yet... Katara can't help but feel drawn to him, glimpsing the name Aang on his apron and slips a business card with her contact information she had on hand into his pocket before righting herself and walking away.

Am I right or am I right?????

Should I do more??

[mariacallous]

Ten years ago, a flood of gamers attacked developers Zoë Quinn and Brianna Wu and media critic Anita Sarkeesian. The three were part of a growing chorus of people calling for a more inclusive culture within video games. The attackers doxxed and harassed their targets, doing all they could to stifle the women’s efforts. The incident, which became known as Gamergate, illuminated the toxicity women faced in gaming spaces and beyond.

Eventually, the harassment faded from the news, but its residue was never fully removed from the internet and public life.

Gamergate articulated a particular kind of aggrieved masculinity, an anger at losing the power of being the target audience. Since 2014, it has shaped everything from the men's rights movement to the current iteration of the GOP, outlining what it means to be a man in certain corners of the internet.

In many ways, says Adrienne Massanari, an associate professor at American University’s school of communications, Gamergate presaged a broader reaction on the right toward real changes happening in American society. Former Donald Trump adviser Steve Bannon latched onto this in 2015, harnessing the power of committed online fandoms to bolster Trump’s campaign.

Within the community, Gamergate seemingly bifurcated men into distinct camps. Men who came to Sarkeesian’s defense, for example, were dubbed “white knights” and simps. Meanwhile, the people doing the harassing saw themselves as trying to protect the space from the “outside” influences of “social justice warriors,” who threatened to take away the elements that—they felt—made games fun.

“Even though we know that a bunch of people play games, [the men involved in Gamergate] saw themselves as being the target demographic for games. When that started to shift, the reaction was, of course, anger,” says Massanari. “Now that’s reflected, refracted, and amplified by Trumpism and that kind of far-right strain of Republicanism reacting to demographic and societal shifts toward a more egalitarian society.”

This same kind of anger and resistance can be seen now in figures like J.D. Vance and Elon Musk, who both decry “woke-ism” in politics and culture broadly. In interviews, Musk has said that he was motivated to purchase X, formerly Twitter, to fight the “woke mind virus” that he says is destroying civilization. The Heritage Foundation’s political road map Project 2025 repeatedly mentions “woke” progressivism as a threat that must be eliminated, particularly by doing away with diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives in government spaces.

This connection comes full circle in what’s become “Gamergate 2.0,” a backlash to inclusion efforts where “DEI” is now a catchphrase. Ten years ago, gamers pushed back against critics like Sarkeesian for pointing out that many female characters in games were nothing more than tropes. In 2024, the campaigns are against video game consulting companies such as Sweet Baby for performing what some gamers believe is “forced diversification.” No matter the rallying cry, the reason is the same: Being upset that the characters in video games no longer represent your interests.

While the politics of masculine grievance aren’t exactly new, says Patrick Rafail, professor of sociology at Tulane University, “the mainstreaming of it is.”

Although Gamergate came out of a relatively niche subculture, its elements can now be found in influencers like Andrew Tate who have popularized “these very simplistic, archetypal, stereotypical extremes” of masculinity, says Debbie Ging, professor of digital media and gender at Dublin City University. A new era of podcasting, coupled with a rise in short-form video platforms like TikTok, “which are heavily algorithm-driven,” have been significant drivers of this form of rhetoric, Ging says.

Current influencers provide a sort of blueprint for a post-Gamergate masculinity, one that still contains some of the movement’s toxic ideas, repackaged to be more initially appealing. “These ‘manfluencers’ propagate a lot of the same kind of red-pill ideas, the same kind of theories from evolutionary psychology. But what they have kind of moved toward is a greater focus on financial advice, motivation, mental health,” Ging says. This kind of content is ultimately “focused on how to maintain your masculine status.”

The more mainstream topics peddled by these influencers—and a need for community—continue to pull young men in, says Andrew Reiner, a lecturer at Towson University and the author of Better Boys, Better Men: The New Masculinity That Creates Greater Courage and Emotional Resiliency.

“It's not like a lot of these guys start out on the far right saying, ‘All this has happened to me and these people on the left here are to blame,’” Reiner says. “It’s not that extreme. In the beginning, a lot of these guys are saying, ‘I’m struggling, I’m looking for support, and I don’t really know where to turn.’”

Part of that desire for community is what makes gaming or influencer fandom both deeply attractive and such a powerful breeding ground for groups that rely on masculine grievance. Male-dominated online communities, like gaming or right-wing spaces, can often be characterized by trash-talking and one-upmanship, “because that's the only way young men have been acculturated into being able to talk with their peers,” Massanari adds. That same behavior can easily spill over into harassment, partly because it’s about maintaining that masculine status.

As influencer culture and political culture become ever more intertwined, it should be no surprise that the desire to maintain masculine status—and anger at its decline—can be found in many of the ways the right codes itself. After the attempted assassination of Trump last month, a photo of the former president, fist in the air in front of an American flag, went viral. Even Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg called the moment “badass” in an interview with Bloomberg. Speaking at the National Conservatism Conference in June, author and professor David Azerrad called Trump “undeniably manly.”

And while politics and fandom have always had an overlap (e.g., Brat Summer), Massanari says Trump and the new right represent a whole different scale. “Gamergate was really focused on fandom communities,” says Massanari. “If you think about Trump, Trump is nothing if not a fandom community. When I watched any of the [Republican National Convention] stuff, I was struck by thinking, ‘All this could be like a bunch of Taylor Swift fans.’”

Jessica O’Donnell, author of Gamergate and Anti-Feminism in the Digital Age, warns that while the ideas of Gamergate may live on in the far right and the GOP, the aggressive, harassing fandom behaviors are not limited to a political party. As some online spaces, such as Reddit, have become more friendly to far-left politics, which can have its own form of aggressive promoters (see: dirtbag left), O’Donnell says Gamergaters have followed along.

“I think a lot of people who were involved in Gamergate, you see now having more of a sort of radical leftist kind of ideology, because they’ve seen that’s where they’re going to get more clout,” she says. “It’s more about picking the winning team, rather than the team to win.” In other words, Gamergate was the internet—and it’s everywhere now.

[fannyrosie]

I've followed you for quite a while and I've always loved your style plus I lived vicariously through your life in Japan lol. I'm sorry if you've already posted this I couldn't find the post but I was wondering why you left Japan. It's my dream to live there one day and I was curious what it was like.

I have answered that in my Instagram Stories, but here is the long story version (TL;DR: I came back mainly because of my poor health):

I left Japan after 6 1/2 years for several reasons, but one the main reason is because of my health. I've never been the healthiest person, even before moving there (I was even dubbed "the sick one" at my old job because I often had to suddenly leave work in the afternoons). I was constantly tired and had really bad abdominal pains. I saw several doctors in Montreal, and all I managed to get was a diagnosis for IBS and anxiety. However, I was functional most days, and managed to work and live relatively normally, as long as I rested a lot and stuck to my FODMAP diet.

During the few first years of my life in Japan, my physical health remained that way, with some random very bad health periods, but overall, I was fine. I even started to workout regularly to improve my posture and muscles. However, from 2020 onwards, my health declined significantly. On top of my worsening IBS, I started having really bad spine pains, radiating to my head, chest and arms, and making me so tired I had to take several days of rest every time I went out. I started to catch every little virus I got in contact with, and had to avoid taking public transport the most I could. I was working from home, and walked a lot, so that was manageable, but it made me more isolated.

I saw several doctors, but even though they did blood tests and x-rays, they couldn't find anything and just assumed it was stress. After reading about EDS, I thought I might have that (since I am also hypermobile), and had to wait 7 months to get an appointment at Todai's hospital. However, on the day of my appointment, I got told that Todai only deals with EDS related to heart issues, and my tests were all normal, including my x-rays. That was in June 2022, and was the final straw, as it proved that even the most advanced hospital in Japan couldn't help me. By that time, I had to wear a back brace to do the most basic things, like laundry or going to the supermarket, and was taking painkillers every day. I had to stop working because I couldn't work on my computer for more than 2 hours a day. Obviously, no work=no money.

Coming back to Québec, I had to wait 3 months to get back on the public health system, and as of today (6 months after being back), I managed to get x-rays and MRI showing I have: discopathy (degenerative spine disk disease), osteoarthritis (degenerative joint disease), several herniated disks in my cervical region and pinched nerves due disks collapsing. Basically, I have the spine of a 70 year old. I have been referred to a physiatrist, but we all know that Québec's public health system is very slow. so God knows when I'll see one. Nevertheless, they found something, which is better than all the doctors in Japan who told me it was just stress. Japan sadly has a big culture of having to "endure" pain (mental or physical), and it shows in their medical system.

Due to the degenerative nature of the illnesses they found up to now, my health is constantly getting worse. I used to have good and bad health days, but now, I have more bad health days than good health days. I still take painkillers every day and wear my back brace to do normal tasks, but most days, these are not enough. I am trying to make the most of my "good" health days by dressing up and doing nice things, but I never know how I will be the next day (or hour).

I had to take two breaks writing this; hopefully it makes sense haha