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arealphrooblem · 1 year

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Mutually Assured Destruction

Snyopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

Being the first person out the door undoubtedly did Civilian no favors to their work reputation.

Anytime someone joked about it, often with an edge, Civilian would make excuses: their dog needed let out (they didn’t have a dog), they had to get to the bank before it closed (they use their banking app 90 percent of the time), they liked having a work/life balance (that one’s true).

The real reason, of course, was to avoid any encounters with them. Their newest colleague -- Jonathan Anderson. A bland, forgetful name for a bland, forgetful person. He arrived two months ago in her data entry division, dressed everyday in the same unremarkable navy suit with a grey tie, gave generic responses to small talk at lunch.

And he scared the shit out of them.

Luckily for Civilian, their paths didn’t cross that often and when they would, Civilian had found ways to neatly side step them -- emails instead of face to face conversations, calling in favors, and once, even taking a sick day to avoid a meeting.

It worked great -- until it didn’t.

The elevator descended at an agonizing snail’s pace. Civilian stood in the back, gripping the railing behind them with a sweaty hand and tried to breathe slowly and evenly.

The only other person in the elevator with them -- and the only other person in the building -- was Jonathan Anderson. Because of course he would be working late the one time Civilian had a deadline change and a mad scramble to get everything read by tomorrow.

He stood in front of the buttons, his back to them, plain brown leather briefcase dangling from his hand. To everyone else, he looked harmless. But the sheer power of his aura radiated like the sun. It made Civilian light-headed being in such close contact with it.

Thirty more seconds, they thought to themselves. That’s all this elevator ride would last. After that Civilian could scurry off to the parking garage and screech out of here.

29 . . . 28 . . . 27 . . .26 . . .

The elevator came to a sudden, sickening halt and Civilian’s heart with it. They waited for the emergency alarm to blare, but the elevator stayed eerily silent.

“Is there . . is there something wrong?” Their voice came out shaky and hoarse. They cleared their throat.

For a moment Jonathan didn’t respond. Instead he turned around to lean casually against the wall and survey them, his face as bland and unreadable as always.

“That’s a question I think I should be asking,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

Instantly their hackles rose. It took considerable effort to keep the panic from their face, to force their shoulders to relax, to look confused and concerned.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re afraid of me.”

The truth struck true, lodging itself between their ribs. Civilian swallowed, suddenly dry mouthed, and tried to find the air again.

“You’ve trapped me in an elevator and you’re bigger than me,” they pointed out.

“That is rather nerve-wracking, I’ll admit. It’s almost believable. But this started a long time ago, didn’t it?”

He straightened and took a step towards them. And another. All while speaking in that affable, level tone, as if commenting on the weather.

“Since my first day here. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you never shook my hand that day. Or that I don’t notice all the little tricks you pull to avoid me. Yet we’ve never had a negative encounter. You’ve never given me the opportunity to create a bad impression. It’s rather baffling, don’t you think?”

He stopped a safe distance away but close enough to prevent any attempt to escape. Despite being only a couple inches taller than Civilian, they loomed in the small space.

“So tell me -- how do you know?”

“Know what?”

It was their only defense, this wide eyed denial. To pretend they were discomfited by a bizarre encounter with their coworker, rather than straddling the edge of a panic attack while stuck in an elevator with a man who could kill them with a snap of his fingers probably.

He snorted. “You gave up the ability to be coy when you stepped into this elevator. Please don’t make me ask you again.”

Though he made no threatening movements, the swell of his power spoke for him, the pressure of it nearly suffocating.

“I can feel it,” Civilian whispers shakily. “Your power. Anyone’s power. They have an -- an aura about them and I can feel how strong it is.”

“So you can tell, instantly, who is and isn’t a powered individual?” he clarified, his focus sharpening like the sun through a magnifying glass.

They only managed a nod, their throat tight.

“Fascinating.”

The hint of awe in his voice would have been flattering if Civilian hadn’t spent so much effort to avoid this kind of attention.

“And which organization is benefiting from this power? Who is keeping tabs on me?”

“No one,” Civilian said hurriedly. “I haven’t told anyone.”

A wicked smirk spread like slow poison across his face, transforming a visage that no one looked twice at into something terrifying.

“Do you think I’m as stupid as I pretend to be for work? There is no possibility that any organization would allow someone like you to walk untethered. Now, answer the question before I show you exactly why my aura frightens you so much.”

His hand hovered just over their heart, the beat of which a cacophony in their ears. Nothing happened -- yet. But the anticipation of it, coupled with the fact that Civilian still had no idea what such power was, made their whole body start to tremble.

“They don’t know about me,” they said, throat tight. “No one knows about me. I’ve kept it a secret my whole life.”

Jonathan still surveyed them with suspicion. “Why? I imagine you would be an extremely valuable asset to them. And those tend to be very well compensated. You expect me to believe you’d rather be a data clerk for a bank?”

A flash of rage breaks through the fog of terror. “My father was an extremely valuable asset. It didn’t stop him from dying an excruciating and unnecessary death. I’m not following in his footsteps.”

For a moment he looked taken aback at this confession before his eyes narrowed in what almost seemed like approval. It emboldened Civilian.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here and I don’t want to know. If I tell anyone about you, it will blow my secret too. So just . . . let me stay out of your way?” They swallowed, tongue darting out to moisten cracked lips. “Please?”

For several agonizing seconds he just looked at them, his face blank as printer paper. Civilian tried to meet his eyes, to look trustworthy, but the weight of his flat, calculating stare was too much. Instead, their gaze fell onto his hand, still hovering over their heart, ready to crush them or incinerate them or dissolve them or whatever ungodly thing he could do.

And then his hand slowly slipped down further between them and flipped up, palm open.

“What take out do you enjoy?” he asked.

“ . . .what?”

“It’s a bit late for a restaurant, but I know several takeout places still open this time of night. Do you have a preference?”

It was Civilian’s turn to stare at Jonathan with their brow furrowed.

“You -- you don’t need to buy me dinner,” they stammered.

“Of course I do. It’s customary for a date, yes?”

“For a what?” Civilian choked.

That wicked smirk appeared again, giving life to the void of his neutral expression.

“You know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“I -- I’m not your enemy!”

“And you will never have the opportunity to be one. I’m ensuring it. And since you refuse to acknowledge my presence here at work, there is only one other recourse. Now choose or I shall choose for you.”

A date. Dinner. With him. Someone with the strongest aura Civilian had ever encountered. Someone who was definitely planning something illegal.

“I like tacos,” they said faintly.

With a wave of his hand, the elevator shuddered back to life and continued it’s gentle decent to the ground floor.

“Then we shall get tacos,” said Jonathan, taking their hand.

Part Two

#my writing #not a prompt #enemies to lovers #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain

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avelera · 10 months

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Thinking about blasphemy and Good Omens right now and I can't help but notice an interesting phenomenon around some discussions I've seen about the Second Coming and Jesus Christ being a character in S3.

Namely, I see much more underlying discomfort around the possibility of the show poking fun at the figure of Jesus Christ than I do with any other prediction discussion or discussion around religion in the show.

On the one hand, I completely understand how poking fun at the Antichrist dogma from Revelations doesn't feel particularly blasphemous, where poking fun at Jesus does. The Antichrist is a stock character of horror at this point. Many more disrespectful teams than Gaiman and Pratchett have played with that story. It's barely even considered poking fun at Christianity to have Adam, the son of Satan, be a good kid in Good Omens. But Jesus is a very important figure to Christians all over the world. There are devout Christians who truly love Jesus and no one wants to be a jerk by just outright disrespecting a figure that is dear to so many.

But on the other hand, expecting Good Omens to not make fun of Jesus is a bit absurd to me. Literally saying, "I don't think the satirical religion show is going to satirize religion because it might upset people." Gaiman hasn't shied away from messing with religion or religious bigots before. He gleefully shrugged off attacks over God being a woman, or Adam and Eve being portrayed by people of color.

The Book of Job is lampooned in Season 2. I know it doesn't feel like it to many people here, but the reinterpretation of the Book of Job in S2 definitely registers as blasphemy on some religious scales. It is satirizing a religious text after all.

Saying that angels and demons fall in love and worse, have that love be portrayed by actors of the same sex could be seen as blasphemy at the very least on the level of saying God is a woman. And by the way, it's not like these religious texts say "God is whatever you want the entity to be" or "God is a woman if that makes you happy". Hell no, the Bible is extremely damn clear on God being male. The official position of the Catholic Church is that God is male. Official Catholic dogma is incredibly anti-female in terms of inherent holiness, women cannot become priests, even nuns are dependent on a priest to deliver the Sacraments, it's a huge deal and they are not planning to change any time soon and it is totally unambiguous.

Making God explicitly female might not seem like a big deal since films like Dogma, another religious satire, did it in the 90s but to True Believes in the official doctrine, that is a form of blasphemy.

Good Omens is by definition a blasphemous work. How offensively blasphemous it is really depends on the devoutness of the viewer. And I find it interesting the extent to which there's something of a knee jerk, "Oh they won't do that!" in terms of further satirizing religion in the show about religious satire. As if Jesus hasn't been satirized in other mainstream movies before like the aforementioned Dogma or Life of Brian.

And here's the thing, my personal opinion is? Blasphemy is good! Blasphemy laws on the books mean it's ok to punish, hurt, or even kill a person for making fun of religion or just doing the religion wrong. Human progress has been frozen in place by blasphemy laws, sciences have progressed when blasphemy laws ease or often while deliberately concealing their efforts from authorities in places where blasphemy laws or laws that were otherwise based on the dominant religion exist.

If anything, I am actually a bit uncomfortable with the idea that Good Omens should hold back on lampooning a figure like Jesus Christ. If devout Christians will make laws that determine what other humans can do with their bodies based on their religion, then their religion should absolutely be open to outright mockery without punishment or ramification to anyone. Of course on an individual level I wouldn't wish to be offensive to someone sincerely religious but at the same time, I am also violently anti-censorship of any kind. And blasphemy and religious mockery are often right at the heart of censorship debates.

The world is a better place when we can openly mock religion.

I'm not going to caveat that as an opinion. Being able to openly and without fear discuss, criticize, and mock religion is an incredibly important part of any free society. The battles over this right have been vicious and bloody and are actively ongoing around the world. Just as an example, anti-blasphemy laws were on the books in Ireland until 2020, there was a huge campaign to have them removed because other countries were pointing to them as an example of why they should keep and exercise such laws.

My point is that I suppose this is something of hyperbole or alarmist or overly strident. I can understand people wanting to be decent about not openly mocking a figure of such importance to so many like Jesus. But quite honestly? I hope Good Omens does whatever it pleases with mocking Jesus. I hope they don't hold back. I hope people remember that being able to mock religion is really important, especially when representatives of that religion are actively trying to clamp down on the rights of others.

And honestly, if religious people are offended they should just not watch or they should develop a thicker skin if they expose themselves to such discourse. Religion and Christianity in particular is an active part of the public sphere. It is worthy of discussion. Public discourse often includes mockery, especially of the powerful and of powerful forces that steer the course of nations, like Christianity.

And I think it's important for Good Omens fans, who are a very progressive group, not to cherry pick and moralize over what satire or blasphemy is permitted. All satire should be permitted. All blasphemy should be permitted. The religious bigots don't care if you think God being a woman is ok but making fun of Jesus isn't. It's all the same, anything but glowing praise is criticism to some of these forces. Open discussion is far more important and yes, that includes mockery, and silly discussions in a silly show about an angel and a demon who avert the Apocalypse and fall in love.

#maggie rambles #good omens spoilers

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captainofthetidesbreath · 1 year

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Colin's build isn't as flashy as some of the others in the party, but he does have one that is interesting to me in terms of mechanical character. Just to take stock what he's working with first:

16 (+3) Constitution, highest in the party. Mathematically, i.e. on paper since we don't know actual hit points at this time, he easily paces with Delissandro on hit points.

16 (+3) Strength and 17 (+3) Dexterity, second highest in the party. His longsword uses Strength, and his dagger uses Dexterity (because it's higher).

15 (+2) Intelligence, second highest in the party as Karna, Raphaniel, and Amangeaux all tie for first with 16 (+3).

AC 17, second highest in the party. Very respectable AC for this level.

Rogue 2. Because rogue is listed first on his card, I presume he is a base rogue; this is notable because it grants him four starting skills (as opposed to two plus one from a rogue multiclass) and proficiency in Dexterity saves. He has Expertise in Insight, as he made a check that was natural 4 but 11 total. Rogue 2 also means Cunning Action.

Fighter 3. Fighting Style (which could be interesting depending on what his choice is), Second Wind, and one use of Action Surge.

Battle Master. He knows three maneuvers.

Feat: Mobile. Brings his speed up to 40 feet, and difficult terrain does not reduce it while he is dashing. Combined with Cunning Action, he can run 120 feet with a double dash: greater than the next fastest Amangeaux (30 base, 90 at double dash) and twice the speed of the rest the party at their greatest full dash (assuming no items modifying speed are in the mix). Mobile also allows him to neutralize attacks of opportunity: someone he makes a melee attack against, hit or miss, they cannot make an attack of opportunity against him for the rest of the turn.

Colin has a very physical stats forward build, in that Colin's best stats are all physical and all are at least +3, moreso than even Delissandro who has a higher Charisma than Constitution and Dexterity. (You can check all the stat cards from the first episode here.) The combination of Cunning Action and Mobile makes him incredibly difficult to pin down or corner and moves very fast with an ability to close on a target. A respectable AC and proficiency in Dexterity saves also makes him pretty dodgy at this level, and a good Constitution makes him hardy; he is a tank.

I find his build very interesting because it tells a story of someone who is very comfortable on the battlefield and is used to combat scenarios. It corroborates what he tells Delissandro ("Any other battle advice or anything you want from me, 'cause that's kinda my gear.") and is in line with him planning combat strategies when anxious or uncomfortable. An individual player can always take or leave the flavor of a subclass, but the narrative of the Battle Master leans heavily on someone who has been trained in military arts or has learned very well through experience in the field.

Base rogue with the Mobile feat very much tells a story. His respectable Intelligence paired with Battle Master does too. Altogether, his mechanics communicate to me that he is well suited to his job as a sellsword, and he is one of skill and experience.

A lot of this can also be augmented by class choices, particularly Maneuver Choices. I won't speculate too much on choices because there's so many good ones, but Evasive Footwork, Ambush, Bait and Switch, Disarming Attack, Riposte, Quick Toss would add to this sense of someone who is difficult to pin down, moves easily through combat, and has a good grasp of the rhythm of battle.

Colin's entire set of mechanics together give me personally a sense of someone who is very much a survivor and of someone who knows how to move through combat, both in the intellectual skill to calculate and the physical skill to execute.

#sorry his mechanics are just very very interesting #watch me have to rewrite this in like an hour bc the second episode drops in twenty minutes #Colin Provolone #The Ravening War #Dimension 20 #d20 things #trw meta #trw things

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theswordwizard · 8 months

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ai art: both sides

I think a lot of non-artists are also just really and truly not understanding the big picture. I personally could not care less about that cat image, it was fun, whatever, but you are only producing those kinds of images in the sense that an art director "produces" whatever art they are in charge of. They are telling another artist what to do, even guiding them, but they are not considered the artist themselves. Artists who are creating their own art, who are trying to survive off of their work (many of whom have some form of disability, as art is easy to do while sitting down, etc), who are already in the middle of fighting to not just be tossed aside for a product which doesn't even produce the results it claims, are reacting negatively because they are seeing that in parallel with tabling spaces taken up with people presenting generated art as their own illustration, and game devs/producers using it as a way to explicitly avoid paying people for work, while using something that was trained on their work.

"Why do people react so strongly to things possibly being AI art?" If you want to keep it out of the courts, then public opinion matters all the more. It's about a party line that is easily communicable. Most artists are going to be strongly anti-AI because that's the best way to protect themselves than trying to "open a discussion" about it. It's like nurse scabs. We can argue back and forth all day about the intricacies of scabbing for important jobs, but at the end of the day the party line will generally be "scabbing is bad," "we don't like scabs," "scabbing harms workers."

People are trying to compare people getting mad about it to people getting mad about Duchamp's fountain, which just lets me know about their level of art education, and the level of which they like to talk out their ass.

Duchamp's fountain isn't a major point in art history because of the object itself, its because of the STATEMENT. It is because of the placement of the object IN THE GALLERY. It is the equivalent of a political pamphlet, but summed up in a single object that incites discussion around his political statement. It isn't about the object it is about the CONCEPT. We can literally call anything we want "art" if we dedicate ourselves to reframing it and treating it as such, it's just that most non-artists don't even care. They want the label of being an artist without even putting in an effort to. It's like if I wanted to be called a photographer and I wanted people to treat me as such, and so I just made a portfolio of pictures I took off of Pinterest or even a stock photo site, because I've decided that it's the photos I would WANT to take, and thus I can just act like they have anything to do with me.

There have been arguments over much more "similar" things for a long time too. Since the 90s Richard Prince has been taking people's instagram photos, making slight tweaks to avoid copyright, and then printing them large scale and selling them for tens of thousands of dollars. Technically legal, kinda shitty, as he does it without even contacting the (plenty of times, women) original posters. And that's just with selfies people have taken! But I don't see people mentioning that because a lot of people don't like him, and most people arguing to legitimize AI art to be uncontested don't actually care that much about contemporary art. They have zero real interest in being an artist and talking about art to that degree, to have those discussions in a way that isn't validating themselves. Duchamp's fountain in a gallery incites discussion because galleries are places of art discussion. If someone brought a crate of mechanically woven baskets (that they bought from amazon) to a craft fair, people are going to be rightly pissed off. It's about context.

It's also, in my opinion, a similar discussion to the one that was big on twitter not too long ago, where people argued that artists weren't obligated to be able to draw non-white and/or disabled people. Which, sure, but you probably aren't that good of an artist if you don't know how to. And someone going through a portfolio of exclusively white people might go "huh, only white people. interesting." (I even want to include a gotcha here! If an artist has a portfolio of white people, and they have a section talking about their focus being painting their family tree in like, northern Ireland, it's gonna be a totally different story. why, you ask? because there is an underlying concept other than "wow this artist really only likes white people." this is part of the reading comprehension test that will follow.)

And you know what, I'm going to be honest - and this is likely a result of me not being a photographer - but I'm not even really talking all that much about AI photo edits, outside of the large scale implications of what it means that anyone can create a highly realistic image of anything they want (including political figures, female celebrities, you see my pattern here) with zero effort, on a mass scale we've never seen previously. I think they should only be used with stock, and I even think that photographers who upload their works should get additional payments from it. I actually had used a generator back in 2019 for a project, well before this even became a discussion, and it was even featured in a gallery show for a bit! The overall theme was "fake news," so it was a conceptual piece with fake landscape photography that I made with some beta tool. The point was the tool in combination with the tool's result, not how pretty the fake pictures were. I also want to say it was trained a lot more ethically than a lot of the generators that are so popular today.

And this isn't to say that you have to have a gallery or be so fully integrated in a physical art scene or whatever to be able to make conceptual art or talk about it - honestly I think zines that could actually combine whatever your concept is with having room to talk about it, and they're easy to create both physically and digitally and share. maybe just don't have it be around "look at all these pretty pictures that I made with AI." similar to how people at the art book fair aren't going to be impressed with me being like "look at all these pretty pictures I found on Unsplash."

Sure, AI art is "real art," but it's not illustration or photography or whatever, it's conceptual art. Which means it's main goal is to incite thought and discussion about it. Like the D&D book's release that suddenly turned to being about the AI art they used. So if you want to be an artist using primarily AI, go ahead, no one can stop you, but the topic is culturally significant with the current fight between the entertainment unions to protect their livelihoods, so the discussion will be heated.

#ai art #honestly unimpressed with how transparent a lot of the arguments ive seen here are

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shybunnie20 · 7 months

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Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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shuttershocky · 2 months

Note

hiya shutters,

hope you're doing okay!! on a scale of sad wet cat to anxiety but with guns - how much are you looking forward to the jessica alter banner? if i can pick your brain for a bit, do you have any insights about her or the other ops coming our way?

Hi!

Jessica the Liberated is actually my favorite kind of 6 star: versatile, packing a lot of weird tech/utility, and damage high enough to do the job without being high enough that she becomes instapull Youtuber clickbait. As always, i don't recommend pulling beyond the guaranteed 10 roll when not on limited banners, since she can always spook you later (and will also definitely rerun), but I would raise her to E2max at once if I get her.

Jessica's big draw is that she's currently the only Defender with a summon—a shield that doesn't attack, and can only be deployed in the 4 tiles adjacent to Jessica, but has a +1 Taunt buff on itself. What's the point of a summon that doesn't attack you ask? There's 4 important pieces of info to consider

The Mobile Shield has stats almost as high as Jessica's, and is Block-2 to boot. When you consider that Jessica is a 6 star Defender, that's a really tanky summon. If you go all the way and max her module too, the mobile shield gets higher max HP and DEF than Jessica herself.

Jessica temporarily changes her direction to face the Mobile Shield. She's so far the only Operator able to turn around, useful when enemies try to surprise you out of nowhere, or when dealing with map gimmicks that involve Operator facing like Near Light's shadows.

Since the mobile shield doesn't attack, it can stall enemies that activate skills upon being attacked. Simply form an L shape direction (the long line is Jessica + shield, the short line is the enemy) so that Jessica herself can't shoot the enemy because the Shield is blocking them from entering her range. Flagbearers, Seaborn Reapers, any enemies whose ATK stats can't overcome the shield's DEF stats, you can stall them for a very long time, as the shield lasts 50 seconds.

It's not written in the skill descriptions on Gamepress but the Shield has +1 Taunt, meaning you can deploy operators after it and ranged enemies will still attack the shield. It's a free ranged tank on top of your regular tank! Oh and did I mention at E2 when the shield takes damage Jessica gets a 50% chance of getting +1 SP? If the shield draws fire, it also charges Jessica faster.

But let's say having a 2-in-1 tank package doesn't excite you. Let's go into her skills.

S1 is an infinite duration, AFK skill where Jessica modestly boosts her ATK and DEF by +70% while also increasing her mobile shield duration by +30s. As AFK skills go it's not the greatest, since it doesn't expand her modest attack range and the DPS is low at 800 (though has a modest 1000 DPH), and when it comes to AFK tanking you have Hoshiguma S2 (or my personal favorite, Croissant S1) to compete with, but if you need your AFK tank to also be dealing damage, it's not a bad deal. The mastery gains are huge too, Level 7 goes from 90 SP cost to 70, still large, but a 20 SP cut is a 20 SP cut.

S2 is a range expansion to Spreadshooter Sniper range, +75% ATK, speeds up her ATK interval to 0.3s from 1.2s, and has a very juicy 75% Physical and Arts dodge. Now Arts dodge is very rare even among dedicated tank units in Arknights, and 75% is also really damn high. For a skill that lasts 15 seconds and also boasts a very high 3.5k DPS, this is a damn neat tanking skill, even if still chance based. It should be noted that this skill gets a big upgrade when Sentinel modules are released, since the Sentinel module reveals invisible units inside a Sentinel's attack range. Limited but useful for most Sentinels since they only have two tiles of range normally, but Jessica's S2 expands it into spreadshooter range, making her both a decent invis counter while her really high DPS lets her kill them herself.

S3 expands her attack range by 1 tile, slows down her ATK interval to 1.8s, gives her +310% ATK and +80% DEF, while the Mobile Shield gets +170% DEF. If the mobile shield is deployed, Jessica fires a cannon shot that deals 250% of ATK as damage and stuns enemies in the AOE for 6 seconds. Uses 20 ammo.

Oh boy that description is so long I'm making a new paragraph for the explanation. It's funny, an AOE 6 second stun on a 40 second cooldown is practically Mostima's whole S2M3, except here it's just one feature tacked on to the rest of Jessica's S3. There's a ton of tricks you can do with the cannonshot I won't list down here (refer to the S3 section of this video if you want to learn them), but the general gist is this is a very high DPH (2.5k) tankbuster skill that gives Jessica 1.4k DEF and the shield 2k DEF, making the pair extremely tough. When you combine this skill with Jessica's ability to change directions, you have a very flexible skill that can AOE crowd, control tank, and tankbust all at once, and it uses ammo too so it won't waste any duration when there are no enemies. This lets Jessica S3 cheese enemies that freeze her (since she can't attack them, she won't run out of ammo so her DEF buff lasts forever), or lets her keep her DEF up the whole time while being pelted by ranged enemies she can't hit back yet. There are a ton of ways you can abuse this skill's various quirks, making Jessica the Liberated a favorite unit for players looking into making optimized clears for challenge stages.

_____

Now, whenever anyone talks Arknights meta, people always favor units that are the best of the best in one aspect (usually, DPS) and disregard everything else. However, I feel that's a bit disingenuous, given that Arknights' best game mode and probably the game mode that will outlive Arknights' live service itself is Integrated Strategies.

In the roguelike mode, versatility is king. An operator that can do two things but isn't the best at both will struggle to compete in normal Arknights when you can bring whoever you want, but when you're assembling a well-rounded team at the mercy of voucher rng? Suddenly second-best looks real attractive when they can also do a second role in a pinch.

Jessica the Liberated is one of the most valuable picks you can possibly get from a Defender voucher. Tanking? She can do it. Attacking? She can do it too. Anti-air? She's one of the very few Defenders able to do it, and she's also really good at it with S2. Crowd control? Cannon. Weird map layout? She can change directions. DP is tight? She costs 21, cheaper than a tank like Hoshiguma at 23. Invis reveal? She gets that too eventually, as if she wasn't packing enough options.

The only thing this girl's not doing is fucking healing, incredible given that she's interned at a hospital for years now and somehow came out of the experience with heavy weaponry and zero bandaids.

Ah but we're not done yet. Apart from packing enough utility in a single voucher to make Saria start sweating, Jessica also has a ton of different possible relic combos. To use Spinach relics with her cannon shot, simply deploy the mobile shield before S3, so as soon as S3 activates, she instantly fires the cannon with the Spinach boosting its damage. Any Phys+, ATK+, DEF+, or DEF- for enemies works as well as you would think on her too. Her S3 cannonshot can have its stun duration extended by relics, or deal extra arts damage by relics like Children's Puppet. Being a melee unit with extra range means Scout Scope works on her for both S2 and S3, while S2 having 75% Arts and Phys dodge means she can take advantage of dodge relics too. She's got a summon, so relics that boost summons can boost her shield, and IS4 has a new relic that boosts an operator's ATK when their summon is deployed too.

We can go on and on here, but you should get the idea now. Jessica never solved her anxiety, but she did bring an arsenal big enough to handle almost any situation you can throw at her. I think she's a great unit, and if you're a new player when you get her she's absolutely capable of being your rock.

#arknights

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ohgriftwearereallyinitnow · 4 months

Text

Listen ok Eliot is protective like whoa and that doesn’t just mean in the dangerous way; he’s mom friend, he’s the older sister you never had, he’s your actual mom, the “have you eaten today?” friend. All that being said, he routinely takes down private security teams, in his head, on his day off. Once he said he only sleeps 90 minutes a night and I’m not so sure he was lying - it’s half probably unnecessary hypervigilance and something he picked up when he needed to keep watch for two weeks straight with a team of three and four months of constant attack.

Alec Hardison is thirsty for someone to be close to. He had a great homelife (relatively) and he knows what it’s supposed to be like but he’s actually a classic computer nerd and has never been with someone past his fantasies of what romance should be like. Which brings me to my next point which is he’s a classic romantic. I think Hardison had a real job at some point, like he was a tech guy or he worked at a cybersecurity company or he hacked like garcia. Anyway he knows basic stuff. He’s the emotional one of the bunch, the one who experiences emotion like a typical person Like Eliot, can sense when someone isn’t telling the truth or isn’t being true to himself through high level CIA training but lacks the emotional intelligence to deal with it gracefully. Which is where Hardison comes in

Then there’s Parker. She keeps everyone at arm’s distance, to the point where it’s actually shocking if she touches you. She takes extreme risks because she’s incredibly impulsive. She doesn’t lie, doesn’t even know how or why she would because she always has an escape route. She hates hospitals because she spent her entire 7th year in one after a beating so bad she almost didn’t walk again. But she’s not adverse to romance and friendship, it just takes her a very long time to suss out whether you’re going to hurt her or not. She’s gullible about real world knowledge bc she has a very specific set of skills. A bizarrely blazeh attitude until helpless children being exploited or respect for Good dead men gets brought up, basically she knows what the right thing is but she needs people to point her in the right direction.

Eliot and Alec really do use that to their advantage but would rather kill each other and themselves before hurting her. Thus even though they fight, they really do go well together.

#leverage ot3 #leverage #i wrote this a while ago but I’m getting back into this ot3 wip and i wanted to post it for inspo #fic idea #personal #og leverage #just ot3 thoughts

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megumimania · 6 months

Text

WHY DONT WE FALL IN LOVE ? - jean kirstein

summary: you and jean are brought together by a shared love of music, is that all there is or is there something more below the surface?

warnings: jean x black!reader, fluff, jean is definitely an alt rock/ grunge enthusiast, jean and reader are down bad for each other but won’t admit it, ayesha and corinne win the award for best wing women, get you a man who truly cares, the format is weird my bad

a/n: this was written for @honeybleed’s 90’s rnb event! congrats naj, you deserve everything and more!!

it was another day at the record store, where you worked part time during the weekend. you loved your job, talking with customers and bonding over your shared love for music and records was one of the main highlights of your day. of course there were some customers who were rude and pretentious but you didn’t let that deter you from providing a good experience for your customers.

the faint sounds of dreams, fairytales and fantasies by asap ferg played in the background as you were organising new stock, humming the lyrics to yourself while doing so. you were so deeply engrossed in your task that you didn't register jean's presence near you. jean was one of your favourite customers, he was a world away from the regular customers that you were so accustomed to dealing with.

when you first met him, you immediately assumed that he'd be annoyingly pretentious, condescending and snarky—a characteristic you were used to seeing on the daily. but one day he came up to the counter while you were working and you absentmindedly had your finger ready to point to the 80’s rock section, not registering the look of confusion on his face.

"what are you pointing to?" he asked, brows furrowing in confusion. you felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, “i just assumed that you-anyways how can i help you?" you replied with a smile, trying to break the awkward tension.

he looked around sheepishly, the tips of his ears flushing a faint pink. "uhh... honestly i don't know, do you have any recommendations?” he asked, with a level of shyness which you found quite cute.

his naivety to music/good records astonished you, considering he looked like a cross between a heavy nirvana fan and a country music enthusiast. after a long conversation with him, you gave him three albums to listen to, along with your number because you wanted him to tell you if he liked the songs or not.

since then you've developed a friendship with jean despite your two best friends/coworkers, ayesha and corinne saying otherwise. you’ve always denied it but lately, you’ve started to feel some type of way about him. suddenly you’ve began to notice his dimples when he smiles, the faint freckles he has on his face or how his eyes are more of a hazel colour in the sunlight—friends usually notice these things about each other right???

jean cleared his throat, snapping you out of your reverie. “y/n, you good?” he said, giving you a once over to make sure that you were okay. you felt your face heat up and you silently thanked god that he was unable to see you blush. “yeah i’m good.” was all you managed to reply with.

a minute of tense silence passed between you both, either of you waiting on the other to break the silence between you both. “can y’all stop eyefucking each other, you’re making me sick!” corinne yelled from the counter, scaring you both. the tips of jean’s ears turned a light pink from embarrassment.

“you left your bonnet and your scarf at my place the other week.” he said handing them over to you. “i’ve washed them for you, i’d thought you’d like that.” he said, the last part coming out quieter than intended. “we still on for saturday?” he asked, his gaze locked on yours, “yeah of course.” jean smiled before responding, “cool, i’ll see you then.” he walked off, waving you goodbye which you returned.

you tried to avoid ayesha and corinne for the rest of your shift but they cornered you as soon as you left work, dragging you to a nearby cafe. “so you and jean huh?” ayesha teased, taking a sip of her drink. you sighed and rolled your eyes, pretending to look interested in the menu in hopes that ayesha would drop the question.

“guys, i might order—hey!” you protested as corinne snatched the menu from your fingertips. “there’s nothing going on between me and jean.” you finally spat out after a moment of silence. “we’re just friends.” your friends shared a look that said they weren’t buying it. “so why was your bonnet and scarf at his house then?” corinne pressed further, and you genuinely felt like you were being interrogated for a crime you didn’t commit. “i slept over at his place, its not a big deal.” you said nonchalantly, drumming your fingertips on the table.

“we all saw the way you two were staring at each other, and you really want me to believe that you guys are just friends?” ayesha added, corinne nodding in support. “it’s okay to admit that jean thee pony has got you weak in the knees, you know.” you snorted at her nickname for jean. “i hate you guys.” you sighed, staring out the window dramatically. “and we love you too, y/n!” they said in unison, pulling you in for a hug.

“y/n, your white boy is here!” corinne shouted from the hallway. you were nervous, you’d spent an hour getting ready for today and you were still unable to quell the nerves in your stomach. you debated on taking a rain-check but decided against it. you quickly added the finishing touches to your hair and makeup and headed out. corinne gave you her thumbs up of approval as you left.

jean’s plan to act cool completely evaporated once he saw you. you were gorgeous in a way he couldn’t comprehend, he tried to maintain his composure but as always his face betrayed him, unable to hide the blush that spread across his face. “you look gorgeous, y/n.” was all he managed to sputter out. you were surprised that you had him fumbling over himself like this but you found it cute.

“you look great yourself.” you replied, taking him in. from the fresh trim, to his outfit, to the cologne he was wearing, everything about him made you feel giddy inside. “where are you taking me today?” you said, hopping into his car. his gaze lingered on you for a second before he cleared his throat, “its a surprise.” he said, sticking his tongue out at you whilst turning on the ignition.

the last few minutes of the car journey, jean told you keep your eyes closed. you eyed him weirdly, but did it anyway because you trusted him. his hand remained on the small of your back as he guided you to the destination. “are we there yet?” you asked, becoming increasingly impatient, he responded to you after a moment of silence. “open your eyes.” he whispered in a low voice sending chills down your spine.

you opened your eyes and you turned to him in disbelief “how did you—i’ve been trying to book a reservation here for ages, how!” jean placed his jacket on your shoulders, noticing the way you were shivering. “the owner is a family friend of mine, plus he owed me one.” he said coolly, trying to not make it seem like a big deal. “let’s go inside.” he took your hand in his leading you into the restaurant. the interior looked gorgeous with it being fairly modern as beautiful ceiling fixtures hung above you.

you were led to your table which was on a second floor that away from everybody else. jean pulled out your chair for you letting you sit down before he did. you opened the menu scanning it to see what appealed to your tastes. whilst you were busy trying to figure out the menu, jean kept stealing glances at you. he couldn’t help it, even when he was trying to read the menu, his eyes kept drifting back to you.

you grew shy under jean’s gaze and used the menu to cover your face. jean chuckled softly, gently putting down the menu to the side. “why are you hiding your face from me, beautiful?” your face heated up at the pet name. “you make me nervous, i cant help it.” you said feeling quite bashful, he took your hand in his, tracing light figures on your palm. “believe me when i say i’ve been nervous this whole time.” you both laughed at that, it helped to diffuse the awkward tension between you both knowing that you were both nervous as each other.

dinner flowed smoothly after that as you grew comfortable with each other again, the usual banter and jokes resumed and you truly felt at home with jean. apart from the silence that was shared when you were eating, you were talking non stop and even at times when you felt like you were saying too much, he looked at you with so much adoration, wordlessly telling you to keep going. you’ve never felt so relaxed during a date before it was weird not having to condense parts of you to seem likeable when it seemed that jean liked every part of you.

one of the reasons that you wanted to dine at the restaurant for so long was for its infamous beach views. the moon hung lowly in the distance as you and jean walked down the beach, hand in hand as you talked about everything and anything. he suddenly broke out into a sprint heading straight first to the water, you had no choice but to follow him. you shuddered as you walked into the cold waters trying to find him. jean pulled you towards him making you shriek as you felt his cold hands rest on your waist. “why did you do that!” you smacked his shoulder playfully, he laughed in response. “didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

he pulled you even closer, you were now breaths apart which made the moment more intimate. “how can i make it up to you, hm?” he asked softly, his eyes boring into yours as he held you in his arms. “i think i know just the trick.” he smiled softly before he picked you up and pressed his lips against yours gently and for a moment the world disappeared around you leaving you and jean in your own bubble. his lips were surprisingly warm considering how cold his hands were. “you’re forgiven.” you smiled as you pulled away from him, brushing the wet strands of hair away from his face. “good, because i wouldn’t want to be on your hitlist.” he said, laughing as he finally carried you out of the water.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x black reader #jean x reader #jean x y/n #snk jean #aot jean #jean fluff #this was so fun to write #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot x black!reader #jean lovers unite

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tropes-and-tales · 8 months

Text

Obsession

Day 6 Voyeurism (Dave York x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Dave is creepy; voyeurism; smut (PiV, protected; between reader character and not-Dave); 18+ only.

Word Count: 2023

AN: This was requested by the lovely @chemicalalice

It’s a feature of Dave York’s new neighborhood, how close the houses are to each other.

His new neighborhood, rather: after his divorce from Carol, his now ex-wife kept the house, so Dave took the opportunity to embrace a new beginning. He moved from his McMansion in its suburban purgatory into a part of the city where the housing is more varied, closer together.

He buys a small Craftsman-style house, and he makes it his. He settles into his new life. Dave York’s Second Act.

He finds his rhythm. Work, then home. His daily run through the neighborhood. His evenings with a scotch, unwinding on his couch in bad weather or on his back porch in good weather. He has next to no back yard, but he can see where the original plat used to lie: his house’s original carriage house had been subdivided into its own plot, and the former carriage house was converted at some point to a single family home.

Owned by you. Occupied by you.

Dave noted you the day he moved in. He noted all of his neighbors, everyone on his street. He did surface-level searches on everyone—a hazard of his job, his perpetual distrust of everyone—but he dug a little deeper on you.

It’s been months now. Dave and you are on polite terms. You wave hello, call out “good morning” when he’s stretching for his run and you’re walking your dog. Sometimes your mail gets switched because of the off-kilter numbering on your street. That’s the extent of it, though.

Dave wonders how you’d react to everything he’s dug up on you. There’s the obvious stuff, the wide-open social media profiles that give him a good idea of the type of woman you are. There’s the professional website that shows your work history, your education. Easy stuff that anyone could find.

But then there’s the stuff no one should be able to find. The stuff that would probably horrify you, infuriate you, if you ever found out that Dave went spelunking for it. He’s horrified, a little, at himself, but you’ve become something of a hobby to him. An interesting puzzle to piece together. Is it boredom, the long quiet nights without the noise of his family? Post-divorce rebounding? Stress relief from his job? Who can say?

It’s a slippery slope from interested to obsessed.

It’s appallingly easy to hack your computer. It’s easy to pick your front door lock while you’re at work and your dog is at doggy day care. Easy to slip a monitoring program on your laptop, and since you have everything saved on the cloud, Dave has the bonus access to your phone as well.

It’s an obsession. It’s all-consuming. It’s a constant feedback loop of call and response: Dave thinks of you, has the image of your float in his mind’s eye. A moment later, he taps on his phone or laptop, pulls up his spyware, and can see what you’re doing.

Sometimes, you’re not using your phone at all. Or your laptop. Sometimes you must be otherwise engaged: driving or eating a meal, or drinking with friends or walking your dog. Those moments make Dave feel unsettled, irritated that you’re out of his sight, like the sun slipping behind a cloud and casting the earth in darkness.

Then the delayed gratification when you’re back, the sun breaking through the clouds again. You unlock your phone to log your meal—you track your food. You unlock your phone and pull up a playlist, and he can picture you humming along to ‘90’s alternative or ‘80’s New Wave or old hair bands.

You unlock your phone and read smutty stories on a website, and Dave reads along with you, sees the kinks you gravitate towards, and he thinks, “oh, you filthy little girl, the things I’d do to you.”

When your phone activity goes idle right afterwards, he can guess why.

It doesn’t take a genius to see why his obsession grows. Just a bit of boredom before, a way to pass time until Dave’s Second Act could really get going, yet now he thinks of little else, wants little else.

His rhythm: work, then home. His daily run through the neighborhood. His evenings with a scotch, unwinding on his couch in bad weather or on his back porch in good weather, the ghost of you beside him, behind him, in his head, hijacking every thought. The real you, the flesh and blood you, so fucking close—mere yards away, if he’s on his back porch—but you may as well be on Jupiter.

You unlock your phone. You open the dating app that is really just a hook-up app. Dave watches on his own phone as you swipe left, swipe right, send opening salvos to men younger than him, but not by much. He watches those men fumble, fail. He sees the dick pics that come through, pathetic shots of ungroomed dicks with dirty laundry, unmade beds in the background. He sees how politely you brush them off, how you return to the search and adjust the age brackets and the distance to cast a wider net.

Dave goes to bed that night and seethes at how unsure he finds himself. He should make a move. He should leave you alone.

If he makes a move, he’ll definitely come on too strong. His obsession will spill out and scald you with its intensity; he’ll scare you with how much he wants you already, how much he wants to own every part of you. And Dave is like a wolf: if you’re scared and run from him, he will want to chase you.

If he leaves you alone, though, will his obsession ever die off? Will it wilt, then exhale quietly as it dies?

-----

You unlock your phone. You have a match on your hook-up app, and you and this guy—this Eric—text. You make plans.

Dave watches from his darkened living room as you leave your carriage house. Dress, heels, makeup. Hair done up nice.

He seethes. Your phone has little activity for most of the night. Unlocked a few times, and photos of your dog pulled up. You must be showing Nice Guy Eric pics of your dog.

Does Eric pay for your meal, or does he make you split the bill? Does he lay his hand on your lower back, tantalizingly close to the swell of your perky ass? Does he chance a look down your dress; does he lean in close to take in the scent of your soap, your perfume, your pheromones sparking at the male attention?

In the hours when you’re gone, Dave lays out an infinite number of possibilities. Scenarios where Nice Guy Eric isn’t nice at all, and for some unknown reason you call Dave. Dave York to the rescue. Dave York scooping you into his arms, and when his obsession spills over, it doesn’t scald you at all because in this scenario, you’ve been obsessing over him too.

Stupid shit. It’s stupid. Dave is a grown man; he has a job and a mortgage and an ex-wife and children, for fuck’s sake, but he’s here mooning like a teenaged girl daydreaming over a boy band…

You unlock your phone. You order a car. Dave tracks the route from the city center as it gets closer to his home (your home), but when you climb out of the car, you aren’t alone.

Nice Guy Eric is with you. He’s on your heels, his hands on your hips as you fumble with your keys, as you giggle when you try to unlock your door. Nice Guy Eric spins you around, presses you against the door, kisses you. Dave watches from the darkness of his living room, rages to see your hands as they settle on the back of Nice Guy Eric’s neck, on his waist as you kiss him back, then lead him inside your small home.

Dave cannot stop his feet from carrying him outside. He leaves his porch light off, lurks in the darkness, and he knows exactly how it looks. He knows exactly what it is. It’s creepy, it’s borderline illegal, but he cannot stop himself.

His back porch overlooks your bedroom, and though you’ve drawn your blinds, they aren’t drawn tight. Dave on his porch looking down into your room, and he can see you and Nice Guy Eric. He watches as you and he spend long minutes on your bed, stretched out and making out, and Dave wishes it were his hands on you instead of this fucking idiot, because he’s touching you all wrong. He’s groping you, there’s no finesse, and you deserve someone who knows what the hell he’s doing.

Dave doesn’t know where the wellspring of his anger comes from at this moment. Is he furious because there’s another man in your bed, kissing you, fucking you? Or is he furious because Nice Guy Eric is not making it good for you at all?

Because Nice Guy Eric is an idiot. He spends no time seducing you. He doesn’t sit back and admire you: that amazing ass, those tits, all wrapped up in the prettiest pink lingerie Dave’s ever seen. Nice Guy Eric doesn’t ease you out of it; he doesn’t push you back against a bank of pillows to put his mouth and tongue to you. Nice Guy Eric has this opportunity to taste you, to tease you with his tongue and fingers, but he doesn’t take it.

His only foreplay is the making out, and then he’s rolling a condom onto himself, climbing on top of you. It’s a paltry four, five pumps before he’s shuddering and then collapsing on top of you.

The asshole doesn’t even cuddle with you more than thirty seconds. Nice Guy Eric may be nice in other ways, but he’s a selfish lover, and even Dave can see the blatant disappointment on your face as you see your date off.

-----

You unlock your phone. You pull up your hook-up app. Back to the drawing board, Dave guesses.

Dave is ready now. He knows your parameters, and he’s tailored his profile to fall within it. He’s paid the paltry amount to be featured—he already has a slew of matches, but there’s only one he wants.

He needs you to make the first move. In whatever twisted logic is ruling this game of his, he needs you to make the opening gambit, to invite him in.

You scroll through your matches. Dave watches in real time on his own phone, and he sees when you find him: he pictures your thumb hovering over his profile, because you swipe neither right nor left for a long stretch.

You obviously recognize him. You scroll through his profile, and Dave has been honest here. No sense in lying, because you’ve probably seen the girls when they come over for their every-other-weekend visits. No sense in pretending he’s not on his second act.

You scroll through the photos he’s uploaded, a few nice ones and one where he’s shirtless—an outdoors shot from when he ran a half-marathon last year, then shed his shirt afterwards, and he hopes you like his build, that you like the scatter of chest hair and the way his skin glows from the exercise and the sweat and the sun.

When you finally swipe right, Dave nods to himself, then smiles.

*****

Your phone chimes, and you unlock it. It’s a message on the dating app, and you send up a silent prayer that it’s not another dick pic.

Prayer answered: it’s not a dick pic. It’s a text message from the guy who lives in the house that’s at a weird angle to your house. The runner who sometimes gets your mail. He’s cute, so when he popped up in your possible matches, you matched with him and thought, “why not? What’s the worst that can happen?”

His message asks if you’d like to grab dinner or drinks sometime. “No pressure,” he’s typed out. “I’d just like to get to know you better.”

#dave york #dave york imagine #dave york x reader #the equalizer 2 #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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oneatlatime · 5 months

Text

The Earth King

As always, commentary off.

No. Sokka. No. Stop. This is your stupidest idea yet. I want to LEAVE Ba Sing Se.

Sokka. Listen to your sister. And your other sister.

Toph embodying my will manifested on screen.

What makes you think the Earth King is going to listen to four teens and their fluffy dog? When I put it that way, this is Scooby Doo. Scooby Doo plus Momo. Does that make Momo Scrappy Doo?

We're going back to Ba Sing Se. Great. Yay. I'm so excited.

It is rapidly becoming apparent that Sokka has lost his mind.

Surface to air rocks is funny. I'll give it to them, that's good.

This fight scene music is fantastic.

Aang took a level in badass at some point without my noticing.

I know these hats are inspired by real historical hats, and so I really shouldn't make fun, but these look like the lovechild of a toilet brush and a feather duster.

This fight is majority Toph and Katara. RIP the egos of these several hundred Earth Kingdom soldiers.

Please ensure your fluffy little butt is securely stored in the overhead bins before takeoff.

There's no way these guys are still alive. This is what was done to Jet, doubled. They dead.

The girl who doesn't even want to be here is doing all the work. Typical.

My congratulations to Toph, Katara, and Aang for demolishing an army without breaking a sweat. If only season 1 Katara could see you guys now.

I said in my previous write up that Zuko doing something good always comes back to bite him. I didn't mean it this literally. Did he have to take the jug out with him, or was that for the drama?

Good job guys!

Soka steals my job and points out the fulfillment of the Beat Up Sokka quota.

His earthiness has an interesting set of priorities.

So... is this episode just going to be talking?

He brainwashed your friend? Did you miss that he killed him too?

I said in my last write up that Long Feng was Avatar's first competent villain, but the tone he takes with the Earth King is so unsubtle that I'm thinking of rescinding that claim. Unless the King is so dumb that subtlety isn't required?

Toothprints. Sokka the idea guy coming in clutch. Too bad his brain wasn't engaged at the start of the episode.

Appa is a herbivore. Confirmed. Although he should have fangs for aesthetic reasons. Fanged Appa would be metal.

This king is a confusing mixture of endearing and infuriating.

No mere fever will prevent me from doing mundane actions in the most dramatic way possible!

Way back in the 90s there was a print ad for Chevy trucks that I remember seeing in magazines. It had a shirtless guy in jeans sitting on the bed of his truck in a field, pouring a bucket of water over himself. It was kind of at sunset and had a very late summer vibe. I had completely forgotten about it until I saw Zuko's bucket shenanigans in this scene, at which point I was abruptly -ABRUPTLY- reminded of how much time little me spent staring at that ad.

OH MY GOD. The King doesn't know about trains!!! BLASPHEMY.

Huh. So the King isn't stupid, he's just horrifically naive.

Positive attitude Sokka is kind of frightening. I do not like.

If I told this King that I had a bunch of puppies in my windowless van, he would totally fall for it. So much about the Earth Kingdom suddenly makes sense.

That one guard is having a doozy of a day.

Did the King just show a smidge of self-awareness? Wasn't expecting that.

Who is this? I have no idea who this is. I didn't realise how integral the scar was to the character's design. Give it back.

Yikes. A bunch of shmymbolism. I suck epically at decoding shmymbolism unless it's really spoon fed to me, so I'm not even going to try to understand this dream beyond 'poor guy has a really bad fever.'

Has anyone seen the Spencer Tracy movie Father of the Bride? There's a bit where he has a dream that the floor on the way to the altar does pretty much exactly this. Hungry floors must be a common dream experience.

Pretty.

If the King is really this completely ignorant of the war, who's been directing the army?

It's pretty neat that Sokka is the spokesperson of Team Avatar, and that no one disputes that.

Aang says "there's a comet coming this summer," but I heard "comic" and I know they made tie in comics for the show, so I was like "ooh a crossover episode!"

"You're already vulnerable. The Fire Nation won't stop until the Southern Water Tribe falls. You can either sit back and wait for that to happen, or take the offensive, and give yourself a fighting chance." -Sokka's dad speaking to the men of the Southern Water Tribe, while his son listens perhaps a bit too closely.

If the King really was completely in the dark about the war, how does he even know who the General is? Did Long Feng have the power to keep the General from mentioning the war?

"Your majesty I'm General How, head of the Council of Five." "What's that?" "It's in charge of your army." "Right. And what's the army up to these days?" ... " ...I planted a lovely tomato garden this year."

I love that earthbenders don't wear shoes, and that it's culturally normal. Makes an intriguing visual contrast to their fancy duds.

I have GOT to know what Mushi the teamaker's secret file says.

Toph can't read guys.

Sokka, Katara, I get it. You miss home too. But how would anyone at all from your tribe know to send a message for you to Ba Sing Se? Last time you all touched base, you were headed to the Northern Water Tribe. And those guys sent you off to Omashu, not Ba Sing Se.

Nitpick time! Katara starts reading the text of this letter out loud before she unrolls it.

Katara's voice acting while she's reading the letter is sweet. She's so excited.

Iroh. Priorities. Tea can wait.

"Huh? What's happening?" "You huffed a bit too much cave slime under Lake Laogai. Just ride it out."

This vase is lit like a main character.

"You're going through a metamorphosis my nephew." Iroh, he's a bit too old for that talk. Hang on I just realised that Zuko went through puberty on that ship. I bet that was rough.

I don't trust this. This news is all too good.

Aang referring to them all as "the family" hurts a little bit.

It is unbearably sweet to let Sokka go see their dad while Katara helps the Earth Kingdom plan, but Katara sucks at planning. Then again, the Earth Kingdom sucks in general, so maybe having a sucky planner will be a net improvement?

Either way it's good little sister content.

But there are six Kyoshi warriors. I counted in Appa's Lost Days.

Oh they didn't

Attack hug!

Airbender Zuko is a very effective jumpscare. Don't blame him for freaking out.

You know it's bad when finding the scar intact comes as a relief.

Nope. Don't trust it.

Fuck this guy.

Long Feng even eats rocks maliciously.

Fuck these guys.

Oh they did. Fuck these guys.

Final Thoughts

And just like that, it all went to shit. Or it will.

I was braced to be annoyed by how conveniently quickly the Earth King got with the program, but it actually fits well into the rest of the episode. Instead of a thing that goes improbably well, it's the one thing that goes right in episode filled with set up for everything falling apart. That bothers me less.

This episode was actually fun. At least until the end. It was mostly talking and Zuko on a bad trip. But it was win after win for everyone but my Ba Sing Se hating self, and it's always good to see your favourites having a good day. But! I have a glimmer of hope! So long as Sokka and Aang aren't completely written out until they return to Ba Sing Se, at some point I'll get some episodes outside of the city. And I have Appa back, so things aren't too bad in the grand scheme of things. I wonder that Appa wasn't upset at having all his people back for five minutes then having them split up again.

I do not like positive thinking Sokka, and I especially don't like that I have no idea where he came from. That point wasn't set up at all. I want my baby cynic back.

If letting Appa go was enough to trigger Zuko's morality crisis to the point of physical illness, why didn't letting Aang go in The Blue Spirit, or choosing to chase after Iroh rather than the Gaang in The Winter Solstice Part 1, cause a similar illness? What is different about this time?

Toph was once again the voice of reason in this episode, or rather my personal audience insert. Although it did surprise me how excited she was to see her mom. I thought that sending bounty hunters after their own daughter was kind of unforgivable, but either Toph doesn't know, or she's a more forgiving person than I am.

I realise now that this should have occurred to me when I watched Appa's Lost Days, but what idiot didn't take the Danger Ladies into custody when the Drill was stopped? btw I keep calling them the PowerPuff Girls in my head.

This episode was simultaneously a finale to a lot of threads and an introduction to a lot more. It was a chance to breathe between crossing the finish line of the 'find Appa' quest and starting the 'season finale' quest. It was also structured backwards. The big fight was like six minutes in. The 'what are we doing this episode?' was one of the last scenes. But it still works. I'll be interested to see what I think of this one when I rewatch it. It was such an info dump that I wonder if my opinion of it will be different once I watch it with all of the relevant facts known to me already. Either I'll appreciate the episode's other parts like the comedy, or I'll be bored. We'll see.

Two episodes left this season! I don't think I'll be getting to those before next year. See you all in 2024! (time needs to slow way down)

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the earth king

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