#but he’s got a weird conservative streak | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersinthecosmos · 3 months

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I'm so glad you're back!! I was so panicked when I saw your blog was gone, because you are truly one of the absolute stars of VC fandom!!

I joined VCblr a few months ago because I have been obsessed with Marius since I was 13, like my Marius obsession literally changed my life in multiple ways and I saw VC was becoming popular again so I wanted to join in! but like one of my first posts got these comments from people I'd never even spoken to before about how I was disrespecting Marius and his fans, and to be a little dramatic the way some of these comments were written, I felt like some of them seemed to actually really hate me personally. It just killed my desire to write fic or meta anymore so I just deleted my tumblr and now I just have an empty one so I can lurk on people. Like I have really limited time and energy for fandom, and I don't want to spend it writing stuff that people just hate seeing and making them feel bad, and then feeling bad myself for liking the stuff I like.

Anyway, I found your blog a little while ago and I am OBSESSED with your creativity and your perspective on like everything, so I'm sorry to be a weird rambling anon but basically I'm just trying to say your blog has made a difference to how I feel about my own freaky way of loving Marius and I just love your openness and acceptance and your ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS A++ MARIUS TAKES and you genuinely have improved my VC experience 100% and I'm glad you haven't been erased from existence.

ugh see this is what I mean dude!! I'm so sorry to hear you had that experience!!!!!! Please talk to me off anon any time, I'd love to see your posts if you wanna come back and share again!

I BRING THIS UP NOW AND THEN so I'm sorry if I'm like a rambling old man telling the same story 400 times, but, now and then I think it bears repeating. But like, when I was 13, a boy at my school bashed my head open on a locker (I had to go to the hospital and get my head stapled shut) and he punched me in the face so hard that I have permanent ligament damage in my jaw. And it was because I was like, a baby bat and I was into numetal and Wicca and I was like the only kid in my small town school who didn't go to church. The day it happened I was wearing a Korn shirt!!! And I had blue hair! And I'd been like very intensely bullied my whole time in middle school, and the adults in my life NEVER protected me. This was RIGHT after Columbine and people were still buying into the propaganda that the killers were bullied goth kids and not fucking neo-nazis, so like, the entire time I was getting violently harassed, every day!, no one protected ME because they thought I would turn out to be the violent one. And yet, I was being put on hit lists. I had a gun pointed at me. A boy one time stole my Wicca book out of my backpack and read it to the class to make fun of me, but *I'm* the one who got in trouble for it because they thought I wanted to cast spells & curses on my classmates. The boy who assaulted me was a KNOWN problem in our school, and I wasn't even the first girl he hurt! MEANWHILE I still got a week of detention for having my head bashed open because they said I started the fight. ((This is up for debate: Yes I actually did throw the first punch LMFAO but he HAD been teasing me incessantly for like ever so like come the fuck on. I deserved that one.))

idk why I was just born like, without any shame or something, I guess it's innate, the rebel streak, I can't explain, but none of this really hurt my feelings? Every time people would make fun of me I was thinking "Yeah but I love Korn and they're so COOL and if you're making fun of me that means you're NOT cool and I don't really value anything you have to say????" And that really sustained me through all of this.

So yatta yatta terfs & conservatives poisoned the fandom well on Tumblr and I always think that it's not so different -- being picked on because you like something weird & offputting or whatever, and being treated like a threat or a danger when you're the one who's vulnerable to harassment and violence. In the digital space on Tumblr it's going to be about like kinky stuff and villainfucking and IRL it was because I was the only goth at my school and I liked horror films. It's the same shit, being harassed because of the fiction you like and the media you consume. And on Tumblr it's people being absolute fucking dickheads and IRL it was me being put in the hospital because a guy put his fucking hands on me, he was that upset that I was into cool shit.

And just. Yknow. It does suck when you want fandom to be a chillout space and you get your feelings hurt. It fucking SUCKS when people show up here specifically to be unkind to others, like I can't think of a less productive use of time. But part of me always thinks "I didn't get my head stapled shut for some grassless little fucking weasel on tunglr dot com to shame me over vampire porn" lmao.

(As an aside if you ever want to look into other examples of people being IRL fucked over over STUFF THEY LIKE, google the West Memphis Three ((innocent metalheads who did 20 years on death row because people thought the weird metal boys MUST be murderers)) or the FBI trying to file Juggalos as a GANG which means anyone who had an ICP phase and got a Hatchetman tattoo as an 18 year old is now in jeopardy of losing their fucking children for affiliating with a gang, okay. And this isn't even to scratch the surface of the way people treat hip hop and way it's mired in racism. Censorship and thought policing are always going to come down to Christofascism and white supremacy, but I digress.)

So blah blah all that to say, I'm not going anywhere and it pisses me the fuck off that people can't keep this bullshit to their private group chats. I have NO idea what anyone gains by acting like this in public.

Like, yeah yeah, fandom is silly, whatever, but hobbies are legit! And we deserve a space to unwind that isn't ruined by capitalism and bigotry and just, some little space to land. ESPECIALLY when, let's be real!, it's very very very common for fandom folks to be neurodivergent. I mean why else would we be so obsessed and blorbo-sick lol. So like, it just feels extra fucking shitty of people to be rude to fans like that, to make you feel shame for the thing that excites you.

Fandoms SELF GENERATE. Someone has to be here posting shit and we have to interact with it and create community. And genuinely if all you can contribute is your horseshit attitude, you can go fuck yourself!!! And I can't begin to tell you how much it breaks my heart when I see this infighting in one fandom, because like, being a Marius fan - BELIEVE ME - when I tell you I've done my time as persona non grata, the antis have fucking come for me LMFAO, I'm on the blocklists, I've been accused of absolutely heinous bullshit for liking a stupid fake vampire character. Like, listen!

I've had my head bashed open on a locker for liking numetal! You're not going to chase me off Tumblr!!!!!!

Anyway this got away from me, idk what I'm trying to say, I'm saying that I'm so sorry you had a bad experience and I hope you come back some time! And I encourage everyone to block & curate your space as needed to make for a happy escape zone. EVEN BLOCKING ME, I KNOW I GET ON PEOPLES NERVES SOMETIMES. And my content isn't for everyone! It's fine! Stay safe please, and I love you, and I have your fucking back dude!!!

AND EVERYONE ELSE JUST, HOLY SHIT BE NICE TO PEOPLE. IT COSTS $0 TO BE FUCKING NICE TO PEOPLE. IF YOU'RE NOT BEING CREATIVE YOU'RE BEING DESTRUCTIVE!

#fandom lolitics

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rosebalor · 7 months

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Chapter 1 (Miss I.D.G.A.F.)

(Sharing my story and love of writing with y’all)

I sit on the balcony of my one-bedroom apartment just staring out at the beautiful sunset sky. The soft breeze feels amazing in this Las Vegas heat. Before long, it's dark out and the lights from the High Roller are brighter than ever.

The Las Vegas strip is coming to life once again. I'm not into the whole gambling or party scene. I prefer staying in and reading a good book or watching Netflix. Call me boring but I'd much rather be safe than sorry especially when it comes to alcohol, drugs, and whatever else goes down here in "sin city". I've always been what most might perceive as a "good girl." I've never done anything bad in my life.

It may seem weird for someone like me to be living in such a party city but I have my reasons for living here. Well, two reasons actually. The first one is my best friend, Mel. She and I are as thick as thieves. We have known each other since freshman year of high school. I remember the first time I saw her. I was sitting in the cafeteria with my friends talking about our first day when in walks this gorgeous blonde with black cowboy boots.

Everyone was whispering all around about what she was wearing. This girl didn't have a care in the world about looking different. Clearly, she was not from Los Angeles. She had a brown bag lunch and was looking around for a place to sit. I got up from our table to introduce myself. I know what being the new girl is like and I wanted to make her feel welcomed.

From that day forward, we were inseparable. Amelia Benson, or Mel as she likes to be called, became my closest confidant. We are total opposites but somehow we just click. She has bleach blonde hair, blue eyes, fair-skinned and is about 5'8. I'm dark-haired with hazel eyes, tanned skin and is very petite at only 5'2. She loves to have fun and let loose while I'm more conservative and prefer the quiet.

She has been trying for years to get me out of my shell and has successfully done that once by making me get a tattoo when we first moved out. One week here and I now sport a heart and flower tattoo on my right shoulder. However, she has failed in getting me to go to clubs.

"Cmon, Nia! We're 21 now! It's like a right of passage to go out and get drunk now that we're legal!" she had told me on a few days after my birthday.

"No way! You know I hate that type of stuff."

"I don't get why. You're so pretty and you could honestly pull off any hot outfit and we could totally have fun on the strip."

I roll my eyes at her. She just doesn't understand that I have no interest in drinking and partying. It has nothing to do with how I look. I know I'm pretty and that guys check me out all of the time but I just don't care to flaunt that around.

My other reason for being here is my boyfriend Carter Montgomery. We've been together since jr high after so many years of being just friends. We grew up together and have been friends since practically birth. Weirdly enough, we're only 2 days apart. To this day, we still believe our mothers somehow planned it out that way.

Carter is the quarterback at UNLV. He got a full ride to go here and so I applied along with Mel and now Las Vegas has been our home for the past two years. We're currently juniors, Carter majoring in kinesiology, Mel in art history, and me in Psychology.

Since being out here, Carter and Mel have become closer since they both have the party streak. I don't mind when they hang out on the strip and at parties because I at least know they're safe. I know most people wouldn't be that trusting especially with a guy like Carter.

Carter is the big man on campus. Practically the whole school knows who he is. There is always a girl wanted to get with him but he shuts that down real quick. I don't blame other girls for throwing themselves at him. He's pretty hot with his brown, boyish hair, grey eyes, 6'2 frame, tan and toned body and a smile that could melt anyone's heart.

Carter can act like a douche, I mean what guy doesn't have that side to them? But I truly know him and I know the softer side he has. He's absolutely sweet, understanding and I know I can trust him. It also helps that after a night out, he always comes back to stay the night with me.

I may be a nice girl but even I have needs. I love Carter and I know he loves me so having sex felt like a normal thing. He has never pressured me into doing anything I don't want to do and that just makes me fall for him even more.

Just like clockwork, at around 1 AM, I hear someone at the door. I laugh as I hear Carter's voice as he cusses and fumbles with the lock. Eventually, he gets the door open and smiles as soon as he sees me.

I get up from the couch and hug him tightly.

"Mmm, I missed you," he says into my hair.

I smile, "I missed you too."

He lifts me up with ease and makes our way to the couch. He sits down and places me in his lap. I have my legs on either side of his and straddle him.

"How was your night?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not bad, we all just hit a frat party so it was just pretty much the usual drunk people hanging out."

"And Mel?"

"She was there too. I made sure to walk her back to her apartment to make sure she got home safe."

I smile. Carter is such a gentleman.

He closes his eyes and I run my hands through his hair. I lean down and kiss his lips softly then make my way down to his neck. I bite down softly, sucking on his skin. He lets out a soft moan letting me know he's enjoying this.

We make out for a little while before Carter lifts me up yet again and walks us to the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and hovers over me as he kisses me hard. Soon our clothes are off and he's inside me.

The only thing I hate about his drunk nights is how quick the sex is. I'm not saying the sex is bad but I usually feel a little frustrated after because it doesn't last as long as when he's sober. Within a few minutes, Carter is lying next to me asleep. I go to the bathroom and take a quick shower before getting back into bed and cuddling up to my snoring boyfriend.

The next day, I'm sitting at a frozen yogurt shop with Mel, listening to her talk about the party last night. I sit there eating my yogurt and pretending to listen. After a while, it gets boring when Mel talks about her partying but I've learned to block out most and listen just enough to make it look like I'm paying attention. It's a gift really.

We get interrupted by a few guys who ask us for our numbers. Mel gives them hers and makes them leave before they even have a chance to ask for mine again.

"So, you're going to the game on Saturday, right?"

"Well, my boyfriend is the quarterback so I kind of have to be there."

She nods her head. "Right. What about after? You should come out with us."

I sigh. "Not this again. You already know my answer to that."

"Stop being such a party pooper!" she says a little too loud. A few heads turn and look at us. She looks around silently apologizing to them and gets up.

"I'll be right back but this conversation isn't over."

I roll my eyes and go back to eating my fro-yo. As she walks to the bathroom, her phone goes off. Taylor Swift's "Shake it off" starts blaring. I reach for her phone to silent it surprised it's not on vibrate since she usually has it on that setting. I don't mean to look at the message on the screen but when I do, I'm in shock.

It's her old roommate Rachel, who I've never gotten along with, asking why Mel didn't call her earlier. She ends the text with "You better not be too busy making out with Carter!"

What the hell? As I'm about to silent the phone and put it back down, it goes off again. This time "Stay" by Sugarland starts playing. It's the chorus and the next verse that I know so well that catches my eye.

"Why don't you stay?

I'm down on my knees I'm so tired of bein' lonely Don't I give you what you need? When she calls you to go There is one thing you should know We don't have to live this way Baby, why don't you stay?You keep tellin' me, baby There will come a time When you will leave her arms And forever be in mine But I don't think that's the truth And I don't like bein' used, and I'm tired of waitin'It's too much pain to have to bear To love a man you have to share..."

I finally look at the name of who is texting her and almost drop the phone. Carter? What the fuck is going on? Why does she have that song set as his ringtone? I read his message and my heart stops.

"Hey baby, sorry I couldn't stay last night. I'll see you tonight though. Wear that outfit that I like so much."

Baby? Baby?!?! Oh. My. God.

My best friends are sneaking around behind my back.

#young adult #romance #new adult #relationship #heartbreak #breakup #lying #bad boy #Revenge #secret #lies #loss #love

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eternal-senshi · 2 years

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"Obscure" Sonic The Hedgehog Abilities/Feats Part 2

Continuation of part 1, can be found here:

Sonic has the weird ability to passively get stronger throughout the series without doing ANYTHING, Sonic does train from time to time, but he also just straight up gets more powerful over time

There are numerous instances of this covered mostly by this, also proof Sonic doesn't sit around, he trains as well:

Rouge says Sonic got much stronger in battle:

(sorry the image is stretched out, this is the state I had it saved in lmao)

Blaze says Sonic was sharper than the last time she saw him:

Sonic says the challenge was barely a warm up:

Zik says that Sonic was more powerful than he anticipated, after testing him:

Says he has the potential to be more:

Getting faster ever since hitting his 3D days:

Yeah, Sonic isn't staying at his current state for much longer. He's also getting faster, I believe there was a scan of a Sonic 2 material saying he got 2x faster since Sonic 1 but I can't seem to find it right now.

Sonic can produce a supersonic blast capable of doing this to a Egg Fighters' shield:

NOTE: The shield can tank the werehog's blitz attack:

Sonic can stick to walls!? Pause the moment Sonic gets out of laser wisp mode, he is on the side of a wall and isn't immediately descending!

Sonic has several time related abilities:

The most iconic one is of course the chaos control, here are instances where he uses chaos control:

youtube

Do note that Shadow thought it was impossible to use chaos control with a fake emerald

Sonic can also use his own counter to Shadow's chaos control, the Time Stop.

Here Sonic waves his arm, and a mysterious force stops time for Sonic anywhere he wants

Time Break is an ability that slows down time to a crawl, Sonic himself is not slowed btw, because in cutscenes Sonic moves normally. Sonic being slow himself is purely a game mechanic. See the cutscene where Sonic confronts the Ifrit and flees in secret rings.

Also, Sonic uses time break by himself as a skill in Generations without the use of Shahra's ring.

Sonic accelerates to speeds surpassing what he can achieve normally, leaving streaks of fire in his slipstream. While active, Sonic is invulnerable and can damage enemies and obstacles by crashing into them. It might be possible for him to do this without Sharha as he can with time break.

Using his very soul, Sonic can do many things, one of them is resurrection:

We can't forget soul surge:

Harnessing energy from his very Soul, Sonic is capable of producing up to three effects. The first includes Sonic dashing up to his opponent to the full extent of his speed, appearing as a nearly instantaneous movement, and delivering a powerful slash with Caliburn to his opponent energized by this conserved energy. The second involves Sonic leaping towards his opponent and striking them with a midair kick energized by his conserved energies. The third involves accelerating beyond his top speed on a dime with a high-speed dash, capable of easily blitzing foes with initially comparable speeds.

There's also a move in Black Knight where Sonic uses his soul energy to remain alive even after taking blows that would normally kill him.

Alright that's it for part 2!

#sega sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #Feats #Youtube

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pertinax--loculos · 2 years

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Find the Word Tag

Poking my head back in here momentarily, because I got this tag the other day and I do really love this game. ^_^ @thegreatobsesso tagged me to find free, freeze, friend, front and frame.

Because this gets a little long, up here I’m gonna tag back @thegreatobsesso, and also @spacetimewraithwrites, @kd-holloman, @dontjudgemeimawriter, @inkovert, and @oh-no-another-idea to find the words believe, bargain, betray, blind and bristle.

Now cuz I’m kinda between projects I’ve pulled these from a variety of sources, so let’s have a look...

Free (MTG)

Kain parries the blow with a conservation of energy that makes it look like he hardly moves, and then he has a grip on Travers's wrist and a hand wrapped in the front of his shirt and they're nose-to-nose, Travers's free arm flailing but not coming close to making contact.

"You ever turn your back on me like that again," Kain says, in a silky whisper Sheila has to strain to hear, "It'll be the last thing you fucking do."

Travers sneers as he struggles, but whatever Kain's doing to his wrist is still stopping him from properly lashing out. "Get over yourself. I'm not scared of you."

Kain smiles, and it's an ice-cold promise wrapped in soulless eyes and too-sharp teeth. "You should be."

Freez(ing) (CASCADE -- though technically this is from a prequel-ish scene, I’m just on a Flint/TJ kick atm)

“Teej,” [Natasha] breathed near his ear. “We gotta do something or we’re gonna end up like his first Handlers.”

The reaction was instinctual; TJ’s heart skipped a beat, and the spike of anxiety made him reach for the Orn, unthinking, automatic. It wasn’t like the location of his flow would be any help in this situation, but with Moran teetering on the edge of an explosion, he had to try something. Everything, if necessary. So he reached for the Orn, took hold of a thread, and pushed it towards Moran.

He gasped like he’d been hit, freezing for only half a second this time before he swayed. TJ blinked, thrown.

“Oh god,” Moran said, breathless, toneless.

TJ risked a glance over his shoulder to Natasha, who looked just as bewildered as he felt. He sensed Moran’s movement and with his hand already in the Orn threw another thread towards him as he turned back, again more out of instinct than intent.

Moran swayed again, a weird sort of sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle breaking up out of his chest as he tipped forward, bracing himself on his knees. TJ could see his shoulders move as he sucked in air as if he’d been drowning.

“Moran?” he said carefully. “You good?”

Friend (CASCADE, proper, though still on the aforementioned kick)

As he’d assured Natasha – which apparently was the wrong thing to do, but what the fuck else was new – Flint hadn’t gone too far. He’d stopped at the mouth of the alley, standing with his shoulder propped against the concrete wall, looking out onto the street proper.

TJ glanced over his shoulder to check the others were still following at a much slower pace, and then moved up beside him cautiously. He was very careful to stay out of Flint’s range.

Unnecessarily careful, if he was honest with himself.

“Your boyfriend’s a dick.”

Flint’s voice was utterly without inflection, but TJ only just managed to hide his wince.

“He’s not—” He cut himself off with an effort, sucked in a deep breath, waited a beat. The ache behind his eye started right on schedule. “What the fuck was that?”

“You ask me that a lot,” Flint said, still toneless.

TJ started to raise his hand, caught himself too late. He hesitated then pressed the heel of his palm into his eye anyway. No use trying to hide it. “You do a lot of things that beg the question.”

“So do you.”

Front (MTG)

Ethos shudders under the weight of it. He loses himself, briefly, in the specifics; he sees faces tear-streaked and blurred, he sees begging and crying and resolute stoicism. He sees bargaining and pleading and curses spat at the feet of the executioner. He sees a stay rewarded for information but the future doesn't change; the line simply extends a little further before it snaps abruptly not too long after. It's impossible to tell why. The condemned doesn't know.

This is a room full of the walking dead. And none of the decisions they have at hand can change it.

"Ethos," Casimir says, and Ethos thinks it's probably not the first time he's said his name.

He tries to pull himself back, away from the heady visceral taste of death. He twists his hands in front of him and focuses on the scratch of the rope against his wrists. It pulls him back far enough that he sees Casimir standing, once again, with his hand on the elevator door.

God. How is he ever going to sleep with this racket in his head?

Frame (from TSII, which is one of the new projects I’m flirting with. From the first scene, which incidentally is one of the two whole scenes I’ve written for this ahaha. :D)

“Shut up.” I spun around to stare down the fire escape again. It led down to a spit of an alley running between the tall redbrick buildings, not even wide enough for a car to get down. Some sort of old access path. Rust flaked from the railing and stairs and metal grate of a landing directly below the window, and the entire structure shook as Caden apparently jumped a few steps a couple of floors below us. “He’s getting away.”

Ilya sighed again. “I suppose you want me to follow him down the death trap of an exit strategy?”

I turned back to him. Gave him a gratuitous sweep with my eyes, head to toe, taking in the paraphernalia festooned across his utility belt, the muscles cording his arms beneath the skintight black shirt, the black beanie stamped with a gym logo mostly covering his dirty blonde hair. Made sure to crane my neck when I looked at that, to emphasise that I had to look up to see the top of his head.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes I do.”

Ilya grinned, slammed the knife home into its spot on his belt, and practically shoved me out of the way as he climbed out the window. He hesitated most of the way out, one leg still hitched over the sill, fingers wrapped around the frame. He said, “It’s an alley. It has two ends.”

I rolled my eyes and started for the door.

#pockets muses IWL #tag game #find the word #i really do enjoy doing these #apologies for the eclectic collection of WIPs #my head's all over the place atm #but feel free to ask any questions if any pop into your head!#always happy to chat even if i'm mostly lurking on here rn #second job hopefully starts this week so we'll see if that helps remove some stress and lets me be more active #i swear NaNo month is like a curse for me #every year i'm like 'yeah i'll try drafting something during November!' and then every year it just doesn't work #anyway apologies also for the essay in the tags #like i said #my head's a mess #-.-

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pleckthaniel · 3 years

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im ready to get blocked over this

explanations/annotations under the cut

Special Cases

Ashfur: he’s clearly a blackpilled incel. Which is a pretty clearly fascist ideology, but it’s also unique enough from ��mainstream” fascism that I felt weird trying to place him on the chart, so I tossed him into Special Cases.

Needletail: Needletail doesn’t really have an actual coherent ideology so much as she is reactively, violently, hatefully opposed to mainstream ideals. In the actual Clans, where the system of government is a hereditary monarchy with a protocommunist system of distributing resources, this makes her essentially an anarchocapitalist. However, I would argue that in any modern human AU, she should be some flavor of anarchocommunist in order to capture the same vibe.

Poppyfrost: We’ll get to Berrynose in a minute, but Poppyfrost is unique in that while she probably once had opinions of her own, she pretty much adopts Berrynose’s as her own as soon as they’re together because she is a “stand by your man” ass bitch.

Leafpool: I hate to break this to y’all, but that Pro Life Leafpool person was right. She is 100% pro-life, not aggressively or like a pro-life “activist” or anything, but she definitely is. She’s a single-issue voter and doesn’t otherwise care for politics.

Authoritarian Left

Tawnypelt & Ivypool: Tawnypelt and Ivypool are both Marxist-Leninist communists with uncomfortably-wide tankie streaks, but Ivypool eventually mellows out a little bit on her militancy, while Tawnypelt never does.

Heathertail: Only really nominally belongs in this quadrant, Heathertail is a self-identified “progressive” who loved Bernie but ultimately is not interested in any real radical change to current politics and is happy to just vote for whatever neoliberal compromise candidate for the rest of her life. She is one of those people who has a pretty shallow understanding of politics in general but likes to talk about them a lot anyways. Also, she has made at least one embarrassing tweet about some politician being hot when they were younger.

Authoritarian Right

Tigerstar: Full-on classical fascist. Obviously.

Dustpelt: Pretty generic conservative Republican. Definitely a “facts don’t care about your feelings” guy. Refuses to give you his truthful opinion on Trump. (Probably voted for Trump in 2016, then felt bad about it and didn’t vote in 2020.)

Berrynose: One of those deceptively-normal white suburbanites with three young kids who you later learn is really into QAnon. Also, he’s probably a Mormon.

Squirrelflight: Squirrelflight is like, very much a #Girlboss Pantsuit feminist who bases her whole politics around that. Like she definitely has one of those dumb pussy hats. Never got over Hillary losing.

Bramblestar: One of those ancient Democrats who’s been representing their district since the 90s, who is essentially a center-right neoliberal conservative but still runs every year under the blue banner for some reason.

Sandstorm: Very much a Republican, but despises Trump and runs one of those “Republican Rebellion” Facebook pages.

Bristlefrost: Extremely basic scarf-wearing “Christian girl autumn” type bitch, but one of the ones who tries to convince you that actually, the church is Cool and Tolerant and In Line with Modern Values, Actually. After two and a half hard seltzers she admits to you that she kind of feels like Christians are actually persecuted in modern America.

Firestar: Formerly-beloved local politician whose ideology was roughly in line with the Justice Democrats, who then won a bigger election and got sent to Washington vowing to change it from the inside, only to have his ideals crumple beneath him like a wet cardboard box as he was instantly beaten down by the bloody cogs of the imperialist political machine.

Libertarian Left & Right

Tree: Committed pacifist and anarchocommunist, but he’s also too lazy for praxis so it’s really all more theoretical for him.

Graystripe: Graystripe isn’t very interested in politics, but he’s fairly anti-authority on like, a personal level. He would probably identify as an egoist, if he ever did enough reading to know what that meant.

Breezepelt: Have you guys ever seen that one tumblr post that is like, all libertarians are one of four types of guy? Breezepelt has been all four over the course of his life. I think it sort of starts out for him as a genuine anti-authority mindset, which quickly becomes a very performative Fuck The System thing in the way that some guys always seem to think The System is just their shitty dad, and then he starts to fall down the fascist rabbithole for a while when he’s with the Dark Forest, and then after he leaves that situation and recovers emotionally & intellectually from it, he probably chills out a little and becomes more of a generic, “legalize weed & lower taxes” type libertarian. He does fully hate cops, but not on like an intellectual level, more just because they pull him over for speeding.

#to be clear this whole post is a joke and my tone is sarcastic and mildly derisive throughout #scout talks #wc #oh i am definitely not putting this one in the main tags

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blasphemous-tiefling · 3 years

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I think part of the reason why there’s so much discord in the MCU fandom has something to do with the varying directors for TFA, The Avengers, Winter Soldier, AOU, Civil War, Infinity War, and Endgame. And really, the backbone of the issue is how the different directors and how the audience interprets Steve’s character. Strap in. Because this is a long rant on a topic that normal people really don’t care about.

Joe Johnston created a Steve Rogers that was eager, begging to go to war. I absolutely adored the line in AOU when Steve says, “What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?” Because I feel that sums up Steve in TFA pretty well. He’s anti-bully. He wants to fight. But his whole life he’s been put down, stomped on. Steve repeatedly enlisting is both selfish and selfless. His conversation with Bucky in TFA is a great example of this. Steve says, “There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.” And Bucky says, “Right. Because you’ve got nothing to prove.” And that’s it. Yes, Steve wants to fight because he’s always been bullied and doesn’t want anyone else to feel that way. Yes, Steve wants to fight because he wants to defend his country. But also Steve wants to fight because no one has ever given him a chance. Steve wants to fight because he wants his life to mean something. Steve wants to die in battle because he thinks it’s honorable. He wants to prove himself. Steve wants it so desperately for both selfless and selfish reasons, which is why he was so willing to take the serum despite the fact that Erskine told him about past failures. There’s even a certain selfishness to his sacrifice at the end of TFA. Many stories that involve sacrifice ride the line of selfishness and selflessness. By sacrificing himself, you could argue Steve is taking “the easy way out.” He’s distraught over Bucky’s death. He’s won the battle he’s been fighting since getting the super soldier serum. By sacrificing himself, Steve can effectively end the troubles caused by the Tesseract and leave without dealing with the consequences of his sacrifice. This point is a bit of a stretch, and not something that I personally agree with, but the thought it there.

Joss Whedon takes that selflessness and turns it into irrefutable righteousness, and it’s disgusting. Steve has a few goofy lines in The Avengers and AOU that I’ll laugh at, but ultimately, everything he does seems so out of character for him. His constant nagging and arguing with Tony is so unnecessary and doesn’t build friendship. His desire to do everything S.H.I.E.L.D. tells him to do is completely incorrect because Steve went against the military and broke the 107th out of the Hydra facility without permission and repeatedly did whatever he wanted without asking. His incessant need to have all the Avengers do as he says is totalitarian and unbearable to watch. Truthfully, this is where I think people misunderstand Steve the most because not everyone watches every solo movie. The Avengers movies are the biggies that most people won’t miss. So general audiences only see this righteous, dictator Steve Rogers and that really pisses me off.

This is one of the only times you’ll hear me praise the Russos, so get ready- Thank goodness Winter Soldier and Civil War follow Joe Johnston’s characterization of Steve. They even dig into his selfishness and rebellious streak, which I adore. Steve isn’t one to just blindly follow orders. Hello? Does “not a perfect solider but a good man” ring any bells? Perfect soldiers follow orders. Good men fight for what’s right even when the world is telling them not to. That’s who Steve Rogers is. What I adore about Winter Soldier so much is that we see Steve attempting to be this perfect soldier, but it’s just not sitting well with him. Something is fishy and weird. He talks to Peggy about her life. She says her only regret is that Steve didn’t get to live his. Steve talks to Sam about possibly getting out of government work. Sam is that representation for Steve- having a hard time finding out why he’s really in it to begin with. The entire film is about Steve going against the government, military, and S.H.I.E.L.D. with both selfish and selfless desires. He knows he needs to do something because Hydra is growing in S.H.I.E.L.D. but he also doesn’t want anything to do with it anyway, so why not tear it all down? Once Bucky is revealed as the Winter Soldier, Steve puts his life on the line to try to get him back. It’s selfish really. When Steve takes off his helmet and drops his shield, he made the decision to die because he wasn’t gonna continue to live without Bucky. Despite the fact that Steve made friends with Natasha and Sam, he didn’t care. All that mattered to him in that moment was James Bucky Barnes. This is very reminiscent of TFA when Steve breaks Bucky out of the Hydra lab. As the world’s only successful super soldier, Steve could’ve been very valuable to the American government and military. He was even doing mild good by helping sell bonds. But that didn’t matter. His country and his military was no longer priority number one. When it comes to Steve Rogers, nothing and no one means more to him than Bucky. Steve and Sam’s conversation that I previously mentioned also parallels this. After Sam lost Riley, he didn’t want to be in the military anymore. He said he felt like he was up there just to watch, nothing he could do. This is a direct parallel to how Steve feels about Bucky.

Civil War, while a trash movie, sticks with Steve’s selfish yet selfless motivations. “What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us?” Not wanting to surrender his right to choose is Steve Rogers. He just put down S.H.I.E.L.D.- an organization that was giving him demands. Why would he sign his life away to the American government again? Corporations can be run by greed and corruption- something Steve doesn’t want the world to be full of but also something he doesn’t want his world to be ruled by. When Bucky is framed for killing King T’Chaka, Steve knows the Accords will bring Bucky in and possibly execute him. He can’t let that happen. And he asks Natasha not to get in his way because he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt. He knows how dangerous Bucky can be, but he doesn’t want Bucky or anyone else getting hurt or in trouble due to this sticky Accords situation. Both selfish and selfless. I don’t even want to get into later in the film, but I guess I will. Guys, there’s no world, no universe, no place in time that Steve wouldn’t try to stop Zemo. Tony never even gave him the chance to explain himself. It was either, “Come with us or we fight.” Steve gathered that team together- not to fight Tony but to fight Zemo. It was never his intention to fight with Tony. He was just trying to stop Zemo. Now, when Tony learns about his parents’ death, anger is a valid emotion. Physically fighting and attacking Steve and Bucky to the point of death? Not valid or even remotely reasonable. It makes no sense as to why Tony would be that angry at Bucky- someone who was tortured and brainwashed to do what he did. Steve had his reasons for not telling Tony considering that when it comes to Steve Rogers, nothing and no one means more to him than Bucky. Of course, Steve was going to hide the truth from Tony in an effort to protect Tony, Bucky, and himself. Selfish yet selfless.

Infinity War gives us the glorious lines of “I’m not looking for forgiveness. And I’m way past asking permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way, we’ll fight you too.” and “We don’t trade lives.” These lines beautifully sum up Steve’s rebelliousness and need to fight while also not risking others’ lives. He’ll always risk himself first. There’s not much to say about this film considering it’s mostly action and Steve shares the screen with just about every other superhero, so we’re not given a lot of time. But overall, the Russos kept that same Steve Rogers.

And then Endgame does a complete 180 and decides to serve us Joss Whedon’s Steve with a conservative, pro-military, unbelievably illogical twist. Steve’s obsession with Peggy in this film is so out of place. She would’ve died seven years prior in the MCU. Steve’s been living in the present with Natasha, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, and T’Challa. That was his family. He lost Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, and T’Challa in the Infinity War. It only makes sense that he would be fighting for them in Endgame. Yet he’s not. We’re beat over the head about how much he misses Peggy and it’s so unbelievably weird. Steve is never allowed to mourn Sam and Bucky specifically despite the fact that they were his number one companions. He never mentions them. Never has a touching reunion with Bucky. Barely has any reaction to Natasha’s death. It’s disgusting honestly. This is not “I will fight to my death for the people I love” Steve Rogers. And the ending is the most pathetic of all. There’s no world, no universe, no place in time that Steve would willingly go almost a hundred years away from Bucky and Sam, somewhere he wouldn’t fight for others. “Pretending you could live without a war.” I mean, come on. He’s Steven Grant Rogers. It’s disgusting to paint him as this man who would throw away his friendships and a world that is being bullied all for some girl he kissed once and barely knew. No. No, no. Not my Steve Rogers.

I give the directors a little too much crap. I’m fully aware that a whole team of people make these movies, but you can’t deny that Steve changes from movie to movie depending on the director. Endgame is the exception in which the directors were the same, yet they diverged completely from their original interpretation of the character. I’ve heard people say that it had to be an anti-gay agenda- that ending Steve’s story with Bucky would’ve been too gay even if they weren’t romantically involved, but I still think that’s pathetic. Honestly, I would’ve rather seen Steve die than have his character trashed and pooped on like this. From a narrative perspective, what happened in Endgame is not okay. Marvel Studios’ treatment towards “sideline” characters like Natasha, Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky- particularly in Infinity War and Endgame- is not okay. Yeah, I’m aware I get too heated over this fictional universe. But the characters are the only reason I stick around. The stories are lackluster for me. I’ve never been one to watch movies for action sequences. But I’ve always been in love with Steve Rogers as a character- complicatedly riding the line of selflessness and selfishness, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to a cause and to the people he loves. When in the end that character was completely scrapped and shredded in the garbage disposal like crust on bread or the skin of an apple, I’m gonna be angry for a long time.

#why throw away steve’s character?#sorry but I’m just not over any of it #anti endgame #mcu #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #the first avenger #winter soldier #civil war #I’ve seen every marvel property #but I hate #marvel studios #rant #honestly this rant was just for me #may delete later

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criminalmutantsins · 3 years

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My Version of Morgana Mcawber in the DT '17 Universe

Full Name: Morgana Azazel Mcawber

Alias(es): Morg, Mcawber, Witch, Demon Spawn, Big Sis, and Gana

Birthday: October 31

Age: 27

Nationality: European

Species: Half-Duck/Demigorgonian

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Neutral(formerly), Good

Occupation: Hero, Mental Institution Patient(formerly), Enchantress-for-Hire

Affiliation(s): Justice Ducks, part-time S.H.U.S.H Agent

Relatives: Cephas Mcawber(brother), Hector Mcawber(uncle)

Voice Claim: Laura Bailey (Black Widow, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDDnQQt2Auk&t=110s)

Morgana’s Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Aq6bmQg7ccKLXM3Z5f4vf?si=njcKMXxpQBqH6rZ4gISUtg

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Allies: Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck, Launchpad McQuack, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Jim Starling/Negaduck(formerly), Lena Sabrewing, Neptunia, Stegmutt

Undecided: Hector Mcawber

Enemies: F.O.W.L, Helios Mental Asylum, Jim Starling/Negaduck, Fearsome Four

Appearance:

Morgana is a taller than average, black-haired duck. She wears a cherry red sleeveless jumpsuit under a blood red jacket pinned by a gold button. One jacket sleeve covers her right arm, wrapping around her middle finger, while the other sleeve is elbow length. Attached to her hips is a long dark red cape that drags on the floor. A tattered drape connects to her forefinger. To match her elegant heels, Morgana wears shiny, black lipstick. On the small of her back is the symbol of Demogorgana, her birthmark. The gray streaks in her hair are pinned back.

Personality:

Morgana is a quiet, solemn sorceress. Due to the constant bullying in her childhood, she has a pessimistic view in life and has trust issues. But, once you’ve gained it, she’ll be kinder and more open. Around strangers, she is quiet and willing to give them the cold shoulder. Lover of horror, Morgana enjoys scaring people-sneaky up on people was her favorite- and prefers to make a spooky entrance. She can be aggressive and will usually not hesitate to attack, especially if she is judged for her magic. Her anger can lead her to be vengeful; an example being her wish to hurt the bullies who hurt her brother.

Since joining the Justice Ducks and being somewhat part of the Mallard-Mcquack family, Morgana became more level-headed and playful. Smiles came easier and she finally felt loved. Although passive, she is not afraid to be sassy, though it’s more playful towards her friends. Patience is Morgana’s strong point; she was willing to build her magic prowess enough to escape from the asylum.

Biography:

Born from an affair with her mom and Demogorgon, Morgana is cursed with chaos magic and the Demogorgon symbol as a birthmark. She was bullied for her uncontrollable magic and weird hobbies for a child like her love for witchcraft and horror. The bullying got worse once she and her brother moved with her uncle to his heavily conservative county. It grew from verbal to physical abuse quickly. Her normal brother was bullied as well for being associated with her, something that hurts her more than being harassed herself. The abuse and her uncle’s unconcerned behavior convinced her to run away. But, before she could leave, a horrifying event occurred. This left Morgana to be sentenced to an asylum for the rest of her life.

Likes:

Horror movies

Gothic Culture

Drawing

Fall

Cooking

Castles

Reading fictional books

The color red

Helping others

Magic

Quiet nights

Dislikes:

Injustice

Closed-spaces

Bullies

Bright colors

Innocent people getting hurt

Coffee

Arrogant people

Human experimentation

Loud noises

Her impulsive anger

Skills & Abilities:

-Chaos Magic: This type of magic allows her to absorb the chaotic forces in the universe and warp reality. Morgana has enough power to destroy the cosmos, though the energy needed would leave her coma.

-Superhuman Strength: Being half-Demogorgon makes her more durable and stronger than a regular person.

-Psionics: this ability allows her to project her energy as attacks like energy blasts, create forcefields, and fly.

-Mental Manipulation: Morgana can manipulate her victim’s minds to see their worst fears, control their actions, and read minds.

-Spellcasting: she used to cast spells in her own magic language but grew out of the more she practiced. Now able to cast spells without help.

Family:

Cephas Mcawber:

Being her baby brother, Morgana is very protective of him. Her protectiveness grew once her bullies started terrorizing him as well. She was there to comfort him when their parents were killed and promised to be there for him.

Wanting to keep her promise, Morgana asked Cephas if he wanted to run away with her. Though he decided to stay.

Hector Mcawber:

Morgana and her uncle weren’t close. He seemed unconcerned about the bullying she endured. Hector openly favored Cephas since, unlike Morg, he was related by blood. Most of the time, Morgana was left to take care of herself. The treatment was similar to the kind she got from her stepfather.

Her neutrality towards her uncle soon turned to disdain when he left her in the asylum’s care.

Mr. Mcawber:

Her stepfather tried to love Morgana but could only see her as a reminder of his wife’s betrayal. He didn’t treat her badly nor show much love for her. He died alongside his wife in a car crash.

Mrs. Mcawber:

Although she loves her mom, Morgana is bitter towards her mom for getting into an affair with a Demogorgon. They didn’t have much of a relationship since her mom died when she was seven.

Friends:

Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck:

Drake is Morgana’s good friend and teammate.

At first, due to a huge misunderstanding and DW’s ego blinding him, they viewed each other as enemies. Drake’s arrogance annoyed Morgana to no-end and would respond to him with sassy quips. His view of Morgana was of a criminal and danger to society because his first S.H.U.S.H was to recapture her for the asylum.

Once they got to know each other, Drake and Morgana grew to respect and sympathize one another for their strength and hard pasts. In the end, Drake let her go into hiding and advocated for her innocence.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gizmoduck:

Fenton and Morgana are friends and teammates.

Alongside Darkwing, Gizmoduck was assigned to recapture Morgana. He was more sympathetic towards her when noticing her unwillingness to fight. There were many times he suggested talking to Morgana. He also advocated for her innocence once learning the truth.

Morgana didn’t think much of Fenton in the beginning, though finding him quite cute. She was grateful towards him and DW for believing her and saw them as her first true friends.

Launchpad Mcquack:

Launchpad didn’t meet Morgana until after DW and Fenton’s mission. He liked her and found her magic fun to see.

Morgana found LP’s naivety and sweet nature comforting because of how much he reminded her of Cephas. Whenever visiting the Mallard-Mcquack household, Morgana would occasionally scare Launchpad-his easy to scare attitude was funny to her. Though she would always make up for it by offering her delicious brownies.

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer:

Like LP, Gos met Morgana later on. They clicked instantly due to their love of horror movies and Gos’ fascination with magic. It didn’t take much time for Morg to be appointed as Gosalyn’s babysitter. They would watch horror movies and plan scary pranks to frighten Drake and LP. The girls would also scheme ideas on how to get Gos’ fathers to confess their feelings. They usually pep talk Drake into confessing his feelings-with no avail. Their Drake’s wingwomen.

Lena Sabrewing/de Spell:

Wanting to train her magic, Lena asked Morgana to teach her.

They have a healthy teacher-student relationship with Morg helping to grow Lena’s power enough, so she didn’t have to cast some spells with incantations. There are times the girls use their magic to have fun and play pranks. Gos usually joins them, and is the mastermind of their schemes.

Morgana holds a lot of respect for Lena based on her strength to move on from the past. There are moments when she sees herself in Lena-something that comforts, yet scares her.

Trivia:

-She was inspired by Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff, Alphaba from Wicked, and Morticia Addams.

-Her VA, Laura Bailey, starred in a dark fantasy anime called Soul Eater.

-Unlike her previous incarnation, Morgana’s feet are shown.

-Her power is strong enough to rival Magica.

-She is one of the tallest characters in the ’17 universe.

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clanoffetts · 3 years

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Like Real People Do, Chapter 2

series summary: Kyra Esson, a pilot trying to forget her past, takes Jango Fett up on an offer. It's supposed to be her last hurrah before she settles down, but she can't seem to leave the bounty hunter, no matter how hard they both try.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: swearing; yearning; slow burn; fluff; uh oh jango catches feelings; eventual smut (but not for awhile); severe misunderstanding of Slave I’s layout

series masterlist (coming soon)

“Good morning, Mandalorian.”

The Mandalorian sits silent and still at the bar in the cantina, and if Kyra didn’t know better she’d think he’d been sat there all night. “Good morning. I trust you’ve made your decision.”

“I have,” Kyra says. “I’ll go.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turns slightly to look at her. “Very well.” He stands, turning to leave the cantina, trusting Kyra to follow.

“My name is Jango Fett,” he says as soon as the two of them are clear of the early morning (or, more likely, overnight) patrons of the cantina. “Yours?”

“Kyra Esson,” she replies, holding her hand out for him to shake. Jango takes her hand, the leather of his gloves rough and his grip tight. “Good to meet you, Jango Fett.”

All the man does is hum in agreement. “Are you fine with taking my ship?”

Kyra is slightly confused- wouldn’t it make more sense to take hers? But a Mandalorian would know more about bounty hunting than her, and she knows from the stories not to question one. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

“We will leave as soon as you’re ready,” Jango says. “You won’t need food, I have plenty.”

Kyra’s face contorts slightly, her brain littered with questions once again. Which will probably be a normal occurrence with this Jango Fett, she thinks. Kyra grips the straps of her backpack again, mentally checking over what she knows is inside. “I’m ready.”

Jango’s head tilts slightly, but he nods. “You fine walking to my ship?”

“I think you both over and underestimate me, Jango,” she replies. “I can walk to your ship.”

As they make their way through the town, the twin suns still rising, Kyra tries to figure out why she trusts this man. She didn’t the night before, that’s for sure. Her gut wasn’t screaming ‘run!’, and that’s enough for her to follow this armored man to his ship in the middle of nowhere.

You can handle yourself, Kyra reassures herself. You’ve got your blaster and your blade, and you can outsmart him if you need to. Kyra doesn’t believe that, not really, not when she looks at the broad man ahead of her. And, Maker, is he broad, the armor adding to his muscles, but armor can only do so much. Kyra tries to scold herself, she knows not to think of co-workers that way, but this man…

No, she tells herself, averting her gaze down into the sand. He’s just a mirage in my desert, nothing more. Kyra laughs a little at herself, Maker, I’ve got to get laid.

Jango’s ship was far from the outskirts of the settlement, and Kyra can’t quite figure out why. The ship is nothing special, no one would want to steal it, not even in these parts, and he obviously had enough credits to utilize the hangar in town. The passenger compartment was small compared to that of Kyra’s ship, and the cockpit was even smaller. She lugged herself and her pack up into the cockpit after Jango.

“Bunk’s back there,” he says, taking a seat at the controls. “That’s where you’ll sleep.”

“And you?”

“Here,” he says with nonchalance, flipping switches and pushing buttons until lights flash and the ship groans.

Kyra shakes her head. “I’m not taking your bed from you, I’ll be comfortable in a chair.”

“No, you will take the cot,” he insists. “It isn't about your comfort.”

“Fine,” Kyra huffs. She pushes past Jango in the pilot’s seat, leading herself up to the “bedroom”.

The bed is much like the rest of the ship- torn-up, creaky, and not much to look at. The quilt that sits atop the thin mattress is almost in tatters, the fabric strained and the batting pushing out at the seams; the pillow isn’t much better. A far cry from Kyra’s room on her own ship, but it’s not the worst place she’s slept, and certainly not the worst ship she’s spent her time on.

“To your liking, princess?” Jango’s voice over her shoulder makes her jump, but he just chuckles. It’s a deep, rumbling sound, slightly distorted by the mechanics of his helmet. “Is it?”

“Fit for a queen,” she replies. Kyra drops her pack onto the bed, and pushes back past Jango. Her shoulder collides with his armored one, and the man doesn’t budge. And, kriff, it kind of hurts. She’d heard stories of beskar but, goddamn, it can’t be that strong.

Kyra sits in the copilot’s seat with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes flicking to Jango who takes his place in the pilot’s chair. She wants to get comfortable, take off her boots, take out her braids, and drag that sad quilt from the bunk into the cockpit to watch the stars. It’s the only thing that’ll take her mind off not being the pilot, off of not being in control, but she can’t , she’s stuck sitting stiff in the seat in her uncomfortable, sand and sweat covered clothes from the trek this weird man dragged her on. How Jango sat there, looking somewhat comfortable in thick canvas and armor after walking across a Tatooinian town, Kyra couldn’t figure out.

“Taking off in three, two…” Jango’s voice is monotone as he fiddles with switches and presses at buttons until the ship groans and lifts off the sand.

The swirl of sand is beautiful, kicking against the windows of the ship until it rises out of reach, but Kyra’s heart quickens when she can’t see out of the windows. Kyra’s hands have to keep themselves busy on the armrests throughout the take off, as if she was sitting in the pilot’s chair of her ship, in control of everything. Of course Jango has it under control, you can’t fly a ship like this and survive if you don’t, but with every shutter throughout the take-off process, Kyra’s skin turns impossibly whiter as she grips at the metal of the chair.

“Nervous, girl?”

How the fuck did he notice? Kyra swears that visor hasn’t done anything but face dead forward since the takeoff sequence was initiated. “I don’t know you, Fett,” she says. “For all I know, you could fly like a Coruscanti.”

“That an insult?”

“One of the worst on Pamarthe.” Jango just hums.

The ship leaves the atmosphere as smooth as it can and Jango readies for the jump to hyperspace. “You strapped in, girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Jumping in three, two, one.” The stars that surround the ship shift into brilliant streaks of light, before churning together into the throws of hyperspace.

“It’ll be two standard days,” he tells her, checking over the systems a final time before finally sitting back in his seat.. “I know,” Kyra responds, it’s her homeworld, after all. “You have a shower? The sand’s a bitch.”

“Through there,” he points down a passageway. “But I’m using it first.” Kyra rolls her eyes, and Jango catches it. “This is my ship, girl, don’t forget that.”

“Never,” Kyra responds. “Then I’ll be in the alcove you call a room.”

“You’re not too great at the whole insult thing,” he calls as he climbs down the ladder. “I thought they were ruthless on Pamarthe.”

Kyra stands there, the gears in her brain desperately trying to conjure something that wouldn’t be heard on a primary school playground, and failing miserably. “Shut up,” she mutters, making her way back to the bunk.

A shower shouldn’t take that long. But here she was, surrounded by her cleaned and polished weapons and her pack that had been reorganized on the bed she’d fixed to her liking. And that man was still in the kriffing shower.

“All yours, girl,” he calls up the ladder, finally. “Not much hot water left, though. Sorry about that.”

“I’m sure you are,” Kyra groans, lowering herself and her comfortable clothes down the ladder from the cockpit. Sitting in the space below is Jango Fett, in almost all his glory. He’s missing the armor now, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. Here she was thinking Mandalorians were conservative.

It’s dim in this part of the ship, but as Jango sits at a workbench, hunched over a rifle, she can make out a few large scars set into the tan skin of his back, one in a perfect line parallel to his spine. His damp curly hair decorates his head and a little down his thick neck, and probably even further down his chest, she thinks, and he’s obviously quite toned from the fighting that landed him in his scars. Kyra’s eyes snap away from him quickly, and she continues into the ‘fresher. I’ve got to get laid, she tells herself again. Bad.

The fresher is as small and dingy as the rest of the compartments of the ship. There’s a towel and cloth folded nicely on the counter in what she hopes was a gesture for her because, if not, then too bad.

The water isn’t hot, not in the slightest, as Kyra quickly runs some of the scentless soap through her hair and down her body. The least this rich man parading as a poor man could do is let her borrow some soap for her freezing cold shower.

Kyra steps into the legs of her sweatpants, securing the drawstring at her hips and then pulls her shirt over her head.

“Pamarthe didn’t do so well,” Jango comments, as she walks out of the ‘fresher. He’s wearing a plain black long sleeve shirt now, and reclining against his workbench.

“Huh?”

He nods at her shirt. “Oh,” Kyra says, realizing the shirt is that of the Pamarthen limmie team, the promo shirts from last year’s Galactic Cup. “Yeah, I don’t care much for limmie.”

“Limmie? You mean bolo-ball?”

“No,” she laughs. “I mean limmie. Mandalorian boy is secretly a Core-worlder?”

He shakes his head, finally cracking a smile. “Just what my father called it. People back home made fun of me, too.”

He’s handsome when he smiles, a far cry from the stern features of his resting face, Kyra notices. She smiles back, just happy to have established some kind of rapport. “I don’t really keep up with the game. The shirts are nice, though, and when your team sucks, the shirts are cheap.”

Jango gives a hearty laugh at that, and nods. “I can imagine.”

“Really? I thought Mandalore was pretty good at limmie.”

His smile dims a little at the mention of the planet Kyra thought to be his home. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not from Mandalore, though.”

“No? I thought, well, the armor kind of screams ‘I'm from Mandalore’. ”

He smiles a little. “I’m from the sector. But not from Mandalore, no,” he explains. “They don’t teach Mandalorian history on Pamarthe?” he jokes.

“Wouldn’t be of any use,” Kyra responds. “We’d have slept through that class, too.”

Kyra leans against the wall near the ‘fresher door and immediately wishes she hadn’t. It was an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t want to shift, she wanted to look smooth for some reason. It really wasn’t working.

“Not a bunch of scholars on Pamarthe?” His tone is jovial, but his features aren’t, he’s back to serious.

Kyra chuckles a bit, trying to draw out the joking man she’d only just met a few minutes ago. “Only when it comes to ships.”

“Should’ve figured,” he replies, and it seems as though the joker is no longer, he’s back to just Jango. He then turns on his heel to face the bench, back to work on his rifle before Kyra could even process what he said.

Just when I thought we were getting along, she thinks. No matter, she climbs up the ladder and walks through the cockpit, stopping to focus on the blue of space for just a moment.

Back by her bunk, she hangs her clothes up to air out from earlier, and flops down onto the bed. Her body, now that it has a break, seems to cry out from the strain of wading through sand and then carrying her up and down that Maker-forsaken ladder on the ship.

The front-side pocket of her pack holds painkillers, and Kyra opens the container, popping the little pill into her mouth and swallowing it dry. The pillow she lays her head back down on is thin, Jango must have to fold it in half every night to even feel it underneath him. The cot isn’t much better, if she lay on her side she could feel springs dig into the meat of her hip, but if she lay on her back she was forced to stare at the cobwebs that didn’t seem to bother Jango Fett.

Not a lot seemed to bother Jango, but a lot about Jango bothered Kyra. She didn’t want to be rude, but damn she was nosy. Why strike up conversation to just turn around and act like nothing happened? Why insist she sleep on this stupid cot if not for her comfort? Just why, period?

Kyra sits up now, digging her datapad from her backpack and setting it up on her stomach, and presses play on a holovid romance about a Jedi and a shopkeeper to drown out the sounds of Jango sanding something down in the hold below.

#jango fett x oc

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toshiirou · 3 years

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From Within - Linkverse Writing

This is is fic for a ‘link’s meet’ AU by @minas-linkverse go check it out! Specifically this is an among us AU that I have to thank Lyra from the linkverse discord for the idea. Given the nature of the AU this should be expected, there is major character death warning attached to this. Now to commence with the story.

They’d all been picked up, one after another, by the abandoned space station. It was some sort of relic of a time long passed – a backup of a backup, some sort of hideaway in the event of a disaster. Whoever built it were probably long gone, but the station remained, slowly rotting, but still alive – picking up passengers that needed it.

It was far from optimal condition, there was no doubt about that. Whether or not it was because of its age, or that it had never been completed, there were some essentials that were missing from the station. One of which was a robust enough life support that would allow its passengers to take off their space suits.

Legend thought it might have been designed that way. The minimal life support was energy conserving, and the suits lasted basically forever. They wouldn’t help in the dead of space, but in a controlled atmosphere they probably had a higher chance of outlasting any power supply issues that would otherwise arise from a fully functional life support.

It was lonely, though. Looking in the mirror and only seeing the reflective screen of their helmet, of looking at the other passengers and seeing only space suits – cold, alien, and distant. Legend had taken to imagining what everyone really looked like based on their voice alone.

Purple – Ravio, was probably some sort of weedy rich kid from a corner of the galaxy that barely saw conflict. He seemed to be completely incapable of doing tasks alone, was afraid of every dark corner, and his voice broke with fear at the mere mention of the imposter.

Oh right. So there was an imposter.

As established, the station was old and a little trash. Nobody could even tell who was the first to arrive on it, because its time-keeping system was kaput. Sky might have been first. Or maybe even Mini. The kid was so small Legend was sure they could have missed him entirely if Ravio hadn’t caught sight of the kid’s weird yellow suit and screamed. The fact that a kid was stuck on this hell-station, had been ghosted into the black at some point and survived only through the poor luck of getting found by this lumbering space junk – it filled Leg’s vision with red.

The poorly functioning space vessel was in a lot of need for repair. Most of their motley crew had gone off in ones or twos to try and patch it up through various tasks. It kept breaking again after some time but at least they weren’t slowly freezing to death out in the black. What a way to go.

It wasn’t until White, that is, Wild, upgraded their med-bay that the situation became apparent. There were eight of them: Sky, Twilight, Time, Mini, Ravio, Wild, Wind, and Legend themself. The space station read only seven human lifeforms, and one reading that screwed the entire screen when Wild tried to get more data on it. Whatever it was, the language that screen was showing for it was nothing that Leg had ever seen before. Which said something, since they’d been space-faring since childhood.

But the logs – the logs were damming. Previous readings of human lifeforms dwindling until only one was left, only for more to arrive and suffer the same fate. And throughout it all that one unreadable lifeform remained. Leg thought it might have never even left the ship.

‘This place is a death-trap,’ they thought. It could have been a graveyard except there was no remains to be found. If Wild hadn’t fixed up those logs then Legends was sure that they would have had no clue of the danger they were in. One of them, one of the group, was not who they seemed to be. One of them was an outsider.

And Legend was determined to find them.

Unfortunately tasks waited for no-one. Their group of eight usually split off into four groups of two. Wind usually stuck with Mini. He was happy to swap around sometimes once or twice with Ravio, and even with Legend themself. Although the less said about that partnership the better. Wind seemed to take offence at the fact that Legend wanted to get their tasks done as efficiently and correctly as possible, and had no time to teach Wind how to do this or that basic action. Plus the kid, like Ravio, was from one of those places where people spoke, and boy did he not stop speaking. Legend’s hands were too full to even reply! Honestly Legend would have preferred to go it alone but there was safety in numbers. And if not safety, there was accountability.

Usually Legend paired off with Wild, who was unobtrusive and got on with his tasks with no problem. Sky liked to pair with Wild whenever he got the chance, so Legend would rotate between pairing with Twilight, Time, or Mini, based on availability. Ravio only seemed like he was comfortable pairing with Twilight for some reason, but would take Wind, or Time, if Twilight was unavailable.

And that was suspicious, right? Ravio treated them all with fear. Even beyond what was reasonable. They all knew an imposter was on board but Ravio seemed jumpier than the rest of them combined. And his suit was a dark, almost faded purple, scratched up with some of the topcoat missing. Where did he get such a thing? The whole design of it seemed different. Even Wind’s garish lime suit modulated his voice – Ravio seemed to speak like there was no modulator at all. And for the life of them, Legend could not recognise the insignia that decorated the side of his suit’s breast. The rest of them came from societies all within the outer ring, and nobody knew what lay beyond that. What. Was Ravio from outside the known universe?

Or was he not human at all?

Legend had been keeping track of them all. The kid, Mini, was just quiet. He didn’t communicate with a voice or with hands, but he happily trotted along to accompany people in doing tasks. And he seemed so proud of doing his own tasks, despite being absolutely pants at it. He was just a kid, unfortunately enough to get brought along for the ride. It soured something awful in Legend’s gut that a kid was dragged into this, but they promised they’d try and keep him safe.

Time wasn't that much older than Mini, and barely more communicative. Time would, at a push, sign with the others, but he seemed content to be by himself, and talk to no-one. Time was certainly a little suspicious, and not out of Legend’s watch-list entirely, but the kid ha the stereotypical surliness of a young adolescent. He wasn’t very interested in the others, didn’t seem to care who followed him, and was very efficient at doing tasks. Someone who wanted them all dead would at least be a little less good at keeping them all alive, right?

Sky, well. Sky was nice. Probably too nice. His bright cyan suit exemplified his sunny personality. He was going to get himself killed one of these days. He was friendly and open, always willing to put himself as the first volunteer to go off and complete some necessary activity. He made sure to look after everyone else of board to the best of his ability, and Legend was honestly a little more worried about Sky sticking up for a potential imposter than they were Sky having a mean bone in his body. Sky was safe.

Wind, while exuberant, wasn’t a bad kid. He gave away way too much information with his chatter, and someone less scrupulous than Legend could absolutely use that against him. Luckily for him, legend did have scruples. And luckily for them all that they has Wild on board, who was hardly going to inform them all of their impending doom if he was planning on being the one to bring it. While that sort of sadism definitely existed in the universe, and Legend had met more than enough people who would relish in toying with them, Wild didn’t possess that sort of mean-streak. Both him and Wind were safe.

Twilight was definitely hiding something, although what that something was is yet to be seen. Legend has seen him huddle away with Ravio, heads together and whispering. If Ravio wasn’t the imposter Legend would be exploring that avenue of inquiry next.

As a group they had agreed on a plan. Nobody was keen on outright murdering anyone else on the mere suspicion of falsehood. But they were – after some pushing – fine within spacing a suspect, for a time that was. Their suits could hold up, especially with the portable oxygen tanks they found stashed on board. As a party they could then check the life signals in Med-bay and determine whether or not the unfortunate soul they excommunicate was the imposter or not. If so, a job well done. If not, well, they’d figure out how to retrieve them. Hopefully.

Now all Legend needed was an opportunity.

The lights shut off, and Legend was plunged into darkness. For a split, terrifying second they thought this was it, it was over. And then the alarm blared and the red warning lights flared, colouring the walls around them in their glow. What the hell was going on?

“Warning.” The automatic, monotone voice of the spaceship’s computer rang out over the alarms. “Catastrophic failure imminent. Internal oxygen failure countdown initiated.”

Legend ran.

They knew it. They knew something was going to happen, and look at them now. Trying to sprint across a hulking dead mass of a spaceship when they very well knew they were too far away from the override controls. They were dead in the water, done for. And not only them, the others, too. Even the god-damn kid. They should have spaced that snivelling purple coward when they had the chance.

Not a mistake they’ll be making again. If they lived long enough to have the chance, that was.

Legend was two-thirds of the way there before the count-down reached near-zero and stopped, abruptly. Their breath was almost fogging up the visor of their helmet, and their heart was thrumming in their chest like a scared rabbit. They’d over-exerted themselves in the effort to make it in time, but Legend couldn’t lie and say that part of it wasn’t fear. They hadn’t made it, but someone else had. Death had been delayed by a hair’s breadth.

They weren’t sure they’d be so lucky a second time.

Legend allowed themselves a moment to breath before they straightened up and pressed the nearby emergency meeting alarm. There was no way that purple was going to spend another minute on the ship if Legend was around to say anything about it.

They allowed themselves to take it slow on the way to the conference room, letting themselves calm down from the burst of adrenaline that fuelled their earlier sprint. Closer to the room they passed Twilight and Time, and gave them both a nod. Everyone was quiet while filing into the room, waiting until the last few people – Wild and Sky – to trickle in. Well, no time like the present.

‘We need to get rid of purple,’ Legend signed.

“Who, me?” Ravio asked, voice high pitched and anxious.

“What!” Wind yelled. “You can’t just decide that!”

“Yeah!” Ravio interjected. Legend turned to stare at him with such intensity that even with the opaque helmet blocking the way, Ravio quieted down with a squeak. Coward.

‘Lime’s right,’ Sky replied. ‘This goes off a vote-based system, you can’t decide by yourself. Do you have any evidence?’

‘Did you miss the alarm that just went off? We barely escaped with out lives.’

‘I didn’t miss it because White and I were fixing the issue.’ Wild waved from besides Sky. ‘White did a bulk of the work in making sure we’re still here.’

“Thanks, White,” said Wind. Legend was sure Wild, whatever he looked like, had a bashful smile on at the moment.

They needed to bring this back on point, however. ‘Yes thank you White.’ Legend nodded. ‘Ravio’s been acting suspicious since day one. He doesn’t seem comfortable with any of us, he’s always jumping at things, ever before we knew about the imposter. And not to mention his suit-’

“Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself?” Wind interrupted. Rude. “Anyway, Ravio was with me the whole time! He has an alibi, which is funny because you don’t since you ditched me.”

‘You were too slow,’ Legend replied, aggravated. They could feel things turning, and they did not like where it was going.

‘I was with Green,’ Twilight informed them. Time, in their dark green suit, shrugged. ‘Well, I was chasing him. But I had him in my sights the whole time, so it couldn’t have been us.’

‘I was with White’, Sky signed. ‘Was anyone with Pink?’

A round of ‘no’s or head shakes was slowly sealing Legend’s fate.

‘I was on the other side of the ship. And I was only there so none of you had to fix it up alone!’ Legend wished they weren’t in a suit, if only to have the opportunity to pull on their own hair. Nothing was going right.

“You were the only one without a partner,” Wind said. “You have to admit it’s a little… incriminating.”

“I think we should vote them off,” Ravio said, speaking up again.

‘Quiet, you!’ Legend signed angrily, stepping towards him. They quickly found themselves on the blaster end of no small amount of phasers. They froze.

“I agree.” Wind replied.

Time shrugged. ‘Sure.’

Twilight seemed to take a moment, turning to look around and the people around him. He caught sign of someone, or something, and seemed to slump. ‘Agreed.’ He signed.

‘Cyan,’ Legend started, feeling a little desperate. ‘You can’t let them do this. Can’t you see you’re being played? He’s fooling you!’

‘I think,’ Sky replied. ‘The only one who’s fooling anyone is yourself.”

Legend staggered back. So really. Everyone was against them. They didn’t look towards Wild or Mini, unwilling to put that pressure on them. Unwilling to hear those two condemn Legend to a slow death in the cold of space.

‘I see how it is.’ They signed.

“Really,” Ravio said, rubbing salt into the wound. “It’s for the best.”

Well, the deed was done. A heavy atmosphere fell over the remaining members of the spaceship.

‘White and I are going to go check medbay. We’ll get a confirmation for you all.’ Sky paused. ‘Twilight. Just in case, can you and Green go ready the shuttle? If we were wrong… well. If we were wrong we’ll have to go give Pink an apology to their face.’

‘Alright.’ Twilight replied. ‘Let’s go Green.’ They left.

“See you in a little while,” Wind said, distractedly. He was looking over the reports from the emergency alert system. With just a little finagling he’d be able to track which part of the ship the breach first occurred. Any second, now.

“Huh,” Wind muttered. “That’s odd, it was nowhere near-”

“Hey Lime?”

Wind looked up, before looking back at the report. “Oh Ravio, you’re still here. You sure gave me a scare, buddy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wha-” Wind whirled around, but it was too late. There was a glimpse of yellow, and Ravio’s uncovered human face looking sad, and then there was nothing.

‘Did you hear that?’ Twilight asked, pausing in his preparation of the shuttle. Time shrugged and didn’t reply, which was typical for him, really. Twilight sighed in the confines of his suit. ‘I’ll go check’

He didn’t have to go far before he ran into Ravio, who was wide-eyed and panting.

‘Ravio! Your helmet. Did you run here, what’s wrong?’ Twilight’s hands could almost not keep up with the speed of his questions. Then he noticed the phaser clutched tight in Ravio’s grip.

Just over the quiet hum of the space station, the sound of a shot could be heard. Shortly followed by another.

Sky found him on their way back to the conference room, Wild coming up the rear behind him. ‘Yellow!’ He was rattled. ‘We have to call another meeting. We checked medbay, and Pink is innocent! There’s still the alien life-form- wait.’ Sky paused, looking at the shorter child. ‘Is that blood?’

…

And then there were none.

#txt #mywriting #linkverse #tloz

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thedeaconj · 4 years

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A Cup of Sugar (Parts 1 and 2)

(So this is a longer piece I wrote up a while back, I’m putting the first two parts up as the very first part is extremely tame on its own. The second part is a little tame too, but well, you’ll see when the rest goes up why a slow burn can be all the more satisfying)

Part 1

Life in the city was tough, there was no denying it. It was already proving difficult for Sophie, who at the age of 19 had just cast off the shackles of parental oppression, then up and moved to the city against their wishes. Not that there really were shackles in her case, her parents never really tried to bring any order or discipline into her life. Instead, she brought her own in, with a fierce independent streak. Sure, she may not have been academically gifted, but she was headstrong, willing to work for her money. She may have looked quite petite and short but was surprisingly strong. This led her to her job at the warehouse, it was back breaking work, but she earned enough to keep herself afloat, and pay the admittedly extortionate rent on her small, dingy apartment.

The city was a fair bit warmer than where she was from, but Sophie still dressed conservatively, in many layers. Thick coats and jumpers, jeans, there wasn’t much of a trace of femininity to her, aside from her long, black hair. Her light skin stood out too, the heat of the city not quite having got to her complexion yet. It was getting to her physically though, that and her work. She’d came up the stairwell to her apartment, dead tired from her shift, only to find another obstacle to her already disaster of a day. She’d ordered a package online, given specific instructions of delivery time, only for them to have come early, missed her and left it with her neighbour, Mark.

Within the two weeks she’d lived there, she’d only bumped into the man twice, and didn’t much care for him on either time. A tall, lanky man who dressed in tweed and always seemed to look a little out of place. A shaggy mess of brown hair on his head, a rather unkempt beard and thick glasses obscured most of his face. He was easily twice her age, not that she knew much about him or what he did. The first time they’d met was when she was moving in, he offered her a bit of help, and introduced himself, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Why should she? She’d moved here on her own, she’d got the job on her own, and would have this place to herself. Besides, the way he looked at her, there was something a little off about it. The other time they’d crossed paths was earlier that day as she was heading off to her shift, Mark mentioned he’d be having a gathering of people soon, and that she was welcome to come. She pretended not to hear him, then hurried off to work. Now it was looking like she didn’t have much of a choice though. She wanted that delivery, she’d just have to suck it up, knock on his door and ask for it. It killed her a little to even have to do this, but she’d spent money on the delivery, and she couldn’t afford to put principles ahead of that right now.

Sophie knocked on his apartment door with a light knock, she didn’t want anyone else in the corridor to notice her. They’d no doubt find it odd she was going in there, maybe spread some nasty rumours. How could she be with a guy like Mark anyways? He was far too old for her. In an instant, she heard the door become unlocked, Mark pulled it open, formally dressed as ever.

‘Ah hello Sophie, how are you?’ he said.

She looked up at him with a tired look on her face, not willing to entertain the man.

‘Hey, do you have my parcel?’ she asked.

Mark chuckled, which sent a shiver down Sophie’s spine, he sounded all too old to be chuckling like that. He swung the door open, and invited her inside.

‘I’d rather if you just got it for me,’

‘Please Sophie, you look exhausted, at least take a seat for a moment while I get it,’ he said.

She sighed, then marched into Mark’s apartment. The first thing that came to mind was she’d be having a firm discussion with the landlord after this. His place was easily three times the size of hers, an open plan with a large sitting area, an adjoining bathroom and bedroom, a decent sized kitchen too. Artworks decorated the walls, and there was all sorts of curios and antiquities dotted around. Overwhelmed, Sophie took it all in, her gaze transfixed on some of the jewellery on display.

‘Sorry the place is a bit of a mess, I’ve still got to tidy up for my gathering next weekend, Should I put you down as a maybe?’ Mark asked, he’d headed into the adjoining bedroom, where he heard him rifling through some things.

Sophie snapped out of it, muttered something under her breath, then looked over to Mark’s sofa. It was, rather unusually, a hot pink leather sofa. It looked entirely out of place with the rest of the room, and despite herself Sophie couldn’t help but smirk at it. She sat down on it, finding it surprisingly comfortable, until it ambushed her with the springing up footrest. She let out a sudden yelp.

‘Yes, watch out for that! It’s not my sofa, well it is but it’s a joke gift from a friend,’ she heard.

‘Who gives someone a hot pink sofa as a gift?’ she called out.

There was that chuckle again. Sophie shivered again but did allow herself to relax into the sofa more. Despite the unusual appearance and how it totally didn’t match with the room, it was so wonderfully comfortable. She’d had a long day, sure she was in the apartment of her strange neighbour, but she might as well relax for a moment, as he got her the parcel. Mark re-entered the room, he looked over Sophie in her thick coat, black jeans and work boots, looking almost as out of place as the sofa itself. He hadn’t returned with the parcel, but a kettle.

‘I’m so sorry about this! I placed it down in there, but things have a habit of getting lost in here, in the meantime would you like some tea?’ he asked.

Sophie turned red, she’d thought he was impractical from looking at him, but how did you lose someone else’s parcel within your own apartment? She shook her head, but let out a long, telling yawn.

‘It’ll help you relax Sophie, please it’s the least I could do,’ Mark said.

She looked over to him as he held up the kettle, then finally shrugged. If she was going to wait here, she might as well have a free drink out of it. Given how well decorated the place was, Mark definitely could afford to give out more cups of tea than her. Sophie said she’d be fine with a cup of tea, but she didn’t want any milk or sugar. Mark nodded, then went off to make her the beverage. Within a few moments he returned and handed her the cup. The sofa meant Sophie was practically lying down, and after a hard day of work she could barely bend herself back up towards him. Still, she managed to grab the tea, and get herself slightly more upright. Sophie took her first sip, surprised by how it already seemed to be cool enough to drink. It was fantastic! Whatever tea this was she’d have to ask Mark afterwards where he’d got it.

Mark looked Sophie over again, as she took her first sip. Her pupils began to dilate, and he could see the faintest outlines of a smile forming on her face, something he’d never seen before. He smiled himself, then headed back off to the bedroom to find the package. As he did that, Sophie continued to drink her tea, while Mark rambled on about some topic. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, all that mattered to her then was the drink, and letting herself relax. She’d had such a long day, why not take a moment to relax? Sophie let herself melt back into the sofa, enjoying the feel of the cool leather against what little skin she revealed. She’d drank her tea quickly but was even open for another cup. As Sophie leaned back on the sofa, she noticed a breeze now coming from the ceiling. A ceiling fan, that spun around and around. It felt so good as a cool breeze caressed her warm body, felt nice to just focus on the spinning and let her troubles sink away. Sophie’s eyes fluttered, and then she simply must have drifted off.

‘Sophie?’ she heard.

She sat upright on the sofa, blinking, and realising where she was. How embarrassing, she must have nodded off! She looked up to see Mark was holding her parcel, and she turned bright red. She’d fallen asleep in her neighbour’s apartment; this wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined city life to be like. Looking up at Mark then, seeing the warm smile on his face, she began to feel quite bad. She’d not exactly been the nicest to this man, who really just wanted to help, and now she’d fell asleep in his apartment.

‘You dozed off there for a second, are you alright?’ Mark asked.

Sophie nodded, ‘Just tired, sorry about that’ she said, fairly quietly and still a little red.

‘That’s alright, you must have had a long day. Well here’s your package anyways,’ Mark handed it over to her. His hand lightly brushed hers as he did, but Sophie didn’t seem to mind at all.

As Sophie began to get up, Mark began to speak again. Now, Sophie felt more like listening to him, it was the least she could do.

‘I know you must be new to the city but please if there’s anything you need just knock on my door. If it’s help with anything, or just a cup of sugar like in the olden days,’ Mark chuckled.

Sophie couldn’t help but laugh too, she nodded but was still quick to get out of the apartment. She felt more embarrassed than weirded out by Mark now, he was clearly just a nice, if a little odd, older man. Sophie hurried off, forgetting to say goodbye, then went back into her own apartment. She opened up her delivery once inside, another thick, black coat, but didn’t feel all that attached to it. Maybe the heat of the city was starting to get to her, but it just didn’t seem much like her anymore, she’d built up this fiercely independent personality, something she was proud of, but was all this extra stuff necessary? Sophie didn’t ponder on it too much, despite her power nap she was exhausted. Soon enough, she slipped into her pyjamas, and drifted off to sleep. It would be another long shift for her tomorrow, life in the city was tough, just like her, just like how she liked it.

Part 2

Sophie once again returned from her shift at the warehouse, she’d forgone the heavy coat today, instead sticking with a dark green jumper and black jeans, and of course her heavy work boots. Still, despite this meaning she was cooler throughout the day, she still came home feeling exhausted, maybe even more so than the day before. There were no deliveries to be missed today, as Sophie looked over to Mark’s door, still feeling embarrassed about the day before. Part of her did want to go and apologise more, maybe even make an effort to attend that gathering he was talking about, but then that still felt a little strange. He was older than her, they were a generation apart almost, it just didn’t sit right with her. Sophie entered her apartment, a small, cramped space compared to Marks. She sighed as she saw one of her kitchen cupboard doors was hanging off at an angle. No doubt they were cheaply made, but no doubt the landlord would charge her a fortune if he discovered it. She searched through her apartment, found her DIY tools, then slapped her head and cursed. How could she have bought a DIY kit and forgot a screwdriver? It was such a simple mistake, one she chalked up to probably being tired from work when she bought it.

Sophie considered her options, she could head down to the shops and buy one, but she wasn’t exactly flush with cash. She could leave it, but it would just irritate her so much, seeing it hanging there. Then, a third option came into her mind. Didn’t Mark say if she needed anything, to just ask? I mean it was just a screwdriver, she’d feel a little bad asking for it, but the alternative was having a cupboard door hanging off. All she’d have to do is walk next door, let him know, and he’d probably give her one. Was it really so bad to ask for just a little help? Sophie sighed; she left her apartment to head to her neighbours for the second time in two days.

Once again Mark seemed to be right by the door, wearing a similar outfit to yesterday, except this time he held a wineglass in his hand. Sophie blushed a little, hoping she hadn’t disturbed him, but then wondered why? It wasn’t like he hadn’t said to her it was okay for her to ask for help.

‘Ah hello Sophie, here for that cup of sugar?’ he chuckled.

She laughed too, then shook her head.

‘No, I’m actually after a screwdriver, if you have one,’ she said.

‘Of course, I have one somewhere I’m sure of it, won’t you come in?’

Sophie nodded and walked once again into Mark’s apartment, things were looking a little tidier in here today, although the hot pink sofa still stood out like a sore thumb. Sophie liked something about it though, it was as if it was a statement of rebellion, something young and vibrant in the old and rather fusty apartment. The antiquities and oddities were mostly moved away somewhere, but the jewellery stayed in place. It was a hot day, so the ceiling fan once again came on full blast. Even though it was a big apartment, Sophie swore she could smell the wine Mark had open from here, a viscous, strong smell that practically got her tipsy just from smelling it. She’d never drank much, to be drunk was to let her guard down, and she definitely wouldn’t go getting drunk in her neighbours’ apartment. As Mark went off to his bedroom to search for a screwdriver, Sophie sat down upon the sofa again by instinct. The footrest still got her by surprise.

‘Say, what is it you do Mark?’ she asked, this time a bit more willing to make some small talk. She’d seen how long it had taken him to get her parcel, so she was in for a long haul anyways.

‘I’m retired, a bit young for it I know, but I made a good deal of money in my old field. I was a professor,’ he said.

Sophie’s own father worked at a petrol station, a far cry from Professor Mark, who had trouble locating objects in his own apartment. Why she’d thought about her father was unclear to Sophie, instead she continued to ask a bit about Mark.

‘What were you a professor of?’ she asked.

Sophie once again was getting comfortable on the sofa, she made a snap decision to roll up the sleeves of her jumper, just to feel the coolness against her skin. The fan was helping too, it seemed more powerful than yesterday, as it produced a constant swooshing sound, an almost rhythmic one. Just as Sophie was getting truly comfortable, Mark re-entered the room with the screwdriver.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, holding out the screwdriver.

‘Nothing, you just took a while yesterday, I didn’t expect you to be so quick,’ she said.

Why was she so disappointed? He’d got her the screwdriver like she’d asked, she could be out of here, she could fix her cupboards and maybe get some of her own free time in tonight, instead of collapsing into sleep again.

‘Well you’re welcome to stay and chat a little, to answer your question, I was a professor of behavioural operating, it’s a little technical and boring to explain,’ he said.

‘No, I wouldn’t want to bother you and take up your time,’ Sophie replied.

She began to pull herself up from the sofa, when Mark popped his wine glass just under her nose. She breathed in that strong, musky smell; her eyes fluttered slightly as it was just so powerful. There was something so familiar about it, Sophie started to smile as it reminded her of something pleasant, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

‘Please Sophie, stay, you’re not bothering me at all. In fact, I quite enjoy your company, and I need someone to help me finish this wine. I’ve not even touched this glass,’ he chuckled.

Sophie giggled as he chuckled.

‘I’m not much of a drinker,’ she said, still breathing in the aroma of the wine as Mark kept it just below her mouth.

He was stood behind her, behind the sofa now, as she looked up into his face, into his eyes. Without his thick glasses on she could see they were a nice shade of brown, just like hers. Mark slowly brought the glass further up, and cupped it over Sophie’s face. She could only smell the aroma of the wine now, as her mouth opened.

‘Please Sophie, give it a try, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,’ he said.

She couldn’t help but let it down her throat, it burned only a little. It tasted even better than her tea yesterday, such a delightfully fruity taste, she wanted more of it, and didn’t even mind as Mark used his hand to guide one of her arms into holding the glass. She continued to breath it in, as she relaxed deeply into the sofa. Mark took a seat just across from her, on a black leather chair. Sophie looked across at him as she continued to drink.

‘You’re right, it’s really good,’ she said.

Mark looked at the girl as her eyes once again dilated, the flicker of a smile came to her face, and everything but the hand she held the glass in became so loose, so limp. He smiled at her, which made Sophie go slightly red. There was something strange about this, but she couldn’t quite place it, and the worry began to go away as the pair started to speak.

‘Tell me Sophie, do you have much in the way of family? You seem quite young to be living alone in the city,’ Mark asked.

She shook her head, and simply said that she was an only child, that she had parents but didn’t want to rely on them, not that she felt she could anyways. Mark nodded, a warm smile still on his face.

‘That’s understandable, you do seem the independent type. Myself I was too focused on my work to really have a family, but we all have our priorities, don’t we Sophie?’

She nodded, but right then her priority was simply relaxing and enjoying the wine. It was so good, the way it ran down her throat, tickling at her, she felt so fuzzy every time Mark spoke, like his words were wrapping around her, like a cosy blanket. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m a little tired so I’m not up to talk much,’ she said.

‘That’s alright Sophie, you can relax and I’m more than happy to talk at you,’ Mark said.

Then she noticed a frown on his face, as he now looked down at her boots. Not wanting to sour the mood, she asked what was wrong.

‘Sorry, I’m being a bit fussy, but is there any chance you could take your work boots off? It’s just the sofa and all…’ Mark said.

Sophie felt embarrassed again, not only was she relying on him once again, but now she was scuffing his sofa with her big clunky boots! Sophie leaned up a little quickly, only to feel dizzy.

‘Sure, woah give me a second,’ she said.

Mark chuckled, so Sophie giggled.

‘That wine’s strong stuff, I can just take them off for you Sophie,’ he said.

Before she could object, Mark was on his feet, untying her bootlaces, while she relaxed back into the sofa. She finished off her wine glass, placed it down on a side table, and lay back for a moment. There was the ceiling fan again, spinning around and around. Usually seeing something like this after a drink could make her feel nauseous, but instead it just made her feel happy. She’d been so intent on taking her own boots off, but why not let Mark do it for her? It meant she could relax more, and that was important, she’d had a long day after all. As Sophie felt the load on each of her feet lighten, Mark made an interesting remark.

‘Not what I expected to see underneath your boots Sophie,’ he said.

Sophie leaned up, just enough to see she was wearing pastel pink socks! She must have forgotten she put them on this morning, as she was running out of her traditional black pairs.

‘Oh yeah umm I haven’t washed any of my normal pairs,’ she said, turning redder than ever.

‘It’s perfectly fine Sophie, they look nice, it’s a cute colour,’ Mark said.

Nobody had ever called Sophie cute, at least not since she was a child. It wasn’t her look, her style, being cute was opposed to being herself. However, Mark’s comment didn’t bother her too much, why was that?

‘It is?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it is Sophie, I know it’s not how you usually dress, but why not try a different look? You’re in the city now after all, you can be whoever you want to be,’

Why was she taking fashion advice from her older, male neighbour? It all seemed a little weird to her, but at the same time as if he did have a point. There was one obvious reason she couldn’t try a new look, the money side of things, but maybe some slow changes?

‘I guess I could try out a new style,’ she said, still staring up at the ceiling fan.

Mark chuckled, which caused her to giggle. She now wiggled her toes as they were free from the boots, but then felt a pleasant feeling on her soles, as if she was getting a footrub. She didn’t get up to look though, she was too busy focusing on the fan, letting Mark talk at her again. It was such a pleasant state to be in, lying back on his sofa, letting him talk and tell her all these interesting things. He was a smart man she could tell, and a gifted speaker. She could imagine being a student in his classes when he used to teach, knowing he’d have her full attention. As Sophie daydreamed, she became blissfully unaware of her mouth drifting open, drool pooling as her body and mind melted. Her eyes rolled up in her head, darkness overtook her.

‘Sophie?’

Sophie blinked her eyes open, she leaned up to see Mark sitting across from her, in the chair, with a look of mild concern on his face.

‘Oh god! I did it again didn’t I,’ Sophie groaned.

How had she fallen asleep in his apartment again! She’d only came over to get a screwdriver, it must have been the wine, she thought. She always was a bit of a lightweight, what with her size, and her long shift didn’t help. How embarrassing for her again though, she’d also seemed to have drooled in her sleep, as there was a small puddle of it on her jumper.

‘Only for a few moments Sophie, I must have been boring you,’ Mark said, then chuckled.

She giggled, then shook her head.

‘No, no not at all, you’re interesting to listen to, I’m just tired again, another long shift,’ she said.

It surprised her, but it was true. Mark proved interesting to listen to, she could see how he’d been able to retire early, as he was such a smart man. Yet, wasn’t it a little odd that she didn’t think that much of him only two days before? Perhaps she’d misjudged him, she knew him better now, and could see he was worth her time. Maybe she would go to that gathering he mentioned.

‘That’s perfectly alright Sophie, until we meet again. Like I said, anything you need, please come and ask, even if it’s for a cup of sugar,’ Mark said. He winked at the end, which inspired a strange, dreamy feeling in Sophie.

She blinked twice and nodded, heading out back to her own apartment, screwdriver in hand. Fixing the cupboard door was easy, but once again she felt exhausted, the day hitting her hard. As she readied herself for bed, Sophie looked over her usual pyjamas. These long sleeved and legged dark blue pyjamas, which were quite warm and stuffy. She remembered something from earlier, something about trying out a new way of dressing. It was so hot in her apartment bedroom, so hot in the city overall, and she couldn’t afford any new clothes just yet. Maybe her new style then could be more minimalist? She didn’t need to sleep in these pyjamas, instead she could simply wear her underwear and the vest top she had on under the sweater. Sophie smiled, she thought about how Mark mentioned something about a different style. He was a smart man. Where’d that come from? Why was she thinking of her older neighbour as she stripped down and lay in bed? She wouldn’t get an answer, as the moment she closed her eyes, Sophie was out like a light.

#hypnosis #hypnotized #erotichypnosis #hypnokink #oc #brainwashing #brainwashed #brainwash #mindcontrol #mind control

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watch-grok-brainrot · 3 years

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ajsksk hey! i'm so sorry for not taking time earlier but i've got a little bit of time rn. christmas is a very busy time for my family since my brother's birthday follows right after the christmas days on the 28th!! and then my birthday is on the fifth january and y'know we cook a lot of food and bake a lot.

i can't for the life of me remember if i sent an ask already, but yeah the emojis where wwx. i thought going with a skull would be too obvious so i went with something that could've been wen ning too, except for the paint. which is kind of a reference to the fact that in a lot of modern aus wwx is an artist and that in canon he drew lwj!!

some questions: do you prefer spicy, sour or sweet food? i'm not a fan of spicy things since i have a low tolerance (in contrast to my siblings and my father), i actually quite like eating sour things because i think it's really enjoyable. you could see me biting happily into a lemon just so i can taste the sourness. i like sweet things too!!

did you have any wishes for christmas? and if yes, did you get it? i got a new game called ghost of tsushima, it's set in ancient japan and is about the samurai jin sakai and his journey of freeing his homeland from the mongols. which kind of results in him going against the samurai codex so that he can protect his people. that's how he earns the title "the ghost" (while yeah his uncle insists that jin would never go against his teachings and the samurai codex, which... he kind of does but also doesn't?? it's hard because he is the last real samurai in tsushima and they're at war). anyways, sorry for ranting!!

do you have any tattoos or would you like to get any? if the latter, what would it be? if not, why wouldn't you want any?

i hope you have a fun day 💞 - ❄🐇

i like all food? there’s a sichuan flavor profile called “fish fragrance” and it’s garlic, ginger, green onions, sugar, and vinegar mixed with sichuan spicy bean paste. So can i just say yes? look. fish fragrant eggplant is one of my top favorite vegetarian dishes. OMG so gooooood. so is fish fragrant pork... which sounds weird but is DELCIOUS... mmmmm... i like eating sour things too. definitely guilty of giving myself chemical burns from warheads as a kid... did anyone else do that? lol.

uh... wishes for xmas? i was hoping for something but it was really expensive and i didn’t actually ask for it. i didn’t get it but i don’t mind. i did get tea though! and teas i don’t usually drink or buy for myself!! so i’m excited! :D japanese teas are not something i end up exploring often... i still don’t know if one of the teas i got is an oolong or a black tea though... it’s labeled oolong black ginger or something like that. looks like a black tea... but maybe a roasted oolong? ope. the ginger smells are AMAZING in that tea and overpower other notes... so i’ll have to brew it and guess. i’m so excited to try it! I also got a yuzu sencha that might have matcha mixed in... so i’ll have to find my good filter for it... and a hojicha. mmmmm. tea!

i don’t have any tattoos. I am unlikely to get any. it’s mostly because i don’t want to permanently put something on my body. i only have my ear lobes pierced. I’m fairly conservative/reserved... except for the streak of color i have in my hair... but i can always grow that out... i say this but i’ve had a streak of color in my hair since 2006... so eh? lol. other people want tattoos? by all means. I'll admire the pretty and have things to talk to people about. i love so many of my friends’ tattoos! one of my friend has what he calls a nerd barcode. he has a D&D dragon ampersand, a cow-like wolf from wheel of time, and something else that i can’t remember. those are all things HE WILL TALK ABOUT so having it on his arm is pretty neat. He also has a biohaz symbol on his chest. something about a game he used to play. idk. another one of my friends does a lot of amtgard and has chainmail/armor patterns on his upper arm. really neat looking. if i got one, it would probably be something octopus related or an inside joke with my husband... but like i said, i don’t really want a tattoo.

#mdzsnetcc #snowbunny asked haoppo answered #sorry i am so slow #one big midwest ope #but seriously if you like sour eat warheads but uh... be gentle #i can't believe i didn't think about how they were chemical burns as a child #but then again what twelve year old thinks about that?#you can rant about video games all you want friend #you've seen how long i go on about tea #your eyes probably glaze over when i talk about tea #lol #Anonymous

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socialistexan · 4 years

Text

With Romanoff's loss in Colorado, we likely aren't getting an actual progressive into the Senate this year (Dems really went balls out of Milquetoast corporatists this year), so our next best shot is 2022, where there's some real possibilities, either through retirements, primaries, or weak Republican incumbents in purple/lean blue states.

Retirements

We have no word on any retirements yet, but I'm sure there will be a small handful between now and 2022. California could open up if Biden does the obvious and picks Kamala Harris and they somehow pull out the win, besides that, not many open seats as of now.

Primaries

New York

This one should be front and center for Dems in 2022. Schumer has been a total failure as Senate Leader, allowing through a record number of federal judges for Trump, rolling over to McConnell and monied interests at every possible turn, total failure to wield any power. Not only that, but he's hippie punched every chance he got and threw tens of millions of dollars against progressives in open primaries. In an increasingly left-leaning state like NY, there should not be a Dem like Schumer representing them. He'll have Wall Street and Washington in his corner, but that about it. Large Progressive bench with a strong slate of progressive orgs and a built in progressive star in AOC. Schumer needs to watch his back.

Potential progressive challengers: AOC, Jamaal Bowman, Julia Salazar, Cynthia Nixon, Richie Torres, Zephyr Teachout, Jabari Brisport

Connecticut

Richard Blumenthal is a strong Biden ally, so that's a potential boost for him there, but he's also tough on crime (73% from the NAPO), anti-Palestine, pro-War and pro-corporate and that's hard to stomach in the Democratic party of 2022. Connecticut also doesn't exactly have a large bench with its size, it'll have to come from a state rep/sen, mayor, or city Councilor.

Potential progressive challengers: Travis Simms, Saud Anwar, Mike D'Agostino

Colorado

Michael Bennet, anothe hippie punching corporatist. It's hard to take him down, but Colorado isn't just trending Blue, but to the actual left (unlike say Virginia), so when Biden, should he win, totally fails to bring any victories for the Left, I think it puts a huge target on the Clinton-world favorite Bennet. It's hard to see a Pay-Go, pro tax cut, pro-cop, anti health care Dem being all that popular in Colorado. He kept his profile pretty low and let himself be "generic Democrat" for a while, but his Presidential run exposed him. Who his challenger is, well that's the tough part.

Potential progressive challengers: Andrew Romanoff, Julie Gonzales, Emily Sirota

Maryland

Chris Van Hollen, similar to the above, but fewer potential challengers

Potential progressive challengers: Ben Jealous, Brandon Scott

Republican seats

North Carolina

Richard Burr in a state that is increasingly swingy. Biden might just pick this one up win or lose overall. Very Virginia-esque Dem party, so a progressive breaking through will be tough. One or the most likely flips in 2022 so I it needs to be a priority.

Potential progressive challengers: Erica Smith??? I don't know many else, nor can I find many. Someone in NC give me a hand here, this is an important seat.

Wisconsin

Ron Johnson feels like an incredibly weak incumbent. He was saved by Trump in 2016, but he won't have that benefit in a midterm regardless of who wins in 2020. Even if Biden wins and there's a first midterm backlash (there always is), Wisconsin feels very gettable. What you need is a labor focused candidate that will excite young people and PoC in places like Milwaukee. Problem is, who steps up?

Potential progressive challengers: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and that's a problem. Wisconsin used to be a labor dominated state, Milwaukee had socialists mayors for g-dssake. Idk, followers in Wisconsin, educate me, please.

Kentucky

Rand Paul is just a weird guy. He's unpopular in Kentucky, but his, uh, "independent" streak gives him a leg to stand on that isn't tied directly to any national level Republican so he could be tough no matter who wins in 2020. I can see the Primary being a repeat of the 2020 Primary after McGrath gets demolished by McConnell, but with Booker getting two years to really boost himself instead of getting a last second rush at the end.

Potential progressive challengers: Charles Booker

Ohio

Ohio is tough. A former bellwether state, it's now solidly red. Rob Portman is a bit of a jam. He might have a primary from the right, so who knows how that'll affect him, either pushing him to the right in a red state or framing him as the "reasonable" conservative in a former Purple state. I can see the primary coming down to Tim Ryan and Nina Turner if she chooses to run.

Potential progressive challengers: Nina Turner, Morgan Harper

Also I think it's unlikely, buy I'd love to see Pramila Jayapal primary Patty Murray.

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zimmerhomme · 4 years

Text

Check, Please is chock-full of incredible bookends, when things somehow end exactly where they started, so here’s a crazy, coincidental bookend of my own:

I discovered Check, Please in the summer of 2016, the longest summer ever—I had five months of free time before I started college. Naturally, I went and got myself a new obsession. Today, as Check, Please closes its final chapter, I’m facing yet another seemingly endless summer, this time at the end of my college career.

I know it’s a comic and decidedly not a collection of music, but this story has become the soundtrack to my entire college life. Unlike a regular comic, which you would pick up, spend a day or two reading, and then put down, Check, Please was an ongoing story, and even though I found it when Bitty was already halfway through his college life, I knew I still had two more chapters of this webcomic to look forward to. It would turn out to take four years to get through Bitty’s junior and senior years at Samwell University, and for a while, it was literally my lifeblood, even if it only updated every few months. I had some good laffs at all the dumb jokes, cried at all the sweet and sad parts, analyzed every panel, every errant streak of light (because it still amazes me how intentional Ngozi’s art and storytelling are), and, in the meantime, read millions of words worth of fanfiction. It’s weird, because I had very few friends who shared the same interest in this comic and these characters as I did, but that made it even more special, somehow. Here’s one thing that felt like it was really just mine. (Here’s a shout out to all my friends who put up with my random screeching about this comic that none of you care about—god bless you and your families and your cows!!!)

It’s surreal, how quickly these past four years have gone, and it’s surreal getting to watch Bitty go through almost all the same things as I was, almost in real time—dumb shenanigans with friends, finding a home and a family away from home, struggling with confidence and self-esteem issues, getting a leadership position, even down to procrastinating my thesis. Hell, seeing Bitty graduate is probably the closest thing I’ll get to graduation this year, the way things are going. And then there’s seeing Jack, who is my absolute favorite character ever in this world, who struggles with anxiety and crippling self-inflicted pressure, allow himself to be happy and build relationships with people instead of shutting them out—I’ve learned so much about myself through these characters, which is insane because they are drawings of hockey players that are decidedly not real, but that just goes to show the power of a beautifully written story. I’ve also learned so much about hockey, and I know this is a truly important story to be telling at a crucial time like this, because it’s a story about a gay baker-slash-figure skater from the South who plays through a debilitating checking phobia on a D-1 college hockey team and, against all odds, he wins. It’s a pipe dream for now, because the NHL is the whitest, straightest, most conservative major sports league there is, but hopefully someday (soon!), Jack and Bitty’s story can be mirrored in reality.

Check, Please is a lovingly told tale about hockey, pies, and romance—things I barely know anything about (well, except hockey, now). But it’s also a story about college, about learning new things about the world and about yourself, about friendship and finding people that help you be your best, and about growing and thriving in the most unexpected places, and these are things that I’ve become intimately familiar with in my past four years in the Ateneo. I’m having trouble saying goodbye to this comic, because it feels like saying goodbye to my own college life, but as Bitty says to his batchmates in one of the last few updates, “We are our four years of Samwell.” So maybe it turns out I don’t have to say goodbye after all. This story has become an irrevocable part of my college experience, and an irrevocable part of my life, and I’m a better artist (waking up early to watch Ngozi draw and color has definitely PAID OFF, though I’ve still got a ways to go), sports fan (waking up early to watch hockey games has also PAID OFF if seeing the Pens win back to back Cups counts for anything), and person (catch me regulating my own destructive behaviors like HAHAHAHA pushing people away when I need help oops) for it.

I’m not a Wellie by any stretch of the imagination (not that Samwell exists LMAO), but I think after four years in college anywhere, it still applies: May the rivers of friendship never die, and may we always drink deeply from knowledge’s well!

#man #fml #it hurt me to have to write this because this comic means SO MUCH TO ME YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND #check please #omgcp #check please last slice #MY FEELINGS #ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE

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cryoculus · 4 years

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Hello! I love the blog, was wondering of you can do a soulmate au for akaashi or bokuto? Maybe one about sharing the same tattoo? Thanks even if you reject!

» Word Count: 2,650 wordsCross-posted on AO3

This ask was sent literally a year ago, and I am so sorry for not filling this (and all the other requests dumped into my inbox) any sooner! This is part one for a reincarnation/soulmate AU for Bokuto because I’ve already done the matching tattoos one with Daichi, whoops.

—

“And here we have the Crimson Dream, as depicted on a white canvas with red paint by none other than Sakurauchi Hide-san.”

Awed whispers resonated in your little tour group as your guide spared you a few minutes to observe the beautiful yet macabre painting among many others hung on the walls of the museum. Photographs and the like were strictly prohibited, and you’ve been giving your best friend, Kinuye, the cold shoulder when she opted not to tell you.

“What am I supposed to do with this, then?” you muttered, gesturing vaguely at the disposable camera hung around your neck. “You could’ve stopped me when I got it at the gift shop.”

Kinuye giggled, tucking a tuft of loose, brown hair behind her ear. “Well, for one, you looked so excited to document our first date in forever. What kind of friend would I be to take that away from you?”

You scoffed. “A practical one.”

“Hm. While you do have a point, you could always use that for other things, right?” She grinned, and dear god, you still rued the day the universe had decided that she would be the pretty friend. “Tetsurou will come pick us up a little later. Is there anywhere you’d like to go to next?”

Frowning, you asked, “This Tetsurou guy—he’s your boyfriend, right?”

She nodded gingerly. “Yup. Total sweetheart, I tell you. You’ll love him!”

You hummed in contemplation, wondering if you really will love the guy, as Kinuye had insisted. She’d started sending you photos of herself doing weird poses with her old Organic Chemistry professor only a few months ago. While he didn’t look like someone that would deliberately break your best friend’s heart, there was something off-putting about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

It’s not because he was older, really. Dating older people was normal in college. It was more because you convinced yourself that you knew him from somewhere, but couldn’t recall how.

“Now, moving on to the next work of art…”

The two of you shuffled along as the tour guide prattled on about the origins behind the next piece over. As a painting major, your heart practically melted when Kinuye texted you the previous week, saying that she’d scored the two of you tickets for the new art museum that opened a few blocks from your university. It’s been the talk of your department for weeks, and the tickets had sold out on the first day of the pre-sale. You weren’t lucky enough to get your hands on them, yourself, but life had apparently decided that you shall also be bestowed with your pretty friend’s blessings.

“Hey, that one reminds me of the painting you have in your living room,” Kinuye whispered, pointing somewhere behind you. With one eyebrow raised, you craned your head to sneak a glance at what she was pertaining to—only to be met with the sight of a massive tapestry framed at the other side of the hall.

As most tapestries were, the fabric that depicted a vast, orange sky with spires of land jutting from the clouds was being displayed behind a stretch of conservation glass. A few visitors were standing in front of it, murmuring among themselves while sharing contemplative stares. There was even a golden plaque placed underneath, but you were too far away to read the inscription.

But Kinuye was right. It did look eerily similar to the twilight painting you once did for your scenery final.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but did you get your reference off the Internet or did you see it with your own eyes?” your best friend wondered, genuine curiosity brimming in her gaze. “It practically looked like a screenshot, you know. One of my favorites for sure.”

“Is that your way of telling me that you didn’t like the portrait I gave you for your birthday?” You pouted.

Kinuye gasped, appalled at your accusation. “I adore every single piece you make, and you know it! It’s just that…there’s something about that painting in particular, you know? I remember you holing yourself up in your apartment for days just so you could finish it before finals week ended. Now, the fan art for your original is being displayed at a museum—”

“That tapestry is not fan art, Kinuye,” you said in-between chuckles as your gaze wandered back to the twilight sky just a few feet away. “I guess we just happened to witness the same thing.”

One side of her mouth quirked upward. “Eh? So you did see it with your own eyes. Where is it? Were you on a hiking trip? Is it back in Hokkaido? You’re going to take me there, right?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair with playful exasperation. “You’re so demanding.”

“If some person made the effort to make a damn tapestry of the same scenery you painted for a final requirement, then it just means that it’s that amazing, right?” Kinuye folded her arms across her chest, declaring, “You will take me there.”

She was practically the first friend you’ve made when you moved to Tokyo, so of course you’d want to take Kinuye to places you knew she would like. But how were you supposed to bring her somewhere you’ve only seen in the plane of your dreams?

“I’ll think about it,” you told her, not really meaning the words.

“And that concludes our guided itinerary,” the guide up front said, almost sounding relieved. “You may now take a look at the rest of the artworks displayed in this wing on your own accord. But do refrain from going beyond as the other wings are still under construction. Thank you for visiting the Akaashi Museum for Fine Arts, and we do hope you’ll support the institution as time flows on.”

As time flows on. Those are some strange parting words.

Once your group dissolved into pairs and individuals, Kinuye seized your wrist so she could drag you off to the tapestry that she’d suddenly went crazy about. There were more people viewing the frame than earlier, but the two of you managed to get a decent spot, nonetheless. There, you could read the words etched onto the plaque much more clearly.

The Dawn of Our Ruinby Akaashi Keiji, 2014

“Says here that the guy who made this finished it on his third year of high school. So you’re the one who did the fan art after all, huh, (Name)-chan,” teased Kinuye as she carefully went over the rest of the details. “Oh, and he’s also the son of the museum’s director! Really runs in the family, huh?”

Her words, however, were a bit muted in your ears, given that your attention was ensnared by the artist’s interpretation of his own work.

“When heavenly fire swathes the clouds with reds and oranges, the rage of the gods cannot be fathomed by mortal minds. Those who oppose their justice will be struck down to the earth, where they will perish with their dying eyes transfixed on the fading daylight.”

You saw a beautiful sky at the dregs of twilight. Akaashi Keiji saw clouds on fire.

“You ladies seem pretty into that piece, huh?”

Startled, you whip your head back to face whoever addressed you and Kinuye so abruptly. There, a man who seemed no older than the two of you stood with his pockets shoved into his sleek black overcoat. He stood tall above the both of you, his grin blindingly bright. But the most peculiar thing about him, aside from his streaked, bouffant hair, was definitely the molten gold of his eyes—so mesmerizing that you’d almost forgotten he’d asked you a question.

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered. “I—”

“She painted something that looks exactly the same as this one!” Kinuye interrupted, patting your shoulder proudly. “She won’t tell me where it is, but she did promise to take me there someday.”

You shot her an incredulous look. “I did not make any promises, Kinuye.”

“I’m Yoshitaka Kiyune, and that’s (Surname) (Name),” she introduced. Your friend merely smiled at you like a Cheshire cat, before balking off at the stranger about your supposed skill with the canvas and brush. You could only shrink to the side when said stranger responded with the same extroverted eagerness that Kinuye practically exuded on the daily.

“Whoa! You got the highest mark for your version of this? I haven’t seen it, but I already know you deserve it,” he said, eyes glittering with awe. The wonder in his voice wasn’t staged. You’ve been on the receiving end of half-meant compliments all your life, and you could tell that his words were nothing but genuine.

Kinuye perked up from beside you. “Oh, if you don’t mind, can we ask for your name…?”

The golden-eyed man’s smile softened. “Koutarou. Bokuto Koutarou. I’m one of the curators for the museum.”

“You’re a curator?” you repeated, disbelief lining your features.

Bokuto hollered out loud, earning a few looks from the nearby visitors. “Ah, I get that a lot. I don’t look the part, but I know good pieces when I see them. I’m the one who’s in charge of this wing after all.”

You blinked at him, at a loss for words. “So, you know the person who made this, then?”

“Of course!” He nodded vigorously. “The Akaashis are a family friend of mine, and the dude who put this gigantic thing together is practically my best friend. Like hell I’ll leave out his best work to gather dust in their basement.”

“I see…” Your voice trailed off when your gaze latched back onto the tapestry. The details were breathtaking, each thread carefully placed where they could bring the depicted image to life. This close, you could see that, indeed, it wasn’t the sky that’s orange. The puffy white clouds were covered in a thin blanket of fire, as if the rage of the gods Akaashi had spoken of hasn’t boiled over yet.

“You know, I could sign your pieces up to be displayed on here, too.”

Your body reacted before your mind could even process the words. You felt your hands grow cold within a second, the chill spreading to the rest of your skin. Did you hear him right? Did the curator for the museum you thought you’d never be able to visit within the month just offer to display your art in the newly opened wing?

“You can refuse if you don’t want to though,” Bokuto supplied, a sheepish look twisting his face. “It’s just that I’m friends with Professor Konoha, and he’s been telling me about a certain student that had her own rendition of Akaashi’s Dawn, and that her pieces were, quote, out of this world.”

Feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up on your face, you turned your head a little to the side. “K-Konoha-sensei is a little superfluous with his compliments sometimes…”

He shook his head. “Konoha is the most honest guy I know! When he’s playing favorites, that just means your stuff is worth something.” Bokuto then reached into his coat before handing you a small, rectangular card. He grinned once more, and you could feel your blush worsen by the second.

“If you’re interested, just give me a call, and we can talk about it over lunch! Or coffee. Or—I dunno. Whatever you’d like.” The look in his eyes was so hopeful, you thought it would be a crime to turn him down.

You gulped, studying his business card for a few seconds before keeping it inside your bag. “T-Thank you, Bokuto-san—”

“Oh, don’t be so formal with me.” He pouted. “Back then you told me—ah, I mean… I’d prefer it if my future clients didn’t address me so stiffly.”

“Alright…Bokuto.” You spoke his name carefully, feeling how the syllables fit in your tongue. “I’ll call you once I’ve made up my mind.”

The curator clapped his hands together, like a child promised with a toy. He just wouldn’t stop smiling, and you felt as though he won’t do so any time soon. Beside you, you could feel Kinuye giving you one of her Looks, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Alright, thanks a lot, (Name)—uh, (Surname). You, too, Yoshitaka. It was nice meeting the two of you, but I’ll be going now,” he sighed wistfully, like he didn’t want to leave. “I have a meeting with the directors in a few minutes, and Keiji might just yell at me for being late. Again.”

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s okay, Bokuto. Thank you again for the opportunity.”

With a single nod of the head, Bokuto strode off to the restricted area of the museum, possibly where the offices were located. You were about to ask Kinuye what time her boyfriend would come pick the two of you up, but the Look she was sending your way only intensified once Bokuto was out of sight.

“He’s into you,” she spoke flatly. “He is so into you.”

Your eyes widened and you could feel yourself flush at her words. “W-What do you mean?”

“(Name), don’t act dense. You’ve had boyfriends in the past. I’m sure you can tell if a guy likes you or not.”

“He was just being nice!” you reasoned. “He’s friends with Konoha-sensei, so he must’ve seen some of my work. It’s purely professional—”

“With the way he was looking at you like you’re his next mistake?” Kinuye chuckled, patting your shoulder affectionately. “As if.”

Your bottom lip quivered with the itch to have the last word. “H-He’s older!”

“Tetsurou is a good six years older than me, and we’re doing mighty fine,” she argued with a smirk. “Come on, just admit that the pretty curator is into you and we can have lunch.”

“B-But—”

Your protest was interrupted by the sound of Kinuye’s ringtone, and she immediately fumbled around her bag for her phone. Her sea green eyes lit up when she checked the caller ID. “Just in time. Tetsurou’s already waiting for us out front.” Stuffing her phone back, she flashed you a faux-angelic smile. “(Name)-chan, you can continue wallowing in your denial later, but I would really prefer if you just owned up to it.”

“Whatever,” you sighed in defeat. “Let’s go. I’m starved.”

As the two of you made your way down the marble steps that led outside, you felt the sun practically glaring down on the both of you. Summer in Tokyo was excruciating in its own right, and you looked up to the sky just to give the big ball of fire a glare of your own.

However, in the distance, just a few buildings away, you spotted a bird—no, a creature in flight. It was too far away for you to decipher what it really was, but you could somehow make out the shape of massive wings jutting out from its back. Too big to be a bird, too alive to be a plane.

Remembering that you had a camera at your disposal, you raised it to your face so that one eye was posed on the viewfinder. It was one of those newer models that had a decent zoom in feature, but identity of the figure in the sky remained unknown when it promptly disappeared up into the heavens, high enough where no human could hope to reach.

“(Name)-chan, are you taking a picture of something?”

You let the camera fall, the strap straining against the back of your neck. Kinuye was looking at you expectantly from where she’s waiting beside an unfamiliar car.

Exhaling a deep breath, you shook your head. “No. Sorry,” you told her, before jogging down the rest of the steps.

#haikyuu!!#bokuto koutarou #fukurodani #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu hc #soulmates #man i should really fix my tagging system #lol-life101 #hqscenario

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