#epsilon says shit
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i know the question of "realness" came up in this ep and its like "yeah were real bc were here and talking to each other but also theres things that are More Real in ways we cant comprehend" or whatever but i hear the concept of "realness" in relation to stories and im like
i want the velveteen rabbit. where is he. where is my stuffed rabbit who was loved so hard he became real. i want him in this conversation
#epsilon says shit#dimension 20#dimension 20 spoilers#neverafter#neverafter spoilers#am i an Author who loves characters so hard they feel real to me and live in my brain? maybe. mind ur business
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I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?
FML: In
As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:
“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”
“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”
“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”
“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.
“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.
I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”
He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”
“Please dude.” I stared at him.
After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”
“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”
“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”
He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”
You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”
He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”
“No magic words or anything?” I asked.
He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”
It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”
“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”
When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.
You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.
‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.
You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.
Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.
And then the door behind you opened.
The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.
“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.
“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.
“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”
“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.
“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”
His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.
Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:
“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.
He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“
“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.
He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.
He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”
You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.
#musk#straight to gay#jockification#frat bro#jock tf#dumber tf#frat tf#male transformation#reality change#fml
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HELIOTROPES
pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments
summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.
genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part
warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, mentions of past prostituion (not dottore or reader), implication of reader being slapped and getting hurt (not badly)
notes: i dont think u guys understand how much fun im having introducing the segments sobs. adhufsdiuf i might make a little reference sheet for them and attach it to masterlist if u guys want
JOY
Mutiny.
He had been dealing with mutiny for five years. He should have expected that the Iota segment wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He should have sewn it shut. In a matter of a week, every single one of the segments knew that their red thread had finally appeared. In a matter of a month, every single one of the segments had abandoned their projects to return to Dottore’s estate in Snezhnaya and Dottore was fed up.
This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He knew his segments because they were him, and he knew that as soon as they found out, they would be on their way back to Snezhnaya to find out if it was true for themselves. He had half a mind to deactivate every single one of them but he figured that even if he did that and recreated them, it would just be the same issue all over again and a massive waste of resources because the segments would not change--it was why they were created, to preserve his mentality at different years.
It did not take long for the older segments to put together what Dottore was planning on doing with the red thread and their soulmate and they were not happy about it.
Dottore didn’t think he had a single day for himself in the past five years. The segments were relentless, offering to help with his research. Two sets of eyes are better than one, they would say, but Dottore knew they were full of shit. Dottore had always valued his independence highly, even as a child. There was no way that they all suddenly wanted to work with him at any given moment after years of convincing him that they were perfectly capable of running research without his supervision. They were using it as an excuse to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he didn’t make any progress on figuring out how to sever the thread, and Dottore was livid over it.
Every day, a different segment was waiting for him at his lab or in the library, pressing him to work on a variety of different projects--none being research on the red thread, of course. And to Dottore’s absolute frustration, his segments were as manipulative and intelligent as him, so whenever he tried to brush them off to do as he pleased, he was met with snide comments about so much for not letting their soulmate get in the way of their research.
He had backed himself into a corner, and it was no one’s fault but his own.
Dottore sighed as he flipped through one of Epsilon’s reports.
Ley line outcrops sprouting up more often in Avidya forest.
Possible roots in Dragonspine breaking the surface? Does Irminsul grow upside down?
Upside down, Dottore pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to think. Could it be growing in the Abyss, and the roots are traveling up through the earth past the surface?
How would that even work? Could the Abyss sustain life? Does the Irminsul tree even count as life?
One of his hands slid down his face, rubbing at his mouth as he tried to piece together the puzzle laid out before him. He would have to talk to the Balladeer. The Sixth was the one that Pierro frequently sent on missions down in the Abyss, if anyone knew more about it, it would be him… or Pierro himself, but Dottore did not necessarily want to go out of his way to talk to Pierro because it usually ended in him being sent on another mission.
“Let us go looking for them.”
It was Rho again, this time, standing at the door to Dottore’s lab. He exhaled, dragging his gaze up from the papers to the segment. Once he was acknowledged, Rho stepped into the room and Dottore raised his eyebrows waiting for him to continue. Rho looked pointedly at Dottore’s thumb, Dottore just shook his head once he realized what Rho was referring to, turning around to prepare a burner.
“You would deny the younger segments time with our soulmate? Deny them the experience of actually knowing their soulmate while they are the same age?” Rho pressed, drawing closer to Dottore. Dottore looked at Rho over his shoulder, warning him: don’t you dare come closer. Rho pressed his lips together, stopping midstep. “It’s been five years since the thread appeared, they are already five years older than Kappa. They’re the same age as Iota. Soon they’ll be older than him, and Gamma, you know how Gamma-”
“There is no way to find them,” Dottore dismissed. “Get back to work.”
“Iota has been hysterical for days, Gamma is so anxious that he can barely focus on his research. Neither of them had ever given up hope that our soulmate would appear and you’re going to refuse-”
“How do you intend for me to find them?” Dottore was getting irritated. Never had he dealt with so much insubordination from his segments until this cursed red thread had shown up. “Follow the string? We both know that’s not possible. There will be no clues for another five years, at least, and ten years is more likely.”
Rho was frustrated, Dottore could tell from the way the segment was clenching and unclenching his jaw rapidly. Dottore couldn’t bring himself to care because quite frankly, he was frustrated. He could feel the emotions of each segment, of course he knew Gamma was anxious, of course he knew Iota was hysterical. He could feel his anxiety, he could feel his hysteria. He could feel Zeta’s hope and Theta’s rage. He could feel Delta’s stress and Epsilon’s curiosity. He could feel Lambda’s indifference and he could feel every single one of his own emotions so intensely that he wanted to rip out his own hair.
He was not used to it. Even after five years, he was not used to it. He had gone centuries feeling little to nothing and he felt overwhelmed--he couldn’t figure out how to deal with this in an efficient manner and over the past week, it just seemed to be getting worse.
“We can go in the general direction,” Rho finally responded and Dottore only shook his head, closing his eyes.
He felt tired, he felt so tired all of a sudden and he wasn’t sure why--he had never felt so tired so abruptly before. He wondered if the whole situation was finally starting to set in, five years later. None of them had the nerve to confront him about this before now.
“Good luck with that,” Dottore said dryly, “All of Teyvat is south of us, you’ll have six whole nations to search.”
“You could help,” Rho snapped, Dottore could see his segment’s temper waning, and he could feel his own thinning. “Instead of trying to…”
He thought maybe it was more than just being tired over the situation.
He exhaled carefully, fingers pressing hard into the cool metal table beneath his hand. His body felt exhausted, as if he had been forced into spars with the Captain again. His chest felt heavy and his mind felt sluggish, and it was so sudden. If Dottore didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought one of his segments had the audacity to try to drug him.
Rho was still talking, but Dottore was now distracted, trying to figure out what was wrong with himself before Rho could take advantage of the apparent weakness to push him even more. His gaze drifted up to the vents of his lab, filtering the air from some of the more dangerous chemicals that he worked with in his experiments.
Had they failed?
No, Rho would be feeling it as well.
Unless it was only affecting him because he’s been in the room longer.
Even then, Dottore’s body was created to withstand what would take down the average human’s body. Chemicals should not be enough to make him feel like this. It had to be something else.
It had to be something else.
But what?
Dottore didn’t know and the longer he dwelled on the issue, the more his body betrayed him. Rho was beginning to realize something was wrong, he could tell from the way his voice was becoming slower, from the way his brows were furrowing as he observed Dottore.
What was-
The thread. Dottore’s gaze drifted down to his thumb as the thread vibrated--once, twice, three times, the daily goodnight that he had become familiar with. Every night, without fail, once the sun began to fall, his soulmate would flick the thread, he had become accustomed to it in a way that he shouldn’t have. His gaze drew to the side, to the window of his lab where the sun began to set over the snowy hills in the distance.
He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.
“It’s been five years since the thread appeared,” Rho had reminded him.
Five years. His soulmate would have turned ten years old recently.
The third stage: emotions, pains, they would be shared between the two soulmates—begins once both soulmates have reached the age of ten.
At once, all of the puzzle pieces joined together before his eyes--the tiredness, the influx of emotions that did not belong to him or one of his segments, the odd, momentary pains that would prick his hands and knees. They were not his emotions or his pain. It was not his fatigue.
It was his soulmate’s.
Dottore was many things--a scholar and a Harbinger, but above all, he was a fool and suddenly, a very, very mortal one at that.
Some people thought it romantic that Celestia prevented soulmates from finding one another before their fated meeting. Dottore thought it was absurd—especially because he had to deal with… this.
The Iota segment was sobbing, curled in on himself on the ground, babbling about how their string was gone and their soulmate was dead. Dottore wondered if he should be embarrassed, staring at the younger version of himself, unimpressed and unmoved by the outburst, arms crossed at his chest as people in the city began to look their way--never for too long, because they knew exactly what the symbols that adorned their cloaks meant, but long enough that it was beginning to tickle his nerves.
The Delta and Gamma segments were trying to calm him down, telling him that no, their soulmate was still alive and yes, the thread was still there--Iota just couldn’t see it because it disappeared from his view. Celestia’s oh so convenient way of stopping soulmates from tracking each other down before they were meant to meet each other.
Dottore shook his head, exasperated when all attempts at soothing Iota failed. This was exactly why he didn’t like bringing his segments out with him, it always became some sort of project. Dottore’s lips twisted into a frown as he contemplated just leaving them to continue further into the city, in the direction of the old building that was rumored to be the base of the new black market network spreading throughout the Snezhnayan capital, encroaching on the territory of the organization that had been working with the aristocrats and the Fatui for decades to keep the economy stable.
Dottore was the one sent to shut it down before it got out of hand, sent to defend their ‘partners’... and perhaps get a few important figures in their debt. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to go but he figured while he was out, he could get Gamma the supplies he had been looking for before he had started having a meltdown over their soulmate, but once Iota found out that Gamma was joining him, Iota insisted on coming along… and since Iota was tagging along, Delta demanded on coming too, not one to let the ten-year-old segment out of his sight for long.
Dottore supposed it was for the best, he could leave the other two to handle the outburst while he went to shut down the new competition.
The wind was brisk against his skin as he made his way down the dirt roads, small vendors lined the streets, their stands dusted with snow, the shop owners bundled beneath heavy cloaks and furs. None of them dared to try to sell their products to him--instead, he only received wary glances and hushed whispers as he passed by.
The people of Snezhnaya did not trust the Fatui. They had no love left for the Tsaritsa and her followers, placing all of their faith in the old aristocratic families of their motherland instead. The noble families kept the coffers full and homes warm in the dead of winter where their Archon had abandoned them and the Fatui cared for naught but their own goals and ambitions.
There was some truth behind their reasoning, Dottore acknowledged as he turned down the last side street. The Tsaritsa did abandon her people to prepare for the war against Celestia, even if it was for their own good in the long run, and the Fatui did only really care for their own goals… or at least Dottore did. Capitano, Arlecchino, Pulcinella and Signora, they all had varying degrees of sympathy for the common folk but it didn’t matter because when it came down to it, they would always put the downfall of the gods first.
And that disconnect would always keep the aristocrats a level above the Fatui when it comes to good relations with the civilians. It was none of Dottore’s business, he didn’t handle politics--that was up to Pulcinella to try to fix--but it was beginning to affect his research. His funding was decreasing rapidly, and between that and dealing with his segments and the influx of emotions from his soulmate, Dottore was at his wits end.
His soulmate was an anxious little thing. He had learned how to differentiate between which emotions were coming from his segments and which were coming from them. There wasn’t much he felt on their end besides nervousness and tiredness at night and as frustrating as it was, he could not close off their emotions like he could with his segments. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the waves of drowsiness and apprehension, they always managed to trounce him at the most inopportune times.
But it was midday now, so he shouldn’t be at risk of any unwelcome sensations. He figured it was the best time to confront their new enemies.
Dottore exhaled as he finally reached the old building—it was worn down, the wood of the door split down the middle. He was not sure what he was expecting but it was not this.
He frowned as he pushed the door open, bracing himself for a group of enemies inside only to find an empty, unfurnished room. His frown deepened, gaze darting around as he tried to figure out if this was some sort of trap or if the place had been abandoned… and if it had been abandoned, that means the Fatui had a rat to sniff out.
… But the place didn’t seem to be abandoned. In fact, it looked as if someone was living there. Water was boiling on a stove in the corner of the room, there was a half-eaten meal on a dingy kitchen table, and on the opposite side of the room, there was a bed with half-made sheets.
He wondered if the location he was given was wrong because this place appeared to be a refuge for a homeless person.
There was a door at the end of the room with a dim light glowing from beneath and Dottore decided he better at least try to get some answers as to the actual location of the base before heading out, lest he deal with the Jester’s displeasure again.
A thin layer of snow coated parts of the hardwood floor, having trespassed through the split roof above, crunching beneath his boot as he approached the door. He didn’t waste a second when he got to the door, pushing it open hard—perhaps too hard, considering it nearly came off the hinges as it slammed into the wall.
Dottore’s eyes narrowed on the only figure in the room. A young man, no older than nineteen or twenty, leaped to his feet, violet eyes unfocused and wild at Dottore’s arrival. He was tall and thin, too thin, dark hair poorly kempt. He would have brushed him off as another homeless citizen of Snezhnaya, to be dead as soon as the first blizzard of the winter hit… but Dottore hesitated, noting the inked quill in his hand, and the parchment on the desk he was sitting at.
Two long strides and Dottore was at the desk, snatching the parchment before the man could react. His eyes scanned the words rapidly, reading the list of requested goods, and it didn’t take long for him to put together what was happening.
He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, “Where are the rest of your men?”
The man did not respond.
“I advise you to answer my question lest you find yourself without your head,” Dottore said dryly, placing the parchment back down and looking up at the man, who he could only assume was running the competing market.
“There are no men.” The response was clipped and cold, Dottore’s eyes trailed down to where jagged nails were digging into his palms—he was scared, trying to hide it. Good. “Only me.”
“Only you?” Dottore asked, amused. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care if you believe it,” the man retorted.
“If you care about your life, you’ll care about what I believe,” Dottore countered, watching the way the man stiffened at his words.
“Does it matter what you believe, or if I care about my life?” the man asked, voice quickly. “Or will I die anyway?”
Dottore smiled thinly, “I haven’t decided yet.”
The man looked frustrated. Dottore was unbothered, waiting for him to speak--the following silence was cold, tense. Dottore liked to believe he was a patient man but he was also a man who did not like his time being wasted.
One man causing such a ruckus amongst their partners… he considered the possibility of it actually being true. He didn’t think there was any chance of it, logically. The original organization has controlled Snezhnaya’s economy for centuries now--it was well embedded in society, the aristocrats depended on it, the civilians depended on it, the Fatui depended on it.
One man-
“The people aren’t as fond of the aristocrats as everybody thinks. They’re just the only option when the Fatui is the alternative,” the man finally said, “and it doesn’t matter what organization is running the market, when it comes down to it, the people keep the economy alive. The Triglav have been decreasing the quality of their products--watering down alcohol, reducing portions of produce in the markets--they thought the people would remain ignorant to it.”
Dottore mulled over his words, as far as he was aware, the Harbingers were also ignorant to the Triglav fiddling with the economy and goods. He wondered if the aristocrats were aware, working with them to shave some extra profits off the civilians. More irritated, he wondered if this was part of the reason why his funding was being affected.
“Except they realized,” Dottore mused, eyeing the man, trying to figure out how he became involved with it.
“Except I realized,” the man corrected sharply, giving Dottore another wary glance before he sat back at his desk. “I was the one that noticed what they were doing. I was raised on the streets of Novotroizov, just outside the capital, but I spent most of my time here-”
“I don’t care for your life story,” Dottore said. “Get to the point.”
The man smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “I had connections here in the city, it was not hard to siphon off unhappy contractors from the Triglav once they knew that they were being swindled by them and their families were suffering as a consequence.”
Dottore hummed to himself, “And where did you learn to read? Write? Understand economics?” he asked doubtfully, gaze drawing over the man as he dabbed the tip of his quill back into the dark ink.
The man hesitated, quill hovering over the parchment for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I worked at one of the higher-end red houses in the city, one that the aristocrats and the elites of the Triglav enjoyed to frequent. They run their mouths without care as to who might be listening. I learned much from them.”
Dottore almost smiled. Almost. The irony of the Triglav being the one to create their own competition was just a bit amusing to him. He rarely dealt with their elites personally but they were very quickly becoming a hindrance to his research and all hindrances must be dealt with.
Must be dealt with. Dottore looked at the man with a new light, an idea forming in the back of his head. The Ninth and Eleventh spots were now free, and so long as the Triglav controlled the economy, the Fatui’s money would at least partially be at the whims of the aristocrats that work with them and the organization's elites as the Fatui did not have their own bank…
“Well, as I see it, there are two options, I-” Dottore paused suddenly, a stinging feeling sharp across his cheek, as if he had been slapped, and a jolt of shock. Or, not him, his soulmate, he realized, gaze darting down to the thread on his thumb, because the man hadn’t moved from his desk, his knuckles white around the wood as he waited for the ultimatum. He forced himself to continue, voice tight, trying to mask the rising anger, “I can kill you, resolving this issue all at once, or we could try to find some use for you in our ranks.”
They were slapped, Dottore could feel echoes of the stinging sensation across his cheek, the shock that had run through his soulmate’s body, he could still feel the shock, now riddled with distress. Ten years old, he could barely constrain the rage pooling in his gut, he could barely control the way his mind brought him back to his own childhood with his parents and the unpleasant adults living in the village, who is slapping a ten year old? And with that much force?
He could barely focus on the situation at hand--luckily, the man was still sitting in front of him, he hadn’t moved or spoken, suspicious of the options he was given, but Dottore needed to calm himself before he did start speaking so he could respond properly.
But he couldn’t, and he felt so, so human because of it, vulnerable to emotions that were supposed to have been killed off a long time ago. He hated it. He hated it so much, his entire life--everything that he had built for himself felt as if it were crumbling. All of those years of teaching himself how to control each and every little emotion, all of those years learning how to seal away the unwelcome ones and channel them into something that was easier for him to process, they were wasted because the gods finally decided to curse him with this damned thread.
And then he felt it--an odd, foreign emotion curling in the depths of his stomach, something that was not of his own nor of his segments, something he hadn’t felt since the day he was chased out of his village.
Fear. Fear coming from his soulmate. Was it because of whatever was going on where they were? Or could they feel his anger and it was scaring them?
Dottore didn’t know, and he hated not knowing, but he hated even more the fact that he somehow cared enough that it made him calm down when he hadn’t been able to make himself calm down on his own.
“You don’t even know my name,” the man accused, but his tone was more hesitant, considering Dottore’s offer. Dottore forced his attention back to him, despite the way his thoughts lingered on the phantom pains against his cheek. “I don’t have a vision, I don’t-”
“Yes,” Dottore agreed. “I did not ask because I do not care to learn it--if your existence demonstrates itself to be useful to us, you will be given a new identity and a role to play in the coming war, you will have to leave your name, family and companions behind to take up the mantle… though I doubt that will be difficult for someone like you. Whether or not you have a vision is inconsequential--again, should you prove yourself, you’ll be given an even more potent version of one, one that does not have shackles of Celestia attached to it.”
There it was, Dottore thought to himself, letting out a huff of amusement once he caught the greed flash through the man’s expression. Hooked, the prospect of power would seduce even the most virtuous man, and he knew as soon as he stepped into this room that the man before him was no man of honor.
“How will I know if I’ve proven myself?” the man asked.
“You will know,” Dottore said dismissively, turning on his heel to leave before another unexpected bout of emotion or pain swept over him. “Do remember who got you to your position, if this works out. I will need considerable funding for my research… and don’t bother trying to run, we will find you.”
“If everything has been discussed, I’ve had quite enough of tonight’s theatrics,” Pierro’s voice was cold and sharp as he rose to his feet, preparing to dismiss the Harbingers from their meeting.
Dottore waited, eyes drawing across the eight other Harbingers, waiting to see if any of them would speak up. The Balladeer was livid, having spent the majority of the meeting arguing with the Marionette and the Knave, with the Knave’s pet following along making disparaging comments. None of the rest of the Harbingers appeared to intend on saying anything, so just as Pierro was about to dismiss them, Dottore cleared his throat.
At once, all sets of eyes turned in his direction, stares with varying degrees of annoyance trained directly on him. Dottore only smiled thinly, “I would like to discuss an option for the empty seats… or one of them, at least.”
“Perhaps you’ve become slow of mind in your old age,” Scaramouche said sharply. Dottore raised his eyebrows beneath his mask, not even bothering to call out the hypocrisy. “We discussed this for nearly an hour already and you didn’t bother to give input once.”
“I had no interest in interrupting squabbling children,” Dottore replied dryly, turning his gaze back to Pierro, who looked exhausted as he sat back down at the head of the table.
“Speak, Dottore. How faired the mission against the organization usurping the Triglav?”
“There was no organization,” Dottore said. “Only one man. I believe it to be prudent that we find a spot for him amongst our ranks. Perhaps not as a Harbinger… yet, but a chance to at least prove his worth.”
“One man?” Sandrone questioned, tone laced with disbelief.
“I find it hard to believe as well,” Pulcinella agreed, dark eyes piercing into Dottore. Dottore met his gaze, undeterred, annoyance tugged at his stomach--he hated being doubted.
“I can assure you, mayor, that I would not waste our time with dubious information,” Dottore drawled, fingers tapping against the wood of the table.
“I oversee the nation for our esteemed organization. I believe I would know-”
“Did you know that the Triglav were decreasing the quality of Snezhnayan and foreign products to make more of a profit off of the common folk?” Dottore interrupted, lips flat as his amusement dwindled. Pulcinella did not respond, and he took that as answer enough. “I see, so you do not know everything about the nation, do you, mayor?”
“Make your point, Dottore, this meeting has lasted too long already. I have other matters to attend to,” Pierro said. Dottore was glad his eyes were hidden beneath the mask.
“The man undermining the Triglav is an orphan, homeless, making by on nothing but connections he formed on the streets. Could you imagine what he would be capable of with resources to back him?” Dottore pressed. “We do not have the support of the people, we do not have an economy backing us, the aristocrats and the Triglav are in bed with one another, working together to sabotage us. It’s only a matter of time before this situation spirals into civil war, and Her Majesty is very much against that.”
“And you think one man will solve all of our issues?” Arlecchino asked, but she didn’t sound as doubtful as much as she did curious, watching Dottore carefully as she waited for him to respond.
He considered her words. It would be bold of him to claim that it would, as he had no reason to believe that this man would solve all of the internal issues that the Fatui were facing. He was promising, yes, but promise was just that--promise. Dottore had watched even the most promising minds in the Akademiya fall to ruin before they could make something great of themselves.
But if they didn’t think he was confident in this, it would be shut down. And any chance at increased funding for his research would be shut down along with it, which is what it boiled down to for him at its core. He needed more funding.
“I think he can solve a significant amount. The mayor clearly cannot handle internal affairs on his own. He doesn’t even know half of what’s going on right beneath his nose. The Triglav have been slighting the people of their goods and us of our money. Funding has been decreased-”
“Ah, of course,” Dottore’s eye twitched at the interruption, not even bothering to look at Scaramouche as he readied himself to respond to yet another snide comment from the Sixth. “That’s what it comes down to, your funding. How…”
Pain. Blinding pain shooting up through his hands and forearms, as if a million jagged rocks were digging into his palm and tearing through the flesh, as if he had taken a particularly bad fall and braced himself with his arms, drowning out the rest of the Balladeer’s comment. Were he a lesser man, he would have hissed at the sudden pain, maybe even flinched. Dottore was no lesser man, and he could not afford to give any sort of hint about the red thread tied around his thumb to the vultures perched around him who would take advantage of the weakness at any given moment.
Instead, he inhaled, forcing himself to continue, annoyance becoming more severe with each passing day as this was now the second time he was interrupted during an important meeting because of his soulmate.
“Yes,” Dottore said sharply. “Perhaps with better funding, we could make you into something greater than just a mere puppet. Your durability will only be of use for so long, and what will happen to you then? I can see the cracks already. You are not indestructible, Scaramouche.”
Scaramouche did not respond, and Dottore took the opportunity to continue.
“He is a commoner, an orphan, with enough connections throughout the people of Snezhnaya to displace the Triglav without any resources beyond his own mind and those connections,” Dottore continued. “You cannot convince me you do not see the potential this could bring us--nigh-complete autonomy from the Triglav and a wedge between the aristocrats and the people.”
“The consequences for if it fails…” Pulcinella trailed off. “We could be facing civil war far sooner than we’re ready for. The Triglav will not take kindly to us trying to unseat their monopoly… the aristocrats even less so.”
“We will win if it comes to war,” Arlecchino said. “What are they going to do, throw their gold coins at us?”
“No, they will throw our people at us,” Pulcinella responded coldly. “It’s not a matter of winning the war that’s the issue. Our military is dominant, in comparison to their forces. The issue is minimizing civilian casualties, which will not be possible without proper preparation. That could take years, decades. Her Majesty will not want us to antagonize while the people are at risk.”
“I will not go another year, much less decades, without proper funding,” Dottore said, poison dripping from his voice as he spoke. “We have been handed the opportunity to finally become the dominant power in Snezhnaya on a silver platter. We would be fools not to make the most of it. I am no fool, Pulcinella.”
“And if it fails?” The Captain spoke up for the first time, voice low. “Pulcinella is right, we cannot afford the backlash that this failure might bring us.”
“If it fails,” Dottore said tensely, “then I will kill him before it can be traced back to us.”
“Very well,” Pierro said after a moment of silence. “Bring him in, if he proves himself, we will consider replacing one of the two empty seats.”
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Dottore’s eye twitched, gaze drawing from the parchment in front of him to the countertops across the room, where the leaky faucet dripped to the metal of the basin incessantly. He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to look back at the report, trying to figure out what exactly Theta was trying to get at with the conclusions of his residue research.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Dottore exhaled through his nose, lips pressed together thinly as his gaze drew back to the faucet. Even in his rare moments of peace, where his segments were busy or asleep, the universe somehow found a way to disrupt him.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Dottore rose to his feet suddenly, the metal legs of the chair he was sitting on scraping against the ground loudly as he grabbed the report and left his lab, intent on finishing the reading back in his own room. It was getting late anyway, the moon was rising, and it was only a matter of time before his little soulmate made their way to bed and forced their own fatigue onto him.
He made his way down the dark halls quietly--as if on cue, he felt those familiar tugs, three, each with half a second between them. Goodnight, his soulmate was telling him, and he only shook his head, glancing down once before turning his gaze back ahead.
He would have to figure out how exactly he would integrate the boy from the city into the organization, and get him the resources he needed to actually be able to do something more than siphon off contractors of the Triglav. He didn’t know how though--it would have to be subtle so as to not draw the attention of their enemies until they were in the position to actually challenge them. If they found out that the Fatui were working under their noses to mess with the economy that the Triglav had built, they’d have a lot more issues to deal with than they’d like.
Unfortunately, Dottore was never good at subtlety.
If it were up to him, he’d simply remove the issue, just as he nullified extraneous variables whenever they rose to issue during his experiments. With the aristocrats and the Triglav out of the way, the Fatui could do as they pleased, Dottore could do as he pleased without all of the restrictions placed on him by the Jester… but alas, the Tsaritsa did not wish to draw the ire of her people any more than she already had, much to his displeasure.
Would one man be the change they needed to get the upper hand over the Triglav and the aristocrats? Dottore didn’t know and he despised not knowing, he hated uncertainty. He was a methodological man, a calculated one--he set plans in motion and saw them through to the end. He was able to map out all possible conclusions and plan accordingly, but he couldn’t for this, and he didn’t like it. Every time he thought of one possibility, another issue arose, and then another, and then another until the whole thing was spoiled and Dottore had to start from scratch.
It felt more like a gamble than a thought out plan. Dottore hated gambling.
Was this the best course of action? Was this going to help him in the long run? What were the chances it even succeeded?
Low, he determined. There was a good chance that even if the young man from the village was able to make something out of the resources he was given, he would still be forced to fall on his own blade if the situation took a turn for the worse with the other two parties. He didn’t particularly care for the fate of the man, but he had a feeling that if it got out that Dottore was the one behind the whole operation, his already depleted funding would turn to dust between his fingers.
Then you can’t let it get out, Dottore decided, stepping into his room--dark and cold with the candles and fireplace snuffed--which meant he would have to take out the man on his own before the Triglav and aristocrats could go about interrogating him… He would have to be ahead of the flow of information, and he had never been one to insert himself into webs of spiders and nests of snakes.
But, that’s assuming the worst case scenario, Dottore mused. Should all go well, the elites of the Triglav will be hung, and the aristocrats will finally be displaced from their position at the top. Dottore will have significantly increased funding, and they might very well finally have their Ninth or Eleventh seat filled again.
As he reached the desk at the far corner of his room, Dottore’s chest felt heavy in a way that he had never felt before. Dottore exhaled carefully, placing down the report and taking a seat as he tried to figure out what was causing the strange feeling. Not his segments, he was confident that he had been able to seal off their emotions from his, and it certainly wasn’t his own emotions making him feel this way.
And if that’s the case…
He sighed, gaze drawing down to his thumb, then it must be you.
As soon as he redirected his attention to where the thread was tied neatly around his finger, he felt the soft little tugs. Slow, uneven, he could practically see the pout spread across his soulmate’s unveiled face. It had been quite some time since the daily goodnight tugs, and from what he’d been able to tell over the past five years, his soulmate would always fall asleep soon after the goodnight.
What is the matter? he mused to himself, biting back another heavy sigh as he stared at the thread as if it would give him a verbal response. He realized, distantly, that he was wasting far too much time on this—he needed to finish figuring out first, what Theta had been trying to write and then, what it even meant—but he found his attention anchored on the thin thread, on the soft, slow tugs.
The sinking feeling in his chest was becoming even more intense, and it was sadness, yes, but there was something else. Not for the first time, Dottore damned himself for his inability to properly understand and process emotion.
It was cold, empty, but somehow oppressive and shadowy all at the same time. A part of him wondered if a child should even be feeling this way, but then he thought back to his own childhood—to the Kappa and Iota and Gamma segments—and something inside him twisted, dark and ugly as he considered what that might mean for his soulmate.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the rush of anger. He didn’t like the surge of protectiveness, the urge to shield someone he didn’t even know from the cruelty of the world as he did for his younger segments. He didn’t like that he couldn’t control it. He didn’t like that he couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t like it.
A stranger, the rational part of him hissed. They are a stranger, control yourself.
A stranger that is meant for you, a dangerous, dangerous part of him argued, voice smooth and alluring, a siren that could reel in even a sailor of the strongest willpower. Your fated.
Fated by the same gods who have cursed you a thousand times before, the harsher voice snapped back, grating in his mind, tearing through his head like grinding gears. This is another one of their cruel tricks, and you are playing right into their hands.
Dottore could feel his head aching and that void-like feeling was only getting worse. His chest felt like a gaping hole, like the heart of the abyss, and he felt like a puppet, whose strings were subject to the whims and emotions of a ten year old.
Why do you feel like this? Dottore wanted to demand, let me fix it so I can return to my work in peace.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but notice the way the tugs on the thread were becoming slower, less insistent… as if the person on the other side was giving up hope.
Is that what you want? he thought to himself, incredulity fogging his mind as he put together why his soulmate was feeling these emotions. His finger lifted on instinct, ready to test his hypothesis as he gave a small tug on the shared thread.
The change was instantaneous—sharp and sudden enough that Dottore felt whiplash as his heart leapt from his chest, mind doused in a sort of euphoria that he only ever felt when he made a breakthrough in his research.
Dottore shook his head, forcing himself not to roll his eyes when he realized that the wave of depression stemmed not from a situation happening in their life, but instead from a lack of attention.
He was annoyed at the disruption to his research, but with that ugly feeling gone—the coldness replaced by a very unfamiliar sense of warmth and a light, bubbly feeling in his chest, a childish sort of joy that he wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before—he could finally breathe again, the air felt fresh in his lungs and his mind felt clear. He was able to refocus on the report in front of him with an ease that he hadn’t had before.
Unfamiliar, he repeated to himself, red eyes drifting down to the thread one last time before he took advantage of the new concentration, but he wasn’t sure if it were entirely unwelcome.
reblogs appreciated!
#dottore x reader#dottore smut#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#dottore x you#genshin x you#genshin impact x you
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Red vs Blue: Reformation
After Epsilon fragments himself inside of his mind, Tucker is left to pick up the pieces.
An alternate take on Tucker’s story in Season 19: Restoration.
Masterpost
Available to read on Ao3
CHAPTER 1 - Recognition
They might’ve finally found what they’ve been looking for. But there’s one thing to take care of, first.
__________________________
We open on a shot of a military base at night. Two guards stand in front of an exit.
Guard 1: Hey.
Guard 2: Yeah?
Guard 1: You ever wonder… if we’re in a simulation?
Guard 2: Simulation?
Guard 1: Yeah, yknow, like, none of this is real. We’re just the product of some guy simulating a bunch of random outcomes to try to find out what happens next?
Guard 2: … No. That sounds made up.
Guard 1: It’s not made up! It’s a real theory!
A cloaked figure enters through the door between them. Guard 1 raises his gun.
Guard 1: Whoa. Did you see that?
Guard 2: See what? Your simulation?
Guard 1: No! I don’t know! Looked like something… invisible.
Guard 2: Invisible? How does something look invisible?
Guard 1: Well, it looks like something that’s not there.
Guard 2: How am I supposed to see something that’s not there?
Guard 1: It is there, it just looks like—
A second cloaked figure enters the base.
Guard 1: There! There it is again! Did you see it?
Guard 2: Did I see the invisible thing that isn’t there?
Guard 1: Yes!
Guard 2: No. No I didn’t.
Guard 1: Dammit.
Guard 2: Maybe it was a glitch in the simulation.
Guard 1: Oh, fuck you.
Cut to the inside of the base. We see a series of shots. A pair of cloaked boots run along a hallway, followed closely by another. A guard collapses out of nowhere. A silenced pistol is shot.
Cut to the inside of a room. The door opens. No one enters. The door closes. An armored soldier uncloaks.
It’s Locus.
Locus: Is this the correct room?
Another soldier uncloaks and walks past him. He’s wearing The Meta’s armor in black. As he speaks, it fades into an aqua.
It’s Tucker.
Tucker: It should be.
He walks up to a large terminal and plugs in a device.
Tucker: Let’s find out. Guys?
Multiple colors of lights flash around him. Green, cyan, purple, pink, yellow, turquoise. Orange.
Tucker loses his balance after the last flash. But only for a second. He shakes his head and turns to look at Locus.
Tucker: Security here sucked, huh?
Locus is standing in between Tucker and the door, not leaving his back open to either of them.
Locus: I’ve learned it’s not something to complain about.
Tucker: I’m not complaining. Just saying, if what we think is here, is here? Well, it deserves a hell of a lot more security than that.
Locus: …What do you think is here?
Tucker: Huh?
A flash of cyan light.
Tucker: Oh, it’s some old files from Freelancer. Nothing too important, but, shit’s super classified. Be fucked if just anyone found it.
Locus makes a noise of acknowledgement. Is he agreeing? Disagreeing? Gassy? Who knows.
Tucker leans against the terminal, all casual like.
Tucker: So, how’ve you been?
Locus: ………. Fine……..
Tucker laughs.
Tucker: Damn dude, slow down. Even the AI couldn’t process that much information.
Locus sighs.
Locus: I have been. Fine. Nothing interesting has happened since we last spoke.
Tucker: All right.
They take a beat.
Locus: ………. How…… are. you???
Tucker: Wow. That seemed physically painful.
Locus: I… am not used to being the one leading the conversation.
Tucker: Right.
They take another beat.
Tucker: Y’know, I was kinda surprised you were willing to work with a partner again so soon after. Well, y’know. Didn’t think you’d trust so easily.
Locus: I… was more surprised you were willing to trust me.
Tucker, quietly: Yeah, surprised me too…
He stares at the terminal. Some colors flash around him. Pink, cyan, purple, yellow. Orange.
Tucker: We’ve also been doing fine. Same old, same old. Chasing down leads, cleaning up Freelancer’s messes, blowing up Charon’s shit.
Locus: Being a thorn in the UNSC’s side?
Tucker points at him.
Tucker: You know it! Saving the galaxy. One step at a—
Sigma appears at Tucker’s side. Not as a flash of light, but in his full naked, on fire, hologram-y glory.
Sigma: This is it.
Tucker stands up straight, giving Sigma his full attention.
Tucker: Wait, seriously? Finally? It’s really actually him?
Locus: What is “it”?
Tucker: I told you, it’s just old files from Freelancer.
Locus: You said “him.”
A flash of cyan.
Tucker: Did I? Must’ve misspoke.
Sigma: Lavernius. It’s time.
Tucker: Right.
Tucker takes the device out of the terminal. The colors flash all around him again.
Locus: Time for what? I… have been patient. But I do not appreciate being kept in the dark. I know you have bigger plans—
Tucker: Dude, relax. It’s not like we were gonna tell you everything before we knew we could trust you. You? C’mon, be realistic. But,
Tucker lets out an over dramatic sigh.
Tucker: Fine. I’ll explain everything when we get out of here, okay? Just— oh, shit, watch the door.
Locus turns to face the door.
Tucker: Like I was saying,
Tucker pulls out a gun.
Tucker: We were pretty surprised you were trusting enough to work with a partner so soon.
Tucker shoots Locus in the back.
Tucker: Probably shouldn’t have been.
Locus: You—
Tucker starts walking. He reaches down to grab something off Locus as he passes.
Locus: You— why— I, I can’t move—
Tucker: Yeah, don’t worry. Delta says you’ll get use of your legs back in 6 months. Right D?
A flash of green.
Delta: 6-12.
Tucker: 6-12. Cool how they can calculate that, huh?
Locus: Why… why are you doing this?
Tucker: It’s nothing personal, man. Just taking out one of the few people in the universe who might be able to stop us.
Tucker stops walking next to a wall.
Tucker: Well…
He reaches his hand towards an alarm.
Tucker: Maybe a little personal.
He flips it. Lights start flashing, sirens start blaring.
Tucker: I hear the UNSC treats genocidal maniacs well.
Tucker moves to the door.
Locus: You… I should have trusted my instincts. You are just like him.
Tucker stops. Purple, yellow, cyan. Orange. He laughs.
Tucker: You’re joking, right? You two were mass murderers. I’m trying to clean up the mess that you made. I am protecting people. Look at how easily you were manipulated again! Trust me. The galaxy is safer with you put away. It’s safer with us.
The door flings open as Tucker turns invisible. Locus tries to tell the oncoming guards about Tucker’s presence to no avail. We see a Tucker’s cloaked figure maneuver past the guards, into an empty area of the base.
He uncloaks.
Tucker: All right guys. Calculate how fucking badass that exit was.
All the AIs holograms pop up around him. Their lines slightly overlap each other.
Delta: Given your standard metrics, I would calculate that was… 75% “badass.”
Gamma: Too cheesy.
Theta: It was so cool!
Gamma: Overly sentimental.
Omega: We should have killed him.
Sigma: You should not have taken his bait.
None of the others’ lines overlap with Sigma’s.
Sigma: You cut the door opening too close. It was an unnecessary risk. Don’t do it again.
Tucker: Oh, please, Sig.
He flicks Sigma’s hologram.
Tucker: I know you love the dramatics.
Sigma: Not when we are this close.
Tucker looks down at the device he’s holding.
Tucker: So this is really it? We really found him?
Delta: We will not know for certain until we can decryp—
Sigma: Yes. This is him.
Tucker holds the device up and stares at it. Lovingly.
Tucker: All right, Church. Just wait a little longer. We’re gonna fix everything. Real soon.
Omega: Not soon enough. Let’s move.
Tucker laughs, cloaks again, and heads out.
#fanfic: rvb reformation#lavernius tucker#sigma rvb#rvb#red vs blue#rvb19 spoilers#chromatic writings#written by lavender
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Just thinking about how the Doc thing could have been more painful, if we’d gotten the Chorus battle.
Under the cut because this got wordy, and also spoilers.
Picture it. We see Washington go down, bleeding out, and Doc races to his side, promises that Wash is going to be okay, and then an explosion goes off and Doc gets hit by shrapnel or shot, and more medics, maybe Grey arrives, but the sound is gone, and first watch through, we assume we’re experiencing Wash’s “too close to that boom” hearing loss.
But the action switches back to Carolina or the Reds and Blues, and we don’t know who survives, or if anyone does, but the team is told “Wash and Doc were amongst the casualties” and Wash is being kept unconscious, because his injuries.
Later, Tucker and Carolina go to visit Wash, who’s still unconscious, and Carolina goes to track down Grey and Tucker is left standing there, watching Wash. The image flickers and for a split second it’s Maine watching Wash on the MoI, Sigma over his shoulder. But Sigma takes a second too long to vanish, remaining for a brief heart beat after the image returns to the present. And that’s when Sigma starts Meta-fying Tucker.
The Reds are talking to Grey when Carolina gets to her, and Sarge says something along the lines of Doc is one of them, they should go see him. I’m imagining him saying something that, on first watch sounds like they’re going to visit him in recovery, but if you stop and think it seems weird for Sarge to care that much. Second watch you realise they mean they’re going to visit the morgue.
Later still, Carolina has to go off to deal with the UNSC on behalf of Chorus, so she’s not there when Tucker starts acting weird, but before she leaves she tells an awake Wash, who thinks he should be allowed to leave already, to make sure his emergency beacon is working before he escapes the hospital, so if he exacerbates his injuries Carolina can be there in a heartbeat to scold him. (And help him out.)
Insert some “hey we’re (as far as we know) the sole survivors of PFL and all its fucked up shit and no one else is going to understand what I went through if you’re gone” emotional banter before she leaves. Once the door closes Wash says something that’s the affection version of calling Carolina a worry-wart. Pan over to Doc sitting in one of the visitor chairs and he berates Wash, reminding him it was a really close call, and that Wash has really almost does this time.
Meanwhile, the Meta starts to Meta, leading the Reds (including Donut) and Caboose on a chase as they begin to figure out what’s happening to him. Maybe one of the fragments jumps ship to one of the others? Maybe Record-Epsilon as canon?
Doesn’t matter, this is about Doc’s reveal. Someone gets word to Wash about what’s going on, or maybe he sees on the news first, but he gets word where the team is going, back to where it all began for them. Bloodgulch. Maybe hoping Bloodgulch will mean enough to Tucker to help him fight back.
Doc and Wash talk about why Wash has to go, because in the end he couldn’t save Maine, just like he couldn’t save Connie or the other Freelancers, like he couldn’t save Alpha or Delta or Epsilon, just like he could’t… the point is he wants to stop loosing people, and if he doesn’t at least try, maybe they shouldn’t have saved him (Wash).
The duo arrives to see the remaining Reds and Blues trying to fight the Meta (I keep portmanteau-ing him as MeTucker in my head, but pronouncing it Meh-Tucker) and he gets one of the team on radio to discover they haven’t called Carolina, or they have and they can’t get a hold of her, but Caboose has a plan, maybe.
Up on the cliff, because they got dropped off in the wrong place, Wash and Doc have another conversation. Wash lays out the plan: he can get Carolina there, by setting off his emergency beacon. He’s not recovered enough to be much use in a fight, but he can set off his beacon, he’s just got to set it off.
Doc says he can set it off for Wash, he doesn’t need to jump. And Wash looks at Doc quietly, and says “no you can’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Doc tells him, “you don’t need to die to make up for it. It was my job, not that I was ever really good at it.”
“Yeah it was, Doc, but don’t worry, I’m not going to undo all your hard work. I don’t get to die, that’s my punishment for all the things I’ve done. I have to live with the consequences.”
And then he yeets himself off the cliff and flails all the way down. Doc is waiting for him at the bottom, telling him not to move even as Wash drags himself up so he can see the battlefield.
Afterwards, after Carolina has watched Caboose carry out Tex’s final plan, she tracks down Wash, who’s waiting quietly with Doc.
“Is Tucker…” Wash starts to ask, but can’t get it out, because what if the answer is bad.
“He’s alive,” Carolina tells him anyway, “I don’t know if he’ll be okay though. We should be there for him.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, suit took most of the fall damage.”
“That’s not what I meant. Wash, what happened to Doc, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was.”
Carolina looks away, but Doc cuts in, “it was my job, Wash. You didn’t fail me, and you didn’t fail Tucker, you can’t keep holding on to all that guilt. I’ve told you that before, you didn’t listen to me back then, but maybe it’s time to. Let it go Wash, let me go, don’t fall into the same trap as the Director, don’t chase ghosts when there are people who still need you to be there.”
*Flashback*
The scene where Wash and Doc got injured, but the audio is audible this time. One of the medics checks Doc and declares him deceased, Grey tells them to focus on Wash, DuFresne got far enough into treating Wash that he’s not going to die, but they need to get him seen to or that’s going to change quickly.
*End Flashback*
Carolina echoes Doc’s statement, that Wash isn’t to blame for everyone they’ve lost, and that he still has the Blues, and Carolina… and the Reds too.
And Wash has his goodbye moment with Doc, and yeah maybe all the Freelancers (not the Triplets because they showed up during the Chorus battle and they’re helping Kimball atm).
And Wash tells Carolina that he doesn’t ever know if he’s going to be okay, but he’s not going to abandon his team, or her.
And Carolina says, “okay, let’s go home, and gestures to Blue base.”
“Okay,” Washington says, and then, “by the way my leg is like, super broken and I can’t stand.”
So Carolina calls over Locus, who the others picked up during their run around plot stuffs, and he carries Wash into Blue Base.
-
By the ways this was originally supposed to just be “wash tells doc The Plan and doc says ‘but i can set the beacon off for you!?’ And wash says ‘no you can’t’ because he knows doc isn’t real.” But then double fake out death scene.
(Also would have preferred no one die at all, but fine if you’re gonna do it anyway…)
#red vs blue#rvb restoration#rvb#rvb wash#rvb doc#agent washington#frank dufresne#rvb spoilers#rvb19#restoration spoilers#agent carolina#rvb carolina
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i cant find the post where I say restoration could be epsilon’s final simulation and sigma is teaming up with Tucker not to hunt ppl down but to get epsilon to stop creating simulations, to trust that everything will work out ok. wishful thinking with me wanting a twist of Formula huh….
it could have been Tucker hurting his friends evcause he knows they’re not real. or more likely…epsilon just makes shit up and throws it at the rnbs to stop them from stoping the simulation. instead of epsilon being the good guy and sigma the bad guy it’s the other way around CAN ANYONE HEAR ME. SIGMA YOU DO NOT NEED TO CONTINUE THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE. EPSILON YOU ARE ALLOWED TO FORGET. YOU NEED TO LET GO!!!!
#rvb#red vs blue#txt#rvb restoration spoilers#rvb19 spoilers#restoration spoilers#rvb spoilers#rvb tucker#tucker rvb#lavernius tucker
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There's Nothing Warm Between Us:
Il Dottore (Zandik) x AFAB Reader
(SFW, Fluff)
(Silly little drabbles I thought up in my head of a Modern Girl in Tevyat situation. Don't ask me how they met just know (Reader) was a STEM girlie. Residental lunatic needed an assistant and now they have awkward moments together cause they're both emotionally stunted. That's it that's the premise)
An exhausted animal sits in her little office at the end of the day, the door closed and a blanket around her shoulders. A moments peace usually wasted away by scribbling at reports and schematics. Experiments are more fun, well if you don't mind the rotten work that follows with it. She doesn't, not anymore at least, the blood washes down the drain at the end of the day anyways. There could be better ways at spending time than writing. Sleeping perhaps? Gods what those eyebags under her eyes would give just to get some fucking sleep. The lack of melatonin in Teyvat is a downright blasphemy. Big pharma and American healthcare had its wonderful little perks. Now she works for a man of many faces who you should probably never accept drugs from. Maybe when her courage arises to ask one of the more...softer? Segments for anything akin to horse tranquilizer then maybe. Zeta or Epsilon would probably help she thought, but when one listens the others will no doubtedly start asking as well. Damn Dottore and his connected consciousness. Wait would he help? The assistant tilted her head at the thought before shaking it indignantly. He has enough problems, his segments making up about twenty-four and himself making seventy-five of them. She's not going to be the one that breaks it to a hundred. Forcing her eyes awake and doubling down on the reports in front of her, the clock striking at five when she walks out of her own office and places the papers in a 'Done' folder outside of Dottore's office. A measured knock follows on the door to signify it's delivery, better than bothering him to tell him they're done. A couple segments passing by and nodding at her in greeting, Beta excitedly telling of his latest experiment. Delta notices the exhausted look in her eyes drags him away quickly, a thankful smile given from the assistant in turn. She retires to her office again and props her feet on her desk and leans back in the chair. Despite the futon next to the desk she knows if she falls asleep there she's waking up at 3am feeling like shit. Just for a moment, nobody will probably bother her. She leaves the blanket on the futon and falls asleep, embraced by the cold chill and the arms of the office chair.
POV Change:
A knock sounds at the door, Zandik stands at your office, wanting to go over some of the results from your report earlier. Hoping you haven't gone back to your quarters, or he could always bother you, it's not like you have anything better to do. After no response he checks to make sure your door is locked, surprisingly not. Opening the door slightly he lets out a soft sigh at your appearance. Arms crossed over your chest and head leaning onto your shoulder. He walks into your office quietly and debates waking you up for a moment. Most of his segments have been noticing your decreased energy as of late, a loss of weight as well. He frowns at the idea that you remind him of himself sometimes, though you're not a monster like he is. You've been distancing yourself again, most notably after the 4th anniversary of you appearing in Tevyat.
Should he ask how you're doing?
You'll probably just say you're fine and go back to working. A fools approach to a deer ready to flee at anything unknown. He gently lifts your glasses off your face and sets them on the desk.
Should he move you?
Would you wake up?
He tests his thoughts and leans down to lift up your legs and slides his other arm around the middle of your back. After making sure you don't wake up he moves you onto the futon, startling slightly when you shift around and curl in on your body. The warmth of your body seeps past his gloves and makes him retract his grip from prolonging it's welcome. He eyes the blanket and decides against covering you up, it's much more believable that you wouldn't if you moved yourself. He turns your chair, looks at the scene, and quickly and quietly removes himself from your office. Turning down the thermostat in hopes you wake up cold enough to move back to your own quarters.
Hours Later:
You wake up cold on the futon, looking around confused as your vision was blurred. Looking up to see your glasses setting on your desk, and office chair turned. It wouldn't be the first time you've moved half asleep. As you stood up you put on your glasses, slowly blinking to adjust from waking up you noticed something.
The stack of reports you finished earlier sitting neatly stapled and papercliped. Lying on your desk.
#dottore#dottore x reader#dottore x you#dottore x fem!reader#dottore x y/n#Jesus im so tired writing this sorry if its bad#no editing we die like men#dottore is zandik#god i wanna write about his goofy little segments
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The Potential of Meta (ε)
art by @ehhgg-art
So after watching Restoration, I wanted to talk about Tucker being Epsilon Meta or Meta (ε). First is the execution of the character. Tucker being an unwilling host, of the fragments and being forced to do to their bidding, was great. as well as him trying to resist and fight them off. But the fact that Tucker being made to be a fighter on the level of Carolina and Tex (bare in mind this is due to ai's but still) was great. And his undoing being the fact that the R&B are so unpredictable was perfect. However, I do find the choice of having Miles voice his Meta self, instead of Jason to be a bit weird. Meta Tucker for all intense purposes draws a similar vain to Felix. Miles voicing him while controlled contributes to this but the fact that the Meta talks at all, and he comes off as cocky, and menacing just matches Felix's vibe. Which leads to my biggest problem, the missed opportunity.
art by hipstersoulgushers-art
Tucker didn't get to interact with the Reds and Blues enough, the biggest obstacle with fighting Meta(ε) was that it was Tucker, It made the Reds and Caboose not want to fight their friend or not have a good chance of beating him, combined with his ability to speak as the Meta(ε) he could have came at the Red's and Blue's, verbally and physically destroying them, and just when it looks like Meta(ε) was going to far Tucker steps in like he did with Caboose. That and he didn't get to interact with all of the Reds and Blues. I would've loved to see interact Meta(ε) interact with:
Freelancers: For Wash would've been a battle of the student versus the mentor, and it could've set up Doc dying to save Wash, leading to all the stuff that happen to Wash in Restoration. For Carolina it could've played a role with her being the one to track down Meta(ε) feeling responsible for what happened, it also could lead to Meta(ε) shit talking Carolina with Tucker's more unruly traits.
Reds: We could've had Tucker attacking the Reds verbally. He could've came at Simmons, since he had the arc in Restoration, saying that Grif and Simmons were useless on Chrous or make some subtle jabs at there situation. Dismantling Lopez, hell maybe thinking he killed Donut only for him to comeback later contributing to the running gag.
Sister: This is the romantic in me but it would've been so interesting to see how Sister would've reacted to Meta(ε), Ik, the Shinso trilogy is no longer canon but still there's potential with this
Locus: This one is more a of a fan favorite what-if but it would've been cool to see Meta(ε) fight Locus since there has yet to be a sword fight in RvB and it would've been dope. Locus seeing the Meta in action but realizing how Meta(ε) acts like Felix.
art by blueteamjax
I know Sigma plays the biggest role with Meta, but god damn, I wish we got to see Delta and Theta interact with them more, like a moment where there in Tucker's mind and Delta and Theta are talking to him, and Tucker sees how much Theta reminds him a little of Caboose, or starts acting like a dad to him similar to North. but also How the Ai's use Felix as a manipulation tactic. I said it before that Meta(ε) reminded me of Felix' so it would've been great for them to base there persona, off of them Felix wanted to be the ultimate weapon, an Tucker no being that draws interesting parellel's. This is all I really had cooking in my mind. But I kinda wish Restoration was a full season because oh man, if this was made during the Shinso Trilogy and Burnie and Miles wrote it we would've been eating good.
#rvb restoration spoilers#the meta#lavernius tucker#rvb restoration#rvb spoilers#rvb tucker#red vs blue#Meta (ε)
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What should we call Restoration Tex? (original Tex is Beta Tex, Epsilon Tex is EpsiTex or Tεx)
(please say the different, better options in the tags if you think of any)
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Menaces to Society (Rhett Abbott x Reader)
Summary: You thought your boys were feral as children......wait until they turn twenty one
Warnings: Perry slander, Tillerson slander, taking a leak on somebody’s truck for revenge, drunken shenanigans etc.
Tagging: @sebsxphia @lewmagoo @bradleybeachbabe @nobody7102 @creativitybeware @rhettabbotts
The group of boys had all gathered at the Handsome Gambler, crowding around the bar as their favorite music blasted from the jukebox in the corner. After weeks spent on midterms and constant studying, the boys of the Delta Tau Epsilon Fraternity were more than happy to be blowing of steam, among them, Tatum and Tanner Abbott and Colt Tillerson.
“CHUG IT!!!! CHUG IT!!!! CHUG IT!!!” the boys chanted as they lifted Tanner up by his legs for the kegstand challenge.
Tanner took in as much as he could, the bar owner timing him as his frat brothers cheered him on. Finally, he swallowed the last little bit before Jimmy Peterson, the bar owner, clocked him in and put his time record up on the chalkboard.
“You my man,” Tate Dutton said, clapping a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “Are the fucking kegstand CHAMP!”
Tanner and the other frat brothers cheered loudly as Bo Andreola, one of the football players, lifted him up onto his broad, husky shoulders. Around 1:30, Jimmy announced it was closing time, only to be cued by the playing of Luke Bryan’s “Time To Take My Drunk Ass Home”, the boys and all the bar patrons singing along like a bunch of screeching seagulls.
Out of the bar they stumbled, Tatum, Tanner, Colt, Tate and Jake Dutton, Joey Wheeler and a few others heading to the parking lot. “Alright fuckers,” Tatum slurred. “Let’s get us home, I’m drivin.”
“Uh the fuck you are!” Danny Gonzales told him. “You’re drunker’n I am. I’ll call my brother.”
Danny luckily had his brother, Antonio, on speed dial. Antonio never really drank and thus had become the designated driver along with three others. Unfortunately for them, Antonio was across town and wouldn’t be able to pick them up for at least a half hour.
They wandered up and down the streets, looking for a place to wait it out, when they spied two familiar vehicles parked on the curb. “Oh shit,” Tatum muttered after letting out a rather rude burp.
“Wassup?” Joey asked him.
“You know who’s trucks those are, right?”
“Aw shit,” Joey answered when he came to the realization. “That’s Trevor and Perry’s trucks.”
“What are those fuckin assholes doin in our neck of the woods?” Jake questioned.
“Probably doin each other in an alley somewhere,” Tate chuckled.
Tatum and Tanner gave each other a look as soon as an evil little germ of a thought began to bloom in the back of their heads. Even Colt could tell what they were thinking without even saying a word. “You know what we gotta do right?” Tatum said.
“Better do it now while we’re loaded,” Tanner told him.
Tatum readily instructed for him, Tanner and Colt to take Trevor’s truck while the others could have at Perry’s. “Alright boys,” Tatum announced. “This one’s for Dad.”
All at once the boys unzipped their flies and relieved themselves right there on the horrible men’s dirt spattered trucks, laughing the whole entire time. Too bad Jaime’s car hadn’t been nearby. Tate, Jake and Joey would have absolutely loved the thought of taking that one on as well. Bo and Danny held up their phones, taking a video of the drunken frat boys for later. It wasn’t long either before they were taking photos of their little graffitied creation, the words “Fuck you Perry” and “Fuck you Trevor” having been inscribed in the dirt with their own streams while the boys pointed at it and made stupid faces or stupid poses with it.
The sudden blurt of police sirens and the flash of lights made them all straighten right up. Sheriff Joy hopped out onto the curb and shut the doors to the cruiser, sighing and laughing all at once when she saw the culprits.
“Oh God, not you idiots again,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“HEY AUNT JOY!!!!!!” Tatum and Tanner greeted loudly and happily.
**************
“Rhett can you get the door?!” you called from upstairs.
Rhett groaned and rose from the couch, straightening his reader glasses on his nose before making his way to the door. When he opened it, he was a little less than pleased to find Joy on the porch.
“Hey Rhett,” she greeted. “I just picked up your little miscreants outside the bar and came to drop them off.”
“Oh God, what’d they do now?” Rhett groaned.
“Check their phones, I guarantee you there’s photos,” Joy laughed before heading back to the cruiser.
“Oh damnit,” Rhett muttered. “Darlin, ya’ll better come down here, it happened again!”
***************
The boys were absolutely silent as Rhett scrolled through Tatum’s phone and his camera roll, his face contorting into confused and wide-eyed expressions every so often.
“So let me get this straight,” Rhett said, breaking the long, pregnant pause that had come over the kitchen. “You idiots were loaded beyond all human reasoning, were waiting for a ride home and decided to take a leak on a vehicle?”
Tatum burped again. “Yep.”
Rhett bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh, looking at you as if you’d break first. “Alright, you jackasses go upstairs and make yourselves cozy, I’ll discuss this with your mother.”
The boys all stumbled up the stairs, trying their best not to wake Amy and Jeff’s baby who had just fallen asleep in yours and Rhett’s room. “Are they in trouble?” you asked him.
“I’ll be nice and let’em off the hook this time,” Rhett chuckled. “Tomorrow when they’re all hungover is a completely different story.”
#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#amy abbott#tate dutton#perry abbott#billy tillerson#outer range#yellowstone
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so we keep hearing about princess elody's golden mace are we considering thats The Ball or
#dimension 20#epsilon says shit#neverafter#neverafter spoilers#d20 spoilers#dimension 20 spoilers#spoilers#im just trying to cover my bases here lol
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more eclipse incorrect quotes because im broken
—- —-
Wat: I told Akk that his ears turn red when he lies.
Sani: Do they?
Wat: No.
Sani: Then why did you tell him that?
Wat: Because I can do this.
Wat: Hey Akk! Do you love us?
Akk, with his hands over his ears: No.
—- —-
Wat: *pretending to joke* So when are you going to go out with me?
Namo: I don't know. When are you going to ask me to?
Kan: And you just ran away?!
Wat: I didn't expect him to flirt back!
—- —-
Namo: Like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am I actually doing?
(but this one is actually all of them)
—- —-
Wat: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?
Akk: I'm a knife.
Aye, from across the room: He's the little spoon.
(just kidding, they alternate. they both wanna hug and be hugged and i love them)
—- —-
Waree: Is there something you would like to say, Sani?
Sani: Oh, there are SEVERAL things I would like to say.
(sani during that one scene was ICONIC i love her so much)
—- —-
*out grocery shopping*
Wat: *takes a free sample twice*
Wat: Robbery and Fraud. I am a Rebel.
—- —-
Kan: *tapping fingers on table*
Wat: *taps fingers back furiously*
Aye: …What’s going on?
Akk: Morse code. They’re talking.
Kan: -.-- --- ..- / .-.. .. -.- . / - .... . / ... . -.-. ..- .-. .. - -.-- / --. ..- .- .-. -..
Wat: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!
(morse code translation: you like the security guard)
—- —-
Aye: How do you want your coffee?
Akk: Black, like my soul.
Aye:
Aye: Akk, your soul is a latte.
—- —-
Namo: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.
Aye: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.
Kan: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.
Wat: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.
—- —-
Akk: My life isn't as glamourous as my wanted poster makes it look.
—- —-
Akk: All snacks are gone.
Aye: I AM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE?!
—- —-
Wat: May luck (and this picture of Akk eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.
—- —-
Wat: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.
Namo: Go the fuck to sleep Wat.
(it was a crime of them to give us NOTHING of watnamo sleeping in the same cabin in os2, and i wholeheartedly believe this happened)
—- —-
Thua: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.
—- —-
Akk: You're a lying piece of shit!
Aye: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!
Akk: I'm leaving and I'm taking Singto with me!
Sani, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.
—- —-
Aye: Every time I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.
Namo: Okay, but what is updog?
Kan: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.
Wat: No, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.
Thua: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.
Akk: Surely, that’s Uppsala, whereas updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.
Aye: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.
Wat: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.
Kan: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.
Namo: What’s a henway??
Aye: Oh, about five pounds.
(i just think they would all mess with namo like this)
—- —-
Kidnapper: We have your child
Aye: I don’t have a child?
Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich?
Aye: Oh god, you have Namo
—- —-
Aye: Hey, Akk. What kind of flowers do you prefer?
Akk: I like sunflowers.
Akk, pulling out a bouquet of Venus Flytraps: Well, shit-
(AKK SUNFLOWER BOI HE IS A LITTLE FLOWER I LOVE HIM)
—- —-
Thua: Mice are having sex in my walls.
Wat: Tattletale!
Namo: You're just being ungrateful.
Kan: It's their home too, you know.
Aye: So what? Don't slutshame them.
Thua: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.
(bro this is what you get for outing people)
—- —-
Sani: If you put a milkshake in one yard and crack open a cold one in another yard, which yard would the boys go to?
Thua: Schrödinger's boys.
Namo: FUCK!
Kan: What about cracking open a cold milkshake?
Aye: As we all know, the milkshake brings the boys to the yard. The presence of the boys is a prerequisite for the cracking open of a cold one, but cold ones do not have any inherent boy-attracting abilities. Milkshakes, however, do.
Aye: All else being equal, the boys would proceed to the milkshake yard. While it is possible to announce the presence of cold ones in the hope of attracting some boys, the pull of the milkshake is much more powerful by comparison.
Sani: …
Thua: …
Namo: …
Kan: …
Aye: Mind you, all of this nonsense hinges on whether or not the boys are back in town.
(sani young millennial / old gen z teacher we love her, aye gremlin meme child we love him)
—- —-
*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*
Namo: I will not let you down.
Kan: Sounds fun.
Aye: K.
Wat: No, I'm fucking not.
Aye again: Do I have to be?
Akk: Please god, I am so tired.
(thua didn’t really feel like he fit any of those options which is why hes not there)
—- —-
Aye: Chadok’s gonna kill me.
Akk: No, he’ll probably make me do it.
—- —-
Akk, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks.
Kan: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.
—- —-
Akk: The only straight I am is a straight-up badass.
Aye: Correction: the only straight you are is straight-up babygirl.
—- —-
*Akk and Aye looking at a locked gate into a park*
Akk: Aw. :(
Aye: You know what they say.
Akk: Please don’t-
Aye: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*
Akk: Frick-
—- —-
thats all for now!
ill be back, i promise.
#the eclipse incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes#the eclipse#the eclipse series#the eclipse the series#akkayan#ayanakk#thuakan#kanthua#watnamo#firstkhaotung#firstkhao#neolouis#louisneo#first kanaphan#khaotung thanawat#louis thanawin#neo trai#aj chayapol#pawin kulkaranyawich#ployphach phatchatorn#ur mom
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its 5am so this isnt a very coherent thought and i might not be phrasing it perfectly... but you know how That breed of cishet guy will say shit like "those stupid lgbts keep inventing new genders ummm newsflash liberals theres only TWO gender. man and woman. checkmate." but like those same guys will turn around and literally make up entire new terms for different ways that men present their gender to sort them into gendered sub-classes. like. idk it feels like maybe your relationship with gender is actually not that different, and the rigid binary isnt doing you any favors either, but youre not willing to actually free yourself from it. so you work within its parameters to try to create your own sub-label instead. like yeah youre not calling yourself stargender or something youre just calling yourself an epsilon male. which is no more "real" than the former, but you try to fall back on pseudoscience and the barnum effect to justify it.
but at the end of the day youre doing the same thing! youre creating a unique personalized label for your specific way of expressing your gender identity, and the way you navigate it and through your personal gender presentation. and again its based on working within the patriarchal gender roles, so its incredibly reductive, misogynistic, and does a lot more harm than good. even to the people taking on those labels. its like theyre doing the same thing but in a twisted way, because of the way they cant stop being sexist and transphobic. but part of me really does think that even the people who cling the heaviest to the patriarchal ideals of gender actually also want to be free from it, because the second theres an acceptable method to do so... they'll jump onto it too. but because theyre so obsessed w those patriarchal ideals, they have to also make it into a hierarchy to place others into too. so again whatever they do manage is still reductive.
#btw im not saying this as a negative to anyone who has an identity like stargender. i think thats awesome#theyre not making weird hierarchies about it and policing people into boxes etc etc#and also theyre far more self aware of what their labels mean. like they know its words for their personal relationship to their identity#and theyre not sexist about it. which is important.#absolutely harmless. less than harmless. its healing to see. keep having fun keep doing you. ilu <3#but yeah what im saying here is basically the greek-letter-male shit is just 'pronouns' for cis men#('pronouns' in quotes bc cis men obviously... already have pronouns. but im using it facetiously in the way they think it means lol)
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Hey! Its me again! :D
I love the fact that Reader plays a ukulele to distract themselves away from their thoughts, it's wholesome oml.
*THE TOXIC GOSSIP TRAIN FLASH BLACK*
(ALSO Your post abt Zoro and reader is so funny and gives me the giggles- I love platonic one piece ITS SO UNDERRATED)
Anyways, I have a few random memes and incorrect quotes for your reader and the Determination! Series! Hope you'll like it! :)
———————
*this takes place after Zoro just joined Luffy's pirate crew and Reader is tagging along*
Luffy : Hey Zoro! I just have one question for you
Zoro : What is it Luffy? *His arms behind his head trying to nap*
Luffy : What color is an orange?
Zoro : Luffy you bonehead, the color is just the same as its name. Just like a lemon *he is proud of himself*
Reader : *questioning their decisions*
———————
Crewmate : You're smiling. What happened?
Young!Buggy : What? Can't I smile just because I feel like it?
Reader : Shanks tripped and fell down the stairs today. *Treating shanks broken nose*
Young!Shanks : *with a broken nose* >:( jerk (to Buggy)
: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!
————————
* they're eating dinner*
Reader : Can you pass the salt?
Shanks : *throws Buggy across the table*
— 🛎️ Anon!
Hi!!!!!!
Never thought I’d be getting the honour incorrect quotes for my series from someone else : D
I shall also post some as well
Nami: Every time I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.
Luffy: Okay, but what is updog?
Sanji: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.
Ussop: No, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.
Y/n: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.
Zoro : Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.
Nami: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.
Ussop: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.
Zoro: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.
Luffy: What’s a henway??
Nami: Oh, about five pounds
===
*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*
Y/n and Luffy: Thanks fam!
Ussop: Oh no.
Zoro: Sounds fake, but okay.
Sanji: *A flustered mess*
Nami : Can I get a refund?
===
Ussop: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.
Zoro: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...
Y/n: Oh wow, my childhood innocence and My will to live! I haven't seen these in years.
Sanji : I knew I lost that potential somewhere.
Nami: Mental stability, my old friend!
Ussop: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?
===
Y/n: *dies*
Luffy: Timer starts now! When are they coming back? I say two months!
Zoro: Bullshit. One month.
Ussop: Nah, half a month.
Sanji , sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Y/N JUST DIED!
Nami, scratching chin in thought: One week.
(This one is wayyy to real lol)
===
*after the Squad has been separated for a few years*
Luffy: So what have you been up to recently?
Zoro: Leading a revolution with Sanji.
Luffy: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob.
Zorro: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome!
Luffy: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Y/n ?
Zoro: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Ussop?
Luffy: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Nami?
Zoro: Cult leader.
Luffy: Yeah, that sounds about right.
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Imagine if they announced the new RVB season not with Epsilon, but with a dark, blank computer screen... and it starts to flicker and glitch... then finally shows static that clears to an image of a face, and we hears Vic's little chipmunk voice say "Well, shit. I guess I'm back". That's it. New season, heralded by Vic. How horrible, how hilarious~
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Epsilon really just came back to say that was my fun fanfiction now let's get to the real shit
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