Pocahontas
Pocahontas (l. c. 1596-1617 CE, also known as Amonute, Matoaka) was the daughter of Wahunsenacah (l. c. 1547 - c. 1618 CE, also known as Chief Powhatan), leader of the Powhatan Confederacy in the region of modern-day Virginia, United States. She was a member of the Mattaponi-Pamunkey tribe who were members of the confederacy.
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How do you think Bob would react to learning what Gristol did to Truman?
Like, this man retraumatized his friends, retraumatized HIM, possibly was going to toss Helmuts brain out if he succeeded in his plan, and his entire plan revolved around REPLACING his nephews brain with his own and pretending to be him, which had a profound impact on his grand niece
Even if he doesn't think Truman or Lili like him, I have a feeling Bob would be FURIOUS with that man.
Like "it is only this steel door between us that's keeping me from strangling you to death" furious.
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[Psychonauts 2 Spoilers! You have been warned!]
Comic and written form below the cut - The Gzesarevich's Son
(I forgot to look at refs of the room... Oops) (Also small tw for drinking and arguing)
Written version bc I'm feeling fruity
~~~
The arguing seemed endless. As the baby's wails filled the empty space between his parents' bickering, Gristol could only endure with an exhausted, flustered silence of his own-- tucked into the corner of the couch, glaring at the empty wall as the baby wailed on the table in front of him.
"Well," his father indignantly sniffed from his placement on the bed, "we can't keep it."
"So, what do you propose we do with it?" His mother retorted, tone just as bitter as her husband's as she glared into the glass she'd refilled for the umpteenth time that night.
"Get rid of it." "Get rid of it? It's a baby, not a bug!" "Well what ELSE CAN I SAY!?"
Gristol groaned, as a shouting match erupted between his parents. He had no escape, the TV too quiet to block them out-- not to mention the baby wailing and screaming only two feet in front of him.
In a moment of utter clarity, Gristol shot up to his feet-- simultaneously scooping the infant up into his arms and swiftly approaching the bathroom. He slid open the door, and his parents' voices only muffled once he shut and locked the door.
"Ugh, finally." He groaned, sliding down to the floor with his back against the sink-- the only spot shielded from the open world with the massive window behind them. The baby sniffled and babbled, clinging to Gristol as the young man awkwardly but gently cradled him in his tattered flannel blanket.
"Much better, huh kid?" "Aaababa..." "Same here."
Gristol adjusted himself as he responded to the baby's babbling. He glanced down at the thin, wispy red hair of the tiny boy in his arms. He hummed thoughtfully, taking note of the hospital band still around the infant's wrist.
With a delicate hand, he took hold of the boy's arm-- while the surname was missing, the first name certainly wasn't.
"Razputin?" He read in a hushed tone. The baby, Razputin, only whined in reply. Gristol sighed, tucking the small thing to his chest again and pushing himself up.
"Well, Razputin. Let's clean you up." He said, now holding the baby up in front of him to inspect the dirt and grime all over the poor thing. The boy hadn't opened his eyes, little fists balled up to his face as he kicked and wriggled with complaint.
"At least one of us can smell nice." He mused with a smile. Holding Razputin against his chest again, he turned the sink on to clean the tiny little thing off.
It only took five minutes, Razputin cleaned off. Gristol now sat on the edge of the sink, humming a tune as he carefully dried Razputin off, the baby much calmer and not fussing anymore.
Then Gristol paused. Razputin's eyes were open as he clutched Gristol's wrist with a small smile, tongue poking out as he cooed and babbled. His eyes were so big, a gorgeous green that held so much... Affection.
Gristol stared in silence, tearing up as this tiny helpless little boy gazed up at him with so much love. Gristol inhaled, then hugged Razputin up close to him-- face resting against his damp red hair as he murmured a weak- "Oh my God."
His mind was made up.
The arguing continued on in the suite, Rokel and Theodore still shouting at each other with disdain and indecision. Until--
"Shut UP! He's STAYING!" Gristol yelled, as loudly as his lungs would allow as he waltzed out of the bathroom -- Razputin held to him as the baby babbled and cooed.
"Staying?!" Theodore exclaimed as Rokel reeled from dropping her glass, Gristol passing the two with a content smile. "Have you lost your--"
"Yep!" Gristol interrupted, stopping in his tracks to hold Razputin up in front of him again, the freckle-doused baby so eager to have the attention.
"As far as I care, he's Razputin Malik." Gristol announced to the dismay of his parents.
"My future Gzesarevich!"
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