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playertwotails · 1 month

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Okay so this has been circling around in my head for like two weeks like a fly hitting windows in a sun-room.

So I'm back on my Tails kitsune AU bullshit and I've also recently gotten into Cult of the Lamb so now they've mashed in my brain into a hodgepodged gloop.

And it's all going below the cut if you wanna read my brain worms cause it's long

***Trigger warning for like blood and cults and kidnapping and drugging. Just to give people a heads up (nothing too graphic or detailed but just in case and let me know if you think I missed anything I might need to warn people about)****

Little side note before jumping into this: do not tag as shipping, there is no shipping here it's all platonic and familial. If I see a ship tag I will block you.

Starting off it doesn't matter if Tails is actually a kitsune or not (I personally prefer that yes he is just for the post situation of the gang all being like "okay so what species is Tails actually???" )

I've just had this idea in my head where some cult somewhere is started and they worship kitsune's as godlike entities. They then catch wind of Tails in the news or rumors and their target is now locked.

So this cults leader gets the 'big brain but head actually empty' idea to kidnap Tails like any sane cult leader would.

Now these people somehow stumble ass backwards into kidnapping Tails and keeping him contained. And by keeping him contained they're basically drugging Tails just enough he's conscious but nonreactive. And they basically dress him up and drag him to their ceremonies as more of object than a kid. Tails is hating it and actually scared cause what the hell is wrong with these people let him go home.

Meanwhile Sonic and the gang are all freaking out cause "WHERE IS HE??!!!!" Cause lets be honest kidnapped by a cult was not on any of their bingo cards and at this point they don't know that's what happened, they only know Tails is gone and none of the usual suspects have him.

Rouge starts going through her contacts on the side looking for any crumb of information and gets a lead. And in typical Rouge fashion splits off on her own to look into it. She then comes across the cult and infiltrates their compound.

During her snooping though she overhears the leader of the cult and his subordinates talking about "living forever through the blood of their god's mortal form", sees a statue of a multi-tailed fox and all the red flags are immediately up for her. Internal panic button is smashed. 2 + 2 = fucked up situation.

She's already pressing the "get your asses here" button on her communicator and tears off as quickly but quietly as she can looking for Tails. When she finds him he's in a locked room just laying in bed, all dressed up in a white outfit. Which strange for her to see him just laying there since normally he'd be out and gone long time ago She sees what they've been giving him next to the bed and she's now double pissed off. (I like to think it's at least been over a week Tails has been missing, but if you wanna get really angsty make about 6 months, just as long as Sonic was locked up in Forces).

As gently but quickly as she can she bundles up Tails and carries him cause at this point he's got so much in his system he can't walk or talk, blinking is kinda his only form of communication at the moment. To which Rouge doesn't know what's worse, for Tails to have been asleep for the whole time unaware or to be awake for the whole time and know what's happening.

Tails on the other hand is just so happy to see her and scared that he starts crying. Which is just breaking Rouge's heart to witness as she starts to backtrack out of there with him, with him just silently crying nonstop in her arms.

Unfortunately only about halfway to the exit they discover Tails is gone and the place starts going into lock down with cultist swarming the halls of the place. And even though Rouge is an excellent fighter, she's in close quarters with a kid who can't walk so she's quickly overrun by cultist who tie her up and take Tails back.

The leader then using all of his one brain cell figures she's already signaled to the other's where they are and he knows it's only a matter of time before the fastest thing on the planet busts their door down looking for his little brother.

The leader announces to the group they're moving up the ceremony to now much to Rouge's horror and they drag her along too kicking and screaming cause they don't have time to drop her off in a cell or anything.

Everyone is now in this big ceremony/chapel room that has a big stone table covered in white flowers, that suspiciously is the perfect size for an 8 year old fox to lay down on. And the leader does just that laying Tails on the table.

Rouge is throwing an absolute fit and cursing everyone out cause no way in hell is she gonna let this happen, it's to the point multiple people are having to hold her down even with her tied up cause she's kicking up such a storm of rage.

Meanwhile, Tails is mentally absolutely freaking out in a panic and is terrified out of his mind, especially when the leader brings out a large ornate knife and starts chanting something.

As the leader is finishing up and reeling back his hand with the knife Sonic busts in and sees all of this. Immediately rushing to the table just as the cult leader goes for the downswing.

Sonic just barely catches the knife about an inch from Tails' chest grabbing on to the blade of it and cutting his hand which drips onto Tails.

Now Sonic finally has a moment to process all of this and what exactly is happening and for obvious reasons he is beyond pissed off. He's probably not far off from turning into dark Sonic or it's creeping around the edges of him. And just as he's about to send the cult leader to meet his maker he glances at Tails' face and that's the only reason he doesn't kill the leader right then and there. Cause Sonic thought Tails was asleep but now he notices not only is Tails somewhat awake but tears are streaming down his face.

So Sonic does the next best thing in this situation, knocks out the leader in less than a second and just pulls Tails into a hug off the table and starts just sobbing with Tails in his lap curled up on the floor. Cause the horror of what about happened and the relief Tails is okay and he found him in time hits Sonic all at once.

The rest of the cultists are still frozen cause for Sonic, Tails and the leader all that happened in less than a minute and the group is still catching their bearings of everything that just happened. Which is a good thing cause in that moment everyone else catches up and runs into this whole scene.

From their perspective though they just see Sonic sobbing over a limp Tails with blood on his chest (from Sonic's hand but they don't know that), a guy knocked out (or possibly dead??) next to them, a big stone table that suspiciously looks like an alter also next to them, Rouge who is still cursing up a storm tied up in the corner and held down by like 5 people, and a room full of people in matching robes that look like the guy up near Sonic and Tails.

The rest of the group now splits off with Amy and Knuckles running over to Sonic and Tails, Shadow going for the leader on the ground, Omega going to help Rouge, and the rest of their friends they had helping them splitting off to take care of the rest of the cultists.

From here everything gets resolved, cultists and leader locked up, Tails getting what ever drugs they were giving him out of his system and going home and everyone somewhat going back to their lives. Sonic however does not leave Tails' side for a while and hovers around him which for the first few weeks Tails appreciates cause if he's honest he doesn't want Sonic to be far from him either after everything and really doesn't want to be alone for long. Tails get constant nightmares about the situation and is snuggling with his big brother almost every night. Which is great for Sonic cause he's also getting terrible nightmares from the ordeal and feels better when he wakes up and Tails is right there.

It does get to the point though where after a bit of recovery and time healing the mental scars Tails has to convince Sonic that he can be go back to running around and exploring without Tails right next to him. It takes a lot of convincing and scheduling regular check-ins (like 5x more than they previously had) but Sonic and Tails slowly get somewhat back to their normal lives.

If you wanna get angsty though have it so Sonic is just a second too slow in saving Tails and the fallout from that. (couldn't be me though I'm a hurt/comfort girly at heart, give me the angst but everyone's okayish in the end)

#miles tails prower #tails the fox #tails kitsune au #kitsune au #enjoy my brain worms #this has been eating away at all my other ideas for a while now #feel free to add on if you like just keep me in the loop #i might post the little comic I'm attempting to draw about that one scene at the altar with Sonic grabbing the knife #that scene is so vivid in my head #I've had bad art block and burnout for like 4 years now since coivd hit and my job got STRESSFUL (call center life sucked)#but I'm slowly trying to knock the rust off my skills #a whole art minor I have not used in a while #my drawing skills are like the Tinman in the Wizard of Oz #someone give me some oil so they move again

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starjunkyard · 1 month

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"Im not even sure anymore if we get to choose who our friends are" There is a part of me that resents you for making me a worse person than i want to be but i am inexplicably uncontrollably drawn to you. You make me a worse person which is the last thing i want yet i want you in every way. If i could leave i would. Maybe i can but i dont want to. I have fun with you. You challenge me and you captivate me and you push me and pull and run circles around me and it makes me feel like a younger man. For the price of being a worse person i get to feel truly, wholly alive. You are the blood that runs through my veins; vital, inseparable. I was reborn when i met you and you are the womb that haunts me. You are the one person on planet earth who knows me. I wish i could leave, move on and be the man im supposed to be but my heart is tied to yours in a gordian knot. There is a part of my soul that rests in yours, magnetic. For as long as i love you i cannot be better than i am. But maybe thats something i can learn to live with. Gregory House-- I think you're worth it.

#house md #james wilson #gregory house #hilson #johan being crazy about yaoi md #johan's mindpalace #Im crazy #like im tearing up #this scene is so romantic it genuinely makes me nauseous #the lowlight setting the lingering stares the soft little smile a dam thats finally broken #I need a 12 gauge bullet in the thigh #Please watch this scene screencaps do not do it near enough justice #do you know whats so genuinely actually sickening #its been months since i finished house md #and i have not watched a single show that has managed to fill even a quarter of the gaping bleeding hilson shaped hole in my heart #shows that have actual gay people actual representation and not a single one has managed to alter my brain chemistry the way hilson has #since day 1 episode 1 #Like its actually nauseating a little its so over for me for the rest of my life #Like im actually never recovering #people say “they dont make xyz like they used to haha” But Guys they Genuinely dont #Im going through withdrawls #I need my yaoi cocaine so bad but my plug died 12 years ago and i cant fucking Move #House md capital of fatphobia homophobia transphobia early 2000s edgy humour outshining modern shows with actual rep like im sick #Its not even because i want to like i feel like there are worms in my brain. I feel like ratatoullie if the rat was evil #This is not what the stonewall riots were for #I feel like so nausous why couldnt i be crazy about an actual gay pairing like a normal gay person. Im gonna throwup #Why couldnt i like music and girls #Its not even that house md is objectively logically better than these shows like no. Im just crazy #Im so sick they make me so sick i feel like there are worms in my head. My head #Dont know when i will ever be onorlmal again. Sorr

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mysteriousdoll · 3 months

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Double whammy of ouch for Taka :)

Fun fact so far it’s mostly been gore I’ve drawn in this new sketchbook, but the cover is just TwiPie

Think Future Foundation for those worms :,)

#my art #MysDoll doodles #kiyotaka ishimaru #danganronpa #danganrevival au #that burn is thanks to his granddad hitting him with a skillet #like that one scene from higurashi but not #cw blood #cw: gore #cw worms

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st-highwind · 1 month

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Ramble, Bahamut Knight edition!

In my own little ffiv offshoot/au/whatever you wanna call it, I have different ideas for Kain. Ofc.

I politely and respectfully (against my will) dislike the Holy Dragoon getup. This idea initially stemmed from my dislike of the armor alone. However, the more I thought about it and as I actually played (and again, respectfully disliked) The After Years, the more the idea/concept developed.

Kain becoming a Holy Dragoon, to me, takes away from his whole spiel of “I didn’t kill off the dark parts of me, I just accepted them as part of me”. The gist of becoming a “Holy” anything is that the dark is completely purged, removed, eradicated— Kain explicitly does not “kill” his Dark Side, rather he absorbs it. The dark is there, but honed and harmonized. Of course, I don’t want this alteration or Bahamut’s involvement to detract from Kluya’s spirit recognizing Kain’s strength. I feel that that detail fiercely emphasized the bond Cecil and Kain share, for Cecil’s dead father to share power he’d once granted to his son to what I can only assume is another son figure for him. I do feel Kluya’s spirit’s involvement is a testimony to their brotherhood and devotion to one another.

I want to connect Kain to Bahamut, first and foremost. As the dragon god of the eidolons, Bahamut’s gotta know something or another about dragoons or, if we’re feeling pretentious, Mr. Highwind himself. Kain fights Lunar Bahamut during his Lunar Trial, and I want to build on that. A lot. Bahamut likely would’ve also known about the slaughter of dragoons and wyverns in the ffii storyline.

In my mind’s eye, I picture Kain defeating Dark Kain during his trial, Lunar Bahamut appearing and, upon its defeat, its scales flake off and the real Bahamut emerges like something of an odd cocoon. Hatching out of an egg, maybe. For symbolism.

(Alternatively, it would be neat for Bahamut to hatch out of an egg and parallel the last wyvern in ffii that baby Kain bonded with…but I digress)

Anyways, the real Bahamut appears in Kain’s trial. Ideally, Kain will have done a bit better in accepting the darker facets of his persona within my au given Thrush’s presence and therefore doesn’t feel the need to fuck off to Mt. Ordeals for ten years. Instead, Bahamut would appear at the end of Kain’s trial and, with Kluya’s lunarian spirit shrouding the room in some sort of magical aura, Bahamut commends Kain for his strength, resilience, and willpower. He offers to boost his strength and bestow upon him the capacity for black magic.

Kain, knowing the regality of the lunar dragon, kneels and accepts. Bahamut then inhales and unleashes a plume of flame onto the dragoon, enveloping him in a biblical cleansing flame. Once Bahamut’s breath flickers out, Kain stands in a brand new suit of armor with a new weapon fitting nicely in his hand.

“Now,” Bahamut begins, his draconic voice emanating from every corner of the room. “I declare you the Lance of Bahamut.”

Kain, as a Bahamut Knight, now possesses the ability to use black magic. He may not bolster tier 3 attack spells, and as a matter of fact, he might utilize black magic in the same way that Cecil uses white. They may lack the most useful spells that Rosa and Rydia harbor, but they make great backups and can still wail out physical damage. Kain, now with Abel’s Trident, finds that his Jump ability has been replaced with Dive Bomb, a skill that when used, adds a selected elemental charge to Kain’s jump while also increasing the damage output. He withstands magic attacks a bit better and is still a deadly quick fighter.

The development of Kain into a Bahamut Knight rather than the Holy Dragoon makes more sense in my mind as it truly does encapsulate the acceptance and control of his inner darks. It is the honing of the very facets of his persona and channeled into carving a path to his future and fully restoring his honor and dignity.

Idk. Thoughts?

#I might delete this tomorrow #it’s very very late and I have had one song on loop hallucinating the scene where Bahamut just unleashes a pillar of flame on Kain #and then Kain emerges in the sleekest fucking armor with this sick ass trident and a restored vigor #augh the worm in my brain is causing problems #help I’m having ideas beyond my creative capacity #ffiv #kain highwind #st-highwind #rambling…#sighs #I would like to kiss him on the mouth

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canarydarity · 3 months

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(mooooooooooore DL rancher angst. because what else am I good for </3 /j)

No matter how you looked at it, the knock was startlingly out of place; it was late, late enough that a truce-like state should have fallen over the players, late enough that no one would want to risk running into more mobs than they could handle; it was peaceful, they hadn’t accrued more than a single pair of red names so far, and he didn’t think they’d given Ren and Bigb a reason to come after them—at least, not more than anyone else had; it was also them, all season people had been coming and going from the ranch as they pleased, not an ounce of courtesy in sight. If someone really wanted to come in, they woulda just done it.

So, all in all…a knock?

Tango was already up and halfway across the room by the time his brain had synthesized these as the reasons why.

Behind him, Jimmy called a wobbly and worried “Tangooo?”

“Just,” Tango threw a hand backward towards the bed in hopes of staving off Jimmy’s shadow until he figured out what was going on. “Stay there, for a second.”

Like some cut-off had been reached, the second he was close enough to wrap his hand around the handle all haste had vanished—the feeling of urgency holding a negative association with his proximity to the door. He’d had the nerve to get up, to get himself there, but getting his hand to turn and push was an entirely different thing.

The door not yet having been opened, the possibility of what was waiting for him on the other side yawned and stretched towards endless. In a way, not knowing but speculating was worse than just opening the damn thing and facing the one singular scenario that was, but that was why he struggled to do it. Schrodinger’s danger—this was stupid; Tango opened the door.

No one was there.

He blinked in the face of its emptiness for a moment. Of all the situations he had considered, absolutely zero of them included opening the door to nothing. The one definite thing a knock spoke to was the presence of someone—something. So, what, they risked the middle of the night in peace times to come to the ranch they all loved barging into anyway to ding-dong ditch? That seemed, like, a gazillion times more unlikely.

Tango moved to shut the door, trying to shake off the adrenaline, the too-familiar feeling of someone else being a step ahead of him and bemused by it. He ducked to turn back to Jimmy, play the brave one, laugh it off in hopes Jimmy would follow, and then, he saw: just a glint in the corner of his eye, something small and shiny on the doorstep.

A golden apple.

Tango stared at it the way you’d stare at a car crash you hadn’t the chance to get out of the way of in time, the look a doctor had in their eye when they announced your prognosis was bad, abysmal, terminal. It was the brightest thing for yards—a glowing, unignorable fixed point; the kind of bright that in tree frogs usually indicated poisonous, the kind of glowy cartoonists made chemicals when they wanted you to know falling in would reduce you to bones. And it just sat there.

“Tango,” behind him, the bed creaked. “What is it?”

Urgency returned, and, with renewed purpose, Tango moved once more. Fear flooded his senses again—it hadn’t really gotten very far to begin with—but this time it was of a different breed, born from someplace else. He tried to both square himself in the doorway, block the view out, and regain nonchalance, affecting some sort of behavior that would convince Jimmy to just leave things be. “Nothing, don—”

But Jimmy was already behind him, and Tango wasn’t tall enough to obstruct his line of sight.

“Oh.”

And it sort of felt like Tango had failed. Failed what he didn’t know but by the stone in his stomach he knew that he had. He tracked the feeling all the way down his throat and through his middle, getting hooked and snagging on his organs as it went, pulling them with it until he was completely out of alignment, rearranged all wrong; the moment where you opened a test booklet and realized you didn’t know a single answer.

He shook his head, an aborted no becoming no more than a breath that passed his lips at just the right angle to whistle or whine. He bent down and picked up the apple, and, no sooner than he stood again, lobbed it down the hill towards the ravine in some effort to rectify even a modicum of his uselessness. The apple thunked hard into the dewy late-night grass, probably rolled somewhere out of the way; he didn’t know, he couldn't see it anymore—he’d have to grab it and dispose of it at some point, but he could do that in the morning. He had other things to attend to.

Tango shut the door and turned to assess the damage.

Jimmy’s arms were goosebumped where they were exposed—just his white undershirt left on to sleep in—and his head was tilted down, the top of it visible to Tango more than anything else, his hair not mused enough yet to be called bedhead though it was certainly a start. Tango took a step towards him, crowded him just a little, placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s waist, skin warmth bleeding through the thin cotton, and the other on the junction where his shoulder met his neck. Jimmy stayed looking down.

Tango couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say.

After a few seconds, Jimmy sniffled, pulled up one of his hands and ran it across his nose, mushed it into his cheek.

“Hey,” he ventured softly, in the absence of any other thought. Jimmy only glanced up slightly. “Let's…go back to bed, yeah?”

If it hadn’t already been clear that all chances of sleep had been banished by the panic of a late-night knock, it was by the way they both responded to that statement by sitting on the side of the bed rather than lying back down. A haze had fallen over the room, a trance-like state prompting them to move in the way they thought they should, in the way it seemed they were being directed; their actions pre-determined, someone else's hand on the joystick. Robotically, they maneuvered onto the bed side-by-side, silence still reigning, eye contact (from one party) still vehemently denied.

And it just…wasn’t fair. The way there was no period of wondering between the discovery and the understanding, the way Tango didn’t see the apple and question why it was there, but rather knew, innately, what was being poked, prodded at. He hadn’t stopped to doubt, he hadn’t been confused, and maybe that’s what was the most upsetting—not the presence of the apple alone, but the way the person who left it was confident its message would be interpreted without fail. The way Tango was complicit by letting it.

It was the fact that he hadn’t opened the door to a trap or an ambush, but to a taunt; the apple not left behind as some sort of distraction, someone waiting to break in the back while they looked out the front, but as something else entirely, something completely unrelated to the game and its progression. There were no hidden motives, no ulterior plans—only the sadistic amusement that came with throwing a rock into a pond just to see the fish scatter. It didn’t put whoever did it ahead, it didn’t force them to fall any more behind. It just was, and it was cruel.

Jimmy was still silently staring at the opposing wall, the both of them not even bothering to pretend they weren’t dwelling, and the more Tango sat in the discomfort that had fallen over the ranch, the more he thought, the angrier he got. He couldn’t just be here anymore and not do a single fucking thing about it. He leaned nearly entirely off the bed in his reach for his shoes, shoved his feet into them without precision or care about their security, and was up, diverting on his way towards the door to scrunch the fabric of his vest and pull it off the back of the chair it rested on, before turning on his heel and then he was off—

He was stopped with a hand gripping his forearm in its passing by, came to with Jimmy shouting “Tango!” for what he knew likely wasn’t the first time.

Tango looked. Jimmy hadn’t gotten off the bed, but he’d leaned forward to latch onto Tango and stop his campaign, his eyebrows raised in misery, his lips downturned in upset. He wasn’t looking away, just around; his eyes landing on the wall behind where Tango was standing, on the door that had remained quiet since they’d shut it again, on Tango’s chest, or his hand around Tango’s arm. It was the closest Tango had gotten to eye contact in minutes.

“What are you gonna walk around in the dark ‘til you find who put that there?”

Yes, if he had to—if that’s what it took. But before he could even begin to open his mouth, Jimmy pled, “Tango…” like he hadn’t really been asking, like he’d been hoping saying it would confirm Tango knew that idea was nonsense, not that Tango had been meaning to try regardless. It begged for common sense, it betrayed its wish to concede.

Tango let out all the air he’d reserved for his returning argument as a heavy breath, almost a sigh, a huff. Its frustration was clear. He knew he wasn’t going to find them, he knew there was no conclusion to be had, he knew the joke had already hit and the moment had already ended. He knew that. But he also knew that complacency wasn’t the answer, and that Jimmy deserved to be fought for.

He could’ve gone out anyway, walked around until the sun started coming up and all the mobs turned to ash—hell, he could’ve knocked on goddamn doors, inspired the same kind of fear in everyone else that a late night interruption in a game like this did them, and then demanded answers, no more Mr. nice guy. At least that way, he wouldn’t have had to lay back down, to have the conversation he hadn’t stopped thinking about since.

But Jimmy said, “Can we just go back to bed? Please?” And knew it was a request that couldn’t be denied, knew the power in this interaction that being the victim afforded him, and knew how to play his cards to get Tango to fold.

Tango took his shoes off, again, kicked them out of the way of the bed, gestured behind Jimmy with the hand that wasn’t being detained. Jimmy scooted backward on the bed, Tango’s forearm still in hand like the moment he let go Tango would dash immediately out the door, or dematerialize entirely, maybe; or even…run down the hill in search of something shimmering gold, and find himself unable to resist just one sweet bite. Tango followed him, nudged his shoulder until he complied and laid back down, allowing Tango to pull him closer as he did too.

Jimmy still didn’t look at him. They were nearly eye to eye, only one pillow to share between them both, face to face in the dark; their foreheads leaning against one another, shifting away only to find each other again after any and all movement.

Tango watched the sentence form on Jimmy's lips, watched his face rearrange throughout the composing of the question, the stringing of the words in a line, packaging them to be delivered. He swallowed as he awaited its transmission.

“If it weren’t against the rules, would you…?”

And Tango said, “It is against the rules,” before that could get any further. The wrong answer. He knew immediately after he said it that it was, and he’d kick himself for it if he could any feasibly at all without getting Jimmy in the crossfire. He knew better than to give a non-answer, but he hadn’t been responding to the actual question, his first thought only stop—a futile hope he could head off Jimmy’s negative feedback loop by undermining it at its core. Another failure on his part.

Jimmy closed his eyes, shook his head, “But if it weren’t—”

“No.”

Tango placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s cheek, tilted his head back up towards his, but Jimmy’s eyes remained trained down. “No,” he repeated—he insisted. He didn’t need the eye contact to know Jimmy didn’t believe him.

He leaned up and kissed Jimmy on the forehead, slid his hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and held him closer, but neither of them fell asleep for a while.

#this was just that. small moment. i fabricated for the second lim life one shot i wrot eform tangos pov #and its haunted me ever since and i wrote. half of it randomly like 3 weeks ago. and just finihsed it tonight on a whim #so pls enojy but know it was also written in haste aksjdhga it probably could be a bit better #i just want it to be done thoguh tbh so i can feel less unwell about this scene </3 #worm writes #team rancher #team rancher fic #solidaritek #trafficshipping #double life smp #jimmy solidarity #tango tek

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yardsards · 2 years

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"don't. don't tell me not to wormy."

#eliot posts #toh #the owl house #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #the worm house #worm on a string #is this meme still funny?#also i hope no one else has wormified this scene yet im proud of my pun #I JUST REALIZED WHAT THIS MEME REMINDED ME OF #THE ADVENTURE TIME SHEEP MEME

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taylorhebertweakestlittlebug · 11 months

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Rain as Precipice:

Guess who finished this little guy!!!! hmm he kinda looks too happy tho... Better fix this

Yeah more trauma is enough

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 9 months

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Soooo....... if you don't mind me asking

What was that about a cult in the human au👀👀👀

(I hope I'm getting that right and if not I'm referring to the one implied( ?) In I think the eddie short story you posted a while back)

I hope you have a good day/ night whenever you are <3 <3, you're like one of my fav welcome home creators rn <3 <3

HA uh it's not a real cult! it's more like a cult following if anything, the Guys™️ are just dramatic / passive-aggressive about it

a 'cult following of what' you may ask! well! it's a cult following of Wally! or more specifically, Wally's art. it isn't like, Famous or anything, but there's a niche group of art enthusiasts/snobs/etc that are borderline Obsessed with it (in my mind his art Is pretty funky! i like to think that he has mild associative synesthesia, which bleeds into his work along with his disregard for art 'rules' and the like)

it's not a huge problem? just a minor nuisance. and as a plus, it means that those people will pay absurd amounts for Wally's pieces when he sells them (or is doing commission work)!

Wally has mixed feelings about it. on one hand, he does Not mind attention & loves to talk about his art and meet new people. on the other hand, a lot of his "fans" are overbearing / over-familiar and blatantly misinterpret him and his art. so while Wally loves attending art shows etc, whenever he recognizes one of his "fans" walking over he'll often make an excuse to leave for a minute (or one of his friends will act as sort of a bodyguard lol)

#but yeah the context for the tidbit eddie heard #was that a 'fan' happened across one of wally's pieces hanging in poppy's tearoom #(bc he gifts his friends art yk! they all have ~Darling Originals~)#and the person started being a snob about it and tried to be like 'how much will you pay for this'#despite poppy saying that its not for sale and will Never be for sale #her friend made that for her :(#thankfully it doesnt happen often #since wally is a very private person and does not let Anyone know the area he lives in #to the corner of the art community he's in he just kinda Shows Up and then vanishes #which adds to his 'mysterious' reputation lmfao #rambles from the bog #wh modern human au #i have this funny scene in my mind of that one 'fan' bring one or two friends to see the artwork in poppy's tearoom #but wally's already there #and poppy notices before he does so she literally hauls him over the checkout counter and hides him behind it #but yeah Those People will wax poetic about wallys art right in front of him #theyre all 'ah yes... an apple representing blahblahblah shaded with cool colors to symbolize blahblahblah and a worm to signify blahblah'#while wally is internally like 'i just like apples and wanted it to have a friend <3'#he doesn't say anything but hes Tired lol

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letttuceisnotreallyacabbage · 5 months

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a short scene from scarab 25.6

"I've hurt people for touching those."

(its the regent memorial in case people are confused)

#weaver #worm #wormblr #aisha laborn #imp #one of the scenes post timeskip that matters

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glimblshanks · 3 months

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I rewatched the season two final recently and Mariner literally like,,, slides up to Ransom while telling the bridge crew about Freeman's transfer and steals his drink and sips from it and he just takes it back like it doesn't even bother him, he doesn't seem grossed out by it at all. Is this just normal for these two? Are they really truly 'share drinks without asking' levels of comfortable with each other? It's making me insane

#lower decks #beckett mariner #jack ransom #marisom #someone had to CHOOSE to animate that you know?#I mean I'm sure whoever included that in the show #meant it as a like 'oh look at Mariner being a pain in the ass and taking his drink' sort of thing #but I'm sorry if my Platonic Coworker I Didn't Like Very Much came over and took my drink during a work function #and drank from it in front of me #I would be Having Words About That #and I certainly wouldn't be taking the fucking drink back afterwards #like what are they doing?#this is not platonic coworkers behavior #also the way she sits right up against his side #and he doesn't move away #but he does kind of aggressively remind her that he's her commander before taking the drink back #like it gives 'these two people are keeping a relationship on the DL and she forgot to put on the act for their coworkers for a minute'#idk I KNOW I have shipping brain worms #I know I'm reading into this too much #but I didn't catch this scene at all my first time watching it and it's making me crazy #like hello??? I can't be the only one seeing this right?

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ecccentrick · 1 year

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It really bothers me when people deny or downplay JC putting WWX in a room with a dog, that it doesn't "qualify" as torture. WWX fears dogs more than he fears death. And JC knew this and put him in a room with one.

Torture isn't always blood and bodily injury. Psychological torture can be just as effective. JC knew that there would be no harm done physically, and that more traditional torture wouldn't confirm his suspicion that MXY was 100% WWX anyway.

Torture is torture is torture, even if you believe he wasn't truly being malicious with said torture.

#canon jc #anti jc #i guess #im probably opening a can of worms with this one but downplaying it really takes away a telling scene from both of em

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vermillioncrown · 3 months

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my heart might give out from stress

i don't want my drafts to remain in purgatory if that happens

here's a snippet from the blowjob brothers

happy vday or whatever

hlwi snippet: timkorv ceo and pa roleplay

tldr what you get when you have two overthinking maskers that are dating

(mature, allusions to exhibitionism)

Korvin is supposed to shadow Tim today as his PA. At the same time, he can stealthily join in discussions on some Wayne Enterprises & Subsidiaries’ projects for the next fiscal year. It’s dubious as hell, managerially incestuous, and not at all billable to any of the workbooks. Technically, Korvin is “Out of Office.”

Tam gives them a Look, Lucius gives them a bigger Look, and they both separately say, “Keep it out of Meeting Room 5B.”

“Pardon?” Korvin plays the wide-eyed mangénue well—first PA job fresh out of his management degree, definitely-of-course-not hired for his credentials nor family connections.

“Director Kwan-Wayne.” Lucius removes his glasses to polish them and says in a mild tone, “That 3 AM with M-Systems could have your name on it for the rest of your tenure. Clear?”

Korvin drops character for a brief moment of honesty. “Crystal, Chief Fox; keeping it contained.”

They get left alone late morning in Tim's office. Tam pointedly does not look in their direction and pushes the controls to shut the blinds.

That’s not Tim’s concern right now.

Right now, his only concern is coaxing the young and nervous PA to come play with him. Cute face, DSL, firm ass, and positively stacked—Tim has to have him under his hands as soon as possible. “I don’t have super hearing, Mr. Kwan. You’re going to have to come closer to my desk.”

His PA walks to the front of the desk, posture stiff and straight like he’s about to crumple with nerves given any leeway. He doesn’t look Tim in the eye; instead, he leans over the desk and clumsily holds the tablet out to show the agenda for the day.

“Mr. Drake, I have the brief for 11 AM printed—if I could go retrieve—”

“Mr. Kwan, no need for that; just brief me like this.”

“L-Like this?” Poor thing is flustered and baffled. Tim supposes he needs a bit of clear direction to help him along.

“Oral report,” he clarifies. And Tim can’t help it when the back of his pen traces against the younger man’s jaw. The metal tip goes up to the corner of his lips, tapping that tempting beauty mark right at the edge. All of it would look amazing wrapped around his cock. The heat would fog up those cute glasses, and if Tim gets careless with his aim? A little mess on those unruly curls wouldn’t be out of place. “Nervous when you speak, Mr. Kwan?”

“I-I,” his PA swallows, the motion framed by the turtleneck under his suit. The suit itself is nicely fitted, if a little juvenile in the fabric weight and cut; obviously a gift from someone with more means. The turtleneck pairing is tasteful, but a choice—hiding love bites? With the gift suit and his looks, maybe this type of “PA work” isn’t outside of the younger man’s experience. “I’m trying to work on. Uh. That, M-Mr. Drake.”

“Luckily for you, I have plenty of advice to offer,” Tim offers with a smile. “We have half an hour—why don’t you come around and I do that while we discuss the brief?”

His PA gives a bashful glance at the wall clock, though still frozen in his vulnerable pose and in Tim's hand.

“Don’t be shy,” Tim whispers, letting the back of his fingernails graze along the younger man’s cheek. Dark eyes follow the path his hand takes, trace it back to Tim himself. When it’s obvious that the other is fighting back a timid but interested bite on his bottom lip, Tim lets his gaze fall to “bedroom eyes” and cocks his head to beckon his new playmate over.

Their roleplay quickly falls apart after that, though because neither Tim nor Korvin can stand being Not Correct. The derailment happens at the intended coy exchange of, “‘Oh, what if we get caught?’ ‘Guess you’ll have to be quiet, sweetheart,’” and then—

“What? No, now I’m actually concerned. You’re the loud one,” is refuted with, “no, that’s you with the actual anechoic sex room.”

“It’s not a—whatever! I literally had to install a trained bypass filter on the hall cams because of you!”

Never mind the unhinged meticulousness in finding the right sounds to train said filter on— “And you got caught, so fine, we’re both loud but I’m stealthier! ...and you’re louder.”

“We have the technology to be, y’know, objective. You just don’t want to be wrong.”

“I don’t want to dignify this argument with actual data.”

“Yeah, that’s how I know you’re actually louder,” Korvin rolls his eyes, even as he continues to contort himself under Tim’s desk. “This front drawer’s in the way.”

Tim pushes his chair back and bends to look at the bottom of the drawer. “I think if you kneel further back, but then—”

“—yeah, I'd have to lean forward.”

“Oh…but that's a better angle for your throat, though.”

Korvin nods thoughtfully. “You'd have to keep me from falling too forward or chance someone seeing my hands stick out,” he muses.

“I'll keep my ankles crossed back in. Brace against that,” Tim suggests, and at Korvin's nonchalant thumbs up, he rolls back in front of his desk.

#on hlwi #phd-verse #verm bits #christ alive yesterday it was ''we're so back''#today ''it's so over''#*made it pink bc i'm losing control and need to exert it wherever idk #fun note: this is either the first or second hlwi scene written #bc it's one thing to say ''haha wouldn't it be funny if a and b got together?''#but they can't actually have fun or don't have chemistry #so the snippet was a proving ground that the development of tpac wasn't crazy #it may or may not make it into the final cut so here we go #extra extra 2024 roz and i agreed to do whatever we want and not shy from sharing stuff out of some ~artistic vision~ or whatever #like there are things to withhold if mystery and suspense are key #but otherwise don't care #hm i say it's a proving ground a lot #but each snippet is dealing with a different brain worm

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