#This is just a drawing dump because I have so many I can’t stop drawing them 😭

[carrtoonfreak]

PatB managed to drag me in my next cringe era

#Milo is there because I forgot that March 8th was the anniversary of his creation lol #It counts because it is hangs out with them I said so #This is just a drawing dump because I have so many I can’t stop drawing them 😭 #my art #animaniacs #pinky and the brain #brinky #animaniacs oc #trixy warner #milo warner #fanart?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #tw: guns #tw: death

[blippymilk]

Brozone (+ Poppy & Viva) x Touch Starved Fem! Reader

Ok the request is that the reader is a touch starved, easily flustered, insecure yet passionate female. Her hair can change based on how she’s feeling. She likes to rant and info dump a lot. She likes drawing herself and her loved ones, and gives small gifts as a form of affection or to make them feel better. There will be a friend and s/o version.

(I’m also really sorry if this is not to the liking of the request, I kind of struggled while making this 😭)

John Dory:

Friend:

- As your friend he’s a little concerned for you

- Like he knows your fine but sometime he worries 😭

- But nothing JD can’t handle

- Genuinely enjoys your little gifts but he never makes it obvious at first

“Hey JD look I made you a little gift.” :)

“Oh that’s sweet. Can you put it on my desk? I’ll look at it later.”

- One day him and his brothers were rough housing around while you Poppy, and Viva stood by cheering them on. Bruce gets a little too rough with him and knocks something out of his jacket, it was your gift

- This man stops everything

- Like everything

- Like everyone’s frozen in place no matter what stance they’re in

- And picks it up and places it gently back in the pockets inside his jacket then lectures the boys about how he could’ve gotten his belongings crushed 😭

S/O:

- Still worries about you even after being together

- Sometimes the way your emotions change with your hair startles him

- And that’s mostly because your emotions can change rapidly

- But he also finds it really funny

- So prepare for his scare attacks

- Your hair gets so spiky, and you get so mad

“Oh come on I was only playing around babe. Tell you what, I’ll find a better way to mess with your hair.”

- And he did, which was by flustering you with comments that boost your confidence

- Your face turns red and your hair poofs up then falls around your head

- You’re always muttering a lot just like Viva and Poppy and JD finds it hilarious that him, Branch, and Clay are in the same boat (not saying Clay and Viva are not dating jus to clarify 😭)

Floyd:

Friend:

- Loves having a friend that’s the complete opposite of him

- He’ll listen to you rant all day

- With feedback on every question and statement

- Also finds your hair amusing but won’t abuse it’s power on purpose like John 😭

- Shocked by your passion to draw

“Is that me and you?”

“You know it.”

“I love it.” 🥹

S/O:

- Absolutely head over heels for you

- Still would be into listening to you rant but he’s helping you calm down a bit more

- Now your drawings had a more romantic reference behind them and he loved them even more

- No matter where he goes he always has one of your pictures on him

- He carries it around and values it like cash

- And absolutely none of his (little) brothers are getting their hands on it (yes he’s aware that they’re all adults now)

Spruce Bruce

Friend:

- He’s an expert on hair so he’s not too shocked or anything

- I mean look at that fluff on his head

- Seeing as Bruce could handle so many kids in the movie I believe he could deal with a ranting partner just fine

- He knows how to avoid frustration with you

S/O:

- Finds everything you do cute (c’mon it’s Bruce)

- He loves your arts & crafts

- Probably more than you

- Just like John he likes to you see you flustered with that big frizz on your head

- Your hair is constantly poofy because this man never stopsssss

“Hey (____) did it hurt when you fell?”

“Huh?”

“When you fell. From heaven?”

“Bruce you’re litteraly gonna kill me and my hair…”

- Definitely helps you get the knots out afterward 😭

Clay:

Friends:

- He hangs around Viva so the rambling is nothing new to him

- Always tries to hide you from Viva because he knows you two would be a unstoppable force ( plus poppyyyyy?!?)

- Hates when you feel insecure in any kind of way possible

- So just like you leave him little sketches, he leaves little notes of affirmations for you to read

- And makes you read them

- Outloud

“I am so pretty, beautiful, smart, talente- Clay do I have to keep-”

“Keep going.”

“Ok but-”

- Extremely intense eye contact

sighhhhhhhh “I am talented, I am kind, I am loyal…”

S/O:

- One of the most respectful boyfriends in the world

- Eventually gives in and let’s you and Viva mingle (possibly a bad descion!!??)

- Astonished by what your hair is capable of (can’t show his excitement tho cause he’s not a fun boy anymore right?)

- He is a words of affection (and physical touch sjejkemsjks) kinda guy so as your boyfriend he’s all you could ask for

- So now your attached to this man like glue and it’s kind of his fault

- Has to pry you off sometime but he will never stop loving you the same

“I love youuuuuu.”

“I love youuuuuu too.”

Branch:

Friend:

- Just like Clay he’s friends with Poppy so he’s used to the talking behavior (no Boppy in thissss 😔)

- You guys didn’t exactly hit it off at first either

- You met him during his “no color” era so that makes most of the sense

- ntgl when he first finds out about your hair he’s thrown off

- And the other trolls had so much fun with it that he considered you a distraction from the bergens soooo he wasn’t too fond of you

- And it takes a while but eventually you both become inseparable

“You hated me for no reason, and now I’m your favorite.”

“Yeah yeah.”

S/O:

- He’s growing as in character development

- So now instead of getting upset he uses your hair to read you

- He never really knows when he’s doing anything right or wrong as far as the relationship so he depends on your hair to know which path to take

- Your info dumping soothes him, wether he likes it or not

- He plays it off subtly but he knows how to fluster you and he takes pride in that (*AHEM* SINGING)

Poppy:

Friend:

- Doesn’t even realize that you’re rambling cause she’s doing it too

- You both are a special duo that at one point drove Branch up a tree (no pun intended)

- As much as the trolls like you, they don’t realize how actually dangerous you two could be together 😭

- And you can imagine the fear on Branch’s face when he finds out Viva and Poppy are sisters

S/O:

- Everyone knows Poppy is a scrapbooking master so when she begins to receive little arts and crafts from you she’s in love

- Like she’s bouncing off the wall excited

- Literally (it’s Poppy)

- She’s superrr touchy-feely so your living your best life

- Your hair is so fun and amusing to her

- Like JD she might try to scare you a couple times to see your hair spike up for fun but cuddles you after

“I’m sorry sweetieeee you know I can’t help it. Your hair is just so fun!”

“Poppyyyy you say that everytimeeee!”

Viva:

Friends:

- Basically Poppy’s doppelgänger so what can you expect?!

- Always rambling but somehow always manages to do it more than you

- She might just be you plus Poppy times five

- Clay tried to help you hide your hair for the sake of you and Viva

- Unfortunately she popped up out of nowhere startling you both and causing your hair to go erratic

“So so sorry guys I didn’t mean to…OMG YOUR HAIR!”

S/O:

- Everything you could ask for from a girlfriend

- Like she literally could not have given you anymore

- She loves your art works

- She loves to hear you talk and join in with you

- She loves the touchy-feely type

- She literally can’t find a single flaw in you whatsoever

#trolls #trolls band together #brozone #brozone x reader #trolls x reader #female reader #john dory x reader #john dory #floyd x reader #floyd trolls #bruce x reader #bruce trolls #clay x reader #clay trolls #branch x reader #branch trolls #poppy x reader #poppy trolls #viva x reader #trolls viva #fanfic #trolls headcanons #headcanon

[myfairkatiecat]

Voice - a Keefe Sencen Poem

@justmossyall @phtalogreenpoison @justalunaticfangirl @fandom-mind-dump @whentheleavesfallfromtheoak-blog @lilliesandlight @permanently-stressed

I use my voice.

I use it for more than speaking.

“He’s a good kid,” they say,

“A smart kid—I wonder why he’s acting out”

I don’t want them to wonder

so I talk.

Joke, mock, quip, disrupt—

they don’t wonder

the expectations evaporate.

I feel lighter.

That is the power of my voice.

I use my voice

because if I make people listen

then they won’t look.

If I give them enough to hear

they won’t feel the need to see

and so I hide in plain sight.

I talk to cover what I want to be overlooked

I draw attention to myself

in the ways I want it

to avert attention

from the things I don’t want to be seen.

That is the power of my voice.

But sometimes my voice doesn’t work

Because sometimes, people care

And when people care

they look even when they can listen

and no matter how much they’ve heard

they still want to see

and what could be a worse time

than now?

when my defenses are weakest

quietest

and my feelings are loudest

and I know your feelings

and I can tell

somehow

you know mine.

When nothing that I know is true

it all comes back to you

and wide brown eyes

and a far from easy life

and a kind of sympathy

no one has ever had

And I wonder

is there something about humanity

that is truly beautiful in that way?

Something more of us

would be blessed to experience

and never will?

The gaze of a person

who understands

having lost every role model

or even every person I ever told myself

I didn’t care about

(even when I did)

and without having lost all those things

the understanding gaze

is not empty

but full of understanding

The understanding is warm

but terrifying

because

it isn’t something I chose

my voice won’t work

why won’t it work?

where are my defenses?

if I can’t hide

I have no choice

but

to run.

I know that you hate me.

Please don’t be afraid of me.

I hope that I’m right.

I know that I’m wrong.

You don’t think you can forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

You will forgive me.

I know you will forgive me

and I want you to forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

I use my voice

but things are different now

and so much has changed

and so much has happened

and I have been forgiven too many times

but when I am hurting, I hurt

without even wanting to.

I talk

I talk myself out

I talk and talk and talk

until my vocal chords hurt

I crack jokes

whenever I can

to prove I haven’t changed.

That is the power of my voice.

Until I have changed.

The world is dark.

Just for a bit.

I don’t use my voice.

Every whisper that builds inside of me

is proof that I have irrevocably changed

It was my actions that caused hurt

and my words that brought me back.

But if my voice can cause hurt

and my actions are what they always are

(the awful things I cannot seem to stop doing)

then what is there

left to me

that is worth loving?

(I wish you wouldn’t look at me

like I deserve the world

when no one knows better than you

how little I deserve.)

I feel powerless to stop myself

from causing the worst kind of hurt.

Pain helps.

A little.

But not enough.

That is the power of my voice.

I don’t use my voice

but I still am surrounded

by the people my voice could hurt.

Without my voice

every semblance of normalcy

is gone.

I have changed.

(She changed me.)

I have no defenses

everything has fallen

and I can’t hide

even from myself

and I certainly can’t hide behind my voice

and I know how much you’ll hate me

and I know I’m so redundant

and I know that this point

I’m almost painfully predictable—

but I have no choice

but

to run.

That is the power of my voice.

#I sincerely hope this hurt #because it hurt me while I was writing it #:) #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen #kotlc poetry #poetry

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

To Hell...: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: A man intentionally admits to murdering ten people he didn’t kill all because his sister is missing. The facts take you to a pig farm where a world of horror is waiting for you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"If there were no hell, we would be like the animals. No hell, no dignity." - Flannery O'Connor

Two weeks have gone by since the Anthrax attack. For two weeks, Spencer has been in recovery. This is the first day he gets to come to work after getting out of the hospital. Everyone is inside the bullpen and their respective offices while you're outside in the empty hallway. You need a moment to yourself to calm your racing heart.

You're still not over almost losing Spencer. He's fine now and has been cleared by the doctor but the fear of losing him is still in the back of your mind. Things like fear, panic, and sadness hit you harder than any other emotion because of how strong they can be. They hate being alone, so they try to take as many people down with them as possible.

"Hey, there you are," Spencer says from the double glass doors. "Are you okay?" You shake your head and refuse to look at him. If you do, you're scared you'll never stop crying. "Darling, I'm okay now. There's no permanent damage."

When you don't look at him, he puts two fingers under your chin and lifts your head so you're forced to look him in the eyes.

"Did you know your love consumes me? It's passionate and intense and it hurts sometimes because I'm so in love with you. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, so when you get hurt, it's ten times more difficult for me because I'm an empath."

Spencer cuts you off by placing his lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. You can't ever get enough of his lips, his touch, or his love.

"Just know I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "I still need to marry you and have your kids."

This time, you smile a happy one and kiss him again.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," JJ clears her throat. You and Spencer part from each other to look at her. "The meeting's about to start."

"Yeah, we'll be right there."

JJ leaves and you reach up to fix Spencer's hair.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Not possible," you grin.

"Yes, possible."

You two cut your cheesy moment short and join everyone in the briefing room so that JJ can get started on the case. She starts by putting a video on the screen for everyone to watch. On the Canada Border, there are a lot of cars getting checked before going through, but there is this one that draws the attention of some of the officers.

One car passes through the checkpoint but stops right as he does, and officers gather around to tell him to move. Instead of complying, he drives his car right through the barricade, turns around, and rams right into one of the checkpoint booths.

Officers from all over get their guns out and remove him from the car, and they slam the man down on the ground face-first. They handcuff him where he lays, pull him to his feet, and he looks up at the camera.

"His name is William Hightower. He claims over the past month, he's picked ten people off the streets of Detroit, killed them, and dumped their bodies across the border in Canada."

"Has he given up the dumpsite?"

"He said he'll only talk to the FBI."

"Do we have confirmation these people are even missing?" Spencer asks.

"Two were reported missing by family months ago, but they all appear to be transients. We're having a hard time finding any information on them."

"Garica?"

"Like a bloodhound, sir," she says and leaves the briefing room to find information on the ten people.

"So, what do we know about Will?"

"Up until two months ago, he was a Sergeant in the Us Army that did two tours in Iraq. He lost his left leg in a roadside ambush. He was discharged with a purple heart and a commendation for Valor."

"The Royal Canadian Mounted Police are requesting our help?"

"They don't have a lot of choice."

"If he manages to get away with ten murders, why crash the guard post?"

"It could be an attempted suicide. Maybe he was trying to take as many people with him as he could," Emily theorizes.

"It could also be a case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Do we think it's legit?"

"I think it's too many bodies to take chances. Wheels up in thirty."

Hotch is the last one to leave the room, and before he can go on his way, you stop him.

"Hey, I just want to apologize for yelling at you two weeks ago. I shouldn't have done that."

"I understand the stress you were under. Honestly, I would have done the same thing if I were you. I hope you and Reid are doing okay."

"Yeah, we are now."

Hotch pats you on the back and leaves your side. Everyone meets on the plane and the pilot starts the three-and-a-half-hour flight to Windsor International Airport in Canada. JJ looks through the files containing the claims Will made about the murders.

"He documented them all in detail with names, photos, dates, and locations of where he took them."

"He has a Military background, so he's bound to be organized. He definitely doesn't have a type. The only consistency is that they were all abducted in the same area."

"Yeah, what do we know about that?" Emily asks.

"It's called the Cass Corridor. It's right here." Spencer points it out on a map. "It has an extremely high concentration of drug trafficking, prostitution, and homeless people. All high-risk behavior."

"Maybe for Will, it's more about opportunity than victimology."

"Morgan and Prentiss, when we land, I want you to head straight to Detroit and see if you hear anything in the whisper stream. I want to make sure we have a crime before we get too deeply into this. The rest of us will meet with the legal attache before we hit the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Actually, sir, the officer in charge said that his team was part of a fellowship the BAU gave to train police forces in profiling," JJ says.

"That was the first one we ever did. His name is Jeff Bedwell."

"You know him? Is he any good?"

"He better be. I trained him," Rossi smirks.

As soon as the plane lands, your team splits up with you going with the majority to the police station. Jeff Bedwell eagerly greets Rossi when he sees him.

"Jeff, how have you been?"

"You mean besides having serial killers trying to take out our border agents?"

"Jeff, these are Agents Aaron Hotchner, Spence Reid, Y/N, and Jennifer Jareau."

"Thanks for being here. I've got a victim board and timelines set up on monitors in the conference room. Anything you need, you've got the run of the place."

"We appreciate it."

"Don't thank me, thank the unsub. He's the one that put you all in charge."

You walk into the conference room and see all the missing victims on the board.

"I need to go talk to Garcia and see if she had any luck locating the family members. I'll also check records for multiple border crosses and see if we get any hits for the days the victims went missing," JJ says and leaves the room.

"Do you believe he killed all these people?" you ask.

"It fits the profile."

"How so?"

"He's got recent physical trauma that could be a stressor, wide disparity of victims, no bodies, possible border cross, and two entirely different terrains. To pull that off, you'd have to be smart, organized, mobile, and physical. His Military background gives us all that."

"It appears as though he clusters his victims into men, then women, and then back to men again."

"What does that tell you?" Jeff asks Spencer.

"At the moment, nothing."

"Has he contacted his family?"

"No, and he refuses a lawyer."

"Is he here in interrogation?"

"Yes."

"This guy is from the US Army who demanded to talk to the FBI. He's not gonna want to talk to anyone but the person he thinks is in charge."

"Of course. I'll take you to him."

Rossi and Spencer stay in the conference room while you and Hotch follow Jeff to where Will is being held. You can see him through the two-way glass and notice his anger. However, it's not a rageful anger but a calm one. He's staring at the window as if he can see right through it.

"Has he been agitated this whole time?"

"He hasn't even flinched."

"Does he know that we're here?"

"Yeah, we told him. Are you not gonna interrogate him?" Jeff asks.

"If I go in now, he's in charge. If I wait and gather information... It's my interview. Let's see what we turn up in Detroit."

Derek and Emily noticed something strange when they got to Detroit. Not a single person isolated themselves from everyone else, and they've all set up camps. People on the streets don't usually care about safety in numbers unless something scared them into changing their behavior. Drug deals are happening in the daytime and prostitutes seem to be working in groups. If Will did kill ten people, he couldn't have done it without witnesses.

Emily asked the girls while Derek stuck to the homeless population. Derek talked to someone who seemed to know who the last victim was, and his name is Charles who was a junkie. He's been gone for two days, and it wouldn't have been weird except that a lot of people have been disappearing.

When they do, they don't come back.

It's normal for people to leave and not come back, but this guy has never seen anything like this before. Derek showed him a picture of Will and asked about him, and the man says that everyone tries to avoid Will. He's got a gun and no one wants any beef with him. He keeps asking about everyone who's gone missing, when they went missing, and just about everything he needs to make it look like he's the one who killed them.

Before Hotch goes in, you put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Can I take the lead on this one?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That he didn't kill anyone. Don't worry, I won't choke you."

"Alright, let's see what you've got."

You and Hotch walk into the room and Will gives you a stone-cold look.

"I'm Agent Y/N and this is my boss, Aaron Hotchner, the Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief of the FBI."

"Are you here to analyze me?"

"No. I'm here for your confession, and to find out where you've dumped the bodies."

"I gave you names and dates."

"Not dump sites. You didn't give that information because you don't know where their bodies are, do you?" Will stays silent, and you get the impression that he's desperate out of love. "I know you were a Sergeant that led troops, and you've probably lost some men along the way, right?"

"A few."

"How would their parents feel if they didn't know whether their sons and daughters were dead or alive?"

"Don't lecture me on notifying families," Will angrily says. He takes a deep breath and composes himself. "No one cares about those people. Why should I?"

He got angry when you mentioned the word "families".

"You didn't kill those men, did you?"

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"Because you were out there every night showing people their photographs and checking their names off in a notebook. You'd only do that if you were looking for someone. Who are you missing, William?"

It's the kindness in your voice that causes him to break down crying. You look at Hotch and he encourages you to continue.

"You intentionally made sure everyone was out of that checkpoint booth before hitting it. You never wanted to kill anyone, just like you didn't kill those ten people. Now, I believe you when you say these people are missing. Is that what you wanted? To make us investigate so we'd find whoever it is you're missing?"

"Yes," he cries.

"Who is it?"

"My baby sister, Lee. When I got home from Iraq, the first thing my mother told me was that Lee was on the streets. She asked me to find her. I managed to find her once and brought her home. We fed her, got her cleaned up, and I let her wear my dog tags for good luck. Two weeks later, she slipped back onto the streets."

"Will, you provided so much information on the ten victims, but you didn't give us anything on Lee. Why is that?"

"I hid it in my spare tire. I needed to wait until I was sure that you were on board."

"What can you tell us about Lee?"

Will gives you everything he had on Lee, and you found the file he gathered on her in the spare tire in his trunk. He even gave you his phone that has a voicemail she sent to him right before she disappeared. You leave the interrogation room with Hotch and turn to him with a smile.

"Did I choke you?"

"You did a really good job. I'm serious. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you," you grin.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #series rewrite #cm season 4

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #14

xxx feed me poison, fill me ‘til i drown

Fucking witches, Gabriel thinks bitterly as his hand darts to one of his many pockets, pulling out a small pouch. He dumps the magenta-colored powder into his palms, barely closing his fingers over it before he turns, opens his hand again, and blows. The three witches near him--nearly the last of them, thankfully--throw their hands up as if somehow that will block the effects of the pink dust; no such luck. All three of them turn on each other with unbridled aggression. He has to look away from the grisly scene. He’s searching for Nathan, trying to block out the snarls and screams, when it suddenly becomes very difficult to breathe.

He blinks a few times in rapid succession as he tries to inhale and his chest hitches, and his eyes go wide. He coughs harshly and it tastes like pennies. He does it again, and this time he coughs water out of his lungs. His hands go instinctively to his throat.

He can’t breathe.

He’s drowning. 

There’s another witch.

He tries to spot whoever's doing it, desperately searching as he coughs and chokes and fails to draw a proper breath. He does see her, eventually, hiding at the treeline, but she’s far away, beyond the reach of his powders and dusts and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to her, not before it’s too late.

That doesn’t mean he won’t try. 

He manages to lurch forward with heavy, uneven footfalls, only a few before he has to stop, doubling over as water spills from his mouth.

His vision is starting to go dark at the edges, chest aching, and he knows he'll be unconscious soon. He manages to find Nathan first, and it's almost as if the young witch feels his gaze because he looks over, locking eyes with Gabriel just as he doubles over, coughing up more water, a torrent of the stuff hitting the ground.

He looks nearly as frightened as Gabriel feels.

“Gabriel!” He doesn’t sound like himself, his voice warped with desperation, and with the fact that Gabriel is dying. “Hang on!”

Gabriel can’t gather the breath he needs to respond. Nathan has spotted the girl now, and is going toward her, and the hope only lasts a split second. His lungs feel like they’re going to burst, and the lack of oxygen has his head hurting so bad that he half expects it to split in two. He feels his knees hit the grass, and then the world tilts up to meet him and for a moment, everything starts to blur and fade. The noise, the fight, the pain…everything. 

And then there’s nothing.

xxx 

“Gabriel! Hang on!” 

The alchemist is staring at him, looking terrified as he coughs up water, hands clutching at his throat.

Nathan barely has time to panic before the rage takes over.

It only takes him a second to spot the witch who’s doing it, can tell it’s her by the way she’s glaring at Gabriel, hands stretched out toward him while her fingers twist and curl, lips moving silently as she works the enchantment. She’s so focused that she doesn’t see Nathan coming. She doesn’t have a chance to fight back, just lets out a startled grunt as Nathan tackles her to the ground. It takes six blows to knock her unconscious.

He can feel the rage, turning his blood hot and his thoughts red, and that part of him wants very much to see this through, to keep punching until there’s nothing left. But the part of him that’s still him remembers that Gabriel needs his help. He’s on his feet in a second, whirling around as he searches for Gabriel. He doesn’t see him at first, and then his eyes travel down and his heart plummets. 

“Gabriel!” He runs. His voice scrapes at his throat. “Gabriel! Gabriel!”

He lands on his knees hard enough that a normal person would have bruised. He doesn’t feel it. Gabriel’s face is pale, his lips gray, and Nathan thinks that even with everything he's been through, he's never been so afraid. 

“What do I do?” He doesn’t know who he’s talking to, doesn’t expect an answer. His heart hammers, his bloodied hands trembling. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Some part of him, something powered by pure instinct, moves his body before his mind even registers what he’s doing; one hand moves over the other, fingers lacing together, and he places the heel of his lower palm in the center of Gabriel’s chest. 

Thirty. The thought comes from somewhere in the recesses of his mind, and he listens to it as he starts compressions, counting each one as he goes. One, two, three--and on, until he’s done thirty of them, and then he tilts Gabriel’s head back, pinching his nose shut. When he places his mouth over Gabriel’s, all he can think is how cool the man’s lips are, how unusually uninviting. Two breaths.

“Come on.”

Gabriel’s still not breathing. 

“Come on, Gabriel.” 

He laces his fingers. 

“Please.” In time with the chest compressions. “Please, please, please.”

One breath, two. 

Nothing. 

“Come on, damn you!” Pleas become curses. He thinks he feels a rib crack. "Fuck you. Fuck you, Gabriel, fucking--fuck!" 

Tears slip down his cheeks now as he once more places his mouth over Gabriel's. 

He’s on his fourth round of compressions when Gabriel’s body shudders and he lets out a choking cough, water erupting from his mouth. 

“Gab-Gabriel?” Nathan’s voice cracks with emotion, relief flooding him as he hurriedly rolls Gabriel onto his side. Gabriel curls in on himself, coughing violently as he expels water from his lungs. Nathan leans back, heart hammering, and he’s glad he’s already sitting because he’s not sure he’d’ve been able to stay on his feet. He puts his head in his hands. “Holy shit. Oh my god.”

“Nathan?” Nathan feels Gabriel’s hand on his arm. His voice is quiet and ragged and he’s breathing heavily. “Are…you okay? You’re…you’re shaking.”

Nathan looks up, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “Am I okay? Fuck, Gabriel, you--you almost died! You almost--” A sob builds in his chest and he tries to hold it back but it bursts out anyway, a loud and messy thing that he might be embarrassed about if he weren’t already overwhelmed with a thousand other emotions.

“Hey!” Gabriel sits up slowly, grimacing a little. “I’m okay. Nathan…” He puts his hands on either side of Nathan’s face. “Look at me.” Nathan does, and Gabriel stares at him with those blue eyes of his. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Nathan cries as Gabriel pulls him into a tight hug, pressing Nathan’s head into his chest and holding him there.

“I’m okay, Nathan,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, well,” Nathan manages to get out. “You’d better stay that way. Because I didn’t know what I was going to do without you.”

Gabriel plants a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll do my best.”

xxx 

#whumptober2023 #no.14 #water inhalation #half bad: the bastard son and the devil himself #half bad #fic #swearing cw #drowning #gabriel boutin #nathan byrn #gabriel x nathan #half bad fic #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #whump fic

[collecting-stories]

Napoleon - Eddie Munson

Summary: you're back in Hawkins over winter break and you run into Eddie Munson at the grocery store.

A/N: This is actually, technically the first Eddie fic I wrote. I had it sitting in my drafts on my phone. It's not all that good so I apologize in advance.

Stranger Things Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t exactly a place that embraced too many changes. It was something you’d always hated growing up but something you were beginning to find oddly endearing, especially now, standing in front of the ice cream section at the grocery store and trying to find plain strawberry without the vanilla and chocolate. The same hokey Christmas decorations were out at all the same houses, the same displays were still up in the grocery store, even the same people were parked behind the registers.  

You’d paid particular attention to lane 5. If anyone or anything in Hawkins hadn’t changed since the last time you’d been home, it was Eddie Munson. You heard from Gareth, because he lived next door to you and would brain dump whatever information you asked for simply because you were paying attention to him for five seconds, that Eddie was repeating senior year. It wasn’t surprising, per say. He wasn’t stupid by any means but he also wasn’t facing a future brimming with too many possibilities. Unless of course, he made it out to New York or something and Corroded Coffin actually took off (something you were totally convinced was possible).  

Abandoning the search for strawberry you walked down the aisle and over to the registers, getting in Eddie’s empty lane. He wasn’t looking up, scribbling something in a notebook next to his register and possibly talking to himself.  

“What are the odds you guys have just straight up strawberry ice cream hiding somewhere in the back?” You asked, finally catching his attention.  

Eddie’s head snapped up and he couldn’t stop the stupid smile on his face at the sight of you. Okay, maybe he should’ve been embarrassed, even just slightly. He knew Christmas break would mean college kids back in Hawkins, he’d already seen some of his class of ‘84 and they’d been less than kind about the fact that he was still in high school. If he wasn’t a freak already with the hair and the clothes and the music and Hellfire Club than he was whatever else they could think of for being held back from graduating. Slow, stupid, or worse. Who knew college kids cared to be so cruel.  

You’d always been nice to him in high school. In any grade really. He was pretty sure he’d managed to sit next to you 185 days out of the year from kindergarten to 12th grade. Elementary school was probably the best, he could remember playing werewolves and vampires with you (and the accidental time he got detention cause the teacher saw him try to stab you with a piece of wood despite him explaining the stake through the heart necessity when killing a vampire). Middle school was alright, you were still nice to him but you had different friends. Not popular friends, just different ones. High school was more of the same.  

“Eddie?”  

“What?” He blinked a couple times, eyes meeting yours.  

“Do you have strawberry ice cream?”  

“Me, personally?” He pointed to himself and you almost laughed out loud.  

“The store, does the store have strawberry or just neapolitan?”  

“Just neapolitan.” Eddie replied. He’d worked over night on Tuesday when the ice cream shipment had come in, freezing his ass off for eight hours to unload and stock ice cream in mid-December. “Which is a classic.” 

“Debatable.”  

“Debatable? No, you can’t debate classics. Is Black Sabbath’s first album a classic? Absolutely. Is Out of the Silent Planet a classic? Of course, non-arguable. I mean, vanilla and chocolate, again, classics.” 

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, drawing the word out, “I’ve clearly been away so long I forgot you were nuts.”  

“You just have bad taste.” Eddie replied, matter of fact and unbothered by your teasing.  

“Well that can’t be true…I like you don’t I?”  

He sputtered for a second, like his brain was working on a delay, and then pushed on, ignoring the comment in case he said something that made him look stupid. (No assumptions would be made about the meaning of your words, Eddie wouldn’t risk it).  

Instead, he turned the conversation back to ice cream, “how can you not like them? What could possibly be better than three ice cream flavours for the price of one?”  

“Strawberry ice cream? By itself.” You replied, ignoring the miniature outburst. He grimaced almost comically, his whole face scrunching up and a deep set frown marring his features. “I’ll tell you what Eddie-“ 

“What Eddie?” He repeated, jumping when you reached across the conveyor belt to smack his arm.  

“Since I’m forced to get the neapolitan, you can have the chocolate and vanilla.” You offered.  

“You could always get a different flavor?” Eddie suggested, the immediate offer going over his head.  

“I see how it is,” you left your basket full of groceries on the conveyor belt as you backed out of his lane, plans of returning to the frozen food aisle on your mind, “been gone for like four months and you don’t wanna spend time with me. Just some loser college freshman. Guess I’m not cool enough for you now.”  

“That’s not, no, that’s not what I said!” Eddie practically launched himself over the bags, foot catching on the end of the register and tripping him up momentarily until he was on your side of the lane. You couldn’t help laughing then as people looked over at the two of you. “You should definitely get the neapolitan. Good choice.”  

- 

“You know when I was younger I was convinced that it was pronounced napoleon.” You mentioned, dipping your spoon in the strawberry side of the Turkey Hill tub. 

There was a fairly decent chance that Eddie would get written up (if not fired) for leaving early.  

“What was pronounced napoleon?” Eddie asked, leaning back against the couch and turning his head to look at you. His hair had grown out even from the last time you saw him and you clenched your hand into a fist against your side to resist the overwhelming urge you were experiencing to run your fingers through the curling fringe covering his forehead.  

“The ice cream,” you replied, dipping your spoon half into the strawberry and half into the vanilla.  

“Whoa!” Eddie sat up suddenly, grabbing your wrist before you could take the bite, “what is this? Are you dipping my vanilla?”  

“It’s like an 8th of the scoop! It was unavoidable.” You insisted, trying to pull your hand away, “Eddie; give me my hand, it’s gonna spill.”  

Keeping eye contact with you and smiling that shit eating grin he always wore, he opened his mouth and stuck the spoon in, his lips brushing your fingers as he stole the bite of ice cream. You pulled your hand away, the spoon sliding out between his lips.  

You would argue that you were incredibly exhausted from midterms and having to be at your parents house again after four months of stressful freedom but what’s your said in the grocery store was true. You liked Eddie, always had. When your friends were crushing over kids who looked like all their favourite celebrities, you were obsessing over everything Eddie Munson did as if he really was the heavy metal god he dressed like.   

So it shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that as he licked his lips, brown eyes still looking right at yours, you leaned forward and kissed him. He tasted like vanilla, strawberry, and cigarettes and he kissed you back, cold rings and warm fingers pressing against your neck and jaw as he held your face in his hands.  

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed out as you pulled away, leaning into you as if he was chasing the kiss.  

You opened your eyes first, watching the dazed expression on Eddie’s face change as his eyes fluttered open. He pulled his hands away, his fingers leaving sparks where they’d pressed into your skin.  

“Told you I have good taste,” you joked, dipping your spoon back in the strawberry ice cream and smiling around a mouthful of the dessert as Eddie’s cheeks flushed all the way up to his ears. When he didn’t say anything after a minute, you leaned into his space again, “I haven’t rendered you speechless have I?” You asked in mock disbelief.  

In all the years that you’d known Eddie, there weren’t too many times that you could remember him at a loss for words, if there were any. He took a deep breath in, holding it for a second as he shook his head, hair brushing against his shoulders, before he exhaled. “Can we do that again?”  

You nod, eagerly, leaving the spoon on the coffee table and laying your hands on Eddie’s shoulders to give you better leverage to climb into his lap. He doesn’t object at all, instead he brings you closer to him, one hand behind your neck as he guides you into another kiss. This one far more insistent. You moved your hands from his shoulders to his neck, fingers brushing against his hair. When you’d gone to the grocery store for ice cream you hadn’t exactly banked on bringing Eddie Munson home with you or making out with him. But here he was, in your living room, tongue down your throat (not literally) and all you could think about was tenth grade. 

“This is just like Barbie Haskins halloween party.” You mentioned when Eddie broke air. He pressed a kiss to your neck and laid his forehead on your shoulder, hands squeezing your sides affectionately. “Or it will be if you don’t call me after this.” 

“How was I supposed to know you call a person after seven minutes in heaven?” He said, warm breath fanning across your collar.  

“I said call me,” you almost laughed, “and then you never did.” 

Eddie lifted his head to look at you, “we were both pretty drunk, I wasn’t exactly convinced that you wanted me to actually call you.” He made a decent point. You had downed at least four cups of Barbie’s famous red juice by the time she ‘begged’ everyone to play seven minutes in heaven. You weren’t even sure Eddie had been invited to the party or why he was there in the first place but you remembered clear as day, dragging him from the drinks to the middle of the living room.  

“You wanna know a secret?” You asked, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and leaning in so close that your foreheads were almost touching.  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, “what?” He asked conspiratorially, playing along as if you really had some sort of secret to tell him.  

“I didn’t pick your name out of Barbie’s hat.” You confessed, remembering clear as day that it had been one of the guys on the basketball team. You’d looked at the name, grimaced, and figured no one would be any the wiser if you just, said Eddie’s name instead. Besides, he’d looked so good that night and you were so obsessed with him. Making out in a dark closet seemed like the perfect way to celebrate Halloween.  

“What?” He bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to smile. He squeezed your sides again, fingers pressing into your hips. 

You shrugged, “I just wanted to make out with you, kinda like we were doing now...” you kissed the left side of his jaw and then the right, “kinda like I wouldn’t mind getting back to.” 

“We can get back to it. We should definitely get back to it.” He agreed.  

“Definitely.” 

-

taglist: @kenzi-woycehoski @bookfrog242 @milkiane 

#eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #collecting stories imagine

[one0p1nk]

// Ehhhh dumping some silly Horrocalist HCs made out of self-indulgence <333 {+ silly doodles}

Like what I said before, they’re both autists (probably even different types of autists individually/ih) it’s sometimes funny to imagine autists interact sometimes. It can be either wholesome or a secret recipe to disaster./lh

Even if Horropedia categorizes Philocalist as the sweet empathetic Asian girl, he also wonder if her Hispanic side of her roots might say otherwise or just a different kind of charm. In reality, Philocalist is just a sweetheart who for some reasons thinks romance and horror can go hand in hand as her favorites. No matter how cheesy romance is, and no matter how disturbing and spine chilling the thrills of horror can be;;;

Philocalist is a good girl!!! She loves kids, and finds beauty in many things. Just like what her alias means. Sometimes, Horropedia kinda is a bad influence to her like encouraging her to go all nighters watching horror movies or play horror games with him/ih. Ofc, the gal doesn’t let it slide at times. Even if she doesn’t even sleep.

Joshua would tease her when he finds out Philocalist’s drew him a couple of times before- When she quietly explains that she tends to draw whatever she cherishes on her drawing pad, that’s when brunette felt some butterflies on his stomach/ih

“Wait a minute, who’s this man?” *points at a blonde guy with glasses, Journo(my nonfandom OC)

“He’s my friend, Journo.”

“…”

“Horropedia…?”

*scrolls the drawing away before taking out his journal entry with an empty page shown* “Draw something here instead-“/ih/j

Horropedia wouldn’t be the jealous type, I’m sure he’s quite observant and tries to analyze things before assuming. But of course, it sometimes wouldn’t stop making him feel this small bitter feeling on his chest;;; (why his babe has so many male and female friendssss??? <//3/ih/pos)

I can imagine Horropedia being a strange but sweet boyfriend… he gifts Philocalist dream catcher earrings, a ghost hunting pistol, and even a crucifix and talismans for some reasons.

“Is to keep you safe, Boo.” He would always answer to Philocalist’s light skepticism with those single words.

I’m going silly and having Horropedia calling Philocalist her name in general is just good enough. And when he’s so happy and just has this emotional moment, he would call her “Boo” or even “Babe”…-

Even before they established their relationship, he still calls her “Wife” as a joke. Since Philocalist kinda first resembles him as a cute 90s anime girl/waifu by the moment he first heard her speak Japanese- finds it quite fascinating that she’s programmed to learn multiple languages.

Horropedia still tends to sound pretty strange and insensitive with his humor. Philocalist sometimes can’t take his words lightly. But tolerates a decent amount because she can tell that half of the things he say may be just for funny shows/ih

If Horropedia calls her baby girl, what if Philocalist calls him babyboy (cues Horropedia spilling his coffee HAHA-)

He’s quite happy the fact that Philocalist doesn’t get easily scared with horror stories, as she’s more fascinated than disturbed,..-

Joshua first wondered what’s behind Philocalist’s mask. But it turns out there is no secret behind it, she just happens to have this pandemic experience crisis from the 2020’s that she tries to prevent herself from getting contact to smelly, stinky, and yucky germs and it kinda benefits her that it keeps her face warm at cold maps. Horropedia, on the other hand, probably would find it interesting that Philocalist has a special case when it comes to belonging in a specific timeline.. when she doesn’t even belong to anywhere. She’s out of this world!

Horropedia often gives Philocalist forehead kisses, and even cheeks. Sometimes on the lips indirectly or directly either because he may be in a hurry that Philocalist can’t remove her masks quickly or when he really wants to feel her lips/ih/gets bonked.

I will write soon about how they both have first met in my writing blog! It’s still in progress atm.

Mawan(Klai’s oc) is like a father-figure to Philocalist. According to Klai, Mawan would be calm about the pair’s bond (but also would lightly threaten Horropedia to not break her heart is funny djjddjjd-) Meanwhile Philocalist is just standing there not certain about what’s going on in front of her.

#pins’ art #oc// hana dyanthus #reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 fanart #r1999 #reverse 1999 oc #reverse 1999 horropedia #horropedia #horropedia x oc

[biantianyang]

While reading the blackwater arc I couldn’t help but notice a surprisingly clear allegory between the Venerable of Empty Words and OCD. Whether intentional or not, it was so prominent I wanted to write a (not so) little analysis about it. So let’s get right into it!

First: what is the Venerable of Empty Words? We get a fantastic concise description here:

“The Venerable of Empty Words draws power from fear in people’s hearts. With power, it manipulates its victims to realize its predictions and then makes new ones; the cycle continues until the person is thoroughly broken and their mind is lost to despair. The more unsteady one’s heart, the more disadvantageous their position; the more one has, the more one fears loss.”

To rephrase this in terms of OCD, simply replace “The Venerable of Empty Words” with “OCD.” Purposeful or not, MXTX was describing OCD very well here. If anyone reading doesn’t know what OCD is, considering how misunderstood the disorder often is by people who don’t have it, it’s not just a disorder where you wanna clean a lot. It is when a person may have unwanted thoughts & fears (which are ego dystonic I might add) that disturb the person with OCD. This then results in compulsions which come in different forms that the person may do in response to the obsessions in an attempt to be rid of them. For example, a person might fear they could hurt their family, so they’re unable to handle knives. This is a pretty basic and general definition/example.

OCD is also sometimes known as a doubt disorder. It draws from the doubt/fear in people’s hearts. It manipulates one’s brain into believing their intrusive thoughts. If one point of focus isn’t enough it could establish multiple new types of obsessions. Just reading “the cycle continues until the person is thoroughly broken and their mind is lost to despair” was like… ok holy shit bro that’s just what it feels like. The terror that the thing you fear most is true. Looping over until you can’t take it anymore. This definition of the Venerable of Empty Words also focuses on the heart, and in many ways OCD attacks what people value. “The more one has, the more one fears loss” a sentiment that can be applicable to things like violent intrusive thoughts surrounding one’s loved ones.

We also get to see a few examples of how the Venerable of Empty Words attacks people. In a general sense, it’s described as:

“If someone was happy, in their moment of joy, it would appear to dump a bucket of cold water over their head—a killjoy in the most literal of terms.”

OCD interrupts those who have it’s happy moments in their lives. It feels as if there’s never a moment of peace. OCD is everywhere. The very concept of the Reverend of Empty Words stalking Shi Qingxuan all her life wherever she goes, hiding in the shadows, lurking, matches the persistent fear OCD gives someone. No matter how hard you try, you can never seem to escape.

In a more specific example, the Reverend of Empty Words tells Shi Qingxuan:

“Just wait! Your closest family, your best friend—they’ll all die a disgraceful death because of you!”

Does this not sound like a blatant intrusive thought? There’s no reasoning why, but now you have a new fear that your loved ones are going to die. It isn’t just that her closest family will die either, but that they’ll die because of him. The person with OCD believes the fault lies with themselves. Thus the obsessions over this intense terror.

What follows are the compulsions. When Xie Lian gives an example of when he witnesses the Venerable of Empty Words attack someone he describes:

“The wealthy merchant jumped to his feet in a rage, set on catching the one who would say such a thing, but that person ducked under the table immediately and disappeared into thin air!”

The merchant is quick to get upset at the Venerable of Empty Words’ words. He lashes out trying to stop him, but fails. When you get an intrusive thought you do a compulsion to try to be rid of it, in an almost instinctual way. You want to focus on the horrible thought… how dare my brain say/accuse me of this! Get rid of it! But it still runs free.

This is because the way to get rid of the obsessions and thoughts are the same way you get rid of the Venerable of Empty Words. Xie Lian lists three ways to deal with the Venerable of Empty Words as:

“The first is to not let it open its mouth; cut it off before it can speak. This works in the moment but not in perpetuity, so you need to remain vigilant at all times.”

“Second, if it should speak, don’t let the subject of its curse hear. Anyone would be frightened to hear someone cursing them at the height of their joy, and that creature feeds on fear; it revels in it. The more frightened you are, the happier it becomes.”

These first two are the lesser effective ones. In the first, one can try to shut it up, but they aren’t fully rid of it. Trying to block out an intrusive thought sometimes might work in the moment but they’re bound to come back. An uncomfortable vigilant feeling remains along with it. Second, not allowing someone to hear the words is equivalent to not letting someone get intrusive thoughts, which sounds like just not having OCD to me.

The third solution is the best:

“However, if you pay no mind to however it tries to curse you or rain on your parade, then it can’t do anything to you. So, the most effective method is the third—surround yourself with happy occasions and ignore it completely. Let it choose to speak or remain silent, but forget everything it says. Make yourself stronger and continue down your path according to your own will, and not in accordance with the tragedy it predicted for you. If it can draw no despair from you, it will eventually leave on its own with its tail between its legs… Of course, it could still very well be lying low, waiting for its next chance to strike.”

Part of having OCD is accepting the intrusive thoughts that come to you. The Venerable of Empty Words/thoughts/fears may remain but you must learn to accept and not pay too much attention to them. To truly treat them as “empty words.” An extremely difficult task. And it doesn’t ensure that they won’t come back either. But you cannot wallow in it because that only makes things worse. That’s quite literally the obsessive part.

Xie Lian even goes on to describe the third method as such:

“Although the third method was the most effective, it was also the most difficult to accomplish. After all, who in the world could truly build such a heart of stone and feel not a single ripple of fear?”

Like yes!!! Who!??!! It’s an undeniably difficult thing to do. The reason why OCD is such a terrifying disorder is because humans do not have hearts of stone and do not live without fear. People with OCD are especially susceptible to this. Just as those who are described as “superstitious” in the novel are more vulnerable to the Venerable of Empty Words.

The Shi family tries something different from the three methods, although most similar to the second, by attempting to disguise Shi Qingxuan and be rid of the Reverend of Empty Words. Here we also have a more fantastical element where Shi Wudu can help his sibling escape the grasp of the Reverend of Empty Words by swapping her fate and getting her to the heavens. Unfortunately, people with OCD do not have this opportunity. And regardless, it doesn’t work for Shi Qingxuan at all. You can’t play dress up and run away from a disorder, you have to let the distressing thoughts come and die away.

As a bonus Xie Lian has a very interesting case. He manages the Venerable of Empty Words with his horrible luck.

“Either he experienced no happy occasions and [the Venerable of Empty Words] waited fruitlessly for years, or he had already grown accustomed to all the bad luck and suffered neither fear nor anxiety. His luck was so bad it defied the imagination of the Venerable of Empty Words, so Xie Lian thought nothing of its curses, and in fact treated them as well-wishes or daydreams.”

In some tragically comedic manner, Xie Lian has become OCD-proof. We can take Xie Lian as an example of someone without OCD. The Venerable of Empty Words/intrusive thought comes to him and he finds a way to defeat them by being like ok lol. sounds good to me! These thoughts can come to him and he can accept them and move on. Even though Xie Lian might be a special case where he can do this because things are naturally bad for him, his capability to move on at all is a huge feat for someone with OCD. And in turn the Venerable of Empty Words has no choice but to give up. To literally die of starvation. The intrusive thoughts leave him. He never has to obsess over them or have compulsions in response.

Shi Qingxuan also has a slightly different case considering He Xuan devours the Reverend of Empty Words as a part of his revenge plan which makes things more complex, but without a doubt she exhibits symptoms of OCD in the same ways I described before. She is a target of the Reverend and is aware of her own vulnerability towards it. Although she spends a good amount of time running away, when the blackwater arc crew set out to deal with it, she responds obsessive-compulsively upon hearing the Reverend of Empty Words speak.

Essentially, the Venerable of Empty Words is to its prey as OCD is to those suffering from it. Whether or not MXTX intended for this to be a little allegory to those with OCD I’ll probably never know, but I’ll be damned if the allegory isn’t there.

#ok WOW that was longer than i thought it was gonna be. a lot of quotes lol #but ive been sitting on this post for months.. over a year maybe lol #kinda funny that the venerable of empty words is better accidental ocd rep than anything else ive seen in media #still cant decide if i hc sqx as having ocd either but like the jinx bitch itself? ocd manifested! #actually sure she has ocd too <3 #if it means anything too: i told my analyst abt this and she was like wtf. they're so similar #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #shi qingxuan #xie lian #he xuan #b.txt #venerable of empty words #what else do i even tag this idk

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Subconscious (Steve’s Story)

Summary: Steddie Canon compliant/fix-it fic paired with a corresponding story in Eddie’s POV, each chapter happens in tandem with the other. No matter what he does, no matter who he is with or what is happening in the aftermath of their failed battle with Vecna – Steve Harrington can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson. He’s even begun to see him in his dreams…

(unbeta'd snippet from Chapter 01; follows almost immediately after the snippet from part 1. Joyce has started having mandatory "family dinners" for the kids and young adults that are in their inner circle. They serve as ways to share information on what's happening in town, keep an eye on each member as they deal with their own repercussions of the past few months, and gives everyone a place where they don't have to hide. Steve makes sure all the kids can make it there and back home again, no matter what, but often forgets that he is also on the health check radar. Not just for Robin, either. Oh no. He's not that lucky.

Robin and Steve just finished checking in with each other, while watching the kids gather under the trees of the Byer's backyard to talk about how much Dustin has been missing Eddie. Because sometimes that stubborn kid actually takes his advice...)

--

“Harrington!” Hopper interrupts, when Robin starts to head inside without him – Nancy and Jonathon are visible through the kitchen windows, and every time Steve sees Nancy these days it makes him stop in his tracks. Their time together during those few days in Spring Break seem like a lifetime ago, now. And all the tense ‘what-if’ moments are eclipsed by what happened, what was lost – and for some reason when he looks at her now, Steve only thinks of another person that should be there, also with wide eyes and a head full of curls. But it’s still just Nancy, with Jonathon by her side. The last ones to arrive. 

The gang is all here.

((Almost.))

“Come over here. Help me with this damn grill.” Steve sees the ploy for what it is, he doesn’t know anything about grills in the slightest. But he stands beside Hopper and accepts the beer offered to him. The irony enough to draw half a smirk from his lips that might be genuine.

“I think the last time you and I were in this situation you were taking the beer away from me,” he points out as he tips back the bottle neck. 

“Yeah, I don’t need you to remind me of how fast I’m aging, Harrington.” The man shuffles the burgers and chicken breasts along the searing hot grill, and then – with no preamble whatsoever, and only a slightly softer edge to his tone – he says, “Tell me about Munson.”

In four words, Hopper had requested the information Steve wished everyone else had the guts to ask. It meant so many things, between the lines, that Steve grew silent as he parsed them out. ‘Tell me how Eddie Munson got caught up in all this mess. Tell me how he handled it. Tell me who he was, when it counted the most. Who he tried to be for the kids. Tell me why he stayed involved when any sane person would have lit out of town and never looked back.’

Tell me about Eddie Munson.

Steve didn’t even know where to start.

“Did you know him?” he asks, instead, because the familiarity was hard to miss in Hopper’s question.

“Yeah, I knew that punk,” he says, a growl of a thing that almost sounds fond in a sad way, poking at the burning coals of the grill with a little more aggression. Channeling frustration, the unfairness of it all. “I’d picked him up far too many times over the years. Only had to process him once. All the rest I just dumped him in Wayne’s lap.” 

He spoke of Wayne Munson like they were friends. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“... Mr. Munson still puts up missing posters,” Steve tells him, a confidence that aches even as he speaks. Hopper looks even more angry at that. Not at them. At everything.

“He loved that kid.” 

Steve looks up at the group, still huddled together. Having a moment that was giving way to memories, laughter and tears that coincide somehow in the messiness of it all.

“We all did,” Steve mutters, and Hopper is looking right at him, again. Steve has noticed this more and more with every passing ‘family’ dinner. Hop treats Steve like a man, now. An equal. He’s out of school, sure, but it probably has more to do with the fact that he’s somehow adopted six rowdy high school kids and has been taking care of them when their parents couldn’t. And as much as Steve appreciates that, it’s still difficult to level with him and have a serious conversation. To explain everything going on in the group, or in his head, when he couldn’t always make sense of it himself. No matter which way you looked at it, the whole situation was terrible. It sucked. Steve hated being the adult more than he hated being the babysitter.

Really, when it all boils down, he didn’t mind being the babysitter at all. Not after knowing what it’s like to face the consequences and have to deal with the aftermath. Dustin sobbing over Eddie on the ground, the kid not even able to walk with his messed up ankles. Steve doing CPR, time slipping through their fingers. And then… Steve having to drag Dustin away because the gate was closing.

“We didn’t even get to bring his body back,” Steve reveals, swallowing thickly. “We had to get out, I couldn’t –” he couldn’t carry both Dustin and Eddie, so he had to choose. Dustin was alive. Eddie’s body was cold. 

“You did what you could, kid,” Hopper says. The far-away look in Steve’s eyes more telling than anything else the past few weeks. “No one blames you for that, not even Wayne would. Eddie was dead before you left, right?” 

It’s the first time anyone has asked that question. And Steve had never questioned it before. Eddie wasn't breathing, Steve hadn't found a pulse, Dustin's words on the radio echoing in his head to this day. ((Eddie's dead.)) He’d died in Dustin’s arms, and Steve knew Dustin would have done everything possible to shake him back to life if he could. Steve had tried, battered and bruised as he was, to no avail. There was no other answer.

So why did the guilt feel like it was going to eat him alive?

“Yes, he was dead,” Steve murmurs, downing the rest of his beer and wishing it was something stronger.

–

tbc

–

Series Snippets:

- Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

- Subconscious (Steve’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

#as much as i enjoy writing Eddie's story - Steve's just hits me so much harder in places like this one #im having so much fun with this project #this is just a snippet #wip wednesday #Steddie #dreamwalker subconscious series #cw character death mentioned #cw grief #st spoilers for season 04 #katyswriting #i have almost 60k written between the two i am so stoked for this yall #cw alcohol #ptsd steve in the house

[the-concrete-sage]

Truth Be Told…

I call myself an artist…

Yet I bullshit myself the hardest…

My very nature is all about creativity. My neurosparkly brain just accentuates this. I’ve been creating forms of art, on and off, all my life and the thing that perplexes me is the fact that I’m so fucking lazy.

In regard to my writing, I’ve had no formal training, something that I find myself questioning a great deal from time to time. I call myself a wordsmith because I absolutely love word play. I just love fucking around with words.

This shit I create are conscious streams of thought which I fondly refer to as my mind dumps. I call them that because basically that’s all that they are. I scribe something, usually the first thing that comes to mind, lay it down and that’s that. Rarely do I proofread. Hardly ever do I edit anything past the last sentence that I’ve put down. As for spell checking… ha! I’m dyslexic so even it I wanted to, save from autocorrect, there’s no chance of that.

Tbh, since jumping on this platform, I’m actually surprised that some of my mind dumps even receive reactions. There so many amazingly talented people on this platform that I’m awestruck. This is why I call myself an artist yet bull shit to myself the hardest.

Here’s yet some more evidence that I’m lazy. Most of the artwork I use to accompany my mind dumps is unabashedly ai generated. I’m not ashamed in the slightest. I really did what technology can do. But here’s the rub. I’m actually an okay drawer. I was drawing, sketching, creating images before I ever could write. I’ve even studied design. But I can’t be fucked creating my own art especially since I rarely seem to have the spoons to start and never have the patience to really polish/finish any of it.

I love what I do for sure. I humbly and gratefully appreciate any attention my shit receives. I’ll never truly ever stop creating (words swim and sing with my mind constantly) but I offend wonder what this would look like, what would I be like, if I actually worked relatively hard at it for a while?

Thank you if you read through this conscious stream of unedited words. I appreciate you more than you will ever know, more than you could possibly imagine.

#writing #poetry #spilled ink #artists on tumblr #asexual #reading #alternative #my writing #neurodivergent #neurospicy

[wellness-university]

Journaling for Students

Have you ever wanted to expel the hundreds of thoughts running through your mind? Or how about a place to note down your upcoming assignments so you can stop turning them in late?

Instead of speaking out loud to someone, journaling can be a different way to brain dump. 

Journaling is helpful for diminishing feelings of stress and anxiety because it’s a focused activity. When you are focused on a task, your brain tends to center in on that task and forget everything else. Especially when writing.

But journaling isn’t only used for brain dumping. It can also be used to track your habits and schedule activities. So, let’s dive into journaling and how we can use it as a tool for our organization and mental health. 

How to Journal Mental Health

As I mentioned before, writing is a task that requires focus. If you find yourself stressed, doing something like a puzzle or playing a video game could help you calm down.

The main difference between those activities and journaling is that when you journal, you can address the feelings that are bothering you. There are two main methods of journaling:

1. Intentionally writing about a specific topic or prompt 

2. Writing whatever comes to mind

These are the most popular ways to journal for mental health. I’d recommend practicing each of them and seeing which one fits your situation best. And you don’t have to stick to just one way of journaling. In fact, it might help you focus more when you try a new format every few weeks. Some formats are more beneficial depending on your situation.

Let me make it clear - there is no set way to journal. That’s something you have to figure out yourself. You can purchase a plain journal with lined pages to write or even a journal with blank pages to draw. But here are a few prompts you can follow if you want to journal for your mental health:

- What is making you anxious? Is it logical to feel this way?

- Write to a version of your past self. What would you tell them now?

- Think of something that worried you in the past. How was it resolved? Are you still worried about it now? And if so, has it gotten any better?

- Write about everything that you’re grateful for. When writing, don’t rush. Stay on a topic as long as you want and try to actually “feel” the gratitude. 

How to Journal for Organization

Many students use a planner or an agenda to write in their assignments and homework. Agendas are a useful tool because they’re usually in a calendar format, which can be helpful for visual learners. But there’s a difference between writing due dates in an agenda and actually planning on how to accomplish those tasks.

If you’ve ever frantically scrambled through your agenda to find that you don’t have the assignment that was supposed to be turned in, then I recommend using a journal to time block your day. If you’ve never heard of time blocking, it really isn’t anything complicated.

But it changed my life.

Seeing my day mapped out in the morning soothed my running thoughts. In a way, I became my own personal assistant because I knew exactly what events or tasks were planned for the day.

Time blocking is a system that dictates your tasks at each hour of the day. Before you time block, you should have a to-do list so you know what you have to accomplish that day. Here’s how to do it: 

1. On the left side of your page, write in each individual hour starting from when you wake up to when you go to sleep

2. Fill in the tasks you’re doing that day at their specified times. Start with classes or other activities that happen at times you can’t control

3. Use your to-do list to fill in the rest of the day

When filling out the rest of your day, try using your knowledge of your own habits. Are you more productive in the evening, afternoon, or morning? If you have the option, write in your toughest tasks during those productive times. This will make you life a lot easier and help you enjoy checking off your to-do list. 

How to Track your Habits with Journaling

If you’re interested in tracking your habits, you should invest in a bullet journal. Bullet journal pages are formatted with a grid instead of being lined. This allows you to draw different templates and be as creative as you want with them. 

This is why they’re so wonderful for tracking personal patterns.

Students who tend to use different colored highlighters, pens, and stickers will find success with bullet journaling. This is because most habit trackers tend to have boxes to fill in with a color once you’ve completed the task. For example, let’s say you’re tracking each day you go to the gym. In your bullet journal, use the grid paper to draw the shape of the month’s calendar with boxes. After going to the gym, fill in the box with a highlighter of your choice.

There are plenty of YouTube videos on different templates you can do and how to set up your journal for each month. Here are a few ideas of what you can track in your bullet journal:

- How much sleep you’re getting every night

- Daily goals 

- Long-term goals 

- Studying for exams

Journaling as a Student

Journaling is a habit that I've built over five years. There were some semesters where I’d set up a month of trackers in my bullet journal, and I’d come back three months later to unused, dusty pages. Even if you’re not consistent with journaling, that isn’t a reason not to do it. 

Like I mentioned before, the act of journaling is a focused activity. Make sure that you allot a specific amount of time for your journaling sessions. This will make it feel like a personal routine. 

So, go grab your highlighters and favorite pen. It’s time to soothe your mind and stay ahead of your classes!

#journal for mental health #bullet journal #student journal #journaling #journaling for mental health #stationery #student #school #university student #university #waking up early #college student #college life #college #wellness #mental health

[p3rry-pi3]

I am so sorry for the people who followed me I completely forgot abt this acc

But anyway

I made a lil’ thing.

SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TW!!!!! I mention lots of violence, lots of cussing, lots of mentions on injections, i trauma dump for a bit (I think), uh, uh, uh, yeah. That’s it. Lmk if I needa add more.

It’s complicated but I was wondering what it’d be like if my sona was a miguel variant!

He looks a lot different each drawing I make of him due to me playing around with styles so keep that in mind that consistency is nonexistent to me.

I hope this reaches the right ppl lol

I was a little nervous to show this to such a big fandom but then I remembered this is tumblr! I can do whatever, be cringe, and survive!!!

So here’s this, it’s all gonna be under the cut cause I took this as an advantage to geek out lol (a blessing and a curse)

Okay! So! His face, right.

Facial features.

This face. I did a lil’ sheet of him with and without glasses. He looks scared but bare in mind this is technically my sona and if you know me almost all of them I make are in this constant state of anxiety, and this is my way of projecting. So shhh.

In contrast to Miguel’s heightened sense due to the injects, Perry’s senses are erratic. This man’s vision gets worse TENFOLD. I’m already blind as is irl (that’s sarcasm) and the injections being unpredictable due to this dude’s like. Whatever, it makes it WORSE. Also the overstimulation is BAD with him.

As a reference to Miguel’s slicked back hair, he has his hair behind his ears. It’s a habit he does and will often fidget with his hair by constantly tucking it behind his hair and he refuses to tie it up.

Build/suit

This man is somewhat chubby but all that action will definitely muscle him out. Here’s him in the suit btw.

I think he would wear clothes overlapping the suit but because it’s like holographic and emits SO MUCH HEAT, he can’t do it during summer.

Cause imagine how hot that thing is!!!

I’ve seen the speculations that miguel could be very well naked underneath that suit, and I’ve seen how it’s like a running joke, like sure, it’s funny

BUT IMAGINE WEARING THAT THIMG EVERYWHERE WITH NO A/C!!! NO FANS!!! I imagine it being just as bad as wearing fursuit during summer (not coming from experience, but I see the struggle)

It must be super hot! I don’t know how but it LOOKS like that thing just RADIATES heat.

But no, my sona isn’t naked.

Venom

And the little fangs ref is from me being half asleep and dreaming while being awake somehow, and I guess I drew that??? Who knows.

He has natural fangs but the injections 100% make them more pronounced.

I’m not gonna overpower him and make his venom more dangerous but I’d say in addition to paralyzing his opponents, it also causes skin irritation.

Just picture it.

You’re can’t move and have to wait it off, but, your skin starts itching. It gets itchier and starts to burn BUT YOU CAN’T SCRATCH IT!!!

So you’re just laying there like “AAAAAAAA” cause then you’re worried it’ll blister, (it won’t), and you can’t check cause you can’t move!!!!!

I’m an evil genius I know 🤓

Being bit by him would be the equivalent of having to use your teeth cause no matter how many times you scratch that one part of your hands as a kid (even as now) it wouldn’t stop itching!

Character personality/arc/dev

This part was trickier. I didn’t know if I wanted to make him completely different from canon or make him similar but not too similar. It was hard.

So I focused on small traits I knew I wanted him to have.

And I think I went bonkers.

Uh yeah. I told you the art style changes quite a bit.

I think this man would love to see Miguel’s year but not long enough to figure out all the futuristic stuff. He’d be an iPad peepaw 😞

Also I’m half Samoan myself irl, so I wanted to sprinkle in that Samoan rep in this. I see little to none in most of the media I explore around, and it makes me a bit sad but if there’s like an explanation lmk.

I know there’s some Polynesian rep in the community, just not as much as I like, so here I am adding to that in pride of my own culture. (I’m still doing research on it as someone who isn’t all that connect to my heritage so it’s not good rep but bare with me, I’m getting there. As these reference pages evolve so will the rep.)

I like making a lot of these sonas so I might remake this one in particular.

I figured I’d give him a more animated character while keeping miguel’s stoicism and attitude, so here’s the characteristics I did wanna give him.

Moody. Has mood swings due to various reasons but for Miguel’s character’s sake we’ll leave it vague.

Constant state of worry and paranoia. I have been showing signs of paranoia so I’m not pulling this one out of my ass, but I do see miguel showing signs of it during high stress. It’s a headcanon I have, but I’d imagine what years of being aware of the fact there’s more people like you in a whole strand of endless possibilities, and one of them is where you’re a fictional character and being conscious of that 4th wall, it can cause you to think some stuff.

Opinionated. That’s. That’s it.

Sassy. He’s so zesty and for what lmao.

Smartass and witty. I imagine him having huge yelling matches with miguel if they were to ever meet, but in the end would get along like an old married couple. Would miguel even remotely like him? No. Not even close. This man would HATE my sona. My sona would hate him back, but as someone who’s had yelling matches with other people he’d prolly be like “damn. I can respect that.” But wouldn’t DARE to tell miguel.

Intelligent. Yeah, he would’ve been better off being an art student or a lawyer, but because of the whole canon event he had, he’s stuck as spider-man. His civilian wear is a lot more cozy in duality to him being spider-man.

Forgetful. I imagine him going to the shop and just going “shock! I forgot to change!” And he’s already almost done with his grocery list in his spider-man suit so the people there are just like, “OMG SOIDERMAN WHAT R YOU DOING HERE???”

So uh, there’s that. One last thing I’d like to add is that I may or may not have studied Miguel’s character just for his personality and to take inspo.

Doodle time!!!!!1111!!1!!11!!1!1

I made doodles here.

So.

Yeah.

I think it’s clear I don’t take him seriously lol

I also think this man would have bad nightmares since I do (fun fact! I don’t dream. It’s constant nightmares) and because of that this man would 100% sleep with a nightlight and some background noises of crowds talking bc nostalgia is the best medicine.

But it gets awkward at other people’s houses and he’s afraid to ask so he ends up staying up all night in pure terror of his nightmares. His nightmares are enhanced due to his senses. (For me, it’s imagination and having a constant active mind, but since this is my sona and I don’t have an arc for him, it’s gonna be bc of the injections.)

I think he’d be just as gay and trans as me.

Being in a big multiverse, I think he’d learn quickly that life is just too short to live while being worried of the norm and what others think.

There’s two different types of social anxiety (<- sarcasm) and he has both.

Also here’s some other doodles of his face I did

Sometimes I like drawing them completely crazy, off the deep end, scared, or just having some loves :3

My sona would be very touch starved so he isn’t used to stuff like hugs and will often become flustered! It’s cute imo but gawd damn!!! Someone cuddle this boy and tell him he’s alright

LYLA!!!!!

His lyla would prolly be named lyla too. I think she’d just be a bit of a prototype.

But perry loves her like best friend. his lyla would be the lesbian in the dynamic while perry doesn’t care what gender you are, just please don’t use his coffee mug or mess with his pile of endless papers.

I also think he’s chose her own outfits and hair styles so while sure I’ll have her in pigtails to give movie lyla’s playfulness and duality a moment recognition. But you’ll also see her in black hairstyles with actual hair texture as her avatar varies cause I made her black for 1) practice and 2) just cause. Okay? Okay. (keep in mind i’m HORRIED with fashion. So I have no idea what I’m talking abt with her character design. You’ll have to learn with me and realize that I’m pretty much clueless on how the color wheel works, so be patient plz. I take constructive criticism tho btw.)

I think his lyla would be bossier and a lot more chatty. She’d sit there and rant about whatever information asked for and because he has ADHD this lyla would involuntarily speak like she has it too, but wouldn’t really show signs of it. If she were humanized i think she’d prolly have autism more than she would ADHD but because he works under conditions he prefers, he might make her a little all over the place cause I myself rlly hate routine and familiarity is hard for me to let go of in a certain way, so I think lyla would indirectly be made to where only he knows what works and what doesn’t with the important stuff

If miguel were to ever switch lylas he’d go crazy with this one. This lyla would stare at miguel like he’s speaking some other language since my sona would probably start with some bestie banter before getting into business so if miguel were to just start barking orders at her she’d be like “Uhm. Excuse me? 🧍” she’d put him in his place as she does with my sona but at the end of the day she’s still an AI so it doesn’t get so bad to where she can’t function and can’t get work done.

She would prolly have to remind my sona the time and other stuff like that cause if the forgetful factor but considering she has social skills my sona does, she’d prolly end up talking about something else entirely but at the end of the conversation she’d always remind him.

My sona would 100% giver her a stupid nickname like “android” or for shits and giggles a more human name “Andrea” and wouldn’t tell lyla abt it, but secretly whenever he’s talking abt lyla to civilians and family he’d refer her as “Andrea” for laughs but since it’s not in lyla’s code SHE’D HAVE NO IDEA!!!

I know it’s canon that lyla is canonically a small bit sentimental and somewhat secretly crushes on miguel in the comics (correct me if I’m wrong) but I’m p sure that happens and to that I say, she wouldn’t even remotely like my sona in that way, I see these two more as siblings in this universe than I do with the originals, so these two variants are seen as siblings and often times act like so!

Universe headcanons

I think what would separate the two from each other is my sona’s world would be a lot closer to what the 90’s kids thing we’d have in modern day society much rather what 2099 would have.

Like if you were to ask a kid from 1995 or something about what they think would happen and they said “flying phones” then so be it, bam it exists now lol

That’s just an example.

So it’s like what the 60s-90s predicted, or tried to, but a lot more realistic and the economy is better by 6%. Which isn’t a lot, but by today’s standards, it might as well be.

I like to think that his universe is WAAAAAAYYYY more diverse.

A lot more necessary items would be more available.

I also think my sona would be from the capital of oregon, Salem, much rather New York just because oregon has a special place in my heart.

This man’s civilian life is boring.

Before he was spider-man, I’d imagine him as an art guy. When he had time for it and used it as a job.

He’d probably be an artist with a psychologist degree. Which, yes, far from each other, but he uses it to the best of his ability to combine the two things.

Transportation would be funky, as flying cars would technically exist, but man would it make traveling easier.

Money would work the same way since I don’t really know how to make systems that would work out for the futuristic shit 2099 would offer, at first glance it seems a lot of it costs a lot, so I’d imagine it being a struggle.

And in any case, this also means my sona’s lyla isn’t his! This man stole got it from his brother.

My sona had two brothers as a reference to my own brothers, but for purposes of staying true to Miguel’s character (which I have not been doing well at doing) he’ll have to stick to having 1 that’s consistently mentioned. Which brother? I have decided to keep that vague.

End.

In conclusion: I just needed to rant abt this character and have been anxious to post abt him since this means a number of things and because I saw a bunch of other people come up with this idea many times before, but I really wanted to make this a thing since it’s been in my head nonstop.

Admittedly I thought abt this idea before I saw everyone else’s ideas, but after seeing them all I was super scared to post my version, but after some consideration i figured I’d just take down the post no problem if it comes down to it.

I don’t really like miguel as a person (this is not miguel hate/slander in any way), but man, he’s a great character. Like, sure. He’s an asshole with too much of an ego to save himself, which I’ve noticed is a running joke in the fandom.

But after seeing the script, I’ve noticed that this man is just misunderstood. Miguel is nothing more than an antagonistic hero who has nothing better to do than do what he views as right.

What he did is unforgivable, but it makes sense.

I will forever stay by Miles’ side of the whole plot, but it made sense why miguel would go to this extent. (Not saying he’s in the right. Miguel really isn’t and his cut and dry reasoning to why he does shit ARE NOT valid reasons as it’s completely unreliable, but if I were in his shoes and trying super hard not to fuck shit up, I’d PANIC.)

His biggest flaw is getting too caught up into the past and using his trauma as a reason for everything he considers logical, just to get by and help others the way he needs that help. The way he thinks is help for everyone, or the way he thinks is best TOO help.

Using trauma bonding (which is implied) to then “help” others to “not make the same mistake”, being so fixated on it to the point you can tell he hasn’t had human contact in any normal way for a while.

This also may explain the touch starve and touch adverse headcanons going around the miguel tag.

In a way, I admired miguel in that sense. He was like me, just if he was a bit grumpier.

He acted how I used to, and his shame was just as matched as it was with trauma.

And I felt that.

So, I decided to make a sona based off him. I promise I’ll make a more original one, but for now have this miguel rip-off.

While I hate miguel, I also respect his character as a whole.

(And because of the arguments of opinion and mischaracterization, no. This isn’t canon, this is my interpretation. And no, I will not demonize him just because I hate him. I honestly think he deserves just as much good as miles does, but miles needs a lot more attention as of recent events.)

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv fanart #atsv #miguel ohara #spiderverse oc #spidersona #spiderman atsv #atsv art #oc #oc art #sona #sona art #digital artist #uhhhh what other tag should I do #uhm 🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁 #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #this is not miguel slander #I’ll say that again. this is *NOT* miguel slander #atsv spoilers

[bloobluebloo]

ever since you first mentioned crypto-hacktivist ganondorf i can't think about anything else pleeeaaaaseee talk more about him

OF COURSE I WILL TALK ABOUT MY NERDY JERK GANONDORF- -He is under house arrest, per Zelda's orders. The ankle bracelet he wears is a piece of technology he has yet to figure out.

-Regardless, he is up to nefarious deeds on the internets. -He is heavily invested in cryptocurrency and blockchain technologies, mostly because it allows him to amass and move wealth, and fudge numbers if Zelda comes snooping around. -He has several cryptocurrency mining rigs that he built himself. This is not because he thinks mining with a couple of personal rigs is a particularly efficient way of amassing cryptocurrency; it is mostly a way of throwing Link and Zelda off when they get suspicious about any wealth he has to his name. He just shows them his wallet addresses linked to his rigs. He also doesn't have to pay heating, because his mining rigs keep his home nice and toasty. -What he does have, however, are several of his personal blockchain projects with coins that he creates himself. Again, they do not seem suspicious at first glance as they don't seem to have much worth. -He has built a dedicated following on the dark web with the promise of earning quick money if they help him with pump and dump schemes related to his coins. Of course many are convinced, when they get dumped on, that it is the luck of the draw but our crypto-hacktivist obviously has the jump to pull out his money right before the dump begins so he sells his coin at the highest price. He immediately moves his profits into wallets that cannot be traced back to him directly, and deletes many projects to cover his tracks.

-Cryptocurrency allows him to transfer funds anonymously to people he manages to bribe into getting him sensitive information he can use to access important computer systems. His targets are usually disgruntled workers he spots in various social media circles that he gets buddy buddy with. Sometimes, with the careful deployment of social engineering tactics, he can get the information he needs without spending a single cent. -His expertise is in cryptoware aka he is an expert at creating encryption algorithms that are notoriously difficult or impossible to break. Once he gains access into master data systems he encrypts their information and ransoms the victim for, of course, money in the form of cryptocurrency that will be transferred to a wallet he will immediately get rid of once he distributes the funds. He has a notorious reputation amongst government officials and company executives as they fear him and are unable to track him.

-He is in the process of building a Malware as a Service platform to spread his chaos worldwide while charging people to use his services. -He has attempted to hack into big tech cloud servers to have them mine cryptocurrency but he decides that his pump and dump schemes are a lot more efficient and more in his control. -Of course he has also successfully remotely executed code on other systems. However, he enjoys doing this most to Link and Zelda with stupid scripts like "Making this ad pop up on your screen every 5 minutes with no way to stop it". -He is a mod on both r/cryptocurrency and r/cybersecurity. The other mods hate him because he is incredibly tyrannical but they do not kick him out because he knows too much, both about the topics and about them, while they know little about him. Ruin their reputation online so that they can never mod a subreddit again? Never. -He plays video games. He has never paid for one in his entire life. He owns a gaming server that generates decent revenue.

-Zelda highly suspects that he is the hacker that everyone fears. However she can’t decisively place the blame on him. She consistently grills him on his involvement in cybersecurity discussions. Shifty eyes.

-Blue if he’s doing all this when does he have time to do anything else-HE DOESN’T. He’s on the computer all day. He orders a lot of delivery. He works out for exactly one hour a day to maintain his skills.

I CAN GO ON BUT ITS THE GIST OF IT

#ganonthots

[archersxartxblog]

I Am Emmet, I Am a Watch Dog

Hey new Fic drop.

this one is a crossover between Pokemon Submas and Watch Dogs Legion. Focusing on Emmet.

so this isn't up on A03 yet, mostly because I'm not sure about it just yet. If I'm able to get the second chapter of it done, I'll post it there. I chose to go with a legion storyline because it allows me to kind of have Emmet in the action and learn about stuff with the reader. I have changed stuff so that it takes place in the Pokemon universe.

this will probably be a little more adult than some of my other stuff. so there will be swearing, take of drug/alcohol use and there will be violence.

everything will be kept under the cut so it's not in everyone's face.

Summary:

While Ingo has ended up in Sinnoh's far Past, Emmet has ended up in Unova's far future with no memory of who he is or where he's from, Where Nimbasa City has suffered serval horrible bombing attacks causing the region of Unova to be put under the strict control of a Mercenary group known as Albion. After being taken in by the local resistance group Dedsec, Emmet and his mentor, an eccentric mask-wearing man who calls himself The Wrench, must not only free Unova from Albion's control but find out who was behind the Nimbasa bombs.

----

(Hope you all enjoy this little prologue. and let me know if you want to see more of this.)

He was Emmet.

He was a Subway boss.

And his head hurt verrrry badly.

A wet nose came close to his cheek, sniffing him closely before releasing a loud bark, drawing the attention of someone nearby.

“Houndoom, which di you-Hey! we got someone over here!” a voice called out, loud and echoing, causing a throb to shoot through his skull with every word. “Holy shit! They're still alive!”

More footsteps came, but Emmet couldn’t be sure how many people were there now. His whole world was nothing but pain and he could hardly think let alone move.

“He’s got one of the uniforms on, do you think-”

“No way, probably some vagrant that’s been hiding out down here. Probably found one of the old uniforms and used it to keep warm.”

“Doesn’t look like he has an Opkit either.”

“Bind his hands and get a Machoke in here to take him up to one of the cars, then search the place to see if anyone else is hiding down here.”

Within moments, Emmet was roughly grabbed around the wrists and he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs against his skin. Then he was passed off and carried away by a pair of large hands that could only belong to the Superpower Pokemon, only to be dumped a few minutes later into the back seat of a car. 

Alone.

He was Emmet.

He was Subway.

And he had no clue as to what was happening.

One moment he and his brother had been checking on a disturbance in the tunnels. then the next thing he knew he was in pain and unable to open his eyes, being dragged away by people who didn’t seem to know who he was.

And worse…

There was no sign of Ingo anywhere.

One of the doors to the car opened and close, and Emmet felt the car shift slights as someone got in.

A Key was turned and the engine roared to like.

“Dispatch. This is unit 1832, en route to holding center 83 with a possible vagrant found at Gear Station Bombsight. The subject is unconscious and heavily injured, and is without an Optik. We found him dressed in one of the old uniforms.”

“Possible Dedsec connection, Unit 1832?”

“Can’t confirm.”

“Understood. Holding Center 83 is waiting for your arrival.”

“Over and out.”

Slowly the car started to move, pulling away from where it was parked and then moving forward toward its destination. 

He was Emmet.

He was a Subway Boss.

And he verrrry disliked cars.

It was a slow drive, one that felt like hours to the Subway boss in the back seat, but soon all that changed.

The car had stopped moving for a bit, a red light Emmet had guessed, the moment they started to move forward again the car lurched forward and the front tires squealed but the vehicle was unable to gain any ground.

"What the!" The driver sounded confused and almost panicked as he tried to once again try to force the car to move. "Shit!"

Something hard hit the side of the car, causing it to shake, and Emmet heard the sound of claws scraping against metal. 

"Dispatch! I need backup! I've got hostiles attacking the car!"

"Unite 1832, what is your location?"

"I'm at the intersection between Main and- Oh Fuck! It's Aidon Pierce! It's the Zoroark!"

"Unite 1832 do not engage do not engage, backup is on its way."

The car shook again hard as something threw its weight against its side again. Emmet heard the tires screech again as the car started to speed forward.

"Fuck that. Like hell, I'm sticking around. What the fuck does Dedsec want with this guy that they'd send Aiden funding Pierce out to- What the Fuck Is That!"

The brakes screamed.

And Emmet managed to open his eyes just in time to see the seat in front of him grow closer just before his head slammed into it…

And everything went dark.

—

"Are you sure we should be moving him before Sean and Jackson get here with the Ambulance?"

"And just leave him in the smoking car? Are you serious? This hunk of junk could go up at any moment."

"And who's fault is that?"

"Hey! You're the one who told me to 'stop the car'!"

"So you got Miraidon to hit it with a discharge, and then slammed it with your hammer?"

"It was in the middle of an intersection."

"Wait…I think his coat is caught on something. Help me get him out of it."

"Nah, that'll fuck up his back. I got a knife, I'll just cut it."

"Hurry. I hear Albion reinforcements coming our way."

"There. Get 'em in your car and head towards my hideout, while me and Miraidon give these bootboys the run-around."

"I'll get Bagley to send Sean and Jackson that. Try not to get shot."

—

"So how bad is he?"

"Well goodness is there does seem to be any damage to his back or neck, so you and Aiden got lucky there. And only a few minor brakes in his arms."

“And his head?”

“Aside from the broken nose, I’m seeing some serious damage around his temple. Don’t think it’s all Wrench’s fault-”

“Oh Thank Fucking Arceus.”

“But it certainly didn’t help. Sadly without the proper equipment, I can’t tell how bad it is. If he at least had an Optik we could have Bagley keep an eye on his vitals…”

“We could-”

“No way. I know the rest of us were technically forced into getting an Optik but at least we had the illusion of consent. We’re not gonna rip this guy’s privacy away just to make our lives easier.”

“But-”

“I don’t care, this is my hideout and I say no.”

“I agree with Wrench on this one. The last thing we want to do is screw around with someone's optical nerves while they’re out cool.”

“I’ll run out and see if I can’t scrounge up some drugs and equipment we can use.”

“Right, I’ll message you if I can think of anything we might need.”

—

“Hey…Uncle Aiden? You said it Albion dragged him out of the ruins of Gear Station. Do you think he might actually be a survivor of the Bombings?”

“Can’t say. He would have had to of been living in those ruins for the past two years. Seems unlikely. But if he is, he might have seen who did it.”

“That could help us clear our name.”

“We’ll have to ask him when he wakes up.”

“Where do you think he got the old Subway boss uniform?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen a uniform like that in 33 years.”

—

A groan escaped his lips as he started to slip back into consciousness, his mind slow to start up like a steam engine whose furnace was just being lit.

There was a pain in his head but it was nothing more than a dull ache, but still, he slowly brought a hand to his temple only to find his head completely covered in thick bandages.

“Wha-”

Slowly he pushed himself up with his free hand, grunting slightly with effort, and looked around the room. 

It was fairly dark, the light-fixures attached to the walls around him not really producing much light, the brightest spot seemed to be the workbench a few feet from the bed he was lying in. but even then he could see wires and tools and boxes littering the floor, or hanging from the ceiling, the walls were covered in graffiti from pictures to writing. A rug was thrown on the floor that looked covered in paint.

There were no windows to see out of, there was hardly a door that separated the rooms, just a half wall that looked like someone had knocked it down in a brutal fashion. Even the bed he was in, wasn’t a bed, but a pile of mattresses tossed on top of one another.

What there was, was a table and chair next to his ‘bed’ with what looked to be the contents of a first aid kit, spread out across its surface.

He had no clue where he was but it seemed like someone had found him and taken care of him at the very least.

Suddenly he heard movement from just past the wall, the sound of metal clanking against cement growing closer and closer until a head poked out from around the corner.

It was repetition in nature, though it looked to have been made of iron, with the top of its head looking to be made out of some kind of black material, its eyes were a bright blue but looked digital.

“H-hello.” he greeted, his voice quiet and rough sounding like he had not spoken in some time.

“Oh, Shit!” there was suddenly a voice from the other room and he heard someone scrambling to get up, followed by quick footsteps that came to a sliding stop. “Your awake!”

A masked person stood at the end of his ‘bed’ panting heavily and clad only in a pair of loose pants. His body was covered in what looked to be a random assortment of tattoos, the only clear one he could make out was the word Wrench just below his navel. He was unable to see the person’s face but something told him that they were shocked to see him awake, with it be the two large circles displayed just where their eyes would have been, their body language or maybe he was just good at reading people.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay? Wait…fuck. Forget that. That was dumb.” The person spoke again, shaking their head as they cut themselves off. The spiked mask flicked quickly through what appeared to be different icons. “Course, he’s not feeling great, Wrench, he just woke up after being out for almost a week. 

Hold on, they gave me questions I’m supposed to ask you.” they wandered over towards the workbench, tossing things off with little care for where they landed, the whole time muttering to themselves as they looked. “Now where the fuck did I up that clipboard?”

The sound of clanking metal once more drew his attention, and he looked up in time to see the Pokemon from before walking up behind the person. Its whole body was now in view allowing his muddled mind to be able to recognize it as some kind of dragon type. 

It walked up to the human, a clipboard in its mouth and carefully nudged its trainer to get their attention. 

“Huh? Oh! Thanks, bud!” clipboard now retrieved, the person…Wrench he thought he heard him call themselves, picked up the chair next to the bed flip it around and sat down; leaning heavily over the back of the chair.

“Okay, so for starts you were in a car crash that was totally no one's fault but the driver’s. Aiden said you were already out of it before then so, I won’t bother asking about any of that,” they explained, looking at him with a pair of Xs instead of eyes. “Question One! What is your name?”

“I am Emmet,” he answered quickly the answer coming to him easily.

“Nice! Just gonna mark that one off. I’m Wrench, by the way, encase you didn’t get that from my deranged ramblings. And that beast over there is Miraidon, My partner in crime.” Wrench introduced himself and the pokemon, ticking off the question on the clipboard. “Next Question. What is your occupation?”

This was an easy one too.

“I am a-” but nothing came. It felt like it had been there a moment ago like he could just reach out and touch it, but then it just slipped through his fingers. “I-I…I don’t know.”

“Ah…don’t worry about it. Next question. You gave me a first name, How about a Last name?”

Emmet tried to wrack his brain for an answer, but nothing came. 

And after waiting a few minutes without an answer Wrench simply shrugged. “Phbbbbb, Who needs a last name? Maybe you're like Cher.” Emmet felt like this was meant to make him laugh or to make him feel better, but the brief flash of upward slashes on the mask seemed to show that even Wrench found this lack of information worrying.

“How about the current Year?”

Emmet shook his head.

“Any idea who the current champion is?”

He paused, feeling like he should know this one, but once more it just came up blank.

Why?

Why couldn’t he remember anything?

His hands shook as he carefully grasped at the bandages around his head.

“Any friends? Or family we might be able to call?” Wrench wasn’t even looking at the clipboard anymore.

Once more Emmet tried to search for an answer, only seeming to get a feeling of missing someone close to him.

Fleeting images of a man in black with a stern face.

A choked sob escaped his lips, and a hand landed on his should, giving him a soft squeeze. 

“Hey. we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

#Submas #subway boss emmet #pokemon fanfiction #watch dogs legion #Wrench #reginald blechman #Crossover #fan fic #let me know if your interested in this #I'm probably the only on who wants to see this kind of crossover #story under the cut #cursing

[zombtropolis-central]

Pre-amble: I sometimes make character mods for Don’t Starve Together, I’ve made two so far based on my OCs, and because PvZ still occupies my tiny pea-brain I’ve been considering making one for Super Brains (and maybe Zomboss, if I can figure out how to draw his wack-ass head) so have my rambling thoughts on how such a mod would work. None of this is going to make sense if you’ve never played Don’t Starve or Plants vs Zombies.

If I did make a mod for ol Supes the hardest part aside from figuring out if I should go through the trouble of adding his cape in some fashion would be writing his dialogue. My most hated part of the mod creation process is making custom dialogue in the speech file because: A) Making a full unique speech file with unique dialogue takes forever because every item in the game can be inspected with something that character has to say about said item. Most character mods don’t bother and either directly lift another character’s speech file (usually Wilson’s) and edit it here and there. I’ve done that, and it still takes what feels like an eon; and while you can get rid of some strings (like I get rid of the ‘Gorge’ and ‘Forge’ strings because those are events you can’t play now without mods so why bother keeping them) you’re gonna wanna keep most of them. B) DST is a game that’s still getting updates that add new content, so you’re gonna have to update that adds new content (said this in a DS server i’m in, but every time a new update comes in I groan because that means I have to update my mods’ speech files) Dialogue would be tricky because the only time Super Brains has really exhibited a personality was in the GW adaptation comic where he only briefly showed up near the end, and since I don’t have access to any newer comics, I don’t know if he’s a regular character in the comic series after the GW adaptation, so writing dialogue for him would be a chore. (I suppose I could lean into how his wiki says he believes he’s in an 80s action movie all the time, similar to how Wigifrid is always acting like she’s in a stage play? I dunno)

As for how he would play and what quirks he’d have:

He’s similar to pre-refresh Wolfgang where he’s a high damage dealer who needs a lot of food to be strong (I hope the way to code that in is easy, if I can’t figure it out I’ll merely give him 2x damage with a fast hunger drain)

Can eat monster foods without penalty similar to Webber (sadly can’t code in brains)

Doesn’t lose sanity during the evening and night as a creature accustomed to darkness. (no night vision though)

Like Wortox and Webber, Super Brains is considered a monster, as a walking talking corpse should be, and will be attacked by Pigs, Bunnymen, and Catcoons.

Now why consider making a mod like this?

A) PvZ brainrot. I could just stop there if I wanted to, honestly.

B) I’ve been teaching myself coding, and doing a mod without using the ‘Extended Sample Character’ would be a nice exercize.

C) A lot of character mods in DST aren’t weird enough. Not knocking these people (I know a lot of these people are beginners like me who just wanna play as their OCs) but so many of the character mods use the same body shape and after a while they all kind blend in to me. (doesn’t help 75% of them are anime characters) So I was like “Welp, might as well get weird with it.”

If I do make the mod maybe I’ll post it to the workshop. I dunno if there’s a lot of PvZ fans who are also DST players. But yeah, autistic brain dump over, i dont expect this to get any notes lmao. I’m going to bed now.

#pvz #modding #this is just pure autism brain infodumping on my sideblog like every other post here #dst