#im so bad at drawing robots what am i doing to myself

[almalvo]

About An Official Spiderverse Artist...

Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.

If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.

But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:

I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.

So here I am.

And I got something to say about a certain "artist".

There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.

Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).

There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.

If you have seen this:

Then you have seen this artist before.

His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.

He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.

Yes. Former.

Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.

You may have also seen this character before:

Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".

Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.

I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.

BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:

Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).

13. year. old. child.

This man only sees east asian women this way.

He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--

and young.

Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:

Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.

Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.

And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -

His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.

His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.

They look as creepy as they are.

But the scariest part?

While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.

And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.

And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.

So yeah.

I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.

My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.

Keep away.

Do not support this man.

But the decision is ultimately yours.

Stay awake, yall.

-------

(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):

scary.

#have your truth but do not go harass this guy #jodido pedazo de mierda. #alberto mielgo #reblog to spread the word #likes dont do a lot #stay awake. #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanart #into the spider verse #ATSV #ITSV #spiderman #spiderverse #concept art #art #psa #artists to block #marvel #sony #animation #pinkman_himself #love death and robots #netflix #im fucking tired of this shit. #dont miss this man for his artstyle - just take his artstyle for yourself and make it your own. #if you are a decent human being #you are already leagues better than this shite could ever be. #just take his technique and make it better by making it your own. thats it. #we wont miss you mielgo. #bai.

[frecklystars]

im gonna start making doodles trying to reclaim my TF F/Os that i've lost, maybe once a week or once every two weeks... or once a month?? i dont know, i will try to keep some consistency but i really need to start slow on this. here's to hoping that drawing them every once in a while will make even just the smallest difference.

im so sick of associating these characters with my abuser and i'm so sick of the immediate fight or flight response that i get when just looking at pictures of TF characters or even the voice actors. i have tried just about everything... therapy, medication, exercise, watching a few clips from the shows, buying cameos, commissioning art/fics, talking to voice actors in person at conventions... nothing has helped me get better at all. i tried giving up on TF entirely, throwing out/giving away all of my TF merch, refusing to touch the franchise, but that has only made me more and more miserable as time has passed. it has been over a year since [insert the most horrific experiences ever here] happened to me and since i associated that with a long list of things, TF included. and im! sick! of feeling bad! so! if im gonna be miserable no matter what, then i might as well try to get better, right?? drawing my F/Os loving me has never failed me before, so here's to hoping it isn't gonna fail me now. i am quite the stubborn bitch and i refuse to allow my main coping mechanism i've used for 2 decades to remain tainted forever and ever 😤😤

these will be the shakiest, shittiest doodles imaginable, but i think drawing the robots i miss so much at least once a month can help me rewire my brain into believing they're safe again and they love me and i'm not in danger. i think the best thing that will help me is drawing my Ryan F/Os interacting with them as "proof" that they're safe to be around, that they've "approved of" them, will help me slowly reclaim them. fake it til you make it as they say. let's try this for maybe just a couple of months as a slow start and see how it goes :/

any TF doodles will be tagged as "reclaiming robots tag" and nothing else - free to blacklist it if you dont wanna see. i'll most likely be rarely posting these but jic //shrug

anyway. yay. attempts number one and two. i like to think barbie and ken stop by the starflower meadow every now and then because stsc summons them across the multiverse, asking them how i'm doing, if i'm safe, if i miss him at all. wow i am shaking so bad. ha ha haaa. these took about ten?? minutes?? so woohoo to ten minutes of drawing TF. im proud of myself for trying. even if i dont go through with this and end up not being able to draw TF ever again, at least i managed this one single post. if i keep this up, maybe a year from now, or two years or five years or whatever, i'll be able to handle it. i don't even expect to hyperfixate on TF ever again because my self shipping will never ever be the same w/ them -- i'll never interact with the fandom again, i'll never reblog fanart or gifsets or anything like that ever again, if i even somehow managed to feel good enough to actually throw myself back into the shows -- but i want to think i'll feel indifferent to it one day. to not have that fight or flight response. that is my goal. literally the bare fucking minimum <3

anyway. i'm super nauseous. this is so incredibly hard! holy shit!!! but that's why i have to do this. to quote pedro pascal, i am going to have a panic attack and i am going to leave 👍✨

(BTW I am still gonna stay offline for a few more days. I am back from vacation but I am SO burnt out I don't want to interact with dms/my inbox yet. I just wanted to post this just to get it out of my system and let it disappear into the void. But I will be back later this week bc I still have some commissions to finish and I wanna gush about my very exciting time meeting steve/tom/the brba cast. anyway... goodnight. i love you. smooch)

#reclaiming robots tag

[cannibal-nightmares]

howdy, im cannibal-nighmares, i am/was/am a professional artist, amateur music critic, and literary hobbyist. I draw professor franken stein from soul eater quite a lot. I do not have a consistent-enough temperament to describe myself in words, but my principles remain the same: Do no harm, take no shit.

sometimes i post about the lived schizophrenic experience. i post entirely for the purpose of psychoanalytical observation, to share the perspective of what it's like, and to resonate with like-minded people. unless i explicitly state otherwise, i do not want any semblance of your pity. if you seek further understanding, i am open to questions, but know that my experience does not speak for or reflect everyone else's.

I never judge books by their cover and hold a grain of salt to everything before giving out ultimatums; in other words, I leave judgement to my own experience and not the opinions of others. I am known to be cautious, aloof, and skeptical. I am notorious for going radio-silent without any given notice. Nothing personal. Bad wiring. I believe in pure talent and pure spite equally, though my opinion shouldn't change what you do with your passions, so long as you are truly devoted. my only real goals in life are to rewrite the stigma around schizophrenia and to write fiction novels. ...and maybe make a bunch of fan art on the in-between.

uuuuhhhh other stuff ive seen in ppl's pinned posts that I am even less formal about:

my tags are #my art, #cannibal-nightmares rambles, #cannibal's music, #actually schizophrenic, #actually schizospec, #actually psychotic, #my fanfic, #my gifs among a few others.

as for content warnings, i try my best to tag for flashing lights/images (a sensitivity of my own), unreality, depictions of hallucinations, indiscernible voices, scopophobia, and gore. i find comfort in creepy shit, what can i say?

i like a lot of things, but my primary obsessions are Soul Eater (anime and manga), Hannibal (the entire franchise), Maniac (2018), House MD, and "The Boys Next Door" (1996). other big favourites include Fargo (FX), Mr. Robot, Better Call Saul, "Re-Animator" (1985), Arcane, True Detective, "Donnie Darko" (2001), "Ghost World" (2001), "Trainspotting" (1996, 2016) and much more. and sooo much music. So much music.

my (anon) asks are always open. send me a song or a question or a headcanon, if you dare. my response time means genuinely absolutely nothing, by the way, I might be the worst and most inconsistent reply in the world.

i'll probably end up making a schizophrenic storytime-type masterlist somewhere, sometime.

wow you made it this far. have some songs:

[ loathe - tool - circuit circuit - tear dungeon ]

peace, love, and anarchy.

cannibal.

#pinned post #this pin will come and go cause ehhhhhh

[medicalunprofessional]

Hello ! Hope this ask finds you well & I hope you dont mind it as I simply just needed to get some words out , so you know just how much your words are valued&taken to heart.

Most of my pieces are rather 'simplistic'(?) in nature and focus hard on self-expression - I believe it is the best way of making art , especially for someone brainsick like me , whom can't focus much on art otherwise or just likes to express their feelings. Express their Soul , as I like to say it ... And well , I tend to talk about this often , I think , but I really do put parts of my soul into a lot of my art. Especially my 'messier' , more 'abstract' art. Art where I just do fuck all , capiche? And seeing it be so ... appreciated , so much , like that ... Well , I'll just let you know I definitely sobbed a little ! In the best way possible though of course HAHA Tears come to me quite easily so it's normal for me. But really. Thank you so much. There was a reason I tagged that art with just one tag - my own tag. My thoughts went something like this : "Well , it's just some quick messy scribbles ... It's not like much people will see it , or be interested in it , anyway ...". But ... Your tags changed that mindset a bit , I feel. It might be 'just some scribbles' , but it's still got a feel in it , still got a value , doesn't it ... ?

Apolocheese for going full on Rambling-Mode in here ... !!!!! Hope this makes you realize just how much compliments can change someones day , someones mind , someones soul ... & It's fascinating just how much you changed mine. From the bottom of my heart , once again - Thank you for appreciating my art : ) ! People like you keep me going , doing what I do ! ( And also - I encourage you to loosen up on your own art as well , absolutely !!!!! It's so SO freeing once you do. It's totally worth it !!!!!!!!!!!!!! )

RRARFFGHHH!!! YYYESS!!! most inndeedd.. bestie…. art truly… rhe highest form of art to me is the kind that really evokes emotion…… and im glad! so ahppy! unable to word tbe emotions… it reallt is amZinf.. qqqqq….. aaAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!! and soul is a good way to put it… that little part of the art that really evokes… you..? the thing thay makes it your art style.. in a way.. YAHHHH…!!!!!! so glad we could share an art moment together…. many more to come…

art isnt a job to me. its fun. art is having fun. i want to make art because its fun. and i like doing it. and i want to express something i felt needed to exist. and i create to spark joy. i hope people will be inspired by the simple tools i use. and i just draw whatever the damn fucked i want.. i dont want money. i want to make people happy and make myself happy…

also random thought but i just realized how opposite our art is in some ways from eachother..?? one simple, the other focused on maintaining weird small details and anatomy and mechanical accuracy (my autistic ass making sure the internals of robots are functional looking and that their casings would allow free movement broke free oops)

jumping with joy.. srry if tjis is incoherent i am bad at talking when it comes 2 text posts… chew (it is still really hot oher here and my brain feels like liquid)

#ah! long post from a real gamer…. #vicarious #cheering u from the sideliens apperciating ur weirdest doodles gamer….. #every day the urge to forgoe lineart and just go full painting gets stronger #everyone needs 2 see this i thinked #hugging u #with my mind #you have to imagine it #psychically embracing you #sorry #sorry for introducing the bad north carolina energy into your place of residence /lhj #we need more abstract art imo

[jatlokgwo]

for @rainbow-strawberry-sherbert!!

i have no idea how to start this rip (dd= disassembly drone)

i useally say that am xiao and a dissasembally drone but im more concepts then anything else it goes

consepts: small flying dangerous flexable tail multiple forms/run like a dog and grab like a human watcher listener endless job to do

base: raptor birds (-> peregrine falcons) fennec foxes

2: demon (-> xiao is considered a demon adeptus and another word for dd is sky demon) feathery wings sharp teeth

3 (vaguely but there): otters finchs western dragons/wof sandwing scaramouche

"in view": adeptus xiao generic dissasembally/worker drone hybrid S (my kinsona) i like to show myself as a fennec like with the gifs

species by accosiation: ADEPTUS cat bees (-> friend called me minecraft bee coded) wolf dog theres a version of S thats uninfected any au

xiao is the minimum that you need to know to understand and before i had things to latch onto i jumped around sonas alot it was stressful and i only made things worse by interrogating myself witch is why i said to not think about it so hard and just draw whats fun =-= i found out im a drone by making a sona and then the sona feeling way more real then other sonas/ocs like chengcuo i was just bein silly ^^

sometime its also neurodivergent stuff (???) i cant understand facial expressions so i either exadurat them or dont really emote (i promise you that the xiaos are diffrent pictures)

colors and color coding is also important to me!!!!!!

am small and can fly but am kinda flightless when xiao sits down his ingame model doesnt reach the floor and dds are kinda tall but i look more like a worker drone with dd features and there both short to avrege humans as xiao i had wings and a bird form (can fly) but i lost them when a dream-god ripped of my wings and dds have retractable wings but copper 9 has a constant death storm happeneing that acts like a blizzard so id rather walk and do my silly jumps sjchd

its also a comfort thing!!! im a bird adeptus without wings or a bird form as a dd im a living wepon every even if the dream god tore them again dds can regen our heads i will have wings again in like a minute and if i really want to hen its awkward but of i angle it right there strong enough to break other drones caseing (my wings as xiao where normal feathers my life has also been almost constant trauma and i would pretend to use finchy looking wings to hide or hug myself and playing genshin was our escape we where still plural and we would listen to alot of genshin asmr and i think thats how i formed as a fictive) i think its also linked to my hyperfixation on md and my main comfort charater right now being a N (hes the yellow dd in the gif and my pfp :3)

ive also been gaslit and a defining part of being a dd is that you used to be a normal worker drone before you got infected with the absolute solver and it did some mlp infection stuff and messed with our memories theres a whole episode about it (cw for robot gore flashing lights anf 1 line of ablism against narcissists if you click the link its the episode) having anatonamy instead of wanting it is still kinda new to me theres a theme with them about how xiao was enslaved as a wepon for the dream-god and dds arnt supposed to be unique but xiao gets to be a person and the dds are unique anyways that i resonate alot with to its nice to see the systems that let the bad things happen be villians instead of when i tell people that the thing that hurt me was school and they try to find reasons why it was my fault

(hopfully this make sense brain wont give me anything else for now but if i think if something ill add it!! and if you have questions i can do my best to awnser them!!!!)

#pup talks #我

[cyberdragoninfinity]

*stokes the fire* Aporia

thinking about that tweet that's like "i like your funny reply friend! you'll be buried in my pyramid with me when i die"--that's how i feel with you delightful anons who give me excuses to Go Bananas About Aporia. said with so much love in my heart. thank you <3

favorite thing about them: GOD. THERE REALLY IS SO MUCH. Of course I love his design, it's absolutely bonkers in the best way--if you told me two years ago there was a nine foot tall monster robot yugioh character with angel symbolism out the ass i would have been like EXCUSE ME. HELLO. *RUNNING OVER* but also!! his arc is just fucking GOOD. he's just this sad and complex and angry and miserable old old old man in a robot werelion body who's actually three people who are actually just one person. peak yugioh villain nonsense i absolutely adore it. and i LOVE when villains have the face turn and fight back against the Big Bad as much as they can. it goes hard!!! (but also, specific small thing thats one of my favorite things about him--it's like, very implied despite being Gigantic he's fairly dexterous and gentle with how he handles things?? Always grabbing his tiny cards very delicately and doings little tricks with them and in tag force 6 (Citizen Kane for Insane Aporia Girlies) he actively tells you the protagonist that he doesnt make mistakes with how much force to use with things (being a machine and all.) idk it's just very cute to me. it's a sweet detail.)

least favorite thing about them: pained smile. big man proper's literally only in.....about 9-10 episodes total??? <:) crying. wailing. my kingdom for a SLIVER of more screentime. it's also a shame like. 2/3s of his episodes never got dubbed, I would have absolutely adored to see what the dubbed version would have looked like!! (especially since those eps include like. my Favorite 5ds duels. it'd be like having two whole cakes babey!!!!)

favorite line: ok im restraining myself from picking something from Tag Force because all of his dialogue in TF6 makes me sick in the head and i love it but I WILL PICK. SOMETHING FROM THE ANIME. LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. god. it's gotta be these.

also "I was imprisoned by my feelings, so you can have my feelings" which he says immediately before this, also to Z-ONE. A.) theyre just raw as hell, B.) ooohhhh my god ohhhh my fucking godddddd he loved him so fucking muuuuuch buy my fucking SILENCE

brOTP: when people draw him being friends with leo and/or luna i get soooooo soft ;_____; my kingdom for an AU where aporia got to live and could interact with them for once not under the pretenses of needing to Kill Team 5Ds. WAUUGH. also i guess brotp adjacent but him interacting with his embodiments is so fucking funny and it's apparently just me and the tag force devs who see and know the truth on that.

OTP: ooouugh...oughhhhh you Know im talking bout those old old men!!!!! i am #1 absolute adorer of the Iliaster Four Stars Peepaw Polycule (Aporia/Z-one/Paradox/Antinomy) we know this we know this. but special mention to my most favorite combo of that of all, my beloved Z-ONE/Aporia. see above. it doesnt even have a damn ship name 🤪they just!!!! make me absolutely fucking insane. theyre married theyre divorced theyre god and his most devoted archangel theyre old friends theyre a Fleetwood Mac album and theyre EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!! the second i get over worrying about being annoying i will Not shut up about them even more!!!!!

nOTP: i think if you ship with rua/leo you should go to jail and then directly to hell immediately after <3

random headcanon: Aporia Aporiaaaa my beloved bisexual italian/cuban autistic nonbinary dadgirl. i think in another life where he wasnt Extremely Fucked Up and Died Like Five Times he could have been good with kids. also. i think in the implied fixed future where the Four Stars get to live normally he would be a furry. him and eurea both. furcon couple

unpopular opinion: he's a GOOD CHARACTER!!!! HE AND THE EPISODES HE'S IN HAVE MERIT!!!!!! NOBODY BUT LIKE MAYBE 12 PEOPLE GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THIS GUY BUT HE ROCKS AND I THINK MORE PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW ABOUT HIM!!!!!!! drawing my big sword (draw tablet) I Will Make Them Know About Him. >:)c

song i associate with them: i, dana "the mountain goats lover" ninetales of course. keep finding tmg songs to associate with characters. And Genesis 30:3 is one of my favorite songs for Aporia, especially re: his dynamic with Z-ONE. "I will do what you ask me to do/Because of how I feel about you." IS SO!!! MUFFLED WAILING.

favorite picture of them: oh man. *slams my giant briefcase of aporia screenshots down on the table* ok. ok let's see. just ONE favorite? alright. ok. i got this. hm. this one i think

A.) aaauuughh i love his 'broken' form i need to draw it sometimes....the Moment energy lines...... B.) TINY TINY FUCKING CARDS!!!!, C.) this is from the exact moment where something in my brain clicked and was like "oh. oh this guy is in my head now for real. maybe i do fuck with his design" and. well. things snowballed <3

#IM SO FUCKING SORRY I HAD. A LOT TO SAY <3 YOU KNOW HOW IT IS #ygo posting #asks #anonymous #wooouughhh waauughhh i love him so fucking much. i could talk about him for another 40438543 posts #aporia my beautiful massive babygirl. my monster truck. my miserable industrial sized freezer #iliasterliker9000

[anandasamsara]

Update and a bit of an anxious rant:

I guess I got the job?? Like, they didn't gave me a contract yet, but im still on testing week bc i started on Thursday. It's good enough tho, the work is simple and repetitive. And there's things to do the whole day, so not much time to get sleepy even if im bored.

Also, im gonna be able to try to table at the big events here! Which is very fucking cool as hell. I got someone to share a table with for the local one, and i can try a half table at the biggest one. I also took today to organize for next week's event, just a few extra things to get ready.

One other unbelievable development is that my friend is giving me her old ipad. Its has a white mark on the screen but still functions perfectly. It will come complete with the pen and everything.

Im VERY lost tho, bc all my dreams are coming true and im suspicious of what may come after.

And now, the rant: im happy to have a job, an easy enough one. It is good. And I don't know why im feeling anxious about it. It may be the lack of socialization these last few years, or my own anxiety, or whatever. But for some reason I feel bad? Like, deep down I don't actually want to work? Im thankful for it, i am! I just feel weird. I think I'd actually feel better if i could work from home. I feel... Conflicted. The idea of having a job is both appealing and not. I'll ask my friend, who works there and was the one who indicated me, to give me daily, very clear instructions, bc i don't feel able to act on my own. I do prefer to have direct instructions and be told exactly what to do. I don't want responsibility in an office environment, bc i feel like a robot. I don't want to draw attention to myself. I don't even want to be promoted or anything. I can't feel really happy or fulfilled like that. I just want to be paid, is all. I know i sound ungrateful already talking shit about a job that's not even officially official yet. But yeah, im just there for the money, I don't want to give myself to a boring, repetitive office job. Guess I do know why i feel bad. Hope my therapist is back this week, i need to talk it out with a professional, and a real person, not just throw it out to the void online. But this does help.

[gatorseverywhere]

Vent! Feel free to ignore this.

So, a few days ago i saw something on twt that was sorta like 'people who enjoy valveplug and nsfw and stuff about robots from a show made for kids are weird, but good for u if you know how to hide it from the public eye, ig' or something along those lines.

Like, I know i shouldn't care abt someone elses opinion, and no hate to the person who tweeted that, but now i feel like i gotta explain why i am the way i am.

I am hypersexual, and i hate it. I was exposed to porn at a young age, and now i just consume that sort of media as if it were normal. I resent myself for that, because as a kid i knew i shouldn't be looking at that stuff, even if i wasn't 100% sure why, i just knew it was bad, but i looked anyway cause it intrigued me.

Then i found amino. A friend of mine had introduced me to undertale and amino, so naturally, i downloaded undertale amino. I was young and didn't know you could rp nsfw, but boy oh boy, my mind was blown.

So then i started to learn that there was porn of this thing i really liked! Even though it was fiction, it still intrigued me.

I feel slightly better whenever i realize 'hey, at least im not sexualizing real people' but then, im just like 'man, i must be a creep, even if its fiction'. Boom, my mental state is in a downward spiral.

I'm not trying to justify it, because i know its unhealthy and i need professional help because i think it could be considered an addiction.

Anyway, i just needed this out somewhere. Ik i shouldn't run to the internet for all my solutions, but therapy isnt cutting it bc im too scared to mention these sort of things.

If you struggle like me and find yourself in a bad mental state, don't so what i do, i strongly encourage asking for help, especially if you don't like the way your brain thinks.

I do think it is healthy to be curious about sexuallity, even if you confide in fiction. If you're an nsfw artist/writer, unless you draw/write illegal shit, keep doing you, and dont listen to other ppls opinions like i did.

I ask for no pity, like i said i just needed to write and post this somewhere. I will still be talking about ValvePlug from time to time bc like i said, i enjoy it. I just gotta learn not to listen to what people think.

[spaceraceart]

so im not much of a deltarune shipper, but spamton x queen has to be my favorite crack ship of all time asdghjads. its the pathetic man x girlboss dynamic for me

#deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #queen #queen deltarune #art #fanart #giga queen #spamton neo #spamqueen #queenton #spamton x queen #im so bad at drawing robots what am i doing to myself #my neo still has detached limbs its just really hard to see asghdjgadsh #gigaqueen and sneo would have a very interesting dynamic i think.... #oh yeah and i dont subscribe to the acid theory so thats not an issue here asgdhjagdsh #utdr

[vigilvntes]

Bruises - Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader (Star Wars)

A/N: the way i had the opening of this in my drafts for ages and then at the big time of 2am i decided i wanted to rewrite the whole thing and get it published ;) i’m so much more motivated to write than usual when i should be doing uni work but oh well more kylo content for you guys <33 inbox is always open for requests while im actually writing so feel free to send and i hope you enjoy <33

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: mentions of minor injuries. 

You walked out of the casino, wincing as the harsh evening winds hit your bare arms. The dress you wore did little to nothing to protect you from the weather, but the last thing you expected to be doing was leaving the venue in search of your date.

Canto Bight was never your favourite place. In your opinion, it was filled with sleazes, who only came to the city for three things: money, booze and sex. However, you were the daughter of a noble family and despite your wishes, your family often sent you along to the gatherings they were expected to attend, assuming that you would fit in with the crowd more than they would. They thought you’d enjoy the party, enjoy the alcohol, even the attention you often seemed to draw to yourself. How wrong they were.

However, there was always one saving grace to evenings like these: Commander Kylo Ren, of the First Order.

The two of you weren’t official, as much as you would like to be. You understood that he had work to do, with his grandfather leaving big boots to fill, he barely had time to sleep, let alone date. But for some strange reason, you were different. You caught his attention, and he made sure to make time for you, whether that meant attending parties and events with you, or simply going out of his way to visit you, if only for an hour. 

Truthfully, you had spent many nights lying awake, tears in your eyes as you thought about your future, which you hoped would be with Kylo. Would he eventually ask you to be his girlfriend? Would he want to marry? To him, those questions would seem trivial, of no importance. He loved you, and would find ways to show you. But to you they meant a lot, and you were hoping for some kind of answers sometime soon. 

You shook your head as you made your way over to the short wall which surrounded the casino, leaning on it, using your elbows to keep yourself propped up as your head rested in your hand. Your gaze flitted between the city and the body of water beyond, which seemed strangely calm despite the mean winds. For a moment, you forgot about the cold, forgot about why you had even come outside in the first place as you watched the waves slowly made their way towards the shore. 

Your peace was soon interrupted.

A pair of hands snaked around your waist from behind and you let out a yelp, turning around quickly to face whoever had touched you, ready to defend yourself as much as you possibly could. Until you heard that familiar, smug chuckle come from behind a mask. You knew exactly who it was before you.

You rolled your eyes, “Way to make an entrance, Commander.” Despite your annoyance, you truly were happy to see him. Immediately you pulled him towards you and wrapped your arms around him, smiling into his chest as you felt him return the gesture. 

Eventually, you pulled away and narrowed your eyes at the man. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with it. I still have a bone to pick with you.”

Despite how hard he tried to hide it, you heard him sigh lightly underneath the mask and mumble a disgruntled, “Go on.”

“First of all you’re late.”

“(Y/N), I had bus-”

“I’m not finished.” If anyone else spoke to him that way, they would surely be punished. But not you. He allowed you to put him in his place, mainly because he couldn’t ever bring himself to snap at you, but also because he found you too cute when you were pissed off with him.

You took his silence as a go ahead to continue with your rant. “You’re late. Your clothes are ruined. Your helmet still has smoke coming from it. Do I need to continue? How did you even get here? Where have you been?”

“Like I said-”

“Take it off.” You demanded. You were sick of hearing the robotic voice coming from the mask already. You wanted to speak with Kylo, not Commander Ren. 

An almost stunned silence washed over him and he replied to your demand with a quiet, “T-take it off?”

“The helmet, genius. Take it off.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, but eventually he reached his hands up and pulled the helmet from his head, revealing a mop of dark, curly hair, which had grown longer since the last time you saw one another, and just as you had expected, new cuts adorned his face, almost nicking the gauze of the scar he had attained during the destruction of Starkiller. But what really caught your attention was the black eye. 

He simply stared at you, waiting patiently for you to react, prepared to accept anything you threw his way. But for a moment you said nothing, all you could do was sigh.

After a minute, you moved closer to him and reached up, your fingers tracing the scar on his cheek, offering him a small, sympathetic smile, “If I remember correctly, the invitation said black tie, not black eye, Ren.”

Kylo couldn’t help but smile at your comment, and you were glad to hear his deep voice, which you had missed so dearly, reply with, “I must have read it wrong.”

“You wanna tell me how Kylo Ren, Commander of the First Order, has ended up with a black eye?”

His smile dropped at your inquiry to know more about his injuries, and your smile followed suit as you realised exactly what had happened. “It was them, wasn’t it?” You asked.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Kylo. It was the Scavenger and her Resistance friends, wasn’t it?”

His silence said everything. He pushed his tongue into his cheek and looked away from you, almost embarrassed. And truthfully, it was quite embarrassing. He was Commander Ren. He was feared. Respected. Yet he couldn’t even manage to capture and kill a scavenger girl. 

You turned away from him, moving your attention back to the sea, crossing your arms. He knew you were pissed and he’d have to talk his way out of this one somehow. His silence simply wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N). I’m sorry that I turned up so late.” You didn’t even move, let alone reply, so he continued. “And I’m sorry about the state of my attire.” No reply. “And.... I would also like to apologise for the state of my face.” He wasn’t usually one to apologise to anyone, but a genuine apology from him was the only way for him to bounce back from his fuck up’s.

You tried your hardest to keep your composure, but one of the most powerful men in the galaxy apologising for his face was enough to bring a smile to anyone’s lips. “I guess she got you good, huh?”

He came to your side after hearing your joking retort, “You could say that.” He found himself thinking this too often, but if anyone else had mocked him this way he most likely would have destroyed a wall or two. He knew you would never think of him as a failure, or an embarrassment, as many probably did. Your light-hearted jabs at him were mainly for your own comfort. To make light of any bad situation he often found himself in.

You sighed, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You hated how quickly you could melt back into him again, but you couldn’t waste any more precious time you had together being angry or upset, “I just worry about you,”

“I know. But you shouldn’t,” He mumbled. “I can be reckless. I throw myself into danger. But I also come back fine.” He knew to you those words would probably mean nothing, but he was trying his best to comfort you. 

“You make it so hard not to worry. I mean, this war you’ve got going on... It’s so much bigger than you, or me, or the Scavenger girl. And truthfully, I’m scared. Terrified, actually. For you, for me. For my family. For everyone, really.” That was the first time you had ever admitted your fears to him. There was no way he’d give up his title, give up the First Order, but you hoped he’d provide you with a little reassurance that things would be okay. 

His grip on you tightened, not so much that it would hurt you, but enough to know that he felt every word you spoke. “You know I wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you, or anyone you care about. I care about you too much to hurt you like that.” He stepped in front of you and knelt down, taking both of your hands. “As for everything else, I can’t make any promises. No one, not even the Supreme Leader knows what’s coming next. All I can ask is that you trust me enough to make the right choices.”

His words, for some reason you couldn’t quite decipher, felt like they held some hidden meaning. Like he was planning something drastic, or he knew something drastic would happen in the future. But you took these thoughts with a grain of salt, choosing not to press him any further, and instead choosing to trust him, as he asked of you. Squeezing his hand lightly, you offered him a small smile, “Of course I trust you. I’d trust you with my life. Just... Do what’s right. And if it doesn’t feel or seem right then... Don’t.”

He nodded and stood up slowly, “Of course.” After a few moments of peaceful silence shared between the two of you, as you processed each other’s words, he broke it. “You’re going to have my head the next time I see you, I know, but I have to go.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You have to go? As in you’re not staying?”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, and I know I said I’d join you for the night but given how today went, I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“Oh, and where exactly are you supposed to be?” You knew the answer already, and you knew he’d probably be in some deep trouble, you just wanted him to say it himself.

Once again, he pushed his tongue into his cheek before replying with, “The Supremacy.”

Bingo, you thought to yourself. The Supremacy. The Supreme Leader’s ship. And Kylo chose to go out of his way to see you first, prioritising you over his master. You couldn’t help but feel flattered, even though your plans for the night had been ruined. You gave him a small smile, “I suppose because you came to me first, and because I’m almost certain the Supreme Leader is gonna give you a harder time than I ever could, I’ll let this one go,”

“I appreciate that.” He leant down and pressed his lips to yours gently, and when he pulled away, he left another on your forehead. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

As you watched him walk away, towards the steps, you wished you could go with him. Be by his side, be able to see him everyday. Even though you knew that wasn’t exactly possible at the moment, you couldn’t help but ask. Before you could stop yourself, you had called his name, and he, already a few metres away, had turned to look back at you. 

He knew what you were going to ask, and this time his answer was more hopeful than it had been before. He couldn’t tell you what was to come, but he hoped it would work for the both of you.

“Kylo I-.... One day, will you take me with you?”

He nodded his head slowly, and spoke only one word, “Soon.”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fic #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo x you #kylo x reader #ben solo #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren imagine #kylo imagine #star wars imagine #star wars #the last jedi #the force awakens #rise of skywalker #star wars x reader #kylo

[liaswritesrobots]

Hi my name is rex, i’m queer and use they/them pronouns and i’m 16. And i would prefer someone not over the age of 19 plz.

have like a caramel colored skin-tone (i feel like saying im black may be easier but 🤷🏽‍♀️) and im 5’3. Rn i have a purple-pink short mullet and i have pretty curly hair, im pretty chubby but i have an hourglass shape (but i have super noticeable hip dips) , i got pretty big fucking tittes (not even in a bragging way, im a fuckin k cup bro😭) and thicc thighs(thicc thighs save lives, sorry i’ll stop). I dress pretty alternative but i cant just choose one subculture tho, i wear a lot of heavy eye makeup. There are times where i dress some what “sexual” but its not sexual cause im 16 and other times i wear a lot of layers.

Honestly I don’t really have a type. Tbh most of my relationships have ended pretty badly cause they ether only wanted something sexual from me or I was “too clingy” when i just wanted basic ass affection. But the most I want is someone who is physically affectionate (like kisses, cuddles, and hugs for days) also im ok with pda to an extent like i will hug and like cuddle you but im not gonna make out with your infront of others thats weird af.

Im a libra sun, scropio moon, and gemini rising. This means that im a pretty social person and always wanna hang out with friends and just have fun, but moon in scropio makes my emotions rlly haywire and kinda boosts any sorta negative emotion, which is hard when you have chronic anxiety and major depressive disorder. Which also means i take medication for it, which i forget a lot. And because of these things i have anxiety tics, where it ranges to making noices and twitching a bit to full on hitting myself and saying random shit. But I really like making people laugh, it makes me feel helpful, but im also good at being to mother figure for people. I also like playfully bantering with people, like i love you but will full on roast you and get into fake fist-fights. I am a bit of a violent person at times but I have a punching bag and boxing gloves which help a lot. But I only get that angry when someone uses an insecurity of mine against me or is talking bad about someone i love, cause it you do that im beating your ass. I do have a bit of body insecurities mainly about my hip-dips and stomach. But because im curvy i get hit on by adults a lot and its creepy as fuck.

My hobbies include art (painting, drawing), sleeping (because i stay up mad late😭✌🏽), reading comics, Marvel and D.C superheroes, and super villains, cartoons, and anime/manga.

My favorite music genre’s are rock, alternative, emo, rap, and a little bit if indie music.

Personality: funny, sarcastic, creative, kind, inappropriate and the right times. Like im not gonna pull out a dick joke in front of your family

I don’t really have a type and im queer so i dont have a gender preference, but anyone who’s love language is physical affection cause im a clingy bitch

I have a couple ideal dates. So the first one is like an indoor picnic and a movie, an arcade date, and a stargazing date where you get take out or fast food and drive up a hill to see the stars and you like cuddle n shit

You didn't specify which continuity and also I match people with robots that are millions of years old they're all over 19 here

#asks #also by sending your zodiac I can clearly tell you didn't read the rules

[mallowstep]

how do you find the energy and motivation to write like... everyday?? i literally cannot write unless i am possessed by a thought in my brain and forced to spew out everything onto paper. and then i cant look at it again ot edit it. like, i really love writing and if im forced to do it for school i will, but i cant write for myslef.

practice.

first, i want to say that i am going to describe how i write, but it is not necessarily going to work for most people, because it has to do with my own psychology and mental health.

second, i want to say that i view writing as writing for pleasure or writing for work. poetry, for example, i write for pleasure, and i would not apply what i am going to discuss to poetry. that happens when i have something to say. it is OK to not want to write for work. that's acceptable and encouraged.

third, i want to dispel a myth. writing consistently is not about motivation. it is about discipline. and you should take heart in that, because motivation is hard to control. you can't force yourself to want to do something, no matter how hard you try. but if you build up discipline, you can learn to do it anyway.

i'm not going to go into that now, because i'm coming at this from the specific perspective of someone with adhd who uses pressure to force myself to function, which is...a hard balance to strike, and not something i can strictly recommend. it does work for some people. i think of it as an arch.

but i digress, i said i wasn't discussing the specifics of how i function in day-to-day life, lest i encourage others to do as i do.

okay. so. where am i going with all of this?

part one: a long, fairly incoherent ramble about me and mental health and writing

well. i don't think the idea of writing for yourself is very helpful to a lot of people. i do write for myself. but that doesn't get my ass in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard. the thing that does that is not social obligation to others, either, it is the firm knowledge that putting words on paper is going to keep me from falling apart.

i don't do that for myself. i don't do that for anyone but the human need to hold yourself together. i am very happy i feel that need at the moment, and every time i have stopped writing* in the past ten years, i have lost that need.

* writing here should really be replaced with a broader term. creating things. making things. working with my hands and something real. but writing is the best thing i know to fill this in myself.

writing does not feel optional. i started writing seriously when i was not-quite-a-teenager and had untreated depression. it was desperate, then. the need to know i was capable of feeling emotions. since then, writing has been different things at different times. it has been a social need. it has been a creative need. it has been a demanding drive. it has been something i drag myself to do because i know it is good for me.

i don't have to write. i could paint, or draw, or knit, or code, or any number of things. i have used all of those things, and more, in the past, but writing is something i also enjoy.

sometimes writing is dragging myself to the keyboard. it is not always a flurry of words as an idea seizes me. it is, "i am publishing the next chapter of ashes because it is monday and that is what i do on mondays." but.

it is monday, and that is what i do on mondays.

i hate not posting every day. i hate it. i am Untethered. i spent ca. three weeks over the summer completely disconnected from time, but. i post ashes today, it is monday, i move on, i go through the days and they are not the same.

i hate not posting every day. i know that i would be doing better if i could just break through and start again, but figuring out how is hard. some things i know (ibtwicm is stressful because another person is involved, and that means that i cannot work with betas, even though the one i have is absolutely wonderful and i adore her), but other things are just that nebulous idea of not enough time to start.

i don't always have the energy to write. some days are bad. some days my head hurts. i don't have the expectation that i will never miss a day of posting. i've taken plenty of time off. but i like the rhythm.

anyway. let me try to turn that incoherent ramble about me into something...actionable?

part two: what i tangibly do

i have a schedule. that is not requisite, but it saves me from making decisions. i have a schedule and i have fics and one-shots and they all slot into that schedule by arc. i could have done it by anything, but arc was convenient.

anyway.

i figure out what i'm posting when i wake up in the morning, and i try to skim over what i've already got before starting my day. i flick back and forth between writing and whatever i am doing throughout the day.

(which is why, as i transition back into my normal pace, the thing i have been doing to fill the gap will diminish. less au chatter snippets etc, because that is what i have been doing instead of writing.)

by the evening, i'm usually close to done with the draft. i spend a solid chunk of time patching it up, then i do a round of edits, finish my other work, do line edits, and post.

if i have time after that, i start looking at tomorrow's post.

that's it. sometimes i don't want to work on something. too bad. it's on the schedule. or even, "too bad, we're posting something today." unless i am having a bad (read: low spoon) day, i do not waver in that expectation for myself.

in fact, i think the only way ibtwicm will get done is if the final chapter two chapters go up un-beta'd, because the deviation from routine makes me impossibly frustrated with them. we shall see.

anyway. i have spent years building the discipline to be able to do that. if you rely on motivation, do not think you can just flip over and magically learn how to turn an empty page into words because you told yourself that is what you are doing right now. so.

part three: how to build discipline

i said i won't be covering this, and i'm not Really. i'm going to tell you how to get started, and i am going to be the Bad Guy. i am not capable of doing this kindly. there are other, better, resources i encourage you to seek out.

so. you can't start by just. throwing yourself into it. it won't work, it'll be frustrating, etc.

you want to figure out what a reasonable word count/day is for you. i shoot for 3k words/day, but i figure as long as i'm above 1k, i'm happy.

[aside: if you are going to be writing a lot in a day, please take care of your body. have good posture. know how to hold yourself. etc. i credit years of playing piano as giving me strong wrists and nice, curved fingers, and exercises to build and strengthen the same muscles as you use for typing, but just keep this in mind.]

anyway, there's no right number. 100 words is enough. it should be -- what works for me is a number that's just slightly higher than what i can do comfortably, because it means i have to be focused, which keeps me on track. i think this is important. it is not the only way.

and then you just meet that goal. if you're new to this, writing 100 words every day might be hard. you don't have to limit yourself to 100, just hit 100 every. single. day.

eventually that will feel easy.

"i don't feel like writing," you will think, "but i've figured out how to get around that."

then you either feel happy with what you're doing or push your word count up.

me? i don't measure how many words i write, because i've already done all of that. for all i bemoan research and being stuck, i'm generally exceptionally effective. i don't think that's bragging; i think the number of asks i have answered with scenes i whipped out of nowhere demonstrate that.

i have spent years getting to the point where i can open up a blank page, on a day when i feel like crap (emotionally), when i have no ideas and no motivation and every word i put on paper feels robotic and stiff and terrible, and still finish what i started. it's hard work. it might not be worth the effort. but. that's what i do.

#ask #anon #mine #personal #reblogs okay #writing #you know i don't think what i do is the only way or even the best way #what i do is the #what i need to do to be a functional human being #way #and that might not work for you but #i think at the least my thoughts on discipline and routine should be more universally applicable

[nice-kill-tanaka]

May I have a my hero and ohshc matchup plz

I'm a short girl around 5'2 with long brown hair and eyes and a leo. I like anime,dragons,reptiles,drawing but I'm not good,tarantulas,sweets,video games, memes,dark humor. I am very kind but I care more about others than I do myself. I have bad anxiety. I tend to overthink about everything. I love to sing especially country music but I am tone deaf. I have trouble standing up for myself because I was bullied alot. I can be very blunt. I also love to swear. I can be very loud. I love a good mystery and cop shows. I love dad jokes and puns.I am terrified of bees and heights. I am very lazy but I can be good at doing stuff if motivated. I have a very kind heart and sad stories or ones with very happy endings make my heart happy or hurt like crazy. But even though I'm kind that doesn't mean i am nice all the time. I am extremely grumpy and have a short temper especially on no sleep or if I just woke up. I also do have adhd and some anxiety I dont like being touched randomly unless I know it will happen or if I touch someone. As for dreams I'm not sure I wanna be a voice actor but not too sure if its right for me as I don't know how to edit or even have the equipment. I want someone who can just listen to me as I ramble on about things I love. I want someone to understand that I think differently then normal people. I also want someone to be able to understand im not the most affectionate person but I can be if given time but I will help someone if they are touch starved like I am.

[🌄 @cutelittleriot requested one (1) regular My Hero Academia matchup. I have just the ingredients for that! Sit tight while I get to work.🌌]

YAYYY!! First bnha matchup!! I gotchu bud 👍 I’m thinking about trying something new for the bnha fandom in particular. So, I’ll try it out and see what you think! Also, I got a little carried away with this one, so if it doesn’t seem characteristically accurate to you, please tell me!! 😖

And, the lucky person is:

⛰Eijiro Kirishima⛰

Quirk: Dragon

Dragon is a mutation quirk. It manifests slowly over time, until the user becomes about 60% dragon-esque at around 15/16 years old.

Scales and tough skin appear on the arms, legs, and face. Sharp teeth and claws grow in. Horns protrude from the forehead. A tail grows from the spine. Finally, wings grow from the back.

Flesh becomes twice as tough in places where scales are.

Depending on the user’s body type, wing usage is limited. (Since you’re generally shorter than average, “flying” and gliding comes easier to you.)

When the user consumes pressurized carbon dioxide, their stomach converts it into flammable gasses. Which allows the user to breathe- er...burp...fire.

Fire must be carefully used however. The smoke produced can accidentally be breathed in, causing lung damage.

🌱Humble Beginnings🌱

I’ll start by saying this: Being bullied is never fun. Being bullied over something you can’t easily control or change? Rub salt in it, why don’tcha?

You weren’t sure what the select few kids in your grade thought was so hilarious about your quirk. But, they managed to find enough wrong with it to do their damage for most of your time in school

First, the patches of scales that showed up on your skin were “too weak”. Then, your awkward transition stage with growing horns, wings, and tail was suddenly “ugly”

By the time your quirk fully manifested, the jeers finally devolved to “freak-ish”

Like a river carving out the Grand Canyon, the work was slow and wore you down over time. But, the impact was a lot bigger than even you’d initially thought

While you managed to somewhat heal and learned to guard your emotions against such hurtful things, that’s all you learned to do: Guard yourself. You were a shield with no spear, since you never fought back

With the help of supportive parents and teachers, your self-esteem wasn’t so low, but you did often downplay or underestimate your abilities

Like, Bitch??? You can burp fire??? Know your power???

The people you were on good terms with seemed to see a potential that you either disregarded, or didn't know about all together

They saw the way you treated others with consideration and forethought. How, despite (or because of) your anxiety, you remained hyper-aware of the problems of others and how to accommodate. And while your anger did have its vices, people knew how hot your righteous rage could burn

It actually took a lot of convincing for you to even apply to U.A. 

Outside of your other aspirations for the future, you didn’t particularly feel worthy for the job. Of anything you could be, you weren’t a fearless, upstanding, unshakable individual, not even giving a second thought to throwing yourself into danger for the good of others. You weren’t your alleged definition of a hero, and that was enough to deter you

But, whenever you recited your polite (well-rehearsed) decline, most gave you the same weirdly optimistic retort:

“Just try, maybe you’ll do better than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

So, here you were at an entrance exam full of people you hardly knew, wondering how you even rationalized to yourself that this would go just fine

The written exam went okay. As well as you could for literally guessing what to study to pass

All you had to do was do your best on the physical exam, and you’d be done for the day

But, your issue was in the people around you, not the exam itself

You were aware of the high amount of attention the moment you walked onto campus. The way other kids measured you up from a distance, studying everything about your not-so-human body. Watching your every move, especially the way your movements were strained from soreness (A short period of intense training tends to do that to you). You assumed they also wanted to see if your disposition was as powerful as your quirk suggested

((You specifically noticed a coltish, green-haired kid muttering to himself, questioning if your wings could actually support your body weight))

Even now, as the prospective heroes-in-training warmed up, you felt the stares burning into you

Half of you wanted to lift your eyes and rhetorically ask what the hell they were looking at, only feeling more annoyed as you snorted and returned to what you were doing. The other half wanted to fold into yourself until you disappeared (If only it were that easy)

But, you had enough (Roughly, one billion) worries on your mind to put confrontation on the list. Shaking off your anxious shivers as you lowered your head and continued with your “stretches” seemed so much easier

(A.k.a. Staring off into space as you held your limbs in awkward positions)

The time to begin the physical test was drawing near, and your self-doubt hadn’t eased up. Maybe this was a mistake. You didn’t belong here. Not when so many other students could fill the space you’re wasting so much better. Maybe if you slipped through the back now, you’d save yourself the disappointment of not living up to your own standards

“Hey, brown-haired girl! With the horns!”

You heard a gruff whisper from not to far behind you, from the left. You tensed for a moment, wondering what the voice could possibly want from you. But, the sight you saw was rather unexpected

The voice definitely matched the body, bulky and slightly rough looking, a little taller than you. Matched with a sweet face, sharp teeth, and bright, spiky, red hair. The smile he showed you instantly calmed your thoughts

“…Hm?”

You gave a short response, not wanting to jump to conclusions yet

“I saw you looking kinda psyched out over here, so I thought talking to you would make you less nervous!”

You felt a warm and fuzzy sensation in the pit of your stomach. As much encouragement as you got to achieve things, you didn’t see much of it to consider how you felt. How you could feel better. You liked it, which was surprising, considering the encouragement came from a perfect stranger

“Oh, uhh…thanks then. But, I’m fine, I promise! I’m no more nervous than you are.”

“Well, that’s also why I came to talk…I’m kinda freaking out too…”

This boy’s transparency was almost scary, but on the other hand, very comforting. You didn’t catch him trying to stare at your mutated parts once as you talked. Your eyes were the thing he seemed the most focused on, and while it made you embarrassed, it was the good kind (if that makes sense)

But, soon enough, the announcement for the beginning of the exam came over the loudspeaker, and you and your acquaintance had to look out for yourselves. But, before you parted ways, the redhead turned to you

“I’m Eijiro Kirishima, by the way! See you when I see you, Shortie!”

🌳Flourishing Love🌳

The beginning of Kirishima seeing you as a romantic option happened not too long after parting ways at the physical exam

He was almost completely cornered by one of the machines students could disarm for points. And just as that was happening, you had just turned the corner after shaking off another one

You saw Kirishima, but he definitely didn’t see you, trying hard to look tough, but struggling to stand his ground

It quickly dawned on you that Kirishima didn’t have a quirk that could easily deal with the hostile device. And if he did, he was too scared to use it

You vetoed the idea of charging in head on first. You didn’t feel like getting yourself or Kirishima hurt. Especially without a plan. You needed to be smart about getting your only acquaintance out of this situation

Your heart raced and your execution was all but clean, but you ended up using your fire breath to weld the robot’s wheels to the concrete

Before you let your inhibitions get the better of you, you climbed the machine and punched out the camera on the front. From atop the beast, you hung your tail over the edge low enough for Kirishima to grab. You didn’t dare look down at the ground

“Dammit Eijiro, grab on!!”

Once you felt a weight on your tail, you used your wings to propel you both forward. Obviously, away from the robot

You were too high on adrenaline and fear to notice, but Kirishima stared at you like you were the embodiment of Heaven on Earth. The stars in his eyes almost seemed inappropriate for the situation 😅

You looked just as—if not more—afraid than he was. But, you seemed so okay with the fact that you weren’t fearless, and acted like a true hero anyway. He admired, dare I say loved that about you

And he didn’t even know your name

As soon as you found out that you and Kirishima were in the same class, you felt instant relief. At least you were familiar with someone at U.A.

You guys’ friendship developed rather fast, like and extrovert adopting an introvert

Kirishima quickly noticed how fast you opened up once you got comfortable around him, and loved you all the more for how bright and vibrant the unfiltered you was

He found himself picking up on your sense of humor, telling dad jokes you whisper under your breath to the Bakusquad (Much to Bakugou’s dismay 😅)

Don’t worry, he always gives you the credit 😉

As time went on, Kirishima learned to appreciate how blunt you were. He realized that he needed someone to tell it like it is (“It isn’t manly to sugarcoat things! 😤” he says)

And while Kirishima prefers physical activities over video games, he loves to hype you up while you play before classes

It was only natural a mutual crush would form :D

Kirishima finally worked up the guts to ask you out after the U.S.J. Incident

You and him had gotten separated (You had gotten trapped with the cold son of Endeavor. And you both took out the villains with an awe-inspiring display of fire and ice)

Kirishima was faced with the reality that either of you could lose each other at any moment. And while both of you came out alright, he realized he couldn’t be wishy-washy about his feelings for you

He told you on your way to school the next morning:

“Look. What happened yesterday really scared me. Normally, I wouldn’t say that, but I think you deserve to know. Because…you mean a lot to me!! More than I can put into words. I love when we have fun together, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I never got to tell you how I felt…”

“Basically…I like you!! Like…in the romantic way…”

Your early morning grumpiness dissipated almost instantly, replaced by momentary confusion and disbelief, then embarrassment and joy. Was this really happening…? The boy that took a chance on you since the beginning, confessed that he had feelings for you…? Even though you didn’t question your relationship, you always assumed the nice things Kirishima said, the way he looked at you, was all part of the pleasantries. You questioned if you were even worth all of that

‘But you are.’ The little voice Kirishima helped you develop said. ‘And he would say more if he didn’t look so embarrassed.’

And so, you accepted Kirishima’s confession. And he saw the sweetest smile you had ever given him since the first time he complimented your puns 😊❤️

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

[🌌 There you go bud! That’s one matchup for the road. Hopefully it lasts for a while, but if it doesn’t, feel free to come back! I’d be thrilled to see you again.🌄] —Reagan

#caravan commodities #special bindles #matchup #cutelittleriot.traveler #cutelittleriot.request #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha matchup #bnha matchup #back on the grind #😊 #my other choices would’ve been Mirio or Sero

[juminhandfs]

Hantober Day 10

Choir Practice: Favorite song that reminds you of Jumin.

I made a playlist actually 👀

I went overboard and tried to include songs fitting of every significant moment of his life in chronological order, including the bad endings and even when he crashed Seven's car... ending with the Good Ending.

If you are going to listen to this I have to warn you, it has 2 songs that touch on the bad ending 2 and can be triggering for some people: Lullaby from The Cure which is more metaphorical and Prison Sex by Tool whose lyrics are very graphic. Listen at your own risk and take care.

But here I want to talk about the first song on the playlist that sorts of encapsulates Jumin's life and what meeting MC means to him.

The song I'm talking about is Lateralus, also from Tool, which has the particularity of relying heavily on the Fibonacci sequence both in the metric of the syllables and in the meaning of the song. This is a song about grow.

If you have never heard about the Fibonacci sequence, also known as The Golden Ratio, I recommend to you to watch all these videos on YouTube talking about it because is something super interesting!

Basically The Fibonacci sequence is the mathematic that you can find in the nature, which goes like this:

0+1 =

1+1= 2

2+1= 3

3+2= 5

5+3= 8

8+5= 13 and so on...

Theses numbers when put on a graphic look like this: a spiral

A grad student made a video about the Fibonacci in Lateralus for a project and there it's infinitely better explained of what can I do here, but sadly the video was taken down, what I could find is this same video from someone who reposted it.

I want to encourage you to watch it so you can understand better how the lyrics match with Jumin's life:

Black/ 0+ 1 =

then /+1 =

white are/ 2 + 1 =

all I see/ 3 +  2 =

in my infancy/ 5 + 3 = 8

This is like a perfect description of Jumin's life growing up and raised like a businessman, with no place to emotions and creativity

Red and yellow then came to be/ 8 - 3=

reaching out to me/ 5  - 2 =

Lets me see/ 3

Red and yellow could stand for V and Rika. They showed him another way for things to be: these are the colors more vibrant in the rainbow. Trough them Jumin got to experience friendship and love. And they "came came to him, reaching out to him" he didn't went looking out for them.

As below, so above and beyond, I imagine/ 13 - 5 =

Drawn beyond the lines of reason/ 8 - 3=

Push the envelope/ 5 -2 = 

Watch it bend 3

Below, above, beyond: the lyrics are describing the dimensions of a box, that's the envelope to push made by "the lines of reason". Also note how the number of syllables were in crescendo, but now they are descending, why? What is stopping the spiral from growing? What is stopping Jumin? The answer is in the following chorus: 

Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind

Withering my intuition, missing opportunities and I must

Feed my will to feel my moment drawing way outside the lines

Then we have the repetition of the same verses and the chorus + the following verses

There is (2)

so (1)

much (1)

more and (2)

beckons me (3)

to look through to these (5)

infinite possibilities (8)

The next verse marks the moment the song changes, it stops counting syllables and with it both the song and the lyrics go in an endless crescendo...

Feed my will to feel this moment 

Urging me to cross the line

Reaching out to embrace the random

Reaching out to embrace whatever may come

A thing I haven't noticed, but I do now as I'm writing this is that the voice and the style of the singing also changes here. Up to this point was kinda robotic but here is really soft, in awe, you can feel the sincerity of the singer in his voice. If I had to parallel this moment in the song to one in Jumin's route it definitely would be when he tells you about his threads at 2 am. It's my favourite moment in the whole song, as I imagine Jumin saying those words:

I embrace my desire to

I embrace my desire to

Feel the rhythm, to feel connected

Enough to step aside and weep like a widow

To feel inspired

To fathom the power

To witness the beauty

To bathe in the fountain

To swing on the spiral

Swing on the spiral

Of our divinity 

And still be a human

With my feet upon the ground I lose myself

Between the sounds and open wide to suck it in

(He complained about the noise, remember the standing alone in an empty field? The noise is no longer noise, is "sounds" , "words have a meaning once they reach you"

I feel it move across my skin

(He didn't liked to be touched)

I'm reaching up and reaching out

(He is out of the box, or the cage?)

I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me

What ever will bewilder me

And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been

We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been

Spiral out, keep going

Translation of all of this? Why I put it at the beginning of the playlist?

Well...

Because of the heavy trauma he received in his early years, Jumin had to rely on rationality and logic to conduct his life (V called him "scientist" and Rika said she wanted for him to find the perfect balance between emotions and logic). Thus ignoring emotions but also his inner intuition, his gut feeling. (Update after the dlc: Now we know the big part his mother also played in this)

Because Jumin's trauma is in direct relation to his body, Jumin tried to distance as far as he could from it and treating it as a machine ("separating the body from the mind"). He mentions how loose clothes make him uncomfortable "because he needs a constant restraint all the time" (if corsets for men were an item you can bet Jumin would wear one)   which leads to his body speaking to him in the way of symptoms: this symptoms are the headaches, the numbness he says he feels in the dlc, the feeling of drowning, etc...

Basically, his body (wether by his emotions, gut feelings or directly through his headaches and mild-amnesia) is desperately trying to talk to him and Jumin is doing everything he can to not listen to it, because he isn't ready for it yet, because these are years and years of unspoken trauma trying to hit him  at once (this is why therapy is important! Guys!) .

So Jumin rationalizes things: he must be having headaches because he ate something bad, or the temperature in the room is below 2 grades, and V must be distant because he is still grieving, not because he is hiding something, not for what Yoosung is telling everyone. And Yoosung is also grieving, so that's why he's acting like this.

And Rika was V's fiance, so he couldn't have feelings for her

All of this changes when he meets MC: first she doesn't treat him as a robot like everybody else, but as person with feelings and with a right to feel and express those feelings, and second and (maybe) more importantly: she doesn't allow him to project his own emotions onto her (as he did with Elizabeth) thus Jumin doesn't have any other option that confront his own emotions, to recognize those feelings as his own… and this scares him to death, but he has to do it if he wants to be with her.

And this, that this battle is for her and for a future with her, is what gives him strength.

Now, onto the song again, Jumin has to listen to his body to do this, he has to decipher what is trying to tell him "Why im feeling like this?" "Why I acted this way". There's another song, also from Tool ("Forty Six & 2") that goes deeper in this process Jumin has to do "I want to know what I've been hiding in my shadow (...) Listen to my muscle memory"

It can't be only raw emotion because that's the bad ending 2 (or he stealing Seven's car), both mind and body had to work together (or to say it in the words of the song, the body can't be keep separated from the mind) for the well being of the person. And if it's in the natural design of things to tend to expansion and growth, why we'll be different? This is to live riding the spiral: self awareness.

"Swing on the spiral

Of our divinity 

And still be a human"

And the best part of all of these? Once this big rock is out the way? 

Now he can allow himself to feel everything! Both the good and the bad, his love for MC, his friendship for the RFA, and by him now being better, he can also be a better, more honest friend to those he loves. And by being more honest, he can now help them to get on their feet again just as MC helped him, and accept help from them . Without fear.

"We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been"

And that's why I love this song and Jumin Han.

.

.

.

.

Note: So this didn't came out as I wanted :/ (that's why I couldn't post it like 1 month ago), but that's kinda of the point of the song I guess? 😅 Certain things can not be explained, only experienced and when you try to dissect them (overanalyzing) they lost something very important in the process. Even the same phenomenon doesn't guarantee the same experience for different individuals... But that's the good thing in the end 😅

How boring life would be if we all experienced the world in the same way...

#literally forcing myself to post this... why I'm so bad with words?? #I hope the general idea is somehow clear?? anyway the beast... is done... Hantober is over! 😵 #I did it!! #for you Juju!! 😭 #mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #mysme jumin #Hantober #hantober2020 #hantoberd10 #31daysjujuchallenge #jumin #my mysme analysis

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 22

“You come…here again?”

“I know we said we wouldn’t,” the Sergeant says slowly, putting great care into his enunciation, “but it’s important.”

“Im…por…tant?”

“Yes. We have –“

“This…many more,” the copepod says, waggling three massive fingers at him. The Sergeant is silent for a moment.

“I don’t understand,” he says finally.

“You kill…this many…more,” the copepod grunts. I can hear it breathing, vast wheezing noises like the space in between notes on a bagpipe. “This many more…since you said…you would leave.”

The Sergeant sighs. “They attacked us outside of the barrows. The ones they attacked had no choice but to defend themselves.”

“This…the…end, four-arms?”

I frown, glance over at Elena. “Four-arms?” I mutter. She leans in closer to me.

“Their word for us. They haven’t got any legs so they don’t really grasp the distinction between a leg and an arm.”

I nod, staring down at the screen on my camera. The copepod looks far too glossy but with the gloves on the suit I don’t really have the dexterity to fiddle with it and I don’t want to take them off presently, so it’ll just have to be glossy. I look over at the two copepods that had come in earlier, still lurking behind the Big Guy like statues, clinging to the wall in positions that look as though they could push off and dart at us with absolutely minimal effort.

The rest of the team seems very relaxed, though; nobody, not even Crookshank, has their rifles up to cover the copepods. “Do y’all come down here often?” I ask.

Elena shakes her head. “I’ve only been down here once before, and that was about a year ago.” Her eyes flick over to Peter. “Investigating a missing person.”

I think of several possible responses to that but bite them all back. None of them would be helpful, and at any rate my impulse to defend Peter has withered a little over the last few days. Probably just the hormones talking. Maybe if I didn’t get such a big damn case of the warm fuzzies whenever I so much as look at Elena –

“The end of what?” the Sergeant asks. The copepod gestures, a vague, open-handed, sweeping motion. It’s a terrifically human gesture and for a moment I stare, wondering, then its segmented mouthparts judder to life again and that horrible, inhuman voice issues forth from them again and some poor pattern-recognizing part of my brain gets whiplash from the disjointedness of it.

“How we…end. Many…spawnings since we…meet, four-arms, and now…there is not…enough…to eat. If we…leave…to hunt, you…kill us.”

The Sergeant starts to say something, but the copepod slams a fist into the ground. Next to me I feel Elena flinch, and on the far wall of the chamber one of the other copepods cocks its head.

“We are hungry,” it tells the Sergeant, and something about the way it says those three simple words strikes me like a lightning bolt, passing all the way through my stomach and out my tailbone. My hands are shaking lightly and part of me wants to panic, wants to be out of here right now, but I close my eyes and swallow hard and force myself to be calm.

The Sergeant, to his credit, doesn’t even blink. “We’re here to talk about that.”

The copepod is silent. It reaches up with its hand and rubs at its face lightly, in a motion that reminds me of a fly cleaning its compound eyes. “Don’t…believe you,” it wheezes eventually.

“We are. We’re planning to start bringing food down for – for your people. But we need something in return.”

I glance over at the crystal again. It’s a good thing we brought Joker; I don’t know how we would have gotten it out of here if he weren’t here to carry it.

The copepod rolls its head back and makes a strange, scratchy, rhythmic noise, that I recognize after a moment as laughter.

“You make…us starve, then…come with…solution…to problem…you made? And…you want…trade…for it?”

I hear the Sergeant sigh, watch him look up at the ceiling. I’m impressed at how well he’s doing so far, especially considering (unless I have egregiously misread him) that he’s a soldier, not a diplomat. But now the copepod has handed him a real zinger.

“We never meant to hurt you,” he says. The copepod shifts lightly, the spongy floor creaking under its ponderous bulk. “There has been a long and bloody history between us and I wish it weren’t that way. I wish that things had been different, so many years ago when the first one of us had met the first one of you. I wish we had known to leave you alone and not interfere with your way of life. But the past can’t be changed, all we can do is try to right what wrongs we can.”

“What…you want?”

The Sergeant points to the crystal. “That,” he says. The copepod looks over at it and then reaches out and drags it, one handed, using what seems to be practically no effort, out from behind the pile.

“Not…for trade.”

“Not even for regular supplies of food?”

“Not…for anything.”

“Nothing at all?”

The copepod stops and looks at us. Its eyes seem to fix on something.

“Give me…that,” it says, pointing, and we all turn and stare at Crookshank, who the Sergeant had given his rifle to and who is now carrying both of them, somewhat awkwardly, beneath his armpits. He looks perturbed for a moment before he realizes and unlimbers one of them and sets the stock of it into the floor. I can see the muscles in the great knotty bulge of the Sergeant’s jaw working before he turns back around.

“Absolutely not,” he says.

“Too…bad.”

The Sergeant very clearly doesn’t know what to say, and then after a moment throws in the towel. “Alright,” he says. “Give me a minute, I have to ask.”

Then he turns around and takes a couple of respectful steps away before reaching down to his radio and calling Makado.

“They want what?” she groans, after he’s told her the news. The rest of us, listening in over the squad link, cast glances at each other but remain silent.

“One of the slug rifles,” he repeats. “I told him that we’d bring them regular shipments of food instead but he didn’t go for it.”

I hear Makado curse under her breath.

“You told them we’d bring them food? Goddam it,” she mutters. “You didn’t have any authority to –“

“Veret,” the Sergeant snaps, his voice barely edging on civil. “We don’t have time for this –“

“You expect me,” she hisses, her voice mingling with the static, “to give you the go-ahead to give them a fucking slug rifle? Why don’t we also turn off the sonic traps and leave the seal unlocked on the way out?”

“What do you want me to do, then?”

The copepod is watching this one-sided conversation with interest. The Sergeant’s voice is low and sharp but I’m sure the copepod can still hear some of what he’s saying. Its vocabulary seems fairly good but as for how much it understands…

“You said there’s only three of them in there right now, right?” Makado asks. I see the Sergeant shake his head.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “No way.”

“Sergeant,” Makado starts. I can hear a note of steel buried somewhere deep in her voice. “We need that crystal.”

“I’m going to give him the damn gun,” he tells her. Somewhere miles above us Makado slams her hand on her desk.

“Do not –“

“I am not,” the Sergeant says, very quietly, “letting any more of my people die down here today. There are three copepods in here, and fifty within two hundred yards, and a hundred within a mile, and they all are going to come running the instant we fire one of these guns.”

Makado is silent for a moment. “Fine,” she says. Her voice is hard enough to cut glass. “One rifle, no mags.”

“Fine.”

The channel cuts out with a resounding click. Elena and I trade glances; I can tell from her face that she’s never heard Makado that angry before.

The Sergeant reaches out for Crookshank’s rifle wordlessly and Crookshank hurries forward and hands it to him. The copepods on the walls draw in a little closer. I can see them practically twitching with anticipation, waiting for one of us to make the wrong move. The Sergeant turns, the slug rifle held in one hand, the barrel toward the ceiling. The copepod reaches out for it and the Sergeant places it gently in the thing’s hand.

Next to me I feel Elena shift her grip on her own rifle. The copepod looks down at the rifle in its hand for a long while.

“You should have taken the food,” the Sergeant tells it. The copepod in turn makes a snorting, chuffing noise. Then it closes its fist over the gun and with a sound like a groan of relief it bends and breaks. The bolt pops out and whizzes off somewhere in the darkness and the slugs pour from the ruined breach of the rifle like marbles, five of them clunking dully to the fleshy floor and rolling someplace out of sight. It tosses the bent frame of the rifle aside, and it clatters into the pile of junk and detritus and causes a small avalanche. The Sergeant steps back, eyes wary.

Then the copepod reaches over and shoves the crystal towards him. Its sharp spikes stick in the floor a little and leave bloody gouges in their wake. Whatever is inside it casting that green glow shifts lightly, with a kind of exaggerated slowness to it like it were floating in oil, and I glance down at the camera, make sure it’s in focus.

“Take…it,” the Big Guy tells us, and I can see by the look on the Sergeant’s face that he has a lot of questions he wants to ask, but instead of asking them he turns and gestures to Euler and after a little bit of prodding Euler manages to walk Joker forwards and find a decent place to grasp the crystal firmly, and then it picks it up.

One of the robot’s joints groans under the strain and Euler quickly prods at the joystick and it freezes, but after a few moments for he shrugs and continues twiddling, and Joker hefts the crystal like it were nothing and marches, a little unsteadily, back to us.

The copepod, meanwhile, has turned, rolling its enormous bulk delicately past us, and, with the assistance of one of the other copepods, which puts its arms on the Big Guy’s sides and is helping push, slithers out of the room. The audience, apparently, is over.

We all look around at each other but nobody feels any need to speak. There’s nothing to say. Crookshank is looking wistfully at the rifle on the ground, the barrel twisted like a piece of straw, but as we all begin to file out of the organelle and back into the snaking outer vent that got us there, Elena squeezes my hand firmly and I believe for a moment, just a moment, that everything might work out alright.

 * * *

 Elena twists around sharply and stares back into the darkness, her rifle low and ready. I peer backwards anxiously, then glance at her.

“What is it?”

She shakes her head, holds a hand up to me. “Shh,” she tells me.

Behind us the rest of the group marches onwards. There’s a distinct sense of relief in the air. Many of them, I realized belatedly, had expected that we were going to our deaths, that we were going to have to try to take the crystal by force. Ellis thought so for sure; his smile is unbearably bright and the Sergeant has had to tell him to shut up multiple times on the journey out, but his enthusiasm is so overflowing that he can’t shut up, he just keeps babbling on about whatever is in his head, what he’s going to do when he gets back to the surface, how nice it’ll be to have fresh air, so on and so on.

Elena is standing there quite still, her head cocked to one side. I listen but I can’t hear anything, and I start to tug at her sleeve, thinking that –

Wait.

I thought for a moment that I might have heard something, something very far away, but it was the sort of quiet, subtle noise that is hard to notice even in dead silence, and our current environment is very far from that. Everything down here seems to make noise; it’s a little like being in a forest in the middle of a windstorm. Instead of trees creaking and groaning and leaves scattering and wind rushing, you have the tramp tramp tramp of metal-plated feet, and the corresponding squelches of cleat sticking into the floor and the equally horrible meaty slurping sound with each step as they come unstuck. Then on top of that there’s groans and moans and straining noises. If you put your ear to someone’s stomach after they’ve just eaten you might get a sense of what it’s like, except fifty times louder and without anything in the way. The hallways shift around you, little wriggles of convulsive muscle movement going through them, and the noise is concurrent with the size and force of the muscles doing the moving. But there is a difference between the shrieking of a taut muscle and the shrieking of something in pain, far off in the distance, perhaps…

Elena leans in very sharply and reaches out with a balled fist and smacks the quick-release on the side of my helmet. The visor jets up and instantly the fetid smell of the Pit assaults me. My eyes start to water. “What the fuck,” I start to blurt, but Elena puts a gloved hand over my mouth. Her eyes are very clear and very bright; she’s already popped her own helmet so she can talk to me clearly.

“Listen to me, Roan,” she says, her eyes glancing over to the side and back the way we came before flicking over to me again. “If something happens down here, you stick to me like glue. Got it?”

I start to say something but she gives me a dangerous look and I swallow hard. “Got it,” I say.

“Okay, good,” she says. She flashes me a quick grin but I can tell she’s just giving me lip service, just from the way her eyes jump like roulette balls, scanning the surroundings even as she reaches over and flips my visor back into place. I had started to ask – well, I don’t know what I was going to ask. Probably something useless, some infantile plea for assurance that we were going to be okay. Clearly we aren’t if Elena is spooked like this. I look ahead of her at the rest of the team; they’re wary but not as wary as she is.

“Elena, what’s wrong?” I ask her, taking a hold of her arm, and she looks over at me and starts to answer, and then everything goes to hell.

Behind us I hear the sound I thought I had heard before, except much louder and clearer – a chittering shriek of either pain or rage, or perhaps some of both. Something about the tone makes me think it’s a copepod. The scream is cut off halfway through, and then we hear other screams, loud gurgling ululations, echoing through the vents. Everyone is yelling, everyone’s rifles are coming up very quickly, heads are whipping around and scattering the broad angry cones of headlamp light across the wet, glistening walls. The shrieks and cries are reaching a crescendo and it seems impossible that we can’t see any copepods at the present moment.

The side of the vent bulges inward suddenly and I see a long tapered mass move by, like a throat swallowing, and I realize that it must have been a copepod, sliding past as quickly as its resin-coated carapace will allow.

Elena has her hand under my arm and is tugging me along as quickly as we can go. I am deathly afraid I’m going to trip and fall and splatter face-first into the wet, bloody floor; I’m not digging in the cleats all the way, there isn’t time to with the way she’s rushing me. I want to reach down and pull out my sidearm but I don’t trust myself to keep ahold of it if I were to.

I can see a flickering glance of Euler’s face, bringing up the rear behind us, feverishly punching buttons on the controller and working the joystick. He looks frightened and I feel suddenly and incongruously bad for Euler, because he clearly has hated this place from the second he came down here, and it’s only his job that’s making him do it, and now he, and probably all of us, are going to die because of it.

I remember Makado very seriously considering us just opening up on the Big Guy, on the king of the copepods or whatever the hell the hierarchy is down here, just because he wanted a gun instead of just giving us the crystal. The wan green light is still pressing tightly against my back from where Joker has the damn thing clenched tight in his metal hands, and I feel my lip curling and realize that maybe Elena is right, maybe Makado is out of line, maybe she’s let her – her obsession with making sure that the Pit doesn’t hurt anything and anyone else lead her to some bad decisions. Or maybe –

There’s a shriek behind us, sounding terribly close now. Elena and I look back, as does Euler, but we still can’t see anything.

I have never felt so helpless in my life. If a copepod comes out of nowhere and snatches me right now, that would be it, I’d be done for. I don’t want to even pretend that Elena would turn everyone around and get them to come charging back into certain doom to save my skinny ass. I can imagine the conversation now: “Oh yeah, El, sure we know you were getting your pussy eaten by that frail little skeleton girl from admin but no way in hell we’re risking our neck for her, capisce?”

All it would take, I figure, is for one of them to dart up from behind, where our visibility is the worst, grab my leg, and then reverse and zoom out of sight. They can move so quickly down here it doesn’t seem real. It’s like the way seals move, fluttering around on the ice on their bellies, tucked down and torpedo-shaped, their arms slicked back against their sides unless they’re reaching forward to dig in with their blunt, ichor-caked fingertips, adding momentum, whipping around hairpin turns.

A crazy thought strikes me as I stumble again and Elena wrenches me back to my feet – being a copepod must be like living in a funhouse where everything is a slide. I almost start to laugh but I shove it back down, deep down.

It happens very quickly. There is a loud chittering screech from ahead of us and we both whip around. There in front, clinging to the ceiling of the vent, is a slender copepod, slithering towards us hand over hand. When someone’s headlamp – I think it’s Fumi – strikes it in the face it shrieks and falls on him and one of the guns roars and even though my earplugs are in it is louder than loud, the flash from the muzzle is like the sun, and I think I shriek in terror and surprise and then I really do fall, but Elena, angel that she is, is there to pull me back to my feet.

While I’ve been face-down on the floor someone has shot the copepod a little off-center, and a hole as big around as my fist is half-heartedly gushing a chunky, glutinous white ichor. The copepod’s arms and fins are fluttering and we all give it a wide berth, hustling towards the exit.

It is such a long way off, though, and that copepod was only the first of many. Once we shot the first one there was no going back, and the air quickly turned smoky and foul with the cordite stench of gunfire. It’s impossible to hear anything besides rage-filled animal screeches and the great pounding thud every time someone fires off one of the guns. The pounding and the sharp crackling report melds together in my head and it sounds as though there is an idiot child pounding on a giant drum, having a temper tantrum, right next to me.

Elena tugs me onward. A copepod breaks into the center of our formation and brings its titan fist down in an arc, and though it is pinioned by rifle fire and dies twitching its fist still hurtles downwards and impacts square on Ellis’ head. He falls like a tree and there is cursing over the radio link and someone very close is screaming Ellis’ name and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s me, that I’m the one heaving out his name like it were vomit and staring back at his body, splayed spread-eagle on the ground, his visor shattered, part of his spine jutting through the thick fabric at the back of the neck of the suit. The copepod had hit him so hard that some part of him broke, and his head was forced downward, crushing his neck.

After that I consciously observe very little. It’s like my mind retreats into some dark corner of the inside of my skull and sits there in a huddle weeping while whatever animal, lizard part of me takes the reins is utterly unfazed by everything. I remember little flashes here and there, lit by gunfire; I remember copepods like enamel-white cruise missiles, darting in from barely-seen slits in the walls, their hands reaching for me, Elena slashing at them desperately with her knife; I remember Fumi’s bearded face, drawn and ashen, down on one knee slamming another magazine into his rifle and the sound it made when he pulled the bolt back was like glass shattering; I remember vast white fingers wrapping around Crookshank’s thick waist and jerking him off of his feet and whisking him away into the darkness while everyone twisted and shot haphazardly, trying not to hit him. His face I remember particularly, for it was wide and frightened and for a moment I thought I could see the little boy he’d once been, peering out at me from inside the man’s body and wordlessly begging me to save him, but of course I couldn’t. I had joined in, snatching the pistol from my waist and squeezing off every shot in the magazine back into the darkness behind us. I don’t think I hit anything, other than the walls of the vent, leaving bleeding puncture-marks and a haze of smoke. Then Elena yanked me off of my feet again in her hurry to get us out of there and I had dropped the gun. I cried out for it but there was no helping it, we were long gone.

Our numbers dwindle one by one, first Ellis then Crookshank. I don’t see Klaus get taken; he just disappears in the frantic haze of gunsmoke and flashlight blur, and everyone is calling out for him. I remember the Sergeant barking, his voice like sandpaper, that Klaus is gone, his vitals aren’t registering, just go, and us all going.

I remember seeing Joker, seeing snippets of Joker, rather, caught strobelike in the lights, battering aside a copepod, flashing a gunmetal-grey arm out to block one from reaching for Euler, the crystal set aside on the ground for a moment to give the machine a greater range of motion. I see its fingers fix around the wrist of the copepod and then twist and with a piercing cry of rage the thing draws its hand back, clutching at the bloody, spurting stump where its hand had been, the shock of it giving Joker the moment of hesitation it needed in order to bound towards the copepod and slam its metal fist through the tough but brittle exoskeleton and submerge up to its elbow in the copepod’s guts. It pulls out a handful of slime and then closes its mechanical fist and pounds the copepod in the head and silences its screeching. Then –

“Roan, we have to go!” Elena screams from next to me, but I don’t hear her, I’ve stopped, or almost stopped, turned half around, walking precariously backwards.

There is something looming in the darkness behind Joker, something decidedly not a copepod. Joker’s head whips around, some sort of sensor or scanner detecting the movement, and the floodlights built into the machine’s face illuminate the writhing, terrible bulk of the Leechman, standing there in a slump on two wormy, leech-filled feet, shiny and slick and horrible. I let out a wordless cry and Elena looks back at me and sees it too and stops, I can hear her words die in her throat.

The Leechman is enormous, its height and bulk so immense that it seems to fill the entire breadth of the vent with a solid wall of squirming leeches. Joker cocks its arm back as Euler goggles up at the monstrosity lurking, head cocked at an inquisitive angle, staring down at the metal toy in front of it.

Then before Joker can throw the punch the Leechman reaches down and envelops the machine in one massive appendage. I can see metal cracking, rivulets of rust and slime trickling down Joker’s armored legs. It manages to grab one of the leeches and crush it in its fist but then the Leechman tightens its grasp and one of Joker’s arms pops off, sparking all the way down until it thuds on the corridor floor. Elena is tugging at me but I can’t move, I can’t think, I can only watch, mute, praying the camera is getting all of this, as it scoops up Euler as well in the other arm. He tries to run but doesn’t get anywhere, the arm stretching out after him and nabbing him, tendrils of leeches knotted or grown together slipping over him. I can see them biting into him, forcing themselves into him, and when he opens his mouth to scream they pour inside and he chokes and sputters and then they close over him and he is gone.

The Leechman tosses Joker to the side and he clatters to the ground like a mannequin, the roll-bars on his ribcage bent and shattered, his head dented and compressed. He rolls once then lies still.

Then, with barely a glance in our direction – if it even has eyes, if it even has anything to sense with as I understand the word – the Leechman reaches down and picks up the crystal, and stomps off down the vent. It is such a banal, normal motion that I almost burst out laughing, but I get the feeling that if I let myself laugh I will keep laughing and laughing until everything falls out of me and I’m left empty and echoing.

Ahead of us someone shoots again and a copepod screeches. I turn to see it, darting in, fins streamlined and tucked against its body, spewing ichor from one double-fisted hole in its carapace, a grazing wound, apparently, as it tugs Peter off his feet and down beneath it. I scream his name and start to rush forward but Elena blocks me, then steadies her rifle, but before she can fire the copepod pushes off and bears him struggling into the darkness.

“Goddam it!” I shriek and start after him, but Elena tugs me back and pushes me forward so hard that I go sprawling onto my knees. I cast her a furious glance and scramble to my feet but before I can say something cutting and hurtful that I’ll probably regret, even if Peter’s just been fucking snapped up by a copepod, the Sergeant calls from ahead of us to hurry the fuck up, it’s time to leave, ladies, and I look ahead and see something that makes my jaw drop and my heart do flips in my chest – there ahead of us is the vast metal retaining wall that blocks off the barrows from the rest of the Pit, and there in the center of it is the great reinforced door, standing open and letting a flood of light pour in.

I look at Elena and take her offered hand and she has tears in her eyes but she isn’t faltering, not even for a moment, and in that instant whatever anger I could have felt at her is gone, utterly gone.

Behind us a copepod shrieks and then Fumi – oh, thank god, at least Fumi made it – fires at it, and the slug passes so close to me that I can feel the wind even through the suit, and then we, Elena and I, her arm around me urging me forward and keeping me upright, make it to the door in what feels like an instant, and once we’re through the Sergeant slams it closed and spins the wheel to lock it.

And then, having nothing else sensible to do, I fall to the ground and start to cry.

 * * *

I’ve got my helmet off and my sleeves rolled up. My gloves are lying on my stomach. Elena is running her hand softly through my hair and my eyes are a little puffy and sore but I’ve stopped crying. My nose, also, is becoming a little less stuffed, but that means I can smell the Pit again, so it’s a mixed blessing.

Elena’s been crying too but somehow I think she’s pulled it off more gracefully than I have. Instead of bawling and letting it all out in one go she’s managed to keep it down to a mute trickle. Every now and then she wipes at her eyes again and I squeeze her hand tighter for a moment and she squeezes mine back.

Ten minutes ago she’d leant in and held me very tight, even at the awkward angle she could manage, there on the ground, and I could feel in her a shuddering relief, an ease of tension. The copepods had stopped banging on the door ten minutes before that, and we had heard soft slithering sounds as they had retreated, and then we were alone in the silence.

I don’t feel like I’m alive. I don’t feel like I really made it out of there, I feel like a ghost, like I’m looking down from a great height at this slim, dark-haired girl in an ugly orange suit laying on the fleshy floor, looking beat-up and tired and done with this shit but not in a determined way, more like a resigned, given-up, “okay just keep rolling over me, fucking whatever” kind of way.

The Sergeant is quietly arguing with Makado about ten feet away. I’ve turned off my radio so I can’t hear her, just him, one-sided and quietly serious, his face like an Easter Island statue. Moa? Moai? Maui? I should look up the word. I should know something like that.

“Klaus, Crookshank. Ellis is dead for sure, we saw it. Euler. Fumi is okay, Roan’s okay, Elena is okay.”

A pause, then he closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I can hear a tinny scream from all the way over here, of terrible rage that turns to grief partway through, and I know from the sound of it that she’s asked about Peter. I look at Elena and she looks at me.

“Are you okay?” she mouths at me, which is a question so incredibly dumb given the situation that my immediate instinct is to roll my eyes at her. Then it strikes me how incredibly understated just rolling my eyes would be and I nearly start crying again, and she sees it on my face and immediately her whole face shifts. She leans in and the sheer amount of care there does a strange thing to me and I bite my lip hard and reach out for her and put my hand to her cheek, and she kisses my palm despite how sweaty and gross it must be and I allow myself the indulgence of one brief moment to feel utterly, stupendously, selfishly relieved that her and I both are okay.

I again want to tell her something I know I shouldn’t but I stop myself. “No,” the Sergeant is saying, meanwhile. “No, we didn’t get the crystal.”

I hear another, quieter outburst from the other end, and the Sergeant holds the radio a little further away from his ear. “Joker’s fucked,” he says patiently. “As is Euler.”

“The Leechman got the crystal,” I call. My voice is scratchy. I cough, clear my throat and then repeat myself. “I saw it,” I add.

“Me too,” Elena nods, glancing at me. “Roan’s right, it was the Leechman.”

The Sergeant glances at us for a moment, probably wondering if our judgment can be trusted at the present moment, then nods and repeats what we’ve just told him to Makado. I hear a tiny sound of something shattering as if thrown and then the radio clicks off with a screech. The Sergeant sticks it back into his belt holster with a sigh and looks over at us. Fumi hasn’t said a word since we made it through the barrier; he’s slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. He looks up and when I can see his face it’s as though he’s a different person – that aura of impenetrable cool he’d maintained so elegantly up until now is utterly shattered.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” the Sergeant tells us, and after a moment Elena nods and gets to her feet and helps me up and then we get the fuck out of there.

We make our way through Oyster’s Shame and up the Cord. It is, insanely, four in the afternoon, which seems so banal and impossible to me that I nearly start laughing when Elena tells me the time. It feels like it’s about 13 in the evening or so.

We take frequent breaks, rest our legs and our hearts. There is less of a sense of urgency now, and the Sergeant doesn’t care as much what we do as long as we all stay together. Even so we don’t talk much. There’s nothing to say, or maybe there’s too much.

When we get to the top of the Cord the Sergeant looks back at us, pausing before he opens the door. It looks like he’s going to say something, but he stops, shakes his head minutely, and throws it open. The light from the harsh fluorescents pours down on him and for a moment all I can see is a silhouette.

Then a gunshot rings out from the vent behind him and the Sergeant takes one step forward, totters and falls. He lands hard on the metal grating of the floor and doesn’t move. A red pinprick brightens in the middle of his back, just on the other side of where his heart would have been.

I hear rattling from the staircase below as Fumi somehow manages to spur himself into action and sprint down it, taking the stairs two at a time. Before Elena or I can force ourselves to move, a figure steps into view. It holds a very big revolver and it’s aimed straight at me. Elena and I glance at each other and then raise our hands shakily into the air, and the figure cocks its head lightly, and as my eyes adjust to the light I can see it grin. Then I can see more of its face and I feel my mouth drop open as I start to say its name.

“Surprise,” Erica Walken says.

Continue with Part 23

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #original writing #horror #novel #Michael Crichton #caving #disaster #thriller

[ziracona]

hey zira, what are your hot takes on all of the fo4 companions?

Haha, I don’t know how hot they are, but I can give you a speed run! (Also I am very excited to get this. FO4 was the first open world game I ever played and just the concept of that and the hugeness of the world and branching story & sudden feeling changes towards me in companion characters totally blew my mind, & it still lives rent free in my heart).

Ada, Old Longfellow, and Strong I /still/ haven’t maxed despite having too many hundred hours to want to list on this game—the former bc they were DLC, Strong because honest to god I left him at a nice settlement and then completely forgot about him and remembering that I am the energy in this Ryan O’Flanagan video but abt leaving my super mutant in a tiny settlement alone. I will get there! To max affinity I mean. But anyway, I don’t truly know those three, so my takes are incomplete. So far though, I really like Ada. She is a good girl just trying her best. Fucks me up I can tell her to self destruct. Even though I feel sure she would ignore me, I cannot imagine ever saying that to her. It was really sweet she was willing to forgive the Mechanist and move on with her life. A good girl. Longfellow I am maxing rn (was last time I played anyhow). I enjoy him. Gruff grumpy old man but he seems quite decent and I like his idle banter and when he sings to himself a lot. Seems like he’s had it rough. Strong I liked. He’s wild, and I loved how insane meeting him was, and am worried about him eventually understanding poetry and how that might mess up his sense of world understanding. But he’s a chill dude in his own way and I am glad they gave us at least one nice super mutant.

For the companions I actually do know like the back of my hand, the speedrun:

Nick Valentine: Best man on earth. One of two fictional characters I ever called husband. I would die kill or live for him. I want to be 1/4th the man Nick Valentine is. One of the best characters ever period and I adore literally everything about him. It fucked me up early in game where right after he offered to basically risk destroying his mind to help a stranger look for her son, he asked me how I was doing. First character in the entire game to do that. His first companion dialogue is abt how you’re doing TuT. The man is very kind and forgiving and fair, but knows when the draw the line and take no shit. Emotionally mature, kind, caring, longsuffering. Incredibly damaged and broken by life, but holding on and living kindly and to help others anyway. One of the four most marryablen fictional men I’ve ever seen.

Preston Garvey: Brave, kind, sweet man. I would defend him with my life. He really just wants so bad to make the world better and life has been so hard, but he’s still trying. A beautiful and underrated companion and I would throw hands for him on sight. I adore how he whistles. A true and gentle and loyal friend. Take him to Quincy and let him get his justice it’s what he deserves. People who hate him because he tries to get help helping civilians in that game are weak. I love him so much... please give him enough time to reach max affinity he’s so worth it.

Deacon: *To the tune of You Are My Dad* You are my friiiiend! You’re my friend! (Boogie woogie woogie). Initially, he pissed me off bc he lies all the god damn time, but after we got close enough he actually trusted me, he stole my heart and I would also die for Deacon. He’s a really good person who thinks he’s shit because of who he was on his past. Also him 🤝 Preston: massive survivor’s guilt. They should be friends. Poor Deacon has been the last member of the Railroad like four times, and it’s awful. Help him. Give him love and support. He’s one of my all time faves. Also, Railroad hands down best faction and if you kill them for any reason other than like a walkthrough route video and I ever get the chance I would 100% clock you in the face as hard as I can, like going for losing teeth, and feel no guilt. I know it’s a game and that’s wrong, and I’d be wrong, but I’d still do it. Also, Ryan Alosio (his VA) saw me do cosplay for Deacon once and told me it was great and it filled me with even more love. Anyway Deacon is great. Also, his whole “There are other organisations out there. And, in time, I'm sure they're going to spoon-feed you their own patented form of bullshit. Ignore the verbage and look at what they're doing. What they're asking you to do. What sort of world they'd have you build and how they're going to pay for it.” Is one of the like, two most iconic quotes in all of FO4 & just super good in general.

Hancock: Hardcore badass man but also a good dude and a champion for the people. Man really puts his money where his mouth is and you gotta respect that; another favorite companion for sure. Big fan of the way he stabs a guy for you upon meeting, and is a cool leader who organized his crime and does a decent job actually leading. He works hard to help people and bites back hard. Social justice advocate, dangerous man about town, not afraid to cosplay a revolutionary war hero 24/7 & u gotta respect the no fucks given attitude. A chill dude. Like that he fights the institute, hates the Brotherhood, helps the Railroad, and is friends with Nick. He’s legit af. Also, his VA gives a different answer every time someone asks him about the voice he did for hancock and they’re funny af.

Piper Wright: A cool spunky lady. Lois Lane on the case, kicking butt, and taking name. She’s nice but also hardcore and smart, supportive, fun. A good person. You always get points if you like Nick (which most companions do), and they’re good friends. She’s funny and I love her. A good heart.

Codsworth: He’s great. He’s family. He’s like my...weird brother. Getting to max affinity is heartwarming and also makes my heart go :’-] . Great early-game companion bc he kicks ass and doesn’t need stims to heal. I love getting called by my name and think that was a great feature (well, my PC’s name). He’s a wonderful funky little robot dude and I am so glad he likes me.

Dogmeat: Amazing. A good boy. Doggo of the year. His actor deserved the game award she won. Cute, full of love, and plays with a teddy bear if you give him one. 100/10z

Cait: I like her a lot. She’s been through so much shit, and it makes sense she is how she is. I like they actually gave her an emaciated and messy (though still pretty) design, since she is a drug addict. And that they make her main quest about taking that seriously and wanting to get help, and that she’ll call out the player if they fuck around and do drugs in front of her after she gets rehabilitated. Her relationship to the PC if good is really sweet, and I am a fan. I like that while she’s not sympathetic to synths and thinks they aren’t people, she forgets that every time Nick walks into a room and is like “Oh hey Nicky : )”. She’s a good girl who has been through a lot and still needs time to heal and find herself, but she’s making great strides.

Robert Joseph MacCready: Human disaster (loving). Homeboy a goddamn /mess/ but I love him. He tries so hard to be cool. I love he makes you pay him to come with, then chickens out and gives it back lol. A fool ball of anxiety and bad decisions and what he thinks brovado is. I wish he, Preston, and Deacon would quit fighting, bc I am always like “ :’-] </3 Boys Please” when they swap out, but I love them just the same. He’s doing his best, he’s just stupid and a fool. Like Philip J Fry. Keeping his goddamn soldier toy, which somehow is listed as junk instead of sent to Misc with quest items where it would be fine, safe?parylizes me with fear. I’ve lost 2 hours of gameplay reloading an old save bc I accidentally lost it.

X6-88: A more complex one to answer about. He’s bad, but like, I’m pretty sympathetic to how he got that way. He was created in a lab and had his emotions mostly dragged out of him in intense psychologically damaging training so he would be a weapon and view himself as an object. I was relieved he chose me over the institute even if he wasn’t a fan of the chocie, and think that means there’s a lot of hope for him. Wish he’d chill the fuck out and quit intimidating civilians for 6 god damn seconds, but I like him. I bring him fancy lad snack cakes home from travels all the time, bc Synths are supposed to like them. Really like that he’s the /most/ sympathetic companion towards Danse in Blind Betrayal, even though he should not be programmed for that, and Danse hated him and made it clear any time they interacted.

(EDIT) Curie: I FORGOT HER BABY IM SO SORRY. I like Curie a lot, despite the fact I temporarily forgot she existed. I stg I thought she was in here. Uhhh, okay. Curie: like her character and personality, HUGE un-fan of both the way her desire to get a synth body is to be ‘more real,’ as if Codsworth isn’t a fully realized person while the same robot type she is, instead of just like. Because it would make her happy. ALSO hate how much of a Born Sexy Yesterday she is, even intentionally in not-determinate affinity talks. It’s gross. But her herself, I like a lot. She’s my daughter and I will protect her. She works at The Castle right now as their on-site medic.

Paladin Danse: I know I’m gonna take heat for this but honestly? He didn’t do much for me. I like that he looks and sounds kinda like Buzz Lightyear, and that’s fun, but idk at all why people think he’s so hot. He’s very boring & generic looking to me. Like you’re valid! Taste all be different. But he doesn’t do it for me personally in looks or personality. I don’t at all like, hate him. Or even dislike. Tbh I am fairly neutral on him. It was funny making affinity with him though. Every other companion I had maxed, I liked more and more with each affinity talk. They’d be like “So my dad was a minuteman and died and I want to honor him” or “I just want to really feel like I’m a person, for real, myself, and I am glad I met you, because the good we have achieved together is ours, even if I can’t be sure of anything else,” or “My brother threw the cultural minorities out of our city for clout bc the rich citizens were all racist, and I tried to help—I snuck them food to the unsafe ruins they set up in for weeks, but eventually, they just vanished, and I still bear immense guilt and self-hatred over not having stopped that.” And Danae’s would be like “One time a buddy of mine got kidnapped by super mutants. They turned him into one of them, and they’re all abominations, so I killed him and it made me really sad.” And I was just like “...Oh danse. I really wanted to like you more. But what the fuck.” His relationship to Haylen is sweet though. And ofc I saved him in Blind Betrayal. I blew up the Prydwin so he’s safe now too, and he lives in the garden by my house and tells me how glad he is we’re friends, and I’m p into that. Overall, my feelings on him are not strong at all though.

Porter Gage: Not a fan. Like, I appreciated he helped me kill the old boss, sure. And bc I owed him for that, I went to max affinity to see what there was to him as a person. And like, as far as raiders go, he was okay. But he wasn’t deeply sympathetic, and he’s a slaver, and if you try to liberate the slaves he and the others own, he /will/ turn on and attempt to murder you immediately, no matter how close you were, so he made his choice, and it was to be a bad person and an asshole to the last. Really enjoyed the VA’s work a lot on him tho.

And there you have it 👈👈😎. Thanks for asking!

#ask #anonymous #fallout 4 #fo4 #god I love them so much. I was really proud I kept all the OGs too. everyone but Gage. who had to go but it’s his own choice and fault 🤷🏻‍♀️ #GOD far harbor was a good dlc. it’s like the main quest choice again but way more condensed and twice as f ked up. my poor MC had only #come to terms just before with all the lives she took & started healing #doing bad things she did not want to do & knew he would know about and think less of her for doing. but she did them. 😔 bc of course she did #then she had to choose between letting the dude she loved be hurt in a way he wouldn’t recover from & torpedoing her relationship to him by #she loves Nick and if it’s him or her it’s always gonna be her #I was SUFFERING. a lot. but I also loved it #don’t come into my inbox and clown about liking Danse please or Gage. idc at all #like you are welcome to your opinion I’m not gonna try to convince you /not/ to like him. plz do me the same courtesy & respect my right to #have an opinion u may not like